#And now I’m reading in anticipation of something that may never come

[trappedinmymind]

Re-reading your own writing is one awful thing, but re-reading your own writing specifically because you have to figure out if you already explained an important lore point or not somehow manages to make it worse

[seventh-district]

so uh. that 2.2 Special Program, huh

[chelseeebe]

truth or dare

18+. mdni. smuuuut. yeah man it’s really just smut. eddie munson x female reader.

a/n: not sure if i really like this but i wanted to post something while i work on this other long ass thing that may never see the light of day el oh el a continuation to gimme a hand and bump n’ grind or can absolutely be read on it’s own!

steve and robin had made the right call, leaving a few hours ago before the storm really hit.

eddie’d stupidly offered another joint, not wanting to let you go so soon. optimistic that maybe something would happen after those two had cleared off.

you’d been darting around it all evening, watching the movie with your hand under the blanket, stroking his thigh. inadvertently, or perhaps purposefully, making his cock shift with every length of your hand.

you peer out of the window, clicking your tongue against the back of your teeth, “i don’t think i can drive,” turning back to face him, “it’s really comin’ down out there,” a hint of satisfaction in your voice.

“i’m sure wayne won’t mind if you crash here,” shrugging softly.

you used to stay around a lot when you were slightly younger, back when touch was innocent and there weren’t all these complicated layers to your relationship.

“can you handle that?”

his eyes roll back, “shut up,” sitting back in his spot on the couch. anticipating spending the night here rather than in his bed, desperate to prove that he could handle it.

“whatcha wanna do?” you sing, pursing your lips.

“i dunno,” he shrugs, “we could watch another movie?” knowing that ultimately, another movie would lead to you touching his thigh until he came or something.

“that’s boring,” scowling at his suggestion, “i mean.. we are stuck in here,” biting on your bottom lip, “let’s play a game,” you propose, cocking your head, “truth or dare.”

eddie groans, an unwilling participant in your silly little games.

“come on,” offering zero incentive for him to play, “it’ll be fun,” taking another swig of the surely luke-warm beer. “truth or dare?”

there is not a single bone in his body that wants to play with you. no doubt you’d have him confessing to something embarrassing or doing something dangerous or stupid.

“dare,” he says flatly, hoping you’ll dare him to jump out of the window or something.

“i dare you..” you ponder for only a second, “to take your shirt off.”

“wh-,” he starts, mouth falling open, “well i dare you to take your shirt off.”

“it’s not my turn, idiot,” pursing your lips, “off.. now.”

pouting your lips, watching carefully as he lifts his shirt off, tossing it to the other side of the room.

“alright,” honing in on this stupid game, “truth or dare?”

“dare.”

eddie’s eyes light up, “take your shirt off,” immediately getting his own back.

“you’re supposed to say i dare you before your dare,” tutting at his impatience, though you do as he says.

lifting your shirt over your head, revealing the lacy bra you had most definitely chosen on purpose. maybe this was your plan all along, waiting to get him alone to inflict your cruel wrath upon him.

he ogles just enough to not have you mention anything, diverting his attention back to whatever drivel was on the tv. desperate to just get over this dancing around each other and get to the inevitable.

“truth or dare?” you ask again, poking his leg with your foot.

“do we have to play?” eddie whines.

“yes.”

“okay truth,” he spits, leaning back against the cushions.

“why didn’t it work out with you and chrissy?”

he groans again, already sick of this, “we wanted different things,” different things being you, he means.

“like what? i thought you were testing the waters or whatever?” mocking him with his own words.

“you. you jerked me off and ruined my life forever, is that what you wanted me to say?”

you ponder in silence for a moment before that god awful smirk creeps onto your face, “actually yes, that’s exactly what i wanted you to say,” crossing your legs, all self-righteous and smug.

it’s not like you didn’t already know this, it was fairly obviously to anyone with eyes and two brain cells to rub together.

“your turn,” smiling pointedly at you, “truth or dare?”

you hum, contemplating your options, whatever you picked, he was surely going to make it worth his while.

“dare.”

“alright,” eddie sits up straight, poking his tongue into his cheek, “i dare you to run around outside in your underwear,” if you wanted to play stupid games, you could win stupid prizes too.

your smile grows, taking over your entire face, “fine,” standing from your spot on the floor, shimmying out of your jeans right in front of him.

he jumps up, rushing to the door as you bound outside, filling the silent trailer park with your squeals and squeaks.

eddie watches in quiet amazement, more focused on the way your tits move with every bound, your lacy panties framing your jiggling ass perfectly. he’s close to drooling, turning into a slobbering mess at the sight of you literally frolicking in your panties. he was a pathetic man, and he knew it.

you turn, running full speed back into the door, teeth chattering and your hands trembling from the cold. barrelling straight past him, back into the warmth, lashes coated in tiny, intricate snowflakes.

“fuck!” you screech, “you asshole,” picking up his discarded shirt to slip on instead of your own. he wishes you hadn’t. seeing you half naked in his shirt was far worse than seeing you actually naked.

eddie snickers, closing the door all the while trying to keep his composure.

a smirk erupts onto your face, something ticking away in your brain before you stomp over, grabbing his cheeks with your ice cold hands, grinning with pure self satisfaction.

he hollers, grabbing your wrists in defence. it becomes a flailing sort of dance, with you trying to keep your cold hands on his face and him fighting to get you away. a mixture of expletives fill the trailer, screeching over one another as you move around the room.

you trip over one of the discarded bottles on the floor, sending you flying back onto the couch, still breathlessly cursing him out.

eddie takes the only logical step, pouncing on top of your flailing body, bounding your arms together at the wrist, heaving for breath.

he freezes, the realisation that for once he had all the power dawning upon him, unequipped for the sudden change in dynamic.

he can feel you, underneath him, pressed into the couch by his body, sending shivers down his spine.

“you gonna do something or what?” you snark, no longer trying to wriggle free, accepting and even pleased in your defeat.

“yeah,” he adds meekly, despite not making an attempt to actually do something.

your brows thread together, knee sliding up the side of his body, spreading your legs further as his cock perks up in response.

holy fucking shit.

this was it.

or it could be it if he can gather his raucous thoughts enough to make a move.

eddie’s had sex before, multiple times in fact. he doesn’t understand why his hands aren’t doing the thing they should be, why he’s frozen in place, waiting for something to happen.

“we don’t have to, you know?”

fuck. he was going to fuck this up through sheer stupidity.

so instead of letting his brain worm his way out of what would probably be the best moment of his life, he thinks with his dick.

pressing his lips to yours in a hasty, rushed kiss. letting your hands free from his restraint, allowing you to weave your fingers through his hair just like he’d thought so much about.

his hands crawling underneath his shirt, touching your skin for what felt like the first time ever, gliding over your waist, appreciating the soft feel of your skin, lingering for too long.

he doesn’t want to take it off, how many times could he say he’d have sex with you with his shirt on?

you’d already stripped him out of his clothes, leaving nothing to the imagination as his hips grind down against yours, breathing shakily into your mouth.

your lips latch onto his, tongue sliding into his open mouth while your fingers pull gently at his curls.

even when eddie thinks he’s fully in control, you still take charge. rutting your hips upwards, separated by the thin layer of lace and his boxers that most definitely had a hole in them.

there’s a fifty percent chance that he’ll cum right away, already incredibly hard, teetering on the edge.

it’s genuinely incomprehensible that after months and months of longing and edging, this was finally happening. too caught up with trying to keep to your pace to really think about the implications on your relationship too much.

he hopes that this won’t change anything, at least not negatively anyway.

your hand slides down the tiny space left in between your bodies, toying with the waistband of his boxers before slipping in. unable to contain his groan from slipping out and into your mouth.

tugging the fabric down just enough to let his cock out, giving him no time to recover before your fist wraps around the base of his cock, pumping your fingers around the sensitive skin.

“fuck,” he breathes, bottom lip still latched onto yours. no hand had ever come close to yours, filling his thoughts since you’d touched him for the first time.

wayne’s ratty old couch wasn’t exactly the romantic location he’d envisioned this happening in, but beggars can’t be choosers and eddie certainly wasn’t going to complain.

he’s so dumbfounded that any of this is even happening, clumsily fumbling with the lace hem of your underwear, tugging them down haphazardly, with no care or grace.

his previous displays of desperation made sure you didn’t care about his composure, or else you wouldn’t be here.

your lips collide, all teeth and tongues and spit. eddie too focused on the feel of your hand around his cock to care.

he can feel your body shift from underneath, manoeuvring his cock to your soaked entrance, letting out the most ungodly noise as the tip glistens with your slick.

pressing your sweaty forehead against his, begging for his full attention, “look at me,” you insist, running your fingers around his cock, withholding him from full satisfaction.

he does as you ask, finding your wild-eyed gaze, holding it just long enough to slide into your slick cunt, grunting into the hot air that hung around the room.

“fuck,” you bite, weaving your fingers through his hair, tightening your things around his waist.

it’s dizzying. feeling you envelope around him just as he’d imagined countless times before. you’re so warm and so wet, so so wet. eddie can’t help but wonder if this is how you’d felt when you were grinding against him.

nothing could’ve ever prepared him for the fuzzy haze that’d encapsulate his brain, thoughts only of you and your body and your pussy.

his balls slap against your ass, slow and steady, hoping not to bust five seconds in. keeping his eyes on yours, encapsulated by the way they flit between his eyes and his lips.

heaven wouldn’t be too far off this, he thinks.

his rhythm is neither here nor there but he was trying, filling you to the hilt and then pulling back out again.

every soft, melodic gasp and cry you made was echoing through his brain, spurring him on to make them louder.

purely intoxicated with your pussy, gasping for more as he slams against your hips.

this wasn’t going to last long but he sure as shit was going to make it worthwhile.

you writhe underneath his body, fingernails grazing against his scalp, gentle and yet demanding.

“sh-shit eds,” you pant, jaw slack with your tongue practically lolling out of your head.

just hearing you moan his name has detrimental effects on his brain chemistry. his eyelids struggle, fluttering open just enough to meet your glossy eyes, pupils blown out and crazy. this was going to wreck him for the rest of his life, cursed forever by the image of you and your parted lips. the way you wail his name becoming a tune he’d revisit constantly.

he’d love to capture it, one day, if you’d let him.

no one would ever come close to you, your cunt and your god forsaken sighs. eddie promises to himself that if there’s a next time, he’s not leaving until you cum. unsure if he’d be able to control himself but more than willing to take that risk.

his thrusts become sporadic, losing his grip on reality as he teeters closer and closer to the edge. you can see it too, tugging gently on his hair to bring him back to this reality.

pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his mouth, too high off of your own pleasure to aim for accuracy.

eddie’s not sure if he prefers your goading or this softer touch, honestly neither were helping him not to bust his load right now.

“yeah?” you breathe, in response to his hoarse grunts, succumbing to the tightening pressure in his stomach, “you gonna cum?” sighing against his mouth.

he doesn’t want to, not really. hoping this’d last forever and ever because god knows if you’d ever let him touch you again.

hoping desperately to have not wasted his one and only time buried inside of you by cumming in five minutes flat.

but he is going to cum, in fact, he’s dangerously close to doing so immediately. the way you squeeze and tighten around him only accelerating the inevitable, his toes curling and mouth running dry.

he was seeing stars, dancing around the inside of his eyelids. woozy on adrenaline as he pathetically ruts his hips into yours for a final few lousy strokes.

“oh fuck,” eddie rushes, “no- fuck i’m cumming,” his cock slides out, thick ropes of his release covering not only your inner thighs but the couch too. collapsing atop of your perfect body, pinning you to the cushions as he attempts to gain some sort of semblance of control.

his face finds your chest, heaving for breath between your tits, his shirt pulled up just enough for your bra to peep underneath the hem.

“jesus christ,” words vibrating against your skin, almost purring at your fingers combing through his hair.

nothing he could ever dream would match up to that. the neurons in his brain had been frazzled, never to work or compute the way they should, ever again.

he places a measly kiss to your chest, looking up at you through his lashes, an insignificant gesture of appreciation that he felt he owed.

“you good?” you ask, lips twitching into a smile, unsure if you’re mocking him or genuinely concerned. either or would be fine.

“not really,” still floating up above the clouds.

“shut up,” definitely mocking, pulling tufts of his hair back to have him meet your eye fully, “you liked that?”

he nods enthusiastically, pining after your approval like the lovesick little loser he truly was. incredibly, you hadn’t run off into the storm, so maybe you had too.

“good,” abruptly letting go of his hair, his head falling back onto your chest, “get off me, i need a shower,” attempting to peel him off of your body.

eddie knows, or at least hopes, that your snippy, sarcastic comments were made out of love. you showed affection by being a bitch and he showed his by being a stumbling, pathetic loser.

if that was all he had to endure to get anywhere near your pussy again, he’d do it in a heartbeat. each and every time.

-

wayne’s knuckles wrap against his bedroom door, waking eddie from the already broken sleep he was suffering with, far too excitable to settle down properly. instead he’d spent his hours between drifting in and out of sleep and watching your dreamy face, trying to match his breaths to yours.

he slides out of bed, careful not to wake you, treading carefully to avoid the mountains of crap strewn across the floor.

“what the hell?” wayne whispers angrily, gesturing back to the living room he had neglected to clean. too caught up in you being in his shower and in his bed with his shirt on to care about empty beer bottles and discarded clothes.

“sorry,” eddie squirms, knowing he couldn’t exactly worm his way out of this one. “we had a few beers.. you know,” shrugging coyly. his uncle wasn’t stupid, he definitely did know.

wayne’s eyes narrow, flitting behind eddie to you, sleeping soundly in his bed. thankfully covered by the blanket as you slept in just his shirt.

“what happened there?” raising his brow at his inconspicuous nephew.

he shrugs, and then he grins. that great big toothy grin that wayne couldn’t mistake.

wayne shakes his head, tutting to himself as he backs away from the door, “clean that shit up before i wake up,” before disappearing into his own room.

eddie smiles to himself, sliding back into bed when you stir, humming softly, displeased to have been woken up so early.

“is he mad?” you mumble, muffled by the pillow.

“no.. no, not really,” eddie hushes, turning on his side to face you.

you’re still dozing, not bothering to open your eyes though he didn’t mind, you were peaceful this way, far calmer than your usual self.

“good,” settling into the pillow before slinging your leg over his thigh, pulling yourself closer, “he loves me too much to do anything anyway,” nestling your body into his side.

if the world ended tomorrow, eddie would die a happy man.

[jobean12-blog]

Forbidden

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x princess!reader (Pedro Pascal Gladiator II)

Word Count: 937

Summary: You were never interested in ruling an empire, seeking freedom and love over all else and when you finally find that love in a man forbidden to you, is escape the only answer?

Author's Note: My friend sent me an insta post about a princess running away and her bodyguard finding her so I took that and went with it! Haha! I was working on something else and then bam- muse shifted. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 😘

Warnings: light tension in the beginning, soft sweetness, some possessiveness on the General's side, fingering, the love is there

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

Every step you take is one that brings you further from the responsibilities that weigh upon your shoulders and despite the discomfort of the uneven ground beneath your bare feet you finally feel the freedom of the wind against your skin and the solidity of the Earth.

Your toga hangs loosely from your body, your escape having been in haste and leaving you with little time to dress appropriately.

As you navigate the undergrowth you focus on the ground beneath your feet and use it to keep your momentum, hearing nothing more than your heart thumping in your chest.

Your heart…the one thing that gives you reason to stay. It beats strong and fast and only for him.

The deeper you run into the forest the more aware you become of your surroundings as the world of royalty, duty and secrecy fades away, now replaced by the soft sounds of the birds and the rustling of leaves in the wind.

You find a secluded clearing and slow down, allowing yourself to catch your breath and take in the beauty around you. The forest’s thick canopy offers a feeling of safety, and you press your back to a large tree and let out a long exhale.

But the serenity is short lived when you hear the snap of a twig and your heart leaps into your throat. You whirl around in the direction of the sound, still hugging the tree at your back and come face to face with General Marcus Acacius.

He stands tall and imposing, his armor gleaming dully in the filtered light and his eyes lock onto yours with predatory intensity.

“My princess,” he says, his voice a low, gravely grumble that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“General,” you reply with a slight inclination of your head.

His gaze is deliberate as it roams over your disheveled state, lingering where your toga hangs open to reveal the softness of your skin beneath. You follow his stare and press a hand to the gaping spot but make no move to fix it.

With an expression of stern resolve and something darker he steps forward, and you’re forced closer to the tree, digging your back into the hard bark.

“Did you really think you could escape me?” he murmurs.

You audibly swallow and lick your lips, watching as his eyes fall to track the movement.

“It was never you I wanted to escape,” you whisper.

His expression softens and he presses closer, slowly sliding an arm around your waist, the feel of his rough armor against your skin making you tremble.

“No?” he asks with a sharp tug that has you trapped against his hard chest.

His armor is cool compared to your heated skin and as his breath, warm and tantalizing teases your lips the the world around you seems to pause.

“I was worried,” he whispers against your mouth, dipping his head to run his nose along the length of your neck.

His fingers have fallen to the loose fabric at your waist and slip beneath to allow his calloused fingertips to caress the softness of your curves.

“Marcus,” you gasp, tightening your hold on his broad shoulders. “Someone else may come looking.”

His lips meet your skin and press gently to the spot where your neck and shoulder meet before delicately traveling to your ear.

“I’m tired of hiding,” he whispers.

With a sigh of his name your head rolls back along the tree and his hand continues its search until it settles between your legs. He pushes your thighs apart and meets your eyes.

“Tired of hiding what is mine.”

His fingers find you ready and his eyes briefly close before he presses his lips to yours. Your hands glide up his neck and into his hair, tangling in the dark mess of curls as you cling to him for stability.

He keeps you on the edge of desperation with every teasing sweep of his fingers and when you finally break apart, breathless and trembling, does he watch with dark eyes as he pushes a finger inside you, his lips still hovering over yours.

“It is a punishment each day that we spend apart…that I cannot touch you.”

Your reply is rushed and gasping. “But we cannot stay here forever. You’re the general. You’re needed elsewhere.”

With the push of a second finger, he captures your lips again and runs his teeth along your bottom lip, biting softly before soothing it with his tongue.

“I know we must return,” he says, his jaw tight.

“But still, no one can know?” you counter.

“My princess,” he whispers, pressing his thumb to where you’re most sensitive and humming when your legs shake, and you swoon into him. “I would make it known to every living man that you belong to me and only me and no one is to ever even gaze upon what is mine.”

“Marcus,” you whimper, feeling your stomach tighten.

“Your father will have my head.”

His words are lost when you cry out his name and squeeze around him, rolling your hips into his hand and falling apart against him. He draws out your pleasure, relishing every sound you make, knowing the next time, he’ll have to keep you quiet.

When your breathing evens out and you meet his eyes once again, they are fierce with heat and desire.

“Are you saying you would not fight for me General?”

He withdraws his fingers and slowly slides them between your bodies, softly pressing them to the seam of your lips.

“My love, I would burn this empire for you.”

[annwrites]

—tell me i'm your national anthem

red, white, blue is in the sky. summer's in the air & baby, heaven's in your eyes. — yandere!homelander x collegestudent!reader ; ･:*✎✩

tw: breast-feeding, oedipus complex, controlling relationship

↳ read

John tightens his arms around your waist, his head resting comfortably atop your soft stomach as you run your fingers through his blond hair, humming him to sleep.

Then he breaks the silence. "You don't think I'm weak. Do you?"

"Of course not," you reply quietly.

His left hand tightens around your hip—so hard that it causes you to wince in pain, your fingers beginning to tremble.

"And you'd never leave me," he states with a tone of certainty.

"I'm right here," you say—a mere whisper—shooshing him.

He sits up then, leaning over you, smiling softly as his left hand trails up your chest, wrapping gently around your throat.

"Because if you ever did—think of leaving, that is—whoever you tried to move on with..."

He flashes a broad, toothy grin, shrugging playfully. "We'll, I’d just fucking kill him. I’d kill any man that looked at, or touched you, y'know?" He says in a sarcastic tone, his brow twitching as he tries to play off what he's just said as something casual.

But you know he means it.

He always means it...

You swallow nervously, his hold tightening.

"Because we belong together. I mean, you belong to me. You're my property."

You stare up at him with wide eyes, and his smile slowly begins to fade.

You nod then, your heart pounding rapidly, terrified of what may happen if you instead continue to lie there dumbly and without response.

He suddenly releases his hold, chuckling. "That's my good girl. Besides, once I got done taking care of business, you'd have nowhere else to go."

He leans down, brushing a kiss over your lips, then moving closer to your ear. "I’d make sure that I’d be the only thing you had left to run to," he says—his tone slightly threatening. "In all the fuckin' world."

He pauses. "Because I am your world."

He then lies back down, turning you on your side so he can press his face between your breasts, his eyes slowly closing as he cuddles against you.

"You can keep singing," he mumbles, now content, smiling softly to himself.

You sigh in irritation, removing the tea kettle from the burner and turning it off, ready to head toward the nursery.

John looks at you from over the back of the couch with a raised brow. "What's wrong?"

You slide your hand beneath your protruding belly, glancing down to your breasts, then up to him. "They're full. I’m going to pump. I’ll be right back."

He shoots up from his seat. "Let me help."

You pause, and he shifts nervously on his feet—he hadn't mean to just blurt it out like that, but it's also not as if you're not aware of him...enjoying it. He’d sucked on your breasts so much, even when he'd only just started coming to see you, that you'd been forced to regularly buy nipple cream.

He’d been waiting eagerly for this day: when you first began to lactate. He’s unsure that he's ever anticipated anything more.

He’ll have his own personal supply always ready and waiting for him now. Whether straight from his wife's breasts, or in bottles waiting for him in the fridge once he gets home.

From what he understands, so long as a woman keeps nursing, she'll continue to produce.

And he doesn’t intend for you to stop nursing him. Ever.

You turn around.

"C'mere," he says with a wave of his hand.

You pad over to him.

He nods toward the couch, and you seat yourself.

He takes his usual position then—already erect—his body spread out, head in your lap, your hand sliding comfortably underneath it.

You tug your shirt up, revealing your swollen breasts, and he swallows thickly—already salivating at the sight of them.

You take one in your other hand and he opens his mouth. You ease your nipple in and he begins to gently suck, his eyes fluttering closed, his left arm winding around your waist—pressed between you and the back of the sofa.

It’s late, and all is silent in your home, minus the sound of your husband nursing from your breast.

It makes your cheeks warm. It’s not that you don't enjoy it—being intimate with him like this, especially knowing how much it means to him—you do. But every other time...Well, there'd been no milk involved.

You’ve been acutely aware of his eagerness for this moment. Once you got pregnant, especially as your belly began to grow, his...predisposition with your breasts hit an all-time high.

Then came that night you'd climbed into his lap and finally told him that you knew what he wanted. And that you were okay with it—he didn't need to feel embarrassed or ashamed. You were his wife, and you wanted to give him that comfort that he never received as a child. It was something meaningful, just between the two of you.

And while he'd initially tried to brush it off, he'd loved you for it. For not ever using your body—your breasts—to manipulate him while you provided him faux-comfort while he continued to live in desperation for the true thing.

He begins to suck a bit harder and then accidentally pinches your nipple between his teeth. "Ow! Easy, baby."

His cock twitches, eyes shooting open at that exclamation as he stares up at you while you gaze down at him with love.

He starts sucking more gently and you smile softly.

"Thank you," you whisper.

In truth, he wants you to fucking say it again—or something to the same effect. But how the hell is he supposed to ask for that? He’s never done it before. But right now...it's all he wants to hear from your lips.

So he bites down gently again—just enough to irritate—and you jolt. "John, that hurt!"

He pulls away from your breast, grinning up at you.

"Sorry, mommy," he replies, playfully, before taking your other breast in his mouth.

And then you realize...or think you do, at least. He wants you to talk to him like that.

The notion makes you squirm just a bit. Simply because you've never done baby talk before—have been worried that you'll be terrible at it once your little one finally arrives. But maybe this will make for good practice?

It’ll please him, if nothing else.

"Shh, just be gentle with mommy, sweetie."

His eyes close again, a groan emitting from the back of his throat.

Okay, he definitely likes it.

He continues to suck gently, so you run your fingers through his hair. "Good boy."

His lip twitches.

"You're making mommy feel so much better, baby. Thank you," you say, leaning down, pressing a kiss to his temple.

He smiles, utterly content in your lap—in your loving, motherly arms.

you should've skipped the seminar when homelander came to your college as a guest speaker. it was supposed to be a 'special treat' to returning students for the new academic year. you'd not wanted to attend in the first place, until instructors & professors began herding students into the university's auditorium—which had included you.

so, you'd sat there silently, not bothering with listening to, or so much as looking at the fraud who stood behind that podium in his ridiculous 'super' suit with a puffed-out chest.

but that had only made it all the more easy to spot you when your eyes were the only ones not honed-in on & captivated by his magnificent presence.

