#How did you get on this side of the city?

[unintentionalseductress]

How To Court A Dragon

Warnings: MDNI, sex, monster fucking, DVP, explicit genitalia descriptions, double pp, size kink, mentions of breeding Summary: You unintentionally became his mate. Of course, you have some questions. A/n: Hey ya'll! I used to be called nanamiscocksleeve! Here it is! Now...I hope this isn't something people will shy away from because it took me a lot of effort to write this, not to mention all the weird questions I asked Google about reptilian mating parts (there's a sentence I never thought I'd write!). Also, the things about the pp...I was imagining this scene from The Shape of Water 🤭🤭🤭. Enjoy my fellow monster lovers!

“Sylus?” You glance over at the large, intimidating dragon occupying about half the space on the large fur rug you’re both lying on. The dragon, idly fiddling with a gilded coin, glances at you with a bored look in his ruby eyes.

“Yes, kitten?” he asks in his usual growl as he flicks the coin away onto a pile of gold. 

“We’ve known each other for quite some time.”

Sylus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose we have.”

“I was wondering…if I could ask some questions.”

“Questions?” Sylus looks at you with mild curiosity. “Hmm, let me consult my schedule... ah yes, I have a free moment between ‘hoarding treasure’ and ‘menacing villagers.’ Make it quick." He flashes you a sarcastic grin and you roll your eyes.

“Can you ever just speak normally? Wait that’s not my question!” You add hastily as Sylus’s eyes flash in amusement, clearly about to reply and further annoy you by not answering what you really had in mind. 

A deep, rumbling chuckle emanates from Sylus’s throat. “Go ahead, sweetie.”

You fiddle with the rug, wondering how to phrase your question. You had been living with, if it could be called that, a dragon for a reasonable amount of time now. Between the cave and Tarus City, there wasn’t a glimpse of another human for miles, and now, he was the closest thing to companionship that you had. 

Initially, you were worried he wasn’t interested in you beyond consuming you as a meal but as time progressed, the two of you had struck a balanced relationship. Now whenever you and Sylus ventured out into Tarus City, the inhabitants had begun to refer to you as the dragon’s mate. The thought had initially made you blush because ‘mate’ referred to something more carnal and intimate than whatever you two were. However, Sylus had made no effort to correct them, and now you had unwittingly accepted the title, and it had become part of your identity. 

There was a cavern within the long and winding cave filled with books from faraway lands and one day when you had nothing else to do, you’d come across a book entitled “The Courtship of Dragons”. It was obviously written from a human point of view but you’d read things that had left you with many questions; most of it seemed to be a work of fantasy like the author had made up some parts just to keep the reader’s attention. You’d turned these thoughts over and over in your head until you decided enough was enough and that you needed to get the answers straight from the dragon’s mouth. 

“I read something about…dragon mating. And I’m a little confused by it.” You venture out the topic hesitantly, looking at him for a reaction. Sylus’s face remains impassive as he regards you.  

“Dragon mating?” he chuckles as you avert your eyes back onto the rug, plucking at the fur as you do so. “Whatever did you read? Tell me. I’m quite curious to know.”

You clear your throat before continuing. “Well, the author said dragons have an innate sense about recognizing their mates and that they don’t…nest with other dragons. Is that true?”

Sylus rolls over onto his side contemplating. “Yes, that’s true. Dragons do mate for life. Once they find the one, they become their own unit. They make their own lair, and no other dragon is allowed to enter it. We get highly territorial if this is violated.” 

“I see.” You twiddle your thumbs together. “And…what if…your real mate is out there somewhere? Wouldn’t my presence be a downside?”

“My real mate?” Sylus asks in a vexing tone. “I’m not sure I follow.”

You look at him in disbelief before hedging on. “You know, your real mate. The dragon you’re supposed to be with.”

“You keep forgetting I’m only half dragon. Chances of my mate being completely dragon aren’t high.”

You click your tongue impatiently. “Fine, the other half-dragon or whatever. Isn’t she still out there? If she turns up in your life one day, then doesn’t that mean…” Your voice trails as you consider the implications. 

“Yes?” Sylus prompts you. 

“Well we’d have to shake hands and part ways right?” You rest your cheek on your palm, bearing your weight on your elbow as you turn to look at him. “I wouldn’t be allowed here anymore since you have a mate.”

“What makes you think my mate would be a dragon hybrid?”

The question exasperates you. “Aren’t you the one who said your mate wouldn’t be completely dragon?”

“I did. But you seem to be forgetting another possibility.”

“What? Is there a percentage of dragon she has to be for this to work?” 

Sylus lets out a booming laugh, the noise echoing richly off the walls of his cave. You look at him confoundedly, unable to fathom what made him laugh like this. 

“There’s no need to mock me.” You huff irritably as you watch his abdomen quiver from his mirth. “I’m just trying to familiarize myself with dragon etiquette.”

Sylus quiets down at your tone before he reaches out a clawed hand and flicks your forehead. “Can you really not think of another possibility?”

“No.” You curtly bite out the word. “And I don't appreciate being teased.”

The dragon shakes his head, a wide grin forming on his chiseled face. 

“You seem oblivious to the possibility that she could also be human.” The tone with which he says the words render you momentarily speechless. You hadn’t in fact, considered that as a possibility at all. How could a normal human become a mate to a dragon?

Almost as if Sylus had sensed your curiosity, he explains. “I didn’t make the rules, sweetie. Dragon hybrids are known to find human mates more often than not. Perhaps with the hope that their offspring have a chance to become completely human.” 

Fascinated with this bit of information, you turn it over in your head. “Aren’t you interested in finding her?”

“Finding her?” Sylus chuckles. “Why would I put in that effort when she’s been with me this whole time?” He raises an eyebrow at you as you process his words, then falter as the meaning finally washes over you. 

“Me?!” You sputter as Sylus watches amusedly, his tail swishing across the rug. “Just because the villagers of Tarus City think I’m your mate doesn’t make it true!”

“Indeed, it doesn’t,” Sylus agrees almost maddeningly. “What makes it true is the mark I left on your neck.” 

Your breath hitches and the moment seems to stand still, stuck in time like a black-and-white photograph. Instinctively, your fingers reach for the bite mark Sylus had left on the crook of your neck when he’d first met you. “What about it?” you ask defensively. 

Enjoying the flustered look on your face, the dragon calmly explains. “The mark would have faded by now if you weren’t fated for me. Mate marks last forever, no matter when they’re given.” He smirks, revealing his sharp teeth. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” You burst out, overwhelmed by this reveal. “ I’ve been sitting here day after day thinking at some point you’ll find your true mate and I’d have to think about how to fend for myself!”

“I’m sorry, but I’m confused about which of these is more distressing to you. The idea of moving out, or realizing you’re my mate?” Sylus asks the question with a lilt and you resist the urge to punch him, knowing you’d injure yourself against those scales.

“Both,” you say swiftly, then turn away from him. You’re taken aback as his tail suddenly wraps around your waist and pulls you against him. His chest is warm against your back and his breath tickles your neck as you squirm in his grasp. 

“Where do you think you’re going my little one?” Sylus purrs in your ears. Determined not to let him get a rise out of you, you sulk, ceasing all movements even as your heart pounds in your chest. His chin brushes against the top of your head like a territorial cat. “What? All bark and no bite?” A soft laugh emanates from him as he continues to hold your body against his and you realize…

“Are you snuggling me?” You resist the urge to look over your shoulder and Sylus presses a kiss to it in response.

“Yes. Snuggling between a dragon and their mate isn’t uncommon. Was that not in your readings?” He teases as he continues nuzzling into your warm skin which was steadily heating up under his attention. 

“But when did we become mates?” You rack your brains, trying to think amidst the fluffy fog now filling your brain as Sylus continues to show his affection. 

“It’s not something you become. It’s something you are. Do you ask the water why it flows, or why the sun is bright?” Sylus’s tail wraps further around you, the smooth scales feeling comfortably warm against your skin. “You just are. I knew it. The inhabitants of Tarus City knew it.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me.” You quip sarcastically as his nose buries itself into your hair, smelling the sweet scent of the soap you’d used earlier in the day. 

“Would you have believed me?” His inhalations were sending tingles across your scalp and you tried not to melt into his embrace which was surprisingly warm and secure. 

“I-I suppose not,” you admit begrudgingly before your eyes flutter closed. Sylus continues his tender handling, and with a sigh, you finally give in, rolling to face him and letting him embrace you against his chest. He doesn’t say anything but cups the back of your head, claws gently scratching through your scalp and you drowsily let him caress the silky locks. 

Noticing your unwillingness starting to fade, Sylus murmurs, “Does the prospect of being my mate seem less daunting now?” 

His tail wraps around the backs of your thighs and you glance up at him, blushing when you see him gazing back at you intently. Those brilliant ruby eyes, akin to those in his treasury, had an intensity you couldn’t place. It was almost like they could pierce into your very soul and see all of you bare. The thought made you feel exposed and you blink, trying to gather your thoughts. The sharp, dagger-like tip of his tail now rested on your hip, and you hesitantly began to finger it, unsure what to say.

“Not less daunting,” you start, observing how his tail flicks gently in response to your touch, the sharp, hooked scales at the very end softening and flattening against your palm. “Not in the least. You are ancient, powerful, eternal. People fear you even as they look at you in awe. A dragon is timeless, and as a human, I’m like a fleeting ember, a mere second in your life. I might have a thirst for revenge on those who wronged me, but I am an ordinary human. I don’t understand why you believe I would be a suitable mate.” 

 You steal another look at him and see that his pupils are starting to dilate, the dark center of them consuming the red. Sylus lets out a noise of frustration, seemingly ready to give up trying to convince you, but to your surprise, he takes a deep breath of fortifying patience, then grasps your chin with his fingers, ensuring you can see his face. 

“I’m going to give you one, final, absolute, piece of proof. And if you still don’t believe it, then I will eat you so that I don’t have to listen to your maddening doubts anymore.” His tone implies he’s being humorous, but you cautiously watch him, fully aware that you have no defenses against those teeth and claws. You nod, his fingers dipping with the movement. 

“You and I share half of each other’s soul. A typical human vessel wouldn’t be capable of such a thing. Not unless you are fated.” He lets go of your face and brings your ear to his chest. His heartbeat was a steady thud-thud-thud, and yet…it felt like a call. Like something was there inviting you to come home, even though you didn’t know where it was, and suddenly, you feel your own heartbeat start to resonate with his, automatically following his rhythm, inexplicable, deep, primal. He waits and you realize what he’s been trying to say all along. There was no reasoning behind mates. You just knew.

You swallow, feeling like you’d been doused with a bucket of cold water, then place your hand over his heart, feeling a little thrill as he covers it with his. A shaky breath forces its way out of you as you lean your forehead against him, a sense of enlightenment washing over you. 

“Understand now?” Sylus asks almost imploringly and your heart clenches at the tone. 

“Yes.” You gather courage and look him in the eyes. “I do.” Then in a much softer tone, you add, “I’m sorry.”

At your apology, Sylus gathers you in his arms, his embrace almost suffocating as he holds you. Your hands wrap around his back, feeling the points in his skin where the wings sprouted from his body. It felt strangely intimate to touch something like this, and you couldn’t help but run your fingers along the ridges, fascinated by the texture. Sylus’s breath catches in his throat and he loosens his grip, easing you back onto the rug. 

With confidence, you raise a hand to cup his face, your chest swelling with joy as he turns into your touch, his lips grazing your palm. You’d never seen him so vulnerable and defenseless, the fact that he was baring a secretive part of himself to you humbling. You don’t stop him as he lays over you, nuzzling your neck and letting out a series of low growls that sound strangely affectionate. 

You giggle, and he pauses, looking at you with keen interest. “Something amusing you, my love?”

“You’re like a cat,” you tease, then pet the hair between his horns. Even as his expression changes to being miffed, his eyelids become half closed. 

“I am most certainly not a cat.” He sounds affronted but makes no move to stop your petting, and more low growls escape his throat. You can’t control your mirth and the giggles now bubble out of you uncontrollably. 

“Then how come you’re purring?” You stop petting his hair and cup his face with both hands, a wide smile forming on your face as Sylus opens his eyes, which are hazy and languid. 

"That... that isn't purring," The dragon hybrid says with a slight huff. "That was a growl, and you know it."

“Or is that just how dragons purr?” You playfully run your fingers behind his ears, massaging the lobes and then back into his scalp at the base of both horns. 

Sylus tries to keep up his facade of stubbornness, but the gentle massages make him shiver with pleasure. "No, that's a growl. Purring sounds like..." He attempts to imitate a cat's purring, but it came out more like a deep rumbling that vibrated throughout his chest.

You snicker, and then an uncontrollable fit of laughter seizes you, the kind that makes your shoulders and chest shake. Here was this mythical creature, feared and worshipped, yet somehow, trying to imitate a cat despite insisting he was not behaving like one. You brush away a tear from your eye, then look at Sylus who’s sulking, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of crimson. Was this the same dragon that you had worried about being a mate to?

"You-you're insufferable, you know that?" He grumbled, even as he nuzzled his face against your neck; he couldn’t seem to help himself. You reassuringly pat his back. 

“If this is how dragons treat their mate, then I’m no longer worried.” 

“Is that so?” Sylus retreats so that he can gaze down at you. You can see how his expression is softening, betraying the depth of his fondness for you. 

“Yeah. I’m starting to come around.”

“Good. I’m glad I was able to change your mind.” Sylus takes your hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing your knuckles and causing your heart to flip-flop inside your chest. Your free hand idly strokes his back, still engrossed with the different textures of his skin where the wings began. 

“You seem to have a lot of thoughts about my wings,” Sylus observes as you fondle the leathery base.

“How big are they?” You ask curiously, then gasp as Sylus suddenly pins you under him, then with a rustling noise, his wings fully extend for your viewing pleasure. You look at them, enthralled by the contrasting marbled red and black membranes, little spikes lining the upper ridges. 

“About ten feet each,” Sylus says gruffly with a hint of pride. “Pure dragons are much bigger though.”

You reach out a finger, watching for signs of resistance and when he doesn’t show any, gently trace the membranes, observing how the sunlight illuminated through them like a backdrop. 

Sylus hums at your exploration, his wings twitching slightly before he lies flush against you, putting them in easier reach of your wandering fingers. He resumes that low growling as you do so, and as you watch him close his eyes, another question forms in your head.

“Sylus…are your wings sensitive when touched?”

He cracks his eyes open, and there’s a quality to them that wasn’t present before. A hint of…nervousness? 

“Yes.” He admits after a gap in a slightly breathless tone. “But only when you touch them.” 

His words only make you more captivated, and you continue to delicately stroke down the leathery expanses, the surfaces almost silky to your touch. As you do so, Sylus suddenly squeezes his eyes closed and lets out a rough moan, like he is doing his best to not lose his restraint. 

Your hands freeze as you feel his claws scrape against your clothes, digging into your soft skin as his wings swiftly drop from their extended positions, cocooning you in a swaddle of red and black.

Unsure what just happened, you gently try stroking his hair again. There had been no mention of dragons behaving like this in the books you’d read, and you were burning to ask him, but not if he wasn’t in the right state of mind.

“Sylus?” You call his name softly and hear him hum in response. “Are you ok?”

He lets out a few uneven breaths before resting his head on your chest just underneath your chin. “Yes…I’m fine. No need to worry.” 

“Is it all right if I ask something else?”

“Does it have to do with those ridiculous readings of yours again?” 

You’re about to protest but decide against it. He was behaving in a completely unprecedented manner and you weren’t about to kill the adorable mood. 

“Why are your wings wrapped around me like this?” Your hands rest on his flanks, feeling his tail swishing as it lightly hits your feet. 

It seems to take him a great deal of willpower to bring himself into a state where he can answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, mesmerizing, rumble, and you feel yourself tremble in response.

"When a dragon has a mate, it's not uncommon to wrap our wings around them. It's like a protective shield, a barrier that symbolizes possession. You might say it’s our way of claiming our beloved as ours." Sylus’s mouth ghosts your ear, and his next words cause gooseflesh to erupt on your skin. 

“Sometimes, the urge to mate becomes too strong and dragons don’t particularly enjoy being watched. The size of our wings is significant because they must be able to completely wrap around their mate as our primal instincts take over. Hides them from unwanted eyes. After all, there can be no treasure more precious to a dragon than our mate.”

A claw gently pushes away a stray lock of hair from your face and Sylus gazes longly at your face. Swallowing, you press on with your questions, despite feeling a steady rise of tingling heat beginning in your belly and slowly flooding into your chest and sex. 

“And when dragons mate…is it similar to other animals going into a rut?” 

Sylus chuckles, and his tail slides up your body, slithering between your breasts, the feel of each scale brushing against you sparking little flames of desire under your skin. His forehead rests against yours and his wings seem to tighten around you even more. 

“Rut would be the wrong word. A rut would imply something quick and with little intention other than impregnation. Dragons do not rut like most basic animals…we have a long and sensual ritual, lasting for a significant period, and the end goal is to ensure our mate’s satisfaction. Also, dragons do not have a set season like most animals. Rituals can occur anytime provided both mates are willing.”

Your mouth goes dry at the explanation, and you can see the edges of his scarlet irises beginning to darken even more, like bits of smoke mixing with magma. “A-A r-ritual?” Your tongue feels like it’s too big for your mouth and you stumble over the words. 

“Yes my little one,” Sylus purrs, and this time when his lips touch your ear, he follows it with a wet lick of his tongue, awakening a heady, primal, storm inside your gut. “The dragon breeding ritual. A crucial part of dragon courtship. During this time, the male will go into a rather intense state of need. Nothing matters beyond being close to and satisfying his mate. And the female must be prepared for a rather… passionate experience."

Your next words fall out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. 

“Are a dragon’s organs compatible with a human’s?” You cover your mouth as soon as you ask, face flushing with embarrassment. You hadn’t meant to ask it so crudely, but too little too late. 

Sylus gives you an appraising look, his lips curling. “Well…simply put, yes. They’re compatible with human mating organs but they’re certainly not visually similar.” His reply astounds you and you blink, unprepared for his answer, rendered speechless. Questions buzz in your head as you mull over what you’ve been told.

“I’m guessing there’s more?” Sylus’s eyes glitter with mischief. 

“Ah…well….” You recall one last thing you had read and it was so outlandish that you weren’t sure how to put it into words. Sylus watches you patiently as you try to get your words together. “The book…the book said…that dragons are…that they have…” 

You swallow and bite the bullet. “That dragons have two.” 

Silence follows your words and Sylus’s eyes widen, before he composes himself.

“Heh. Were you purposely saving the interesting questions for last sweetie?” A cheeky grin quirks his lips and you turn your face to hide in his wings. 

“Now now. Don’t get all embarrassed with it out in the open.” Sylus grasps your chin and turns you to face him. “It looks like at least one thing in that book was right.”

Your eyes become as wide as dinner plates. “Really?”

“Yes. That bit of information is true. Male dragons do in fact have two mating organs.” 

The casual way Sylus says these words, like he’s giving a biology lecture contrasts your shell-shocked expression. Your mind could now only attempt to imagine what it looked like and it was going haywire at the discovery. 

Observing the stunned look on your face, Sylus gently nudges you. “Perhaps you shouldn’t ask questions that you’re not ready to hear the answers to, kitten.” 

Your eyes rove down over his body, taking in the wide view of his chest, leading down to narrower hips and legs that seemed to stretch for days. Then his tail, an appendage adding another 6 feet to his whole length. And somewhere in between all this, tucked away under his leather trousers were not one, but two, dragon penises. 

You try to recall your last encounter with a man, a knight, who had been keen on showing his abilities. It was fine, for lack of a better word, and you remembered how the man’s decently sized single organ shrunk once everything was over. Were Sylus’s similarly shrunken and stacked one above the other at this very moment?

At your lack of response, Sylus chuckles, then in an unexpected gesture of tenderness, strokes your hair. “I can tell this isn’t the end of it. Go on. Get it all out.”

Your mind seems to have lost its ability to think. Wetting your lips, you try to think of something reasonable to say but words have lost all meaning. After a few more minutes of silence, during which Sylus has wrapped you up again in his arms and tail, enjoying your closeness, do you finally venture forward with an inquiry.  

“Why two?”

Sylus makes an odd noise like he was choking down a laugh. He lets out a puff of air, chortling. “Ah, kitten. If only I knew. There are two theories, both of which don’t have much evidence to support them.” Sylus turns onto his side and you yip as you’re sandwiched between his wings, the upper one covering you like a blanket as Sylus moves into a more comfortable position, moving your body closer to his.

“The first theory is that because dragon pairings are rare, two organs help increase the chances of a successful pregnancy. The other…” he trails off and his smile becomes positively wicked before he continues. “The other suggests that having two serves no other purpose than to heighten the woman’s pleasure.”

