#I never knew bows would be so fun to draw

[thebrainrotsreal]

I just love Ciel a whole lot :]

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

You asked for Spencer Reid and Reader requests, particularly plus size, and I am so down bad for that man! Especially later seasons him.

Could I have one where he and the reader are intellectual peers but also enemies? Like she's on the team and just as wicked smart as him and into old literature and languages but they constantly butt heads? And the team knows they really just have feelings for each other, but they'll never admit it. Maybe the reader admits it to Penelope or someone one night drinking that he's hot but she never thought he'd actually sleep with her bc she's fat, but she'll take his attention any way she can get it. Maybe Spencer overhears and proceeds to show her just how hot he finds her arguing with him? 👀 Thank you in advance, girlie!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

— summary: you and spencer hate each other, that much is obvious... right?

— warnings: very surprisingly crude language in this, self-doubt, implied insecurities, misunderstandings, e2l, they're in love and everyone else knows besides them, i made them dorks i don't apologize, mentions of wet dreams, mentions of male masturbation, dirty thoughts, kissing, stripping, vaginal fingering, spencer's dirty mouth, lots of reassurance 'cause i'm a sap, spencer reid #1 consent king, missionary, unprotected sex, sex god spencer?!?! (he does his research), pleasure dom!spencer, switch r & spencer, heavy praise, and a fluffy ending to tie this all up in a nice little bow!

— wc: 3136

⋆ a/n: okay i do admit that this is RIDICULOUSLY long, but i knew exactly what i was getting into writing this and honestly i had so much fun! i don't think i've ever created such characters that have so much chemistry with each other, so cheers to that! (unedited unfortunately :[)

masterlist | AO3

As soon as you hear Spencer’s voice, you make a point to groan obnoxiously loud.

“And just to think I would be able to go home without a headache today.” 

You could feel the glare from said man burning a hole in the back of your head, so you swivel your chair around in order to face the music – in a pleasurable masochist kind of way. His annoyingly handsome face was twisted up in irritation – much to your glee – his eyebrows turned down, and his perfect, plush lips pulled into a deep frown. 

You could tell you had interrupted him saying something that he deemed important, most likely a fact that you and him would go back and forth on, and you couldn’t be more pleased with yourself.

“Funny you mention that seeing as though your voice is the cause of mine.” He bit back, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Aw, you think of my voice?” You tease. “Only in my nightmares.” You wink at him. “You still think about me.”.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Luke piped up from his own desk, drawing the attention from your other intrigued co-workers in the bullpen. “Oh here we go.” Tara said in amusement at Luke’s rambling.

“Back when I was a kid there was this girl that I went to school with, and I would always tug on her hair or try to trip her,” His voice was almost reminiscent. “Everyone thought I hated her, when in reality I was just trying to get her attention.”

“Ah,” Matt said with a smile, “The classic ‘boy bullying the girl he likes,’ or in this case, it’s the girl this time.” Your cheeks began to heat and your eyes went wide, Spencer’s own face and the tips of his ears turning an admirable pink hue.

“Absolutely not -”

“What? No -”

Both Spencer and you stumbled over each other to try and defend yourself, but you didn’t have a chance because Emily’s voice cut through whatever was about to be said next, the woman making haste from her office and into the room with the round table.

“Alright you guys, enough. We’ve got a case.”

“To a job well done!” Penelope cheered as she held up her citrusy alcoholic beverage in the air, signaling she wanted to toast.

You smiled indulgently at the woman sitting next to you, clinking your glass with hers noisily and flickering your eyes over to where a disheveled Spencer Reid sat. You didn’t say anything to him though, because you’re a big ol’ softie and like to let the boy wonder rest before you have him back on his toes.

His eyes met yours the same time your glasses collided. You wish you could say that the vibrations from the clinking was the cause of the shiver that forced its way down your spine, but you knew better. 

It was like the rest of the bar disappeared, the sound of the others joining in on your rejoicing fell on deaf ears. You could have sworn his dark brown puppy-dog eyes drank you in before he looked away and cleared his throat, taking a rather comically large gulp of his water.

Your eyelashes fluttered like a thousand butterflies wings as you rushed to drink your own beverage.

“Okay, what was that!?” You felt Penelope’s finger poke at your ribs before you actually heard her. 

“Ow - fuck! What was what?” You yelped quietly, your hand reaching down to bat away her stabbing digits. “The - the -” She fought to portray her words before her face lit up when she found the correct ones, “The eyefucking!” 

Your stomach erupted in butterflies, “Eyefucking? What eyefucking?” You asked with a scoff, hiding your blush behind the rim of your mug. 

“Oh, please, don’t give me that.” It was Penelope’s turn to scoff at you. “Everybody knows that you and Spencer like each other.” She said it almost like it was a fact, leaning forward to take a smug sip of her drink through the miniature black straw.

Spencer knew listening in on Penelope and your conversation was inappropriate; but in his defense, you guys weren’t really quiet about what you were talking about.

“I -” He heard you begin, “It’s one-sided.” Was all you said before draining your beer. “So you admit it!” Penelope exclaimed with a gasp.

Spencer felt his eyes go wide at her words, but there was this desperate feeling that spread throughout his body; one that caused his fingers to twitch and the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

“When you put it like that it sounds childish!” You complained slightly, biting at the meat of your lip. “I… I’m just not his type you know? Like - you know better than anyone that guys don’t pay attention to girls like us, so you have to learn to improvise.” You were cringing at your own words, but the liquid in your cup was enough to loosen your tongue and lower your inhibitions.

“Was me choosing to constantly argue with him the smartest way to try and peak his interest? No, but I knew he liked a challenge and well… it definitely wasn’t the proudest conclusion I ever came to, but what was I supposed to do? It isn’t like Spencer would date me let alone actually want to sleep with me.”

Spencer wanted to argue with you about how wrong you were, to tell you about every thought he’d ever had about you.

