#I deliberately cut myself off here but

[vipetas]

hide and seek

Heart racing, you gently eased the closet door shut, nestling yourself deeper inside of it. With a hand pressed over your mouth to stifle your breaths, you strained to hear any approaching footsteps.

Silence enveloped the room, and you allowed yourself to breathe a soft sigh of relief. This was a good hiding spot, you thought to yourself. Surely, he’ll never find–

“Oh, darling! Where are you?”

Your hand instinctively shot back to cover your mouth. Shit, how did he know to look for you in this room?

You held your breath, listening intently. Before long, you heard it: the slow, deliberate approach of footsteps. Each one seemed to echo the pounding of your heart as you braced yourself for the closet doors to be flung open.

Yet, it never happened. Instead, three soft knocks on the closet's doors signaled his presence on the other side. You pressed farther back into the closet, trying desperately to remain unnoticed, but it was too late.

“There you are!” Alastor's voice rang out as he swung open both doors. As light flooded into the cramped space, you met his gaze, a mix of annoyance and amusement crossing your features

“Alastor!” you scolded in a hushed tone, careful not to attract further attention. “You cheater, how did you find me?”

With a chuckle, the Radio Demon grinned wider as he leaned against the door frame.

“Why, darling, I simply followed the sound of your beating heart. It led me right to you. Quite the delightful melody, if I do say so myself.”

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at him, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed any irritation you might've felt. “Alright, Romeo, fair enough,” you quipped as you stood up, brushing off your clothes.

Alastor responded with a playful wink, extending his hand towards you as an offer to help you out of the closet. You accepted, feeling a subtle thrill course through you as your fingers intertwined. It was a sensation that had become familiar, one that never failed to stir something within you. Just as you were about to comment on it, the moment was abruptly cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps.

In an instant, Alastor swiftly pushed you back into the closet, joining you inside before you could even react.

The confined space of the closet felt even smaller with both of you squeezed inside, pressed close together to accommodate for the lack of room. In the dim light, your gaze met Alastor's, and he placed a finger to his lips, motioning for you to remain quiet. You nodded, your heart fluttering ever so slightly not just from the fear of being discovered but also from his proximity.

Still, you waited, holding your breath. Each second seemed to stretch into eternity, but after a moment, you heard someone gingerly enter the room. It wasn't unexpected, but what caught you off guard was the sudden voice that shattered the stillness.

“Hello? Is anyone in here?” Charlie called out, her tone carrying a playful curiosity.

Alastor, ever perceptive, sensed the gasp rising in your throat. With a swift movement, his hands slid to your sides, pulling you even closer to him. His lips hovered just inches away from yours, barely brushing against them as he whispered, “Stay calm, my dear.”

For a moment, you forgot about the game, about the risk of being caught. As Charlie's voice lingered in the air, Alastor's grip on you tightened subtly, sending a delightful cascade of shivers down your spine. The way he held your gaze was both unnerving and intoxicating, and you felt yourself melting as his fingers began tracing the curve of your sides, leaving a tingling warmth in their wake.

In turn, your own hands sought solace in the fabric of his suit, fingers curling around the material. As you leaned into his embrace, you purposefully brushed your lips against his again in an almost kiss, and a low, deep hum rumbled from within Alastor’s chest.

You could feel his frustration, palpable even with the scant distance separating you. It was a gap neither of you could ensure for a moment longer.

But reality came crashing back down as Charlie’s voice pierced through the silence again.

“Hello! I know somebody’s in here!” She said, her presence looming larger as she continued to search the room. Her movements became increasingly frantic as she searched behind curtains and under the bed, leaving you with the unsettling certainty that the closet would be her next target.

Glancing back at Alastor, you were somewhat surprised to find his gaze still fixed solely on you, seemingly unconcerned with Charlie's search outside. His hands suddenly left your sides, and you found yourself missing his touch. But before you could dwell on the absence for long, they found a new resting place, cradling the back of your head with a possessiveness that both startled and thrilled you.

Without warning, he closed the gap between you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that bordered on primal. It was a stark departure from his usual gentleness, leaving you momentarily bewildered by the sudden intensity. Yet as the kiss deepened, any thoughts of protest were quickly swept away by the overwhelming heat rising between you.

Eagerly, you opened your mouth for him, craving the sensation of his claim, and claim you he did. Pulling your hair back as if he couldn’t get close enough, his tongue brushed against yours, sending waves of pleasure that shot through your veins, setting every nerve ablaze with desire. Lost in the dizzying sensation, your body acted on its own accord as it arched into his touch, your bodies melding together seamlessly. Each curve and contour fit together perfectly, as if they were two halves of the same whole.

As the moment's intensity threatened to peak, you suddenly heard the soft creak of the outside door opening. Your heart lurched in your chest, and you instinctively pulled away from Alastor, eyes wide as you fixated on the crack of the closet door, where a sliver of light seeped through.

Alastor, however, remained unperturbed. His lips trailed kisses across your jaw, his hands returning to your sides with a firm grip that pooled your insides with warmth. Despite the interruption, you found yourself melting into his touch, your arms wrapping around his neck as you surrendered to his desires, even as a part of your mind remained on high alert.

“Hey, did you find anyone?” Vaggie’s voice rang out.

The sound of her footsteps drew closer, accompanied by Charlie's response. “No luck yet, Vaggie. But I'm sure they're hiding somewhere around here.”

“Did you check the closet?”

The innocent question sliced through the air like a blade, catching you off guard. Every fiber of your being urged you to break away from Alastor, to regain control of the situation before it spiraled further out of hand. But as you struggled to gather your thoughts, Alastor's lips crashed against yours once more, effectively drowning out your protests.

“Alastor,” you whispered urgently against his mouth, your attempts to push him away met with stubborn resistance. Despite your efforts, he remained as sturdy as a brick wall, his fervent kiss consuming you with an intensity that left you powerless to resist.

“I didn’t!” Charlie gasped, and in the next instant, the unmistakable sound of their approach shattered any remaining pleasure you felt. Desperation flooded through you as you attempted to push Alastor away once more, but he only seemed to draw impossibly nearer, enveloping you in an almost suffocating embrace as his tongue boldly invited itself into your mouth.

This is it, you thought. You’d never hear the end of being caught in such an embarrassing situation. You could already feel heat rushing to your cheeks as you struggled between surrendering to Alastor’s intoxicating taste and preserving your dignity.

Bracing yourself for the inevitable, you tightly shut your eyes.

However, embarrassment never came. Instead, you felt a sudden shift, like being caught in a whirlwind of energy. Colors blurred and twisted around you, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as if your very essence was being pulled apart at the seams. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the sensation ceased, and you found yourself standing in Alastor’s radio tower, his hands still resting upon you.

“You're such a cheater!” You playfully scolded, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge with your hand.

“Cheater? Me?” Alastor replied with mock innocence, his grin widening as he shrugged nonchalantly. “I merely... bent the rules to my advantage.”

With a shake of your head, you chuckled softly, finding it impossible to stay upset with him for too long. “Well, you certainly have a knack for bending them,” you commented with a smile.

“Would you prefer that I bend you?”

Alastor's remark sent your heart racing, your cheeks warming at the implication. Emboldened by the rush of adrenaline, you closed the distance between you, your fingertips lightly grazing his cheeks as you brought your lips tantalizingly close to his.

“Maybe I would,” you replied, the words barely a whisper. Alastor chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin as his hand slipped to the small of your back.

“Well then, my dear,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive whisper. “Let's see just how much you can handle.”

[moonpascal]

VOODOO DOLL II T.N

summary: theo can’t get you out of his head. which could only mean you put a spell on him. or loosely based on a song

warnings: mean theo, language, hurt/comfort l WC 3.4k

authors note: fourth time trying to post this so let’s see how that goes

“She’s not going to magically appear if you keep staring at her table,” Mattheo muttered, irritation clear in his tone. Theo scoffed but kept his gaze fixed on the empty spot at the Gryffindor table.

Theo couldn’t stand you. That’s what he told anyone who would listen—you were too nice, too annoying, and every little thing you did got on his nerves.

The way you helped anyone in need, no matter if they treated you unfairly in the past. How you smiled at everyone and everything. Always in a good mood, when Theo couldn’t fathom why.

“Good morning, guys! Did you finish the Arithmancy homework from yesterday?” Your cheerful voice cut through his thoughts, nearly making him jump. Speak of the devil, he thought bitterly.

Theo rolled his eyes at your question. “Forgot again, or just getting lazier?” he sneered.

But your smile didn’t waver; if anything, it grew brighter. “Actually, I just need help with sections 6 and 8. I stayed up all night and still couldn’t figure them out!”

He couldn’t understand why you always talked to them—why you always acted so friendly with the rivals of your house. Maybe that was another reason he couldn’t stand you; it felt like you were deliberately trying to get under their skin.

“Sucks to be—” Mattheo began, but Theo jabbed his elbow into his side, cutting him off with a sharp look.

“Just here, take my paper,” he grumbled, pulling out his parchment and thrusting it toward you. Your fingers brushed his briefly, and Theo jerked his hand back as a tingling sensation shot through him.

“Thanks, Theodore!” you beamed, practically skipping back to your table, which only irritated Theo more.

“What the hell was that?” Mattheo demanded.

“Fuck if I know. I couldn’t stop myself,” Theo muttered. “I wanted to tell her to piss off and figure it out on her own.” He scowled, shoving his food away, his appetite suddenly gone.

“Maybe she’s got you under some spell, Nott,” Draco chuckled. “Drink anything suspicious lately?”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Theo snapped, the idea unsettling him. The thought of you having that kind of influence over him was ridiculous.

He could still feel the ghost of your touch, as if you were still caressing his hand, even though you were now back at your table, tongue out in concentration as you scribbled down the answers.

“Don’t get why she didn’t just ask Granger for help,” Lorenzo chimed in, mouth full of food.

“Because Hermione wouldn’t just give her the answers. She’d explain it step by step—which she doesn’t have time for—since it’s her next class,” Theo replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The boys exchanged knowing smirks. “And how exactly do you know that?” Blaise teased.

Theo realized how that sounded, but before he could defend himself, you reappeared to hand him his paper back.

“You’re a lifesaver, Theodore! I owe you one,” you said, squeezing his bicep in appreciation before heading off to class early as ever.

“Yeah, whatever,” Theo muttered, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of your touch, the burning sensation in his chest, and the rapid beat of his heart whenever you were near.

Once you were out of sight, his heart began to slow, but a different ache settled in. It was almost like he missed you—which was ridiculous. He shook the thought from his mind immediately.

Maybe someone did slip him something; whether it was a prank or an accidental slip-up, he had to get rid of it, and fast.

———

Days passed, and Theo only felt worse. He constantly thought you were nearby, even when he knew you were in a different class on the other side of the school. Your touch was ingrained in his mind, as if he could still feel you. Some days, it felt like you were right next to him, invading his personal space, only for him to see you across the field, chatting with your friends.

His friends were no help when he mentioned it. They just teased him endlessly on having a crush on a Gryffindor, which he quickly shot down.

You were an annoyance. Someone who bugged the hell out of him, and that was it—nothing more.

To make matters worse, you both got paired up in Muggle Studies. A class he took just to piss off his dad was now backfiring spectacularly.

The assignment was to write an essay about what Muggles believed to be ‘witchcraft,’ which seemed simple enough—if only he didn’t have to work with you.

“Okay so I was thinking of voodoo dolls, because I think others are gonna pick psychics or magicians,” you started, flipping through some pages of your textbook, “and I think we could get extra points if we somehow have a physical doll!”

He could feel your excitement radiating off of you and it was nauseating but he nodded and agreed. You went on and said you would send an owl to your mother to see if she could buy one from the shops in your hometown.

Theo barely paid attention as you rambled on about your plans for the essay. The way you spoke with so much enthusiasm, your eyes bright with excitement—it was almost unbearable. Not because it annoyed him, but because it made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t ready to confront.

“Do you even care about this project?” you asked suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. You were watching him with a hint of concern in your eyes, which only made him feel more unsettled.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I care about passing,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. “But I don’t see why you’re so invested in it.”

You shrugged, the usual brightness in your expression dimming a little. “I just think it’s interesting, that’s all. And maybe…” You hesitated, then added, “I thought it’d be nice to work with you.”

Theo blinked, caught off guard by your honesty. His initial reaction was to snap back with a sarcastic comment, to push you away as he always did. But something stopped him.

“Why?” The question slipped out before he could stop himself.

You looked down, fiddling with your quill. “I don’t know. You’re different from most people, Theodore. You’re not afraid to be yourself, even if that means being a little rough around the edges.”

He stared at you, stunned into silence. Was that how you saw him? And why did it make his heart skip a beat? He could feel his defenses cracking, the walls he’d built so carefully starting to crumble.

“Anyway,” you said quickly, as if embarrassed by your admission, “I’ll let you know if my mom finds a voodoo doll. We can meet up later to go over the details?”

“Yeah… sure,” he replied, his voice sounding far away. He watched as you gathered your things, flashing him another bright smile before leaving the classroom.

Once you were gone, Theo let out a frustrated groan, slumping back in his chair. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never let anyone get under his skin like this before. Yet, with you, it was like he had no control over his own emotions. There was something wrong with him.

The thought of you saying he was “different” kept replaying in his mind. It wasn’t an insult, but it wasn’t exactly comforting either. He hated the idea that you could have this effect on him.

As the days went on, he found himself increasingly distracted by you. The way you laughed with your friends, the way you focused on your studies, the way you went out of your way to be kind to everyone—even to him, despite how he treated you.

The next time you met to work on the project, Theo couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering to your hands as you gestured animatedly, explaining some new idea you had. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have those hands touch him again—whether by accident or design.

When you handed him a book, he purposely brushed his fingers against yours and once more, he felt that now-familiar jolt of electricity. But this time, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let the contact linger for just a moment longer, savoring the warmth that spread through him.

But as soon as the moment passed, he cursed himself silently. He couldn’t let this happen. You were a Gryffindor, and you represented everything he claimed to hate—yet, here he was, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, noticing his distant expression.

“No,” he said quickly, forcing a smirk. “Just thinking about how ridiculous this project is. Muggles and their superstitions.”

You laughed, and the sound sent another pang through his chest. “It is pretty silly, isn’t it? But it’s kind of fascinating too, don’t you think?”

Theo shrugged, playing it cool. “Sure, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I am,” you said with a grin. “But maybe by the end of this, you will be too.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no real malice behind it. “Don’t count on it.”

As you continued working, Theo found himself glancing at you more often, watching the way your lips moved as you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you got excited about something.

After the study session, Theo left with an unfamiliar smile tugging at his lips, lost in thoughts of you. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice Mattheo approaching from behind in the hallway.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Mattheo said, his voice laced with curiosity. “What’s with the grin? Did you win a fight?”

Theo scoffed, quickly wiping the smile from his face and replacing it with his usual scowl. “Salazar’s sake, no, I wasn’t in a fight.”

“Then why are you so happy? Snog someone? Wait—don’t tell me, did you snog Bug?” Mattheo teased, his tone dripping with mockery, fully aware of how much Theo loathed that nickname recently.

“Stop calling her that,” Theo snapped, shaking Mattheo’s arm off and feeling his good mood souring by the second.

“Oh, since when do you come to her defense? Especially when you’re the one who started calling her that,” Mattheo retorted, raising an eyebrow. The nickname had been an impulsive jab, something Theo came up with in a moment of annoyance. Now, it felt like a cruel joke.

Ignoring Mattheo, Theo continued down the hallway toward the Slytherin dorms, determined to work on his portion of the essay. But Mattheo wasn’t ready to let it go.

Once they reached the Slytherin common room, Mattheo seized the opportunity to stir the pot. “Hey, guys, doesn’t Theo seem a little… different lately?” he announced, adopting an exaggerated infomercial voice. “We barely see him, and when we do, he’s actually smiling.”

Theo halted in his tracks, irritation bubbling up inside him.

“I noticed that too,” Pansy chimed in, her tone dripping with curiosity. “He’s been sneaking off a lot.”

“Yeah, what’s the deal, Nott?” Blaise added, his voice teasing. “Too good for us now?”

Theo rolled his eyes, adjusting the stack of books you had recommended in his arms. “I’ve just been busy, you know—actually doing schoolwork.”

“Sure, and by ‘schoolwork,’ you mean hanging out with Bug,” Draco chimed in, his grin widening. “I thought you couldn’t stand her?”

“You lot are a bunch of tossers,” Theo shot back, his patience wearing thin. “Yes, I’ve been working with her because we got paired up for a project. That’s all.”

They exchanged skeptical glances, sensing there was more to the story.

“What’s the project about?” Pansy asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Theo let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s an essay on Voodoo dolls for Muggle Studies.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Mattheo’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Voodoo dolls? Are you serious, Theo? You’re supposed to be the smart one here!”

Theo frowned, confused by Mattheo’s sudden outburst. “What the hell are you on about now?”

“Voodoo dolls, you daft git!” Mattheo exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat. “They’re Muggles’ way of trying to control people! Haven’t you been paying attention? She might have one of you—that’s probably why you’ve been acting so strange!”

Theo stared at Mattheo, a mix of annoyance and unease settling in. The idea was absurd—yet the possibility gnawed at him. Was that really what was happening? It would make a lot of sense.

Theo dropped everything and bolted out of the common room, his mind racing as he stormed through the castle. The further he went, the angrier he became. How could you do this to him? He thought he was finally feeling something other than disdain toward you—only to find out you were messing with his head.

As he rounded the final corner near the Gryffindor common room, he spotted you. But you weren’t alone. You were talking to another Gryffindor, laughing that same laugh you shared with him. The sight made his blood boil, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“Was messing with my head not enough for you?” Theo shouted, his voice filled with fury. “Did you need more attention, so you found another tosser to add to your list?”

You flinched at his sudden outburst but didn’t immediately turn to face him. You quietly excused yourself from the conversation with your housemate before turning to glare at Theo.

The look you gave him was like nothing he’d ever seen on your face before—cold, angry, and so unlike the usual warmth you radiated. It unnerved him to be on the receiving end of such a glare.

“Can I help you, Nott?” you asked, your voice eerily calm. If Theo had been less blinded by his own anger, he might have noticed the tension in your jaw and the way your fists clenched at your sides.

“Yes, you can start by telling me what the hell you did to me!” Theo took a step closer, looming over you in an attempt to intimidate, but you stood your ground, unfazed.

“I haven’t done anything—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Theo interrupted, his hands gripping your shoulders as if shaking you might jog your memory. “You came up with that stupid voodoo doll project, and ever since then, you’ve been in my head day in and day out! So don’t act like you don’t know what’s going on!”

You shoved him off you, your scoff laced with disbelief and hurt. “You’re so full of yourself, Nott. Do you really think I’d waste my time controlling you? What kind of person do you think I am? Do you honestly believe I’m that desperate for attention?”

Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his accusation hurt. “Fuck you, Nott. Maybe you should take a hard look at yourself instead of blaming me for the fact that you’re finally feeling something—anything—other than that cold, emotionless shell you’ve built around yourself.”

Theo stood there, speechless, as you turned and disappeared behind the Fat Lady’s portrait. Every word you said hit him like a punch to the gut. He knew you were right—he’d been pushing people away for so long that he didn’t know how to deal with real emotions. But hearing it from you, someone he had started to care about, hurt more than he could admit. He knew he owed you an apology, but he had no idea where to start.

The walk back to the Slytherin common room was humiliating. When he entered, his friends were in the same spots, waiting with anticipation.

“Well?” Mattheo asked impatiently, a smug grin on his face like he knew he was right all along.

“You lot are absolute wankers,” Theo muttered, snatching up the books he had dropped earlier without sparing them a second glance. He stormed up to his dorm room, ignoring their confused looks.

He had to find a way to make things right with you. The ache in his chest wasn’t just the usual discomfort he felt around you—it was something deeper, something he couldn’t ignore.

———

Theo spent the entire night poring over the books you had lent him. As he read, he realized Mattheo’s theory was complete nonsense. None of the feelings he had for you had anything to do with “voodoo” or any other magical influence. They were real, and they terrified him.

Determined to fix the mess he had made, Theo stayed up to finish the entire essay by himself, lightening your workload. He even turned it in first thing in the morning, two days before the assignment was due.

He spent the rest of the day trying to find you to let you know you didn’t have to worry about the project and to apologize, but you were nowhere to be found. He searched the Great Hall, the library, and even, with great reluctance, asked Potter if he had seen you. No luck.

By the time dinner rolled around, Theo was too distracted to eat. His fork aimlessly pushed food around his plate while his head rested on his palm. Enzo jabbed him in the side, snapping him out of his daze. Theo shot him a glare but followed Enzo’s gaze to see you walking past their table without so much as a glance in their direction. When you sat down at your table, your eyes instinctively met Theo’s, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw a flicker of something softer. He offered a small smile, but you rolled your eyes and turned back to your friends.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her anything but cheerful. She must be pissed that we figured her out, huh?” Enzo commented, eliciting a few laughs from the group.

Theo’s fork clattered onto his plate, the loud noise silencing them immediately. They had seen Theo angry before, but never like this, never directed at them.

“Do you ever think about anyone other than yourselves?” Theo snapped. “She didn’t do anything wrong. What’s wrong is that I listened to you lot and screwed everything up.”

He abruptly stood and made his way over to you. You furrowed your brows in confusion, aware that Slytherins didn’t usually venture to the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. The hushed whispers that followed Theo didn’t faze him; he only cared about setting things right.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, asking you to follow him. Despite your better judgment, curiosity got the better of you, and you found yourself following him out of the Great Hall.

Theo led you to a secluded hallway, casting a quick Muffliato charm to ensure privacy. He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a moment before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice heavy with regret. “I was an absolute tosser. You were right—I’ve never felt anything like this before, and it scared me. I tried to find every excuse to deny it, and in the process, I lashed out at you. I shouldn’t have accused you of something so ridiculous.”

You stared at him, your silence unnerving him. He continued, desperation creeping into his tone. “I know there’s no excuse for what I said, and I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore. But if there’s any chance, I’d like to start over. I’ll do anything to make it right.”

Maybe it was because you had started liking Theo too, or maybe it was the sincerity in his apology, but it wasn’t hard to forgive him.

“Although getting accused wasn’t ideal and did hurt, I accept your apology, Theodore,” you said, offering him a small smile—the smile he didn’t realize how much he’d missed until now.

Theo’s heart lifted at your words. “If I’m not pushing my luck… could I take you to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Theo held his breath, anxiously awaiting your response. You hesitated for a moment, the silence stretching between you, before finally stepping closer. With a gentle smile, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just a second longer than necessary. As you pulled back, your eyes met his, filled with a warmth that made his heart race.

“I’d like that,” you whispered, your voice tender and genuine.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Theo felt the tight knot in his chest begin to loosen.

©𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥 2024

[idkyetxoxo]

Davos Blackwood- Sworn To Her

Summary - Set out to command loyalty. She captures the attention of Davos Blackwood, whose admiration turns into a desperate yearning for her command. He is left begging her to dictate their fate, blurring the lines between duty and passion in a world on the brink of chaos.

Pairing - Davos Blackwood x Velaryon reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)

Word count - 2671

Masterlist for Davos • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

As I descended from Silverwing's saddle, her silvered wings casting long shadows over the gathered men, I wasted no time. 

Steeling my shoulders and crossing my arms, I surveyed the assembly with a steady, unyielding gaze. 

"What would you do for your queen?" I asked, each word deliberate, carrying the weight of command. My voice was as resolute as the steel at my hip, and the men before me, some of the Riverlands' most notable lords, could only stare back, captivated and uncertain.

I had not anticipated taking on the task of rallying allies myself. 

This was not my mother's plan, nor mine. But circumstances had grown desperate, and when the tides of war demand action, sometimes it is best to seize the reins oneself. 

