#[ I can’t press enough how loyal she was before ]

[spiderwarden]

A reality of pre-canon Minthara is that she’d have killed you without hesitation if Lolth ordered it, even if she loves you. It’s easy to forget she did not leave the Drow society willingly, she did not give up her place in the hierarchy because rebellion, she was every bit the Generic Royal Drow female of your Drow rebels nightmares, except it was her actual job to hunt your Drow rebel for defying society and Lolth most of all.

[titaswrld]

deadpool!

….as your boyfriend.

description: deadpool as your boyfriend!

pairing: deadpool x you!

contains: 18+, mentions of sex!

|an: just saw deadpool & wolverine.. couldn’t help myself.

- awful with emotions but always finds a way to make up for things whether through humor or sex.

- speaking of humor you’re never not laughing with him, or bickering, or fucking

- you’re the only person he can actually feel vulnerable and comfortable with, he cherishes that and he loves you so much for that.

- you’re his person, he would genuinely kill for you if it meant he would lose someone so important in his life.

- if someone makes you sad, mad or uncomfortable ooo…not his babygirl.

- he usually doesn’t keep people or friends in his loop often, they could find him annoying or over the top but not you.

- you love absolutely everything about him, his outlandish humor, his extroverted personality, his big ol’ mouth. you think it’s so hot.

- so hot when he’s mean to you so hot when he’s soft with you

- you literally bicker like two teenage girls all the time and he always somehow clocks your tea it’s ridiculous but you also find it impressive that he always has something to say that you cannot come back from😭

- god you need to pray that no man ever even has the thought of coming on to you… he’ll experience some banter with your boyfriend before it’s lights out.

- not only are you his but he’s yours! he’s super loyal and if he can’t get someone to back off , you sure will!

- you’re always having fun with him date nights are some of the best times of your life, he always finds a way to entertain you no matter what you’re doing.

- always gotta hand somewhere, your ass, a singular cheek, a titty, somewhere. how could you expect him not to! you’re all his.

- you literally have him wrapped around your finger, he’d do absolutely anything for you.

- also always bullying you he is so straightforward😭

“hon that has got to be the ugliest shirt i’ve ever seen on you”

“wade-“

“i know you got better in that closet that i snoop through and try on all your clothes when you aren’t home now go!”

- he’s so tall so if you’re short oh wow…you’re never catching a break

“soooo how’s the weather down there.” wade said, placing his elbow on the crown of your head.

“prick…”

…

“yeah that’s enough of that dirty mouth!” your boyfriend had announced before bending down and wrapping an arm around your behind, throwing you over his shoulder and positioning his palm on your ass.

“god, wade put me down!” you’d laughed playfully hitting his back.

“don’t make me have to spank you!” he said, lighting pinching your ass.

- do not get an animal bc it will quickly become his center of attention and he will defend it over you.

“wade, we’re having my mom over please put it in the room”

“ugh…she’s so mean isn’t she sugar?” he’d said stroking your pet, followed by a “yes she is yes she is!” as the animal licked his face.

sigh.

- good lord we got a cuddle monster on our hands!

- absolutely adores any type of affection and practically begs you for it 24/7. he loves being little spoon specifically. also loves it when u scratch or message his back, bc that also gets him going..

- speaking of, you got this guy rock solid 24/7

“hungry for seconds?” he joked, hugging you from behind and pressing his hardened cock against your ass.

“we literally jus-“ you’d started just to be interrupted mid sentence.

“so! cmon baby throw a dog a bone.” he muttered, hand already gripping your inner thigh.

you’d sighed, god you can’t resist him.

- it doesn’t matter what you’re doing he finds anything you do hot i stg

- a M-U-N-C-H! for life, literally came in his pants from eating you out once! he loves making you feel good.

- a goofball during sex he cannot do shit seriously😭 he be talking you and your pussy thru it!

- again, if you’re petite god help you bc he is large.

- babe, you better match his freak because yall doing anything.

- trying a new thing every night multiple times bc that sex is never vanilla and that dick is never tired! at some point he’s just making positions up😭

[kingkatsuki]

Old man Bakugou (who isn’t even that old, but god I want him)

Warnings: 18+, retired!Pro-Hero Dynamight, Bakugou is 50, reader is like half his age or more or less idc but Bakugou is older.

Bakugou retires at fifty. It’s much younger than a lot of other heroes that have paved the way for him, and yet he’s accomplished so much that it’s time for him to step aside for the future Pros. The ones that still have so much drive and energy, and are ready to conquer their dreams just like he was.

It gives up a place in the top five rankings for another younger, keen Pro-Hero to take his place. But of course Dynamight is still popular, and he’s still got a loyal fan base that continue to adore him even into his retirement.

Bakugou is still recognised when he goes out to restaurants and coffee shops, full of people trying to grab his autograph or share stories of how they grew up with him and watched him reach number one.

And then there’s you— he meets you one night at a bar when he’s nursing a beer, trying to adjust to having a free schedule instead of protecting the city. And he can’t help but notice the way your eyes glisten when you notice him, leaning against the bar beside his stool as you tilt your head inquisitively.

“No way, you’re Dynamight? My mom used to love you.”

And once again Bakugou is reminded of just how old he is, his blond hair now mixed with wisps of silver, the thick stubble that frames his jaw well on its way to being a beard, his muscular chest now curved with soft pudge and blond hairs and his back aches as he sits on the barstool.

“She had the biggest crush on you when she was younger,” You take a seat beside him as you sip at your own drink, “Had posters and figures up of you and everything.”

Bakugou doesn’t know how it happened— or why a pretty young thing like you wants anything to do with him. He’s gotta be twice your age, maybe more— but the casual conversation continues and you’re practically leaning into him now, pretty eyes glazed over as you stare down at his lips.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to fuck an old man,” You tease, but you should be careful what you wish for, “Can you even still get it up?”

Bakugou reckons he should have you over his knee for that comment alone, but that’s all it takes for him to have his beer bottle slamming down onto the bar as he grabs you by the wrist.

Barely ten minutes later Bakugou has your knees pushed up to your chest inside the dingy dive bar bathroom. Your knickers bunched around them to keep your thighs together as he rams his thick, hard cock inside your tight cunt. The ferocity of his thrusts unlike anything you’ve felt before and you’re certain you can feel him in your lungs. Your naive hole squelches around him, your essence leaking out of you and soaking his heavy balls as the only words that leave your lips now are incoherent babbles. Your hands cling to him for some semblance of reality, painted nails leaving crescent-shaped moons in his forearms. Your grip rough enough to break his skin and join the multiude of scars that already marr his body.

Your head knocks against the mirror with each cant of his hips but you could care less. The pleasure surging through your veins has your mind hazy, his hulking body practically folds you in two as he looms over you, burying his cock inside you to the hilt as you feel so full.

You’re positive you look debauched. Your pretty lipstick ruined as it’s smeared across your lips and cheeks, certain you’re drooling down your chin as he fucks you within an inch of your life. It’s nothing like the inept men around your own age you’d been with before. With age comes experience, and you’re certain you see heaven when a calloused thumb slips between your bodies to press against your puffy clit.

“Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart,” He groans, “This old man’s gonna have you gushin’ all over his cock.”

[hon3y-y]

your choso has rewired my brain...literally cant stop thinking about popular reader who has a new bf every week x virgin nerd choso who despite his inexperience has every intention to leave you dumb on the end of his cock. He even lets you slap his books down and talk shit about him with your little girlfriends in public, but behind closed doors you're the one crying and begging him hdjsjs definition of 'send her back to her bf w my handprint on her ass' aaaaa and if its a love story, it turns out chosos had the fattest crush on her bc he knows shes actually a sweetie at heart but loves her toxic side too and gives her the best dick until she stops playing around like THE REVERSAL 😭 he would be so sweet in his own way and so loyal and a fucking dog to her lowkey but covers it up with mean words and pussy slaps 🥺

Nerd!choso has a special place in my pants heart😵‍💫

Cw; nastyy smut, filming, infidelity(👀), choso is a little pervy but that’s why we love him🫶, talks of bodily fluids, reader is a lil mean

Enjoy<3

After the first time you fucked, he was extremely a little mad about you dating someone the next day (especially since it was his first time and you knew that) but quickly forgot about it once he had his head between your legs later that night, your mouth babbling nonsense when he sucked a little too hard.

He would purposefully leave hickies on your chest and thighs, smiling cheekily as he watched your shakey legs try to dress yourself. “Don’t look at me that way," you mumbled, your usual attitude gone and replaced with shyness under his intense gaze. Yeah, he didn’t have to worry.

Choso let's you get away with everything. the laughing, the pushing, and the taunts about how “small” he probably is from your friends (to which he nearly smirks when you stiffen slightly). He goes along with all of it and even watches you tongue-fuck your stupid boyfriend, who’s likely one hard hit to the head away from permanent brain damage. But he can’t stay mad; you look so cute trying to be tough. Eyebrows furrowed and a little hiss in your tone, knowing that the moment everyone disappears, you’re nothing but a sobbing mess, begging for him to touch you.

You’re in his room later, bent into a mating press, gasping for air as his cock clumsily batters your g-spot. “Yes—fuck, cho! "Your skin feels so hot, and your mind is so numb. Choso is nearly just as loud, already cumming two times, but watching you made it impossible to pull out. A sticky mess of both your fluids caused gooey strings to form whenever he moved away, the erotic sight making him pull out and reach for his phone. “W-what are you—"

You tried to sit up when the light of a camera flashed in your eyes, making you gasp before he tilted it down, focusing on your pussy. “Look at how wet she is.” He reaches out to touch, making your hips jerk in sensitivity. He plays with your wetness, making your cheeks hot, showing off the substance to the camera before placing his finger on your hole to tap at the new cream that seeped out.

You went to pull your legs closed. "E-enough, Choso." You sent him a glare, making him laugh before leaning down to kiss your cunt. He pointed the camera up to catch your shocked face, and you glanced at it again. “Why are you filming this? I never said—"

You squeal as he nips your clit, immediately shutting up but sending him a harsh glare. He kisses your thigh at your compliance. “Do you really not want me to?” He stared up at you, putting little pecks on your bud, making your breath hitch. You shook your head, ‘no’, “fuck, I don’t care, just make me cum,” you whine, pushing his head down. You jolt up, your eyes widening, when you feel the stinging slap on your pussy.

You’re about to speak when he does it again and again, each hit harder than the previous one, a yelp of surprise escaping you as he forces the light in your eyes again, making you squint. “You’re such a slut, it’s almost pathetic." His harsh words make you pout, mumbling about how mean he is. “I’m mean? Tell the camera why you came here.” You bite your lip, looking away, causing him to grab your chin and force you to look. “I’m not asking.”

It feels humiliating: “He couldn’t make me cum.” Your voice is quiet, but you could practically feel the cocky smile on Choso's face. “Who’s he?” You want to die, shaking your head. He rolled his eyes, tapping on your cheek to signal you to talk. With a sigh, you repeat yourself, “My boyfriend couldn’t make me cum.” Choso mockingly coos behind the camera, his thumb going to rub your swollen bud. “And how many times have you cum since getting here?”

He pans the camera back and forth between your needy pussy and pretty face, your sweaty skin glistening under the intense lighting making his cock impossibly harder. You look so delicate, just helplessly taking the pleasure he gives you because your body needs him so bad. Tears gather in your waterline whenever he applies more pressure, eyes zeroing in on the slick that starts to drip down your ass.

You can’t answer, your jaw hanging open when he quickened his pace. Your chest is heaving as you chanted out ‘please!’ hips thrusting up to meet him until you quickly cum with a shutter, choso slowing but not stopping as you relax again. You look up to the camera with a tired smile, holding up your hands to signal four, your eyes could barely remain open, head flopping back into the pillow. your eyes are getting heavy, nearly having you succumb to sleep when you feel his tip align with your cunt. “Flip over, slut.”

He forces you to film yourself as he pounds into you from behind, crying when he leans down to tug at your sore nipples. He forces your back to arch more, pathetically taking his cock into your swollen pussy. If you drop the camera, he’ll wait until you pick it up again. Or, he’ll snatch it from your hand to catch you desperately rutting against him, begging him to let you cum and “fuck you right." He does just that, leaving you with a fried brain and a puddle of your own drool, tears, and juices from how intensely he made you squirt.

Honestly, he’s so horny and has so much stamina he’ll just keep going until he’s shooting blanks, making sure to point the camera at the cum that leaks out of your puffy cunt, spreading your lips so it can closely get your gaping hole. Of course, after he’s had his fun, he’ll gently take care of you. You’re practically sleeping already, barely being able to speak as he nods along to your near incoherent praise, “S'good t’me. Luv you so much."He smiles, a giddy feeling in his tummy, as he holds a water bottle to your lips, which you gulp down quickly, not realizing how dehydrated you really were. He tucks you in, cuddling as you grip onto him tightly.

It’s not long after that you stop seeing the guy you were with, or any for that matter (at least, according to your friends' knowledge). When they ask what happened, you just shrug, making up some excuse, trying not to stutter as the vibrations in your panties speed up. Choso watches closely, smiling happily as you try to discreetly roll your hips<3

A/n: I need him so bad it’s getting to me. Also, send request bc writers block is a btch. Mwah💋

[oncasette]

FANGTASIA. send in a character from my guide + one of the prompts below for a drabble!

how about... "you shouldn't have touched them. every single mark on their body is going to be returned to yours." wiiith our mans eric northman!

please, thank you, love youuu!!! 🩵🩵

𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗𝗡'𝗧 𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗗 𝗠𝗘 𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞

eric northman x fem!reader

summary: 1.3k

You’d had vampire blood. Pam and Chow had been gracious enough to offer you their wrists months after you’d started working at Fangtasia, a safety precaution as they’d claimed. You'd had Eric's blood. He could feel your fear, he knew where you were, why wasn't he coming?

or the one where eric saves you from an anti-vampire rights enthusiast.

warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, death, kidnapping, stabbing

a/n: i know i said drabbles but i couldn't contain myself. i am violently ill with my love for this man.

masterlist | taglist

You think you're dying. surely. There's no way the human body would be able to endure this much pain without ultimately giving up the ghost, right? 

You never should have gotten involved with vampires. They were nothing but a bucket of trouble, as your mother would have put it. And has she had put it, a multitude of times, before she'd ever even known you'd applied to work at Shreveport's resident vampire bar. 

What she didn't know, though, was how incredible they could be. How, even without all their supernatural abilities, intensely good they could be when they decided they wanted. How loyal and caring and kind when they chose to do so. Just how beautiful they could be, fangs and all. 

‘Course, there still was that whole bucket of trouble thing. 

"You sure are pretty for a fangbanger," your captor drawled from where he was watching you from across the room. He'd tied you to a chair at the center of it, thick scratchy ropes binding your wrists to the unlaquered wood beneath you. You spit, knowing that it won't reach the man from this distance, but hoping, almost willing it to hit him squarely between the eyes. 

“Fuck you,” you say.

“Ooh,” he whistles. “You’ve sure got a mouth on you, sweet cheeks. Why waste it on one of those dead fuckers when you could have someone with an actual, bleeding fucking heart?”

“You’re a waste of skin, you piece of shit,” you huff. Not that it was any of his goddamn business, anyway, but you had only ever slept with one man, and it sure as shit hadn’t been one of your bosses.

“Aw, c’mon. I bet you get so cold after one of them vampers is inside you, don’t you. All icy and chilly like. Let me give you a little tip, sweetheart. Humans. Need. Warmth.”

“You say that as if you aren’t a fucking sad sack,” you say. “What a sorry excuse for a human, huh?”

“What’d they do to you, huh, girl? Did they glamor you into only wanting a dead man’s dick?” he asks, slowly shifting and standing from his stool so that he could approach you. Despite their constant–and half-hearted–threats, you’d never been glamored by your vampire coworkers. Your breathing shakes as he approaches in swift steps. It’s then that you see the knife in his hand. 

For the first time in a long time, you realize, genuine fear strikes through you. 

“I’m gonna teach those vampers a lesson,” he says. “And you’re going to help me do that.”

You’d had vampire blood. Pam and Chow had been gracious enough to offer you their wrists months after you’d started working at Fangtasia, a safety precaution as they’d claimed. You'd had Eric's blood. He could feel your fear, he knew where you were, why wasn't he coming?

The knife trails along your collarbone. You're glad it was as dull as it was, knowing if it'd been sharper it would be slicing the skin open in its path down. Then he presses down harder. You can’t muffle the whine as it escapes you, no matter how much you want to. No matter how desperately you wish to not show the man that he holds any power over you. You can feel the blood seeping out of the wound. It dribbles down your chest in a thick stream as it pools and stains the gray cotton of your t-shirt.

“Stop!” you plead. He chuckles before driving the blade deeper into you. With feeble force, you try to get him off with a stunted kick to his knee; It was all you could manage with the way your knees had been duct-taped together. 

“Bitch!” he heaves before rearing back to slap you with the bladeless hand. It slashes your cheek, shallowly, thankfully, but you can feel the ache of where his hand had connected with your cheekbone. “You’re gonna regret that.”

He takes the knife and stabs it into your side, just narrowly missing your ribcage. 

Before you can manage out even a wince, the door to the small shack you’d been held in for the last few hours splinters and it unceremoniously removed from its hinges. 

Eric says nothing as he rushes in. You barely register that it’s him save for the split second image you’d captured from where he’d lingered in the doorway. Your captor is off of you instantly, though you’re still bound to the chair. Eric stills. Wind warps around him as he does so, wrapping him in a flurry of movement as he stands with the man locked in his grasp. 

“You never should have fucking touched her,” Eric growls with his fangs fully extended, grip tightening around the burly man’s neck and raising him inches off the ground. There’s not even a hint of the usual smirk you were so accustomed to seeing. “Every single mark on her body will be returned unto you tenfold.”

“She fucking deserved it,” he gargles as the vampire latches onto the expanse of neck not currently held within his hand. The man screams out in anguish and you pull your eyes tight to avoid watching any more. Of course, that doesn’t stop you from hearing. The screams and the rips and the crunches. You hear something hard and solid hit the floor and somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach you know it’s bone. 

You hear the man gasp out a dead fuck only for Eric’s grasp to tighten fully, effectively severing the man’s skull from his spinal chord without detaching it from his body. The man drops to the floor with a loud thump and Eric shoves the corpse away with the toe of his shoe before he moves toward you. 

“What took you so long?” you exhaled as he moved behind you to unbind your wrists. 

“I was away on business,” he gruffs, spitting slightly to get the last of the man’s blood out of his mouth. He’d already drunk his fair share, you thought, what good what that do?

Swallowing, you ask, “And you still came?”

He walks back around to begin undoing the restraints on your legs. He’s being so gentle, you realize. If he’d wanted, he could have had this done within seconds and yet, here he was, tenderly undoing the tape and rope and rubbing a soothing hand over the abraded skin. 

“I’ll always come for you,” he says. “Until I meet the true death, I will always come for you.”

He extends his wrist up to his mouth and you wince as he punctures the flesh. 

“Eric,” you sigh. 

“Drink,” he says. 

Nodding, you allow him to bring his wrist to your mouth and latch down on the leaking wound. It’s tangy and metallic and overall pretty gross, but you’re more than grateful for it at that moment. You lick your lips when he pulls his arm back down, the small bite marks already well on their way to closing completely. 

“Will you take me home?” you ask, suddenly overwhelmed with the wave of fatigue hitting you. 

He rises back to his full height and extends a hand out towards you. The second you grab it, he’s pulling you up from your chair to hold you flush against his form. Then, in another rush of wind, you’re standing on your front porch. 

Slowly, you pull away from the vampire to take a step towards your door. Your body aches, but it’s already mostly healed as you run a hand over the small incision at your waist. 

“Thank you,” you say. “Eric.”

He’s silent, looking you over in a way that you can’t help but think is more than just an assessment of your injuries. He settles on your eyes when he says, “Anytime.”

[babydollslibrary]

THE GREAT WAR — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

published: March 17th, 2023

summary: in which y/n sees a picture of Jack talking to a girl at a bar and her insecurities come to light. // the night y/n accuses Jack of cheating and they almost break up.

specific lyrics: “and maybe it’s the past that’s talking, screaming from the crypt. telling me to punish you for things you never did.” and “somewhere in the haze, got a sense i’ve been betrayed.” and “that was the night i nearly lost you. i really thought i’d lost you.”

warnings: past relationship trauma, mentions of cheating (but no actual cheating), not proofread.