An uncontrollable shiver runs down your spine and you feel your entire body become hot. Your voice is hushed as you ask, “And they…both…go into the same…?”

Catching on to what you were implying, Sylus chuckles at your reaction, your embarrassment only fueling his enjoyment. It was so tempting to tease you into a flustered mess.

"Ah, you're catching on, aren't you? Yes, both of them go... in the same place. And together, no less." He leans in, his mouth close to your ear again. "Can't you picture it, my dear? The sensation of both of them, inside you at the same time..."

You squeak at the graphic description and bury your face into his chest. “Ok, I’ve heard enough! Stop!” You try to calm your racing heart but Sylus’s low purr as he’d explained dragon anatomy was still ringing in your ears. There was a burning curiosity to ask him how it worked, how it fit but you were positive you would drop dead from the embarrassment. 

You twitch when Sylus puts his calloused hands on your back, soothingly stroking your skin. “It’s all right my jewel. I know it’s a lot of information to process. Take your time. I’m yours after all.” 

At his last few words, you lean away and glance at his face. “You’re mine?”

“Yes,” Sylus murmurs, the tenderness in his eyes becoming more evident. “As you are mine. I’m equally your mate as well.” There’s a tinge of possessiveness in his voice that you hadn’t heard before and it was making you feel weak; the thought of belonging to Sylus, of him belonging to you. There was an ancient concept of souls being bound at play and suddenly you find that you’re highly attuned to his mood; the atmosphere has changed, and part of you can feel the intense want that’s filling Sylus’s bloodstream, can sense the depth of his emotional bond as it echoes in his chest. Your body seems to synergize with his, each rush of blood, each dilation of the pupils, and every sigh that’s being shoved back all come into clarity. You reach out to touch his neck and the mating mark on yours seems to hum with life, drawing you closer to Sylus’s physical state. 

Sylus looks intoxicated as he drinks in the sight of you, soft and pliant in his arms despite having done nothing but talk to you about courtship. You were still shy, but he can sense there’s now a primal instinct that’s beginning to take over. His restraint was at a limit but he waits for you to make the first move, knowing he’d regret it if his first act of intimacy with you was for his own selfishness. His voice dropped even lower,  a rough, possessive growl.

“Be mine, my precious treasure. Be with me. Be Mine to claim, mine to protect, and mine to possess."

His words resonate deep within you and the overwhelming feelings you’d been holding back break like a dam. With trembling fingers, you stroke his cheek, dragging a fingertip across his lips, your breath catching as Sylus nibbles the digit. 

Gathering courage, you ask him softly, “Can I see?”

A thrum seems to vibrate through the air and Sylus nods. “You wish to see all of me? I’m yours.”

Sensing you were too timid at the moment, Sylus undoes his trousers, and they rustle as he slips them down his legs. Still in his embrace, covered with his wings, you wait, then trail your hands down his heated abdomen. His heart pounds in his chest as you do so, feeling the unfamiliar terrain of skin and scales before your hand finally reaches its destination. Sylus’s harsh breathing can be heard as he waits for you to touch him but when you do so, you’re slightly puzzled. 

Your fingers brush against smooth scales where a normal man’s genitals would be. You venture further, wondering. 

“Sylus? They are here right?” 

You hear a choked laugh, then he nuzzles the top of your head. 

“Yes, my love. Like I said, visually, I’m not like a man.” His voice is gruff as he tries to explain. His hands roam across your body, squeezing the soft flesh and purring at the feeling. 

“Then where…?”

“They're hidden beneath my scales, darling.” There’s a breathless quality as he speaks. “Just keep…petting me there.” 

Sylus closes his eyes for a moment, his body trembling as you continue to touch him. The sensation of your fingers tracing the scales on his skin was both soothing and arousing, making it difficult to hold back the possessive roar that threatened to escape his throat. Watching your reaction as you explored the area where his scales ended and something more intimate began was threatening to snap his will in two like a twig. 

“Oh!” Your eyes widen as you suddenly feel a bump starting to make itself evident. 

“There…” Sylus’s voice is gravelly. “Go ahead, my dear... Lift my scales gently. Just a little...”

You feel like little electric currents are running nonstop under your skin as you follow his orders. Your sex pulses between your closed legs, all the courtship explanations still fresh in your mind. You carefully start to lift the scales over the bump, curiosity piqued as they give way to a sort of shallow slit, then before you can go any deeper, you feel something hard and moist rise out of the patch. 

Whatever you had been imagining didn’t even come close to the real thing. You watch, transfixed, as Sylus’s twin cocks spring free, standing proudly in your palm. One was higher up on his body, and the other sat lower, and the lower one was slightly longer than the upper. Both of them were hot to the touch, beads of precum weeping from their slits. Colossal compared to a human, their surfaces were smooth but ridged in parts, in a way that resembled scales, yet softer. They were both coated in a sort of viscous, translucent, liquid, exuding from the cocks. 

Sylus groans as he feels the heat of your palm against his cocks. In a constricted voice he asks, “Well? What do you think?”

Fascinated, you gently grip the lower one, silently noting the size of it compared to your forearm, and wrap your fingers around it, barely managing to make them meet around the engorged column. A low growl leaves Sylus as you start to pump the smooth, velvety, column, observing how the shorter top one also responds, pulsing in time with its pair. A slick, wet noise fills the air as you stroke him and Sylus’s hips begin to rock against your movements. His mouth is open and he’s panting, sweat gathering on his brow as you experimentally continue to touch him. 

The scales that lined his cock were incredibly squishy and malleable, not at all having resemblance to the hard and sharp ridges on the rest of his body. As more of the lubricating fluid began to gather on his lengths, you wonder at the texture of those scales against the palm of your hand, and suddenly, start imagining how they would feel inside your cunt. Rubbing, stroking, providing extra stimulation as they nestled deep inside you. You bite your lip and steal a look at Sylus, heart jolting when you find him gazing right at you, and judging by his expression, he can feel the longing building deep inside your body. 

“I can smell it, kitten.” He inhales deeply, your scent filling his senses like an aphrodisiac. “Your arousal. It’s as potent as the daturas on the mountainside.” His cheek brushes against yours and you freeze as he kisses the corner of your lips. It was so unexpected and sweet and you turn towards him. 

“Bloom for me,” Sylus whispers before his lips lay over yours, capturing them in a deep and passionate kiss. Your breath catches in your throat and it’s like the kiss had opened a gate, all your raw desires coming loose. Like a ball of unwinding yarn, your arms draw around Sylus’s neck, pressing as possibly close as you can to him, your mouth opening sweetly to offer him your tongue.

The unbridled ardor of your reaction has Sylus groaning like a drowning man, his tongue slipping deeper into your wet cavern, sipping, sampling, and savoring the flavors that were unique to you. The rushing thrill of your surrender was a dizzying upward spiral as his hands roamed over your body, cupping your clothed breasts as his wings quivered from the tingling delight of being wrapped so snugly around your form. 

Sylus breaks the kiss and his long, dexterous, tongue licks a line down the side of your neck, sucking over the point where your pulse beat hotly, and into the crook of your shoulder. You gasp as his teeth sink into the flesh, a nip of pain flaring through you before Sylus soothes the sting with his tongue. 

“You taste as delicious as you smell my jewel,” he murmurs sensually, and continues his journey across your body, biting and sucking at your collarbone before resting between your breasts, nuzzling his face into the warmth. 

His tail has managed to slip between your legs and the jagged ridges have all smoothed into a streamlined piece of muscle, teasingly moving between your thighs, just high enough for the upper side to rub against your underwear, playing into the wetness that was already starting to gather. You moan at the stimulation, barely enough to even scratch the surface of your raging flames, and hook your leg over Sylus’s hip to give you more access. The thick tail presses into your slit, rhythmically dragging the fabric against your engorged clit as his hands busy themselves undoing the laces at the back of your dress. 

You shiver despite the rising heat as the dress falls apart at the back and Sylus drags the garment off over your head, his breath catching as he finally gets his first, unobscured look at you. His eyes rove appreciatively over your body, his blood humming in his veins as he watches your skin become ruddy, the light filtering over it through his wing casting a soft, shadowy glow. Your nipples were perked and hard, your skin smooth and creamy, with little curls of hair poking out from underneath the sides of your panties. 

You whimper as the very tip of his tail wedges into the apex of your folds, rubbing the soaked fabric directly onto your clit, sending skitters of electricity through your system. The air seems to become balmy as you breathe, harsh pants leaving you as want grows in your core, the overwhelming need to bite down and mark him back as he’d done for you becoming palpable with each passing second. 

Sylus raises a clawed finger and brings it to your mouth, which you obligingly suck, followed by a sharp bite that makes his eyes dilate and brings a grin to his lips. He slowly pulls the digit back, letting it slide between your lips and stroking the wetness onto a nipple, enjoying the way your breath becomes ragged and how your core clenches against his sinful ministrations. 

“Sylus…” you whimper, feeling tension curling in the pit of your stomach like a bow that’s been drawn too tight. His only response was a hum, his head dipping down leisurely to capture your other nipple, licking circles on it with the tip of his tongue, not unlike the motions his tail was currently drawing onto your puffy clit. His thumb and forefinger tweak your other hardened peak, pulling and pinching methodically as the moans of your pleasure fill the chamber. Now and then you feel the scrape of his monstrous teeth against the delicate skin of your nipple, just intense enough to bring a small lick of fear into you before you feel the reassuring slip of his tongue. 

Your sighs fill your head, body yielding to him, melting against the silken leathery embrace of his wings, eyes closing as the sweetening ache inside you builds. You stir as you feel his tail shift, and your panties are dragged down your legs, exposing your swollen sex. The unexpected feeling of his scales is suddenly made present as his tail lays flat between your folds, wetting itself with your slick and gliding smoothly against your aroused pussy. Your mouth opens to let out a high-pitched whine as the smoothened scales add extra stimuli to your bud, your hips moving with him and seeking out more friction. Sylus finally releases your nipple as he feels your desperate humps, and maneuvers you so that you’re straddling him, body balanced on his tail as it continues to pleasure you.

Your voice keens as your hands splay on his hard chest, the slippery appendage rocking against your clit, feeling the differences in the size of the scales while sliding closer to the base as the dagger-shaped tip tickles your chin. Your mouth instinctively moves to take it, sucking on it pacifyingly to ground yourself as your hips undulate over the rest of the sinew. You boldly glance at Sylus and his eyes are sanguineous, uninhibitedly gazing at the sight of you hot and bothered, seeking carnal satisfaction that he knows only his body can provide. 

The end of his tail withdraws from your mouth and teasingly draws back down to your breast, curling around a nipple and squeezing while he maintains the steady movement he knows you crave between your legs. With nothing to muffle your noises, your voice grows steadily louder, echoing off the high walls of the cave as Sylus guides you toward the abyss of gratification. 

“My body is yours little one,” Sylus says in a harsh whisper that has your senses on edge. You feel the flutter of his wings as they enfold you again, a little space of privacy where only you and he exist. 

“Use me for your pleasure.” His hand cups your cheek and his movements become frenzied, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches you writhe over him, trying to find release. 

A soft haze seems to settle around you as your body orgasms. You feel the repetitive little spasms of your clit mirrored in your core as they become longer and more intense, flooding your body with sinful delight as you sob out your need. Your eyes are shut tight, the world becoming an incoherent mix of color and light where nothing is solid except for your mate as he pushes you through your heady climax. Even as your heartbeat turns erratic, you can sense the changes in him too as he scents the salty tang of your relief as your body relaxes. You gasp, steadying yourself as Sylus gently withdraws his tail, letting you collapse on his chest as you try to come back down to earth.

You feel his claws soothingly scratch your back and gratefully nuzzle into his chest before taking a steadying breath and peering over your shoulder at his neglected cocks. They were still standing, colossal and proud, with thick pearlescent beads forming on the tip. The slippery viscous fluid was now being exuded copiously, lubricating the entire length.

You crawl over to them, and Sylus lets out a gasp of surprise as your tongue darts out to taste one, running it over the weeping head. You taste salt on his skin and bob your head down a little lower, taking as much as you can, and Sylus fists the rug, his teeth biting his lower lip as he tries to control the raging urge to take you right there. 

Barely able to deepthroat him, you come back up, letting the moistened cock slip out of your lips before you gather both between your hands, squeezing the bases together before sucking both tips back into your mouth. Your jaw stretches wide to accommodate them, only taking him about halfway before coming back up for air. The lubricant covering them was tasteless but aided their path into your mouth and towards the back of your throat. Sylus thrusts into the inviting wetness as he tries not to choke you. You suck playfully, wet noises issuing from your mouth as you do so before Sylus suddenly jerks your head back, strings of spit connecting your lips to both heads.

“Not like this…” His voice is ragged. Swiftly, he flips you onto your back, drawing your ankles to rest on his shoulders as your thighs part for him. Your hole is quivering with anticipation as you feel one of the thick erections probe your entrance. 

“Breathe sweetie,” Sylus reminds you, his eyes growing steadily more animalistic as he pushes into you. You gasp at the feeling, then your eyes widen as Sylus gently splits you apart, your folds giving way to his massive proportions. You sniff, tears in your eyes at his size. There was pain along with the pleasure as your walls adjusted to him. 

Sylus’s wings gather you close to him, cradling you against his body as he strokes your face, whispering encouragement to you as he continues to sheathe himself into the hot moisture of your cunt. You squirm, the stretch foreign and uncomfortable, unsure what to do.

“Relax my little one. It’s ok.” Sylus kisses away your tears. “Remember we were made for each other. We’re meant to fit.” He halts, nearly fully inside, and your sniffs fade as you slowly adjust to him. Sylus thrusts softly, and you whimper, feeling so full impaled helplessly on his generous size. As he continues those deep strokes, your body seems to easen, the tension trickling away and giving rise to a whole new sensation. Your breath catches as you feel the thick mushroom head kiss your cervix with each stroke, the lower cock slapping against your buttocks with each move. The scales you had been touching earlier dragged smoothly along your inner walls with minimal resistance, flattening every time he pushed in, and erotically stimulating them as he withdrew. Every inch of your sex felt like it was being touched all at once and your eyes close dreamily as you lose yourself to the growing flutters of ecstasy. 

The next set of delighted moans are music to his ears and Sylus sensually rolls his hips each time, determined to wring out every tiny noise possible from you. Your face scrunches up in pleasure as he takes you, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you keep thinking about how the second one would feel. Your breasts bounce as he fucks you, and soon you’re breathing his name, hands grasping his forearms as your bodies fuse together.  

Sylus sees your eyes glazing over with need, your mind switching to a state where all that mattered was the hedonistic rush of your bodies working together in harmony. He pauses, interrupting his rhythm as he angles his second cock at your entrance.

You moan as you feel it but when Sylus pushes, there’s no resistance, your cunt already sloppy from his previous thrusts. The action puts his upper cock in contact with your Gspot, and your cunt feels wonderfully pliant as you feel both of them working in tandem to bring you to another peak. The added thickness combined with the scales' stimulation on both surfaces brought you to a realm of delight you hadn’t thought was possible as he starts to fuck into you with purpose, certain that you are no longer in pain.

His teeth are gritted as Sylus ruts into you marveling at the tightness of your cunt, how every clench and spasm felt on his dicks, knowing he was responsible for each one. Your combined juices start to pool at the base of his cocks, leaving a sticky ring of arousal. The wet squelch of your cunt fills the air and Sylus sees your folds, still slick from the interaction with his tail and he’s determined to make you lose control another time. 

You whine in protest when you feel him halt again and Sylus hushes you as he withdraws his upper dick and lets it sit with a moist plop back between your folds. The runny juices slide down and coat your pussy and you can feel the soft ridged scales now nestled at your most sensitive spot and you realize what he intended to do a second before it happened. With a smooth brush, Sylus buries himself back in your cunt and you feel the tingling stimulation of the scaled ridges sliding through your folds and hitting your clit one after the other. You nearly shriek at the feeling, almost on the border of overstimulation as Sylus sets up a brutal pace, his hips slamming into yours. 

Your face screws up and your eyes are squeezed closed as all your pleasure spots are stroked at the same time, your gspot and clit pulsing wetly. Sylus growls, his body pistoning in hot need as he chases his orgasm, seeking release. Your entire being feels like it’s slipping away, your cries of delight the only thing that can be heard. 

“Cum for me my love,” Sylus says brokenly, breathless and enraptured at the way you look, his legs shaking from the effort of controlling his climax before you had yours. Your body arches off the rug to feel the slick push of his cock and scales at a different angle and your toes curl as you finally let go and orgasm for the second time. It robs you of your thoughts, little brushes from the spikes continuing to push through every tremor you feel as the hot waves of gratification flood your system. 

Sylus’s hips stutter as he feels your walls fluttering around him, and lets out a feral roar as his climax hits him, his balls tightening up in urgent release and they spill their load. His abdomen clenches, his breathing rough as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. You hold onto him as you feel each spasm of his cocks both inside and out, one filling your walls with thick jets of his seed, the other dripping his hot, sticky cum onto your clit, mixing with your fluids as it drips messily into your slit, marking you as his in the most primal way possible. 

It takes a while for him to recover, nestling against you, and you’re content to feel his weight on your body as you stroke his hair. After a period of silence Sylus hums and rolls you over so that you’re on top of him. The action dislodges his cock from your channel and you quickly clench your hole closed, determined to keep all of him inside you, even though your folds are dripping from his essence and leaking onto him. 

“Mine…” he purrs as he noses your neck and you smile at him, brushing his cheeks with your thumb. A deep sense of belonging and satisfaction courses through both of you as you lay together in the afterglow of your courtship. 

“Rest for now kitten.” Sylus’s eyes are heavy with sleep as he cradles you on his chest. Your body felt wonderfully achy from your lovemaking. 

“I hope the hatchlings look like you,” he murmurs tiredly, and you blink as your ability to process starts coming back to you. 

“Hatchlings?” 

“That’s what we call our young.” Sylus tenderly cups your cheek and kisses you. “I’ll be certain to fill you a few more times to ensure it happens.” 

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@tokyorevengersrin @brekkersgf @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @shddyboo @supernaturalbaesduh @sweets-kozume @theimmortalbuns @venussakura @prisjean @laddelulu30 @lethargiccryptid @ravenclaw-jojo @redactedbimbo @crypt-0rchid @fattybattysblog @xinnn6 @xiaoderrrr @evansdmitri @ravenclaw-jojo @cordidy @hesperisms @redactedbimbo @erebus-et-eigengrau @prisjean @cheesemachine44

[kurooh]

★ 03. PARTY MONSTER

☆ denki takes you to your first ‘party’ at UA studios to meet his friends and your co-stars. the whole night’s a blur of new people, save for one who catches your eye from the start.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, everyone is over 21, drinking alcohol, introductions, lowkey a filler chapter but there’s better things coming in the future 💔 | 3.6K words

xoxo, juno. showtime is BACK! (i said this the last time i updated which was like 3 months ago…. 🗿) happy early valentine’s day, comment & rb if you enjoyed 🩷 !

SHOWTIME MLIST.

smooth and sleek, the sporty car glides into the parking slot under denki’s ministrations. easily, almost as if he’s trying to impress you, he shifts gears and hops out of the car to quickly race around to your side. a little smile plays on his lips as he helps you out, taking your hand in his own like it’s an unskippable step in a daily routine.

above you, the sky is swathed in darkness and scattered with hundreds of stars, drowned out by the pollutive city light. denki’s car beeps as he locks it, fixing you with a giddy look. “c’mon, it’ll be alright. they’ve totally been dying to meet you!”

“precisely,” you sigh, walking along beside him. “i just . . i didn’t know i was this popular outside of shiketsu.”

“you didn’t see the views or get any proposals to film?” when he grins, lips tugging up at the corners, nervousness bubbles up in his chest. it’s impossible not to be a little starstruck, walking around so casually with someone who’s definitely out of his league. all he wants is to play it cool, maintain his composure and not get too caught off guard like he is right now—looking into your eyes long enough for you to awkwardly clear your throat. he continues when it’s time to stop at the elevator, and his voice slightly cracks. “no way, babe.”

“yeah, i was being ripped off,” your voice is light as you clarify, momentarily recalling past bitterness while he presses his fingertips into the button. “i just had a shitty agent and little access to any of my accounts.”

oh, shit. denki was messing with you, and now he’s feeling heat quickly bloom in the apples of his cheeks like he’s just done something bad. so, he says what comes to mind first, expression immediately softening as he tries to control his surprise. it’s not that surprising, though, considering how common it is to be taken advantage of in the industry—it’s only ever happened to stars outside of UA, ones he’s met on set and occasionally talked to afterwards. but for something like this to happen to you—he’s disappointed.