With Jace far off in the Vale, seeking support from its reluctant lords, I had been left to stand here alone, face to face with the lords of the Riverlands. 

We had both become sick of the sluggish, uncertain steps our allies were taking in this conflict. 

If loyalty to our mother had to be secured with words of fire and a glimpse of dragon wings, then so be it.

Despite Baela's cautions about appearing before these men alone, here I stood. I let my gaze fall slowly across each face, daring them to look away, to doubt the resolve that burned in my eyes.

The scent of wet earth and moss filled the air, the Riverlands heavy with the coolness of dusk. 

I felt the prickling bite of evening mist, seeping through my clothes and clinging to my skin, as though the land itself resisted my presence.

"I expect an answer," I said, my voice sharpened with an edge of impatience. 

Behind me, Silverwing shifted, her massive frame rippling, the low rumble from her throat a reminder of her presence and the deadly promise she held. Her groan cut through the silence like a blade, the sound echoing over the valley and making several men visibly shiver.

I wondered if my mother would approve of what I'd done here, of this choice to face these men alone. 

She'd taught me to lead with strength, but she'd also warned me that loyalty was not always won through power. 

Yet here I was, wielding Silverwing's shadow and my own authority like a blade, desperate to secure the allies we needed.

After a tense pause, a young man with curly brown hair stepped forward, his shoulders squared in reluctant acceptance. 

He was near my own age, yet I could see the weight of his house's loyalty bearing down on him. Oscar Tully, son of House Tully, the Rivermen's pride, looked up at me with a solemn expression.

"We swear fealty to the true queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen," he proclaimed, his voice clear and unwavering as he knelt, head bowed in respect. 

A ripple of movement followed his action as, one by one, each man lowered himself in allegiance, their fealty pledged not to mere words but to the queen herself.

My gaze swept over them, searching for any hint of insincerity, any flicker of hesitation. 

My eyes settled on a knight of House Blackwood, his lips curling into a smirk even as he knelt, meeting my gaze with a glint of something—admiration or challenge, perhaps—that caught me off guard.

The men here had sworn themselves to the queen—and they knew, as I did, that the true cost of their oaths would soon be paid in fire and blood.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the Riverlands and cast a warm amber glow across the hall, a feast was prepared in my honour. 

It was modest by the standards of a royal banquet, but the lords of the Riverlands had done their best, arranging tables heaped with venison, fresh-baked bread, and flagons of wine. 

Musicians played soft, lilting tunes, and candles flickered warmly in the sconces along the stone walls. 

I accepted each polite nod, each murmured "Princess," but my mind was elsewhere, fixed on the allies we would need and the battles to come.

Yet, amidst the formalities, a pair of dark eyes followed my every movement. Davos Blackwood. 

I'd noticed his gaze in the crowd before, but here in the soft candlelight, his attention was both bold and unapologetic. 

He was older than me by a few years, yet young enough to wear his loyalty openly. 

I caught him watching me as I moved between tables, his look tinged with something both admiring and dangerous—a lingering intensity that quickened my pulse.

As the feast wore on, the hall grew rowdy and loud, the laughter of men drunk on wine and the thrill of new alliance filling the air. 

I slipped quietly away, leaving the raucous sounds behind, and wandered through the corridors, searching for a moment of solitude. 

But I soon found I was not alone.

Davos stepped out of the shadows as if he had been waiting, his expression holding that same dark smirk I had noticed earlier. 

He met my gaze, his face half-illuminated by the light of a single torch flickering nearby. 

We stood in a small, dim room, the air thick with the tension that had simmered between us since that moment in the hall. 

He was quiet, his eyes fixed on mine, a slight tilt to his head that spoke of restrained intensity.

"You commanded them well, Princess," he said, his tone both respectful and tinged with that same smouldering intensity I'd felt earlier. "I don't believe I've ever seen men twice your age look so humbled—captivated, even." 

His eyes held mine, his admiration palpable. "It's no small feat to command a room of lords as you did."

I arched a brow, letting a slight smile play on my lips. "The men of the Riverlands needed a reminder of who they serve."

"They did," he agreed, his voice just above a whisper. "And it's clear to me now that you are every bit your mother's daughter."

A quiet heat simmered between us as his words sank in, and something unspoken passed in the space between us, making my heart quicken. 

"And will you serve as loyally as the others, Ser Davos?" I asked, testing the boundaries of this strange new familiarity.

He took a step closer, the flickering torchlight casting shadows across his face. 

"I cannot speak for the others, Princess," he began, his voice low and steady, "but know that I would gladly lay down my life for the queen." His eyes searched my face, lingering with a heat that made my breath catch. 

"And for her daughter."

My heart quickened at his words, but I kept my composure, arching an eyebrow. "Oh?" I replied, my tone light, even teasing. "And what, Ser Davos, would you do for the princess?"

The corner of his mouth lifted as he stepped closer, his gaze never wavering from mine. 

"Absolutely anything she desires," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, the words filled with an intensity that left no room for misunderstanding.

The space between us was small, the warmth of his presence close enough to feel, and yet I held my ground, unwilling to break the tension. The air felt electric, charged with an unspoken promise. 

I leaned in, my voice a soft murmur. "Anything, you say?"

His eyes darkened, the smirk fading into something sharper, fiercer. 

"Anything," he confirmed, his gaze holding mine as if daring me to command him.

For a heartbeat, the only sound was the crackling torch on the wall, and the distance between us felt like a thread, thin and taut. 

Here, in this quiet room away from the feasting and noise, with Davos looking at me as though he would march into fire if I asked it, I felt the heady power of my position, and something more—a stirring that felt as dangerous as it did exhilarating.

"I am pleased to hear that," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath, but he caught every word. 

Davos inclined his head slightly, his eyes never leaving mine, a mark of respect mingled with an undeniable longing that set a spark between us.

"For there is much I would like," I continued, letting the words linger, each one wrapped in the promise of something unspoken. 

The insinuation was clear, and I watched a small grin lift the corners of his mouth, as though my words had unlocked a wish he dared not voice. He looked at me like he could scarcely believe his fortune, his gaze dark with wonder and disbelief. 

A princess, standing close enough for him to touch, and more than willing.

His eyes dropped for a brief moment, almost as if he needed to remind himself to breathe, and then his voice, roughened and warm, found its way back. 

"With a dragon as mighty as yours, I'm certain there is little you would be denied," he murmured, his hand lifting as though moved by some magnetic force. 

His fingers brushed against my cheek, a soft, tentative touch, almost as if he expected me to draw back, to laugh at his audacity, to reassert my place above him. But I didn't. 

I leaned into his touch, allowing his hand to linger, my skin tingling beneath his fingertips.

The briefest flash of surprise flared in his eyes, tempered quickly by something darker, something more consuming. 

My pulse quickened, the heat between us simmering into something almost unbearable. 

I was a princess—he knew that. And yet here we were, standing inches apart, the gap between duty and desire swiftly fading into nothing. 

For the first time, his loyalty was not to some distant queen or some abstract ideal; his loyalty, his yearning, was here, directed entirely at me.

Slowly, I leaned in, letting my words drift just past his ear, so close that I felt his breath catch. 

"I do not wish to take my pleasures by force," I murmured, my voice a soft invitation, a promise that was as powerful as any order. 

A shiver ran through him, and his fingers tightened just slightly against my cheek as if anchoring himself in this impossible moment.

The air was thick with the unspoken, and I felt him hesitate, battling the disbelief that a princess would want someone like him, a knight whose station fell far below hers. 

Yet his longing was palpable, a heady tension that electrified the space between us. 

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost reverent. "What would you have me do, Princess?" he asked, his tone weighted with more than just desire. 

It was devotion, his words woven with a quiet, reckless yearning as if he would tear the stars from the sky if I asked it.

I looked into his eyes, letting the silence stretch, each heartbeat a steady thrum that only deepened the pull between us. 

"Anything," I replied, a whisper that held within it the hint of a command and a promise all at once.

His gaze fell to my lips, and his breath shuddered like he was grounding himself in the impossible reality that he was here, with me, alone and permitted to wish for more. 

He let his hand trail down, tracing the line of my jaw with a featherlight touch, his fingers lingering near my neck where he could feel my pulse racing under his fingertips. 

His eyes were dark, wide, caught in some quiet awe, his body tense with restraint.

"Say it," he whispered, his voice rough. "Say what you would want of me, and I am yours."

"Command me," he begged, his voice softened by that same restrained yearning that had chased me all night.

For a moment, the gravity of our situation fell away, leaving only two people drawn together by a desire as dangerous as it was irresistible. I leaned in, my mouth a breath away from his. 

"For now," I whispered, letting the moment dangle like a thread between us, "I only want this."

His lips brushed against mine, tentative at first as if he could scarcely believe that I'd allowed him this close. 

But then, the restraint fell away, the delicate thread snapping, and we were pressed together in a kiss that held every bit of tension, every unspoken promise.

My hands slid to his clothes, and his eyes flashed with surprise before yielding, allowing me to undress him piece by piece. His gaze clung to me, astonished, as though he still couldn't believe I was here with him. 

I stripped off my riding leathers as fast as my hands could manage, hungry to feel the pleasure I'd been craving for far too long.

The war had stolen much from me, stripping me down to my bones, and tonight, I wanted only one thing: to lose myself, to drown in a rapture that would make me forget it all, even if just for a night.

"Bed me," I whispered when we were bare before each other, skin flushed, breaths mingling in the cool night air.

He froze, his gaze tracing my form as if I were a vision, something ethereal, almost too good to be true. His lips parted in silent awe, eyes raking over every line and curve as though I were an angel who had slipped into his grasp.

"Your wish," he breathed, finally snapping back to himself, "is my command." 

He guided me down to the stone floor, its chill biting into my skin, a startling contrast that only heightened my senses.

His lips found my neck, pressing fevered, insistent kisses that sent shivers racing across my skin. A contented sigh slipped from me as I surrendered to the sensation.

He gently parted my legs, settling between them, and I welcomed the feel of him, my thighs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. 

He moved with urgency, as though he sought release from something unspoken, a fever only I could soothe. 

Each thrust sent waves of pleasure rippling through me, the feeling consuming, erasing all else.

"Oh gods," he murmured, his voice reverent, as he looked down at me, his face filled with wonder. "You...you are a vision." His words, filled with awe, only stoked the flames in me. 

I met his gaze, my body pliant beneath his, feeling like I could stay lost in this moment forever, his desire feeding mine, each of us chasing the other's heat, until the rest of the world faded away.

My heart thudded in time with his, our bodies aligned and perfectly matched, an effortless rhythm that made me feel whole as if this one night could wash away a thousand memories of darkness and despair.

I held his gaze, feeling myself surrender completely, caught in his spell, in the heat and warmth of his presence as he chased pleasure from me with a patience that made my body tremble. 

I was unravelling, each touch, each movement, pulling me apart in the most exquisite way, and I realized I wanted to let him, to let this moment consume every hidden part of me.

His breaths quickened, and he pressed his forehead against mine, grounding us both in that intimate space, and I could feel his heart pounding, as though echoing my own. 

I held him there, one hand tangling in his hair, the other tracing the contours of his back, feeling the strength of him as we both surrendered.

Finally, in a crescendo of pleasure that took my breath away, I felt myself shatter beneath him, lost in the haze of pure, undiluted bliss. 

He followed close behind, his body tense before he released in a shudder that shook us both, his face a picture of utter, unguarded ecstasy.

Slowly, he leaned back, brushing a strand of hair from my face with a tenderness that seemed almost out of place here on the cold stone floor, surrounded by shadows and memories. 

He traced his fingers along my jaw, as though I were something precious, rare, his eyes softened by the afterglow.

And there, entangled together in the flickering dark, we let the silence embrace us, lost in the warmth and comfort of knowing, for this moment, we were exactly where we both wanted to be.

A/n - This was fun to write, teeny tiny bit inspired by Jude and Cardan from 'The Folk of the Air' series (if you squint basc)

[writingblogsandothers]

The Chosen One

Part One

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Mild Mocking, Mild Fear (Nothing descriptive)

Use of She/Her/Lady - Female Pronouns

It started off like any other day in the Marino homestead. Aurelia Marino was the first to rise, gathering her clothing and shoes for another tiresome day on the family farm. She thanked the gods her father was kind enough to take the heavier jobs dealing with the livestock, along with her two older brothers. Aurelia made her way to their small allotments to gather any fruits and grains she could harvest to bring back to her mother, who sold the goods just outside the large capital, Rome.

The sun shone bright yet hazed with its beautiful creamy-yellow hue. Aurelia stood back, closed her eyes and took a deep inhale, absorbing the early morning rays, feeling thankful for everything that she and her family has. They certainly didn’t have much, with the family often sharing meals which should feed two and making do with their less than favourable living arrangements. It mightn’t have been everyone’s dream, but for the Marino’s? It was home.

She made her way home and delivered the goods to her mother, who made her way into the capital, along with Aurelia’s aunt. The home had seen better days, so Aurelia took to cleaning from top to bottom. It consisted of 2 rooms – one for living quarters, and one for sleeping. Aurelia was a daydreamer, which helped her in ways zone out of the monotonous tasks she endured daily. She dreamed of a life far away from the farm, perhaps even out of Rome, with her one true love and their life which they live in no fear and without worry. Now that’s the dream.

“Aurelia…. AURELIA!” startled, Aurelia turned to find her mother in a fluster.

“What ever is the matter, Mater?” she asked.

“Daughter, we have just returned from the Capital. The guards are out, exclaiming how the Emperor wishes to settle… they want to find him a wife! I was thinking we should bring you to him, to the Guards, to whoever will see you. I know what they say about him, but surely the life you would have would supersede that, and who knows maybe they aren’t as bad as they are painted. Oh Aurelia, this is such an opportunity for you to-…” her mother exclaims without hardly stopping for air.

Aurelia looks puzzled. She does not understand why this information should be relevant to her. She cuts her off, “Mater, please sit and calm. I do not know why this is important to us? We have heard stories mother and we have seen firsthand what the Emperors are capable of. They are vile in nature. The misfortune they spring onto the people of Rome and they laugh? Besides, we both know the Emperor should not want common people like us. He will want to marry a high-status lady. Why should we worry?”

Her mother, Julia, looks deflated and slumps in her seat. Tears form in her eyes. She looks to her daughter, “Aurelia, I am sorry. I got myself so excited when I heard the news. I only wish the very best for you. I know what the Emperors are, but the lifestyle they have, it could not compare with what myself and your father could ever give to you. You work so tirelessly hard around here, and I want you to have a life I could have only dreamed of. I am sorry I could not give this to you now…”

Aurelia sighs not liking seeing her mother so deflated, Julia interjects, “Anyway, forget my outburst. Let us prepare a meal for your father and brothers.”

Up at Palatine Hill, there were great deliberations occurring. One member of the Senate announces, “Caesar, I do not wish to inflict my decision upon you, but I must stress how we must be very selective over who we choose. We do not wish to weaken your hard-earned line of succession, it wo-”

“QUIET!” A screech overpowers the Senate member. The hall grows deathly silent, so much so the slightest move of a finger was heard. Caracalla sneers in the corner, observing his little brother’s outburst with great delight.

“Tell the Guards to fetch me every eligible woman in the immediate area. We are to have them presented to me and my brother by midday tomorrow. Any status, I want to see them all, peasant or not.” Geta affirms loud and clear to their subordinates.

Caracalla rises from his seat with Dundus on his shoulder, with a merciful “HA!”, “The instruction is clear, we want to see them all. We would like to get some sort of amusement out of this day, so the more peasantry the better! Now off you go, find us ladies!”

There was no movement in the room until Geta announced, “Did you not hear my brother, you disobedient fools – be on your way!”

The Praetorian officials who were present quickly collected themselves and made their way to arrange the troops.

The two brothers burst out into what could only be described as maniacal laughter, at a combination of the misfortune of the potential ‘suitors’ and whatever plans they were outlining for their futures. The Senate looked on in horror as they saw the ‘Twins’ conjuring up their next scheming plans for goodness knows what. Only the gods know what they could be scheming now.

It was turning to nightfall quickly, and Aurelia was preparing the bedding for the family, and folding away any washing she had completed during the day. The gallant sound of trotting began to get louder and louder and began to puzzle Aurelia. She walked out into the living quarters where her family were gathered. Her father was about to speak when he was cut off by three sharp knocks at their barely held together door.

Fear shoots through Aurelia. Who could be calling at their door at this hour? It could only mean trouble.

Her father rises, with her brothers swiftly behind, and opens their door. Stood proudly were three Praetorian soldiers, with scroll in hand. “Hello, how may we help you Sires?” Augustus, her father spoke.

The Praetorian soldiers in a half scoff announced, “We are here to demand the presence of the lady, Aurelia Marino, for their highnesses Emperors Geta and Caracalla. She is to present herself along with a chaperone to the Colosseum at precisely midday tomorrow. It is expected she preen herself to look her best as she is to be compared amongst all other ladies of the nearby land in a bid to be betrothed to the great Emperor Geta.” They look behind Augustus to see Aurelia standing sheepishly, hands entwined within each other, hair scooped back and the rags of today on her for clothing. With a snort, they announce “We can see you have your work ahead of you, so we shall leave you to prepare.” They giggle like school children amongst themselves and make their way back to their horses.

Almost like a sixth sense, her father feels Aurelia’s fear from behind his slight frame and bravely shouts after the soldiers demanding, “And what if we do not attend?”. The lead commander of the group, already mounted on his horse turns to look over his shoulder, “You and your daughter will face the arena, and you best pray that the gods are in your favour that day.” Off the calvary took, leaving Aurelia feeling like a dormouse.

“Am I truly that hideous that they must laugh in my face?” her confidence, the little she had, was shattered. Her mother looks disgusted and explains, “My dear child, you are of kind face and mind. You are beautiful both inside and out. You mustn’t worry of the thoughts of the others; they are as ugly inside as they are out.” Aurelia half laughs, and shrugs away a tear from her eye. Julia continues, “Mea amor, anyone, including the Emperor would be lucky to have you. I know I was excited earlier at the prospect, but now its so real, I pray to the gods you are dismissed.”

“Thank you Mater.” Aurelia draws a deep breath, sighs, and continues “I am going to prepare for tomorrow. I shall see you in the morning.”. She takes herself off to her side of sleeping quarters and hunts out her best outfit, which in Aurelia’s case is a plain tunic that is lacking holes (or as little as possible).

As the night draws on, Aurelia finds it more and more difficult to fall asleep at the prospects of being put in front of the co-emperors tomorrow. She tosses and turns so much that she excuses herself to the living quarters to reside there, in a bid to disturb her family less. Finally, the tiredness wins, and sleep consumes her.

The commute to the Colosseum usually was full of excitement for Aurelia and her father. It usually meant a day of entertainment, and quality family time – full of joy, excitement. Today couldn’t be further from that sentiment – it reeked of fear. As the pair strode up the narrow-walled street to the grand building, Augustus stopped suddenly. Turning to his daughter, he spoke gently, “Aurelia, you do not have to attend. I will see to fight in the arena if it means your freedom.” Tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke, “Pater, he will not even look at me no doubt. Please do not put your life before mine, especially for such trivial matters. Let us attend to see it through and get back to our lives.” The pair breathed deeply in and began the uneven trekking once more.

On approach, the queues of ladies with their chaperones started and continued right around the vicinity of Palatine Hill. ‘How are they ever going to see all in one day?’, Aurelia asked herself. She and her father began their queueing and waited with bated breath to see how the fates lay.

It was nearing nightfall before Augustus and Aurelia entered what could only be described as a colossal banqueting hall. Up ahead in the distance, Aurelia caught glimpse of bright orange locks, flailing hands, and maniacal laughter. She knew it would be only too soon before she would approach the Emperors.

A guard confirmed her identity, and instructed her and her father to move forward. She knew she was now next. The intensity of this strange situation was palpable. I mean would it be so bad to become an Empress? It would mean she could provide more for her family, and lessen the burden on her mother and father, who were not getting any younger. And as much as it pained her to admit it, there were much less handsome suitors to be paired with. Perhaps however with a little less bloodthirst.

Taking her out of her trace, was a guard announcing “… -side Rome, Augustus Marino with his daughter, Aurelia.” She and her father bowed before the Emperors, not daring to look either in the eye. She could hear one of them saying something to the other, with a huge cackle to finish their commentary. Bravely, looking from under her brow, she caught sight of Geta staring intently at her, with a woman either side of him, softly touching him, meanwhile Caracalla seemed to be enjoying this charade with an entourage of both men and women at his side.

Geta rises from his chair. He swiftly moves his hands to signal to her father to step back from her.

“Speak Girl. What is your name again?” Geta asked with intense authority.

“Aurelia, your Highness.”

“Golden.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Golden. Your name, it’s meaning.”

“C-Caesar, please forgive me I did not know this fact. I-I-I thank you for bestowing me with such knowledge.”

Caracalla begins to laugh hysterically, “Brother, she is so weak and feeble. ‘Please Sire, Yes Sire’. It’s rather quite pathetic but marvellous to observe.” Geta begins to laugh in approval with his brother, “Yes brother, you’re right!”

Geta moves forward with great authority, and Aurelia flinches. He swarms her, taking in every detail about her, from the way her skin shines in the last of the day’s sun; her hair and how it cascades down her shoulders; her eyes and the piercing blue contrasting all what seems to dull about her; the clothing she wears and how it looks like rags not even his cleaners would dare be seen to use in his presence. Yet, with all, there’s something so dearly capturing about this one, that he dares not let show.

He was about to step even closer, but was interrupted by his brother’s clashing tones, “She really is rather miserable. I mean look at her father.” Mockingly he begins, “Sir, Sir, please how much money does one have on his person? I bet Dundus has more to carry in her purse than you!” After listening to Caracalla’s laughter for a second too long, Augustus holds back any sign of animosity, and starts “Emperors, please forgive me, I try my best. I work hard to keep a roof over my family’s head and food on our table. I previously fought for Rome, but had to reside to my current life after I was let go. My daughter is a wonderful person, I may not be able to give you anything in terms of material earnings, but my daughter pays for that tenfold, she-”. He was caught off my Geta rising his arm, while staring intently at Aurelia. Ignoring his brother’s ignorance, and her father’s pathetic cries, Geta leant closer into Aurelia, who could feel him breathing on her soft skin. With a swift move of his hand, he swept the hair away from her shoulder to get closer to her ear.

“You should be thanking the gods, Aurelia… gold is my favourite metal.”

She shivered in response, while Geta looked at her with what she didn’t know was sheer disgust or intrigue. Turning on his heels, he ushered away the ladies who were once at his side and sat with authority. Giving the guards a look, he announced, “Let it be known that I am to be betrothed this coming week to Aurelia Marino. We will bare the heirs of utter greatness and Rome will live on and conquer once more. Praise gods.”

There was a cue of sighs and ‘praises’ behind Aurelia and her father with those waiting to be seen by the Emperors dismissed.

Sneering at Augustus, Geta sweeps past the two of them without so much as looking in Aurelia’s direction. A guard approaches Aurelia and instructs her, “Lady, we must now take you to your new living quarters. Bid your farewells and follow us.”

She and her father stare at one another in sheer shock. Neither knowing what had just happened. She hugs her father tightly whilst crying into his shoulder, but she keeps reminding herself that this should work for her family’s favour. They need not worry about materials no longer; she would see they were all looked after.

Aurelia set on her way to follow the guards, with one last look over her shoulder to see her teary father and turning back to pave her way in a new life. A new world.

Part 2

[lewdmommie]

Just friends

Summary: can y/n manage being just friends?