He wanted to tell you about how much you frustrate him, how at first, he thought he hated you and it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize he hated how badly he wanted you; hated how many dirty dreams he had included you and that plush body of yours. He’d wondered how soft you were, how you smelled and tasted. 

Did your moans and whines sound as enchanting as your laugh? Did your eyes twinkle the same way when you were about to cum? 

Those thoughts kept him up at night and his hands in his pants, stroking himself to his unlimited imagination all revolved around you. Those were the days that he was more prone to pick fights with you, mostly because he was embarrassed, ashamed, and quite frankly plain ol’ horny.

Spencer thought you were just so sexy, especially when he had managed to light that fire under your ass that really got you going. He wasn’t a sadist or a masochist by any means, but he loved when you yelled at him. So, for you to think so lowly of yourself it almost drove him mad because you didn’t know.

But you were going to.

You were going to kill whoever was bothering you on your day off.

The knocking was unexpected, but so was who was responsible for the noise.

“Spencer?” You asked in surprise. 

Usually you were prepared for your exchanges with the man, but if your pajamas were anything to go by, you were anything but. Spencer felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your tits sitting braless in a thin undershirt, your soft tummy slightly straining against the cotton material and a pair of shorts that look like they were practically strangling your thighs.

The only thing he could really say was… “Do you know how infuriating you are?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you crossed your arms over your chest, and little did you know the action pressed the tops of your breasts over the hemline. “Excuse me?” You almost scoffed, “Please don’t tell me you came all the way here just to argue with me.”

“No I - fuck just let me finish.” This was not how he wanted this to go. You looked like you wanted to say something but your curiosity made you choose to stay silent.

“Do you know why you’re so infuriating?” He asked, taking a tentative but careful step towards you. “Because you haunt my every living thought. I see you when I’m awake, I see you when I’m asleep. I can’t… I can’t escape you! I can’t escape how I feel about you.”

Your eyes were wide and your brows were furrowed; it looked like you almost couldn’t breathe.

“But you want to know the worst part?” His hand lands on your cheek and his thumb gently caresses the skin there. “You have the audacity to think that I wouldn’t want you.” 

“You want me?” You asked in disbelief. “But I… but I thought you hated me? I mean - I haven’t been all that nice to you.” You attempt to joke weakly, but your body is on fire; your stomach is tangled up in knots. You were trembling in excitement at his words but in disbelief too.

“Do you have any idea how much I love arguing with you?”

You laughed at his words, your lips slipping into a small smirk as you threw your arms around his neck in an act of boldness. “Oh yeah?” You hummed seductively. “You wanna show me how much?”

“Yeah,” He replied breathlessly. “I do.”

And just like that his mouth was on yours and a long leg shot out behind him to shut your front door. The slam made you yelp, but it quickly melted into a giggle against his lips when he reconnected them.

Spencer tugged you closer to him, and God the feeling of your body was so much better than anything his subconscious could have conjured up. You felt so soft and the front part of your torso pressed against his chest in a way that if he didn’t have you naked under him soon he was going to go crazy.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He didn’t want to pull away from you, but he wanted to do this right.

“I didn’t know you were a gentleman, Reid.” You teased with a dazed smile on your face. “There’s a lot of things that you don’t know about me.” You quirked a brow. “Oh really? How about you tell me?”

“Later,” He said with a lazy shake of his head, “Later.”

His hand reached down to cup your ass, your crotch rubbing on the large boner restrained by his pants. You moaned quietly at the feeling, and found yourself saying, “Down the hall and to the left.”

When you arrived, he couldn’t keep his hands off you; they grabbed at your back, ass, waist, hips. There was so much of you that he had no idea where to start. All he knew is that he wanted all of you right now.

“Can I take your shirt off, please?” His words almost came out as a whine and it welcomed a fresh wave of arousal in your panties. “Take off whatever you want, I’m yours.” A reassuring confession that Spencer had no idea he needed to hear. 

His lithe, veiny hands tugged at your top first, dragging it over your head and throwing it somewhere random. Your pants and panties were next to go and you couldn’t help but shiver at Spencer's intense stare.

“I’m uh- feeling a little vulnerable here, could you lose a layer or two?” 

The man blinked rapidly, his fingers shooting to undo the buttons on his cardigan. “Yes, yeah of course, sorry I -'' You grabbed the shaky digits. “Calm down, take it slow. I’m not going anywhere.” It was a light jab meant to ease his nerves. For a moment he looked unsure but you gave an encouraging smile.

After his clothes disappeared he held you by your waist, walking you backwards until your calves hit the bed. You quickly hurried to scale the mattress until your head hit the pillows.

“God,” Spencer gulped. “This is so much better than what I imagined.” You giggled slightly. “As much as I appreciate your flattery, I want you to fuck me. Now.” You said it with such simplicity that his eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets at your crudeness.

He swallowed his shock. “Whatever the lady wants.”

He hurried to crawl over your leaning body; you cup his cheek in an act of haste, dragging him down to lay on top of you. His own hands didn’t stop their determined trail, tracing the soft planes of your plush body until he reached your wet cunt.

You whine loudly at the feeling of Spencer’s fingers stroking your damp slit.

“So responsive.” He murmured with delighted smirk. You go to say something snarky but you’re quickly cut off when he begins to rub tight circles on your clit. “‘M sensitive.” You gasp against his lips, your back arching and pressing further into him.

His body falls to the side, laying next to your naked one with a cheek balanced on his fist. “I’m gonna make you cum on my fingers first,” Spencer whispers into your ear. His ring finger entered your warmth slowly and he felt himself choke on his words. You mewled, a hand shooting up to tangle in his long, curly hair, the other grabbed at his wrist.

“Then, I’m gonna make you cum on my cock.” After a few experimental twists of his wrist, his middle finger joins the first. Your breathing speeds up with every movement of his digits. 

“Afterwards, ‘m gonna clean you up and take you out to eat.” Your brain could barely process what he was saying, but every word that left his mouth added to the swarming butterflies in your gut – which felt so juvenile seeing as though he was already knuckle deep inside you.

