#| ❛ biting into the sun until his body is flooded. ❜ ( answered. )

[anisespice]

“ hate your boyfriend ” || tokyo rev. pt. 3

one two

synopsis: “ just drop your boyfriend. ”

pairing: college!toman x gn!reader

warnings: mature language, sexual themes, MDI. toxic!toman, cheater!reader (pumpkin eater!!!), mikey and baji’s are fairly long, mitsuya’s short and sweet, not proof-read, mild mention of violence, mild angst (for the exes), and i think that’s it

notes: whew wasn’t sure where to take some of these, but i’m fairly satisfied with this conclusion for hate your boyfriend! thank you all for showing it love and i hope y’all enjoy! <333

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @spacegirl05, @neverlandlostchild , @darks-pet-shadow, @captaincyberqueen

The sun was the first to greet you as it peeked through your curtains.

Awaking with a soft groan and a stretch, you winced at the immediate ache in your muscles that answered instead of relief. You began to slowly sit up, hissing through your teeth as you did. Blinking groggily at your naked form, you could vaguely make out the bruises painted along your inner thighs. The longer you examined them, the more memories that came flooding in:

Your legs were high enough to nearly touch your shoulders, spread wide and unabashed with your back pressed into the mattress, fingers tangled in silky tresses that curtained over your hips like spilled ink while an experienced tongue fluent in your pleasure buried itself deep in your…

You remembered. MIKEY had paid you a visit last night.

When your mind eventually caught up with your body, you turned to the other side of the bed hoping to be met with the comforting presence of your still sleeping companion. You grimaced.

Empty.

Tears slowly welled up in your eyes. Biting your lip to push back the whimper you so desperately wanted to let out, you hit the pillow where his head laid instead, then a couple more times for good measure. To think that this visit would’ve been any different, that for once you would mean more to him than just someone to fool around with whenever he felt like it.

But, before you could wallow in self pity any further, there’s a knock on the bedroom door. You jumped, tugging the covers up to salvage what little decency you had in your vulnerable state. With your heart thumping wildly in your ribs, your breath hitched…Did he stay after all?

A second knock. This one a little more persistent.

With a stuttered intake of breath, you answered, “C-Come in.”

There’s a brief pause, as if the person on the other side hesitated in case they heard you wrong. You called out again, this time more confidently, your fists bunching up the sheets in anticipation at the sound of the doorknob turning; hope bloomed where dread had been planted. A watery smile grew on your face, however, the person who ended up peeking around the door wasn’t at all who you were expecting.

“Wha—Takemichi?!”

Your screech made the blonde startle, jerking back into whoever was standing behind him causing them both to yelp in pain before he was promptly shoved further into the room. Stumbling over his footing, Takemichi fell flat on the floor with a large thud. You winced, reflexively pulling the covers closer to your chin. Shortly after, the culprit revealed himself, a disgruntled Chifuyu holding his nose in pain as he glared down at the offender.

“Jeez, dude, s’your head made outta freaking stone?”

Takemichi grunted from below, “You were the one breathing down my damn neck!”

Like a deer in headlights, you watched the two of them bicker back and forth for a good second until the realization of your very nakedness beneath the covers caught up with you. With fire shrouding beneath your skin, you squeaked, “U-Uh excuse me!”

The two blondes froze, as if they just remembered what they were supposed to be doing. When their eyes darted in your direction, faces lit up like Christmas, Chifuyu and Takemichi swiftly turned on their heels with stiffened bodies while profusely apologizing as they faced away to give you privacy. Nervously, you searched around for a shirt or something, seeing clothes already waiting for you on your nightstand. You knew based on how haphazardly folded they were, Mikey left them there.

Your chest didn’t feel as tight anymore.

Without hesitation you snatched the shirt and sweats and quickly threw them on. Now somewhat decent, you gave the devastated pair the okay. “You can look now…”

Even from behind, you could tell how flustered they were, their ears red and demeanor meek as they hesitantly turned back around. Chifuyu scratched his cheek and Takemichi rubbed the back of his neck, both avoiding eye contact. The former was the first to break the awkward silence, “Sorry ‘bout that, [_____].”

He elbowed the latter. “Guht!… right. Sorry [_____].”

You nodded, offering a small smile. “It’s fine…you did knock. I just…wasn’t expecting to see you two.”

“Oh, right. Mikey called us. We arrived a few minutes ago, actually.”

“Yeah, he told us to check on you to see if you were awake—”

“He’s still here?” You perked up, hopes raised high to the ceiling. The duo finally looked at you again to show their confusion. Were you not aware of that?

Clearly from your elated expression, that seemed to be the case. Both nodded firmly, and they could’ve sworn the room grew brighter from your smile alone. However, it soon dissipated when an unanswered question still hung in the air.

With a confused blink, you asked, “Wait but…why’d he call you?”

They avoided eye contact again. Takemichi answered.

“You uh.. you’re needed in the living room.”

—

Though you struggled to get out of the bed and walk, you were grateful neither of them commented on it as they escorted you out of the bedroom. From down the hall, you could faintly make out a few other voices coming from the living room, nerves beginning to raddle as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt—More people?

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight you’re greeted with. Your eyes locked on the individual tied to a chair in the middle of the room, first. His head hung low, as if he were on the verge of unconsciousness, but there was no mistaking it. “A-Aki..”

Your presence was acknowledged instantly, every pair of eyes now on you. You felt rooted to the floor, utterly gobsmacked as you scanned the small area with alarms sounding off in your head—Draken, Mitsuya, even Baji came out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of ice before halting in his tracks upon noticing you. He greeted you with a wordless, fanged grin before the one man you’ve been wondering about since you woke up trailed out from behind him.

His low, tired gaze slowly sparked to life when it landed on you, lips spreading into a warm grin as he opened his arms and said, “Mornin’, angel. Sleep well?”

You widely blinked.

“Mikey…what’re you.. what is—what,” you stammered, having difficulty choosing what question to ask first as you vaguely gestured.

Your boyfriend sluggishly lifted his head, revealing his taped mouth and swollen face. Your jaw dropped, hand flying up to catch it; man’s was fucked up. And to add insult to injury, the former blonde practically floated over to you to happily engulf you in his strong embrace, as if the scene in front of you wasn’t there. You hesitated returning his affection, perturbed as you watched Baji set the bowl of ice on the coffee table and submerged his fists in it to numb his knuckles.

You gasped before gently pushing Mikey back to shout at the ravenette, “Don’t!”

Baji paused, looking over his shoulder at you. With mild annoyance, he said, “But t’s my turn.”

“Fuck your turn,” you looked back at Mikey, practically staring into his soul. “Explain yourself. Right now.”

He frowned. “No good mornin’ kiss?”

“Mikey.” You pressed, making him pout. When he didn’t say anything in response, you huffed before quickly pecking his lips, face boiling at the fact that there was an audience; you could feel Aki’s glare trying to burn you both. Mikey, on the other hand, beamed with satisfaction. “Now, will you please-”

“One more.”

“Wha—No.”

He pouted again. “One more, and then I’ll explain-”

“Right now, Manjiro!”

Your volume was unexpected, the room startling to a halt. Before Mikey had a chance to speak, you cut him off by lightly shoving him while spewing questions at him, “What the hell is Aki doing tied up in my living room like a fucking hostage? And why are you giving our friends turns?—Turns for what? Is this what you’ve seriously been doing while I was asleep? Trying to make some stupid point? Sneaking around with you wasn’t enough?”

“[_____]-”

“Why did you make me wake up thinking you left again without saying goodbye, you asshole?!”

That last part resulted in you beating your fists against his chest, and Mikey took every hit without protest.

Draken went to speak, since obviously their leader was taking his sweet time providing explanation, but swallowed his words when the shorter delinquent merely wrapped you in his arms again, placing a kiss on your forehead to smooth out the stress lines. He lingered there for a moment before resting his chin upon your head, hands soothingly rubbing your back as you shakily returned the hug, tightly clutching onto his shirt.

Gazes respectfully averted from the vulnerable display, aside from Aki as he continued to watch the two of you, overcome with despair when it all sunk in; you were never his. He had always been second place when it came to Manjiro Sano.

“Don’t be upset, angel. ‘m not going anywhere.”

You sniffled. “Then why-”

Mikey replied, coldly. “Seems your little plaything’s been busy. He paid off a couple of third-rate gangs to try and ‘stomp me out for good’.”

You stiffened, pulling back to search his eyes for any hint of a joke, but the abyss merely stared back. With a slight shake in your head, you attempted to deny the information, not wanting to believe Aki would do such a thing. But, after getting confirmation from the others, there was no room for any doubt.

“Only took us minutes to find out,” Mitsuya said. “Some of their members were cocky enough to go around running their mouths in hopes of recruiting other guys.”

“We tracked down every single one of the bastards involved. Took a few days, but a success nonetheless.” Draken added.

“And guess whose sorry ass was at the root of it all.” Baji sneered, kicking the side of the chair and sending Aki toppling over. He landed with a large thud, moans of pain following shortly after, muffled under the tape on his mouth.

You winced slightly at the sound, but weren’t able to dwell on it for long when Mikey redirected your focus back on him with a gentle nudge under your chin. His expression spoke a thousand words, ranging from solemn to devotion.

Reaching down to hold your hands, he explained.

“That’s why I left town the night after your party. Didn’t want you getting caught up in anything until we got this shit sorted out.”

With a blink, your eyes briefly shifted over to the groaning figure on your living room floor. “A bit late for that.”

Draken shook his head. “Told him we could’ve gone somewhere else to do this. Dumbass just wanted to wave his dick around.”

Mikey flushed, glaring at his second in command. “Did not!”

“Did, too.”

“Shut up, Ken-chin...” he huffed, pouting. “I just knew he wouldn’t suspect anything if [_____] asked him to come over.”

Your brows furrowed. But, your questions are answered when Mikey pulled said device from his pocket, handing it back to you.

“Might’ve borrowed this while you were sleeping.”

Taking the phone in one hand, you could only stare down at your reflection in the screen as it felt like a heavy weight in your hand. Your eyes trailed over to Aki, meeting his pained gaze as he breathed heavily through his nose. A large part of you felt horrible. With him receiving a beating on top of discovering your unfaithfulness, there was no ignoring the lump in your throat as you struggled to swallow. "I...I didn't want things to get this bad..."

Mikey squeezed your other hand, "It's not your fault, angel. Aki just forgot his place, that's all." He shot down an indifferent look at his pathetic form, Aki's blood running cold as he attempted to make himself appear smaller to avoid it. The former blonde directed a softer look at you, rubbing your arm as he assured you. "But the boys'll take care of it, so don't worry your pretty head."

Draken nodded at Takemichi and Chifuyu, the two of them making quick work to sit the guest of the hour upright, each grabbing at the chair's legs to lift Aki up and carry him out of the living room. He slowly began to panic, eyes wildly looking around the room and then landing on you as he pleaded with them, yells muffled by the tape around his mouth. "Mmmh! Mmfh! Mmfhh!"

You gaped, nervously taking a small step forward, "W-Where are you taking him?"

"Relax. Pah's lending us his truck, we're gonna load the fucker up and drop him at the hospital. I wanted to let him stargaze by a dumpster somewhere, but I was outvoted." Baji grumbled.

You allowed yourself to find relief in his statement, although it only sparked another concern. One that Mitsuya picked up on as he waved a hand. "We'll have Michi and Fuyu keeping tabs on him, make sure he behaves."

Mikey scoffed. "Even if he's stupid enough to run to the cops, we've got a few of his buddies ready to pin a bunch of shit on him, if necessary."

Without realizing just how much adrenaline you were running on, you could feel your legs buckle under you. Mikey was quick to steady you, bringing you over to the couch to sit you down, gently. He gestured for someone grab something to drink from the kitchen, Draken being the closest doing just that while Baji and Mitsuya trailed Takemichi and Chifuyu out the door to help with the truck.

Sitting there, lost in your thoughts, eventually the cold sensation of the glass of water pressed to your cheek snapped you free. Absentmindedly taking it from Draken, you muttered a soft thanks before chugging it down. Mikey sat beside you, rubbing your back as he let you take it all in. The second in command was dismissed shortly after to give the two of you some alone time, him placing a hand on your shoulder before taking his leave and closing the front door with a slam.

You jumped, blinking for a moment. Mikey took the empty cup from your shaky hands, taking them into his own as he held them. “What’s on your mind, angel?”

Closing your eyes, you deeply inhaled. Everything. Everything, everywhere, all at once, that’s what. However, you merely exhaled a small chuckle in disbelief, shaking your head as you eventually lifted your gaze to meet his attentive one. Squeezing his hands back, you softly, tiredly, responded. “Can you come back to bed now?”

Mikey looked at you, caught off guard. Then, he offered you a small grin of which soon turned into a yawn of his own. “Of course, angel.”

“So. This a thing now, or..?”

Inui’s eyes darted between you and DRAKEN, all cuddled up on your side of the booth. He was sipping his drink nonchalantly with you wrapped around his bicep, playing with his free hand while scrolling through social media. Both of you exchanged looks, him swallowing and your thumb stopping mid-scroll, then back at the confused blonde.

“Yeah.”

“Pretty much.” You chirped.

Inui heavily sighed. “Great. Means ‘m officially a third wheel. I’ll think twice before agreeing to hang out from now on. I’ve been traumatized enough when you were just on friendly terms. And I use that label lightly.”

Draken rolled his eyes. “Tsk. We were not that bad.”

“Need I remind you of the time I came into the shop earlier than normal, and you had them spread across the—Ngh!”

“Whoops. My foot slipped.” You coyly hummed, going back to scrolling. Inui’s brow twitched, reaching down to sooth his poor shin.

Draken snorted, face subtly flushed having remembered that day, vividly. It was one of the times you and your boy toy got into an argument; give you one guess about who. He cleared his throat, fist up to his lips to hide the growing smirk as Inui shot him a small glare, mouth opening to say more…until he’s loudly interrupted.

“You should’ve seen ‘em. I had that loser running for the hills!”

All three of you paused, exchanging looks of bewilderment. Peering over the booth you could see a group of guys entering the cafe, their leader instantly being recognized by both you and Draken; Takeru. You blinked in surprise, the two mechanics watching with mild interest as the boastful nuisance picked a nearby table, completely oblivious to the attention they've drawn. His friends appeared annoyed, groans leaving their lips as they slumped in their seats.

"Yeah, man, so you've said...for the hundredth time already." One had said, the other shaking his head.

"I still don't buy it. I mean, you, of all people, scaring off the Draken? No shot in hell."

Inui's eyes widened to the size of plates, you nearly choked on air whilst the forementioned man merely raised his eyebrow at the slander. Him? Running from that wet napkin? Damn straight no shot in hell. Takeru, on the other hand, was very adamant on the events being true.

He gave a smug laugh, sounding like a cartoon villain as he crossed his arms in triumph. "Well, you better believe it! I told him off for getting too friendly with [_____] and left him picking himself off the floor afterwards. It was light work."

His friends didn't look convinced in the slightest. "Mhm." "Sure, dude."

"I'm serious!"

Draken set his drink down, wry smirk growing on his face. He then cracked his neck and his knuckles as he readied himself for a much-deserved confrontation. Inui sighed, following suit as he rolled his shoulders back before standing. You sat up on your knees, whining at him as you tugged on his sleeve. "Don't kill him, Ken, I still need to get some of my things from his place..."

"I'll buy you new shit, doll." He said, gun-metal eyes hardening as he looked over at the other table. "'fraid I can't make any promises this time."

With Takeru facing the opposite direction, there was no way for him to notice the impending doom behind him. His friends, however, resemble deer in headlights at the sight of the six-foot-one and five-foot-ten approaching. Instantly recognizing the infamous dragon tattoo, they knew their friend's fate was about to be sealed. One gulped and the other merely closed his eyes in prayer.

Takeru tilted his head at them, brows furrowed. He opened his mouth to speak, only for a large hand to latch onto his shoulder and squeeze, rendering him speechless as pain racked through his body like red alerts across a screen. Draken leered over him like a blanket of death, wearing a sharp grin as he spoke venomously.

"Oi. Mr. Light Work. Why don’t you tell me and Inui here all about how you had me ‘running for the hills’ and ‘picking myself off the floor’. I seem to recall a different scenario, but hey, you can help jog my memory outside, yeah?"

When Makoto first opened his eyes after what felt like an eternal slumber, it took him a moment to gather his surroundinngs. The bright, cold lights on the ceiling. The crisp smell of lemon-scented disinfectant and latex. The rhythmic beating of his heart monitor.

Hospital. He was in the hospital.

With a few confused blinks and a groan, he wracked his brain to try and remember what happened that landed him in there. How long had it been? A day? A week? He wasn’t sure. But, he wouldn’t have to ponder long when his privacy curtain is pulled back to reveal his mother and a nurse. She gasped, flocking to his bedside with tears instantly flowing out of her face, kisses being showered on his bruises that instantly made him hiss in pain.

“Ngh-! M-Mom,” he rasped, struggling to lean away. The nurse, though nervously, advised against any sudden movements due to his weakened state.

“Ma’am, it may not be wise to overwhelm the patient so soon, he’s-”

She fixed the nurse with a hard glare, tears still streaming down her face, looking rather unhinged. “My husband doesn’t donate thousands of dollars to this hospital for you to give unsolicited advice. Do your job and get him something to eat.”

Bristled, the nurse bit her tongue before saying something she’d regret. With a small bow she excused herself, leaving just the two of them. Immediately, his mother went back to wailing about his injuries, asking him a million questions, whilst cursing about his ‘no-good significant other for getting him into trouble’—

“Wait, wait, wait. What did you say?”

“Hm? Oh, that [_____]. I told you they were no good, just based on their lack of decorum and who they associate with, it was bound to have you end up in the hospital, or worse. Thank God they agreed to leave you for good after this because I don’t know what I would’ve done if-”

“What did they say happened?” Makoto asked, exasperated.

His mother blinked, then burst into tears once more. “Oh, no! My poor baby has amnesia! Nurse! Nurse!”

“Mother!” He exclaimed, latching onto her sleeve before she could cause more of a scene. “Tell me what [_____] told you!”

“Honey, they said you got into fight trying to protect them from a mugging.”

Makoto froze. Then, with the speed of a man on fire, tossed the thin, scratchy blankets off to the side and jumped out of bed. Nearly giving his mother a heart attack, her nagging fell upon deaf ears as he made a beeline for his things gathered in a chair sitting in the corner, immediately searching for his phone. Upon finding the device, his sourtude only worsened when he saw there were no missed calls, no texts, no nothing from you.

He began blowing up your phone, but to no avail. Went straight to voicemail every time. Minutes passed, and Makoto grew increasingly more irritated to where one could see steam emitting from his ears. His mother continued pestering him, and soon the nurse came back with a tray of food, shocked to see him out of bed and joining the pestering, of which turned into the both of them arguing once more. But he paid them no mind, too busy delving into white hot hatred, ready to sign a deal with the devil himself if it meant you and that BAJI paid for humiliating him.

Just as he was about to dial again, there's a knock at the door.

The nurse and his mother pause their back and forth, looking over at the doorway to see a boy with dual-toned hair and a dangly earring. He gave a small grin, but his eyes practically pierced through Makoto. He didn't recognize the visitor, but judging based on his tatted neck and unsettling aura, he knew it couldn't mean anything good.

"Excuse me," his mother soon broke the silence. "I believe you have the wrong room."

"Oh, no, I have the right room. My name's Kazutora. I'm a friend of [_____]'s."

Makoto's eyes widened. He thrusted an accusatory finger at him, "N-No, I know you! Y-You're that felon, you work at that pet store with that psycho who attacked me, Keisuke Baji!"

Kazutora tilted his head. "Hm? Baji didn't attack you. You were knocked out cold by a thief. [_____] called him to help bring you all the way here-"

"There wasn't any mugging! I was assaulted by that thug in [______]'s apartment!"

"What?!" His mother screeched. Kazutora merely shook his head.

"Mm, no, I think you're mistaken. Baji was at the shop when [_____] called him. They're both at the police station right now giving their statement. They sent me here to check in on you." Kazutora lied effortlessly through his teeth, stare unwavering as he gaslit everyone in the room. "Clearly you hit your head pretty hard, man. Maybe you should lie back down. You aren't thinking straight."

Makoto floundered, gesturing wildly. "HE'S FUCKING LYING!"

His mother and the nurse didn't make the situation any better, cornering him and ushering him back to bed. Even though he struggled, there was no stopping the strength of an overworked, underpaid nurse as she slammed him down onto the bed, wrestling with him for a moment until she secured him with his mother's help, tucking him in tightly within the blankets. His mother fawned over him, combing through his hair, being careful of the bandages. Tears welled up in her eyes again, thinking that her son had gone hysterical. "My poor baby..."

"No, mother, you don't understand! You need to call our attorneys right now, c-call the police! That b-bastard's trying to make me sound crazy!"

"Maybe some morphine will help calm him down." Kazutora casually commented to the nurse. She grunted in agreement, worn out from dealing with the both of them as she left to prepare a heavy dosage.

He continued to shout in protest, all the way up until the nurse stuck him with the morphine. He tried to fight against it, but it was no use. And the last thing he could comprehend before the world faded to black was the hazy outline of Kazutora, approaching his bed as he leaned down to whisper a parting threat.

"Don’t try anything stupid. We know where you live."