Word count: 7.k

🎀Warning🎀:18+NSFW, oral sex, language, fluff, angst, violence, gore, sexual content,panic attack etc

(Like, comment, reblog for part four💗)

This is part 3 of one night stand

Part 1

Part 2

“We need to talk about yesterday.” You state firmly. Your tone was completely different from your usual lighthearted and funny personality. König and Ghost have quite literally seen you crack a joke in the middle of open gunfire. This was uncharted territory for them, whatever you were about to say had to be important. You take a deep breath, thinking of your next words carefully. The last thing you wanted was to hurt anyone again…especially König.

“Spit it out rookie.” Ghost says annoyed.

“Oh god how do I even say this…I feel something…something I can’t explain when I’m with you.” You look at König, he shifts nervously under your gaze.

“And with you.” Your head turns to face Ghost, staring into those glimmering obsidian eyes. He breaks eye contact looking far off into the distance without a word.

“I don’t know what it means but I know it’s something I can’t ignore.” Your brow scrunches as you choke the words out.

“I want to get to know you both and I’m here to ask for that opportunity. I’m here to ask you to be my friends. No titles. No rankings. No romance. Just…friends.” Your teeth nibble at your lower lip waiting for someone else to talk. It was nerve racking not being able to read their facial expressions. Their body language didn’t give much away either, you shift on your heels.

“That’s what you barged in here to ask for… friendship?” He slowly rises from his desk glaring in your direction.

“Well…yeah” Your voice is low.

“Do you really think friendship can fix everything?” Königs voice is dark, he speaks the word friendship as if it was something rancid on his tongue.

“I’m not saying it can I just…” you explain.

“I don’t need to be a part of whatever you two have going on. Leave. both of you.” Ghost barks.

“You seemed to be a part of it yesterday when you had your hands all over her.” König rasps, turning his killer gaze onto him. Ghost strides from behind the desk, his heavy footsteps fill the air as he takes slow deliberate steps forward. The tension is so thick you can cut it with a knife. A chill runs down your spine as you’re standing flush in between these skyscrapers. He stands tall looking König straight in the eyes, not even acknowledging your presence between them.

“I don’t like your tone colonel. I think you’d better change that.” His head tilts mockingly, sizing him up.

“I was just thinking the same thing about you sergeant.” He beams into him like white hot lasers.

“Hah, you’ve always been balsy König, could always count on you to get the job done. But I want you to remember something…you can beat them out there on that battlefield but here this is my territory and you won’t win.” He steps closer making sure he heard every word.

“Why don't we find out serg.” He says through clenched teeth. At this point you’re sure they have completely forgotten your existence . You plant your palms on ghosts chest pushing him back, he seemed to snap back to reality realizing you were still there.

“This isn’t the time or the place…no war within our army. Those are your words sergeant! As a leader you have to practice and enforce that as law. König I know you’re angry and have every right to be but last night was training and that’s all. I won’t keep repeating myself anymore, I get that it’s hard to trust but you’re going to have to try.” You scold.

“ Why do you care so much? How can you stand here and act like you know what I want. You don’t know anything. I’ve never given you the impression that-“ Simon rambles.

“I know it sounds stupid, crazy even, but I know you want to get closer to me Ghost.” You say gently, König tenses at the soft tone of your voice…had you ever spoken to him that way? He couldn’t recall a time you had, and that made him envious.

“You need someone. You’ve spent so much of your time in isolation, it’s time to let people in.” Never had he heard you sound so sure of yourself.

How could you break down his walls so easily, there is something about you that made him feel at ease. When he’s with you it feels like he’s allowed to smile,Things feel easier…happier. But he knew from experience things like this didn’t come so easy. People always get hurt when love is involved.

“And König…I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of being angry and resentful towards each other. These past few weeks have brought us closer together and I don’t want to ruin that with one misunderstanding.” His face burns tomato red under his mask, but he wouldn’t show it. His shoulder stiffen as if he’d been sliced across the chest. How could such beautiful words hurt this bad , you’d summed up his feelings for you perfectly but he couldn’t shake the thought of you being so involved with Ghost. Being your friend sounds like absolute torture but it was a ray of hope. Hope that one day maybe you would undoubtedly love him back. He felt like a lost puppy waiting to be owned by you…it was foolish but he couldn’t stop himself. Your naivety muddled the fact that this would be war and you were the prize.

“It has always been you. I’ve got so much blood on my hands it could run a river red and yet you were granted the title of sergeant. You’ve somehow made sure I was one step below you but that’s gonna change. You said I couldn’t win…watch me.” He says sharply.

“So this is your playing field…her?” Ghost looks you up and down with judgmental eyes. You grimace wondering why he looked so unimpressed.

“Hah, fine I’ll bite. What are the rules of the game?” Ghost chuckles, you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“We get individual days to spend with y/n and the other person cannot interfere.”

“And what about the days that aren’t accounted for?” His head tilts curiously.

“First come first serve. It’s up to y/n who she would want to spend that free time with even though I know it’ll be me. No one likes being around you.” König taunts, it isn’t clear if it’s the jealousy talking or the militant hunger for victory. Either way you didn’t appreciate them auctioning off your time and affection like some silly little game.

“You’re on. It’s about time I remind you of your place, colonel.” He reaches out an open palm, König grasps it firmly, shaking on the terms.

It’s like everything you said completely went over their heads but you knew it would take patience and time to build a stronger relationship with them. If thinking of it as a competition got them on board, then you’d just have to play along.

~

Your arms tremble as you push the weighted bar up with all your strength. Your shoulders burn with each rep begging for a break, to your body’s dismay, you were just warming up. You look up into caramel colored eyes, Maya smiles down at you as she helps support the weight of the bar. With a final push you line it up with the metal stand, it lands with a loud crack. You sit up, sweat pouring down your face. Maya removes the white towel from around her neck, she dabs away the stray droplets as they fall. She was always right there at your side helping you with even the tiniest of things.

“Remember to hydrate. The body can lose up to 10 liters of water a day when active.” She hands you her purple water bottle.

“Your knowledge never ceases to amaze me, you're gonna make a great doctor one day.” You tip the bottle up, taking several gulps before coming back up for air. Maya’s eyes softened, she needed to hear that; with all the death and injuries on base that passion could be lost. She is a practicing apprentice Doctor on base as she studies remotely to get her doctorate in medical science. Balancing education with active military duty was no easy feat, personal attachment can get in the way. People she laughed with, pulled pranks on, sat and had meals with…had died in her arms. Brutal excruciating deaths that she could do nothing about. No matter how hard she tried to save everyone…their blood still stained her hands. She thought often about what she would do if you got hurt…could she save you? Maya shakes the negative thoughts away reminding herself that you were one of the special forces best. You may be a handful but you were damn good at your job.

“Thank you y/n, you don’t know how much that means to me.” She stamps a kiss on your forehead.

“I walked in on Sergeant Ghost and Colonel König talking about some new intel on the target. There might be a raid soon, I know how anxious you are with new missions.” A look of discomfort flashes on her face leaving just as quickly. She puts on a fake smile not wanting to put any more stress on you. You were the one who would be out there on the front lines risking your life and she didn’t want to worry you.

“I’m okay,really, you get used to it.” You weren’t sure if she was trying to convince you or herself.

“If you ever need to talk…I am here Maya. I’m always here.” You bore into her with sincere eyes.

“and that’s why you’re my best friend. Now come on, we gotta keep that heart rate up.” She takes your hand, helping you to your feet. The two of you walked over to the pull up bar, arm day was not fun…at all. Your muscles were already achy and tired but you had to push in order to build endurance.

“Can’t I just work on legs today, that’s so much easier.” You whine, Maya laughs patting your lower back.

“As much as I agree with that statement, no. You handle high caliber weaponry. if you’re not strong, All that push back could damage your muscles.” She raises her arms holding the stretches in ten second intervals. Because of her insane height there is no need to use a stepping ladder, she simply reaches up and gets to work. Her fingers graze the bar before pulling back suddenly.

“I forgot my chalk, it helps prevent blisters, I’ll be back. Go ahead and start your sets without me. I gotta run back to our room.” She jogs off leaving you standing alone in the gym. You always felt slightly self conscious being in the weight room without a partner. Like everyone was watching you. Judging you. In reality no one even glanced your way but that didn’t stop the anxiety from striking. A small tremor shakes your hands as you reach up for the bar. It’s way too tall to grab on your own, Maya was usually there to give you a lift. You scan the area for a spare stepping stool or chair but everything is occupied. Eyes. Eyes everywhere. There looked to be two of everything as your vision doubled.The room begins to spin and your knees feel weak, where was Maya? When would she be back? Maya? Maya? Maya?!

“Y/n look at me. Are you okay? Should I take you to the infirmary?” Your vision begins to focus turning the two ghosts in front of you, into one. Your breathing is shaky, you nod unable to speak. His head tilts forward with concern, his bare hand cups

your elbow as he pulls you closer.

“Your eye movements are unsteady,breathing accelerated, pupils dilated…you’re having a panic attack. Talk to me y/n what is distressing you?” His voice is gentle, calming even.

“People. Just so many people. M-Maya left… I’m alone. I-I don’t like being alone.”you choke. His heart breaks at your words, loneliness was no stranger to him. Thinking back, Ghost couldn’t recall a time when you weren’t surrounded by people. He figured it’s because of how likable and fun you were but now the dots began to connect. You made sure to never be alone because it scared you…just like it scared him.

“I’ll stay with you.” His voice was earnest, he surprised himself with his sudden reaction. Normally Ghost worked out alone as he did with most things. But he wanted to help you, seeing you so shaken up tugged at something deep inside him.

“That’s it…slow deep breaths. One…two… exhale three. Very good.” He coaches. He looked to be very familiar with this sort of thing, you wondered if he’d dealt with this before. Ghost didn’t seem like the type to deal with anxiousness, he was always so cool headed.

“I’m good now.” You huff.

“Are you sure? We can go somewhere more private.” Your face heats up at his word choice, you remember the wet dream from just nights ago.

“N-no I’m fine, I still have a few sets to do.” You slide your elbow from his grasp.

“Then let’s do it… I assume your next set is pull ups and judging by your size, you usually have Maya help you up?” He hypothesized walking behind you to examine the bar.

“Yeah Maya always lifts me up-“ your words are cut off by his strong hands sinking into your waist. His fingers press into the soft plush of your hips, the crotch of his cargos rubs against your ass. His eyes fall low as he stares down at you, his thumb absentmindedly drawing circles. You don’t speak up, getting lost in the comfort of his touch. The rush of his heart vibrates through your back, the rise and fall of his chest quickens. You can hear the heaviness in his breath, the heat in his mask makes sweat bead at his brow. This isn’t the first time your bodies have met this closely but somehow this felt…Different. You snap to the reality that there is a room full of people here witnessing this moment. That idea made you focus on the initial goal…pull ups.

“I’m ready.” You assure, jumping as he hoists your body up with ease. Your fingers begin to slip, ghost bounces you up, allowing you to readjust the grip.

Even with the extra help, your arms burn as you pull the entirety of your weight up and over the bar. Your chin taps the cool metal marking one successful rep, ghost pats your thigh.

“Good job, make sure you’re breathing with each pull.” He instructs, his arms squish the fluff of your upper thighs. You nod, extending the length of your arms preparing for the next pull. Ghost is painfully aware of how your ass is pressed against his upper chest. His face is inches from the smooth damp skin of your back, his eyes track the small trickle of sweat that runs down your spine. He says a silent prayer, begging not to get hard in front of his subordinates. Even the slightest touch of your body drove him fucking mad, he’d been attracted to women before but never like this. Those thoughts were always intrusive and fleeting, he didn't let his mind wander too deeply but you…he imagined ripping those mauve pink leggings open and ramming every solid inch of his cock inside you. He hated how much control you had over him without even trying.

“I-I can’t take anymore” you groan, feeling the intense burning sensation growing in your arms.

Oh come on, he thinks. You couldn’t have chosen a better word choice, a shock shoots up his leg activating his dormant member. He nearly drops you as the mirror shows him a glimpse of his hard dick poking through his gray sweatpants. He couldn’t let you see him like this, before you could blink your feet were on the ground and ghost was B lining it to the men’s locker room.

“Hey wait where are you going?!” You call as he scurries away. He doesn’t turn around or even answer as he disappears into the white locker room door. Well that was rude, you think. You were used to him treating you like some kind of germ but this seemed off and you couldn’t put your finger on it.

~

There still hadn’t been any sign of Maya since earlier in the weight room, a sinking feeling pulls at your stomach. It wasn’t like her to just up and disappear without saying a word . The military base wasn’t the biggest in the world so there weren't many places she could have gone. Your eyes scan the mess hall landing on the table you two usually shared. Empty. No sign of her at all, you begin to worry what would keep her from eating lunch. Lunch is Maya’s favorite time of day apart from breakfast and dinner, this was strange. You look at the lunch line and physically cringe when you see that ominous brown paper bag with your name on it. It wouldn’t bother you one bit if you never saw another peanut butter and jelly ever again. You snake through the crowd and head toward the exit deciding to go search for her, it’s what she would have done for you. Just as you burst out of the sea of soldiers there is a deep voice bellowing down the long tan hallway.

“Y/n” a voice rumbles in the distance. Loud heavy footsteps shake the ground as König jogs in your direction.

“I didn’t see you in the mess hall, have you eaten already?” His words are rushed and nervous.

“No I haven’t, I was actually going to-“ he chimes in disregarding the rest of your sentence.

“That’s perfect! I wanted to invite you to have lunch with me.” His voice sounds energetic.

“Well I was just about to go look for Maya…” you trail looking around trying to spot her.

“Oh I saw her a few minutes ago when I was walking past the infirmary.” He says. The infirmary should have been the first place you looked, Maya did tons of overtime with Dr.Bradshaw. Extra hours counted as field work for her university grade, but overworking wasn’t always a good sign for her. You take a mental note to ask her later not wanting to disturb her study time with the Doctor. There was a nagging urge to ask König exactly what she was up to when he saw her but you decided not to snoop. If there was an issue she would come to you about it, you were always there for her and she knew that…or at least you hoped she did.

“Oh okay then I’ll just talk to her later thanks.” You spin on your heels ready to jog back to the cafeteria. A leather gloved hand entraps your wrist, holding you still. Your head whips around staring up into his forest green eyes, they dart back and forth searching your face.

“I’m sorry, I-I uh did you have plans for lunch today? If so I completely understand…I know you might still be worried about Maya.” His voice is shaky.

“No I don’t have plans for lunch, ugh I’m the one who should be sorry I almost blew you off just now. What kind of friend am I?” You joke. His chest tightens at the word friend, he drops your hand back to your side. It catches your attention but you breeze by it not wanting to cause any damage.

“I’d love to have lunch with you König.” You say enthusiastically trying to salvage the situation.

“Perfect. Let’s go, try to act normal.” He nods in the directions of the exit motioning you to follow his lead. You had a feeling this was going to be another mission impossible, König mixed with the words “act normal�� never turned out good. Since the recent feud with ghost he was more rebellious than ever. You cautiously walk behind him trailing him out of the double doors, the sun beats down on your skin. Your eyes squint from the sudden lighting change, your hand lifts to shade your forehead blocking out the brightness. Las Almas Mexico was a beautiful mountainous place with endless desert views. There were small cities with an economy based on agriculture and farming. Like every major metropolitan region there are city areas for entertainment and tourism. The base was quite a distance from those areas, the deserts granted seclusion. Most of the drug activity and gang violence originated in the city areas. Although there were plenty of small gangs they all worked under the one major crime organization in the city…The Las Almas Cartel. The whole reason for your special forces deployment was to monitor and take down this organization. They participated in egregious crimes against the residents of Las Almas and helped push the drug epidemic throughout multiple countries. You walk forward,your shoulder brushes his arm ever so slightly. His eyes shift away with embarrassment, he hadn’t touched you since that night. People chirp hello’s as you slip through the ocean of workers, there were so many familiar happy faces in the crowd. You are grateful König is by your side or all the attention could have become overwhelming very quickly. It warmed your heart to be loved by so many but it became exhausting, always chasing approval from others.

König senses a shift in your mood, boldly, he rests his big hand on your lower back; ushering you along. He leads you to the vehicle repair and storage shed. There are lanes wall to wall filled with earth toned military vehicles ranging from Humvee’s to M113’s.

“Oh hey y/n! What are you doing all the way out here darlin’?” His southern twang is thick. The dimples in his cheeks deepen as he smiles toothy and big. His giant veiny hands stain the white cloth as he wipes away black sludge.

“Hey Jack, I hope we didn’t interrupt your work.”

“You could never bother me y/n seeing you is always a treat. Speaking of treats, where’s ol doll face Maya I haven’t gotten my daily fix of her.” He laughs. Jack was a flirt that was no secret but everyone knew about his unrequited love for Maya. Most people found her attractive but Jack’s feelings were public, making sure to scare off anyone who thought about making a move. They were just like an old married couple, arguing about any and everything.

“She’s working in the infirmary.” You explain.

“I’m gonna have to go and pay her a visit, she can’t run forever.” Wrinkles form at the corner of his eyes as he smiles ear to ear.

You can’t help but cheese at his friendly face. König didn’t appreciate Jack's lingering gaze. His eyes slit with annoyance, why were you smiling at him like that? He thinks burning with jealousy.

“I’m taking a Jeep on patrol.” He stated plainly.

“Sure thing, I’ll just need to see that authorization letter from the sergeant.” He says wiping the oil from his cheek.

“I am your Colonel. I grant myself authorization.” His arms fold over his chest as he stands tall and confident.

“But the sergeant said-“ Jack starts.

“Unless you want to be scrubbing toilets for a week I suggest you give me the keys. If not, I’ll just have to report you for interference with a mandatory patrol. Are we clear?” His voice is stern. You find yourself gawking at him. his power had you melting in his gloved palm. König didn’t like abusing his power but there was no way he’d go beg ghost to allow him to take you out. If he wanted you to himself he would make that happen at any cost. It didn’t matter who he had to step over as long as he got to be with you. Jack stares him down for a moment weighing out his options, he could either disobey Ghost and get punished or disobey König and get punished. Great choices he think’s sarcastically.

“Look, if you’re gonna take her out you gotta be back before sunset or else ghost is gonna be on my ass…deal?” He extends a hand to König.

“Deal.” He takes his hand firmly.

“Here I just did an oil change on her so she’s the best I’ve got right now. I’m still repair’n the others.” He tosses him a set of Keys with a dog tag attached. König nods, throwing his black duffel bag in the back seat. You never understood the idea of jeeps being doorless but as you hop in it makes a little more sense. If you’re being shot at you could literally jump right in. You chuckle at the ridiculous thought of you diving into a moving jeep.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, clicking his seat belt and cranking the ignition.

“Nothing, it's dumb.” You laugh tugging the seat belt over your chest. He chuckles backing out of the garage. His arm lays across the back of your headrest as he looks behind him making sure no one was there. Your thighs clench at his focused body language, how did he manage to turn you on with such mundane tasks. The car whips around, he straightens the wheel and puts the gear in drive.

An armed soldier from the gate walks up to the driver's side scoping out the inside of the car.

“Colonel. Where are you headed?” He salutes.

“Me and y/n will be holding a patrol unit on the mountain. There’s been reports of suspicious activity by the locals.” He lies smoothly. The mask came in handy since without it every emotion he felt would be on display. König is, unbenounced to everyone else,a terrible liar. His face gives him away every time. Despite what people think he could be read like a book if it wasn’t for the mask.

“Yes sir. Open the gate!” He calls.

König’s shoulders relax as the metal gates swing open. Mission accomplished. He finally had you to himself for a day. After spotting your workout with the sergeant; he had to find a way to steal your attention back. Your head leans out the door watching in awe as the ground gets further away. The mountain road is bumpy and narrow, your hand grips the seatbelt tightly.

“Scared of heights?” He asks, looking over at you with concern.

“Of course not, keep your eyes on the road.” You scold.

“You know it doesn’t help to look down.” He reaches over, tugging your chin away from the ground. His fingers linger for a second before returning to the wheel. You’d seen this view from the chopper when you first arrived on base but this is a new perspective and it is gorgeous. The cacti bloomed with tiny magenta flowers, the dry soil cracked into interesting shapes. Small animals poke their heads from the grooves in the ground,and Even the sky is clear and vast. If maps didn’t exist you’d have sworn the land stretched on forever. The heat is also comforting, the sun wraps you in a tight embrace kissing your skin. You wished you could see his face, you wondered if he was enamored with the scenery just as you are.

“It’s amazing isn’t it…like a whole new world.” He breathes looking around curiously. One hand gripped the wheel and the other pointed to a viper green snake in the distance.

“Did you see that?!” He exclaims excitedly.

“I did.” You say softly.

He coughs awkwardly, he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you but animals are his weakness. He felt an obligation to protect creatures smaller than him, what better way to use his gigantic size. After what felt like an eternity he pulls into an open area at the top of the mountain overlooking the base. He puts the car in park and takes the key from the ignition. You unbuckle your seatbelt, turning your body to hop down; König jogs around the vehicle blocking your path.

“Allow me.” He pretends to open an invisible door.

You jump down and punch his arm playfully. You both laugh filling the open air with joy. He admires you bent over laughing from your gut, a real laugh, that’s when you were most beautiful. He loved seeing happiness radiate from you, you wore it well. He wanted to make everyday a good day filled with bliss, he dreamed of one day being the one to make that a reality for you. He swings his duffel bag out with a huff walking over to a clear patch of land. With razor focus he unzips the bag unloading its contents onto the sandy ground. He lays a green blanket down before laying zip lock bags of mystery foods on to the cloth. To finish off the set up he sets up two colas on either side of the picnic blanket. It was one of the cutest things you’ve ever seen, he plops down in the blanket waving you over. You can’t help but smile at the exquisite dining arrangement designed by the renowned König.

“Beautiful set up chef.” You joke.

“On today’s menu we have the chefs’ choice…Ham and cheese sandwich. My secret ingredient is melted cheese courtesy of today’s weather. Strawberries, hand picked by me from the local farmers market. And two delicious warm cokes.” Your nose scrunches in disgust, earning a hearty laugh from the colonel. His laugh was like liquid gold, it rumbled deep, shaking your core. It’s a shame others didn’t get to witness this playful side of him.

“Sounds… yummy.” You say snagging a ham sandwich. You unzip the bag and have an experimental bite. To your surprise it’s not too bad, somehow the sun melted cheese worked. Not something you’d have regularly for a snack but the fact that König cooked it, made it taste better. You can’t imagine him moving around the kitchen, did he keep the mask on or take it off? You giggle at the image of him with an apron and mask on.

“You’re always giggling and I’m never a part of the joke.” He pouts.

“I was just imagining you cooking in a cute little apron. Would you keep the mask on or take it off.” You tease.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He slips his sandwich under the hem of his mask, taking a bite. At this angle the sunlight glows behind you like a halo. König admires how angelic you are, he didn’t understand how someone could look so perfect. There wasn’t a word in any language that could describe your beauty, inside and out you were radiant. A rose blush sweeps his face, he looks away realizing how long he’s been staring. Butterflies flutter in your stomach.You turn away relocating your attention to the incredible view. At this height the wind whips strongly , blowing a cool breeze through the air. You close your eyes tilting your face to the sky, his eyes trail down your neck peering at the steady thump of your vein. He remembers the way you look with your pulse beating out of control;lustful eye low eyes staring back at him. That night you took a piece of him with you, he has never been so needy for a woman in his life. In a metaphorical sense you were a succubus and he would gladly give up his soul.

“God you’re gorgeous.” He breathes. Your eyes widen as you stammer for words nervously.

“W-what, you can’t just say that out of nowhere.” You stutter.

“Should I give you a warning next time?” He flirts.

“You’re always messing with me.” You slap his hand. He smirks loving how you crumble for him. He reaches over to grab the bag of fresh strawberries, his palm brushes the base of your thigh. He slides a berry under his mask, making a sound of approval.