“And when we get home, I’m gonna eat this sweet pussy for dessert.” 

Your eyelashes were fluttering rapidly, your hips moving frantically on his fingers in an attempt to try and get him deeper. Spencer must have sensed what you needed, because with a few firm swipes on your sensitive clit sent you spiraling over the edge.

“Spencer, Spencer, Spencer… I - I -” Your gummy walls squeezed his digits, and the only thing keeping you grounded was the heat coming from his body.

“Wow.” You laughed breathlessly. “Wow indeed.” He mimics with the same amount of amusement.

“Are you okay to keep going?” He asks. 

“Are you kidding?” The look on his face was almost laughable, and you gave his naked chest an encouraging pat. “Hell yeah I’m good, how about you?”

“If I told you I could cum just from watching you, would you believe me?” You roll your eyes and snort. “We’ll find out later, loverboy. Get up here.”

He scrambles to get on top of you, but then stops. “Wait, wait,” He reaches behind your head and grabs a pillow. “Lift your hips up for me.” Your eyes go wide, because who in the fuck taught him that? Though you move a bit slowly through your surprise, he manages to get the soft thing under you, your lower back now elevated.

But all excitement dies out when he realizes there might be no protection, he looks like he could almost cry.

“It’s cool, Spence. I’m on the pill and I… I haven’t had sex with anyone in an embarrassingly long time.” You admit shyly, your eyes casting to the side nervously. “I’m clean too. I don’t really remember the last time I’ve had sex either.” 

You guys make eye contact and erupt into a fit of giggles, “To relearning the art of sexual intercourse then.” Spencer scrunches his nose up at your wording, but you don’t give him any time to retort because you’ve already placed two hands on his face, tugging his head down to kiss your smile-split lips.

He takes the time to kiss you for a moment before reaching down to line his dick up to your entrance. You both shiver at the sensation. You guys disconnect your lips to watch him enter you, your foreheads pressed together and breaths mingled in anticipation.

You moaned in unison when he slowly but surely seethed himself in you fully, and your body tensed at the long awaited intrusion. “Gimme a sec.” You gulped. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He panted.

You allowed yourself a moment to relax, brushing your fingers through his curls as a way to comfort Spencer as well. After taking a few more seconds to enjoy the raw, intimate moment between the two of you, you said, “Okay. Okay, I’m good.” 

Spencer licked his lips and rolled his hips tentatively, and your breath hitched. A string of whimpers were soon to follow with every drag of his cock against your sensitive inner walls, the leftovers of your previous orgasm leaving your body feeling electric.

Your mouth drops open into an ‘o’ shape when his tip brushes your g-spot.

“Right - right there Spence…good boy - fuck - good fucking boy.” 

The term of endearment was an accidental slip of the tongue, but it had frayed some nerve in his body, because the groan that left him was guttural and hungry.

“Say -” He huffs. “Say it again, please.” The pace of his thrusts speed up as he begs, and your nails drag down his back. “You’re my good boy, Spencie.” His eyes flutter shut at the praise and he doesn’t bother to be gentle anymore.

“Mphm! More - I need more.”

“Okay, okay.” He rushed to balance on his elbow so that his other arm could slip between the two of your bodies to rub at your clit. Your back arched, and Spencer all but throbbed inside of you, his balls tightening and threatening to cum right then and there; but ever the gentleman, he waited, his stomach sucked in tightly and his body jolting quivering.

“I - I’m gonna cum.” 

It didn’t take much to pull you into a kiss. It was sloppy, and messy, and lewd and all of those other wonderful synonyms. Spit dribbled down your chins and with one last hard thrust that almost sent you up the bed, you gripped onto the older man for dear life.

Everything went white as you came; your hearing, your vision, every single cognitive thought you had pretty much flew out the window.

It was Spencer gently wiping the sweat off of your brow that brought you back down to reality, your lungs finally opening up and expanding for that much needed air.

“Hey,” He cooed. “There you are.”

“Hi,” You sighed with a ditzy smile on your face.

There was a moment of silence before you said, “How about we save the oral for breakfast?” Spencer laughed, but nonetheless nodded in agreement. “That sounds perfect.”

“So, what’s for dessert then?” He couldn’t help but ask. “Hm…” You pondered for a moment. 

“How about ice cream?”

“I like ice cream.” But then he added, “But I like you more.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst.” You groaned, covering your eyes, but your grin gave you away. “I like you too, I guess.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[cameronspecial]

My Particular Girl

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Summary: Y/N needs things to be done a certain way and Rafe understands that.

Masterlist

Y/N likes things done in a particular. It’s the way her brain works. People often look at her and call her childish for the things she does to cater to these needs. Because of those people, she started to believe that she had no chance of finding love. Who would want to date someone who was so picky with the things are? Then Rafe came along to show her she doesn’t need to change; instead, it is the partner who should try to be open-minded and help her out. And Rafe really does try to do everything he can to help Y/N out. 

———

Y/N sits with her little cousins in the living room, listening to them recount the story behind the drawings they are currently working on. She doesn’t know where Rafe went off too, but if she knows anything about him, he is probably off trying to win brownie points with her relatives. “And this is going to be us when you and Rafe take us to the beach,” Sophie recounts, holding up the picture. Y/N’s mouth drops open, “Wow, that looks amazing.” “We look like we are having so much fun,” Rafe adds, kissing Y/N’s temple from behind the couch. She stretches her head back to see Rafe. He is holding two plates in his hands and he rounds the couch to sit beside his girlfriend. He holds out a plate for her. She notices that her plate is different from his. It is one of the special sectioned plates from their home. He catches her examining eyes and worries he got something wrong. “Did I do something wrong? Each component is in its place. I separated the mashed potatoes, the steak and the vegetables,” he starts to tangent. “Should I have separated the mixed veggies too? I knew I should’ve separated them. I know you like to be able to identify the different textures easily.” 