—

Baji's phone vibrated, causing him to groan as he turned to squint at the offending device. With you fucked out, laid out, and passed out in his arms, he wanted nothing more to ignore whatever asshole was texting him. But, upon further inspection, it was his favorite asshole sending him an update on his little problem.

from : tora 9:09pm     “ 👍. ”

He grinned, sharply. After locking his phone and setting it back on the nightstand, he tugged you closer to his side, exhaling deeply in satisfaction. He'll be sure to visit the 'brave hero' tomorrow. May even bring Patches.

He wished he had a camera to capture the look on your boyfriend’s face right now.

When Haji came over to apologize for his behavior yesterday, flowers in his hand and everything, MITSUYA was the last thing he expected to see. Said lavender-haired delinquent looked him up and down, disinterest coloring his expression as he leaned against the doorframe, shirtless, mind you. It didn't take Haji long to notice the assortment of hickies painted across his pale torso, all the way down to his pelvis visible in his low-hanging joggers.

Haji could feel bile rise in the back of his throat. Anger soon bubbled right after.

But, before he could even think to spew out threats, Mitsuya reeled his arm back and with the strength of God himself landed one crack right between Haji's eyes, sending him and the flowers flying backward, right off the stoop. He landed with a sickening thud to the pavement, flowers spreading haphazardly as some fluttered in the air until they eventually landed on the ground. Mitsuya shook out his knuckles, turned on his heel to grab the couple of boxes sitting near the doorway, filled with some of Haji’s stuff. He tossed them out the door to land right by his unconscious body, dusting off his hands before heading back inside, slamming the door right behind him.

Like he said. He only needed one.

© 2024-2025 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[charliemwrites]

Greater Bad - Part 5!

This is the final chapter of this series. I had so much fun working on it, making myself write a character that was genuinely just really mean most of the time and not chickening out by softening him (mostly).

Again, a gigantic, smooch-filled thank you to ceilidho for letting me write this based off her drabble/concept.

(The concept comes from @ceilidho’s concept/drabble of “military asset Soap” and heavily inspired also by @391780’s Nikto version. Please go check out theirs because they’re brilliantly written.)

Content: Dub-Con/Non-Con Elements, Unreliable Narrator, Semi-Safe/Not-Sane/Dub-Con Intimacy

You still smell the same.

Clean water, soap and skin. It saturates the back of his tongue when he inhales deep. The sharp, cloying scent of printer ink has been replaced by the buttery aroma of bread and sugar. It’s better. His mouth waters, canines too big and sharp in his mouth, jawing aching to bite down until he’s teething on bone. Scrape his imprint into marrow.

Some shrink mentioned it in those first sessions, before Laswell and Price realized their precious Johnny wasn’t lost in the hole in his temple.

The human olfactory sense is strongly associated with our memory. What smells like home to you, Soap?

The jagged puzzle of his mind didn’t have a piece for home. But it had one for his – you – and that’s just as good.

The humidity in the shower leaves him drowning in the scent of you, lungs heaving. If they’d waterboarded him with your perfume, he wouldn’t have struggled at all.

“Easy, easy,” your voice derails him.

Velvet and smooth, purring in the bottom of your throat. It bounces off the walls and cracks across his skull, a concussive force, disorients him. He grips tighter to keep his balance, swaying into you. You’re all slick and soft, caught between his body and the wall, nothing but naked skin and those big eyes that drive him more mad.

His face is still buried in the vulnerable curve of your neck; you taste just as good as you smell. You jump when he nips, a high noise caught on your clumsy tongue. He growls, wants to hear it. Wants to be overwhelmed by you until all his senses are blown out.

“I’m not saying no,” you soothe, hands skittering down his biceps.

Of course you’re not, not his girl. It’s not a matter of yes or no, not for the two of you. The moon doesn’t agree to orbit the Earth, the sun doesn’t choose to shine. You’re the gravity keeping his feet on the ground.

“Slow down a bit,” you murmur, “We’re not in a rush, are we?”

Just hearing you say “we” sends his heart thundering double-time and euphoria flooding his poisoned veins. “We” - you and him. You squeak as he thrusts hard against your lower stomach, where you’re pillowy and perfect from a life of plenty.

He doesn’t even process what you’ve said for a few moments, too busy nibbling “we” into your shoulder. Only when you thread shaky fingers into his hair – too excited to keep them steady, sweet thing – does his head surface over the swelling waves of desire to hear you properly.

“Missed you,” he explains, raking fingers over your thigh in hopes it’ll bruise. Your mouth parts on a gasp, inviting him in. He ravages your mouth, teeth snagging your plush lips. Needs to leave his mark everywhere for always. Don’t you get that? How could you ask him to slow down when your skin is still pristine, your cunt all tight and unspoiled – a fucking tragedy that.

“Ye missed me too, aye?” he asks. Of course you did, of course. Made this pretty little cottage for the two of you, filled it with so many things that he could never forget where he is again.

“I ken ye did.” He does you the favor of answering, since you’re too busy with his fingers in your mouth. You’ve gotten better with your priorities since that first reunion, laving your tongue over and between his digits rather than waste it on idle chatter. “Can go slow once I show yer mine. Been too fuckin’ long they kept us apart, little bird.”

Your fingers curl around his wrist. Must be satisfied with how wet they are, then. He presses down on your tongue one last time before pulling away.

“B-but you took care of them… we don’t need to—ah!”

He smirks as your entire body jolts. You’re already starting to warm up, but your saliva makes the slide between your delicate folds even easier. You’re just as silky as last time, clit shy at the top of your slit. He coos in your ear, gets you flushing and hot from filthy promises.

“Ye wan’ this just as much as I do,” he growls. Poor thing, he knows you like your little games and he’s being impatient. But it’s been too long and you’re playing with fire. “I ken ye do. Tell me ye do.”

You stutter in shock – if he still felt guilt, he’d feel bad for doubting you – and stumble over your words. He stills his hand to help you, bracing his arm over your head. The stretch of his body seems to distract you, mouth parted but frustratingly quiet as your round eyes roam scars and muscle.

He clicks his tongue and pinches your clit to catch your attention. You yelp, little nails sinking into his chest. He rumbles. It feels good, but he’s on a mission.

“Tell me,” he repeats when you blink up at him. “Tell me.”

“I-I just want to be able to go again,” you babble. “If I’m too sore…”

He chuckles. Is that all? “That won’ stop me, love. We’ll go plenty.”

You whine as he draws tight circles over your clit, coaxing it hard and swollen.

“I d-don’ wanna be t-too… sore! Christ!”

He huffs, caught between amusement and exasperation. Voice of reason you are, he knows you’ve got a point. Big as he is, and he knows he’ll lose any sense of restraint once he’s inside.

“I’ll make it good, bonnie,” he promises, biting kisses along your trembling jaw. “You’ll cum crying if tha’s what it takes.”

With that matter settled, he drops his head to your pretty tits. Water has beaded all over them and he jealously licks paths between each drop, flattening his tongue over your hard nipples. You moan and squeal as he sucks and nips, teasing them sensitive and achy. One of your hands tangles in his hair and tugs. Tingles race down his spine, scattering any sweet thoughts of going slow or gentle or with restraint.

You’re babbling at him but nothing could be more important than the rosettes he’s biting into your breasts. And you must agree because you’re getting so wet, leaking all over his rough palm, bucking your hips. He tilts the heel of his hand for you to grind against while he prods at your slick little hole.

You really have been good, somehow even tighter than he remembers. Of course, you were; he never doubted you. No wonder you were so insistent on prepping. He’d split you in half as you are now – fuck but that’s tempting.

“S-Soap – John. Please don’t… stop.”

“I won’ stop, birdie,” he soothes. Nothing could make him stop now.

Two is probably too much for you, but he loves the punched out little noise you make when he forces them in. The way your entrance clings and squeezes around his knuckles. How your spine goes tight and stiff, tilting your head back so that he has access to your singing throat. Pretty face all scrunched up as you struggle to adjust, stinging too much to even squirm. A flighty little bird right in the palm of his hand.

You’re so hot and wet inside. Feel fucking heavenly. Coating him in arousal, in need. His cock is aching to replace his fingers, feel you strangling him down to the base. Grinding against your thigh isn’t tiding him over anymore.

“Yer hand,” he grits out, “on my cock. Now.”

You shudder and circle the head, fingers tentative. Little tease.

He thrusts his fingers into you hard in retaliation, hips driving into the loose tunnel you’ve made. You must know what you’re doing, goading him on like this, plucking at his fraying patience.

“More,” he snarls, “or I’m going to use you like a fleshlight.” (Sooner than he was planning, anyway.)

You whimper and close your hand tighter, rubbing your thumb just under the head. Relief makes him generous, scissoring those two fingers inside you, easing you open. Lets you grind your clit on the meat of his thumb.

He crooks his fingers and finds a spot that has you mewling all sweet and precious. Does it over and over just to get your hand squeezing rhythmically around his shaft, precum dribbling over the back of your knuckles.

Christ, it’s been so long that he thinks he could blow just from this. Your voice in his ear, drooling pussy wrapped around his fingers, grinding into the open circle of your hand. But he needs to be inside you when he cums, he has to.

You don’t even seem to notice the third finger until it’s halfway inside, prying you open. Your legs buckle, knees shaking. He catches you with an arm around your waist, but it squishes you against his chest, the arm you’ve been stroking him with nearly immobilized. He can only stand the lack of stimulation for a few moments, occupying himself with his tongue down your throat.

“Enough,” he rasps, kicking the shower off.

Dazed, you blink at him in confusion, half-lidded and guileless, panting. He wants to fucking ruin you.

You yelp as he scoops you up, fingers still slippery where they grip your thigh. He croons as you cling, asking in a high, nervous voice where he’s going.

“Poor thing, dick’s not even in yet ‘n yer all addled.”

The dripping head of his cock grinds against your sopping slit as he carries you back to the bedroom. He remembers how much you liked it before – and you still do, your blunt little teeth buried in your bottom lip as you whimper.

It’s still dark, the crescent moon no use to your weak eyes. Like hell you won’t look at him when he finally claims you proper.

He slaps at the wall switch, a tiny lamp flicking to life across the room. You’re bathed in soft golden light, deep shadows swimming where it doesn’t reach. You and him, gold and black, light and dark.

He eagerly lays you out on the blanket, drinking in the marks decorating your upper body. You even have teeth prints on your arm that he doesn’t remember putting there – fetching, though.

You wiggle further up the mattress, and he follows, flashing a grin as he plants his hands on either side of you. The size difference is stark like this, the breadth of him subsuming you. Safe, tucked away, all his. Your breathing is loud as he bullies his way between your plush thighs again. You have to spread them so wide just to accommodate.

“Lemme see,” he says, voice barely leaving his chest. “Lemme see her. It’s been so long, baby.”

He can already tell you’re about to start up the fussing again – so shy, his little bird, but he’ll get you singing nice and loud now. No more of this demure chirping facade. You both know what you really are.

You squeal as he forces your thighs up, far enough apart that you babble that you don’t bend that way. Of course you do, though, you’ve just done it. Not that he really hears you by that point.

No, all his attention is on that gleaming, puffy pussy. So fucking pretty. Sticky and throbbing, your hole hardly showing the stretch of three fingers. Dripping as he watches, a dewy glob of arousal sliding down the seam of your cunt, towards your ass.

Just the slightest shift and his cock is nestled between your folds, the glans chafing against your hot clit. He measures the depth of it against your abdomen, head cloudy on the nervous whine that eeks from your throat.

Even with prep, he might break you anyway.

He hopes he does. Break you around him, shape you to him so that no one else will fit – not that anyone else will ever get the chance.

It’s not a conscious thought that gathers saliva on his tongue, purses his lips. You jump when he spits, rubbing the head of his cock through your combined fluids. Your cunt looks good in white. Like a bride.

You’re too needy, wiggling with nervous anticipation. He has to hold you down while he sinks into you – poor thing too blissed out to control yourself. One hand around your wrists above your head, the other pinning your hips at an angle to drive in as easily as possible.

One snap of his hips, and he’s buried to the hilt. You cry out, shuddering and dry sobbing. His vision goes spotty with the pleasure of it, your little pussy squeezing. You’re so…

“Fucking perfect.”

He shushes you, unable to bend to kiss you without making the stretch worse. Settles for rubbing circles into your hip, twisting to lace your fingers together. Now that he’s finally, finally where he belongs, it doesn’t seem such a monumental task to muster some patience.

“B-big,” you whimper. “You’re t-too big. I d-don’t – I can’t…!”

“You already are,” he coos, “little girl taking this fat cock, I’m so proud. My girl is so brave, my little bird. Bonnie lass.”

He’s rambling now, a dirty stream of consciousness. But that primal urge to fuck you open and loose and stupid is already clawing at him again. The tight clutch of your cunt calls for him to break you in, mark you up on the inside. Claim you as his irrevocably.

You feel him drawing back, eyes flying open wide. Writhing, half-formed protests on your tongue - that you’re not ready, that he’s too big, that it still hurts.

As if that’s any reason to stop, when anything needs to sting a bit to leave a lasting mark.

“Only way to make it hurt less,” he reminds, burying inside again. This time he rolls his hips, grinding the head of his cock along your satiny walls, against the hard barrier of your cervix.

Whatever you’re about to say is swept off in a wave of moans, washing over your wet tongue and down the back of your too-empty throat. Every time you try to gather them, he fucks back into you, hard enough to bounce you up the bed before he tugs you right back down.

Eventually you give up on doing anything but keening for him, massaging his cock from root to tip in those twitching walls. You loop your legs around his waist, ankles locked at the small of his back, knees squeezing against his ribs.

“Tha’s it, love,” he slurs, “jus’ take it.”

He lets your wrists go to clutch at both of your hips, angling them as he straightens his back. On the next thrust you scream, curse, throw your hands up to brace against the headboard. Smart girl.

His restraint unravels with each thrust until he’s pounding into you, slamming the bedframe into the wall. Your eyes are rolling into the back of your skull, jaw loose, spilling pathetic, weepy “ah, ah, ah” noises in time with his hips. He’s not going to last long at all. Not when you feel so goddamn good, finally claimed.

He presses his thumb against your clit and grins wickedly as you thrash. Tears leak from your unfocused eyes. You babble incoherently as he rubs a little rougher than he should, but your walls are sucking and clutching at every centimeter of him, so he doesn’t stop.

Even when you seize up, back bent into a sharp arch, clamping down so tight that he goes lightheaded.

“Soap! John… John it’s too much,” you sob. “John – Johnny!”

His orgasm blindsides him, makes him fuck you so hard that something in the bed cracks. In the haze, he flattens you to the mattress while bucking into you, not taking any chance of coming unseated. You whine in his ear but go limp, resigned to his cock spurting at the entrance to your womb – as deep as he can get – your cunt milking him for every drop.

He comes back to himself when you tap weakly at his hip, uncoordinated.

“Hm?” he asks, a little miffed that you’re disturbing his afterglow already.

“Hard to breathe,” you squeak.

He huffs. Alright, suppose he can understand that. Besides, he wants to see you.

And what a sight you make, splayed out and shaky on pleasure. Sweat at your hairline, lips swollen and bitten. He can still feel your pulse against his cock.

He sits himself up, eyes trailing down to the place where you’re joined. His cum is already seeping out a bit at a time, a thin creamy ring around his still half-hard cock. You keen a bit when it twitches.

“Pretty girl,” he coos.

You groan softly, flopping an arm over your glassy eyes as he pulls out – slow because he’s reluctant to leave.

But the sight of your slick diluting the milky white of his cum is too much to resist. You jolt at the first swipe of his tongue, react much faster than he’s expecting. Flip onto your front and try to scramble away. He growls at his stolen prize and pounces.

Under normal circumstances, you’re no match for him. Trembling and spent like this, you don’t stand a chance.

He grabs your calf and yanks you back, chuckling at the helpless stretch of your arms. You try to plead your case, but he’s hearing none of it. Plants his hand against your back as he shuffles onto his stomach, your thighs over his shoulders, knees digging into muscle. He tilts your hips with his other hand, thumb fitted in the crease of your pelvis, and brings you to his mouth.

Your struggling has made more spend leak out, and he laps it all up hungrily, tongue flat and ravenous. Sweeping from clit to hole to gather any stray droplets, even skimming over the tight furl of your ass. He licks into your loosened hole, high on pride at the difference he can feel his cock has made.

“’S too much,” you wail, “J-Johnny, please. I-I can’t, it’s…”

In retaliation, he slurps loudly at the fresh arousal blooming across his tongue. You hiccup, try one last time to wriggle away. He can’t have that.

You shriek as he fucks two fingers into you, voice thick with a fresh wave of tears. But you stop trying to escape. He doesn’t show mercy now that you’re behaving, coaxing more out, licking around his own knuckles. When he sucks at your overstimulated clit, you jerk and whine.

“I’m – I’m gonna… feels… w-wait, wait!”

It’s too late. He’s already laved his tongue over your trapped clit, crooked his fingers. You cum again with a shout, wetness splashing across his mouth, chin, down his neck. He groans, deep and rough in his chest. Doesn’t even give you a moment to recover before he pulls away, licking his lips.

“Do tha’ again on my cock.”

You’ve learned better now though – you lay there like a good girl as he stuffs you full again. Even better, you keep rewarding him with your soft cries of pleasure.

You really are made for him.

--

He likes the couch you picked. Not very big, but cushy. Besides, the two of you don’t need a lot of room anyway. Not when his lap makes a perfectly good seat for you.

You’ve been quiet all morning – probably still waking up from the coma he fucked you into. Eating babka from his fingers, licking them clean between bites. Docile and sweet, melting against his chest with your face tucked against his collarbone.

“Sore?” he asks.

“Mhmm.”

Your sweet little voice is all hoarse and soft. He’d coo if he didn’t think he’d be pushing his luck with skin so close to your teeth.

“Maybe I’ll massage you later,” he offers, smirking at the grumpy little “hmph” he gets in response.

He encourages you to sip a bit of water before your voice emerges again.

“What happens now?”

He doesn’t pretend to misunderstand the question.

“Now I get the life I’m owed,” he answers. All that fighting, suffering, bleeding, dying – and for what? A hole in his skull and his own goddamn people thinking he’s a monster. Even you, at first. You’ve learned, though. He’s sure of it. The rest can swallow bullets for all he cares.

“What if they come back?” you ask.

He hums. “Might contract with someone. Not opposed to killin’ on principle – just sick of doin’ it to someone else’s tune, aye?”

“Wh-what… what about…”

What about you. Poor thing, afraid Laswell and her ilk will snatch you up and dangle you in front of him again. Or worse – some other sod drooling for a slice of heaven in the pits of hell.

He doesn’t loosen his grip even when you shift a bit – needs to feel you in his hands.

“Got a plan for that, don’ you fret, little bird,” he soothes. “Still got one friend, I think. Jus’ gotta find ‘im.”

You exhale slowly, accept another piece of babka. “We’re stayin’ here, though?” you mumble around the mouthful.

He chuckles. Sweet little thing.

“Worked so hard on the place, might as well. Don’ care so long as I’ve got my bird, aye?”

“Mm.”

“How ‘bout a kitty, eh? Get ya somethin’ to keep ye company when I’m away.”

You swallow audibly. “I wan’ a dog. Big one.”

He chuckles. “’Course ye do. Aye, love, a big fuck-off dog to keep ya safe.”

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[erinfern0]

bound together.

spencer reid x gn!reader

— gender-neutral nicknames, gender-neutral anatomy, only pronouns used are you, etc.

summary: you can't help but question yourself about his reaction to your confession in the possibly worst moment of your life. feelings bottle up until you ask the question, which only makes Spencer try to prove your mind wrong.

warnings: angsty/emotional beginning, smut, hickeys, oral (reader receiving), unprotected sex, lots of l-bombs.

a/n: i know the gif isn't from criminal minds, but i couldn't help myself. not only it matches the fic, but also JUST LOOK AT HIMMM. this is part two of 'cutting the cord', so check that one first <3

You felt your heartbeat in your entire body as you left the building with Spencer by your side. His palm rested on your back, guiding you out of the building, supposedly feeling the same way. Feeling like you're not walking anymore, just floating over the pavement. That lightness in your chest, the flashing lights of news reporters, just the faint buzzing of their voices. You coundn't tell if all of this was real or just a dream you were hoping to get out of soon.

Not recognizing any faces in the crowd, you looked around, your vision blurry as you spot a few slightly similar figures. You didn't wait for Spence, your feet guiding you straight to them as if on autopilot.

“Oh, pumpkin...” you heard a familiar voice, but soon enough it was joined by an even more familiar embrace of no other than Garcia. Her arms wrapped tightly around your body, hugging you so tightly, you felt your ribs sink into your lungs.

As she pulled away, cupping your face you noticed your horribly red eyes, paired with chapped lips and wet stains all over your cheeks in the reflection of her big glasses. Since when were you crying? You couldn't even remember the way out of the building, especially not anything that happened after you cut the cord. The reflection in her glasses also showed you how much you were shaking.

Soon enough, you were accompanied by Spencer, who got an even tighter hug, making him breathless for a split second. You felt like you had to compose yourself, frantically wiping your tears away, not even hearing all the praise and grateful sighs of the rest of the team.

The time seemed to stop as you watched them greet you and Reid back, ensuring you both were okay. You saw his face, worryingly pale with the same wet stains as you. Everyone seemed to slow down, their voices were muffled and eerie, filling the buzzing silence in your mind. Peace.

That's what you felt, an undeniable, overwhelming peace taking over your body as they hugged you one by one. The pride in their voices made your heart melt in the softest ways. You looked around at the crowd of people, reporters, and town folks begging for explanations.