“Mmm. These are really good. Try it.” He plucks a strawberry from the bag, holding it up to your lips.

You’re hesitant for a while looking at the berry in disbelief, he couldn’t be serious. This is definitely not something friends do but you do have a habit of overthinking things. Maybe this is one of those things, it’s just a strawberry, nothing less, and nothing more. You nod coyly, leaning in and wrapping your plump lips around the fruit as your teeth sink in; taking a small bite. His jaw tenses as he fights back the urge to lick the sticky juices from your mouth. With his free hand he lifts his mask, exposing the lower portion of his face. There is an intensity behind his eyes as he slides the rest of your half eaten berry past his blushed lips.

“You’re right, these are…really…good.” You trail as he closes the distance between you.

“Here, have some more then.” He bites another one. His giant hand rests at the back of your neck pulling you closer inch by inch. All thoughts evacuate your mind as his soft breath brushes your lips. He’s so close you can almost taste him. So achingly close that it makes your heart leap right out of your chest. Why was he doing this to you, making you yearn to feel him again. Reminding you of the mind bending orgasms he gave you that night. It wasn’t fair, how could you be friends when he is so irresistible? You can’t. You shouldn’t. You won’t. He brushes his soft warm lips over yours begging for permission, pleading for just one kiss. You did. You’re caught in his net as your lips meld desperately in a symphony of passion. His tongue spreads the strawberry nectar across your taste buds making the kiss intoxicatingly sweet. He shifts onto his knees towering over you, never breaking the kiss. He leans down deepening it, gripping the curve of your hips; a camo clad knee forces through the barrier of your thighs. It’s feverish and greedy, he kisses you like he’ll never get the chance to again. Your back arches into his touch, a loud moan echoes through the mountain as he teases your pulsing clit. The friction was unbearable, it felt good but it wasn’t enough. You wanted, no, needed more. Your pussy quivers as he breaks the kiss to nip at the sensitive skin of your neck.

“W-we can’t. Friends don’t uhn-friends can’t do this.”You pant.

“I want to please you. I didn’t get to show you all of my tricks last time.” He whispers seductively. He pushes you back onto your elbows, clearing the picnic blanket in one swoop of his hand. You stare down at him, your breathing is erratic wondering what his next move will be. Strong calloused fingers work the complicated buckle of your work pants. Soon your pants are not only unbuckled but being slid down the length of your legs. Your chunky black combat boots prevented them from going any further so naturally he removed those too; leaving you completely exposed from the waist down. You couldn’t believe you were letting this happen and in a desert nonetheless. König wastes no time grasping your hips and lifting your pelvis, leveling your pussy with his eager mouth. Your shoulders and head rest on the blanket while your lower half is suspended upward; legs dangling on his hunched shoulders. Even with him leaning over, your ass is still elevated at a staggering height. You’re completely at his mercy, no matter how much you squirm his grip is iron tight. The black fabric of his mask sits on the plush of your mound hiding his face as he kisses your warm lower lips. You couldn’t see anything from this angle and the mask added even more security to his next action. You watch the clouds move up above as he traces the glazed slit of your entrance, your hips buck in response. A quiet whimper vibrates your skin as he tastes you for the first time, the scent of your arousal fills the limited space in his mask. Every breath he took was filled with you, that one lick already had his dick frustratingly hard and throbbing.

“Du schmeckst so verdammt fantastisch (you taste so fucking amazing)” he mumbles into your heat. It’s impossible to hold back any more, his tongue slithers up and down the slippery split of your cunt. The tip of his tongue draws circles around your stiff clit, he nips and sucks at the bundle of nerves making your legs shake. His hands sink into your thighs as he pushes deeper into your delectable pussy. The thick flat of his tongue laps at your labia teasing the wet folds of your outer sex. Your muscles contract as he explores every crevice of your dewy flower, your juices dribble down his chin as he teases the perimeter of your tight hole. You grind up into his face wanting him to go further tasting the deepest parts of your sweetness. His hands release your thighs leaving the heavy lifting to your core strength. Your body shakes as you fight to stay in this position not wanting the pleasure to end.

“That’s it, you're doing so good Schatz(love) you’re going to have to put in some work to cum.” He breathes. His hands tug at your shirt fighting to push it up past your breast. You decide to help him out, lifting your shirt and black bra in one motion; your nipples are stiff with arousal. He rolls your hard peaks between his fingers, teasing and caressing the sensitive buds. Your mouth falls slack as his tongue eases into you, your walls clench as he strokes your inner velvet. A sloshing wet sound fills the air as he fucks your cunt with his long skillful tongue. Your hands fist the blanket as you become overwhelmed by all the sensations. How could something wrong feel so good.

“No no no you can’t cum yet, I am still enjoying my meal.” He reprimands. You bite your lip and stare up at him with pleading teary eyes.

“P-please let me cum, s’to much c-can’t hold it please.” You cry.

“Look at me Prinzessin. Focus on me. Just like that, I’m so proud of you. Don’t give up beautiful. You're taking it so well.” He praises, locking eyes with you. He feels your pussy flutter on his tongue as you fight the urge to drench his face. He sucks your clit into his mouth gently, with a final pull sending you tumbling over the edge.

“I’m g-gonna cum, need to cum fuck-“

Your spent cunt spurts delicious cream all over Königs face, drenching his mask.

“Look at the mess you made. Naughty girl.” He eases your body back to the ground, licking his lips. You lie there twitching, unable to form a coherent sentence.

~

“Suns going down. We’d better start heading back to base.” He says in a disappointed tone. He wished this day could last forever but that wasn’t realistic. The last thing he wanted to deal with was ghost pulling rank on him again. You nod helping him pack his duffel bag, he smiles as your hands brush when reaching for the same items.

“I had so much fun with you today.” You chat loading the leftover snacks into the bag.

“Me too. We should come back here soon, I’ll pack better lunches next time.” He promises, throwing the bag over his shoulder.

“Everything was perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing.” You assure, swallowing back the feelings of regret. What did this mean moving forward, did you make the mistake of leading him on again? König catches a glimpse of doubt on your face and speaks up.

“Today…never happened. We hung out, as friends.” He pats your head. You smile up at him appreciating his kindness and understanding, he knew you never meant to hurt him. Today was all on him, he took that step knowing what it meant and he’d do it again. He knows you need time to figure things out and he was done being impatient. He is sure about his feelings for you and is willing to wait as long as it takes.

“Let’s go.” He taps your butt as he walks by. You gasp smacking his back in return,trailing behind him to the jeep. He tosses the duffle bag in the back seat, walking around to help you into the car.

You stop in your tracks peering up into his beautiful lush green eyes, his heart thumps rapidly.

“Did you forget something?” He asks.

“No. You’re just…incredible you know that.”

“Y/n I-Get down!” He leaps forward shielding your body as you two tumble to the ground in a panic.

“Ah! Scheisse! I’ve been hit.” He groans, squeezing the oozing gunshot wound. A ringing sounds in your ears from the blast, everything moves in slow motion as you help him limp to the Jeep.

“A fucking sniper. We have to move! Now! Drive” he instructs baring down his teeth, holding back a scream. His leg is on fire, blood spurts between his fingers as he applies pressure. The gas pedal is touching the floor as you push the vehicle as fast as it’ll go. Your fist beats down on the horn trying to alert the front gate you’re coming in hot. one hand swerves the wheel frantically twisting and turning and the other is on Königs head holding him close as you quick fire words of affirmation.

“It’s gonna be okay, please stay with me. Hang on alittle longer. König? König?! Fuck!” You sob whipping the wheel back and forth making it harder for the snipe to aim. His consciousness begins to fade from the excessive blood loss; the once cream flooring of the Jeep is now a cherry red. His hand goes limp as he faints no longer applying pressure to the wound. He’s fading fast.

“No no no wake up. I know you’re sleepy but stay with me please please König we’re almost there.” Tears stream down your face as you beat down on the horn. The gate is a few feet away, the soldier on guard sees you approaching at 150 miles an hour. He sounds the alarm, triggering the gate to open up slowly. You can’t let up on the speed it’s too late, you have to push it. Any further delay could cost him his life, you slam your foot to the floor giving it all you’ve got. A loud crack slices through the air as you burst through the half opened gate, taking the side view mirrors off in the process. Both feet hit the brakes forcing you to a violent stop. You jump out, yelling for back up.

“Please help me, he's hit! The colonel has been shot! Please he isn’t responding help me!” You scream, wrapping your hands around his calf trying to stop the bleeding.

“Y/n! What happened?!” Maya runs up taking off her shirt to use as a makeshift tourniquet.

“They shot him.” You hyperventilate.

“Who shot him?! Get him to the operating room now!” She barks at the nearby soldiers.

“I-I don’t know…” you sob watching the men carry him away.

To be continued?…

[reidmarieprentiss]

Good Boy

Summary: Based on this post from @reidsdimples ! Spencer is being a brat, you put him in his place.

Pairing: sub!Spencer Reid x Unit Chief fem!reader

Category: smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, bratty Spencer, boss/subordinate relationship, mommy kink

Word count: 5.6k

a/n: for you @lovingreaderfangirl <333 this is basically pure smut ,, don't like it don't read it

main masterlist

Additional warnings: sub!spencer, dom!reader, mommy!kink, handjob, edging (male receiving), overstimulation, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), oral (fem receiving), choking, slapping, slight nursing

You were the unit chief, and while your relationship with your boyfriend, Spencer, usually stayed out of your work life, today was different. Spencer had made a mistake, and to make things worse, he was acting out—whether it was from embarrassment or just a bad attitude, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t going to tolerate it.

"You will go back to that house and do another sweep," you said firmly, not looking up from the open case file on your desk.

Spencer scoffed, crossing his arms in defiance. "That's ridiculous, Y/N! Morgan’s already there," he snapped, his voice sharp.

Your head shot up at his words, your eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Ridiculous?" you repeated, incredulous. "No, Spencer. What's ridiculous is you missing a massive piece of evidence and then standing here arguing with me about it." Your tone dropped, icy and stern. "You will go back to that house and search it from top to bottom. I don’t care if it takes all night. Am I making myself clear?"

Spencer’s eyes flared with frustration, and he bit back, “So, what, you’re punishing me now?”

The edge in his voice wasn’t something you were used to hearing from your usually sweet, thoughtful Spencer. You stood up, moving around your desk with deliberate steps until you were standing close enough to feel the tension between you.

"Are you talking back to me?" you asked, your voice dangerously low, your authority unmistakable. 

Spencer swallowed, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he realized how serious you were. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this—so angry, so venomous—but even though he was nervous, his stubbornness kept him from backing down just yet. 

Spencer straightened his posture, though his nerves betrayed him, making his hands fidget at his sides. He'd never seen you this mad before—at least, not directed at him—and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. But he felt too deep in this argument to backpedal now.

"I’m not talking back to you," Spencer muttered, though his tone remained defiant. "I’m just saying Morgan’s already there. There’s no reason for me to go too. We’re wasting time!" His voice escalated again, but it wavered slightly, showing the anxiety bubbling under his frustration.

You were having none of it.

“Wasting time? Is that what you think we’re doing here?” you snapped, each word clipped and precise, your gaze locked onto him with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. You were so close now that Spencer could see the tension in your jaw, feel the weight of your authority in the room. You weren’t his girlfriend in this moment—you were his boss, and you were demanding respect.

“Spencer,” your voice dropped, quieter but no less dangerous, “I don’t care how you feel about going back to that house. You missed something crucial, and you need to fix it. You messed up, and you know it. So stop acting like a petulant child and do your damn job.”

The words stung, more than he wanted to admit. His shoulders tensed, and he clenched his fists by his sides, but he couldn’t find the right words to argue back. He was embarrassed—not just because of his mistake, but because he knew you were right. But his pride was wounded, and that was hard to swallow.

"I... I just—" he started, but you cut him off sharply.

“No more excuses, Spencer. You will go to that house, and you will make sure every inch of it has been checked. And if I hear another word of backtalk from you, you’ll be off this case completely. Is that understood?"

Spencer’s breath hitched, his defiance slipping further away with each word you threw at him. He could feel the weight of the situation bearing down on him, and for the first time, he realized just how much he had crossed a line. But he was still too stubborn to admit it.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, the edge of sarcasm still lingering, but now laced with a thread of defeat.

You stepped even closer, eyes narrowing as you stared him down. "What was that?"

Spencer swallowed hard, realizing he wasn’t in a position to push any further. “I understand,” he said more clearly, his tone softening. He wanted to reach for you, to find some semblance of the warmth he was used to from you, but he knew better. Right now, you weren’t his to reach for.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, leaving behind the tension that lingered like a storm cloud. You stood there for a moment, watching the door swing shut, anger still simmering beneath your skin, but also a twinge of sadness. Spencer had never acted out like that before, and though you knew you had to be stern, it hurt to see him so distant and defiant.

But this was work. Personal feelings would have to wait.

—

However, there was a time and place for personal feelings to come to the surface, and that time was now—in the privacy of your shared apartment with Spencer.

You had gotten home first. Spencer was still out, likely combing through the crime scene after you’d sent him back to fix his earlier mistake. Frustrated by the lingering tension between you two, you huffed your way through your evening routine. You made dinner, though you knew Spencer would probably be too upset to eat when he got home. He could have the leftovers later. After that, you showered and curled up in bed with a book, waiting for him to return.

When Spencer finally came home, his anger was palpable. He slammed the front door behind him, muttering under his breath as he left a trail of clothes through the hallway on his way to the shower. The bathroom door slammed shut as well, echoing through the apartment. You sighed and rolled your eyes—if Spencer thought his attitude would go unaddressed, he was mistaken. He was in for a real punishment tonight.

After what felt like forever, Spencer emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and towel wrapped loosely around his waist. At least he had the sense to show a hint of submission, you thought.

Without looking up from your book, your voice calm and controlled, you gave your command. "Kneel."

Spencer froze, taken aback by the sudden authority in your tone. He turned his head, his confusion evident. "What?"

You set your book down slowly and fixed him with a steady gaze. "Did you not hear me? Or are you talking back again?" There was a warning in your voice, a promise that you weren’t playing games tonight. "I really don’t want to make your punishment worse, baby."

Spencer hesitated for a brief moment, the weight of the situation settling in, knowing you were in complete control now. He lowered his gaze, the tension between you thick, as he finally obeyed, dropping to his knees.

You stood up from the bed, your movements deliberate as you slowly circled around Spencer, letting your eyes roam over him with a quiet intensity. The soft sound of your bare feet against the floor was the only thing breaking the silence as you took in his posture—tense, but submissive, waiting for what was coming next. 

When you stopped in front of him, you reached down and tilted his chin up with a single finger, forcing him to meet your gaze. His eyes were defiant, even now. You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

"You know you’re in trouble, right, baby?" you asked, your voice sweet but laced with warning.

Spencer didn’t respond right away; instead, he narrowed his eyes at you, his lips pressed into a thin line, as if testing how far he could push. Without hesitation, you slapped his face lightly, the quick sting enough to make him let out a soft whimper. His eyes widened in surprise, but he still held his ground.

Roughly, you grabbed his cheeks in one hand, squeezing his face so he had no choice but to focus on you. "I asked you a question, brat."

“Yes, Mommy," he mumbled, his voice small and obedient now, the fight in him fading. "I know I’m in trouble."

"Hmm, good," you said, releasing his face with a satisfied hum. You began pacing around him again, like a predator stalking its prey, before stopping just behind him, leaning close enough that your breath tickled his ear. "And why are you in trouble, smart boy?"

Spencer swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. "Because I argued with you. I was disrespectful. I–I acted like a brat."

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. "That’s right." You stood up straight again, looking down at him. "And now, you're going to make it up to me, aren’t you?"

Spencer nodded, his face falling into a sad expression, clearly regretting how he had acted earlier. He was always your good boy, and he knew that punishment was rare because he hardly ever misbehaved. The realization of how far he'd pushed you today weighed on him, leaving him feeling small and upset.

"Why are you pouting, baby?" you asked, your tone softening just a touch as you stood in front of him, looking down at his bowed head.

Spencer shrugged, his eyes fixed on the floor, unable to meet your gaze. He shifted uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting slightly in his lap, but still, he said nothing.

"Words, Spencer," you reminded him firmly. "Speak up."

He hesitated for a moment before finally looking up at you, his eyes filled with guilt. "I hate that I disappointed you," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I don’t like being punished… you never have to do this. I’m supposed to be your good boy."

You felt a flicker of sympathy for him, knowing how much he valued pleasing you, but you held firm. "Yes, you are supposed to be my good boy," you agreed, leaning down slightly so that your eyes were level with his. "But today, you weren’t. Today, you acted like a bad boy, and now, you have to accept the consequences."

Spencer bit his lip, nodding again, the weight of his actions settling in further. "I know… I’m sorry."

You placed a gentle hand on his cheek, stroking it softly for just a moment before pulling back. "Thank you for apologizing. But you still need to learn."

“Stand up. Don’t keep the towel,” you ordered, your voice cold and almost bored, leaving no room for hesitation. Spencer flinched at the command, the sharp tone slicing through the air as he scrambled to comply. The towel slipped from his body, falling to the floor as he stood there, bare and vulnerable.

“Get on the bed,” you continued, moving with a quiet precision as you retrieved something from the dresser, your back turned to him. “Hands above your head.”

Spencer couldn’t see what you were holding, and that only added to his nervousness. He climbed onto the bed, his heart racing, and stretched his arms above his head, just as you instructed. 

When you finally turned back toward him, he caught sight of the ties and lube in your hands, and his body reacted instantly—a slight twitch of excitement mixed with fear. His breath quickened, but his eyes never left yours. He hated the feeling of being restrained, of not being able to touch you, to feel you close. But there was something intoxicating about the power dynamic, about giving himself over to you completely.

You approached him slowly, deliberately, the ties dangling from your fingers like a silent promise of what was to come. Without saying a word, you moved to the head of the bed, taking his wrists gently but firmly and securing them to the bedposts. Spencer’s chest rose and fell rapidly as the ties tightened around his wrists, his muscles straining, already longing to break free.

His eyes searched yours, desperate for any hint of softness, but he found none. You were in control, and he knew it.

"Mommy," Spencer whimpered softly, his voice barely above a whisper, full of need and desperation.

You glanced down at him, your gaze calm and measured. "Yes, baby?"

His eyes flickered with longing as he whined, "I want to touch you."

A sigh escaped your lips, and you leaned down slightly, your fingers brushing lightly along his arm, teasing but not giving him what he wanted. "I want that too, my love," you murmured, your voice laced with a touch of sympathy, though your expression remained stern. "But I can't give you a reward quite yet."

"Yet?" Spencer perked up, excitement sparking in his eyes, the word like a glimmer of hope he clung to.

You smirked at his eagerness, trailing your hand down his chest in a feather-light touch, just enough to make him squirm. "Yet," you confirmed. "But you'll have to earn it, baby. That means no whining, no more attitude. Understand?"

Spencer nodded eagerly, his eyes wide with anticipation, but you could see the struggle in him—how hard it was for him to hold back, to stay restrained when all he wanted was to feel you. "I’ll be good," he promised, his voice shaky. "Please, I’ll be good."

You smiled, your fingers trailing lower. "We'll see, baby. We'll see."

Spencer squirmed involuntarily as your fingers teased his stomach, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. "Keep still, Spence," you instructed, your voice firm but calm, watching as he took deep, shaky breaths in an attempt to regain control over his body.

His wide eyes followed your every move as you reached for the bottle of lube on the bedside table, and he watched, anticipation building, as you squirted some of its contents into your hand. The cool sensation made his breath hitch the moment your hand wrapped around him, his back arching off the bed instinctively.

Without missing a beat, you placed your other hand on his hips, pressing him back down into the mattress. "Spencer, be good," you warned, your tone leaving no room for disobedience.

His body trembled, caught between the overwhelming sensation and the need to obey you. "I’m trying," he whispered, his voice strained as he fought to stay still, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the ties. His chest heaved, desperate to be good for you, but the pleasure was intoxicating, testing his restraint.

You smirked, knowing exactly how far you could push him. "Good boy," you murmured, your hand moving slowly, deliberately, keeping his hips pinned down as he tried not to writhe beneath you, every muscle in his body begging for release, but you weren’t done with him yet. Not even close.

After almost an hour of torture, Spencer was doing everything in his power to follow your rules, his body taut with tension as he tried to stay still beneath your touch. His breath came in ragged gasps, his wrists pulling at the ties as he strained not to buck his hips against you. But you were making it so hard for him—each time your hand changed pace, it sent him spiraling, his mind spinning out of control. You could feel his body tightening, every muscle coiling as he teetered on the edge.

And just when you knew he was close, so close, you let go.

A desperate sound tore from his throat, half whine, half groan, as you pulled your hand away, denying him the release he so desperately craved. His eyes were wide, his chest heaving as he looked up at you, practically begging for mercy.

"Please," he whimpered, his voice cracking under the weight of his desperation. "Please, I want—"

You shushed him gently, running your hand down his chest in a soothing gesture. "Spencer," you said softly but firmly, your eyes locking onto his. "What did I say about being good?"

"I-I’m trying," he gasped, his voice shaky as he fought to hold on. "I’m really trying."

You could see him unraveling, his mind quickly losing grip on any sense of control. And that was exactly where you wanted him.

"Then keep trying, baby," you whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his chest. "You’ll get what you want when I’m ready to give it to you. Not a moment before."

You sped your hand up, focusing all your attention on the sensitive tip, moving with quick, intense strokes. Spencer's body reacted immediately, his back arching violently off the bed as a scream tore from his chest.

"Mommy! Please!" His voice cracked, high and desperate, tears beginning to stream from his eyes as he lost all composure. "I’m going to come!"

But instead of granting him mercy, you snapped sharply, "No!" The command echoed in the room, and Spencer flinched at your tone. "If you come," you warned, your eyes dark and unwavering, "I’m not stopping."

His breath hitched, and his sobs grew more frantic. He fought to control himself, but the sensation was overwhelming, his mind teetering on the brink of bliss and despair. The threat of what would come if he disobeyed hung heavy in the air, fueling his panic as he tried, with every ounce of strength, to hold back the release his body so desperately craved.

"Please," Spencer sobbed, his tears mixing with the sweat on his face as his entire body trembled beneath your relentless touch. "I-I can’t… I can’t hold on…"

"Yes, you can," you whispered, your voice soft but commanding as you leaned closer. "You will, or you’ll regret it, baby. Be good for me."

He choked out a whimper, his muscles straining, teetering on the edge of breaking as your hand continued its torturous rhythm, and every nerve in his body screamed for release. But you were in control, and Spencer knew there would be no relief until you decided. 

You pressed your palm firmly against the sensitive tip, rubbing harsh circles that sent shockwaves through Spencer’s body. He couldn't hold it any longer—a guttural scream tore from his throat as his orgasm ripped through him, his release spilling across his stomach in hot, frantic bursts.

But there was no mercy in your eyes as you watched him unravel beneath you.

"Oh… bad boy, baby," you tutted softly, your voice laced with both disappointment and a dark edge of amusement. Without missing a beat, you gripped him tightly, continuing your mean, relentless rhythm even as his body spasmed from the intensity.

Spencer writhed beneath you, his sobs louder now as the overstimulation set in, his body too sensitive to handle the unyielding pace of your hand. "Please, please!" he begged, his voice hoarse, his tears mixing with the sweat on his face. "I-I can’t—please stop, I’m sorry!"

But you only leaned in closer, your hand maintaining its punishing rhythm. "I told you, baby," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear, "if you came, I wouldn’t stop. And bad boys don’t get to decide when it’s over."

Spencer whimpered helplessly, his entire body shaking as he endured the overwhelming sensations, unable to escape the torment of your touch. The line between pleasure and pain had long since blurred, leaving him at your mercy. And you weren't done with him yet. 