“god, that sounds terrible,” unconsciously, his fidgety fingers press the button a few more times. “did you report ‘em? oh my god, please tell me you reported that slimeball.”

with a ding, the elevator comes down and opens shortly after.

you suck in a short breath, a little uncomfortable. “heh, something like that . . anyway, i forgot to ask! should i grab some beer or no?”

“well, i’m glad that’s all behind you now. and nope, there’s no need,” denki steps into the elevator, pressing a dull button. the number five comes to life, illuminated by fluorescent light and power as the doors shut behind you. “you won’t need any beer when you try hanta’s cocktails.”

“they’re that good?”

“you’ll get it when you meet him, but i’ve gotta tell you now. hanta’s amazing at mixing shit up! once, he got a frat guy to pole dance for a few at a strip club he used to work at.”

an uncontrollable laugh bursts out of you. “he what? did the guy end up getting the drinks?”

recalling the memory makes a smile spread across his face, and it grows wider once he hears your hushed giggles. “unfortunately, he did, even though he could barely work the pole.”

there’s a few more laughs before a comfortable silence stretches between the two of you, allowing him a moment of respite as he savors the brief journey up with you. it was hours ago, but he’s still thinking about when he fucked you on set and feels a flutter in his stomach whenever it pops into his mind. there’s something . . you’ve got a certain charisma he hasn’t quite encountered with other actresses, and denki’s sure his friends will feel the same.

he had been the first to become totally enraptured with you, since he’d submitted a faceless ad of yours to r/pornid. since then, it’s been history—finally finding your profile set into motion an imaginative attraction that eventually leaked into everyday, casual conversations with his friends. it had led them to also subscribe to you, each of them dreaming to meet you on or outside of the UA sets. see, you’d first gotten your start on camera with a partner, your face usually obscured by his body or out of the frame altogether. it wasn’t often, but you’d revealed your face a few times, only in subscription locked videos that weren’t ever up for more than a few days. eventually, the videos of you with other men dwindled before stopping completely, save for the rare repost of an old clip. word on the industry corners had been that you stopped accepting acts with partners, instead opting to make your own content.

a few years of mystique and intrigue had obviously built you quite the fanbase, many of them prominent actors and actresses at UA studios. now, as you get off the elevator, your pulse quickens in anticipation; even as you try to reassure yourself, psyche yourself up about how much easier future films will go after a simple introduction, your efforts are almost entirely fruitless.

beside you, denki’s equally nervous, just for different reasons. 

honestly, he’s concerned about his friends, praying to any higher deity that they don’t embarrass him. they’ve all got their different personalities, and some are looser cannons than others . . oh god. casually, to hide the tremble of his hands, he cards his fingers through his blonde hair and catches your eyes.

“my friends can be a lot sometimes,” he admits earnestly, giving you a spiel that’s really meant to calm his own nerves, “but they’re cool, you’ll settle in quickly. i just hope they’re not too embarrassing, heh.”

you nod, swallowing the small lump in your throat when he starts to bang on the door. although it’s a brief wait, each second passes and leaves you feeling more hesitant then the last. the muffled sounds of music and laughter seep out from under the door, reminding you of just how new this experience will be. at shiketsu, you didn’t often go to parties or get togethers, something you’re grateful for since that scandal came to light. finally, the door swings open to reveal a tall figure and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

his hair is dark and a little spiky, hanging over his brows as though he’d decided it was good enough in the middle of combing it. warm and friendly, his eyes twinkle with something mischievous, like he’s used to having a good time and pulling others into it too. despite his relaxed demeanor, it’s clear that he’s interested to meet you, extending his tanned hand comfortably. a grin tugs at the corners of his lips, showing off his straight teeth as he starts to talk, gaze never straying too far. “hanta’s the name. it’s nice to finally meet you.”

the handshake is simple, and your firm grip only makes you all the more attractive. a minute hasn’t even passed since the door opened, and yet denki can tell you’ll fit well with his friends. although you’re nervous, you mask it like it’s nobody’s business as you step into the warm apartment. denki slips off his shoes, so you do the same without being asked.

“god, haven’t you opened a window?” denki’s nose crinkles when he shuts the door behind him, immediately taking in the mingling scents of both liquor and food.

“i can’t believe you’re complaining,” hanta huffs, heading toward the kitchen island, which is completely filled up with various pizza boxes, sushi trays, and liquor bottles. it’s not necessarily messy, just crowded with the evidence of too many people crammed into one space at once. “denks, you’re the first to make the place stink.”

“dude! all i’m saying is some air would be good!” he whines, cheeks becoming a blotchy pink as he shoves his friend. for denki’s sake and ego, you pretend to be enamored with a sealed tray of salmon futamaki. 

“nice spread, huh?” hanta pointedly ignores his friend and offers you a paper plate, tossing open the fridge to pull out a sealed bottle of water. “go ahead ‘n take what you like! there’s soy sauce and condiments on the counter behind you, then the napkins are to your right.”

slowly, you make your plate, filling it up with a few different things to try while you make conversation with everyone. not far from the kitchen, there’s a lot of arguing in the other room. whoever it is obviously doesn’t concern themselves with their volume or their word choice, something that slightly puts you on edge. 

denki tries to pull his friend to the side, but his whispering is loud enough for you to hear clearly. “i thought i told you to deal with him! like, seriously. first of all, we don’t need any more complaints from the—”

“long time no see, huh?”

a very familiar voice catches your attention and tears you away from the peeved whispers behind you. holding an empty plate and a cup of something, shoto’s leaning coolly against the edge of the island as he fixes you with a look of interest and a quirked brow. even though you’re not on the set and instead far from it, that familiar professional confidence rises in your chest. “can’t believe it’s been a whole day.”

subtle as ever, the hint of a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as he opens the lid of the sushi tray, using his chopsticks to effortlessly pluck more than a few pieces out. “guess you’re making waves already. settling into UA easily, i hope?”

“definitely, everything’s been smooth sailing since the first day,” after a bite of food, you chuckle. “is that your favorite kind of sushi roll, shoto?”

“sorry, i need to grab something behind you,” he murmurs, fingers lightly brushing against your side as he moves past you to grab a small bottle of hot sauce. “i like sushi, but i’ve had enough. this one’s for my friend, he demanded that i come over here and get him a second plate because he’s so busy.”

in spite of the fact that someone’s audible yelling turns into aggravated shouts of his name, shoto’s expression remains serene. it’s when he begins dousing the sushi in the hot sauce that your eyebrows raise, startled by the sheer amount of spice.

“he can handle it,” shoto supplies, settling the bottle down and waving you toward him. “why don’t you come with me to meet everyone?”

“i’ll mix up some drinks while you’re at it!” hanta calls, grabbing liquor bottles by their necks while denki throws open a cabinet to look for supplies to assist his friend.

not trailing too far behind shoto, you shuffle into the living room, where it’s a little warmer than the kitchen. the air’s thick with the smell of pizza and soy sauce, mixing with the low hum of the tv. everything’s laid back, both figuratively and literally; two people sit in front of the tv, ps4 controllers in hand while another lounges on the couch with his legs sprawled out. there’s something familiar about them, but it’s nothing you can place immediately—you’ve definitely seen their faces before, and it wouldn’t come as too much of a surprise if they’ve seen you too. when he speaks above the mingling voices and video game noises, shoto introduces you with a gentle hand atop your shoulder. “everyone, she’s here, and also the reason the kitchen’s quieter now.”

in an instant, the flashing lights of the game come to a stop as one of its players hits pause. the strong, defined muscles of his back ripple beneath his shirt, drawing your attention until he turns around with a wide grin on his face. those sharp white teeth gleam in the low light, and he’s enthusiastic as ever when he introduces himself. “it’s really great to meet you! kirishima here, i hope you’re enjoying the party so far!”

“tch, whatever. no need to make it weird,” seemingly uninterested, kirishima’s video game opponent looks back at you, curiosity briefly flickering in his eyes as he quietly accepts his plate from shoto. “hey.”

with dark, green hair hanging just over his eyebrows, the person on the couch seems a little more frazzled than the others when he jumps up. he stumbles slightly, tripping over his foot before regaining his balance and extending a scarred hand. “hi, i’m midoriya! nice to meet you!”

so many new, different personalities thrust upon you all at once. it certainly bodes for an interesting night, the kind that would be much smoother with a drink or two; just as you’re offering midoriya a smile and nod with your hand in his own, denki’s right on cue, bumbling down the hallway holding a heavy tray filled with drinks. dewy condensation beads on the sides of the glass, stray droplets of water mingling with the juice from the carefully sliced orange perched on the edge. “alright, people! who’s ready to loosen up a little, huh?”

“don’t you dare spill that,” hanta warns grimly. of course, it doesn’t bother denki in the slightest, his face still lit up by an excited grin. like some kind of featherlight ballerina, he hops from one spot on the carpet to another, handing out drinks as his energy fills the room and people in it. some of them, at least—the ash blond guy who’d been playing video games with kirishima aggressively wipes hot sauce from his chin. 

“i’ve gotta get going soon.”

“c’mon, kacchan,” orange liquid sloshes over the rim of the glass when denki hands it to him, whining either to convince him to stay or to piss him off. “why do you have to go so soooon?”

“shut up,” he snaps immediately, scowling when some of the drink splashes onto his pants. “i have a goddamn schedule, and you already know that.”

“let’s not get too worked up,” midoriya’s lighter voice cuts through the bickering and ultimately makes things worse. “here’s a napkin for the—”

“shut it! i never asked you to get started too!”

you watch as the scene unfolds, nodding a thanks when denki hands you a drink. beside you, shoto tips his head down and whispers into your ear, “they’re always like this.”

“even when they’re working?” it sounds horrific to work with arguing co stars, especially if they’re not acting. “does he act like that on set?”

finally, you learn his name. “bakugo’s always been like that, on and off of it.”

denki claps his hands enthusiastically, ignoring bakugo’s grunt of fuck you doing that for? and successfully draws everyone’s attention. “now that we’re on the road to getting drunk, it’s time to make things interesting.”

“don’t you dare suggest seven minutes in heaven,” hanta pins his friend down with a glare and a disdainful shake of his head. “just don’t.”

“and let’s please forget about never have i ever.” midoriya takes a sip of his drink while bakugo grunts in assent, still dabbing at the orange stain on his pants. 

“alright, fiiiine!” denki relents easily, holding up his hands in mock surrender before wickedly rubbing them together as a lightbulb turns on in his head. the small gold hoops in his ears catch the low, comfortable light, swaying subtly with every exaggerated motion. “i raise truth or dare instead.”

“aren’t we adults?” shoto sips his drink as though he didn’t say anything at all, while the others collectively nod in agreement. 

“i swear, if you make me kiss someone—” bakugo’s ready to jump up and strangle his friend, infuriated by the mere thought of the imaginary scenario. 

“there won’t be any kissing! c’mon, kaminari, tell him!” strong arms pull him back even though he thrashes against kirishima’s chest, nearly clawing out of his grip until hanta steps in to help too. 

childish as ever, denki continues on with his unbothered smile stretching from ear to ear as his eyes glint with obvious mischief. “we’ll give everyone a turn before we move on. there may not be any kissing, kacchan, but it’ll be exciting nonetheless. hanta, it’s time to whip up some more drinks, man!”

☆ ☆

“whoa, don’t reach for that,” the words are laced with concern as he gently pulls the liquor bottle from your grasp and sets it down. quickly, his dutiful hands fetch a cup from the shelf and fill it with cool tap water. “here, drink this instead.”

“i’m f-fine,” it doesn’t even sound like you talking, not when you’re wobbling on your feet and grabbing onto his wrist to steady yourself. careful, as if he’s afraid to let you go for fear of you somehow losing your balance and falling, he helps you lean against the counter. ���it’s, um, kinda hot in here.”

“that’s why i’m handing you the water,” kirishima presses, his own cheeks flushed a rosy pink from all the alcohol he’d drank during the game. “take one sip and i’ll stop bothering you about it, okay?”

the game.

right, that’s what led to the decline of your inhibitions. almost everyone in the circle was throwing back as many drinks as you were, some of them getting too wasted to do much more than sit or pass out. a giggle slips out from your mouth before you can realize it or care enough to stop what starts to happen next. lightly, your manicured nails rake over the skin of his wrists, feeling him up and making him laugh as he slowly pulls away.

“do you even know how drunk you are?”

“you’re as drunk as i am,” you whine, eyes drawn to the visible crest of his flexing muscles beneath his t shirt. that initial pull you’d felt a few hours ago when you met him is stronger now, and much clearer than before, something the alcohol likely has an effect on. he’d been magnetic from the start, flashing you a winning smile and comfortably talking with you throughout the time you’d played the game.

he hiccups, eyes widening at the beginning of an entire fit. 

“see? just look at you.”

“hand me that cup of water.” once he gets ahold of the cup, he immediately guzzles it down as if he’s been dehydrated for days. “oh, god.”

a laugh tumbles out of you, the kind that he wouldn’t normally appreciate, but in this drunken, defenseless state, he doesn’t quite mind it. “if we kept drinking, maybe the hiccups would stop. didn’t think of that, huh?”

“i’m not blacking out in their apartment,” kirishima grins, pushing his fingers through his vermilion hair. the spikes fall, softening under his light touch. “plus, i don’t think you’d want to risk a nasty hangover tomorrow.”

more slippery than it’d be if you were sober, the floor seems to give out beneath you—or maybe it’s your legs? either way, time slows as you inevitably plummet toward the tiles, until a pair of strong arms catches you. they hoist you up onto your feet once again. when your eyes refocus to take in your surroundings, an intangible heat permeates the air. you’re close, close enough that you can make out a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and dark flecks of crimson in his irises. startled by the proximity, kirishima’s face steadily flushes a darker color, but the thought of pulling away does not cross his mind.

his gaze flickers to your lips, and the mid-laugh expression on his face starts to melt away. it’s a subtle sign, but his intentions are nothing less than clear—he doesn’t lean in until you give a slight nod, an invitation that he’s more than eager to accept. it’s a gentle brush of skin against skin, one that is infused with the essence of hesitation and innocence. 

but then, the growing heat of the moment takes over and kickstarts the kiss into an unrestrained rush of alcohol and physicality, which deepens between clashes of teeth and heady gasps for breath. it’s too much and all at once, in the best kind of way—your brain shortcircuits as your body surrenders to the sensations of it all, and everything outside of this bubble you’ve created is muffled, irrelevant. the pleasant scent of cedar cologne twists and twirls in the air, filling your nose each time you inhale. polite hands grapple at the small of your back as kirishima pulls you flush against him, reveling in the softness of your body as his mind races to memorize the blurry details. 

here, now? kissing in the kitchen doesn’t seem like the wisest idea or even the soberest. although you want to think about what you’re doing and why, kirishima’s teeth lightly graze your lower lip and turn each thought back into the air they came from.

a loud bang from the living room shatters the moment, ending the kiss as abruptly as it began. slowly, you back away, still tasting the alcohol on his tongue and feeling the remnants of his touch. dazed, you gather your bearings as you wipe away the glossy string of saliva that connects your lips to his. “that was . . interesting.”

“interesting’s one way to put it,” he clears his throat, voice a little rougher than usual. “guess we got carried away, huh?”

you laugh lightly, feeling the alcohol buzzing its way through your veins. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

a sheepish chuckle escapes kirishima as he rubs at the back of his neck, focusing on ignoring the sweltering heat pooling in his stomach. “well, for starters, i may not remember this at all tomorrow.”

“for now, let’s just leave it at this,” you suggest with a cheeky grin, making him laugh. “we’ll pick it up on set or outside of it.”

“sounds like a—”

“oh my god, you two!” hanta’s raised voice cuts through the air as he races into the kitchen with an unlit cigarette between his lips and a face that plainly says he has news to share. “we got todoroki to do a fucking handstand! c’mon, you have to come see!”

[docholligay]

So for all of you who think nothing matters:

We have a local, I guess I'll call it an events complex. It's where concerts and the fair go. It's owned by the city.

When Trump started the whole ICE thing, our commissioner sent a letter to the local representatives, telling them they could use it as a detention center for illegal immigrants. Our event center. Where the 4H kids show their fuckin' lambs.

"The fuck you will" was the resounding reply.

So, when I talk about coalition-building, and working with people you do not agree with or maybe even like, this is what I'm talking about. There was an immediate and vocal show of disapproval, from all sides. We all contacted people we knew would dislike this, REGARDLESS OF HOW THEY FELT ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE. The meeting was packed with people yelling at the commissioners. Of all political stripes. Republican, Democrat, Libertarian, Prairie Populist, Independent.

Some were, of course, the tumblr-style arguments about inherent humanity, but--I think more compellingly if you're actually trying to put the pressure on--there were questions of, 'How are we gonna get paid?" "Are you aware of how, as the only event center for more than two hours, much fuckin money this brings into the community? ANd that immigrants of all types make up less than 2% of the population of the entire state?(my argument), "Do we trust the government to pay us?", "Isn't there a fuckin' empty prison in [town about an hour from here]? Are you just being a kiss-ass?' (offered up by a man I know to be very conservative indeed. BUT HE DID NOT WANT OUR SPACE USED FOR THIS) and, an argument that was so good I was infuriated I didn't come up with it, "DO you think the bank is gonna want to be known as the sponsor of "National bank Detention Center?" (Which caught on and the bank had to offer up a letter saying how they hoped the commissioners would use the event center as intended.)

They folded. A letter came out a few days ago from the manager of the event center, saying it was decided that the events center would rescind the offer, as "more acceptable alternatives could be found." They blinked.

That's the thing. All that happened is that a bunch of people got mad an went to ONE TWO HOUR MEETING. It changed everything.

SHOW. UP.

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.5

Chapter Five: As If The Street Lights Pointed In An Arrowhead Leading Us Home

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck,

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: Sorry for the wait on this chapter! I was busy writing chapter one of my Richard Reeds fanfic, and my brain went into overdrive. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter, and my thoughts and writing process will be in the end notes below! Take care out there.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Cornelia Street by Taylor Swift

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CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — MORNING  

It was the weekend.  

A rare, golden thing in the middle of a chaotic schedule. Sometimes, productions pushed through weekends, forcing actors and crew alike to run on fumes and caffeine, but this week, you’d been given the luxury of a proper break.  

So you did the only logical thing: you slept in.  

No alarms. No early call times. No frantic scrambling to get out the door before the sun had even fully risen. Just the quiet hush of your hotel room, the soft cocoon of blankets, and the gentle hum of the city beyond your window.  

Pedro, on the other hand, was not sleeping in.  

He was downstairs earlier, enjoying breakfast with some of the crew, chatting between bites of eggs and toast. But when he realized he hadn’t seen you—not even a glimpse—something tugged at his chest.  

He checked his phone. No messages from you.  

Not that you had to text him, obviously. But still.  

“Maybe she’s still asleep,” Vanessa mused when he brought it up, sipping her coffee.  

Coco smirked. “Or avoiding you.”  

Pedro shot her a look, unimpressed. “You’re hilarious.”  

Joseph, ever the instigator, leaned in. “You do realize how weirdly invested you are in this, right?”  

Pedro ignored them, pushing back his chair. “I’m gonna go check on her.”  

“OoOoOo, someone’s worried,” Ebon teased, grinning.  

Pedro just flipped them off over his shoulder as he walked away.  

Your side of the room was quiet when he got there.  

Pedro knocked.  

Nothing.  

He frowned and knocked again, a little louder this time. “Hey, you alive in there?”  

Still nothing.  

His concern deepened. He knew you’d been exhausted lately, emotionally drained from the whole Cecilia situation. And yeah, maybe you were just catching up on sleep, but what if you weren’t feeling well? What if���  

He shook his head, pushing the thought away.  

A quick check with the front desk confirmed they had given you a key for emergencies. That was all the justification he needed.  

Carefully, Pedro let himself in.  

The room was dim, curtains drawn just enough to let in a sliver of London’s muted morning light. And there you were, curled up under a mountain of blankets, dead to the world.  

Snoring.  

Pedro exhaled, the tension in his chest dissolving as a slow, amused smile tugged at his lips.  

He took a step closer, just enough to take in the peaceful rise and fall of your shoulders, the way your hair was a little all over the place. A soft snore left your lips, making him chuckle under his breath.  

God, you were adorable.  

For a brief moment, he debated waking you. Teasing you for sleeping through breakfast, maybe even convincing you to come downstairs with him.  

But then you shifted, letting out the softest sigh as you burrowed deeper into the pillows, and—yeah. No. He couldn’t wake you.  

Instead, he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, just watching for a little longer.  

He’d give you another hour.  

Maybe two.  