GIF by nicodaws

my past relationships were a graveyard of toxicity. full of cheating exes, manipulation, and verbal abuse. i accepted the love i thought i deserved. i would stay with these guys for months or possibly longer before being convinced by my friends to break up with them. but the cycle came to an end when i met Jack.

he’s kind, caring, loyal, loving, and always made sure that i knew how much he appreciated me. maybe that’s why i had so much trust in him. it’s why i never felt the need to check his snap map and find out where he was, or file through his instagram dm’s to see if he was talking to other girls. it’s why i felt comfortable and content staying at home if he wanted to go out and celebrate a win with his team; like tonight.

but somewhere in the haze of love and admiration, i’ve got a sense that i’ve been led astray and possibly betrayed. maybe it’s my past sneaking up on me and placing doubts in my head, maybe it’s insecurities overtaking my mind. all i know is that in this moment, laying in our bed, time has frozen as i’m locked on a picture of him talking to a girl at a club. with the Devils winning their game tonight, he had told me he would be going out with a few of the guys to celebrate, even offered for me to come, but i had a migraine and i didn’t feel like partying tonight, so i had given him the go ahead to go without me. i trusted him, i figured he would go out and have some drinks and then come home and slip in bed with me. but with this picture posted five minutes ago by a fan account claiming he was spotted flirting in a club in Hoboken, all my worst fears have come to light.

logically, i know i shouldn’t jump to conclusions. that the account could be wrong and that i should trust my boyfriend more than to assume he would try and cheat on me. but i’m here, and they’re there. i have no idea what could’ve been happening, maybe they’re right. this girl is definitely prettier than me by a tenfold, i can’t even blame him. maybe she doesn’t have the relationship trauma that i do, maybe she’s better than me in every inconceivable way. i don’t know, but now he does.

turning off my phone and dropping it on my nightstand, i spend the next hour tossing and turning. my mind constantly drifting to where my boyfriend may be, what he might be doing. and when it passed twelve thirty and he still wasn’t home like he usually would be, i immediately jump to the conclusion that i was right. he cheated on me. all my previous boyfriends have, so why wouldn’t he? there’s something wrong with me. i’m not enough. i’m not worthy of one of the great loves. this is what i must come to accept.

it’s around one thirty in the morning when i finally hear the distant sound of the front door opening and closing, Jack’s footsteps quiet once he’s taken off his shoes and i know he’s tiptoeing in order to avoid waking me. but i’m already awake. which he discovers when he opens our bedroom door.

“hey, baby.” he gives me a soft smile, making his way over to press a kiss to my forehead. “what are you doing awake?”

his clothes aren’t disheveled like my previous lovers would’ve been after a rendezvous, and he doesn’t smell like perfume.

maybe she doesn’t wear perfume.

“who is she?” my voice is barely above a whisper, but he makes out what i said. his brows furrow in confusion, and i have to hand it to him, he does look genuinely confused.

“who?” he asks. i grab my phone, pulling the picture back up. shoving the device into his hands.

“her.”

“oh. i don’t know.” he shrugs, turning the phone off and placing it back on my nightstand. “she came up to me and said she was at the game. congratulated me on the win. why? do you know her?”

“no. i figured you did. the caption said you were flirting with her.” i shrug, trying to feign indifference. he huffs out a laugh, stripping down to change into his pajamas.

“flirting with her? i think i spoke about five words to her before i went back to the guys.” he tells me, pulling his pj pants on. his brows form a ‘v’ and he looks back at me. “wait- do you think i was cheating on you? or even trying to?”

i shrug, not giving him a proper response, and it only seems to frustrate him.

“what the hell, y/n?” his voice is a mix of anger and hurt.

“what?” i mumble.

“when have i ever given the impression that i want anyone else?” he asks.

“none of the others gave the impression.” i explain. “they just, did it.”

“well i’m not your exes, y/n/n. i’m not the self-centered assholes that you used to date.” his words are harsh, and finger pointing. sounding like he’s putting blame more on me for dating them in the first place than the actual guys who used me. “i thought we established that a long time ago.”

“all i know is i’ve been in this position before and they were lying.” i rise from the bed now, sick of feeling lower than him in more ways than one.

“so you think i’m lying? is that it?” he raises his voice, obviously not happy with my accusations.

he’s deflecting.

“i don’t know!” i yell back. “i don’t know anymore!”

“right.” his one worded response is spoken scarily calm, joined by a nod of his head. he wanders around the room, slipping a t-shirt on and grabbing clothes off of wire hangers from our closet, stuffing them in a duffle bag.

“what are you doing?” i ask him, frantic and nervous.

“i’m not staying here while you accuse me of things i haven’t done. i’m going to sleep at Nico’s.” he tells me.

“you’re just gonna leave?” he zips up the bag, walking out of our bedroom. i follow him down the hall like a shadow, attached to him.

“i don’t know how we’re gonna work if you can’t trust me.” he says, slipping his shoes back on. he grabs his keys from the hook and turns back to me. “i love you. but i can’t be with you if you’re not gonna at least try and trust me. you asked me who she was, i told you the truth, and you still can’t accept that someone might love you enough to choose you.”

i don’t even get to respond before he leaves, too frozen to form words. my lips are parted and i stand in the entryway for a good five minutes before the weight of what just happened finally falls on me. crumpling to the floor in a mess of sobs and useless pleas for him to come back. Nico’s apartment is only a couple floors above our own, he must already be there, so my words are worthless now.

this has never happened before. he was telling the truth and i couldn’t even believe him because i’m so broken by my previous experiences. i knew that he didn’t do anything. i knew that he loves me and he would never do anything to purposefully hurt me, but my past was screaming at me not to listen to him, not to believe him because we’ve seen this before. but i was right this time. not my past. me.

i’ve lost him. i lost him because i couldn’t believe that he would choose me over another girl.

it feels like years before i’m able to move myself to our bedroom, when in reality it was probably more like twenty minutes. in bed, curled into the fetal position with tears still streaming down my face, i’m unable to fall asleep once more. tossing and turning for the second time tonight, only this time, due to my own actions.

**

i’ve lost track of the time. the sun beams in through the open window blinds now, but i’ve yet to sleep. i ran out of tears hours ago, now just blankly staring at the wall as i replay the events of last night in my head for what must be the millionth time. my heart aches in my chest and my head hurts from all the crying and the lack of sleep.

i’m zoned out. apparently enough that i don’t hear the sound of the front door or the footsteps echoing through the apartment. i don’t notice the dip of the bed or someone else’s breathing. it isn’t until i feel an arm snake around my waist that i know Jack has returned. i jolt in surprise when his skin presses against mine, and i turn over to look at his face. he looks just as rough as i feel.

“you left.” i state, my voice raspy from disuse and the sobs i let out mere hours ago.

“and i came back.” he whispers, tucking an awry strand of hair behind my ear. “i just needed some time to think.”

“oh.”

“Nico helped me realize that i need to be patient. you’ve trusted me this long, and i can’t expect everything to be sunshine and rainbows. you’ve been through hell. you’re so strong for putting up with what you went through, and i can understand now why you might have some doubts. because, i’m not your exes, but you didn’t think they were who they were either. they led you to believe they were amazing people and then called you crazy for thinking they were with other women. but you weren’t. and i’m not them, but i need to let you figure that out on your own. you saw something and it triggered you, it made you think of your past. i should’ve been more understanding about that instead of blowing up at you.”

“no. i should’ve been more trusting. i know you, and i know you would never hurt me. i just had this voice in my head telling me that you were like them and in order to protect myself, i listened to it. but, you’re not like them, and i only ended up hurting us both. you’ve proven time and time again that you aren’t them. i just- i need to remember that. you’re so good to me, and you’re such an amazing guy, and i think i just thought you might be too good to be true, so i was searching for something wrong. but i’m sorry, Jack. i’m so sorry for not believing you.”

his lips press against mine, soft and slow, pouring all his love into a sweet and tender kiss. pulling away, he lays his forehead against mine.

“i love you. it’ll be a process; having to unlearn all your overly-defensive mechanisms. you were trying to protect yourself, and that’s understandable, but i’m never going to hurt you. at least, not on purpose. but, i’ll be here every step of the way until you realize just how important you are to me. i don’t need anyone else. i have you.” his voice is soft, his words spoken gently and yet confidently.

“i really thought i lost you.” i murmur, burying my head into his neck and i cling to him tightly, refusing to let him go again.

“never.”

-

[absurdthirst]

A Mafia Marriage {Mafia!Oberyn Martell x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16k

Warnings: Modern AU, Mafia AU, arranged marriage, contract marriage, harsh feelings, cancer, verbal sparring, impetuousness, Oberyn is volatile, threats, violence, rough sex, harshness, dominant sex, unprotected sex, loss, death, grief, foursomes, wlw, mlm, oral (male and female receiving), group sex

Comments: Having worked for the notorious mafia family, the Martells, your mother is very sick and you are running out of hope. Until you are summoned by Doran Martell. He will pay for the best treatments and the finest doctors in exchange for one thing. Marrying his brother, Oberyn Martell.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Oberyn Martell MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The Martells are the most powerful family in the city of Dorne. The ability to ruin lives or enhance them with the power, control and wealth they have is immense. They control everything. Nothing happens in their city that they don’t know about and most would never dream of trying to cross the mafia family. The last time that happened, Elia Martell had been killed by the Lannisters and it had sparked a rivalry war that still causes tensions to this day. 

Loyalty means everything to them. Your mother has worked for them your entire life and because of that, you were exposed to things most were not. Living in Sunspear, the large looming tower that the Martell family had built as a symbol of their status. Now, that life is in jeopardy, your mother is sick and you have been summoned by Doran Martell to discuss her condition. 

“Come in, sweet one.” Doran ushers you in with a wave of his hand and you walk in. He gestures to the large chair on the opposite side of his desk and you sit down, wringing your hands together. “How is your mother?” He asks and you bite your lip, trying to stop yourself from crying. 

“She’s good. She’s - she’s not good.” You choke out, tears stinging in your eyes. “She’s- she’s really sick. Stage four breast cancer and we - we don’t have enough money to get her treatment. She has insurance but it’s not enough. They said they’d make her comfortable but we want to fight it.” You reveal, closing your eyes in pain.

Doran knew that the prognosis isn’t good, he’s spoken with her doctors and they believe that the best course of treatment was to keep her comfortable. She has less than six months to live. He taps his desk as he watches you, leaning forward to pull his handkerchief out of his breast pocket and offers it to you. “Then you must fight it.” He decides, knowing that it will be to his advantage to offer this to you. “Your mother has been a loyal member of our household for many years. We will cover the costs of her treatment and care. Hiring the best doctors and nurses.” He pauses. “If you will do me one favor.” Your eyes open, full of hope, ready to do anything and he delivers his demand. “You must marry Oberyn.”

You stare at him in shock for several moments before you laugh, your head shaking as you think about Oberyn Martell being married. The man is infamous for his liaisons with men and women across Dorne. He doesn’t want to settle down and you certainly don’t want to marry a man who can’t keep it in his pants for more than a day. “I don’t want - no. I don’t - why me? He is with Ellaria.”

“Ellaria has no interest in taming some of Oberyn’s….wilder proclivities.” Doran hums. “My brother is quick to fight, easily goaded and offended. You…you are sweet. Gentle.” He presses his finger tips together with his elbows on his desk. “You can temper that nature, I know you can.” You look doubtful, but he knows his brother and despite his insistence that he would never settle down, he would with you. “Marry my brother and your mother will have everything she needs and more. Hopefully to live a long and healthy life. If unsuccessful, you will have the security of being a Martell. Having our family to lean on.” 

You should say no. You should storm out and tell Doran you’d never marry his brother even if your life depended on it. But it’s not your life that depends on it. It’s your mother’s. You swallow harshly and nod, “fine. I’ll marry him. Does he - does he know?” You ask, curious if the man knows about this arrangement. Doran smiles, “he’s fully on board.”

****

“What the fuck are you thinking? Marrying me to that - to that mouse.” Oberyn growls at his brother when he storms into his office. Doran sighs and taps his fingers on his desk, “Oberyn…you need to calm down.”

“Absolutely not. I told you I was never marrying.” Oberyn reminds his brother, temper flashing in his dark eyes, making his swarthy complexion even deeper. The grey that is starting to thread through his hair doesn’t distract from his attractive, yet harsh, features and Oberyn still fights and fucks like a man half his age. Doran sighs. “As head of this family, I have the right to demand you marry, anyone I choose, remember?” He shrugs slightly. “I choose her and you will do it.”

“You want me to continue doing your dirty work? My dear brother, never getting his hands bloody. I do all the hard work. Killing who you order since you cannot. Yet you sit behind that desk and order me to marry a woman I don't want. She’s a mouse. She’s - she’s boring.” Oberyn growls and Doran shakes his head, “she will calm you. She will be good for you. If you do not marry her…I will disinherit you. No properties. No cars. No money. You’ll be out in the cold. You’re volatile. We cannot afford another war with the Lannisters, yet every day you take us closer to it.”

Oberyn hisses angrily at his brother, knowing that he could call his bluff, but the risk to his daughters would be too great. The Sand Snakes do not deserve to have their lives upended. “Marriage will not change me, brother.” He snorts, waving his hand dismissively. “Arrange the affair, the poor girl will be bored out of her mind as I continue to do exactly what I wish.” He turns around and strides from the room confidently as he gets the last word.

Doran shakes his head, knowing his brother is a hard nut to crack but he will try. He wants his brother to settle down before he takes over when Doran steps down. After the car accident, Doran ended up in a wheelchair and he knows he will not be able to lead the family when his body fails him.

****

“Don’t worry, mom.” Holding her hand, you rub the back of it gently, wondering if it’s just your imagination that her skin feels brittle. “Doran has agreed to pay for all the treatments.” You smile, hiding the anguish that you are feeling. This is for your mother, no price is too high. “You are going to have the finest doctors and nurses in Dorne treating you and you will be cured in no time.” Her weak smile is worth it. Reaching out with your other hand, you pull the covers up her body, knowing that she is cold and turning up the heat by another notch. She is cold all the time and luckily you don’t live in the north, Winterfel would be miserable for her. You squeeze her hand gently. “See? I told you that we shouldn’t give up.” 

Oberyn seethes as he watches Ellaria dance with a few other women on stage. His lover doesn’t know the news that he’s getting married yet and he plans to keep it that way. The ice in his glass of whiskey clinks as he grips it in his hand and he hates that he’s being forced into marriage. He vowed to never marry after his sister was killed because she married into another mafia family. The Lannisters killed her. He just can’t prove it. He sighs and Ellaria comes over, climbing into his lap to press her lips to his, “come on lover. Watch up. You rented this private booth for your enjoyment.” She reminds him as the rest of the club goers squeeze in below. 

**** 

You feel overwhelmed. Watching the wedding planner as he pulls out the linen options and cake options and you don’t even care. You’re being bought to marry a Martell and you don’t want to pretend like this wedding is of your own volition. “Where is the groom?” The planner asks and you bite your lip, “he’s-” Oberyn cuts you off with “right here” as he strides into the room with a cigar in hand, his orange shirt half unbuttoned and you hate how attractive he looks.

Awakening before noon is a rarity for Oberyn and despite the late night, he is finding himself to be enjoying the shocked look on your face when he strolls into the room. “Apologies for being late, you know how I hate to drag myself away from my….activities.” He quirks a brow and smirks as he eyes the wedding planner. “You should know that all colors will be Martell colors.” He tuts. “No need to pick anything else. After all, she is marrying into the most powerful family around.” 

You bite your lip to smother your scoff as his cockiness. You shake your head and look down at the plans, the colors you picked are obsolete now that orange and gold have been chosen by him. “What else would you like to have, darling?” You ask sarcastically. You know Oberyn. Your mother works for them so you’ve grown up with the family, watching Doran take over, have the accident, then Oberyn whoring around, killing anyone who dares to look at him the wrong way.

“Wine, lots of wine.” He snorts, tapping his chin as he pretends to contemplate the question even though it’s obvious you would rather he leave. “Perhaps some contortionists and burlesque dancers for the reception?” He knows that will offend your prudish sensibilities and maybe even make you mad enough to call off the wedding. If you refuse to go through with it, Doran cannot complain. 

You clench your jaw, you know what he's trying to get to you to do and you won’t let him. You need to make sure your mom gets treatment. You won’t allow him to ruin this. When your mom is better, you’ll divorce him and he can have his life back. “Whatever you want.” You hum, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of you arguing. “Perhaps we can have a vanilla wedding cake?” You suggest, wanting something simple and you know that’s your mom’s favorite.

Vanilla. Boring. Just like you seem to be. Oberyn rolls his eyes but he’s nodding. “The cake can be whatever you want it to be.” He promises, making it seem like he is being generous. “I also want cupcakes of every flavor.” He smirks at the wedding planner and sends him a small wink. “I like variety.”

You can’t refrain from rolling your eyes this time. “Yeah. Cupcakes. Every flavor. Of course, vanilla isn’t enough for him.” You tell the planner who glances between the two of you. You are struggling to even get through this but you will. Oberyn looks at the table layout and quickly moves people around, a glint in his eye and he frowns after a moment, “Ellaria needs a table.” He declares and you inhale sharply, unable to believe he has the audacity to invite his lover to your wedding. “She’s - I didn’t think- it’s a family affair.” You remind him and he scoffs, “she is family.” You sigh, reminded that he cares little for loyalty and a monogamous relationship.  You remember a few years ago the Martells were throwing a party for Doran and your mother was invited and you joined her. You overheard Oberyn proudly telling his friends that he could fuck who he wanted. Marriage was a ball and chain and he refused to be tamed. He wanted freedom to fuck who he wants. He also went on to say he hated women who didn’t know what they wanted from sex. Women who were timid or shy. That made you roll your eyes and stride off to search for a glass of champagne. Since you were a little girl, all you ever wanted was a loving relationship. A man who loved you and was loyal to you, dedicated and caring. Now, you’re marrying a man who couldn’t give a shit about you.

Oberyn is surprised that you aren’t pitching a fit, sure that you would be insulted. “Fantastic.” He murmurs, leaning close to unsettle you and he’s struck by how sensual your perfume is. He is not a man who restrains himself often, so he presses his lips to your pulse in a gesture that anyone else would find loving and intimate. “You and I will get along well, my sweet little Dove.” He coos in your ear. 

You resist the urge to shiver and recoil as he backs away and you want to slap him for kissing you. You don’t know what Doran coerced him with to marry you but it’s obvious he has no plans to change his lifestyle and you don’t care. You just want to give your mother a chance, if there is any hope of her beating the cancer. You won’t let Oberyn ruin this. You need to do this for your mom’s sake. “Whatever you want, baby.” You coo, reaching up to caress his cheek and the wedding planner smiles, “you make such a beautiful couple.” You lower your hand and thank him. “Let’s discuss the outfits. I have you booked to go wedding dress shopping on Saturday. Oberyn, you will have your tailor work on your suit?”

He hums, knowing that Doran will want him to have a new suit made for the event. “Do you want something traditional or bold and daring?” He asks, arching a brow at you and smirking. 

“Traditional.” You tell him, not wanting to look like you’re in Vogue even though you literally will be in Vogue with the man beside you. He looks disappointed with your answer but you don’t care. This isn’t a runway event, it’s a wedding. “Black tie it is.” Oberyn nods, although he will sneak in some orange and gold. The wedding planner makes some notes and claps, “very well. We have everything we need to get this wedding going. T-minus twenty days. I’ve never planned a wedding so fast.” He confesses, almost wondering why he needs to plan it so fast. His eyes drop down to your stomach but there’s no indication that you are pregnant. He had been told about your mother so that could be why it’s being planned so fast.

“I want my daughters there.” Oberyn tells you. “In the wedding or not, I will dance with each one at the reception.” He has eight daughters, eight bastards that he publicly and proudly claims as his own. He is a doting father and his own wedding will be no exception. “I don’t suppose you have decided on a ring yet, have you Dove?”

You know that Oberyn has lived many lives before you met him. You sigh and shake your head, “I don’t expect a ring. You know what this is.” You murmur, not wanting to take more than what you need for your mother. You need to help her and you don’t want the Martell money to wear on your finger as a reminder of your situation.

The wedding planner is not standing next to you, but Oberyn is offended. “Whatever this might be, you will have a ring.” He will not have someone talk about his lack of care for his bride, even if he does not wish to get married. “I will have the jeweler come tonight with a selection of rings for you to choose from.” He informs you. “Pick what you will like from them.”

You scoff, "how romantic." You roll your eyes and watch the planner gather his things while Oberyn is next to you. You hate how he seems to loom over you, his aura overwhelming you. He's always been that way. You look down at your bare left hand and try to envision his ring on your finger but it feels foreign and wrong.

“It is better than picking some monstrosity you hate.” He snorts. “I don’t think that you would like my taste in jewelry, you don’t seem to like my taste in anything, Dove.” Now that he’s seen your reaction to this, he feels that you are no more happy about the situation than he is. “Or are you hoping that your innocence will intrigue me?”

You snort, "I don't want to intrigue you. You are indulgent, quick to kill, and ostentatious. I am not. I have never killed. I have never been - been promiscuous. We are worlds apart and this marriage is for us to get what we want." You declare, knowing he would never marry you if it weren't for his brother.

“What I want?” He snorts, oddly insulted by your description of him even though you aren’t wrong. “Believe me, there is nothing in this arrangement that I want.”

His words sting even though you aren't remotely interested in a relationship with him but you don't want to show him how his words hurt. You stiffen and look at him, ignoring the way his dark eyes seem to burn into you. "The only thing I want is for my mother to live. I'll do whatever it takes to save her. Even marry you." You hiss and stride off, the wedding planning finished and you want to get home and pretend for a while that this isn't happening.

Oberyn watches you go, a frown creasing his brow and he has to admit that he admires that. You don’t want him, that’s obvious. You aren’t a good actress and he wouldn’t have believed you if you tried to seduce him. He pulls out his phone and calls his brother, even if the man is still in the same house he is. “Doran….tell me about the mother.” He demands.

**** 

You stare at yourself in the mirror, almost confused by the person looking back at you, and you don't recognize the woman standing there in the white dress. A bride. You look like a bride and you glance back at the iPad where your mom is on there watching you try on dresses. She was confused when you told her you were marrying Oberyn when you had been vocally disapproving of him. "You look beautiful, baby." She coos and you smile, tears stinging in your eyes as you wish you were marrying someone you loved instead of Oberyn.

“This is a beautiful choice.” The sales woman had been very attentive when she learned whose bride you are. The announcement had been made in the papers and on all the major Dornish networks two days ago. She knows that no expense will be spared on the Martell wedding and that means a hefty commission for her. “Would you like to try the shoes you picked out?”

