#...Expect her legs from the side view. What the hell was that

[sosadraws]

I don't know what kind of drugs Rose-Engine put on this particular design, because holy shit I've never been this enthralled by a character before.

[hiiikiko]

001: ‘She’s in a band’

TW: Light smut, Ellie being a jerk tbh. (Not proofread bc I took my meds and I’m feeling lazy :P)

Moving to Seattle wasn’t your first choice, I mean, you were perfectly happy in Arizona. You had friends, family, and most importantly, a band but some drama happened and you wanted to get away from it all. Your first choice was going to California but you had no money, no stable job, and no place to crash so, you reluctantly went to Seattle. At least you’d be closer to the music scene and you haven’t seen your favourite cousin in awhile..

Gazing out the window as the amtrak came to a halt you see Jesse sitting on a bench, legs obnoxiously sprawled out and a toothpick hanging on his lips.

“Can take the boy outta the country but can’t take the country outta the boy,” you chuckle as you gather your luggage and make your way off the bus

“Hey, y/n/n,” Jesse drawls, grabbing your luggage with ease and slinging his arm around you.

“Ugh, get off me you reek of axe and cigarettes,” you tease with a smile playing on your lips as Jesse ruffles your hair and throws your things into the back of his truck.

Jesse’s place was a lot nicer than you though, I guess being a welder does pay off. It was a little messy and could use a homey touch but it was rather nice but you would never admit that to him. Your room was nice too, a little small, but had a great view and even had access to the balcony. The room was bare, plain white walls with a red brick wall on one side, a bed and one singular lamp sitting in the middle of the room.

You settle in while Jesse rifles through your things and rants about his current situationship, “She’s just insane like who asks for your credit score on the first date? Don’t get me wrong, my credit score is so good that it would make ANY girls parties drop.”

You scrunch your nose and throw a hoodie at him as he continues “Hey, I’m just say—“ he begins before hes abruptly interrupted by a call, “Yeah?.. right now?… Alright, alright, alright… on my way, doll.”

“Hmmm, I wonder who that could be,” sarcasm practically oozes off your words.

“It’s Dina,” Jesse winks as he rushes to put his boots on, “Don’t expect me to come back tonight,” he winks.

“Oh, come on,” you trail after him, “It’s my first night! Can’t you stay? We can, like, get dinner and maybe go to a bar?”

‘Nah, I’d rather get laid than hang out with my dorky little cousin,” He says, the door cutting off his voice.

Asshole.

And that’s how you find yourself all alone, sitting at a bar and cheering on the local bands when two girls sit next to you. The girl with short hair remarks, “Those guys were so ass, ‘The Serpahites?’ What the fuck kinda name is that,” her friend laugh at her joke.

“Sounds like a cult,” you mutter under your breath, not meaning for them to hear you but the girl with auburn hair laughs, “Ah, sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop—“ you begin but are quickly interrupted by the girl resting a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s okay, dude,” a soft smile on her lips.

Fuck, she’s so cute. The way the dim bar lights dance over her facial features and the way her short hair falls softly over her green eyes. She was wearing a flannel but you could tell she had one hell of a body.

“Sorry,” you say again.

“It’s all good,” she smirks, crap, did she notice the way you were staring?

As you’re debating on whether or not you should call it a night or get on your knees and start apologizing profusely for ever thinking lewd thoughts in the presence of an angel, she gets up, grabbing her friends hand and heads into the back.

Crap, I should’ve asked for her number..

Just as you take another sip from the fruity drink you ordered, you hear the announcer introduce another band called “the Infected.” Sounds pretty cool, you think as you get up from your seat and make your way into the crowd of people.

Must be a popular band.

The curtains are pulled back to reveal the girl you met at the bar earlier, she’s taken off her flannel and is now wearing a form fitting black tank top, low rise jeans, and a pair of worn converse, on her shoulder rests a beautiful black guitar littered with stickers of stars and planets, cute. Along side her is a girl with piercings, long black hair, looks like the lead singer, and oh. my. god. IS THAT JESSE?? He’s no longer wearing a flannel but a plain black tee, denim jeans, and of course, his boots, he’s on drums.

“Jesse!” you cheer as his head whips around and shoots daggers at you, you’ll never let him live this down.

The band plays a wonderful set and gets a lot of cheers from the crowd. Some fans, mostly girls, approach the band afterwards to gush over them, the girl with the auburn hair seems to have the most fans.

You make your way towards the stage to find Jesse, hoping to tease him about what you just witnessed.

“He’s in the back changing,” a voice rasps from behind. “Ah, I see,” turning around, you see the bassist towering over you.

“Heyyy, I know you, we met at the bar, yeah?” She says while looking you up and down.

“Yeah, at the bar,” you manage to get out.

“You’re Jesse’s cousin? Huh, didn’t know you were coming out tonight, if I had known, I would’ve put on a better show,” she smirks as a light blush sweeps over your face. How could such a small comment illicit this small reaction from you? Maybe it was the way she said it, her voice raspy from singing on backup.

“That show was really great, I enjoyed it a lot. Seems like y’all are popular,” you glance over at a small crowd of girls shooting glares in your direction for talking to their bassist.

The auburnette chuckles and glances back, winking at the girls, “Yeah, we got a few.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at the faux humility, unfortunately, she catches this.

“What was that?” She laughs, studying your face.

“I can tell already, you’re such a cliche, right? I bet you sleep with all your little fangirls, give them the night of their lives then leave them in the dust, right? Just so you can feed your ego and make yourself feel better for whatever attachment issues you got going on.”

She looks awestricken. You knew her type all too well, I mean you were in a band and you’ve encountered A LOT of band mates are like that. Hell, even rock’s beloved dad, Dave Grohl, did something similar.

“Touché,” she smirks and leans up against the stage, her green eyes hungrily taking you in, “You’re interesting, let me buy you a drink.”

About half an hour later, you’re in the back of her van, panting with her lips on your neck and her knee pressing up against your aching cunt. She’s whispering sweet things into your ear which causes your hips to involuntarily buck up against her hand.

“So fuckin’ needy f’me, aren’t ya?” She mumbles against your neck, “All that talk just for you to melt into my touch,” you can feel her smirking against your neck.

“Shut up,” you say, barely getting it out through desperate whimpers and pants.

The next morning, you wake up in her apartment, alone and half naked, only wearing your panties and a shirt you didn’t recognize. You groan as you stumble out of bed, this hangover might actually be the death of you. You make your way over to the kitchen for some water only to find a sticky note next to some tylenol and water, it reads ‘Don’t forget to lock the door on your way out.’

What the actual fuck. Not even a good morning or at least a hi?

You crumple up the note, leaving it on the counter to hopefully get the message across.

“Typical bassist,” you mutter before leaving.

Later that evening, you facetime your friend, Lila.

“So… she basically told you to get out? What the fuck! You should’ve totally wrecked everything, stolen her shampoos, bleach wash her clothes, pour glitter all ov—“

Laughing you say, “Okay, okay, Lils, I get it but seriously? Glitter is going a little too far.”

“Not far enough, I’d say,” she mutters, “So…. was it good, at least?

“Good? It was total ecstasy but I mean, that’s to be expected.”

Lila cocks her head to the side, obviously confused, “Wha?”

“She’s in a band, meaning, she obviously has a lot of experience.”

“SHE’S IN A BAND???????” Lila’s eyes are practically bulging out of her head, “Wait, nah, girl, this is all on you. Rule number one, never sleep with a girl in a band, they will totally ruin your life. They’re good at giving head because they have to hide how evil they are somehow.”

You groan, “Ugh, I know., I know!” but your mind goes back to last night, the sight of her between your legs, the feeling of her hot breath against your ear, the sight of her on top with your legs draped over her shoulders, the way—

Fuck.

(A/n: This is my first fic since I was like 16 so be nice lol next one will be better, I promise, I just really suck at writing intros)

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I have an odd request… perhaps a captain price fic where the reader is much younger and edgy- likeee covered in tats and stuff,, and price isn’t rly used to that but finds it hot as hell… idk maybe they work together ?? Smut ensues …

IDK I have tatts and wonder what he’d think of that 👹👹

Just an idea 💡❤️😫

Fire it Up (John Price x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.8 k

Tags/warnings: Smut 🔞 mutual pining, flirting, swearing, older man/younger woman dynamic, forbidden love, smoking & drinking, voice kink, a tiny brat taming kink squeezed itself in here too. Reader has tattoos and works as a coder at the base. Rough ~10yrs age gap described, reader is of age I hope to god it goes without saying (Price is canonically 37) Also: no use of 'daddy' in this fic

A/N: I'm so glad for this request anon and I hope you like what I made! Also people please be gentle, this is my first Price fic 🥹 God I wish I could attach the fat scent of cigar here to give you the full experience. 

You don't know what caught your attention first.

The cigar, perhaps. Or the beard? Might be his hips, the ass that tells you this man can fuck a woman for hours.

Or maybe it's the fact that he's too old for you.

No, not too old…

Just older than you. A decade, perhaps, if you were being gentle with him and lenient with yourself.

He certainly isn't old enough to be your father, but he wasn't the type of man your eyes usually drifted on either.

He looks like someone who's supposed to be fishing in Alaska, sucking that fat cigar while taking in the view of mountains while trying to catch wild fish in some wide, free stream. 

He's supposed to come home to a remote cabin: to his little wife who pours him a scotch after he has shown her what he caught today. Make sweet love to her while stars shoot and speckle the indigo night.

He looks like someone who makes love to women.

You, on the other hand, want to ride with him to the sunset on the back of a Harley, clutch his jacket as he drives you to some bizarre highway motel. You want to watch him drink that scotch from your navel. 

You'd do all kinds of crazy shit with him, keep his head between your legs with both hands, grind all over that mustache, and see how wet it gets. You want him to pound you with those narrow hips, take you from behind while you look back with parted, swollen lips and relish the sight of what must be a grown man's hardened body, covered with hair and scars and–

"The bug's still there."

You return to reality, look at the code on your screen, and then at your colleague, a 20-something bloke who looks at you with the lethargic stare that only belongs to techies. You've just been caught daydreaming your eyes off in the middle of a lazy afternoon. Coffee doesn't do shit after 2 PM…

"Yeah I know. I'm working on it," you say. But when the dude leaves, you decide it's time for a creative break. You tell yourself it's only because the code jumps on the screen, not because you hope to catch a certain someone smoking outside. 

The leather jacket is a little too much these days, but you throw it on out of pure habit. You realize the weight of your mistake when you go outside from the ventilated building and notice the sweltering heat. Spring has finally turned into summer.

Coffee doesn’t do shit, but it’s time for another kind of wakey-wakey. And butterflies are a funny term for something that mainly feels like it’s eating your insides out of pure excitement. 

Because he's here too.

Jonathan Price, although no one calls him Jonathan. Few call him John, either. 

Mostly, he goes by the title Captain.

He's stressed; you can tell. But his eyes soften immediately when they fall on you, a brief look to the side, just to know who else comes out to have a breath of fresh air or a smoke. He looks like he's been expecting you, but that might only be a silly girl's daydream. You two share a vice, and you've never been more grateful for your bad habit before this place and him.

And you wouldn't call it necessarily a bad habit. It's simply stress relief if you do it once or twice every few weeks. It's not like you smoke two packs a day. It's not like you even smoke one cig per day. 

Although ever since you started this odd little job in this odd little place, you've smoked one or two nearly every day… And it's not because of the stress.

It's because of Price. 

John. You’d like to see his reaction to you moaning that word in his ear…

"How long have you been here?"

His eyes are still on you, mouth covered by a hand as he makes love to his cigar. And that bedroom voice always gets you. It's better than the upcoming slow drag of nicotine. You're not here for tobacco at all.

"Two weeks." You reach for your excuse and try to prevent your hands from trembling as you light the cig. Usually, you're not this shy with people. Not with men, anyway. But with him, your wits and words disappear. 

You blow the smoke through the air with a quick, lively wisp where he lets it roll out his tongue in a heavy cloud. He's still watching you as if to weigh what kind of woman you are exactly.

"How about you?" You continue the small talk with nervous ease.

He chuckles; the little smile even shows a flash of teeth as he steals a look at the clouds, calculating years with those surprisingly lively eyebrows curled up toward the sky.

"Ages."

He's not that old. Perhaps well over his thirties, might be knocking his forties. The statement is merely an underline of his stress today. You can only wonder what kind of pressure the captain of Task Force 141 is under when you get sleepless nights from a stupid source code. There are a few wrinkles around his eyes, but they only tell you that this man smiles a lot. He might be the only one in this compound who smiles a lot.

"Have you ever tried a cigar?"

There's a glint in his eyes as he offers the thick roll of tobacco to you. It's suddenly difficult to breathe, difficult to even keep your thoughts together.

"No," you shake your head as if your answer wasn't enough to tell him he's the first person ever to offer you such a thing. Then you realize the word does not precisely deliver your eagerness to try that stout cigar.

"Would love to," you hurry to add with a soft smile. "Can I have a taste?"

He walks to you slowly, and your eyes drop to those hips, which sway like he's purposely trying to seduce you.

Fu–ck…

Then your eyes sink even lower, between his legs, to his fucking junk, and it's too fucking late–

Jesus–get your shit together…

You force your eyes back to his and see the little glimmer in them gain a surprised spark – you're totally caught red-handed on checking him out.

Fuck. How can you be so stu–

"Gently then, kid."

You swallow your heart and thoughts down and take the offered cigar; of course, your first thought is how thick and heavy it is. And somehow, you decide right then and there that you will no longer be the nervous, hot-cheeked woman on the corner.

It's time to make him flustered.

So you take a hollow-cheeked, slow suck on the fat cigar. A chaste, savory taste, more like, but there's nothing chaste in the way you raise your eyes to his, putting every ounce of soft seduction in that stare.

He draws breath slowly – his face is full of expression for an allegedly cold-hearted elite soldier. You don't know how often women flirt with this hunk of a man, but he sure looks taken aback by your sudden play. Probably thinks you're too young for him – and you curse the second time you put that jacket on. You want to see his reaction to your sleeves.

"Mm. It's thicker than I thought," you weigh the cigar between your fingertips and let the smoke roll out your mouth. The man switches his weight from one foot to another, speechless, and you suppress a big beam of a smile.

"The taste," you emphasize as if innocent, as if you didn't see that shocked little shift. "Round, and… god, it's almost sweet."

You smile as you give it back, and he chuffs an approving laugh through his nose – those eyes are bear-warm playful now, his mouth curves into an easy smile.

"Nice," you look him up and down as if you're talking about the man and not the cigar.

"Beats those little sticks." 

His voice drops down a few notes; it's almost a husky growl. You barely make out the words he's saying. The tension in the air could form little balls of lightning around you, the flirt is over the roof, and there's even no roof because you're outside – and you take your jacket off, slowly, to make it clear it's summer and not spring.

His eyes fall on the ink immediately, and he blinks a few times, draws some more breath – you tweet your thanks accompanied by another smile and go back inside.

You know he's checking your ass in those black jeans as you walk away.

….....

It doesn't end there.

You see him again and again and again, and at some point you realize he has to walk almost 100 meters from the other end of the base to get to the little corner where the two of you smoke. 

He's intrigued but decent. Holds a distance, never says anything that could be taken in the wrong way – or even in the right way. But he's fucking you with his eyes. 

No… making love to you.

And it drives you crazy.

You don't want that. You don't need that. To be that little wife in the cabin. Pouring him a drink, climbing in his lap, ghosting a finger down the stubble on his chin, see how wide and proud it makes him smile to hold you like you're his and his alone...

God. When did it come to this?

You suck on his fat cigar every now and then. Look him in the eyes while you do it. Once, it makes his tongue dart out, it wets his bottom lip, and then he does that thing with his mouth... the thing where he kind of purses his lips and it makes the mustache dip, and you realize, you learn it's a sign that he's restless, he's flustered.

You make the big, burly captain of Task Force 141 flustered.

And he doesn't smell like the people inside smell. Of stale coder sweat and Joy Division and soft drinks and mommy's home-cooked meals. He smells of rich forest and fine bourbon and half-burnt gasoline. Maybe Saxon on vinyl. Definitely beats those little sticks that are your nerdy co-workers at the hacker department, as you call it.

He may have a flask somewhere; perhaps he takes a sip or two every now and then, whether at work or not. And you don't blame him. Even with those laugh lines and that brown bear benevolence, you can tell he's seen things. 

You wonder what he's like out there in the field. Brutal? Or just efficient?

He never asks about your tattoos, but he eyes them often. There's a certain admiring esteem in his stare. He's checking you out, scratches his chin, and rips his eyes off when they start to drift down. He forces his eyes to stay above your neckline no matter the cost. You mourn that you got rid of the septum a few years ago: you're pretty sure he would've liked that, too. After all, it's a piercing that screams 'warrior' the most. Break after break, you return to your desk, aroused and giddy and surrounded by the rich, masculine aroma of his cigar.

One night, he drives by when you're walking home after what was supposed to be one or two pints.

The car is a big, black pick-up, and when it slows down and starts to inch by your side, your first reaction is a silent curse of why the fuck don't you carry some pepper spray in your pocket.

"Hey, you ok?"

Your head rises from the asphalt the second you recognize that smooth, pleasant voice of a man you had compared every guy to at the pub that evening. The whole man is brimming with burnt sienna, he's hard alcohol with no ice…

You stop and turn, a little wobbly from the pint turned to two or three. Or four.

"Yeah. Had a little girl's night out."

The car rumbles softly, not two meters away, and the sound reminds you of his voice. A soft purr that can turn into a growl, even a roar if he wants to. 

He looks like he's going fishing, even without the boonie hat. The dark hair is cut short, so you won't have anything to tug if he ever ends up between your legs. But you don't really mourn that fact, because he looks so damn good.

He looks you up and down, and you notice the briefest blob of his Adam's apple before he gives you another offer.

"Want me to give you a ride?"

Would love a ride.

Would fucking love to ride you.

"Sure. That's kind of you." 

Your eyes must be sparkling like the fucking stars.

"No problem at all," he leans his elbow on the open window and waits while you round the car and get in. You try to tone down your drunken state, but your moves are a little too brash for a calm and collected coder lady this man has usually caught leaning against the wall of the workplace you two share.

"Did you have fun?"

He sounds like a dad picking up his girl from a school disco, and you purse your lips in slight distaste and amusement.

"Yeah. You know how it is when someone asks you for a pint."

He gives a short laugh and starts to drive. "That never ends well."

You smile and turn to look at him.

"Mm… This one kinda did."

You enjoy the brief look out the window, the sight of someone so formidable and robust and experienced trying to find his way out by feigning something caught his attention in the black, empty distance of a quiet city.

"Glad I could be of service," he brushes off your flirt like it's nothing more than a speckle of dust on his coat.

The rest of the ride is silent, too silent. He turns the music off in case it "bothers you," and it turns into an awkward, overly polite fight about whether to keep it on or not. 

It's a minor shock to notice he was listening to some classical. Not 80's rock, not country, not even BBC. He was just soothing his nerves.

You can't put your finger on what makes you feel so sheepish around this man – usually, you put men on a leash with a few dry jokes and a hearty laugh or two. Now, your flirting is shy and does nothing: there's a wall built up, and from behind that wall, only a few stolen looks…

The pick-up is humming, the engine is running at idle next to your place far too soon, and it's time you get off the car – but you have vehemently decided you will knock down that fucking wall even if you have to drag him to your bed. 

"You wanna come up and have a nightcap?"

Another look out the window as he raises his hand over his mouth, fiddles with his mustache, and avoids the rising heat between you two.

"Thanks, kid. But you need to sleep."

Your heart is pumping, and you feel like a harasser as you place your hand on his thigh.

He doesn't move, but you can hear the audible swallow this time. He doesn't move a single finger even when you slide your palm down that leg, then drag it over to the inner thigh, and start to drift back up slowly, slowly, to give him the time and space to stop you before you reach….

….the visible bulge between those legs, the absolutely gorgeous, ample bump pulling at those pants, something so delicious that you must fight tooth and nail not to race your hand up there and give it a fond grope.

His hand falls over yours just before you reach it.

"Kid. Let's leave it here and call it a night."

His voice is strained and tight, and he's still looking out the window. You don't move your hand away because he doesn't move it away. His warmth stays there, keeping you against him, and you feel like shit for thinking it's not a no… That it's a yes when he seems to hold your hand as a prisoner, wanting to feel your dainty little palm against him.

Your fingers curl slightly, a hopeful gesture to imagine how it would feel to curl and claw at his hips and that ass while he's fucking you.

"Listen. You're a nice girl. A very nice–"

You give a heavy, demonstrative sigh and finally draw your hand away.

"Come on Cap… You're seriously going to give me the "you're a nice girl" talk?"

Finally, he turns. His nostrils quiver as he tries to keep his breaths calm. Your lips part like it's a whole caress he just gave you – and his gaze drops to your mouth instantly. You start to see where the problem is.

You're too young. 

You're forbidden.

"I offered you a nightcap," you tilt your head slightly. "You can come up or you can go home."

You wet your lips, give the bottom lip a tiny little bite, and offer him the last, inviting, soft smile. It must hold an equal amount of sorrow because you can't drown the bitter feeling of rejection, no matter how many drinks you've had that night. No matter how much he seems to want you, it doesn't change the fact that he's apparently decided to stay strong and keep his hands off the cookie jar.

You turn and get out of the car, lean on the door for the final fucking time...

"Didn't know I'd only get to suck your cigar... You're all smoke and no fire, Price."

The door flies closed with a louder slam than you originally meant. 

Now that was a little bit passive-aggressive, you have to admit. But you're drunk, and he's being a pain in the ass, calling you a kid, looking at you like that, having a fucking hard-on and giving you nothing.

…But it does the trick. 

You smile like an idiot when you walk to your place and hear the purr of the engine stop. Another car door opens, then closes, wide footsteps follow you…

A nightcap it is, then.

He looks even bigger when inside a place with walls and a roof. He stands inside your apartment tall and wide as if he's waiting to call attention. Those large hands are over his crotch, concealing the swell of erection you already saw in the car. 

You know the tank top you wear reveals even more skin covered in tats as you throw your jacket away and go get him that drink. The glasses glide on your table, slide nearly to the floor, and the bottle of Jim Beam meets the counter with a devastating clank. You look at the excuse to get him into your place and sigh. 

"You know what… Fuck this."

Offering cheap bourbon to someone like him seems a bit ridiculous. So you offer him something he might actually like. Something he actually came here for. 

You walk to him and throw your hands around him – he stiffens from the middle but looks down at you with a heated glimmer in those eyes. You could've sworn they were charred brown, the same color as his cigar, but up close you see they're actually molten iron. Mercurial.

"You sure about this?" He asks softly.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He unclasps those hands from over his groin, and the warmest weight falls to rest on your waist, even steals a caress to your hip. You want to hurl yourself at him, press yourself against his crotch and grind until you bleed from just that tiny touch he finally gives you.

"You've had one too many, love."

Love…

Shit.

The warmth spreads from his eyes, from that hand, from the word that rolls out of his mouth like a beautiful puff of smoke. It unfurls inside your heart, swells inside your throat, plummets to your groin, and you switch the weight to your other leg to feel how that hand gains more weight as it gets pressed more firmly against you.

"Doesn't change the fact that I want you."

Your voice is nothing short of a purr. When have you ever purred like that to a man? You sound like a housecat, tame and adoring, waiting for a gourmet meal.

"You really want an old man?"

He still has that reserve in his eyes, decent and distant, but underneath, you sense a terrible heat, like the glow of a cigar lit in darkness, an adamant smolder that never dies out.

"You're not that old." 

Your purr turns into a deprived meow. You dangle from his neck, and the smoke, the fire that surrounds him, blends into the gentle scent of a man, the musk of a mature beast. You know he's hairy under those clothes; he fucking has to be. The vision of how his cock must look, surrounded by untame, coarse fur, has tormented you night after night.

And now he's finally here. In your apartment.

You skate your hands over his chest while slowly dropping into a squat, then languidly kneeling in front of his crotch.

He doesn't stop you, not even when you open his belt and the zipper and crawl your fingers down the waistband of his underwear. You have to stifle a delighted gasp upon seeing how his cock springs free and stands proud in front of you in all its glory. And fuck yes he's hairy – the hairiest man you've ever had. 

Cigars feel like tiny little sticks when you wrap one hand around him and lick the weeping slit like it's your favorite ice cream. The groan that follows is a husky eruption above you and gets stuck in his throat as you take him in your mouth.

"Fucking hell, kid…"

He's thick, broad, and the musk fills your nostrils, but what he just said makes you pull back and whisper on the bulbous tip–

"Don't call me a kid," you breathe on his cock, swirl your tongue around him, and his thighs bunch. "Old man."

You finally manage to push some buttons.

The back of his hand brushes your cheek, then slides over to your throat. He's gentle but firm as he forces a thumb under your chin, curls fingers around your neck as if you're a cat who's about to be force-fed some medicine that's only good for her.

"Is that how you wanna play it?"

His thumb brushes down the ridge of your throat. Tentative, promising.