And then, well—if you didn’t wake up soon, he’d have to find a way to lure you out with the promise of coffee or something just as tempting.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — LATE MORNING  

The late morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. Pedro had been patient—he really had—but after standing around for a while, listening to your soft snoring, he decided you needed to eat something.  

So he had slipped downstairs, grabbed a plate of fresh fruit, some pastries, and a glass of juice, and set everything neatly on the kitchenette counter before making his way back to your bedside.  

The problem?  

You were not a morning person.  

Pedro bit back a grin as you stirred, groaning into your pillow, clearly fighting consciousness with everything in you. He could already tell this wasn’t going to be an easy wake-up.  

“Alright, Sleeping Beauty,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. “Time to get up.”  

You groaned again, pulling the blanket over your head. “No.”  

Pedro chuckled. “Not even gonna think about it?”  

“No.”  

He exhaled, amused, and sat on the edge of the bed, nudging your shoulder lightly. “C’mon, I brought you breakfast. Fresh fruit, pastries, coffee… I even got you juice. Thought I was being nice.”  

That earned him a tiny peek of an eye from beneath the blanket. “What kind of juice?”  

He smirked. There we go.  

“Mango,” he answered, watching as you visibly debated with yourself. “And it’s still cold.”  

You groaned but finally—finally—sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you blinked blearily at him. “Fine. But if you’re lying about the juice, I’m going back to bed.”  

Pedro chuckled, standing up. “Noted.”  

As you shuffled out of bed and towards the kitchenette, still wrapped in your blanket like a grumpy little burrito, Pedro bit back another laugh.  

You were trying so hard not to snap at him, despite your obvious morning grumpiness, and he found it strangely endearing. You cared about him—he could see that. Not just in the way a fan might, but as someone who had gotten to know him, really know him, beyond the public persona.  

And for some reason, that made his chest feel warm.  

By the time you took your first sip of juice, you finally looked at him, still groggy but slightly more awake. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you grumbled.  

Pedro grinned. “I know.”

Pedro stayed leaning against the kitchenette counter, watching you with quiet amusement as you nibbled on a croissant, still wrapped up in your blanket like you might retreat back into it at any moment.  

"You know," he said, arms crossing over his chest, "I've worked with some pretty serious divas before, but you? You might be the worst morning person I've ever met."  

You narrowed your eyes at him mid-chew, unimpressed. "Bold of you to assume I’m even a person in the morning."  

Pedro laughed, rich and warm, like he hadn't expected you to say that. It sent a flutter through your stomach, but you buried it beneath another bite of food.  

A comfortable silence settled between you as you worked through your breakfast, the weight of last night—the teasing from your friends, the way Pedro had looked at you over dinner, the way he’d listened, really listened, when you brushed off your problems—lingering just beneath the surface.  

It should’ve been awkward. But it wasn’t.  

"So," he finally said, drumming his fingers against the countertop, "what’s the plan for your day off? Big, exciting plans to stay in bed all day?"  

You swallowed a sip of juice, tilting your head at him. "That was the dream, yeah."  

Pedro let out a soft scoff, pushing off the counter. "Nah. Not happening."  

You raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"  

"You’ve been working your ass off all week, and I don’t mean just putting up with the shoot," he said, giving you a knowing look. "I mean all of it. Everything. And since you clearly weren’t gonna tell me how much it was getting to you, I figure it’s my job to make sure you actually do something for yourself today."  

Your stomach twisted at that.  

He had noticed.  

Of course, he had.  

And now, instead of letting you bury it like you had all week, he was making it a thing.  

"Pedro," you sighed, setting your glass down. "I really don’t—"  

"Shh," he cut in, grinning as he pressed a finger to his lips. "No arguing."  

You stared at him, deadpan. "Did you just shush me?"  

"Yeah." He shrugged, completely unfazed. "It’s effective."  

You narrowed your eyes, trying very hard not to laugh. "You’re an idiot."  

"And yet," he said, nodding toward your now-empty plate, "an idiot who got you to wake up, eat breakfast, and seriously consider leaving this hotel room."  

You bit your lip, fighting back a smile.  

Damn it.  

"Okay, fine." You rolled your eyes. "What exactly do you have in mind?"  

Pedro grinned like he’d just won something. "Get dressed, cariño. I’ll tell you on the way."

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EARLY AFTERNOON 

You didn’t know what you had expected Pedro to suggest—maybe a lazy stroll through the city, or coffee at some tucked-away caf��—but the moment you stepped outside, you realized you had severely underestimated him.  

For one, he had somehow procured a car.  

Not just any car. A sleek, inconspicuous black SUV, complete with a driver who nodded at Pedro like they had some unspoken understanding.  

You frowned, pausing just before getting in. “Please tell me you didn’t hire security just to take me out for the day.”  

Pedro smirked, holding the door open for you. “Relax. It’s just a favor. No secret service level drama.”  

You eyed him suspiciously. “You swear?”  

“Would I lie to you?”  

You didn’t dignify that with a response.  

With a dramatic sigh, you climbed into the passenger seat, and Pedro followed suit, settling in beside you with a satisfied grin.  

“See?” he said as the car pulled away from the hotel. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”  

You shot him a flat look. “I already regret this.”  

Pedro just laughed, tapping his fingers idly against his knee.  

The city stretched out beyond the tinted windows, a blur of old brick buildings, cafés with tiny outdoor tables, and the occasional group of tourists wrapped up in their own adventures.  

For a moment, you let yourself relax, head resting back against the seat, the steady hum of the car filling the silence.  

And then—  

“Are you actually going to tell me where we’re going?” you asked, side-eyeing him.  

Pedro hummed, pretending to think about it. “Nah. I like watching you squirm.”  

You groaned, letting your head fall back dramatically. “I hate you.”  

“No, you don’t.”  

You turned your head, finding him already watching you, something fond and unreadable flickering behind his glasses.  

Your breath caught in your throat.  

The car hit a stoplight, and he looked away, tapping something into his phone.  

Okay. Fine.  

You could pretend that didn’t just happen.  

The drive continued, weaving through the city until you eventually started to recognize where you were heading.  

Your brows furrowed.  

“Wait a minute—"  

“Surprise,” Pedro said, grinning as the car finally rolled to a stop in front of what was, unmistakably, a bookstore.  

Not just any bookstore.  

One you had mentioned in passing about a few days ago, while sitting with him and a few others on set, talking about places you’d love to visit while in London.  

You turned to him, mouth slightly open. “You remembered?”  

Pedro gave you a look, like the idea of him not remembering was ridiculous.  

“Of course I did,” he said simply, pushing open his door. “Now, are you gonna sit there looking at me like I just grew a second head, or are we actually going in?”  

You scrambled out of the car before he could make another joke, ignoring the warmth spreading through your chest.  

Inside, the scent of old paper and freshly brewed coffee wrapped around you like a hug. The place was small but full—every wall lined with shelves, tables stacked with books, mismatched chairs tucked into cozy corners.  

It was perfect.  

Pedro hovered near the entrance, watching your expression, clearly pleased with himself.  

You turned, crossing your arms. “Alright, Pascal. What’s the catch?”  

He smirked. “No catch.”  

You narrowed your eyes.  

He sighed, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine. I might have selfish reasons for bringing you here.”  

You raised an eyebrow. “Which are?”  

Pedro stepped closer, tilting his head. “You’re a pain in the ass when you’re stressed.”  

Your jaw dropped.  

“Excuse me?”  

He laughed, reaching out and flicking the end of your sleeve. “You needed a break. And I—” He paused, eyes softening. “I like seeing you happy.”  

The words were simple.  

Too simple.  

And yet, they settled deep in your chest, curling around something you weren’t ready to name.  

You swallowed, looking away, focusing on the nearest bookshelf like it held all the answers.  

Pedro let the silence stretch for a beat, then nudged you gently.  

“Go on,” he murmured. “Pick something.”  

So you did.

LONDON BOOKSHOP — EARLY AFTERNOON  

You took your time browsing.  

Partly because you wanted to, and partly because Pedro made himself comfortable, dropping into one of the armchairs in the corner like he had all the time in the world.  

He did this thing where he pretended not to be watching you. Flipping through a book, glasses sliding down his nose, but every so often—you caught him. The flicker of his gaze, the tiny smirk when you pulled a book off the shelf and examined the cover with interest.  

It made your skin warm.  

It was still so bizarre���this thing between you two.  

You were still wrapping your head around it, still trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t some overactive, sleep-deprived hallucination.  

Because this was Pedro Pascal.  

And Pedro Pascal had somehow taken it upon himself to make sure you were okay, taking you out on bookstore adventures and—  

Oh god, were you on a date?  

Your heart jumped at the realization, nearly making you fumble the book in your hands.  

No. Not a date.  

Just… Pedro being Pedro.  

Right?  

You exhaled slowly, trying to refocus.  

The book in your hands was a worn, well-loved copy of a classic romance novel. The pages were slightly yellowed, the cover soft with age.  

“That one, huh?”  

You startled slightly, looking up to see Pedro watching you from his chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest.  

You shrugged, running your fingers along the spine. “I’ve been meaning to read it.”  

Pedro hummed, tilting his head. “You always do that.”  

You blinked. “Do what?”  

He nodded toward the book in your hands. “That thing. Where you rub the cover before you decide.”  

You froze, caught. “…I do not.”  

Pedro’s grin was entirely too smug. “Oh, you do.”  

You felt warmth creep up your neck. “You’ve been watching me pick books?”  

He lifted a shoulder, like it wasn’t a big deal. “You’re cute when you’re indecisive.”  

Your stomach flipped.  

You opened your mouth—only to immediately close it again, because what the fuck were you supposed to say to that?  

Pedro’s grin widened like he knew exactly what he was doing.  

Your fingers curled around the book, gripping it like it could somehow ground you.  

“I—” You cleared your throat, forcing a glare. “I hate you.”  

Pedro just laughed, leaning back in his chair. “No, you don’t.”  

You turned away, cheeks burning, pointedly walking toward the register before he could see how flustered you were.  

The woman behind the counter smiled as she rang up your book, eyes flicking toward Pedro lounging in the corner.  

“That your boyfriend?” she asked casually.  

You nearly choked.  

“What? No. No, no. He’s just—” You gestured vaguely. “Pedro.”  

She just smiled knowingly. “Right.”  

You hurriedly paid, ignoring the way Pedro was definitely smirking behind you, and grabbed the small paper bag with your book inside.  

When you turned, he was already standing, adjusting his glasses. “Ready?”  

You exhaled, nodding.  

As the two of you stepped outside, the chilly afternoon air hit your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the bookshop.  

Pedro slipped his hands into his pockets, glancing over. “Lunch?”  

You hesitated. “I don’t know… what if people see us?”  

Pedro just shrugged. “So what?”  

You frowned, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I just— I don’t want people to think—”  

“That you’re hanging out with me?” Pedro finished, raising an eyebrow.  

You let out a breath, rubbing at your temple. “I just don’t want to be weird about it.”  

Pedro was quiet for a beat, then nudged your arm gently. “Hey.”  

You looked up.  

“Let them think whatever they want,” he said, voice softer now. “You’re allowed to exist in public with me, y’know.”  

Your chest ached in a way you weren’t expecting.  

He made it sound so simple.  

You swallowed, nodding. “Okay.”  

Pedro grinned. “Good. Now let’s go find some obscenely overpriced pasta.”  

You huffed a laugh, letting him lead the way.

LONDON — AFTERNOON

The restaurant Pedro picked was one of those effortlessly stylish little spots tucked away on a side street, the kind of place with warm lighting, fresh flowers on every table, and a menu written in looping script on a chalkboard.

It smelled like olive oil and fresh bread, like garlic sizzling in butter.

“Obscenely overpriced pasta,” you muttered under your breath, scanning the menu. “You weren’t kidding.”

Pedro chuckled, tilting his head toward you. “Hey, if we’re gonna be reckless, we might as well do it with carbs.”

Your lips twitched, but you didn’t argue.

The two of you had been seated near the window, the view outside hazy with the gray of the London afternoon. Pedro sat opposite you, cap low, glasses on, but even that didn’t do much to disguise him.

It was still him.

Still warm brown eyes and laughter lines, still easy charm and a quiet steadiness that made you feel safer than you probably should.

The restaurant hummed with soft conversation, the gentle clinking of glasses and silverware blending with the distant notes of some old jazz song playing overhead. The air smelled rich—garlic and butter, fresh herbs and warm bread—and for the first time in what felt like days, you felt… light.  

You weren’t thinking about work. Or her.  

Just Pedro. Just this.  

He was leaning back in his chair now, one arm draped over the backrest, fingers idly tracing the rim of his water glass. His cap was still low over his forehead, glasses perched on his nose, but his expression was open, relaxed—like this was the most natural thing in the world. Like the two of you having lunch together was something that had always made sense.  

And maybe it did.  

"So," Pedro said, tearing off a piece of bread from the basket between you. "Tell me something about you that I don’t know yet."  

You huffed a small laugh, stirring the ice in your drink with your straw. "That’s a pretty broad request."  

He shrugged. "Alright, let’s narrow it down. What was little you like?"  

You blinked at him. "Little me?"  

"Yeah." He popped a piece of bread into his mouth. "Like, what were you like as a kid? Were you the quiet, shy one, or were you running around causing problems?"  

You scoffed. "I am the quiet, shy one."  

Pedro gave you a look. "I know you. You’ve got a little chaos in you somewhere."  

You bit back a smile. "Fine. Maybe a little."  

Pedro grinned, leaning in like he was settling in for a story. "Alright, spill."  

You thought for a moment, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the rim of your glass. "I was kind of… scrappy, I guess? Like, I wasn’t looking for trouble, but I wouldn’t not fight a kid if they deserved it."  

Pedro nearly choked on his water. "What?"  

Your face heated. "Not like that! I just—I had a strong sense of justice, okay?"  

Pedro wiped his mouth, eyes gleaming with amusement. "So what I’m hearing is that you’ve always been ready to throw hands."  

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. "I shouldn’t have told you that."  

Pedro was grinning so hard. "No, no, I love it. I love picturing little you, all tiny and righteous, just out there laying down the law."  

You peeked at him through your fingers. "It wasn’t that dramatic."  

"Mm-hmm," he said, clearly not convinced.  

You shook your head, exhaling a laugh. "Okay, your turn, big shot. What was little Pedro like?"  

His smirk softened into something more nostalgic. "Oh, I was a menace," he admitted.  

You snorted. "Of course you were."  

"I mean, not in a bad way," he amended, breaking off another piece of bread. "I was just… all over the place. Loud, always moving, always talking. My parents were exhausted."  

You smiled. "Sounds like you were a handful."  

"Oh, completely." He took a sip of his drink, glancing at you over the rim. "I grew up in a house that was always full, always noisy. Family coming in and out all the time, music playing, food cooking. I never really knew what quiet was until I got older."  

There was something warm in his voice, something fond in the way he spoke about home.  

"That sounds… nice," you murmured.  

Pedro tilted his head slightly, studying you. "What about you? What was home like?"  

You hesitated, glancing down at your plate. "Not like that."  

His brows drew together, but he didn’t push.  

You exhaled softly, running your finger over the condensation on your glass. "I mean, it wasn’t bad or anything. It was just… quieter. A little lonelier."  

Pedro didn’t say anything, just waited.  

You bit your lip, giving a small shrug. "I guess I always felt like I had to work a little harder to fit in. To matter."  

Pedro’s gaze softened, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.  

You cleared your throat, suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry, that got depressing—"  

"Hey." His voice was quiet but firm.  

You glanced up.  

Pedro was watching you with something steady, something real in his expression. "You don’t have to apologize for being honest."  

Your stomach flipped.  

You nodded, a little too quickly. "Right. Yeah."  

Pedro gave you a small smile, then nudged your foot under the table. "For what it’s worth," he said lightly, "I think you’re pretty great."  

Your throat felt tight. "Yeah?"  

"Yeah." His smile widened. "Even if you did used to fight kids."  

You groaned. "Oh my god."  

Pedro laughed, and the sound was so warm, so easy, that you couldn’t help but laugh with him.  

And just like that, whatever tension had settled between you melted away, leaving nothing but warmth in its place.

The street was buzzing softly with life when you stepped outside, the late afternoon sun spilling golden light over everything. You hadn’t even fully processed where Pedro was leading you when he suddenly tugged on your wrist and gestured toward a tiny, vintage photo booth tucked just outside the café. Its paint was chipped, its curtain a little worn, but it had the kind of charm that begged you to step inside.  

“C’mon,” Pedro said with a mischievous grin, already pulling you toward it.  

“What? No!” You laughed, glancing around like someone might catch you doing something scandalous. “Pedro, this is so cheesy!”  

He raised a brow, clearly unimpressed by your protests. “Cheesy is good. Plus, you owe me for making me think you were a goner this morning.” He gave you a dramatic, pleading look. “One strip of photos. For my emotional recovery.”  

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Fine. One. And only because I feel bad for you.”  

The booth’s tiny space forced you closer together than you expected. Pedro leaned in to fiddle with the ancient machine, his arm brushing against yours. You tried not to think too hard about how warm he was, or how his cologne smelled faintly like cedar and something else you couldn’t quite place.  

“Okay, ready?” Pedro asked, his finger hovering over the button.  

“Wait! What do we—what pose are we doing?”  

He grinned. “You’ll figure it out.”  

The camera counted down—three, two, one.  

The first flash caught you both off guard, faces blank with surprise. You burst into laughter, the kind that made your shoulders shake, and Pedro quickly leaned in for another shot.  

“Okay, okay, serious face,” he instructed, eyes narrowing comically.  

You tried, but the second the flash went off, you broke into giggles again, and Pedro lost it right along with you.  

The third shot was a blur of laughter, your head tipped back, Pedro’s grin wide and unguarded.  

Then, right as the camera beeped for the final shot, Pedro turned toward you.  

You barely had time to register the movement before his lips brushed your cheek, soft and quick but undeniably there.  

The flash went off.  

You froze, eyes wide as you turned to look at him. Pedro’s face mirrored yours for a second—caught somewhere between Did I really just do that? and Yeah, I did. But then, the corners of his mouth curled into a sheepish grin.  

The photo strip slid out of the machine, and you grabbed it, holding it up between you. There it was: the first three frames filled with laughter and goofy poses, and the last… the last one where his lips were pressed against your cheek, your eyes wide, his soft and warm, both of you caught mid-smile.  

Your heart fluttered—nervous, exhilarated, but… not scared. Not even a little.  

“You kissed me,” you said, voice soft but teasing.  

Pedro rubbed the back of his neck, pretending to look thoughtful. “Hmm. Did I? Feels like that might’ve been you kissing me.”  

You gasped, smacking his arm with the photo strip. “Liar!”  

He chuckled, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, I’m just saying—it’s open to interpretation.”  

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You’re ridiculous.”  

“And yet,” he said, tilting his head, “here you are. Stuck in a photo booth with me.”  

The air between you shifted then—lighter, but also charged with something else. Something that felt like the beginning of a question neither of you was quite ready to ask.  

For a beat, neither of you moved.  

Then Pedro tapped the photo strip with his finger, breaking the moment. “Well, at least we’ve got proof of how good we look together.”  

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t stop smiling. “Shut up.”  

“Never,” he replied, already holding out his phone. “Now, do we post this on the internet, or do we keep it as blackmail material for later?”  

You grabbed the photo strip, slipping it into your pocket. “Neither. This one’s ours.”  

Pedro raised his hands in surrender, but the smile on his face told you he didn’t mind one bit.

The sky was painted in soft shades of pink and orange as the sun began its slow descent. Pedro slipped his phone back into his pocket after calling the driver, glancing at you with a small smile. “We’ve got about ten minutes. Wanna walk a little?”  

You nodded, grateful for the chance to stretch your legs. The streets were alive with a gentle hum—tourists taking photos, locals going about their day, the occasional street performer filling the air with music.  

The city felt like a movie set, every streetlamp and cobblestone path perfectly placed. And in this fleeting moment, it felt like the world had paused just for the two of you, as if the streetlights themselves pointed in an arrowhead, leading you home.  

Pedro noticed the slight chill in the air and shrugged off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders before you could protest. “Can’t have you catching a cold,” he said, his voice light but warm with care.  

The jacket smelled like him—faint cologne mixed with something warm and earthy, something Pedro. You tugged it around yourself a little tighter, feeling its weight settle comfortably over your frame.  

A surge of boldness swept over you, the kind you usually talked yourself out of but didn’t this time. You stepped closer, looping your arm around his. His body radiated warmth, steady and solid beneath your touch. Slowly, your fingers found his hand, intertwining with his.  

Pedro didn’t hesitate. His hand squeezed yours gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soft, absentminded rhythm. It was such an easy, natural thing for him, this casual intimacy that felt so rare and comforting.  