The faces you didn't recognize before will forever be engraved in your memory as the faces of people you saved.

You didn't exactly register what happened next; you just used simple flashes of images to create a wider look at the story. Reporters broke through the barriers, rushing towards you, begging for answers. Spencer covered your face with your hood, dragging you to the car as you both replied a simple: “No comment.”

The van seemed too dark on the inside in comparison to the flashes of cameras and the rising sun above the town, so you sunk deeper into your seat, allowing Spencer to put your belt on for you. You closed your eyes, focused on the soft sounds of the vehicle, getting away from the town hall's parking lot.

The drive to your apartment was quick, but you still had the time to peek through half-lidded eyes at Spencer's profile. He was focused on the road, nervously tapping his fingers over the steering wheel, no words leaving his mouth, biting his cheeks to keep that focus.

Your argument back in the basement, at least the memory of it, flooded your mind as you realized he looked so similar to when he denied leaving you alone. The sting of his words, or what's more accurate — the lack of them — made your heart flutter painfully against your chest, but you couldn't bear the idea of speaking up.

You couldn't remember using the elevator or unlocking your door, as if your life turned into a time-lapse movie, missing a few slides. As you realized what was going on, Spencer had already entered the apartment, helping you rid of your hoodie, covered with sweat and tears.

“Sweetheart,” he muttered, carefully wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, nuzzling his face into your shoulder tiredly. “Are you okay?”

The question seemed ridiculous to you, making you frown and look down at the mess he called hair. “Y-yeah...? I'm fine,” you whispered, mindlessly reaching your hand to the loose strands, running your fingers through them.

“You've been staring at your cup for three minutes and twelve seconds, that doesn't seem fine to me.”

His words made you blink uncontrollably, making the blurry splashes of color sharpen in front of you, showing you a cup of almost already cold tea. Before you could speak up, he guided you to sit on the couch, bringing the cup to you with a warm yet tired smile.

The silence seemed to calm him. You watched as he sat beside you, draping his arm over the back of the couch to play with your hair with his eyes closed. His cardigan was lying behind him on the pillow, leaving him in a white t-shirt.

“Talk to me,” he whispered, not opening his eyes just yet. His voice was quieter than usual, lower even as he exhaled deeply. “You shouldn't have been there, I didn't know it would impact you so much…”

“It's not that,” you assured, shaking your head slightly, and curling your legs under your body. As much as you tried to focus, one thing kept you away from that graceful peace you felt before. “I was sure we were going to die there…”

“I know,” his whisper made chills run down your spine. Something you tried to avoid, a conversation you preferred to never have, seemed to be chasing after you.

“Why-” the crack in your voice betrayed you, making him look up at you. The worry in his eyes made the conflicting feelings inside you stir and turn your stomach around. “Back there... why didn't you say you love me back?”

The time has stopped again, making you watch all of the emotions running through his face and most importantly those deep brown eyes that stared back at you. Confusion, recollection, guilt, shame, anger... You could count them, but the new ones kept interrupting you. His face remained still, questioned with your words as he looked away just for a split second.

Your heart seemed to crush as a thought occurred in your disturbed mind. The easiest answer was, Spencer didn't love you. As much as you tried to push the intrusive thought away, it kept coming back until you sighed deeply. You looked at him for the last time before getting up from the couch, trying to give yourself the much-needed time.

“Wait, please...” he muttered as he realized you were gone, his lean frame following short after you. His hands reached to you as you stood by the bed, not knowing how to react.

“It's okay, Spence, really,” you whispered, your voice cracking again in that annoying way, making him cup your cheeks softly.

“Look at me, love,” his soft tone made you close your eyes but quickly open them. Teary and glistening with the dim light of your shared bedroom, you looked up as he asked. “I love you. I truly do. More than anything or anyone on this planet...”

“Why didn't you say it then, when I thought...” you trailed off as he shook his head softly, his hands that cupped your cheeks gently rubbing them to wipe the tears away.

“Isn't that obvious?” he questioned, his voice barely above a whisper as he rested his tired forehead against yours, lips softly brushing against yours as he continued. “We say we love one another all the time, don't we?”

“Yeah...” you whispered, confused and just as tired but eager for answers.

"And tell me, why did you say it back then, in that specific moment?"

You bit your lip to compose yourself, your warm hands gently tracing over his forearms, feeling the warmth of his skin against your palms. Your nails gently grazed over it, bringing shivers down his spine. "I though we are going to die... I wanted my last words..."

"Exactly," he exclaimed, pulling away from you, and tilting your head to face him. "All the time, I told you you'll do it, that we'll get out. If I told you I loved you, that would only mean I gave up on you."

As the words slipped through his lips, you felt his warmth envelop you in such a weird, unknown way it made you chuckle. Your response made him smile, capturing your lips in a quick, but soft kiss.

"And obviously I was right," he bragged through the kiss before pulling away, his hands slowly making their way down your body to stop at the bottom of your shirt, his fingers slipping right under the material to rub your skin there with his thumbs.

Spencer kissed the tears away before slowly moving lower, through your jaw to your sensitive neck, gently nipping at the most sensitive spots. "And I'll make sure to use the time you gave us to repent for the pain I caused you."

You couldn't help but wrap your arms around him tightly, tugging on his hair as his hands gripped your hips possessively. Soft groans leave his lips as you tug a little harder.

"How are you planning to do that, doctor Reid?" you chuckled, one hand reaching down to scratch his back while he guided you to sit on your shared bed.

"Well... I think I will start by kissing every little part of this gorgeous body, showing each one of them exactly... how... much... I... love... them," he teased, unbuttoning your shirt and following up with little kisses from your collarbone right to the waistband of your pants, tugging on your belt.

You felt the air leaving your lungs, tugging on his hair lightly from surprise. Biting your lip to stop smiling, you watched as he pulled your pants down, trailing kisses over your thighs.

"Spence," you get his attention, making those big brown eyes, glazed from arousal, focus on yours, sparkling with a bunch of feelings you couldn't even name yet.

"I know, sweetheart... I won't take long," he promises, his voice laced with that condescension that made your knees weak. Spencer quickly noticed it, chuckling as he led you to sit down on the bed, puppy eyes focused on little marks he had already left on the plush of your thighs.

His big hands rested on the outside of your legs, rubbing and kneading them just to tease you some more, before pulling them over his shoulders.

"Fuck," you breathe out at the way he just pulled you closer, his face so close yet so far from your core, making you ache inside. One of his hands slides under your shirt, resting on your sternum to gently push you to lie back and relax.

Your fingers mindlessly played with his hair as his lips left kisses over your knees, moving lower and lower until he heard you gasp when he teased your sex over your underwear.

"Needy, aren't you?" he asked, thumbs gently rubbing against your inner thighs, grazing the hem of your underwear. His eyes stared up at you, half-lidded and bothered while he licked his lips, silently asking for permission.

Just the warmth of your body against him, soft gasps and that desperate look in your eyes was enough of an answer. His fingers crooked under the waistline and slowly peeled your underwear to the side, holding it with one hand while the other teased you.

"Spencer, just..." you start but he shushes you, keeping you nice and quiet as he takes his time kissing over the wettest and most sensitive spots between your legs. He groans at your taste as usual, making out with your sex as you whimper under his grasp.

The filthy sounds of his mouth on you fill the quiet room, simply followed by your muffled whimpers and the creaks of your bed with every jolt of your hips. You feel out of breath as you near your release, biting down on your knuckles to suppress your whines.

Spence saw your reactions, felt the constant spasming of your hole against his greedy tongue as you reached your climax, and chuckled drunkenly while lapping at your convulsing gently, lubing it up to replace his tongue with his fingers soon enough.

"Too much," you cried out as he rubbed his finger over the muscle, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"I not done loving you yet..." he cooed, lips softly brushing against your inner thighs, tracing over the marks he left. Soft voice and those half-lidded eyes staring at you with that pleading, almost begging look made you weak, unable to resist his request.

You groaned as you crawled back onto the bed, giving him more space to kneel between your spread thighs and pull your underwear off your legs fully. His proud smirk makes you roll your eyes, but still unable to hold back a smile as you reach out to unbutton his shirt.

"I'm ready," you assure as he keeps stretching you open with his fingers, gently easing in and out while staring at his spit-covered digits. The way they disappear into your snug hole hypnotizes him in such a cruel way, making him ignore your desperate pleas for attention.

It only stops when you use his own tactics, tugging on his belt to coax a groan out of him. His eyes shoot down to watch as you fumble with his clasp, trying to unlock it. Spencer just watches your poor tries, biting his lip to hide a smile creeping on them.

"Come on, angel, you've done it plenty of times," he teases while curling his fingers against that sweet spot that makes your toes curl and lips open into a pretty 'o' shape with a silent gasp.

You finally managed to unbuckle his belt, letting it open against his lap with a soft thud against his jeans. He chuckled sweetly as he stood up, pulling his pants down just to rid of his shirt the next second.

"A little unfair, don't you think?" he questioned, kneeling back on the bed and hiking your legs over his thighs, earning a squeak from you as he pulled you closer. His hands quickly ran from your knees to your waist, rolling your shirt over your chest.

You smiled innocently and lifted your arms, allowing him to do all the work. He nodded gratefully and took your shirt off, throwing it somewhere on the ground just to be forgotten by both of you as he hovered over you, eyes fixated between your legs to watch as his already throbbing cock rub against you.

"I love you," he whispered while resting his forehead against yours, lips nipping at yours with each word before he kissed you, softly claiming your lips. Spencer groaned as he aligned his tip with your entrance, his voice low and devoted, making you swallow his every little grunt.

"I love you," he repeated like a mantra with every inch that he pushed into you, feeling your warm, slick walls capturing him so deliciously tight. You felt every little vein rubbing against you, every breath of his on your neck, as he moved his kisses there.

Every time you tried to say the same, his teeth sunk slightly into your neck, silencing you. His hands roamed over your chest and sides, kneading your soft and hot skin, his thrusts speeding up with every little I love you falling out of his mouth.

Your nails grazed his back, moaning with pure delirium, not worrying about your neighbors anymore. Spencer moved his kisses to your chest, marking it just like your thighs, each one with an addition of those sweet three words.

You felt that familiar knot building up in your stomach again, tears welling up in your eyes as your body moved in sync with his, a sweet symphony of your moans, his grunts, and slick slapping of your bodies against each other filled the bedroom, echoing within the walls.

His grip on your hips tightened, a clear signal he's nearing his release too. Spencer rested his head on your chest, clinging to you desperately, as he started whimpering soft I love yous straight against your heart.

You called out his name in pure ecstasy, drawing blood from his neck under your fingertips as your walls clenched around him with the waves of your orgasm. It triggered his own, spilling his release deep inside of you, bounding you together with the last, silent "I love you."

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[ratcash-wasgud]

Beach episode with loser!Mizu,,,, she's lurking under the shade while everyone else is out in the water having fun like the- well loser she is

i love beach episodes!!! wahhh!!!! (i know basically nothing about beach culture btw)

i think this will be the last loser!mizu for a while guys (a couple days, until i realize i can't write anythinng else, and crawl back to my pookie). I have so many unfinished drafts ugghh.

mdni :p

+audios !! okay enjoy.

You and Mizu have gone to a couple of "dates", which all were just hanging out at or around the aquarium. Oh, and you once came to watch one of her games, but that's it. It's a very confusing relationship in Mizu's eyes.

For a while she already thought you two were dating, but Akemi quickly educated her on the wonderful world of talking stages. That day, Mizu decided that talking stages were her worst enemies. How are you not her girlfriend yet? It's not fair.

Akemi and Taigen only seen you once, and they were both intoxicated, and Ringo hasn't even met you, only in passing, so it's obvious they'd want to meet the person their grumpy friend is spending most of her time with. So Akemi arranges a beach hangout, and starts bugging Mizu about bringing you along, with "Come onnn, don't you wanna see her in a bikini?" typa comments.

Mizu, even though the last time you hung out with Akemi and Taigen it turned out very much embarassing to her, gives in after a while.

After a brief text exchange which Mizu floods with horrible memes, just to ease her own anxiety, you say yes, and now here we are.

Mizu is setting up her little fortress of peace in the sand, which is a big, soft blanket with a parasol guarding her from the sun. Her usual shades sit on her nosebridge. Her choice of swimwear is made of a pair of dark blue swimming trunks with rubber ducks all over it, and a bikini top that looked eerily like her usual sports bra. You on the other hand were...running late.

Ringo sat down next to her and offered her a muffin from the big bag he packed full of food, while Akemi and Taigen started to splash eachother in the water.

"You're more quiet than usual." Ringo comments with a slight smile, munching on a muffin himself. Mizu sighs and takes a bite of hers.

"It's stressful." She says with a shrug. "We're close, very close...but somehow not close enough. Like...how do you ask someone to be your girlfriend?" Mizu says to her bestfriend, looking up at the big guy from under her shades.

Ringo purses his lips as she stares ahead, thinking about it. "Say..."Will you be my girlfriend?" I think that would work." Mizu facepalms.

"Well, yeah, obviously, dumbass." She says, throwing her head back with a groan. "But the other stuff. Like...atmospehere, timing, mood...and how do I know she likes me enough to make that step?" She rambles. "It's obvious I like her, I told her I loved her once! What if she thinks I'm desperate? I mean, yeah I am...but I don't want her to know."

Ringo looks back at her, like she just confused his little brain even more, which she did. "Then wait for her to ask?" He suggest, and before Mizu could answer and tell him that it would be a terrible idea, because what if you never ask, you arrive, almost on cue.

You are...indeed wearing a bikini. And Jesus Christ, Mizu's breathing almost stops alltogether. Yeah, she slept with you once, and saw more intimate parts of your body than your belly button and cleavage, but this is different. You have your heart shaped sunglasses covering your eyes. She remembers those glasses, and she can feel her stomach twist in a not-so-bad way. She gives you sublte little wave as you approach, but before you could get to her, Ringo raids you.

"Woah, hey! I'm Ringo! You must've heard a lot about me from Mizu, since I'm her number one friend! I'm sure we'll get along great!" He chirps excitedly. Mizu needs to hold back the urge to burry herself in the sand and never come out. But to her surprise, you just laugh.

"How charming! Hey to you too, Ringo." You shake his nub. Mizu noticed that you find a lot of things cute and charming that Mizu would find cringe or lame. Maybe because you're more easy going. You walked to Mizu's little fortress, and offered her a smile. "And hey to you, hermit." You chuckled, kneeling on her blanket. Miz could feel her heartbeat fasten, having you so close. She should've gotten used to it by now, but she was convinced she never will.

"Hey." She said with a small, almost unnoticalbe smile. "You look...good." She complimented you, her gaze falling to your breasts for half a second, but her shades were keeping her safe.

"Thanks. Got this one just a week ago." You say, slightly pulling at you bikini top's strap. "You don't look halfbad yourself." You say playfully, then grab a beachball from the mountain of bags placed next to the blanket. "You know how to play?" You look at Ringo, then back at her. Ringo nods enthuistacally, and Mizu shrugs. Of course she knows how to play. She is in the school's basketball team, she is very good at ball games, but she needs to stay humble. That's hot, right?

"We need one more player though to make it even." You say, and just like that, as if smelling a challenge, Taigen appears.

"Well, lucky for you," He starts, putting his fist on his chest. "The champion has arrived." Mizu rolls her eyes, and you just gasp dramatically. Akemi sits down on the blanket. "You go ahead, I'll be the judge I guess."

And with that, the match if the decade started. You were on a team with Taigen, and Mizu teamed up with Ringo. She wanted to be on the same team as you, but Taigen snatched you up first. That bastard.

"Don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're pretty." Mizu says, warming up her shoulders on the other side of the web.

"Complimenting me won't save your ass." You tease back with a wink.

"Wait, no, that's not what-" Mizu suddenly realized the meaning of her words, but before she could try and ramble herself out of it, the game started with Taigen serving. It went all well, since Mizu could block all of Taigen's hits, but when you were the one sending the ball her way? The woman froze.

Everyime you jumped up to hit the ball, your whole body bounced, especially that part that she couldn't take her eyes off of. The little victory punch you gave to the air after you scored, the way your hair stuck to your forehead because you started sweating, and the way you threw yourself at the ground to catch the ball last minute, making your soft body squish against the sand...it mesmerized Mizu.

It was obvious you took the game seriously, but sadly not as seriously as Taigen, who basically started beating his chest like a gorilla when he scored. The strategy was simple: Ringo would take your hits, and Mizu would block and eliminate Taigen's. It all went jolly for a good while of the game, until your bikini top slipped, revealing your underboob. You though nobody noticed, so you quickly pulled it back into place, But someone did notice. And that someone couldn't focus on anything else during the rest of the game.

The results came out with you and Taigen on top, but only by two points. It was infuriating as hell to watch Taigen give you a double high five, but you looked happy, and that made Mizu content. She was watching the scene, until Ringo nudged her.

"Now. Mood, and uh...vibe! All good. Do it now." He tried to whisper, but he was really excited. It took Mizu a moment to realize what he was talking about, and when she did, she gave him a determined nod. She marched to you, her cheeks burning, and a frown on her face that could be described as angry, but it was just a sign of her taking this seriously.

"You did good." She says, lifting her shades off her face, putting them up into her hair.

"Thanks. You two weren't bad either. You just decided to play against champions." You shrug playfully.

"So uh...I saw an ice cream booth over there. I could buy you one as a winning prize, or something." She offers, shoving one of her hands into the pocket of her swimming trunks. Her voice came out breathy, on one part from just finishing the game, and on the other...well...

"Free ice cream? Hell yeah!" You say enthusiastically, and get going. Mizu just follows you. Taigen stays there, looking confused for a second.

You stand there, staring at the different flavours of ice cream. "Mmm...I think I'll go with mint chocolate chip." You say, tilting your head, still considering it. "Or bubblegum!"

"You could get both." Mizu shrugs. You're very particular about your icecream, it seems. It's good to know. If she manages to score another date with you, she'll bring you to a pastry shop instead of an aquarium.

"Really? Awsome!" You celebrate to yourself. "What are you getting?" You ask, leaning closer to her. Mizu gulps.

"I'll just...have vanilla." She says, doing her damn best not to look at your lips that are so close. She whishes she could be on that level with you where casual kisses are a thing.

"Vanilla? Well that's a little...boring." You chuckle. "I think you'd like coconut." You say, pointing at the similar colored ice cream. The fact that you're comfortable enough to decide what could she like is so...so...

"Yeah, sure." Mizu shrugs again. She pays for the icecream, but doesn't start walking back to the others yet. "Here," She starts walking towards the part of the shore where big rocks could give some privacy. You follow her, kitty-licking your ice cream. That movement reminds her---fuck. Why is she acting like a hormone filled twelve year old?

As she stares at you while walking, you're staring at the water. She follows your gaze, and starts watching the water too. The waves and the foam splash against the sky, and the clouds hover above, now lightly pink and orange tinted from the sun almost setting.

Suddenly, you point at the sand: you spotted a jellyfish that got thrown out by the water. "Look!" You rush to it, and crouch down by it's side. "Do you think it's still alive. It's still wet."

"Yeah, like me when I'm near you." is what Mizu wants to say, but instead she just follows you. "I'dunno." You seem to worry about the jellyfish, which is...sweet. It's just a jellyfish to Mizu, but to you? It's already named Fred and has a twelve page backstory. Mizu, in an attemt to not let your mood get ruined, takes off her sunglasses, and places them on the jellyfish.

"Damn. I think he's still alive, he seems pretty fresh to me. Drippy, even." Mizu snorts, and you push her, making her land on her butt as you laugh with her.

"Oh my god...you're horrible." You say, your beautiful smile returning. Even if she landed on her ass, a win is a win. Mizu takes back her shades and throws the jellyfish back in the water.

Mizu then takes a deep breath. She looks at you, her blue eyes shining in the orange-ish light. She steps closer, and lightly takes your hand. She wants to make it seem like it's a casual thing, but her heart is drumming against her ribcage. She then pushes her already melting icecream close to your lips. "Wanna taste?" She ask.

You chuckle. She's adorable. You lean closer, and take a big lick off her treat. You notice that the white ice cream has already melted to her hand. You lightly take her wrist. "You're so messy." You say teasingly and start licking the ice cream off her fingers. Mizu's breath hitches as she watches your tongue work on her skin, licking her lips unconsciously.

"You're so fucking beautiful like that." She blurts out, her other hand coming up to gently cup your cheek.

You smile up at her, licking up the cone. That was the greenlight you needed. You move your head up, and push your lips against her. You taste like coconut, as she opens her lips, inviting in your tongue. Her hand lands on your hips, leading you more behind a bigger rock, away from the all the prying eyes. She lightly grips the soft tissue on your hips, her fingers cautiously wandering towards your ass as you devour her lips. She slowly pushes you against the rock. You already ate your ice cream, and her's is melted completely, it's soggy cone laying alone in the sand as her hands move up to cup your breasts.

"I wanted to do this ever since that stupid match..." She murmurs into the kiss, her finger's finding your nipples through your bikini top.

You grin against her lips, slowly exchanging positions until her back is against the rock. You run your finger's along her skin, feeling up the exposed muscles. Her abs basically guided your hand along to trace their shape, then guided your hand downwards. You undid her swimming trunks and got on your knees before her.