You suddenly let go of Spencer, pulling your hand away from him. For a brief moment, he thought the torture had finally ended, and he took deep, strained breaths, his chest heaving as tears continued to spill from his eyes. 

"Thank you, Mommy," he whispered, his voice barely audible as he sighed in relief, closing his eyes as if he could finally rest.

But just as he began to relax, his eyes shot open, wide with shock, as he felt you sinking down on top of him, your body enveloping him in an overwhelming rush of sensation. The overstimulation hit him like a bolt of electricity, and his body reacted instantly, thrashing beneath you in a desperate attempt to escape the intensity.

"Mommy!" he cried out, his voice ragged and broken as his body twisted under yours. His muscles tensed, his movements frantic, but there was no escape.

"Shut up," you seethed, your voice low and dangerous as you wrapped your hand around his throat, tightening your grip just enough to still him. His breath hitched, and his panicked eyes met yours. "I’m in charge," you reminded him, the weight of your authority pressing down on him as surely as your body did.

Spencer whimpered beneath your grip, his mind a haze of overstimulation and helplessness, but he knew better than to argue with you. His resistance faded as he realized you weren’t done with him yet—not until you decided.

"Tell me, baby," you panted, your body moving rhythmically as you rode Spencer, chasing your own release with relentless intensity. Every roll of your hips drove him deeper into overstimulation, but you were in control, and you weren’t letting up. "How does it feel?"

Spencer sniffled, his voice shaky and tear-filled. "S-so good, Mommy," he stammered, struggling to hold himself together as his body continued to tremble beneath you.

You laughed, the sound sharp and mean as you continued, "Thought you couldn’t take it." There was a mocking edge to your voice as you rode him harder, the sensation overwhelming his senses. "Were you lying?"

"No!" Spencer cried, his voice breaking as he clung to the edge of his composure. "It—it hurts, Mommy, but I like it!"

"Yes, yes, you do," you taunted, your tone dripping with satisfaction as you gazed down at him, your pathetic, brainless boy. "You like it when Mommy uses you, don’t you?"

"Yes!" he nearly screamed, his body shaking uncontrollably, caught between pain and pleasure. "Please! Just want to be good for you," he sobbed, his desperation palpable as he surrendered completely to your control.

You leaned forward, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "Then be good, baby, and take everything I give you." Your body continued to grind down on him, mercilessly chasing your own release, pushing him further past the point of no return.

By the time you reached your release, Spencer was a wreck beneath you, his body trembling as sobs wracked his chest. He cried out in desperation as your muscles tightened around him, sending him further into an abyss of overstimulation. Each second felt like an eternity for him, trapped between the aching pleasure and the need to obey you.

Just when he thought relief was finally coming, you lifted yourself off of him, hovering just above him, denying him that final push he needed. Spencer’s whine was pitiful, filled with frustration and longing. "Mommy! Please!" he whimpered, his voice cracking as tears continued to stream down his face.

"Please what?" you asked, your tone deliberately condescending as you leaned back, watching him squirm beneath you. "Use your words, dumb baby."

Spencer swallowed hard, his body twitching with anticipation, his mind too clouded to do anything but beg. "Please let me come," he sobbed, his voice raw and desperate. "Please, Mommy."

You smirked, your eyes dark with amusement as you leaned forward just enough to tease him with the possibility of what he wanted. "Hmm… okay, baby," you said, your voice dripping with false sweetness. "But you’re cleaning it up after."

Spencer twitched at your words, his entire body lighting up with excitement at the promise. The thought of finally getting the release he so desperately needed was enough to make him shiver. "Yes, Mommy," he gasped, nodding eagerly as his breath hitched in anticipation, his mind already surrendering completely to your control.

You lowered yourself back down onto Spencer, and his loud, desperate moan filled the room as he watched you take him in again, the sight alone enough to push him closer to the edge. His body was trembling, every nerve on fire as you rode him hard and fast, the intensity of your movements leaving him powerless to do anything but submit. 

His hands tugged against the restraints, his eyes squeezed shut, and with a strangled cry, he found his release, his body jerking as he filled you up. The sensation of you pinching and tugging at his nipples sent him over the edge, his cries growing louder as his body finally gave in completely.

You slowed your pace, riding out the last of his climax, before finally relaxing on top of him, your breath steadying. Spencer lay beneath you, panting and exhausted, his chest heaving as he came down from the overwhelming high.

With a soft sigh, you pulled off him, moving up his body with a deliberate slowness, positioning yourself directly over his face. You looked down at him, your fingers gently brushing through his hair as you smiled wickedly. "Ready to clean up your mess, baby?"

Spencer’s eyes widened, his mouth already watering at the thought, and he nodded eagerly, his voice breathless and submissive. "Yes, Mommy, please," he whispered, his eyes full of adoration as he awaited your command, ready to obey, to please, and to make up for every bit of his earlier defiance.

You lowered yourself onto Spencer's waiting mouth, threading your fingers through his hair as you settled into a steady rhythm, guiding his movements with gentle yet firm pressure. His tongue worked eagerly, desperate to please you, to clean up every bit of the mess he'd made.

“Oh, Spence,” you sighed, your head falling back slightly as you rode his face, each stroke of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Your mouth is so good, baby."

Spencer whimpered in response, his efforts growing more determined with every sound of approval that escaped your lips. You could feel the way he was trying so hard to be good for you, to make you proud, and it only fueled your desire to push him further.

"Making Mommy so proud," you praised, your voice laced with satisfaction as you tugged gently at his hair, controlling his pace. His tongue flicked faster, more desperate to hear those words again, and you couldn't help the soft moans escaping you as you continued to ride his face, letting the sensation build.

With each passing second, Spencer's mouth worked harder, your praise driving him to do anything for you. His whimpers were muffled by your body, but the eagerness in his touch and the way he responded to your every command made it clear—he was willing to do anything to make you proud.

You continued to ride Spencer’s face, your fingers tightening in his hair as you guided him, making sure he stayed exactly where you needed him. His tongue flicked and swirled in all the right places, and the sounds of your pleasure spurred him on, his hands instinctively tugging against the restraints as he longed to touch you, to feel your body against his.

"That’s it, baby," you breathed, your voice a mix of praise and moans as you pressed down harder, your body shivering from the sensations he was creating. "You’re making Mommy feel so good."

Spencer whimpered beneath you, the vibrations of his muffled cries only adding to your pleasure as you ground down onto him, riding his mouth with a newfound urgency. Your hips moved faster, chasing the climax that was building inside you, each stroke of his tongue sending you closer to the edge.

"You like this, don’t you?" you asked, your voice breathless but firm. "You like being my toy, Spence?"

His desperate whimpers were the only answer you needed. You tugged harder at his hair, pulling his face closer, your pace quickening as the pleasure began to overwhelm you. Spencer’s tongue moved in perfect rhythm with your hips, eager to push you to your peak.

As the tension built, you gasped, your body trembling as you felt yourself nearing the brink. "I’m so proud of you, baby," you whispered, your voice strained as you rode out the waves of pleasure. "So proud…"

With a final, desperate grind against his mouth, the climax washed over you, your body convulsing as you cried out, the release crashing through you in waves. Spencer didn't stop, his tongue continuing to work, not wanting you to take away his favorite treat. 

His mouth and tongue continued their relentless work, his eagerness only spurring you on as your cries grew louder. "Oh! Good boy!" you gasped, the praise slipping from your lips as your hips thrust faster against his mouth, riding the wave of pleasure that was building once again.

"You like tasting yourself?" you panted, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts as your body moved with a desperate rhythm. Spencer moaned beneath you, his muffled response sending vibrations through your core, and it only drove you to push harder against him.

"Like it coming out of me?" you taunted, your voice strained and full of need as you felt his tongue lapping eagerly at the mess you had made together. The idea of him cleaning up his own release, desperate to please you, sent shivers down your spine, adding to the already overwhelming sensation.

Spencer whimpered beneath you, his body reacting to your words even as he remained restrained, helpless to do anything but obey. The combination of your command, the praise, and the undeniable power you held over him had him lost in submission, and you could feel the tension building in both of you again.

"Such a good boy," you praised, your voice trembling with the intensity of your pleasure. "So good at doing exactly what Mommy needs." You rode him harder, your body nearing its limit once more as Spencer's tongue worked tirelessly beneath you.

The room was filled with the sounds of your panting breaths, your moans mixing with Spencer's muffled noises as he continued to drive you closer to the edge. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your hips grinding down faster, chasing that final release.

With a breathless cry, your third climax crashed through you, your entire body quivering as Spencer’s tongue carried you over the edge once again. You moaned his name, gripping his hair tightly as you rode out the waves of pleasure, not slowing until every last bit of satisfaction had pulsed through you.

You pulled yourself off of Spencer, and immediately he let out a whine, his lips pouting in protest, not wanting you to take his favorite treat away, he could eat you out for hours. His neediness tugged at your heart, and you couldn’t help but smile as you gently stroked his hair.

"Baby, Mommy is sensitive," you said softly, your voice filled with affection. 

Spencer pouted even more, his eyes big and round as he mumbled, "I just wanna make you feel good."

"You did make me feel so good, baby," you reassured him, your smile widening as you saw his face light up, the joy radiating from his eyes.

"Am I your good boy again?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope and a bit of that endearing vulnerability that always made you melt.

Your heart softened instantly, and you leaned down, cupping his face in your hands as you pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "You’re always my good boy," you whispered against his mouth. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Mommy," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, eyes full of adoration.

After you untied him, you took your time massaging his arms and wrists, soothing the slight redness left behind by the ties. You helped him into the shower with you, gently guiding him as he leaned heavily against you, still needing your care. The warm water cascaded over both of you as you softly washed his body, your touches gentle and nurturing. Spencer rested his head against your shoulder, completely relying on your strength, his exhaustion clear as he sighed softly, content in your embrace.

Once you were both dried off and dressed for bed, you brought him back to the comfort of your bed, where you massaged lotion into his arms, making sure he felt taken care of. Your lips peppered soft kisses over his skin as you worked, your voice a soothing murmur as you whispered how good he was, how proud you were of him.

"You’re so good, Spencer," you murmured between kisses. "Always my good boy."

Spencer sighed, his body fully relaxed now as he basked in your affection, letting your words and touch wash over him like a warm blanket. His eyes fluttered closed, a small smile playing on his lips as you continued to kiss and praise him, reminding him of just how much he meant to you.

“Mommy…” Spencer’s voice was soft, hesitant, as he lay beside you, his head resting on your chest.

“Mhm?” you murmured back, feeling the weight of tiredness pulling at you, though still present enough to listen to him.

“Can I suck…?” His voice trailed off, filled with uncertainty.

You giggled softly, a wave of affection washing over you for your needy little baby. "Of course, Spence," you murmured, lifting your shirt to give him the comfort he craved.

Without hesitation, Spencer nestled his head underneath, latching onto your breast with a soft sigh. His body relaxed against yours, and you could feel the tension melt away as he suckled gently, his breathing becoming slow and steady.

You stroked his hair lovingly, the intimate moment between you quiet and peaceful. “You’re such a good boy,” you whispered softly, letting him find the comfort he needed as you both slowly drifted off to sleep, his head resting safely against your chest.

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[emeritusemeritus]

I didn’t want to be alone [Eddie Munson X Reader]

Title: I didn’t want to be alone.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader {Established friendship but deliberately vague, can be romantic or not}. Platonic!Wayne Munson&Reader.

Timeline: Non-specified. There’s a brief mention of ‘trauma’ that I’d originally written as events from ST 1-3 but it could be anything. Insert your troubles here.

Summary: When things in your mind get bad, you know you always have a place to go.

Warnings: Brief mentions of trauma, illusions of mental illness. Sadness/ depression. This is a comfort fic. Wayne looks after us. Wayne Munson being the father figure we all need.

Word count: 3.4k

This is a complete comfort fic that I wrote to try and make myself feel better, a concept I came up with to try and get to sleep one night. My toddler isn’t sleeping, I haven’t slept properly for days and I’m losing my mind- keep me in your thoughts as I drown in coffee.

The last thing Wayne Munson expected to see when he pulled up to his trailer at 4am after his monthly half shift was your car; he especially didn't expect to see you sat stationary within the car, staring blankly up towards the dark trailer home. He frowns as he cuts the engine to his beat up truck, grabs his trusty brown thermos and metal lunchbox before he climbs out of the truck. When his eyes fix on you again, he sees that you haven't moved even an inch, not even acknowledging his approach. Your chin rests on your arm slung over the wheel, body slumped down in your seat with a vacant expression on your face, eyes heavy and pained. He can tell immediately that something isn't right with you, your body language completely thrown off as you stare into the void, unaware of everything around you.

He'd seen you look like this only once before, but Eddie had mentioned in passing that you'd had 'episodes' one or two times before, something about trauma, something that had haunted you from a few years back. Wayne was a simple man and didn't pretend to know what any of that meant, nor would he intrude and ask you about it when you so clearly didn't want to open up about what was plaguing you. He figured better people with bigger brains than he would be the only people that could understand what you were going through, but he'd try his best to help you where he could.

Wayne knows better than to make you jump in your impaired state and so he tried to delicately walk over to your car, putting himself directly in your eye line so that you wouldn't be alarmed once you realised he was there. It takes a minute or so for your eyes to focus on him, flicking over at the slow movement in your peripheral vision. Your shock at seeing him makes his eyes pull tight together in a squint, fighting the urge to frown at your unusual behaviour. 

He walks over to your car door and finally takes in your appearance, the crease lines in his face getting deeper as he frowns once again, seeing that you are in no way dressed appropriately for the bitter cold, wearing only a pair of lounge shorts and an oversized band shirt that he instantly recognises as his nephew's.

You wind the window down as Wayne leans in, careful to be gentle with you as he sees the glassy, pained look still overwhelming your face, even after you'd broken out of your trance.

"What're you doing here girl? Got your key don't ya?" He says, trying his hardest to keep his tone balanced and his voice gentle; not an easy feat for a self proclaimed gruff, southern born hick like Wayne.

Wayne cringes as he feels the low temperature inside your car, the cold drifting out from your rolled down window. Somehow the inside of your car was even colder than the crisp, early morning air outside. Only then did Wayne remember you complaining that the heat and the ac in your car had busted a couple of weeks ago, but you couldn't afford to get it fixed right away on account of your 'full time student and part time waitress' salary.

You stare at him for a lingering moment, not even making a single attempt to reply as you usually would, the only sign that you had heard him at all was a subtle twitch of your eye. You eventually turn to look away, averting your gaze from his concerned eyes to stare back towards the trailer which was pitch black inside with no sign of life.

"I didn't know what to do," you said quietly, your voice timid and weak as you fought to push out your thoughts. "I remembered what you said about coming over anytime I needed to not be alone, but then I remembered the date and that Eddie was away at his gig. Then I remembered you said that Eddie didn't even have to be here, when you gave me the spare key. I got in my car and drove here but then I got stuck, not able to go inside because I'd be a burden but I couldn't leave either."

Wayne was quiet at he listened intently to you, giving you the time you needed to explain, knowing how hard it must be for you to speak your thoughts out loud. He silently nods gently, knowing at least partially what you were feeling as he acknowledges your troubles. He thinks it strange how often you said 'remembered' in the sentence, knowing that your words sounded uncharacteristic but he assumes that it is just you voicing your thoughts as they appeared in your head.  His heart breaks a little at hearing your sad words, knowing that you must have felt real bad to have jumped in your car and drove all the way out here without thought of a jacket.

"Let's get you inside, 'fore ya catch a damn cold," he says gently, wanting to get you into the warmth as he sees goose flesh spreading across your skin and the unmistakable bounce of your leg from your body fighting the cold. He expects to be met with more resistance than you offer as you simply nod and reach for the keys that are still in the ignition. He opens the door for you, juggling his belongings in his arms as he leads you up the concrete steps to the trailer and unlocks the door, offering a tiny smile of empathy at you as he steps aside, allowing you to enter first.

As you step in, you're immediately met with stagnant warm air from the trailer being shut up all day, retaining the last slithers of heat emitted by the old space heater Wayne must have had on before he went to work. The trailer smells like home to you and immediately offers a level of comfort that you could never get anywhere else. There's a lingering smell of cigarette smoke which hangs thick in the air, mixed with a hint of Eddie's cheap cologne and old spice, old coffee and the overwhelming scent of both Eddie and Wayne, their warm natural scents mixing to create the personalised blend of the Munson trailer.

You tentatively take a seat on the couch once offered by Wayne, who immediately sets to turning on a few lamps before boiling some water for a warm drink for you both, throwing down his lunchbox and thermos on the counter in the process. He grabs two mugs from the cabinet, but immediately changes his mind as he thinks of way to cheer you up. He walks past you to reach for one of his many display mugs, grabbing your favourite of the bunch and rinses it in the sink before setting the two mugs aside to make a drink. He begins to pull out the coffee but stops himself, knowing that the last thing you need is a blast of caffeine in your system and so he reached for the small box of tea that he kept in just for you, pulling out your preferred flavour as he makes the drinks.

He takes a look at you as he waits for the water to boil, finally seeing you in the light that he'd turned on as you entered. Your eyes look dark and sunken, dark purple circles formed underneath your once sparkly eyes, telling him that you hadn't slept a wink.  Your hair was haphazardly thrown up into a messy bun, faint smudges of mascara were present under your eyes and overall you looked thoroughly exhausted.

When he walks over to you, he's delicate with his approach, offering the tea out to you with a gentle smile. He notices your eyes widening slightly once you spot the special mug and a small smile tugs at your lips which he's thankful for as it means your coming out of your dark place. You mumble a thank you as you cradle the warm Star Wars mug in your hands, the heat rolling through your cold and shivering body.

"You wanna talk about it?" He says quietly, taking a seat and bringing his own mug to his lips. He sees a frown form on your eyebrows before your eyes close and you shake your head no at his suggestion. He simply nods, respecting your decision and giving you the grace of not asking any follow up questions.

"I'm sorry," your little voice says after a few silent moments.

"Don't ever be sorry, you did the right thing by coming here darlin," Wayne replies sweetly, to which you reply with a kind and grateful smile. "You're welcome here night or day."

Neither of you speaks for a moment, though it's a comfortable shared silence rather than an awkward interlude.

"So how come you ain't with Eddie at his gig?" Wayne asks a few moments later, taking another sip of his coffee. Your eyes flash with angst again and he suddenly regrets asking as your face drops slightly, not realising that his question could trigger you.

"I had an exam, couldn't get out of it," you shrugged gently, not managing to lift your eyes up from their fixed point upon your mug, watching the steam rise from the hot tea inside.

"You do okay?" Wayne asks, feeling a little awkward at asking. Eddie had always been a handful, especially when it came to doing his homework and anything academic, and Wayne's questioning of how projects went or finals or whatever else had fallen on deaf ears many years ago.

You nodded gently in reply, a little apprehensive maybe, "yeah I think so, it was only after when things started to go bad."

Wayne knew immediately that you were referring to your episode earlier, and his heart ached more for the girl in front of him who seemed so broken down, the girl he had grown to care for like a daughter. You fell quiet again, staring into space looking so exhausted you could drop down where you sat.

"Tell ya what, why don't ya go lay down in Eddie's room for a while, take your tea with yer," Wayne suggests, leaning forward slightly as he talked, not quiet reaching out to you but feeling a little closer to do so. "I'll make us some grub once you wake up."

You immediately begin to weakly protest, already feeling like a burden but Wayne shuts it down quickly. "Ain't no different then having Eddie here, 'cept you got a better sense of hygiene and noise control," he joked, earning a chuckle from you. "I'll be right through here if you need anything, ain't sleeping yet and I ain't going anywhere." His voice was still gentle but his words held a level of insistence which meant you couldn't question him, knowing he was being entirely honest.

"Uncle Wayne, thank you," you smiled gently, standing up off the couch and making your way through to the familiar back room, carrying your mug, before closing the door.

Stepping into Eddie's room without him here felt a little odd, but the sight of the room alone was enough to comfort you even more. Cigarette smell lingered here too, mixed with the faint whiff of marijuana, Eddie's cheap cologne and a general boy smell which wasn't entirely unpleasant. His guitar, sweetheart, was missing off the wall, along with two of the three amps that were usually littered around on the limited floor space.

You placed your mug on the nightstand, beside the ashtray, and didn't hesitate to throw yourself down onto the bed, pulling the sheets up high so that you were essentially cocooned in them. The sheets smelt perfectly like Eddie. Bringing them up to your nose to scent him, you felt instantly calmer by the second.

You could hear the faint murmur of the tv in the lounge, knowing that Wayne would probably be watching the 5am news or a repeat of his favourite western, the Comancheros. The knowledge of him being right outside was enough to comfort you even more, knowing that you weren't alone anymore.

For the first time since your episode began, you felt like you could actually finally fall asleep; the comfy bed, the lingering scent of Eddie all around you and the soft comforter all equated to your relaxed, happy state. Your tired eyes closed on their own accord, suddenly overwhelmed by the heaviness that pulled at them and without any hesitation or conscious effort, you slipped into a deep sleep, putting the bad day behind you.

Only a few hours later, early in the morning when Eddie's van roared up the dirt road towards the trailer, music turned down only slightly from its usual blaring volume, until it came to a sharp stop right outside his trailer. He frowned when he saw not only your car but his uncles truck parked outside, not expecting either of you to be there when he got back.

He stepped into the trailer and immediately spotted his uncle lounging in his armchair, a western playing on the old tv, without any sign of you.

Eddie nods to his uncle in greeting, before opening his mouth to question your whereabouts until Wayne instantly brings his finger to his lips, attempting to silence the boy from speaking too loudly. He didn't say anything in the moment, merely pointing towards the closed door leading to Eddie's room, hoping that he'd catch what he was trying to say.

Eddie nods his head, frowning a moment later as he realised what must have happened and that he wasn't here to help.

"You're back early boy," Wayne states, reaching for the tv remote to mute it, reaching out to grab a cigarette from the pack before lighting it, watching his nephew do the same thing only moments behind him after placing down the guitar in it's carrier by the small table.

"Gig was cancelled, burst pipe, never even made it on stage," Eddie mumbled, clearly annoyed at the facts he was relaying.

"There's always next time son," Wayne replies, taking a drag of his cigarette, earning a gentle nod from his nephew. "She's asleep, told her to get down in your room."

At the mention of you, Eddie's eyes flicker to the closed door of his bedroom, a warmth filling his gut at the thought of you sleeping in his room, especially without him there. Though he hated the thought of you suffering alone, disliking the thought of it happening when he wasn't here to help a little too much, the fact that you sought out him and his home gave him a little possessive buzz.

"Thanks Wayne, for, yanno," he couldn't quite get the words out that he wanted to say, feeling a little uncomfortable at the emotional weight in the conversation. Wayne understands, he always does and gives Eddie a nod that tells him everything, the look in his eyes conveying his affection for you, especially the way that it silently says 'I'd do it for you too'.

Eddie puts out his cigarette and with one last thankful look towards his uncle, creeps down the hall to his bedroom and slides open the door, trying desperately not to spook you.

It's dark in the room, the only light peeking through the window is from the street light a few meters away that shines rays of light over you thanks to his broken blinds.

He feels a little creepy watching you sleep but he can't resist, seeing you cocooned in his own sheets looking blissfully peaceful, the demons you carried not haunting your dreams. Your hair is spread across the pillow and there's a brief moment where he is genuinely excited that his sheets will smell like you the next night.

He doesn't fully undress, only throws off his shoes and the jeans that were still heavy and filled with ticket stubs and random change that he'd accumulated on the journey to the venue and then straight back. He's delicate as he climbs into bed beside you, praying he doesn't disturb you or worse, frighten you.

He sucks in a breath when he feels you move, no doubt sensing the presence behind you and for a moment he holds his breath, trying to stay completely still.