You nod, chest feeling tight at how real this is starting to feel. You inhale shakily, watching the associate go to fetch the shoes and you lift your dress to try on the shoes that cost more than you’d spend in shoes in a lifetime. You turn to face the iPad again and your mom grins, clapping her hands and you hate how frail she looks. “Beautiful. Beautiful.” She grins and you offer her a weak smile.

“Oh I am so happy that I will get to be there for this.” She tells you, having feared the worst when her diagnosis was terminal. “The new doctors have been wonderful, they assure me that their treatment course has a better prognosis than before.” She beams tiredly through the camera. “Perhaps there will be grandchildren soon to help bolster my strength.”

You nod, swallowing down the hope that your mom could get better. She could beat this. She doesn’t know that this is fake. You told her that you fell hard and fast for Oberyn and he wanted to marry you before anything happened to your mom. She bought the story, the drugs clouding her judgment and you are grateful you can give her this happiness. You sigh and brush down the dress, looking at yourself in the mirror. You never imagined you’d be marrying for money but here you are. If your mom lives, it’s worth every second of misery being married to a man who can’t keep it in his pants.

“This arrived to the store for you.” The assistant brings over a box that is plain and sturdy. Obviously old. You frown slightly and take the small card that is with it and flip it open. “Dove, this veil has been worn by Martell women for over two hundred years. Wear it well. Oberyn.” There is no sentiment behind the words, but the thoughtfulness of it surprises you. Opening the box to find a stunning antique place veil that has small yellow and orange suns delicately embroidered around the edges of the throat length overlay and the twenty foot train. It’s an heirloom piece and absolutely stunning.

The sales associate comes over and gasps at the veil. “The last woman to wear this was Elia.” She reminds you of the last Martell woman who was killed by the Mountain on the order of the Lannisters. A man who still walks the earth today by some miracle because Oberyn has been very vocal about killing him. She carefully removes the veil from the box and secures it on your head. It’s so delicate but combined with the dress, you look like a princess. “Oh my God.” You choke as your mother says the same words but as a tearful coo. “You look beautiful. Like a Martell.” She cries happily and you stare at yourself in the mirror. A Martell. This is real. You’re marrying a man you do not love. You carefully touch the veil and take a moment until you turn to the sales associate and tell her you’re going to take the dress. It’s ridiculously expensive but Oberyn already has told the shop to let you buy whatever you want. You say goodbye to your mom and shut the iPad after you change into your clothes and you head back to your apartment to find it being packed up. “What the hell is this?” You ask the moving man who shrugs, “moving you into your new place with your hubby to be, sweet cheeks.” He declares and you clench your jaw. You knew you’d be moving in with Oberyn to keep up appearances but not so soon.

The man watching over the packing pushes off the counter where he was leaning against it as he eats a bowl of berries from your refrigerator and saunters over towards you. “Don’t worry, they won’t break anything.” He promises. He is Oberyn’s right hand man, handsome and just as quick to violence as the man Dorne had labeled the ‘Red Viper’ and ‘the Prince of Dorne’ due to his second in command status. This made Dario third in command in his mind. “Although maybe you should invest in some lingerie to entice Oberyn.” He suggests with a smirk. “The drawer is a little….bland.”

You narrow your eyes, hating that Dario has looked through your underwear drawer. Hating that your life is being moved because of Oberyn. "I don't think I'll be enticing Oberyn at all. This is - you know what this is." You hiss at the cocky man who smirks as he stands in your kitchen. "I do. Which means you better make it worth his while since he's marrying you to save your mother." He hums, reaching out to cup your cheek and you jerk your head from his touch. "Shame as well. You're a pretty one. Stuck up but nothing a bit of anal wouldn't change." He chuckles and you wrinkle your nose, "you're disgusting." You scoff and turn to make sure the movers aren't damaging anything.

**** 

“Lover, where do you expect her to stay?” Ellaria’s body stretches out across the settee, head back as she tilts her head up to look into her lover’s eyes. Her smile is almost secretive, as if she knows something that Oberyn does not. She might, she’s been with the man for over a decade, birthed four of his children and has no issue sharing him with whomever catches his fancy. Oberyn huffs and shakes his head. “There are plenty of rooms. She can take up an entire floor for all I care, but she will live in Sunspear.” Doran had made it clear that you would be his wife and he would treat you accordingly. It was why he had sent the veil over to the dress shop. It was important you wear it. To show all of Dorne that you are his, a Martell.

You glance around the place you’ve been moved to. It’s beautiful and you look out across Dorne to the sea, blue and glistening under the hot sun. You sigh and inhale deeply now that the movers have left and unpacked. You didn’t need to lift a finger and you wonder if that is how the Martell’s live. Rich and famous for all the wrong reasons, you wonder what your life will become. Your mom is in the hospital, a private wing paid for by Doran and a reminder of your agreement. You don’t hear the door behind you open until Oberyn’s “hello” reaches your ears and you sigh, turning to look at your husband-to-be. He looks disheveled and it annoys you to no end that he looks hot yet you can tell he’s been with his lover. “I didn’t expect you to return.” You confess, “figured you’d be with your lover until the weddings

Oberyn smirks slightly at the comment. “You are not as innocent as you look.” He hums, walking farther into the room and picking up a crystal figurine that you have sitting on a table. “It is comfortable, no? You have everything you need?”

You nod, “it’s beautiful here.” You look out the window again, “I see why you are so…you. Being gifted this beautiful life.” You murmur, turning back to look at him as he sets the crystal down. “I know you are with Ellaria. I don’t - should we say I know about it or should we say it’s over?” You ask, wanting to know to react if you’re asked about it.

He arches a brow at the surprisingly mature take. He had expected you to make a snide comment about his lover of many years. “You can say what you wish. Even tell people she is your lover.” He chuckles, not even able to imagine that, although Ellaria thinks you are very appealing in a virginal way. “She would not mind.”

You roll your eyes, knowing this is a woman he has children with. “Come now, people won’t believe I am her lover. I need - I’ll tell people it’s an open relationship. Easiest way since you're unlikely to become monogamous.” You huff and walk over to the fridge to take a bottle of water out. “I don’t know what you get from this arrangement apart from annoying me at every turn.”

Oberyn snorts. “Perhaps I like to annoy you.” He muses, wondering how you are to temper his impulses when you can’t stand him. “You are free to have whatever lovers you wish.” Your mouth drops open in shock and he holds up a finger to silence you. “Two rules. No bastards and you don’t fuck my men.”

You think about Dario, how he eyed you, and you bite your lip, wondering if you can rile your fiancé up. “I can promise no bastards.” Which makes you chuckle internally considering he has eight daughters out of wedlock. “For your men…I don’t know if I can promise that.” You hum vaguely, liking the way he clenches his jaw.

Fury heats his veins and he is moving before you can react, grabbing your arms and hauling you closer, his nose nearly touching yours. “I do not hurt women, but I will kill every one of my men you touch.” He hisses. “I will not have them thinking to fight me for your cunt.”

You gulp, his fingers digging into your arms to give you a glimpse of the dangerous man he is. You nod, your nose bumping his as you say “I understand.” You don’t want anyone to die because of you. You have had boyfriends, lovers, but you refuse to have your image tarnished by taking a lover while married to Oberyn. You hope this can be annulled once enough time has passed and your mother is better.

****

“You look perfect.” The irony of having Ellaria help him get ready for a wedding to another woman is not lost on him. She smirks as she adjusts his bow tie slightly. “I will have to pick out quite a few lovers tonight to distract myself from missing out on your wedding night.” The pout she sends him is playful and he snorts. “I will be spending tonight in our bed with you and whoever catches our interests.” He captures her hands and holds them, his eyes serious and dark. “This changes nothing between us.”

You brush down your dress, your mom in a beautiful dress, sitting in her wheelchair with the IV connected to her arm. She’s so frail but her smile is beaming and your heart warms at her happiness. Even if she doesn’t quite understand this farce, she’s happy and you can give this day to her. If she doesn’t survive, you��ll know you did everything for her. “He’s going to be blown away.” She coos and you offer her a weak smile in the mirror. You have no bridesmaids, not wanting anyone else involved in this sham and your wedding planner helps you put the intricate veil on your head.

Oberyn stands next to the priest, sure that the Gods will be laughing as he professes to take this woman as his wife. The church is packed, everyone wanting to see the infamous Oberyn Martell marry. Some said it would never be done. He glances at his brother who is sitting in his chair on the front row, making sure that this marriage happens. He cuts his eyes towards the door and sighs.

The music begins to play and for a second, you want to run away and not look back. Then you remember your mother’s face and your chest tightens. You need to do this for her. You inhale deeply and nod, letting the ushers open the doors, and you grip your bouquet as you start your trip down the aisle to a man that doesn’t love you and you don’t love him.

Glancing quickly at Ellaria, Oberyn turns to watch as you start the slow, measured walk down the aisle that is covered in silk flower petals. Some might have believed that he had never married because Ellaria was deemed unsuitable to be his wife, but that was not the truth. The truth was, the part of Oberyn’s heart that loved - beyond his children - died the day his sister was savagely killed. Brutalized and cut down, the vision of her final moments and the loss of his favorite sibling had hardened his heart. Even now, he loves Ellaria in his own way, he cares for her and makes sure that she is provided for, but he does not hold her in an all consuming passion. He does not crave her like he craves air. Watching as your white clad body glides forward, he wonders if you will understand that.

You can feel his eyes on you and you force yourself to look up from the aisle to meet his dark gaze. His stare is intense and you wonder what’s going through his mind. He’s a mystery. He’s been with Ellaria for years on and off and never married her. He’s had eight daughters and never been married. Either he can’t commit or he doesn’t want to commit. You finally stand before him, handing your bouquet to the wedding planner and you take Oberyn’s outstretched hand to stand in front of the priest.

Despite your obvious dislike of the situation, you look beautiful and graceful. Your hand is soft and warm in his and your eyes meet his with a determination that pulls reluctant admiration out of you. This is for your mother, he knows that. The frail woman is here and that is a miracle because the doctors are trying every radical treatment they can to save her. He has known her most of his life and he has to respect this kind of loyalty to her. The willingness to do anything to save her. He pulls you close and starts to flip the veil over your head so he can see you clearly.

Your eyes meet his unhindered as he lifts the veil from your face and you inhale shakily as he reaches for your hands. You barely pay attention to the priest, letting him make his speech but Oberyn has to squeeze your hand to get your attention when the priest asks if you take Oberyn to be your husband. You hesitate for a moment, biting your lip and look over at your mother who is smiling with tears in her eyes. You can’t say no. She needs to have one last chance. “I do.” You declare and Oberyn’s grip on your hands loosens while he says “I do.” After your exchange rings and the priest finishes his speech, you’re in a daze until the priest declares you husband and wife. “You may now kiss your bride.”

His lips curve into a smirk. Not shy about gathering you closer to kiss you without any fear of you pushing him away or slapping him. Not that it would bother him, he doesn’t mind when a lover is rough. It’s exciting. He makes it a scene, dipping you down and kissing you thoroughly, his tongue sliding into your mouth to taste you and turning what should be a chaste kiss into something much more carnal.

Your cheeks burn when he finally sets you on your feet, lips glistening and the crowd cheers as he takes your hand and guides you down the aisle. You hate how your lips tingle and you would never admit it but he’s a good kisser. You stumble slightly but he keeps you upright and you make your way down the aisle until you’re in the hallway, your chest heaving as you let go of his hand. “Well that will certainly be in all the magazines.” You declare and Oberyn chuckles, “had to sell it, Dove. Can’t have people thinking I don’t satisfy my bride.” You scoff and make your way down the hall to the photographers that are waiting. “We both know it’s not going to be my bed you’re in tonight.”

“Disappointed?” He leans close, invading your space and to the photographers, it looks as if Oberyn is whispering sweet nothings in your ear. “You just need to invite me to your bed and I will make sure you have a wedding night you would never forget.” Despite his objections to marrying you, he has no issue fucking you. It would be interesting to aid in striping away your virginal facade and turning you into his own little whore.

You smile and turn to look at him, reaching up to cup his cheek, “I’ll never let you fuck me. You can take my hand, my life as your own, but you’ll never have my body.” You lean in to peck his lips and turn back to the cameras, almost blinded by the lights. Oberyn has had more lovers than you’ve had hot dinners and you refuse to give him that kind of power over you. You know he’d never let you forget it if you let him fuck you. Then he’d leave and go back to Ellaria’s bed. No, you’d never give him that hold over you.

Instead of being angry by your vow, Oberyn bursts out laughing, amused by the venom in your words. His cock twitches, imagining making you eat those words when you fall into his bed eventually. “Then you should not worry about who screams my name tonight.” He murmurs quietly. “Although I’m sure you will hear it.”

The irony of this situation is not lost on you. Doran picked you to calm his brother down but you seem to be riled up by his nature, leaving behind your normally gentle and agreeable personality in favor of defending yourself. His hand cups the back of your neck as per the shouted instructions from the photographer and you smile at him but say through gritted teeth, “rather them than me.”

“Temper, temper.” He muses, winking at you before he drags you closer for a kiss so the photographer can capture the moment. He finds your unrestrained hatred of him refreshing. He doesn’t like when people kiss his ass unless he is in the mood. “Then I will make sure I have a group of them.”

You let him kiss you and you wonder how you’re going to endure the reception when you’re only on the photos. After you take photos with your family, you and Oberyn enter the reception hall to applause and you let him pull you close for the first dance. You don’t say anything, leaning your head on his shoulder to make sure you look close without needing to speak to him and you close your eyes, not wanting to see the crowd watching you.

The moment would actually be considered sweet if there was some semblance of affection between the two of you. When the song comes to a close, the DJ that is setting the mood announces a dance between mother and daughter.

You are surprised but you go over to your mom who is in her wheelchair and she attempts to get up “no mom, don’t stress yourself. We can dance in the wheelchair.” Your mother shakes her head, “absolutely not. I will dance at my baby’s wedding, without being in a wheelchair.” You don’t argue with her, you just help her stand and guide her over to the dancefloor when the song begins and you gently sway with your frail Mother tears sting in your eyes when you try not show how sad you are, but she seems to be getting worse. You had hoped that the treatments at Martells would help her. You don’t see it in her eyes, but she knows that she is dying and she wants to enjoy every moment she has left.

Oberyn watches until it’s obvious that you are supporting most of your mother’s weight and he quickly steps in behind her. Shifting the weight off of you, he grins to the crowd watching. “I was jealous of two beautiful ladies dancing without me.” He jokes, making everyone laugh and making it seem like his impulsive nature is to blame instead of your mother’s frailty.

You can’t deny that Oberyn wrapping his arms around your mom’s waist makes you smile in thanks and the song plays as Oberyn sways you both. When the song ends, he playfully lifts your mom into his arms, carrying her over to her chair. “You’re supposed to carry my daughter.” She giggles and Oberyn winks after he sits her down, “that’s for later.” He presses a soft kiss to the back of your mom’s hand.

Your mother giggles again quietly, charmed by Oberyn’s flirtatious nature even though she’s aware of the man’s proclivities. Perhaps he has changed for you, the thought makes her happy to know that you will have a strong man at your side when she is gone. He winks at her before he stands straight and the DJ announces the first of eight dances with his daughters.

You settle down at your table to watch Oberyn dance with his daughters, each one getting their own dance and you watch him as he speaks softly to them, making them laugh and smile, and sends them to their table with a kiss on the cheek and a hug. It’s clear he adores them. You feel eyes watching you and you turn your head, your eyes meeting Ellaria’s as she offers you a soft smile. You’re surprised she doesn’t hate you. Isn’t glaring at you for marrying her lover.

When you don’t cut your eyes at her, Ellaria picks up her glass of champagne and stands up. Slinking across the hall in a dress that is a little too revealing to be considered proper, but she wears it well. “Dove.” She smiles, sliding into the seat where Oberyn will be sitting later to eat. “You look more beautiful than I imagined you would. You wear the Martell veil well.”

You know people are watching so you offer her a soft smile, “thank you. I was shocked when Oberyn gave it to me. I am sure he always imagined you’d be the one wearing this for his wedding day. I wondered before this charade why you never married each other.” You ponder out loud. “You know about our arrangement and why we are doing this. I have no malice towards you. You are his lover, the mother of his children. I do not know why Doran wanted me to marry his brother.”

She watches you for a moment before she laughs, a beautiful trilling sound of amusement, her head tipped back to expose her long neck. “Oh darling, I see why he wanted you to marry Oberyn.” She hums when she calms down. “And I would have never married him.” She admits causally, shrugging one elegant shoulder. “We do not have that kind of relationship.” She knows how Oberyn feels and she would have never tied herself to him with those things in mind. He was too free of a spirit and so was she, if the truth was told.

You frown, certain that Oberyn loves Ellaria more than anything, but maybe you don’t know the entire story. “I don’t expect him to stop sleeping with you. We aren’t - this isn’t a marriage of love. This is convenient.” You clarify and pick up your glass of champagne, taking a sip while Oberyn spins his daughter around.

“I don’t know if that is alllll true.” She murmurs, a small smile on her face. “And it is wise that you don’t expect him to stop being who he is.” She lifts a brow in irony. “We never want to change someone when we love them.”

You nod, “yeah. I don’t care what he does. I only want my mother to survive. Whatever Oberyn does is his business. I just don’t want him to make me look a fool.” You confess, setting your glass down and everyone claps as Oberyn finishes his last dance.

“Then don’t be surprised by anything that he does.” Ellaria leans forward seriously. “Oberyn might not love you, he doesn’t love me either. Not like you might think, but he is loyal….in his own way.” She cautions you. “You are now his and he will expect the same kind of loyalty from you that he gives you.”

Your frown deepens as she says he doesn’t love her. You’ve heard the rumors of how intense their relationship is. You assumed they were deeply in love. “I won’t make a fool of him.” You assure her, “I just want my mother to survive and after that? Well, that would be a miracle problem to have.”

The other woman glances over at the frail woman with a look of concern and presses her lips together. “I hope that you get your wish.” She murmurs, reaching out and taking your hand. “Let me know if there is anything I can do.”

You appreciate her not spitting in your face since you are stealing her lover as your husband. You squeeze her hand and she glides back to her table as Oberyn passes her. He kisses her cheek and makes his way over to your table, sitting down beside you. "Ellaria likes you." He declares and you snort, "You can tell from just one kiss?"

“My lover is not shy about things she likes.” He chuckles quietly. “Now, I am famished, and I think that we should eat.” He offers, nodding to the wedding planner to have the servers start bringing out the plates of food. The canapés had been good, but he wanted something more. “Eat up.” He winks at you. “You will need your strength.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes and reach for your glass of champagne so you can down it. It’s going to be a long night but you are prepared to endure it when your mom looks like she’s won the lottery. She looks so happy so you force a smile and sit beside Oberyn like you’ve won your own lottery.

The party is still in full swing when you and Oberyn make your exit, ducking the handfuls of birdseed and confetti that all the party goers throw. Holding tight to your hand, he rushes you out, getting to the elevators before he drops your hand and pulls out his keycard to open up the access to the floors where your and his apartments are located. “The party will go on for hours.” He predicts as the car doors slide open and you step onto the elevator. “Pity we will miss it. It was a good one. The dancers the planner found were….limber.”

You lean against the wall of the elevator car, watching the floors pass by and you inhale deeply, looking at Oberyn. “You are welcome to rejoin if you wish but I suppose we need to make people think we consummated our marriage.” You hum and you know you won’t stop him from finding someone to warm his bed.

His brow arches and he smirks, leaning closer to you and pressing you closer to the wall. “Are you going to invite me between those pretty thighs, Dove?” He coos, reaching up to caress your neck, his thumb rubbing your pulse. Your scoff grates on his ears, irritating him when he has been flirty and kind to you. He has done nothing today to humiliate you or demoralize you and yet you are pushing him away like he is the gum on the bottom of your show. Him, Oberyn Martell. His piercing hot look turns cold and he hisses. “It does not matter.” He snorts. “I have people lined up to suck my cock if you have no desire to.” He boasts. “Any one I want. Why would I want you?” It’s petty and cruel, but he can be that way when he’s insulted. “You have the demeanor of a cold fish anyway. I like my partners to enjoy themselves.”

His words shouldn’t hurt as much as they do but you stiffen and when the elevator dings to announce your arrival, you stride out of the car into the apartment without hesitation. “Then go find your pleasure anywhere but my bed. I didn’t marry you to fuck you, Oberyn. I married you to save my mother. You need to remember that.” You hiss and slam the door behind you to your bedroom, slumping down on the bed. You listen to the elevator ding again and tears sting in your eyes until they roll down your cheeks. You married a man who doesn’t love you and you hate that you had to do this to save your mother. Your sobs come when you realize you can’t get out of your dress without help so you lay down, constricted by the lace, and cry for your marriage and your mother.

“Lover…” Ellaria slumps onto the bed, worn out and exhausted. “I need rest.” Oberyn chuckles, his wedding attire strewn over the floor as his hand slides over her sweat slick hip and he slaps the ass off the man who is laying beside her. “Then you watch.” He tells her, lunging forward to slide his tongue into the man’s mouth as he tries to forget about how your eyes had flickered with hurt before you turned that tongue on him.

**** 

It’s been a few weeks since you and Oberyn married and you’ve barely seen him. You are with your mother every day as she struggles to get through treatment and you know it’s a fruitless effort. She’s withering away and even selling your soul to the Martell’s won’t save her. You arrive back at the apartment after your mom fell asleep and you’re surprised to see Dario standing in your kitchen. “What - what are you doing here?” You ask, confused and looking around for Oberyn.