Mizu looks at you, almost hypnotized by how good you look on your knees. Before she could react, you pull her trunks down, and teasingly lick her folds. Mizu pushes her palm against her lips to silence the loud groan that wanted to escape her lips. You chuckled against her flesh, closing your eyes as you started to do your work. Mizu's long, slender finger's got lost in your hair, keeping your head in place as she chewed on the inside of her cheek to hold back her noise.

She mumbles you name over and over, her hips lightly bucking into your mouth. "F-Fuck...fuck, I love you..." She blurts out in a half moan, half whine. Is it the best time to say it? Not really. But is that stopping her? No. She is too filled with passion and her feelings are bubbling over the edge. "I have loved you...f-for so long...p-please..." She whines silently. "I...I-I want you t'be mine..so damn bad...oh God..."

You look up at her, her juices dripping down your chin. You then suddenly stick out your tongue, pushing it inside her walls. Mizu bites into her palm to keep quiet.

"You're so fucking cute..." You mumble into her, repeatedly pulling and pushing your tongue in and out. Your nose rubs against her clit, making it hard to keep standing.

"M'gonna cum...f-fuck, keep going..." Mizu groans, bucking her hips even more into your mouth.

You can feel her walls clench around your tongue as she reaches her climax, holding your mouth open so her juices basically slip down your throat withouth swallowing. After she comes down from her high, you pull away, wiping your lips with the back of her hand, pulling her swimming trunks back into place. You get up from your kneeling position and give her a sloppy kiss.

"D'ya mean it?" You murmur into the kiss, your arms wrapping around her neck.

Mizu's lost in the kiss. She doesn't even think about the fact that she should be freaking out right now. "Meant every fucking word...I want to be your girlfriend." She says, her hands hugging your waist.

And with that...Mizu returned home that day a taken woman. She listened to the playlists she made you (psst!), and somehow heard every song in a new light.

[growup-thatbeautiful]

mad max fury road absolutely destroyed me so here’s some max brainrot!

also, apologies for all the unanswered asks, i legit haven’t written anything since well before december, but i’m trying to get back into it. just, you know, a lot going on :))

tw: mentions of sa, blood, canon typical violence

you’re one of joe’s wives, so obviously you’ve got a lot of trauma and you’re not exactly used to being out in the open. but, when furiosa tells you to follow her onto the convoy, you don’t hesitate one bit. you would do anything to get away from joe and the prison joe crated for you and the other girls. nothing can be worse than what you’ve already been through.

the hiding hole in the convoy is dusty and hot. it’s hard to breathe through the smoke and sand whirling through the crowded space, and you’re pushed up against the hard metal, Toast’s elbow in your stomach. when the convoy stops moving, you relish the opportunity to stretch your legs and drink some water. the thin cloth that covers your body is gritty with sand and stained by tears. if you had anything else to change into, you would.

the sun is brighter than anything you’ve ever seen. the sand is warmer than you expected, and you remind yourself that people die out here. but the water is cold and it’s sweet on your tongue, the hope of survival clawing it’s way from your chest.

at first, like everyone else, you don’t trust him one bit. he’s a stranger, and a man, and you’re not sure he’s sane. he doesn’t even have a name that you know of.

but there’s something about him. something that tells you he won’t hurt you or any of the other girls. the brown eyes that he hides under that mask are cunning and strange, yes, but there’s a level of honesty in them that makes you want to trust him.

furiosa’s killswitch stops him before he gets too far, and then he’s forced to take your group. you’re squeezed up from with him and her, the daggers between them enough to make it uncomfortable. she has control- you’re not worried about that- but he has pretty much all of the weapons furiosa hid away.

for the most part, the time passes in silence. Toast and Splendid argue some, and Dag takes the middle ground. Furiosa concentrates on the road, and the man curls as far into the metal of the door as he can, weapons stashed underneath his feet.

it’s not until much later, after you’ve met up with the women from the green place, that you talk to him for the first time. the sky is dark and streaked with sandstorms in the distance, greys and oranges flooding the atmosphere.

“all the others have names. you don’t?” he asks. you’re sitting in the front seat with him again, Furiosa deep in conversation with one of the older women.

“you haven’t told us your name either,” you bite back. “and my name isn’t your concern. neither are their names.” you nod toward the group of girls curled up on the back seat, each looking more and more exhausted.

he accepts your answer with a small nod. “i wouldn’t want to keep a name he gave me either.” there’s a surprising level of understanding in his eyes.

“it’s not that.” he doesn’t look convinced. “it’s not just that,” you correct. “i don’t have anything else to go by. i’m not used to having people use my name for good things.”

“i wouldn’t want to contribute to that bad streak,” he agrees. “what do i call you, then?”

you think for a moment. it doesn’t take you long to come up with a name. it’s something you heard Cheedo talk about one time, probably just a story about a place with streets made of water, opera houses full of painted tiles, and people crammed together but happy. “venice. you can call me venice.”

“venice it is, then.”

the next day, the plan changes. you never thought you would want to head back to where you came from, but it’s better than the alternative. years riding nowhere. sun blisters and sand burns.

the road back to the stronghold is dangerous. it’s risky. but you have Furiosa and the man with you. they’re just as dangerous, you think.

you didn’t expect to survive, though. yes, you lost Splendid and Nux. it hurt like you thought it would, but you haven’t had enough time to really consider it. not with everything going on. not when you find out the man’s name is max. it’s a good name, an old name. one without this world’s pain ingrained into it.

it’s been hours on the road with him and you can’t sleep. every time you close your eyes you see joe’s figure lurking over you or splendid’s body roll underneath truck tires or even flames eating at nux as rubble and rock crushed him into the ground. you know you’re going to be home soon, if you can even call the stronghold a home.

you know you’re getting on max’s nerves. he doesn’t say anything, but the glances in your direction are enough. you pick at your fingernails until they’re raw and bite and the inside of your cheek until it bleeds. none of it helps. you can’t sleep.

finally, he breaks the silence. “why don’t you try to sleep?” you don’t need to tell him why. he’s heard your screaming and your panicked breaths. he knows what happens when you try to sleep. “there’s nothing that used to help you fall asleep? with the other girls?”

“toast and i used to hold each other when it was too much.” you don’t know why you tell him. you would never wake Toast up, not when she’s finally fallen asleep after fitful attempts. and it’s not like max is going to hold you while you sleep. he has more important things to do.

you don’t expect him to offer. you really don’t. with Furiosa hurt, its on him to drive. it shouldn’t be much further, but it’s enough.

“lay you head down,” he says softly. when you don’t immediately respond, he adds, “you don’t have to, but i think it’ll help you get some sleep.”

“okay,” you agree uncertainly. slowly, carefully, like you’re trying not to scare him or yourself, you lean over and lay down, your back on the warm metal of the seat. your head rests gently on his thigh, and you try not to put too much pressure on him. you know he’s sore, and you aren’t sure this is what he wants.

“there you go.” his voice is quiet but, for once, sure of himself. his hand reaches to card through your hair and brush it off your face. “try to sleep, now.”

it’s easier than you thought it would be, trusting him. letting him take care of you. but, somehow, you do. maybe it’s because you know his name and because he’s saved you so many times. whatever it is, you let him lull you to sleep with his gentle hands tracing the curves of your face.

[eyelambspider]

𝐈𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 || 𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐞 "𝐆𝐚𝐳" 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤

Prompts thirteen of Creeptober! Here is a list of my prompts & event terms!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : vampire!gaz x gn!human!reader 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : mornings are hard for vampires, but gaz loves spending them with you. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1 k 𝐜𝐨��𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : sleepy sex, cock warming, cuddling/aftercare, biting/blood (vampire stuff), established relationship, fluff, soft angst, creampie, no use of y/n

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃. He had been prowling the village since the sun had set, leaving his love with the promise that he would be back soon.

It was the only way to keep you out of harms way. No matter the guilt it caused—feeding on unsuspecting victims until their skin paled—he had to do it to keep the bloodlust from overtaking his senses... from potentially hurting you.

And god, he couldn't even stand the thought of drinking from you.

The temptation of blood was a pull unlike any other. A drug that flooded his senses with searing heat as soon as it touched his tongue. The most euphoric high he had even known, and if he was truly honest with himself... sometimes he couldn't stop until someone was hurt.

Come to think of it, that was a lie. There was one thing better than blood.

The moment Gaz walked through the door, he spotted you sleeping peacefully under the covers. The image of your legs tangled in the sheets made a small grin pull at the corners of his lips.

This what it was all for.

Soundlessly, he began undressing, his maw already cleaned of blood, not a trace of the horrors he had endured on him. Only the weight of his actions slowing him down some.

He let his pants drop to the floor in a soft puddle, leaving him fully naked. Quietly, he padded over to his side of the bed to join you for a few more hours of sleep. The sun would begin rising in only an hour, and he needed more than anything to hold you in his arms.

Gaz finally slipped under the sheets, the silky blankets wrapping around his cold skin with a soft hiss. The moment his icy arm wrapped around your waist, you woke up with a small jolt, glancing hastily over your shoulder to meets his soft brown eyes.

"Sorry love, forgot," he whispered sheepishly, pulling your body against his cold one anyway.

It was easy to forget how... supernatural he was when he had you nestled perfectly in front of him. So warm and soft in all the right places.

Gaz felt you sleepily relax against his cold body, melting into him and heating him right up.

You were so perfect.

The thought made him smile into your hair, and he kissed your head, letting his heavy eyes close for a moment. This was perfect. Laying with your back pulled against his chest... his hand, cool but slowly being warmed by your natural heat, travelled down to your hip giving the flesh a firm squeeze.

You hummed, laying in that blissful state of relaxation as Gaz's hands began stroking your sides lovingly.

The mattress was perfectly molded to your bodies, the warmth kept sealed in with the fuzzy blankets, and Gaz gently slid his arm under your head. Letting you rest against his bicep peacefully whilst he began exploring your body.

He was getting increasingly hard. The heat from your skin, the acute feeling of your heartbeat against his palm where ever he touched... It was turning him on beyond belief.

"Baby," he murmured into your ear huskily, shifting his hips forward to press his erection firmly against your ass.

You hummed sleepily again, "Mm?" Only to be answered by another insistent thrust that made you whine.

He felt you happily press your hips back against his, and with the subtle invitation, got to work.

Gaz shifted a bit, leaning forward to kiss a hot trail up your neck. The feeling of his sharp fangs skimming over your pulse point was a sensation that made you bother shudder.

His warmed hands hooked gently under your thigh, insisting that you keep your leg lifted, spreading you open just enough for his tip to slide against your entrance with a moan.

"Fuck," he murmured against your skin, wanting to nip at your throat, but holding back enough to simply glide his fangs across your neck. Frustrated he couldn't bite, Gaz thrust his cock into you with a shared groan. The head inching in enough for his hips to gently kiss your ass.

Your sleepy moans, muttered but completely instinctive made him pick up the pace. His firm fingertips digging into the soft dip of your hip, bouncing you back onto him as he thrust incessantly.

This was just what he needed. To be buried to the hilt inside of you. To have your warm body wrapped around his aching soul. To hear your little whines and gasps come straight from your lips.

Shit, he was getting close. The soft sounds of the blankets rustling and his hips gently slamming against yours filled the room.

Gaz buried his face into the crook of your neck, the urge to bite had never been stronger. To thrust harder and just make you his forever, but he resisted, biting his own lip instead. Muffling the sound of his impending climax.

"Fuck baby, I can't-" he huffed, snapping his hips forwards faster. The gentle pace he had set becoming a frenzy of passion and want.

Gaz's hand finally clamped down on your hip, a deep groan spilling from his lips as he finally came inside you with one last thrust.

"Fuck-!" he whispered, feeling all of the tension slowly begin to seep from both of your bodies. Relaxing into one of the most divine afterglows he had ever experienced. A tingle running throughout his whole body as if heaven had raptured him.

"Here," your lover offered you, pulling you more comfortably into his arms and offering your neck a soft kiss.

Gaz pulled the covers up over your bodies, grateful that you were warm enough for the both of you to enjoy.

"Goodnight sweetheart," he murmured against your thrumming pulse, holding you protectively in his strong arms. His cock still nestled sweetly inside of you.

[alwaysmicado]

predator & prey

8.6k | 18+ MDNI | Nathan Bateman x f!reader

Warnings: consensual non-consent, restraints, manhandling, face slapping, hard choking, rough p in v sex, biting, creampie, pain kink, degradation/praise, subdrop, aftercare, soft(ish) Nathan Summary: Nathan fulfills your fantasy of being taken in the woods. Can you handle it? A/N: Living in the middle of nowhere has its perks...Can be read alone or as an extension of in control. I'm so beyond excited to finally share this with you!! It's been wreaking havoc in my brain for months now. Enjoy the ride and let me know what you think! 🖤

As the last rays of the setting sun dip below the horizon, casting the world into a deep indigo hue, Nathan grabs the neatly folded pile of clothes, your trail running shoes, and his backpack. Still in your sweats, you’re taken aback when he steps into your office, his hand finding your shoulder.

“Put these on,” he tells you, his voice betraying no particular emotion. He hands you a pair of jeans in your size and an oversized, white t-shirt, along with a nude bra and panties. You swallow and look up at him, catching the subtle glint in his eyes. 

“Time to go.” 

You dress as instructed, your fingers deftly lace up your shoes, and the two of you set off. 

The crisp air gently nibbles at your cheeks, and the faint glow of twilight casts a soft ambiance as the crunch of leaves and gravel beneath your feet echoes through the stillness around you. The air holds a charged energy, and each one of your steps carries a weight of anticipation. Your muscles are tense, your senses heightened, acutely aware of what lies ahead. 

Nathan’s demeanor is casual. He’s smiling, asking about your day, about the project that’s been giving you a headache for the past two weeks. You give him a semi-honest answer, admitting that you’ve been stressed, but omitting the fact that you’ve cried yourself to sleep over it more than once.

“You’ll figure it out,” he reassures you with a soft smile. Your furrowed brow meets his confident gaze, and for a moment, you study his face. He’s sincere.

You’re used to discussing your work with Nathan, it’s what you’re living with him for, after all. And despite your…complicated relationship with him, he has never questioned your professional skills.

That’s all on you. Your perfectionism is draining.

As you reach the edge of the woods after a half-hour march along the river, darkness begins to cloak you like a shroud. The trees whisper secrets, and the unknown looms like a specter in the night. Nathan activates the small portable light attached to his backpack, rolls his shoulders, and fixes his gaze on you.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and excitement courses through your veins, fueled by a potent blend of curiosity and trepidation. 

“You know what’s about to happen,” he says calmly, tilting your chin up with his gloved fingers to search your eyes. “Take a deep breath. We’re not starting until you’re ready.” 

You take a moment to gather yourself, inhaling the grounding scent of earth and pine, your eyes locked onto his.

“Choose a path and make sure you memorize it. Be aware of your surroundings and where you’re going. Do not look back.” He rubs your cheek softly with his thumb as his dark eyes pierce your soul. 

Sensing the rough leather of his gloves against your skin sends a chill down your spine as memories of pain and pleasure flood your mind.

These gloves have choked you until you passed out, just to slap you awake again. They’ve penetrated all your holes simultaneously, teasing you, stretching you, making you come over and over again. They’ve split your lip, caressed your cheek, spread Nathan’s cum all over your face, wiped away your tears.

There’s no part of your body they haven’t thoroughly explored in a tantalizing dance between violent and soft touches.

And Nathan only ever wears them for you.

As you study the man in front of you, the only man you’d willingly follow into the unknown, his presence feels both reassuring and elusive—a paradox you’ve come to not only accept but cherish. The intricate interplay of familiarity and mystery that shapes your connection is not just comforting; it’s irresistibly alluring.

In his all-black attire, he presents an effortlessly handsome yet imposing figure. You appreciate the boots on his feet, a deviation from his usual habit of walking around barefoot, and how they seamlessly blend into the darkness of his tactical pants secured by a familiar belt.

While the physical marks from your last encounter may have healed, allowing you to shower and sit down again without writhing in pain, the mere sight of the leather item makes you wince and sends a jolt of electricity through the muscles in your ass cheeks and thighs. 

Provoking Nathan is fun, but the consequences hurt. Badly.

Your gaze wanders further up, drawn to the hoodie that tightly embraces his broad frame, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders and the defined contours of his chest. It’s one of your favorite sights, second only to seeing him completely bare. Beneath his glasses, dark eyes fixate on you with a keen intensity, silently assessing the anticipation evident on your face.

Finally, your eyes reconnect with his, and the magnetic force of his gaze draws you into the depths of his desires. You see the lust in his eyes, the look of raw hunger etched across his face. It’s a look you’ve grown to both crave and fear, a look only you bring out of him.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Alright.” He nods and takes a step back from you, his scowl deepening. “Ten.”

You’re up and running before ‘nine’ even fully leaves Nathan’s lips. You don’t look back as his booming voice echoes behind you. Do you remember the path you chose? Do you know where your feet are carrying you into the mist, through the labyrinth of trees, fast, faster than they’ve ever carried you? You better run, little bunny, run, run away from him.

Ignore your racing heart, ignore the weight of his presence, ignore the forest closing in around you. You need to run. Run through the shadows, run away from him. Can you feel his eyes on you? The predator’s eyes locked on his prey?

Your time is up. He’s coming for you.

Nathan’s eyes follow you, vigilant, watching as your silhouette disappears into the forest, his heart pounding in his chest. Swiftly, he fastens the chest strap of his backpack, tightens his gloves, turns off the light, and lunges into a run. He’s on your trail.

Can you feel him? Can you feel him chasing you, drawing nearer with every frantic beat of your heart? He’s not going to stop until he catches you.

And you know what happens when he does, don’t you?

You’re sprinting, the crunch of leaves and the snap of twigs beneath your shoes creating a frenzied symphony in your haste. Panic creeps in, its icy fingers tightening around your racing heart. The air, now cold and damp, clings to your skin, making you shiver. You run further along the path you’ve chosen, quickly, as quickly as your aching muscles will allow. 

Are you scared? Is that why your breath comes in shallow gasps, and your eyes shimmer with unshed tears? Ah, yes. Yes, you are scared. That’s good. You should be. Let the tendrils of fear wrap around your every move, and embrace the primal instinct that tells you to run, run like a rabbit chased by a hungry fox.

He’s going to sink his teeth into your neck and tear you apart, tear you to shreds. 

Your cold feet carry you along the path you chose, deeper into the woods, deeper into the darkness. Trees blur past, bathed in moonlight, casting enigmatic figures on the path ahead. You can’t stop. He trails behind, a shadow in the darkness, tracking your scent, treading the path your feet imprinted moments before. Can you hear him panting, can you feel his hot breath on your neck? He’s on your heels, inching closer, so close to catching you, so close to having you.

You’re a fast little bunny, Nathan quietly acknowledges, his hungry gaze capturing a glimpse of your shirt. It only heightens the thrill for him, pursuing someone deserving of his dominance.

Oh, how he’s going to enjoy devouring you.

He’s behind you, pacing himself, feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He’s calm and calculated in his hunt for you, his feet carrying him swiftly towards you. You must hear the branches snapping under his heavy boots, you must feel the heat radiating off his body.

How do you feel? Are you afraid or turned on right now? Be honest. He’s not going away, you’re not going to escape him, he’s going to get you. Have you made peace with your fate?

You should have listened to him. Fuck. A fleeting glance backward is all it takes for you to lose your balance and trip over your own feet, twisting your ankle. The harsh ground rushes to meet you, hands breaking your fall, immediately sending a sharp pain through your arms and shoulders from the impact. Gasping for air, on the brink of tears, you fumble back to your feet, rising as quickly as your sore knees permit.

Where are you? Where has fate led you? The urgency to run grips you again, urging you to flee, escape. Start moving—now. Away from him. Are you sure you chose the right path? Darkness envelops you. Your vision is blurry, you’re tired, your body hurts. The echo of your breath lingers, a haunting reminder of your vulnerability. He’s so near, closing in. Why are you doing this?

A surge of adrenaline in your bloodstream propels you forward, numbing the pain in your ankle and legs. You push yourself into a sprint, using all of your determination and strength, ignoring the heart in your chest threatening to explode. Do not stop. No matter how suffocating the open space around you feels now, no matter how much the cold wind bites your face, no matter how much you yearn for respite.

Do not stop. 

You keep running, heart pounding, panic rising. You hear him, feel him, know he’s toying with you like a cat playing with the mouse it’s about to rip apart. You like that, don’t you? The anticipation. Dull pain in your muscles slows you down, slows your desperate escape. 

Exhaustion and vigilance intermingle, fear collides with excitement, and amidst the confusion, a strange clarity emerges. This is it. He’s here. 

He’s on you – you’re free. 

Nathan’s weight bears down, the forceful impact knocking the breath out of your lungs, his hands and knees pressing you face down into the unforgiving, cold ground. The weight of his breath, heavy and labored, blends with the earthy scent on your lips, clouding your mind. 

“Caught you,” Nathan growls into your ear, his dangerous tone of voice causing your whole body to shudder with an urgent sense of dread. He’s panting, his teeth clenched as he grabs your neck, his gloved fingers painfully digging into your skin, putting his weight on you as you scream and thrash under him. He caught you, he has you, you’re his now. 

Your brain races in overdrive as the primal fight-or-flight instinct kicks in, telling you to ‘fight, fight, little bunny’.

Go on, act like you don’t want it.  

“No, get off me,” you scream at him, clawing at his hand on your neck, writhing and struggling to escape his grip. You can feel the sneer on his face, can feel his satisfaction with your predicament. Do you really want to resist him? That’s not true, is it? You don’t actually want him to stop, don’t want him to listen to the pathetic pleas leaving your lips. No, no, you don’t want that.