"Eddie?" You murmur sleepily, the hopefulness in your voice making his heart beat just a little harder at the sound.

"M'here princess," he says gently, pressing his hand delicately to your shoulder. He lets out a little noise of content when you turn over in bed and snuggle down into his chest, bringing your warmth with you. The pair of you cuddling wasn't entirely unheard of, but Eddie was certain it had never been this intimate before, not that he was complaining.

"Wanna talk?" He offers after a few moments of silence, sensing that your breathing hadn't returned to your peaceful sleep pattern. You shake your head on his chest and try to snuggle further down, secretly inhaling more of his scent as you sought comfort that only he could provide.

"How was your gig?" You mumbled, sleepiness still making you slur your words just a little, feeling as if speaking in full was too much effort.

"Got cancelled princess, s'why I'm back," he explains gently. His ringed hand has started to absently rub back and forth across your back and you wish he'd never stop doing it.

"What time is it?" You ask, sitting up just enough to look at him, though you could only really make out his outline in the darkness. You frown, suddenly realising that Eddie was back much, much earlier than you'd anticipated and his words of explanation slowly sunk in. "It got cancelled, why?"

Once again, Eddie feels like the grinch with his heart expanding in significant increments, feeling it grow and swell at your distraught tone. You actually cared that the gig was cancelled.

"Pipe burst," he says with a shrug, a much calmer reaction to the news than he'd had only a few hours ago when he'd gone ballistic and kicked the tyres of his van.

"I'm sorry Eddie, you were really excited." He smiles down at you, even if you can't see it. Suddenly feeling overwhelming affection for you. He shrugs again and pulls you closer, holding on to you just a little tighter.

"So, do you come here often without me? Think I might be developing a complex here princess." Even in the dark you can hear the smirk in his voice and you use your head to jab him just a little in the ribs at his insinuation.

"Better when you're here," you mumble, resting your head again against his soft body. "Just needed you."

Eddie bites back a smile, knowing that you would never dare say that in the light of day but somehow between the darkness and the late, or early, hour, everything said between you both seems like a secret, your own little world created where nothing is out of bounds.

"How did your exam go?" He asks, still slowly running his ringer fingers across your back.

"Sssh, too much talking," you say with a smile, not wanting to think about the day before. He understands, it was a Munson's best quality after all to know when talking wasn't beneficial; when being arrested, in an argument with your woman and just occasionally when the moment was so perfect no words would be good enough.

"Coffees on me in the morning," he says, his eyes closing as he feels your breathing even out again, your body sinking further into him as sleep begins to take over.

"Mmmm, sounds nice," you say lightly, the tiredness and proximity to sleep so clear in your voice that it makes Eddie smile out into the dark room.

"Donuts too," he adds, kissing the top of your head as it rests on his chest, feeling prouder than he'd ever felt before. You'd found comfort in him and in turn he'd found comfort in you too, both of you slowly sailing off to sleep surrounded by each other, the pains of the day before disappearing entirely.

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[tubbytarchia]

To all the nosy neighbour enjoyers, thank you for being that. Anyway here's my propaganda!! Just some of my favorite moments tee hee

Sorry if my BigB looks weird (I tried really hard :( ) I'll pretend that that's intentional given my rabbit hybrid BigB thoughts under cut:

I made a little post about this before but basically BigB has such rabbit behavior:

1. Cannot help but keep burying himself underground like it's his natural habitat (seriously he comes back on ground to build a house on a mountain and then immediately makes an elaborate underground hideout again. Or how he built backrooms in SL and kept retreating there. Or how he was literally underground when he ran into Pearl, for Pearl to inform him that it was night time and BigB immediately wanting to retreat back underground. Or how he was underground for almost the entire "red winter is coming" session. Or)

2. Often fidgety around others

3. Constantly cautious but doesn't let nervousness show if there is any

4. More prone to keeping distance and watching rather than engaging

Idk he is extremely prey animal behavior (positive, affectionate) and I can never see him as anything but a rabbit now. I considered giving him rabbit legs too but then I was like nah. Because I think him having weird rabbit posture in a mostly human body contributes some inherent awkwardness and a bit of uncannines (fitting with his gaslighting tendencies). After all he's kind of out of his element above ground (or that's how he acts!) and that's when people are going to be seeing him. But just you wait till he stands tall for a change to tell someone off (like Cleo in SL or Scott in LimL). And with such posture, he inadvertently makes himself look smaller, which certainly would help him weasel his way out of undesired situations like he often does, eg by talking people into pitying him to save himself from dying. I'd also like to imagine him to be smart enough to manipulate his rabbit ears to not betray how he's feeling or to make others think he's feeling a certain way, unless he feels particularly threatened or something. That's maybe half the appeal of animal ears to me, that they can be an added tool for emoting, but a hybrid moving them in deliberate ways is a fun concept!

Oh and he has caving boots!!

I do kind of seethingly hate how he looks with his ears drawn back but I did the best I could. I really hate having human ears in addition to animal ears personally, but if I put his ears any further up where they'd look cuter (Pearl's antennae for comparision) it'll look really weird. Aghh whatever he's supposed to be awkward so whatever please ignore it Im going to cry

Also if you think the old design is cuter, it's almost certainly because of the lesser facial hair lol trust me!! And I changed the curly hair to be a bit less curly in likeness to Lee from Walking Dead because I did not realize that BigB's skin is basically that and I couldn't help myself. I was overall really unhappy with my old BigB design so yay for redesign. I swear its not just animal features that make things interesting for me...... maybe somewhat....

[crackedhrglass]

i got this ask on my strawpage and was gonna type it up in my notes app and post it to twitter, but i really couldn't figure out a way to say it concisely, so i'm answering it here bc it's prob gonna be long lol.

do i think stancest is actually canon? simply put, no. despite how often i'm like "STANCEST IS CANON!!" i truly don't think that AH and the writers intended stan & ford's relationship to be seen through an incestuous lens.

their relationship is def the heart of the show, second only to dipper & mabel's own bond. they are the center of each other's worlds, their story & character arcs revolve almost entirely around each other, and their happy ending is literally the two of them sailing off into the sunset to spend "the rest of their days" together (ford says this almost word-for-word in journal 3).

but i still don't think all of that was meant to be taken romantically.

in my opinion, where things start to get a little weird is, surprisingly enough, ford's relationship with bill.

the rest is under a cut bc HOLY SHIT this got longer than i expected.

there's no denying that bill was written to deliberately parallel stan in a number of ways, from his mannerisms, to his conman status, to the fact that he calls ford the same name stan did when they were kids.

he's written in a very intentional way that makes him serve as both stan's parallel and his foil, especially in their respective relationships to ford (bill feeds into ford's ego and encourages him to aspire for greatness alone, stan has always been a direct obstacle & challenge to ford's ego, accidentally ruining his chances at WCT & encouraging him to live out their childhood dream together; bill valued infinite power over his own family and destroyed his dimension as a result, stan valued his family over everything, and saved ford and his dimension as a result).

normally, this wouldn't be that big of a deal to a stancest shipper like myself. but as the book of bill & the accompanying website all but confirmed in big, flashing neon lights, ford & bill have a romantic history and are exes.

having the two people closest to ford be compared to one another is one thing. having ford be drawn to bill because of how similar he is to the brother he secretly misses is one thing.

having ford be romantically involved with said character is what makes me raise an eyebrow lol.

again, do i think ford is literally a brocon who's got repressed sexual/romantic feelings for stan?

no.

i do, however, think he has unresolved Brother Issues that led him to subconsciously find comfort in a romantic partner that reminded him of stan (right down to bill calling him stan's nickname for him) in much the same way a person with "daddy issues" may seek out affection & intimacy from someone who reminds them of their father (or is just "fatherly" in general).

that much, i believe, was actually intentional. it's just too blatant to not be lol. it'd be a completely different story if either

bill & stan were nothing alike (untrue) or

ford & bill's relationship was strictly platonic and didn't have any romantic implications (also untrue)

i've said this before, but this isn't just a case of "oh, ford fell in love with someone who just coincidentally reminds him of his brother." bill's use of the nickname "sixer" during their first encounter was a deliberate attempt at appealing to a part of ford that was repressed, vulnerable, and aching, in order to get ford's guard down and make it easier for ford to trust him, and it worked.

billford is a ship that, to put it bluntly, would not exist without ford's buried feelings for stan, even disregarding shipping/incest/etc. ford's desire to be close to stan even platonically is what allowed bill to needle his way into ford's heart in the first place.

and all of this wouldn't be that weird if, again, bill hadn't continued to feed into ford's longing for stan even after they'd established a romantic relationship, by still calling him "sixer" and trying to permanently sever the relationship he had with stan specifically, once he and ford broke up (the phone call he tried to make while in ford's body that was described in tbob).

to put it another way, imagine if wendy was basically an older, taller mabel, or if any of mabel's crushes were eerily similar to dipper. people in the fandom would def take notice and view it as a little strange. so i don't get how people can look at ford dating someone so blatantly and intentionally similar to stan and think to themselves "ah yes, this is normal. ford is completely Normal and definitely doesn't have any underlying issues whatsoever" lmao

to conclude: no, i don't think ford & stan's relationship is actually canonically romantic, nor do i think ford falling in love with bill was incestuous, necessarily.

but i do think that he had a desperate longing to reconcile with stan buried DEEEEEEP down, and it manifested itself in the form of being attracted to bill, which is probably why he never bothered correcting bill's use of the nickname "sixer" since their very first meeting, or ever expressed that it made him uncomfortable.

[thegirlamongthestars]

kiss me - c.alcaraz

author: this fic is part of the olympic love series

summary: A midnight invitation to the pool make Carlos and Valeria surpass some limits

wc: 1,1k

“Come and meet me by the pool at 00:00”

That’s what his message said.

The village was unusually quiet at that hour of the night, the cool breeze rustling through the trees that lined the paths. After a long day of training and socializing, I wandered aimlessly, feeling this as a moment of peace. The faint sound of water, lapping against the edges of the pool, moved by the breeze caught my attention; drawing me toward the shimmering blue under the moonlight.

When I arrived, I was surprised to find the pool area completely deserted. No sign of Carlos anywhere nearby. The water looked inviting, almost too tempting to resist. So, I sat on the edge, dipping my feet in and letting out a contented sigh as the cool water soothed my tired legs. I closed my eyes for a moment, soaking in the solitude, when I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching.

"Couldn’t sleep?" His voice, deep and smooth, cut through the stillness of the night. Already teasing me with the fact that I obeyed to his demand of meeting here.

I opened my eyes and found Carlos standing a few feet away. He was dressed casually in swim trunks and a sleeveless T-shirt, his hair still damp from what I assumed was a recent shower. There was a relaxed confidence about him that made my body pulse with excitement.

"I’m here as you wished" I replied lightly, trying to keep my tone casual. "Care to join me?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. In one swift motion, Carlos peeled off his shirt, revealing the body that I hadn’t been able to keep off my mind. I tried to play it cool, but I couldn’t stop my eyes from wandering over his toned chest and abs.

Carlos caught my stare and grinned. "See something you like?"

"Just wondering if you’re as fast in the water as you are on the court" I shot back, lifting my chin in challenge.

"Is that a dare?" His tone was laced with that teasing edge I had come to expect from him.

"Maybe," I said before disappearing under the water for a few seconds. "I think this is a great chance to start that little game of yours”

Carlos’s eyes darkened with interest as he considered my proposal. "And what exactly are the boundaries we’re talking about in this first round?"

"That’s for the winner to decide," I replied, my voice taking on a more seductive note. The air between us seemed to thicken with tension, the kind that had been building for days, unspoken but ever-present.

Carlos stepped closer to the edge of the pool, his gaze locked on mine. "Alright, Valeria. You’re on. First to the other side and back wins."

My pulse quickened as I moved to the deeper end of the pool. I could feel his eyes on me as I advanced, the coolness enveloping me like a second skin. When I turned to face him, he was already by my side, his expression confident and focused.

"Ready?" I asked, my voice slightly breathless, whether from the anticipation or the cool water, I wasn’t sure.

"Always" Carlos responded.

Without another word, we both launched ourselves forward, slicing through the water with powerful strokes. The race was fast and intense, the sound of our splashing the only noise in the stillness of the night. We were neck and neck as we reached the opposite end, but as we turned to race back, I could feel Carlos pulling slightly ahead.

Determined not to let him win, I pushed myself harder, my muscles burning with the effort. But despite my best efforts, Carlos touched the edge of the pool a split second before I did.

He surfaced with a victorious grin, slicking his hair back with one hand as he leaned against the pool’s edge. "Looks like I win" he said, his voice full of satisfaction.

I pouted playfully, though my heart was racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the swim. "Fine. What’s your demand, then?"

Carlos’s smile turned predatory, a slow, deliberate curve of his lips that sent a shiver down my spine. "Come closer," he murmured.

I swam toward him, feeling the tension between us heighten with every inch that closed between us. As I reached the edge, my body brushed lightly against his, the contact electric. Carlos didn’t move back, didn’t give me any space, just waited until I was almost flush against him. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said. "Kiss me."

It wasn’t a question or a suggestion—it was a demand, and the boldness of it took my breath away. I had expected something cheeky, perhaps a little daring, but this… this was a line we hadn’t crossed before.

For a fraction of a second, I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest. But the heat in his gaze, the raw anticipation that hung in the air between us, was too much to resist. I leaned in, my hands finding purchase on his shoulders as I closed the distance between us.

Our lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, but the moment they connected, it was as if a dam broke. The kiss deepened, turned urgent, our bodies pressing impossibly closer. I could feel the cool water lapping around us, contrasting with the warmth of his skin, the heat of his mouth.

Carlos’s hands moved to my waist, pulling me even closer as the kiss became more intense. It was a kiss that spoke of all the teasing, the flirting, the unspoken attraction that had been building between us. A kiss that was both an exploration and a promise of more to come.

When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathless, our foreheads resting against each other’s as we tried to steady our racing hearts.

"Looks like I got more than I bargained for" I whispered, my voice shaky with a mix of excitement and nerves.

Carlos chuckled softly, his hands still resting on my waist. "This is just the beginning, Val. We’ve got plenty more rounds to go."

I smiled, unable to hide the thrill that coursed through me at the thought. "Then I guess I’ll just have to make sure I win the next one."

"Better start thinking of your demands now" he teased, brushing a stray lock of wet hair from my face.

"Oh, don’t worry," I replied, my voice low and seductive. "I’ve got a few ideas in mind."

Carlos’s eyes darkened with desire at my words, and for a moment, we just stared at each other, the promise of what was to come hanging heavily in the air.

Then, with a playful grin, he leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, "I can’t wait to see how far you’re willing to push those boundaries."

My stomach flipped at the challenge in his voice, knowing that whatever came next, it was going to be anything but ordinary.

[crunchwrapsnoopy]

Second Chances [Touya Todoroki x Reader]

˙⋆✮ That's So True ✮⋆˙

"Looking into big blue eyes. Did it just to hurt me, make me cry Smiling through it all, yeah, that's my life."

even villains deserve a lil redemption

Dabi x F. Reader

𓂃ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ༄˖°𓂃ﾟ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ.

WC: 1398

I'm sat on my thrifted couch by the window as rain softly beats against the glass. I press play on the voicemail for what feels like the millionth time, the words already burned into my memory, but still, I can’t help myself. Maybe this time will be different. Maybe hearing it again will change something.

"Y/N, please come back. What I did was wrong, it’s been months... I can’t lose you. The league misses you, too. Toga won't shut her damn mouth about you. Fuck, I’m so drunk right now... I love you. I know I didn’t say it often, but—"

The sound of Shigaraki’s raspy voice cuts through, sharp and impatient. "What are you yapping about?" he snarls. "We’ve got shit to do, wrap it up."

Dabi’s voice stumbles back in, slurred. "Bye, Y/N. I have to get a new burner soon- I’ll try calling again. Fuck, I know you won’t pick up. You haven’t the last dozen times but I’ll try." The message ends with a quiet beep.

It’s been three months since that call. And by then, I’d already been gone for seven. Seven months since the night I left him—the night I left all of them behind. His betrayal, his lies... it was too much. It’s been almost a year since I stepped away from the league, from the chaos, from the life that almost consumed me and swallowed me whole. A year since I walked out and didn’t look back.

I’m lucky, though. So stupidly lucky. My quiet, lowkey role in the league made slipping away easy, there were no repercussions or police coming after me every time I stepped foot outside. I’ve kept off the radar, built a new life for myself—a quiet life. I work at a flower shop now, which is insanely different than working as a villain for Shigaraki and the League of Villains, and it smells a lot better too. I’ve even gotten myself a little apartment on the edge of town, cozy, with a window that overlooks a quiet street, and roommate, which is actually just a little calico kitty that I named Cupcakes.

I’ve found peace here. Real peace. But the voicemail keeps pulling at me like a thread that came loose on a favorite sweater, both painful circumstances. And no matter how hard I try to ignore it, I know Dabi’s voice will haunt me forever if I don't talk to him at least one more time, and attempt to get better closure than some shitty drunk voicemail.

I text Giran, the broker that supplies the league with everything, including burner phones. Dabi stopped calling recently, so I assumed he lost my number with the last burner, because knowing him, he wouldn't stop calling just to give me space.

Me: Hi Giran! It's Y/N, I know we haven't talked in a while, but I was wondering if you know Dabi's current burner phone #? 😇

He gets back to me almost immediately.

Giran: Y/N!! So good to hear from you, kid, thought you fell off the planet lmao. And yea I can send the number. Giran: ###-###-####

He sends me the number, and I dial it immediately, my hands trembling. After a few rings, Dabi picks up, his voice sounding annoyed. "Who’s this? And how’d you get this number?"

"Hey, uhm... it’s me, Y/N."

"Y/N?" His tone softens, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Didn’t think I’d hear from you tonight. What’s up?"

I hesitate for a moment before speaking. "I just wanted to talk... are you busy?" I can hear a lot of voices in the background—probably everyone from the League. "If you’re tied up, it’s fine. It’s nothing important."

"Never too busy for you, doll." His voice shifts, and I hear him step away from the noise, the background chatter fading as he walks off.

The noise in the background slowly fades as he steps away, and I imagine him walking down a hallway, his boots hitting the floor with a slow, deliberate rhythm. The sounds of his breathing and the soft hum of his movements are the only things I can hear now. It’s strange, this feeling of distance and closeness at the same time.

“Alright, I’m all yours,” Dabi says, his voice rough but clear now, like he’s giving me his full attention. “What’s on your mind, Y/N?”

I swallow hard, staring at the rain outside, the droplets running down the glass, blurring everything in sight. My heart races in my chest, a million thoughts running through my head, none of them making sense. “I don’t know,” I admit, running a hand through my h/c hair. “I guess... I just needed to hear your voice.”

“Yeah, I figured that.” He lets out a soft chuckle, though it sounds a little strained. “You’ve been gone for a while. Thought you were never gonna reach out.”

“I didn’t think I would either,” I reply quietly. “But... I keep listening to that last voicemail you left. Over and over again. I just... I couldn’t stop myself.”

There’s another long pause, and I can almost hear the shift in his posture. Maybe he’s rubbing his face, or clenching his jaw. I wouldn’t be surprised. Dabi’s never been one for easy emotions. “Shit,” he mutters, sounding like he’s been through too much to deal with this. “I shouldn’t have left that message. I meant what I said but I wish I said it better, I wasn’t thinking straight.”

"It's okay. I liked it." I say softly.

"Really?" He asks, his voice almost in disbelief at me admitting that I enjoy his shitty drunk voicemail despite everything. 

“Yeah,” I answer quietly, feeling the weight of the words settle between us. “It wasn't like you at all- guess the liquid courage helped a lil, huh?" I laugh dryly, "It was real sweet its own way. I could tell you meant it, even if you were drunk n didn’t know how to say it.”

Dabi’s silence on the other end feels heavier now. I can almost picture him—frowning, leaning against a wall, trying to collect himself. "Fuck," he mutters after a moment, voice low. "I never thought I'd hear you say something like that. But... I'm glad you did."

“I’ve been avoiding it,” I admit, my fingers tightening around my phone. "Avoiding you, avoiding everything. But I can’t keep running forever."

Dabi lets out a long exhale, like a weight’s been lifted from his chest. "I get it. I know you had your reasons for leaving, and I don’t blame you for it. I fucked up." His voice drops a little. "But if I’m being honest... I’ve missed you, Y/N. More than I ever thought I would."

My heart skips a beat. It’s strange to hear him speak so plainly, without the usual sharpness in his voice. "I’ve missed you too," I whisper before I can stop myself. The confession catches me off guard, and I quickly add, "But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to just jump back into everything. Things are... complicated."

"I know," Dabi replies, quieter now, as if he’s absorbing my words. "I’m not asking you to. I’m just... saying that I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. If you want me to prove it, I’ll prove it."

There’s something in his voice now that feels different, a promise without needing the words. A subtle shift in how he speaks to me, less like the cocky villain and more like a person who’s afraid of losing something he doesn’t deserve.

I stare out the window at the rain, a tightness in my chest as I let the quiet wash over me. I know I can’t go back to the way things were, but maybe—just maybe—I can start a new chapter with him, one where we’re both trying, even if we don’t have all the answers.

“I don’t know how I feel yet,” I say finally, voice soft but steady. “But... maybe we can try again. Slowly.”

Dabi’s voice is quieter now, but there's an undeniable relief in it. "That’s all I need. A chance. We can take it slow."

I lean back against the couch, closing my eyes as I listen to the steady rain and his steady breathing on the other end of the line. For the first time in a long while, the knot in my chest begins to loosen. There’s no going back to what we were before, but maybe there’s still a chance for something else.

"Alright," I whisper, a faint smile tugging at my lips despite myself. "Let’s see where this goes."

𓂃ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ༄˖°𓂃ﾟ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ.

[deathworlders-of-e24]

Danny, Security Chief

Part 3

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

“I don’t care if it ‘impedes the experiment’, I want him gone,” Danny said as calmly as he could, which apparently wasn’t calm enough, given that both Captain Skitch and Commander Koatil flinched away from him.

“Chief Ducane, please understand,” Skitch began, “that yes, while what Ensign Grite did was inexcusable, there’s-”

“Inexcusable? Are you fucking kidding me Skitch, he left part of his crew, your crew, out there to die while he ran away! I oughta go out there and kill him myself for that!”

“Chief Ducane, you will calm yourself now or we’ll be talking about your situation here instead, is that clear?” Koatil took a step forward, putting herself between him and the captain. Danny didn’t move an inch, just stared her down until finally Skitch spoke up again.

“Okay, cards on the table, as you humans say. We can’t replace Grite right now. I sent a request for relief personnel the moment I heard what happened, but GAIL command said they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, until at least half the mission duration was up.”

Skitch held his two main arms out in defeat.

“My hands are tied, Ducane. I want him gone as bad as you do, but until command sends us a replacement, we can’t kick him off the ship. However, he’ll be on limited duty, and of course, taken off the security personnel roster. He’ll be put on cleaning duty effective immediately, cleaning toilets or the like. Grite will be little more than a passenger until such time as we can remove him from the Noah without anyone back home being… noisy about it.”

Politics. Damn it.

Leaving less than satisfied at the decision, Danny Ducane left the captains office and stepped into the hall. The bastard in question, Grite, was stood at attention across the way, waiting to be called inside.

Danny saw red.

He stormed across the hall and got inches away from the Sed man’s face. Grite’s eye widened in alarm, and he seemed about to back away, except the wall blocked his escape. Danny didn’t touch him, didn’t wrap his hands around his neck or bury his fist in his gut, just slowly, deliberately, gave his only warning.

“If you ever, ever, endanger a member of this crew again, I’m going to cut pieces off you and throw what’s left out the fucking air lock.”

Danny could see the usual annoying pride in Grite’s eyes turn to fear, then anger, but before the stony alien could act the captain’s door opened again.