"Perhaps," your lips quiver with anticipation as you smile; your voice is a pitched vibrato before it drops, just to give him a reason to put you in your place... "Old gum–"

The hand pulls up, the grip tightens just enough to guide you back to your feet and up to meet his face.

"Didn't know you asked me here to tame a brat."

Fuck…

You almost moan. 

The hand doesn't choke you; it makes love to you. Claims you as his. 

"Really…?" You sigh. Flash him a filthy, guiltless smile.

The fire surges forth and nearly buckles your knees. His eyes flash in rhythm with your grin, like a sudden flicker of a campfire in the middle of a dark, parched forest.

"This what you want? Hmm?"

The rumble reminds you of the engine of a Harley roaring to life. His throat is burned from the fire of his cigars, the hand on your throat is used to squeezing dead metal and pulling pins from frigid grenades. But even they can't stand a chance against his woodland fire and sycamore smoke. He could bring a cold, inanimate rock back to life with all that fire.

"Yes. I want it. John."

His name on your tongue is a cat's meow. It has the exact effect you hoped for.

"Let's get the brat tamed, then."

"Hah," you finally moan. "Promises, prom–"

The fingers around your throat pull you to his mouth with a python strength. His lips spread yours with soft devouring as he coats you in fire. The coarse beard smells of sweet tobacco – nothing like a pungent cigarette. It's like an old memory: safe and sturdy and strong. Male.

You moan in his mouth – god, what will it be like when he's inside you? – and he capes both arms around you and crushes you against him. Broad shoulders envelop you like a shroud of thick smoke, the cock gets trapped between you like a hot spear, and you mewl like a slut.

Your pussy clenches, just from his warm mouth, the rich velvet of his lips. He takes everything with that kiss, and you're weak in his arms as he bends and molds you against him just the way he wants, opens your mouth with his own and breathes you, samples you like those puffs of smoke he sucks from his cigar.

Your brain short-circuits, you barely notice how your top slides up as his hands go under it. It's dragged up, up, over your breasts and then over your head as he detaches just enough to rip that piece of clothing away. 

You look at him like he's Christmas, then reach for your bra while he opens his pants more to get them down. Your jeans are accursedly tight, and he's breathless, too: the whole room is dark and filled with heavy breathing and rustle of clothes as you claw your socks off, slide your strings down and away, watch him get out of his shirt and throw it on the floor too, all propriety gone.

And then…

Jesusfuck–

He picks you up, lifts you from the ground like you're nothing but a leaf, and strides with you in his lap until your back meets a wall.

The barrel-like chest presses the air out of your lungs while your back travels up – you don't know if his arms or chest do the lifting, but you're being positioned for his cock to enter. Your hands try to grasp something solid before it's too late – his back and neck – your legs wrap around him, feet hooking over his ass as the thick of his tip pokes your soaked folds, and after a few seconds of probing, slides in. 

"F–uck…" you gasp, sounding so needy that it could be a voiceline from a bad porno movie. His lips find the place between your ear and neck immediately.

"Be good for me now," he gruffs, dark and round like the sweetest bourbon, although you know he's the finest single malt in the world. "Be good…"

"Ah–John…"

I'll be good… 

Just for you, I'll be so, so good.

He pants heavy on your neck, grunts as he starts to fuck you against that wall. You knew he might be intense, but apparently, you had no idea. The man is needy as fuck, and has concealed it up until this point. 

You could cry, scream from joy from the thickness that spreads you, fills you with every fat glide of a thrust. The sex borders on rough but is so incredibly tender too, so needy it makes your heart collapse, compress into a taut knot in your chest. It's the softest rocking, the gentlest fucking as he retreats, then ruts into you again and again with sharp, rusty moans. You're in a slow but steady rodeo with this man, your breasts pressed against a solid chest covered with hair, and it tickles, even if his pecs threaten to crush your ribcage.

"You're one hell of a girl," he gruffs in your ear, beard grazing up and down your neck. "Taking me so– Fucking hell, look at you…"

His eyes are embers as they sweep over you: your abundant ink, the helpless, adoring look in your eyes, the little mouth that opens with a gasp, the trickle of sweat that forms between your breasts and meets the hair on his chest. 

He doesn't have to look down to see how greedy your cunt is for him. He can feel it.

"This is what you wanted the whole time? Huh?"

He's all smoke. All fire.

"Yes…"

"Wanted me to take you against a fucking wall? Eh?"

"Yes…just, just take me," you moan and purr some more, giving him everything he wants. "Fuh–fuck me good…"

"Ahh shit..."

You know you're a drug to certain decent men. But to him, you're a forbidden fruit in all its aspects. 

A calm, collected captain who enjoys wide respect, eyeing an edgy, younger woman from the tech department? That's not how this was supposed to go. Thirsting for someone who did what they wanted, looked just the way they wanted, walked this earth like a dark fairy – that's not his usual go, surely. He was supposed to settle down with a proper lady. If he were to settle down at all.

"I've dreamed of this," you whisper in his ear, lips moving just enough to deliver your secret to him.

"Yeah..? Me too," he gives your throat more love with a velvet growl. "Know I shouldn't, but–"

"Shh. Don't–don't…" You grip him tighter, taste the spruce and salt as you breathe his neck. "It's good. It's all good."

He rumbles in approval. Your skin is raw from his beard; even the coarse hair dusting his thighs feels too rough on your skin. And your skin is used to being needled, shot full of ink right inside the dermis. But this… This is branding.

You're silk in his rough embrace, and plundered with no remorse. You sigh and moan, hug him... And then he dares to stop, panting and throbbing inside you.

"Darlin'. Where's the bed?"

The soft question makes you panic. If you go to bed and let him push inside you while you're lying on your back, if you brave a look into those eyes while he takes you, you'll develop more than just a horrid lust for this man. If he collapses on top of you, spent and spoiled while you're at your most vulnerable, you'll tie a string from your heart to his, and you can't, you just can't allow that to happen.

Because he's untamed too. He's not a man who settles down, he's not up for domestication; he's a wandering fire.

"No–no bed," you pant on his muscles, the shoulder that keeps you safely pinned on the wall. "John…? Please."

He's breathing wild too, disguises his surprise well.

"Alright."

He sounds disappointed, and it's not because he doesn't have the strength to maul you against that wall. The rejection stings him too. It makes you want to offer a truce, a little something. When he rocks you again, you graze your fingers up the back of his neck, knowing he will feel ripples across his scalp from your caress.

"We can smoke a cigar after," you propose, not knowing why your voice still comes out as an airy whisper. "Together. I'll pour you that drink…"

His chest swells with a deep breath, he huffs fire on the hollow trench between your collarbones.

"Fuck, woman…" 

It's dense syrup that surrounds you much like those shoulders and arms, that coarse hair, that bold male want.

"And after that I want you to…" You catch your breath and sound like a mouse with your next shy question. "Would you go down on me, John?"

It's like you're under a bear attack, but he stills; his head tilts a little to the side and meets your temple. 

"You wouldn't tease a man like this," he says. A soft warning, brimstone coated in velour, but the core of it is despair. So much need, so much forbidden, distant want… 

"Right? No more teasing."

He's still thinking that you're teasing him… That it's some kind of a joke that you want him.

"I'm serious... I want your mouth on me. I need your–"

"I'll put my mouth on you as soon as we're done here, love."

You have to bite your lips, suck them between your teeth to prevent another deprived moan from escaping.

"Want you to fuck me all night," you continue to whisper on his neck. You should shut the fuck up because it doesn't take a bed to tie that string from your heart to his. After all, they're right there, beating against each other through bone and skin and chest.

"Yeah? That's what you want?"

"Want you to… F-fuck me slow and good from behind and–"

You sniff. Whimper.

You should be ashamed: mewling for more when he's already buried inside you. What kind of a brat are you, wrapping your thighs around that narrow waist like you never want him to pull out?

And you're not crying. 

It's just that the cock inside you is throbbing against your walls as if he's making a home there, his hands dig into your ass cheeks like you're his already, the breath upon your sweat and skin feels far too affectionate. When exactly did a raw wall-fuck turn into such an affectionate, gentle taste of love?

And it's not enough. You want to climb on top of him every morning, ride him slowly and watch him unravel as the sun climbs the sky and coats that fur in gold.

"Could you do that? Please… John, please," you whimper and whine, beg like you're tame already. 

"I'll fuck you all night if that's what you want. Fill this pretty, tight cunt up every way you like."

It's coarse smoke. It caresses you until your legs start to shake. He adjusts his grip, drags the pull-outs like he drags those pulls from his tobacco. Keeps you nicely in place for him to drive back in–

"I'll fuck you 'till you cry, love. Yeah?"

He punctuates that promise with another good, fat thrust. You moan all tame now – a rippling stream, laughing and crying in his molten hold.

His cock fills you while your thighs quiver and tremble in his hands. Your pussy throbs; it sucks him already, the orgasm is seconds away, and your fingertips search for support but only slip over sweaty, hard muscle.

John. John.

"Fuh-…"

He spreads you a little. Those arms are pure iron as they mold you for him to plow. You know he can feel the waves, the way your cunt grips him with longer, deeper pulls as you start to sound downright pathetic.

"Just like that, just like… hah…"

"M-hm. Yeah," he bends the vowels, daubs them with smoke. "That's it. You're doing good. Doing so well my love."

He huffs between the thrusts that have turned into slow, intense love-making. He's making love to you – god, why does he have to be like this…

"Cum for me. Nice and pretty, yeah? Come on."

He encourages you with words, but you can't hear them anymore.

Heat coils in the pit of your core just before you burst with a heady scream.

The spasm is so sudden you almost hit your head on the wall. He's at your throat the minute it's exposed, and your scream turns into a weak wail when his tongue grazes your skin. It's blazing, and dips into the hollow between your collarbones like it's a shot glass full of scotch. Next thing you feel is fire, even some teeth on your neck.

And you thought Price might, just might be intense…

Your head drops as the blunt of the orgasm leaves you. Your feet unclasp, and next up would be some soft waves, but the man continues to fuck your shattered cunt and marshmallow soul with a good, intense pace. The words that pour out of your mouth are those of a brainless person.

"Ah–hah, God–"

"Where's that cheek now, mm..? Pretty little thing."

"John–h…"

The thrusts rub you against that wall like he wants to staple you there.

"So nice and good for me now, ain't ya? Cummin' on command…" An amused chuff right on your poor, chafed skin… "Begging for my mouth and cock."

You travel up and down in a limp heap, trying to hold on to him with weak limbs as he drives into you with a tight series of half-thrusts. Your legs hang loosely on the side, but he has no trouble carrying the full weight of you.

"Slow–slowly, Cap…" 

"Ahh fuck–"

He swears on your ink, right on the trotting pulse on your neck. Through the vapor of man sweat and rich smoke and a whiff of cedar trees bending in the wind, you feel him tense and thicken.

"The fucking things you do to me…" he pants with a low growl, hushed but intense. Your pussy answers with a good, demanding pull. 

"Fuck… fuck–!"

You're a limp doll between him and the wall when he comes. Pressed between a rock and a hard place, literally. His chest being the rock, an entire boulder that whips the oxygen from your lungs as he drives deep, his balls giving a few taut pulls against your ass as he empties himself into you with a satisfied, dry moan. A dark, ripe blossom, shooting straight to your core while you're sealed tight around him.

The world goes still after that; the only thing that moves is your breath and his, a refreshing hot breeze coursing through the stale air. The darkness of the room isn't half as snug as the safety of his arms.

Your fingers find his neck, the short-cut hair and the skin pounding with a rush of blood. He lets you go reluctantly, bends a little to set your feet back to the solid ground. He doesn't pull out, keeps huffing all over you even when you're returned back to the earth. 

And you never want to come back. Your cunt still throbs around him and cries a tiny, thick stream down your thigh. His upper body still pins you against that wall, his breaths still mist your skin, caress the red burns of his beard.

He feels so good. Too good…

When he pulls out, he does so with intense care. He gives you some space to catch your breath, and you finally notice he has fucked your legs into splinters.

"I'm…" You break the hush of heavy breathing with a soft laugh. More viscous load pushes out of you with it. "I don't think I can stand."

"Yeah? Tried to take you to bed," he muses softly, sounding annoyingly content with his achievements.

"Gotta admit it was a good idea."

"As was the nightcap," he rasps, voice drenched in soft smoke.

"We'll get there eventually."

"I have no doubt about that."

You give him a soft, warm chuckle as you cast your eyes between the crest of his pecs. Rough, tight muscle meets your soft breasts with heaving breaths, and teases your nipples to taut little points. The wet hair on his chest looks good paired with your inked, smooth skin… You two look so goddamn fine together.

"I hope I didn't make you deaf with that scream."

He stands at his full height, but tilts his head down and slightly to the side as if you were a new, interesting species he's just found on his travels.

"Wouldn't complain, love," he says. More wet syrup, just for you. He weighs you with his stare, curious and appeased, and you feel shy. For fuck's sake, you still feel shy even though this man was inside you just a moment ago. 

"The bed. Now be a good girl and tell me where it is."

"Down the…hallway." 

A delicate little whisper, again.

It's laughable, how the veteran of Task Force 141 turns you into something so dainty and meek. Captain John Price takes you against a wall like you're nothing but a doll, makes you purr and beg, reassembles you into a weak-willed woman who gets carried to bed. 

This is not how it was supposed to go...

He lifts you back in his lap while you continue to hold onto him like he's your prince Charming. A laugh spills on your lips when he tries to lay you gently on the bed and you manage to pull him down with you. You end up tumbling there in a sweaty, messy heap. 

"Knew you were trouble," he's smiling too as he settles beside you. You curl and wrap yourself around him, your bodies mold and curve together like they're made for each other.

He's so solid, so warm, the kind of man you'd love to fall asleep on every night. No more cold sides of the pillow, no more tossing and turning and trying to get the code out of your head. Just… this chest, those ember eyes burning in the night. Some soft breathing, a roaring engine standing still, waiting for you, just for you…

"I hope this wasn't a one time only occasion," you test the waters.

"No." He shifts a little, disentangles from you slightly. "Unless you–"

"No."

You bend in his arms like a young willow, cut his doubts off with a kiss. It's passionate, and so sloppy it threatens to make the same sounds as your cunt and his cock a while ago.

The hand on your hip tows you closer, then steals its way down your leg. You hike your thigh up, perfectly willing. You're a sticky mess, but so is he: his rock-hard thigh meets your still soaked pussy like these two have always belonged together. And this man's full fire has escaped you until now. There are so many hidden, wild things in him too. 

He would look so good on a Harley… He would look good on a motel bed after riding for days and days with you attached to him like an eloped dark bride. The nights would be smeared with hot sex and cinder and smoke, a dash of scotch on top, he could drink it from your lips. You would serve it to him from your mouth, round the taste a bit so that it wouldn't burn so much…

"Have you ever been to Alaska?" 

The liquor is leaving you, but you don't feel any more sober. The lava in your veins has only been replaced by another kind of fire.

"No."

"Would you like to go?"

"What'ya mean," he murmurs on your tongue, and you know he's hard again just from the thick lust coating his voice. "What kind of question is that?"

"I was just thinking."

"What were you thinkin', kid..?"

"Don't… call me that," you laugh. In truth, you're growing quite fond of it. It reminds you of old movies. "Here's looking at you, kid" and all that.

His laugh is a charred roll in his chest. To him, you're a brat – an unruly kitten – no matter what you say. 

"Kid. Why Alaska?"

He's curious. Borderline hooked. You steal a peek into those vulcan eyes. 

"You'd look good in Alaska. Old man."

"Really," he rumbles a soft purr against your heart. 

Another soft kiss follows. Affectionate… He plays time, but he's also a probing, scanning. You bloom in his embrace, unfurl on his lips like he just wrenched you wide. He could haul you to the cabin right now and you would only cook him dinner.

It's too late, even if you try to shift after such a kiss. Escape to press your cheek against that place between his pecs, the spot where the hair is darkest and thickest. You want to lick that valley where his heart meets his musk. That scent must be born from a good, stout heart.

"Would you take me with you…? If you ever decide to go."

It's a fragile question. A baring of the heart. It holds so much more than an inquiry about whether he would whisk you away on a secret leave. It's strings, pulling from your heart to his, taking root.

"Sure. But you're quite a handful, love."

"Is that so…?" 

You crawl over him as gracefully as you can. He allows you to straddle him, and of course he does. You're no threat; you're only a one woman show. The only thing he's probably missing right now is a glass of scotch and a thick roll of tobacco. 

He takes in the view with hunger: not satiated by that pent-up fuck, just like you're not... 

But then his hands come to rest on your thighs to check if they're still shaking. The touch bleeds possessiveness: it's a thoroughly absent-minded, instinctual attempt to reach for you. It tells you you're exactly where you belong. 

"You seem like the kind of woman who's not for the faint of heart," he says like you didn't just mewl in his arms like the tamest fucking housecat.

And perhaps that's what intrigues him. Contrasts. And even more than that, the odd place where black fuses into white, the gray area where everything is possible. The split-second moment when the skin accepts the ink and traps it in. 

Everyone always says you get buried with your tattoos. That you should think twice before staining your skin with such permanent hookups.

But the thing is, you get addicted to it. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff before a bungee jump. You know you'll never be the same person after you jump, and you know you can't leave that cliff without jumping. It's a stalemate until you clear your mind of doubt and just plunge.

And you don't want to leave this earth without getting stained and sweaty, without dipping your soul into the full experience. You're supposed to get a little dirty. This is Earth, after all.

Your fingers disappear somewhere in his slick fur. Sunrise is hours away, but his eyes spark aflame. They're always, always smoldering like the butt of his cigar. He's a man who causes wildfires at the end of the world – he's a reckoning, a flicker in the dark forest, roaring into a bonfire as soon as the wind passes through the trees.

And you've always loved fire. Wild, and free. The only thing that competes with such freedom is a wide, wild stream. 

"But you can handle me. Right?" Your fingers curl softly around the hair surrounding his navel. "Tame me and everything?" 

It's an offering that causes even fire to tilt its head in curiosity. In the end, you're not sure who tamed who.

"Someone has to," he grabs your hips with rich promise. 

You'll pour him that drink. Light him a cigar after his mouth is full of your taste, see how well it pairs with fire and smoke. You'll toast to the Harley, the crazy motel… 

And Alaska. 

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

DEBAUCHÉRIE

⚠️𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈. 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘⚠️

🎀𝐀𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐢𝐨 𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝🎀

“I'd suffer Hell if you'd tell me, what you'd do to me tonight”

Pairing: Sub!Nanami Kento x Domme!Reader

Genre: Smut, Porn with plot, Happy ending.

Word Count: 4592

Warnings: PWP, soft domme Reader, plus size reader, female bodied reader, no protection, pussy eating, shibari, good ol' sex.

Summary: It was always a dream of Nanami's to be tied up like a good little boy, one that many partners after hearing would recoil in disgust expecting to be dominated instead... Its been too long since Nanami Kento got laid, so long that out of desperation he agrees to accompany his senpais to a sex club. A sex club where he sees you. But can you make his dream a reality?

A/N: At the end.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you. Lounging on the sofa, directly in his line of view, in the long black dress that hugged every curve of your body, your posture was relaxed, an easy smile on your red lips and a fringe of admirers lapped up your every word. The slit in the side of your dress gave him a perfect view of your leg and the tattoo hugging your calf. Your hands held a glass of red wine that you sipped slowly while your eager devotees tried to stand out to you. Nanami felt like a moth, caught in your fire. 

It had been on Geto’s insistence that Nanami Kento agreed to visit the club. Having heard about it from him and Gojo before, he finally swallowed his pride and asked them to introduce him. Debauchérie – an apt name for a sex club, Nanami had mused, remembering the dark red neon sign he had seen when entering.  

Gojo had explained to him in detail where they were going; he’d even borrowed an expensive – probably designer – turtleneck shirt of his to wear. It sat snug on Nanami’s frame, the fabric soft and comforting, yet elegant. “You can't wear just anything, Nanamin.” Gojo had warned. “It’s a very exclusive place; it took months before we could become members and bring guests.” 

And it was, definitely, no less than thorough. Nanami had had to sign a waiver attesting to his consent and such before even being allowed in. It probably helped that Geto was a “valued” member,  given how smooth the process had been. 

Seated at the bar, Nanami allowed himself to take in his surroundings. There were small tables and couches all around the room, which, even for a Saturday evening, was not very full. Off to the right, there was a passageway leading to more private rooms, and to the back,  there were places for open play that no one had started using yet. However, a lot of patrons had already reached varying stages of undress, and when a very pretty girl wearing nothing but nipple pasties came by and complimented how he looked, asking for his name, the poor man could only choke out a “Ke- Ken”. 

The girl giggled and flounced away, but not before throwing him a wink and a flirty, “Nice to meet you, Ke-Ken!” Mouth dry, he resumed scanning the room…and that's when his eyes had fallen on you. 

“She’d be a good fit for you,” Geto said in his ear, making him jump. Both he and Gojo had decided not to leave unless he found a partner, and had instead taken seats at the bar with him. “She’s very experienced…and attentive.” Gojo looked over too – his eyes wide. 

“Oh, yes.” Gojo backed Geto up.  “We had the pleasure of playing with her once. She’s so-o-o-o-o good.” 

“You mean…” Nanami looked over at the two men. They nodded slowly and sneakily as he turned back to look at you.

As luck would have it, you chose that exact moment to look toward the bar, your eyes locking with Nanami’s. Realising he’d been staring at you, you gave him a soft smile and signalled a waiter over. Nanami watched as you placed your order; when finished,  you looked back at the group around you and said something else, eliciting groans and pouts from most of them. Nanami only understood why when you got up and drifted over to where he sat. 

You were even more stunning up close, he admitted to himself. Lips full and plump, painted in a dark red. Eyes framed by long dark lashes and lined in black. You greeted the other men first. “Suguru, Satoru! It’s been a while. Who’s your friend here?” So you were already on a first-name basis with them…

Gojo, almost climbing over Geto, answered, “This is Kento, Mistress. He’s our junior.” 

“His first time here,” Geto added, giving up his seat for you to sit by Nanami. 

You reached out a hand and ruffled Gojo’s hair. “I’m not your mistress right now, Satoru. You can call me by my name.” The same hand was then presented to Nanami, and you introduced yourself. But all Nanami could think of was that you were already close enough to Gojo and Geto to use their first names, and also how pretty your lips looked with the red lipstick and how much he now wanted to call you Mistress and… 

“Nanami? Hello? Earth to Mr. Kento.” 

Shit! You’d said something he’d totally missed. Nanami felt his cheeks burn. He pulled himself together, ignoring the throbbing in his ears. “Apologies, I might have spaced out for a moment…seeing your beauty up close caught me off guard.” Behind you, Geto and Gojos eyes widened. They never knew Nanami could be this smooth.

You chuckled – a sound that dripped from your lips like honey – and repeated, “I was wondering if you would like to play tonight. With me.” Nanami’s jaw dropped, but you continued, confidently, “I hope this isn't too forward for you, but we came to a sex club after all so I'll be a bit…forward. I think you’re very attractive, and I’m a Dominatrix who likes playing with pretty boys, so, Kento – I can call you Kento right?” 

You cocked an eyebrow and leaned in close. Nanami swallowed and nodded. Your lips widened into a smile. “Would you like to play with me tonight?” 

Not trusting himself to speak, Nanami could only nod. But you shook your head. “I need verbal assurance, Pretty Boy.” 

“Y-yes. I would like to.” 

“Hmmm…” You sat back, smiling sweetly, but crossing your arms in front of you. “Well then, let's go over some basics. You know I’m a domme, so I'm going to take it that you’re subbing for me.” Nanami nodded. “Is this your first time doing something like this?” Nanami nodded again, confirming what you’d thought. “In that case, we can take it soft and slow for your first time, Pretty Boy.” 

Nanami blushed. 

You led Nanami down a long corridor, entering one of the rooms at the far end. Gojo and Geto had assured him that it was fine and they would not “wait up” for him. 

“So…should we continue this in one of the private rooms?” 

The room wasn’t too large, but there was enough space for a plush bed covered in black silken sheets, a small black couch and a table with an assortment of toys. It seemed to follow the theme of the club, dark red walls, while most of the furniture was black. The dim lighting made Nanami’s eyes twinkle. This was what you had asked the waiter to prepare for you earlier. Taking a seat on the couch, you patted the space beside you, encouraging Nanami to sit. “We need to establish a few rules and boundaries first,” you began. “When we are playing, you will call me Miss, or Mistress. Is that okay with you?” Nanami nodded, but you shook your head. “From now on, whatever I ask, I need enthusiastic, verbal responses. I will not continue unless I have clear consent from you, Kento.” 

“Yes, Mistress.” Your left hand found its place in Nanami’s hair, and you gently raked your fingernails against his scalp. 

“Good boy.” Nanami felt his cock twitch. You placed your other hand on his chest. Against him, it looked small, but the command in your fingertips was unmistakable. You ran it along his turtleneck, squeezing at his chest. “Now, is anything off-limits?” 

Nanami thought for a moment and said, “Nothing with pee or scat, please. And nothing that will leave any visible marks.” 