&, in an instant, he'd made you his target.

he'd gone to the dean afterward, flashed a brilliant smile, & used his perfected, charming ways so he'd be allowed to look through the student roster, under the guise of wishing to connect with a student to thank her for her kind & moving words that she'd spoken to him as he took photos & signed autographs with her classmates. whereas, in reality, you'd been the first one out of that goddamn room.

he'd wanted to rip apart the lot of them just to get to you & force you onto your knees as you apologized & licked at his boots for disrespecting him.

that evening, as you stand in front of the stove in your apartment making yourself dinner, a loud thud is heard from your balcony.

you go to it shaking & worried someone is trying to break in, only to be met by the sight of a familiar man in a suit & cape, smiling menacingly at you from the other side of the glass doors, gently rapping against them with his knuckles, demanding he be let in...

plotting:

he's going to be very intimidating the first time they meet at her apartment.

just barges right in as soon as she opens the door

"i—uh—how—"

"i came for an apology."

"but—"

"see, i take precious time out of my day—we both know how important my time is, i mean...it's far more valuable as compared to someone like yours; someone inconsequential & worthless, that is—to come to your little 'institution' of academics to bestow wisdom upon all of you morons & instead of you giving me the respect i'm owed, you couldn't be bothered to so much as look in my general direction."

she just stares at him in fear.

"are you fucking stupid? speak!"

"i—i'm sorry?" she's more-so asking out of confusion.

"mm, see, that wasn't very convincing."

he just keeps stepping further & further inside, until he has her backed up against a counter.

"did mommy & daddy not teach their little girl respect?"

more staring & shaking.

"i could always just make you get on your knees. to either suck me off, or lick my boots. maybe both," he says with a grin & a shrug.

"i'm not doing that. i don't...i don't understand why you even care. what...why you're here. how you even—"

"do you not like me? i'm a fucking hero. i am the face of this country. yet you treat me like any other insignificant schmuck on the street. i deserve some goddamn respect."

"i dislike all celebrities just the same. please, just—"

he raises a brow. "i am not just some 'celebrity'. i protect you. i look out for you. and this is the thanks i get for it? some sniveling little bitc—"

but before he can finish, she pushes away from him.

"shit!"

her dinner was burning on the stovetop.

he smirks then, having an idea.

"y'know what? that does seem like a good start at fixing things between us. you can make me dinner. maybe we play house for the evening."

she stares at him incredulously.

"go on, start cooking. before i make you."

she makes him 2 grilled cheese sandwiches—just something simple to try & get rid of him.

"just going to sit there & watch me eat?"

"i'm...not hungry anymore."

"what're you in school for, then?"

"creative writing."

"read me something you've written."

"i don't...i don't want to."

"well, it's either that or once i'm done with my dinner i carry you over to your bed & have my way with you. whether you want to or not."

she grabs her laptop, since he's already nearly done with 1 sandwich.

"nope, give it here. i get to choose which one."

he picks one & turns the device around just as the document is coming up.

her face immediately goes red & he knows he must've chosen right.

"go on, then. almost done. or don't. i win either way."

it's just pure smut.

she's SO uncomfortable while reading what she's written about a man giving a girl oral.

meanwhile, he can smell how turned on she is.

once he's done she immediately stops, retrieving his plate & putting it in the dishwasher.

he comes up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders, then moving them down her arms, & up her chest until he has her tits in his hands.

she swings back around. "you can't—"

"oh, honey, i can do whatever the fuck i want." he grins. "& i think you're gonna like it."

he crushes his lips to hers, ignoring her mewls of protest as he lifts her onto the counter, pulling her shorts & panties down.

she tries to fight, but as soon as his eyes go red & he threatens her to either stay still or he'll kill her, she obeys.

he gets on his knees & eats her out until she's yanking on his hair & coming on his tongue.

he stands—his face shimmering from her & he kisses her again. "now, say thank you like a polite young lady."

"t-thank you."

he heads for the balcony again, throwing over his shoulder "i'll be back tomorrow" before taking off.

she's just sitting there humiliated. just like he wanted.

he keeps coming back to her apartment time & again, not much caring what she may or may not want.

he very slowly starts letting her in.

& when he does, he usually gets pissed-off right after, bc he's afraid of letting those walls down. but as soon as she touches him—a hand on the chest, or cupping his cheek, his mind just goes blank.

before long, he considers her as belonging to him, even if she doesn't know it. jealous side starts coming out to a frightening degree.

eventually, since his image is 'the american dream', pr team starts pushing for him to get married due to his being middle-aged & still alone—doesn't look good for his image. he puts it off for as long as possible until they have a list of suitable celebrities or other lined up for him to consider.

he panics. "i'm already engaged, so you can shove your roster of botox-filled bimbos where the sun don't shine. i found my girl."

goes to her apartment & throws her a small black box. "here, put that on your ring finger."

"j-john, this is—"

"yup," he says with a smile. "you are getting the unimaginable privilege of becoming misses homelander."

she makes him get down on one knee & do it right, despite him bitching.

in truth, she's frightened, but knows she has no other choice. he's already told her what will happen if she ever tries to leave—she's trapped.

speaking of pr—his team has him bring her in so they can properly meet her & make their judgement (doesn't matter either way what they think, bc he'd kill all of them/burn the whole building down before letting her go) & they start setting up photo-ops of him 'randomly' coming to visit her at uni—bringing her flowers, they're kissing, & hugging, & paparazzi just 'happen' to be nearby.

sometimes he'll just fly her up into the clouds to get the both of them away from it all. because yeah, he loves the attention, but it's the fact that she was his & now he feels like the media is trying to make her their own in some way. just as they have with him his whole life.

he wants her to stay as his & his alone. the wedding can't come soon enough so he can get her hidden privately away in a house somewhere.

buys her a house & gets to work on knocking her up asap. for one, bc i think he has a breeding kink, but also to further trap her, & to also get to work on building his lil 'master race' of supes & bc...mommy kink.

man has massive mommy issues, as we all know.

is going to have a particular breast-feeding kink w/ reader where he obvs can't actually feed (bc she's like 21 & doesn't have any kids yet), so he just will have her hold his head in her lap while he sucks on her nipples.

one day she has to go to the store to finally buy nipple cream bc of cracking & irritation he's doing it so much & a woman picking up formula is all "aw, how old is yours? (:" & she's mentally just like "do NOT say 43". "oh, uh, 6 months. (:"

headcanons:

after he & reader are married & have their first child, he has a lot of nightmares of something horrid happening to them. when he wakes up, it's always to her shaking him awake, telling him it's ok—everything is okay. his eyes will slowly fade from red, back to their natural color before he yanks her shirt down & starts breast-feeding for comfort. she just holds him & sings to him. it's just the routine they go through every-other night.

honestly? in general, she's his only source of comfort. he loves his children w/ her, but at times they give him nothing but anxiety, bc he's terrified he's going to fuck them up just like he is.

so, he tends to, at times, treat her like a surrogate mother for himself.

it was part of why he was so desperate to finally get her pregnant: to make her a literal mother at last.

before kids? called her pet names every now & again, but mostly by her first name. after? mommy all day long. she knows why, too. & it's not bc of the babies.

at random times, he'll just feel an overwhelming sense of emotion (affection) when he's with reader. & his only way to deal with it is to just pull her toward him as he lays his head between her breasts while she wraps her arms around his shoulders & head & he wraps his around her middle.

sometimes when she's studying or doing schoolwork, he'll get whiny bc he wants her tits in his face, so she eventually forces him into a compromise: they'll sit on the couch—she'll have a small table behind it with her things for uni—& she'll be straddling his lap while she works/writes/types & he gets to suck on her nips all he wants!

[gangplanksorenji]

Kinknuary Day 22: Spanking

Pairing: Kep1er Xiaoting x Male Reader

Word Count: 4,956

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

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“Don’t you want to take me somewhere else more than this?”

“I actually just want to go home now, Xiaoting—I’m pretty tired…”

“Aw, come on—please? Just one more then we’ll go home…”

Of course, Xiaoting won’t end a day without a good note because she detests anything that’ll make her feel bored or even the simplest hint of discontentment and you won’t dare to disappoint her. Sometimes, life doesn’t go the desired path they want them to and that’s being sampled on her right now, and you won’t let her selfish wants be your burden in the long run.

“Aren’t you even feeling tired, Xiaoting?” Your tone laces a hint of discomfort as she seems to be much more invigorated than you even though you’ve mostly spent the whole day shopping and attending such an incredible party you’ve ever gone to. 

“Not really, but please—”

“Okay, okay…” You break her constant plea with a single proposition: a classic game of rock, paper and scissors and whoever wins, will mark both of your fates—it’s quite a simple game but unable to be rejected as Xiaoting agrees about that, and you smiled because of her sudden agreement.

“Just once, okay?”

“Alright…” Xiaoting sounds pretty defeated even though it hasn't started yet because the pessimistic side of hers says that she may end up losing and it will deeply make her disappointed and knowing how well she will think, you curl up a smirk as this is the moment of truth.

Counting down up to the lowest possible integer, you could feel the tension on Xiaoting’s eyes, laced with anticipation and the desire to win as she wanted herself to be fully-redeemed on peak-happiness but it’s like, you can clearly read her mind through that serious gaze of hers as you curl up a smirk after utter ‘zero’ and guess what, all became too ambitious for someone who desired something truly at its best.

It wasn’t really the best, for Xiaoting as you landed ‘rock’ front of her which made her gasp in defeat as it’s too late, with even half a second to spare and cheat, she panicked and managed to land a ‘scissor’ and with that little game, you knew who’s victorious and it’s goddamn you. 

“I hate this game! It’s unfair!!” Xiaoting whines and as expected, she rants out how rigged that game could be and how you “cheated” to get that desired prize as she frowns in front of you, her pouty yet disappointed expression still exuding such beauty that no one can come close.

“How is it unfair? You even switched it up at the last second and ended up losing? Just accept your defeat—”

“Ughh, fine! Fine, I will…” Xiaoting brushes off your further continuation of fighting how she’s on the wrong side as she doesn’t want to hear anything that would just make things worse—it’s like she’ll lose anything of our decision, probably a good night’s rest at her place, especially with you on her side. Knowing that investing onto another argument or another plea won’t make anything better since a deal is a deal and you’re just going to wait for time to tell the fate you have in store with and knowing how Xiaoting will take your upcoming proposition wholeheartedly, then it’ll be just only a matter of time before it all unveils onto that anticipated abyss of wonders and desires.

---

It never gets old between the both of you and the fact that you’ve been holding this for a while now is surprising, knowing how insatiable Xiaoting can be at an times you lay your eyes on her as her vixen-like aura and her seductive nature is enough to make you lure in to your deepest desires, and it’s being fulfilled with multiple, sloppy kisses on her lips. You chase your delightful moments in every kiss that you make up with her, as much as the lustful need in you every time you tangle your tongue on hers as you went deeper, and Xiaoting, pulling out as she’s running out of breath due to our audacious nature and aggressive actions towards her.

“Why would you pull out, babe? Am I too much for you to handle?”

“Not reall—ahh, ohh… right t-there…” Maybe you’re right or you could lean onto the opposite, knowing that the culprit would be the lack of oxygen would let those speculations set aside onto the correct verdict. You know how your lips are one of her ultimate weaknesses out of the many things you can elaborate as you let her know how your stupendous skills can make a girl like her fall under your spell within just mere seconds. You latch onto her deep, sharp collar bones that you always love worshiping, knowing how perfectly sculpted those are like the rest of her body, deemed to be drooled on a praised by only you—you could be just the luckiest menace of them all, being gifted with such an angel being close to the epitome of perfection, from head to toe. You keep peppering that porcelain skin of hers with multiple kisses, running your lips down to her neck as she moans almost-inaudibly and incredibly sultry, voicing out her deep satisfaction towards your expertise.

“Oh god—you k-kiss me so well—oh, so good!”

Hearing her constant compliments on your actions, you continue to pepper her with intimate kisses until you pull out right after, hearing her soft whimpers needing your lips to be attached onto her skin as soon as possible but you had enough, for now. 

“Isn’t my baby needy for me?” Your eyes demanded an answer escaping her lips right away, wanting her to unleash that living submissiveness inside her and you’ll do it slowly, knowing how the beast inside her will be a little challenging to tame. 

“Y-Yes…”

She’s succumbing onto that state slowly as her eyes glistening with need and her soft, needy tone is enough of an evidence, luring her into falling under your spell and will not make her escape out of it. With her needy pleas and her body grinding greedily against yours, wanting to feel your touch, you can’t seem to be convinced as there’s few elements that’s lacking from her constant pleas. “Yes what, baby?”

“Yes, please…” With Xiaoting’s constant pleas, you can’t help but just fulfill her needs right at this moment but you need to unlock that beast inside of you with the magical word that will turn her world upside-down. 

“You’re getting there, baby~” You tease her porcelain skin with a gentle swipe of your fingers, running it down her neck and then up to her toned midriff, which you always love kissing and worth worshiping until the end of time. Xiaoting knows that she needs to crack the code within you, and with a clever mind and taking a few seconds of the clock for her to think about what could make that happen, she finally thought of that forbidden word and it’s only a matter of time until~

“Yes I am, daddy.”

You never expected her to fail in any kind as she’s cognizant as the way she is and it’s always impressive to see and even hear it all with utmost sincerity and need. With your face still inches away from her, such eye contact would let the other succumb onto the endearing stare of the other yet you’ll change that, more likely, a commanding one as you live up with that, wanting Xiaoting to strip her clothing in front of you with class and skill like nobody can achieve. Maybe, you haven’t seen anyone become on par with her skills, let alone surpassing her and you’ll keep it that way—it’s way phenomenal seeing Xiaoting doing the things she’s great at and you won’t even bother thinking of another woman to do it for you. With her seductive gaze inviting you to strip her clothing with her, you wouldn’t skip that opportunity as you do so, slowly removing the fur-like sleeves on her arms but before you completely strip it off her, you take some time to commend her flawless figure and her outfit perfectly complimenting each impeccable feature she has.

“Thanks, d-daddy—really l-loved this one…”

“You know, as much as I want this on you, this would be better on the floor.”

Xiaoting’s lips curled up a sinister smirk as she invited you to make that “wish” of yours come true, and it wouldn’t take up much of your time until it became accomplished. She would aid herself for you to be comfortable, leaning onto you as she gives you such inviting and sultry moans, making yourself get riled up for her and you love it but you wouldn’t be fazed with that as you continue stripping her. Her hands wouldn’t be idle as she pulled her pants, down to her ankles and then onto the floor with a swift motion and god, those scrumptious, milky thighs on your sight is tempting to be voraciously kissed as hunger took over you yet you continue your work and with her top off, her slender, hourglass figure is now within your eyes to be blessed and you couldn’t ask for more because of it. 

Xiaoting is a work of art, sculpted by the gods to perfection as you’re the lucky man to handle and appreciate this masterpiece, maybe even use it until her legs give out—a sullied goddess, in your own books. 

“God, you’re fucking hot, Xiaoting—oh gosh…” You can’t believe your eyes as it takes numerous gazes throughout her perfect figure, eyeing every inch and drooling on it like it’s a five-course meal—maybe it may lie down onto the scope of similes but metaphorically, she’s always the main course and you would love to devour her like a predator hungry for its prey. With her last bits of defense still within her body, concealing her true beauty, you asked Xiaoting if you can strip it off her and without any hesitations, she nodded as she’s been longing for this for a while now.

“You really love my body so much, hm, daddy?” Xiaoting doesn’t even need to ask you about that because she already knows what your answer will be and it’s always readable, your eyes glistening with hunger over her is enough evidence. 

Still busy admiring her scrumptious body and her drooling all over it, it took you seconds before you could respond as you flash a smile at her, making her feel delighted and truly loved by you. “Of course, baby—I love it all but daddy’s getting impatient…”

Xiaoting runs her finger onto your clothed chest, up towards your shoulders as she rests her arms on it, and then utters such a seductive invitation letting you know how it’s going to start. “Have your way with me, daddy—I’d love what you’ll make me do…”

And as always, Xiaoting never laid a better invitation than that and she never fails to make you amazed and aroused. With all of that foreplay coming into its denouement, you commanded Xiaoting to get onto the bed as her naked body is now on display, ready to get used as she gets on all fours.

“This is going to be fun…”

--- 

“Count.”

“Y-Yes, daddy…”

It’s maybe a newly profound kink of him, and maybe even you, considering that as you're guilty as he probably likes how your thighs jiggle with his mighty palm striking onto your butt with the force of a truck, and you love it. He knows how you love it so much, your eyes won’t even deny letting him know about that and under his own control, you completely submit yourself and let him have his way with you.

“Don’t hold back, baby—let it all out and count, do you understand?”

You nod frantically, not wanting to disappoint him as you wiggle your ass in front of him, inviting him to do the honors of the actions he’s been longing to do—

*loud smack* “O-One…” 

It was just the first one and it’s already rocking your world, sending your arousal up to the sky as his smacks are pleasurable, making your sensitivity peak at its finest. You could feel yourself getting wet with the thought of his hands spanking your butt harshly until it’s red as a tomato while ramming your tight cunt down and you can’t wait for it to happen.

*another loud smack* “Two—oh god…”

Another one emanates around your ear as the crisp of its pristine sound sends your libido skyrocketing, probably filling the urge of him using you but you can sense and know how he won’t just pull the trigger this easily—the both you wanted this on the first place: you wanting this for a long time now and gains gratification from it and lastly, him wanting to tease you and there’s no better way to do that with his palm printed onto your milky buttcheeks, going to be redder than a tomato.

*another loud smack* “T-Three… That feels so g-good…”

It may feel redundant but you love every second of it and will not even feel the hint of being tired of it because of his harsh actions—you wanted the pain anyways, as he knows how you derive pleasure from his spanks and the discordant sounds of it increasing your libido onto the roof, and makes you even wetter by multiple barrages of it.

*another loud smack* “F-Four—f-fuck, daddy…”

This time, it was way harder than the rest as you whimper in pain again because of his harshness, but gaining that genuine gratification as you love the pain and the pleasure mixing all up together—you’re maybe a masochist because of how you derive intense pleasure, and you know he’s here to fulfill that at all costs. Even though you can’t catch a glimpse of the hot sight of him doing such sinful things to you, you can’t still brush the fact that your imagination reaches the furthest of its limits, capable of formulating the filthiest thoughts known to mankind.

*another loud, harsh smack* “Five—o-ohh… too g-good—ahh~”

You keep voicing your own satisfaction alongside your ragged breaths between random intervals that puts him onto authority to further smack you until your butt is scarlet red but you can sense that he has better options in mind, the feral beast inside him wanting to be unshackled from its restraints, and you’d be the guest to let it be a wish come true.

“Such a good girl for me, hm?”

You know he’s growing impatient, and you can sense it igniting in his eyes and you wouldn’t dare to let him wait for another move preceding what he could command you.

“Yes, daddy—” Your sultry voice invites him into falling down to his own, carnal desires and you know he wouldn’t make the both of you wait for nothing as every second should be treasured. “—now will you fuck your good girl?”

It’s up to him to write your fate, and you’ll just relax yourself and find out what it would be…

---

It does tempt you into fulfilling her needs and it’s just a single strand before you break your shackling confines, and it wouldn’t be long until you reach your primal desires. It wasn’t your cup of tea to tease into oblivion but if she wanted that then so be it as foreplay plays an impressive role on someone’s anticipation and her desires running like a roller coaster, all opting for the chase of fun and the freakiest frustrations of not being attended.

“Put it in, daddy—please, ohh!”

Of course, another tease makes her weak, whimpering in need as she tightly grabs the bed sheets for a leverage to fight the profound pleasure that she's not experiencing. You continue swiping your finger onto her heated core as she cries in response, and it further skyrockets once you start stimulating her clit and with her small sounds being the fuel on your unstoppable lust, you won’t let her wait for more as you gave what she truly deserves.

With your hands caressing the soft, silky skin of hers, you grab her hips and position yourself into a state of bliss and within a single second, it all went uphill as you could just hear each other’s groans emanating the wonders of such a great commencement of sex. You deliver shallow and leisure thrusts, aiming to just make her anticipate and savor every second of that blithe that she always loved. You continue peppering her neck with constant pecks as you muster such a sluggish pace, making her feel loved as you worship her and make her know how much you adore her.

“You l-love kissing me, daddy?”

You smile at her question, and you know that she already has the knowledge about that question, but you would love to let her know about everything you love about her, more likely, verbally. “Of course, baby—how could I not adore every inch of your perfect body?”

Well, she’s not egoistic but she knows how perfect she is in your eyes and that’s something that always wanted to hear, as it boosts her confidence in a great percentage and makes her feel the utmost care by you. Maybe the slow and redundant foreplay was getting on your nerves longer than you expected as you wanted to ruin her and Xiaoting herself would love the thought of that.

Maybe it won’t rely onto the cloud of thoughts as it’s now ascending into reality, pacing faster into a moderate speed where she constantly whimpered in need, your constantly ramming cock into her tightness becoming too much for her and of course she would request for an element to be added for the better experience for both parties.

“Spank my ass while you f-fuck me, daddy—oh god!”

Now averting your hands onto different places: your left hand swiftly fondling her perky breasts for better stimulation and your other hand already finding its way onto smacking that soft flesh in front of you, the rippling of it and the sound it reverberates around the room makes such an arousing sight that it further thrust you into her rapidly as she recoils a little from your harshness.

Who would have thought that a modest, sophisticated girl like her is invested in such a sinful, cruel act? Well, it wasn’t emanating from her aura totally but you know how she subconsciously knows how hot and captivating of a woman she is—you’re glad that she’s yours and you’re the only one to have a sight of her alluring masterclass. Maybe it’s a faux conception knowing that Xiaoting doesn’t exude such hotness if she’s always being a little “puffball”, as you call her, but her other side is nothing compared to this and god, the next thing you’ll know is that you’ll be just riled up for her that the both of you will succumb to each other’s needs and be the freakiest creatures known to mankind.

If it wasn’t always the case about the latter, then you don’t know what is because the both of you prove your points about that title.

Harsh spanks add up to the sea of cacophonous sounds that lingers around your ear, further fueling you to bring such hard poundings in aims to totally let her succumb to submission, and you’re nearing that goal with all of the stimulation you’re doing on her. Every whimper she exclaims with the pain you’re bestowing her just makes the sight rapidly hotter but you know it wasn’t enough until her cheeks are scarlet red so you muster a new pattern of thrusting between spanks and using the other hand as a leverage by grabbing her hips harshly. The constant rhythm of your hips gradually increases over time, and so is your harsh treatment towards her but you want to add an incredible twist that will elevate the experience even more.

Xiaoting lets out series of cries as you pound her into the mattress, her arms able to give out with how much you’re treating her and then suddenly, you slow down immediately, catching her off-guard and for her to recovering a little as you’re selfless—you wanted her to savor every moment whenever possible and not want her to reach her high too quickly even though you know how your cock can make her do that in a few minutes. With your sudden impeding, you could take a closer attention to admiring her scrumptious backside and the sexiest curves of her hourglass figure that you can drool on for days and won’t get tired of. This is also an exceptional time to let your hands be berserk and give her harsh barrages of spanks that makes her even wetter and even more whimpers that lets your cock twitch because of how soft and arousing her tone is.

“P-Please fuck me h-harder, daddy–oh gosh, s-so good!!”

Another resonating smack lingering around  her ears as you’re a little infuriated with her pleas, making her writhe a little and cry in need of a better pace. “Don’t tell me what to do, baby…”

Her tightness is nearly suffocating but you don't care, not when a hot sight is just right in front of you as you resume on your frantic pace, making her moan uncontrollably to the point that she almost screams and it’s deafening but angelic. With all of the constant stimulation of your hands throughout her body and the pain you’re bringing in with such onslaught of smacks, it wouldn’t be surprisingly to know if Xiaoting is going to reaching her high sooner than you expected as the constant constricting of her pussy and the juices seeping out of it are enough evidences to set herself near to the promised land. Now with her buttcheeks red with your hand printed on it, you gave her a small break and continue to double your efforts on pounding her tight cunt, letting her know how she’s going to be having the paramount orgasm of her whole life and with a shuddering response escaping her lips, you knew it’s deemed to come into an end.

“Shit—daddy, I’m gonna c-cum so soon!!”

She wanted this for so long and you wouldn’t dare to put it in a halt and gave the reward that Xiaoting absolutely deserves. “Then cum, baby—cum all over my cock—”

It all went onto that singular point of bliss, releasing deafening screams of pleasure as she lets everything out around your ravaging length and with Xiaoting aiming to further elevate her orgasmic trance, she requested you still fuck her senseless on her orgasm as you do so, making her a wild, mindless mess just capable of uttering such sinful sounds. With your ruthless pace, Xiaoting kept whimpering on how she wants you to treat her harsher as you fulfill her wants, further hammering her tightness with such thrusts mustered to the highest velocity possible and with spanks with a force of a truck. After such breathtaking thrusts and a breakneck pace, you instantly calmed down the feral beast inside of you and gave her a leverage to recover, thrusting with such a sluggish pace as she catches her breath due to her orgasmic high.

“Daddy, t-that was—”

“Good? Yes, baby, I know—” You lean down to kiss her beautiful neck, and then course your way near her ear and continue her sentence. With your lips still worshiping the porcelain skin of hers, you let her know how great the experience was and showered her with compliments that definitely stroked her ego. “—because honestly, you felt great around my cock, baby…”

Xiaoting lets out needy whimpers—maybe even possibly smiling because of your compliments—as you stroke her hair to make her feel your touch, your hips now ensuing a moderate pace, pumping into her but this time, it’s all full of affection and love and dismissing the harshness and greed like from earlier. Knowing yourself would be near your own high too, you wanted to save the best for the last as you warn Xiaoting that you’re going to pull out and let herself switch into a different position.