Her hands stop him from rising to fix what he thinks is a mistake. “No, it’s okay. You got everything right. I was just surprised you brought one of my plates. Thank you,” she reassures him, giving him a kiss. He wraps his arm around her shoulder and starts eating, “You’re welcome. I’m glad I got it right.” 

———

They knock on the door but don’t wait for it to be opened by someone inside before entering the unlocked house. “Yo, Top. We’re here,” Rafe announces with a booming voice. It’s just a little get-together so the couple takes their shoes off. Right as they are about to step deeper into the house, Y/N sees the carpeted floor of the house. She can already feel the uncomfortableness of the rug tickling the bottom of her feet and she flinches at the thought. Rafe gently holds her back by her shoulder, “Wait here, I have to get something from the car.” She waits for him at the entrance, preparing herself to walk barefoot on the rug. He jogs back inside and places something on the ground. Her eyes dart down to see slippers. “Where did you get these?” she questions while putting them on. He kisses her on the cheek, “I bought new slippers to keep in the back of my trunk for this exact reason.” Warmth fills Y/N and she wraps her arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

———

Y/N rests on the couch and watches as Rafe folds the laundry. Each article of clothing is folded exactly how she likes it with crisp edges. While she appreciates how attentive he is, worry starts to creep inside of her. What if he starts to realize that all the things he does to keep things to her taste are a waste of time? What if he starts to think she is too high-maintenance? He can see the gears turning in her head. “What’s wrong, Sweetheart?” he asks, leaning over to kiss her. She bows her head, “What if you break up with me because you get tired of having to do things a certain way for me like I am a child?” Rafe places what he is folding down and moves to the same couch as her. He brings her into a hug, attacking her face with kisses. “That would never happen because I love taking care of you. You are my particular girl and I would not trade you for anything in the world,” he promises. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @victory-in-the-llama @starkowswife @drewsmusee @maybankslover

[argisthebulwark]

"Would You Kill For Me?"

summary: asking your partner the most intimate question of all - would he kill for you? gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Cicero, Teldryn, Vilkas, Miraak, Brynjolf, Erandur, Farkas, Mercer warnings: obv allusions to violence, nothing explicit. alcohol.

"I already have."

Cicero giggles, slapping a gloved hand on your shoulder. "Of course I've killed for you! Silly Listener, asking your poor, beloved Cicero such a question." Rationally, you know any other person would be upset - but it's endearing. You know deep in your heart that Cicero would slice through anyone who even looks at you wrong without a second thought. "Would you kill for your Keeper?" He asks coyly, sliding closer. It's too difficult to resist his charm. You find yourself grinning, remembering the many threats of bodily harm you've inflicted upon any initiate who breathes a negative word about your beloved. "Any day, my love."

"Why? You offering to return the favor?" Teldryn smirks before taking a drink from his mug. The tip of his boot knocks into yours under the table, earning a nice flush in your cheeks. You've clearly had too much to drink but Teldryn looked so pretty in the low tavern lighting, the alcohol loosening your tongue enough to voice all those silly little questions you've had floating around. "You have?" You urge, leaning so far over the table you're practically laying on it. Teldryn grins, bowing toward you and his voice conspiratorially low when he speaks again. "Of course - why do you think all that chatter about you being an untrustworthy outlander stopped so quickly?" "I thought my good deeds were enough to earn their trust." You pout, thinking back on the sudden shift in opinion. "Oh yes, yes - that too, but a few well placed jabs never hurt."

"I'd die for you."

"Isn't that better? To die for you?" Vilkas laments, lips stained red from his third glass of wine. The question had hardly been in your mind before it slipped out - late nights toasting to the Companions often left you tipsy. "I'd rather you lived for me." You hiccup, leaning closer to him. Those dark eyes still track every little move you make despite the intoxication. "A happy, long live if I have any say in the matter." He lapses into silence but you know his mind is still chewing on that question. Swirling the wine in his glass Vilkas reclines into his seat, staring earnestly into the low burning fire. "Vilkas, it was just a silly question." Those eyes cut straight through you, blinking away whatever retort he'd come up with before simply placing a kiss to the back of your hand.

"I would die in your stead." Miraak's hands cup your face, each word soaked in adoration. "I've died in your arms once, my Dragon. I would gladly do it once more." You will never truly grow accustomed to this version of him - stripped of the malice he'd lived with for so long, he's become devoted to you. Too many pupils gaze lovingly into your eyes, the crooked bridge of his nose bumping yours. You've never known a love like his and doubt that many ever will - he's had lifetimes to yearn, to want something more and hone a vocabulary that often leaves you a flustered mess. "You're far too serious." He grins at those words, the ones you've said dozens of times. "I would tear the world to shreds for you, my love. I would tear myself to shreds."

"I cant."

Brynjolf's words carry a silent apology - of course you knew his answer but watching him squirm can be fun. "I'm sorry, love - I know it isn't the romantic answer but I don't think I could bring myself to do somethin' like that. Not after -" "Bryn." Grasping his face, your heart still skips a beat when those green eyes find yours. "I know that blade you wear is simply decorative, I would never ask you to draw it." "It is not merely decorative, it serves other purposes." "Such as?" "It's fairly useful for intimidation. And breaking windows." He huffs, pressing a kiss to your palm. He pauses for a moment, eyes falling closed and nose nuzzled into your hand. "Truth be told, I like to say that I wouldn't - hell, I tell myself I won't take a life every day, but after Mercer takin' you away from me, I'm not so sure."

"I swore against such actions, my love." Erandur murmurs, forehead pressed to yours. "Lady Mara may have forgiven my past transgressions but I took an oath to bring no further harm to her people." "Of course, dearest." You smile, a bit entertained by how easy it is to get him talking. Erandur's fingers play across yours, rings bumping into your knuckles. "Would you kill for me?" You're a bit shocked by his question, even further surprised by the little hint of hope buried in his words. "Without second thought." It's the easiest answer in the world. Of course you would kill for Erandur - you would fight through hordes of enemies to ensure his safety. "I can only pray that your Lady's forgiving attitude extends to me."

"Of course."