Dario smirks as he pops another piece of an orange that he had stolen from your fruit bowl into his mouth. “Checking on you.” He quips and flings the rind of the fruit onto the counter as he walks towards you. “Haven’t seen you around and wanted to make sure you aren’t……lonely.” He knows that Oberyn hasn’t been spending his nights in your bed. He has men and women parading out of the floor that he shares with Ellaria. He slides his hot gaze up and down your body suggestively and licks his lips. “Perhaps you prefer someone who knows what he wants.”

Your back stiffens and you realize he is alone with you. You glance around the apartment and he reaches out to caress your cheek. You freeze, unsure of what to do when you’re alone and you know what he’s capable of. “I’m not - Oberyn is - I’m not allowed to touch any of Oberyn’s men.”

“He won’t know.” He muses. “Too busy playing with his whore and everyone else.” He snorts. “Did you reject him? He’s fucking everything that walks like you did. Proving to himself that your cunt doesn’t matter, but I think it does.” He steps closer and smirks. “I want to have something he doesn’t. For once.”

You are frozen in place, your mind skipping and you know you should push him away but he leans in to press his lips to your cheek, a chuckle breathed against your skin, and your back hits the kitchen counter as he crowds you, his other hand on your waist.

Dario takes your non-refusal as acceptance. His body pressing against yours as his mouth moves from your cheek to your lips. Mindless to anything but you letting him kiss you. Not hearing the door to the apartment open or the quick steps towards you, anger lacing each boot strike. He doesn’t even know that anyone else is in the apartment, too focused on his victory over Oberyn, until a hand grabs his shoulder and he is dragged off you like a rag doll. A fist plowing into his face before his eyes even open to see who is there. “Bastard!” Oberyn shouts, kicking the man while he is down before he backs up. “You were warned not to touch her.” He roars.

You gasp, shuffling to get out of the way as Oberyn straddles Dario and his fist comes down on his face. "Oberyn. I - he didn't - he hasn't fucked me." You yell at him but he continues to hit his second in command.

“You want what is mine?” Oberyn rages, hitting him with one fist, then the other with alternating strikes. Dario had thrown his hands up to defend himself but the force of the attack renders him helpless as his boss beats him. He gurgles out an apology, barely heard and not acknowledged. “I let you have everything - anything - you want. But not her. I told you that you are getting too comfortable.” He had known Dario was jealous, thinking himself the better man. It was why he had told him that he couldn’t have you. No one could. If the man fucked his wife, he would start thinking he could replace Oberyn, and he would never let that happen.

You scream at Oberyn to stop. Dario might have been handsy but he doesn’t deserve to die. You watch as Oberyn hits until Dario goes unconscious and your husband’s chest heaves as he looks up at you, sweat on his brow and his knuckles torn up. “Holy shit.” You gasp, kneeling down, “I can’t - why did you - why?” You ask breathlessly.

Panting, Oberyn reaches for you as he leaps to his feet. He is still agile and deadly, making you gasp with the speed at which he moves. He growls as he shakes you slightly. “I told you not to touch my men.” He hisses, right before his lips slam against yours in a bruising kiss.

When you look back on the moment you kiss him back and you realize it was adrenaline. Your hands tangle in his hair and you moan into his mouth, pressing yourself against him. He slides his tongue into your mouth and you moan, sliding yours against his and you feel his cock hardening against your hip.

Dario doesn’t groan, still unconscious on the floor as Oberyn backs you against the wall and presses you into it. Completely taking control of the kiss as his hands grab your ass and he pulls you up into his arms and presses against your core as he carries you through the apartment to your bedroom.

You don’t reject him, hyped up on adrenaline and the feelings that have been haunting you since the night you got married. His dark eyes find you everywhere - in the coffee you drink, in the chocolate you treated yourself to, and you know you need to get him out of your system. Your back hits the bedsheets and he follows, kneeling between your legs and his lips press against your jaw. “Oberyn.” You gasp, tilting your head as you close your eyes so he can destroy you like you always knew he would.

His name on your lips is all the permission he needs. Hands pulling at the clothes you are wearing. Stripping them as efficiently and and quickly as possible. Greedy for every bare inch of flesh you reveal to him and his lips travel over your neck. His teeth leaving a trail of marks behind as he claims you as his own.

You want to see all of him. To know if the rumors of his beauty are exaggerated or if they are true. You unbutton his half buttoned shirt, pushing it from his shoulders and he shrugs it off, tossing it aside, while your hands caress his chest down to his stomach.

“You do not even look at my men.” Oberyn hisses, flipping open his belt and snapping it out of the loops of his pants, the gun holster dropping to the floor and sliding away. Reminding you of how easily he could have killed Dario. He grabs your hands, thinking to tie them to the bed, but he wants you to touch him. To be just as hungry for his body as he has been for yours. He’s never been denied, and instead of it making him indifferent, it has made him crave you. Tossing the belt aside, he holds your hands above your head, making your tits stick up in their lacy bra and he ducks his head to bite down on a nipple.

You cry out, arching your back and you wrap your legs around his waist, grinding up against him. “Fuck. I- I- shit. Baby.” You cry out, “I need you inside me. Now.” You beg, cunt aching with the need to have him stretch you out.

His pants disappeared, underwear was never a thing, so it isn’t a barrier between the two of you. His fingers twist under your panties and he rips them apart at the seams. Taking you at your word that you need him.

You gasp when he rips your panties off and you spread your legs for him without hesitation. You desperately want him inside of you. The way he defended what is his even if you aren’t his in heart, you are on paper, and the way he took out Dario has you ashamedly wet. “Fuck me, Oberyn.” You whine when he grips his cock and shifts between your thighs.

He loves the way you are begging him. His smirk is self satisfied and predatory as he shuffles close and swipes his cock through your soaked folds. “Gods, Dove.” He growls. “You will remember tonight.” He vows, lining his cock up and snapping his hips forward as he covers your mouth with his own.

You cry out into his mouth, the sound smothered by his tongue, and your hands find his back, scratching your nails down the golden skin as his cock stretches you out. There’s a sting but you love it.

Oberyn would never insult you to say that you are the best cunt he’s ever been inside. You wouldn’t believe him. However you are wet and tight, fitting him like a glove. He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust, drawing his hips to plunge back into you just as fast, eagerly setting a frantic pace.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he starts to fuck you. There’s no mistaking this for love making. It’s fucking, through and through. His hips hit your ass and you feel like you can barely breathe as he grunts into your mouth. It’s been so long since you had sex, focused on your mother’s health, and it's bliss to think about nothing except how you feel.

One hand braces on the bed below you, the other squeezes your tit. Pinching your nipple harshly to make you gasp and clench around his cock before he slides his hand lower. Finding your clit with precision accuracy and starting to rub tight, perfect circles on the bundle of nerves. Very practiced in pleasuring men and women alike.

“Holy shit. Oh - oh Gods, Oberyn. Baby. Oh shit.” You pant as he rocks into you, his fingers rubbing your clit, and you whimper as you scratch your nails down his back, marking him in the only way you can. “You’re gonna - shit. I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum.” You gasp, the feeling suddenly overwhelming you.

He doesn’t slow his pace down. His hips slapping against your ass. “Good girl, Dove.” He groans, kissing along your jaw. “Cum on my cock. Soak me.” He orders, feeling your body clench down around him.

The wail you let out is almost inhuman and you clamp down on his cock, a cry of his name barely distinguishable as you soak his cock with your cum. Your nails digging into his back and his cock working you through your orgasm.

He’s determined to make you never forget being in bed with him, fucking him. Wanting you to crave it every time your cunt throbs with need and your thoughts stray to having someone plunge into you. His men are off limits, unable to touch you like he does. You can have him, Ellaria and anyone else, but he wants you to want him.

You moan as he works you through your orgasm and you are sure he’s punching your guts with his cock as he pushes deep on each harsh movement of his hips. “Oberyn.” You whine when he pulls out of you and he flips you onto your hands and knees. You struggle to balance as he kneels behind you and pushes into you with a speed you never expected.

The weeks that you have been married and he’s been denied your body, they are being made up for right now. Every time he’s wanted to fuck you and not been able to is being taken out on your body. He groans when you clamp down around him again.

Your fingers tangle in the sheets and you moan his name as he rocks into you. He feels even bigger in this angle and you arch your back, your tits swaying as he fucks you with his entire body. “Yes baby. Shit. That’s - keep going. Don’t you dare stop.”

He chuckles at your demands, finding your bossiness in bed charming. Digging his fingers into your hips hard enough to leave bruises under your skin, he hisses out your name as he continues to pound into you.

You whine, head dropping down as he wrecks you, and you know why the Red Viper is so well known as a voracious lover. “Fuck. Fuck. You’re - I’m gonna - oh shit. Keep going. Right there.” You cry, eyes squeezed shut as he hits something incredible and it takes two more thrusts to unravel you.

Your orgasm is beautiful, your cry loud enough that anyone near your apartments would hear his name being screamed. Hissing in pleasure while the cream from your cunt soaks his cock, making obscene sounds as he fucks you through it. “That’s right.” He groans. “Fuck, you are happy now, aren’t you? Getting fucked like you’ve dreamed of. You needed this, didn’t you?”

“Fu- fuck you. I don’t - shit. I want - want to feel you.” You choke out, chest heaving as he fucks the air from your lungs. “You - you wanted my pussy. You’re the one who - who wants to fuck anything going and I- I tried to hold out.” You confess in gasps.

His fingers wrap around the back of your neck, pulling you up and wrapping an arm around your chest. His hand cupping your tit as he pumps up into you from a new angle. “Yes, I wanted this pussy.” He growls in your ear. “Craved it, fucked anything I could to take my mind off of it, off you.” He pants out the confession. “Nothing worked until I found you kissing my lieutenant.”

You lean back against him, turning your head so you can look at him. Sweat on his brow and his jaw clenched as he thrusts up into you. “It was yours on paper. Your wife. Your pussy. I don’t make it easy. You had to show me that I wasn’t going to be thrown out of your bed after you’ve gotten what you want.”

His eyes are dark and hot, boring into yours as he thrusts into you, rocking you towards another orgasm. His other hand slides down to your clit where he starts rubbing it again. “Mine.” He agrees. “My wife, my lover, you can be in my bed whenever you want. Have your cunt licked while I have my cock sucked. Bounce on my lover’s cock while I bury mine inside him. Cum on Ellaria’s fingers while I fuck her. Nothing will be denied to you.” He groans. “Except my men.”

Dario laying on the kitchen floor is proof of that. You know now that he will kill anyone who even looks your way and you should hate that but instead it has you clenching around his cock. He hisses and you moan, “I want to try it. I want to experience your lovers and you.” You moan, covering his hand on your breast with his.

Oberyn groans in your ear, loving that you will compromise with him. Not try to change him. “You won’t regret it, Dove.” He vows, his hips still slamming into your ass he fucks you. “Now, cum for me again.” He orders. “Cum for me and I’ll fill up your cunt with my seed and be satisfied.”

His words send you over the edge and you swear you black out as you clamp down on his cock and soak him. “Oh fuck!” You squeal, shaking in his arms as you fall apart pressed against his chest.

This time Oberyn lets himself follow you. Thrusting deep two more times, he buries his cock in your womb and starts to flood it with his seed. Groaning your name in your ear as he pumps you full. “Shiiiiit.”

You pant, squeezing your eyes shut as he works you through your orgasm and you whimper when his cock twitches inside you. “Shit.” You echo, closing your eyes as you relax against him. “Don’t push me away again. I don’t want to hate you.”

“I thought that was what you wanted.” Oberyn admits. “My brother is not happy that you and I have been living separate lives.” He admits, rolling you both to your side and lying down on your bed. “I had come to ask if you would have dinner with me.”

You sigh, shifting to curl into him. “I want to get to know you. We are in this situation for a reason and I want my mother to get better and to make this marriage work for us until it doesn’t. We have to at least try. There’s a reason why Doran chose me.”

“He said you would tame me.” He doesn’t mind this version of you, the one that isn’t spewing insults. His cock is still glistening with your juices and he knows you are dripping his cum onto the bed. Maybe he just needed to fuck you. “I don’t know why he would think that.” He snorts. “I nearly killed Dario. Still might.”

You tut, caressing his chest, “no. You don’t need to kill him. He was just trying his luck. Don’t let him get into your head. We need to stand solid side by side.” You declare and sigh, resting your head on his chest, “I just want my mom to have a chance.”

Oberyn sighs. “She has the best doctors in Dorne.” He reminds you softly. “Doran has asked for a few more to come from Winterfell and King’s Landing to make sure there is nothing else to be done.” Doran always kept his word and that meant your mother would receive the best possible care.

You hum, tears stinging in your eyes, and you swallow harshly. “I don’t want to lose her.” You choke, “she’s been all I have known. My father died when I was a baby.” You confess, “I’ll be alone if she dies.”

“You won’t be alone.” He reminds you. “You have a husband. My family became your family when we married.”

You sigh, pressing a kiss to his glistening golden skin, “thank you.” You murmur, knowing he means every word. He’s your husband and he will be there for you.

He lays there for another minute before he sighs. “I need to drag Dario out of your apartment.” He huffs, reminded of the fact the man is still unconscious on your kitchen floor. “Have the cleaners come in and clean up the blood.”

You snort and shake your head, “he needs a doctor.” You tell him but he ignores you in favor of sliding out of bed and you watch his back muscles move as he heads into the bathroom. He comes back out with a wet rag to clean you up and you sigh, stretching out on the sheets.

Oberyn can be a selfish lover with some. The people who float in and out of his bed clean themselves up, but for Ellaria, for you, he will take care of your needs. You bite your lip as he carefully runs the rag over your folds and he snorts in amusement. “I just watched your asshole pulse while I fucked you.” He reminds you. “There isn’t a part of your body that does not please me.”

You chuckle and stretch out with a groan, “that’s good to know because I have never felt this good before.” You confess, “holy shit, Oberyn. I can’t - wow.” You’re a little speechless as you snuggle into your pillow.

He hums, happy that you are pleased with how he fucked you. It’s important to him that no one leaves his bed unsatisfied, but especially the woman who is his wife. Now not just in name.

**** 

Tears sting in your eyes as you watch your mom struggle to breathe. She’s gotten worse and it’s only taken days for her to be bedridden and unable to breathe properly. The treatments aren’t working and you try your best to offer her a smile but your heart is breaking. She’s dying and there’s nothing more you can do.

The door opens and Oberyn comes into the room, pausing when he sees you in the chair and clutching your mother’s hand. The prognosis isn’t good and he had just come from talking with the doctor before coming to visit with the older woman. “Dove.” He murmurs softly before he walks over to your mother and kisses her papery thin cheek. Her skin has taken on a waxy appearance and feel, the underlying smell of death clinging to her. It won’t be long now. He says your mother’s name and gives her his most charming smile. “You are as beautiful as the day you came to work for us.” He praises, kneeling down on the other side of the bed. “You will be pain free in no time.”

Your mother offers him a weak smile, her hand shaking as she lifts it to cup his cheek. “Look after her. She deserves love and to be happy.” She tells Oberyn and you bite your lip to stop the tears from sliding down your cheeks.

“Don’t worry, my desert rose.” Oberyn covers her hand with his own, pressing it against his cheek. “Your daughter will be well taken care of.” He promises. “She will have joy and love. She will know happiness and that you watch her from your perch with the Gods proudly.”

You feel the sob work its way up your throat and swallow harshly, walking over to Oberyn to rub his back in silent thanks for him reassuring your mother in her final time. You lean down beside him, looking at your mom.” “We will be happy.” You promise, “Oberyn has been incredible.” You assure her, “he will look after me.” Your mom nods, her eyes getting heavy and you bite your lip to stop your sob.

Oberyn holds her hand with his, feeling her body relax and there is one surprisingly strong inhale that rattles through her frail body. The exhale doesn’t come, making Oberyn sigh as he knows that your mother has gone to be with the gods and you will be inconsolable.

You stare at her for several moments, your hand reaching out and that’s when you realize she’s gone. You sob and lean in to kiss her cheek, silently saying goodbye to her and you close your eyes, trying to not break down.

Pushing to his feet, Oberyn places your mother’s hand on her chest and steps back to let you grieve how you need to. “Her pain is gone, Dove.” He murmurs softly. He won’t leave you, knowing what you are going through. After you have your moment with her, he will arrange for your mother’s body to be treated with the utmost care.

You nod, lip quivering, and tears stream down your cheeks as you watch him treat your mom with so much care. “I can’t - I need you to - to help me plan everything.” You request and he nods, “of course I will.” He promises, leaning in to kiss your hair. You know he will, he promised your mom to look after you.

“She was a good woman.” He tells you quietly. “I would come sit with her, every afternoon, after lunch.” He had never told you that. Or that he had asked her not to tell you. After the arrangement had been made, and she had started the treatments, he had made time no matter what else was going on. Even when you weren’t speaking with him.

Your eyes widen and you stare at him in shock. “You came - every day?” You ask and he nods. Your heart pounds in your chest and he reaches out to gently wipe the tears from your cheeks. You reach up to grip his wrist and he freezes, thinking you’re rejecting his touch. “Thank you.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around his waist after you let go of his wrist.

“You don’t need to thank me.” He promises. “At first, I came to see if I could talk her into getting you to change your mind, but when I saw her doctor, I knew I could never do that.” He explains, not wanting you to think that he was totally honorable. “But then I kept coming back for her, for myself. She had always been there in Sunspear but I had never gotten to know her.” It’s a regret he will carry, but he is happy for the time he has spent with her. “I see why you went to such lengths to save her.”

You are shocked to hear that he was visiting your mother. You never knew that and you swallow harshly, trying to stop the sob that’s working its way up your throat again. You bury your face in his chest and squeeze him, knowing that you want to make this marriage work. He’s your husband, your only family.

**** 

The funeral is a beautiful, somber affair. Oberyn had helped you through it all, guiding you through choosing a service and flowers, music and a dress for her to wear. He had insisted that she be buried in the Martell crypt, telling you that as his mother-in-law, she deserved to be there. Since it was housed in the basement of the building you lived in, you could visit anytime you wished. He had stood by your side, strong and comforting, opening up to you about his grief from losing his sister and how it had changed him.

After the funeral, you have grown closer to Oberyn and you are getting ready for dinner with him when it hits you. You love him. You have no idea when it happened because you didn’t want him, didn’t like him, but between the drama between you and the way he’s supported you during your mother’s death, you have fallen for the Red Viper. You stare at yourself in shock and Oberyn walks into your now shared bedroom with the towel around his waist, chest glistening from his shower. “I love you.” You blurt out, unable to stop yourself.

Oberyn stops, turning towards you with his brow dipping into a furrowed line. “You shouldn’t, Dove.” He tells you quietly. “I’m not a good man, a man who is content to live a quiet and simple life.” You know he still sleeps with others. Not just Ellaria. He comes back to you most nights, especially since your mother’s death, but it’s no secret that he isn’t giving up his ways. You look so crestfallen that he sighs, his hands dropping to his sides. “You know I care about you?” He asks. “Right? That you will be safe and find pleasure and comfort with me? That I will make sure you are happy?”

His answer shouldn’t surprise you. He’s made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t do commitment and love. You’d accepted that he shares his bed with others and you haven’t been in a mindset to think about trying that with him. “I do.” You promise, looking back at yourself in the mirror. “I just wanted you to know how I feel. Even if you don’t feel the same.” You assure him and he nods, stripping off his towel and you can’t help but admire his body in your reflection. “Oberyn?” You ask and he looks at you, “yes, Dove?” You bite your lip, “I want to share our bed with Ellaria and another. I want to experience more.” You announce, slightly nervous.

He’s surprised and cautious about your wants. “Are you sure?” He doesn’t care about his nudity as he strides towards you, picking up the bottle of wine that has been left by the maid and drinks straight from the neck. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to.” He reaches out and caresses your cheek. “You don’t have to change for me.”

You nod, “I’m not changing because of you. I want to try it. If I don’t like it, I’ll say so. I want to experience something different. Can you help me do that?” You ask and he nods, a smirk on his face as he brushes your cheekbone with his thumb. “It would be my pleasure.” You smirk, turning your head to kiss his palm, “our pleasure.” Oberyn chuckles and leans down to kiss you, the taste of the wine on his tongue has you moaning and he pulls back to say “fuck dinner. I want you.” You moan into the kiss and let him drag you to the bed. He tells you everything he wants to watch you do, growled in your ear while he fucks you from behind. Your dinner reservation ignored.

After you are sprawled on the bed, dripping his cum, Oberyn caresses your hip and chuckles. “Do I call Ellaria and her lover into our bed now, or would you prefer tomorrow?” He slaps a cheek of your ass playfully. “Did I wear you out?”

You chuckle, “you have enough energy for them to come over now, husband? Or are you too old to continue fucking through the night?” You tease, eyebrows raised as you look up at him from where you are laying on the bed.

He rolls his eyes slightly and sighs. “Too old?” He snorts. “You weren’t calling me too old when you were screaming my name in pleasure while you soaked my cock.”

You chuckle at his offense and you shift to curl into his chest, “call them now. I’ll clean up and we can host Ellaria and her lover. I want to experience them.” You caress Oberyn’s sternum as you look at him.

He chuckles and reaches for his phone that is lying on the bedside table. Opening it up, he selects a number from his contacts and hits call. His fingers caress your back as the phone rings and he smiles when the sultry voice of his lover is heard. “Darling.” He coos. “Are you entertaining a woman tonight, or do you have that lover who has such an impressive cock of his own?” He asks, as easily as he would ask about a dinner date.

You listen to him on the phone, lounging on the bed as he speaks to Ellaria. “The lover with the impressive cock.” Ellaria coos her answer and you smirk, “come over.” You say since he has it on speaker and Ellaria is surprised when she speaks your name. “I want to experience you and your lover with my husband.” You declare, wanting to let her know your intentions.