You nodded. “Alright. I don’t do scat play either and I will not be engaging in rough play with you for your first time, but it is always good to ask and be clear.” Your lips had sneaked closer to his skin during your little explanation, and he could feel the warmth of your breath when you asked him your next question: 

“Is there anything you would like to do tonight?” 

Nanami blushed. “You don’t have to be shy…” you told him gently. “Tell me, Pretty Boy, how can I make a wild dream come true for you?” You leaned forward and bit your lip. 

“I–I—” Nanami could barely hear himself speak as he said the next words. “I want to be tied up and used…would-would you…?” 

All the stress of the last few days seemed to catch up with the weary man as his shoulders drooped and he waited for you to be repulsed by his ask, ashamed at how needy he was. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised...you chuckled. 

“Is that so, Pretty Boy?” Your tongue darted out licking a strip up your lip. 

Nanami's cock twitched again and he let out an involuntary moan. “Oh, do you like it when I call you a pretty boy?” He nodded, then remembered his earlier agreement. 

“Yes, Mistress.”

You placed a finger under his chin and lifted his head to make him look at you. His brown eyes were dark, screaming his exhaustion coupled with building need. “Do you have a safe word you’d like to use?” 

He shook his head. “I don’t need that, I’m sure I can take whatever you give me.”

You frowned. Your hand still petting his head, you explained,  “It is vital that we have one. Regardless of how experienced your partner may be or how hard or soft you play, having a safeword is a basic requirement. If you like, we can use the traffic light system to keep it simple.” Nanami nodded but looked puzzled, so you elaborated. “If you feel like everything is going well and you don’t want to stop or change anything, you can let me know you’re green.” You paused, waiting for him to show you he understood. When he nodded, you went on. “If you like what we’re doing but feel like it's becoming too much or want me to dial it back in any way, you say you’re yellow. I can return to what I was doing previously, or pause and let you have a short break.” He nodded again. You continued. “And if you are very uncomfortable, or hurt, or change your mind and want to stop in any way, you say red.” Nanami couldn’t imagine a scenario where he would have to, but he was grateful for your assurances. He nodded again. “Red means I will stop whatever I’m doing and make sure first and foremost that you are okay. If you’re bound or tied I will release you immediately, if you get hurt you must let me know so I can treat you. I love it when my boy communicates with me.” Saying this, you kissed him at the edge of his mouth, lips barely touching. Nanami blushed pink. You smelled like strawberries and vanilla, and he found himself wanting to bite. 

“Red, yellow, and green. I understand, Mistress.” he assured you, itching to start. His cock had begun to harden in his slacks, fed by the ministrations of your hands. 

You got up and walked over to the table with the toys. “You’d like to be tied up, wouldn’t you?” you said out loud, then turned to him with a dark blue rope in your hands. 

Nanami felt his blush deepen as you strolled over to him. The sound of your black stilettos made a sharp tapping sound on the hard floor as you towered above him. He would do anything for you. “Yes please, Mistress…” His voice was barely a whisper. 

You bent down and kissed his head, giving him the perfect view down your neckline. The soft milky mounds of your breasts threatened to spill out of the corset under your dress, mesmerising him. You smirked, hand moving to his crotch. You gave his bulge a gentle squeeze drawing out a deep groan, then ordered, “Get up and strip for me, gorgeous.”  

The poor man, caught in the net you cast, immediately followed. His hands fumbled with the belt of his trousers as he half ripped them off his body. He peeled off the turtleneck and folded the garments, laying them on the couch where you sat. He was beautiful. Years of hard training had transformed his body into a wall of muscle. His skin had a light tan and his stomach was tight. You greedily drank in the sight.

He was about to remove his boxers when your voice rang out again, “Stop. That is mine. You can only touch it when I let you. Got that?” 

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good boy. Now, arms up and legs apart.” Nanami complied, and you rose, circling him slowly. He could feel your eyes taking him in, studying every inch of his body, and he itched to cover himself from your discerning gaze. But even before he could finish his thoughts, your hands were on him, feeling the muscles in his arms, all the way down, body flush with yours. He could feel your breasts pressed against his back., the warmth of your breath on his skin and your nails running down his sides, feeling up his torso. “What colour are we at, Pretty Boy?” you asked raspily.

Nanami responded after a second’s thought, “Green. More! Please, Mistress.” He felt your lips against his back, leaving tiny kisses along some invisible pattern as you complied, feeling every inch of him…except your hand never so much as grazed his crotch, making him pant with anticipation. 

You stepped in front of him and picked up the rope off the couch, then unravelled it while making sure he was watching your every movement. The contrast of being so bare – so vulnerable – in front of you was stark. “I'm going to tie you up now, is that alright?” 

Nanami nodded, grateful at how gentle and thorough you were. “Please, Mistress.” 

You hooked your thumbs on the waistband of his pants and tugged them downwards, allowing his semi-hard cock to spring free. A sharp intake of breath from you made him shy away. Perhaps you would be turned off by his size. But to his astonishment, you kneeled down and gently licked the glans, eyes never leaving his. 

“Someone's excited,” you remarked, impressed. Your hands worked deftly – practised movements that hinted at your familiarity with the rope.

Nanami appreciated, when from time to time, you would check in with him, “Is anything uncomfortable?” or “Is it too tight?” and wait for his verbal confirmations

“No, Mistress.” or “It’s just a little painful around the arm, on that last loop.”

 You twisted and looped and knotted, and once you were done, you turned him to face the long mirror in the room. Blue vines ran all across Nanami’s chest, crissed and crossed into a five-point star. His arms were bound to his back, but his legs were free. Each line of rope sat snug, not too deep or loose, just enough to make sure that he was unable to move his upper body. The two lines you had artfully drawn against his crotch grazed against his balls every time he made the slightest move. He looked at you, dark pupils blown out in lust. You held his chin, then hooked your fingers onto the rope around his neck and pulled his head to yours, and Nanami’s world exploded. Your lips were hot on his.  Your tongue probed for entrance at his teeth, licking his cold cupid's bow.

Reaching down, you trailed a finger up his length. “I want you to kneel for me, Kento.” You had placed a cushion on the floor and Nanami dropped to his knees, looking on in reverence as you stood before him and removed your dress. 

The silky fabric fell to the floor in a puddle. You were left in a black laced corset and matching underwear. Taking a seat on the couch, you spread your legs open. Nanami had the most perfect view. “Do you want to see?” you asked him teasingly. 

“Please, Mistress.” There was a whine in Nanami’s throat he didn’t even realise he was holding. 

“Then take them off.” You gestured at your panties. Nanami fumbled. His hands were tied behind his back, what did you mean…? 

“With your mouth, Kento. I want you to use your mouth and take my panties off. And then, maybe – if you do a good job – I'll let you taste me.” 

Eager to please you, Nanami crawled over to your cunt and bit the edge of your panties. Desperately, he pulled at the fabric and inched it down with his lips and teeth. He could smell your arousal already, and it made his head heavy. He really wanted to taste you. His cock was now hard, and it bumped your leg. The little friction made him hiss. 

“Go on, Pretty Boy, just a little more…” Your encouragement kept him from losing his focus, and he continued to pull the infernal cloth that barely seemed to budge. But with just one more tug, it was around your knees. He stopped and looked at you, pleased with himself. 

“Oh that won’t do, Kento. No, you have to take it all the way off.” Nanami’s cheeks burned. All the way off? Down your legs, off your— “Off, come on. And don’t get it stuck on my heels, darling.” 

Nanami pulled at the panties again. It was humiliating, being asked to do such a ridiculous task but even more so for the fact that his cock was rock hard and straining. You spread your thighs wide, showing off your glistening cunt. Your skin was smooth. Not that he minded hair but in a moment you would show him why. “Do you want to taste me?” 

“Yes please, Mistress.” 

“Then turn over and rest your head on the couch. I’m going to sit on your pretty face.” Nanami flipped over and watched as you raised yourself off the couch to straddle his face, your pussy dangling over his mouth like forbidden fruit. A drop of your arousal leaked out, falling onto Nanami’s lips, and he couldn't help sticking his tongue out to lick it. The musky sweet taste of you travelled straight to his cock and he twitched once more. 

This must be the nectar of the gods, he thought to himself. His tongue reached out, desperate to taste more of you. “Please, please. Please, Mistress.” 

You didn’t torture him further. Sinking your pussy lips onto his mouth, you both let out a sigh of relief. His nose rubbed against your clit, while his tongue lapped at your pink folds. Divine… 

A hand in his hair, you pulled him, “Yeah–just like that–good boy...” Your knee was digging into the couch as you pushed your cunt into his face. And Nanami ate your pussy like a parched man. Slurping and lapping up your juices. Sucking on your sensitive bud. He wanted to hold you – to feel the plush of your ass filling his hands; he involuntarily pulled at the ropes that bound him. You stepped back for a moment, allowing him to breathe, then returned to your throne. But Nanami showed no signs of hesitation. His lips found your bud, circling it in his mouth as he started to suck. Loud wet noises filled the rooms along with soft moans from you. “Kento…Such a good boy…Keep going.” You felt his tongue flatten against your cunt, probing at your hole and exploring. His face was messy and wet but he didn’t care. Nothing had ever tasted as delicious as your wet cunt did in his mouth. Nothing had ever felt as good as your thick thighs that squeezed his head between them.  

Nanami felt a sharp tug on his hair as you came with a cry, legs quivering. Your head felt heavy and it took you a moment to get off him and look at him adoringly. He knelt at your feet, panting but looking up at you expectantly.

You helped him to his feet and sat him on the couch, placing yourself on his lap. Your hands once again found his soft hair, fingers carding through it. His weeping cock bumped against your dripping core, and you began to move your hips to rub against it. “You’re such a – kiss – good boy. – kiss– following all my orders – kiss – so well – kiss–” Nanami felt a bead of pre-come drip out onto his thigh as you kissed down his neck. 

Your pussy lips rubbed against his length as you kissed and licked his mouth. “Let me see you, please…” he rasped, looking down at your corseted breasts. Sounds of his grunts and heavy breathing now filled the room, along with the wet shlick of your skin against his. You undid the front of the corset, letting your breasts spill. A sharp intake of breath from him made you want to kiss him again, but his head dipped down and he took a nipple between his teeth, lightly grazing it before starting to suck at your tit. You pulled his hair back, yanking him off you. “Did I give you permission to suck my tits?” 

Nanami’s eyes widened. He hadn’t thought of that. “No, Mistress. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” 

You continued, “Next time you do something without permission, you will be punished. Understand?” 

Nanami swallowed and nodded, burning with desire now; your pussy was right on top of his cock. One thrust and he could have put it in, but he knew that would not be allowed. He begged again, all inhibitions out the window. All he wanted was to feel you on him. “Mistress, please…” 

“Please what?” His hips bucked and he forced them down. “Please fuck you?” You cocked a brow, unsmiling. “After what you just did?” 

His dick stood now, painful almost, in need. “I’ll do anything,” he begged. “Please, just touch me–” His voice was cut off by a choked sob and to his surprise, a tear ran down his cheek. 

“You make the prettiest little sounds, Kento,” you purred in his ear. “Okay, I’ll fuck you like you want.” And you held his cock as you spoke and slowly slid it into your pussy. “You want me to fuck you like this, right? On my tight wet cunt?” He nodded furiously. “Want to feel me squeeze your cock so good?” Another nod. “Okay, but you aren’t allowed to come…” 

Nanami let out a strangled cry. 

“You heard me. You asked to be fucked. Not to come. Didn’t you, darling?” 

You were a succubus, and Namami was a willing victim. Semantics be damned, he was ready to burst, to spill into your warm wet hole, as you squeezed around him. You cradled his head in your arms, holding him close to you as you slid up and down on his cock. Your combined arousal made it easy, even though he was large. 

“Fuck, please– Mistress. So good, you make me – haa…”  Obscenities fell from his lips along with pleas, over and over. “Mistress, I need –” 

You felt him twitch and stilled. Nanami could have cried. He strained against his bonds, desperately trying to hold on to you, but you were already off him. “To the bed,” you whispered and helped him up. It was difficult for Nanami; he had never been denied for this long when release was so imminent. He stumbled to the bed, grateful for your help, but wishing you would just let him come already. The teasing was maddening and he did not feel he had the patience for it much longer. You lay him down, propping him up with two large pillows before sinking onto his cock once again. His hands grasped at nothingness under him as you leveraged yourself on his chest and fucked him now – no holds barred. Your ass hit his thighs with a loud slap each time you came back down, and his cock was reaching deep inside you hitting your gummy walls that held him in a vice-like grip. 

“You wanna come for me, Pretty Boy? Wanna come for your Mistress?” 

“Please—please—please.” The words fell from his mouth like a prayer. A prayer to you, his Goddess. 

“Then come. Come for me, my Pretty Boy.” 

And with that, he was lost. Thick ribbons of ejaculate shot into your cunt, painting your insides white. You collapsed onto his large chest and felt his rapid heartbeat slowing, the rise and fall of his chest now gentle…The ropes around his body rubbed against your nipples, hardening them into peaks. 

Lifting yourself off him, you helped him sit up before you quickly removed his ties. The skin was raw and red where he’d pulled. You lifted his hand to your mouth and licked at the angry marks, tasting the salt of his sweat. He met your gaze – still hungry. “ I need you. I need more, please,” he pleaded. “Let me eat you out again, Mistress!” 

You smiled and dipped your head so that your lips barely brushed his ear, “I have a better idea.” You pushed his chest, laying him down and turned, straddling his face once more; this time, however, your mouth hovered above his cock. Even though he had just come, Nanami was still semi-hard, and only a few licks and he was back at attention.  You glided your tongue along his tip, relishing the gentle shiver that ran under you. But the man wasn’t about to stay still. 

 Taking advantage of the newfound freedom of his arms and hands, he grabbed your ass, spreading the cheeks, pawing at them, pulling you deeper into his mouth.  Soft moans escaped you. You were both over-stimulated and needing release. His lips latched onto your clit and sucked and licked, fully lapping up all he could get. Your peak approached, and you felt the telltale twitch of Nanami’s cock as well. He came just after you did, your thighs closing around his head as you gasped and trembled, orgasm hitting you hard. His cock spluttered and he came with a shout, spilling on your face and tits. 

You got off him and used a tissue from the table by the bed to clean yourself up, before lying down beside him and opening your arms. Wordlessly, Nanami crawled between them, resting his head on your chest. You left a soft kiss on his head and whispered, “You were such a good boy for me, Kento. I’m so pleased with you. You were such a good boy!” 

“Even if I did things without your permission?” he asked tentatively. 

You shook your head. “It was your first time; you were learning. I don’t hold that against you. You’re my good boy.” 

Something in Nanami’s chest fluttered. It might have been his heart. “Can we…can we do this again?”

You laughed. Nanami didn’t think he had heard a lovelier sound. “Of course, Pretty Boy. Maybe next weekend. I’ll give you my number.” 

It had been three months since Nanami had first met you in Debauchérie; two months since he had become yours and you, his; one month since Gojo and Geto had found out and started teasing him about it. The teasing had died down, but his feelings for you had only grown. In your familiar red lipstick and a gorgeous orange sundress, you walked up to him and sat in the chair opposite his, holding out his coffee and sandwich. “Here you go, my Pretty Boy.”

He smiled, “Thank you, Mistress.” 

The End

A/N: Dear GOD this was a toughie to write. I kept going back and changing things over and over because I needed this to be some of the best work I've put out. So I changed and changed and cut and reworked and edited. And now here we are. I did it for you Haitch. You beautiful bastard you. I hope you enjoy it. (I agreed to give her whatever she wanted in exchange she would have to turn on boops.) Anyway, thank you so much for reading! A big big thank you to my editor, proofer, beta reader @ominouslywritinginmyhead. Tagging @actuallysaiyan thank you for always supporting me <3

As always hearts and reblogs are much appreciated and comments will earn you a kissie.

[katsukiizmoon]

Katsuki Bakugo x F!Reader | 18+ | Royal ! AU

Synopsis: The years have flown by with Katsuki, who fills your body and mind with fire. You'll keep him with you till the day you die and then after that, thanking whatever deities there are for him. Maybe you were put on this earth to love him, like every other lifetime.

Tags: Prince!Bakugo, Characters aged up, Reader & Katsuki are sexually inexperienced, Virginity loss, Smut, Unprotected sex, lovey dovery, mushy gushy, parents don't approve, kissing, flirting, general cute shit, fluff, happy ending, praise

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Holy fuck I wrote this in one day. I don't even know how I just kept writing and writing. I need to go get food now because I forgot to eat. This is so sickingly sweet your teeth are going to rot man. One suggestive scene, one smut scene, and a lot of praise. Kinda wanna do a part two to this...

Your feet press into the grass below you, twisting as you turn to view Katsuki. His face glows in the morning sun, specks of what looks like stardust grace his cheeks and  your breath catches in your throat. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever laid eyes on in your twenty-three years of existence. For a moment, you truly soak in the idea of being put on this god forsaken planet just to meet him. Him, who sweeps your feet out from under you and lets you fall instead of catching you. There’s something otherworldly about his entire being and you’re positive you’ve loved him in every over life you’ve lived.

You run, feet digging into the dirt and thin dress bouncing as you do so. And you turn again, just to look at him. Who stands tall and broad, shoulders square and eyes forward at all times. Who raises a brow at you with a scoff as your hand reaches toward him. And your feet catch up under you, tripping on one another as you plummet to the ground. Dirt smears onto the side of your leg and a sprig of grass presses into your nose. Air knocked out of you, you lay heaving and looking up to where the stars once were and where they will be again.

“Goddamnit! I told you not to go running around, clumsy ass.” Katsuki hurries over in a few quick strides and peers over at you.

And god may the heavens, the hells, and anything between save your poor soul. His hair falls from his forehead, deep garnet eyes bore into your own and you think you’re going to die. You’ll do anything for him, in any moment, for just a taste of his partially chapped lips.  His teeth dig into his bottom lip, then he releases the poor flesh, and his mouth opens. Then closes. Then it opens again and closes. This time, however, his jaw clenches as he does so. A thick palm reaches towards you for a moment and you take it.

“That was fun.” You gleam, with a toothy smile.

“No, honey, that was you being a dumbass.” He reminds.

“Oh yeah?” You grin, teeth dipping into your bottom lip as you ponder a thought. His brows raise before his eyes narrow.  The cherry irises dig a hole in your soul and call it home, planting little seeds of wanderlust there. He knows you’re planning something.

Katsuki can tell by the way your fingers twitch like you’re resisting an inch, the uncontrollable grin spreading across your face. What he doesn’t know is what you’re planning. The gods have truly blessed him with a wild one, he thinks. Of all the rules he is expected to follow within the kingdom he lives, you are not one of them. His parents threw a toddler sized hissy fit when they started noticing the blush spreading across your cheeks when he was around. Their voices raising in anger, fists smacking down on the thick oak table that was meticulously crafted for only the most exquisite dinners. He denied it over and over, still to this day does, swearing on every book of worship he can that there’s “nothing there”.

But you both know it’s a lie. Hell- everyone- knows it’s deception. His mother, who cannot for the life of her understand, and his father- whom pinches his nose in stress every time he gets home late. They can see it in the glances you steal from the world towards one another. Or the extra plate he fixes himself, only to excuse himself to his “room” and not return for another three hours. After what felt like decades of fighting, it seems they’ve began to give up, on him. On the idea that he would drop your fragile, beautiful beating heart to the ground and allow it to weep and mourn the death of your blossoming union. As he’d rather kill them both, stealing the crown for the two of you, than he would lose your trust.

Within the few seconds he spent, gawking at the beauty of your everything, he forgot something important.

You were planning something.

Were.

Your hands grip onto him, foot, sliding to the back of his ankle to sweep him off his feet and onto the ground. Katsuki lands hard and you fall atop him. With a yelp and a groan, he looks at you incredulously.

“What the fuc-“ Katsuki starts.

You do not budge, allowing your body to lay between his bent legs, pressing your hands on his chest to keep him still. Your palms slide over the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling the muscle underneath, and up towards his throat. Your fingers make claim around his jaw area, two behind his head and thumbs directly on his jaw. It is there that your lips and teeth profess their yearning for every piece of his beautiful being. Every part of him, you want to drown in. You breathe in his essence and soak it deep into the marrow of your bone, where it will stay forever. Traveling up your lovers throat and jaw, you make your way to his lips.

Neither of you thought you’d crave someone saliva so much in your life. But his lips, his tongue- your lips, your tongue- is sweeter than any syrup made from flowers and honey. It is a miracle the two of you have not simply passed away from being without one another. It has only been a week since you’ve kissed, only one. He swore he’d be back and you swore you’d kill him if he didn’t show. And when his tooth nips the right corner of your bottom lip, something feral and raw bubbles up in your blood. It’s hot and thick and makes you want to cry and beg and confess your love all at once.

Something about it drives you crazy and you truly feel like banging your head against the thick, stone walls, of the castle would be of use. Maybe it would soothe the ache that wells deep within the pits of your  tummy and rushes down your legs and up your spine like fire. Where it controls you, takes over you, consumes you. And you’ve felt it once before, when he’d pressed you against a castle wall near the kitchen and kissed you so hard your lips felt like they’d bruise. Before he stalked down the hallway, head high, shoulders back, nodding to the person rounding the corner. He left that day, for the week- his mother sending him somewhere for swordsman skills.

A moan bubbles in the back of his throat when your hands lay purchase in the tufts of his thick hair. You pull, wanting him to be closer than ever before. His solid arms wrap around your torso and squeeze  as the two of you begin huffing thin breaths of air into your lungs. You still feel as if you cannot get enough of him, like something is missing, and you’re going to go insane. The stars above have graced you with a lot of things- patience is not one of them and never will be. So your lips begin to suck on the crook of his neck, wanting to live there for eons.

Blue and purple blossoms against the skin and electricity shoots through the marrow of your bones when a groan escapes his pretty lips. Fuck. You want to do it again, and again, and again until your lips are sore and cannot go on. So you start again and relish in his fingers pressing future bruises into  your hips. The charcoal grey top he has on turns a deeper shade, almost black, with the sweat from the both of you.

“Oh god-“ He whimpers out, as you pull your body up closer to him, thigh dragging across his crotch. His hips buck into the touch and you squeal, pulling back to take a breath.

With that, the two of you begin to call it quits, laying between the grass and stray dandelions, heaving. Your chests rise and fall sporadically and Katsuki is spending an extra moment gathering himself. The sun his high in the sky and when you straddle him he thinks he’s in heaven with the glow around your figure.

“Told you it was fun!” You giggle out, thumb grazing over his jaw as you marvel at his beauty.

Katsuki thanks the stars, the moon, the grass, the sun- everything for you. The wild spirit that told him to “take it easy” and shoved him down on the ground to claim his soul as hers. He’d spent hours training, doing anything and everything his parents asked of him. Sit up, walk straight, elbows off the table. But there was something burning in his core that begged to be fed, to be given just a twig here and there, something that allowed him to feel free. Then you, you came strutting through the castle with a basket of his clothing already folded. Muttering to yourself about how stupidly big the place was and how he was an asshole for not knowing how to “fold his own fucking draws”.

When you yelled at him for messing up your pile of neatly folded clothing, he thought he was hearing things. At first he was angry, as the prince, it was not your place to speak to him that way. But the other part of him wanted to worship you for seeing him like any and every other human being on the face of the earth. So he requested you more and slowly the bickering between the two of you became play fighting. The play fighting made its valiant transition into a peck on the lips here or there, or red cheeks while the other did even miscellaneous tasks.

His mother and father had always urged him to find love, offering him suitors of all shapes and sizes and races and kingdoms. They were all pretty in some manner, like Lillia, who made a crown of flowers for him as a gift. But he couldn’t bring himself to be anything other than angry with them. They wanted a spot on the throne, which was okay, it was the way of the people. However, Katsuki felt nausea bubble in the back of his mouth like acid reflux any time they did anything for him or attempted to get near him. Eventually, family determined he would just be without marriage, and would be required to lie with someone eventually for grandchildren.

You, however, oh lord, you. With angry words and a quick temper, soft plush lips and eyes that made him feel small. You were wild and broke every fucking rule set in front of you. He begs, for you, and only you. He’d break every bone in his body thrice and be confined to mashing grapes for the finest of wines for eons if it meant you gave him the time of the day. He’d do anything.

Later, the two of you are minding your own, going about the day without worry. You’re tending to some treats he requested for the room, a platter of sweets and fresh tea. When he waltzes into the room in a daze, amazed at your skill in pastry making once again. He checks behind him and closes the door.

“You, my love, will be the death of me.” Katsuki sighs, taking a bite out of a fresh fruit tart. He begins placing three sugar cubes into the glass to his right and one in his own, with a clink. You’re a sweet thing and your taste in tea is no different.

“Hmm? How so?” You ponder, stretching your shoulders.

Katsuki pulls off the shirt he’s wearing, a new one, to reveal multiple splotches of red and purple across his skin. Your mouth falls agape, in awe. You reach out to him, lightly smoothing the pads of your fingers over the bruising. Part of you feels guilty while something crude in your mind grins at the sight.

“Oh- fuck- I’m sorry! I got carried away.” You mumble, making a note to receive a fresh pack of ice to tend to it soon.