Brows raised, Farkas assesses you across the training yard. He sucks in a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his brow before heaving the giant practice sword over one shoulder. "Any day." He says easily, a quick kiss pressed to your brow. No matter how long you're together this sight still seems too good to be true - muscles glistening in the midday sun, his hair tied back and an easy smile on his face. "Why, you need someone killed?" "Not at the moment." "If one of those recruits gets too mouthy, you come find me." He grins before turning his attention back to a battered training dummy. You notice after that question that his sword strikes just a bit harder, hammering that point home.

"No." Mercer lies, kicking his feet atop the desk. You mirror his position - boots on the desk and arms crossed, though the scowl is hard to mimic. He's perfected it. "Yes you would." You counter, fighting back a laugh when he rolls his eyes. That little divot appears between his brows - it's cute. You'd tell him but fear being assigned some awful job across the continent. "Why bother asking?" He grumbles, shoving a stack of paperwork toward you. "If you insist on hanging around asking inane questions, least you could do is make yourself useful." "I'd kill for you." "Lovely." He mutters, though you note a bit of color rising in his cheeks when he turns to some parchment he'd pointedly ignored all evening. It's too easy to get under his skin.

[asa-do-your-thing]

Helloo, could you do a Theon Greyjoy smut were the reader is a mermaid? Ty ♡♡

Swim to me; let me enfold you

18+ MINORS DNI Theon Greyjoy x Selkie!Reader 5.8 k Warnings: P in V sex, porn w/o plot, smut, oral sex, kind of orgasm denial? soft smut, theon's a bit of a misogynist but that was to be expected, sub theon thank you for the ask, I couldn't fall asleep so I had to write this, I hope you like it <3 oh and I might've gone overboard with the sea alliterations. whoops!

Leaning against an old oak, Theon shivered and took another sip of his mead, staring off into the distant darkness on Bear Island. Lord Stark had something private to discuss with Lady Maege Mormont, leaving him to his own devices. Robb, ever the good heir, had decided to go to bed early and the Mormont ladies - if one could even call them thusly - had fun with their friends.

Sighing, he slowly walked closer to the sea, watching the dark waves crashing and gurgling menacingly against the slick, black stones of the shoreline.

The sea… Something he used to see on a daily basis but now was as strange to him as the concept of being close to Mother, talking to Asha, being on Pyke.

He kicked a small stone into the dark waters and turned, cursing Lord Stark for choosing to come to this desolate place. Why couldn't they have gone to White Harbour? There, he could have his pick of whores without any worries. But here, he had to be careful not to get picked up by one of the women and dragged into their makeshift huts.

"What a pretty boy," one had said with a wide grin and strong arms, eyeing Theon up and down at the feast. "His hair looks so soft, and I'm sure he moans just as softly."

Theon shuddered at the memory, quickly draining the last of his mead to wash away the taste of disgust that lingered in his mouth. The empty horn dangled from his fingers as he cast one last glance at the churning sea, its inky blackness now seeming to mirror the void in his chest. With a resigned sigh, he turned and made his way back to the Mormont's hall, his footsteps muffled by the damp moss beneath his feet.

The hall was mercifully quiet as he slipped inside, the earlier revelry having died down to a low murmur of conversation and the occasional clink of cups. Theon's eyes darted around, searching for any sign of the she-bears that had made him so uncomfortable earlier. Seeing none, he quickly made his way to the large oak barrel in the corner, filling his horn with fresh, golden mead that glowed warmly in the flickering firelight.

Clutching his prize, Theon hurried back outside, the cool night air a welcome respite from the stuffy interior. He paused for a moment, allowing his eyes to readjust to the darkness, before making his way back towards his earlier perch by the old oak tree. As he approached, however, he noticed a slender silhouette standing where he had been just moments before.

Drawing closer, Theon's breath caught in his throat. There, bathed in the soft silver light of the moon, stood a young woman. Her long, slick hair looked strangely damp and her skin had the same light colour as her strange cloak. Squinting, Theon could make out that it was a sealskin - what was this girl doing here with a skagosi coat?

“If I knew you would return I would have asked for a horn as well,” she whispered gently and turned around, giving Theon a small, shy smile. “I’ve never seen such a man as yourself here.”

With an overexaggerated bow, Theon offered her his horn. Gods, she was stunning - Theon did not know if he had ever seen a woman with such a natural beauty as her, even if she looked as if she just came out of a bout of rain, her plain dress clinging to her. “Take it, my Lady. I can always just get myself a second one.”

Studying her closer, he raised an eyebrow and leaned against the tree once more, his arm above her. He had not seen her during the feast, yet she looked far too gentle, too soft to be a servant or a fisherman’s wife, not to mention being a warrior. “So you’ve been watching me then, huh? Then how come I haven’t seen you?”

The woman's smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed to gleam unnaturally in the moonlight. She accepted the horn with a graceful nod, her fingers brushing against Theon's as she took it. A shiver ran through him at the touch - her skin was cool and slightly damp, like the mist rolling in from the sea.

"Perhaps you weren't looking in the right places," she replied, her voice as soft and alluring as the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. "I prefer to keep to the shadows, away from the noise and chaos of your feasts."

Theon found himself drawn in by her mysterious aura, unable to look away from her mesmerizing gaze. Her eyes were the color of the sea at twilight, deep and unfathomable. Whatever did she mean with ‘your feasts’? Surely such a lovely thing could not be low-born. She didn’t look like she was from Bear Island either. Was she a bastard? Maybe Jorah Mormont’s?

"And what brings a lovely girl such as yourself out here on a night like this?" Theon asked, his usual cocky grin spreading across his face. "Surely not just to admire the view? The winds are cold and the feast is almost over. Or are you waiting for someone…?"

The woman took a sip of mead, her eyes never leaving Theon's. "I come here often, to listen to the sea and feel the wind on my skin. It calls to me, you see."

She gestured towards the churning waters with her free hand, and Theon could have sworn he saw webbing between her fingers for just a moment before she lowered it again. Although… didn’t the Sistermen have that as well?