Ellaria hums, wondering if Oberyn has convinced you to try this, although she knows he is not one to force matters. “We will be down shortly.” The floor where his lover and his children live is above yours, he had never wanted to be too far from the Sand Snakes. Chuckling, he ends the call and smirks at you. “Will you entertain with my cum dripping from your cunt or will you clean up?” He asks. “I think I might wear your juices on my cock.”

You smirk, shifting to kneel on the bed, and you reach for him to wrap your arms around his neck. “Do you think Ellaria will wish to lick your cum from my pussy?” You hum, leaning in to kiss his jaw, “or will she want me to be clean?”

Oberyn hums, turning his head to press his lips to yours. “She knows the taste of my cum well.” He chuckles. “I know she would love to see how we taste together.”

You hum against his lips, caressing his chest, and you moan against his lips when his tongue slides into your mouth. Neither of you hear the door open but you hear Ellaria when she says “ah, what a gorgeous sight, lover.”

He smiles against your lips, his flaccid cock twitching as he thinks about what is to come. You have never had multiple partners, so it will be a treat to see if you like that.

You smirk, turning your head to look at Ellaria and gesture for her to join. “Come here.” You coo and wave her over with her lover. Ellaria kneels on the bed and you reach for her, pressing your lips to hers, your hand curling around her neck.

Oberyn groans at the beautiful sight and he feels Omar’s hand on his shoulder. Turning and pressing his lips to the other man’s easily. He has had him before and he knows you will be pleased with his cock if you take it tonight.

You moan when you pull your lips from Ellaria so you can watch Oberyn kiss the other man. His hand cupping his cheek and your stomach twists in arousal at the sight. You moan softly and watch him kiss another man. “It’s a gorgeous sight, isn’t it?” Ellaria coos in your ear and she caresses your back until she’s squeezing your ass. You nod, turning your head to press your lips back to hers, your tongue sliding against hers while you reach up to cup her breast.

Pleasure is all Oberyn ever strives for in a sexual encounter. He wants everyone to enjoy themselves. Most of all him, but right now, this is also more about you than him. To see if you are willing to slot yourself into this part of his world, to open up to the comfort that can be found in others arms and not let jealousy come between you. He breaks away from Omar’s kiss. “Ellaria.” He rasps out. “She wants you to lick my cum from her pretty little cunt.” He informs his lover.

Ellaria moans, kissing along your jaw, “you want me to lick your pussy, beautiful girl?” She coos and you nod, falling under her spell as her dark eyes burn into yours. She guides you to lay down on the bed and spreads your legs, admiring the creamy mess between your thighs, and your chest heaves in anticipation as she shifts to law down between your legs.

Omar’s hand wraps around Oberyn’s cock and he groans, making you look over at him. He flashes you a smirk and nods towards Ellaria. “She will eat your cunt while her lover sucks my cock.”

You gasp when Ellaria’s tongue slides through your folds, her moan vibrating through you and you watch Omar shift onto his knees, his hand squeezing Oberyn’s cock as he leans closer to take him into his mouth, making your husband groan. The sight has your stomach clenching and your pussy pulse against Ellaria’s tongue. “Shit.” You choke, reaching down to tangle your fingers in her hair.

Oberyn hums in pleasure and his hand cups the back of Omar’s head as he eagerly swallows down his cock. “You are a pretty sight.” He praises breathless, both to you and Ellaria and the man who is pleasuring him. “How does it feel, Dove? Knowing that a woman's tongue can know your body so well?”

You whine, tilting your head back against the mattress as Ellaria strokes your thighs, pushing them further apart. “You taste so good.” She coos and slides her tongue through your folds until she sucks your clit. You cry out and moan, back arching as you watch Oberyn take his pleasure, rocking his hips into Omar’s mouth.

Oberyn’s head tilts back, groaning loudly as he experiences the talented mouth of the other man. Only opening his eyes again so he can watch you rock your hips down onto Ellaria’s face. “You look so good like that.” He pants. “Spread out and indulgent. Both of you are so eager for more.”

Ellaria hums against your folds, moaning when you tug on her hair. She sucks on your clit a little harder and you whine, bucking your hips up into her face. She flings her arm over your stomach and Oberyn groans as he watches you. Your eyes meet his and you whimper, “so good.”

He caresses Omar’s cheek and feels where his cock makes the man’s throat bulge. “Make her cum, El.” He pants out, knowing how talented that tongue is. “Make her cum so she can taste your gorgeous cunt.”

His words send you over the edge and you cry out, thighs pressing against her head as you cum against her tongue. She moans and laps at your folds, wanting every drop, and you shake while you moan her name, your eyes closing while Oberyn watches you.

Tapping the other man’s chin, Oberyn pulls his hips back. His cock sliding out of the hot mouth that it had been buried in and he leans over to drag Ellaria up to taste you from her lips with a groan.

You watch Oberyn kiss Ellaria and you reach for Omar, pulling him close to kiss him. His hands grab your waist and he pulls you close while Ellaria and Oberyn kiss. It’s so erotic, your cunt drips despite you just orgasming from Ellaria’s tongue.

The kiss between lovers is long, easily something that could last all day. But Oberyn and Ellaria both are eager to witness the passion you share with the other man. Turning and moaning as the sight as your hand wraps around the thick cock attached to Omar’s magnificent form. “Lover, perhaps Omar should fuck her while she licks my cunt?” Ellaria moans. “I doubt you will object to filling his ass with your cock.”

Oberyn smirks, “you won’t catch me arguing about that, lover.” He coos and he reaches for you, “you want to have his cock, my wife?” He asks and you nod, “yes.” You’re breathless and you want to sample Ellaria. He chuckles and reaches out to squeeze your ass, “your wish is our command.” He winks and Ellaria shifts to lay down. You kneel on your hands and lean in to slide your tongue along Ellaria’s thigh.

Ellaria moans your name, her eyes sliding closed and there is a very pleased smirk on her face. As if this is the outcome she had been anticipating. “Gorgeous.” Oberyn coos as Omar pumps his cock and shuffles behind you. “Fill my wife with your cock and I’ll prep you to take mine.” He grunts. “She will experience the force of both of our thrusts.”

When Omar starts to enter you, you whimper against Ellaria’s skin. He’s thicker than Oberyn but not as long. You pant as he pushes into you and you let yourself stretch around him while caressing Ellaria’s thighs. When he’s fully inside you, you timidly lean down towards Ellaria’s pussy. “I, uh, haven’t done this before.” You confess and Ellaria smirks, “just do to me what you love to have done to yourself.” She instructs and you nod, leaning in to slide your tongue through her folds.

Oberyn shuffles off the bed, watching you take the other man’s cock from a different angle while he gets a bottle of lube. The sight of your tongue timidly sliding through Ellaria’s cunt is intoxicating. He grabs the bottle from the drawer and leans down, pushing his head beside yours and letting his tongue flutter alongside yours.

His tongue tangling with yours has you moaning and Ellaria pants, her fingers tangling in his hair and her hand on your neck. “Fuck.” She curses and you moan, lapping at her clit with Oberyn until he pulls away, kissing you on the cheek.

“You look so pretty like this, Dove.” Oberyn coos as he slides back behind Omar and opens the tube to squeeze some lube on his fingers. “Ellaria likes your tongue.”

Omar groans when Oberyn presses his slicked up digits against his ass and your husband chuckles at his pleasured groan when he’s not even got started yet. You lap at Ellaria’s folds, sliding down to push your tongue into her and Omar slowly rocks into you, taking one of Oberyn’s fingers inside.

Despite having fucked Omar before, Oberyn takes his time to work him open. Knowing that he needs to be stretched so he doesn’t tear. His ass is tight and he groans when the muscles clench down around his finger. Pulling back and adding more lube before working a second finger inside him. “That’s it, lover. Open up for me and you will have my cock buried in your ass soon. You’ll like that, impaled on my cock while fucking my wife. You’ll be in heaven.”

Omar moans, dropping his head as he tries to stay still. You whine against Ellaria’s folds, wanting more but he doesn’t move until Oberyn has stretched him out. You slide your tongue up to suck on Ellaria’s clit and she watches Oberyn move to lube up his cock, spreading more lube on Omar’s ass as he kneels behind him.

“Fuck.” Oberyn groans, pressing the head of his cock against the grasping ring of muscles and starts to breach the man. Sliding his hips forward until the head is inside and he hisses, sliding his hand down Omar’s back. “Start moving.” He orders the other man. “Fuck yourself back onto my cock as you fuck my Dove.”

Just his words are enough for Omar to twitch inside you but he nods, gripping your hips as he starts to move. You whine in delight, the vibrations making Ellaria moan in pleasure as you lap at her clit. It doesn’t take long for you all to have a rhythm established and you are moaning at the way Omar pushes into you.

Once Oberyn feels the way Omar is pushing back against his cock, he knows he can ramp up the pace. The man is begging for him to hammer into his pretty little ass and wreck him from the way he is squeezing his cock like a vice. Gritting his teeth, Oberyn digs his fingers into Omar’s hips and snaps his own forward harshly, making the other man cry out in pleasure as he strikes against his prostate.

Omar is pushed into you by Oberyn and in turn, you moan into Ellaria’s cunt, making her whine. The motion back and forth continues, building up as the four of you seek pleasure and pleasure from one another. It’s intoxicating and you can understand why Oberyn loves it so much.

Leaning over Omar’s shoulder to watch you and Ellaria. Loving how eagerly you are devouring his lover’s cunt. As you hear her moans, it spurs you on, wanting to hear more from her. Ellaria paws at her breasts and tugs on your hair as she rocks her hips down, greedy for your tongue. “That’s it, Dove. Devour her. Make her cum on your tongue and then that thick cock will fill your cunt. After you cream all over him.”

Oberyn’s words make you clench around Omar who hisses and bucks into you a little harder. You slide your tongue into Ellaria and you barely need to move your head, pushed into your pussy by the two men behind you.

Oberyn chuckles, continuing his harsh pace as he spears into the other man. “That’s right, fuck. All of us are going to cum. Every one of us. Ellaria is loving that tongue in her cunt, aren’t you?” He growls.

Ellaria moans and nods, tangling her fingers in your hair to push you even further into her cunt. You lap at her clit and she meets Oberyn’s eyes. “Your wife is not as innocent as she seems. She’s going to make me cum.” She confesses breathlessly and Omar feels you clench around his cock.

Oberyn’s filthy chuckle is low, heated. “Good girl, Dove.” He praises. “Make her cum. Show her how filthy you can be. Cum on Omar’s cock. Fuck, you fit in so well. We will all fuck you until you are covered in cum. Until you are full.” He rambles as he plows into Omar, so incredibly turned on by how erotic his once prudish seeming wife is being right now. “Fuuuuuck.”

Oberyn’s words have your cunt fluttering around Omar’s cock but you want Ellaria to cum first. You suck on her clit and snake your hand along her thigh until you are pushing two digits into her weeping pussy. She cries out and you moan victoriously when she clamps down on your fingers and her back arches.

Ellaria cumming is always a beautiful sight. The gorgeous woman is enthralling when she shakes in pleasure and it’s made even more intoxicating by the knowledge that you made her cum. His wife devours her cunt like you are born to do it and makes his lover cry out in bliss, making him think that this could be a regular occurrence.

You work her through it, making you moan into her folds until she’s pushing your head away. You whine but Omar’s hands grab your tits, squeezing them, and you are sent closer to your orgasm. His hips hit your ass and you whimper when he gets the angle just right. “That’s it baby. Cum for us.” Ellaria coos, watching your face.

Oberyn can tell from the way your breaths are catching in your chest that you are about to cum. You must be squeezing Omar’s cock because the other man’s ring of muscles is pulsing around his cock. “She’s close.” He bites out.

Your hands grip Ellaria’s as she coos to you, “cum for us, lover.” You whine, squeezing your eyes shut, and you gasp when you feel Oberyn’s fingers rubbing your clit. You are pushed over the edge and moan your husband’s name as you fall apart on another man’s cock.

Oberyn twitching inside you, the pressure against Omar’s prostate makes the other man cry out. His hips lurch forward and he starts to throb. Painting your walls with ropes of sticky cum while his puckered hole spasms around your husband’s cock.

You pant, collapsing forward and Omar follows you, Oberyn shifting his knees to follow and you moan when his hand squeezes your hip while he fucks Omar harder, making the man inside you twitch despite his softening cock. “Fuck. Cum for me, baby.” You demand and Ellaria smirks, “cum for your wife, lover.”

You are pressed under the weight of the other man and Oberyn doesn’t hold back. Pounding into Omar to make the man wail in pleasure as his orgasm is pushed past the point of overwhelming. Hisses out your name as he drives into the tight hole again and again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He roars, pushing deep and flooding the man’s ass with his cum. Panting as he works himself through the intense pleasure.

You sigh, Ellaria stroking your hair as you relax under the weight of the men. It’s blissful and something you never imagined before. Omar pulls out of you as he’s soft and you shuffle up to lay beside Ellaria, turning your head to capture her lips while you spread your legs to show your husband the other man’s cum inside of you.

“Fuck.” Even though he hasn’t caught his breath, after pulling out of Omar, Oberyn ducks his head down and swipes his tongue through your cum covered folds to taste you and the other man’s combined juices.

“Fuck.” You pant, throwing your head back, and Ellaria chuckles, turning her head to pull Oberyn up so she can kiss him, wanting to sample the combination herself.

Oberyn lands next to Ellaria, tangling his tongue with hers easily and chuckling when she moans. Knowing that the other woman has become intoxicated by the taste as he has. Pulling away from his lips is a struggle but he reaches for you as well to kiss you softly, his other arm reaching for Omar to pull him closer as well. “Fuck.” He murmurs against your lips. “How do you like my way?” He asks.

You chuckle, reaching out to caress his cheek, “I love it.” You confess, “I want to do this again.” You admit and he smirks, knowing he wants to do this with you too but also keep you to himself sometimes. You know he’s going to be difficult to tame but you don’t want him to be anyone but himself, even if you were bought and paid to marry him for your mother’s sake.

[manias-wordcount]

Dabi quirkless reader - soft/fluffy/comfort wet dream

Hes been dreaming of reader his dreams are of his better nature.

in short dabi remembers his dream; It wasn’t even very sexual.. and yet he melted when he remembers “your my hero”

Aka im back in your ask. Please and thank you for the content! 🌸 i just really like the idea of being on a guys dream girl hehe.

Even in His Dreams (Dabi/Touya Todoroki x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼! 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆!

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚!! 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘂𝗽 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 (𝘄𝗲𝘁 𝗟𝗢𝗟) 𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

It’s stupid.

He can’t remember how long it’s been since he’s been like this. It must have been years- almost a whole decade even- since this has happened to him. He thought he had grown past this a long, long time ago. He thought that this was something that every man except for the most pathetic of them all would grow out of. He thought he was above this. He thought he was above this feeling.

He thought he was above seeing a girl and falling for her so hard that she starts to haunt his dreams.

This isn’t him. It’s not- It’s not him. This is not him. His name is Dabi. He has hunted and killed who knows how many people at this point. He’s probably on a couple of different hit lists belonging to the government, the underground, and whatever hero agency he decided to piss off lately. But there you are. There you go, being present exactly where he doesn’t want you to be. There you go, being stuck in his mind no matter how hard he tries to force you out. There you go, working some kind of magic on him that is making him sick straight down to the stomach at the thought of never seeing you again. It must be your quirk. It has to be your quirk. It has to be. 

Because there’s no way in hell you have him wrapped around your finger with just one look.  Because there’s no way in hell you really have him loyal like a dog on a leash just because you said to him, “You’re my hero.” There’s just no way.

But fuck…did you have to look at him with those eyes? Did you really have to?

A small, small part of his consciousness registers the moment when he tosses his body to the other side of his mattress on the floor, unable to stay still and stable due to his workup. But he’s still fast asleep. His eyes are still closed. His lips are still parted. And his legs are still tangled into a pile of sheets that he knows he has never washed before while his head is pressed into a pillow that smells like a faint combination of everything he has smoked in this room in the past week.

He’s fast asleep. A time that should be peaceful, save for the occasional nightmare or exciting dream of the future he wishes to make happen more than anything in the world. But it’s not peaceful. He’s fast asleep and it’s not peaceful. Not because of a nightmare. Not because he’s dreaming of a world where he gets to play the unapologetic judge, jury, and executioner of his father over and over and over again. But because he’s in turmoil. 

Because he’s dreaming about you.

He’s dreaming about the girl he just ran into a couple of hours ago. He’s dreaming about the girl he inadvertently saved from being mugged and possibly worse. He’s dreaming about the girl who didn’t seem to hear how her attacker screamed and groaned in pain as his bright blue flames brushed against their skin. The girl who seemed grateful to be saved by a man who looks and walks the part of a villain. The girl who didn’t seem one bit scared of him, despite the heat of his flame, the coldness of his stare, and the frightening, grotesque look of his body.

He’s dreaming about the girl who looked up at him through pretty little eyelashes and whispered “You’re my hero…” just loud enough for him to hear.

In his sleep, Dabi tosses about the bed, once more. His sheets are further messed up. A groan escapes his lips. His eyebrows knit together before softening, as his body relaxes once more. Even in his sleep, those words act as a trigger for him. Even after meeting you just a couple of hours ago, you have power over him. The mere memory of an incident that lasted no longer than a few minutes has power over him. Even in his sleep. 

The moment it happened- the moment he heard your voice, he tried to brush you off. He tried to ignore the shivers he felt as he could hear you take in precious breaths of air as the smoke from his fire started to grow larger. And he tried to ignore the way his heart beat a little faster with every second you stood close to him. Because you just looked so helpless standing there. Leaning into his space as you tried to tell him thank you. Swaying gently like a girl with just a little too much booze in her system. And smiling way too wide and sweetly for someone whose savior only stepped in because their attacker owed too much money and he was angry to try to collect.

But there you were. Helpless, sweet, precious little you. A perfect stranger.

But a girl he finds perfect nonetheless.

It’s stupid. He knows it’s stupid. He knows he shouldn’t be falling in love with drunk girls who just so happen to be so nice and appreciative of him when he saves them from having a bad night. He knows he shouldn’t be caught up in some civilization girl’s life who probably won’t even remember him by the time her hangover has fully passed tomorrow afternoon. He knows he shouldn’t even be dreaming of you. Because Dabi doesn’t dream of the next time he runs into the pretty girl he only saw once. Because Dabi doesn’t dream about how soft your body would feel if he held you to his chest and wrapped his arms tight enough around you that no one could take you from him. Because Dabi doesn’t dream about the possibility- the chance- to hear you utter his name from your lips and call you his hero once more.

But Touya Todoroki does.

And by the time he wakes up, it’s already mid-afternoon. The sun is high in the sky and peaking through the window that he left open last night. And it’s starting to become a problem he can’t ignore. But before he thinks about shutting the blinds properly or tossing himself back into his bed, he has to deal with something. Or rather, Touya has to deal with something. That said, it’s been a while since he’s done this. It’s been a while since he has woken up with a mess bigger than he thought he was capable of in his boxers. So he could only just sit back and hope that he- that Touya- still remembers what to do.

That, and hope that you don’t mind boys who can’t help but get a little bit carried away, even in their dreams.

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 18

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

A/N: not gonna lie, i wrote & rewrote this chapter a bunch of times and i'm STILL not sure if i fuck with it completely. hopefully it doesn't suck too bad asjkdrnfjk happy reading (maybe)!!!!

For a couple of long seconds, Isla hears nothing but an insistent ringing in her ears. Every other thought eddies out of her head, the only thing running through her mind being oh, no and how the hell did they find out? Oh so slowly, panic begins to bloom in the middle of her chest and gradually spreads out as her gaze flickers between all of her friends, their hardened expressions suddenly making painful, horrible sense.

How did they find out? How did they find out?

Oh, God. She waited too long, didn’t she? Isla should have told them the truth when she had the chance, because no matter how they found out, she can’t deny it. Denying it now means she can never confess the truth without hurting them more, and her brain searches for the words she can’t find. The cardboard straps of the bag in her hand burns on her fingers, heart pounding like a drum.

“Um, how—” Her throat is hoarse, tight. “Where did—”

“Sarah got a picture,” Cleo says, her tone measured as brown eyes meet Isla’s green. “Of you and Rafe. Kissing. Courtesy of Topper.”

Isla’s heart falls to the pit of her stomach, eyes falling shut in a tense combination of disbelief and defeat. Fucking Topper. Anger brews, but it’s overpowered by the nerves that tighten every part of her. She and Rafe hadn’t been careful. Topper must have seen them in the hallway or something after they ran into him. Her heart is racing even as she wishes for it to calm down—as she wishes for Rafe to be here with her.

Oh, this isn’t how she wanted them to find out. God, when she finally felt like she was ready to tell them the truth, Topper fucking Thorton beats her to it and does it in the most uncouth and fucked up way. Maybe their reactions wouldn’t have been positive ones if Isla was the one to tell them, but at least they would have heard it from her and not from someone who is always looking for ways to hurt them in some way. The desire to punch Topper returns tenfold.

“Look,” Isla starts carefully, eyes opening as she looks at them all. “I was—I was going to tell you about us—”

“Us?” Kie repeats, eyes widening under furrowed eyebrows as she gapes at her. Kie’s arms are crossed, the tension rolling off of her in waves, making Isla’s throat work. “You guys are an us? Are you guys in a relationship?” Isla presses her lips together, and it’s an answer enough. Kie’s shoulders rise and fall, her expression akin to horror. “What the fuck, Isla?”