“It’s fine, asswipe.” He rolls his eyes.

It wasn’t the normal for the two of you. You’d never done that before. A peck on the lips here or there, occasionally if he was leaving off somewhere he’d kiss you harder, but you’d never gone that far before. Never had you’d allowed the beast in your soul to begin taking over, for a short amount of time. But god, you craved it again, again, again. He’d never find that out though, certainly. As you’d keep it locked away tight in the confines of your mind.

You return back to your duties for the day and do indeed make sure he receives a pack of ice for the bruising. He thanks you with another eye roll but you miss the way he stares at your body as you walk away. The day is filled with miscellaneous tasks such as tidying your own cabin, clearing plates and dusting the halls of the castles. As you approach the dining area, tea cups and kettle in hand, you overhear conversation.

“And what in heavens name is that on your collar, Katsuki?” His mother inquires, clearly unhappy. The metal clinks against the glass plates as someone sets a utensil down.

“Burned myself when I was working on blacksmith skills, damn.” Katsuki bites back.

“Uh-huh. I don’t believe you, have you been with Lillia?” She wonders loudly, taking a last bite of her dinner.

Your chest stings at the thought but you remind yourself that it is not your place. The dining area smells of fresh roast and potatoes, drizzled in gravy, and light dust from workers walking in and out of the room.

“Now why the hell would I be with her? I told you, I don’t like any of them, fuck off.” He grits, taking a gulp of water as he does so.

You take this as your chance to enter the room,  tea tray in hand. As you do, you give Katsuki a pointed look, before placing the tray on the center of the table and grabbing any excess dishes to hand off to the dishwashers. Katsuki grabs a sweet off the tray and places it, not so gently, onto the smaller plate in front of him.

“These are amazing, my favorite.” He murmurs, grabbing three sugar cubes and placing them in the tea cup.

His parents watch in awe as he does so, only to see him realize his mistake and take two out, putting them back in the glass container full of the little cubes. He grabs the fresh mesh sachel of herbs, tossing them into the ceramic and slowly pours piping hot water over them. The small spoon to his right is used to stir the sugar in and he waits for it to steep.

“Thanks, y/n.” He says, and you begin walking away with the dishes after a quick nod of your head.

“Dear god the tension in this room is so thick I can cut it with a fucking knife!” His mother gawks, flabbergasted at the sight in front of her. Her own tea has began to steep by this point and you continue making your way to the exit of the dining hall. As soon as you walk through the door, a sigh of relief escapes your lips and your mouth speaks without your permission.

“Fuck.” You groan, leaning against the castle wall.

It is later, with the sun saying goodbye as it sets across the horizon, you sit after a fresh washing in a floral nightgown. A knock at your door startles you, until you hear the familiar grunt of Katsuki’s presence. Swiftly, you make your way to the door and open it with a creak.

You couldn’t really complain about your job, working at the castle. You were provided with a cabin, with all the essentials and excellent thick blankets to accommodate for winter. Your pay was small, but gave you more than enough to buy necessities and some amount of décor to keep your humble home looking alive. Possibly the best part, however, was the small garden like are that came with the cabin, fenced in. You spent all of your first pay, years ago, buying essential seeds and garden accessories. It truly helped more than anyone could ever imagine when times were tough.

Katsuki steps in, taking care to lock the door behind him as he kicks his shoes off and begins taking the unnecessary items off of his body. He keeps the earrings, though, that are shaped like moons and cling to his ears in a cuff. The thin gold chain stays wrapped around his neck, but everything else is taken off and tossed to the side. He pulls down the backpack like tote from over his shoulder and places it on the floor, along with a big paper bag that crinkles as it sits.

“Whatcha doin?” You wonder, reaching your hands around his back to pull off the thick belt his parents make him wear.

“Brought a couple things, wanted ta see you. We only got a couple  hours today and I’ve been gone for a fuckin’ week.” He grumbles and begins reaching into the bag.

You head to the small sofa to your right, picking up a steeping cup of chamomile tea off of the coffee table in front of you and sitting down.  The sofa is a little rough, but you bought a nice throw pillow or two and some plush blankets to increase comfort. You take joy that Katsuki has never mentioned the state of your home, except when you first began living there. He was an ass about it, then, but only because you had no allowance for food in your budget that week and he thought you were god awful at budgeting due to it.

He sits with you, propping his feet on the table and pulls out a fresh container full of pot roast for you to eat. Next, a bunch of seeds and fertilizer for your garden. Finally, he reaches deep into the bag and pulls out a thin, long box with velvet across the top of it. His name is engraved atop it, in gold lettering.

Your brows quirk up at that, body perking at the idea of what could be in that box. Your prayers to the stars are answered when he opens it to reveal a thin, dainty anklet. Gold, like a chain, with rubies in the shape of diamonds grace it.  There’s a thin plate, with his name engraved into it on one side and on the other, it says “to eternity”. Your jaw begins to drop as confusion and shock spreads its wings across your face. He picks it up with thick fingers, and then grabs the inside of your calf, pulling it to the side and lifting up your foot. It’s subtle, the anklet. Not many will notice what it is, or care enough to see that it’s even there.

His fingers fiddle with the little piece of jewelry and you realize he is nervous as he fixes it around your left ankle.

And oh, Katsuki is. He’s so fucking nervous he feels like his heart is going to explode. None of his lucky stars told him it would be this terrifying to do something like this. No one warned him about the way his palms would sweat, the room would heat up, and his heart would lurch into his throat and make him want to run. But you’re everything he’s ever wanted, ever needed in life. He’s never been good with words, never been affectionate, and god he doesn’t know what to do with himself when you’re around. His soul suddenly feels fragile, like it never has before. As if it is a thin cylinder of glass in the palms of your dainty hands, that could shatter at any moment. You’re looking at him, confused, pretty little mouth open and cup of tea still in hand.

When he finishes, he thinks about saying he’s going to take a bath. But his hair is still wet from the one he just took in his own home. He only had all that junk on because his mother didn’t want him walking out of the castle without it.  So when his eyes meet yours, he croaks. He means to speak, means to tell you all the things he loves about you. From your hair, your nose, lips, personality, love for nature- everything. But he doesn’t, he just wordlessly gawks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

Your lips are on his, hot and heavy. Your cup of tea is all but forgotten as you smacked it down on the table. It has taken you both 8years to get to this point, four to be exact. Never did you think you’d be launching yourself onto the princes lap and trying to press your very souls together. He gasps out in shock and you lay purchase on his chest, sliding your hands under his shirt and up, touching anything you can get your hands on. Your lips trail down his jaw, behind his ear, and the expanse of his neck.

His throat feels like it’s going to close up, blood hot from your body pressing against his. One of your legs swings over onto each side of him, pressing your middles together while you leave more purple bruises up and down his throat. Both of your middles are hot, you think you might melt into him. Like hot lava, that same electricity jolts through your body as you’d accidentally pressed your crotches together and rocked forward. And oh, that felt good. He’s making noises underneath you, fingers digging into the skin of your plush bum and he thinks he’s going to hell in a handbasket.

And he’ll do it happily if he dies like this.

Your nightgown leaves little to the imagination, which certainly doesn’t help him out in this situation. He’s as hard as a rock and never experienced pleasure on this plane of existence before. Typically pleasure for him was spending a little time tucked away in his bedroom, with his hand and his imagination. He never really thought about anything, though. Occasionally he’d think about the way your lips felt on his and begin to wander with those thoughts, before calling  himself a an uncouth man and avoiding it. His parents never really talked with him about.. pleasure so to speak. They spoke of lying with someone as a chore, a duty, never mentioning that it could be pleasurable even once.

But now? He’s addicted to you. His body feels hot all over as you lightly grind the your clothed crotch against his own. His trousers are thin, as are your undergarments and he thinks he’s going to explode because you’re wet. You’re so wet you’re beginning to seep through the thin fabric of your plain, cotton panties and he thinks he’s on fucking fire. He can feel it. Your lips and tongue are all over his neck and he’s breathing heavier than he did when training for hours in the summer heat.

He’s spent his entire life chasing a high only to find that his one and only drug is feeling in love. And god, he needs his fix of you, or he’ll go mad and destroy kingdoms until the day he dies searching for you. His body feels like it’s been pulled on a string, the center of his chest lighter than it has ever been in his twenty four years of life, may he forever feel this.

Your break away from him to take a moment to breathe and in the process yank off his shirt. Muttering “I need to see you or I’ll die” and he swears he hears you whisper the words “so beautiful” when it finally comes off. Your arms wrap around, up under his own to drag your nails down the planes of his back. He lets out a gasp, sitting up and flipping you onto your back, hand cradling the back of your head so it doesn’t hurt. You look at him like he created the constellations in the sky and he almost cries when you moan. His cherry eyes, deep and startling, rake down the picture of you and focus on your lips.

They’re puffy, slick with spit and he needs a taste or he’ll starve to death.

By the time his lips are on yours, your lips flutter shut and he’s muttering out praise between kisses. Your nimble fingers slide into his hair and grip like you’ll float away without it. His hips kick forward at that, sliding against your covered and slick folds in the process. A moan falls off your lips and it wraps its lustful embrace around his throat because he makes a strangled noise. The deities, whomever, whatever they are must be real because he’s experiencing euphoria and heaven and hell all at once and it must be punishment and reward for his past lives.

“You’re so fucking- fuck” He gets out, and when you hear a whimper leave his lips something takes a hold of you like you’re a puppet.

Your hands move on their own, reaching down between you,  for you to do something licentious, that if anyone in the kingdom knew about they’d call you names. And they make their way between your bodies, gripping onto his erection and moving your palm up and down a little. It isn’t a lot but it’s enough that Katsuki moans like he’s desperate and almost in pain. His fingers find stability in the plush blanket beneath you and he grips for dear life.  And oh, my god, you feel the electricity in the air now. You can almost see it.

You’ve never wanted something so bad as you want him. In every meaning of that word, you want him. You yearn for him to claim your body like it is his, and only his, and you’d die happy. His fingers release their death grip on the blanket and instead, one hand trails up your night gown while the other props his thumb on your cheek. Your body is hot all over and you already need another bath after this, you think. You’re not thinking clearly, fog clouds your discretion and you begin acting rather than thinking. Inhibition lowered, you guide his thumb to your lips and palm at him a bit more roughly.

His jaw drops open at the sight in front of him. Your hair is a mess, nightgown hiked up, and you begin to suck on his thumb with spit slick lips. Your eyes peer into the depths of  his soul as you do it, half lidded, and intentional. It is lewd, provocative, and he’s on cloud nine. Your ministrations are becoming more sure, more certain with every second that passes by as sounds leave him. But he’s always been a bit competitive, a little proud, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make you feel good, too.

Your lips forget their task when his fingers press between your soaked, cloth-clad, folds. A sound you didn’t know you could make tells him he should keep going and he begins testing the waters. First he moves up and down, from the top to bottom, in the center, and you respond okay to it. It feels good but like something is missing. So, he tries something new, using two fingers to work in circular motions, feeling around. Something about it feels right even if he has no idea what he’s doing.

Your hips jolt, legs shaking and you begin singing expletives in response to his movements. His cock jumps in his pants with every sound you make and it takes everything in him not to jolt forward and press the tip of it against the heat in front of him. At this point, you’re biting on your lip, when you use your hands to yank him closer to you, nails digging in. He continues working you and you find sanity by biting as hard as you can into his shoulder, hiccupping from pleasure that is so good it almost hurts.

“Fuck- I love you. God I love you .” Katsuki pushes out, voice hoarse and searching for your response.

When you say it back, you repeat it like a broken record. Hiccuping, as a tears begin to well in your eyes from how good you feel. But you could feel better and you know you could. You both know you could and fuck it. You both need this. You’re addicts who can’t stop getting high off of one another’s scent and existence. Inhaling sweet fruit tart like aromas you both can’t get enough of. Your lungs burn when he isn’t around, your body aching and begging for the love of your life to come closer again. You’ve never been a romantic, never in your life, but this has to be love because you’d rid of every star in the goddamn sky to make room for him to be the brightest.

The sun pales in comparison to what happens next.

You squirm under his touch and remove his hand, he pauses, confused. Worry walks its way across his face and his mouth opens to say something until you hook your fingers into your panties and begin sliding them down. The moment he realizes where you’re taking this, he loses all control of himself and rips the side of them so that they hang off of your right ankle. You take pride in how desperate he becomes when he searches your eyes for an answer. You confirm and he is holding onto his sanity with a very thin string.

The string is going to snap one day, and, when it does, he’s going to take everything his kingdom has to offer and give it to you. He’ll search every corner of the earth and give you anything you wish for.

“I want you inside me, Katsuki” You whimper out and the string gets pulled a little tighter, a little closer to snapping.

“Oh my god.” He groans, yanking his own bottoms off and crawling between your legs.

Katsuki figures you’ve never done this, like him, but he read a book once that said it can hurt if you’re not prepared. So he starts slow, with one finger, sliding it in and out. One finger becomes two and he begins feeling around until a certain “come here” motion has you throw your head back and gasp. Your legs begin to shake and he’s so unbelievably in love, he realizes. Because as much pleasure as it brings him, he thinks about getting you another pillow so your head won’t hurt.

“You’re-“ You gasp, and he sits back on his heels.

He grip his cock with a firm hand at the base, pushing the tip in and he’s big. He’s so much bigger than you’d thought. You’re so full, to the brim, going to spill over if he keeps going and it stings but you don’t want him to stop. You can’t fathom this high ever ending.

He begins talking you through it, while he tries to grab onto the last little inkling of his sanity.

“Such a good girl- so good- you can do it baby you can do it.” He mutters out, kissing all over your face.  When his fingers come down to work in circular motions, you’re done for. Something has you pulled up by rope and everything goes black for a moment, and you’re floating. Nothing in the world matters as much as him, to you. Nothing matters except here and now where he’s got his length fully pressed to the hilt in side of you.

When you start squeezing inside of him, repeatedly, his hips speed up, and he realizes he’s going to cum. His mouth betrays him and he starts rambling on, desperate for release. His hips frantically smacking into yours as he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head. You keep saying you love him, that he’s good, that he’s perfect, muttering it all to yourself and you don’t realize he can hear it all. The praise fills his veins and courses through his heart like it is made to be there. It has made itself a home in his soul and he will never let it go. He doesn’t care if he has to lock it down in a cage and throw the key away.

“Gonna make you mine-you’re mine. My pretty girl, my love, g’nna steal the stars in the sky n give ‘em to you- fuck, you’re so pretty, I love you, love you.” He rambles, filling you to the brim with cum.

The pair of you sit after and bask in post-sex glow. You’re going to take the water from the sea and find a way to turn it to wine, so he’ll understand how drunk you get off of looking at his eyes. You’re going to give him anything and everything he’s ever wanted in this world because he is all you have ever wanted.  The moon sits high in the sky, watching over the two lovers she blessed herself, gracing them. You’re going to start a shrine out of gratefulness, for him.

His hair looks like the sunrise and his eyes remind you of cherries straight off the plant, attitude like fire and chili peppers, and his body is made of only the most beautiful minerals.

He looks like he’s going to cry when he has to leave early that morning, to tend to all of his duties. But he kisses you hard before he goes, saying he’ll miss you like the stars miss their loved one when it goes nova. And when you watch him walk away flowers bloom in your chest. The thorns prick at your heart and you tell them it’s okay. He leaves straightens his shoulders, keeps his eyes forward and walks  through the castle halls later that day with a grin. His parents begin to chastise him for being out late again and he promptly tells them to kick rocks.

[makncheese12]

Top Shelf pt. 7

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Summary: being the kid of a well-known book store owner was easy, so was running into famous people. But being book smart doesn’t make everyone people smart.

A/N: a short chapter but it’ll get better 🫶🏻

Warnings: my writing, language, suggestive shit

Jenna Ortega x reader

“I’m going to kill you,” you watch Lyle’s eye twitch a few times as he stares at you from the other half of your bed. “And then I’m going to kill myself so I can beat you in hell.”

You groan out, picking up your pillow and shoving it onto your face. “I’m sorry!”

“No you’re not! You got your kiss!” He says yanking the pillow off your face. “You couldn’t even tell me before so I could at least be excited to hear about it!”

“It just happened!” You groan out kicking your legs and rolling onto your front, already regretting telling him about your first kiss with Jenna. So much for bestfriends. “You guys were asleep so I brought her out onto the fire escape so we could talk, I didn’t expect to kiss her! Or for her to kiss me back!”

“Pathetic!” He yells out as he begins hitting you with the pillow. “Expect the unexpected! I could have told you that you both wanted to kiss each other!” He hits you one more time harshly as he says the last words, glaring down toward.

“Ow!” You say, hitting his arm as he settles down.

“And then what?” He demands, eyes wide as he hugs the pillow.

“We talked for a bit then she left.” You mumble, playing with your hoodie strings with a small pout on your face.

You couldn’t say you weren’t expecting more to happen, anything at all. You didn’t care as long as it didn’t make the whole situation awkward. God, you didn’t want to make it awkward. Maybe you shouldn’t have kissed her, then you wouldn’t have to worry about it.

You just hoped things would stay the same with some exceptions of course. Like the kiss, oh you definitely wanted to kiss her again.

“That’s it?” He asks, disgust written all over his face as he speaks. “Are you hiding some details from me? Thats not all that could have happened?”

“What do you mean that’s it? You want me to fuck her on my fire escape!?” You ask, sitting up quickly to stare wide eyed at the man.

“No! It’s too early for that!” He rolls his eyes and throws your pillow off to the side. You groan loudly as you let yourself fall back onto the bed, hands dragging down your face as you feel it beat up.

“Oh, calm down.” He rolls his eyes again and waves his hand toward you. “Don’t act as if I haven’t told you about all my sex stories.”

You glare at him through your fingers but he isn’t exactly fazed, he seems more amused by it all. Great not only are you embarrassed, he’s making fun of you while you are.

“I don’t want you to fuck her, yet,” he mutters the last part in hopes you wouldn’t hear but you hear it loud and clear, feeling your cheeks warm up. You roll onto your side so he can see your face as you glare at him.

“But I do want you to talk to her.” He says as he begins fixing pieces of your hair that are sticking to your forehead and on places they should be.

“See what the feels are.” You cringe at his words, nose scrunching up as you stare at him through your side eye view.

“Tell her your feelings, I’m sure she’ll tell you yours.” He says getting out of your bed and walking toward the bathroom.

You lay there for a moment, thinking about how it would come out to be. She could reciprocate your feelings and all could go well or she could just tell you it was an accident and she was just drunk, which was doubtful but still possible as you all were drinking before hand. You definitely liked the first one better.

“What if she doesn’t have ‘the feels’.” You say, making a hand gesture as you lay on your stomach to look up at him as he starts getting undressed.

“Yeah, she definitely kissed you cause she doesn’t like you back.” He says, a snort coming out after as he looks back at you with a smirk.

You narrow your eyes at him before speaking after a moment of silence. “What if I don’t like her?” You rest your chin in both of your hands as you watch him finish getting undressed leaving him in his boxer — well, yours you let him borrow for the not.

“Don’t bullshit me.” His face is blank when he says still but there’s still a glare on it as you roll onto your back to let him finish getting undressed.

You smile as you do so, he was — for once — right. But that didn’t make you any less nervous about doing any confessing.

“And then, once I’m proven right, you can ask her out on a date. A real one not that shit you two have been doing.” He calls out from inside the shower and you huff out as you grab your phone.

You tap the back of case as you stare at your message screen with Jenna. There were so many text — more than you’d like to admit as you’ve been texting for the last few months — and even more where you’d both text back to back.

It was embarrassing at first when your friends would catch glimpses of your message thread that never seemed to end but now it only made you smile.

You just stare at it before just deciding to send the message to get it over with.

————

You had gotten a response way to quick. You didn’t have time to process before the message bubble popped up, it was as if she were in the same predicament as you. You began to wonder if she too was degraded by a friend.

So, here you sat, music blaring in your ears on the subway going halfway across the city to see her as a man in his baggy spider man costume tries to give you a lap dance from the stanchions in front of your seat.

A sight to see as you lean more into your seat watching the man try to flip on the pole.

As soon as the bell rings your up on your feet and off the train before he can do anything else. You make your way up the stairs and maneuver your way around the large crowd and into the bustling Manhattan.

The snow was completely melted — well, almost. —which left mushy puddles and dirty streets and side walks, it didn’t help that the large chunks that were left looked like boulders as they sat frozen solid until it was warm enough to melt. The sign of the end of winter in New York, one no one who lived there enjoyed.

You let out a loud huff as you check the location one more time before setting off toward her hotel. You knew exactly where it was, coming often to do various things in the big city.

You’re quick to move past people and the angry traffic as they lay on their horns on the particularly busy day and time. You didn’t let that stop you from getting to where your supposed to, Jay walking when needed and ignoring people when they yell things and flick you off.

And soon enough your in front of the large hotel, standing not too far the doorman stands watching you closely too see if you’ll walk toward the doors or not.

You check your phone one more time just in case.

You

So I just.. walk in?

You text before looking back up at the hotel.

Jenna

Yeah, they should just let you in I called before hand

You

I don’t know, this guy looks like he’ll fight me if I get to close.

You look back up toward the doorman who continues to eye you.

Jenna

Would you like me to come down?

Jenna

I could even hold your hand if you’re really scared.

You

Haha, no I’ll just come up shaking in my boots.

Jenna

The offer is still open if you get too scared

You press your lips together before looking back up toward the doorman who narrows his eyes at you.

You narrow them right back as you move toward the door, keeping eye contact even after he opens the door and you move to go inside.

Once you enter you’re only met with the beautiful entrance and reception. Mostly old people lingering around speaking to one another while people in suits signed in or out.

Fancy. You thought as your eyes landed on the elevator. You make a bee line for it, letting the few people inside go out first before entering yourself along side an older couple who seemed to be having a bit of an argument.

“I just don’t see the problem.” The man rolled his eyes as the elevator dinged causing the woman to snap her head toward him.

“You don’t see the problem?” She asked exasperated. “You we’re sitting there with me while flirting with that waitress.” She says sharply and you press into the corner of the elevator, watching the numbers go up with anew found eagerness.

“No I wasn’t.” He rolls his eyes once again.

“Yes, you were!”

“We’re not doing this here.” He says as his eyes travel to you causing you to simply send him a glance as you look around as if nothing were happening.

“We’ll do this we I say we this!” She yells and as soon as that bell dings and the door opens, you’re out before it could go any farther.

You walk down the long hallway scanning the doors carefully. One side having B’s and the other having A’s. Jenna’s was 654B.

As you continue down the hall you can’t help but feel more and more nervous about how the talk will go.

You count down the doors until you reach 654B, seeing the number only making your heart race faster.

You take a moment to just stand there and contain yourself, breathing in and out slowly as you just stand and stare. If anyone were to see you they’d think you’re crazy and call security.

The door finally opens and you’re met with Jenna, face bare of any makeup baggy sweatshirt that almost hits her knees with a pair of shorts just hitting under it.

Her smile grows instantly at the sight of you, dimples that came whenever she would fitting perfectly with her freckled face.

The nervousness only made your heart beat faster at the sight.

“Hey.” She says, and a shy smile forms on your face as you look down at her.

“Hey.” You say back as she moves aside and opens the door a little more for you to enter.

The actress' hotel room is spacious and luxurious, with tall windows overlooking the city. The furniture is modern and sleek, and there's a faint scent of vanilla in the air.

Fits her just nice.

“Glad you could make it, was wondering if I was the only one who made it to this exclusive meeting.” She says with a teasing smile that makes your heart skip a beat before it starts up again, beating much faster than before.

Teasing was a good sign though. Right?

“It’s definitely a step up from my apartment.” You say as you look around the small seating area, her things litter around the room, not in a messy way though. It just seemed like she was staying her for a few months.

“Don’t let this celebrity glamour intimidate you, we’re still two people having a normal conversation.” She says it so effortlessly as if it didn’t bother her. As if she had this entire thing calculated in her head and was ready to talk about it.

She leads you toward the couch, it was white leather. You thought? It was slick like leather and it was pretty damn white. It was a miracle she hadn’t stained the thing yet.

“I guess we can get straight to the point and talk about the elephant in the room.” You say after taking a seat not too far away from her on the couch.

“Right down to it, huh?” She sighs out but nods none the less. Perhaps she didn’t have everything calculated.

Her leg bounces a little as she takes a moment to think of what to say, biting her lip lightly as she zoned out for a moment.

“I didn’t know you could be so nervous.” You smirk lightly as you lean back into the couch as if you weren’t having a heart attack in your seat as of this moment. A little light teasing should ease it and make the conversation easier.

“I didn’t know you could be such a smart ass.” She hits you back almost instantly coming out of her zoned out state, a smirk of her own as you nod slowly, narrowing your eyes at her.

This was the Jenna you were so used to. Confident and quick with her words. It was very charming.

“Touché.” You reply as you wait for her to speak or come up with something on your own without sounding to weird.

She breaks the silence with a sigh. "Okay, let's cut to the chase. What are we doing here?" she asks, trying to keep her voice soft and casual, despite the nervous pit in her stomach.