You’d learned over the past few days that touch was part of his love language. He was the kind of man who hugged with his whole body, the kind whose touch always felt intentional and grounding, never forced or fleeting.  

Your heart thudded a little harder in your chest. You told yourself it was just from the walk.  

You squeezed his arm lightly, smiling up at him. “Thanks for today, Pedro.”  

He glanced down at you, his eyes warm and crinkling at the edges, those familiar laughter lines making an appearance. “For what?”  

“For everything,” you said softly, almost shy. “For making me laugh. For breakfast. For not running away when I woke up looking like a crypt keeper.”  

Pedro chuckled, his grip on your hand tightening for a brief second. “You looked adorable. Not a crypt keeper—more like… a sleepy little gremlin.”  

You gasped, mock-offended, and smacked his arm with your free hand. “Gremlin? You’re lucky I don’t let go of your hand right now.”  

He grinned, that mischievous spark in his eyes you were quickly becoming fond of. “You wouldn’t. You like me too much.”  

You couldn’t argue with that.  

The streetlamps flickered on as the daylight dimmed, casting a golden glow over the cobblestone streets. You both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. The city hummed around you, but all you could focus on was the steady warmth of Pedro’s hand in yours, the easy rhythm of your steps together, the way everything felt just a little softer, a little brighter with him by your side.  

“You’re really something, you know that?” Pedro said suddenly, his voice quieter now, thoughtful.  

You glanced at him, your breath hitching slightly. “Something good, I hope.”  

Pedro stopped walking for a second, turning toward you. His eyes searched yours, serious now. “The best kind of something.”  

Your chest tightened at the weight of his words, a mix of nerves and excitement swirling in your stomach. You tried to play it cool, but the heat rising to your cheeks gave you away.  

“Well,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, “right back at you, Pedro.”  

He smiled, that same soft, unguarded smile that always made you feel like you were the only person in the world he was looking at.  

The driver pulled up a few moments later, headlights cutting through the soft twilight. Pedro opened the door for you, his hand resting lightly on your back as you slid into the car.  

As the car pulled away, you leaned back into the seat, Pedro’s jacket still wrapped around your shoulders, his warmth lingering like a secret you weren’t quite ready to give up.  

And maybe, just maybe, neither was he.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EVENING

The glow of golden hour had dimmed into soft dusk by the time you returned to Chiltern Firehouse. The lobby was warm and buzzing with quiet energy—guests sipping cocktails, a crackling fireplace, and staff moving seamlessly through the space. Pedro walked beside you, his hand resting gently at the small of your back like it had been there all along.  

You didn’t want the day to end just yet. There was something about the way the air felt, a little lighter, like it had been charged with something electric and unspoken.  

As you approached the front desk, one of the hotel managers, a polished woman in a tailored suit, stepped forward with a warm smile, followed closely by Franklin Latt—Pedro’s manager.  

“Good evening,” the hotel manager greeted. “I hope you’ve been enjoying your stay. I wanted to let you know that your room is now ready, miss.”  

Your breath hitched for a split second.  

Right. The room.  

It was easy to forget after the last few days, the way you’d fallen into such a natural rhythm with Pedro. Sharing his suite had felt so… effortless. You blinked, trying to process the sudden shift.  

“Oh,” you said, your voice soft, almost reluctant. “Right. That was, uh… this week.”  

You glanced at Pedro, and for a fleeting moment, something passed between you—a flicker of disappointment mirrored in his eyes.  

You shifted on your feet, clearing your throat. “Okay, um… I guess I need to pack, then.”  

The hotel manager smiled politely. “The room is ready for you whenever you’re ready to move, miss.”  

Pedro opened his mouth before you could respond, a little too quickly. “Actually, do you think she could switch tomorrow? It’s been a long day, and she still needs to pack her things. We’re both pretty wiped out.”  

His voice was casual, but there was an edge of determination that made you glance up at him, your heart fluttering at how easily he’d jumped in for you.  

The hotel manager hesitated but nodded. “Of course. If you’d prefer to transfer tomorrow, that can be arranged.”  

Franklin, however, raised an eyebrow, his sharp gaze flickering between you and Pedro. His eyes caught on Pedro’s jacket draped around your shoulders, the sleeves too long for you, the fabric worn in all the right places.  

Your face heated up as you tugged the jacket a little tighter around yourself, hoping it would hide the rush of color in your cheeks.  

Franklin crossed his arms, his expression somewhere between amused and suspicious. “Tired, huh?” he said, his tone light but pointed. “You sure that’s the only reason?”  

Pedro shot him a look, his brow arching in silent warning. “Relax, Frank. We’ve been out all day, walking around the city. She’s exhausted.”  

Franklin chuckled, clearly not buying it but deciding to let it go—for now. “Right. Well, don’t let me keep you.”  

The hotel manager nodded again. “Just let us know when you’re ready to move rooms. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”  

She and Franklin walked off, leaving you and Pedro standing in the middle of the lobby, the hum of quiet conversations around you. For a second, neither of you spoke.  

Pedro scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “So… I guess you’re stuck with me for one more night.”  

You tried to laugh, but it came out softer than you intended. “Guess so.”  

The elevator doors opened, and you stepped inside together. The air between you felt charged again, like earlier, but now tinged with something deeper—something fragile and new.  

Pedro leaned against the wall of the elevator, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “If I’m being honest, I’m kinda glad you’re not leaving just yet.”  

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to play it cool. “Oh yeah? Afraid of being lonely?”  

He chuckled, his voice low and warm. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ve just gotten used to having you around.”  

The words settled in your chest like a secret you weren’t sure you were ready to unpack. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything in return, so you just smiled, a little shy, a little flustered.  

When the elevator dinged, Pedro followed you out, his hand resting lightly on your back again as you made your way to the suite. It was such a small thing, but it grounded you in ways you hadn’t expected.

Maybe you’d sort through those feelings tomorrow, when the lines between friendship and something more didn’t feel so blurred.  

But tonight?  

“One last movie night?” you asked softly as you swiped the keycard, pushing the door open. You glanced over your shoulder at Pedro, an almost shy smile playing on your lips.  

Pedro’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned, stepping in behind you. “It doesn’t have to be the last one,” he said, his voice warm and steady. “We can have as many movie nights as you want.”  

His words hung in the air, carrying a weight you weren’t sure he meant to put there. Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten in the best way possible.  

You kicked off your shoes, trying to shake off the flutter in your stomach, and headed for the couch. Pedro shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a chair, moving to grab a couple of waters from the kitchenette.  

“Okay,” you said, settling into the couch cushions, pulling a blanket over your lap. “But I’m picking the movie this time.”  

Pedro handed you a bottle of water and plopped down beside you, close enough that his knee bumped yours. “Deal. What are we watching?”  

You tapped your chin dramatically, pretending to be deep in thought. “Something light. No brooding detectives or tragic endings.”  

He laughed, the sound low and easy. “Are you saying my movie choices are too intense?”  

“Not too intense,” you teased, opening the streaming app. “But I’m in the mood for something that won’t make me question the meaning of life.”  

Pedro leaned back, resting an arm on the back of the couch behind you. His fingers brushed your shoulder, barely there, but it sent a spark down your spine anyway. “Fair enough. Surprise me.”  

You clicked on a romantic comedy and settled in, trying to focus on the movie and not the warmth of Pedro beside you. But it was hard to ignore—the way his thigh pressed gently against yours, the sound of his soft chuckle whenever something funny happened on screen, the way he stole glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking.  

About halfway through the movie, you felt your head naturally tilt toward his shoulder. You hesitated for a second, nerves twisting in your chest. But then Pedro shifted ever so slightly, making it easier, like he was inviting you to stay.  

“You comfortable?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.  

“Yeah,” you said softly, your cheek resting against him. “You make a pretty good pillow.”  

He chuckled, the sound vibrating under your ear. “I try.”  

Neither of you moved after that, the movie fading into the background. The world outside the suite felt far away, like it didn’t matter. Not right now. Not with him.  

Maybe you’d unpack those feelings tomorrow.  

But tonight?  

Tonight, you let yourself fall a little further. 

End Notes:

This was one of the chapters I was dreading to write. Not cause I didn’t want to write it—

Cause I knew, from a writer’s perspective, at some point, I had to subvert the expectation of, “They’ll be roommates the entire time and fall in love.”

And yes, I did the thing where I gave you something you wanted/something good and then took it away from you LMAO ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I mean… at least you get your own room now! So that counts for something— (please don’t show up at my house aHHHH)

Also, five chapters in, I had to give ya'll a little smooch... just a little... hehe

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy @widowsvail @senhoritamayblog @morganlolitta

[cakypa120]

Imagine that Captain Marvel, Billy Batson and Living Lightning are three personalities in one body. Living Lightning is a little over 200,000 years old, Billy is twelve, but Captain Marvel is three years old, because Billy got his powers at nine.

Of course, Marvel will be asked how old he is.

The captain will immediately say that he is three years old.

Only no one will believe him and everyone will think that he is mocking them. Marvel will wonder for a long time why everyone is looking at him with resentment.

Then a curse is placed on Captain Marvel, and Marvel, Billy and Living Lightning are separated.

The League's shock is beyond words when they see a three year old running around a twelve year old boy, who was supporting an old man so decrepit that no one knew how he was still alive.

Captain Marvel, Billy and the Living Lightning, or Thavma.

That's how they introduced themselves.

And you know what's funny? Thávma always wants to go somewhere. Because when else would you get a chance to wander around outside of the Champion's body? The old rascal once withdrew a thousand dollars from Batman's account and went to Vegas, where he multiplied it a thousandfold. Billy suspects Solomon's help, but keeps quiet, amused by how Batman loses his shit when he finds out what Thavma did during his trip to the city. And he always manages to slip out from under every hero's nose without being noticed. So everyone just lets Thavma do what he wants.

Three-year-old Marvel never left Diana's side all day, following her around like a duckling. The Amazon loved to pick him up and kiss his cheeks. Marvel laughed loudly and kept asking for more kisses. Every hero cooed at him and gave him hugs. Superman reminded Batman that he couldn't take the child for himself, no matter how much he wanted to. Barry was constantly feeding the child sweets when no one was looking.

All the heroes, from the youngest to the oldest, have stuck to Billy. Batman wanted to steal him away, but Oliver stopped him. Billy gets offers every day that he can move in with someone else. Batman and his children are very persistent. Billy cleverly avoids these offers, like bullets. He is not a little boy, he can take care of himself. He does not need pity. But he does not refuse the food that is given to him.

When the curse is lifted and the three are united again, Captain Marvel is caught by Barry and Hal, who asked to see Billy. The Captain transforms and Billy is taken to Barry's house until Batman can intercept them.

And from that day on, the "Great Custody Battle" began, where there was no pity or compassion.

[nocturn-warrior]

Ne t'enfuis pas

Adrian Ţepeş x reader

Summary: You are his first love reincarnated and after 300 years, you finally meet again.

Rating: fluff, hurt, comfort

Warnings: mentions of death, grief, Nocturn season 2 spoilers!!!

Nmed after Kate Bush's Ne T'enfuis Pas. This is heavily inspired in Bram Stoker's Dracula by Coppola and mayyybe Nosferatu by Eggers <3 It's been so long since i've written, i am honestly rusty. Sorry for taking so long with this one.

The water in the pond behind the chateau reflects the light of the crescent pale moonlight above your head. It is the first time in weeks since you could go outside after the sunset without worrying about getting your neck attacked by a servant of the Bloody Countess or a night creature. Small tadpoles swim around, feeding on bugs that have the misfortune of falling in the pond and you watch them idly and with a childlike curiosity. You didn’t want to ruminate at that moment, you wanted to think that everything was going to be fine. 

Still, your unquiet mind couldn’t rest. The scene of the tadpole rapidly consuming the bug reminds you of your own thoughts consuming you. The dreams you’ve had before his arrival; a dark castle with infinite stairs, forests that you’ve never explored, and flashes of scenes flooding your mind every time he is near that feel so much more real than a mere dejavú. But how could you ever put this into words?

Smooth steps are heard padding against the grass and you softly gasp when you see the tall, pale man coming to the spot you are sitting on. His amber eyes glow like the ones of a cat in a dark night as he walks in the shadow announcing his not fully human nature. 

“They are beheading the last one of the day. Won’t you like to see the show?”

Alucard asks with sarcasm, sitting on the opposite side of the pond in a pompous swish. The city's in ruins, but the people are executioning the aristocrats who stood in the side of the vampires during the attack. You don’t answer his question. In fact, the two of you stay in silence for a while, but now and then you peek through the fountain to see if he is still in there and he is perfectly immobile like a beautiful statue in the garden, except for his flouncy hair tousled by the soft breeze. In one of those moments of curiosity, your gazes meet and it feels intense as a lightning hitting your body, Alucard could see your hair standing on end.

“Although I think they should pay for what they did, I don't see the point of gathering in the town to see bloodshed. I’ve seen enough of this in the last few days.”

You answer in an awkward way and twirl your finger around the water, making the tadpoles hide behind a rock to dismiss the feeling that goes beyond embarrassment. Alucard narrows his eyes, cautiously watching your expression, wondering if approaching you now was the right choice. But how long could he keep this to himself? If there is something Alucard learned during these wandering 300 years is that human life is feeble as a crystal, that he’ll see his pals one by one perish to the fog of time. Leaving it be, ignoring the signals would spare him from the very known feeling of grief. Still, there you are. With another appearance, voice and name, yet eyes are the windows of the soul, they say, and Alucard lived enough to know that this might be true. And since yours met during the Eclipse, he knew that calling coming from overseas was not only his duty of destroying Sekhmet’s mummy. He was drawn to your presence like a boat to a lighthouse.

“May i?”

He asks before sitting on the same side as you on the pond, so pale that he seems to emanate his own light and reflect in the pond along with the moon. You nod and he graciously settles himself some palms away not wanting to be invasive, minutely investigating the possibilities and to what paths would they guide him. Your mind is racing with thoughts, so many it could burst. A feeling of urgency that takes you completely and is shared with the man by your side. Gathering forces from an ancient feeling asleep for so too long, you finally speak:

“You have found me… how?”

He hums looking into the pond before answering your question that is so easy to answer yet difficult to put into words when he measures the consequences.

“I felt you calling me.”

You shortly breathe, reminding the nights where that feeling of emptiness would set in as if there was something missing and you would pray for a light, something that could give you a clue of what was the other part of the whole. The dreams that filled your sleep in the following nights left you even more puzzled, but when Alucard arrived, everything was starting to be put in place, for more unbelievable that sounded. 

Before you died, you made Alucard promise that he would find someone else. That he wouldn't have his eternity tied to your memory, that he would find other lovers to fulfill his heart and to give him the love he deserved. Your shaking cold hand held his as you collapsed to smallpox in your deathbed and finally the eyes of your mortal body closed forever. He did as promised. Tens of women and men crossed his path across those thirty decades, but no one of them were you. The same emptiness your oblivious, reborn self would experience now, the dhampir would drag along the mists of years; for you, what was an unknown spectrum, for him it was a very palpable feeling that seemed to almost materialize itself.

Your eyes fill up with tears, a rush of emotions suddenly rises as Alucard watches you break down, still hesitant. His slender hand reaches out to touch your shoulder and you shudder; like the sun coming out from the clouds, a myriad of memories start to bloom. Alucard’s eyes are wide open in shock, harm of fear is the last thing he wants to inflict on you. But how could he have been causing it when all you could see in front of your eyes was him and your life together? Piece by piece like a broken porcelain, you see snippets of the past. 

You suddenly wrap your arms around his shoulders, a hug so unpredictable and strong that Alucard had to hold onto the bricks of the pond otherwise you would fall directly into it. Once steady, He slowly retributes the hug, face resting on the crook of your neck as you sob tears of unbelievable happiness into his white hair. A small salty droplet roams his cheek too and when he realizes the emotional boy he used to be was here again. Slowly, you pull off from the embrace, drying your tears with the sleeves of your dress and say while cupping his angelical face in your hands, strands of white hair sticking onto his skin. You smile and say before pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips:

“And you came to me… from the sky like an angel.”

[peachesofteal]

Tip of my Tongue - Azriel/single mom reader

He puts you out of his mind. 

Or tries to, at least. His thoughts stray, at night, in quiet moments, and he catches himself thinking about you, wondering if he should have done more, pushed harder, tried to get you to talk to him even though he understands your reluctance. It didn’t surprise him how you avoided his eyes, turned away. 

Illyrians both hate and fear him, and Azriel despises them in return.

Cauldron only knows how you may have suffered in their hands. 

It’s not his business. 

Illyrians are not unwelcome in Velaris, it is your right to live in the city if you so choose. 

Let it go.  

His effort is in vain, crumbling only two days later when he comes across you on the street, half open bag spilled out across the sidewalk. 

Leave her be, it’s not your business, not your-

You’re crouched, baby in one arm while trying to gather up your things with another, and without thinking, he swoops down at your side, picking them up quicker than you can protest. “Are you alright?” 

This time, there’s no opportunity for you to cut him off, or run. He’s holding a stuffed rabbit in his hand. 

“Yes, I’m…” you reach for the toy, rising to stand at the same time, and blood rushes in his ears. “We’re okay, thank you.” You watch him carefully, but for some reason, less guarded than that day in the market, a little more brave, open. 

“I’m Azriel.” You probably already know that, he’s sure. 

You bite your bottom lip and practically whisper your own in return before bouncing the baby on your hip. “This is Luna. Or Lulu.” You cup her cheek, and her head tips back, wonder in her eyes as she stares at you. 

It does something to him, breaks a dam of emotion inside his heart, warmth flooding through his body from fingers to toes, and his voice is rough when he speaks.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Thanks, she’s a handful.” You hoist her higher, wincing. “And heavy. Aren’t you, Lu?” You smile, but it barely touches your eyes, their corners tight with stress. 

He wants to know why, wants to know you- 

wants to fix it. 

“Thanks for,” you gesture to the bag with your free hand, “helping. And for yesterday, too. You didn’t have to.”

“He was ripping you off.” He’s stern, almost reproachful, and you avert your eyes, guilt pinging through his bones as a result. He shouldn’t expect you to be able to hold your own in a city who undoubtedly turns their nose up at you. You’re vulnerable here, to no fault of your own. He shouldn’t chastise you for it, so he switches tactics. “Do you live in the city?” You nod. 

“We’ve been here for a few weeks.” You shift uneasily. There’s so much left unsaid, and he wants to peel away the layers hiding it all, dig to the bottom and learn every bit of it. 

Of you. 

“Which village?” Your gaze turns bleak and then clears, clouds revealing the sun. 

“Stoneguard.” His control is the only thing that smothers his surprise. Stoneguard. 

No wonder you were so tense in the Palace. No wonder you practically ran away. 

It’s an insular northern village with its own camp, positioned deep in the mountains, sheltered by rock and forest. One of the most brutal, and backwards, one of few still left unchanged. The miniscule progress happening in Windhaven and Ironcrest is still progress, but it doesn’t reach the more isolated villages or their camps. Rhys’ and their efforts to corral them, change them, have been in vain for centuries. They subscribe to the traditional practices, brutality and clipping, abuse running rampant without care. 

You grimace, like you can read his mind, and another thought occurs, striking his soul with dread. 

How did you get here? You have no wings. Did you walk, all this way, with Luna? Alone? 

“I have to get going,” you break through his spiral with an apologetic glance, “she’ll need to go down for a nap here soon.” As if she insists on making your point, Luna’s lashes flutter, eyes struggling to stay open. 

“Right, of course.” He should let you go, should be satisfied by your answers, but the brief interaction only leaves him wanting more. Leave her be, leave her be, leave her- “Have you seen much of Velaris?” You blink, and shake your head. “I could… show you around, if you’d like.” Luna hiccups, a high pitch frequency akin to a squeak, and a smile tugs at his mouth, trying to pull it upward into something genuine. It’s a hard fought battle for a male who rarely does such a thing. You stare at him, considering, examining, like you’re trying to peer inside his soul and determine if he’s to be trusted, and then you sigh. 

“Okay.”

[hotchnersangel]

OUR PAST, PRESENT AND FOREVER

Aaron Hotchner

cw: fem!reader, wedding, crying, emotional hotch.

a/n- this one is super cute, surprise at the end but you can pretend it isn’t there if you don’t like it.

Meeting Aaron Hotchner for the very first time was like breathing fresh country air after being stuck in the city for your whole life. Though your life was arguably more chaotic after knowing him, you never doubted any part of your relationship, neither the good or the bad. You had disagreements but Aaron has never shouted at you and he never will, nor have you at him. Around each other maybe you have, but never to each other. Maybe that’s because of his understanding of your past but also due to the immense respect and love he will always have for you. He never wants to be the reason you cry. Yet, today he was the exact reason you were crying.