Suddenly, it was like everything Isla had practiced saying to her friends, all of her reasoning and explanation, vanished. She’s caught so off guard that she can’t remember anything that she planned on telling them, and is instead scrambling to find the right words to make this better, somehow. Even when a voice in the back of her head tells her no soothing word of any kind can soften this blow that has rocked all of her friends.

“It was—it sort of just happened,” she says desperately, forcing the words through her tightened throat as she rests the bag of books and flowers down by her feet. Some of them gape at her, some don’t even look at her. Isla’s palms grow clammy. “We kind of kept running into each other and, I don’t know, one thing led to another and—and—” She exhales roughly, her voice a little meek as she says, “He’s really not as bad as you think.”

“Are you kidding me?” Pope snaps, sitting up straight as he narrows his eyes. JJ tenses up. “Are you forgetting the amount of fights we’ve gotten into with him over the years? I’m pretty sure we all know exactly the kind of person he is.”

Isla tries not to flinch at Pope’s harsh tone and harsher words against her boyfriend. “But you guys haven’t noticed that he hasn’t started anything with you for a while now?” Isla tries helplessly, gaze flickering over them. John B’s jaw clenches as he looks away. “I mean, I know you’ve gotten into it with Topper and Kelce, but Rafe hasn’t gotten into it with you, right?”

She knows she’s right, but none of them agree with her. Kie scoffs, shaking her head as the incredulity remains on her face. “I cannot believe you’re defending him right now. He’s an asshole, Isla!”

“Stop calling him that,” Isla snaps before she can help it, but she doesn’t regret defending him, even when Kie pulls back slightly, blinking in surprise. Isla meets her gaze steadily, chest tightening at the betrayal that flashes across her sister’s face. Swallowing, Isla looks at the girl sitting on the couch. “Sarah, come on. He’s your brother.” Sarah’s gaze flickers, meeting Isla’s, and Isla sees the conflict waging war in her friend’s eyes. “I-I know you’ve seen the change in him, too. He’s different now. He’s different with me—”

“How long?” Isla cuts off at the sound of JJ speaking for the first time, her shoulders tensing as she turns her head to the right to look at him. He turns his own head, ever so slightly, to meet her gaze, and Isla’s heart stops. JJ’s blue eyes have never looked so icy. “How long have you two been together?”

Isla’s heart thunders. Her body feels the weight of everyone’s gazes. She looks to the floor ahead of her, her voice a whisper as she answers, “Two months.”

Someone sucks in a sharp breath in the deathly still silence following Isla’s revelation. She lifts her gaze, forcing herself to look at her friends because she isn’t ashamed of her relationship, even if she is worried about their reactions. John B lets out a rough breath, a sardonic chuckle as he drolls, “Wow.”

Isla takes in a breath. “Look, I’m sorry that you guys found out this way—”

“But you’re not sorry about dating Rafe Cameron?” JJ spits out, turning to finally look at her fully, his expression a combination of disbelief, anger, and the same betrayal mirrored on Kie’s face.

Isla steels herself. “No, I’m not. Come on, guys,” she tries, shaking her head. “You know me. You know I’d never be with someone I genuinely thought wasn’t a good person. But I’ve gotten to know him. I know the kind of guy he is—”

“Oh, barf,” Kie cuts her off with a roll of her eyes, and Isla’s teeth press together tightly. “Are you serious?” She leans forward, arms still crossed and gaze locked with Isla’s. “He’s obviously playing you.”

Isla’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Playing me for what?” she asks. “What the hell does he get out of pretending to be a good person just to date me?”

“Not to date you—he just wants to fuck you,” JJ says tightly, his crude words damn near making Isla flinch as she looks at him in hurt. Cleo purses her lips, but Isla doesn’t miss the disapproving look she throws towards JJ, who promptly ignores her as his narrow eyed gaze remains on Isla. “Maybe he’s just getting some kind of twisted revenge, I don’t know, for Sarah becoming one of us. Maybe—” He takes a step towards Isla, eyes hard and unforgiving. “He’s trying to prove once a Kook, always a Kook.”

The tightness in Isla’s chest intensifies to the point of pain, lips parting slightly as she gapes at JJ, a slight crease in her forehead as his words land like a slap. An angry JJ always knows the right words to say that cause the maximum damage, and making Isla feel like an outsider in her own friend group is a sure fire way of making her feel small. Pressure begins to build behind Isla’s eyes, but she forces the tears back, not letting them gather as she lifts her chin in defiance. 

“We all welcomed Sarah with open arms when she and John B started dating,” Isla points out, voice surprisingly steady. She doesn’t want to bring Sarah into this, but she needs to point out their hypocrisy.

“Sarah isn’t Rafe,” John B answers tightly. Next to him, Sarah twists her lips to the side, that confliction still evident in her expression as she looks between Isla and the others. “She’s never thrown a punch at any of us.”

Exasperation and desperation form an ugly combination inside of Isla. “It’s not like you guys are innocent, either!” she exclaims, gesturing to all of the guys. “You guys have started plenty of fights with them for no reason.”

Kie scoffs, leaning back against the wall. “Nice,” she mutters, and Isla’s heart aches fiercely because, God, she had so desperately hoped her sister would be on her side, at least. But she won’t find an ally in Kie, and that fucking hurts.

“What do you want from us, Isla?” Pope asks, frowning up at her. “What’d you expect was going to happen after we found out? Whether we heard it from you or from anyone else?”

“I—” Isla falters breathlessly as she looks at each of their faces. Various degrees of anger, hurt, and disbelief still stare back at her. She knew this wouldn’t be easy, but the tightness in her chest is still uncomfortable. Her voice shakes despite her best efforts as she answers, “I expected you guys to trust me.”

Only Sarah’s expression softens, and maybe Cleo’s, upon hearing Isla’s words. Not the guys’. Not her own sister’s. 

“Trust you?” Kie asks, that disbelieving edge creeping back into her voice. “You’ve been secretly dating Rafe behind our backs for months. You can’t talk about trust when you’re the one who broke ours.”

Isla presses her lips together. Despite her pain, she knows Kie has a point. “I was going to tell you when the time was right,” she informs them. “I just—I wasn’t ready for this before. I knew you’d all react this way so I kept putting it off.”

“You knew we’d react this way because you know how fucked this is,” JJ counters. His eyes narrow in contempt, one corner of his mouth peeling back in a sneer. “Out of all the people on this damn island, you chose him? The Goddamn prince of the Kooks?” he scoffs with a shake of his head.

Isla’s throat works, her jaw clenching. “He’s good to me,” she says quietly but firmly. 

Pope shakes his head, staring at Isla as if she’s lost her mind. “He’s going to screw you over.”

No, he won’t, she wants to argue. But her gaze sweeps over them all one more time, and Isla knows that she hasn’t gotten through to them. Still, she wants to try. She owes it to Rafe and to their relationship. “He cares about me. He looked out for me before we even got together. He—he helped me when my car broke down. And when the cops showed up at the Boneyard party. And Kie, he—” She looks at her sister, whose eyes have sharpened. “He stepped in at the last party, remember? With Topper. He stopped things from escalating even more. Guys, he’s not as bad as you think, okay? A person can change.”

“You’re delusional,” JJ says sharply, and Isla tries not to flinch.

Sarah sits up, frowning slightly at the blonde. “JJ—”

“No,” he cuts her off, facing Isla with a tightened jaw, arms crossed. His cheeks are flushed slightly, angrily. JJ’s gaze is hard, unrelenting, as he says to Isla, “You need to decide; him or us.”

Isla stills—the whole room stills—as she stares at JJ with widening eyes and parted lips. It feels as though no air is going into her lungs as she chokes, “What?”

“It’s pretty fucking simple,” JJ snaps, Isla’s heart picking up its pace too quickly as she gapes at him. He cannot be serious. This can’t be happening. “You’re either with us or with him. But you can’t have both.” He gestures to Sarah. “She doesn’t have a choice because he’s her brother. But you started dating him—” He practically spits those words out, like they’re poison in his mouth. “Knowing the kind of asshole he is.”

“He’s not an asshole!” Isla argues tightly. “Can we just—please—” She helplessly looks at the others, and Isla knows that she hurt them with this, but pain lances through her at the realization that none of them are outright coming to her defense. It’s gotten so out of hand, so fast, and the panic and dread war inside of her. “You guys know me,” she tries again desperately. “I wouldn’t be with him if I thought he was a bad person. Why can’t we just leave the past in the past?”

“You can’t expect us to suddenly be all buddy-buddy with Rafe,” Kie says, frowning. “He’s never given us a reason to—”

“I’m giving you a reason! Right now!” Isla cuts her off, hand pressing to her chest and feeling her heart thunder against her palm. Her skin is warm from anxiety, cheeks probably flushed from the heat that spreads through her. “He’s been nothing but sweet and kind to me. I’m your sister—your best friend,” she adds, looking at each of them. “My word should be enough.”

JJ shrugs. “I don’t really trust liars.”

Isla’s jaw clenches, throat tight. “JJ,” Sarah chastises, her throat working as she looks around the room. “Look, come on, guys. This is getting a little crazy. I mean, Rafe isn’t some—some monster—”

“Of course you’d defend him; he’s your brother,” Pope scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “But he’s never given any of us a reason to think differently of him,” he adds. His gaze meets Isla’s sharply. “And I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can take your word for it.”

A rough breath escapes Isla, defeat creeping through her like an unwanted shiver. Her word isn’t enough? She knew. . . She knew they would react badly, but this? The pressure returns in her eyes and she drops her gaze to the ground, blinking quickly. Her chest is so tight, it makes it difficult to breathe as the hurt burns through her. To know her friends don’t trust her, that they aren’t willing to hear her out and see things from her perspective. . . Her throat dries, unable to swallow the massive lump formed in the middle of it.

She never thought she would feel like such an outsider amongst her friends. Isla knows she’s always had one foot in each life, Pogue and Kook, sometimes more so than Sarah. It had never been a point of contention before. But this has blown up far more than she thought it would. Maybe she was naive in thinking that they could talk and work things out—

No, no, she wasn’t naive. She had trusted in her friends, in the relationship she had with them all. She had thought that their friendship would be important enough for them to want to see and hear her side of things, to accept her relationship that she already had been hesitant in getting into because of her friends’ reactions. But Rafe. . . He makes her happy. So genuinely happy, in a way she’s never experienced before with anyone else. How can she let that go? How can she let any of them go? Is it selfish of her to want both? She didn’t think so at first, but now. . .

“Him or us, Isla,” JJ’s hard voice breaks through her thoughts, forcing Isla to look up at him. His gaze is still sharp but, God, she sees the subtle hope that swims in those blue eyes. Hope that she picks them over Rafe. It tightens her throat even more.

She gives one slow shake of her head, her voice quiet but defiant as she answers, “I’m not choosing.”

JJ’s jaw works, his chin lifting. Disappointment flashes across his eyes, mixed with surprise, but it disappears as quickly as it comes. He wants her to choose them, but Isla can’t do that, not if it means not having Rafe. In the same way, she can’t just choose Rafe but also lose her friends. She wants both—why can’t she have both? Why does she have to choose? What kind of sick ultimatum is this?

Shrugging, JJ says, “You saying that is an answer enough. Don’t come crying back to us when he fucks you over.”

Silence descends and Isla wonders if they can hear her heart pounding in her chest. Her eyes burn, throat locked, and she’s suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to flee. They won’t listen to her—not like this, not when the truth is a fresh wound. “Okay,” she whispers, clearing her throat after as she steps back towards the door. “Obviously, this has gotten a little out of hand.” An understatement. “We can talk again once we’ve all calmed down.”

JJ and Pope scoff at that and Isla tries not to flinch as her gaze meets Kie’s. Her sister stares at her for a brief moment before turning her head, effectively looking away, and Isla swallows as she opens the door. “Okay,” she mutters again before walking down the steps and away from the house. 

Every step she takes away from the Chateau feels heavy, part of Isla wanting to go back and continue the conversation until they’re all on the same page. But hurt blooms through her chest, spreading everywhere else as her nose stings and vision blurs from the onslaught of tears. They way they all talked to her—the tones of their voices and the looks on their faces—was awful. Sure, she and her friends have gotten into arguments in the past, but never like this. They never belittled her before. Never made her feel so small. Her best friends, her own sister, were downright mean, and a breath shudders out of Isla as she quickly wipes away a tear that rolls down her cheek.

“Isla!” She freezes upon Sarah’s voice before turning around, watching as the blonde jogs up to her. Isla sees the paper bag in her hand and bites the inside of her cheek. “You forgot this,” Sarah says, coming to a stop in front of her and holding the bag out.

Isla meets her gaze, sees the way Sarah’s expression softens because no doubt she takes notice of Isla’s red rimmed, glassy eyes. Sarah’s lips turn downwards as Isla takes the bag from her, sniffling because she can’t help it. “Did um—did Rafe buy you the flowers?” Sarah asks haltingly.

Biting her bottom lip, Isla nods. “Yeah, he did,” she answers, unable to help the way the corner of her mouth kicks up slightly.

Some of the unbearable tightness in her chest loosens, just a fraction, when Sarah mirrors the subtle smile. It disappears, though, and her expression falls, a little pleading. “Just give them some time, okay? They’re pretty raw right now. I-I’m sure they’ll come around?”

“You think?” Isla asks. She aims to sound hopeful, but it comes out unconvinced. “Will you?”

Sarah is silent for a beat. “I think what JJ said is unfair. And I think I owe it to you and my brother to not jump to conclusions.” Her hand reaches out, and Isla’s throat works when Sarah takes her hand, squeezing it reassuringly as her soft brown eyes meet Isla’s green. “I’ll talk to them. It’ll be okay, Isla. Just—just give them some time.”

Isla nods a couple of times, appreciative. At least someone is on her side. “What happened in there was fucked up,” she mutters, lips turned downwards. She’s still angry, but right now, she feels more tired than anything else. A little too defeated to focus on the anger.

“It was,” Sarah agrees with a frown. “It went too far. I’ll talk to them.”

“Thanks,” Isla says, squeezing Sarah’s hand.

“Are you—how are you getting home?” Sarah asks.

Isla shrugs. “I’m gonna walk up to the park, I guess. Clear my head a little before heading home.”

Sarah nods, though her forehead creases in worry. Isla is mildly surprised when she pulls her in for a hug, but Isla welcomes it, eyes squeezing shut to keep back the new burn of tears. “I love you. It’ll be okay.”

“I love you, too,” Isla responds, her voice only slightly shaky as she returns the hug and hopes that Sarah is right.

*****

The chain of the swing creaks slowly as Isla sways back and forth gently, her feet scraping against the dirt with every movement. Around her, kids run around and play. In the distance, a group of guys play basketball at the fenced-in court. It’s late afternoon, so the sunlight isn’t so bright, more clouds in view, but Isla’s gaze remains on the ground ahead of her.

You’re either with us or with him. But you can’t have both.

Was she naive to think that she hadn’t expected the ultimatum? Or was it just faith in her friendship with all of them that had her believing that they would be able to talk it out and they would see where she was coming from? Not accept her relationship right away, but it wouldn’t have gone so horribly the way it did.

Now, away from them, Isla no longer holds back the tears that burn her eyes. They roll freely down her cheeks, a breath shuddering out of her as she swipes a hand under her sniffling nose. Her stomach is in knots, tight and painful, as she squeezes her eyes closed to shut out the conversation replaying in her head. 

Her sister, her friends—these people she loves and has spent so much of her life with—called her untrustworthy, had practically insinuated that she was crazy for dating Rafe. Her head is at war, knowing where they are coming from, but also hating how everything went down. Isla could barely stick around to continue the conversation, feeling their words beat her into defeat until she has to retreat to collect her thoughts and wits before even thinking about broaching the subject with them again.

And. . . What? If she doesn’t break up with Rafe, will her friends stop talking to her? Has she really committed that big of a fuck up in their eyes? Why can’t they just see it from her eyes? Listen to her? Doesn’t she deserve that much? One relationship is going to be the cause of destroying a handful of friendships?

“Isla.”

A breath catches in her throat at the sound of Rafe’s voice, lifting her head and blinking away her tear blurred vision to see him standing before her. His expression is tight with concern, forehead creased and blue eyes flickering to look at every inch of her as he lowers himself on his knees, his hands on her legs.

“Baby, what happened?” he asks, squeezing her knees as he looks up at her so earnestly.

But Isla stares at him in mild disbelief, drinking in the sight of him as she asks, “How’d you know I was here?”

He rarely, if ever, comes onto this side of the island. He’s only ever been here for the parties at the Boneyard, or when he’s secretly given her rides to John B’s. “Sarah texted me,” he answers, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “She—She told me you told them and it didn’t go well.”

A sad scoff escapes her, sniffling after as she says, “I think that’s an understatement.”

Rafe’s jaw works and she can tell, easily, that he’s pissed off. But he pushes it aside, his voice softening as he takes her hands. “Come on. Let’s sit,” he says, standing up and pulling her off the swing. One hand remains holding hers, while the other grabs the bag of books and flowers, and Isla lets him lead her away from the swingset and to a spot in the park that doesn’t have too many people around.

He sits down at the base of a tree, giving her hand a gentle tug to get her to join him. She settles down numbly, sniffling as she mutters, “God,” quietly under her breath as she wipes away the errant tears from her cheeks.

The trunk of the tree is wide enough for them to sit side by side, his arm pressed to hers as he grits, “I should’ve been there.”

Isla shakes her head. “It might have just made things worse,” she says sadly.

Rafe loosens a rough breath. “How’d they find out? I didn’t ask Sarah.”

Exhaling slowly through her nose, Isla turns to look at him, her expression tightening. “Topper,” she says, making Rafe rear back. “Apparently he caught us at the hotel. Sent a picture of us to them, and God—” Isla leans her head back, looking up at the deep green leaves of the tree. “This was not how I wanted them to find out. He fucking made things worse than they could’ve been.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Rafe mutters, running his fingers through his head as he shakes his head, no doubt wondering about Topper’s Goddamn audacity. “So what—what did your friends say?” he asks carefully, looking at her with his forehead creasing in worry.

Isla’s throat dries as she thinks of their words again, her muscles tightening with the hurt that is still present—and probably will be for a while. She brings her knees up, arms wrapping around her legs after fixing the skirt of her dress. “They. . . They were pissed,” she starts, exhaling slowly as she stares ahead at a group of kids in the distance climbing around on the play set. “They feel like I-I betrayed them, and JJ, he—”

She cuts herself off, lips pursing to keep her lower lip from trembling. Rafe’s hand comes to rest on her back, his touch warm and comforting as he rubs her back reassuringly. It’s much needed, his hand on her, knowing that he’s right there next to her, right where she needs him. “What’d he say, baby?” Rafe asks gently, even as she hears the edge creep into his voice.

Isla swallows the lump in her throat, nose stinging and tears gathering as she blinks them away rapidly. “He wanted me to choose. Between you and them.”

“He—” Rafe exhales sharply and from her peripheral vision, she sees him shaking his head incredulously. “He gave you an ultimatum? That’s—are you kidding me?”

“I wish I was,” Isla murmurs desolately, eyes falling shut briefly. Some tears escape, but she wipes them away as the hurt remains frozen in the center of her chest, uncomfortable and tight. There are some other things JJ said, too, but she doesn’t want to tell Rafe, knowing it will only piss him off more. Or, worse, make him want to confront her friends.

He just wants to fuck you.

You’re delusional.

I don’t really trust liars.

Each word was a slap, still stinging right in her heart. Isla wipes her cheeks again, an elbow resting on her knee and leaning her cheek against her palm. “I told him I wasn’t choosing,” she continues, shrugging one shoulder. “I don’t want to—I can’t,” she shakes her head before turning it to look at Rafe. He’s looking at her with such concern, touched with helplessness and anger, and Isla’s lips tremble as more tears gather. The emotions of the fight fly to the surface, and in Rafe’s presence, she doesn’t try to push them back.

“I knew they wouldn’t be happy, but it just—it got so fucked, so fast,” she breathes out, her words trembling. “They wouldn’t even hear me out. Whatever I said just—it didn’t seem to matter and—and they’re my best friends. And they just. . . Didn’t want to listen. Even Kie—” Isla inhales deeply, trying to steady her breathing, but now that she’s given permission for the tears to come, they won’t stop. Rafe’s hand slides up, cupping the back of her neck comfortingly. “Kie wasn’t even on my side. But Sarah was.” Rafe takes in a breath at that, looking both surprised and relieved, especially when Isla gives a hint of a smile at that. It was probably the only silver lining in all of that shit show. “She said she’d talk to them and I appreciate it but they were—”

She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head as their words echo in her mind. For a moment, she wonders if she’s being too sensitive, if she should have just expected all of this. Isla is at war with herself, fighting between logic and shattered hope and expectations. “They were what, baby?” Rafe quietly asks, his voice so soft it’s painful.

“They were just mean,” she says with a breathless, hollow laugh. And maybe that’s a childish thing to say, but it feels too accurate at this moment. Her friends can be crude and brash, but never mean. No matter what kind of fights and arguments they’ve had in the past, they never made her feel like this. Her friends have never made her feel so alone. “If I stayed, it just would’ve escalated even more and I just—” She shakes her head with a deep breath. “I had to get out of there.”

Rafe squeezes the back of her neck gently, reassuringly. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, frowning as he shakes his head. “Do you—I can talk to them—”

“No,” she cuts him off, straightening. When Rafe purses his lips, unhappy, Isla sighs. “I appreciate it, I really do,” she assures him, sniffling as she puts a hand on his thigh. “But if they’re not going to listen to me, what makes you think they’ll hear you out?” she asks with a sad, knowing smile. “It’s just better to let them be for—”

For how long? Days? Weeks? Is this something they can get over quickly, or will it take time? Isla figures it’s the latter, but the amount of time it’ll take is a mystery. All she can do is hope that they all can come out the other side of this intact.