“Baby, turn around for me so I can fuck you while seeing your beautiful face.”

It was straightforward and she obliges immediately without any questions and even with the hint of frustration laced on her emotions, it wouldn’t be long until you reward her with something exceptional as now is the time for another side of bliss. As she spun her figure around gracefully, her hands grabbed your shoulders as you immediately didn’t waste any time teasing her and plunged your length deep inside her and god, she’s still as tight as earlier and you wouldn’t complain about that because that’s what makes every second worth cherishing. 

Your hands then coursed down on her waist, caressing it as your touch makes her writhe a little and it didn’t bother you, continuing onto your desired precedence to reach your ultimate high. You pump your hips in her with aims to make her feel the utmost pleasure and how much you love her and with Xiaoting’s cleverness and the heat rising up onto its maximum scope, her hands didn’t become idle and pulled your head towards her, initiating into a heated kiss. It was full of hunger and lust as the both of you kept on chasing the higher authority, battling for the dominant control over the other person as drool inevitably seeped out of your mouths with your tongues dancing around gracefully. The kiss eventually gets sloppier and more heated and so are your ramming thrusts, pistoning onto a velocity unable for anyone to comprehend and it wouldn’t take long before you achieve your long-anticipated high with that familiar tingle in your loins.

Wanting to savor the last moments before your peak, you initiated a new rhythm as you gave up on a ridiculous pace in exchange for more powerful thrusts, as every time you do it, her thighs jiggle like jelly and that’s why you love such slow-paced thrusts that aims to strike harder—maybe the accumulation of such force on hammering her tight cunt is wonderful and it wouldn’t be long until you achieve something that you’ve been longing for.

“Aren’t y-you close, daddy?”

You chase your breath as you became too focused on peppering her neck with kisses and fucking her into oblivion that it took your seconds before you responded back, “I’m pretty close, baby—”, and instantly you kissed her lips again as you looked at her endearingly, full of fervor as you muttered such saccharine-filled words, “—I love you so much…”

That made Xiaoting realize how sincere everything was and she always knew it, but she never felt this much adrenaline and affection as she can’t help but smile sincerely as you continue hammering her and chasing that peak of yours. “I love you too, daddy—more than anything in this world.”

You pulled Xiaoting into another heated kiss as you buried your entire length in this, filling her up to the hilt as she let out muffled moans onto your lips but didn’t let herself faze on her grand prize, continuing on deepening the torrid kiss. You fill her up as you grab her waist tightly, almost forming into an embrace in order for a better leverage on dumping everything inside her. You groan between your heated kisses with Xiaoting as everything is just now in a complete state of bliss, every spurt worth treasuring as the constriction of her walls makes the pleasure worth your while and maybe even extending your orgasm. When you feel that everything has been toned down, you then palm her shoulders and pulled out slowly, Xiaoting catching her breath because of such a heated kiss initiated by you and god, what an incredible it is to see her pussy full of your cum, and some of it dripping and onto the sheets they stain—you suppose you would need a new mattress considering how much she spurted ner nectar all over the place and maybe, that would be the case.

“Ohh, it’s s-so much, daddy…” Xiaoting moans in satisfaction as she can feel the warmness of your seed that fills every inch of her velvety walls, and some are even seeping out of her lips. She took this as an opportunity to scoop out a sample and tasted it and as expected, she was delighted to let her taste buds orchestrate the final verdict of its delectability. “It’s salty and sweet—I love it, daddy…”

You smile because of her satisfaction being voiced out verbally, and with that, it makes you feel that everything was worth both your whiles and there’s nothing you could ask for more when it’s already been fulfilled.

“You felt so good, baby and—” You caressed Xiaoting’s cheeks and looked at her endearingly again, feeling affectionate and thankful with the greatness she's bestowed you and being such a good girl for you. “—glad you loved me filling you up.”

“I love your harshness too, daddy—everything is just perfect…” It’s a little surprising that she can still articulate words that she shouldn’t but she got stamina for days so her recovery would be pretty quick. You know the night’s getting older but you know there’s more ways to enjoy everything you could think of but for now, a good night’s rest would not be bad as you can feel your drowsiness slowly taking over you until—

*notification pops up*

Yujin’s gonna see you tomorrow and you’re fucked up…

Well, was this all a mistake? You’d consider this as one but maybe this won’t be and all you can do is to prepare onto something that’s the last thing you want to deal with—her.

[sirenofthedarkness]

Kink/NSFW Alphabet: Astarion X Reader

Word Count: 4.2k Mentions: SMUT, HORNYYYYY, She/Her

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A - Aftercare:

After the thrill of an intense encounter, Astarion would savor the moments of gentle touch and tender care with you. He might surprise you with his softness, relishing the closeness that comes after. It’s a rare chance for him to show a quieter side, reminding both of you that there’s more to intimacy than just the heat of the moment.

“You have no idea how much I need this—no games, no pretense. Just… you.” His voice would drop to a whisper, his words carrying a weight that hints at something deeper.

“Water, a warm bed, and you. I may have been dead for centuries, but I think I could learn to appreciate the little things again.” He’d give you a lazy smile, clearly enjoying this rare moment of calm.

B- Biting:  

Astarion would take his time, making sure each bite is memorable, blending pleasure with just a hint of danger. As his lips graze your neck, Astarion pauses, breathing in deeply “You have no idea how intoxicating you smell,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of hunger and desire. He lets his fangs hover just above your skin, savoring the anticipation before finally pressing them in, just enough to send a slight moan and shiver down your spine. He pulls back, smirking as he studies your reaction. “Did that hurt, or should I go a bit deeper?” His tone is teasing, but his eyes flash with something primal, as if holding himself back is as thrilling for him as the bite itself.

C - Control:

Astarion thrives on control; it’s where he feels most alive. He revels in guiding each encounter, deciding when to be gentle and when to be intense. Every touch, every whispered command, is carefully calculated to keep you exactly where he wants you.

For Astarion, it’s a dance where he leads, and you willingly follow, caught in the thrill of his commanding presence.

As he moves closer, he whispers, “Every sound you make belongs to me. If you’re quiet, I might reward you. But if you disobey… well, let’s just say I have my ways of reminding you who’s in control.” The promise of pleasure mixed with a hint of danger lingers in the air.

D - Dominance: (DADDY preference) 

Astarion revels in his role as the dominant partner, thriving on the control he wields over every encounter. His commanding presence transforms each moment into a thrilling game of power and submission. He takes pleasure in guiding you, ensuring you know that he’s the one in charge, and relishes in teasing you until you’re desperate for his touch.

He leans over you, his breath hot against your ear, Astarion smirks, relishing the power he holds. “You love this, don’t you? Being completely at my mercy,” he taunts, his fingers trailing down your body, teasing just above where you need him most.

When you gasp out, “Yes, daddy,” a wicked grin spreads across his face, his eyes darkening with desire. “Ah, there it is,” he purrs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “It’s so much more thrilling when you know who’s in charge.” He presses his body against yours, making sure you feel every inch of him. “Now, beg for it,” he commands, his tone both teasing and serious, his grip tightening as he watches the need flood your expression. “Tell me how badly you want this, and I just might give you what you crave.”

(I’m blushing writing, editing and re-reading this LOL)

E - Edge Play:

Astarion thrives on the thrill of pushing boundaries and exploring the fine line between pleasure and pain. He enjoys taking you to the brink, teasing you mercilessly and keeping you on the edge of ecstasy, never quite allowing you to fall over into release until he decides it’s time. For him, the tension and anticipation only heighten the experience, turning every moment into a delicious game of control.

With a wicked grin, he holds you firmly in place, whispering, “I want you to feel every pulse of desire building inside you. I’ll keep you right on the edge until you can’t take it anymore.”

He trails his fingers along your body, stopping just shy of where you need him most. “You’re going to beg for it, darling. And I won’t give you a thing until I’m satisfied.” His eyes glint with mischief as he leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Can you handle that, my love? “ 

F - Fetishes:

Blood Play: Given Astarion’s vampiric nature, he may have a slight fascination with blood play—enjoying the thrill of drawing blood during intimate moments. This could be both a literal aspect of his vampirism and a metaphor for the deeper connection he craves. The intensity and danger of this fetish would excite him, heightening the sense of power and submission.

Astarion leans in, a playful smirk dancing across his lips. “Tell me, love, what are your secret desires? What fetishes do you long to explore?” His voice is sultry, drawing you in as he holds your gaze.

As you shyly confess a fantasy, he raises an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Oh, that sounds positively delightful. I can already envision how much fun we could have.” He steps closer, his breath hot against your skin. “I’ll make sure you experience it in the most exquisite way possible.”

G - Gag Play:

Astarion finds a particular thrill in gag play, savoring the way it amplifies control and adds an element of vulnerability. He enjoys the sight and sound of you silenced, heightening every sensation as he takes charge, knowing that your trust is his to hold. The added restraint brings a deeper intensity to your connection, amplifying every gesture and touch.

Astarion slips a gag into place, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he fastens it carefully. “There we go darling,” he murmurs, taking a step back to admire his work. “Now you can’t even protest, not that you’d want to. All you can do is give in to me.” He brushes a thumb over your cheek, reveling in the muffled sounds you make as he teases and torments you, savoring every muffled whimper. “I like you like this—helpless and unable to speak,” he says, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Now, let’s see how much you can handle without a single word.” He leans in close, whispering in your ear, “You don’t need to talk, my love. Just follow my lead, and I’ll make sure every moment leaves you breathless.” His touch becomes more deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours as he revels in the thrill of seeing you restrained, bound to his control. “You look absolutely divine on your knees, my sweet. Such a good little girl, knowing exactly how to beg for my pleasure."

H - Handcuffs:

Astarion revels in the exhilarating thrill of using handcuffs during your intimate times. For him, the sensation of you bound and completely dependent on him heightens both the tension and excitement, allowing him to take full control of your pleasure.

“You’re going to learn to love being tied up, my sweet. Trust me, it’s an exquisite way to surrender” He tightens the cuffs. Your breath quickens, doesn’t it? It’s the thrill of surrendering to me that makes your heart race,” Astarion murmurs, his voice a velvety whisper as he leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Every gasp, every shiver—it only tells me how much you crave this.”

I - Impregnation Fantasy: ( aka Breeding Kink hehe )

Astarion is intrigued by the allure of impregnation fantasies, where the thrill of possibility intertwines with desire. This fantasy taps into deep-seated emotions and primal instincts, igniting a heady mix of vulnerability, power, and intimacy. For him, it’s not just about the physical act but also the deeper connections and the fantasies of creating something new together.

As he continues, his fingers trace your skin with tantalizing slowness. “Picture it: the two of us lost in ecstasy, the heat building until you can’t help but want me completely. The idea of me filling you with my seed, making you mine in the most primal way possible, drives me wild. I want to hear you beg for it, to want it so badly that you can’t think of anything else.” He leans back, gazing into your eyes, a playful smile teasing his lips. “The thought of it sends shivers down my spine. The idea of you carrying a part of me… it’s almost intoxicating, don’t you think?”

J - Jerking off :

Astarion was not one to indulge in self-pleasure; he much preferred the intimacy of slow, passionate lovemaking with Y/N, where every caress and lingering kiss deepened their connection. But as the day stretched into evening while they traveled apart, the ache of longing began to consume him. The memories of her soft skin against his, her breath hitching in delight, haunted him, making it impossible to resist the temptation. In the quiet solitude of his chamber, he found himself surrendering to desire, the thrill of imagining her beside him igniting a fire he rarely felt alone. With each stroke, he conjured the image of her, knowing that this fleeting moment would only heighten their next encounter.

In the dimly lit room, Astarion found himself alone, the flickering candlelight casting playful shadows across the walls. He leaned back against the plush cushions of the chaise lounge, his thoughts drifting to the memory of her—every tantalizing moment they had shared. A wicked smile spread across his lips as he closed his eyes, allowing the visions to consume him.

With a low, seductive chuckle, he began to stroke himself slowly, his hand moving up and down the length of his shaft with a deliberate slowness that made his breath hitch. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, imagining her soft gasps and the way her body would arch under his touch.

Each stroke felt electric, sending shivers down his spine as he pictured her beneath him, her eyes glazed with desire, begging for more. “If only you were here, love,” he whispered, his voice thick with longing. “I could make you feel so good…”

K - Kitten Play: 

Astarion couldn’t help but chuckle when Y/N jokingly meowed at him one evening, the sound playful and unexpectedly adorable. The moment sparked something in him, a mischievous idea that began to blossom in his mind. Every so often he affectionately dubbed her as “Kitten,” each instance bringing a playful glint to his eyes.   

“Well, at least your meow is for me,” he teased one afternoon, watching her with a smirk as she curled up on the couch, a playful pout on her lips. “Who knew I had a little feline in my life?” He leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially, “Do you want a treat, my dear Kitten?”

Whenever they found themselves in playful moments, he’d tease her further, urging her to embrace the persona. “Come on, show me your best meow,” he’d say, grinning wickedly, knowing full well how her cheeks would flush at the request.

L - Lingerie Play:

Astarion had developed a penchant for selecting the most exquisite lingerie for Y/N. Each time they ventured into a market or passed a boutique, he couldn’t resist the urge to slip inside, his eyes gleaming with delight as he envisioned her wearing the delicate fabrics. It had become a delightful game between them—his seductive eye for detail paired with her playful acceptance.

“I simply cannot resist,” he would declare, holding up a lacy piece in an enticing shade of crimson. “This one screams your name, my darling.” He’d watch her face light up with a mix of surprise and excitement, the playful banter between them igniting their chemistry even further.

M - Masochism:

Astarion thrived on the exquisite and indulgent, finding true exhilaration in moments of masochism where pleasure intertwined with pain. He loved the thrill of pushing boundaries (consensually), each sting drawing him deeper into ecstasy. In these intimate encounters, he took the lead, guiding Y/N through the delicate dance of sensations that heightened their connection.

Leaning in, she gave his ear a soft, teasing nibble, a cute gesture that surprised him. Astarion's eyes widened, a mix of shock and delight flashing across his face. The unexpected sensation sent a shiver of pleasure through him, and a genuine smile broke free as he savored the delightful twist.

(Sorry I love his fawkkkinggg stupid big sexy pointy elf ears I wanna bite himmmmm nom nom nom) 

N - Nipple Play:

Astarion had a particular weakness for breasts, finding them utterly captivating. He adored exploring Y/N's curves, especially when it came to nipple play.

“You know,” he teased, leaning in with a sly grin, “I’m quite skilled at this.” With that, he brought his mouth to her nipple, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak before sucking gently. “Mmm, you taste divine,” he murmured, the heat of his breath sending shivers through her.

As he lavished attention on her, Astarion delighted in her soft gasps and eager reactions. “Tell me how good it feels, love,” he encouraged, reveling in the way her body arched towards him, craving more of his touch. Each flick of his tongue ignited her desire, deepening their intimate connection with every teasing kiss.

O - Orgasms: 

To Astarion, an orgasm is the ultimate expression of surrender and pleasure, where all boundaries fade away, leaving only raw ecstasy. It’s not just a release but a profound connection with Y/N, a thrilling culmination of desire. Watching her unravel in bliss is his greatest reward, a testament to their intimacy that fuels his craving for more.

Astarion knew the delicate balance between pleasure and anticipation. “Hold on to that feeling,” he instructed, teasing her as he skillfully coaxed her towards the edge, then pulling back just enough to prolong the delicious torment. He loved the way her eyes would darken with need, the way her body arched toward him, craving release.

When he finally allowed her to plunge into ecstasy, it was as if time itself stood still. The shuddering wave of pleasure that consumed her sent him spiraling alongside her, both of them lost in the blissful aftermath. “You’re breathtaking, my love,” he breathed, brushing his thumb along her jawline, marveling at the glow of satisfaction that enveloped her. “Together, we create magic.”

P - Positions:

Astarion had an exquisite taste for intimacy, and when it came to sexual positions, he preferred those that allowed him to fully appreciate the beauty of his partner. He thrived on the thrill of connection and the power dynamics at play, always eager to explore new ways to bring Y/N pleasure.

One of his favorites was the classic missionary, where he could gaze into Y/N’s eyes, savoring the depth of their connection as he thrust deeply inside her. “I could get lost in your gaze forever,” he would whisper, the intimacy igniting his desire even more.

Q - Quickies:

Astarion wasn’t one for quickies. He found the rush of hurried encounters to be lacking, a mere shadow of the true pleasure that could be achieved through leisurely exploration. “Why rush when we can savor every moment?” he would often muse, a playful smirk gracing his lips. “I’d much rather take my time,” he would say with a teasing grin, “because when I finally have you, I want you to remember every exquisite detail.” Quickies, in his view, were a distraction from the true delight of losing themselves in each other, a fleeting encounter he was happy to forgo for something far more tantalizing.

R - Roleplay:

Given his charismatic and theatrical personality, he’d relish the opportunity to step into different characters and scenarios. Roleplay allows for a creative exploration of fantasies and power dynamics, which would appeal to his penchant for control and seduction.

Astarion lounged on the edge of a lavishly decorated chaise, the dim candlelight casting soft shadows on his flawless features. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he glanced at Y/N, a sly smile playing on his lips. “My dear,” he drawled, his voice dripping with allure, “would you care to indulge in a little fantasy tonight?” He leaned forward, the flicker of excitement in his gaze igniting a sense of adventure in the air. Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”

“Let’s play a game,” he suggested, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “You shall be a princess trapped in a dark castle, and I”—he paused dramatically—“am the charming vampire who has taken you captive.” He stood, his posture exuding confidence, and took a slow step towards her. “You’ll find that I’m not the monster you might think I am.”

(he always wants to be the "bad monster" who takes you)

S - Spanking:

Astarion had a particular fondness for spanking, finding the mix of pleasure and pain to be utterly intoxicating. The sharp slap against skin sent delightful tingles coursing through his body, igniting a primal thrill that left him craving more. He loved the sound it made—an echo of intimacy that filled the air, reminding both him and Y/N of the delicious dynamic they shared. Music to his ears.

He loved the way Y/N would gasp, her body responding eagerly to each strike, the combination of pain and pleasure heightening her arousal. “Just a little more, darling,” he’d murmur, his breath warm against her ear. “You can take it, do it for me.”

T - Temperature Play:

Astarion delighted in the sensual thrill of temperature play, especially when it came to using candle wax to heighten sensation and anticipation. He adored the intimate dance of warmth and coolness, the way it transformed the atmosphere into one charged with electricity.

“Shall we try something a bit daring tonight?” he would ask with a devilish grin, holding up a beautifully crafted candle, its wax glistening in the candlelight. Y/N's curiosity piqued, she nodded, excitement bubbling within.

As he lit the candle, the flickering flame cast playful shadows across the room. “Just relax,” he instructed, his voice smooth and soothing. “I promise you’ll find this exhilarating.”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against Y/N's skin as he tilted the candle. “Now, let’s see how you react to a little heat,” he teased, letting a few drops of warm wax fall onto their body. The sensation was both surprising and thrilling, a rush of warmth that contrasted sharply with the cool air surrounding them.

U - Undressing:

Astarion had a profound appreciation for the art of undressing. To him, it was more than just the physical act; it was a tantalizing ritual filled with anticipation and desire. He relished the way his gaze lingered on Y/N, his eyes drinking in every curve and contour, as if he could undress them with just a look.

“You know how much I adore seeing you in that,” he would say, admiring the outfit he had chosen for her. Each piece was selected with meticulous care, designed to accentuate her beauty while igniting his own desires. “But let’s not keep it on for too long, shall we?”

(He takes your panties off with his teefs)

V - Voyerism:

Astarion lurked in the shadows, a predator hidden in the night. He watched you as you gathered wildflowers, your carefree movements striking against the encroaching darkness. There was something almost intoxicating about your innocence, a stark contrast to the chaos that surrounded them.

As you knelt to collect kindling, the fabric of your clothes clung to you, a tempting reminder of your fragility. He felt a thrill shoot through him, a dark hunger ignited by the sight of you so blissfully unaware of the eyes upon you. It was an intoxicating game, one that filled him with a twisted pleasure—watching you in your mundane tasks, a stark reminder of everything he’d lost.

He relished the intimacy of the moment, the thrill of being just out of sight. Each smile you offered, each soft laugh that escaped your lips, felt like a secret meant only for him. It was exhilarating, knowing he could take everything from you in an instant, yet choosing to simply observe instead.

When you turned and caught his gaze, he smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Just admiring your handiwork,” he said, his voice low and playful. But inside, the darkness coiled tighter, a reminder of the monster he was, lurking just beneath the surface, reveling in the shadows.

W - Worship:

Astarion stood before you, the flickering candlelight illuminating his sharp features and casting an alluring glow over his pale skin. There was an intensity in his crimson gaze, a hunger that ran deeper than mere desire. In this moment, he was not just a vampire lord; he was your devoted worshiper, ready to offer everything he had.

“Look at you,” he breathed, his voice smooth and sultry. “Absolutely divine.” He stepped closer, his presence enveloping you, a magnetic force drawing you in. He knelt at your feet, a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor, and pressed a soft kiss to the ground before you, a gesture of reverence that sent a thrill through your body.

With every movement, he exuded a dark, intoxicating energy, making it clear that he was fully at your service. “You deserve to be worshiped,” he continued, his voice low, laced with sincerity. “To have every part of you adored and cherished.”

He trailed his lips along your ankles, his kisses both delicate and possessive, as if he wanted to imprint his devotion upon your skin. “You are the light in my darkness,” he whispered, his breath warm against you. “I crave to honor you, to revel in your beauty.”

Astarion looked up, his gaze locked on yours, filled with a mix of admiration and something darker. “Let me show you how deeply I worship you,” he said, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur. “Every caress, every kiss will be a testament to my devotion.”

With that, he took your hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss against your palm. The intimacy of the moment felt electric, a silent promise of the pleasures to come. He savored the taste of your skin, each kiss a declaration of his worship.

“Your power over me is intoxicating,” he continued, his voice low and reverent. “I want to drown in your presence, to feel every inch of you beneath my lips.”

(Makes love to you but can also fuck you like a toy)

X - Ray : He’s gotta be at LEAST 6 inches and veiny/girthy (idk im delusional, I love him no matter what)

Y - Yearning: In which they haven’t developed a relationship… Yet

Astarion watched you interact with the other companions, a bittersweet ache settling in his chest. Deep down, he longed for something genuine—a connection that felt real. Your laughter stirred feelings he had long buried, and the warmth of your presence ignited a hope he thought was lost.

He craved the chance to share not just his darkness, but also the flicker of humanity still within him. The idea of being seen by you, truly seen, both thrilled and terrified him.

He wanted to be desired not just as a vampire lord, but as a man worthy of your love. In those fleeting moments, Astarion realized that what he wanted most was the possibility of a future with you, one filled with authenticity and connection.

Z - Zero Tolerance: What I imagine some of his boundaries are that he’s set.

Clear Safe Words: He emphasizes the importance of establishing safe words or signals that can be used to pause or stop play instantly, reinforcing the idea that boundaries are always respected.

Betrayal: Betrayal has haunted Astarion for ages, making him hyper-aware of trust issues. Any hint of dishonesty or broken promises can trigger a visceral reaction, prompting him to reinforce the need for transparency and accountability in their relationship.

No Use of Sharp Objects: Astarion could establish that no knives or sharp implements are allowed in play, emphasizing safety and avoiding triggers related to past traumas.

No Slapping in the Face: Astarion may specify that any form of impact play on the face is off-limits, as it feels too personal and vulnerable.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors Note:

Hey, if you've made it this far thank you!

I know it was superrrrr long, I hope it was satisfying. I haven't seen anyone do a NSFW alphabet in a while so I gave it my own twist.

Just a reminder that this is fun for me and this is how I view him so please don't be upset if it doesn't align with you <3

Also you guys this song "Rule 34" is amazing, fits Star perfectly in my humble opinion....

If you enjoyed, please give it a like/reblog :)

Cheers X

-Siren

[kingtomura]

Vitality | 5

Summary: You were always told heroes and villains had no place in your home. Not when there’s an increase in crime, not when there’s monsters on the loose in Hosu and certainly not when the man in your home raises a hand to you.  All it takes is one impulsive decision to change your life forever. content: shigaraki tomura x female reader, slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, reader has a quirk, graphic depictions of violence, past abuse, past sa, angst, pstd, eventual smut, dark themes, found family LoV, mdni wc: 5.8k | prev | chapter 6 | m. list | read on ao3

Shigaraki can’t seem to figure out what it is about you that pulls you to him. It’s something that gnaws at the walls of his brain and it makes his skin itch. 

When he’s plotting schemes — you’re there. When he’s in the field, away on missions that will progress his goals — you’re there. And when he closes his eyes at night to go to bed?

You’re there. 

Haunting his mind like a ghost. 

A ghost of his past, a ghost of his present. He just can’t put his finger on it but there is a familiarity in you that only he can see. 

Shigaraki has always had hazy memories, but this one is so distinct — it replays in his mind at the worst of times. 

Is it your face? So innocent, so kind, but filled with hidden valor. Something so easily overlooked by your usually skittish demeanor. 

Shigaraki has taken notice of that. It was one of the first things that caught his eye about you. 

But is it your personality? The way there is more than meets the eye — a budding courage and fortitude growing under the concrete of your fragile frame of mind. 