You take a deep breath, summoning your courage. "Well, I've kind of been wondering the same thing," you begin, your voice trembling slightly. "I mean, I'm not exactly a celebrity, and I'm sure you have other people you could be dating."

The actress rolls her eyes playfully. "Oh, please. Don't sell yourself short. Sure, I may be famous, but that doesn't make me any better than you."

You manage out a small smile. "Thanks. But still, I'm not sure what you could see in me."

Jenna leans forward slightly, placing a hand on your knee, the simple action making your heart jump into your throat. "What I see is someone kind, intelligent, and genuinely funny. And that's more than enough for me."

Your cheeks turn red, but your smile grows wider. "That’s pretty sweet, especially after being berating my Lyle all morning."

The actress chuckles, the thought of the younger man making her smile. "Just calling it like I see it. But seriously, what do you think about all of this?" she asks, gesturing between the two of you.

You take another deep breath before speaking. "Well, truth be told, I've been crushing on you for a while now. And when we kissed last night... it was… amazing."

The actress smiles softly. "I felt the same way."

Your heart skips a beat at her words once again. "So, what does that mean for us?”

The actress takes a moment to think. "It means we can take it slow and see where this goes. I don't want to rush into anything, but I do like spending time with you, we can still be together just taking things slow."

You nod slowly, a small smile on your face as her mini ramble. "I agree. Let's see where this takes us."

It wasn’t a bad idea. Seeing as you two finally got your feelings out

As you think the actress suddenly remembers an important detail. "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you something," she says, looking at you with a serious expression. "I'm actually leaving the city in a week.”

Your heart sinks at the news. You had been hoping that the friendship between them could blossom into something more, but now it seemed like it was all about to be cut short. "I see," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "Where are you going?”

"Back home," the actress explains. "I’ve been doing a lot of stuff here lately and I think it’s time for me to go back to do some other stuff as well.."

You nod slowly, knowing that you can't ask her to just stay with you rather than go home and do her career. But you also know that it's going to be hard saying goodbye after spending so much time together.

"I understand," you say after a moment. "I'm just glad we got to meet each other while you were here."

"Well, I actually have one last thing to tell you," Jenna says, giving you a small smile. "I was invited to the Met Gala next week."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "The Met Gala? Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously," she replies, a proud smile on her face that gives you a warm feeling in your chest. "And I was wondering if you'd come, even as a viewer or something. Then come to the after party with me if you can."

Your is speechless for a moment. You had never imagined that they would have the chance to attend such an exclusive event, let alone with someone as famous as Jenna. Hell, you never even thought you’d meet Jenna.

"Of course, I'd love to," you say finally, trying to hide your excitement. "Thank you so much for inviting me."

"You're welcome," Jenna says with a large smile. "It'll be a night to remember, that's for sure."

You nod in agreement, already thinking about how it would go. You feel like your life is about to take a very exciting turn with Jenna.

You really can't believe your luck. You’ve never wanted to really attend such a big event, but to get to go with one of Hollywood's biggest stars must have been something straight out of a movie.

"I can't believe you’ve got me going to the after party," you say, still trying to process the information.

"I know, it's crazy," the woman replied with a smile. "But I promise you, it's going to be a night you'll never forget."

The bookstore owner nods, excited but also a little nervous. You’ve never attended an event like this before, and you don't want to make a fool of yourself.

"Actually, I have one more thing to tell you," Jenna says, a twinkle in her eye. "And it has to do with our outfits."

You raise an eyebrow, confused. "Our outfits? What do you mean?"

"Well, I've been thinking about what we should wear to the Met Gala," Jenna explains. "And I think I have an idea, I’ll have to speak to my fashion designer but you’re going to have to trust me on this.”

You narrow your eyes at her, slightly concerned with the mischievous look on her face but let it go.

"Well, I'm open to anything," you say cautiously.

"Great!" the actress says, a knowing smile spreading across her face. "I'll leave the rest a surprise, but trust me, it's going to be perfect."

[snoozepotato]

We’ll Be Fine -14- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

she/her pronouns + female anatomy

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, swearing, eye contact, p-in-v sex, unprotected sex, over-stimulation, multi-orgasm, creampie, soft Ghost, anxiety, scars, tattoos, fluff

Masterlist

Summary: Ghost shows up at your room late at night, he just got back and has been gone longer than expected. You missed him a lot and things get out of hand (≖ᴗ≖)

Part 14

~UNDONE~

You’ve been trying your best to keep the negative thoughts at bay, it's not abnormal for missions to take longer than expected. But Ghost's vague estimate of a few weeks left you unsettled, even more so as time started to pass. A few weeks had turned into a few months, as life slogged by on base around you. Keeping yourself weighed down with busy work while your mind drifts.

Things take time, hell, you know that from experience. Even so, you’ve been worried about him, it's started affecting your already inconsistent sleep schedule. And dammit, you missed having tea with him in the morning!

You'd been brooding in your room since completing your work for the day, curled up in bed wearing Ghost’s hoodie. You're thankful he never asked for it back, in moments like these it was one of the only things that kept you grounded. Snuggling into the garment and taking a deep breath. It's been a while but somehow his scent still lingers in the fabric, or maybe it’s just some wishful thinking on your part.

Fuck, you're a wreck…

A sudden knocking on your door startles you from your position on the bed. Staring perplexed, why would someone be here this late? There's a sudden spark of fear that shoots through you, with the odd hour, what if it's bad news? You're frozen there for a moment, feet dangling off the edge of the mattress. Anxiety sitting cold in your gut as you just stare blankly through the darkness.

Until another knock erupts from the other side of the barrier, louder this time. You spring from the bed, the fear overtaken by curiosity. Whoever it is better have a good reason for waking you… Well, you technically weren't asleep, but you should be. You hastily unlock the door to peek your head out, only to be greeted by a broad chest.

There in your doorway, looking a little worse for wear is Ghost.

You're struck by the view of him standing there clad in that worn mask with the skull face plate. You've seen him wearing it on more than a few occasions, usually when he's on his way off base for work. It's rather intimidating, you're sure it serves its purpose out in the field. But if you're being completely honest, it's always left you feeling a little heated.

“You’re home,” dazed words escape you, feeling foolish at your choice of phrasing.

“Did I wake you?” He's grasping the door frame with a gloved hand, peering down at you with mild concern. Did he strip his gear off and immediately come looking for you? When did he even get back?

“No, I couldn't sleep… You can sit down,” you mutter, turning on the light and motioning him in. Taking one last glance out into the vacant hallway before closing the entry after him. Leaving you alone in the quiet of your room with Ghost, who's stripped off his jacket and taken a seat at your desk chair. Your frazzled mind is racing while you try to keep your rapidly slipping composure. The space grows quieter by the moment as he sits there staring at the ground between you.

“Everything ok?” You ask, but his mind is somewhere else, “Simon?” Stepping forward you stand in front of his seated form. The sound of his name coaxes his gaze up to meet yours, and fire erupts in his dark eyes.

“I’m fine,” he mutters.

“I was worried about you,” the words fumble from your lips as you take another step forward to stand between his widened legs.

“That why you're moping about your room… In my clothes?” He's smirking beneath the fabric of the mask, very obviously taking in your form before him. You can’t help but feel naked under his heavy gaze despite the oversized garment.

Observing wordlessly as he removes his gloves, and rests a now bare appendage at the hem of the sweatshirt. Your eyes are locked, as he searches for any sign of hesitation. Caressing the delicate skin of your thigh before trailing up to halt at the waistband of your shorts. Heartbeat hammering away in your chest as he dips a finger beneath the thin fabric. Dragging it down till the garment slips, pooling at your feet. A shaky breath escapes you as his lingering touch skims back up your leg to rest on your bare hip.

“Nothin' under those, you waiting up for me?” He murmurs darkly, eyes burning into yours.

“I missed you,” the words slip out as he lazily pulls you down to settle into his lap without resistance.

You reach out to caress the side of his face, thumb brushing over the rigid material of the weathered mask. He's watching you, curiously eyes meeting yours. Embarrassment creeps in as he catches your dreamy stare. Looking away with blushed cheeks and shifting restlessly.

“You seem to like this one,” he coaxes, tugging you further against him, putting an end to your weak attempt at retreat.

“I never said that,” you mutter defensively, caught off guard by his accusation, not that it wasn’t true…

“Don’t have to, I've caught you staring at me,” he pauses, “guess I never thought that was why.”

The dry words only further your embarrassment, as your head slumps against his shoulder to hide your feverish complexion.

Suddenly you’re hoisted upwards, choking down a shaky breath as the stiffness of him presses against you. Your legs braced around him as he makes his way over to your bed, lowering you onto the cot and caging you beneath him. As your body sinks into the thin mattress pad your mind is suddenly plagued with doubt, insecurity sparking in your chest.

“You're sure?… You were gone a while” you murmur awkwardly, propping yourself onto your elbows as you peer up at his looming figure.

“I’ve been waiting so patiently, love,” his words drip with desperate sincerity, that fire smoldering in his eyes as he descends upon you.

His hands work their way up your sides to snake beneath the material of the sweatshirt. Pulling the garment over your head and tossing it onto your desk chair. Your bare state would have felt unjust if his own shirt hadn't followed suit immediately after.

Leaving you laying there trying not to gawk, while nimble hands make quick work of his belt. Freeing the beast that's clearly trapped within the confines of his pants. To say the scale was daunting would be an understatement, but lying there beneath his toned figure, you were more than willing to accommodate.

“You ready for me?” He drawls, stroking his hard cock as he gazes down at your exposed form, like he's about to devour you.

“I’m all yours,” you coo as he brushes your entrance. Slowly teasing his head in and out of your already dripping slit, taking care to drag across your needy flesh till your thighs are twitching with building anticipation. A tightly coiled spring ready to burst, trembling and desperate for more.

The impatience quickly takes hold, hooking your knee over his hip to pull him deeper into you as he hisses out a curse. Consumed by the satisfying pleasure of being filled to the brim, his name uttered as a breathy sigh escaping your lips. Glazed eyes half-lidded as he admires your blissed expression, all for him.

“Fuck, you're tight” he rasps, the pressure building as your release begins to spill over. Gripping your knee, he pushes your leg up to split you open for his greedy length.

Gasping out in desperation, you arch to meet the friction of his rhythmic thrusts. Chasing that perfect angle, body tensing as you pulse with crackling pleasure. Riding out your orgasm all the while swimming in his murky gaze. The feeling of unraveling in his hands, fallen apart and at his mercy.

It's overwhelming.

Catching notice of your unrest, his pace slows as you try to catch your breath. But your eyes are downcast, suddenly afraid to meet his stare.

Icy doubt licking at your chest.

“Keep your eyes on me love,” hushed words murmured against your ear. You suck in a sharp breath, swallowing down a whimper as his heat leaves you. He grasps your chin with a firm hand, forcing you to meet his sharp gaze. Expecting to face the reaper, only to catch sight of his bare stumbled jaw. Your eyes lock for a long moment, the mask is gone. You're left gaping at him, eyes wide and startled.

“You alright?” His words are short, concern sparking in his stare.

You're so used to anonymity, it's easy to never see someone's face when you're sitting behind a computer all day. There was always that sliver of secrecy with Ghost until this moment, and it had always felt normal. Even so, it's still his eyes that draw you in, his trust in you is so blatant now. Every ounce of anonymity was stripped away, Simon caging you beneath him.

“I’m good,” you mutter through a sigh, leaning into his touch as his hold relaxes to caress your flushed face. His tense features unwinding at the view of you smiling up at him.

“Bend over for me love, I want to look at you, all of you,” he murmurs, your eyes held in his tender gaze.

Pulling you from your lying position, to bend you over the bed before him. Anxiety creeping in again as he admires your form from behind, feeling utterly vulnerable under his heavy gaze. But this heat washes over you, like he’s engulfed you in the fire smoldering in his eyes.

“Pretty little thing,” he breathes, running a hand down the length of your back, thumb tracing along the curve of your spine. He can feel the scars that lie beneath the white of your tattoo, a reminder of where you've been, how you got to him.

“Look how easy you’ve come undone for me,” he teases, an evident smirk in his tone.

Your back arches as he drags the head of his cock over your already sensitive flesh. Entering you again from your position bent over the bed. Your leg lowers to the floor to retain your balance as he presses deeply into your soaked folds. Simon letting out a low grumble of a moan as he thrusts to bury himself completely within you.

“Fuck, you're so wet,” he groans.

A strained wine escapes your lips at the friction, vision losing its focus momentarily. Craning your head to the side, catching his dark stare out of the corner of your sight.

“Your eyes… Do something to me,” you gasp breathlessly, your heated words gripping him as he continues relentlessly thrusting into you.

“Sensitive,” you sputter, bucking against him as the walls of your heat twitch with building pressure. Rough hands pulling you by the waist to meet his pounding length.

“Good,” he pants, “let go for me.”

Snaking a hand around you to rest the pad of his finger on your swollen clit. The action alone causes your hips to spasm involuntarily from overstimulation. Trembling wrists nearly give way as he circles the tender flesh.

Biting back a gasp as you're pushed over the edge again, your walls clenching around him as another orgasm rolls through you. His large hand cradles your breast, arching your back further as his thrusts grow frantic, cock pulsing as your heat spasm.

“Fuck,” he rasps, groaning as he jerks stiffly within you. Release spilling over, your body pressed against him, his breath hot in your ear. You shudder as his cock throbs, filling you with warmth, and you're unable to suppress the soft moan that escapes your lips.

His fingers curl into your side as he buries his face into your shoulder, thrusting sharply into you once more, completely drained.

You knew he'd eventually have to leave, but you couldn't help but drift off to sleep nestled against him. Simon's back to the door as he gazes down at you, keeping watch over your resting form.

The mask has returned when you wake sometime later, to a hand brushing the stray hair from your face. He murmurs something but you don't quite catch it through the haze of your slumber. In your foggy state, you completely miss him nabbing the mug off your desk before heading out the door.

The sound fully rips you from your stupor as you sit up in your cold bed, realizing you're once again alone in your room. You contemplate letting sleep take hold, but instead get up to re-clothe yourself in the sweatshirt he'd discarded on the chair. You feel kinda pathetic laying there sulking again in his absence, missing the furnace of a man in your bed...

But your thoughts are halted by a firm knocking on the door. Before you can second-guess yourself, you're already yanking the entry open. And there he is standing outside your door again, but now holding two cups of tea. Changed out of his dirty clothes from earlier, but still wearing that mask… 

What a fucking tease.

“Told you I'd right be back,” he states plainly, making his way back into the small space and taking a seat at your desk.

Watching amused as you settle back onto your bed. It's quiet as you sip your tea, mask left discarded on your pillow. His short-cropped hair lay disheveled, pressed against his head from the long hours of wear. Calling your name softly, he looks so tired but there's this levity in his eyes.

You might have made a lot of mistakes in life, but meeting Simon Riley wasn't one of them. Looking at you with that tender gaze, it felt like home. Somewhere to return after the horrors of the world take their toll, hands to guide each other through the darkness.

WELL then, I hope you enjoyed (′ꈍᴗꈍ‵)

Thank you so very much for reading, this is all I have planned for this section of their story. I've got a few related fics/oneshots mulling in my brain so be on the lookout for those and more art!

@tallrock35 @violet-19999 @hypernovaxx @k4marina @sebsbee @d4z01 @ramadiiiisme @embers-of-alluring @enfppixie

[albertasunrise]

Look for the Light - 1

Masterlist

Summary: Four years ago, Joel saved you from certain death. In return, you followed him faithfully. Always ready to do and give him whatever he asked, despite the hurt it inflicted on you, body and soul. Agreeing to go with him to deliver Ellie to the Fireflies… this would be the last time you’d follow him… After this, your debt would be paid.

Relationships: Reader x Joel Miller, Joel Miller & Ellie, Reader & Ellie

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose to give none. Read at your own risk. 18+ (So excited to share this with you. So much to come folks! 🙊😍)

Series Masterlist

You were standing guard when you overheard their conversation. You’d not meant to eavesdrop but when your name had fallen from Ellie's lips, you couldn’t help yourself. 

“You and her a thing?” The child asked and Joel scoffed. 

“Pass.” He replied and your heart sank. 

“Something is going on with you two though.” She stated matter of factly and you could almost picture Joel’s expression. 

“Pass.” He replied again and that was your cue to turn around again and return to keeping the watch. 

“How'd you end up in Boston?” Ellie pushed and Joel practically grumbled out his reply. 

“Pass.” His favourite response “No more questions about me.” 

You tuned out after that. You could vaguely hear them discussing the life expectancy of the infected but you didn’t care to listen. Your mind instead wandered back to how you had met Tess and Joel. How they’d saved you from almost certain death. 

You were sure you were hallucinating when two figures came into view. You blamed it on the blood loss. Damn raiders had got you good. Clutching to your leg, you watched them slink into view. You knew they would likely kill you. If anything, they would put you out of your misery. So that’s why, when they had gotten close enough, you’d called out for help. The shadows blocked the sun as they came to a stop beside you, your vision going black as they crouched to your level. 

“She’s been shot.” Stated Tess as she inspected your wound “Best just leave her here.” She stated as she got back to her feet but Joel remained. 

Normally he would have agreed with his partner. He’d left plenty of doomed souls to die where he’s found them but there was something about you that drew him in. 

“We’re not far from Bill and Frank’s.” He stated as he placed two fingers on your neck “If we get her there, they could help.” 

“Bill barely lets us in.” Tess grumbled, “What makes you think he’ll help her!” She scoffed. 

“Frank will.”

“Why do you care Joel?” She asked, pulling his gaze to her “She’s a nobody. You’ve done it before!” 

Joel didn’t reply. He simply scooped her up into his arms and started walking. Less than an hour later, Frank was patching you up and Bill was grumbling about dragging strays into his town. 

You hadn’t strayed from Joel's side a day since 

 “You can put the gun down, Joel.” Sat Tess as she managed to barge the door open. 

You made your way to Ellie's side and studied Tess’ expression. 

“What is it?” You ask and she simply motioned for you to follow. 

This couldn’t be good news. 

Following through the abandoned hotel restaurant, you made your way to what looked like a balcony in the middle of renovations, before everything went to hell. Stepping through a plastic curtain the truth of your predicament came to light. You wouldn’t be going the way you’d hoped. 

“There’s so many.” Gasped Ellie and you glanced at the girl a moment before sharing a look with Joel. 

“The last time we were here, they were still deep inside the buildings.” Stated Tess as she watched the infected writhe on the floor “Then I guess enough people came through looking for the QZ, they went inside seeking shelter... and that's how they get more and more of the city bit by bit, year after year.“

A cloud parting overhead allowed the sun to shine its light down on the hoard below and their snarling became louder and almost pained. Ellie’s eyes widened in realisation as she watched them all writhe and scream on the ground below them. 

“They’re connected!” She stated and you sighed. 

“More than you know.” You stated as you looked from her to Tess “The fungus grows underground. Long fibres like wires some of them stretching for over a mile.” 

Tess scraped a hand over her face as she then looked up at Joel before looking down at the child standing beside you. 

“Now, you step on a patch of cordyceps in one place, and you can wake a dozen Infected from somewhere else.“ She piped up and Ellie looked over at the older woman “You’re not immune from being ripped apart. You understand?” 

Ellie nodded before looking back down at the infected blow. 

“It’s important.” Tess continued, her tone firm “I’m tryin’ to keep you alive.” 

Ellie gave the woman a nod and then that was that. End of conversation. 

“So we’re not going that way.” She grumbled and you shook your head. 

“No.” 

“What do we do then?” She asked, looking up at Joel “Short way?” She asked, almost panicked. 

“Museum.” He replied, glancing at Tess before his eyes came to rest on you. 

“Come on, we need to get going.” Piped up Tess as she led the way back into the hotel. 

You followed without question, only to be stopped by a firm hand on your wrist. 

“Joel, what are you-“ 

“You should head back.” He stated firmly “It’s gonna get dangerous.” 

“More so than it already has been?” You scoffed, pulling your hand from his grip “Why me and not Tess?” 

“She has more experience in this sorta thing.” He replied and you rolled your eyes “I’m serious.” 

“You just wanna keep a backup play thing in case you lose one.” You replied bitterly.

“That’s not.” He shook his head and you scoffed again. 

“So you’re not fuckin’ us both?” You pushed, leaving Joel at a loss for words “Look, Joel, I’m not your girlfriend. You can fuck who you like but I’m also not your property. So you can’t order me around. I will deliver the girl then that’s it.” 

“What is?” He asked and for a moment, you thought you could sense fear in his tone.  

“I’m done.” You replied plainly before making your way back inside and leaving a speechless Joel in your wake. 

A mixture of emotions washed over him. Frustration, anger, hurt! Just to name a few. But the main one was sadness. Hearing you say that after this, you were done with him had cut him deeper than you knew. He had never been the best at showing you what you meant to him but he’d hoped you knew that you meant something. Maybe even everything. 

But it was clear to him that you knew nothing of his feelings. That, or you simply didn’t return them. 

"You've gotta be fսcking kidding me." Grumbled Ellie as she looked up at the old building. 

Fungus had enveloped most of the front of the structure. You could already picture how it looked inside. Bodies permanently fused the walls and floors. Their expressions set in stone for the rest of time. 

"Well, there's a way across from the top floor." Tess stated as Joel started to inspect the Museum entrance before glancing at you. 

You hadn't looked at him since leaving the hotel. Rolling his shoulders back and schooled his features, returning his attention to the fungus-covered building. 

"Well, then I guess it's fine." 

You smirked at Ellie's sarcastic reply, knowing how riled up Joel would be by it. The man appeared to be all stoicism and few words but in reality, it was easy to push his buttons. 

"We used to take it all the time." You piped up, looking at the teenager. 

"Okay."

"Look it was fine." Tess continued but Ellie cut her off with her one-word response. 

"Awesome." 

You finally turned your attention to Joel who was inspecting the fungus more closely. Knocking it a few times with the butt of his gun before turning to look at you all again. 

"It's bone dry." He stated as he made his way back over to Tess' side, the two of them sharing a look that had the green monster inside of you flaring its nostrils. 

"It could mean they're all finally dead in there." He suggested and Tess nodded before glancing at you. 

It was the first time since leaving the hotel that you'd studied his expression and your brows drew together as you studied the sudden soulful look he was giving you. You allowed yourself, just for a moment, to believe that he was looking at you that way because he cared about you. You knew that you were little more than a sidekick and an occasional release for this man. 

The release part had been a more common occurrence lately. How it had started was still a little fuzzy. The two of you had come close to death, had gotten drunk and fucked each other's brains out. Then, when Tess was indisposed, he'd come to you for an escape from the real world and you'd taken what you could get. 

Then something changed and you spent most evenings in each other's beds. You'd hated how easily you had allowed him to use you but you had fallen for him. So you let it happen over and over, simply to have something. Even if it hurt you, body and soul. 

You'd barely had a moment to react to the sound of your door opening and closing before Joel was on you. Normally you would be quick to respond to his needy kisses but that evening you weren't and he noticed it straight away. 

"What's wrong?" He asked, pulling back to look at you properly "You been drinking?" 

"So what if I have?" You asked, pushing him off of you and reaching for the whiskey on your side table "HEY!" You growled when he snatched it from you and took a swig.

"Need to catch up." He grumbled and you rolled your eyes at him. 

"Bad day?" 

"Could say that." He lamented, taking another long pull before handing it to you. 

The two of you shared the bottle before he was kissing you again but it was different to before. He took his time, his hands tracing your curves as his lips painted your flesh with his passion. Clothes were removed and then his mouth devoured your sex. This was new. He'd never done this to you before and as his tongue played you perfectly, you wondered, why now? 

His thick fingers pushing into your heat had you hurtling towards your climax. Joel crooked his fingers perfectly, fingertips brushing against that spongy spot inside that no one had ever reached before and you came with a cry. 

"Mmmm, I love the sounds you make when you cum." He purred as he situated himself between your thighs. 

You grinned up at him as you allowed your feelings for him to leak out. The expression was quickly wiped from your face when he pushed his throbbing length into you. 

"Fuck." You choked, throwing your head back and baring your neck at him. 

He nipped and kissed the flesh there as he thrust languidly in and out of you. The usual frenzied sex you shared was replaced with something slower and so much more passionate. He hit your sweet spot over and over as his tongue danced with yours. His hips grinding into you were all it took to have you cumming around him and he growled in your ear as his release took hold of him and he painted your walls with his spent. 

That night you fell asleep in each other's arms and you woke up to him holding you against his firm body. You smiled at the sound of his soft snores before your head and allowed yourself to revel in the feel of this domestic moment because you knew the moment he woke up... It would be over. 

You were dragged from your memory by Joel calling after you. Standing at the door with his gun in hand you nodded and made your way over to him. You walked passed him without a glance, your own gun now firmly clasped in your hands. 

Torches brought to light that the museum looked exactly how you had pictured it. The building creaked and groaned from the weight of the dead fungus and you wondered how much longer the structure could handle it. 

"Yeah... cooked." Joel stated as his torch illuminated the petrified remains of an infected victim. 

"Oh, finally, some fuckin' luck." Said Tess as she winked at Ellie. 