Your wedding day, a day you have been dreaming about since you were a little girl. You always wanted the traditional wedding dress, the big but intimate ceremony, the hundreds of thousands of flowers, the awkward and laughable dancing. You wanted and dreamt about it all.

When you met Aaron, you knew you wanted these dreams by his side. You wanted them to turn from your dreams to your shared memories, which is exactly what the day had been.

The ceremony had been indescribable, the feeling of walking down the aisle and Rossi handing you to your soon- to-be husband was overwhelming in the best way. Though, the moment those doors opened, Aaron took one glance at you and your emotions flood from your eyes and you didn’t bother wiping them, just let them fall. His smile was like no one but you had ever witnessed. Full of utter love and affection. Your vows illicited more tears from you, but Aaron was yet to cry. Close, very close he had come, but he had not shown a droplet until you stand up during the after party.

Everyone was sat round their tables and you go to make your speech following the maid of honour and groomsmen’s talks.

“If I could have your attention for a moment,” you say, everyone now looking over you, whose hand was still entwined with Aaron. “Since before Aaron and I were together, I made something hoping this day would one day come and I could finally be able to show him.” You start with a bright smile, looking down at him softly as everyone waits in anticipation.

“So here it is, the day we officially become one, this is my present to you honey.” You smile and wipe your eyes from the falling tears. “This is The Story of The Hotchner’s”

You look at Aaron who watches you place the scrapbook in front of him and he gets teary eyed, his lip wobbling as he looks up at you. He knew he chose the right one. His thoughtful, breathtaking, ethereal piece of art. His wife. The love of his life.

He stands up and pulls you into him, holding you in the tightest embrace you thought you were going to be squished. “Baby, oh my god.” He says, looking deeply into your eyes.

“I haven’t even gone through it yet.” You grin, kissing his cheek and wiping a stray tear from his eye before continuing through the book.

‘To my beloved husband, let’s us never forget our past, our present or our forever.’ Was inscribed into the first page, you’re sat down now, watching as Aaron flips to the first page.

It showed an image of you awkwardly standing behind Hotch from around three months into working at the bau, pointing at his back which was firmly behind you as you pulled a funny face to the camera. It was taken by Penelope, you remember it so vividly, she had been the one to take a lot of these photos, along with JJ. Stuck closely on that page is another image of the same few months where he was staring at you with a straight face but you were grinning at him.

Aaron looked up at you and raises an eyebrow. “Did I always look so miserable around you?” He chuckles softly.

“You did, but I knew you never disliked me. No matter how hard you tried to conceal it, I always knew.” You grin back at him and he kisses your nose. “Now carry on.”

The next page brought a photo of Aaron slightly smirking at something you said but trying to conceal it behind his mug, it was a perfect candid photo. The next was an image of you two conversing on the first press conference with the two of you. Professional and hot.

The memories continued as you slowly see a change in the dynamic of your relationship, at first it’s like you’re both there but just simply there, then you see how Aaron opens up to you slowly and starts to lose his cold front with you. Over time it’s obvious that the distance between the two of you disappears and your smiles grow ten times larger. Then, it gets to recent photos and you stop him before he can flip the page again.

“There is so much space to add more photos of our journey together but I thought today was the perfect day to share this with you.” You grin at him, fully beaming as tears kiss your cheeks. As you look at Aaron, he pulls you to sit on his lap and he looks directly at you. You notice that tears were streaming out of his glassy eyes with very little shame. You laugh at the sight and it makes the emotions bubble more in your chest and he pulls you closer to him by your waist, hugging you so tightly. He kisses your head.

“I’m so beyond in love with you. Thank you. Thank you for having the most thoughtful, generous, beautiful soul both inside and out.” He says letting tears stream down as he doesn’t bother wiping them. Not even considering hiding or getting rid of the evidence of his complete and utter devotion and appreciation of you.

“There’s one more page.” You whisper to him and he looks back at the book, you both flip the page together and it reveals a photo of a baby scan. He freezes from under you and looks at the photo, bringing the book closer to him and looking back to you. Switching his gaze between the photo and you like a tennis rally.

“Is this…”

You nod and laugh, tears falling from your eyes as he pulls you into the biggest hug ever, his hand at the back of your head as it against his chest.

“Our family.”

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 33

(Rook is one of the few to actually swear himself as a Knight in service of the Human and he wears this title like a badge of honor. Rook doesn't need the actual armor part of his ensemble, but he likes the way they look on him and he appreciates the consistent theming of the Queendom garb. The Knight of Roses is actually a style in the Queendom reserved for royal guards. Most royal guards in the past were tasked with protecting the royal Humans and the royal family, so it is more tradition in the Queendom to dress the current day Human's guards in this armor.)

Warnings: yandere, yandere behavior, multiple yanderes, violently protective yanderes, poaching attempt, unnamed character injury, Queendom Citizens, speciest behavior, mention of weapons, mention of clothing of various kinds, dancing, Harpy, Alicorn, Dragon, Merfolk, Drider, Hellcat, Selkie,