You want him to have you, to take you, to ravage you.

What a sick girl you are. 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Nathan snarls, his knees pinning your legs down, his grip on your neck intensifying while his free hand retrieves something from one of his pockets.

“You’re mine now. Mine to take, mine to hurt,” he grabs your chin roughly, his dark eyes boring into you. “And you better believe I’m gonna make it hurt.”

Are you scared of him? He’s stronger than you. He’s going to hurt you. You made him chase you, made him chase what’s his. You’re going to pay for that, little bunny. You’re going to pay for trying to deny him. Can you see the fire burning in his eyes? That’s all for you.

Grabbing your wrist, he forcefully twists your arm behind your back, ignoring your pained groan as you struggle and try to resist. With practiced efficiency, he repeats the motion with your other arm, his gloved fingers digging into your flesh. He needs to use all of his strength to keep your hands in place as he fastens the zip tie tightly around your bare wrists, effectively immobilizing your hands. 

You’re bound, restrained—like a little present on a plate, primed and ready for the taking. Does it hurt? Does it hurt to be this helpless, this vulnerable? Struggle all you want. There’s no way you can escape now. 

Your fate is sealed.

Nathan manhandles you onto your back, grabbing you by your shoulder, then immediately straddles you and sits on your thighs to keep you pinned down. You can see the dark glint in his eyes and the violent desire painted across his face. Does that make you wet? The lust, the hunger, the raw need he has for you? 

He knows, little bunny. You’re so pathetic.

“Fuck you,” you defiantly spit at him, as the subtle smirk on Nathan’s face stirs the rebellious voice simmering in your mind.

It’s the same inner voice that urges you to provoke him when your ass is already black and blue, the voice that tells you to deliberately graze his cock with your teeth, so he’ll grab your neck and fuck your throat harder, the voice that tells you to come without permission, so he’ll overstimulate you until you’re too weak to cry — the voice that tells you you need more.

Nathan strikes you hard across the face, splitting your lip. Tears spill from your eyes, and a surge of adrenaline floods your veins. The impact on your cheek is so intense that your head recoils, seeking refuge away from him, eyes clamped shut in an attempt to find solace in darkness. He denies you that respite.

“Look at me, whore!” His hands are on your throat in an instant, knocking your head against the ground, ruthlessly pressing on your veins, crushing you, choking you. 

His eyes blaze with a wild fervor, pupils dilated to an almost feral intensity. The lines on his face contort, a mixture of raw desire and twisted pleasure etched across his features. Desire and dominance intertwine as his gloved fingers tighten even further around your neck, each breath he denies you heightening the predatory satisfaction he feels.

The crushing grip on your throat sends shockwaves of panic through every fiber of your being, alerting your body to resist. Resist him. Resist him or die. With your hands bound behind your back, your struggles are futile, your desperate squirms and frenzied kicks against the unyielding ground only fueling Nathan’s arousal.

Can you taste your own fear on your bloody lips? Delicious, isn’t it?

The world around you blurs, your head spinning, your heart racing, the dark grip of unconsciousness tightening around you. Dumb little bunny, willingly jumping into the fox’s den. What did you think was going to happen?

You’re so helpless under him, so vulnerable, so utterly…human. 

Nathan’s cock is so fucking hard it hurts. 

Right on the edge, as the vacant look in your eyes hints at a mind detaching from reality, he lets go of your throat with a growl, and takes off his gloves. Convulsing, you desperately gasp and cough and splutter as precious air revives your lungs. Your vision gradually returns, and as you gaze upward through tear-filled eyes, the vast expanse of the night sky unfolds above you, a celestial canvas painted with a myriad of stars.

It’s beautiful. Chaotic. Intimidating. Soothing.

Then, his eyes come into focus. Those deep, dark, intense eyes you could drown in. Wouldn’t that be nice? You see fire in them, hunger, calculated power, and…something else.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re scared,” you hear Nathan pant, his bare hands gripping your cheeks firmly, before he leans in and presses his lips on yours in a messy, violent kiss. You’re still gasping for air, but he doesn’t care. He needs to taste you, to devour you, to claim you as his.

He’s frenzied now, moaning into your mouth, gripping your jaw, sliding his hand under your shirt, along your belly and further up, pulling your bra down. He bites your lip, tasting your blood on his tongue, bruising you, marking you. You sob against his lips, out of breath, in pain, mind reeling, so desperate to be close to him you’re shaking.

He laughs at the pathetic sounds you make as he sucks and bites at the sensitive skin of your neck while hungrily groping your tits, his hand exploring your soft skin, squeezing, twisting, punishing. He tugs at your erect nipples, loving how you arch your back and how your cries echo in the night. 

“Scream all you want, baby,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck before peppering soft kisses along your jaw, his free hand moving down your belly and into your pants. “Nobody’s coming to save you.”

You cry and whimper as blood, spit and tears stain your face, giving Nathan exactly what he wants. God, you’re perfect. 

He slips his hand into your panties, groaning at the feeling of your wetness, his fingers sliding through your folds, making you moan and clench around nothing when he brushes your swollen clit. You beg him to stop, twisting and pulling your arms back and forth under yourself, trying to wriggle your hands free to push him off. But it’s no use, is it? Poor baby. You’re bound, you’re, ensnared, like a fly caught in the spider’s silk, each struggle only tightening the threads around you.

What are you so afraid of? Why are you trying to resist so hard? Is it fear or is it the fact that you’re sopping wet from being violated? 

The truth hurts, little bunny, it really does. But you can’t escape it.

Overwhelmed with Nathan’s assault on your senses, you gaze up at him with pleading eyes, his wicked grin widening with every agonizing second as he’s relishing the betrayal of your body. You’re such a depraved whore, letting him hurt you and getting off on it. He loves that you are, and he wants you to know that. He wants you to know how much he fucking loves hurting you, how much he wants you. All of you.

He can’t take it anymore. He needs to feel you.

Sitting up straight, he kneels between your legs, momentarily abandoning your tit and your pussy to hastily fumble with the button and zipper of your jeans. Can you see how hard his cock is straining against his pants and how hard his chest is heaving? Can you see what you’re doing to him? He’s in agony and he’s finally going to get his relief from you.

If only he hadn’t underestimated you.

A split second. A split second of lust-fueled distraction is all it takes for Nathan to give you an opportunity to get out. And you take it.

It all happens so fast. 

The forceful kick you deliver to his abdomen shocks you both. He gasps as the unexpected blow catches him off guard, and he stumbles backward, crashing onto the backpack strapped to his shoulders. The impact jars through his spine, making him groan in pain as he feels the sturdy surface of the thermos he brought pressing into his back. Hearing his pitiful groans stuns you for a fleeting moment, a hint of concern creeping in. 

You catch a quick glimpse of Nathan’s dark eyes and that’s when the flight instinct finally kicks in, telling you to get the fuck up and run.

Oh, what have you done, little bunny?

You wriggle on the ground, pain pulsating through your body as you scramble to your feet, wrists still bound behind your back. You run, feet pounding against the uneven forest floor, frantically, unsteady, driven by a primal need to escape.

Your eyes, wide with terror, dart wildly in all directions, desperately searching for an escape route. The whites of your eyes stand out starkly against the backdrop of fear, reflecting the moonlight that filters through the trees overhead. Each breath is visible, quick and shallow, as if the very air you inhale carries the weight of your anxiety. The cold air stings in your lungs, each breath hurting your sore throat. 

“You fucking bitch!” Nathan’s furious shouts echo behind you as he pulls himself up with a pained groan, a relentless pursuit that adds to the drumming rhythm of your heart. “Running won’t save you, you stupid girl. You’re mine. And when I—fuck—when I catch you I’m gonna hurt you like I’ve never fucking hurt you before.” 

Your blood freezes in your veins at his words, but you don’t respond, focusing solely on the path ahead. Running, panting, gritting your teeth, trying to keep your balance with bound hands. Twisting and turning through the dense foliage, you try to outsmart your pursuer, relying on instincts honed by fear. The shadows dance around you, leaves crunching beneath your feet. You better run, little bunny, run, run away from him.

You think a little groping and choking was bad? Oh, you naive thing. That was nothing. He means it when he says he’ll hurt you like never before. But you know that, right? That’s why you’re running now even though your body is threatening to collapse. You just had to be defiant, hm? You just couldn’t accept that you fucking loved what he did to you.

Now look where your pride got you. Was it worth it?

He’s catching up to you, determined to win, his quick feet carrying him through the mist, his angry shouts getting closer. Can you feel his anger, his hot breath on your neck? Can you feel the venom with which he spits his threats at you? There’s nothing more dangerous than a wounded animal.

“You think you can escape me, you dumb bitch?” Nathan’s voice is a predatory growl, following your every move.

His cruel laughter chases you like a haunting melody, spurring you on to push your aching muscles harder. The forest seems to tighten around you, an inescapable labyrinth closing in as the predator hunts its prey. And then it happens again. He’s got you. 

As you dart left, he anticipates your move, and your bodies collide with a force that knocks the wind out of you. You both tumble to the ground with a thud, intertwined, leaves and dirt swirling around you in a chaotic dance. 

“No, no, no,” you scream, thrashing about like a wounded animal caught in a bear trap. 

You’re so much stronger than Nathan anticipated, it’s incredible. He knows you have a high pain tolerance, but your resilience is honestly amazing. You truly are the perfect prey.

You squirm and struggle to get away again, but Nathan puts all of his weight on you, pinning you face down under him, your face pressed into the mud, his fingernails digging into your arms so hard you’re making yourself bleed when you desperately try to pull away from his grip. His eyes burn with a mixture of fury and triumph as he pants against your neck, his knees digging into the back of your thighs, one hand moving to press on your neck.

“That’s enough,” he growls through gritted teeth, as you just won’t give up, even though he can feel your exhaustion.

He slaps your exposed cheek as he holds your neck steady, the sharp crack of the impact echoing in the oppressive darkness. A surge of pain courses through you like lightning, leaving a heavy imprint on your senses. Before you can fully register the sting, he ruthlessly yanks on your shirt’s collar, revealing the vulnerable expanse of your shoulder.

Without hesitation, he bites into your flesh, dragging his teeth, breaking your skin. His assault is akin to a wolf sinking its razor-sharp fangs into prey, tearing into your body with a savage hunger. It hurts worse than anything you can remember. Your body’s in shock and your cries come out soundless, weak, futile. He’s pushing you to your limits.

When he’s had his fill, he wipes his bloody mouth, sits up and turns you on your back, immediately straddling your thighs as one of his hands constricts around your bruised neck. The pressure is not yet enough to completely cut off your air supply, but it’s enough to evoke vivid and terrifying memories of how he choked you just moments ago. The implied threat is enough to keep you still.

Nathan slings off his backpack in a swift motion using his free hand and turns on the light. He then takes a few seconds to look into your wet, glazed-over eyes, caressing your tender cheek with an unexpectedly gentle touch, tracing your soft skin with his palm. He can see it in your dilated pupils, he can feel it radiating off your body, he can hear it in your trembling voice as you can’t hold back the pathetic little whimpers escaping your lips.  

You’re flying. 

Seeing the need in your eyes, his handprint on your cheek, his bite mark on your shoulder, and the blood on your lips makes his cock throb in his pants. He can’t wait anymore, he needs you.

He lets go of your neck with a menacing growl, moving back to sit between your legs. His unwavering gaze remains locked onto yours, stripping you of any semblance of agency. He quickly grabs the waistband of your jeans and drags them over your ass and down to your thighs like you’re a doll — like you’re one of his androids. Sentient, but not in control. 

It’s so peaceful, isn’t it? Being his toy. His little slut to play with.

You feel your panties being yanked down, feel the cold breeze on your pussy as Nathan lifts and bends your legs for better access, feel him holding your thighs with a tight grip. He can see how wet you are, how swollen your clit is, how much your body craves his violence. And he’s going to give it to you. All of it. Because he craves it just as badly. His cock is aching for you, rock-hard, pulsating, desperate to feel the warmth of your cunt.

He hastily pulls down his pants with controlled movements, revealing just how much his body wants you. You can see his cock through your wet lashes, causing your walls to clench around nothing and your hips to jerk at the sight; a conditioned response from the hours upon hours of ecstasy he’s given you.

“All for you, my little whore,” Nathan says with a sly grin as he follows your hungry gaze and reaches down to grab the object of your attention. Locking eyes with you and searching them for a second, he strokes the tip of his cock up and down your slick, puffy lips once, twice, and then pushes into your cunt in one forceful thrust.

You whine pathetically as he stretches you open with a loud groan, your toes curling in your shoes, the feeling almost too much to bear. He gives you no time to adjust before he pulls out completely and slams back inside as hard as he can, pushing your body up on the cold ground. 

“F-fuck yeah,” he groans as he bottoms out deep inside you, savoring the delicious feeling of your wet pussy sucking him in. “That’s it…Now, be a good whore and take it.”

You can’t hold back your moans as he starts fucking you at a relentless pace, holding on to both of your thighs, putting his weight on them, pressing them against your torso. The angle makes you incredibly tight and allows him to go deep, deep inside of you. 

Nathan’s gaze penetrates yours, watching in awe as the need in your eyes grows bigger and bigger with every inch of his cock stretching you, with every snap of his hips against your thighs, with every demeaning word he spits at you as he takes what he wants, reducing you to a toy he can use and abuse.

You take it, take everything he gives you, take it so well. You take it until you can’t anymore. 

“Please stop,” you whimper as his deliberate, continuous hits to your cervix cause you immense pain.

Nathan laughs breathlessly. You’re so cute when you pretend that’s not exactly what you need. What hurts more, huh? The pain of him using you or the fact that you’re close to coming from it?

“Can’t take it, slut?” he pants as he can feel his cock swell deep inside of you, your pussy gripping him like a vise. You feel so fucking good. “What happened? I thought you wanted this.”

“Hurts…” you whine as fresh tears run down your temples. You writhe under him, trying to move your legs, but it’s no use. You’re trapped. 

“I know it hurts, baby,” he coos in response, his voice deceptively soothing. “But I need you to be good for me. You wanna be good for me, don’t you? Yeah, you do. You wanna be my good girl. That’s it, baby. Just like that.” 

His words send heat straight to your core, causing your walls to flutter around his cock. God, you’re a perfect little fuckdoll. 

You yelp in surprise as Nathan suddenly leans in, putting your calves on his shoulder, crushing his lips against yours in a feverish kiss. You instinctively open your mouth for his tongue to slide inside, wanting to taste him, to feel him, to have him claim you completely. 

The coil in your lower belly is wound tight and ready to snap at any moment. You’re so close. You moan into his mouth as his tongue swirls around yours, and he groans in response, his hips picking up the pace, slamming into you feverishly. Your pitiful cries evaporate in his mouth as his cock hits your cervix over and over again, determined to make you come from pain.

He can feel you burning up against his body, can taste the desperation on your trembling lips, can feel your pussy gripping him so hard it hurts. You’re fucking loving this. He chuckles against your lips as you start jerking your hips, trying your hardest to get more friction on your clit.

Poor little bunny.

He’s not going to touch you. You’re going to come like this or not at all.

Not giving you even one second to catch your breath, he draws back from your lips and immediately grabs the base of your neck with a firm grip to pull himself deeper inside you with every harsh thrust. Lightheaded, mind reeling, your overstimulated body is screaming for release.

“Nathan…” you sob, your voice a mere whisper as tears stream down your temples.

“That’s right, slut. Keep fucking crying,” he groans, his hips stuttering for a moment when he feels your pussy twitch around his cock. You’re so close. Your whole body is trembling and your moans are getting louder and louder as he’s picking up the pace, thrusting into you relentlessly, telling you what a depraved little whore you are for coming on his cock.

It only takes a handful more of Nathan’s measured thrusts before the coil inside you finally snaps and you crash into your orgasm at full speed. Your walls clamp down around his cock so hard he can barely keep moving, and the overwhelming ecstasy that spreads through your body and mind makes you forget who or where you are. You feel weightless, free, whole as he fucks you through your high, drowning you in his touch that masterfully blends pain and pleasure.

He almost comes instantly when he sees and feels you fall apart so completely, your blissed out expression the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

As you start to come down and all sensations begin to blur into an elusive haze, you feel the edges of your vision start to blur and Nathan’s groans seem distant and muffled. On the precipice of your consciousness, in your delirium, you feel the gentle touch of Nathan’s lips on your skin, you see him smiling at you, you hear him whisper in your ear that he lo–

A sharp slap to your cheek wakes you up and has you turning your head to cough and gasp for air. After a few seconds of trying to catch your breath, your chest heaving, your head spinning, you notice that Nathan’s still moving, his hips slamming against the back of your thighs with a relentless ferocity that borders on primal.

“You don’t get to pass out on me, baby,” you hear him chuckle. “I want you to feel it when I fill you up.”

He can feel it building and building, winding tighter and tighter, his cock swelling and twitching inside your cunt. He pants and moans your name, telling you what a perfect little whore you are, how fucking good you feel, how much he enjoys hurting you.

“Holy shit, that’s it. Fuck. Fuck.”

He explodes deep inside you, cum painting your walls, still thrusting as he twitches and pulses, making sure your pussy swallows every last drop. He sits up, panting heavily, sweat running down his temples as he looks down at where your bodies are connected. He slowly pulls out of you with a strangled groan, watches with satisfaction how his cum leaks out of your swollen pussy, and at last lets his spent body collapse on the ground next to you.

“Fucking unreal,” he sighs deeply, covering his face with his hands for a moment before wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. He takes a few seconds to catch his breath and to wait for enough blood to flow back to his brain, then turns his head to look at you. 

You’re lying on your side, turned away from him, your knees pulled up to your chest in the fetal position. Nathan’s eyes are immediately drawn to the burns on your wrists, the scratches covering your arms and ass, and the blood he can see on your shirt’s collar.

Seeing you in this state has his cock twitching on his belly.

He did this to you. He beat you, overpowered you, took you, fucking destroyed you. You were so sure of yourself before, and now look at yourself. Pathetic.

What hurts more, little bunny? Your body or your mind? 

Your pitiful sobs cut through the still of the night, interrupting Nathan’s thoughts.

“Shit.” He snaps out of it and immediately sits up, haphazardly stuffing his cock back inside his pants before opening his backpack to get out the shears he packed. He grabs them, then kneels behind you.

“I’m gonna cut your ties, okay? Don’t move.”

You give no indication that you can hear him, but you don’t move your hands as he cuts the ties around your sore wrists. You lie still, limp, even now that your hands are free again.

Concerned with your body temperature, Nathan quickly reaches for his backpack again to get out a woolen blanket. He drapes it over you, shielding your exposed body from the cold wind blowing around you.

He tries to turn you around, so he can look at you and talk to you, but you start thrashing about and crying violently when he puts pressure on your arm.

“Hey, hey, shhh, it’s over,” he says calmly but firmly, pulling you up into his lap with your back against his chest despite your protests. His strong arms hold you close, the blanket tightly wrapped around you. “Shhh, it’s over, you’re safe.” 

He can feel you stop resisting and your muscles relaxing in his arms after a minute or so, your head falling back against his shoulder, your breathing getting calmer.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” he murmurs into the crown of your head, rocking you gently.

After a short while of sitting in silence, he decides it’s best you two get going, so he can clean you up and take care of your wounds. But first, he wants you to drink from the tea he brought, to warm you up and rehydrate you.

With a careful maneuver, he reaches into his backpack while keeping a supportive hold on you, retrieving the thermos that left a lasting impression on his back. He takes a sip to make sure it’s not too hot before encouraging you to do the same. He smiles to himself when you don’t bother asking what’s in it this time, too exhausted to care, apparently.

You feel the soothing warmth trickling down your sore throat, warming you from the inside. A gentle cough escapes your lips, a testament to the wear and tear your body has endured. When Nathan’s satisfied with your intake, he stows the thermos and helps you stand up. He pulls up your panties and pants without any protest from you, then picks up his backpack. 

“Here,” he murmurs, wrapping the blanket tightly around you, so it stays put without you having to hold it. He then hands you a blue cool pack for your swollen cheek and lip and guides your hand to the affected area. You wince and groan when the pack makes contact with your tender skin.

“Keep pressure on it, okay?”

You nod and press a bit harder, the throbbing pain prompting a new set of tears to well up in your eyes, silently expressing both pain and relief.

“Can you walk?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him. “Mhm.”

“It’s not far,” he murmurs, prompting you to walk in front of him. The flashlight he brought illuminates the path, but exhaustion causes you to stumble a few times. When Nathan has to catch you for the fifth time, he realizes this isn’t going to work and finally opts to rearrange the blanket, so he can guide you with a supportive hand under your armpit.

You’re not really here, so you don’t notice that he’s leading you down a different path than the one you came from.

The cold night air is filled with unspoken truths as you walk in silence, the sound of gravel and leaves crushed beneath your feet echoing the muted conversation you’re not ready to have.

Your body is beginning to hurt more and more with every step you take, as you can feel the adrenaline slowly leaving your body. The fog in your mind begins to clear at the same time, revealing a storm of conflicting emotions you’re utterly unprepared for. 

Nathan’s just fulfilled a fantasy you’ve had forever but could never find the right partner for, either due to lack of sexual compatibility or lack of trust. And despite having you climbing the walls with frustration many times over the past few months, you trust Nathan and know he would never seriously harm you.

Not physically at least.

So, why are you pouting right now? He gave you what you wanted, didn’t he? This was your idea and you wanted it so badly.