"I guess we should've gone this way in the first place.." Joel uttered as he stepped further in and you rolled your eyes at his statement. 

Hindsight was a wonderful thing. 

"Oh shit!" Yelped Ellie and you sprinted to her side to see a fresh corpse, flesh cut to ribbons "What the fuck did that?" 

"Maybe..." Tess trailed off, her breathing picking up as she looked from you to Joel "maybe he was attacked outside, and crawled through the doors." She whispered and both you and Ellie turned to look at her "The door was open... Could've been him."

Ellie gave you a panicked look before returning her attention to Tess and Joel. 

"I don't hear anything." 

"Who would you hear?" Ellie asked and Joel was quick to shush her "Who would you hear?" She repeated in a hushed tone. 

Joel glanced at you a moment. You looked scared and he wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms and tell you that everything was going to be okay. He then looked back at the teenager who was looking at him for answers.

"Are you saying an Infected did that?"

"Shhh."

"Because I've been attacked by one and it wasn't like that." Ellie uttered as she glanced back at the body. 

"Okay, from this point forward, we are silent. Not quite... Silent." Joel instructed as he looked between you, Ellie and Tess. 

"What..."

"No. No questions. Just do it." 

There was no room for argument. You all followed him up the stairs without question and what greeted you, would haunt your nightmares for years to come. You were split from Joel the moment a clicker came screaming at you. The last time you saw him, he was battling one on his own whilst Tess and Ellie ran for cover. 

When you found each other again, it was in the attic of the museum. You couldn't stop yourself from pulling Joel into a hug when he sprinted into view with Ellie at his side but then Tess stepped in and you pulled away. You didn't look at him as you climbed out the window and sprint across the makeshift bridge beyond. You hated the fact you'd let your feelings control your actions but you'd just been so happy to see him. You heard Ellie speaking behind you but you kept your attention fixed on the view. 

"You're in love with him aren't you." She asked out of the blue and you glanced at her a second before looking back to the derelict skyline. 

"Pass." 

"God, you all really hate talking about your feelings huh?" Ellie scoffed and you allowed yourself to smile at her comment a moment before your shoulders tensed as Joel stepped up beside Ellie. 

"Is it everything you hoped for?" He asked the teenager, glancing at you and then at her. 

"Jury's still out." She replied as she looked out at the cityscape "But, man, you can't deny that view." 

"Should have seen it when the buildings were still standing." You chuffed, remembering how it looked when you'd visited with your parents. You'd been just a few years older than her, there visiting your aunt who'd lived in an apartment building that was now reduced to little more than shattered glass. 

"C'mon, let's get there before it's dark." Ordered Tess as she stomped past the three of you and after a short glance at Joel you followed the older woman wordlessly. 

The walk gave you time to think. In a few minutes, you would be handing Ellie over to the Fireflies. You had told Joel that after this, you were done. You just weren't sure you could really leave the man who owned you body and soul. Then when you glanced at him and noted the look he and Tess shared, you decided you had to. 

After today... You and Joel were done. You wouldn't be following him into certain danger ever again. 

How wrong you were going to be. 

Next

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[igotanidea]

Snow: Jason Todd x reader

Christmas bingo day 20: snow

No one was truly expecting a white Christmas that year.

It was rather wise to not get ones hope up because the weather forecast on every channel were only predicting rain instead of snow.

But-

There's this saying that Christmas is a time of miracles.

The first flake was almost shy, landing on the windowsill of their apartment. Quiet and curious almost as if it was trying to take a peak of what was happening inside and stirring Jason awake when he opened his eyes the most amazing and magical view came to his eyes.

Dozens and dozens of little pieces of snow falling from the sky turning the dark, gloomy landscape of polluted and crowded city into a real winter wonderland.

Jason smiled to himself observing it for a moment enjoying the moment of peace and quiet. A luxury he didn't get to indulge in very often. But just for now everything was good in the world. Just for a moment he wasn't a vigilante but travelled back in time to happier times, to his childhood at the Wayne manor. He was a boy playing outside the walls of his house with Alfred, laughing and just having fun, being carefree and content.

No Batman, no robin, no villains and vigilantes.

Just a boy and his grandad making a snowman and warming up in the kitchen with a cup of hot tea each.

This memory was so vivid that Jason could almost see that little 12 year old rascal waving at him in a funny gesture trying to tell him to not be so serious.

And it made him sigh in reverie shifting position to get a bit more comfortable and able to observe the weather.

"Hmmm...." A groggy, half asleep voice came from the right side of the bed.

Y/n.

His y/n.

His anchor in the world full of awfulness and coldness.

His Ariadne leading him back to himself when he was getting lost in the twisted paths separating Jason Todd from Red Hood.

His saviour. His light in the darkness.

His voice of reason.

He sighed again, but this time for different reasons.

This woman. This wonderful woman sleeping so peacefully next to him, due to some miracle feeling safe in his presence.

She would never fully comprehend how much she meant to him.

How she saved him from himself.

Staying despite all the blood, pain, hurt and worries.

'what time is it--?" She muttered rolling on her side rubbing her eyes in that cute manner she had since teenage years. The lightness coming from the window made her squint but her gaze immediately moved back to Jason's face and all that loving and caring she saw in his eyes sped her heartbeat immediately. "Hi..."

"Hey pretty girl." Second later she was being hugged and held close to his chest learning that his heart was beating equally hard and fast "missed you." Jason couldn't help nuzzling into her hair breathing the sweet scent of her shampoo. Of her.

"We literally slept together."

"Even worse!" Jason laughed "I spend the night with the most amazing woman to walk the earth and cannot remember it!"

"It was just a couple hours -'

"Too long." He cut her off by pressing his lips to hers welcoming that familiar tingling that always came with her closeness.

"What time -" she tries again but he only repeated the action. To hell with the time.

"Too early babe. You're not going anywhere -"

"Are you keeping me captive now?" She teased raising an eyebrow

"Can't see you actively fighting love-"

Smirk.

A seductive brush of his hand on her leg moving up, up, up...

Such a nice prelude to a very nice morning...

"Daddy! Mummy!"

Such a lost opportunity.

"It's snowing! It's snowing!" Their little 5 year old daughter rushed into their bedroom not realising that she interrupted something very personal, jumping on the bed and pressing her little hand and her cute tiny nose to the window admiring the white landscape. "Do you think Santa will find a way to us with all that?" A slight frown appeared on her pretty face and both Jason and y/n laughed at the confusion.

"You're so thoughtful aren't you little one?" Y/n opened her arms inviting her daughter for some morning cuddles.

"I just want presents..."

"Aren't you just like your father..."

"Hey! I'm here!" Jason hissed playfully before grabbing his child and retrieving it from y/n, starting rolling in the bed and tickling both of his girls at the same time. "You'll get your gifts kiddo no worries. Santa got his ways. But before that..." He layed d/n on his chest "were gonna get the sleight and have some fun outside, how does that sound ?"

"Yay!" D/n jumped in excitement and hugged him closely "love ya daddy!"

"Did you hear that y/n?" Jason smirked and looked at the older girl "you got competition"

"I'm not giving you up that easily!" Y/n snuggled into his side "but maybe can share"

Jason wanted to say it.

To tell them both how much he loved them and that he was never letting them go.

But the lump in his throat made it impossible.

Or maybe it was because of that 12 year old looking at him, and feeling proud of what he achieved.

[last-herondale]

Always In Front of Me

Jacob Black x FemReader

T/w: Mentions of blood, violence, death

Hurt/comfort, fated lovers

A/N: heyo! A few people have asked for a perspective from Jacob’s point of view from my wintered series! This is after Honesty and before Wintered!

Expect at least 2 more fics for this series in the future 💙

I’ll link the master list here!

Enjoy 🤘🏼

Jacob sat at your beside, watching the even motion of your chest rising and falling. The two of you were in one of the Cullen’s rooms. Jacob wasn’t sure whose, maybe Alice, maybe Jasper? No definitely Alice. She had insisted after… Jacob shook his head at the memory. He looked over you, making sure you were alright, to see if there was anything he could possibly do. He had been there for days on end, refusing to leave your side as you recovered.

Months earlier you had done the same for him after the battle with Victoria’s newborn army. Jacob remembered how you accepted the role as his gentle nurse, aiding him as he healed from his wounds. How minor his injuries seemed now. He winced as he looked at your neck brace— the bluish bruises under your eyes. The sight of you made his stomach churn. How could he have been so blind? How could he have not known until that night?

~

The world seemed to be moving in slow motion. So much chaos had ensued in such a short amount of time that Jacob wasn’t entirely sure what was real anymore.

Bella had gone into labor. He witnessed her body jerk and contort, breaking and snapping with haunting echos as the creature inside her yearned to be free. The Cullens had sprung to action, or at least those that had remained. A plan had been devised to allow some of the Cullens to break through Sam’s patrol so that they could feed, and get more blood for Bella.

Seth, Leah, and You had agreed to help with the plan. Jacob had distracted Sam’s pack long enough to allow the Cullens to escape, and for a moment you all thought you had won a victory. The Cullens could feed, Bella would be safe, and no one would have to die.

But then all hell broke loose. While The Cullens rushed to save Bella, Sam’s pack decided to launch their attack. You had sounded the alarm to Jacob, ripping out a guttural howl into the night sky. Leah and Seth had already sprung into action, blurs of fur clashing into the night. Alice and Jasper joined the fight as well, battling the wolves that were once their allies.

Jacob’s mind had been a jumbled mess. His fear for Bella tore his heart in one direction, but his worry for his family tore him in the other. His heart pounded in his chest as he stared in horror as Edward pulled the baby from Bella. The smell of blood burned in Jacob’s nostrils as he watched his best friend lie lifeless on the table. His head was ringing. He couldn’t register Edwards words as he began to preform CPR on Bella. Jacob felt his legs move him on his own accord, as his body left the room in a tranced state.

Bella was dead. He had expected it. Tried to mentally prepare for it, but now that it was here… his chest felt empty. What was all of this pain for? Why did Jacob love Bella if he knew it would always end in death? Was this how love was supposed to be? Constant pain? Unending torture?

Jacob collapsed outside of the Cullen’s house and began to sob. The battle raged on around him, his pack and the Cullens fighting Sam’s pack. You were grappling with Embry and Quill, keeping them from reaching the house while Leah and Seth were out of sight. Jacob looked at the scene before him as his body broke out in heaved sobs. You heard his anguished cries and felt your soul tug. The desperate need to be there for him roared in your mind as you fought.

The imprint bond, the tether that seemed to shape your heart sang out within your blood. You felt a surge of strength return to your body as you flung Quill against a tree, hearing a whimper escape his wolf form. Embry lunged at you again, but you were able to sidestep him and sink your teeth into the back of his leg. Once he too fell, you spun around to Jacob. Guilt flashed through your mind for a moment, these were your friends— your brothers after all. As much as it pained you to admit it though, Jacob came first. Always.

The brokenness of his face told you all you needed to know. Bella was dead.

Your heart ached with the thought of your friend. Bella had been a kind soul. The kind of person you only encountered once in a lifetime. You knew the likelihood of her passing, but you held our hope for her. Maybe there would be time for the Cullens to change her. Maybe she would make it after all. You always held hope, not just for her, but for Jacob as well. You dreaded this day. The day Jacob’s heart would shatter beyond repair.

You began to sprint towards Jacob, to protect him from the battle as he sat there out in the open, but you heard a scream to the right of you. Paul had Alice pinned underneath him. The small vampire had her hands gripped on either side of Paul’s jaw to keep back his sharp canines. She could have easily beaten Paul if her strength was up, but she had needed to feed for days now, and you could see the struggle in her eyes.

Perhaps it was stupid to care for a vampire. Everything you were taught went against what your heart told you. Alice was your friend. She seemed no less human to you than Seth or Leah. And she needed help.

Suddenly you were pounding towards Paul. You slammed into him with enough force to knock the wind out of yourself. You snapped at him, gripping a chunk of his fur as the two of you tumbled in the dirt. You saw a pale flash if movement, and hoped it was Alice escaping into the house. Paul seems to support this theory as he let out a horrible snarl. His claws dug into your sides and the pain was enough to cause you to release him. He pinned you down easily enough, his strength had always overmatched yours. You looked into his dark eyes as he plunged his teeth around your neck. The crunch was horrific. You tried to scream, but the wind seemed to leave you as soon as your lips opened. You wanted to say his name, one last time. Your mind glazed over with pain as darkness quickly swept over your consciousness.

~

That was when everything snapped into place. Jacob felt as if his heart was being ripped from his chest as he watched Paul snap your neck. Suddenly, all of the memories of you flooded through his mind, but it was as if a lens had been removed. What had once been simple memories of one of his best friends, now became something unimaginably more important. The first day he met you. Jacob was struck by how beautiful you were, how sweet your voice sounded in his ears. The echo of it now was sweet music. He had been muted to it for so long. The memories of the two of you training together, how you both had leaned on each other for support as you navigated through these difficult changes. You had always been there, he realized. How had he never noticed until now?

Realization struck home, like a blazing sun clearing through the darkness. Jacob felt as if his whole world had shifted back into place. He had been wandering aimlessly in the world, trying so desperately to find his purpose, his meaning within the chaos. He tried to find it in loving Bella. How silly that seemed now. Now it was as if there never was a world where he did not belong to you. Where you did not spark his soul into a million burning fires.

My imprint… my soulmate.

Jacob’s thoughts were scattered and racing through his mind a million miles a second. He didn’t have time to sort through his emotions, all that mattered was you. And you were lying motionless on the ground, your body shifting back into your human form as Paul tossed you aside.

Jacob shifted in an instant and charged Paul. The force of the collision caused the tree they knocked into to snap at the base and crash into the Cullen’s yard. Jacob felt a primal rage course through his body. He dug his teeth into Paul’s shoulder and threw him into another tree. Paul yelped as Jacob went in again, snapping at his arm until a sickening crunch echoed into the night.

Jacob stop!

Seth’s voice echoed through Jacob’s mind, but Jacob did not relinquish. He would make Paul pay for what he did to you. For taking away his chance at happiness before he could even…

Jake, stop! You’re killing him!

Seth begged through his mind. Paul laid limp underneath Jacob, his fur a bloody mess as Jacob continued to thrash him. He was taking it too far, he knew, but he didn’t care.

“She’s alive!”

The voice was real. Not just a telepathic whisper. But a real, high pitched sounding yell. Jacob stopped in his tracks and spun around to see Alice leaning over you as the others watched him in horror. Alice had her head over your heart, listening to the faint beating.

“She’s alive Jacob, please, stop this.”

Jacob took a good look around to see that the chaos had stilled during his rage. The packs looked horrified, Sam especially as he ran to pull Paul away from him. The eerie quiet of the forest chilled Jacob’s back as he hurried himself beside your body. His anger refused to let him shift back into his human form, so he just stood there, watching as Alice carefully picked you up to carry you into the house.

It was Leah that shifted back first, looking at your body then at Jacob in disbelief.

“You imprinted on y/n…” she said. Jacob’s wolf just panted, his eyes locked on Sam and his pack in case they tried to make a break for the house. Leah turned to Sam, his wolf looking at them with fierce uncertainty. Sam couldn’t read Jacob’s thoughts anymore, but Leah could. She recognized what an imprint felt like, knew what kind of bond that was. She knew Sam did too, and in that she saw their salvation.

“Jacob imprinted on y/n!” She yelled loud enough for all of the packs to hear. Sam’s eyes widened at Jacob, and for a moment his resolve finally wavered. Leah took notice and pointed at Sam. “You know our laws, all of you! If you kill her, you kill Jacob. Is this what you want Sam? Your friends— your family dead? Over what? A baby?” It had been the first time Jacob had heard Leah refer to Bella’s baby as such. It was enough to calm Jacob down enough to shift back into his human form.

“It’s true Sam. This has gone on long enough. I don’t want this… but I can’t lose her, please. We have to stop this fighting.”

Sam remained still for a moment as he looked at Jacob’s face. He tried to find the insincerity in Jacob’s voice, his expression, but he found none. It only took one glance at Paul for Sam to realize that only an imprint would cause that sort of violence from Jacob. They might have had their little fights in the past, but this was different. He thought of Emily being attacked and a chill ran down his spine. They were right. Enough was enough.

Sam turned to his pack, speaking a silent message through their minds. Quill and Embry helped Paul to his feet, leaning him up against each other as they limped out of the forest. Jacob waited in silence, half expecting them to return and finish them off.

“They won’t return,” Edward’s voice rose from behind Jacob. Jacob turned to face Edward, and was surprised to see him away from Bella. Edward just nodded at Jacob, and it was enough for now. “Let’s get her inside. Quick, Carlisle is on his way.” Alice carried you inside, Jacob and Edward close at on her heel. Everything else after that became a blur to Jacob. Carlisle and the rest of the Cullens arrived minutes later, and Carlisle began quick work on you to heal your wounds. Jacob stood by your side the entire time. Once you were stable, Carlisle moved you into Alice’s room, and kept you on fluids and a monitor as you slept.

It was a waiting game. Carlisle feared that there had been damage to your brain, but that he had hope you would wake up in your own time. Jacob thanked him as he left. Then it was just the two of you. Jacob sat next to you as the monitor made soft beeps. He held your limp hand, and ran his thumb over your skin.

There was a knock at the door, and Leah and Seth slipped into the room. Seth knelt beside the bed and put his hand on your forehead. A small gesture of love, as he whispered a small prayer. Seth’s eyes were watering and he sniffed as he rubbed his eyes.

“She’ll be okay, Seth,” Leah murmured, “She’s strong. She’s a fighter.”

“Yeah,” Seth said in a small ragged voice.

“Jake,” Leah said, “She’ll make it.”

Jacob just gave a small nod. His throat felt clogged. He felt warm tears fall down his cheek as he rested his head in your hand. He felt his pack put their hand in his shoulders. “Why did it take so long?” Jacob finally choked out, “why now?”

Leah gave a bitter laugh. “One thing I’ve learned is that this ability can be cruel. There may not be any rhyme or reason, but it’s what we have to survive. And she will, she will survive this. You both will.”

Jacob let himself cry as he held your hand. He whispered into your palm, begging for you to wake up. He had so much he wanted to say to you. Things he wished he could explain, apologize for the time he had wasted chasing false dreams. Sense left him, and finally the pain and sorrow was all he felt. He was surrounded by his family and let their love warm the fractured pieces of his tired weary soul.

~

Your eyes fluttered open two days later. Disoriented, you struggled to raise your head up to look around, but got caught up against the breathing tubes and neck brace. You raised your hand to remove them but a strong hand gently gripped your wrists. The touch was familiar, beautifully familiar.

“Steady there speed racer,” Jacob’s husky voice warmed the side of your face. You let him guide your hand back down as you blinked away the rest of your drowsiness. “Jake…what happened…?”

“Shhh shhh,” he cooed, his hand stroked the side of your face. You thought you were still in a dream state, his touch was warm and comforting. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.” You resisted the temptation to lean your head deeper into his palm, the scent of him was intoxicating.

You scrunched your brow in confusion. Not matter? Your mind struggled to recall your last memories. You remembered seeing blood on the living room floor, then the green forest just outside of the Cullen house, then a large black wolf lunging towards you…

“Paul,” you whispered. The memories came crashing back in a torrential wave. You tried to jerk up on bed again, but the brace and tubes kept you back.

“What happened? Is everyone okay? Did Alice— oh my god, Bella??”

Jacob put his hands on either side of your face to calm you. “It’s okay, everyone’s fine. Everyone’s fine.” You tried to calm your breathing, but the memories of that night stormed in your mind. Jacob’s presence calmed you; his touch was enough to bring you back into the present.

“I don’t… understand. Jake…”

Jacob explained away the time you missed, careful to leave out the imprinting. He was waiting to see the change in you too, to see if the bond had reshaped your life as it had his. But to his dismay, he saw no change. How could he possibly bring it up to you? Would you even believe him? Just days ago he had been fighting so hard for Bella, the girl he though he loved. How could he ever begin to explain?

Little did he know that your life had already been reshaped. That the bond had formed for you the first moment you saw him. Jacob swallowed his disappointment as he finished his story.

“So, Bella’s gonna be okay? Edward saved her in time?” You asked.

Jacob nodded. “It seems so. Carlisle thinks she should wake up in the next day or so.” Your shoulders relaxed a bit at that bit of information. You hadn’t lost a friend after all.

“But wait, I still don’t understand…, how did Leah convince Sam to leave again?”

Jacob blanked for a moment. She had hoped you wouldn’t notice how he skimmed over that detail, but of course you hadn’t. Jacob opened his mouth to try and craft a delicate lie, but luckily he was saved by Carlisle knocking on the door.

“Ah, good, my favorite patient is up.” Carlisle gave you a warm smile as he approached you. You were happy to see him, healthy and alive. His eyes had returned to a golden brown, and his overall mood seemed happy compared to the last few months.

He began to check on the monitors and tubes, noting your heart rate and oxygen levels. He turned to Jacob.

“Would you mind if I spoke with y/n, alone for a moment?” Jacob wanted to protest, he hadn’t left your side at all while you were under, but that was when he didn’t have to hide anything. He looked at you for a moment, letting himself have the satisfaction of seeing you awake, alive and well, before peeling himself from the chair.

“Of course Doc,” Jacob said with a small smirk. You watched him as he left, giving him a smile as he turned back to look at you before closing the door.

~

Jacob descended the stairs, his emotions a swirl of confusion. At the base he ran into Leah and Seth, both of whom looked excited. “Edward told us the news. Is she finally awake?” Seth asked, his eyes alight with excitement. Jacob nodded, but he put his hand on Seth’s shoulder. “She’s awake and well. The Doc is talking with her now, but I need to talk with the two of you.”

“Sure, what is it Jake?” Seth asked. Leah just stood there with her arms crossed. She seemed a bit more relaxed after hearing you were okay, but being in the Cullens house was still tough for her, and Jacob appreciated her effort.

Jacob took a slow, steady breath. “I don’t want to tell her about the imprint.” His voice was low and steady. Seth began to protest while Leah held a straight face.

“Listen, this is how it needs to be. Whatever happened the other night seems to only have happened to me. I don’t want to force her into something like this… for her to feel obligated to feel something for me that she doesn’t. She’s kind hearted, and too gentle. I can’t do that to her. And I know I can’t keep it from her forever, but just for now… until I figure out a way to tell her. Please.”

You too Cullen. Please, if you could spread the word to your family… I would appreciate it.

Jacob knew Edward would be able to hear their conversation. He only hoped Edward would play along, for your sake more so than his.

Seth gave Leah an uncertain look, but Leah just nodded in response. “We won’t say anything, but Jake,” Leah began, “we don’t want your heart to break anymore either.”

Jacob just gave a small smile. The images of you flashed through his mind. All of the memories of you in his life, and how much those moments had meant to you, even then. Now they were everything. The breath of life sustaining his soul. He had a purpose now. A reason to always fight, to always be there.

You, and only you.

“It’ll be worth it this time, no matter what happens. Believe me, everything’s different now. Everything.”

Tag-list

@steverogersgirlfriend-blog @milesquaritchh

[royalsweetteaa]

Title: Love in the makings

Pairing: soft!Ransom Drysdale x gf!reader

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - The following fic contains: Explicit smut, tooth rotting fluff, soft!Ransom Drysdale, love making, love confessions, cuddles/kissing.

Summary: Ransom is feeling extra soft and passionate one morning.

Y/N’s POV

I had seen that look countless of times and knew what it meant. Ransom was staring at me from the other side of the kitchen island, his eyes clearly clouded with lust and a hint of something else.

I was cleaning up after we had finished breakfast, making sure everything was spotless.

As I put the last plate in the dishwasher, Ransom moved from his spot and walked over to me in a patient pace. By the time I stood straight, I could feel his presence behind me.

I smirked as Ransom pulled me into his embrace, my expectation reached when I felt his hardened cock beneath his sweatpants against my lower hip. He was horny.

“Ransom…” I purred his name teasingly, “Is there something you want? Something you need?”

Ransom exhaled, his breath brushing against my ear as he quietly said, “Duh,…I need you…”

I let out a chuckle and turned to face him, adoring his face which was pulling a rather serious stare, complete contrast to mine of humor. “You already had me this morning.”

“Not enough…” he grumbled and pulled me in closer. “We just fucked.”

“You want to fuck some more?”

“No…” he answered, making me frown confused. What could he possibly want then?

Before I could ask what he then meant, he continued with a lower voice against my ear,

“..I want to make love to you.”

Ransom’s POV

I witnessed her breath hitch as soon as that sentence left my mouth, and I couldn’t help but pull a smug grin as pride settled in me for putting her off guard like I always succeed to do.

But I was serious about it. Right now I wanted to make love to my girl in every way that differed from fucking. I didn’t want to stick my dick inside of her and ride on my lust. No, I was yearning for us to be connected. I wanted to put us in the closest way humanly possible and just love her.

I was convinced she was the only woman in the whole world who could open the spiritual outlet of view when it came to sex. A few years back before I had met her, my views on sex were completely different. I had never thought it mattered or could make a difference if love had any involvement in the sex. Hell, I didn’t know I could love before she came into my life.