Rafe lets out a breath, nodding. “What do you need from me?” he asks gently, almost a plea that tightens her chest. There’s an intensity in his eyes and a crease in his forehead that tells her he’s desperate to help, not knowing how, but wanting to nonetheless.

Isla presses her lips together, the corners lifting into a solemn but appreciative smile. “Just need you,” she tells him honestly, watching as his expression softens upon hearing her words before he shifts, winding an arm around her waist, the other going under her knees.

She lets out a breath as he shifts her so she’s sitting sideways on his lap, resting her head against his shoulder as he leans back against the tree and holds her to him, his hand resting on her thigh, fingers against her skin. Isla swipes the back of her hand under her chin when she feels a tear rivulet, throat working. “God, I probably look like a mess,” she mutters, fingers then swiping across her cheeks as she looks up; she definitely has mascara running down her face.

Rafe tilts his head as he moves his hands to cup her face, turning her head to face him. He looks down at her, something flickering across his blue eyes as he no doubt takes in her tear streaked face, his own thumbs swiping along her cheeks. “A beautiful mess,” he corrects, grinning, and Isla knows he both means it and is trying to lighten her mood.

It works, a huff of a laugh escaping her as she rolls her eyes. Shoulders slumping, she says, “I guess we don’t have to sneak around anymore.”

Her tone takes a hopeful lilt as Rafe’s hands lower to rest on the sides of her neck. The late afternoon sun peeks through the leaves, bathing him and a spot of sunlight hits his eyes just right, making his blue eyes glimmer prettily. “You sure you wanna be seen with me?” Rafe smirks teasingly, arching one eyebrow. “I have a bit of a reputation.”

Isla breathes out another laugh, arms sliding around his neck and holding him close, her chest pressing to his. She pushes closer to him, the tip of her nose bumping against his as her gaze drops to his lips briefly. “I don’t scare easily,” she murmurs as they share the same breath.

Rafe’s eyes meet hers, flickering down to her lips before lifting again to lock gazes once more. Isla’s heart stutters as he leans closer and captures her lips with his, feeling a new kind of freedom as she earnestly kisses him back without worry of anyone spotting them—or, more accurately, caring if they do. She sighs into the kiss, muscles finally relaxing in relief at the closeness. Rafe’s hold on her is gentle, his fingers threading into her hair as her lips open under his, his tongue sliding in to dance with hers as he angles her head.

When they pull away moments later, Isla settles back against him, head against his shoulder and forehead tucked along his jaw. “I’m sorry about your friends,” he murmurs.

The remorse evident in his tone makes her heart clench. She knows Rafe isn’t crazy about her friends, but he wants to make the effort because he knows how much they mean to her. Isla had been hoping her friends would show the same thoughtfulness. It’s a lot to wrap their heads around, sure, but the conversation didn’t have to take the kind of turn that it did. And even if they did come around, would Isla be able to forgive them for their words?

She sighs. One problem at a time. “You don’t need to apologize,” she tells him truthfully.

Rafe huffs out a breath. “What I need to do is give Topper a piece of my fucking mind,” he mutters, an edge creeping into his voice. When Isla glances at him, she sees the muscle in his sharp jaw working while feeling him tense against her.

“He’s not worth it,” Isla mumbles, even if she doesn’t entirely agree. She just doesn’t want Rafe getting into a fight, though she has no doubt Rafe can easily take Topper.

“It’s ultimately his fault you were crying, so I’m gonna disagree with you on that,” Rafe says, his arms around her tightening a fraction, like he wants to protect her from her own tears.

Isla lets out a gentle laugh. “Gonna defend my honor, Rafe Cameron?”

He turns his head enough to press his lips to her forehead, Isla’s eyes fluttering shut at the gentle contact. “Damn straight; day and night.”

He holds her close, and she believes him.

[thoughtswithbbg]

Yeah, You Are My Home, My Home For All Seasons

Back to Masterlist :: Next

Summary : Kinich hadn’t seen you since you moved back to Snezhnaya to be with your family. Now, only a year later, he finally made his way back to you for Christmas.

Warnings : Fluff, long distance, pure yearning, slight angst, Ajaw in all his glory

A/N : i love kinich so much, sorry this was late guys!

When Kinich heard the words leave your mouth about you having to leave Natlan and him to be home with your family in Snezhnaya, he begged to come with you much to Ajaw’s annoyance.

“Kinich , you can’t come with me..” you sighed, looking at the man who you fell in love with during your time in Natlan. “You have a life here; I can’t take that from you.”

“Why not? I would give anything to come with you, you know that.” He sighed, his head resting on the crook of your shoulder. “I would do anything for you..”

“And I can’t let you do that.” You pulled away from him, pressing a soft kiss on his lips that he quickly reciprocated. “I’ll write you letters every day; we aren’t breaking up I promise. I could never leave you like that.” Your forehead rested against his, your hands intertwined together.

It broke Kinich's heart to see you walk onto that boat, it crushed him. But even after the five years you both had spent away from each other, he never stopped loving you. Consistent letters flowed between you two, and Kinich longed to be with you.

It was 2 weeks before Christmas when his Archon finally gave him permission to leave to Snezhnaya to see you.

"Archon are you sure?" Mauvkia wasn't stupid, she could see the longing on Kinich's face clearly anytime she saw him. As much as the Nation of Dragons needed Kinich, she knew his lover needed him more.

"Yes, you have to go Kinich," She gave him a warm smile, "I can see how much you long for her, we'll be just fine while you're gone." He could never thank his Archon enough for letting him travel to Snezhnaya and vowed to be forever loyal to whomever the Pyro Archon maybe.

The boat ride was long, as Snezhnaya was not the closest nation in the world. Once he arrived though, he underestimated how cold it would be. How you were able to stand it, he had no clue.

Over the five years you have been exchanging letters to each other, Kinich only received the location to your house in Snezhnaya once. It took him forever to find that exact letter, but he made sure to take it with him. You lived on the west coast, only a couple miles from the port. He began to make his way across the snowy land of Snezhnaya before he finally found a house that looked like what you described in your letters.

He knocked on the door, praying he got the right house. A small child opened the door and Kinich faltered. The little girl looks exactly like a tiny version of you. A million thoughts passed through his head as he just stared at the tiny human before him.

"Lyra? Who's at the door?" He finally snapped out of it when he heard your honey voice from inside the house. You came to the door and Kinich saw your face almost light up in shock and joy.

"Kinich?!" You ran forward and jumped into his arms, and he caught you with ease. You hadn't changed. You hadn't moved on. You still loved him. Those thoughts passed through his head as his grip on you didn't lighten up at all. He captured your lips in a hurried and eager kiss filled with all the longing he had for you.

"EWWW SISSY IS KISSING SOME HOBO!!" Lyra ran into the house, shouting all the way to alert any other people in the house. You sighed at your little sisters' antics, before dropping yourself out of Kinich's arms.

"Come in Come in," you made way for him to come into your house, the warmth of it making his cold chills vanish instantly. "I missed you, so much Kinich." You hugged him again, only to have a small force from inside his coat push you away.

"OH YEAH? AND WHAT ABOUT ME PEASENT!?" Ajaw in all his glory flung himself out of Kinich's coat in an instant, pointing his tiny dragon claws in your face accusingly.

You laughed, much to Kinich's annoyance and Ajaw's joy. You gave him a small peck on the cheek and watched as his face heated up instantly. "HUMAN HOW DARE YOU DEFILE K'UHUL AJAW THE ALMIGHTY DRAGON LORD!!"

A small hand tugged on Kinich's coat, and he looked down to see a small girl. "Um, can I play with your dragon mister?" Knowing she was talking about Ajaw, Kinich agreed and set Ajaw off to with the little girl, smiling at her joy to have a new toy.

"KINICHHHH HOW DARE YOU!!" You could hear Ajaw's shouts and cries from the other end of the house as your little siblings tortured played with the "dragon lord".

"Would you like to help me decorate the cookies?" You spoke to him, and he felt himself smile as he remembered how much he missed your cooking."

"Of course," He followed you to the kitchen, thinking along the way of how to make you his forever.

[kathlare]

dumb & poetic

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie, reeling from heartbreak and unresolved emotions, struggles to process her feelings in her creatively chaotic London flat.

Wordcount: 1.3 k

Warnings: just fluff

full masterlist // request over here!

June 21st, 2023 - London, United Kingdom

The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows of Amelie’s flat in London, casting golden patterns on the hardwood floor. The space was cluttered—books stacked in precarious towers, sheet music scattered across the coffee table, and a keyboard pushed up against the wall next to the upright piano. It was a creative mess, one that seemed to mirror Amelie’s current emotional state.

She sat at the piano, her fingers hovering over the keys but not pressing down. Her therapist had been firm: Write it all out. Put your emotions into words, into music. You can’t keep carrying this in your chest.

But where the hell was she supposed to start?

Rodrigo’s name was still like a bruise in her mouth, and her heart was aching from the weight of their failed relationship. She wasn’t angry at him—not entirely. She knew the breakup had been inevitable, their lives pulling them in opposite directions like two trains running on separate tracks. But it didn’t make it any easier.

The breakup was bad enough, but the lingering memories of Lando—fucking Lando—were like thorns in her side. Every thought of him seemed to carve her open just a little more, dredging up feelings she’d tried to bury long ago.

Her phone buzzed on the piano bench beside her, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Alex Wolff: I’m downstairs. Buzz me in.

Amelie sighed, brushing her hair out of her face as she stood. She padded over to the intercom and pressed the button to let Alex up. Benny, her affectionate cat, rubbed against her legs as she waited for the knock on the door. In contrast, Björn sat perched on a bookshelf, glaring at her like she’d personally offended him by existing.

When the knock came, Benny darted to the door, meowing in greeting. Amelie opened it to find Alex standing there, guitar case slung over his shoulder, his usual easy grin in place.

—Hey, rock star,— he said, stepping inside and ruffling Benny’s ears. —How’s it going?—

Amelie shrugged, closing the door behind him. —A mess. But what else is new?—

Alex set his guitar case down in the corner and gave her a long, searching look. —You look like you haven’t slept.—

—Because I haven’t,— Amelie said, half-laughing but mostly exhausted. —I can’t stop thinking about everything. Rodrigo, Lando, all of it. It’s like this loop in my head, and no matter how much I try, I can’t hit pause.—

Alex nodded, his expression softening. —That’s why I’m here. Let’s get it out. Music, remember? It’s always been your thing. Let’s make something, even if it’s a disaster.—

Amelie smiled faintly and motioned toward the piano. —Disaster sounds about right.—

The two settled into the living room, Alex dragging a chair next to the piano while Amelie sat on the bench. Benny curled up nearby, ever the loyal companion, while Björn jumped onto the coffee table, knocking over a book with a loud thud. He fixed them both with a disdainful look before trotting off to the other room.

—He’s such a dick,— Alex said, nodding toward Björn.

Amelie snorted. —He’s got the personality of Cameron sometimes. Maybe that’s why I keep him around.—

Alex raised an eyebrow. —Okay, we’re definitely unpacking that later. For now, let’s focus. What are you feeling?—

She rested her hands on the keys, pressing down lightly to produce a soft, melancholy chord. —I feel... stuck. Like I’m mad, but not just at him. At myself. For not seeing the cracks sooner. For holding on longer than I should’ve.—

Alex picked up his guitar, strumming a few chords that matched her somber melody. —That’s a start. Be honest. What would you say to Rodrigo if he were here? No filter.—

Amelie hesitated, the weight of the question pressing down on her. She played another chord, her voice barely above a whisper at first. —I’d tell him... I’d tell him he’s so fucking poetic. And dumb. Dumb and poetic. It’s what I fell for, but it’s also what ruined us.—

Alex’s eyes lit up. —Dumb and poetic. That’s a title if I’ve ever heard one. Keep going.—

The words started to spill out, messy and jagged, but painfully real. Amelie poured her feelings into the piano, her fingers finding the notes that matched her emotions while Alex wove in his guitar. Together, they began to craft something raw, something unfiltered.

The room seemed to shrink as the music filled it, each note echoing like a confession neither of them had planned. Amelie’s voice grew steadier as the song took shape, her frustration and heartbreak sharpening into lyrics that cut straight to the bone.

—"You're so dumb and poetic, it’s just what I fall for, I like the aesthetic,"— she sang, her fingers dancing over the keys. Her voice cracked slightly on "fall for," and she let it, not wanting to smooth over the imperfections. Alex nodded along, matching her with a soft, rhythmic strum.

—That’s good,— Alex said, his voice low but urgent. —Don’t think, just feel it. What else?—

Amelie closed her eyes, the memories flooding back in vivid flashes. Rodrigo’s quiet smiles as he read in bed. The way he’d quote poetry like he’d written it himself. The endless self-help books. The way he always wanted to fix things, even when fixing wasn’t the answer.

—"Every self-help book, you’ve already read it,"— she continued, her voice gaining strength. —"Cherry-pick lines like they’re words you invented."—

Alex grinned, his hands pausing on the guitar strings. —Damn, that’s brutal.—

They worked through the verses, building and refining as they went. Alex added a haunting undercurrent with his guitar, the notes swelling and retreating like waves against the shore. Amelie’s voice carried the weight of every unsaid thing, her emotions bleeding into every line.

—"Don’t think you understand,"— she sang, her voice trembling but steadying with each word. —"Just ’cause you talk like one doesn’t make you a man."—

Alex looked up from his guitar, his expression serious now. —That’s the chorus, isn’t it? That’s the hook.—

Amelie nodded, her fingers lingering on a soft, somber chord before she moved on. —It’s what I wanted to say, but never could. He always made it sound like he was the one holding everything together, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t a man. He was just...— She trailed off, her hands dropping from the keys.

—A boy who thought he was deep,— Alex finished for her, his tone gentle.

She let out a humorless laugh. —Exactly.—

For hours, they worked. They broke the song apart and pieced it back together, refining the melody, perfecting the pacing. Amelie didn’t even realize how late it had gotten until Benny jumped onto the piano bench, curling up beside her and yawning. Björn made an appearance, too, perching on the arm of Alex’s chair and glaring at him like he’d overstayed his welcome.

Finally, the song was done—or as done as it was going to get for the night. Amelie leaned back on the bench, letting out a long exhale as she looked at Alex.

—That was exhausting,— she said, her voice hoarse from singing.

—But worth it,— Alex replied, setting his guitar aside. —That’s one hell of a song, Amelie. It’s raw. Honest. People are going to feel that.—

She smiled faintly, though her eyes were heavy with unshed tears. —I didn’t write it for people. I wrote it for me.—

Alex reached over and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. —That’s exactly why it’s going to hit so hard. You weren’t trying to make something perfect. You just told the truth.—

Amelie glanced at the sheet music on the piano, the words and notes scrawled across the page in a chaotic but beautiful mess. —Dumb and poetic. God, that’s so fucking accurate it hurts.—

—That’s how you know it’s good,— Alex said, standing and stretching. —Come on, let’s call it a night. You’ve earned some sleep.—

As Alex gathered his things, Amelie stayed on the bench, her fingers idly tracing the keys. Benny rubbed against her arm, purring softly, while Björn watched her like a judge deliberating her fate.

For the first time in weeks, she felt a sliver of relief, like a weight she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying had finally been lifted. The song hadn’t fixed everything—of course, it hadn’t—but it had given her a way to process the mess inside her. And for now, that was enough.

[dabislittlemouse]

tainted angel 🪽 (pt.2)

PART 1 // PART 3 // PART 4

ෆ DABI X HAWKS’ LITTLE SISTER

ෆ cw: Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, corruption kink, smut and dubcon incoming

“So.. Dabi”

A red feather quickly finds itself on my neck, its sharp point pressing against my pulse.

“Let’s start by telling me what the hell you’re doing here. And being friendly with my sister, out of all people” Hawks asks sternly and I can’t help the grin on my face. He is fuming and I’m living for it.

“Hey now, you’re being rude” I rasp out, faking a hurt expression. “Is this how you treat your friend?”

“Enough with games. We’re no friends and you know it. How did you find this place? I swear if you hurt any of the-”

“Chill birdie..” I interrupt him, rolling my eyes. “I’d appreciate first if you got this feather off me. Before I burn it down, that won’t be fun for ya, will it? The little angel inside told me how sensitive feathers can be, even when they’re off your back. Really interesting.. ”

Hawks swallows and removes the feather, letting out a deep breath and trying to calm himself down. Probably mentally cursing his dumb little sister for spilling so much information to a man like me.

“To cut things short I tried to find some information on my own, cause see, I don’t really trust ya, hero. I’m sure you’ve been doing the same behind our backs, searching information regarding any villain in our squad”

Hawks chuckles, clearly a forced one. I’m one second away from blasting flames on his face.

“Come on Dabi.. you’re way too paranoid. After I’ve proven myself loyal to the cause multiple times? It’s kinda unfair don’t you think? Other members of the liberation haven’t gone through such intense stuff so you could trust them. But you still think I’m suspicious.”

“We’ll see about that when the time comes.” The smug smile fades off my face, seriousness replacing it. He needs to know he can’t fool anyone, not me at least.

“It wasn’t hard to find out information about you. But of course finding out that you got an angelic sister was the cherry on top of it all! All sweet and nice to savour~”

Now Hawks was the serious one here.

Ouch, struck a nerve there?

“Listen here, and listen well. I’m all in to help you guys achieve this cause and join forces, but I want you to stay out of my life. Away from my family, you’re going too far Dabi” he growls, approaching closer, while I stand there looking down on him. He really is shorter than me, such disadvantage.

“Tch, you really think I’m gonna hurt em?”

“Who knows, will you?” he replies, golden irises focused on my teal ones.

“I won’t hero, that’s all about it” I smirk, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my jacket. “If you’re fully loyal to us and to the cause, then why so paranoid? Why so scared? I would never harm someone who is loyal, or their family for that matter. I’m not that fucking stupid”

I let my words sink in and the hero stays silent for a while. This is all a game and I know exactly how it’s gonna go. Especially now that I got myself a little gem, Hawks is going to think twice before doing anything funny.

“Alright, all I’m saying is, do not involve her or anyone else in this. She is neither a hero nor a villain, let her live her normal life and don’t mess it up. She doesn’t know who you are, nor my association with the League. I’d rather kept this all hidden for both of our sakes, won’t be beneficial if the word gets out”

“Y’got it” I click my tongue, fully aware that I will do the opposite. I didn’t have time to have further conversations with my angel. Besides from being a sight for sore eyes, I want to know all the thoughts in that brain of hers. What goes through her mind, her opinions on different topics, what does she think of hero society? Does she have her own ideologies and beliefs? For sure she is not just a brainless doll who does nothing but sit pretty all day.

Still, even if that’s the case, I will use her whoever I see fit. Been a long time since I had some real fun, and having a brainless little doll sitting nicely on my cock sounds just about right.

Fuck, thinking such nasty thoughts when her brother is right in front of me.

Little does he know that I got her number.

*2 days later*

As I head back to ReDestro’s mansion, familiar voices of my comrades fill my ears the moment I step inside.

“Hey Dabi, where have you been dude? You can’t keep ignoring your duties as a lieutenant!” Twice says.

“Don’t worry about that Twice” I sigh, ignoring his gaze and heading upstairs to my room.

Though it’s not that easy to escape their interrogation the moment that psycho sticks her nose in my business. Fuckin’ great.

“Mmmm, do you smell this?” Toga asks Twice as she comes closer to me. “Such a sweet pleasant scent~ can’t believe it’s coming from you out of all people, Dabi”

Ouch.

“And what do you mean by that?” I raise an eyebrow, annoyance clear on my face. “Careful with your words psycho.”

“Ahh no didn’t mean it in a bad way! Usually you just smell like cigarettes.” she giggles, then her eyes widen in realisation. “Wait, don’t tell me you are seeing someone?”

“Dabi seeing someone?” Spinner says from the other side of the room, Compress turning his head as well.

Yep, that’s my cue to leave.

“Hey Dabi don’t ignore me!!” Toga pouts. “Tell me is it a girl? Who is she? She smells so sweet!”

Damn it angel, the trouble you already got me in.

“None of your goddamn business.” I say sternly, though I can’t help the small grin on my face. That’s all it takes for the little psycho to blush and squirm in excitement. God knows what kind of romantic crap she’ll be daydreaming from now on.

Laying down on my bed, I let out a sigh and grab my burner phone. It’s strange though, how I’ve always been chasing my goals and dreaming of revenge, my mind focused nowhere but only on the hatred burning deep inside of my core.

My only goal was to bring down this society built on false heroes, but as my eyes laid on her, it was like a ray of sunshine swept through the dark clouds in my life. I never gave a fuck about having fun around with women, I’ve been focused on more important things to let distractions take over me.

But when it comes to her, I am a depraved man.

I dial her number, and patiently wait for her to pick it up.

“Hello?” she answers with a sweet voice that has me biting my lip already.

“Hey angel~”

She paused, her breathing changed. Bet she’s blushing the moment she recognises my voice and the nickname I gave her that day.

“Dabi?” she replies, her voice a tone higher, clearly filled with excitement.

“That’s right” I grin. “Kinda missed your pretty ass you know?”

“Missed me?” she giggles. “We literally met just two days ago, how could you miss someone you met for the first time?”

“Got no idea, you sure you don’t have some kind of seducing quirk? That scent of yours been lingering on me for too long. Anyway, I hope Hawks didn’t make a big fuss that day, angel”

I remove my jacket and shirt off, feeling hot and bothered already.