Is it because you didn’t think it would feel so real? That it wouldn’t hurt so much? Hmm, that’s not it, is it? No, no. What you’re feeling is shame. You’re ashamed. Ashamed at how much you loved it. How much you loved the thrill of the hunt and the pain of being beaten and used.

What kind of fucked up person would enjoy something like this? What is wrong with you?

– – –

“I had it built over the past week,” Nathan murmurs as he’s opening a new pack of sterile wipes. “Pretty great, huh? I designed every room myself, feng shui included.” You dig your fingernails into your palm and suck in a sharp breath when the alcohol makes contact with the bite mark on your shoulder.

You’ve been in Nathan’s new cabin for half an hour now, and he’s been trying his best to make you feel comfortable—turning up the heat, helping you take off your dirty shirt and jeans, preparing a cup of tea for you while you were on the toilet, giving you pain meds a non-billionaire could only dream of getting their hands on, and carefully disinfecting your wounds in the bathroom. He’s even refrained from misquoting Oppenheimer or exclusively talking about himself.

He is trying.

You, however, have remained unresponsive, eyes vacant, lost in the echoes of your scene. Vivid memories pulse through your veins, and when Nathan notices the subtle tremors wracking your body, a flicker of concern shadows his eyes.

“Looks good,” he goes on as he’s done cleaning the mark his canines left on you. “It’s not as deep as I thought. Still looks like it hurts though.”

He can’t help but smile at the sight, the evidence of what he did to you. Beautiful. He puts the wipes down onto the wooden bench you’re sitting on and studies your profile. Silent tears are slowly rolling down your swollen cheeks, your bruised neck, over your breasts, pooling in your bra. Your lip is quivering.

You hear him say your name. “Can you please look at me?”

When you don’t react, he says your name a little louder, his patience waning as he grapples with his own sense of helplessness.

He’s not used to feeling this way—unable to fully understand or solve a problem that’s presenting itself. He’s a genius for God’s sake. Concern turns to frustration, his eyes mirroring the helplessness he’s experiencing—an unusual and uncomfortable sensation for someone accustomed to being in control.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head. But your silence persists, and his frustration peaks. With a sudden resolve, he reaches for your chin, intending to force you to look at him. As soon as his fingers make contact with your skin, you slap his hand away.

“Don’t touch me!” you hiss at him with such venom in your voice that he’s momentarily stunned. Your eyes meet his for the first time since you left the woods, bloodshot and watery, pupils dilated. 

The sudden break in the stagnant atmosphere startles both of you and you immediately regret what you did when you see the look on Nathan’s face. Your palms are clammy, the bathroom suddenly feels far too hot, and every scratch on your body burns and pulses in time with your racing heartbeat.

“I–I’m so sorry,” you stutter, your eyes wide, your trembling hand reaching for his arm. 

“It’s okay,” he says calmly, studying your face with a furrowed brow. “Are you in pain? Is that it?”

“No—well, yeah. Of course I am, what the hell do you think?” A small smile tugs at Nathan’s lips, amused with your answer. “But, uh, that’s not it.” You avert your gaze and absentmindedly rub your right thumb over your left thumb in your lap. 

“Was it too much? Did I do some–”

“No.” You vehemently shake your head and look into his eyes. “It was perfect, Nathan. I liked it, really.”

He can see in your eyes that you’re telling the truth, but that just confuses him more.

“It’s just,” you go on, shifting uncomfortably on the bench. “What’s wrong with me?”

A lightbulb flickers to life above Nathan’s head, and suddenly, it’s crystal clear what your pleading eyes are trying to say.

“Why do you think anything’s wrong with you? You just said you liked what we did.”

“But why?” you blurt out. “Other people don’t ask their boss to chase them through the woods. They’re not perpetually bruised. And they wouldn’t get off on half the shit you do to me.” Your voice is agitated now, your hands wildly gesticulating between the two of you.

Nathan can see how distressed you are, but he genuinely doesn’t understand why. This isn’t like you. He sighs and puts his hand on your naked thigh. You let him.

“Pain, humiliation, submitting to me,” he says softly, his eyes locked onto yours. “That’s your thing, okay? Now, why is that your thing? Because you did a detailed analysis of all kinks and you cross-referenced that analysis with a points-based system? No. You’re just into pain and humiliation. You like submitting to me. It’s how you were programmed. Nature and nurture, baby.”

You hear the words he says, but your tired brain and your aching body make it so you’re not really processing them. His logic isn’t what you need right now.

“But…don’t you think that’s weird?” you murmur, your eyes filling with tears again.

Nathan sighs deeply, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “This is your insecurity talking, this is not your intellect,” he says sternly. “You’re better than that.”

He gets up with a suppressed groan, clutching his abdomen, and holds out his hand for you to join him.

As soon as you’re standing, he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. Your lips still sting, but you don’t mind. Nathan’s lips, his warm body against yours, and his hands roaming your naked back feel too good to care. You’re losing yourself in his touch again.

He directs you backwards toward the sink without breaking the kiss, pressing his growing erection against your core when your lower back hits the sink. His tongue swirls around yours, his low hums vibrating against your lips as his hands find your hips.

Breaking the kiss, out of breath, he turns you around, so you’re in front of the mirror. 

“Look at yourself,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, his lidded eyes watching you. He slowly traces your skin with his fingertips, appreciating the marks on your body. A shiver runs down your spine and you moan softly at his tantalizing touch.

“I did this. I did this to you.” Nathan kisses your neck with his warm, soft lips, his beard tickling you. You close your eyes and hum at the feeling, resting your hands on the sink.

“And you took it so well, baby,” he murmurs against your skin between kisses, his hard cock pressing against your ass. “You earned every single bruise. You’re such a good little whore.”

His right hand moves down your belly, down between your thighs, cupping your mound over your panties. Gently but firmly. He keeps kissing up and down your neck, his warm breath and soft groans making you wet. You let your head fall back against him, wrapping your hands around his neck, and rocking your hips against his hand.

“Nathan…don–” you murmur, but he cuts you off. 

“Shh,” he purrs against your neck, sliding his hand inside your panties and finding your clit with his fingers.

“Look at yourself.”

You reluctantly open your eyes. His gaze meets yours in the reflection, your brows drawn together, your lips slightly parted. You still wince at the sight of your swollen face, the mark on your shoulder and the bruises and scratches you can see. But all of your thoughts are quickly washed away when Nathan’s fingers start rubbing your clit, his dark eyes never leaving you. 

“That’s it, baby. Look at what I did to you. Look at how much I hurt you.”

Speeding up the movement of his fingers, he can feel your legs starting to tremble as your orgasm approaches rapidly. He wraps his left hand around your front, his hand splayed over your tense belly, holding you against his chest. 

Sweet release. You can already taste it.

Your moans are becoming louder and louder, and right when you’re about to tip over the edge, Nathan roughly grabs your throat and simultaneously pushes three fingers into your pussy, pumping them in and out of you hard and fast. Your eyes widen in shock and your hands instinctively grab at his, trying to get him to loosen his grip, but he’s undeterred.

He knows you’re sore, so he’s not going to fuck you with his cock. But you need this. 

“There is nothing wrong with you or with what you want,” he growls into your ear, his eyes boring into you as he feels you coming around his fingers with a desperate moan.

You ride out your high on his hand until your knees buckle and your limp body collapses against his, your walls rhythmically pulsing around him. Holding you upright, Nathan presses a soft kiss to the mark on your shoulder and nuzzles the crook of your neck with his nose.

“You’re such a fucking good girl,” he murmurs as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you.

“Now, how about a bath?”

– – –

Lying in the softest bed you’ve ever laid in, feeling the comforting embrace of the satin sheets around your body, and thanks to the pain meds working their magic, you find yourself in heaven. Floating on a fluffy cloud. Mind empty. Content.

“Feeling any better?” you hear Nathan’s voice behind you before the bed dips under his weight as he joins you.  

“Mhm. Great meds,” you murmur into your pillow.

“Yeah, right? I feel like I’m floating.”

“Huh?” You turn around to look at him, his face illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the trees and the wall-to-ceiling window opposite the bed. “What the fuck, Nathan? You can’t mix those with alcohol.” 

“No worries. My liver’s been training for this.”  

You scoff. He’s unbelievable. “Why did you take them anyway? It’s not like you got hurt.”

“The big, purple bruise on my abdomen begs to differ,” he chuckles. “You got me pretty good.”

You can’t hold back a little laugh. “You’re a baby.”

“And you get a little too bold when you’re high. I’d watch it if I were you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmur, your eyelids beginning to droop.

Nathan smirks and shakes his head at you. “Hey,” he lightly taps your shoulder, “wanna see something cool? Check this out.” 

He flips a switch on the wall next to the bed, and suddenly, the roof smoothly retracts, unveiling the vast expanse of the starlit sky.

It’s breathtaking.

“Pretty amazing, huh?”

“It is,” you whisper as your thoughts float away like dandelion seeds carried by a gentle breeze, dancing into the realm of dreams. “Thank you.”

The quiet in the bedroom stretches for a few minutes as the soothing embrace of sleep begins to claim you. Suddenly, Nathan breaks the silence with a soft murmur.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” 

“Hm?”

He sighs. “About your masochism. You never told me.”

“Hmm. I don’t always. Only sometimes.” You turn onto your side, your face buried in the pillow. A content sigh escapes your lips. “Can’t help it.”

“Don’t keep stuff like that from me. Tell me next time.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m serious, it’s–” He stops when he hears your rhythmic breathing. He leans over you and looks at your face. You’re sleeping. You look peaceful.

Nathan rolls onto his back and stares at the stars overhead for a few minutes, contemplating the universe and his role in it until your breathing lulls him to sleep.

– – –

Thank you for reading 🖤 ➝ check out my masterlist

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Lone Wolf.

Whoever said that all wild wolves are lone has lied. But striking out by himself has always suited him better.

… Hasn’t it?

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Snow and ice don’t bother him. The cold never has, not when he has his fur and muscles keeping him insulated.

But it doesn’t keep his stomach from dropping when he looks ahead, shielding his eyes from the blizzard. The gray sky, overcast with clouds, makes the world blotchy and muted. If the sun were out, it would be much worse--the light upon the snow would blind him.

His lashes are coated in frost and dropping, and he can barely see ahead in the white world. The road ahead stretches on for who knows how long, and the storm is relentless.

There is not a single mercy granted to him, but he sees it now: a faint, glowing ball in the distance, piercing the veil of fog. It calls out to him.

He's like a magnet, inexplicably compelled to it.

Jack does not remember how he ended up in this situation, only that his consciousness starts and ends in the vortex of snowflakes. He's searching for something, but he doesn't know what.

He grunts, nestling deeper into his scarf and coat. His gloved hands burrow into pockets. Unfortunately, his face gets no reprieve from the biting gales and the chill freezing any bit of moisture in the area.

It hurts to breathe. It feels as though he's inhaling tiny shards of ice instead of air.

Still, Jack trudges forward.

Seeking out the thing he does not know.

It's more difficult than it has to be. The snow is up to his knees, almost his thighs. The weight of it, an obstacle to his journey--demanding that he raise his legs high enough to clear the wall or force his way through it.

A waste of time and energy.

Keep going, Jack encourages himself. You'll find what you're looking for at the end of all of this!

"GRAAAAAAAAAAAH!!"

With a war cry, Jack grits his teeth and sprints. He charges with reckless abandon, a man driven mad by his travels. Snow slams his limbs, his chest, particles flying into his chin and cheeks.

His muscles cry out in exertion as they're pushed to their limits. Pain, pain--and, for once, Jack is thankful for the numbing effects of the brutal winter.

A building comes into view.

A cottage, crowned in a halo.

His breaths shallow, his heart still pounding.

Jack throws himself at the front door and barrels inside. He closes out the cold, his body slumping to the ground in victory. The cabin's warmth floods him just as quickly as the exhaustion sets in.

His senses kick back in, and he realizes he has likely intruded in someone's home.

He hauls himself up and tentatively calls out.

"... Hello? Hello, is anyone there?" Jack asks. "Sorry for uh, breaking and entering. I just need a place to stay until the storm is cleared out."

There is no answer, which causes a fresh wave of relief to wash over him.

They must be out. I'll hang out for a little while and be out before they get back. They won't even notice I was here.

Jack dusts the snow off of him. Some of it has already melted, leaving frigid trails of water on his skin and coat. He shivers, the cold finally hitting him at once.

The cabin is tiny, but comfortable. Photographs line the walls and sit atop cabinets, throw rugs thrown over the floors, knickknacks scattered about.

The space is very much lived in. A family of seven, by the looks of it: seven rocking chairs--small to large--against the wall, seven bowls of porridge out on the counter, one giving off a hefty cloud of steam. There are even seven beds lined up in the next room over, one thin and hard and another overflowing with blankets and cushions.

If I sit on the furniture, I'll definitely get it wet.

His eyes wander.

At the far end of the room is a roaring fireplace. The flames leap up and crackle, beckoning Jack to come close, to warm himself beside it.

He shuffles over, the heat gradually growing and drying him. Crossing his legs and sitting, Jack basks in the cozy glow. His muscles melt, and a contented whine slips out.

This bliss, he knows, cannot last.

He will have to return to the blizzard soon.

Out there, in that kingdom of isolation. Barren forests, icy mountains, walking along a path that was his own.

Yet here, with the roof over his head and the fire at his feet, he is more at ease than he ever was in the snowstorm. Food, clothes, shelter—all the essentials he needs to bear that freezing, cruel world.

His heartstrings tremble, as if a hand had ran along them, setting them all into a song.

Something is still missing. Something you need, something even more important than the necessities.

What is it…?

Jack’s lids lower. They’re heavy, both with melted snow and the urge to sleep. To pass out right there, on the rug, damn it all if the family finds a massive wolf beastman snoozing on their living room floor.

It’s a tempting thought.

His eyes close, and they stay that way for a second longer than he’d like. He tries to open them again—stutter, stutter, collapse.

The warmth of the fireplace knits over him, lulling him deeper into the trance. The winds outside seem so far away now, muffled by the sturdy walls of the cabin.

He feels himself lolling forward, but doesn’t feel the hardness of the ground.

Somewhere, a door clicks open.

Voices float in, fuzzy around the edges. He's aware of them, but fails to scrounge up the names.

They're important people, he concludes.

"... Oh dear. It looks as though we have an unexpected visitor."

"Whoa, is that Jack?! Why's he passed out in front of the fireplace?"

"Does the reason matter? He looks as though he has been through quite a bit."

Footsteps. Jack senses a body nearby, but is too tired to rise, to offer an apology. Fingers come upon his neck, then over his mouth, testing for a pulse, for breathing.

"He is fine, he's just tired. Let him rest--he'll need to collect his strength. Although... sleeping in such a position is awful for his posture. We'll have to move him to a proper bed."

A pause, the feet pacing.

"Cucumber, you possess the greatest upper body strength of us. Carry him. Epel, fetch an extra blanket. Potatoes 1 and 2, towels. Ortho, you still have that heat lamp function, yes? Let's put that to some use."

"Yes, Vil-senpai."

"Command confirmed. Engaging heat lamp mode..."

Epel? Ortho...?

A light switch turns on in the attic of his mind. Other names bubble up, resurfacing, and he plucks them out one by one.

"IT SHALL BE DONE!"

Sebek.

"Roger! I'll get those towels right away!"

Deuce.

"Haaah~ Can't believe we gotta look out for Jack just cuz the big guy couldn't look after himself out there. Oh well. Can't be helped."

Ace.

The storm lifts.

That's right, they are...

Vil reaches him.

"Welcome home, Jack. You've found your way back to us at last."

My friends, my family.

[maehemthemisfit]

— waking up to you

♡𝅼  xiao x gn! reader

♡𝅼  content : pure fluff + flustered xiao

Why do you love him so softly? He simply cannot help, but wonder how your laugh, could somehow make him melt.

XIAO couldn't fathom how he found himself between your arms, captured in your warmth and smothered in the depths of your covers.

His amber eyes fluttered open, fighting to keep awake as his lashes laid heavy with remnants of exhaustion. They soaked in the morning sun as his gaze melted onto you, a twinge of adoration blooming within his chest.

To see you sprawled over him, creating a tangled mess of his limbs and sheets— A leg thrown over his hip, your chest touching his. It was truly a sight to see, and the highlight of his morning. Xiao was thankful you couldn't see the way his cheeks dusted pink, or the way his lips wobbled as his emotions spilled over.

The past few days had been quite difficult for Xiao, his karmic debt becoming more of a burden the more he slaughtered and upheld his contract. Endless bloodshed washed over his hands, it was only a matter of time before he'd finally drown.

You grew worried by the passing days, but the Yaksha was relentless with his duty to protect, brushing off your pleads to rest more than he believed he had to.

Eventually, the call of his name felt like wails of withering souls and his head ached horribly until his body couldn't take much more. He collapsed before he could answer your call, eons of suffering finally taking it's toll. And when you uttered his name to no avail, you knew something had gone horribly wrong.

The next thing the adeptus knew, he was surrounded by people tending to his health and a very concerned Zhongli by your side.

The three of you had a very eventful conversation that ended with Xiao being placed in your care and his polearm being confiscated until he fully heals. As much as he opposed the idea, he couldn't deny being fond of spending time with you, so he begrudgingly accepted his fate with a pout and crossed arms.

Which leads to now, with his arms crossed over you.

"...Xiao?" His neck tickled at the fan of your voice and he watched you with curious eyes rouse from your slumber. You reminded him of a cat when you stretched your limbs, most of them unconsciously brushing against his skin, slowly enclosing him altogether.

He took this chance to hold you properly in his arms as his ungloved hands made their way to your side, turning you to face him completely in your bed as his other hand gently reached for you chin. They were soft and delicate, tracing up your cheek in a mesmerizing drift, nearly putting you to sleep again.

"I'm here," he stated, a slight rasp to his words. His morning voice made you lightheaded, although he couldn't tell, his eyes blinking tiredly yet marvelling yours. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Well," you hummed, a playful chime to your voice. "I woke up to the sound of your heart beating really fast... Is something wrong?" you did your best to hide your smile, catching the way his eyes flickered from yours.

"Wh-What? Nothings w-wrong you- I wasn't-" He stammered, quickly bringing his hand to his chest to double check, another wave of red flooding his cheeks.

You giggled softly, pulling yourself up to kiss his nose, another ghosting over the diamond at the crown of his head. "You're adorable when you're flustered, y'know?"

He finally caught onto your tease and huffed, hiding himself in the crease of your neck and pulling you close once more.

"Tch. You and your frivolous antics." He mumbled, though there was no bite to his voice.

His heart fluttered to the sound of your joyous laughter, and Xiao swore to protect the melody it brings, no matter how embarrassed your teasing words made him.

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ. ꒱ 𖥔 ° . *

[violettduchess]

Hello sorry to bother please can I have Keith Wizard Fluff for the autumn Halloween costume challenge? Thank you Have a wonderful day 🙏🤗

A/N: I'm just going to keep working on these for a bit! Here you go @queengiuliettafirstlady 💜You are never a bother sweet Julie.

Keith x Reader

WC: 528

You read by the wan light of your rose-shaped oil lamp, breaking wax seal after wax seal, pouring over pleas and invitations, requests and letters of flattery. Merchants and royals, guild masters and city officials. All of them demanding something, some more politely than others. You lay down another scroll, turning away from all the documents a queen must deal with, each missive screaming for your attention, your time, your energy. They are tiny little vampires biting you over and over, draining you until all you want to do is throw yourself across your incredibly comfortable royal bed, the one lurking on the other side of the room, bathed in moonlight like a siren of the seas. You long to answer its call and dive beneath the thick, brocade blanket, unsure if and when you’ll ever come out.

Keith, royal mage, advisor and the man you love above all things, notices the way you gingerly touch your fingertips to your forehead, pressing against the dull throb of a headache threatening to break free. He’s been leaning against the closed door of the bedroom, watching you for the last several minutes. There is little he loves more than observing you when you aren’t aware of him, watching the play of expressions across your face like sun-kissed waves over water. But now he notices how tired you are, how the day is still weighing heavy on you. He moves quietly for a man his size, his dark green robes whispering softly with each step. 

From behind, his strong hands rest a moment on your shoulders, finally alerting you to his presence without a word. “Keith….” With a sigh, you lean back in your desk chair, head tilting upwards to look up into the sunrise eyes you admire so much. His long fingers slide their way up to your temples and then start to glow, radiating soft yellow light, a glow that echoes the very first rays of sunlight that pry apart the curtains of night. Again, a sigh escapes you, relief flooding your body as his magic soothes the pain in your head, the stiffness in your limbs. Warmth blankets you, wraps itself around you and when the light emanating from his hands slowly fades, you smile up at him, all the love in the world reflected in your bright eyes.

“Come here and let me thank you.” You reach up even as he leans down, clasping the nape of his neck and gently press a kiss against his lips. He responds, bracing himself on the wooden arm of your chair, returning your kiss with a magic in and of itself. It begins soft and slow, comforting and sweet. His lips over yours speak soundlessly of love and tenderness. When you rise from your chair, stepping around it and into the shelter of his arms, it tells him everything he ever needs to know of what he means to you, of the way you love him and let him love you. The desk and all its papers are forgotten and as you fall, locked in each other’s embrace, onto your bed, it welcomes you with soft, silken arms.