“Grite, get in here, now.”

Danny never wavered, didn’t look away from the Sed’s eyes. Finally, Grite blinked first, and awkwardly shuffled away into the office. The door hissed closed.

Danny went back to work.

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

“So there we were, trapped at… I think the humans called it an airport, with these smugglers trying to steal crystals from the Doun ambassadorial package, when in he comes, Ducane the Destroyer!”

It’d been a full cycle since Danny’s meeting with the Captain and Commander, and the team was gathered around the center console in the Security Center with Homet telling the same old story again, with the rest of the security force was eating it up as usual. Danny just rolled his eyes and smiled.

“Come on, don’t keep us in suspense!” Coola said, entranced, scaly tail swishing, “this is my favorite part!”

“This crazy human comes over the railing of the second level, rappels down 10 meters to the floor, firing for accuracy the entire time. He must’ve dropped 4 or 5 of them in a matter of seconds! Never seen anything like it, on any other planet. The man moved from cover to cover, and every time he looked in their direction, there were less and less hostiles than before! Never took a hit, never stopped moving. Finally he’s got the leader pinned up against a wall, and he’s begging us to get him away from the big bad human, and I swear, the Ambassador hired him on the spot for the rest of the delegation.”

“You tell that story a lot, Homet,” Danny said, adjusting his cap.

“It bears repeating!” Homet laughed. The rest of the team was looking at Danny like a movie star just walked into the room to sign autographs. Coola was looking star struck, Ritz in awe, and Hayte, who actually hadn’t heard the story yet, was looking at him incredulously. Danny shrugged, kind of noncommittal, like saying “hey, it happens kid, gotta do what you gotta do.”

“Anyway, listen up people. We have an important job here in the next few cycles,” Danny said, “We’re supposed to take on cargo from the Val’kao and transport it to Outpost 19 on the other side of the system. Apparently cargo consists of some artifacts found during a geological survey, and they wanted some extra muscle moving it.”

“That’s pretty cool, the Vale are one of the oldest species in the quadrant,” Coola said. “I heard the oldest ruins on their planet are over 50,000 years old.”

“What’s the catch Chief? We can’t just be playing with rocks, right?” Homet asked.

“The catch is, ancient Vale apparently used something called Vishal Dirac, which translates into Singing Iron these days.”

“Well that sounds… fun,” Ritz said, skeptically.

“Wait wait wait, I know what that is!” Coola said excitedly. “Yeah, they found a natural deposit of that stuff way back in the day too, on a mining expedition. It made the news on multiple planets before they censored the article. I only read it because our instructor made us do a report on it.”

“What is it?” Hayte asked.

“It’s this rare mineral found deep in the planets crust. Apparently they struck a piece of it by accident with some digging equipment, and it completely destroyed the dig site. The ancient Vale used it in their crafting all the time. Singing Iron takes shock waves and amplifies them a few thousand times until the shaking just explodes outwards.”

“Why the hell did they make tools out of it then?” Homet asked, “if the stuff is that volatile why mess with it at all?”

“Depending on how you refine it, it can be made into weapons or tools that can break through practically anything,” Danny explained. “They sent me that article too. Apparently the ancient Vale had a special method of smelting it to make drills or swords and stuff, made them practically unstoppable.”

“Well they didn’t conquer the galaxy, so I guess that wasn’t true,” said Hayte snidely.

“Yup, volcanic eruptions beat everything,” Danny said. “Anyway, they requested we bring the samples and artifacts to the outpost for research, and the cargo is going to be about half Singing Iron in the form of primitive tools. They got the stuff locked in stasis-gel capsules to make sure we don’t all die, so hopefully that’s checked off.”

“The real problem,” Danny continued, “is gonna be these guys.” He punched a code into the console and brought up a file. A series of images appeared in a hologram above the table. The images showed several individuals with purple skin and scales, faces covered in masks, carrying bags and crates.

“These guys call themselves the Staal Mirac. Intel says they’re from coastal regions of Vale, near the older cities in the mountains. They claim to be confiscating objects important to the history of their people, mainly through theft or extortion.”

“Any use of violence?” Homet asked.

“None that’s been accredited to them, but you never know.”

“They just want to keep their stuff right?” Hayte asked. “What are we supposed to do if they engage us?”

“Technically the ‘stuff’ belongs to the people of Vale, who are members of the GAIL. Their government requested the research of the Singing Iron be done off world as a safety precaution. If they show up, non lethal only. I’m not starting a firefight with a bunch of hippies.”

“Understood, commander.”

As Danny walked away to his office, he heard Ritz ask “what’s a hippie?”

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

[Translated to E24; Human; English]

[Both a historic find, and terrible tragedy today at the geological survey in the Vodek province, where 4 people lost their lives in a horrible accident. It’s unclear now just what exactly transpired, but initial reports are saying that a piece of mining equipment struck what seems to be a naturally occurring deposit of Vishal Dirac. Why this wasn’t found during previous scans of the region is unclear, but…]

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going nowhere. A planets worth of information on the Vale and Singing Iron barely covered two articles. Their government was working double time to ensure nobody learned about it. He’d had to use his GAIL command codes just to get clearance to read the barely 7 pages available at his security level. If this stuff was as dangerous as they said, Danny wanted to be as prepared as possible, and get it off his ship as quickly as he could.

Maybe some food would help clear his head. Danny grabbed a data pad and transferred the articles, leaving his office for the mess hall.

On the way there, he saw ensign Grite pushing a bucket around with a mop. His gray security uniform was replaced with a white jumpsuit, for the custodial staff. It had a bright yellow smear down the left side and on both knees, so he’d probably been cleaning something unsavory in the last few hours.

“You got a little something, right here,” Danny said as he walked past, making a ‘everywhere’ gesture. Grite glared at him, but said nothing. Danny saw 2 of the other 3 Sed down the hall a ways, one male and one female. Maybe they’d come to see what had happened to their 4th, but Danny didn’t say anything to them as he passed, just nodded and moved on.

The mess hall was probably the most interesting place on the ship, at least in Danny’s opinion. The Vending Machines in use on board the Noah might have been made on Earth (with the help of some alien tech to get things started) but they were used by everyone on board. Each unit had been programmed to produce cuisine from each member planet in the GAIL, so everyone had a little slice of home to enjoy during the year long mission. So many people in one place, interacting and living together, it honestly brought a tear to Danny’s eye. The safety of these people was his responsibility, and he was glad they were happily going about their day without worry.

Danny’s Grandfather had been a marine during his service, had fought to bring peace to the Earth during the initial shock of finding out they weren’t alone in the galaxy. A lot of people had trouble adjusting to a new truth. Finding out you weren’t the center of the universe was apparently a hard pill to swallow for some. Rebellions, wars, some pretty bad stuff happened in the first year or two before everything settled. His mom joined the service later as a pilot, flying rescues and aid all over the planet. She had said it was the right thing to do. People were scared and confused, so she felt a need to help, felt it ‘in her bones,’ she’d say.

“It’s the kind of thing heroes do, right Danny?” he remembered her saying one time, after coming back from some mission on the other side of the world.

Danny had always wanted to help people. When he was younger, he’d play knight with sticks and tubes and such with the neighborhood kids, saving the day and fighting bad guys. He didn’t really get the whole ‘soldier’ thing as a kid, but he understood that his family helped people, even the ‘new’ people, just like the knights of the round table from the stories his mom read to him before bed. Danny always figured he’d wield a sword and shield instead of a high powered plasma rifle, but the concept was similar. He’d followed in his family’s wake, taking up arms to help keep people safe.

Danny typed the command into the Vending Machine and got his own little slice of home to eat, a thick slice of pizza with 3 different types of meat on it. He saw a table taken up by the Bravo team from security and asked if he could sit down. He made small talk, gave them a brief overview of the mission and told them to expect a more extensive document to be sent to their data pads, and ate his food.

From across the mess hall he saw the 4 Sed make their way into the room, skip the Vending Machines entirely, and take up a small table against the wall. They seemed… uncomfortable in Danny’s eyes, but they didn’t look outwardly hostile to the other crew anymore. The same couldn’t be said for anyone else though. Apparently word of Grite’s demotion had made its rounds, as well as the reason why, and tables near them got up and moved away. Danny couldn’t say he blamed them. Leaving a man behind was unthinkable to a Marine. If anything, Danny was surprised the other Sed still interacted with the coward Grite. He’d read up on them, the Sed, the Borin, supposedly one of the most ‘ancient races in the galaxy’. They were supposed to be honorable warriors, but Danny had yet to see anything even remotely resembling honor.

Supposedly, the Stone Men, or the Sed, claimed to be the oldest race there was. They were prideful, often called arrogant, of their stony exterior. Their exoskeleton was said to be the mark of their superiority, able to take ray fire without giving way. And apparently, that ‘Highest Peaks’ thing Grite had called himself was the title given to only their most experienced warriors.

Danny hadn’t been that impressed.

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

The Noah dropped from WARP at the rendezvous point right on schedule. The Val’kao was a few thousand meters in front of them, waiting.

“Helmsman, bring us around to port, and send word the shuttle bay to get ready for our visitors,” Skitch said.

“Acknowledged.”

“Captain, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be down there to meet them myself,” Danny said from his station.

“Feel free, Chief.”

Danny got up and left the bridge. Walking past the communication center on the way to the shuttle bay, he saw one of the Sed coming out, the female, her stony exterior a lighter tan than her fellows, like the color of good wheat.

There was something there Danny was seeing that he couldn’t reconcile. Her yellow uniform marked her as a communications officer, so it made sense that she’d be coming out of the comm room. There was a ship closing in that would need to stay in radio contact with them, so it made more sense for her to be in the room than not. For all intents and purposes, the Sed woman being there made total sense to any logically minded being.

But that didn’t mean that Danny couldn’t see all the ways it was wrong too. She was staring at him as he walked the hall, her rocky fingers gripping the data pad a little too tight, she flinched ever so slightly when she locked eyes with him. It made perfect sense for her to be there in that moment but every instinct Danny Ducane ever trained was screaming that something was wrong.

So he took note of it. Of everything. He never slowed down, never missed a beat, just continued walking down the hall like his brain hadn’t made the decision to investigate every detail of sensory data it collected. The whole situation, as it was, lasted a grand total of 8 seconds. And then he was past it, in the lift, and on the way to the shuttle bay.

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

The cargo transfer went smoothly. Various I’s dotted and T’s crossed. Hands shook. The crew from the Val’koa looked relieved when the Singing Iron was off their ship. The stasis gel capsules looked like someone had taken a ton of jello and suspended souvenirs from a museum gift shop in them.

A couple of artifacts had caught the security crew’s eyes. Coola seemed fascinated with a set of drill bits and pick axes. Ritz was looking over a series of what looked like blacksmith tools, long pairs of tongs and a narrow hammer. One artifact in particular caught Danny’s eye. It’s looked like a big pitch fork, but the prongs were all sharpened to a razors edge. The data pad said it was an ancient Vale vibrating sword. Apparently the 13 prongs were struck on the ground to set the body shaking before emitting a massive sonic wave in the direction of the enemy.

“Cool,” Danny said quietly. Maybe it wasn’t a knight’s sword, but hey, swords of any kind have a kind of magic to them.

“Didn’t they make armor or shields or anything to play defense with?” Homet asked, looking at the checklist.

“The stuff vibrates so hard it would sheer your organs apart, bud,” Danny said.

“Oh. Makes sense.”

“Okay guys, once we get all this loaded up, it’s a straight shot to outpost 19.”

“I don’t get it Chief,” Hayte started. “if the thieves wanted to take the cargo, why not just take it now? The outpost would have more security and much better defenses than a freighter in orbit.”

“Maybe they thought it would be safer in a more stable environment,” Danny said. “Any of this stuff takes a bolt of plasma fire and it could rip a hole in the ship.”

“Or maybe,” said a new voice, “only one of the Staal Mirac had the nerve to try and take them from a GAIL ship!”

The group turned in unison, seeing a lone figure. He was wearing a cargo runner uniform, the same as the rest of the Val’koa crew, and in his hands was a Vale pistol. His purple skin had splashes of scales across his hands and up his neck, his head wrapped in a bandana with a mask around his face. To Danny eyes he couldn’t have been more than 20 years old in human years, maybe younger. This was a kid, no doubt about it.

“Nobody move!” The Vale kid said. Danny could see a slightly tremble in his hand holding the weapon. He was standing only 20 feet away, more than close enough for anyone to take a clean shot. More than close enough for one of them to get shot, too. They did as they were told.

“Is that your hippie, sir?” Ritz asked quietly, hands raising slowly into the air. Danny ignored him, wishing he’d put his work belt on. What good was a stun gun when it was in your office?

“Now,” said the young man, “you’re going to load this into a shuttle for me, and you,” he pointed at Danny with his free hand, “are going to sit in there with me while they do it.”

Danny said nothing, just nodded, and kept his hands raised as he walked slowly into the nearest shuttle.

He sat down in one of the seats while the Vale boy took the pilots chair. He hit a button and the door sealed shut, locking them in, then another to begin the engine firing sequence.

“You know your way around one of these,” Danny said. “You a pilot?”

“Yes,” they said shortly. “Get on your communicator and tell them to begin loading the artifacts.”

“What’s your plan here?” Danny asked. “Take a GAIL officer hostage, steal one of our shuttles, live happily ever after with those other thieving friends of yours?”

“They are not my friends,” said the Vale boy. “They are liars, and they are scoundrels. They stole those other artifacts to sell to the highest bidder, they do not care about our history, our culture!”

“Is that why you left them behind? So they couldn’t sell off what belonged to all the people of Vale?”

They said nothing. Danny could see little beads or blue sweat on their forehead, but it wasn’t even warm in the shuttle. They took their mask off and wiped their face before tossing it aside. This kid was young even by human standards.

“What’s your name kid?”

“… my name is Valco, and I am not a child.”

“No, of course not, you got a stolen shuttle and a gun on me, that makes you a man don’t it?”

“You would mock me when I could kill you right here?” Valco jabbed the gun just a little too close. Faster than he could think, Danny’s hands shot out and snatched the ray gun from out of the kid’s hands.

“I think I would, yeah,” Danny said, dismantling the weapon. When it was 9 parts on the floor, he looked at the Vale known as Valco. He looked confused, slowly morphing into scared. Neither of them moved.

“Okay, Valco, how long were you acquainted with the Staal Mirac?” Danny asked.

“What?”

“It’s just a question bud. I don’t think it was too terribly long if you’re opposed to their views this badly.”

“I- I- I joined them, a [zelen] [English: month] ago. They were at the grand market looking for supporters, to trick!”

“Easy, easy kid, you’re alright. I just have a couple more questions for you,” Danny said gently. He moved his booted foot to cover the blaster parts just in case.

“Why are you speaking to me like a friend, you are not. I am nobody to you.”

“You’re right. Hello, my name is Daniel Ducane, but you can call me Danny. It’s what friends call me,” he said, as mellow as possible. The kid looked like he was about to stroke out.

“See? Now we’re friends. Danny and Valco, thick as… well, apparently not thieves, which is great!” Danny chuckled. “So I’m assuming you overheard some stuff in that club that didn’t sound great, so now you’re running solo to keep Vale history safe, am I close?”

“What?” Valco said again, visibly sweating bullets now. Danny had to take a new approach. This kid wasn’t a criminal, wasn’t a bad guy, he was just a kid who in his own crazy way was trying to do the right thing, or at least what he thought was right.

“Okay… alright, let’s do this. We’ll make a game out of it, yeah? Do you have 20 questions on Vale?”

Valco shook his head.

“Well it goes something like this, I guess. You ask me a question, I’ll answer honestly, then I’ll ask you one, and so on and so on, okay?”

Valco nodded.

“You first, go ahead,” Danny said. Valco looked at him blankly.

“Why did you take apart the gun?”

“Because if I just left it sitting around, either of us could be tempted to use it. Better if all we can do in here is talk now.” Danny applied pressure to his foot and felt something crack beneath it. Good riddance.

“My turn, okay? Why did you do all this knowing the Staal Mirac were fakes?”

“…because my people are forgetting their culture. We were warriors, we were explorers, and now we are just… just miners, giving pieces of our planet and our history away to people who are not Vale.”

“I get that. You feel like the Vale’s identity is fading away, right?”

“Yes, exactly!” Valco said. “I thought the Staal Mirac understood this, but they do not, they are the problem, selling away pieces of our soul to make profit,” he spat out the word. “I used their name so people would not come looking for me afterwards.”

“Smart, kid,” Danny admitted.

“You asked a question, yes? It is my turn again.”

Danny laughed and nodded.

“What’s going to happen to me?”

There it was.

“Well Valco, you stowed away aboard a ship, impersonated an officer, and held another at gunpoint. And tried to steal a shuttle,” Danny said flatly. Valco’s face dropped further at each word.

“But here’s my input on this. Cargo ships have terrible crew logs. Stuff falls through the cracks all the time.”

Valco looked up, confused.

“What are you-”

“And you didn’t really do anything while aboard the Noah, just kinda sat around and talked more than anything.”

Valco’s mouth hung open in disbelief.

“Honestly, if anything you were actually a huge help in catching known thieves on your planet, the Staal Mirac! Assuming you are going to tell me where they are, yeah?”

Valco’s eyes widened.

“Yes, yes, I know exactly where they are, and I know where the artifacts from other robberies are being stored!”

“Okay then, that’s sorted,” Danny said. “Look kid… Valco, you seem like a good guy. Just got a little confused and made a mistake. So since you didn’t hurt anyone, I’m gonna stick my neck out for you. Here’s the deal…”

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

BANG BANG BANG!

Ritz was banging on the shuttle door with the butt of his rifle while the others were getting into position. Chief Ducane had turned his radio off when he’d gone inside with the Vale, and that had been 20 minutes ago. The small ship had began takeoff preparations, but just as suddenly it had powered down. What was really worrying them was Danny still hadn’t gotten in contact with them.

Just before they were about to start burning a hole in the door with a laser drill, static popped across their comms.

“So if you all could not shoot us when the door opens, I won’t have to dock anyone’s pay, okay?”

“Chief!” Coola cried, relieved, “Are you okay? Did… is the Vale-”

“My new friend Valco here is just fine, and there’s no threat guys, so you can power down those rifles I know you have trained on the door, okay?”

The shuttle door opened, and there was Danny, dusting his hands together. Valco stood behind him, but Danny assured everyone it was fine.

“Homet, get me a line to the Vale security office down on the planet. We know where the Staal Mirac are hiding now.”

“Sir?”

“Today man, before they move.”

“Acknowledged.” Homet took off at a jog to the communications center.

“Coola, Ritz, does the captain know what happened here?”

“We sent a report when you went in, but…” they both shrugged.

“Send another, tell Skitch everything is fine, and we have a guest that needs something to eat. I’ll be in the mess hall with Valco here.”

“Chief?” Haute said questioningly.

“Yeah?”

“We’re not shooting the hippie right?”

“Correct. And he’s not a hippie. You’re a good kid, right Valco?”

Valco nodded.

“See? Totally fine. Now, about that grub I was talking about…”

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

Outpost 19 was a refurbished mining rig on an asteroid in the outer stretch of the system. Reinforced walls and deep foundations made for a good environment to test dangerous materials. The Noah sat in the port while the unloading process was carried out.

In the mess hall, once Danny got some decent food in him, Valco really opened up. He told him where the actual Staal Mirac were hiding, what buyers they used, everything. By the time Danny fed him some desserts, Valco trusted him like they spent years together instead of a few hours.

After he was done, Danny walked him back to the shuttle bay.

“So tell me again, what are you gonna do?”

“I’m going to assist in the artifact transfer to outpost 19, then take a shuttle back to Vale with the investigators. Show them where the thieves are hiding.”

“And then?”

“I’m going to send communications to your friend in the embassy,” Valco nodded, “who will check up on the artifacts for me from time to time.”

“Good. Now here’s my information. I’m gonna call you myself in a week, see how you’re doing, make sure you’re staying out of trouble. And if you need anything, you call me, okay?”

Valco nodded, clutching his new comm-link.

“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Danny,” he said.

“It’s just Danny, kid, we’re friends remember?”

Valco boarded the transfer shuttle and they were off, flying out to Outpost 19. Homet, who’d been standing nearby watching, lumbered over.

“Just when I think you humans can’t surprise me anymore… that was a real nice thing you did for that kid, Danny,” he said.

“He was just a little lost. Everyone’s been that age where they feel the urge to go save the world somehow. He’s just more proactive than some.”

“Could be he ends up in the GAIL fleet if the feeling’s strong. You said he was a pilot? Could be our next helmsman!” Homet laughed.

Danny hoped not. Kids should get to live peacefully, even the big ones like Valco. Leave the fighting to the grownups.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to go explain this to the captain before he blows an antenna,” Danny said.

After he was gone, Homet looked across the expanse of space while the hangar doors were still open.

“You humans are so weird,” he said. “Hope you never stop surprising me.”

[idkyetxoxo]

Daemon Targaryen - Practice Makes Perfect

Summary - What begins as a quest for knowledge about pleasure spirals into a dangerous affair that blurs the lines of loyalty and longing. As their nights ignite with passion, she must confront the intoxicating thrill of betrayal and the dark secrets of desire that threaten to consume them.

Pairing - Daemon Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!!!), strong language, infidelity

Word count - 2890

Masterlist for Daemon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"It's just practice, that's all it is," I murmured, though the words felt hollow, slipping off my lips as if they could somehow transform into truth. As if saying them might lessen the weight of what we were doing.

"Is it really?" Daemon's retort came quickly, his infamous smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He always had that maddening smirk, knowing damn well how it got under my skin. 

I rolled my eyes, pretending to be unaffected, but the heat stirring between us was undeniable.

The night outside was pitch black, darker than usual, but inside his chambers, the flickering glow of scattered candles illuminated our shared wickedness. 

The dim light threw shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw, his eyes smouldering as we peeled away some of our clothes layer by sinful layer. 

This had become a nightly ritual, one I never imagined for myself, especially now that I was married.

But Daemon had returned to the city, and here I was—bound in a respectable union by day but come nightfall, I burned for him. 

Each time, I told myself it would be the last, but the lie grew weaker with every night I found myself tangled in his sheets. 

The anticipation consumed me during the day, knowing what awaited once the sun disappeared. My skin would hum with need, my body craving the touch only he could deliver.

I craved him. Every fibre of me, from my blood to my bones, needed this—needed him.

Within minutes, our hands found each other, greedy and impatient. My fingers traced the hard lines of his shoulders, snaking around his neck as our mouths crashed together in a desperate, heated kiss. 

His lips tasted like sin, like the very essence of danger, and I couldn't get enough. 

His hands slid down my waist, firm and possessive, until they gripped my hips, effortlessly guiding me back onto the bed.

He didn't break the kiss, his mouth still devouring mine, as his fingers trailed lower, parting my legs with deliberate slowness. 

I gasped into his mouth when his fingers grazed my slick folds, and a contented grin creased his face as he felt how ready I was for him.

"Can we still call it practice," he teased, pulling back just enough for his words to cut through my fog of need, "if I'm doing all the work?"

I sighed at the loss of his touch, but his hand found its way back to me, rubbing over my soaked heat. 

"So wet... so desperate," he murmured, pressing his palm against me as I ground down instinctively.

"A true pillow princess," he whispered, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "There's no skill in this," he added, sliding a finger inside me with tantalizing slowness.

I let out a low moan, arching into his touch. 

"You say that as if you don't love every second of it," I breathed, rolling my hips to meet his rhythm as he added another finger, stretching me deliciously.

"When you came to me, asking to learn," he emphasized with a wicked grin, increasing his pace until I was squirming beneath him, "I expected more effort." 

His tone was playful, but the truth was there, lingering between us like a dangerous secret.