(If you have trouble imagining songs for the ending scene, this is the song I imagine this one is playing:

~~~~~~~~

You were out with your guards once again to take in the sights and maybe even look for random souvenirs to bring back to Night Raven. If you were going to be visiting almost every country and countless cities within the countries, you may as well get random knickknacks to keep. Though you had no money of your own when you fell into this world, Crowley was sure to shove Thaumarks into your arms before you departed.

Apparently, during his extensive conversations about what you would be doing in the Queendom, he mentioned the many funds and grants NRC had been given. Most of those grants were from larger countries that wanted to financially support you and support Night Raven for as long as you called the campus home. As the reason for the grants coming in, no doubt Crowley decided that you deserved a fair portion of the Thaumarks.

Now you were visiting the many different stalls in the market side of the city, anything you bought quickly being carried by the men that guarded you. Ortho and Rook were continuing their usual scanning of the rooftops as you marveled over the craftsmanship of the trinkets before you.

Riddle had been in a noticeably better mood even around Alistair despite the tragedy of the day prior. If anything, he seemed saddened but not dragged down by the events as if he had been freed of the obligation. It certainly made him brighten up even more when you told him Papa Hades agreed to pay for his schooling so he was no longer tied to that cruel Unicorn woman.

It was while you were examining a rather lovely sun-catcher that a sudden warmth wrapped around you, darkening your vision. You were about to question Malleus as to why he had moved to shield you when a particularly loud eruption of screams sounded out.

"It was the Lion! I saw the Lion did it! Get that beast away from the Human!"

You saw several people seemed to be antagonizing Leona who was actually standing close by with his Knobkerrie drawn. Not far from Leona was what looked to be a Pigeon man laying face down in the gutter with arrows of a different make strewn about him. Rook was quick to step between Leona and the hounding onlookers with his bow raised.

"Non! Roi du Lion was not the one who took out the archer. I saw him take aim at Mademoiselle Trickster, he is not to blame."

"So you, some Drider from outside the Queendom, think I didn't see what I saw with my own two eyes? How dare you!"

Ortho stepped in next, his screens enlarging as a quick video played back over. The video was of Rook quickly drawing his bow and firing at the pigeon man. The man in question was clearly aiming towards your group with his own notched arrow before he was pieced through the shoulder by Rook's golden and red arrow.

"You are wrong! Video doesn't lie! Leona didn't do anything wrong, stop being speciest towards him! Even if he had shot the assassin, he would have been doing it to protect (Y/n)! He is within his legal rights to protect her!"

The onlookers- who had been up in arms- now looked somewhat sheepish at the clear evidence to the contrary of any wrong doing. They glanced at one another before the most outspoken of them- a woman with multi-colored fins on the side of her face crossed her arms.

"Well, he could have done it!"

That sentence set an anger burning in your heart as you pulled out of Malleus' protective embrace, turning on your heel to face the woman who looked so smug. It was as if she were saying he was guilty of association and therefore deserved punishment of some kind. No way were you going to stand for anyone treating Leona as lesser.

"How dare you?"

"W-well, I-"

"How dare you make such false and baseless accusations against my chosen guards!? What, because he is a Nemean Lion you think you are allowed to show cruelty to him? You think you can claim such a horrendous lie and be believed, even with evidence to the contrary? How dare you speak so loudly and so incorrectly about someone else like that? Shame on you! Shane on your whole family for your backwards way of thinking! A Lion he may be, but his hands are cleaner than your own as you are so keen to sling lies at someone who is not in the wrong. For shame!"

"I- but I thought he-"

"You thought wrong! He is a guest in your city- a Prince- and you deem it appropriate to lie about him because of your own fragile view of reality? How quick you are to assign blame when you should be ashamed of yourself for jumping to the conclusion he was out of line!"

The woman was now shrinking in on herself, despite being much taller than you and dwarfing you in height. Though you were small and weaker compared to the towering giants around you, you could still bare your teeth. Naturally, those around her- who had been on her side- turned on her like a pack of dogs and began snapping their own disappointment and disgust at her actions.

"Don't all of you jump in like you are innocent in this matter! You all blamed him too and were on her side until I started shaming her. Shame on all of you as well! Have you no honor, no pride? Is this the decorum I can expect from the citizens of the Queendom of Roses? You all are the citizens, the blood of this Queendom, I would expect you all to uphold the best qualities of the Queendom, not the worst!"

The group had shied back from your admonishment, none of them willing to look you in the eye. It was around this time the Pigeon man was coming back around, raising his bow with an arrow notched as it pointed directly at you. He was fast, but Floyd was faster.

The bow snapped under the grip of the Eel Merman who sneered with bared fangs at the pigeon. It was clear most hadn't expected him to try again, especially with an arrow sticking out of his shoulder, so they were quick to detain him. Even those you scolded were feverish to stop the Pigeon man as if they were vying for your approval.

It seems even those met in passing were impacted by your aura. Why did something like this always have to happen? The more important thought was when Idia planned to get back to you about a weapon to protect yourself. Though, it wouldn't protect you from someone shooting arrows from the rooftops.

You had suggested many ideas to Idia and he promised to have something soon. For now you had to rely on those who protected you and proclaimed themselves to be your knights. It was mildly concerning to you how little you were concerned with this attempt, as it was not supposed to be so common place.

"We should return to the castle, Mon Trickster. One attempt surely means there will be another. Roi du Selkie is to be arriving today as well, seeing as the execution is slated for tomorrow. Something tells me we should not encourage anything more today."

"If you say so, Rook."

You allowed the Drider to pick you up, thankful Grim was back at the Palace of Roses with Alistair. He had asked the Alicorn for a few of his colorful feathers and the Alicorn offered the Kit most of his collection, which was a beautiful assortment of prismatic feathers. The kit agreed to stay and choose his favorite feathers of the grouping and Alistair promised to keep an eye on the kit.

At least Grim being at the castle kept him from having to endure the assassination attempt. Thankfully this Pigeon Harpy man was not as skilled a marksman as Rook and the superior hunter won. The soft fur of the Drider beneath you was a comfort as Leona fell into step with the Drider you sat on the back of.

"Why do you care so much about how they treat me, Mousey? It's nothing new to me."

"Because, you're a good guy, Leona. A genuinely good guy, and I appreciate the hell you have gone through for me. I don't care how they stare at me, but to blame you as if you deserve poor treatment for being a Nemean Lion? Hell no. I'm not letting that happen."

Leona smiled slightly, a warm expression as he gazed at you affectionately. He was used to everyone outside of Sunset Savana treating him disdainfully but it still warmed his heart to know you saw more than his species. Maybe Falena was right in believing you could help end the hate towards his Kingdom.

"You're too good to us, Mousey. Never change."

"I thought only RSA was the do-gooders of Sage island?"

"Don't even joke about switching over to that school. I look best in black, not their white uniforms."

You chuckled softly noticing that Leona indicated he would switch schools to stay near you if you went to RSA instead. Slowly, you rest your head against Rook's shoulder, feeling protected by the lovely Drider as he walked back to the Palace. He ensured to wrap his cape over you to shield you from the onlookers just in case.

The guards of the Palace were quick to receive your group as you all were looked over for any potential injuries. Word had no doubt gotten back to them about what had happened and what had been done to the perpetrator of the crime. It was while everyone was being checked that a loud and familiar voice cut in.

"Puppy!"

A wave of relief washed over you as a familiar black and white coated Selkie with a worried expression stormed into the room. You were quick to run straight into his arms as the Selkie wrapped them around you, letting you burrow your face into his fur as he sighed in relief. He gently pet your hair as you rest your head on his shoulder and accepted the parental affection.

"My poor puppy, being attacked and hunted by the scum of the world. I'm here now and I'll keep you safe. I also brought some gifts for you."

You pulled back to see the bag he had set down, the Selkie picking it up to hand it to you with a warm smile. His hand gently rest on your head as he moved his hand in a petting motion to soothe you. Despite everything, you did feel relief at seeing the paternal Selkie that seemed to care for you with his entire heart. He was a good fatherly figure, if nothing else.

Digging through the bag you realized there was a blanket with instructions handwritten. Apparently, this was to be your heated blanket and Idia decided to gift you with it early. He must have sent it with Divus after word got back to NRC of the events in the marketplace.

Beneath the blanket was a fine leather box no longer than your phone. Attached was a note.

'Hey, Hellkitty, made that knife you wanted. It doesn't run on magic the way other things do, but it will absolutely get the job done. It uses DNA recognition software I coded, so there are only three it won't hurt; You, Grim, and Papa Hades. Goes without saying this thing is dangerous, so use it sparingly! By the way, you can change the color of the blade with the adjuster on the side if you want to.

-Gloomurai'

Inside was a handle that seemed to have grooves to fit your hand comfortably. It sat well in your hand and hummed under your touch as if waking up in your palm. Slowly it formed a bright blade that glowed in your hand and sparked with energy. It enraptured you quite a bit as it harmlessly passed over your skin and shined against your flesh. Divus seemed less than pleased to see you were now armed, but he also seemed to understand you needed to be able to protect yourself.

"Careful, pup. I'll teach you how to wield that if you need, but we can't be too hasty with something so dangerous."

You nodded, relaxing your grip as the blade faded from the handle in your palm, returning to a dormant state. It made you feel a little better with it, but now you had to check in on Grim. Though you trusted Alistair to not harm the Hellcat, that didn't mean they couldn't get up to trouble while out of sight.

"Welcome back, (Y/n)!"

The Alicorn happily trotted forward, a pleasantly pleased feline sitting on the equine back of the prince. Attached to his bow over his collar were three bright feathers that shined with rainbows of their own and you recognized them as Alistair's. Sitting in the arms of the Alicorn seemed to be a pile of his feathers which he proudly held up to you as he trotted up.

"I heard what happened, are you okay?"

"As okay as I can be, but Rook is a good watchman."

"Well, Grimmy and I sorted through all of my feathers so he could find some he liked and we got an idea! Since you both like my feathers so much, I decided to make you a cloak using them! I don't have much use for them, so I figure you may as well have them!"

He held up the cloak in his arms, showing you the beautiful arrangement of feathers that made it look like a crystalline waterfall. Though it really didn't match with the outfits you had been gifted by the Queendom, it was still a lovely piece. You allowed the Alicorn to place the cloak around your shoulders and it felt much lighter than you had expected it to.

"Thank you, Alistair, it's beautiful."

"Well, I didn't want to sound too proud of my own feathers, but I am glad to hear you like them. They should help you out too, in the event anything happens."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Pegasus feathers- and Alicorn by extension- have certain characteristics to them that you don't find in a lot of species. For instance, if you fall off of something while wearing that cloak, you won't fall as fast due to the air magic properties of the feathers. Plus they are great at temperature regulation and impact absorption. Again, I don't really need them since I grow them, but they should help you."

You smiled at this, reaching out to gently pet the Alicorn's hair. He seemed somewhat surprised by the affectionate gesture, but leaned into your touch happily. Lilia did say petting was a good way to show affection and appreciation. Unbeknownst to you, several of your guards glared jealously at the Alicorn.

Grim was not bothered by their displeasure and instead was happy to leap into your arms, purring in elation. The kit seemed quite pleased with the feathers he added to his bow, likely having picked them himself.

"Clouds is so much fun, Mama!"

"I'm glad you had a fun time playing with Alistair today."

"I did, but Clouds said someone attacked you. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. Rook is a good shot and an even better lookout, so I wasn't in any danger."

"I like Spooder!"

"I know you do, dear. I like him too."

The kit continued to ramble off about his day and you patiently listened to the excitable kit expound and chatter about how much he enjoyed. Though the day was only half over, he still had to tell you everything that happened because he adored you. Around you, your many guards waited for their own moment to be in the blessed spotlight of your attention. Perhaps they should try befriending Grim to earn your favor.

~•§•~

The evening was setting down and you stood out on the balcony of your room. It gave a lovely view of the Queendom and you couldn't help but admire the beauty of it all. Part of you was sad that the stars were somewhat blocked out by the lights of the bustling city and you longed for a moment beneath the stars.

Resting in your hands was the floating skull bot that Kalim had enchanted, a few songs playing in your head as the skull was dormant. Most of the songs were- oddly enough- slow trailing waltzes that would be best suited for a slow dance. Something about the Palace of Roses and the city lights had your mind focused elsewhere even with the execution looming overhead. The next day was going to be a bloody event indeed, with that kind and boyish Alicorn acting as the official headsman for the execution.

"Enjoying the evening?"

The smooth voice of Malleus drew your gaze over your shoulder as the Dragon approached. His outfit much like the others yet pursuing a certain air of regality that paired well with his ethereal beauty. He was a nocturnal creature of the night and it certainly was shaping up to be an auspicious evening.

"As well as I can."

"Are you worried for what tomorrow may bring?"

"Of course I am."

The Dragon leaned next to you against the railing and looked out at the gentle glowing lights of the city before him. Malleus had been a good ally to you and a very useful friend despite how clearly he was impacted by your aura. If you were going to have everyone you've ever met become obsessed with you, you would at least need to keep strong allies at hand.

"What troubles you? I will always be an ear to listen, should you need to lay your worries upon someone."

"I'm worried about everything. From outside poachers trying their luck, to an Overblot taking place during the height of the event. It seems like- no matter what I do- I am constantly in danger of some kind or put on some pedestal and expected to be some paragon of kindness. I can't always be the voice of reason among madness."

"It does seem like anything that can go wrong, will go wrong more days than not. You are a species others would kill to keep, and one many of us would kill to protect. I do wish this place were safer for you, especially given how much this country previously cared for the Humans among them. If it is of any comfort, we won't allow anything to happen to you."

You sighed, nodding and conceding to his words as you tried to keep your mind from running off with anxious stress. Naturally, you were well aware of your fragility compared to other species, but you hoped with your new weapon that you would be able to protect yourself from others. It was still nice to know that Malleus intended to keep you as safe as possible.

"It's just so hard to keep my mind off of it all, you know?"

Malleus stood in silence for a moment before he picked up the skull from your hands, setting it on the banister and turning towards you. You turned to face him as he caught your other hand, kissing the back gently as he guided you to place your first hand on his shoulder. He slowly began to sway with you as if in a small dance.

The enchanted skull seemed to sense the change in mood and began to softly play a slow rolling song similar to what had been on your mind before Malleus showed. He seemed to take the music in stride and began slowly leading you around the balcony to the gentle tune that turned rich and soulful. Something about the way his eyes gleamed in the dark seemed to enchant you as you allowed the Dragon to lead you slowly through the dance.

It became harder to focus on anything else excepting Malleus as your concern for the next day fell to the wayside. He was at least a very pleasant distraction from what was to come.

Each slow movement had you melting further into the Dragon's embrace as you trusted him to move you to the music. It was nice to forget about things for a while and slowly dance into unawareness with the powerful mage.

He even began to slowly try and hum with the tune of the song, as if he were enjoying the moment of time spent with just the two of you dancing beneath the moonlight. Slowly your eyes began to close as your head rest against his chest, listening to the Dragon hum and croon while he led you through the sweet dance. You didn't know exactly when you began to nod off in the Dragon's arms, but he was quick to bring you to your bed when you stopped dancing.

The last thing that occurred to your brain was the sensation of your clothes being magically changed to an outfit meant for sleep before you succumbed to the gentle embrace of sleep.

Outside of your sugar spun dreams of dancing to gentle music, the Dragon purred adoringly. His clawed hand gently dragging over the skin of your cheek as he smiled in response to your peaceful expression.

"May your dreams be pleasant, and your rest deep, my precious (Y/n). My most beautiful jewel..."

[mybelovedsylus]

Listen team, it’s been one of those days. So here’s me service - aka it’s a really fluffy piece of Sylus just showing up and being there for MC. Literally just garbage fluff- enjoy, and feel free to send me any headcannons or requests you would like to see. I’m finally writing again for the first time in years, and it makes me really happy to explore these worlds again. As always I didn’t proofread - it’s just a thing with me, I know forgive it. If I reread to correct it, I will never be happy with it so it is what it is.

_____________________________________________________________________________

It was one of those days where she felt like she was about to unravel, like the next breath could very well result in the collapse of her being - or at least her sanity. It had started at work. Her coworker had decided to go behind her back on a mission, screwing her over for what was supposed to be her next assignment. Next, she found her lunch had disappeared from the communal fridge, and so as she’s sitting at her desk eating the stale protein bar from the back of her drawer she gets an email that causes her to cuss under her breath. Finally the day comes to a close, and as she’s walking back to her apartment, the sky lets out a torrential downpour, soaking her to the very core. Then when she gets back to her apartment, the power is out. Luckily Mephisto had already been waiting and her phone rang a mere moment after she came to the realization, flipping the switch repeatedly with no change in results. Although she wondered if Mephisto reported back how long she stared at his picture and name on the screen, an internal war raging as she tried to decide if it was even worth picking up. Ultimately she had, which is how she found herself standing on the side of the road waiting for Sylus to pull up.

The wind was biting now that the sun had set. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, pulling the coat closer to her frame as she tried to shrink back into the wall of the building. She’s tired, irritated, wet and her mood is darkening by the moment. When he finally pulls up, she’s ready to lose it. Not that anything is his fault, but her emotional regulation is shot at this point. At least, that’s what she thinks until he’s out of the car hauling her soaked and freezing frame directly into his warm embrace.

“Come on kitten, there’s a hot dinner waiting in the car and we’ll go N109 speeds back to base,” he mutters in a soft voice, his hand smoothing down her hair, and the dam breaks. She fists her hands into his shirt and finds herself sobbing into his chest. They’re both shocked. She’s never one to cry, to let her emotions out quite so freely, and yet at this moment there’s nothing she can do to hold it back. She feels his arm sweep under her legs as he hoists her with ease, setting her down in the passenger seat and jogging back over to the driver’s side. He turns the seat warmer to max, and passes her a bag full of her favorites from the burger place down the road.

“Let’s get you fed, showered, and then we can hang out in front of the fire with whatever you want playing on the tv,” he says softly, his hand reaching out to caress the side of her face and wipe a stray tear with his thumb.

She offers him a watery smile and a sniffle as he speeds away from Linkon City. She finishes her food and curls against the window, watching as the lights streak past. It’s in record time that they’re pulling into the familiar surroundings of the base, and for some reason just the sight of it settles something inside of her.

Sylus is at the side of the car in an instant, opening the door, and holding a hand out for her.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, and get you some dry clothes.”

He leads her straight to his room, clothes are already laid out on the bed next to fresh towels.

“You didn’t really make Luke and Kieran fetch all this did you?” She asks with a small chuckle, fingers trailing over the soft change of clothes and fluffy towel.

“They offered when I explained it sounded like you might need an escape,” he stated with a shrug. She felt the familiar sting of tears, and swallowed hard to keep them at bay. When was the last time she had felt this seen and taken care of?

“Thank them for me?”

“I gave them the night off, but I will send them a quick message to relay your gratitude. Take however long you need, I’ll get the fire started so you can warm up,” his tone is gentle as he tells her his plan. Then with a gentle kiss on the top of her head, he leaves the room, true to his word about letting her have whatever time she needs.

She emerges from his room roughly a half hour later, feeling a lot more human and a lot more settled than she had been all day. Smiling softly to herself she finds him lounging on the sofa, the fire roaring as he reads through some folder of information. He’s quick to put it down when he hears the soft click of his door shutting. He shuffles closer to the arm rest, leaving plenty of space for you to curl up next to him. He throws his arm around your shoulder as you settle and drags you into his space until you’re practically laying on him.

“Feeling better sweetie?”

“I am. I don’t know how you always seem to know what I need, but I can’t thank you enough,” she tells him, nuzzling into his chest, enjoying the way his fingers toy with the damp ends of her hair. He seems to hum as her words settle over him.

“I am here to help, all you have to do is ask.”

“I’m learning that. Thank you for being my safe place today,” she mutters, flashing him a soft grin before leaning up to place the gentlest kiss on his lips. The grin she gets in return is downright boyish, and she finds her own smile widening in response. Who knew the widely feared leader of Onychinus would be such a softie. Er, well, her softie. Also who knew she would let who a few months ago was her enemy see her at her most vulnerable; and let him comfort her until the weight of the world was more bearable?

“You have me forever, if you want it.”

[ribbonsncherries]

The Contract

Warnings: Lots of smut, P in V, Oral (both m and f receiving), BDSM!, Sexual Assault, Stalking, Angst, Alcohol mentions, Dominant and submissive plot, Drug Mentions, Virgin user, mentions of drugs.

Chapter 3

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x inexperienced! User

Summary: When her roommate and work partner gets sick, she is in charge of interviewing famous billionaire businessman Dean Winchester for his new bar's grand opening which leads to a passionate and tumultuous affair where she discovers his dark sexual desires, marked by control and dominance. The one catch? He doesn't do romance.

Based on the trilogy Fifty Shades of Grey.

(4500 words)

Divider credits: @dollywons, @anitalenia, @selysie

The next morning, (y/n) woke up to the sun brushing through the curtains. The sounds of the city burst through the walls. She groaned in pain from the massive hangover that she was stuck with. She turned around in bed to see herself in a hotel room. She doesn’t know where she is, which immediately makes her panic. She sat up and brushed her hair away. She looked on the bedside table to see some Tylenol and orange juice waiting for her with the notes beside them that said “Eat me” and “Drink me.” She took the pill and began chugging the orange juice from wanting something more than alcohol in her system. While chugging the juice, she heard a keypad sound from a short distance, almost as if someone was trying to get in. She got up from the bed and grabbed a vase. Lo and behold, Dean Winchester shows up with takeout boxes in his hand in a casual black tee and jeans. “Good morning (y/n).” He said casually. “It’s you? she asked, still holding the vase. He approached her slowly, “Surprised?” he said with a smirk, “How are you feeling?” He asked, his hand wrapped around her wrist. He brought down the arm that had the expensive vase. “What..?” she responded, still confused and intimidated by how close he was to her. She had to look up at him from how tall he was, his broad shoulders seemed to look down upon her. 

“I asked how you’re feelin’ sweetheart,” he asked once more. (y/n) nodded, “A lot better thanks…” She carefully snuck past him and sat down on the bed; she realized her clothes were much different, Her clothes she was wearing yesterday were carefully folded on a chair. She looked down again and saw she was wearing a regular white shirt that was a little too big for her, and when she realized she had no pants, she immediately covered herself with the sheets. “Did you put me in here?” she asked, looking around towards him. She saw him with the takeout box and fork; he started chewing on some bacon and eggs. “Mm-hmm.” he hummed. Dean sat down on a small sofa next to the bed, he began taking a clean fork and put down some toast and eggs on a new plate. “And you undressed me?” she asked confused.

Dean looked up at her while still chewing, “Didn’t have much of a choice, darlin’ it was either that or puke-stained jeans and shirt.” he said. (y/n) immediately had her hands over her mouth in shock. “Oh my god…” she mumbled to herself. Dean then got up from the sofa and carried a plate to her; he placed it on her covered lap, along with a fork and napkins. He sat down on the sofa and continued eating like nothing. (y/n) looked around the hotel room and saw she was in the only bed, and the sofa he was on was way too small to fit anyone. “Where did you sleep?” she asked. Dean gestured his hand next to her; she saw a messy side next to her with the blankets messed up. “Oh god did we…?” she trailed along. Dean immediately shook his head, 

“No, Necrophillia's not my thing,” he said immediately. (y/n) took a deep breath, “So we just slept…got it.”  (y/n) awkwardly saw the plate of toast and eggs on her lap and picked up the toast Dean got up and went to a different room, he came back a few seconds later with a fresh clean folded clothes, “I asked Benny to bring you some new clothes,” he stated putting them next to her on the bed. “Thank you, you didn’t really have to do that,” she said quietly. She continued eating her toast slowly with a slight hesitation. “I did, you shouldn’t have drank like that in the first place,” he grumbled. Dean began drinking his cup of orange juice when some had spilled onto his shirt. “Shit,” he mumbled, he took off his black shirt leaving (y/n) a whole view of his chiseled toned chest with a unique tattoo. “W-well, I like to test my limits when it comes to alcohol,” she said chewing on her toast. 

His eyes roamed at her with a grumble, “Test your limits…you put yourself at risk last night.” He said. He began to place his hands on the bed and began slowly making his way toward her, almost like a lion reaching for a lamb. “I know…” (y/n) said softly, mesmerized by Dean, she couldn’t move or get away, it was like she was trapped. Softly in a low tone, he said, “If you were mine, you would be able to move from the bed, let alone walk…” he got closer and closer to her. “Huh?” she said quietly, not knowing what to say. Dean leaned lower to her hand and bit the rest of the toast off, he looked up at her and held her hand, then began sucking the powder off her fingers slowly. Her breath hitched, and she immediately tried hiding the fact her thighs were clenched together.

He looked down at her with his piercing green eyes. “I’m gonna go take a nice shower, don’t wait up,” he said before getting up from the bed and gathering his clothes. (y/n) let out a long breath before turning her head towards him. “Dean, why did you bring me here?” she asked. He came out of the other room and looked at her, “You’re here because I’m incapable of leaving you alone.” she looked up at him up and down, “Then don’t…you didn’t want me with you anyways, why did you send me that album and shawl anyways? Pity or something?” she asked. Dean came closer to her “I thought because of the way I acted towards you I owed you an apology.” 

“For what,” she stated. Dean sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at her. “For letting you believe that…” he took a deep breath. “Listen, I don’t do romance, I don’t do the hand holding, movies, dinner.” “Why?” she questioned. “My tastes are very particular; you wouldn’t understand if I told you,” he said. “Try me. Enlighten me for all I care,” was all she could say. Dean brushed his rough hand on her cheek and then to her lips. Her eyes try to mimic the stare he gives him. 

After a few hours, Dean had already showered and was in fresh, new, casual clothes. (y/n) came out of the bathroom in the clothing that Benny had picked out. “Tell your friend he’s got good taste,” she said. She looked forward to seeing Dean writing some stuff down in his notebook. (y/n) gathered her clothes while Dean stood up and leaned on the desk. “What are you doing later, darlin’?” he asked. “Well, I have to go to my job till either 8 or 9, but besides that, nothing. Why?” she asked. Dean could only look her up and down. “I’ll have Benny pick you up,” he said. He came a little closer to her and softly touched her hair down to her lips. “The way I kill a million monsters to be able to kiss those lips,” he said. (y/n) looked up and stood still “I think I would like that too.” she said softly. Dean backed his hand away “I’m not going to touch you…at least not until I have your written consent.” he said. She tilted her head (y/n). “Written?” she asked, confused. “I’ll explain later, cmon let's get you home,” he said to her. 

As they both got on the elevator, (y/n) backed up to the back of the elevator while Dean stood beside her, “fuck the contract.” he said before immediately beginning to roughly kiss (y/n). Her hands were on his shoulders, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her while his other hand was down to her waist. Just as (y/n) was about to softly release a moan, the ting of the elevator alerted them. They both got away from each other and acted like nothing happened. (y/n) released a few short breaths and calmly combed her hair with her fingers before the door opened to businessmen. Dean looked down at her and smirked. 

When (y/n) and Dean got to her apartment, (y/n) heard music coming from inside. As she opened the door, they both widened their eyes to see Sam and Jessica halfway naked on the couch. Sam and Jessica immediately looked up from the couch. (y/n) turned her head to look away. “Samuel you dog, he had a good time last night. Clearly.” Dean said to (y/n), who was still looking away. “Dean shut it,” Sam said, picking up his pants. Jessica laughed as she looked at the situation. “Hey, you must be (y/n),” Sam said, holding his hand for (y/n) to shake. She awkwardly shook it “Nice to meet you.” she said. “Yeah, sorry for meeting me like this. I got a little sidetracked,” he said looking over at Jessica. (y/n) smiled “Oh no, it’s ok.” 