He didn’t know. All he knew for the time being was that this bothered him. It gave him things to think about that had nothing to do with the new society he would bring. 

It was a distraction. 

There’s a sharp pain along the side of Shigaraki's neck and it’s then he realizes his bad habit of scratching has made itself known again. Something he’s been trying to work on has pried its way back into his mind. 

Whatever. 

It doesn’t matter what these feelings mean — all that matters is his goal and his plans to bring it into fruition.

Anything else is a distraction. 

———————

You have to leave today. 

The mission shouldn’t take long — three days max, but you still feel anxious about it. Dabi is in charge and you trust him to know what he’s doing. 

You don’t really trust him to keep you safe, though. 

It should be simple enough — stay back, do your job and come back to the base. 

A quick and easy mission. 

Or it would have been, until Dabi paid you a visit. 

“Do you understand?” his voice drags, air of boredom present as if he didn’t just turn your world upside down.

Dabi wants you to help on the mission. He wants you to—

“But that wasn’t the plan! I’m a healer.”

His cerulean eyes narrow, slight hint of irritation flashing over his features before it's gone again, “I know what you are. This would be more useful.” 

You stare at him as he flippantly waves you off and starts towards your doorway, unaware that you are sick at the notion of helping someone cause harm. 

“It’s not optional.” He tacks on, words ringing in your ears. 

You're struck still as Dabi departs, leaving you alone to bear the burden of silence as you anticipate what your new role will bring. 

It’s clear that you’ve lost. 

Dabi wants you to help him interrogate the moles.

He believes that your healing would pair well with his burning. A tactic that can wear the moles down enough to give the information Dabi seeks. It’s a cruel task and one you were not sure you could go through with. 

You may be a villain now but you are not evil.

You were not cruel — no matter how cruel the world had been to you. 

The thoughts weigh on your mind as you move to stand, nerves buzzing as you begin to pace around your room.

No, no, you were a healer. Maybe you were never intending to be a hero, but you never want to harm others either. Even if those others hold the title of villain. 

There had to be another way.

You stop, still in your tracks as the metaphoric lightbulb goes on in your head, steering the gears on your mind into action as the thoughts fall into place. 

You had an idea — a plan.

A small smile makes its way onto your face and you feel as though you’ve solved the unsolvable. 

Maybe, just maybe, no one had to get hurt on this mission.

———————

The sound of dripping pipes and scatter of steps too small to be human grate your ears and make you shudder. 

It’s creepy down here. 

That’s the only thing that comes to mind as you trail behind Dabi through abandoned tunnels. 

You sidestep some fallen debris and realize that the underground tunnels here are a reminder to never take the tunnels below the bar for granted. 

It’s slummy, it’s dark and it smells like abandoned agony. 

There are graffiti stains along the walls, leaking pipes against the ceilings and the floors are littered with fluids of all colors. 

Just being down here makes your stomach twist as your body subconsciously moves closer to Spinner, who trudges beside you as you all navigate through the area. 

Your father would have never allowed you to roam a place like this. 

But he’s not here anymore. 

And you’re a villain now. 

(Kind of.) 

Dabi is in front of you, leading the way as you all trek the halls of the abandoned underground. He moves with the confidence of someone who has seen and done this a million times. You absently wonder if he has. 

You knew next to nothing of Dabi. Nothing about where he’s from, how he’s grown up or where he got his burns — nothing. 

But with his steel gaze and uninterested tone, you think it’s better that way. 

Maybe knowing nothing could be a gift. 

“How much longer?” Spinner breaks the silence as his voice echoes through the halls. 

Dabi doesn't look back, only continuing his trek along the tunnels. “Just keep moving.”

As desperate as you are to know where this trek is heading you decide to hold your tongue. The air of this place is eerie enough and the sooner you get there, the sooner you can leave. 

But it’s odd, you’ve been walking for what feels like hours and you can’t help the nagging feeling that nothing has really changed. 

Not until you all come up on a large corridor. One with two identical, dark pathways. 

Dabi stops in his tracks, leading you both to follow his actions. “Alright wannabe, you go left, I’ll go right.” He throws you a glance, features as indifferent as his tone. “Healer, you’re with me.”

“We’re splitting up?” Spinner pipes up, frustrations of the endless trail palpable and you silently wonder if sending him alone was the safest way to go.

“To cover more ground. You have your way to contact me if you find them.” the arsonist shrugs, mind set on the given direction and you hurry to keep up with him — Spinner going in his respective direction with more brevity than you had previously given him credit for. 

There’s a slight ping in your chest and you kick yourself for thinking Spinner couldn’t hold his own alone. He was still a part of the League afterall. 

You and Dabi both veer right, into the limitless corridor with dim lights sparking like they could go out at any moment. 

This is not a place you would want to find yourself alone in. 

With the crunch of broken beer bottle glass and deep red splatters of what you could only assume as blood along the walls, you truly wonder what you’ve walked into. 

You decide to tread beside Dabi, catching up to his stride and ensuring he won’t leave your sight. 

The warmth radiating from his body is as nice as it is intimidating. It shows just how hot his body naturally runs from his dormant quirk. 

But it’s comforting. It blankets you and soothes the goosebumps that had spread across your skin in the chilled air of the tunnels. 

The silence between you feels natural and not forced, even though your curious questions about his past pry themselves to the forefront of your mind. 

You prefer this, you think. Wandering in silence while looking for the moles. You almost feel.. safe with Dabi here to guide the mission. 

“Hey—”

You gasp and turn back, swearing you heard another voice.

But there was nothing there. 

“Spinner?” You call out into the depths of the hall, walls fading into pitch black as you stare and wait for a response. 

The dark abyss is quiet as you wait for any signs of movement, but everything is stock-still. 

You turn back to Dabi, eyes lingering on the darkness, “did you hear that—?”

You look around but the arsonist is nowhere to be found. The sinking feeling in your heart deepens as your palms grow sweaty with simmering fear.

“Dabi?” 

Nothing. 

He was there just a moment ago, there was no way he could have left your sight. It’s a one way hall with no other doors. 

No, you think, panic rising as you move to sprint down the hall, go the way you know he has to be walking, Dabi wouldn’t leave you in here alone. 

Before you’re able to take your next step, hands engulf you, the sheer shock causes a cry to escape your lips only to be quieted by another hand covering your mouth. 

“Gotcha.”

———————

There's a sluggish and slow pull as you fight to open your eyes. Your nose twitches as your body feels like it's been thrown underwater and brought back to shore just moments before an inevitable demise. 

You feel heavy.

It’s a struggle to move your arm and it takes even longer for you to realize they’re being held together by your wrists. You fight harder to blink yourself awake and it’s then that you notice the voices speaking amongst themselves in the foreign space you’ve found yourself in. 

Your vision is blurry but you flutter until there’s clarity. 

Their voices sound muffled, like you were really underwater as they spoke, but the more you focused the clearer things became. 

There were three men in this room. 

One had dark hair and gleaming red eyes, while the other looked to be much younger. He sat atop a dusty desk and leered at you from a distance, speaking with the third man in a tone too chipper for the line of work he must be in.

The third man in question had you held by the wrists. 

He was behind you, laughing as one hand held your wrists and the other roamed in places that made you feel sick to your stomach. 

“Oh look, she’s awake. Morning princess.” The younger one spoke, green eyes almost glowing despite the darkness of the room. 

Morning? No, there was no way it was morning, but you couldn’t tell up from down right now. You tried and tried, but the grogginess you felt just would not go away.  

You move to speak, but the man behind you is faster, bringing a hand to your mouth to stop your voice before it's free. 

Your eyes dart around the room, seeking any form of familiarity. You only spot a worn down chair that one of the men had occupied, an old, dusty office desk and several metal wire shelves. 

Nothing helpful.

You try again to release your wrists, body slow moving and feeling as though it had been made of lead, but you fight with the strength you have. The man behind you only chuckles, easily amused by your struggle. 

“Whoa there, don’t hurt yourself. My quirk has you doped up with enough tranquilizer to take down a bear.” 

His quirk. Of course. 

You mentally kick yourself at the oversight. How could you be so naive? 

He leans closer, breath ghosting your ear. “Just relax.”

You scramble to remember your training, your fighting skills, anything but it all comes up short against a real life threat. The reality of the situation only makes you sick to your stomach and you cannot believe how woefully unprepared you are.  

You look at the two men in front of you through dreary eyes and know that it doesn’t take a genius to see where this is going. 

Your brows knit in frustration as you begin to feel lightheaded once more, but you desperately try to stay centered. 

“We really don’t have time for this.” A voice speaks up, it's the man with dark hair and narrowed eyes glaring at the other man holding you. You finally notice his lit cigarette and the way it’s awful smell clouds the room. 

The sleeze behind you only chuckles, dark and low as he removes the hand from your mouth to grab your cheeks, squeezing them as he releases your wrists, knowing his quirk has made you weak enough to do so. He pulls you closer by the waist. “Don’t we? Look at her. You don’t come across this often.”

The other nods in agreement, rising from his place on the dusty desk in the corner of the room. Even in your haze you can tell this place is dingy and abandoned — filled with old worn furniture that wouldn't sit on if they paid you. 

“Yeah, you should loosen up.” He mocks, stalking towards you with a sly grin, calling back to the third member of the trio. He places a hand on your head, moving your hair from your eyes. “She’s cute.” 

Your breath is ragged as you struggle against the hold, forcing the man to release your face and he pins your arms behind your back again instead. “Whoa there, feisty.” 

His laugh echoes in your ears and you desperately wonder where your comrades could be at a time like this. 

The man before you watches as you search the bare room for any kind of exit, an amused smile on his face.  

“Any chance that Blue Flame guy will interrupt us soon?” The one behind you speaks, and you close your eyes, knowing he’s gotten you figured out. 

“No way. He’s still stuck in disillusion. By the time he breaks out of it we’ll be long gone.” They both laugh at the idea and it puts your stomach in knots. Of course the other would have a quirk like that. 

No wonder it felt like you were going in circles. 

It’s because you had been. 

“That’s what I like to hear.” 

The next moments feel like a blur as you struggle to catch your breath. 

He is swift as he turns you toward the desk, pushing you forward and bending you over the dusty surface with ease. The panic from before is back and beating against your chest at full force. There was no way this was happening. 

Not like this.

You start to thrash again, even though your body feels like you're trailing it through sludge. 

It's pointless.

You try again to yell — to call for Dabi who was supposed to be with you throughout this, but nothing comes out. God only knows where he could be now, trapped in some illusionary quirk, blind to the time passing by. Wandering for hours. 

Completely oblivious to the danger you were in. 

Your knees tremble when you feel the heat of the other man leering over you, it makes you turn your head, eyes locking with the third guy in the room. 

He meets your eyes, reluctantly watching as his comrades make lewd comments about your body and move in on your space. There is obvious disdain in his crimson eyes but he makes no move to comment further. 

Damn it, damn it, damn it. 

There was nothing you could do to shake the effects of this tranquilizer quirk. Goosebumps rise along your skin as you feel the sticky residue left behind by the other man’s quirk as his hands ghost any bare skin he could reach. 

You were going to be sick. 

“The plans…” the seated one interjects, desperate to stay on topic. “We have to rendezvous with him again tomorrow night. We can’t stay here any longer.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know.” You heard the younger one interject, disinterest clear in his tone. 

“This is our last stint working with the league. Maybe we can leave them a parting gift.” The other breathes from above you, slowly dragging his palms along your clothed sides. 

The response makes the third guy roll his eyes and the younger one laughs. 

“N-no…” you find your voice, as small and meek as it may be, you choke out a whispered plea, so faint you almost didn’t hear it yourself. 

“What’s that girl?” You can hear the grin in his words, to think you had derived a plan that would save these assholes. 

To think you didn’t want them to die.  

“You scared?” He mocks, “what, you a virgin or somethin’?”

The warm tears begin to fall, pushing past your waterline and onto the dirty desk. 

“She’s crying! She is!” The blond shouts, excited at his unspoken discovery. 

“How lucky.”

The third of the trio sighs, removing the cigarette from his lips and rising from his place on the chair, but not before making eye contact with you, real eye contact. 

The kind that makes your heart jump at the notion — and then you see it.

The flash of pity. 

Your heart skips at the flash of his reluctance. 

It's so firm and so clear that you can almost feel the idea of him stepping in to save you, knowing that being a villain doesn’t mean you have to be downright villainous, but your hope is crushed as soon as it arrives. 

Stomped out onto the asphalt along with the man’s finished cigarette. 

The man sighs again, rolling his eyes at his comrades as he makes his way to the door, taking your hopes and wishes with him. 

“Well you fuckers better not take too long. I’m leaving.” 

And then he’s gone — leaving you with the men who will use and abuse you. There was a chance to stop something horrific but he couldn’t care less. 

It makes you think. 

It takes you back to your father and his never ending rants of how all men feel the same about girls like you. Stupid, naive and never able to stand on their own.

He put men like this away while wearing the mask of a public servant only to strip the mask and become the same of those he claimed to hate behind closed doors. 

But he’s not here anymore and now you were left in the hands of the unfamiliar.

You can’t help the bile that rises in your throat as you wonder if this was destined to be your fate in the end no matter what. 

You wish you had a choice. 

God, how foolish had you been. 

How naive of you to want to save these men from the League's wrath. 

You should have known better. You’ve been shown time and time again. 

They are all the same. 

They would always only want one thing from you and there was nothing you could do to stop or change it. 

But…

There’s a flash in your mind, of narrowed red eyes and soft pale hair. 

You think of his gloved hand, offering his drink to you. Of his hushed laugh late that night when you unintentionally insulted him. The leader of this group of villains you’ve found yourself a part of, the one who has treated you with nothing but respect since he’s met you. 

The sickness returns. 

The humiliation burns at your eyes. 

Tomura trusted you to be here and now you will pay for it. 

It’s as ironic as it is cruel. 

You were going to be sick. 

“What a prude.” The guy scoffs and turns to his younger comrade, bringing you out of your dissociated stupor and back to your unfortunate reality. 

He lifts you once more, putting your body on display for his younger friend and brings a hand around to cup your clothed breast.

He’s loose with his movements, halfheartedly holding your wrist with one hand and gloating with the other. It’s enough to leave your other hand free and you wince as it dangles by your side. 

You feel the breeze of the open door, pitch black outside of it and wish you had the strength to make a run for it. 

You were so close, like a carrot dangling in front of you face, but just far enough to be out of reach.

His words feel loud in your ears and you close your eyes, resigned to your fate.  “He doesn’t know what he’s missin’ out on.” 

“Oh, yeah?”

The man tenses and that’s all you register before you feel a strong pull. 

A heavy hand grips your forearm and pulls with a force you’ve never felt before. It’s so hot you almost feel burned but your mind is too groggy to care. 

And then it happens. 

You feel it before you see it. 

Blue flames erupt into the room that you were pulled out of. 

If there were screams they are too distant to be noted now. All you feel is heat and you’re beginning to sweat. You can't tell if you’ve been overdosed by the guy’s intoxicating quirk or if your mind was too stressed to care. 

All you can do is pant and struggle to watch as the familiar blue flames lick the frame of the door and incinerate those inside of it. 

(And as you watch the room bathe in flashes of cyan blue and purple hue, the sleezy men wither away into ash — into nothing — it finally clicks in your mind that oh.

His villain name means creation for this reason exactly.)

The men who held you before were no more. That thought alone would have sent you into another fit of tears if the heat from Dabi’s flames hadn’t dried the trails of them from before. 

The flame user in question stands beside you, breathing heavy and teeth bared. You can’t tell if the smell of burning flesh is coming from him or the two bodies he’s just burned and you don’t think you can stomach another thought towards the answer. 

His brows are pinched in anger and you don’t think you’ve seen this much expression from the man since you’ve known him. 

The hand holding your arm is gripping you so tight it almost hurts, but you couldn’t pull away if you wanted to. 

As if the idea of letting Dabi go would take this all away — as if it would make you wake up and face a reality where Dabi is not fast enough to save you. 

A reality where your nightmares are realized. 

“One of them got away.” Dabi low voice rasps and you can only register that conclusion by the footsteps echoing from farther away. He ran the opposite direction, with a head start and far away from Dabi’s wrath. “Maybe Spinner will catch the fucker.”

You can’t bring yourself to speak nor nod. The effects of the quirks toxin are still sweeping through your body with its wrath. 

There’s a lasting lump of dread in your stomach that makes you feel bolted where you stand. It pulls and pulls, dragging you lower and lower until you can no longer keep yourself upright.

You tense, mentally bracing yourself to meet the cold hard feeling of concrete, but somehow, the feeling never comes.

———————

There is something to be said to those with heavy quirks. Those who have quirks that stay for much longer than they should and linger well past their welcome. 

The intoxicating quirk of the sleezy villain before is definitely one you’re happy you’ll never encounter again. 

Your head feels full of cotton as you struggle to catch your bearings, hands gripping the sides of the toilet. It’s been this way since you woke up from the outing. 

The unpleasant remains of the toxins have ruined your stomach, and you’ve found yourself here, on the floor of the bathroom for the better half of an hour. 

A seesaw of back and forth nausea from the quirk and the fact that those two men are dead. 

Gone forever. 

Incerated. 

You don’t think you’ll ever forget the smell of their burning flesh and the final sounds of their screams. 

You wearily eye your cell phone, tossed onto the tile of the floor and locked. It’s inviting, almost calling to you as your hand hovers over it. 

You could call Shigaraki and tell him about the disaster mission you’ve just experienced, but you stop yourself. 

What did you expect would happen? That he would comfort you like he did on the roof? 

He is your leader, not your friend. 

You scoff bitterly at your spiraling train of thought. 

If you called him now It would just be a show of how incapable you are, and you can’t risk this new home you’ve found. 

So, instead of fighting a losing battle, you bring shaky hands to your forehead, the warmth of your own healing quirk soothing you in a way that feels reminiscent to your mother’s ways. 

There was no use waiting around in a stuffy bathroom. Men were dead because of you. 

You know you shouldn’t feel guilt for it — they were trying to hurt you — but the deaths are so heavy on your mind. 

Forcing yourself to stand on wobbly legs, you walk back to your temporary room. 

Shigaraki set you all up with a cover home, seemingly belonging to a family of three but long abandoned. You took the room of the young daughter, the place covered top to bottom in lace and frills. 

You try not to wonder where she’s ended up. 

Your temporary bedroom is down the hall from the bathroom, not too far for any emergency nausea. 

And from the short distance you can see that there’s someone in your room. 

The closer you get to the door the clearer it becomes that it’s only Dabi, seated and awaiting your return. It would be a lie to say the nausea you felt in that moment only came from the quirk. 

“Have a seat.”  He wastes no time breaking the air, thick rasp of his voice making you hesitate as you linger in the doorway. 

Your eyes fall to the ground as the persistent dread in your gut grows, but you do as he instructs. The bed below you feels too soft, a stark contrast from the firm one you’ve grown to know at the hideout. 

You know what this is about, but the anxiety fills you all the same. 

There was nowhere to run. 

Dabi would tell Shigaraki of your failure today and let him know how you weren’t cut out for this. You would have to leave. 

You would have to—

“What are you gonna do?” His dreary voice drags, cutting through your train of thought. 

You look up at him. 

“What?”

“There’s one more left. Are you going to sit here puking your guts out about this or are you going to finish what they started?”

You eye Dabi wearily. 

Was he.. was he trying to encourage you?

With his narrowed eyes and crossed arms this feels more like an attempted pep talk from an emotionally stunted relative than a scolding from a higher up. 

“I… I don’t know.” You murmur, unsure of how to heed this conversation. Shouldn’t you be on the chopping block right now? “Two of them are dead. I think I’ve done enough damage—”

You don’t miss the eye roll Dabi couldn’t be bothered to hide. 

“Why do you feel sympathetic? They wouldn’t give half a shit about you.” He spits and you flinch at the harsh words, knowing they were nothing but the truth. “Nobody cares about people like us.” 

People like us, you think bitterly. Villains. Outcasts. People that aren’t worth saving. People that are lost causes. There are no heroes for those like Dabi — and now, people like you. 

The thought makes you choke up, vision blurring as you bring a hand to your mouth. It’s too late to melt from the humiliation of this, and the weight of the day is just too heavy to carry anymore. 

“This world is cruel.” He continues, tone even and leveled despite your come apart. “You need to learn to stand on your own. We may not always be there to save you.”

It’s the truth. The cold hard reality you face. You would be lying if you said those hands wouldn’t haunt your nightmares for years to come. 

But you wanted to try. As futile as it may have sounded. It’s why even through your tears you speak, “I-I had a plan, you know.” 

Dabi’s brow quirks at this, head tilted in interest.

“I didn’t want anyone to get h-hurt. It was stupid, I know! But I wanted to try.”

You expect him to dismiss you, to say how naive and even childish you may sound. You don’t expect his next words. 

“And what was that plan?”

You look up, warm tears still cascading down your flushed cheeks and your nose probably looking less than sightly. “What?”

“Tell it to me and maybe we can work something out.” His cerulean eyes shimmer with curiosity. You could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he begins to piece together his own thoughts and ideas for your next courses of action. 

And you think to yourself, watching as he listened intently to your words that maybe there was more to Dabi’s personality than meets the eye. 

———————

You thought you would never be down in the tunnels again. It was unfamiliar and cold, if Dabi were to light the entire thing on fire you would be fine with it. 

Each step you take through these grotesque tunnels makes the pit of dread in your stomach grow deeper and deeper. 

It’s unsettling to be back here — even knowing the men were dead. 

You look to your right, turning down the next hall and continuing on your way. 

Spinner said the last one never left the tunnels and there’s only one way out. You’re sure he’s been backed into a corner with Dabi patrolling the area and Spinner lurking and listening. 

That only leaves you. If the man wanted to take the easier target, it’s clear he would choose you. 

You almost scoff. Of course he would. 

But you were ready today. There were no more illusion quirks and no more ambushing. There was just you and—-

You stop in your tracks, the sound of a footstep slashing against water draws your attention. 

The nerves almost build again but you force yourself to focus. This is possibly your last chance to make things right, for yourself more than anything, but also for the mission. 

Keep yourself quiet and lure him in, just like Dabi instructed. 

His movements are sloppy, you can tell from the way he blows his cover to tackle you from the back, but the same trick won't work on you twice. 

You turn, fully ready to send a punch his way when he moves, pushing you to the side and through a weakened door beside you. 

You both tumble to the floor, the hard concrete scraping against your arms as you fight for your life with the skills you’d learned from Toga. You know that with her training and your determined mind it will be all the more easy to get the upper hand today. 

And you do. 

It's a cheap shot, but you hit him where it hurts, climbing onto him when he has no choice but to coil over. 

Your bat was lost in the scuffle, forgotten as you pulled out one of Toga’s slender knives she had gifted to you. Training with her had made you adopt many of her ways, but you were thankful for them. 

They remind you of how far you had come.

Remind you that no, you were not weak like you once thought. 

You look down at the man below you, his eyes closed as he begged for your forgiveness. 

You were ambushed. 

Your training was not in vain. 

“Wait!” The man below you pleads and it's now that you can see the bags under his eyes, whether it be from anguish of his fallen comrades or the lack of sleep you know he hadn’t gotten last night. It doesn’t matter, you can clearly see the cracks. 

You pause, holding the knife to his throat with narrowed eyes, the look urges him to continue — to plead his case. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he starts and you have to keep yourself from scoffing, “I-I know what they did was wrong — I know! But it had nothing to do with me.”

Your brow twitches in annoyance, but you let him go on. This was your part of the deal you made with Dabi. You wanted a chance to hear them out, or to hear the last one out — to see if there was any way that a compromise could be made. 

But now that you had the man here underneath you and groveling you felt something you never had before.

You felt… strong. 

“Just let me go.” His words break through your thoughts, they were tired and worn. Like he knew his time was up. “I know you’re better than this.”

This time you scoff at the irony. 

Better than this, he says. As if that would have gotten you out of that room unscathed. As if being better than this would have made him step in and stop his comrades from trying to assault you.

Yeah, better than this is complete bullshit. 

He’s wrong. 

In this world there is no such thing as fairness. 

If you let him go, if you let him leave here there’s no telling what else he would leak. 

You believe this is why Dabi allowed you the freedom of enacting your plan. The plan where you wanted to hear their side, their story. But now you know better.

It's you or them. Even men who were complacent had no room for your mercy.

So with a (not so heavy) heart you stare down at the man, eyes even and leveled.  

“He’s in here!” Your voice echoes throughout the run down building and the man curses you, calls you every name under the sun but you cannot bring yourself to care. 

“You stupid bitch—!”

In a world like this one it’s win or lose. Take or be taken. 

Kill or be killed. 

Dabi is in the room in an instant, whistling an impressed tune. 

“Not bad, little bird.” His grin grows as he assesses the scene, staples pulling at his skin in ways you can only assume are painful. “I knew you had it in you.” 

He steps closer, gravel crunching under his boots as he bends down eye level with the man. 

“Now, let’s get this show started.”

[ovaryacted]

Honestly just imagine RE2 Leon accidentally slipping out saying mommy and now you cant let him hear the end of it so now it's something that happens regularly. And then eventually it grows on you as your relationship progresses and it's literally just a turn on for both of you at some point. Plus I bet older Leon would love being called daddy and would eventually just want to call you something too, ykwim? Anyways, I LOVEE your writing so much and i hope you have a great day/night 🫶🏽 🩵

MDNI/18+. NSFW.