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @portrait-ninja @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @mastering-procrastinating @namine-somebodies-nobody @queen-dahlia @scorchieart @nightghoul381 @bubblexly @keithsandwich

[ethereousdelirious]

Hey Therie, I know you're suuper busy with Sicktember shenanigans...but if you had the time, I was wondering if you'd want to something with that F/ukuzawa headcanon? Totally okay if not, but your tags got that idea stuck in my head now and will not leave me alone 🤯😱🫣🤭

Never too busy for you, Poni!

A sharp bite accompanied the sea winds, which had been so mild only days before. The sun rose later, obscured by clouds. Cotton and linen gave way to fleece and wool.

Yes, it was that time of year. Winter had come to Yokohama.

With it, a promise.

A promise that had Mori making a great many calls to Fukuzawa until the day came that the tell-tale weight of congestion dragged down his voice when he answered.

Mori insisted on a meeting under a pretense that Fukuzawa was sure to refuse once he heard the details. But he was sure to hear Mori out anyway.

Ah, Fukuzawa. So... accommodating, in his own way.

His bright scarf caught the wind as he made his way down the docks, where Mori awaited in a thick black coat. Despite his thick kimono and haori, Fukuzawa shivered slightly and kept his arms close to his body, hands hidden in his sleeves.

Mori grinned.

"Good evening," he said, making only a token effort to hide his glee.

"Mm." Fukuzawa just nodded. His jaw moved subtly, shifting the wispy curtains of his hair, and a lozenge clicked gently against his teeth. After a moment's continued silence, he dipped his chin and glared at Mori.

"Alright, I'll get on with it." Mori had come prepared with a dozen excuses to drag the conversation on. It wasn't a matter of if, it was only a matter of when.

Fukuzawa could hold out for a while, yes, but the determined furrow between his brows was nothing more than false confidence. Even now, his reddened nose twitched and shone at the corners. Even now, his lip trembled.

"You see," Mori said, gesturing grandly outward, "this patrol of the docks is starting to feel a little unbalanced to me."

He raised his eyebrows, prompting Fukuzawa to sigh with a smell of ginger. "Unbalanced?" he repeated gruffly.

"Well, yes," Mori purred, drinking in every blink, every slight twitch of the nose. Every little hint was a diamond in its own right, and Fukuzawa had come bearing riches. The pink tint to his eyes and nose was worth several thousand yen in its own right, the stutter of his breath even more than that. He sniffled, causing his breath to hitch, and there was another million yen. "You see, the nights are only growing longer..." Fukuzawa sniffled again, his chest stuttering. "...and all the more dangerous for it."

Mori paused again, licking his lips as he watched Fukuzawa's hand flex and relax, tracing a slow but true pathward upward.

"We've already intercepted a troubling amount of smugglers," Mori added.

Fukuzawa's hand found its mark. Slender fingers braced against the bridge of his nose, moving downward as he applied pressure to the bridge. Even still, a tear streaked down his cheek, gleaming silver in the light.

Mori suppressed a shudder, heat flooding his chest. "Granted, we haven't had any near-misses so far, but I'm the kind of man who likes to stay on top of things." Well, except in one particular circumstance, but moments like that were few and far between with Fukuzawa.

The fierce shine in Fukuzawa's eyes when he pinched his nostrils shut with his knuckles, well. That was almost better than sex. His pale lips parted to allow a shuddering inhale that gave way to a strangled jerk of his shoulders.

Ah, the prelude to a magnificent show.

"What I'm getting at here is that—"

"Hhnk!" Fukuzawa twitched and tears spilled forth from his clear eyes, coating his lashes and streaming down his cheeks. He shifted his hand, pressing the side of his finger just below the nose, applying heavy pressure to the philtrum. Still, he kept his eyes locked on Mori's.

The noise wasn't a stifle so much as a sneeze that hadn't properly escaped, and the frustrated growl that Fukuzawa emitted under his breath was enough to make Mori's toes curl.

"What I'm getting at," Mori said calmly, staring at those irritated, watering eyes, "is that we might need a little assistance from time to time."

The breath Fukuzawa took to reply was his downfall. He dropped his hand from his face, revealing twitching nostril and parted lips, and managed not a single word, just an almighty gasp that had him throwing his head back as though in ecstasy. "Akht'SCHRgh!"

Mori took a half-step backward and clasped his hands behind his back.

Fukuzawa's head reared again, lip curling and teeth shining under the lamplight. "HHhrr'rsSCH! HH'TSCHRRMF! Hahh..." His bleary, watering eyes opened, locking once more onto Mori's. Wet lips parted, chest heaving, eyes half-lidded... Mori crossed his legs. "HhhrRT'SCH!"

This was it. Winter's promise, fulfilled.

[aebi12]

Sinful Desires - Chapter 10

Alyssa loses count of the times she sings for him.

When her mind cannot remember any more songs and her throat is so dry from not stopping, she starts telling him stories. Despite the years that have passed, she still remembers his favorites, so she narrates them in a low voice, trying to remember the exact events about the Age of Heroes and the strange legends of the children of the forest.

Her persistence seems to have a positive effect on him because he has long since stopped writhing in his bed and, when Alyssa places her hand on his forehead, his skin no longer feels febrile. Relief floods her body as she wipes the beads of sweat from his face and a thank you to the gods escapes her lips.

Alyssa gets out from the bed and sits in the chair where she had found Helaena several hours ago. The candles and the fire in the fireplace have almost gone out, causing the room to be bathed in a dim light that makes her feel sleepy, and she fights the urge to close her eyes and sleep. She has to resist. She has to stay awake and continue to care for Aemond.

The princess drinks some water, clears her throat, and fixes her gaze on him again, the feeling of vulnerability he projects engulf her once more. For an instant, Alyssa sees before her the boy he used to be. Young Aemond, with his determined and arrogant manner, wearing his regal green robes and projecting a strong and unperturbed appearance to all.

But not for her.

Alyssa still remembers his shy smiles when she surprised him with some stolen snack from the kitchens, she also remembers the books he had read to her when she told him she wanted to know more about the history of the seven kingdoms, she remembers the times they had thought about the names they would have given their dragons if their eggs had hatched.

The sun begins to rise and the princess is lost in her memories until the door is flung open and Alicent Hightower enters the room. The young woman stands up immediately and the expression of astonishment on the Queen Mother when she notices Alyssa's presence is even comical for a few seconds.

"In the Mother's name, what are you doing here?" she demands to know as she strides over to Aemond's bed. The queen continues with her questions without giving her time to answer, “How did you get in? What have you done to my son? Ser Criston!"

The new lord Commander of the Kingsguard instantly enters upon hearing Alicent's panicked voice. The knight has one hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to defend the queen immediately. For some reason the image transports her to the night Aemond lost his eye, specifically to the confidence with which Alicent had invoked the safety of her sworn sword and the determination Ser Criston had shown at all times to protect her. Alyssa smirks at the memory and a smug little noise that the queen interprets as disdain escapes her throat.

"You have the nerve to mock after what you did to the prince" exclaims the woman

"I did nothing to him that he did not deserve", Alyssa says, unable to contain her temper. Ser Criston takes a few steps towards her and she steps back before saying quickly, “I came here to take care of Aemond at Helaena's request. You should call your maester, the fever has passed and I think he is better”

Alicent stops watching her and focuses her exam on her son. Aemond continues with his eye closed but his breathing is even and his mien looks noticeably healthier. Alyssa insists, “I have been here since nightfall, I have had a hundred chances to kill him, but I did not. That is not my intention"

"Ser Criston, call maester Runciter" she finally orders after a few seconds of hesitation.

"Is it wise, my queen, to leave you here alone with the princess?" Cole asks.

Alicent looks at the knight and nods resolutely, “I can control the princess if I need to. Besides, Ser Arryk is at the door in case she has any tricks” she says the last thing looking at Alyssa, who bites her tongue to avoid responding as she would like.

Ser Criston abandons the room and Alicent leaves Aemond's bed and walks over to where Alyssa is.

"Why are you here, princess?"

“I already told you, your grace. Helaena asked me to take care of him."

"Yes, my daughter had the impression that your closeness would help him in some way"

Alyssa doesn't know what to say to that so she just stays quiet until the queen speaks again.

"Were you watching his sleep all night?" she asks after examining her face

“I sang for him too,” she admits.

"Prince Aemond doesn't like songs, he didn't even like them when he was a boy."

Alicent sighs, tilting her face back toward her son's bed, and an unfathomable sadness settles in her expression, which throws Alyssa off balance. While looking at the queen's face, which shows deep circles under her eyes that denote her tiredness, the girl has the impression that this is the first time she has seen Alicent as a real person because, despite having known her all her life, the queen has always been an aloof, authoritative figure, a name spoken without affection by her mother and stepfather... but she has never been what she sees now, a woman, a mother who seems on the verge of collapsing with worry.

"I feel that I owe you an apology," she says without thinking, "I did not intend to hurt Aemond." Alicent observes her again, her eyebrows raised and her expression of distrust clearly let the young woman know that the queen does not believe in her words. She sighs, frustration arises inside, the need to justify herself is stronger than her, causing her words to come out in a rush, "I lost control for a moment. I am not a violent person, I would never hurt someone intentionally, but the impression on what happened with…” Alyssa shudders and shakes her head. She can't think of him. Not now, "The news I received caused me a great pain and shock and it was horrible what I did and I am deeply sorry"

Alyssa looks down for a moment, fighting the desire to shed the tears that flood her eyes. When she finally calms down, she breathes deeply and faces the queen, meeting once again with Alicent's sad look and, for a moment, she has the impression that the woman is not really looking at her, but it seems that she is lost in her own world. Alyssa only observes her until the queen leaves her trance and fiddles nervously with her rings.

"I'm sorry too, princess. It was never my intention for things to get to this point. I tried to find a peaceful solution, to deliver terms that your mother would be willing to accept, but…” Her gaze returns to her son's bed. She doesn't need to finish speaking because Alyssa understands. Any chance of peace was gone the instant Aemond had killed her brother.

The maester interrupts the silence in which they had been sunk when he rushes in. Ser Criston enters after him and his gaze falls on Alyssa, but she ignores him and follows the maester, who approaches Aemond after greeting the queen.

"How is my son?" asks the queen, moving away from the young woman.

“The fever has gone. The prince looks better, his body seems to be healing as expected."

Alicent breathes a long sigh of relief as she slumps back into the chair. The maester proceeds to remove the bandages from the wound to change them for clean ones, but the queen stops him.

“Ser Criston, make sure the princess returns to her chambers,” Alyssa wants to protest, but she continues, “You've already been here all night, there is nothing more you can do for him. Furthermore, it is not proper for a young maiden to be alone in a man's room."

Alyssa blushes violently at her last comment and is inwardly grateful that the room isn't totally bathed in clarity.

“Princess” Ser Criston approaches her and Alyssa knows better than to resist.

Besides, Alicent is right, her task there had already been accomplished. The young woman casts one last glance at Aemond before following the knight out of the room.

***

She is not exclusively confined to her rooms.

Alyssa can visit the gardens, library, or throne room if she so wishes.

Or at least that is what Helaena tells her the afternoon she goes to visit her to thank her for watching over her brother's.

“He woke up a few hours ago and the first thing he did was ask for you,” her aunt tells her, “He meant to get up and come to you, but our mother did not allow it. The maester gave him more milk of the poppy and now he sleeps again."

Alyssa just nods at all this information and if Helaena expected it to cause something in her, she is disappointed when she notices her niece's blank look.

The truth is that, having returned to the solitude of her confinement after being expelled by the queen from Aemond's room, Alyssa had practically collapsed from exhaustion on her bed. The emotions and physical exhaustion of the previous nights had drained her of energy and she had sought refuge in her sleep.

But this refuge never came.

If the princess managed to sleep it was only for a few minutes and she always woke up more tired than she had been before. Her dreams were plagued by her memories of Luke, their shared moments from childhood, their last conversation... Alyssa would wake up with tears in her eyes and pace endlessly around her room until she came back to the bed and the nightmares continued to plague her.

The truth is that she doesn't feel entitled to mourn her brother.

Alyssa thinks of her family on Dragonstone. She thinks of her mother, who had endured the loss of baby Visenya with great difficulty. How had Rhaenyra reacted to learning that her Lucerys, her favorite son, was no longer in this world? Without a doubt, her mother must have been in deep pain. And Jacaerys…did Jace already know that his beloved brother had died? Jace, who had spent his entire life taking care of them both. And poor Rhaena…

All of them can mourn Luke's death.

But not her.

Because guilt washes over her every time, reminding her that it was her lover who ended her brother's life. The lover she had spent the whole night taking care of, doing her best to keep him from death. When guilt invades her and her pain and emotion overwhelm her, when fear and uncertainty for her future come back to torment her, she only manages to press her nails on her wrists and find relief in the sensation of physical pain. The stings and aching from her open wounds are like a ground wire, allowing her to breathe and providing brief relief. Not that she deserves to feel that relief.

"The servants say you are not eating well," Helaena continues with a voice that denotes the concern she feels. Alyssa watches her face, the frown and sorrowful blue eyes of hers.

The princess shrugs, not knowing what to say. The food does not appeal to her. She knows that she should try to eat, but everything tastes insipid to her. Helaena gives up after a few minutes of silence and leaves her room after giving her one last sorrowful look.

Alyssa goes to her place by the windowsill and returns to her vicious cycle of despair, pain, and blood. There the servants find her at dusk when they enter with a tray of food and help her remove her dress to put on her nightgown. The young woman winces as the fabric of her dress brushes against her bruised arms and the girls look at her wounds and then at her with sadness in their eyes but without comment.

Alyssa does not care too much. She does not have the strength to pretend to be okay or to hide the damage she's caused. She just wants to be alone

***

"How long have I been sleeping?"

Maester Runciter is cleaning his wound, a clean cut already looking rose-tinted, “A few hours. You needed to rest"

“I have rested enough. Finish quickly with that for I have important things to do"

“Surely, it can wait, my prince. You were unconscious for two nights, you have to be patient."

Aemond wants to tell the maester that he can save his advice for whoever really wants to listen, but he prefers to keep quiet. If he is too eager to get out of bed the man will surely alert his mother, who will once again prevent him from visiting Alyssa.

The first night after waking, Aemond had agreed to drink the milk of the poppy out of consideration for Alicent. The queen had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown during the couple of nights he'd been unconscious, Cole had told him, and she still seemed very distraught despite the fact that he'd woken up, so he'd preferred not to upset her too much and had agreed to rest.

But he could not continue in bed. He had to talk to Alyssa. He had to explain to her what had happened, he had to tell her that…

What exactly was he going to tell her? Would he dare to be honest with her? To admit that Vhagar had gone against his orders and acted almost on her own? Would he tell her that he was sorry for her brother? Would he confess to her the fear he felt at the thought of her not forgiving him for what he had done? The brief confrontation they had had in the throne room was still on his mind. Alyssa had refused to be close to him and had looked at him with such contempt in her eyes that his despair had been endless. Perhaps that was why he hadn't noticed the moment when she had snatched the knife from him. "You killed half my soul," she had told him. And she had announced her intention to take revenge. Not that he reproached her or held a grudge against her for it. Aemond, to tell the truth, was grateful for the injury she had caused him. He would endure every blow she directed his way until her thirst for revenge was satisfied and, perhaps, she could forgive him. Maybe that way, they would find peace together.

The maester helps him put on a clean chemise and his mother enters his room, followed by a maid with a tray of food that she places on the table.

"Aemond" his mother gives him a soft smile as she walks towards the bed

“Mother,” he replies, unable to help but feel the satisfaction of receiving Alicent's visit, “It is late. You should be resting now"

"Not yet" she looks at the maester, "How is my son?"

“The wound has healed, Your Grace. The danger has already passed”

"I'm relieved to know that" his mother's smile widens a little more and Alicent takes Aemond's hand in hers, "The prince will heal completely then"

“Indeed, my queen. Soon the prince will be able to return to his normal activities and perhaps visit his dragon”

Aemond doesn't miss his mother's reaction when the maester makes the comment about Vhagar.

“In due time, maester. My son still needs to rest" replies the queen standing up and walking towards the table to take the tray of food, "Thank you, maester, you can leave us now"

Runciter does a little bow before leaving. Alicent walks back to the chair and places a napkin in her son's lap.

"What did the maester really mean by mentioning Vhagar?" asks the prince immediately

"It was just a comment, Aemond, it is nothing that…"

"Mother" he presses

She makes a face before huffing and speaking, “Vhagar has been restless these past few days. The keepers of the dragon pit tried to appease her, but were unsuccessful."

Aemond knew the poor men would stand no chance of calming his dragon, who had spent too long exiled and far from the dragonpit to learn to obey them, "Where is Vhagar now?"

“Flying over the Blackwater. She has not stopped releasing flares since you were injured,” she sighs, ““She sank two ships heading towards Essos”

"I'll visit her tomorrow," Aemond says, internally feeling pleased to know that his connection to the dragon is still present.

“I wish you wouldn't, Aemond. You are not well yet, you must…”

He interrupts her once more, "Did you hear the maester, I am fine." Alicent doesn't reply, but he knows she'll probably insist in the morning. “I am also capable of feeding myself,” he adds when his mother reaches out to him with a soup spoon.

"Let me, please"

Aemond does not protest again and allows his mother to take care of him that night. He cannot avoid, however, his curiosity. He has spent five days without news of the kingdom and he needs to know the situation in which his family is.

"Has there been any news about the war?"

"We are not at war," says Alicent as she moves uncomfortably in the chair. At the look her son gives her, she adds, "At least not yet"

"Mother"

"Nothing has happened since you were hurt, if you want to know"

"But there must be ..."

"It wouldn't be your business anyway," she replies curtly.

Something stirs inside Aemond. His mother avoids his gaze and the prince has the bitter feeling that he has lost Alicent's trust. She had always been very honest with him, perhaps too honest, always trusting her worries on his shoulders ever since he had grown old enough to understand the dangerous context surrounding his family and his heritage.

"Mother, I know that I was reckless and negligent," he begins, the need to prove his value to his family rising in him again, just like when he was a child who felt insufficient for not having a dragon to validate him, "I acted in a way that does not correspond to the way you raised me and I endangered our family. I am aware of that, but…”

“Aemond, stop.” His mother places her hand on his again and stares at him, “I won't pretend I am not…upset by what happened to princess Rhaenyra's son. But I do not doubt your loyalty to this family or to your brother's reign. I only wish things had happened differently."

Me too, he wants to say, but he just nods and his mother pushes the tray away after deciding that he's had enough to eat, " Anyway, I'd like to know what's going on, that is all."

Alicent shrugs before responding, “We have not received a response from Rhaenyra regarding the terms offered for her to desist from her claim to the throne. Not that we were expecting one."

“And hasn't his side attempted any action yet or…?” he leaves the thought in the air

"We only know that she collapsed after finding out what happened with her son" she lowers her head and begins to play with her hands, hurting the skin around her fingers, as she always does when she is anxious or worried.

"Did she say anything about the princess's situation?" He asks while he gently takes her mother's hands among his, preventing her from continuing with her nervous action

"The princess" she sighs and sits down again, "No, we have not received any demand from Rhaenyra about her daughter. Most likely, she does not know that Alyssa is here. Lord Larys says Aegon captured her on the way to White Harbor. Maybe the news has not yet reached her"

Aemond is surprised at what his mother tells him. His half -sister surely had spies in court, the news must have already reached her, the silence about the kidnapping of her daughter is most suspicious.

"My niece is a valuable hostage, I hope she is being treated according to her position" he says trying to sound nonchalant.

Her mother rests her brown eyes on his and Aemond thinks he recognizes suspicion in them, but the feeling quickly passes, “She hasn't been mistreated, if that's what you mean. She remains confined to her rooms and refuses the attentions of your sister."

Alicent presses her lips together in a thin, taut line that shows her clear disapproval of Helaena's attempts to be civil with Alyssa, but Aemond lets the gesture go, making a mental note to thank his sister for being nice to his princess.

"Are you relieved to know that?" asks his mother taking him out of his thoughts

"What do you mean?"

His mother shoots him an exasperated look, “Do not treat me as a fool, Aemond. The girl was watching over your convalescence all night and you did not stop calling her in the midst of your unconsciousness"

Aemond feels the color come to his cheeks and refuses his mother's piercing gaze as he tries to compose his expression so as not to show the emotion that overwhelms him knowing that his princess was with him.

Not that he hadn't suspected.

Although he did not remember anything specific after passing out, inside him the feeling of having been lost and wandering aimlessly remained. But he had heard Alyssa's voice. Aemond believed it had been his imagination, his memories of the times she had sung to him under the weirwood, but perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps it was her voice that brought him out of that state.

“I like to think that she was here motivated solely by the guilt of hurting you,” Alicent continues.

No, it couldn't be just that, could it? Aemond's stomach clenches at the thought and he dismisses it. No, Alyssa had been with him because she still cared about him. It had to be that the reason.

Alicent sighs, defeated and aware that she will get no answers from her son, “Be prudent, Aemond. It would not be appropriate or wise to let yourself be guided by your desires."

"Mother…"

"Sleep now. It is too late already"

Without telling him more, she places a kiss on the forehead of her son and leaves his room.

***

Aemond wakes up at dawn.

With great care and not without pain, he manages to stand up and get dressed, taking care not to open his wound by making any sudden movement. Fortunately, his bandages remain clean and he takes that as a good sign as he walks towards the door. Each step is difficult at first, but soon years of physical training and endurance take over and he is able to walk almost normally.

Ser Rickard Thorne is visibly surprised to see him standing by the door and hastily offers him his arm to recline. Aemond declines the offer.

"Should I call the queen, my prince?"