It had all started innocently enough, or so I tried to convince myself. 

When my marriage to Gwayne Hightower was arranged, insecurity gnawed at me. I knew nothing of what it meant to please a man, let alone one like Gwayne, whose reputation was as pristine as it was boring. 

And Daemon—well, Daemon was notorious for his expertise in many areas, seduction being one of them. Who better to teach me than the rogue prince himself?

Daemon had jumped at the chance, of course. He relished the idea of defiling a Hightower's bride-to-be, of marking me with a pleasure Gwayne could never hope to match. 

According to Daemon, this was a gift—a splendid one. His hands, his mouth, his entire body lavishing attention on me until I was delirious with it.

But now, with each passing night, it no longer felt like a lesson. 

It was something darker, something far more dangerous, and I couldn't bring myself to stop. 

The way he moved, the way he made my body sing with need as if only he could satisfy the hunger he'd awoken within me... it was intoxicating.

He pressed deeper, curling his fingers inside me just right, and I lost whatever thought I had left. 

The room spun, the candlelight flickering in rhythm with our laboured breaths. I was nothing but sensation—heat, desire, and Daemon.

"More effort?" I gasped, half-laughing, half-moaning as he quickened his pace, drawing me closer to the edge. "I think... I'm doing just fine."

A dark chuckle escaped his throat as he leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. "Oh, darling," he whispered, his voice a tantalizing growl, "you've only just begun."

A spark of defiance flickered in my chest at his teasing words. I wasn't about to let Daemon, of all people, write me off so easily. 

"Let me prove you wrong, then," I whispered, my voice laced with a challenge as I pushed against his chest, flipping us over in one fluid motion.

His eyes widened, but that smug grin never left his face. He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by my sudden assertiveness. 

I straddled his hips, feeling the hard length of him beneath me, and for a moment, I just let the sensation flood me, the power shift intoxicating. 

My heart raced as I leaned down, pressing my lips to his once more, but this time, I controlled the kiss—slow, teasing, pulling him deeper into the web I was spinning.

His hands settled on my thighs, fingers digging into my skin as if to anchor himself. But I wasn't going to let him lead this time. 

I trailed kisses down his jawline, then lower, brushing my lips along his neck, savouring the taste of him as his breath hitched. I could feel his muscles tense beneath me, his chest rising and falling in ragged anticipation as I worked my way down his body.

"You think I can't learn?" I murmured against his skin, tracing the line of his collarbone with my tongue.

Daemon chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that sent shivers down my spine. "Oh, you can learn, sweet girl," he replied, voice thick with desire. "But let's see just how well you take instruction."

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, but it wasn't from embarrassment—it was from the thrill of the game. 

His words were both a challenge and an invitation, and I intended to prove him wrong in the most wicked way possible.

I continued my descent, letting my lips brush over the hard planes of his abdomen, his skin burning hot beneath my touch. His body was a map I had begun to memorize, but tonight I wanted to explore every inch of it in a way that left him trembling. 

As I reached the line of his trousers, I paused, glancing up at him through my lashes. 

His eyes were dark, hooded with desire, but there was that glint of amusement, always ready to mock, always in control.

Not tonight.

I made quick work of the fabric, freeing him from his trousers and wrapping my hand around the base of his cock. He let out a sharp breath, and I felt his whole body tense in response. 

For a moment, I just held him there, letting him feel the weight of my power, my control. 

Then, without breaking eye contact, I lowered my head, licking a slow, deliberate line along the length of him.

Daemon's head fell back against the pillows, a low groan escaping his lips. "Good," he breathed, his voice rough. "But slower. Tease me."

I smiled wickedly, taking his advice, swirling my tongue around the tip before sucking gently. His hand found my hair, threading through the strands, not to force but to guide. 

"Take it deeper," he murmured, his voice husky with need. "Use your tongue."

I obeyed, hollowing my cheeks as I took more of him into my mouth, letting my tongue dance along the underside of his shaft. His grip in my hair tightened, and I could feel his hips twitch beneath me, the barely restrained urge to thrust deeper. 

But I wasn't going to let him take over. Not yet.

"Relax your throat," he groaned, guiding me with slow, steady movements. "Let it slide all the way down."

I did as he instructed, relaxing, allowing him to fill my mouth until I could feel the tip of him brushing the back of my throat. 

A strangled moan escaped him, and I couldn't help the rush of satisfaction that surged through me. 

The power I felt in this moment, with Daemon—the rogue prince, the man who controlled so much—utterly undone beneath me, was unlike anything I had ever known.

"Just like that," he praised, his voice rough and breathless. "Fuck, you're good at this."

I hummed around him, taking him even deeper, feeling the way his body responded to every movement of my mouth. His hips bucked involuntarily, and I could tell he was holding himself back, letting me take the lead for once. 

The thrill of it, the raw pleasure of having him at my mercy, made my core throb with need.

"Faster," he commanded, his voice tight now, the control slipping as the pleasure built inside him. "Don't stop, just like that—"

His words were cut off by a groan as I quickened my pace, my hand working in tandem with my mouth, sliding up and down his shaft. 

His breathing grew ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he fought to maintain composure, but I could feel him unravelling, the tension building in his muscles as he neared the edge.

I kept going, my mouth moving faster, more desperate, eager to draw out every sound, every moan from his lips. 

His hand tightened in my hair, and I could feel his body start to tremble beneath me. 

"Fuck—" he gasped, his hips bucking again as he finally gave in to the pleasure, no longer able to hold back.

I pulled away just before he could finish, smiling as I met his wide-eyed stare. 

"Still think I'm just a pillow princess?" I teased, licking my lips, tasting the salt of him still on my tongue.

He let out a breathless laugh, his chest heaving as he tried to recover. 

"You're full of surprises," he admitted, his voice low and hoarse. "But trust me, darling—now that you've proven your point, I'll have you begging for mercy soon enough."

I raised an eyebrow, leaning over him, my lips just inches from his. "I look forward to it," I whispered, before crashing my mouth onto his, ready for round two.

Without a word, he gripped my hips, and in a fluid, effortless motion, he flipped me back onto my back, his weight pressing me into the mattress. 

The look in his eyes was dangerous—predatory. His smirk was back, and I felt my pulse quicken, excitement and anticipation coiling tight in my belly.

"You think you can play with me like that?" he growled, his voice low and thick, every word dripping with dark promise. "Now it's my turn."

Before I could respond, he thrust into me with a sudden, powerful movement, burying himself deep inside me in one swift stroke. 

A gasp tore from my lips, my body arching up to meet his as the sudden fullness overwhelmed my senses. The feeling of him, hard and thick inside me, sent a shockwave of pleasure through my body, and I couldn't stop the moan that escaped.

"Daemon," I whispered, my fingers digging into his back as he set a punishing rhythm, each thrust harder than the last. 

He filled me completely, the friction, the heat, everything was too much and not enough all at once. I was drowning in the sensation of him, every nerve in my body alight with need.

"Say my name again," he commanded, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. His voice sent a shiver down my spine, but I was too breathless to answer. 

He pulled back, only to slam into me again, harder this time, his hands gripping my hips with bruising force as he drove deeper.

"Daemon," I moaned, my voice shaking as his hips snapped against mine. He was relentless, claiming me with every stroke, and I knew there was no room for resistance. 

Not that I wanted to resist—I wanted this. I wanted him. 

I wanted to lose myself in this forbidden pleasure that only Daemon could give me.

"You're mine tonight," he growled, his hand sliding up my body, fingers wrapping around my throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me who was in control. 

"Not Gwayne's. He'll never fuck you like this, will he?"

His words hit me like a slap, a wicked jolt of arousal and guilt twisting together in my chest. 

Gwayne. My husband. The man I was supposed to be loyal to, faithful to. But the thought of him right now only made the heat between my legs burn hotter. 

Daemon was right—Gwayne could never make me feel like this. Never make me lose control, unravel at the seams the way Daemon did.

"No," I gasped, my eyes locking with his, daring him to push me further, to make me admit the truth that had been burning inside me since the first night Daemon touched me.

"No," I repeated, my voice trembling, "he never could."

Daemon's grin widened, a dark, satisfied gleam in his eyes. "Poor Gwayne," he mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he picked up the pace, his thrusts growing faster, harder, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room. 

"He has no idea, does he? No idea that his perfect little wife is in my bed every night, legs spread, begging for more."

His words sent a bolt of shame through me, but it only fueled my desire. 

There was no denying the truth—Daemon had me, body and soul, in a way Gwayne never could. I should have felt disgusted with myself, but all I felt was need—desperate, consuming need.

"No," I gasped again, my fingers curling into the sheets, holding on for dear life as Daemon's pace became brutal, his hips driving into me with a relentless force that had me teetering on the edge of oblivion. "Please, Daemon, don't stop."

"I'm not stopping," he growled, his breath hot against my neck as he thrust deeper, harder, his hand tightening ever so slightly around my throat. 

"I'm going to fuck you until all you can think about is me. Not him. Me."

A low moan escaped me, and I could feel myself spiralling, my body trembling as I neared the edge. 

Every nerve in my body was on fire, the pleasure building inside me until it was almost unbearable.

"Daemon," I whimpered, my voice barely a whisper as the tension in my belly coiled tighter, tighter, until I thought I might snap. "I—I'm going to—"

"Cum for me," he commanded, his voice dark and commanding, his lips brushing mine as he continued to pound into me, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. 

"Let him hear it from across the city. Let him know who really owns you."

And with that, I shattered. My orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave, my body convulsing beneath him as pleasure ripped through me, my vision going white as I screamed his name. 

Every muscle in my body tensed, my toes curling as I rode the waves of pleasure that seemed to go on forever.

Daemon didn't stop, didn't slow. He continued to fuck me through my orgasm, his own breath coming faster, more ragged as he neared his own release. 

The sound of my name on his lips, the feel of his body moving against mine—it was overwhelming, intoxicating. I wanted him to cum, wanted to feel him lose control the way he made me.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his pace becoming erratic, his thrusts more desperate as he chased his release. "I can't—"

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside me, his body going rigid as he came, his grip on my hips tightening. 

A low, guttural moan escaped his lips as he spilt into me, and the feeling of his warmth flooding my body sent a final aftershock of pleasure through me.

For a moment, we stayed like that, our bodies tangled together, slick with sweat, our breaths coming in heavy pants. Slowly, Daemon pulled out of me, collapsing onto the bed beside me, his chest still heaving with exertion. 

He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, his smirk returning as he glanced over at me.

"You might want to keep this between us," he drawled lazily, his voice smug as ever. "Wouldn't want poor Gwayne to get jealous, now, would we?"

I shot him a look, my heart still pounding, but I couldn't help the small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. 

He was infuriating, arrogant, and insufferable, but damn it, I wanted him all the more for it.

"You're insufferable," I muttered, rolling my eyes as I caught my breath.

"Maybe," he said, his smirk deepening. "But admit it—you love it."

I turned my head away, biting my lip to stifle a smile. He wasn't wrong. 

And that, I knew, was the most dangerous truth of all.

A/n - This was a rollercoaster of a writing experience I don't think I've ever written smut this long 😭😭

[mustainegf]

heyy lovely 🤭🤭

So I have an idea where Current!James and reader are at some kind of show/cinema where they sit together and start to tease each other James starts to finger reader and the reader tries to touch James until they come🤭🤭 maybe daddy kink too or smth everything u want❤️❤️ just make it extra risky and spicy👀

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒 ²⁰²⁴

We had been together for quite some time, but there was something about being alone with James that made every feeling like a first. I sat in the back row of this dark movie theater, could feel the weight of his presence next to me, his arm draped casually over my shoulder. The movie playing across the screen was background noise at that moment, drowned out by the thrum of my heartbeat and the way his fingers started tracing slow, deliberate circles on my thigh.

It felt like he was doing that on purpose, teasing me enough to make me squirm in my chair. I shifted, hoping no one noticed the way I reacted to him. His touch was firm but gentle, and I found myself pressing into it, wanting more. James was always good at keeping control, even when I wasn't. He enjoyed seeing me try to restrain myself.

His warm breath danced across my ear as he leaned in close. "Be a good girl for me, alright?" His voice was low, almost a growl, sending shivers down my spine. I nodded, swallowing hard as I glanced around the theatre. There weren't many people here tonight, just a few dotted couples throughout. The dark gave us cover, but it also made every sensation more intense.

His hand inched lower, slipping beneath the waistband of my leggings, and my breath hitched. So intimate, it sent a rush through me. He knew just how to take his time, how to build anticipation until I was literally shaking for him. His fingers slid deeper, and I bit my lip, trying to keep quiet. My hand was clenched tightly around the armrest as his fingers moved with purpose, brushing over sensitive skin and making me emit a soft gasp.

"James-" I whispered, but he cut me off.

"Daddy," he corrected me, his tone firm but teasing.

I looked up to him, my gaze meeting his, dark with intent. The way he looked at me spoke volumes about who was in control here. "Daddy," I whispered, the word shaking. It sounded strange to use that word now, in this intimate of moments, and yet it sounded right.

"Good girl," he whispered, bearing down now, making me grasp the armrest more firmly. He was unyielding in his rhythm, every stroke sending shockwaves through me, crescendoing and building until my mind was muddled. Every time I would start to make a noise, his other hand would come up and cover my mouth, reminding me we were not alone.

The tension between us grew thicker. My body reacted to his every touch. I could feel the pool of heat inside me, making it harder and harder to keep quiet. His fingers worked with precision-teasing me, pushing me closer and closer to the edge, then tugging back just enough to keep me wanting. It was maddening, in the best kind of way.

I looked at him once more, lips parting to plead, but he arched his brow-the silent order given. I bit back my words, nodding instead. He wanted control, and I was more than willing to give it to him.

"You're doing so well," he whispered in my ear, the praise sending my pulse racing. The rhythm of his fingers grew swifter, and swifter, and I had no control at all over the soft moan that burbled from my lips. In an instant, his hand was clamped firmly over my mouth, warm and strong against my lips.

"Shh," he warned, though the amusement was crystal clear in his voice. "You don't want everyone to hear, do you?"

I shook my head, my breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. The pleasure was overwhelming now, threatening to spill over, and I could feel myself losing the last bit of control I had. He must have felt it, too, because he leaned in closer, his lips brushing my neck.

"Let go for me," he whispered, his voice sending shivers through me. "You know you want to."

I did. More than anything. His fingers moved with purpose, and I could feel the release building inside me, so close now. My body tensed and I grabbed onto his arm, holding on for dear life as he pushed me over the edge.

The wave of pleasure hit all at once, powerful, consuming. I buried my face in his shoulder, trying to muffle the sounds of my release as one could. I could feel the trembling, my legs shaking while he kept his fingers moving, drawing every last bit of pleasure from me as squirt gushed and soaked my leggings. I'm not sure how long it lasted, but it felt like forever and was amazing.

By the time it finally began to subside, I slumped back against him, my body spent. He drew his hand out very slowly, his fingers teasing me with one last brush. I was still panting, trying to catch my breath, when he leaned in again.

"Such a good girl," he said, his voice low, satisfied. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my temple. A heat spread over me, but it had absolutely nothing to do with the afterglow. It was how he looked at me, like I was everything he wanted, everything he needed in that moment.

"James." I tried again, but he lifted an eyebrow, shooting me that look again.

"Daddy," I corrected myself hastily, and he smirked.

"That's better," he said, tugging me closer against him. His arm went around me, holding me in, and I felt a sudden sense of safety despite the wildness of what had just happened. There was something about him, the tender and commanding mixed, that made me feel utterly at home. He knew how to take care of me like the good girl I was.

We sat there for a while, the movie playing on in the background, though neither of us was paying attention to it anymore. My head was resting on his shoulder, I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath me.

As the credits rolled and the lights in the theatre began to come up, James gave me one final squeeze before standing. He offered his hand to pull me up and I took it, my legs still a little wobbly. He smirked at that.

"Next time," he whispered, tugging me close as we left, "you'll have to try harder to be quiet."

I blushed, biting my lip as I looked up at him. "Yes, Daddy," I whispered, and he smiled, clearly happy with my response.

[libingan]

— woven from shadows.

summary: two killers meet in the shadows of an abandoned warehouse. one is a master of charm and deception, the other, a figure shrouded in menace. despite their differences, one thing remains clear: they’re both cut from the same dark cloth.

a/n: IM ALIVE!! ive had this idea for DAYS yo, im so glad i can finally write again!!!

enjoy some killer! simon x killer! fem reader teehee

might make a part two, but it rlly depends on how much this shit eats

the warehouse is a relic from a forgotten era, its rusted metal frame creaking under the weight of years. the broken windows filter in sickly beams of moonlight, casting long, jagged shadows across the dust-covered floor. piles of rotting wooden crates and rusting machinery are scattered around, relics of a time when this place was alive with the hum of industry. now, it’s silent, the only sound the occasional drip of water from a leaking pipe, a steady rhythm that seems to count down to something inevitable. the air is thick with the scent of rust and decay, a perfect place for someone like you.

you’ve spent the better part of the night weaving through the labyrinth of the warehouse, playing with your prey like a cat with a mouse. he thought he could hide from you, but they all think that—right up until they don’t. the thrill of the chase had your blood singing, a familiar rush of adrenaline and anticipation. you left him bleeding in a dark corner, his gasping breaths echoing in the silence as you walked away. it was a clean kill, but nothing special. just another body to add to your collection.

but something feels off tonight. a sense of unease has been gnawing at you since you arrived, something in the air that doesn’t sit right. it’s like you’re not alone, like there’s someone else in the shadows, watching, waiting. you’re not sure what it is, but it pulls you deeper into the warehouse, toward something—or someone.

and that’s when you see him.

he’s just a shape at first, barely visible in the gloom, but there’s something about the way he moves that catches your attention. he’s not like your usual prey—there’s no panic, no desperation. just calm, calculated steps, as if he’s been hunting you just as much as you’ve been hunting him. it sends a shiver down your spine, a thrill of excitement that you haven’t felt in a long time.

as you step into a large open space in the heart of the warehouse, where the roof has partially collapsed, allowing a shaft of moonlight to spill across the floor, you finally get a good look at him. he’s tall, broad-shouldered, wearing tactical gear that’s seen better days. his face is hidden behind a skull mask, the hollow eyes staring back at you, unreadable. but it’s his stance that really catches your attention—rigid, controlled, like he’s ready to strike at any moment.

he’s like you, you realize. cut from the same cloth. a predator in a world full of prey. but unlike your usual targets, he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t show any sign of fear or hesitation. if anything, he seems... curious.

you smile, a slow, sly grin as you step closer, deliberately drawing his attention. “fancy seeing someone like you here,” you say, your voice light, almost teasing. “i thought i had this place to myself.”

he doesn’t respond, doesn’t even move. those dark eyes behind the mask stay locked on you, watching, waiting. the silence stretches on, heavy and suffocating, but you don’t let it get to you. you’ve dealt with the strong, silent type before. you know how to break them.

“let me guess,” you continue, circling him slowly, “you’re one of those types who thinks brooding in the dark makes them mysterious. but me? i prefer a little conversation before things get... messy.”

still nothing. his silence is almost unnerving, but you push through, trying to get a read on him. there’s something about him, something that tells you he’s not just another killer. he’s more than that, something darker, something dangerous. and it makes your blood sing.

you inch closer, testing the waters. “tell me,” you whisper, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, “what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this? looking for someone, maybe? or are you just here to watch?”

and that’s when you feel it—the cold press of steel against your throat. the knife is sudden, swift, and it takes everything in you not to flinch. instead, you grin, a slow, wicked curve of your lips as you stare up at him, eyes gleaming with defiance. you’ve met killers before, but this one... this one is different. this one is like you.

his voice is a low, gravelly growl when he finally speaks, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “you talk too much.”

you don’t falter, meeting his gaze with a smirk that’s all teeth. “and you don’t talk enough.”

for a long, tense moment, neither of you moves. the knife stays where it is, a silent threat, while your heart pounds in your chest. but fear isn’t what you feel—no, it’s something far more dangerous, far more intoxicating. the thrill of a worthy opponent, of someone who won’t break so easily.

slowly, deliberately, he lowers the knife, but his hand doesn’t leave your skin. instead, he tilts your chin up, forcing you to hold his gaze, as if daring you to make the next move. the tension between you crackles, electric and suffocating, and you know, without a doubt, that this isn’t over. not by a long shot.

you’ve finally met your match. and you can’t wait to see who wins.

[lxmelle]

I wanted to make a post on the number of times Gojo and Geto “meet halfway” even beyond death. Just a complication of moments!

Spoilers if you’re anime-only.

Gojo Satoru stops in his tracks upon hearing something roll onto the floor; quickly followed by the voice of someone whom he killed with his own hands.

More under the cut:

Gate open!

The same words upon a 10-year separation. Not “hisashiburi ne” but “hisashi ne” (a shortened version):

(Worth noting: the flashback image of Gojo after killing Geto looks eerily like Toji upon death. There is a deliberate parallel.)

Gojo tries to make sense of what is happening and his six eyes registers the physical information that it’s really Geto.

In processing this he is momentarily flooded with memories of the best 3 years of his life - the Blue Spring 青い春.

Ironically like being flooded with information after being hit by unlimited void, as there have been others who pointed out.

He was rendered immobile with information on his precious memories and that’s what seals him.

His mind was matching up information from his physical senses (six eyes) and his soul (presenting as feeling).

And his soul refutes the information. His mind knows Geto wouldn’t do this. Thus, he knows otherwise.

Here is where he reverts back to “ore” 俺 as his raw and authentic self presents itself for a the moment where he is experiencing heightened emotions from the sacrilege before him that gets his trapped.

And it all kinda sucks because seems unfair that Gojo is going to suffer again for what seems to be a heavily one-sided pining for his best friend.

But then, Geto, who really is unable to react (because it isn’t Geto, as he is actually dead) ... still manages to do something.

Although like a dragonfly whose head has been cut off, it responds. His body appears to be imprinted with information despite his brain (mind) and soul not being there.

As someone pointed out on Twitter/now X, Gojo reacts to Geto’s words/presence and Geto react to his name being called (and possibly also from seeing Gojo in that position):

Gege, thank you for making this a reciprocal moment.

That smug lil smile from Gojo also kinda depicts a small victory that he made that happen. Something, as a reader, we appreciate that even the ancient Kenjaku has never encountered before - the vessel reacting whilst he is the host.

It’s poetic how they react to each other despite the situation where one is practically dead but can still depict sentiments of a strong bond.

Gege follows up on this with a moment between Toji and Megumi to illustrate another example of parallelism and emphasis, just 7-8 chapters later:

The narrator doesn’t finish the sentence, but it hints at how the remnants of a soul can still persist within the body if it’s important enough. Leading the body to react even if the brain isn’t there in Geto’s case, and the body in a vessel can still react even if it’s soul information wasn’t summoned by the curse technique user.

It also hints at the parallels between Geto and Toji who died after yielding and “burying” a part of themselves.

The reciprocal nature of Gojo and Geto extends to the afterlife scene.

Can I just add (again) that I love how they’re sitting closer together than compared with when the chapter began? 🤭 yes I like repeating myself because i dedicated a whole post on it before

And I like how they meet halfway there too.

Isn’t it romantic somehow? Last person Geto saw before his death was Gojo, and the first person Gojo saw was Geto in the afterlife.

I wrote this in another post but I’ll include that here too: the top bit is in reference to Geto’s death where his reaction acknowledges that he doesn’t feel he deserves the loving words, but rather a curse at the end.

Link: https://www.tumblr.com/lxmelle/748022415626567680/ah-this-makes-lots-of-sense-especially-that?source=share

And taken from my other whopper of a post on souls because I’m too lazy to write it all again:

The end.

Thank you for sharing in my satosugu indulgence.

Please feel free to share and reblog with other moments worth pointing out! ╰(*´︶`*)╯~♡