Thank you so much for ask anon! And thank you for the compliment, I hope you’re having a good day/night as well! 🫶

RE2 would definitely let the mommy title slip, and honestly, I headcanon that it would slip out of him with all of his versions. Leon in RE2 would just be less sensitive to feeling ashamed of saying it.

It’ll happen when he’s feeling too good, when he can’t think straight and you’ve been pleasing him for much longer than he originally anticipated. You always take such good care of him, tending to his needs and bringing him a sense of stability he’s never experienced before. He can feel his release twisting in his gut, pushing his hips harder against your body and feeling overwhelmed by your heat.

He cums with a few more thrusts against you, fills you up nice and deep, and presses his pelvis harshly against yours, not letting a single drop of him slip out of you. That’s when you hear the word fall from his lips in a weak mumble, a broken high-pitched whimper of *“Mommy”* said against your skin. You weren’t expecting him to say anything like that, clenching hard and your walls pulsing around him as you came after him.

There’s an awkward moment of silence that follows, Leon is a bit too nervous to lift his head and look at you in the eye. You let him stay there on top of you, rubbing his neck and shoulders and letting him enjoy the comedown from the intense but relieving moment. He wraps his arms around you, not wanting to part from you just yet, and sighs, but you can already read his mind.

“I’m sorry about that”, he says against your collarbone, hiding his embarrassment and the red in his cheeks.

“Don’t be, I was just surprised”, you tell him, pushing his hair back and kissing his temples. “But I didn’t *not* like it…”, his hazy blue eyes looked into yours full of understanding and what you believe is optimism.

“So it doesn’t bother you? To call you that I mean?”, he asks you, and you give him a chuckle.

“Nah, it doesn’t. I take care of you, don’t I? I don’t see anything wrong with that”, you rub your thumb against his cheek, noticing how he was about to fall asleep any minute now. He gives you a hum, nuzzling into you before dozing off, knowing it’ll be a topic for another day.

After that night, you tease him constantly for calling you mommy and letting it slip, but he knows it’s endearing more than anything. Sure, it gets him hot and bothered sometimes because he knows you’re right. You whisper things in his ear like “Mommy knows best” or when you praise him and verbally call him a “Good boy” that’s enough to make his pants tighten. In the bedroom, he calls you that as he gets more comfortable, and you can feel how it makes your body warm up when he does. Your chest tightens, desire pools between your legs, and all you want to do is make Leon feel good the way he deserves, the way he can feel only with you.

I also think the same applies to older Leon, who would be a bit more reluctant to admit he has this kink but once it’s out in the open it’s unavoidable. He may have a daddy’s kink once he grows into it (especially RE6 & DI I think), but that mommy kink will come and grab him by the back of his neck like a dog. To him, he doesn’t believe in any of that patriarchal bullshit, if he wants to call his partner mommy, he will, and he’ll do it with a damn smile on his face.

It’s a win-win situation, you get to have him wrapped around your finger, and he doesn’t have to take charge anymore. He obliges to calling you mommy without shame, especially since he knows it’s something you both like.

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 4th

Day 4: Sensory Deprivation // Leather or Latex // Watersports

Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Mention of drugs, body fluids/urine, unprotected sex, riding, mentions of threesomes, shame, releasing bladders, premature ejaculation

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

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

It’s probably the dirtiest secret that Dieter has ever had and that’s saying something considering he has publicly had two girlfriends on his arm on the red carpet, had countless flings with men and women alike, thrown drug fueled orgies at his Sherman Oaks mansion with no shame, but no one has ever suspected that he was into this. 

It had just popped out of his mouth and he completely blames the Molly that he had taken with that last bump of coke. His eyes are wide and hands frozen over your tits as he squeezes them. Looking almost comical as he short circuits, his cock almost instantly going soft inside you. 

“What?” You had to have misheard him. There’s no way that just came out of his mouth.

“What? No, nothing. I didn’t say anything.” Dieter gets loud when he is protesting, especially when he is lying and right now, he is screeching at the top of his lungs. Now that he has snapped out of that glitch, his eyes are begging you to just pretend like you hadn’t heard him and forget that it happened. “Come on, just move already.” He urges in a whiny tone and rocks his hips up, nearly bouncing you off him. 

Your hand slaps against his chest, making him freeze again and he closes his eyes, flinching slightly as if he was anticipating a slap. Only to slowly peel one eye open to peek at you cautiously. 

“You want me to pee on you?” You try so very hard to keep your voice even, to not interject any kind of judgment into your tone, knowing that Dieter would shut down and you would never know if it was a true desire or something that just suddenly appears in his mind and is word vomited out of his mouth without any thought. That happens a lot with him, especially when he’s high because his normally rare filter is non-existent. 

“No……” He huffs. “Yes? Maybe? I don’t know, just forget about it.” He flusters, his eyes cutting away from you guiltily, which means that he had meant it. He’s panicking and trying now to show that he’s panicking.

“Dee.” You lean down and caress his cheek, turning his head back towards you with a little effort since he’s resisting and you press a soft kiss to his lips. Wanting to reassure him that you are still right here. He twitches slightly, hardening slightly since you haven’t moved and he’s still snug inside your cunt. He loves physicality, touch more than anything. 

Dieter huffs, his entire body deflating and he licks his lips before he nibbles on the bottom one. Another little tell that he is feeling insecure. It’s sometimes hard to read over the overly cocky persona, but Dieter is more neurotic and emotional than he would have people know. “Can’t we just forget about it?” He whines softly, waggling his brows playfully. “Just fuck me.” 

Another distraction tactic, but you shake your head. “No, if it’s something you want, we need to talk about it.” 

He blinks, brows immediately pulling together since you didn’t tell him ‘no’. It’s not like you’ve told him no very often. You are willing to play with toys, you have no problem dominating him when he wants to be subby, and you’ve even considered giving him a threesome. Especially if it’s Hugh Jackman willing to join you. 

“I- are you serious?” He asks warily, biting his lip when you nod and lean in, kissing you back this time. “You- you don’t think I’m disgusting?” 

You snort quietly. “I think you're disgusting when you carry a Kit Kat around in your robe without the wrapper on it and eat it after two days.” You tease softly. “Or when you eat beans knowing how bad your gas will get. But this? No.” 

His brows lift, an almost grin gracing his face but he doesn’t give into it yet. He knows you are right about those things being disgusting, but he can’t help it. “So….”

“So it's something you really want?” You want to clarify and you feel his body start to tighten back up under you. Either because you aren’t freaking out at him or because he really does find the idea of that super hot. He nods after a second and you nod too. “Okay, are we talking about what, exactly?” 

“Just, uh, you know-” He fumbles, not exactly sure what he had been thinking about exactly when it had been blurted out. He just wants to experience it, the idea of it is erotic and taboo. 

“Do you want me to….pee in your mouth?” You ask hesitantly, knowing that you will have an issue with kissing him after. 

“No.” He wrinkles his nose instantly and you breathe a sigh of relief, almost giggling at how disgusted he looked by that. “No, I don’t want you to pee on my head either.” He squirms under you and you feel him twitch again, almost fully hard again. 

“So….” You encourage, clenching down around him and making him groan. Sitting on his cock was not the way you ever expected to be talking through the discovery of a new kink that one of you has. “Just like this?” You ask, wondering if he wanted you to piss on him while he was fucking you. 

“I- that could be good.” Dieter sounds a little breathless, looking down to where your clit is pressing against his pelvis and the small happy trail of hair. “Really good.” His eyes are more glazed than normal and you don’t think it’s from the drugs this time. 

You hum slightly as you slowly start to rock your hips. Starting to ride him like you had been right before he had blurted out that surprisingly demand. “So you want me to ruin the bed?” You ask, swiveling your hips and making him hiss when your walls squeeze him tight. “Use you like you’re my personal toilet?” 

It might not not be your thing, or something that you would have ever even thought about doing, but it’s obvious from the way that Dieter’s hips buck up and he gasps that it does something for him. His eyes roll back and he nods frantically. “Yes, fuck, please.” He begs. 

You bite your lip as you concentrate on riding him, feeling him start to get back into the rhythm as you don’t pull away or refuse him. Hands sliding back up to your tits and squeezing them harshly before plucking at your nipples almost gently. “Imagined it a lot.” He confesses breathlessly. “When you- you pee when I’m in the bathroom.” 

Very quickly in your relationship/suitationship with Dieter, you had gotten comfortable with him. Because there is no such thing as personal space when you are with Dieter Bravo. He will come into the bathroom when you are peeing, when you are in the bath. The only thing that you put your foot down on was if you were not peeing and on the toilet. 

“And you thought about me just expelling my bladder on you?” You tilt your head to the side and smirk. “And why you were soooooo disappointed that I’ve never squirted before?” You guess, making him grin guiltily. 

“Yeah.” He huffs, rocking his hips up. “But you think you- are you seriously considering it?” He asks hopefully. 

You could do it now, you alway have to pee a little and there is a waterproof protective layer under the sheets anyway. Dieter loves to bring drinks and food into the bed and you don’t like sleeping in damp spots. If you were to do it, it’s just a matter of stripping the sheets and changing the protective layer. 

“You want me to, right now?” You tease, making his eyes widen and he chokes out a sound while he tenses his entire body like he is trying not to cum. 

“Ohhhh god.” Dieter closes his eyes, his fingers digging into your hips and he nods so fucking quickly you think he might make himself dizzy. “Do it, fucking soak me, baby.” He begs. 

You roll your hips, still riding him and it takes you a moment before you do it. Applying pressure to those muscles that control your bladder and you feel the rush of heat before you clench down around Dieter instinctively, like your body is trying to prevent what is happening. 

It’s not much, just a small stream, but Dieter’s eyes shoot open and he watches the jet of urine splash against his lower belly, making his jaw drop because of the hot liquid. The reality of his dirty desire coming true, your piss spreading over his skin and covering him. 

He chokes out a strangled sound, almost pained, his body tensing immediately and your walls are suddenly painted with hot ropes of cum. The taboo act so erotic that he cums as the urine drips down his sides and onto the sheets underneath him. Gasping your name as he bucks his hips up and the wetness of your fluids continue to spread over him, the subtle smell mixing with the scent of sex and you watch as he rides out his orgasm. 

“Holy shit, oh fuck, I-” Dieter pants breathlessly, staring up at you in wonder, unable to believe that you had just done that. “I can’t- that was- fuck.” He groans and writhes under you, making you giggle. Dieter will become obsessed with this now, you just know it. “Have I ever told you I fucking love you?” He pants. “I do, I love you. I fucking love you.” he sighs. “Holy shit, I can’t believe we just did that. We can do it again, right? Yeah, I’m going to get you one of those water bottle things. Stanley, right? I’ll get you two.” He rambles, already making plans for more now that the floodgates are opened, so to say. “Holy shit, you peed on me.” 

[under-cotton-and-calicos]

Take Me Back To Eden

Multiple Ghosts x AFAB Reader

AN: It’s been a long while. I’ve been busy [insert unhinged ao3 author life update here]. This has been sitting in my drafts for the LONGEST time jeez. Wasn’t really satisfied with any of the directions it took so I finally sat down and committed to something. May or may not have a sequel. I recommend listening to “Descending” by Sleep Token while you read this. As the title implies, I’m kinda obsessed with the band right now. Enjoy!

tags: cult sex, orgy, heavy dubcon, ghosts, ancient deity, mind manipulation, oral sex, vaginal penetration, rough sex, WEIRD CUM

Word count: 3.9k

With a pathetic sputter, the incessant humming of your old corolla’s engine gives way to silence. For a few moments, you sit in the dark and quiet, a mixture of excitement and anxiety raising goosebumps on your skin. You’ve done this hundreds of times, you’re sure that today you’re going to get your big hit. It has to be.

You slam your car door shut and take a deep breath, a gym bag filled with equipment and cameras slung over one shoulder, your free hand guiding the beam of your heavy duty torch across the entrance of the abandoned bar. The old, faded sign perched above its entrance is unreadable, faintly you can make out traces of looping letters. Its battered and dusty exterior belies the rumours you’ve heard about the place.

You were supposed to come with your posse, but every single one of them had work or family issues that cropped up at the last minute. Not one to be deterred by fear, you ended up making the drive down alone. In spite of the cool night, your skin is warm with anticipation as you cross the threshold and slip into the bar.

Not much is known about its origins or history- it’s a small, rundown lot in a slow and quiet part of town, so no one has ever paid it much attention. It had been a hole-in-the-wall style pub that attracted a small and dedicated group of patrons before mysteriously closing abruptly. Hours of digging through the net gave you enough reason to suspect that there was an abnormal cause behind why it still hadn’t been bought out for decades, though. The reports of ghostly apparitions in the crevices of obscure forums led you down a rabbit hole. Soon enough, you managed to find a video posted online, taken by some teenagers roped in by a bet. You studied it for hours, pausing at every frame.

You can still remember the sweet thrill, the goosebumps that formed on your skin when you noticed the wispy, grey figures hidden behind corners in several frames. Jackpot. 

Your friends had told you that they were edited but your gut told you otherwise. There was a genuine fear in those kids’ eyes, you bet on it.

As you manoeuvre through old tables and chairs, you notice that the furniture is still well kept, barring the fact that everything is covered in layers of dust.The retro style bar, stools and shelves are all in good condition, though lacking bottles of booze and the typical drink making paraphernalia. Maybe someone still cares for the place? 

You notice a few doors that hadn’t been explored in the video, so you try each handle, one of them leading to an empty storage room, another leading to a kitchen behind the bar, the next to a decrepit restroom. Curiously, there’s a long stairway behind a stuffy curtain going down to what you presume is a basement door. There’s an inlaid symbol on the door, made from burnished golden metal, its fine quality at odds with everything else in the bar. You’ve never seen anything like it before- the silhouette of a tree firmly rooted to the earth, its branches and roots reminiscent of…horns?

There’s something compelling about it. Your stomach dips at the thought of you opening the door, but you want to. There’s something on the other side of it.

When you yank on the handle, it doesn’t budge, breaking you out of your momentary stupor. You shake your head and blink. 

Caught up in the moment?

“Damn.” You sigh. Typically, you would leave lockpicking to another one of your friends. There isn’t much you can do about it, so you decide to set up a few thermal cameras overlooking the tables and bar, as well as an REM pod for proximity detection on the countertop.

Kneeling behind the countertop, you turn on your spirit box, its harsh white noise filling the quiet. Through the static, you call into the night.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

There’s no response, but you introduce yourself and continue. You’re well accustomed to this pattern already, after years of this. The hauling of equipment, meticulously setting everything up, dicking around for a few hours and then packing up and heading home. Keep the time spent idle low, and expectations even lower. Perhaps it’s because you’re alone tonight. There’s a charge in the atmosphere, a certain secrecy and wonder to the ritual.

“I'd really like it if you told me your name.”

“Like.” The artificial, crackly word emerges from the static.

“Yes, I’d like it if you introduced yourself too.” You wait a few more moments before the next word. For a while, monosyllabic words are all you receive. So you dig and prompt until you tag onto something.

“More.”

“More?”

“M…More tha-an.” 

“There’s more than one of you?” You say, peering around the empty bar. There’s no sign of the specters from the video, only swirling mites of dust suspended in the air under the glow of your torchlight. “Where are you?”

“H-Here.”

Suddenly, your REM pod flashes green, red, blue against the shadows, signalling that something is close by, very close by. But instead of its typical bleeping, a warbled wail echoes through the empty bar, causing you to flinch from how loud it is. The fuck?

You turn around and direct your torch towards the pod. Your heart falters.

A crowd of grey specters are standing behind the counter, their forms towering over where you’re kneeled on the ground. Their bodies are featureless, rippling as though they could blink out of existence at any moment, at odds with the physical realm. For a second, you can’t bring yourself to do anything. You feel dread, you're stunned, but underneath it all, the irrational, ghost hunting geek in you is baffled. Holy shit, holy shit.

You jump to your feet, backed against the shelves. Their heads tilt upwards, following your movement. And then you’re fleeing, terror driving you to run from the very situation that you’ve been chasing down for years.

The moment you’re behind the steering wheel, you step on the gas, your corolla protesting as it's jolted out of its sleep and forced to shoot down the empty street. You don’t stop to turn and look.

“Wait.” A real voice overlaps with the one coming from your spirit box still clutched in your sweaty palm, but you don’t stop, turning the corner around the countertop and passing through an ethereal, translucent arm reaching out to stop you. You burst out of the bar into the cooler night air and shakily jam your key into your car, cursing as you struggle to get the door open.

Holy shit, you chant over and over again, they’re real, they’re real!

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

Your alarm wakes you from a restless slumber, one of many in the past few months. With a groan, you fumble for your phone with your eyes still closed and turn it off. 

“Fuck…” You curse at the soreness in your back and slick between your legs. It happened again last night.

Tugging your underwear down, you stare at the sticky mess you’d created in your sleep. Glimpses of your dream, or nightmare, flash through your head, sending a quiver down your spine. Your breath hitches at the thought, you palm your stiff nipples through your ratty old shirt and begin fingering your cunt, warm and dripping wet. 

You’ve been tormented by a string of dreams lately, each one leaving you aching in the morning. So much so that you have had to incorporate masturbation into your morning routine. It’s never satisfying though, your fingers and toys don’t come even close to what you experience in the nasty recesses of the dreamscape hidden in your mind. All of them are vivid and realistic, but when you wake, you can only recall little snatches- greedy hands taking their fill of your body and being bent over, being filled…being defiled.

And with your equipment left at the bar, what can you do? There is no evidence of your findings. You can’t tell your friends that you’ve been having wet dreams almost incessantly since that night alone in the bar. You would seem like a lunatic.

But it wouldn’t be wrong to call this a kind of madness. Frantic and possessive. Bodies cast in vibrant colour, shadowed and swaying against you. Cast in the black behind your eyelids is a gold insignia, beckoning you closer and closer.

With a whimper, you cum, body folding over and shaking as you ride out your climax. Temporarily satiated, you slump back into your pillows dramatically, staring at your ceiling. Something from that bar had followed you home. And you want to go back.

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

The empty district is just as quiet as it was the last time you were here. It’s a cold night, and you tug your sweater around your shoulders as you lean back in your car seat. It’s undeniable that you’re a little scared- you feel like one of those idiot teenagers in horror movies that get themselves killed for wandering recklessly into danger. Again, something tells you that it’s different. Or maybe you’re just horny.

With your torch in one hand and your phone in the other, you enter the bar. All of your equipment is just as you left it. You trace your finger over the REM pod on the countertop, dusty but intact. It’s…quiet.

What did you expect? To get jumped the moment you came in? There’s no sign of the specters as well. You’re a bit disappointed, because it means that those dreams you’ve been having might not have been supernatural at all, and worse, the specters might have been a figment of your imagination.

Just as you resolve to pack up your things and leave, a sliver of light catches your eye, cast against the dark floor. Purple light streams between the curtains that lead to the locked basement. Your heart begins to pick up pace again, and you rush over, brushing aside the thick, heavy fabric to see the stairway down illuminated. The door is open!

“H-Hello?” You call out, flicking your torchlight off and leaning it against a step. With hesitant steps, you descend, eyes adjusting to the dim artificial light. You know this atmosphere, this tension in the air from the distinctive purple haze of your dreams. Almost instinctively, your core warms and you can feel yourself shiver, a conditioned response.

 When you reach the base of the stairs, your breath stalls in your throat and you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips. The same apparitions that have been haunting your dreams are there, facing you, as if waiting for your inevitable return. Your nervous eyes scan the rest of the room, it looks like you’ve stepped into another realm entirely- gone are the cheap and neon plastics of the bar, there’s a pool of fabrics and pillows, and an altar, carved from stone with tall pillars of candles by its sides.

Dazed, you don’t realise that you’ve been walking until you’re a few feet in front of the specters, their heads following you uncannily. 

“I-I…” You sputter, jittery under their heavy, obscured gaze. They haven’t even done anything to you yet, but your head is all cotton and gauze. Slowly, you sink to your knees.

“My dreams. I’ve seen you there.” You say, awe-struck. A delicate voice replies, soft as a gossamer sheet.

“I am glad that you’ve returned.” It confuses you. You’re not sure if the voice is coming from one of the specters before you or if it’s echoing through your head, like you’re on a phone call with someone in the same room as you. Up close, their forms are ethereal, shimmering and tinted purple from the lights, shifting ever-so-slightly.

You can still make out the shape of a mouth and a nose on their faces, as well as outlines of their limbs and hands. One reaches out to you, fitting the curve of your cheek in the palm of their hand- your eyes widen at the touch, it feels real, cold but solid against you.

“Good one…pretty one…” They close around you, clamouring to touch you. A hand combs through your hair, traces the curve of your ear, another slides past the collar of your shirt to the dip between your shoulder blades, and one presses its fingers against your lips.

Strange, you think, opening your mouth obediently for the cold fingers to savour the wet warmth of your tongue. Every cell in your body is alight, bristling with energy and ready to burst at the seams. This is what you’ve been wanting for so, so long. 

How could I have been terrified of them before this?

“More, more.” Not enough of you is exposed it seems. You shed your sweater, your hard nipples visible through thin fabric. The atmosphere bristles a bit, you think, as you finally discard your shirt, your breasts and inviting skin on display for them to grab at, their touch growing more hungry.

They whisper, trailing lower and lower. You close your eyes for just a moment, the jostling bodies around you giving way to darkness as you relish in the feeling of hands that grope your chest, firm nipples being pinched and tugged at, your bare body slowly becoming accustomed to their supernatural chill. Something bumps against your lips and you smile, opening your eyes once again to bat your eyelashes up at the specter that has its stiff cock in hand, unabashedly asking for entry.

You open wide, sticking your tongue out for the specter to slide its head against you. You think you hear a whimper, and you’re pleased to feel it twitching as you close your mouth around it, humming as you bob your head and take more of its length down your throat. It’s solid, hard like a human’s, and you can feel the bump of veins trailing down its shaft. Behind you, one kneels down and presses its torso up against your back, a hand cupping your soaking sex and another kneading your breast. 

“Here…!” Two more specters hovering over you tug at your arms impatiently, wrapping your hands around their own dicks. Obliging their requests, you stroke them lazily, eyes flitting between all of the spirits that surround you. The ones that are not latched to your body stand a short distance away, fisting themselves, undoubtedly staring at you get busy. Underneath their innumerable gaze, you’re exhilarated, and a thought flits through your mind- they’ll all have a chance to run you through later, and you’ll be able to experience it all in reality. 

The specter shoves two fingers into your needy hole, grinding them against your sweet spot. You falter, but the specter that’s in your mouth clamps its hands around your head, sinking so deep that your face is flush with their crotch. The two rut into your tightened grip, gasping and groaning fills your head.

“So good…so good…Ah!” 

When a finger flicks at your clit, you cum hard, body arching and thighs quaking. You’re stunned momentarily, and you swallow back the spit pooling in your throat, squeezing around the specter. Suddenly, its grip in your hair grows stronger, bordering on pain as it cums too, cold, thick liquid shooting into the back of your throat and covering your tongue. It tastes like nothing, you note, gasping for air when it detaches from you and releases its grip on your head.

What catches you off guard is the colour of its seed, a thick white substance that drips down your chin onto the floor between your legs, giving off an otherworldly glow. Immediately, another takes its place- the one on the right that had you fisting its cock guides it into your mouth and plugs you up again. This one is less patient, it holds you in place and fucks into your mouth. They use you like a sex toy, taking turns occupying your hands and mouth, grabbing at your chest and fingering your cunt. Any hesitation or endearing nervousness that occupied the specters has disappeared, and you’re elated. You lose count of how many have cum on you, they spill on your face, your chest, covering you in their ungodly semen. It becomes a dizzying cycle, and between your climaxes and theirs’, you lavish them with all that you can give, just as you did in your dreams. What you can take down your throat, you do gladly, an appreciative hum is your reward when you obediently swallow and accept the spurts of cum onto your body.

Suddenly, after a specter smears its cum across your tits, you’re pulled to your feet. Shaky and tired legs unable to support your body, you’re carried over to the altar that you saw earlier and laid upon it. It’s the perfect height, and you groan as a specter grinds its cock against your wet folds. Your legs are spread wide apart, and the empty spaces around you are quickly taken by eager spirits. They pause though, and seem to wait for something patiently. A name is called, something unintelligible, not in the human tongue, not anything you’ve heard before.

They say something in an alien tongue, and look upwards to the ceiling. There is something you didn’t notice before, the same sigil as the one on the door is painted there. In a split second, a collage of memories are made clear in your mind’s eye- you see offerings of wine and food, people kneeling before hulking statues and trees, orgies in secluded areas where hedonism flourishes, lush with the scent of sex and flowers.

The specter between your legs breaks you out of your reverie, and you’re suddenly in the basement once again, fully aware of your dripping cunt, the need. There’s an energy in the room that wasn’t there previously, charged and crackling. You groan when it fits its bulbous head against your entrance, hands kneading the flesh of your thighs as it enters you. And finally, finally you are one with them. You stare entranced at where you are joined, its thick, translucent cock stretching your starved cunt.