But here she was, making me crave a morning full of passion where we look into each others’ souls and not just our bodies.

Of course she welcomed it right away when I put it the way I did. It didn’t take long until our clothes were left on the floor as we held each other close in bed.

I glided my cock against her stomach as I kissed her sweetly, making sure to take my time as I held her flushed cheeks in the palm of my hands.

When the moment came of inserting myself inside of her, her pussy sucks my cock in its velvety folds, and the both of us already ache for release. We swallowed each other’s sounds as I started to move at a steady pace, making sure I wouldn’t get too lost in it.

“Fuck…Y/N…I-..” I stutter, “You feel so fucking amazing…you always do.”

“Ahh, Ransom!~” she mewled as her legs began to shake uncontrollably, a clear hint of her upcoming orgasm.

I move at a quicker pace, but not too quick. I have no desire to make it end so soon, - to rush it.

And so I don’t.

“Cum for me, sweetheart…” I purr in a deeper, much softer voice, making her eyes widen. “Make yourself cream on my cock…”

My tone makes her look at me, really look at me, my eyes hold so much care and longing, she can’t help but smile shyly while her mouth is left hanging.

My tip repeatedly kisses her cervix, my hips rutting into hers. She gushed as my cock hit her special spot, and it only took moments later for her to reach her climax and cum, hugging my cock ever so tightly. I don’t try to last longer either and let myself go too.

“C-Cumming! Nngh, shit!” I groaned out loud as I turned down my pace to a halt, releasing my seed inside of her.

I nuzzled my face against the crook of her neck as I cooled down, not ready to leave the warmth of her walls clamping around my cock so deliciously.

Before I slip out of her and roll over, I look into her eyes as I stroke her cheek. “I love you…” I swallow as I confess, still catching my breath. “I know I hardly say it ever, but I hope you know I do…you deserve to hear that every day…and I..”

Thoughts of insecurities were swarming in my head as I had difficulties explaining myself, but I knew she knew. She had met my family - my parents foremost to know the L word wasn’t in our vocabulary.

It made me wonder if I was worth the patience - the patience of which I try to deviate from my parents’ ways and put my devotion into words. It was a slow progress, but I was trying. I really was.

But I didn’t expect her to think I did… - why would she when I act like a fucking prude all the time when expressing my emotions and hardships and -

She didn’t let my internal thoughts dig themselves deeper as she kissed me ever so lovingly.

“It’s okay, Ran…I know. I know what you are like, and that those three words don’t slip easily from you. And I’m okay with that. I love you for being you. You don’t need to change…” she reassured me with her bright smile. “besides, moments like this makes me appreciate hearing it all the more…”

Her reply makes me smile - almost too widely but I hold it back of course.

I decide then to cage her beneath me, making good use of my hands as they caress her gorgeous body along her fine curves and lines.

And once again a reminder plings in my head and heart that my intents aren’t seeking out of lust. It’s so clearly it isn’t and it makes me want to burst from how much love I am feeling inside of me for this woman.

As my lips brushed against hers I manage to utter out, “God, I am so fucking -…” and there it was. Those three - no, four words are caught in my throat just like before, but she knows what I was about to say, and that’s all that matters. I kiss her once more before I lay beside her and hold her close to me.

I am so fucking in love with you…

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! Thank you! <3

[phantoms-lair]

You wanted Red Hood vs Overhaul, you got it

Eri clutched Deku tightly and he sped away, Overhaul right on their trail leaving a swath of destroyed objects and people in his wake. And as soon as he caught up to them, that was going to be Deku. He was going to die because he wanted to protect her.

Deku was wrong. She was a curse. She clutched his shoulders tighter, tears welling in her eyes. Her horn began to glow as her quirk subconsciously activated. Because of her Daddy disappeared, and then Overhaul used her to make his bullets to steal other people's powers. She'd caused nothing but pain and misery, she was the one who should disappear!

Her horn grew as her quirk tried to activate. But much like you can't uninstall a computer program that's running, Rewind couldn't erase itself or it's user while it was activated. Eri's despair tried to force it over and over again. Just as Overhaul's outstretched hand was about to brush Deku's back Rewind divided by zero and they all vanished.

~

It was the smell that hit Midoriya first. The air around him had been full of dust and the scent of blood. Suddenly there was none of that, but an almost nauseating amount of fumes and unwashed humanity. Also they were in free fall.

He quickly assessed. He wasn't in Tokyo anymore. The cars were on the wrong side of the road and the signs in English. But all that quickly was overshadowed by the horror that they were in a residential area.

He had to get Eri to safety while luring Overhaul away from the area. He did his best to get they lay of the land before he'd fallen enough for buildings to block his view. Looked like there was a harbor. Maybe if he could get him there, there'd be less people for him to destroy. And hopefully some local heroes would come to help.

Path set, Midoriya used Full Cowling to kick off a building and launch himself away.

~

"Anyone have eyes on what the Hell is happening?!" Hood demanded over the coms.

"Two metas, Boss. One Robin-aged, one adult. Robin-aged one has what looks to be a small child. He's fleeing from the adult and heading towards the harbor. Small child looks to be injured."

Hood adjusted the route his motorcycle was going in order to better intercept. "How badly injured?"

"Bandages on her arms and legs, but it's hard to get close enough to see more, sorry." His lieutenant sounded apologetic, but from the sounds of Hood could hear from back where he was he couldn't blame her. "Powers?" Might as well know what he was getting into.

"Robin-aged seems to have some green lightning around him, but he's not projecting it. It seems to give him either a strength or speed boost, hard to tell when all he's doing is running. Adult looks like he can destroy or remake anything his touches and - Gah."

"Did you get hit?"

"Negative, sorry for scaring you, sir, Adult caught a piece of his own shrapnel in his eye. He then touched his face with his hand and half of it exploded, then reformed. I wasn't expecting it."

Good to know. Especially because she might have just told him exactly how to take this guy down. "I'm going to intercept the kids. Deploy Code Beta Omega on my mark." Hood's helmet switched modes from camera to radar as he pulled his bike even with the fleeing kid (who was definitely getting a speed boost out of his power if nothing else) as his people set off numerous bright flares right in front of the adult meta's face, followed by wide area smoke bombs. "Need some help?"

"Are you a local hero?" The older kid asked in very heavily Japanese accented English.

"I'm the protector of this area." Thankfully Japanese was one of the languages he was fluent in, so he could speak to the kid in his own language. "Get on."

The boy hopped on, the smaller kid strapped to his back and Hood had to respect his sense of balance. The green lightning vanished as the kid took a breath.

"Can you get Eri to safety?" the boy asked. "I can buy some time with Overhaul. Lure him out to the water where fewer people will get hurt."

The way he said it, it sounded like the cost of that time would be his life. And the littler one, Eri, seemed to pick up on it. "You don't have to do that Deku." she said in a shaky voice. "He won't hurt you if I go back to him. And I'll be fine. He won't kill me, even when he accidently takes too much of my blood, he can just take me apart and put me back together again."

The words were brave but the fear and remembered pain in them was palpable and Hood saw green in a way that had nothing to do with Deku's hair, outfit or lightning. He sharply turned the motor cycle into an alley, where he knew a group of his people would be evacuating civilians. "Get them to the clinic. The girl needs help and the boy probably does too."

The boy looked panicked. "But Overhaul-"

"-is Done." Hood finished. "Overhaul is done."

For a moment the boy looked like he'd bluescreened, then "Overhaul is mysophobia, destroying his mask should get a panic reaction. Especially if you spit on him or something. He's arrogant, sadistic, and enjoys psychological manipulations. He also have some bullets that destroy quirks, so be very wary if he uses a gun over his hands."

"Quirks?" Everything in Hood's soul wanted to get going and destroy the man who'd hurt a child like this.

There was a split second of panic on the boys face as he tried to reword "Powers? His lets him disassemble and reassemble anything he touches in any configuration he chooses."

"Power destroying bullets? Hood laughed. "Kid, I don't think you know where you are. This is Gotham." And with that he left the kids in the hands of his crew and stalked back to where Overhaul was about to meet his end.

The smoke was beginning to clear as Hood strode to Overhaul's location. Deku had given him what information he could, and he appreciated it, really he did. Any other Bat or Bat-Adjacent would have made good use it, especially the mysophobia.

Hood was not going to. He'd already gotten all intel he needed earlier. He took a good look at the man. Huh, when Deku said he had a mask Hood was expecting a standard supervillain mask, not a honest to goodness plague doctor one. He's sure the doctors at Arkham would have a fun time pulling apart this whackjob's psyche.

Not that he was going to give them a chance. Not after hearing a little girl talk about repeatedly being ripped apart and pulled back together.

"Where did they go?" asked Overhaul, in a tone that suggested he was in charge and giving up the intel was the only way Hood would live through the next few minutes.

Cute.

"Doesn't matter. You're never going to see either one ever again." Hood smirked under his helmet. "In fact, enjoy your view of the ass-end of Gotham. It's the last thing you're ever going to see."

Overhaul sneered. "Eri will be so upset. Another person dead because of her. She really is a curse."

The green was overwhelming. The only thing keeping Hood in control was the knowledge that he was going to give the Pit exactly what it wanted.

Overhaul touched the ground and it exploded, rearranging itself as large spikes erupted from the ground. Most people would have been impaled. Most people weren't trained by the Bat, the League of Assassins, and the All-Caste. "You heroes are so annoying. Like any one of you would be able to properly use an asset like her."

"SHE IS A CHILD." Hood roared. One of the spikes nicked him, but only caused surface damage, naturally. It would have been embarrassing to do more than was entirely when one gets hit on purpose. He needed two things. Overhaul provided the presence of absolute evil, and he provided his own blood. With two flashes the All Blades appeared and two hands fell to the ground.

Overhaul stared for a moment. He'd lost arms before and it was easy enough to replace one using the other, but he'd never lost both at once. His mind raced, trying to come up with a solution, and his knees began to buckle.

He never hit the ground however, as Hood caught him by the throat with one hand. With the other he ripped off the mask before pushing Overhauls face into some street sludge. This being Gotham and Crime Alley in particular, who knows what it might have been. Guess he was going to use the kid's info on mysophobia after all.

"It's tempting, you know, to keep you alive just long enough to watch infection set it. But people like you do tend to find a way of rebounding and I'm not going to risk it. I do want to catch up with those kids and make sure they're okay, so I'll give myself...ten minutes? Yeah, ten minutes sounds good. Ten minutes to show you exactly what happens to people who hurt kids in my territory. Ten minutes to make you beg for death, then - like the kind soul I am- answer your prayers."

Overhauls eyes were wide with terror. "But...but you're a hero?"

Hood grinned cruelly under his helmet. "I haven't called myself one of those for a long time. And Babs," he said, seeming to address no one. "I don't want Daddy Bats or any of his crew interfering."

For the next ten minutes, he was going to enjoy himself.

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse part 14

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve. On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :) On AO3

Sorry, I am so behind posting this here...

...

Chapter 14: love of my life redux

Steve had to deflect, before he blew a gasket. Or did something worse, like crying: “This is doubtless a dumb question. If you guys are loaded, why are you driving to Oregon?”

That took up the conversation for a while. Driving was slightly cheaper, and budgeting was important to the super-savvy Suzie. Plus, she and Dustin enjoyed the drive and hated flying, despite their rational eggheads telling them it was the safest way to travel. They argued that one out with Nancy and Robin, and Steve actually got to doze.

Eventually, they pulled over and got out to stretch their legs. “Isn’t it mind-blowing?” Dustin beamed, arms wheeling theatrically in the direction of Mount Hood.

“The mountain? It’s creepy,” said Robin, tumbling out of the car after Steve. “All squatted on the horizon, like a creepy, crouchy, toady wart. This whole road is creepy.”

“What’s wrong with you?” asked Dustin. “It’s exhilarating! Aren't you mega-relieved to be free of the stinky city air?”

Robin hitched her lip. “I didn't grow up in hick-ville.”

“Woah. Brutal! Excuse me while I go and enjoy the view with the love of my life.” 

Love of my life.

Steve slunk off to find a quiet friend-free zone. 

Love of my life. Love of my life.

Crap, he’d flipped the hell out at that Extreme cover. Yeah, he was kinda embarrassed about it, though he knew now that he’d already been in pieces and… Jesus, what wouldn’t he give to be watching the clouds misting the mountain with his arm slung around Eddie. The wind ruffled his hair, cut through his thin t-shirt.

‘Love of my life, don't leave me. You've taken my love, and now desert me…’

His teeth gritted against the sob, struggling to the keep the faith in the cold morning light, and then:

“I’m sorry, Steve.” Robin levelled beside him.

“Jesus! If you must yammer on about serial killers and all that cliché crap, will you quit sneaking up on me?” He glared at her, although not with any real intent: “What are you sorry about?”

“Pushing you earlier.” She rubbed his back, and his glare faded further. “Look, whatever you decide to do, whatever happens, I’m here for you, okay?”

“Oh shit, I… I…” This was worse than her pestering him. With a supportive friend at his side… Ugh! He ought to at least try to tough things out. He drifted his focus to the haze around the mountain top, while he tentatively poked the fog around his brain. “I get what Suzie is saying. That I might be… I could be…”

“That you might still be rich after all?”

His stomach performed an unpleasant somersault. “Honestly, Robin? I don’t give a rat’s ass about that.” He swallowed bile. “Okay, I admit, it might make life easier, and I want to say I can handle this. I’ll help take those suckers down. Make ’em eat shit! Truth is, I can’t.” He drifted shaky fingers across his mouth. His whole body started to tremble. “Godchester was one the worst, but… When I think about my mom and dad’s lawyer. He started it all, and… I can’t even think his name. I clamp up. I feel sick. And now… you’re talking about more lawyers that I can’t afford and exposés in the papers?”

“Not necessarily.” She returned to rubbing soothing circles in his back, which didn’t help. Not much, at any rate. “Nancy says we can keep your name from going public. We need to be smart about it. And nobody will expect you to pay for—"

“No! No way!” He swung to face her, raising a forbidding palm. “Look, if we could find Eddie. Maybe if I had that to hold on to I could… I dunno, drag myself back somehow? Arrive in some place where I can deal. Till then… Robin, please. You gotta get them to drop it, okay?”

“Okay. Consider me your personal guard-dog against all mentions of journos and lawyers.” Her softer-than-usual expression segued into a toothy snarl. He snickered, then wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek on her slightly greasy hair.

Holy crap. What the heck must I look like?

“Christ, Robin. If there’s even the teeniest chance of finding Eddie this morning, we gotta stop and buy some decent hair product.”

…

When they finally arrived at Eddie’s uncle’s house, Steve hung back, leaning on the Volvo. The others trooped to the veranda. It was painted in a pleasant sage-green and cluttered with homey knick- knacks and one of those swingy seats, strewn with patchwork cushions. 

Dammit. What Steve wouldn’t give to curl up there and sleep for an age. Preferably snuggled with Eddie.

It started to drizzle, which made the prospect less appealing. Heck, he’d still take it. 

Dustin knocked loudly on the door. A few moments later, it opened a crack, and an older guy poked his head out.

“Mr Munson! Hey, is Eddie here?”

“Nope.”

Steve’s hopes plummeted through his sneakers.

“You gotta be kidding!” Dustin ripped off his baseball cap and slammed it back on in frustration. “We’ve driven all night!”

“Well, I’m sorry about that, son. Even if he were here—” Steve’s heart leaped—"I’d tell you to get packing all the same. You’ve messed my boy up enough, and I ain’t talking about it with you, Dustin Henderson. You’re not unwelcome, though.” He unhooked the door chain. “If you and your friends wanna come in to freshen up, that’s fine by me. I got a pot of strong black coffee brewing. Can rustle you up breakfast.”

“That’s very kind, Mr Munson, but we really need to find Eddie. We know the police are after him, and that is why we, his bosom-buddies,”—Dustin’s hands clasped meaningfully to his chest—"are here to help him.”

“Sorry, son. I ain’t budging on this.”

Steve sighed and began to pace. Soon the others turned their backs on Wayne and started back to the car.

“What are we gonna do now?” asked Nancy.

“Hey!” Wayne’s shout cut between them. “Are you Steve?”

Steve froze. “Yeah?”

The door flew wide, and Wayne stepped out, smiling broadly and gesturing that Steve should approach: “You come right in, son. I got no problem talking with you.” 

“Oh. Right.” Steve’s fingers and toes began to tingle with the strangest sensations of warmth, hope, and joy.  He sauntered up the driveway and past the others—who looked various levels of surprised and pissed—and into Wayne’s coffee-scented hallway.

…

Eddie scribbled madly at his latest design for Vecna’s Doom Quest II. He’d gotten another pencil in his mouth, soggy and gross from where he’d chewed the wood. Dammit, he missed his ciggies, though the nicotine patches helped.

He’d quit. For Steve. Even if he never saw him again. All of this was for Steve.

Eddie’s drawings scattered far and wide across the floor and walls of the trailer. Meanwhile, the autumn rain pattered ever harder on the roof. It vied with Guns ‘n’ Roses’ endlessly awesome guitar riffs that kicked serious ass on his stereo—criminally quietly, because he didn’t want to draw too much attention to his hidey-hole. And he kept drawing, with shaking hands and knotted stomach, and fingers bruising at the endless effort. He was gonna finish these game designs if it killed him.

And then?

He hadn’t a goddamn clue. He longed to get in touch with Steve. Trouble was, he was on the lam and scared shitless. Once he’d beat his inglorious retreat from California—to Wayne, and then to here, their former home—he’d gotten himself stuck again.

Nope. His agoraphobia was nooooot fixed. All that kept him from total meltdown was the goal of earning more money, so Steve would be okay.

After that, Eddie guessed the police would catch up with him eventually.

‘November Rain’ was next on his cassette tape. He hummed along at first, then… Fuck, fuck, FUCK! The lyrics started to get him. He was such a sap these days.

‘I know it's hard to keep an open heart, When even friends seem out to harm you. But if you could heal a broken heart, Wouldn't time be out to charm you?’

Yeah, right. Broken hearts. Shit. Never been his bag before, huh? Dammit, he well fucking knew what that candy-ass shit felt like now.

He shoved a handful of honey-comb cereal straight from the box to his mouth, then inspected his latest design. Admittedly, he was drawing Steve, over and over. No longer shirtless and in hotpants, but in dead cool D and D outfits. Okay, the chainmail vest was kinda crop-toppy, yet had Eddie finally got that mouth, right?

It was sure getting closer. 

Maybe he’d get it right on the next try. He needed to upgrade Steve’s weapons, too. Initially, he’d tooled him up with a quasi-medieval longbow to match those slender lips Eddie dreamed of. But if digital-sprite Steve was gonna protect grannies and shit from evil flesh-munching plant-monsters, Eddie figured he’d need some kind of flame-thrower.

Eddie located one of his few remaining blank sheets and started again. As Axl Rose’s lyrics wormed through his head, he pressed so hard into the paper, the led snapped:

‘Sometimes I need some time on my own, Sometimes I need some time all alone. Ooh, everybody needs some time on their own. Ooh, don't you know you need some time all alone—'

Eddie slammed the ‘off’ button. Tears blurred his vision and his face felt hot and puffy. Shit! He sniffed hard. He didn’t want to be alone. And he couldn’t bring himself to leave the trailer. Yeah, he was totally broken, and the only one who would fix him was—

“Holy shit, Eddie. Did you really shut off the only Guns ‘n’ Roses song I actually like?”

Eddie remained on his knees, gawking like an idiot. Steve stood in the doorway, in skin-tight ripped jeans and a baggy white t-shirt, arms raised in question. He slammed Eddie with huge, liquid eyes that doubtless matched Eddie’s own.

“Y-you said you liked ‘Civil War’ too,” stuttered Eddie.

“I said a lot of crap back then.” A tremulous smile played on Steve’s lips, and Eddie kept staring, transfixed. Nah. His drawings still hadn’t nailed them. Nothing could ever beat the real thing. “I never said the one thing that mattered. I’m not just crazy about you. Screw it, I’m in love with you, Eddie Munson.”

Eddie opened his mouth. Words failed him. Was this for real? WAS THIS FOR FUCKING REAL?

“Can I come in? It’s pissing it down out here.” Steve pointed at his sneakers. “Honest, Eds, I’ve already wiped my feet.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” Eddie scrambled up, mindlessly flicked the stereo back on, and they tumbled forward into each other’s arms. They kissed and kissed and kissed—messily, wetly, and truly, madly, deeply, till stars wheeled in front of Eddie’s eyes and the world beyond the trailer fell away.  

Yeah, they’d kissed before. This was different. This was new. Eddie took Steve’s face in his hands and Steve mirrored him. Tongues scrubbed together, slickly and sweetly, and their bodies fitted so perfectly together that parting would’ve felt like ripping their skins. Their synchronised hearts drowned the noise of the rainstorm. Even the music could barely compete.

“And when your fears subside, and shadows still remain, oh yeah. I know that you can love me when there's no one left to blame. So never mind the darkness, we still can find a way…'Cause nothin' lasts forever, even cold November rain.”

“I love you too,” murmured Eddie, the salt of their blended tears on his lips. “Never leave me again, Babe. Never.”

...

Part 15 on AO3 Part 15 on tumblr

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

[daemon-in-my-head]

Definitely not canon, tragic angsty durgetash shit below as I struggle with the block™️. I don't know how many words, kinda description of injuries, ig? Anyway, not for kids. But it's tame compared to my usual stuff. Maybe I'll upload it on Ao3 one day.

Perfect archduke

Nothing could've prepared him for what he'd witness at the docks.

He had considered a plethora of scenarios on his way here. Distractions from the searing pain shooting up his leg whenever he took another step, daydreams about all the 'what if's' that could've been, explanations for the elf's actions down in the ruins. Just any kind of thought so that he may be able to ignore the hell unfolding around him, but not a single one of them led him to ever consider the horrors displayed before him.

The temperamental little girl who spat her words at him mere hours ago, the brave soldier who had survived all he'd done to her and still retained her fiery passion, was finally donning a look of utter defeat as she held onto the bundle in her arms. The snarky elves who had refused to leave his dear companion's side, who refused to control their ever-waggling tongues for just a second, couldn't even look at the man they'd been constantly circling before.

"What happened?" A calm, firm voice, finally asking his first question in what must've been decades. Still ever carefully masking the bile that continued to rise in his throat as his eyes focused on little red droplets hitting the soiled ground.

"The brain, we- the fall- I-" the Tiefling had become a stuttering mess, a mess that soon crumbled onto the pavement.

He didn't try to ask another question, seeing how the woman before him had stopped being capable of answering him or anyone else for that matter. So, instead, he resorted to the one method he knew would never fail him: studying the situation himself. It had been quite obvious what, or rather who, the person within her grasp had been. The eccentric suit of armour, the carelessly tied greyish hair. There had been but one person who'd ever grace people with such a look, but still. It couldn't be him. Someone who had rejected the god of death and lived couldn't possibly end up like this. It was impossible. You can't kill death. You may outfox it, escape its view, or grasp for a while, but you could never defeat death nor its child. This must've been another tomfoolery of his. A tasteless joke, childish revenge for something he remembered.

The man kneeled in front of the red lady before a calloused, gold-clad hand reached for strands dyed in uncannily warm colours, pushing them away to reveal the cruel truth hidden beneath. He didn't quite know what he expected to find, if he was honest with himself, but certainly not this. The ruby red orbs that had always carefully taken in their surroundings remained hidden. The old scar he himself had traced countless times had begun bleeding again, once more tinting the ashen cheeks he had witnessed flushing in days long past. The cruel hands he had used to crush so many of his foes began shaking as it traced the familiar ridges and curves of a face he'd known for ages, and the pain in his leg began to flare up yet again.

"Heal him." A firm command. Just another of his usual orders directed at the white-haired woman beside them. A tyrant's decree that would be all but ignored.

"You're a cleric, aren't you? Then, fulfil your duty and heal him." His voice grew louder. He would've loved to clench his fists, yet he couldn't bear to lift his hand from the man it had been so desperately grasping onto.

"I'm sorry I can't." The woman refused to look at them. Her eyes darting just about anywhere except the voice's direction.

"Will somebody finally do something?!" His voice grew into a rage-filled scream at her refusal. All these skilled people, and yet none of them did anything. "You know magic, don't you? You've brought people back before. I saw the records. I saw what the bunch of you has done, so fix him, or do you need a personal invite?!"

"I'm sorry, but this- this is beyond what I can do. What anyone could-" the woman finally turned to face them—translucent streams clearing away a path in the marks of battle placed upon her.

"Then get someone who can!" He continued to criticize her, ignoring what she had tried to tell him. The truth everyone but him had already acknowledged. "Why are you still standing there? Go, get-"

"Stop it!" The other pointy-eared man finally raised his voice, silencing the ramblings of the madman in front of him. Refusing to listen to his denial any longer. "It truly is a miracle how someone as dense as you has managed to rise to the position of Archduke, so let me spell it out clearly for you." The vampire's voice dripped with sarcasm, "he is dead. Gone. Ceased to breathe. And there's nothing you, she, or any of us can do about it. Your glorious grand design has killed him." He met the tyrant's rage-filled eyes. A look one could almost mistake as pity veiling the seething anger hidden within his own as he did.