"I have matters to attend to that do not require my mother's attention" when the guard seems to star to reply, he adds, "Follow me if you must, but for your sake do not interfere with what I am about to do."

The guard nods and lets Aemond go, who moves slower than he would like until he reaches Alyssa's rooms. The palace is still absolutely silent and he does not run into any servants, however, there is a guard guarding his niece's door.

"Leave us, Ser Arryk," orders Aemond.

The young guard knows his prince well enough to try to talk him out of it, so he steps aside and wanders down the hall. Aemond knows that Ser Arryk is more loyal to his brother than to him and that he probably would be prying about his visit, but he doesn't care for now.

Aemond pushes the door open and enters the room, trying not to make too much noise, but his slow, heavy progress gives him away.

Helena? Is it you?"

“Not Helaena, I am afraid” he replies finally entering Alyssa's field of vision, who is sitting by the window, still wearing her nightgown and her messy hair falling freely down her back.

Alyssa's heart skips a beat at the sound of Aemond's voice. For an instant she believes that her mind is playing tricks on her so she stops looking at the courtyard of the fortress and turns her gaze in the direction of the voice, running into the tall figure of the prince, who walks awkwardly towards her. Her eyes drift inevitably to his stomach, to where his wound should be, now hidden under his layers of clothing. Aemond should have healed well if he could now walk without help. Alyssa experiences a brief sense of relief at the thought, before the little voice in her mind reminds her again that he is her enemy.

Aemond watches Alyssa's expression go from incredulity to concern and disdain in seconds. The fear of her possible rejection assails him again.

"Have you come to collect the debt?" she asks in a lethargic tone

"Debt?"

“For hurting you,” Alyssa specifies, “Is it time to pay for my daring in hurting you? Am I to return to the dungeons?”

Aemond does not know what to say, dungeons? A few seconds pass before he responds, “No, of course not, do you think I am here to hurt you? Do you think me capable of that?” His voice transmits his disbelief and pain at the possibility that she thinks that he seeks to see her suffering

"Do not even try," Alyssa replies.

"Try?"

"Do not try to act like you are hurt by the suggestion I just made," she says in a dismissive voice, "Do not try to act like you care about me."

"Please let's talk"

"Leave," she says quietly as she turns her face back to the window.

"Alyssa, please let me explain."

"I do not want to listen to you. I do not want to be near you. I am a prisoner here, I know, but I am not forced to bear your company. Leave this room” despite the harshness of her words, her voice breaks.

And so Aemond's resolution.

“Do you really want me to go away?” he dares to ask her

The audacity of his question ignites the rage inside her. Despite having spent another restless night and feeling her strength slipping away, Aemond's question manages to prompt her to get up from the window resolutely and stride over to where he is with the intention of physically hurting him again.

“Did you expect another reaction from me? Did you think I would run into your arms and thank you for killing my brother? I do not think you are stupid enough to entertain such hopes or consider me magnanimous enough to simply overlook your transgression."

Aemond staggers and nearly loses his balance under Alyssa's furious fists attack, but he does not try to stop her. He knows well that this was a possibility. He also knows that he deserves to take her hits and that she needs to release what she has inside of her.

The girl punches his chest and shoulders, trying to put all of her strength into each of her rounds, looking to hurt him, though it doesn't seem to have much of an effect on him. At some point during the outburst she starts to cry and air begins to escape from her lungs.

Not now, Alyssa thinks desperately as her ears cloud with the familiar ringing and her head spins. The feeling that her heart is going to burst and stop suddenly overwhelms her, so she tries to take breaths to calm herself, but it has no effect. Alyssa looks at her trembling hands and brings them to her wrists, seeking safety from the pain, but bigger, stronger hands take hers. Alyssa does not protest, she is not in any condition to do it, she just allows arms to wrap around her waist and her forehead comes into contact with something hard. The princess tries to breathe once more and this time a smell of musk and wood reaches her. The scent is familiar and she is immediately comforted. The girl closes her eyes and continues to breathe, the feeling of nausea slowly disappearing as well as the tremors in her hands and her heart beats again in a regular rhythm.

The door to her bedroom opens and Alyssa opens her eyes. Two maids carrying a dress and a tray of food enter, but stop abruptly as they take in the scene before them. The princess is then aware that she is in Aemond's arms, that her head rests on his chest, and that they are in dangerous proximity.

"Put those down and leave immediately" he orders, furious at the interruption.

The maids curtsy and hurry out, closing the door behind them.

Alyssa pushes Aemond away from him, walking to the other end of the room. The anger has disappeared and the shame has settled in her, she cannot face him yet so she remains with her back to him.

"How did you get those wounds?"

“They were courtesy of your brother,” she replies after clearing her throat. She knows that, despite the days that have passed and the maester's ointments, her face still looks bruised, as does her throat.

Aemond suppresses a curse and balls his hands into fists. He is going to have a very serious talk with his older brother, but that is not what he is worried about right now, "I am talking about the wounds on your arms."

Alyssa ignores his question, "Leave, Aemond, I want to be alone."

He sighs, "Let me explain, please."

"Explain," she lets out a humorless laugh and turns to him, "Are you going to tell me the details of how you murdered my brother?" There had been a time when she had wanted to know exactly how things happened in Storm's End, but now her curiosity has been quenched, "Go away, Aemond, let me mourn my brother in peace."

Aemond owes her at least that much. The prince turns, ready to leave, but he has one last question.

"My mother told me that you took care of me all night," he asks turning to her.

"At Helaena's request"

“You sang for me,” he says in a low, melancholy voice. The princess bites her lip hard, how does he know that? Had Alicent told him? Alyssa doubts it. As if he could read her thoughts, he adds, "I heard you sing to me in my dreams."

Alyssa doesn't quite know what to answer, so they stare at each other for a few long seconds until she speaks, “You don't deserve an apology from me, I do not mean to give you one, but I will say that I was wrong to hurt you. I found no satisfaction in hurting you and taking revenge did not bring my brother back."

Aemond nods slowly after hearing her answer. Alyssa had always been a much better person than him, he knew that well. His Alyssa was light to his darkness and even though he had hurt her greatly, she had shown her kindness by taking care of him. Even though her actions were merely guided by her guilt and the realization of that hurt him, it felt good to know that part of her was still there.

The prince starts to walk towards the door, but she calls his name.

"Aemond, there is something I want to know" the anxiety and pain is reflected in her eyes, "Did you feel good after killing him? Did it feel good to finally get your revenge after all those years of waiting?”

Her question throws him off balance because, honestly, Aemond doesn't quite know how he feels. He knows that he regrets chasing Lucerys after leaving the castle, he knows that he should have been able to fight his temper, but… was he really sorry for his nephew's death?

Aemond is saved from answering because for the second time the door opens and Helaena enters the room with Ser Arryk. The gentleman tilts his head, noticing that Alyssa is still in her evening clothes, and focuses his gaze on Aemond.

"Sorry to interrupt, my prince, but the king orders the princess to go immediately to the throne room."

“Thank you, Ser Arryk,” Alyssa replies. The knight bows before leaving and the princess looks at Helaena, "I suppose this has to do with the absurd announcement he made the day he brought me to the fortress."

"I'm afraid so" sighs her aunt

Alyssa nods. Aemond looks at the two women, visibly confused, “What announcement are you referring to?

The princess raises her eyebrows at him, “Didn't they tell you? Your brother intends to take me as his second wife."

For the first time in days, Alyssa feels a surge of joy and satisfaction as she watches Aemond's horrified and furious expression as he hears what she has just told him.

_________________________________________________

Read on AO3: Sinful Desires by Aebi12

[pentagonieslut]

mm how abt a mini fic series because i thought about this pair and it made me just gush. can’t think of a name for it yet i’m sorry 😔

tags: m!body, bxb, idolxidol, sub!havit, dom!junseo, vamp!havit, uni student!junseo, barista! junseo, camboy!havit, white hair junseo, milk white hair junseo

warnings: blow job, pet play, rough sex, dirty talk, choking, biting, the good stuff, mention of blood / blood drinking due to vampire havit, jealous sex, merinthophilia, voyeurism (camboy havit), public sex, slight femboy!havit

(ain’t prepared, don’t you dare. always wrap before you make it clap. safety first.)

junseo screamed in surprise at the smaller male, who was stirring his tomato juice in the dark. grabbing his chest and turning on the light, he leaned against the entry way of the kitchen and raised a brow. “alright you little vamp. what’s up? you’re never like this unless you forget to take sleeping gummies, stressed, out of sleeping gummies, or you’re planning on sneaking out.” junseo said as havit continued staring blankly, ignoring the technical younger.

“you’re out of blood? or is the gummies?” junseo asked as he finally started moving around and getting himself some coffee whilst checking on both things. “i’m out of blood and gummies. i’ll go get some more later though.” havit finally replied as he turned around to face the other. “i know. because you leave your little notes everywhere.” junseo said, answering the next question that was about to leave havit’s mouth. “i’ll pick some up when i come back from class.” nodding his head, havit just got up and headed back to his room after patting the other on the shoulder and receiving a smile in response.

how junseo and havit met was by pure chance. havit needed someone to stay with him in his penthouse when he went out for night hunts and junseo needed a place to stay. it’s been like that for a few months now and the two were really close. junseo even found out about his secret two weeks after moving in. but he has yet to know his biggest secret.

arriving at the cafe, junseo had started up the coffee machines, turned on the food warmer, and set out the displays of treats. turning the sign over and playing some music gently, junseo was ready to work. slowly the other workers came in alongside the flood of patrons who were quick to get what they wanted and leave.

havit woke up to the sun slowly starting to burn his skin. shooting up and going to change, havit stumbled out the house with his phone falling onto the floor with a thud. “shit shit shit.” he said as he sprinted to the coffee shop to get the coffee only the owner of the shop knew how to make as he was a supernatural himself.

nearly falling face first into the shop, havit caught himself and stood up quickly, smiling at the owner who had chuckled softly and pointed to the back. havit slipped towards it and went to the fridge where he had spotted it almost instantly due to the cup design being a design meant for only him. “tell junseo i said good luck!” he spoke quickly as he made his way to his hideout where he found doha keeping watch in his wolf form. yechan was also in his wolf form, rolling in the grass happily. in the corner was yoonwoo who was eating a steak with his hands, his tail wagging.

“ah hey havit! we managed to find a few blood packets and make a couple for you. we got the large packs. hopefully your human can find more.” yoonwoo said as he finished eating and cleaned his plate up. havit thanked the youngers and went to grab them to pack away, leaving them the gifts he had picked up along the way.

making his way back, havit glanced at the time and quickly franked down the last of the coffee he had from earlier. entering his room and shedding his clothes to put on a butt plug tail, sit on his knees, and start his stream, he mewled softly as fans flooded in and typed what they wanted to see him do. “a-ah~” he moaned at the cock ring he had on, it’s vibration going higher and higher until it reached its highest point.

“p-please let me cum, master.” havit moaned softly, the dings going off in donations as everyone egged the cute male on. after he heard the 14th ding, he moved the camera as he shook and rubbed against his pillow quickly, cumming instantly. he smiled softly at the camera after he came down from his high, moving onto his knees and wrapping his mouth around the dildo he had placed to do pov style cams. after sucking for a while and squishing the pump to release the ‘cum’ he had, he stuck his tongue out for everyone to see before swallowing.

“you want to see me get dicked down by someone?” havit read the comment and chuckled softly, raising a brow in amusement. “maybe. we’re gonna have to see.” continuing to read the comments, he became shy and laughed at a few of them. “i’m a straight male but seeing you has me questioning myself..please do when you watch me. that’s all i ask for.” he said with a cute grin. “i’ll see if i Can get people for my event next week. i hope you all stay tuned for it! yes, my only fans is still running and has special events and items and videos for anyone who wants to subscribe!” he said as he slowly ended the livestream, turning off the camera and cleaning up his mess. it was almost time for junseo to come back.

realizing he only had his lingerie and a pair of shorts he hadn’t worn since he was in high school, he didn’t have time to think as he heard the door start to open. sprinting into the taller’s room, he grabbed a random sweatshirt from him and slipped it on, now noticing he had the tail on still. too bad he liked it and really didn’t want to remove it, whether or not junseo noticed it. but deciding for the better, he removed the tail and put on his small pants that seemed to fit like spandex.

exiting his room as if he wasn’t panting from sprinting around, havit went into the kitchen and pulled out ingredients for spicy stir fry pork. “ah hey, i was going to cook for you.” junseo said as he placed down the paper bag that contained what havit liked. “it’s okay. i was going to go crazy if i didn’t eat anything anyways.” he said as he turned his back towards him to stir the veggies.

“how was class?” havit asked as junseo shook his head and sighed. “not once in my life have i ever wanted to not be considered a campus cutie for the millionth time. the campus queen kept hitting on me, i have to write a song and produce it for a project, more like an album, and try to dodge the girls every time i’m walking to class.” he whined as havit only laughed and seasoned the meat. that’s when junseo noticed just exactly how small havit looked in his sweatshirt. his favourite one at that. the one the centuries older male gave him as a gift for his birthday in apology due to him entering a feral phase from the first supermoon that had occurred of the season.

“well if it makes you feel any better, i’ll be at your school. i’m modeling for one of the art classes and my friend needs help with his class since they’re preparing for their look book projects. i said i could help choose their styles.” havit said as junseo widened his eyes. “no. that can’t happen. are you going to be okay?” junseo spoke quickly, havit only shrugging. “you’re there. if anything i can eat a lot now, and hide when i get a chance.” junseo sighed and nodded his head slowly as he helped plate the food and get the side dishes out. “question. is my room a mess? or did you already mark which one you wanted to take before i left?” junseo asked as havit glared at him.

it started. junseo teasing the elder. “come on, i understand that as you get older, you tend to go back to being a kid again in a way. or does that not apply to ageless vampires? my tiny little havit, i don’t want to have to be a mean papa and scold you for running about and playing by yourself.” junseo teased out as havit moved in a flash, his hand around junseo’s neck within seconds of teleporting. “i’ll make sure you struggle to move from all the blood loss.”

calming him down, junseo carried him to the table to sit as they started eating, havit drinking an extra four animal blood packs along with the meal to keep him full for tomorrow.

havit and junseo walked together, junseo’s arm veins showing from his stress and frustration at how havit insisted on taking the tiniest bottle of juice with him. “i-i’ll find you as soon as i’m in crisis. i promise. if not then..you can take away my animal packs. i’ll eat coagulated blood.” the angry junseo was incredibly sexy in havit’s opinion, ten times more than when he has messy hair and man spreads blankly. he can never seem to have an angry junseo often enough to get off to so when he gets the rare chance to see it, he’s shaking within seconds.

“fair deal. i’m going to class. i assume you know where the art class is.” junseo said as havit nodded and tapped his nose as their reassurance signal. visibly relaxing, junseo whispered a quiet “be careful” before speed walking to his class.

havit didn’t realize that the art students were extremely advanced and finished within 20 minutes of the 52 they were given. “next pose please.” havit posed once again, this time acting like he was shocked by something. once they finished all that they needed, he was free to leave and that’s exactly what he did. he left as he drank his small bottle of what was not blood but rather banana milk mixed with a bit of hennessy. finishing it off and throwing it out, he got lost as he wandered around as his friend had canceled today due to an unprecedented event that his wife’s water had broken.

spotting the large lake behind the building, he went down to it and squatted down as he spotted a tiny gathering of fish near him. he took out his crumble bread he had and broke it into tiny pieces as he fed the fish with an amused smile on his face. he had fun watching and playing with the fish, not really minding the attention he was receiving from the passing students. “hi cutie! you already ate majority of the food. little joe didn’t have any!” havit said as a baby trout came up to him. “but i understand. you need to grow so eating lots will help.” “it will also help if i don’t go into a jealous rage and try to lose my life while doing so.”

hiccuping and glancing up, junseo towered over the other as he had a stern look on his face. havit only let out the nervous chuckle. “a-are you on break?” he asked as junseo only nodded and helped him stand up. “wait a second. did you say jealous rage?” havit asked as junseo froze as he turned away. “i’ll buy you something from the cafeteria.” havit smiled to himself. so he wasn’t the only one who felt something. typical junseo.

arriving back at the house, havit disappeared into his room and immediately got to work on doing a quick stream whilst junseo took a shower and did a little bit of his work. trying to be as quiet as possible, havit shook as he jacked himself off and used the other hand to move the dildo he had in his hole. “oh fuck. that feels so good..” he whimpered out as he came and his cum landed on his stomach. smiling softly, he stuck his tongue out because of the flooding comments of wanting to see his face. he ended the live abruptly, leaving the fans hungry.

[prxttythngs]

vladimir’s reassurances softened the fear in his heart, a cool balm soothing the burning anxiety that singed his insides. simon did not let go of his grip on vladimir’s shirt, did not allow him to wander far from him for the rest of the night. as they settled back into bed together, he curled into his side once more, knees pulled up as if he could shield him from the reality bearing down on him. eventually, sleep came for him, even as his rest was dark & dreamless, the sleep of a creature removed from his humanity. vladimir grounded him, kept panic from closing up his throat when he woke up and had his breath knocked out of him as the memories of the previous night’s events came flooding back. he turned, pushing his face further into vladimir’s chest as his sleep ebbed from him. finally, he looked up, blinking at the other as a small, grateful smile lit his features. without vladimir there, simon would have lost himself to his fears and his worries. without vladimir there, he might have flung himself into the morning sun. ❝ did you sleep well ? ❞ voice still hoarse with sleep, simon lifted his hand to push vladimir’s silken hair out of his face. it was a tender gesture, more tender than was usual for simon. his thumb brushed over the thin skin under his eye, lingering for a long moment. ❝ thanks for dealing with me yesterday. ❞ a kiss pressed to his mouth, a fleeting intimacy before simon pulled back and sat up, stretching his stiff limbs. it was then that he noticed it for the first time. hunger. hunger like he had never felt it. he had been hungry as a human– he had felt the pangs in his stomach, the nausea that came with an empty belly, the faintness of his frame. this was not that. this was a hunger like thirst. his insides felt raw, coarse, throat laced with sandpaper. his teeth hurt, too, canines aching, begging to sink into . . . what ? it was not a question he needed to ask vladimir. instinctively, he knew. skin. flesh. veins. his instincts were telling him to bite, to tear, to rip, all to quench that hunger, that thirst inside of him. it repulsed him. the thought of blood, though he craved it beyond words, repulsed the still-human essence of him. simon ignored it, pushing that want away as deep as he could. let himself fall back into vladimir’s chest and kissed him again, chasing a different flavour of satisfaction instead. it became clear, as the day went on, that his hunger would not be so easily ignored. his flirtatious quips turned into sneers, the unrest within him roiling & roiling until his hands shook with it, until his entire body ached with that want. ❝ vlad ? ❞ finally, he relented, giving himself over to his instincts, though they did not disgust him any less. ❝ i think– i think i need to– eat. ❞ he felt sick at the thought. ❝ can i– i mean, does it have to be blood ? ❞ a childish question, one he knew the answer to before the phrase had left his lips. 

vladimir's gaze softened further as he felt simon lean into him , the warmth of his breath on vladimir's neck sending a shiver down his spine . he could feel the tension slowly ebbing away from simon's body , the fear that had gripped him moments before being replaced with something more vulnerable , more tender . it was a feeling vladimir knew all too well — the yearning for safety , for comfort , for something solid to hold onto in a world that seemed determined to tear everything away .

as simon apologized , vladimir's hand gently cupped the back of his head , fingers threading through his hair in a soothing gesture . the words , though muffled against his skin , carried a weight that vladimir understood . simon was scared , lost in this new existence , and all vladimir wanted was to ease that fear , to show him that he wasn’t alone in this , that he would never be alone as long as vladimir was by his side .

when simon finally pulled back , looking up at him with those wide , searching eyes , vladimir's heart ached . the grip on his shirt , the way simon clung to him — it was as if simon was terrified that if he let go , everything would come crashing down . vladimir wouldn’t let that happen .

“simon ,” vladimir began , his voice as gentle as he could manage , ❛ i meant every word i said . ❜ he reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from simon’s forehead , his touch lingering as if to emphasize his sincerity . ❛ you won’t have to kill . not if you don’t want to . i will take care of you , i promise . i will find a way to make this work for you , for us . ❜

he could see the uncertainty in simon’s eyes , the fear that still lingered just beneath the surface . vladimir knew he had to be careful with his words , had to make sure simon understood that this wasn’t just another empty promise . ❛ i’ve been alive for a long time , simon . i’ve seen a lot of things , learned a lot of things . i know ways to survive without taking a life . it’s not always easy , but i will help you . we’ll figure it out together . ❜

when simon asked about feeding , about whether vladimir could still drink from him , vladimir’s expression softened further . ❛ yes , ❜ he whispered , his voice low and reassuring . ❛ we can still share that , if you want to . i won’t take too much , and i’ll always make sure you’re okay afterward . i’ll never hurt you , baby . you have my word . ❜

vladimir leaned in slightly , his lips brushing against simon’s forehead in a tender kiss . ❛ you’re not alone in this . not now , not ever . i’ll be with you every step of the way . we’ll take it slow , figure things out as we go . and if you ever feel overwhelmed , if you ever need to stop or take a break , you just tell me . i’ll listen . ❜

he pulled back just enough to look simon in the eyes again , his hand still resting on the back of his head . ❛ i care about you . more than i’ve cared about anyone in a very long time . you’re safe with me . i’ll make sure of it . ❜

[vvartorn]

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