“He is very overprotective sometimes, it’s annoying” she replies. I can already imagine her cute pouty face.

“That’s how big brothers are, way too overprotective of their little sisters. Can’t really blame ‘em”

My mind suddenly goes to Fuyumi. Was I overprotective of her too? Can’t remember.

“Princess.. you got any plans tonight?” I whisper.

“Mm not really” she mumbles. “Why? You wanna visit me again?”

“Why not?” I smirk. “Seems like you enjoyed my presence that day”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I just want to make sure guests feel comfortable that’s all” she snaps back, but I know too well that’s a lie.

Before I can say something back, I notice the bulge in my jeans growing.

Shit. All it took was her voice.

Lazily I unzip my pants, while I let her talk.

“Tell me angel, you already got a man in your life? Didn’t get the chance to ask earlier..”

“If I had a man, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now” she says, I can hear the teasing smile in her voice.

“Is that so? You that loyal huh? Such good girl” I say as my hand lazily strokes my cock.

A soft gasp leaves her mouth at the praise and I squeeze myself slightly, precum already leaking down my shaft.

“W-Well, that’s how everyone should be” she continues. “But to answer your question no, I don’t have anyone”

Even if you had, they wouldn’t live to see the next day.

“And in the past? For sure a gorgeous thing like you has both men and women salivating”

My mind goes on her swollen tits and soft thighs, my breathing gets harder. That plump lower lip of hers..

“N-None of the sort. I don’t have much experience in relationships” she says shyly. This grabs my attention, little angel is inexperienced. My cock throbs in my hand, I swear if I keep edging myself like this-

“Ngh- Y’gotta elaborate on that sweetheart” I manage to reply. “Y’never kissed someone, been intimate and stuff like that?”

“I’ve had my first kiss but- whenever I tried to go further I just couldn’t..” I can feel her breathing get irregular again.

My chest gets heavier as I edge myself at her voice, my hands moving faster, the tip of my head red and swollen, begging to be stuffed inside that sweet cunt of hers. Just the mere thought of it has me salivating, abusing her pretty hole until her voice goes sore from screaming and her eyes puffy from crying. The metallic piercings decorating my shaft heat up, making the feeling more tense as I reach my high. Like a drug, her voice is sending me over the edge

“Umm Dabi, you still there? You alright? W-what’s going on?”

“Mmhm yeah. M’still here-fuck” I let out a grunt, trying my best to keep quiet as I bust on my hand. Hot thick cum coating all my fingers, and I can’t help but think what a waste this all was. I could’ve filled her up to the brim with this.

She swallows nervously. “Anyway I think it’s time for me to sleep. It’s getting late. We can meet another time”

“Yeah sure thing” I say, trying to catch my breath after that orgasm. “Sweet dreams, doll”

After she hangs up, I look at the mess on my hand. So filthy. And for some reason I do not feel ashamed of this behaviour. Probably for the fact I’ve made my mind up that she is mine, so I can do whatever the fuck I please.

And with that being said, I decide to pay the sleeping beauty a little visit tonight.

Tagging: @touyalove @awalkingshame @mostlyheinous @dabislittlebeaniebaby @dabihawksluva @syrenkitsune

[forthelostones]

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ➺ 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 #4

anderson construction and landscaping had been parked outside your door since you returned home from university. as if the summer couldn't get any hotter, the business owner works overtime in your area. anderson is collecting new, loyal clients of your neighbors, cementing her permanence in your life for the next few months. what's to come of your girlish crush when she keeps showing up?

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 18+ (mdni); age-gap, young!reader, older!abby, butch!abby, slow-burn, suggestive language, thoughts of infidelity, ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parents, nickname: sweetheart, and modern au.

𝚊𝚗. everyone wow thank you so much for the love on for your eyes only! it means so much. here’s something a little different, hope you enjoy. any requests don’t hesitate to drop ‘em, xx jstar.

♫ 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. hypotheticals by lake street drive ♫

https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

I didn’t bother looking at my watch during our session and somehow I noticed the sun was nearly gone. A fist tightened in my stomach when I realized how long she had been in my presence without me being aware of the fact. I can’t remember a time when my social battery grew instead of depleting. 

Technically, I should be tired since I stayed up filtering through applications and cleaning my entire place simultaneously. But it was something about her that energized me. Even motivated me and made me excited about this project. She gave me a sense of agency, which I haven't felt in the last decade.

“You built these bookshelves, didn't you?” She snorted in disbelief as we traveled to the living room before her departure. 

“I did,” I said, in the kitchen as I fetched myself a beer, feeling proud at the recognition. 

I followed her manicured finger trace at the edge of the panels. She twisted her head sideways to read the dusty titles on the shelf. Even though I only saw her back, I knew her mouth was open in astonishment at my first edition copies of classic books, something I’ve been cultivating for twenty years. I bring the tinted bottle to my lips and stand with my free hand on my chin. 

She tucked her index into an original print of The Well of Loneliness. She looked over her shoulder quickly to check if I was watching her, which I was. I quickly diverted my gaze towards the floor and sipped. “I’ve had that book for a while,” I say. 

“Is it okay if I…” 

Her voice became silent, almost a whisper as if she’d be in trouble if she muttered a word about the novel. 

“Of course. Please.” 

I gesture towards the couch and she pulls the untouched book from the shelf as if it were delicate china and sits on my worn sofa. I bit the corner of my mouth as I saw her sit right where I lay my head and I took a seat on the farthest end away from her. She crossed her legs and brought the grey-shaded book onto her lap. The pages were stale and yellow-ish, almost crumbling under her careful touch. She followed the inside of the spine with her thumb, straightening the first page and a shiver traveled down my spine to my toes. 

“From the library of Abigail Anderson.” Her voice drops an octave, loose and saturated in a sexy chuckle. I wanted her to repeat my name just like that until her voice was hoarse.

I knew my cheeks grew bright red and I had the inclination to press the bottle to my face to cool my embarrassment. The embosser was a gift from an ex-girlfriend and she took the liberty of pressing it into every book I owned, even my most valuable ones. 

“You like that?” I smile, concealing my trembling lip with the neck of the bottle and thumb. 

“I wish I had one but my books aren’t special enough.” 

“What do you like to read?” 

“Same stuff you do.” 

That stuff is novels that exclusively includes women.

Her eyes linger with a glint that can only be described as fervor like she never met someone who read lesbian fiction. I didn’t break eye contact like I had been for the last three hours. I took another sip to hold back a large, toothy grin. Her phone vibrated with another ricochet of text messages, which she continuously ignored. But soon she broke our quiet pact by reading the messages and excusing herself to the next room. Her voice has a quiver in it although hushed. 

“Ellie. I’m sorry I just—okay. Okay. I know I am sorry. It just… Of course, I love you are you—alright. I’ll see you soon.” 

She comes back into the living room without moving back to her original spot. Her face was thick with an emotion I knew all too well. Dread. Maybe she needed an excuse to stay longer and I felt okay with that.

“I don’t know if you’re hungry or anything—” / “I’m gonna go—”. 

The jumble of words flusters us both and her grip tightens around her phone. The sight makes me think she could snap it in half right there. Ellie, her girlfriend, definitely gave her a stern talking to. The little cat-like girl I met on the street couldn't have made her feel so small. She brushes a stray hair from her face that wasn’t there. Instead of confidence, I saw her shrink down twice in size. 

“Oh, yea of course,” I rub my hot neck.

Her eyes dart towards the copy of The Well of Loneliness. 

“You can borrow it if you want to.” 

Instead of traveling around the couch, she let her body swipe past me as I rose from the couch. Our clothes mingled in a private dance just before she slipped on her shoes and fiddled with the door. With the book pressed to her chest, she turned to me, a mere two feet away, and thanked me. A silence fell between us. It wasn't awkward, but comfortable. I felt comfortable.

“Anytime, I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

What I wanted to come out as a statement became a question and I resented myself for it. I wanted her to know that I was going to see her.

“Hopefully. ‘Night Ms. Anderson.” 

“Drive safe, sweetheart.” 

A soft I will left her solemn lips and I watched the twinkle of her headlights illuminate my body. I raise my hand to wave her off but she turns her head before I can. I quickly tucked it away in my back pocket. My throat hardened seeing her car drive away.

As I closed the door, the lingering silence of the house struck me strongly. The missing book from the shelf made me feel hollow in a way. I was glad that she took it but I wish... I don't know. I finish my last sip of beer and toss the bottle out. I walk to the bathroom and turn on the shower.

The water offered me a clarity the cool breeze outside could not. I was relishing in a former life that I wish I had done differently. Craving someone who truly understood me and appreciated who I was. I never got that. My heart pumped with anxiety-ridden blood. Painful memories that I shoved away threatened to —

My hands are on the sparkling tiles, spread with 2 inches in between. I press my eyes shut and try to understand where I stand. It feels like the calm beads of water transformed into pebbles. Hitting my skin with an angry vengeance I could not place. The steam inhibits me from getting a deep inhale. I can't move. I open my eyes and soften my knees. I find the strength to reach for the knob and draw my body onto the floor. My knees come to my chest and I count until the water turns cold.

I opened the windows in my bedroom and listened to the chirping of cicadas. I close my eyes and walk backward onto the perfectly made bed. Instantly, my back melted. Why was I denying myself this? I lay with my feet dangling and was disrupted from the lingering sleep by my phone in the living room.

7:30 PM: What have you gotten me into Ms. Anderson?

She sat with the book in her lap, the only blankets around being a plum-colored top sheet. Her legs held the book and a small light illuminated the first page. Her thumb held the right page and her index and middle in the crease. I could imagine how she rubbed them against the paper like earlier. I stared at the photo and fell deeper into the elements of it.

7:35 PM: 400 pages is nothing, You'll do fine.

A bubble appears and vanishes.

7:36 PM: It's actually 448 pages, thank you very much.

7:37 PM: My apologies. 48 extra pages won't kill you.

7:38 PM: You don't know that...

7:40 PM: I think I do.

7:41 PM: Well, we can discuss what you think you know tomorrow...

My fingers twitched to reply but it was clear that she desired to be left alone. I couldn't determine why these casual conversations left my face aching, but they did. I reflected on how long it's been since I went on a date. The number enters my mind and burns slowly like a forest fire. The sides of my head throb as I slip under the blankets.

to be continued...

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bela + Morning/Aftercare

Not requested, just felt like giving myself a prompt. This was originally just Bela + Morning but my brain kinda shifted it, so oops, guess this technically isn't a one word prompt fill anymore. Features a gender-neutral reader, Bela's implied to be your wife (I don't think I used the word, but y'all have rings), and there's the heavy implication that the two of you fucked the night before (maybe a bit roughly, at that, but she is a vampire lady, so...).

Under read-more for length, at 1200 words.

-----

Always being the first to wake had its perks, at times, even if it often meant overcoming pangs of loneliness. Most mornings have Bela going for a short walk, then perhaps taking care of a few things for her slumbering siblings and mother. Other times she simply used the opportunity to relax in peace. Today was one of the latter days, and for good reason, her body still pressed tightly against you, the soft blanket your only protection from the cool morning air.

Last night had been… eventful, for the two of you. Undoubtedly you would eventually awaken to find yourself sore, perhaps with a few light bruises, but with the bite on your shoulder freshly bandaged. Bela never neglected aftercare. Most of it had occurred before you fell asleep, of course, some tasks simply bear repeating now.

Carefully, slowly, Bela untangles herself from the sheets, leaving a gentle kiss on your brow when you instinctively reach out for her. All the air in her lungs becomes pointless at the sight of your sleeping smile. Even in the depths of your dreams, her touch was something to savor, a source of great comfort. Bearing a grin of her own, she forces herself to turn towards the ensuite. She’d get to admire you plenty while taking care of your scratches.

Glancing down at her nails, she can’t help but pause, inspecting the dried blood under the edge. Perhaps her grip on your back had been tighter than she remembered. Making a mental note to grab some soothing salve from the cupboard, she quickly cleans up by the sink. It’s not thorough, mostly just taming her hair and washing off the aforementioned dried blood, but she fully intended to save her bath for when you can join her.

By the time she returns to bed, you’ve started to stir. Briefly, your eyes open, squinting up at your beloved, and you offer her a meek murmur for a greeting. With the way you look at her, but don’t quite see her, Bela can only assume that you aren’t truly awake yet. Allowing herself a chuckle, she sets up her medkit next to your weary form. Ever so gently she sets about removing the temporary bandage from your shoulder. Instantly the scent of dried blood hits her, making her dizzy for a split second, and she looks at your bite marks with both pride and desire.

Part of her is eager to bite again, to further mark you as her own. But she quashes those instincts, suppresses them, knowing that there is no need to be so possessive. Not only are you loyal in your affections, the ring on your finger makes it clear to others that you are her partner. When she leans in close, it is not to reopen wounds. Instead, she allows herself a single, slow lick. Not much comes from it, the metallic taste less strong than she preferred, yet it still sends a shiver of pleasure down her spine.

“My sweet darling,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your collarbone before beginning to dab a wet cloth against the bite. Each touch is gentle, soothing, only barely enough pressure to clean the dried blood. Bela begins humming one of her mother’s songs as she works. It’s a light melody, flowing and curling around itself, that fills the air with a pleasant buzz. “There we go, much better,” she speaks, applying an antibacterial cream, continuing her humming until the bandage is in place.

At last, you stir further, blinking up at her with growing awareness. Something warm blossoms in Bela’s chest when she sees how quickly you light up at the sight of her. Immediately your hands are reaching for her, wanting to cup her face or intertwine your fingers with hers. The first she allows, the latter she pulls back from, making a clear display of wiping her hands off on a spare cloth. No need to get medicine all over your hand. With the way you pout, she wants nothing more than to kiss you until you’re both desperate for air.

“Soon, draga mea, let me finish tending your wounds, understood?” Bela says, taking on a playfully stern tone. Although it takes a moment for you to process her words, having forgotten the ache of your body until now, your pout soon subsides. Then you cautiously shift, allowing her easier access to the pattern work of scratches across your back. “Very good.” This time her voice is more intimate, reminiscent of the night before, sending blood rushing to your cheeks. Once more she kisses your skin, this time where the back of your neck meets your shoulder.

“I love you,” you murmur, voice muffled by the pillow you cling to. Naturally, it’s the same pillow that Bela had been laying against half an hour ago. Your own was pushed off to the side, forgotten, teetering dangerously close to the mattress’ edge. The sight amuses Bela, and she has to stifle a chuckle, lest you think she’s laughing at your affection instead.

“And I love you. Now hold still, this may sting but for a moment, then the pain will fade,” she explains, a smile evident in the curl of her words. She waits for you to give a hum of acknowledgment before beginning to rub the salve into the skin of your back. True to her word, it has a slight burn, but it’s not enough to make you wince or whimper. Compared to the pain you gladly endured for her love-bites, this was hardly even a nuisance. If anything… the feeling of Bela’s touch, the gentle kneading of your flesh, is rather pleasant. Of course she notices, and leans down to murmur something teasing in Romanian.

Even if you don’t understand the specifics, you get the gist, and once again feel heat rushing to your face. This time Bela does not try to hide her laughter, the sound almost lilting. It’s bright. Warm. Entirely perfect, just as she is to you.

A few minutes pass, far too quickly for your liking, before you hear the sound of the medicinal jar closing with a satisfying click. For a moment, Bela makes no move. It’s not until you try to turn to look at her that she shifts, a hand on your shoulder keeping you down, the feeling of her breath fanning against your neck making you freeze. Pleased with your obedience, Bela releases you with a soft hum. Then she slips into bed next to you, in a familiar position, gesturing for you to lay on top of her.

“Come closer, draga mea, let me savor your warmth while the salve does its job. We can bathe once the medicine is absorbed,” Bela explains, and you start obeying before she even finishes speaking. As you curl against her, ensuring your back remains off of the bed, she quickly glances at the clock. Good, she muses, still plenty of time before breakfast. 

Yes, there are many perks to being such an early riser. The grandest of which is that she can enjoy this time with you, her duties fulfilled, her only work left to care and cherish her darling.

[911n234]

Why do we believe Katniss was bad?

Okay, the title might feel a little misleading — and I did that on purpose ;)

Let’s be real: no one outright thinks Katniss was evil or a bad person. But not everyone fully understands her personality, and this often leads to unfair comparisons, especially with Peeta. Why is Peeta placed on a pedestal while Katniss gets labeled as “unworthy”?

1. Katniss is an unreliable narrator

We all know Katniss is her own harshest critic. She relentlessly picks at her flaws, second-guesses her decisions, and downplays her achievements. And let’s not forget: she’s a teenager. Who on Earth actually likes themselves at sixteen? That age is a messy cocktail of insecurity, identity crises, and, for Katniss, literal survival.

Her narration reflects her tendency to diminish herself. She assumes her bravery, self-sacrifice, and quick thinking are things anyone would do in her position. This self-effacing perspective shapes how readers perceive her — because we see her through the lens of her own insecurities.

2. Haymitch’s role in the misconception

Let’s talk about Haymitch. He’s a big factor in how people interpret Katniss. His straightforwardness and willingness to call her out, while often helpful, also feed into this narrative of her supposed unworthiness.

The infamous line — “You could live a hundred lifetimes and never deserve that boy” — is a prime example. Many fans took it at face value, interpreting it as a comparison: Peeta is a saint, and Katniss just isn’t good enough. But hold on — what’s Haymitch really saying here?

Haymitch and Katniss are deeply similar, and Katniss acknowledges this herself. Both are survivors shaped by trauma, guilt, and a desperate need to protect the people they love. Haymitch likely projects his own feelings of unworthiness onto Katniss. Maybe he’s reflecting on someone he thought he didn’t deserve. His comment isn’t about Peeta being a perfect angel and Katniss being “less than” — it’s about his own baggage, and Katniss internalizes it the same way she internalizes everything else critical of her (can’t wait for Sunrise on the Reaping!!)

I can’t emphasise enough how much Haymitch affected our perception of Katniss and probably will never find words to describe how perfect it is. I think it was a beautiful way (in the literal sense) to show how deeply they are connected.

3. Katniss puts Peeta on the pedestal first

It’s worth remembering that Katniss is the one who idealizes Peeta before anyone else does. She sees him as her dandelion — a symbol of hope and light. She’s constantly comparing his warmth and kindness to her own pragmatic, survivalist nature.

And, again, she’s a teenager. While Katniss doesn’t seem overly preoccupied with her self-esteem (she has more pressing concerns, like not dying), it’s clear in the way she thinks about herself that she doesn’t feel “enough.” Of course she buys into Haymitch’s comment — it aligns with the narrative she already believes about herself and about Peeta.

4. Neither Katniss nor Peeta are perfect — and that’s why they’re perfect together

Here’s the thing: neither Katniss nor Peeta are saints. They’re flawed, traumatized, and deeply human. And that’s what makes their relationship so compelling.

Katniss is resourceful, fiercely loyal, and willing to do what needs to be done — qualities Peeta admires and needs. Peeta, in turn, is empathetic, kind, and an anchor for Katniss when she’s consumed by fear, despair or anger. Together, they balance each other. They’re partners in every sense, not because one is inherently better or more deserving, but because they make everything work — either it’s their flaws that make them human, demons that haunt them or their best qualities.

So, no, Katniss isn’t “bad,” and she isn’t “unworthy.” She’s just a girl trying to survive, navigate an impossible situation, and protect the people she loves. And for that, we owe her a lot more credit.

[lulablogss]

a glimpse of us.

angst; katsuki bakugou x gn reader

listen to “Glimpse of Us” by Joji as you read!!

when you’re looking into his eyes they’re clouded. clouded with regret and sorrow. when he holds you it feels as if you’re just a placeholder. he gets more distant as the days pass. he lays in bed at night questioning his current position. yes, you’re so perfect together but why does he still wish it was her?

though he finds it difficult to focus as you softly snore into his side. he looks down at you. admiring your soft features.

similar to hers; but just not enough.

he feels conflicted. his heart longs for her all while yours search for his. he certainly loves you, but he’s just not inlove. his heart still belongs to her - after all this time.

he tries to fall for your touch but he can only think about the way that it was, the way it was with her.

he had finally changed like she pleaded, like she begged him to. so yeah, he’s a different guy now - he just wishes she would’ve had stayed to see. he wishes it was her he was perfect for. he wishes she would’ve forgiven him one more time.

he can’t blame anyone but himself. so he passes time in your embrace. returning the sentiments and solace.

you’ve been with katsuki for a while now. meaning you’ve grown accustomed to his mannerisms.

you notice he’s not one for long eye contact, especially when it comes to him being sunk deep into you. you notice how he prefers when your head is pushed deep into the pillow as he fucks into you from behind. you notice how he prefers reverse cowgirl when you ride.

you notice how he wants it completely dark and how he tells you to “shut the fuck up and take it,” while slapping a hand over your mouth when you talk. only satisfied with ambiguous moans.

you brush it off though. ignorance is bliss they say. even though dating katsuki was just short of it, the coldness sometimes palpable. like a loyal dog you crave his attention and validation.

his patrols become longer, his responses become shorter. til they stop altogether.

you wake up once again to an empty bed, but today something is different. it’s not only the bed that feels empty anymore.

you check the time, and see a message from katsuki:

“Good morning y/n. I really wish you the best, I care about you but I just can’t bring myself to be inlove with you. Sometimes when I look in your eyes I seem to find glimpses of her. It’s not your fault but I can’t ignore it anymore. I know I said I moved on but I can’t. And i don’t want to hurt anymore or hurt you. Please don’t contact me again.”

“Take care.”

So now it hurts just a little more when he tells the press he’s single, more than it did before.