"Congratulations, Archduke," he hissed.

"At last, you've freed the city of all its Bhaalspawn with your own stained hands."

[c0rvusx2]

Wolf-ji 🤡

Toji x fem!reader

18+: Toji being a perv, swearing, described nudity I think. Somewhat creepy ig, he likes watching you do stuff. No smut, but it’s kinda spicy. Use of 2nd POV (you, your) rather than 3rd (she,her).

Notes: Keep in mind that he has the mind of a human, so don’t take it wrong 🤝 This man is my brain rot 🤤 lmk if I need to raise the age warning

Genre: Fluff/Crack, spicy idk

Toji had no fucking clue where he was. He expected hell to be… a lot less looking like a city alleyway. He tried to lift himself, rather than feeling like his legs they were bent at an uncomfortable looking angle. Pain flared in his left arm, he bent his head to see a bullet wound, a nasty one that kept on bleeding.

“The fuck?” He stretched as best he could, looking around for some sort of item that would give him his reflection. Luckily, there was a abandoned mirror, cracked and without purpose. Toji began to limp over to the reflector, his legs stiff rather than it’s normal nimble movements.

“Oh fuckin’ hell-“

Okay, so maybe going grocery shopping late at night might be a bad idea—especially since there’ll be all sorts of creeps walking around. Not to mention it’s freezing out there, but it’s too late. You’ve already stepped out of the store and onto the empty sidewalk, and if this was the Wild West there’d be tumble weeds rolling from view. You shiver, beginning your journey back to the safe confines of your home.

The store you frequented was your favorite, and the farthest… so to save time you’d take shortcuts through alleyways. Today would be the first time you were doing it late at night.

You stare into the darkness of the passageway in front of you, anxiety bubbling in your stomach. “Quick… nice and quick…” you hype yourself up before storming ahead, using a quick pace to get you to the other side. The deeper you went, the darker it became and soon the only thing illuminating the alley was the clouded moonlight from above.

From ahead of you, you suddenly see a pair of eyes, gazing right back at you with a stern emerald green color.

You screamed as the eyes began to rapidly get closer, accompanied by the sounds of claws hitting against the ground. You dodged, reversing yourself and pressing your back to the alleyway’s wall. A harsh tug came from your grocery bag, which almost ripped your arm right off your torso. Muffled growling came from the creature that was trying to steal your food. Luckily, you recognized the creature that was attacking you, it was some dumb dog.

This made you enraged and frustrated, this shit costed you a good chunk of the money saved from the leftovers after you payed bills—and the bills around here ain’t cheap.

“Bitch!-“

🌌

Toji is one lucky bastard. Perhaps this was god giving him a 2nd chance at life- their weird way of dishing out redemption.

Somehow, he was able to worm his way into the chick-he-was-about-to-rob’s heart. Life’s good for the man-turned-wolf, he’s got free food, a roof to live under, and no rent to pay. A bargain in his mind. The only downside being he won’t be able to fuck around anymore, and he sure as hell is NOT gonna fuck a dog.

You felt bad for the dog, the moment you saw it’s form when you scrambled out the alleyway. It wasn’t scrawny, but it wasn’t very lean either. It had a scar present on the right side of it’s mouth, sharp green eyes and dirty matte black fur. It sustained a limp arm, a recent wound most likely the reason why it didn’t go all out on you.

You couldn’t really just walk away from a hurt animal, the guilt would eat you up the moment you turned your back. You were also studying to be a vet, moments like this were what you meant for. So you left some food, ran home to fetch a med kit, and returned with your car.

Here you were now, caring for one big ass dog who kept stealing your food—even though you bought him his own food.

You named him Toji, mainly because that scar on the dogs mouth was hella familiar to the Toji you fawned over in Jujutsu Kaisen. He looked at you weirdly when you said that, but snorted a moment later and stalked off to your TV set.

The strange thing about him was that he apparently knew how to operate cable TV, which amazed you yet weirded you out at the same time.

You noticed Toji naps a lot, and wakes up whenever you turn on Netflix. He’ll eagerly sit next to you, sometimes snacking (read stealing) popcorn whenever you make some.

For some reason he likes tuning in whenever you play any anime episodes, especially Jujutsu Kaisen. Whenever Fushiguro comes onto screen Toji’s fluffy tail begins to wag a bit, which you giggle at. He’ll catch you looking and snap at you, which causes you to furthermore laugh at. In the end he’ll end up tackling you onto the couch.

🌌

Toji often feels bored in your household. Nothing really for him to do since he’s apparently a dog now. Nothing to do other than follow you into the bathroom whenever you’re going to shower, keeping a keen eye on every curve of your body. Nothing to do other than watch the fat of your ass lower into his view when you have to bend over to clean up a mess you of him might’ve made.

Nothing to do other than create smutty fantasies of you in his head from when he was human, imagining what your cute little moans would sound like with you under him. Nothing to do other than watch your tits bounce whenever you two go out for a jog in the early morning. Nothing to do other than take a nap between your legs, resting his head on your stomach or between your breast whenever he can. Nothing to do but wish your pretty lips were wrapped around his cock instead of that popsicle you were sucking on a hot summer day.

Toji was a lucky bastard. And lucky bastards get what they want.

🌌

“Toji? Toooojiiii, breakfast! Where’d the hell you go?” You called out, turning the house upside down as you looked for him.

“Toji?” The only place you haven’t looked was the guest bathroom, and currently the door was closed shut. You could hear shuffling from inside, which made you wonder how the dog could’ve closed the door. Without warning, you swiftly pulled open the door.

“What’s going on in her-“ You stopped mid sentence, mouth agape at the figure who stood in front of your bathroom’s vanity. You both stared each other down, your eyes blown wide open while his were glued to yours without emotion. It was a stare down for what seemed like ages, until the familiar man broke the silence.

“What?”

You screamed, and you wished it was without the s because it was embarrassing. He flinched at your volume and seemed to disappear for millisecond, only to return right in front of you, hand on your mouth.

“Jesus Christ- I know you’re a loud mouthed brat but now’s not the time to scream yer’ lungs out,” He huffed, “You can do that later,” The man smirked, you could feel your face flush a bit. After a sec, he hesitantly let go of your mouth. Your mouth was left agape again as Hulu blinked wildly in disbelief at the hulking man in front of you.

“I- wait a fucking second… where’s my dog!?” The man just deadpanned at you, you took this time to eye him up and down. His skin tight shirt had a massive part of it missing on it’s left side, dark splotches of blood surrounding it. The familiar man, however, seemed completely fine.

“C’mon, is it not obvious!?”

“No!? It’s not possible for some anime character to come to life!?” At this you dashed out the room, running into the kitchen to nab your phone to call 911. Before you could even pick it up from the counter, the phone was snatched at lightning speed.

“Hey-!” You whipped around, immediately meeting a stone hard chest.

You were trapped.

“What do I gotta do to prove ‘m real, huh?”

💫

Omfg this is so ooc 💀 writing in character is hard.

If anyone’s confused Toji died and reincarnated into a dead dog’s body that looks exactly like him. During the night get went back to the jjk dimension, shibuya happens, and he returns back human.

Not proofread 🤡

[sirowsky-stories]

The Old Prince

So, this is my entry for the Halloween themed Pedro Pascal Writing Challenge hosted by @pedrocontestsrus Thank you for organizing this! And if anyone else is interested in entering the competition, here's a link to the post with all the info.

I chose Prompt #2 Theme: A Dark and Stormy Night. However, I suck at short, so this is basically just a teaser which I'm gonna have to continue outside of the contest.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, Game of Thrones AU, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses, reader is attacked and abducted. Also, this is my first time writing Oberyn. Word Count: 4041 Author's Masterlist

   You run at full speed despite the darkness, ignoring the burning in your lungs and the furious pounding of your heart, even though you know that he’s already gone and that your running would only scare him off if he wasn’t.    The woods have always scared you and even now, in your mid-thirties, you still panic when you’re alone among the creaking old trees, spider webs and nightly active animals, all of whom seem intent on eating you. At least, to your own imagination.

   “Damned it, Casper…” you breathlessly curse the horse for leaving you, once you’ve been forced to a stop by the pain in your lungs.

   He’s normally very brave but being in the woods in the middle of a building storm is apparently too much even for his stout heart.    So, you’re left to walk the remaining four miles to your house, and not for the first time, you find yourself wondering why the hell you’d chosen to live all the way out here, surrounded by the very woods that have always been such a source of discomfort to you.

   “Because that was all you could afford, dimwit,” you chastise yourself out loud.

   The house you now live in had been put up for sale after the previous owner had been missing for a few years and was eventually declared dead, despite her body never being found.    It’s small and old, but well maintained and very charming, so you’d been surprised to be the only one interested in it.

   You’ve lived there for over six years now and while it’s a bit secluded and a little too far from town, you do love it.    The hiking trails leading up to the seven hills that make up the east boundary of the region run right by your property, and in daylight, you love to ride or just wander up to the peaks and admire the view.

   There are rarely any larger wildlife passing through so for the most part, it’s quite safe, so long as you remember to bring water and check for lose rocks on the steeper sections of the trails.    But now, in the near pitch-black darkness of night, you can’t even recognize the trail you’re on. So, why are you even out here?

   Well, that would be because you’d started out in daylight, as usual, but then gotten involved in a search for another missing person in the hills, which had left you out there until well after nightfall.    You had of course expected Casper to bring you home safe and sound, like he usually does no matter what’s going on around him. But unfortunately, on this occasion, the horse had lost its footing and fallen to the ground.

   He’d gotten up without trouble, but since you’d no longer been on his back at that point, he’d gotten spooked, probably by the reins getting caught in his legs or something, and had taken off.    You hope that he gets home without hurting himself, but you’re also quite angry with him for not recognizing your voice and staying by your side instead of running off on his own.

   But your thoughts are disrupted by a creaking sound coming from behind you, a sound definitely not created by a tree.    You stop, feeling a cold shiver move slowly down your spine, and you know that you’re in danger. You have no idea exactly what is watching you right now, but you know that something is.

   You hear that same sound again, mere moments after the first, and even as you instinctively set off running, too panicked to even know if you’re still on the trail, your mind tries to work out what the hell that sound is.    The winds are picking up, building towards the forecasted storm that has all the kids in town excited because of how perfect it is for the Halloween celebration, but it’s making it so much harder for you to hear if something’s chasing you.

   Unable to stop yourself, you throw a look over your right shoulder, and a strangled scream escapes you when you catch a glimpse of something impossibly large and strangely shiny, and then just teeth.    You try to run faster but you can’t. The dark world around you is a blur as you wait for those teeth to sink into your flesh and torture you to death. It seems to take so long.

   And then it happens.    You’re snagged to a stop so quickly that it makes your legs lift off the ground as they’re kicked forwards by the momentum.    Something has your shoulder between its jaws, but that’s as much as you’re aware of before the world fades away and nothing exists anymore.

-=¤=-

   You wake up on a bed in a room with a strange ceiling and stone walls. You’re groggy and only half awake, so it takes you a moment to realize that there are paintings covering the ceiling, making the stones look kind of fluid.    Beautiful images of stormy seas and a red sunset flow across the domed shape, bringing it to life in a way that stone shouldn’t be capable of.

   Then you remember, and bring your left hand up to examine your right shoulder, half expecting it to just not be there. But it is, and it feels fine.    You sit up, relieved but also confused that there’s no pain, and as your bare feet hit the cold floors, your eyes are drawn to the rest of the room.    It’s round and there’s a window in every direction, revealing the daylight outside, but also every detail inside.

   The bed is easily large enough for two people, and the sheets and blankets are the softest you’ve ever felt. There’s a loveseat underneath one of the windows, with plush pillows leaned against the armrests. In the middle of the room is a carpet which you can tell just by looking at it, likely costs more than your house. And the curtains, four matching pairs, all a deep red, somehow seem both heavy and feathery light.

   There’s a door to your left, and it’s standing open, so at least you’re not a prisoner. But you don’t feel like one regardless. All of this is so strange, because you’re sure that something bit you, but you can’t find any wounds in your skin.    There are holes in your shirt, though. And where’s your jacket? Why are you barefoot?

   You head for the door and find a winding staircase leading down, so this is apparently a tower.    At the foot of the stairs is a corridor and then more stairs, twirling the other way this time, so you keep heading down, passing closed doors and empty spaces until you reach a pair of large double doors that are left wide open.

   There’s a fire crackling inside and your cold feet and bare arms have left you shivering, so you head inside, finding the biggest open fireplace you’ve ever seen, in the other end of the huge room.    It must be a ballroom or excessively large dining room, but it’s completely empty, save for a padded short stool in front of the fire.

   You sit and warm yourself, trying to think back, to remember any details that might help you understand what’s happened to you, but nothing comes to mind.    And then a movement to your right startles you to your feet.

   “My apologies, miss. I have a habit of moving quietly,” a dark and low voice says, and when you locate the man who that voice belongs to, you’re momentarily stunned into silence.

   He’s tall and broad, but quite lean, with a perfectly chiseled jaw and a beard trimmed to accentuate that. He wears no jewelry, but his dark green coat has golden threads and small embroideries on the cuffs and along the collar. Shapes too small for you to make out at ten feet of distance, but which from afar remind you of snakes.    Still, it’s his eyes that rob your brain of most its function.

   So dark, but also incredibly expressive. He’s curious, intrigued, but wary. As though you might pose a threat to him somehow, which seems impossible to you.

   “W-… Where are my shoes?” you manage to croak, still unable to break away from his eyes.

   “I took your shoes and your jacket to encourage you not to run away once you awoke. I’m afraid I am going to need you to remain here for the time being,” the man explains, and suddenly your brain wakes up in full.

   “So, I’m your captive, is that what you’re telling me?”

   “Yes, and no. You are my captive, as much as I am yours.”

   “What’s that supposed to mean? I have no idea who you are,” you counter, getting angry because that’s all you can do to keep from panicking.

   “My name is Oberyn, and this is my home. You’re welcome to explore as much as you like, but I would recommend staying away from the basement. Especially at night.”

   “Why? Do you have more prisoners down there you don’t want me to set free?”

   “Oh, there are cages down there, and many of them are occupied,” he says, while taking a few steps closer to you. “But I doubt that you would want to release any of the creatures that are locked inside.”

   Creatures? What the hell does he mean by that?    He’s only three feet away when he stops, just as the outside light catches his eyes at a different angle, and you can swear that you see something else within them. A bright golden shine seems to illuminate them from within for just a fraction of a second, as if reacting to the sun’s rays.

   “The tower is yours. I will not venture there without your approval for the duration of your stay.    But the rest of the castle is my domain, and you move through it at your own risk. Do you understand?” he asks, to which your anger flares.

   “Understand? No… I really don’t.    Who are you?! What is this place, where the hell am I?! There aren’t any castles anywhere near the seven hills! And what the hell was it that chased me last night, and why do I have bitemarks in my shirt but not on my skin?    What the fuck is going on?!”

   He lets you scream and rant without so much as a twitch bothering his mustache, and says nothing as you begin to pace in front of the fireplace, crossing your arms in silent defiance, but also an attempt to guard yourself against all this strangeness.

   “You were bitten by a serpent,” he quietly says, just as you’re about to give up and leave the room.

   “It was a lot bigger than any snake, and it had a lot more than two fangs,” you counter, all but spitting at him now, further angered by the notion that he might be trying to convince you that you imagined the whole thing.

   “I didn’t say that it was a snake,” he replies, and you stop pacing.

   “And what is a serpent if not a damned snake?” you challenge, but he seems unbothered.

   “Is that all it can be? You must think broader than that, young one.”

   His words make no sense to you. Serpent, snake, fucking danger noodle, it’s all the same.    And “young one”? He’s at most five years older than you.

   “Please, just tell me where we are?” you finally ask, deciding that there’s probably no point in trying to argue with this mystery man.

   He looks at you for a good minute then, as if trying to decide if he should answer, and you notice that he doesn’t blink a lot, which is surprisingly unsettling.

   “We are six hundred and nine miles from your home. Give or take a few dozen feet.”

   That takes you a second to process.

   “What!?” you almost scream, unable to take any more of this incomprehensible nonsense. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that you had a fucking helicopter hidden in the woods, or something?”

   “Take a look outside the windows,” he calmly suggests. “I’m sure the snow on the ground will help you come to terms with the truth that you are no longer as far south as you think.”

   Unwilling to take his word for it, you walk over to the nearest window, where the view makes your heart sink. Because he’s right.    Not only are there several inches of snow covering everything in sight, but you also don’t recognize the landscape at all.    And that’s when the realization of just how much trouble you’re in, finally dawns on you.

   Turning away from the window, you now meet your captor’s eyes, for the first time with fear brimming within your own. Unable to stop yourself, you try to back away from him but there’s a wall in the way, so you start moving sideways instead, heading for the open double doors of the room.    He doesn’t try to stop you, but just before you turn your back to him as you’re crossing the threshold, his expression turns incredibly sad.

   You run through the halls, fully panicking now and having no idea where you’re even going. But then another set of large double doors are in front of you, so you grab the handle on one of them and pull it open.    It’s the front entrance. You’re standing on the top ledge of another staircase, this one twisting off in both directions, leading down to a massive courtyard.

   There’s a fountain in the shape of a rearing Pegasus in the middle, so big that the lilac shrubs which surrounds it barely even reach halfway up its hindlegs. And beyond that, is a giant garden of cherry trees and rhododendron hedges, in the middle of which, a wide driveway comes straight through, right up to the courtyard.    A driveway that’s so long, you can’t even see the end of it, where it disappears into the surrounding woods.

   You couldn’t run from here even with your shoes and jacket.

   The freezing wind brushes over your exposed skin, making you shiver and wrap your arms around yourself while sorrow suddenly burns through you, bringing tears to your eyes.    But then something soft and warm falls over your shoulders and you flinch, spinning on your heels and quickly backing away, further out onto the ledge to try and get away from him, which means stepping into the icy cold snow in just your skin.

   “Please…” he says, and he sounds alluringly soft and inviting now, which only adds to your suspicions. “I have no intention of harming you.”

   “Then how about you tell me what exactly your intention is?” you counter, barely able to keep your jaws from clattering with how badly you’ve started shaking.

   He takes a deep breath and then slowly releases it, somehow looking sadder and more tired with each milliliter of air that escapes him.

   “I just… I’m sorry. Please, come back inside before you get frostbite on your feet.”

   “That’s n-not an answer,” you challenge, already trembling all over now.

   “I know, this is why I’m sorry, but how is hurting yourself going to help the situation?” he wonders, and you have to concede that it doesn’t.

   You huff once in defiance, and then step forward, allowing him to wrap the blanket around you. But you hadn’t expected him to sweep you up into his arms and carry you inside.

   “Hey, I c-can still walk, p-put me down!”

   “The floors are cold here. I will put you down once you’re in a room with a rug.”

   “Or you c-could just give me b-back my shoes,” you gripe, and he hums in what sounds like a thoughtful manner to you, as if he’s conceding that maybe he was wrong to take them from you.

   But he says nothing more, and as he carries you through the empty hallways, none of which look familiar to you because this place is apparently a damned maze, you steal a few closer glances at him.    His skin is in better condition than yours ever has been, to the point where even his stubble looks soft. And his hair looks flawless. Not one strand of the curls on his head seems damaged or less bouncy than the rest. And the same goes for his beard and mustache.

   His clothes are perfectly tailored, and they look new, but they don’t smell like it. Instead, the only smell you detect seems to be his, and it’s not at all unpleasant. Contrarily, the longer you smell him, the more inviting the scent becomes.    You’re somewhat embarrassed to realize that you’ve stopped shivering with the warmth that spreads through you from within, just from that delicious scent.

   The room that he finally turns into is small and smells of paper, reminiscent of the old bookstore in the city back home, run by a sweetheart of an old lady who also happens to be the grandmother of the missing woman who’s house you live in.    She was the only one who’d come by with a housewarming gift after you’d moved in. That’s how sparsely populated your social circle is.

   It looks to be an office, of sorts. There’s a fireplace here too, already lit and crackling warmly in the far corner of the room. To the left is a desk filled with scrolls of paper and what looks like old maps of countries you don’t recognize, and to the right are shelves filled with more scrolls, books and scraps of paper.    There’s an armchair and a small sofa in front of the fire, and he sets you down on the sofa before kneeling in front of you to inspect your wet and freezing feet.

   You’re about to argue that you’re perfectly capable of tending to your own extremities, but something about his touch stops you.    His fingers seem warmer than they should be, almost feverishly so, but more than that, his skin feels like it’s giving off tiny electric impulses where it meets yours. And the feeling is highly intoxicating.

   He quickly examines your feet and then sits back and looks up at you again, where a curious expression flashes across his features as he notices that you’re suddenly a bit out of it. He seems concerned at first, and then… is he blushing?

   “If I get you your socks and your boots, will you promise me that you will not go running into the woods and getting yourself lost?” he asks, sternly holding your gaze while he looks for any traces of deception in your answer.

   Except you don’t give any. Because you can’t make that promise. Not when you still don’t know why he’s brought you here or why he intends to keep you here.

   “I don’t suppose it would make much difference if I told you that we are much too far away from any other people for you to make it there alive in winter?” he sighs, and he does seem genuinely worried that you won’t believe him.

   “Actually, I do believe you on that part. I just also believe that dying while running for your freedom might be better than living in captivity,” you explain, and once again, something terribly sad comes over him.

   “I really wish you could trust that I don’t intend to harm you, young one.”

   “Why do you call me that? I can’t be that much younger than you.”

   He chuckles drily at that, but it’s a sound of hopelessness rather than bemusement.

   “If only that were true…” he says quietly, turning his gaze to the floor for a moment before he rises and leaves the room.

   When he returns, only a few seconds later, he’s carrying your shoes and wool socks, both of which he appears to have cleaned, hands them to you and then steps back while you put them on.    For a moment, you contemplate more questions, but the more you think about the strangeness of this whole situation, the more you just want to pretend that it’s a dream and that you’re gonna wake up and laugh at yourself any second now.

   “The tower’s mine?” you find yourself asking, instead of any real questions.

   “That whole wing is yours for as long as you’re here,” he nods.

   “And how long might that be?”

   “For now, I can’t say with any certainty, but hopefully no more than a few days.”

   He does look genuinely apologetic as he says that, but you’re relieved to hear it. Somehow, you’d envisioned being a captive for years, locked away in that tower. But there’s something innately honest about this guy. You have no reason to trust anything he says, and yet you do.

   “And what determines how long my stay ends up being?” you wonder, while rising from the sofa and daring yourself to take one step towards him.

   He doesn’t react in any visible way to your truly minimal challenge, but you wonder if perhaps he likes that you don’t just accept your circumstances when they don’t feel right to you. There’s a little glimmer in his eyes that might just be a hint of awe.

   “How long it takes me to figure out how you’re still alive,” he quietly answers, bringing you back to the severity of the moment.

   Turning away from you, he reaches for an old-fashioned candlestick holder, lights the candle and then hands it to you.

   “Living light reveals the path to the tower,” he says, as if that isn’t the most useless piece of information you’ve ever gotten, and then gestures to the open door.

   Utterly confused, you step out into the dusky hallway, half expecting the wooden door to slam shut behind you, but it doesn’t.    When you turn back to ask him which direction to turn, you find him right behind you, already showing you to the right with a gentlemanly open hand aiming that way.    You nod your thanks and begin walking, still without a clue as to what the candle is meant to show you. Until it does.

   Once the dancing light hits a certain wall, a faint glow appears in a thin line running along the wall, around waist-height.    You follow it, seeing it fade away as soon as the flame isn’t directly in front of it, and before you know it, you’re back at those winding stairs.    Walking back into the chamber at the top, you find that nothing’s moved since you left.

   You walk around the room, examining everything more closely, finding two large and fully stocked bookcases hidden behind drapes on either side of the fireplace. There’s also a closet built into the wall next to the bed, and there are very old dresses hanging in there, covered with dust, making you wonder who the girl might’ve been that those clothes had originally belonged to.

   Realizing that you haven’t asked your captor how to get food or how he intends to figure out how you’ve miraculously healed, you spend a few minutes pondering on whether you’ve got the energy to make the long walk back down to look for a kitchen and ask if you’re expected to come down from your tower at any specific times.    But ultimately, you decide to leave it for now, picking out a book instead. You’re too stressed still to be able to eat anything anyway.

   The book keeps you occupied for the entire afternoon, and it isn’t until it grows dark that you eventually close it and get up, intending to go looking for that kitchen.    You’d left the candle holder in the window that faces the front of the castle, although you can’t see the courtyard from behind the main structure, but as you go to pick it up, a movement outside catches your eye.

   Peering down towards the ground, you see a door swing open, and then something runs across the section of the yard that you can see. It’s so fast that you can’t be sure, but it looks like it could be what attacked you last night.    And it looks like… a dragon.    A dragon that just ran out of the same castle where you’re trapped.

Part 2

Thank you for reading! I had so much fun with this and I'm nowhere near done with it. Huge Thanks to @joelswritingmistress for inspiring me to take on Oberyn, I didn't think I ever would.

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