“Fuck me, please.” You rasp, throwing your head back when it begins to thrust into you, setting a brutal pace. Again, the specters crowd around you and put you to work. Closing your eyes, you lose yourself in the wave of pleasure, the friction of the heavy cock in your pussy, the numerous hands that guide you and delight in the touch of your skin.

“You…you…” The voice bristles in your head, and there it is again- snatches of that scene and the voice, it’s getting stronger. You can barely focus, between the ghostly bodies all around you and the thread of a connection to It. They’re both equally addictive- the delicious stretch and fill, the wandering hands all over your overstimulated body, and the irresistible draw to something powerful and primordial. Closer, closer, closer.

The specter fucking into you quivers, its pace quickening and its thrusts growing shallower. It’s about to cum inside you, and you wrap your legs around its translucent torso to force it even deeper inside. In response, its hands grab your hips with so much force that you’re sure they’re going to bruise.

“Perfect.” The word is whispered into the shell of your ear, low but with the power of a command. Instantly, you feel like euphoria has flooded your body, too much of it. Every sensation is painfully amplified, the bliss of each thrust between your legs rapturous and overwhelming. You cum, and the specter does too, you can feel its cold seed like ice in your hot, hot cunt, flooding you, seeping into your being. Every cell in your body is screeching from pleasure so high that it hurts. 

“Oh. Too much?” 

There’s tears streaming down your cheeks. Your thoughts are melting together and no words form on your tongue, all you can manage is a pathetic nod as your body seizes in agony and orgasmic bliss.

“Apologies, it’s been a while.” It says, and just as quick as it compelled you, the euphoria is sapped from your body. The relief is another form of pleasure, and as you relax, you feel a gush of liquid seep past where you’re joined to the specter- you’re squirting, a puddle of it forming on the altar and dripping onto the floor. 

“Sensitive, aren’t you?” It whispers again, cool and calm as you gasp for breath. “I like it.”

“What…what-” You’re cut off by the specter dragging its cock out of you, leaving you gaping for the next one in line. You let out a high-pitched whine as the mix of semen and your slick spills out of you. As though to comfort you, one specter cradles your cheek and promptly nudges its dick past your lips. They seem to be oblivious to the conversation going on, or they carry on in spite of it.

“Don’t think. Just let go.” Another cock is thrust into you, barely giving you any reprieve as it pounds into you, intent on getting you filled again.

What are you?

“A vague question gets you a vague answer.” It tuts, “I am the bliss that found its way into your dreams, the cruelty that left you wanting more, and the hunger that brought you back here to me.”

Hands reach out to pinch and twist your nipples and clit, forcing you to let out a muffled yelp.

“It hardly seems fair for you to pay little attention to those who have been fucking you so vigorously. Well, given that you can’t form a coherent thought, the ones that have you speared on their cocks are my most devoted followers. They have been so gracious as to offer their spirits for my perusal.”

And now you understand- it’s a god, an ancient deity on the ceiling looking down upon you, casting its impartial and frigid gaze on this debauchery, orchestrated for its sake.

“And you, my little pleasure, are the first taste of life I’ve had down here in a long time.” Its tone has a vicious bite, excitement palpable. At that, the specters, or puppets in you cum, the elation of their master influencing their own pleasure, no doubt. You choke around the cock forced down your throat, cutting off your breathing until it pulls free from you and you choke down air and seed.

You’re so replete, so tired, you’re not sure whether you can take anymore-

“You will.” 

Warily, you sweep your gaze across the hoard of hungry spirits hunched over you.

“After all, isn’t this what you wanted?”

Throughout the night, you’re used over and over, your poor cunt fucked and filled more times than you can count. Just as you think it may end, another specter is between your legs, alternating between lapping up the mess between your legs and pumping its seed into you again. All while some ancient and cruel god speaks to you. With each climax, you feel your consciousness slipping further away, the teasing and praise of the voice in your ear growing ever more distant…

When you wake, you’re exhausted. The specters had disappeared, leaving you on the altar. Despite the throbbing in your core and muscles, you manage to pull your clothes back on and make your way up the stairs, the unpleasant stickiness of your skin urging you to get home as soon as possible so you can take a shower.

A draft sends a chill down your spine, a whisper like a caress brushes past you.

I’ll see you soon, little pleasure.

You’re relieved to see your corolla on the streetside, and as you limp to your car you make a mental note to pack up your equipment the next time you’re here.

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 39: Returning

Your family comes back to Jackson. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-38 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut. Aftermath of canon-typical violence, including graphic depiction of injury. Mention of past sexual assault, not described. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 10k

A/N: We are through the spoiler-y portion now and you're all OK to read from here if you just want to see how the fic starts to come to a close. There is no more overlap with TLOU 2.

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next chapter

May, 2017 

“Mama!” 

Savvy’s voice was shrill, panicked. That scared you more than getting thrown off a horse had and your head shot up to make sure nothing had happened to her in the few seconds you’d been flying through the air and getting your bearings after hitting the ground with a thud. 

But your daughter was fine, just watching you from her place on the other side of the fence posts as you worked to break the feral horse you’d taken just a few weeks earlier. She was at the hardest stage now, the part where you had to be on her back but she didn’t want you there. She was used to a saddle, used to pressure guiding her. She was even used to you. She just wasn’t used to giving up the last wild parts of her, even though you were offering her a life that was better for her, one with care and shelter and protection from what would kill her in the wild. 

“Are you OK?” Savvy asked, her eyes wide. You should have anticipated this. She’d never seen you get thrown off a horse before, of course it would scare her. She looked like she was about to climb the fence to come check on you, her little hands bracing on the wood post. 

“I’m alright, baby girl,” you said quickly, holding your palm out to stop her. “You stay right there, OK?” 

She nodded but frowned, her little eyebrows drawing together as she watched you get back to your feet, the book you’d told her to read so you could keep an eye on her while you worked discarded in the dirt. 

You groaned a little as you shook the tension from your limbs, cracking your neck as you did before going for the horse again. 

“Mama!” Savvy yelled again, stopping you in your tracks. You looked back at her, frowning. “Mama, no! You’re going to get hurt, you can’t go on her again, she’s scary and…” 

“Oh, baby,” you said, going and kneeling in front of her, brushing her curls back from her small face. “I have to.” 

She frowned. 

“Why?” 

You smiled at her, at the concern in her warm, brown eyes.

“Because, when you get thrown - when something gets hard - you don’t give up,” you said. “When you give up, you lose so much that you’ve already worked so hard for. It can be hard and it can be scary, but if I gave up on her now, I’m letting her down, too. When you get thrown, you have to get back up. Even when it’s hard, even when it’s scary, you get back on the horse. If you get back on the horse, it’ll be OK. Understand?” 

She watched you for a moment before giving you a firm nod. You smiled and kissed her forehead before steeling yourself and getting back on the horse.

May, 2028 

The way you rode with Joel wasn’t comfortable but you didn’t care. You needed to be close to him. 

You sat side saddle, more on his lap than anything else, precariously balanced and nestled in his arms but it was where you had to be. You pressed your face into his neck and breathed him in and even though he smelled mostly of sweat and horse it was a comfort. You closed your eyes and tried not to listen to anything, just the sound of his breathing. 

He didn’t say much, only occasionally pressing his face into your head and kissing you there and whispering you’re OK, I’ve got you every few minutes. You weren’t sure if it was for him or for you. 

You weren’t sure how long you’d been riding but it had been dark for what seemed like a long time when you stopped for the night. 

“C’mon Bambi,” Tommy said gently as he helped you down. His touch still made you flinch. “It’s OK. Just me, not going to hurt you.” 

He half caught you as you more fell off the horse than dismounted and you realized just how uncomfortable your position had been as your body realigned. It just didn’t hurt as much as so many parts of you so it didn’t bother you as you rode. Joel’s hands were on you again almost immediately, pulling you against him. 

“Careful,” Joel said, guiding you to a large tree to sit in the cradle of its roots. He lowered you gently to the ground before he knelt in front of you, carefully pulling your shirt back enough to see the knife wound from Mitchum’s guard on your arm. He spent a few minutes carefully patching you up, cleaning the cut and bandaging it. You kept your injured hand tight against yourself, like you could somehow hide from Joel just how broken you were. 

When he was done, he brushed your hair back before cupping your cheek, his gaze deep and almost sad.

“I’m gonna go help Tommy set the perimeter…” 

Your eyes went wide at that, the thought of him being where you couldn’t see or feel him sending a thrill of panic up your spine. 

“Just for a few minutes,” he said, voice soothing and gentle. “Girls will be with you the whole time. You’re OK, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” 

You nodded and he pressed his lips to your forehead, lingering there before he pulled away from you. You closed your eyes and pressed yourself back against the tree, needing to have something at your back so you knew nothing could come and take you when you couldn’t see them coming. 

“Mom?” Savvy said quietly. You opened your eyes and found her standing beside you in the dark. “Can I… is it OK if I sit with you?” 

“Of course,” you said, your voice sounding and feeling oddly foreign to you, and you watched as she slowly, cautiously lowered herself down beside you. You kept your left hand clutched to your chest but held your right arm out and she gingerly fit herself against you there, nuzzling into your shoulder. You kissed the crown of her head, her curls tickling your nose and you gave her a squeeze before trailing your fingers gently through her hair. 

“Are you OK?” You asked quietly. She nodded but took a deep, shuddering breath. You relished that for a moment, that you could feel that she was alive an that she wanted to be close to you. “You can talk to me, it’s OK.” 

“I was so afraid,” she said, her voice wet. “I thought I’d never see you again and I never had the chance… You never told me about them and what… what they did.” 

“I know,” you said, continuing to hold her. 

“Why?” She asked. “I was so mad at you but it wasn’t your fault and you could have just told me and I would have understood, I would have known and I wouldn’t have been so… so…” 

Her voice trailed off and you pressed your lips to the crown of her head again, breathing in the smell of her, trying to put words to it. 

“You’re my baby,” you said eventually. “I want to protect you from everything. That’s my job, it’s the most important job I’ve ever had. I didn’t protect you then…” 

“Mom,” she said, sitting up from you a little to look you in the eye in the moonlight, like she was getting ready to fight you on it. 

“I didn’t,” you said. “I wish I could have but I wasn’t able to for a very long time. Keeping you from knowing about that stuff… I could protect you that way. I didn’t want that in your head. I still don’t.” 

She watched you for a moment before she deflated before you.

“I know you tried,” she said weakly. “I remember, the night they came… I heard the gunshots, I know you tried. I was so afraid then, too. I thought they killed you, I thought…” 

“I know,” you said softly. “And I’m sorry.” 

“I’m really sorry,” she said, tucking herself against you again. You could feel her tears dampening the cotton of your shirt. “I shouldn’t have been so mad at you, I’m so mad at myself now because I… I was just so angry because I didn’t understand and…” 

“It’s OK,” you soothed her. “Don’t be mad at yourself baby girl, please don’t. You went through so much, you survived so much all on your own that you never should have gone through. Of course you were mad, it’s right to be angry when something hurts you like that…” 

“But you didn’t hurt me,” she said, holding you tighter. “You didn’t just leave me. And I should have known that you would never have done that. I should never have been angry with you.” 

“It’s OK,” you said again. “We’ve found each other now, that’s all that matters, right?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded into you. “I love you, Mom.” 

You held her a little closer. 

“I love you, too,” you whispered. “So, so much.” 

After a few minutes, Ellie joined you, too. She didn’t seem to want to talk, something you were thankful for because you weren’t sure how well you’d hold it together. The conversation with Savvy had taken so much out of you. You needed to take care of them both, look out for them, help them through their pain and their fear but you barely had it in you to do it. It was like everything inside yourself was dedicated to keeping yourself alive and in one piece - as much as you could since they’d already cut pieces of you away. You didn’t have anything left in you to do anything else. 

Instead of asking for your words, Ellie sat silently on your left side and you cautiously, hesitantly, put your arm around her, your injured hand coming to rest against her. She put her head on your shoulder and you kissed her there before resting your cheek against her and closing your eyes. You tried to focus on the two of them, that you could feel that they were alive and that they were safe, knowing it with real certainty for the first time since Kyle had shown up at your door what felt like an eternity ago. 

When the men got back, Tommy volunteered to keep watch all night and Joel tried to protest but Tommy silenced him quickly. 

“You ain’t slept in days,” he said sharply. “Stay with your wife. I’ve got it.” 

You frowned as Joel set out his sleeping bag and helped you into it before joining you there, set a little away from where Ellie and Savvy were so there was a semblance of privacy. 

“You’re alright,” Joel said, so softly you weren’t sure that he’d even intended the words for you. “I’ve got you.” 

“You haven’t slept?” You asked quietly. You kept your injured hand between your bodies, tight against your chest while Joel’s arms were around you, the one below you tucked under your head so you could use him as a pillow, the other cradling your body against his. 

“Couldn’t,” he said, his lips brushing your forehead. “Not without you.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, tears pinching tight in your throat. You hated that this had hurt him, too. 

“No,” he whispered. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault, sweetheart. You saved them, I would have done the same thing.” 

He held you so close and you felt him breathe, felt the subtle rattle inside of him and you knew he was crying. You wished you had it in you to soothe him and take care of him the way he was taking care of you but you couldn’t take any other pain into yourself. Instead, you cried, too, until you fell asleep in your husband’s arms. 

The next morning, you jerked awake, heart racing but you couldn’t remember why. It took you a moment to realize where you were, that you were safe and that Savvy and Ellie were safe, too. Your whole body was tense, a bowstring drawn too tight and ready to snap. 

“You’re OK,” Joel’s hand was tracing a delicate path over your spine and your face was buried in his throat. His voice was so quiet, the coo of a morning dove trees away was louder. “Never let anyone hurt you again, you’re safe.” 

You took a deep, shaky breath and he kissed the crown of your head and just held you until you felt like you could move. 

When Tommy and the girls took the horses to a nearby stream to drink and to fill up canteens before leaving camp, it left you and Joel alone - truly alone - for the first time. You were nestled into his chest as he leaned back against a tree, both of his hands on you, always touching you. 

“You can talk to me,” he said. “Don’t want you feeling like you need to protect me from any of it. I’m here for you, sweetheart. Whatever you need, it’s yours.” You swallowed hard but nodded into him. “Can I ask you for something?” 

You frowned but you didn’t stop him. He took a deep breath. 

“Can I see your hand?” He asked. You froze against him, not even breathing. He gave you a little squeeze. “I just want to see if it’s healing, baby.” 

You held it a little tighter to yourself. 

“You know?” You asked quietly. There was something that felt so wrong about Joel knowing that another man had cut part of you away for himself.

He gave you another small squeeze. 

“Made Cody pay for it,” he said. “Made ‘em pay for fuckin’ all of it.” 

You took a deep breath and sat back from him, just enough to unwind the makeshift bandage from around your hand. When it was just loose fabric over your wound, you took a shaky breath and looked at Joel. He was watching you closely, one hand gently cupping your elbow, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles over you there. You could tell he was trying to keep from showing much emotion, his face flat, but the way he was looking at you still told you everything. He was hurting, so much pain behind his eyes that it was hard not to drown in it. You tried not to think about how afraid he must have been, coming back to Jackson and finding his entire family gone from the one place left on Earth that was supposed to be safe. He’d reached you but you had to carry this with you now, for the rest of your life. Evidence of just how cruel this world was right on your hand, a constant reminder of what was waiting just outside the walls. 

“It’s OK,” he said gently and you took a deep breath before pulling the fabric back from your hand. You watched Joel’s face as you did, watched him fight to not flinch at the mangled flesh that was your hand. He took your palm gingerly in his large hands and you finally looked down at your remaining fingers, watching as Joel carefully examined you. He brushed his thumb on your palm below where the pieces of you had been cut away. 

“They burned it,” you said after a moment. “Stopped the bleeding.” 

“It’ll be OK,” he nodded and you fought to swallow around the knot that had tightened in your throat. 

“He took my wedding ring,” you said softly, feeling the tear you’d been struggling to hold back slip down your cheek anyway. 

“No,” Joel shook his head, setting your hand gently on your leg, palm up before reaching into his pocket. He pulled your ring out, still dark sticky with blood but it was yours. “I took it back. Don’t need to decide what you want to do with it now but I have it, I’ll keep it safe for you. He didn’t get to take that.” 

You looked at it for a moment, nodding slowly. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

Joel tied your bandage around your hand again, finishing just as the other three returned with the horses and the water. 

You rode with Joel again, not feeling entirely conscious or even inside your body as you did. You still kept your left hand held close to your chest. Sometimes, you were keenly aware of the movement of the horse below you. Sometimes, you heard birds singing and frogs croaking and Ellie whispering to Savvy. Sometimes, you didn’t feel or see or hear or smell anything at all, just floating in space and time where nothing could take anything more from you. 

It was during one of those times where you were existing with nothing at all that you made it back to Jackson, Joel gently pulling you back to the present by pressing a kiss to your temple and talking low and gentle in your ear. 

The walls of the town were on the horizon and you stiffened. Even with damn near half the town back at Mitchum’s camp after the fight, you knew there would be people, people who would see you like this and know what had been done to you. 

“Just gonna get you to the doctor,” he said, sensing your discomfort. “Then we’ll get you home. It’s OK.” 

“Can we just go home, Joel?” You asked, burying your face in his neck. You knew you should be stronger than this. You knew you didn’t have anywhere inside yourself to find that strength. “Please, just take me home, I want to go home.”  

He held you a little tighter, the gates casting a shadow as they opened. 

“OK sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll take you home.” 

Joel guided the horse to your house, Tommy following close behind. You could feel eyes on you but you didn’t look up from your place tucked against Joel’s skin. Your brother in law helped you off the horse and helped you stay upright until your husband could tuck you against his side and return you to the place you felt safe. 

One Week Later 

You rarely left your bedroom. 

After Carol came by the house and examined you and Joel gently bathed you, washing you clean of everything that had happened, you’d only really left your room to use the bathroom. The curtains were drawn, the air was stale, you were coated in a layer of old sweat and you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

At first, Joel rarely left your side. It was two days before you were without him even for a minute. He even went with you to the bathroom, his hand on your back on the walk down the hall and hovering just outside the door before walking you back to bed again. You mostly just laid on his chest, feeling him breathe, waiting for something - anything - to pull you away. You felt it coming, some amorphous thing hanging on the edge of your consciousness. Nowhere was safe. Not even Jackson. This was proven now. Something would find you, something would take everything that mattered away. It was always coming, it had been for more than 20 years, grasping for you in the form of your infected boyfriend or the man who didn’t want to take a no or the unseen death of your daughter’s father or those who took and took and took until there was nothing left. How could you be expected to live like that? Fighting and scratching an existence for yourself only to have it ripped away again and again and again. 

Staying in bed was safer. There was less to lose then. 

The third day, Joel left for a little while. You weren’t entirely sure where, but you were only alone for a few minutes, Ellie and Savvy coming to sit with you. You just held onto them and hoped that, whatever eventually came for you would spare them instead of using them as they had been before. 

Nothing did. 

Other people came by after that, too. Just to the house, Joel stopped them in the living room, seeming to understand that you couldn’t bear being seen this way. You heard them, occasionally, from your place in the bed. Their voices would filter upstairs and so would Joel’s replies. Tommy and Maria wanted to see how everyone was doing. Olivia gave updates on the stables and asked after you. Warren came by to tell Joel the final tally of the fight with Mitchum and how so much of the trouble that had cropped up for patrols over the last few years could be blamed on his fight for power. Even Julie visited, carrying a basket of snacks with her. Joel tried to get you to eat some. You managed a few berries before curling up again. 

You knew this had to be wearing on Joel. He weathered you waking up in a panic and fighting him before you remembered where you were and who you were with. He didn’t pressure you to leave the bedroom, instead bringing food and water and tea to you. He tried to get you to read but you weren’t interested so he read to you, instead. You didn’t process much of what he said but the sound of his voice was comforting and you would curl up against him as he read, drifting in and out of consciousness as he stroked your hair or ran his hand from your shoulder to your elbow and back again. 

The only thing that told you it had been a week that you’d been back was Carol. She came in your room with a gentle smile and asked to take your bandages off to check how you were healing. You kept your good hand in Joel’s the entire time, squeezing him tight because anyone but him or the girls being that close to you made you want to crawl out of your skin. 

“This is coming along well,” she said as she looked at your hand. “Really. You’ve come a long way in just a week. You will move past this and you will be OK.” 

You weren’t sure you could say anything so you didn’t try and you heard her giving Joel some care instructions in the hall before she left. You stared at the wall. 

“Hey,” Joel said when he came back in and sat on the edge of the bed. You curled your legs into your chest and watched him. He reached out and ran one large palm over your head. “How about a shower? Doc said should be easier now…” 

You watched him for a moment, worry in his eyes. He’d been with you like this for a week now. That was a long time for someone like Joel who liked to be moving and feeling like he was accomplishing something. It was unnatural for him to be here, stagnant like this with you. You knew how this must be hurting him, how his life would be better without needing to deal with this. 

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for what you knew you needed to say. 

“I know this isn’t what you signed up for,” you looped your arms around your knees and pulling them tighter to yourself. “You don’t have to stay with me like this.” 

“Baby…” 

“I can move back to my old house,” you said, ignoring the tightness in your throat and chest as you said it, like the thought of being away from him was going to strangle you dead. “I think it’s still empty, you don’t need…” 

“No,” he cut you off, sharp and firm. 

“I know this isn’t what you want…” 

“The hell it’s not,” he snapped. He moved fully onto the bed, taking your face in his hands so firmly it almost hurt, his fingertips sinking into your skin. You took a deep, shaky breath and closed your eyes but he didn’t seem to be having that, either. “No, you look at me, goddammit, not letting you hide from this, you hear me?” 

You forced your eyes open, trying not to grimace as you looked at your husband, the man you wanted to be next to forever but couldn’t bear to keep dragging down like this. 

“You think I want you to leave?” He asked, brows raised so high they almost disappeared into his hair. “That I want you anywhere but next to me?” 

“Joel…” 

“I promised to love you and protect you,” he said. “You think that stops just because shit gets hard? You think I’m just going to let you go because somethin’ awful happened to you? I don’t care if I need to stay with you through this for another week or a year or a fuckin’ lifetime, I’m staying right fucking here. I love you, more than I ever thought I could love someone else and that don’t stop just because you need time!” 

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore!” You almost yelled it. “Please, I don’t want to drag you down with me, I can’t let you get dragged down with me, the girls need you and…” 

“They need you, too,” he cut you off. “And you’re not draggin’ me anywhere. You go, I go. That’s how this works, you and me. You hear me? Now, if… if you need to be away from me because of shit I’ve done -“ 

“No,” you shook your head as best you could in his grip but he continued on like you hadn’t spoken at all. 

“-then we’ll figure that out but we’ll do that together, not with you leaving because you think it’s what’s best for me, you understand me? I love you. I’m sticking by you. That ain’t changing.” 

You closed your eyes and Joel’s hold on you loosened, his hands moving from your face to your shoulders, his thumbs moving in soothing circles over your collarbone. 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he said, the forcefulness gone now, just the quiet care left in his voice. “Let’s get you cleaned up. You’ll feel better.” 

He guided you to the bathroom and undressed you delicately as the water warmed up. He took off his socks but left on his jeans and t-shirt as he got in the shower with you. 

“Joel,” you whispered, your arms crossed over your chest as best you could. 

“It’s you and me,” he said. “We’re figuring this out together.” 

His hands moved over you slowly, firmly, cleaning your skin and your hair and working knots out of aching muscle. His clothes were dripping. He didn’t seem to notice. 

Another week later 

Joel had started going back to work. 

You’d insisted on it. You couldn’t keep him cooped up with you like this forever, you couldn’t bear to watch him slowly lose himself no matter how much he pretended like it was OK. 

He’d been reluctant, of course, and he wasn’t going on patrol or anything that took him away from the house for more than a few hours but you could tell that he was feeling better, now that he was pitching in around town again. 

Joel told you about some of what he did when he got back. He fixed the roof on a family’s house one day and told you about how the four-year-old boy there had showed him all his Matchbox cars before he left. Another day, Joel worked with Tommy to start figuring out good ways to expand the school as it was getting cramped, planning to bring their ideas to the council to decide how to move forward. Another, he told you about going to help Olivia at the stables and how people said they missed you and sent their best. 

The next day was when he came back with the kitten. 

“Brought you somethin’,” he said as he e came into your bedroom with it wriggling in his hold - the creature so small and his hand so large that it just fit in his palm. He set it on the bed next to you and you just gaped at it. 

“What…” 

“Couldn’t just leave it,” he shrugged. “It’s too new to survive on its own but it was all by itself. Figured, anyone here knows animals, it’s you. Thought it could use a mother.”

He’d apparently left the city walls for a few hours that day to test someone new on shooting for patrol. That’s when they found the kitten, snarling and ferocious, all alone near the shooting range. It was a little thing, black and white and fluffy with a tail that stuck straight up. Joel had scooped it up and tucked it inside a saddle bag before bribing it with some milk and chicken back in town. That had mellowed it some, its affection apparently easily bought as it ambled around the bed, pouncing at unseen prey and climbing on your legs. You smiled a little, watching it. 

“What are we supposed to do with a cat?” You asked, only glancing at Joel as you watched the kitten romp around. 

“Weren’t you sayin’ you were worried about mice in the barn?” He said. “Figured he can pitch in around here as much as anyone else. Earn his keep.” 

You laughed once, lightly, at that. The cat, paying rent in town with his presumed hunting skills. 