"But tonight," she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, "I sensed something different. Something... foreign. I was right,” she said, giving him the horn back. “You are of the drowned islands, are you not? Your sharp face tells me so, ‘tis a handsome one. It would have been wrong of me not to find you tonight.”

Theon laughed and gratefully took a sip of mead to try and calm his beating heart and the hardness in his breeches. She spoke plenty strangely, surely, yet she was so beautiful and spoke so frankly, yet so sweetly… and it seemed like she was truly eager to spend time, if not even the night, with him.

His laugh faded as he studied the mysterious woman more closely. Her words stirred something deep within him, a longing for home he usually tried to bury beneath bravado and drink.

"Aye, I'm from the Iron Islands," he admitted, his voice rougher than he intended. "Though it's been many years since I've seen those shores."

The woman's eyes seemed to glimmer with an otherworldly light as she stepped closer to him. The scent of salt and seaweed clung to her, intoxicating and familiar.

"The sea never forgets her children," she murmured, reaching out to trace the line of his sharp jaw with cool fingers. "Even when they're taken far from her embrace."

Theon shivered at her touch, desire and an inexplicable sense of danger warring within him. "And what of you?" he asked, trying to regain his composure. "You're clearly not from Bear Island. Where do you call home?"

A sad smile played across her lips as she gazed out at the dark waters. "My home is everywhere and nowhere," she said softly. "Wherever the tides take me. Like… what do you call them… a salt wife, but I have no master. My mistress is the sea. "

She turned back to him, her hands searching his. Something about her made him so wild, he did not even know what it was. Her quiet confidence? Her Beauty? The mystery in her voice? "But tonight, I'm here with you, my Theon of the Iron Islands. Would you like to feel the sea's embrace once more? My hut is not like the Lord Bears’ big one, but it is warm and the sea is oh so near.”

Theon hesitated for a moment, his mind racing. This woman was unlike any he had ever encountered, and something about her both thrilled and unnerved him. But the mead coursing through his veins and the ache of loneliness in his chest pushed him forward.

"Lead the way, my mysterious lady," he said with a roguish grin, offering her his arm.

She smiled, a secret dancing in her eyes, and took his arm. As they walked along the rocky shore, Theon noticed that her feet seemed to barely touch the ground, moving with an otherworldly grace over the uneven terrain. The sound of the waves grew louder, drowning out the distant noises from the Mormont hall.

Soon, they came upon a small hut nestled among the rocks, so well-hidden that Theon would have missed it entirely if not for his guide. It was a simple structure, made of driftwood and covered in seaweed, looking as if it had grown organically from the shore itself.

The woman pushed open the door, revealing a cozy interior lit by the soft glow of thick, brown candles in jars. The scent of the sea was even stronger here, mixed with something else Theon couldn't quite place – something ancient and primal, but drink and fatigue made him careless, so as soon as she closed the door behind herself, he pressed her against it and kissed her hungrily.

He could feel her smiling against his kiss. "Welcome to my humble home," she said, her voice barely audible over the crashing waves just outside as she broke away. "Would you mind if I take my coat off first and light a fire? It would be a bit more… comfortable.”

Theon reluctantly pulled away, his breath coming in short gasps. "Of course, my lady," he said with a playful bow. "Allow me to start the fire for you. It's the least I can do for such gracious hospitality."

He moved to the small hearth, gathering driftwood and kindling from a neat pile nearby. As he worked to coax a flame to life, he couldn't resist stealing glances at the mysterious woman. She stood with her back to him, slowly unfastening her sealskin coat.

"So, tell me," Theon said, his voice husky with desire, "do you often lure handsome strangers to your hidden abode? Or am I a special case?"

The firelight danced across her pale skin as she carefully folded the coat and placed it on a nearby chair. Theon's breath caught in his throat as she began to unlace her simple dress, the fabric sliding off her shoulders to pool at her feet.

She laughed softly, a sound like waves lapping at the shore. "You are indeed special, Theon of the Iron Islands. It's not often I meet someone who understands the call of the sea as I do."

She turned to face him, now clad only in a thin shift that clung to her curves like sea foam on the shore. The flickering flames cast a warm glow on her features, softening the otherworldly quality that had first captivated him.

In this light, she looked more human, more real, yet no less beautiful.

Her long hair, no longer seeming damp, cascaded down her back in waves that rivaled the sea itself. Her eyes, which had appeared so dark and fathomless outside, now shone with a warm, amber hue that reminded Theon of the mead they just drank.

"And what of you?" she asked, turning to face him. "Do you often follow mysterious women into the night?"

Theon grinned, rising from his crouched position by the now-crackling fire. "Only the exceptionally beautiful ones," he quipped, “and ones that do not wish for my gold before they have even spoken to me.”

The girl laughed and stepped closer to him, untying his own cloak and unbuttoning his black doublet. “Gold means nothing to me.”

“Really? I think you are the first woman I’ve ever heard saying something like that,” Theon muttered, trying to keep his breathing calm as her hands came to the bottom buttons of his doublet, accidentally brushing over his hardness.

“Hm,” she muttered and looked up, giving him a grin that was as coy as his own as she slipped it off him with almost unnatural grace, before she stood before him once more, gently pushing him onto her bed so she stood over him, her chest dangerously close to his face.

“On the drowned islands they also do not talk of gold. They talk of iron, my Theon. Although… it seems like you know the hardness of it. So, in turn, for tonight, I shall wish for it to mean something to me. Do you think you can do that?”

Theon's breath hitched as he gazed up at the mysterious woman, her beauty almost otherworldly in the flickering firelight. His hands found her hips, pulling her closer as he leaned in to press his lips to her stomach through the thin fabric of her shift.

"I think I can manage that," he murmured against her skin, his voice low and husky with desire. "Though I warn you, my lady, I may ruin you for all other men."

She laughed softly, running her fingers through his hair. "Oh, my sweet Theon," she whispered, "I don't think you quite understand what you've gotten yourself into."