“Sammy, find your shoes, and let's get goin'.” Sam and Jessica had one more goodbye kiss before telling her, “Later, darlin’.” Sam then walked away from her to leave the apartment. “I’ll make sure to email you if anything comes up. You can also email me whenever you want to. I’ll see you tonight,” Dean said. (y/n) took a deep breath “My computer is acting weird; I can’t use it.” she said. “Alright, you have my number. Call me whenever you can. Later, darlin’,” he said, mimicking Sam, he then left the apartment and closed the door. “So Sam seems like a nice guy.” (y/n) giggled. 

“Nooo, don’t even start with that. If you’re seeing him again that means something must’ve happened.” Jessica teased. (y/n) could only sigh and walk slowly to her room tossing her house keys to the small bowl where Jessica’s were. “(y/n) you have to tell me what happened!” She squealed. “We have to get ready for work Jess!” she ignored the questions and kept going. “No, no, no, (y/n), I’m your best friend even if it’s TMI, just spill.” she encouraged. (y/n) smiled “You really wanna know?” Jessica nodded excitedly expecting (y/n) to say they had sex when in reality she said “We just kissed.” She nodded expecting more to come out of her. “Uh huh and then.”

“And then what? That was it,” she said. “That’s it?! Only once?! That's super weird.” (y/n) could only hum a yes. She began walking down the small hallway, “And I can tell that’s a new shirt, You never dress in those colors.” she said. 

(y/n) was typing away once again, focusing sternly on her computer, Jenna her secretary came in with a smile. “Hey (y/n), I made some lunch for myself last night and accidentally made too much. Thought you might want some, it’s your favorite.” she smiled. (y/n) took the container from her hands. “Thanks, Jen.” Before Jenna was about to leave she remembered something, “Oh I almost forgot your mom sent messages.” Jenna began going through the small sheets of paper. “She said ‘(y/n) I hope you’re doing well, Richard and I miss you and we came to tell you that Flora is graduating middle school in June and we would like you to come to the graduation party. Hugs and Kisses Mom and Richard.” (y/n)’s face scrunched, “As much as I love Flora’m not sure how to feel about the step monster” she giggled.

Jenna looked at her with her eyebrow up. “(y/n) I’m saying this as a friend, man up, I get it Richard kicked you out and your mom never defended you but your sister is 13, she needs her older sister, especially at that age, facetime, and text messaging isn’t enough. Besides you’re a badass editor and journalist for the biggest fashion magazine in the nation.” (y/n) smirked and nodded, “You’re right, I just hated that guy with every bone in my body since I was 16.” she said. “Any other messages Jen?” she asked. “Yes, another from Mr. Winchester.” (y/n)’s eyes widened as she got up, closed the door to her office, and dragged Jenna to her desk to sit down. “What did he say?” she asked. Jenna still a little surprised gave (y/n) the paper to which he wrote down the message. 

Hello, Ms. (l/n). I wanted to follow up regarding the agenda we discussed during our last meeting. As we agreed, it’s crucial to ensure we stay on track with the upcoming deliverables. I’ve attached the updated project plan, which includes all the necessary timelines and responsibilities.

Let me know if there’s anything else you need from my side before we proceed.

Best regards, Dean Winchester.

“Everything ok (y/n)?” asked Jenna. “Me? Oh yeah yeah, I’m fine. Is that all the messages?” she asked. Jenna nodded rapidly and got up from the chair to the door, “Thanks for lunch by the way.” (y/n) said. “Anytime.” (y/n) looked at the small sheet of paper and smiled. 

When she got out of work, Benny was standing next to a black car with tinted windows. (y/n) smiled and walked up to him, “Hi, Benny. Where’s Dean?” she asked. “He will be meeting us at your destination,” he said as he opened the car door. She climbed inside before saying thank you. As they made their way to a corporate office building Benny helped her out as he led her to an elevator. (y/n) ran her fingers through her hair in nervousness. As they reached the top her eyes widened when she saw a helicopter but no Dean. “I thought he was meeting us at our destination.” asked (y/n). As they began walking towards the helicopter Benny leaned a little to her ear and whispered “Don’t tell him I said this but Mr. Winchester is a bit of a wimp when it comes to flying.” He said. (y/n) looked up to him and smirked. “Do you know where I’m going?” she asked him. “You’ll see.” he sighed. (y/n) was being helped by the pilot to buckle in and adjust the headset on her head.

As they flew she was amazed by the sights of the city. The beautiful lights and buildings that look like they are coming up at her. When they landed there he was, Dean, was wearing a casual-looking tux with a white dress shirt with a regular black blazer. When the Helicopter had stopped the engine Dean went up to the doors and saw (y/n) coming down the helicopter, he took her hand as he led her downstairs. 

She walked down a dim hallway into a penthouse. Her steps are the only sound echoing along the room. Dean separated from her and went to a wine cellar only a few meters away. (y/n) curiously let herself wander around. She saw rows of guitars, some electric, and lots of acoustic. She ran her fingers softly along the strings. “You play a lot?” she asked turning towards him, he had wine glasses and a bottle of a newly unopened wine. “Yes, I’ve been playing for as long as I can remember,” he said. He placed the two wine glasses down on a glass table. But when she saw him opening and pouring the wine, there were sheets of paper gathered in a single spot on the table, curiosity took over and she came up to him slowly. “What’s this?” she asked. “It’s a nondisclosure agreement,” he said as he finished pouring the wine and sat down next to her at the head of the table. “To summarize it that means you can’t tell anyone anything about us. To anyone.” (y/n) looked up at him as she clicked the pen. “I don’t say anything other than ‘he was alright.” Her eyes looked into his for a quick moment before the sounds of the pen scratching the paper were lilting to their ears. She set the pen down and looked at him “What now..?” she asked softly.

She was still nervous, afraid to say something wrong that might upset him and kick her out. He leaned forward towards her and told her “Two things, I don’t make love…second I make pleasure, I fuck hard and rough to a point you won’t know your name and can only scream out mine.” she swallowed and let out a soft breath, all she could do was nod and look at him. He got up from the seat and offered his hand for her to take. “I’ll show you,” he said. (y/n) looked at his hand for a quick moment before taking it. He led her down the long hallway before stopping at a door. He looks at her and says “It’s important to know you can leave at any time and the both of will never talk of this again.” He said. (y/n) was confused for a moment, “What’s in there?” she asked. “I said I control people, I like it when people do my bidding, what's beyond here, lies upon that statement. Just know the helicopter is on standby to take you whenever you want to go.” 

“I can handle it, Dean open the door,” she said sternly. Dean looked into her eyes for a quick moment making sure she was serious, he took a deep breath before inserting a key into the door and turning it for the door to unlock. When he opened the door and stepped inside she was surrounded by darkness before he turned on the lights. The room was red and dim like his bars but inside lay toys..sex toys. “Oh my god,” she said under her breath. There wasn’t your typical dildo or vibrator. More like whips, buckles, and handcuffs, As she began walking around her eyes ran along the red room, or ‘playroom’ as Dean likes to call it. “Please, say something,” Dean said. She stopped at a row of whips lined along the wall. “Do women do this to you or-”

“No, I do this to women,” he said in a low tone voice, “with women, women who want me to.” he clarified. She started making her way around as he followed right behind her. “So what are you?” she asked turning to him curiously. “I’m a dominant,” he said. “What does that even mean?” she asked.

“It means I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me, and follow everything I say, to please me,” he said. (y/n) scoffed in shock, “To please you? Are there rules for this or something?” she said sarcastically, her smile dropped when she saw Dean’s seriousness on his face. “There are rules. If you follow them I’ll reward you, if you don’t you get punished. Simple as that sweetheart.” he said. “So, you’ll punish me, with these?” she asked. Dean simply nodded “Yes.’’

She looked around for one more moment, “So what’s in it for me?” she asked. Dean smiled at her with a grin. “Me,” he said in a low rumble tone. As they got out of the room (y/n) was still concerned yet somehow excited. Dean took her hand as he led her to the back of the hallway he opened another door to a room with a queen-sized bed, a vanity, and a huge window. But she stopped at the record player sitting on the bedside table, it resembled the one her mother broke on purpose since it used to be her dad’s. “Now, if we were to do this…this would be your room, you can decorate it however you like.” She crossed her arms and looked at him “So..you want me to move in with you?” she asked.

Dean shook his head “No, not full-time, only Friday through Sunday. We can negotiate the particulars. You know I don’t sleep with anyone, So I won’t sleep with you, I’ll only be down the hall.” he said. He took her hand in his once more and led her downstairs back to the living room where they sat on a couch. “So what if I decide to back out?” she asked. “I would understand it completely, but as I said, we will never speak of this to anyone ever.” (y/n) looked at him and observed his face before looking back to his eyes, “And…we won’t talk to each other again?” she asked. “No, I don’t do relationships, I told you…It’s just the way I am,” he said. Dean sighed as he looked back at her “I have a contract prepared, it’s all in there, you would review it and we negotiate from there.” he said. 

“Well, what if I’m not sure what to pick?” 

“Well, was there a time you had sex with someone and there was anything that you didn’t like doing?” he asked. She could only clear her throat and looked away. “We have to be honest princess for this to work,” he said. For years (y/n) was a bit embarrassing for her to say she was a virgin. She's done stuff to herself and masturbated a few times but that was it. She's never had time for love and relationship until now. “Well, it’s a bit complicated cause…I” Dean tilted his head in curiosity. “Cause what?” She looked at him once more and said “I haven’t done..it.” she mumbled. Dean was taken aback, “You’re still a virgin?” I just showed you-” 

“I know. I just, I’ve..done some stuff just not that,” she said. Dean leaned in closer to her and took her cheek with his hand. “Men must throw themselves at you, sweetheart,” he said roughly. She looked into his eyes and all she could see was lust. “No one caught my eye,” she responded. Dean leaned forward and kissed her. She had no hesitation to kiss back, Before she knew it Dean helped her up and walked her to his room, “Where are we going?” she asked. 

“We are going to fix this problem.” 

“I’m a problem?” 

He led her to a dark room, it was a regular bedroom, and no sign of the toys in sight. Dean’s hands slowly caressed her body, the lower she went the more he started bending down. His fingers unraveled the buttons on her jeans and brought them down slowly to show her lace panties. He kissed her thighs one at a time, the more he kissed her the closer he got to her wet core. He stood up and slowly lowered her down to sit on the edge of the bed. (y/n) looked up at him as he was doing the work, His fingers looped around the seam of her shirt pulling it up to take it off. As they kissed once more Dean moved his fingers to her back to unclasp her bra that was trapping her breasts underneath the white lace. He pulled the bra forward to take it off her, with her, her breasts now spilled out for him to see. He growled under his breath when he saw them, He leaned into the crook of her neck kissing and nipping at her neck, and (y/n) moved her head away for more access to skin. She moaned at the sensation of him kissing her sweet spot. He backed away and slowly pushed her down to the bed. She lay on the bed as Dean kissed her inner thigh and kissed her cloth-covered puss, his hands running up and down her thighs.

She moaned out his name softly and tilted her head back as she closed her eyes. Dean stood up and removed his shirt showing her once more his chest. He took off his pants and boxers and climbed onto the bed on top of her. He kissed her once more as his hands traced down to the valley of her breasts, to her stomach, then to the edge of her panties. He slowly took them off her and threw them to the floor where their clothes were lying. His hand went up her waist and cupped her breast slowly teasing her nipple. He leaned closer to her, trapping her against him and the mattress, his cock was running along her wet folds and finally, he pushed himself inside her. He let out a sharp gasp from the pain of his thick cock stretching her out. But she couldn’t help herself, she wanted more. Her hands went to his shoulders but he quickly took them off and pinned her hands above her. The sounds of sex were filling the room, “C’mon sweetheart you can take it.” he groaned out. Her back arched in pleasure and the new sensation she was so desperate for. Dean began sliding in and out of her pussy filling the room with squelching sounds from her pussy making contact with him balls deep. “So fucking good f’me.” His hands began tightening around her wrists which were still above her. He began going a little faster which made her tits bounce and her moaning rapidly.

His tip was hitting her g-spot just right she felt a knot in her stomach wanting to unravel. She could feel his cock twitching inside her as he felt her walls tighten. As her orgasm finally let go, liquid came out of her like a faucet. He let go of her wrists before pulling out to spill his cum all over her stomach. His neck leaned back in pleasure before looking down at (y/n) who was panting. He leaned down once more and kissed her softly. “You ok sweetheart?” he asked. She looked at him and nodded. He quickly got up and grabbed a wet towel, cleaning her stomach and her thighs. Quickly she fell asleep. 

She was awoken by the strumming of a guitar. (y/n) looked to her side to see no one but unraveled blankets and sheets. She grabbed a blanket and covered herself before heading outside to see where the music was coming from. She took a peek and saw Dean who was only in sweats strumming a guitar in the middle of the night. (y/n) came up behind him and kissed his neck slowly before going up to his jaw. Dean smirked putting down the guitar and taking off the blanket. He led her to his lap where his hands went up and down her body, he kissed her roughly before picking her up and fucking her once more. The sounds of moans and yelling out his name were all they heard for the next hour before they both fell asleep. 

Taglist: @applelovesposts @ladykitana90 @cevansbaby-dove

A/N: @steviespookie here damn don't chop chop me. (Im jk ilysm!) ok for once I focused on my school work instead of writing this so that's why it came out a little late today. But yay it's done, I'm already starting for the next chapters ahead so I can just post and write. The comments thoughhh omg yall are so sweet you're making me kick my legs. Hope you guys are staying safe and thank you for the notes and reblogs, and to more followers hello your first a/n on my blog! also if you have some advice on how to spice up my smut scenes PLZZZ LET ME KNOW. other than that thanks for reading and I'll see you guys next week!

[writeriguess]

hey! im so glad to hear you’re back to writing again!! your writings became such an act of comfort into my daily routine before so im so so happy you’re back!! <33

may i request eijirou kirishima x reader (in an established relationship) whereby after a date night, reader uses the train to go home and bf kiri accompanies her but the train was packed and the reader feels someone inappropriately touches her which made her uncomfortable, and kiri notices so he sorta swap sides with reader and comfort her, etc (it’s up to you on how you’d like to end it!)

author's note: I'm glad too <3 Thank you.

Steel and Shelter

The night had been perfect. A dinner date with Eijirou Kirishima always meant good food, warm laughter, and stolen kisses beneath city lights. You clutched his arm as you both walked toward the train station, your heart full from the joy of the evening. His hand rested over yours, thumb brushing your knuckles in absentminded affection. Even after months of dating, the little things he did still made your chest flutter.

"Did you have fun?" Kirishima asked, grinning down at you as the two of you descended the stairs into the station.

"Of course!" you beamed, squeezing his arm. "You always make date nights the best."

His cheeks dusted pink at your praise, and he let out a bashful chuckle. "Well, yeah, I gotta treat my girl right."

The station was busier than expected for this hour, but the two of you managed to slip onto the next arriving train. Unfortunately, it was packed. People stood shoulder to shoulder, filling every available inch of space. You barely had time to hold onto the overhead rail before the train lurched forward, pressing passengers even closer together.

Kirishima was right beside you, one hand gripping the rail, the other placed protectively behind you so you wouldn’t be jostled too much. It was a tight fit, but at least you weren’t alone.

Or so you thought.

A sudden, uncomfortable sensation made your stomach drop. A hand—one that definitely didn’t belong to Kirishima—skimmed against your hip before brushing over your lower back. Your muscles locked up as a sickening chill crawled up your spine. At first, you wanted to believe it was an accident. The train was crowded, people were pressed too close together—but then it happened again. This time, the touch was deliberate, lingering where it had no right to be.

Your fingers clenched the strap of your bag, your breath hitching. Panic coiled in your chest, but before you could react, Kirishima's voice cut through the heavy air.

"Hey, babe, switch with me."

His tone was light, casual even, but his crimson eyes were sharp, locked onto something—or rather, someone—behind you. Without question, you stepped aside as he maneuvered himself between you and the faceless stranger. His body was firm and unmovable, effectively shielding you. The warmth of his presence chased away the cold fear that had gripped you just moments ago.

You exhaled shakily, pressing closer to him. He didn’t say anything at first, just gently tucked you under his arm, his palm resting on your lower back in silent reassurance. But you could feel the tension radiating from him, the rigid set of his jaw, the barely restrained fury in the way his fingers flexed against your waist.

The next stop arrived, and as people shuffled to get off, Kirishima subtly adjusted his stance, maneuvering the two of you near the door. When the train emptied slightly, he finally turned his head just enough to glance at you.

"You okay?" His voice was softer now, laced with concern.

You nodded, though your throat was still tight. "I just...I felt—"

"I know," he murmured, eyes darkening. "I saw."

A flash of regret crossed his face, like he blamed himself for not noticing sooner, but he didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he reached down, intertwining his fingers with yours and giving them a reassuring squeeze. "I’ve got you."

The sincerity in his words made your chest ache. Kirishima had always been your safe place, your unshakable rock. Right now, his presence alone made it easier to breathe.

As the train neared your stop, he leaned down, pressing his lips against your temple. "When we get off, let’s take a longer route home. I don’t want you walking alone, and I could use some fresh air."

It was his way of making sure you were okay, without outright saying he wanted to keep you close for a little longer. You smiled up at him, nodding. "I’d like that."

When the doors opened, he guided you out, his arm still around you. The city air felt liberating compared to the stifling atmosphere of the train. And as the two of you walked, Kirishima kept you close, his presence a silent promise—one of safety, of love, and of unwavering protection.

Because with him, you were never alone.

[midnightmonochrome]

Vampire Hunter DCA x Vampire Y/N Snippet

You looked up and smiled as your favorite bot walked in. One of these days you were going to ask him what he did for work. How he was able to come in this late... or rather this early in the morning. It was currently almost 2am and here he was. "Starlight!" Sun called in the cheerest voice possible for someone awake at 2 in the morning. He stepped slightly to the side and you could see someone behind him. It was Moon, Sun's partner.

"Hello Sun, hello Moon." You said with a smile. "What can I get for you two this fine and not cloudy night."

"What us coming here to see the most beautiful barista in the city isn't reason enough." Sun said leaning over the countertop. You couldn't help but to giggle at him, your face turning red.

"Sure, sure. So you're usuals?" You said with a grin and wink. This seemed to get him going. He took a step back and grinned.

You started working on getting both of their drinks. Moon hadn't spoken a word but you and him normally didn't talk all that much. Instead it was just comfortable silence.

You didn't really mind it. Truth was, you didn't like being alone here at night and it wasn't like you got all that many costumers. You really only kept the store open at night due to you not being able to work during the daytime hours and because of the few costumers you did have that came in at night.

That being Sun and Moon. The fear of meeting another vampire made a shiver run down your spine. You didn't want to be alone and have to face one of them. So having one of them in the shop with you at least put you a little at ease. There was the fear of a group of them showing up and trying to hurt one of them. But since meeting the two of them, you hadn't seen any vampires lurking.

You knew one day your luck would run out.

"Yes, hehe. Well, we also had a reason for coming. " Sun said before nudging Moon. There was a moment of silence before Moon cleared his throat.

"Would you like to go on a date with us tomorrow night?" He said not looking at you. You blinked, setting down their drinks before smiling.

"I'd love to."

[mqriuss]

A Gift

。。。The year is 2080 and it's Rindou's birthday. No one knows besides the bartender who gave him a birthday discount after a long day of work. He thinks it's better this way, but a surprise awaits him at home.

contents: rindou x fem!reader, cyberpunk setting, rindou uses a gun (no one gets shot)

divider by cafekitsune

note: how do we feel about this chat :'D this is word vomit but i do have more ideas for this so 👀

— 20 October, 2080

Rindou stepped into his apartment, the metallic scent of blood still clinging to him. He locked the door behind him and with a sigh, rolled his shoulders—ready to crash on the couch.

A soft chime rang through the dimly lit apartment. The holo-screen on his table flickered to life, sensing his presence near it. A voice message from his regular client, Renji.

"Rindou, my man! Happy birthday—don’t ask how I know. If I had known earlier, I would’ve commissioned someone else today. You do good work, man. I just sent you a tip. Oh, and I left you a gift at your apartment. Have fun with her!”

His eyes narrowed. What the hell?

His gaze averted to the corner of his living room—a white, circular platform, and a cable running along its base. That wasn't there before. What's more is that nothing was on it. He stiffened and his jaw tightened. Did he actually enter his apartment?

Cautiously, he stepped closer. His metal fingers clanking on his left side, ready to draw his weapon if needed.

"Welcome home!"

A voice, warm and melodic, breaks his focus. Rindou moved on instinct. His cybernetic arm whirred as a hidden gun emerged from his palm, his other hand steadying the barrel. He turned sharply, eyes locked onto the source of the voice.

You.

A girl stood in front of him, frozen in place. No further movements that showed she was a threat. Just wide eyes staring back at him.

The neon lights from the city outside the window illuminated your figure. Something about the way your skin looked under the light seemed odd. An Aptroid, he concluded.

The gun in Rindou's hand soon lowered, and his grip faltered. Uncertainty flickered in his purple gaze as he heaved deep exhales.

He took heavy steps towards you and grabbed you by the chin, eliciting a gasp from you. Catching a glimpse of your eyes, he sees fear but ignores it.

"Open your mouth and lift your tongue," he demanded lowly, yanking slightly at your jaw and you made a sound in confusion. "I said lift your tongue!" he repeated with a slight growl in his voice.

He forced your jaw open and you did as told. Your furrowed eyebrows tensed further when Rindou fished out a flashlight from his pocket, turned it on, and projected the light into your mouth.

Ten numbers, a code every Aptroid has. He didn't bother to memorize your code, only needing confirmation of what you were. He clicked the flashlight off, shoving it back into the pocket of his pants.

He spared you no more looks, making his way to the living room table where the holo-screen appeared in front of him. Tapping on it a few times, there was a ringing sound before a holographic figure of Renji was projected into the room.

"Hey, Rindou! No need to thank me for her," Renji waved him off with a smug expression.

Rindou scoffed, almost wishing he could point the gun towards Renji's hologram. "You have two minutes to explain or I'll assume you're using her to spy on me."

Renji's eyebrows shot upwards, looking at him then at you—standing in the corner like a kid on timeout. He laughs, and he laughs hard. "You really think I'd do that after all the times you've helped me? C'mon, man, that's cruel."

Rindou's glare intensified at the lack of explanation. "You sent a damn Aptroid to my apartment without telling me! Either you're stupid, or you're watching me through her eyes."

"She's not a spy, dumbass," Renji rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "Her model's not for combat and she's yours. Disconnected from her manufacturer's network, no tracking, no data feeds, nothing. Custom settings, too. Wasn't sure what kind of personality you'd like, so I kept her on default. If you ever wanna change that, put her on that platform."

Rindou glanced your way, and he almost felt bad seeing how lost you seemed. Almost. The amount of emotion you showed was nearly laughable considering what you were.

"About time I changed my lock to a password," he muttered to himself and sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Look, you work too much," Renji says. "Thought you could use a little company."

Rindou gritted his teeth, shutting his eyes in annoyance. "I don't need com-"

"Then get rid of her," Renji interrupted him. "But just saying, I paid a lot for this. You could at least try and see what she can do first."

His scowl deepened every time he looked Renji's way. The latter winked, making him roll his eyes. "Hope your birthday's more eventful this time around. Don't say I never did anything for ya." The call ended with that, and Renji's hologram flickered out.

Then there was silence.

The gun he held retracted back into his cybernetic arm. He sighed for the nth time that day before finally looking at you again. You stood there useless, but waiting—like for some kind of command.

"…You got a name?" He asked, his voice rough.

Your eyes lit up a little at that. "LIV," you said and Rindou pursed his lips.

"That's your brand's name," he replied under his breath, hands on his hips as he took a few steps to look out the window.

"You're right. I wasn't personally named," you corrected yourself, getting quieter.

"Figures." His eyebrows twitched upwards, watching the countless ads that played outside until he saw yours.

LIV — because Love should never be complicated.

[noitsjusttaylor]

The 'Lost' Midnights Aesthetic & Big Taylor

When Taylor Swift announced her surprise album Midnights to the world, she was quite literally covered in glittering jewels.

But when the promotional materials for Midnights were posted that night, everyone was really surprised by the aesthetic it seemed to have. No one could guess a genre. We thought it would be gut wrenching and 70s inspired, based on the photos and the blurb about her 13 sleepless nights.

We were fully prepared for our hearts to be ripped out of our chests, and hear a Taylor that was so incredibly raw and tragic. Gaylors specifically ere intrigued by the line

“We twist in our self-made cages and pray that we aren’t - right this minute - about to make some fateful life-altering mistake”

We wondered if she was about to blatantly tell the world what we had seen for years.

But when the album came out, people were shocked for a more synth, upbeat pop album. When she went to events she was star studded (literally) and glammed out. Or “bejeweled” you could say.

At first, people were surprised by the switch up. Where was the brooding darkness? Where was the 70s ballads? We tried to understand why these two sides didn’t seem to match up. As if the aesthetic of the promotion and the album itself were disconnected.

In comes the anti hero music video.

Suddenly, we see the two aesthetics side by side. Telling us that these two Taylors exist simultaneously.

This music video happens to also be where we are introduced to big Taylor. While she’s dressed a lot like the 70s version of Taylor above, but we know they are not the same Taylor because the video shows us so.

Big Taylor is the elephant in the room. She’s the one that makes Taylor too big to hang out…some think it’s because she’s “too famous” but I argue it is more about how she feels about herself. About how she feels like she is too big… takes up too much space.. too loud and too awkward. Something that she had to actively suppress about herself to get people to like her.

So why does big Taylor break my heart?? So many reasons!

The tour visuals truly show what big Taylor represents… it’s her. The real her. Not the sparkly Taylor that’s on stage, but the one who is so frustrated and over it and wants to tear down the city.

In the visual (which is played during Anti-Hero), big Taylor stands up and starts screaming and stomping her feet.

She’s massive and in any other situation, she would be the focus of the crowd… but she’s not… small glittery Taylor is. Even in TikTok videos, you can see the camera pan away from big Taylor.

Sparkly Taylor is the persona. We refer to her at Taylor™. She is the one performing I Can Do it With a Broken Heart. She’s the one who exists to survive in this profession.

And even when she shows us more of her… the duller, neutral, scared, sad her… all anyone cares about is the guitar smashing sparkles.

To the point where now, the sparkles and bejeweled Taylor is what everyone sees midnights as…

In fact, I think that everyone was so distracted by the sparkles, they forgot the prompt behind the album… Her 13 sleepless nights. There are meanings to these songs that are not immediately obvious. But everyone just wants the sparkles.

Did you forget about this Midnights Aesthetic? Let me know your thoughts!

This post is also available on Twitter, Substack, & Bluesky.

[the-fyre-flie]

Part 3 (ish) to 17 year old Bruce Wayne becoming 8 year old Dick Grayson's adoptive father, and becoming Batman and Robin together hehehe. PART 1 PART 2

-

"Can I came with?"

Dick peered over the cold granite countertop to stare at Bruce, eyes wide as the man tried to organize his things before leaving for his first ever night patrol. His hero costume was pitiful, a black get up he had asked Alfred to help make using a plethora of different materials. Sports gear and a bullet-proof vest for protection, visible stitches along the chest and legs, a cowl Alfred had knitted himself. It was shoddy but functional until he could find someone to produce real gear. Perhaps his own company could produce it... His goal was to figure out the city's night routine, not fight... yet. He had been planning this for years now, but after figuring out that the death of Dicks parents wasn't an accident, he opted to start his mission early. Waiting until he was 20, like Alfred wanted, wasn't an option anymore. The cave under the manor hadn't even been retrofitted with modern tech, and was still unusable, but here Bruce was, pulling on the cape for his costume.

"No, Dickie. Gotham isn't safe at night. You know this." Bruce huffed. He had told Dick to go to bed hours ago, but the kid was stubborn. It had been a few months, and Bruce was finally feeling the full force of a nosey 8 year old child.

"You look like a bat." Dick commented, shuffling a bit to climb onto the counter, much to Bruce's chagrin. The boy was so flexible and agile, it was impressive how easily he did everything Bruce told him not to.

"Do I?" Hm. That hadn't really been the goal. As a kid, he had hated bats. They infested the caves under the manor, and he had a few run-ins with large swarms of them, but he had mostly grown out of that fear. Tho... perhaps this was a good thing. "Are bats scary to you, Dick?"

"No." Dick scrunched his nose as he settled on the counter, sitting so his legs swung over the side. "But your hood thingy looks like bat ears. You look big."

Bruce turned to find a mirror a few paces down the hall, staring at himself. The cowl, a knitted hood that covered the bottom half of his face, did indeed look like a bats ears. It had settled with the hood sagging down the center, with the sides stuck up like ears. Combined with his wide shoulders and tall stature, he did look imposing. Albeit a little goofy.

"Do you think thugs would be scared of a big bat man?" Bruce turned, smiling as he reached to grab Dick under the arms, easily lifting him off the counter. Dick giggled madly, flailing against Bruce's chest, demanding to be let down. Bruce was so happy that Dick had finally opened up. He had worried the boy might never smile again after what happened. He felt so responsible for everything...for the city, for the people, for Dicks happiness and safety.

"I'll be home by 6am, kiddo. Wait for me."