“Think you can raise ‘em up alright?” Joel asked. 

You reached out and ran a finger down his little back. He arched into your touch and you couldn’t help but smile a little. 

“I think so,” you said, even though you weren’t really sure that was true. 

But he did make you leave your room the next day. 

The kitten - who you decided to name Orion in hopes he lived up to his namesake in hunting skills - wanted to explore and you wanted to let him. You got out of bed to let him out of your room but it felt wrong, letting him go out there without someone watching him. This place was big and new and dangerous for him. He needed help. You didn’t go far, only making to the living room, but it felt like a different world to you, too. You sat on the couch, tucked as far back into the corner as you could go so you could feel things around you. It was the only way to be secure, knowing what was there. You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting there when you watched Joel come up the front walk, jogging up the steps and unlocking the front door. He nearly jumped when he saw you there, sitting on the couch with your arms around your legs, the cat patting at the bottom of the curtain at the window. 

“Baby,” he said quickly, almost running for you before sitting next to you, tilting your face in his hand, examining you. “You alright? You hurt?” 

You frowned at him, his eyes still ranging over you. 

“I’m fine,” you said. “We just… wanted a change of scenery.” 

He nodded slowly, watching you cautiously. 

“And how we feelin’ about all that?” 

You considered that for a moment. 

“Alright, I think,” you said. “Better, with you here.” 

His lips tugged up ever so slightly at the edges. 

“Good,” he said. “That’s good.” 

He put a movie on for the two of you and, for a bit, you felt almost normal with him there beside you, tucked against his side as you watched things play out on screen. You felt secure enough that you started to doze off there, somehow exhausted even though all you’d done that day was come downstairs and sit on a couch. 

“C’mon sweetheart,” Joel said, giving you a squeeze as credits played. “Let’s get you upstairs.” 

It was something like waking up then. There were things happening around you that you realized had been happening for a while, you just hadn’t fully noticed. Joel helped you get get settled but didn’t get undressed himself. Instead, he got his pajamas from where they were folded on a chair in the corner and went to the bathroom, changing there. You frowned as he got into bed next to you and you pressed yourself against him, breathing in the warm, comforting smell of him. 

“Have you been doing that?” You asked quietly as he trailed his fingers up and down your spine. 

“Doin’ what?” He asked. You could hear the frown on his voice. 

“Getting ready for bed in another room,” you said. “I can’t remember from the last few days and…” 

You trailed off and he was quiet for a moment before he answered. 

“Yeah. Seemed… seemed smart.” 

Your frown deepened. 

“Why?” 

He sighed heavily, holding you a little tighter. 

“I don’t want to do anything that might hurt you or scare you,” he said slowly. “I dunno what they did to you - and you don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to - but… I know enough of what they did before and you wake up afraid a lot. Figure… well, last thing you might need is seeing an undressed man so I’ve just been making sure you don’t. S’OK. I don’t mind.” 

Your throat got tight and you nuzzled closer to him, suddenly missing his skin so much it hurt. 

“I’m not afraid of you,” you said quietly, your voice thick. 

“It’s OK if you are,” he replied. “Just don’t want to be something that hurts you.” 

“You’re not,” you said. “I… I feel safe with you.” 

He slowly, hesitantly pressed his lips to the top of your head. 

“Good.” 

You were silent for a minute and you could feel his body start to relax against you and you knew you should just let him rest but now that you realized it had been weeks since you’d last really felt his skin, you couldn’t think about anything else. 

“Joel?” You said eventually. 

“Hm.” 

“Can…” You took a deep breath. “Can you take your shirt off?” 

He pulled back from you, frowning slightly. 

“I just…” you watched him closely. “I miss being able to touch you.” 

“Sure, baby,” he said. “If that’s what you really want.” 

You just nodded and he sat up enough to tug his shirt over his head before settling beside you, letting you decide how close you wanted to be. You pressed yourself against him, burying your face in his chest and breathing deep, not realizing just how much you’d missed this until that moment. 

“I love you, Joel,” you said quietly, pressing a kiss to his skin. 

He took a shaky breath. 

“I love you too, Bambi.” 

You tried to leave your room every day after that, at least for a little while. You made yourself tea in the kitchen and gave Orion a treat or watched something on TV in the living room. Ellie and Savvy came by and played cards one afternoon, both of them completely charmed by the way the cat would rear back on his hind legs to try to catch a string. You made it as far as the front porch once but you only lasted a few minutes there, the space too open to feel safe. 

One day, you decided to go and spend time in the room you’d set up for Savvy, sitting cross-legged on the bed and looking around at how Joel had helped you put it together. You were just thinking about how to ask if she wanted to come spend the night at least when you heard the front door open. 

“Sorry,” Joel said. “She’s got good days and bad. This may be a bad day if she’s still in our room…” 

“Do you think she’d be up for talking about it?” Olivia’s voice was distinctive, even from the floor above. “Because it’s been weeks…” 

“Know how long it’s been,” Joel said, his voice sharp. “Not about to jeopardize her health because…” 

“The whole town relies on us and those horses,” Olivia cut him off, heated too. “I understand that she’s going through something and I don’t want to make it worse. She’s my friend and I care about her. But I need to know whether or not she’s coming back anytime soon because the horses she was working with before this happened? They’re backsliding. If I need to take over, fine, I’ll do my best but it won’t be what she can do and I don’t want to do it without talking with her and…” 

“Another day,” Joel said. “I know what’s at stake but I am not putting her at risk. It ain’t worth it.” 

They were quiet for a moment and then Olivia sighed. 

“Fine,” she said. “But it has to be soon. They can’t just stay wild like this here, it’s not good for them. There’s only so much longer they can go on like this.” 

You heard her leave and then Joel’s heavy sigh before walking - his limp apparent even from a floor away - to the kitchen. You took advantage of the sound of the running water to slip back into your bedroom, pressing yourself back against the headboard and closing your eyes for a moment. 

Olivia was right. You knew the horses you’d been just starting to break would be in rough shape now. The longer you let them go, the harder it would be to get them back and it was dangerous to let them go too long in captivity without training. They could hurt themselves in the stall, hurt another horse, hurt someone trying to care for them. You couldn’t afford to let them go, the town needed them. Something had to give. 

Joel didn’t mention Olivia when he came upstairs only a few minutes later. He brought you tea and toast with jam and you ate some of it, staring at your hand with the missing fingers as you used the ones that remained to hold the bread. Joel just sat next to you in bed, reading silently and absently stroking Orion and watching you out of the corner of his eye like he was afraid of what you might do if he wasn’t watching. Because, apparently, now you needed supervision to eat fucking toast.

He tried to coax you down to watch a movie that evening but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the bed, your mind lingering on his conversation with Olivia, on all the things you were failing by still being here, like this. It was like you were still trapped there, still chained to that fucking wall, still waiting for the thing that was going to rip you apart. 

Joel held you as you tried to fall asleep - even though you weren’t sure you deserved it - and you knew it was going to be a rough night before it even began. 

You were right. You dreamed about Cody taking your daughters from where they were supposed to be safe and searching for them in the woods, desperate to reach them, ready to give every piece of yourself away in exchange but still not finding them. You dreamed about Mitchum and how he liked to hurt you, how his body felt like the weight of the world was suffocating you when he was on top of you. You dreamed of being trapped and caged and finding the only person left on the other side of the bars was yourself, standing there, holding the keys and watching, waiting. For what, you didn’t know. 

“Sweetheart!” Joel’s voice snapped you out of your head and, suddenly, you were back in his arms. The room was quiet and still and smelled like him and he was there, his eyes searching yours as he clutched you close. “Hey, it’s alright. We’re OK, I’ve got you. It’s just me, you and me, you’re safe. We’re all OK.” 

He ran his large palm over your head over and over, his eyes locked on yours, saying the words over and over and they were nothing new. They were things Joel had said probably every day since you’d been back, things he told you when he could feel you tense or when you panicked in your sleep. It was a familiar mantra, something you clung to when so much of the rest of the world seemed to be swallowed by chaos and cruelty. 

But this time, the settled in you differently. We’re OK. It’s just me, you and me. 

This thing you’d survived hadn’t just happened to you, not really. Yes, you’d been the one to willingly hand yourself over to monsters and you’d been the one to suffer what they wrought but it was Joel who came back from patrol to find his entire family gone. It was Joel who had searched for you, frantic and terrified, for days. It was Joel who had shepherded your daughters through your disappearance as they tried to shove their guilt away with vengeance. It was Joel who took the closest thing you’d get to justice from your tormentors. And after it all, he’d stood there, in the middle of this tempest, holding you through it, keeping your head above water. When everything threatened to pull you under, he was there. You weren’t alone. Not in this, not in anything. Not anymore. 

“Joel,” you whispered, reaching your hand up and trailing your fingers through his graying curls, his hair brushing against the scar tissue where your wedding band had once rested. 

“Hey baby,” he whispered back, the barest hint of a smile on his lips, his gaze less panicked. “You feeling OK? Want me to bring you anything? I can make you tea…” 

“No,” you said softly, still trailing your fingers through his hair. There’s a tightness in your stomach, one that was so foreign now but still so familiar when you were next to Joel. “That’s not what I want.” 

He watched you, his eyebrows drawing together ever so slightly and you could see just how restrained he was. You’d known Joel a long time, you knew how the whole of his body moved when in pleasure or pain, in certainty or confusion, even the fine muscles of his face - especially those - and he was holding back. He was protecting you, always protecting you, even now, even from himself. 

You didn’t want him to. 

“What do you need?” He asked gently, his hand going from your hair to your face, his thumb pressed below your cheekbone. 

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you watched him closely in the dark, keenly aware of how his body was in alignment with yours, how his leg had hooked over yours to tame your thrashing, how he held you close even though you knew you’d shoved him away so many times in your sleep. You moved closer to him slowly, your eyes staying locked on his as you hesitantly, delicately, kissed your husband for the first time in weeks. 

*** 

Joel had to fight to not moan at the feel of your lips on his. But they were soft and plush, giving to the press of his mouth, your body more relaxed than he’d felt in so long. 

He stopped himself, though. 

He couldn’t do this, not now, not with you like this. 

It had been weeks that you’d been back but, in so many ways, it was like you were still gone. You were so far away from him, so often just staring into space and sitting in silence. You didn’t seem to have any interest in listening to music or reading. The only thing that seemed to pry you out of that dark space within yourself was the cat - which he’d brought you out of sheer desperation - and the girls, but he wasn’t sure how genuine that was, if you were doing it because you wanted to or because you felt like you had to to take care of them. 

When you started leaving the bedroom, he’d had hope. He’d thought that, maybe, things were getting better. That you were willing to see beyond the boundaries of those four walls and into a future that was better, one where you were yourself again. And then you stalled out there, only occasionally going on the front porch the two of you had spent so much time together on, back in the days you were afraid to be inside his home. Now, you were afraid to leave it. 

Part of him wondered if this was what it was like when you first came to Jackson. If you’d spent weeks alone, locked inside your house and plagued by nightmares and memories that may as well have been nightmares, too. His heart ached for you if it that was case but he almost hoped it was. If this was just part of what it was like for you to survive, that he could count on you to return to him again once you got through this, then he’d get you back. You’d get through this and you’d be OK again.  

But the longer you stayed there, trapped inside yourself, the more his hope dwindled.

It didn’t help that everything was tinged with the acute knowledge that he’d failed you. That you’d been hurt because he hadn’t reached you in time, that you’d been left to suffer alone. He’d hoped - perversely, perhaps - that he would at least be able to put you back together. He’d kept your fingers until you made it back to Jackson, hoping that the doctor would be able to reattach them. But she’d shaken her head, looking almost pityingly at him as she did. They’d been gone too long, he was too late. He’d wrapped the parts of you he couldn’t save in a scrap of one of his shirts that you liked so much and buried it beside the tree in his front yard. You’d loved sitting there, playing guitar, before. It seemed right that part of you should stay there. He cleaned your wedding band and added it to the chain you’d given him with the bullet on it, the reminders of you always close. 

You were close now. So so close, so close it almost scared him. 

You pulled back from him, your eyes wide and deep and bright in the moonlight. 

“Joel,” you said softly, traces of familiar want in your voice. He had to try, again, to not moan at that. 

“Don’t have to do this, baby,” he said, brushing the soft skin of your cheek with his callused thumb. “S’OK.” 

“I know,” you said, your hand leaving his hair and holding his face much the same way he was holding yours. “But I want to.” 

“Bambi…” 

“I want you,” you said, rolling your hips against him as you spoke, the heat of desire sparking deep inside himself. He couldn’t hold the groan back this time, dropping his forehead to yours. “Please.” 

“Not going to hurt you,” he said, his chest tight at that thought. “Should… should just…” 

“You won’t hurt me,” you kissed him again, so soft and so gentle and you tasted sweet like peach and ginger from the tea and fuck but he missed you. He’d missed you so badly it hurt and the thought of never getting you back scared him so much he felt hollow if he lingered on it too long, like specter of the loss of you - even if your body was still here - threatened to send him back to the darkest reaches of himself. You were so close now, he could feel you, taste you. But if you left him now, after almost coming back to him, if he were the cause, that would ruin him. He knew it, deep at the core of him, that there would be no coming back from that. 

But you were here. 

“Please, Joel.” 

So close. 

“Please.” 

Begging for him. 

“I need you.” 

His resolve crumbled then. He kissed you, firm and needy and the way he wanted to kiss you for the rest of his life and you moaned into his mouth, your hand slipping down his skin to the back of his head, fingers knotting desperately in his hair. He swallowed the sounds of your pleasure, running his hand over you to your leg, hitching your thigh over his side so the next delicious roll of your hips made your hot pussy press against his hardening cock. 

It only took seconds for every concern in his head to melt away. How could he be worried about anything when you were here, like this, wanting him, moaning against him, feeling him and he was able to give you everything you wanted. He would break himself down into whatever form you needed and surrender himself to you, all you had to do was ask, all you had to do was let him. How could he be worried when you were finally letting him? 

He pulled your shirt over your head, casting it aside and you pulled at his in return so he took that off, too and then you were against him and he moaned at the feeling of your bare skin on his because fuck, you were soft. The plush curve of your breasts - your nipples peaked - on his chest, the soft of your stomach on his own, the heat of your tongue as you dipped into his mouth. He was breathing the same air as you again, feeling your pulse again, so close to being inside your skin again. 

You damn near ripped his pants off, scrambling with a desperate edge to your panting breaths as you did and he stopped you. You frowned, pupils blown, but he just held your hands still for a moment. 

“I got it,” he said, breathless himself. “Just one second, baby, I got you.” 

He pulled his pants off quickly and then yours, too and you were against him again almost immediately, your leg over his hip again as you lay side by side, facing each other, pressed so close and tight he was certain he could feel all of you against all of him. Your wet heat was tantalizingly, dangerously close to him, the head of his cock brushing against your sensitive sex. He held you tight, his lips brushing yours as you breathed into each other, noses touching, foreheads pressed together, a singular being tied together by want. 

But he stopped himself from simply thrusting into you, no matter how badly he ached to bury himself inside. You hadn’t told him what happened when Mitchum had you this time, all Joel knew was that he prayed he’d reached you before your captor had managed to hurt you like that again, that his men were afraid enough of their boss that they hadn’t, either. But he remembered what the first time he was with you had been like, how you’d been afraid, how he’d held you. He wasn’t about to just take what he wanted, no matter how much you seemed to be begging him to, not until he knew it wouldn’t break you down further. 

“You sure about this?” He asked. “You don’t have to do anything for me, baby. All you need to do for me is keep living, alright? Don’t want you to give me this unless you want it…” 

“I know,” you panted, kissing him again, the ache of need on your tongue. “I want to. I want you, I love you, please…” 

He kissed you, devouring your wanting as he pushed himself inside, his hand spreading wide over the small of your back, holding you in place as he sank into the tight, hot clutch of you. 

You moaned as he did, keening and desperate, and he felt you straining not to move, your leg tight around him, tension in your hips. The moment he was fully sheathed inside you, though, you let yourself go, your hips working against his and you pulled your lips from his, watching him. There was a look of almost awe in your eyes and he could feel the flutter of your pulse on the inside of you, feel the shudder of your needy, shallow breaths. You were so warm, so soft, shaped so perfectly for him, taking him into yourself in a way no one else ever had. He belonged here, like this, with you. This, he thought, was the only explanation. That when the matter that made up the two of you sprang into existence it was alongside each other and had spent both your lives racing for each other until you could be joined like this again. 

“Joel,” you whispered. “I missed you.” 

“I know, baby,” he whispered back. “I missed you, too. So, so much.” 

He rocked himself deeper then and you groaned, pressing your body completely against his, the soft of your cheek like silk against the rough of his beard, your quiet breaths drowning out every other sound in the world as your fingertips sank into his back, pulling at his skin as if you could knit yourself into him anymore than you already had.

Joel just held onto you like that, feeling you so close, his cock pressing deep inside where he belonged before pulling back only an inch or two, not daring to go any further from you than that. He became lost in you that way, the rhythm of your bodies together and the delicate moans and the wet plush of your mouth when your lips found his neck or shoulder when the building pleasure became too much. 

He felt you getting tighter around him and he knew just how to draw you tighter, drive your pleasure deeper. He let his baser instincts take over, kissing and sucking the delicate skin of your throat and listening to the shift in your needy breaths when he did, pressing a little harder on your back so he could get just a little deeper and feel your channel tense even more. 

“I’ve got you,” he said when it felt like you couldn’t be drawn any tighter. “Just come, come for me baby, please…” 

You came with a strangled little gasp, one he wouldn’t have heard had he been anywhere but this close, so close it seemed you had to be a single being now, tied together deeply and permanently, close enough that nothing would pull you away from him again. 

The almost painfully tight throbbing of you drove him over the edge and he came with you, buried so deep inside that he could feel all of you as you fluttered and pulsed over him. 

“Joel,” you groaned, sounding like you were far outside your own body when you did. “Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel, I love you, I love you.” 

You said it again and again until you went limp in his arms. He just held you for a minute, feeling your heartbeat and your skin, when you took a shaky breath and he felt a tear on his cheek. 

“Hey,” he carefully pulled himself back from you, your eyes red and wet. He tried to slip out of you but you tightened your leg on him, not letting him leave. “Baby, you gotta talk to me…” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice thick and wet and desperate in a whole new way. “I know I’ve been… I’m trying, I know I need to get back to normal with you and the girls and the horses and I don’t want to be like this and it’s like I can see where I was but I can’t reach it and I just…” 

“Hey,” he said again, taking your face in his hands. “Look at me. It’s OK. We’re in this together, you and me. It don’t matter how long it takes, what you need, as long as you’re here. When you were gone… I wasn’t sure I’d be able to go back without you…” 

“Joel…”

“Nothin’ really seemed worth it unless you were there, too,” he said. “That hasn’t changed and it’s not going to. Don’t matter how long it takes or what you need, it’s you and me. I’ve got you, baby. Always.” 

You nodded and burrowed into his neck and he held you until you were still and calm, drifting off in his arms. With you close like that, he managed to find sleep, too, passing out harder than he had since the two of you had come back to Jackson. He slept so hard that he didn’t feel you get out of bed in the night. 

It was still dark when he woke up and found himself alone, the bed cold. 

“Bambi?” He said quietly. But he didn’t expect you to answer. Something in him knew you were gone.

He got up quickly then, checking the bathroom and the living room and the kitchen and the porch but you weren’t anywhere. 

His heart raced. 

“Fuck,” he swore, wondering if you might have gone to see the girls or if he’d just scare them if he went there to check. He looked out the window, anyway, but their place was still dark. He tried to think of where else to go when it occurred to him, what you’d said in bed just a few hours earlier. The horses. You’d mentioned the horses. 

He shoved his feet into his boots, not bothering to tie them, and ran to the stable, the faintest hint of dawn starting on the horizon. He damn near skidded to a stop at the fence, his bad leg throbbing, but he didn’t care. You were there, getting to your feet from the dirt in the middle of the paddock, a determined look on your face. 

“Got news for you,” you said to the horse in front of you, one of the stallions you’d been working with before Cody took you. “Not gonna beat me that easy. I know it’s scary, know it’s hard but I promise it’s good for you. Just gotta let me take care of you.” 

He watched you pet and soothe the animal for a moment before you pulled yourself roughly onto the horse’s back with a pained groan. It immediately rebelled, bucking and thrashing, but you held on, long enough that Joel thought you’d outlast the horse when it managed to dislodge you and you flew, landing with a sickening thud on the dirt. 

“Shit,” Joel jumped the fence, running for you as the horse took off to the other side of the paddock. You groaned and shoved yourself up onto your hands as Joel reached you and you jumped a little when he touched you. He helped you sit up and you tried to stand but he held you down. You frowned, watching him. “Baby, what are you doin’ out here? It’s…” 

“I can’t keep letting them go like this,” you said, your eyes wide. “They need help, they need to learn how to live here, if I just let them keep going back to what they were it will be harder and and harder to get them to where they need to be!” 

“Sweetheart, you’re still recovering,” he said. “You can’t push it, you’ll…”  

“I need to do this, Joel,” you said softly, your hand with the missing fingers finding his cheek. “Please, let me.” 

He watched you for a moment, seeing you - the determined, forceful you - in your eyes for the first time in weeks. He tried to stifle his fear and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back. 

“I’ll be right here,” he smiled softly. “It’s you and me.” 

You gave him a small smile in return before getting up and going to the horse, talking to him for a moment before getting right back on. 

Next chapter

A/N: This is it, just one little chapter left to say goodbye to these characters we've been with for a year now! I can't believe we're finally here, it feels like I've been writing this story forever. Thank you so much for sticking with it even as I took a million years to finish and left you hanging time and again. This story was a big learning experience for me and I appreciate you hanging in there through it. Thank you for spending your time here and for loving them and making sharing this story so special. It means everything to me.

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust @ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost @beccerjune @mumma-moonchild @netonetoneto @mellymbee @purplelye @n7cje @flugazi @evyiione @randomhoex @aliengirl99 @orcasoul @reds-ramblings @pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel @jenispunk @panda-pascal @sarap-77 @flugazi @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @partyofone3413 @cumberpegg @noisynightmarepoetry. @fifia-writes @grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123 @ashleyfilm @arizonadreamingg

[icyblogs]

anyone still thinking about fallout? haha anyways here’s more ghoul!ghost (-‘:

Fallout!AU Ghoul!Ghost x Vaulter!Fem!Reader i’d imagine this takes some time after the events of this. but can be read by itself. (: WC: 2.6K Warnings: dark fic, noncon, mdni. Note: thinking about how ghouls canonly are sterile. this is a known fact, only slightly broken by the miracle that is Saint Monica from Fallout 3- which to this day i’m still not sure if it was some sort of gospel or not as it was from Father Clifford, but regardless. 

“Well um, well, our community is always looking for new members, we’d be happy to have you!” Brown eyes drift down at your familiar form, tilting his head as he watches your mannerisms as you flit around nervously, too polite to outwardly refuse him. His joints ache as they pop absentmindedly by his side, fingers twitching to dig into the soft flesh of your waist- to claw into your skin, aching to reinstate his claim. “And, there’s a lot of homes being built still as you can see but uh-, but I have a guest room here if you’d like to stay here. Our overseer says there might be a storm coming tonight!”  

“Is tha’ right, honey?” Simon croons- voice reverberating in the quiet evening, gloved hand coming up to rest on the top of the doorsill. He leans forwards, soaking in the way you slink backwards into the house, your eyes traveling down the expanse of his broad body. 

He was truly a bad man, made worse by this wasteland, you should be running for the hills- not offering him a place in your home. Like letting a wolf into a chicken coop; an insatiable beast that once it had the taste of you, it wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left. To tear you apart- aching to see if you tasted like how he remembered; saccharine ichor, sweet candy floss- it was enough to make his teeth grit, molars grinding together. 

His eyes drift down to your left hand, noticing the blatant lack of jewelry, jaw clicking in place. No ring, no memory- it was.. not what he had anticipated when he first approached you later that evening after the communal dinner. Maybe it was blissful thinking that when you’d notice him, your eyes would light up- and you’d run at him- into his awaiting embrace, where you belonged. With your husband.  

But, the wasteland had never been kind to him, so why would it continue to be now?

It was mocking in a way, dangling something in front of him, like a piece of meat to a starved, old, dog- one that salivated at the mere thought of it. Of you.

It really was obsolete, how could the world think of keeping the two of you apart? You didn’t belong here with this.. community. With these people. Don’t worry, he’d show you the right way of the world. No need to stay with these vaulters, filling your head about how the world now supposedly worked- this place would probably be blown up in a year or so by some fanatics- why bother staying here?

But if you insisted on playing house here just for a little while, he’d be happy to oblige for a day. Maybe two if he was feeling generous Then you’ll come back home with him in the little slice of territory he’s carved out (blood feeding the plants, bone-marrow for the fertilizer, built on a burial ground of his own creation) to spend the rest of your time together, alone. The way it should’ve been. Maybe chained to the bed so he’d know where you’d be at all the time, so you wouldn’t get lost again. 

All safe and sound.

See, Simon never believed in luck nor fate until he met you all those years ago. And it’s pretty damn hard to deny that it exists when you’re standing in front of him more than two centuries later, and he may as well consider himself the luckiest man alive. 

“I, Simon Riley take you to be my wife.” 