With surprising strength, she pushed him back onto the bed, straddling his hips in one fluid motion. Theon gasped as she ground against him, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through his body. He reached up to caress her face, but she caught his wrists, pinning them above his head.

"Tell me," she purred, her lips brushing against his ear, "do you know the old stories of the sea folk? The ones who lure unsuspecting sailors to their doom?"

Theon's heart raced, a mix of excitement and unease coursing through him. "Aye," he managed to say, his voice strained. "But those are just tales to frighten children."

She pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting his. In the dim light, they seemed to shift and change, one moment they were human and the other… bigger. Darker. Just like a seal’s. “At first the tales will scare you, then they will make you long for us, before you forget them. But, my dear Theon, we exist,” she whispered, grinning widely, her hand reaching down to untie the laces of his breeches.

“Do not fear, though… I won’t bite. Not unless you ask me to, at least,” she mumbled, pushing them down, freeing his hard member, on which she sat down with a wicked grin, rubbing her moist slit gently against him, sighing contentedly. “You are of the sea - you are sweet. I will not hurt you, no, you’re too pretty for that.”

Theon's mind reeled, torn between desire and a growing sense of unease. The woman atop him was unlike any he had ever known, her beauty both alluring and terrifying. As she moved against him, he felt as if he were being pulled into the depths of the sea itself, helpless against the tide of pleasure threatening to overwhelm him.

"What... what are you?" he gasped, his hips involuntarily bucking upwards, seeking more contact, seeking to enter her, yet he was under her, he was trapped.

She leaned down, her lips brushing against his as she spoke. "I am the foam on the waves, the salt in the air, the call of the deep that echoes in your blood," she whispered. "I am what your people call a selkie."

With nimble fingers, the selkie tugged at Theon's breeches, sliding them down his legs and tossing them aside. Her eyes roamed over his body, drinking in every detail as if committing him to memory. Theon shivered, feeling exposed and vulnerable under her intense gaze.

"Beautiful," she murmured, her voice like the whisper of waves on sand. "You are a true son of the sea."

She rose gracefully, her movements fluid and hypnotic. Slowly, deliberately, she pulled her shift over her head, revealing skin as pale and smooth as polished seashells. Moonlight from the small window danced across her curves, casting her in an otherworldly glow.

Theon's breath caught in his throat as she crawled between his legs, her hair cascading around her shoulders like a waterfall of dark silk. Her cool fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking him with a touch both gentle and confident. He gasped, his hips lifting involuntarily off the bed.

"So responsive," she purred, her eyes gleaming with approval. "Your body remembers the sea's embrace, even if your mind has forgotten."

Her thumb circled the tip of his manhood, spreading the moisture gathered there. Theon moaned, torn between the pleasure of her touch and the lingering fear of the unknown. The selkie continued her ministrations, alternating between long, languid strokes and quick, teasing caresses.

"You're even more desperate than I am,” she muttered, glancing up at him before slowly, almost shyly, licking a stripe over his cock, taking it carefully in her wonderfully soft, warm mouth.

Theon gasped as her mouth enveloped him, warm and wet like the sea itself. His fingers tangled in her hair, silky strands slipping through his grasp like water. The selkie's tongue swirled around his length, teasing and exploring with an expertise that left him breathless.

"Gods," he groaned, his head falling back against the pillow. The pleasure was intense, almost overwhelming, yet there was something else - a strange tingling sensation that spread from where her lips met his skin, flowing through his veins like the tide.

She hummed in response, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure up his spine. Her hands caressed his thighs, nails lightly scraping against his skin. Theon's hips bucked involuntarily, driving himself deeper into her mouth.

The selkie pulled back slightly, releasing him with a soft pop. Her eyes, dark and fathomless as the deep sea, met his. "Patience, my iron prince," she murmured, her voice husky with desire. "The night is young, and I wish to see if you understand."

She crawled up his body, her skin cool and slightly damp against his. Theon reached for her, pulling her close and capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. He could taste salt on her tongue, along with his own musk.

As they kissed, she laid down next to him, evidently waiting for his next move. But what was he he to do with a girl, a woman, a being like her? Whores usually quickly satified his needs but with her… he just couldn’t bring himself to use her in such a way.

Theon hesitated, his hands hovering uncertainly over the selkie's body. She was unlike any woman he had ever been with, and he found himself at a loss. Her otherworldly beauty and mysterious nature both thrilled and intimidated him.

"What's wrong, my iron prince?" she asked, her voice a soft whisper that seemed to caress his skin. "Are you not used to a woman who knows what she wants?"

Theon swallowed hard, his pride stung by her words. "I... I've been with plenty of women," he said, trying to sound confident. "But you're different. I don't know what you want from me."

The selkie's laugh was like the tinkling of sea glass in the surf. She took his hand in hers, guiding it to her breast. Her skin was cool and smooth, like polished stone worn by the sea.

"I want you to touch me," she murmured, her eyes locked on his. "I want you to explore me as if I were uncharted waters. Can you do that, Theon of the Iron Islands?"

Her words ignited something within him, a mixture of desire and curiosity that overwhelmed his hesitation. Slowly, reverently, he began to caress her body, marveling at the way her skin seemed to shimmer in the dim light.

His fingers traced the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the swell of her breast. She sighed contentedly, smilig into the dimness of the hut. “More, Theon, I will not break… Show me your strength…,” she whispered.

Emboldened by her words, Theon's touch became more confident. He cupped her breast, feeling the weight of it in his palm, his thumb brushing over her nipple. The selkie arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Theon leaned in, pressing his lips to the curve of her neck. He could taste salt on her skin, reminding him of sea spray on a windy day. His kisses trailed lower, across her collarbone and down to her breast. He took her nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened peak.

The selkie's fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close. "Yes," she breathed, her voice husky with desire. "Just like that."

Encouraged by her response, Theon's hand slid lower, tracing the curve of her hip and thigh. He hesitated for a moment before dipping between her legs, finding her already slick with desire. The selkie gasped as he explored her folds, her hips rolling against his hand.