He finds solace with you- even if you don’t remember who he was. Even if you fight against him as he makes himself at home, all but slamming the door behind himself; mud-trodden boots tracking along the wood, smearing dirt and crimson. You don’t have your ring anymore, but that’s okay- he’ll give you a new one so you know who you belong to. Rings of teeth (chipped, missing) along the column of your throat, scarring until there’s no concept of a misunderstanding left. 

“To have and to hold from this day forwards.”

It wasn’t your fault that you’d forgotten who you were- wasn’t your fault that you didn’t immediately go searching for him when you had woken up, but it was alright. He’d teach you. Break you apart and take the pieces, building you right back up to how he remembered you. 

Eventually to a point where he didn’t have to tie your arms behind your back with a belt or stuff a rag in your mouth to muffle your cries for help. As much as he loved seeing you bound- as much as he loved hearing your noises— it would be a shame to pick through any more corpses for the bullet going through the skull of anyone trying to interrupt the reunion. 

“For better or for worse. For richer or for poorer.”

He thinks he’s in heaven, sitting between your spread legs- a bruising grip on your thigh, the other on your stomach, keeping you firmly situated on the bed. Trying his best to ignore the garbled whimper when he pulls down his bandana, watching as your eyes fill with more tears at his face, or lack thereof. Truly earning his nickname, a grim reaper looming over your bound body, licking his chapped lips as he stares unblinkingly down at you. You looked scared but.. it’s okay. Your husband‘s here now, no need to worry.

He leans down to rest against your knee, scarred cheek against soft skin, giving a chaste kiss. He goes up, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the skin up to the gusset of your underwear, trying to recall how you smelt- and he groans, providing an open mouthed kiss to the fabric. Breath warm, reverent as he peers up at you, soaking in how your cheeks looked warm, the moonlight from the outside casting an ethereal glow. 

“Poor girl been all neglected, hasn’t she?” He grumbles- giving the fabric another chaste kiss as he peels it off your skin and watches as you writhe beneath him, like a mouse caught by a viper, struggling so much that it only causes his hold on you that much tighter. Fingertips absentmindedly petting against your stomach, making their way up to your breasts, tweaking your nipples to stiff peaks. He was languid with it, like he had all the time in the world. Now, he supposed he did. Slowly, softly- treating you as if you were glass. As if one wrong move would cause you to disappear. Tongue laying flat as he makes out with your pussy, relishing it the way it gushes for him- or how your hips buck when he sucks on your clit just right. 

Simon worked you like he was orchestrating a band- each string plucked to perfection, remembering exactly what you liked like you were the back of his hand- knowing what made you tick. What made you unravel. His free hand slips between your legs, causing your thighs to squeeze around his head when one of his fingers starts to coax you open. It wouldn’t be the most terrible way to go out, if it was from you. 

Taking his sweet time working you to the edge and then over promptly, eyes rolling back as he laps at your cunt as if your juices was nectar- pure ambrosia. Liquid gold- you really did taste just as sweet as he remembered. He holds you firmly down as he continues to work your high into overstimulation, it was messy- worshiping- tongue, mouth, teeth- and he brings you crashing over the edge for a second time before finally pulling back, watching as you tremble beneath him, eyes a little bit glassy. Brain practically melting out of your ears, unable to really focus- tears slipping down your cheeks, breathing in deeply through your nose as you try and regain some sense of coherence. 

He’s never thought you looked more beautiful.

“In sickness and in health.”

It was easy to forget what home was like. Years of corrosion- sinking into grooves of his brain, plaguing his thoughts. Paranoia, questioning— so many voices that it was hard to think. Yet as he looks down at your already tuckered out form, he only smiles- feeling at peace. No voices whispering in his ear- no phantom pains, he felt relaxed, for the first time in a long while. Home was where you were, whether you knew it or not. 

Breathing staggered, he kneads at the meat of your thigh soothingly as he works to fish out his cock with one hand, giving it a few lazy pumps as he lines himself up, smearing arousal over your puffy clit. He rests one hand on your knee, notching the head at your entrance- watching you closely as you give a little shake of your head. 

“‘ou can take it for me, can’t you love?” He encourages, starting to make his way home. The first inch takes his breath away momentarily, and he moves your knees so they are up against your chest. Watching you flit around and flounder- eyes wide as you gasp for breath behind the rag. Drool falling from the corner of your lips, toes curling at the sheer stretch. 

“Tha’s it. Biggg stretch.” He continues to push in until he bottoms out. Thighs pressing to the back of yours, eyes fluttering at the sensation of your cunt tightening around him like a goddamn vice- “Feels like a fuckin’ dream, love. She remembers me huh? Even if you don’t- fuck-“ 

His hand finds your cheek, throat tightening as he sees your panicked expression, the furrowed eyebrows, staring back at him behind a wall of tears. It was enough to make him almost pull out to comfort you. Almost- you’d understand why he was doing this someday, even thank him for it. “It’s okay, deep breaths, yeah? You can do it.” He coaxes instead, pupils blown out as he looks down at where the two of you were connected, giving an experimental thrust, nearly coming at the pretty muffled moan that makes its way out of your throat. It’s been way too long.

“Feels good?” You shake your head, and his eyes crinkle as a smile graces his scarred lips, his thumb brushing away one of your tears. Going slow at first but he starts to get lost in the feeling of his cock drags in and out of your gummy walls— and he starts to go rougher, ignoring your little whimpers and whines. How your feet try and kick free out of the mating press, and he all but snarls, head dropping to the crook of your neck, teeth nipping- almost as a warning as he continues to fuck you into oblivion. 

“To love and to cherish.”

He used to imagine a family with you back then before the bombs dropped. Take a vacation, build a nursery together- paint the walls. Bring a little piece of the both of you into the world. You always did reassure him that his past didn’t define him, that he would be a good father. That he was enough.

Living this long.. had its downside. He knew that. It was an ouroboros, a constant loop, a mindfuck. It’s been hell on Earth. He’s accepted that, a phantom- a ghost living in this wasteland, thriving on those who were more surviving rather than the living. But he never really considered nor cared about a specific aspect of it. Sterile, never able to reproduce. 

Simon had once wondered if one day you’d sit outside with him, dinner on the stove, watching as he built a cradle. He could’ve just imagined the baby bump and his eyebrows furrow, picking up his pace as beads of sweat drip down his brow.

It was wishful thinking. But that’s all it was- wishful.

Maybe in another life— but damn did it sound appealing now. 

He continues to rut into you, nodding his head as if you were in on the conversation he was having with himself. He could just imagine your stomach all round he starts to pant, dark eyes peering down at you. “Yeah you’d been such a good mama, huh? You’d give me a whole litter of them, wouldn’t you?” His hips stutter, squeezing his eyes closed as he hears your garbled sobbing. Trying to get air through the rag, nostrils flaring for breath. His lips drag up your jaw, gently kissing your eyelids as you keep them squeezed shut, muffled whimpers behind the cloth. “I love you so much. Missed ’ou baby.”

His pace stutters once- twice more and he lets out a guttural groan, releasing up against the base of your cervix. He glances down again, staring unabashedly at the milky fluid coating the base of his cock and his head goes a bit fuzzy at the sight. 

The sound of thunder booms outside, rattling the window as the moment comes to an end. Pulling out, he hums as he shrugs off his jacket, ignoring your small sounds of protests as he lays down on the bed next to you.

He easily maneuvers you, his chest facing yours as he starts to slot himself back between your legs. “Settle, jus’ relax love.” He spreads the combined come around before pushing it back inside, keeping you nice and plugged up. “I’m going to remove the rag, you’re not going to scream are you?” 

You look at the stranger- the man? Monster- it was hard to tell but you shake your head regardless, trying to appease him. “Course you won’t. Because you’re my good girl- and you wouldn’t lie to me.” Bringing the fabric out of your mouth causes a whine, jaw tingling and aching as you lick your lips, trying to regain some sort of hydration. 

“Pl- Please I don’t understand I- why are you doing this— please sir-“

“Simon. Don’ want you calling me anything else.” He interrupts your panicked rambling, frowning as he leans down and capturing your lips in a kiss. Soft, gentle— longing. Even if your eyes were wide and terrified, shaking like a leaf, flinching as you look back at his mangled face. “Now sleep. Don’t want any more talking out of you tonight okay?”

When you don’t respond he nudges your chin up, his brow-bone raising expectantly. “We have a long day tomorrow, don’ want you to be tired, okay?” You catch your lip between your teeth, hiccuping and confused. Eventually nodding, letting out a little squeak when he squeezes your waist, fingers brushing over the leather of the belt. “I know it hurts love, I know- ‘ll let you out of these in the morning alright, just don’t want you to gettin’ into any trouble.” Another smile, and he leans down kissing away the tears falling. “I’m glad you’re here.”

For the first time in years, he feels genuinely content, one leg over yours as he throws an arm around your shoulders, chin notching in on the top of your head. He doesn’t sleep that night, listening to your breathing as you finally fall asleep after a bit of struggling, fingertips absentmindedly trailing up and down your spine. He hears the steady pulse of your heart- sees the rise and fall of your chest, and he smiles, leaning down and kissing your temple. 

You were here. Doesn’t matter how, but you were here. Your current state was a problem- sure- but you had all the time in the world to get reacquainted again, and you’d learn to be happy again. To love him again. 

“Until death does us part.” 

“For this is my solemn vow.”

[dakotalun]

"Close" | Eddie Munson

pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: Eddie is teaching you how to DM, but what you don't realize is how close the two of you get throughout the night.

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

word count: 1.3k

a/n: Just thought we could use some fluff in our lives.

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

When I showed up in the drama room before the weekly Hellfire game, Eddie thought I was lost. Just by the clothes I was wearing and the smile on my face he thought this was some prank from the jocks. He told me later on that he thought “there was no way that someone like you, someone so pretty and normal was interested in Dungeons and Dragons.”

But I was, I love D&D actually. Always have, well since my friends at my old school dragged me along to the first club meeting that year, but I fell in love instantly. The way you can just transform into someone else and not care about the shit going on in the outside world was a dream come true for me.

Once Eddie and I got to talking we hit it off, he was a god at being a DM and I loved that because my last one just wanted to kill all the players as fast as possible as if it were a race to see how many he could off before anyone got into the real storyline.

“So meet at my place around 8? My uncle should be at work by then so we can have the place to ourselves.” Eddie was walking with me to my next class after lunch. The two of us were planning on joint DMing a campaign and wanted to get together soon to start planning.

“That should work. Man, I can't wait to see the look on their faces when they see me sitting in the throne for the campaign!”

“Woah there sweetheart, the throne in there is mine. But I’ll gladly have you on my lap,” Eddie whispers at me before winking. 

I just laughed and punched him in the arm, “In your dreams lover boy,” We reach my classroom after the short walk from the cafeteria, “See you later Eds.”

“Bye sweetheart,” Eddie waves at you before heading off to his own class.

---

The school day couldn’t have gone by slower. The anticipation for tonight was gnawing at my stomach all day. I’ve always been interested in being a DM but never had the chance, so when I approached Eddie with the idea I was fully prepared for him to shoot it down.

To both my luck and surprise he agreed to teach me and help me with a joint campaign to get my feet wet in the Dungeon Master pool. I had almost every book on D&D, reading them late at night when I should’ve been studying for my tests. They were just too fascinating to put down once picked up.

Once I heard the high pitch screech of the school bell dismissing us for the day I was out of my seat and through those doors before my teacher could even give me the homework. I’ll just get it from May tomorrow. I headed straight home to get prepared for tonight, not that this was a date or anything. I just wanted to look good because this is the first time Eddie and I have hung out one on one since we met. 

By the time 8 rolls around I’m already dressed and prepared to see Eddie. I’m going a little out of my confort zone with this outfit because I’m not wearing a bra which is weird for me. The white tank top I have on doing nothing at hiding my nipples and the attached nipple piercings. It’s starting to get colder outside so I threw on some loose fitting jeans and a leather jacket to complete the look before I was off to Eddie’s trailer.

Truth be told, I wanted to wear something that involved a skirt because I notice the way Eddie’s eyes travel to my thighs when I wear one but I also felt like that was coming off too strong, so I decided against it. This shirt will have to do for now.

The drive was short and quiet, the only noice being the wind blowing in from my windows and the animals outside. I reach Eddie’s house and hop out my car, grabbing my bag out the passenger’s seat before heading towards the door.

Just like Eddie said his uncle was at work since I didn’t see his truck outside next to Eddie’s van. I walk up the steps and knock on the door a few times until I hear the lock click and am met with a bright faced Eddie.

“Right on time, come on in.” Eddie opens the door a little more allowing me to walk inside, “Make yourself at home.”

The place is cozy and nice, hats and mugs are hung from the walls in the living room. My eyes scan around, taking in the place Eddie calls home.

“Want a drink?” Eddie offers from the kitchenette to my left.

“Coke if you have it please. If not water’s fine,” I reply, sitting down on the couch. Eddie returns with a Coke for me and a beer for himself.

Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off me as I took the Coke from him, the way my nipples just barely peeked out from beind the leather, showing him the faint outline of my piercings. It was killing him not being able to touch me the way he wanted, to feel me underneath him.

Eddie clears his throat, “So where do we begin?”

---

A few hours later Eddie and I are sitting on the couch, looking over all the pages of notes and open books on the coffee table in front of us. We’ve been going over the base plot line for the campaign for a while now and just need to figure out monsters and level up points.

“I think it would be wise to level them up just before the Ogre caves so that way they won’t get immediately killed you know?”

“I hear that but if we level them up then, we would have level 3 players fighting level 9 monsters in the next town.”

“Shit right, okay what if we,” I think for a minute, taking a quick drink of my third Coke of the night, “I got nothin’.”

Eddie is still looking at the book in front of us, his leg bouncing up and down quickly showing how anxious he is at the moment. I look up from where I’m staring when I feel the movement, my eyes immediately locking with the point where our legs are touching.

My gaze then raises to our arms, his shoulder squished against mine, the muscles flexing as he plays with the rings on his fingers. I took off my jacket a while ago, getting too hot with excitement as we talked about the storyline. Now it felt like my skin was on fire, his heat engulfing me as we sat side by side.

Eddie must have noticed my staring and stopped looking at the books and looked at me. His gaze follows mine when he notices it’s not focused on his own. And once he does notice what my gaze was focused on, he gets even more nervous, his eyes growing wide at the sight.

The softness of my skin on his and the rough feeling of my jeans on his skin through the holes in his own is like heaven to him. He wishes I would stop looking at his arms and look at his eyes because he needs to read my full expression.

As if I read his mind my eyes lock with his, the brown orbs he has containing nothing but warmth in return. The two of us just sit like that for a full minute, neither one of us wanting to break the connection we have. I can see the mix of emotions behind his eyes, the conflict of what to do next. I’m sure he can see my emotions too, fighting and slowly losing the battle to not lean in and kiss him.

I can clearly see the moment when his restraint snaps, the way his eyes darken and become softer at the same time. He leans in slowly, so aganizingly slowly, he doesn’t want to scare me away, he’s giving me an out. But I don’t take it. Instead I take my hand and put it in his hair before pulling his face to mine, locking our lips in a long awaited kiss.

TAGLIST: @ali-r3n @dixontardis @witchwolflea @micheledawn1975 @daydreaming-mood @idfwfeelings @adaydreamaway08 @preciousbumplingbee @rustboxstarr @plk-18 @teary-eyed-egg @needylilgal022 @exploding-bonbon @gagasbee @eddiemunsonsguitarpic @aol19 @thatwitchyoucouldntburn @meanlilbean @sonnyahngel @corrodedcass @pigwidgeonxo @marsmunson86 @lottie-90 @figmentofquinn @sareim123122 @eddies-puppet @gvf23 @kennedy-brooke @rocklees-wife @emma77645 @cherris-n-peaches @breehumbles @joequinn-love @anyoddthoughts @aysheashea @eddiesskittle @uncxmfxrtablex @cherrymedicine13 @mrsjellymunson @shotgunhallelujah @bambipowerblueaddition @hexqueensupreme @josephquinnsfreckles @harrysgothicbitch @paleidiot @smurfflynn @lilyungpeanut @selena-rocker27

[trendywaifus]

It kinda sparked a little fic. anyone can expand onnit if they want. I can’t choose between them why not make a fic about them both together??

↳ roll the dice and play the game.

how did you even get in this position? you were in a daze by the two dangerously beautiful women looming over you. their bewitching gaze left you speechless and knees utterly weak. you’re so glad that you’re sitting down on a chair. because If you wasn’t, you’d be on your knees from the pressure alone. “ darling, don’t look so nervous now. “ kafka smiles sweetly, amusement laced with her words. she saunters over to your side, her fingers slowly running up your arm as she went. she bends down to your ear, red lips brushing against your lobe and her long locks of hair tickling your skin. “ you wanted us here, hm? i didn’t expect you to be so shy. “

you swallowed thickly, “ w-wanted you here? wh-what are you talking about, kafka? “ yelan uncrosses her arms with a chuckle and made her way over to the empty space opposite side of you. she places her gloved finger under your chin and maneuvered it so her striking emerald eyes can peer into yours. “ i think we both know what she’s talking about, (twitter name).” your jaw dropped. with her other arm, she reaches behind her back to retrieve something and hands it over to kafka. the stellaron hunter whistles at the contents of the paper before reading along,

“ the things i’d do to have both kafka and yelan in my bed. “

kafka pauses to take a peek at your reaction and she was very much delighted to see how absolutely dumbfounded you were. her smirk turns into a full blown grin.

“ call me desperate but i’ll let them both bound me and have them do whatever they want to me. “

“ h-hey! don’t just read my tweets out loud, okay?! i-i know what i said—“

“ shush now. “ yelan husks, placing a finger against your lips. she emits a hum of content when you don’t continue. “ good. now to the point, “ her hand rests itself on your thigh suggestively, the placement of her hand was an inch away from your inner thigh. “ we’re not here because of your little tweets—“ kafka comes in, bringing her face close to yours, lips nearly brushing against your own.

“ we’re here for you. i will say, in the pictures, you’re a cutie but now that i’m seeing you in person, you are a fine piece of work, lovely. “ she closes the distance, immediately tilting her head to deepen the kiss. kafka’s lips tasted like something that you’d never thought you could ever experience; sweet heaven. you were ripped away from your awe by the chill sensation of a gloved hand slipping under your top. “ i agree, “ an audible moan rumbled in your throat at a second pair of lips leaving open—mouth kisses on your neck. “ it’s a shame that we have to ruin them though, but I’m sure they don’t mind, right (name)? “

they pulled away simultaneously, chuckling softly at the mix of red and purple lipstick smudged on your lips and neck. “ i have an idea. “ with the flick of yelan’s wrist, she bounds your wrist together with her hydro threads. “ oh? what do you have in mind darling?” kafka inquires, tilting her head curiously at her. yelan conjures up a hydro–crafted dice and presents it out in front of you and her. kafka’s mouth shapes into an “o” at the realization of an idea yelan may have in mind before smiling ear to ear. “ gambling? now that’s interesting. explain the rules to me and our little pretty thing here. “

“ it’s simple. i take odds and you take evens. whichever odd or even number the dice lands on, either of us has to make them cum the same amount of times. “

“ e-excuse me, wh-what? “ you interrupted nervously, “ i-i know i set myself up for this but how m-many rounds is this? “

kafka licks her lips in anticipation, slipping the jacket off from her shoulders and sets it aside somewhere. “ until we milk you dry of course, my darling. “

yelan inspects the dice before looking down at you with a predatory smile. “now then, let’s roll the dice,“

“ and play the game. “ kafka finishes smugly and the dice is lifted up in the air, twisting and turning.

will it land on an odd or even number?

[tpwkwriter]

Can we get y/n as a total book worm and Harry just finding it so adorable and loving that about her and teasing her and recreating cute scenes from romance books with her

Head in a book

I wish I could say I was a bookworm but in fact the only things I read are on tumblr🥲

Warnings: slight cursing, mentions of book tok😭fluffy as!!☁️

Pairing: Harry x quiet!y/n

——————————————————————————

Y/n appreciated a quiet life, the small moments were a huge thing to her, the smell of freshly baked bread, picking flowers, watching the stars n all.

So when her boyfriend is the most biggest popstar, surrounded by loud music, screaming fans, and flashy cameras, everyone thought the couple wouldn’t work out, oh how they were so wrong.

After loud music, flashy lights, the screams and chants of millions of fans, Harry learnt that quiet and peaceful moments were better shared with y/n, he didn’t just love her, he adored her and everything she did.

She was the quiet rain in the darkest of nights.

It was a common occasion that Harry would come home to y/n absolutely nose deep in a book on the sofa, he loved watching the way she would get totally immersed in the story and endorsed on the character’s behaviour and thinking process.

Well tonight was no different, the time neared 6:45pm and Harry was out of the studio relatively early, he walked into there shared home, before he could look around he could sense something wasn’t right, the lights were all off, normally y/n would have various candle scents lingering in the atmosphere and the sound of her playlist would be faintly heard in the background.

He toed off his shoes and released his belongings by the door (making a mental note to clean it up later)

And walked through to there shared living room, y/n was bundled on the sofa with a grey faux blanket covering her, her hoodies hood was covering her hair and her eyes looked red and defeated.

Alarm bells are immediately going off in Harry’s mind, and he’s quick to act.

“Hey you, what’s happening?” He asked gently asked, swiftly sitting down next to her, leaning back and gently tapping her arm enough to signal ‘come here’

“Harry? Didn’t even hear you come home” she said voice a little wobbly, she joined his side, lounging her legs across his lap and resting her head on his chest.

“S’okay, what happened my love?” He asked softly into her hair, allowing his hand to slowly trace gentle circles on her back.

“Well” she started

“You know the book i was close to finishing?” She sniffs.

Harry begins to slightly relax at the fact it may not be as serious as he anticipated.

“I do m’love” he smiled

“Well because, it wasn’t a good ending at all” she begins to tear up again and snuggle her head further into his chest.

He mainly chuckles out of relief that it wasn’t anything ‘real’ and ‘serious’ he continues to hold her and press kisses to her hairline.

“I’m sorry to hear that m’love, wanna speak about it?” He’d gently ask.

As she begins to tell him the tragedy of the protagonists death and the failing love story between characters, even if truthfully Harry had no idea, he loved listening and taking in what she had to say.

“It sounds like such a beautiful story though my love” he said, trying to amp the spirits up.

“Mhmm” shes hum against him, the rest of the night was filled with cuddles and a lazy dinner together.

——

It was a few weeks later and now y/n had got on to some new books, she was never without one.

One evening when y/n was sitting up reading in bed, and Harry was in there shared en suite getting ready for bed, y/n had an idea, that would send not only her but many girls around the world into a frenzy.

Before he finished up she sent up her phone discreetly on her beside table and began to work her magic.

“Harry!” She called

Lucky for her, timing was great, he emerged from the bathroom and was about to head out to the bed.

“Stay right there mister” she smirked

A confused smile crossed his face, at her instructions but he did as she said.

“Babe-?” He chuckled lowly.

“I’ve just been reading here” she said holding up her book

“And it says here: “with arms holding him up he leant against the doorframe admiring the girl in-front of him” “ she recites from the paper.

Rolling his eyes already knowing what she was gonna request.

“So if you could please, show me your best doorframe lean, I’d be very happy” she smiled as she put the book in her lap and leaned back against the headboard.

His famous smirk flashes at the girl

“Y’want me, to lean against the doorframe?” He chuckles.

“Basically, but like- in a really romantic and heroic way, y’know” she giggles.

Y/n can practically see Harry think of how he’s gonna do this.

“M’kay, I need you to c’mere then” he calmly requests.

“Harry, just do it!!” She blushes, she’s also thinking of how thankful she is for the 5 minute feature on TikTok!

“Will, just come here” he laughs, he walks over and takes both of her hands and guides her to the place he wants which is right by the doorframe but far enough.

When satisfied with were the both at, harrys left arm lifts up and due to his height sits just above the top door frame, already y/n found her self flustered, and with his right hand he held her face and pulled her in for a sweet kiss on her lips, while still holding the “doorframe leaning position”

She pulls away flustered and blushed up,

“You did not just do that” she laughs as she stares at him.

“No Harry, I know the fuck you did not do that” she states, her eyes still wide and her mouth curling up into a big smile.

The smirk of satisfaction crawled up on his face as he managed to to fluster up his girl, despite nearly 5 years of being together.

Remembering the iPhone camera pointing in there direction, she quickly turned on her heels to stop it, at the realisation of she’s been filming them hits Harry and it’s now his time to go red.

“You cheeky thing” he says going up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, he kept his chin on her shoulder as they watched the video they just made together, sharing laughs and smiles.

“Fuck sake” he smiles, pressing a kiss to her temple and getting into his side of the bed.

She presses post and couldn’t wait to see what everyone had to say tomorrow, she joined in the bed next to him.

“Safe to say girls are gonna be having a field day with that one” she laughs.

“Where did you learn that stunt from anyway?” She giggled leaning in to his side.

“Well baby” he started.

“When your girlfriend is obsessed with books and romance novels you do learn a few tricks along the way, and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t read a few of your stuff” he nonchalantly pointed out.

Her eyes light up again.

“Really? You have?” She excitedly asked

“Mmmhmm, I got say y’got good taste” he shrugs.

“If you want recommendations just say”

——————————————————————————