"You're so wet," Theon murmured against her skin, his fingers circling her most sensitive spot.

"I am of the sea," she reminded him, her voice breathy. "Always ready to embrace those who seek me."

Theon groaned at her words, his own desire mounting. He kissed his way down her body, pausing to nip at the soft skin of her inner thigh, before he parted her soft curls with his fingers, settling between her thighs just as she had done before.

Her scent - gods - he had not even fully tasted her, yet he did not wish to part with her already, his tongue slowly touching her cunny.

The selkie gasped as Theon's tongue made contact with her most intimate place. Her fingers tightened in his hair, urging him closer. Theon obliged, his tongue exploring her folds with growing enthusiasm.

She tasted of the sea - salt and brine mingled with her own unique flavor. It was intoxicating, and Theon found himself lost in the act, his world narrowing to the sound of her soft moans and the feel of her beneath his lips and tongue.

His hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as he worked. He traced patterns with his tongue, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on her most sensitive spots. The selkie's hips rolled against his face.

"Oh, Theon," she breathed, her voice thick with pleasure. "You truly are a son of the sea. You know just how to please me."

Her words sent a thrill through him, spurring him on. He redoubled his efforts, sucking gently on her pearl while his fingers teased her entrance. The selkie cried out, her back arching off the bed.

Theon could feel her trembling beneath him, teetering on the edge of release. He quickly sat up, kissing her like a starved man, before pushing himself into her.

The selkie's eyes flashed with a mixture of pleasure and frustration as Theon entered her. In one fluid motion, she hooked her leg around his waist and flipped him onto his back, pinning him beneath her with surprising strength.

"Tsk, tsk," she chided, her voice a low, dangerous purr. "So eager, my iron prince. Did you forget that the sea demands patience?"

Theon gasped, overwhelmed by the sensation of being sheathed within her. Her inner walls pulsed around him, cool and slick like the embrace of the tide. He tried to thrust upward, seeking more friction, but the selkie held him firmly in place.

"I... I'm sorry," he managed to stammer, his hands instinctively moving to her hips.

The selkie caught his wrists, pinning them above his head with surprising strength. "Oh, you will be," she whispered, a wicked gleam in her eye. "The sea is patient, Theon of the Iron Islands. And so am I."

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she began to move. Her hips rolled in a hypnotic rhythm, rising and falling like the swell of waves. Theon groaned, his hands grasping at her hips, trying to urge her to move faster. But the selkie was unyielding, setting her own pace.

She rode him with the patience of the eternal sea, each movement precise and deliberate. Her skin gleamed with a faint, otherworldly luminescence in the dim light, like moonlight on water. Theon watched, mesmerized, as droplets of moisture beaded on her skin, rolling down her body like rivulets of seawater. He longed to taste them, to run his tongue along the curves of her body, but she kept him pinned beneath her, at her mercy.

"Please," Theon gasped, his voice hoarse with need. "I need... I need..."

The selkie smiled, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "What do you need, my iron prince? Tell me."

"More," he groaned. "Faster. I need to feel you."

She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. "The sea gives and takes as she pleases," she whispered. "And tonight, I am the sea."

With those words, she began to move faster, her hips undulating in a rhythm that matched the crashing waves outside. Theon moaned, lost in the sensation of her around him, the cool silk of her skin against his, the intoxicating scent of salt and sex that filled the air.

The selkie's movements grew more frenzied, her breath coming in short gasps. She released Theon's wrists, bracing herself against his chest as she rode him. Freed from her grip, Theon's hands roamed her body, caressing her breasts, her hips, her thighs.

"Yes," she hissed, her head thrown back in ecstasy. "Touch me, Theon."

Theon's hands roamed the selkie's body feverishly, tracing the curves and dips of her otherworldly form. Her skin seemed to ripple beneath his touch, as if tiny waves were coursing just beneath the surface. He could feel the power of the sea thrumming through her, wild and untamed.

The selkie's movements grew more frenzied, her hips rolling and crashing against his like storm-tossed waves. Theon felt himself being pulled under, drowning in sensation. His entire world narrowed to the feel of her around him, the salt-sweet taste of her skin, the sound of her gasps and moans mingling with the distant roar of the sea.

He was close, so close. The pressure built within him like a tide ready to break. His fingers dug into her hips, pulling her down harder onto him. The selkie's inner walls clenched around him, pulsing with a rhythm that seemed to match the beating of his heart.

"Oh gods," Theon groaned, his back arching off the bed. "I'm going to-"

Suddenly, the selkie stilled. In one fluid motion, she lifted herself off him, leaving Theon gasping and desperate. He reached for her, but she evaded his grasp with a teasing smile, instead laying down on her stomach with a wicked little smile.

"Now you know what it feels like," she purred, her voice low and husky. "I am not done and neither are you."

Theon groaned in frustration, his body aching with unfulfilled desire. The selkie's eyes glimmered with mischief as she looked back at him over her shoulder, her hair cascading down her back like dark seaweed.

"Come, my iron prince," she cooed, arching her back invitingly, wiggling her full buttocks. "Show me the strength of the storm."

Theon didn't need to be told twice. He moved behind her, his hands caressing the smooth curve of her hips. The selkie sighed contentedly as he positioned himself, teasing her entrance with the tip of his manhood.

"Don't make me wait," she breathed, pushing back against him.

With a low growl, Theon thrust into her, burying himself to the hilt. The selkie cried out in pleasure, her fingers gripping the furs beneath them. Theon set a punishing pace, driven by his earlier denied release and the intoxicating power of the creature beneath him.

The sound of flesh meeting flesh mingled with their gasps and moans, creating a primal rhythm that seemed to echo the crashing waves outside. Theon's hands roamed her body, caressing her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. Every touch sent sparks of pleasure through him, as if her very skin conducted the raw energy of the sea.

The selkie met him thrust for thrust, her body undulating like the tide. She turned her head, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss. Theon kissed her back hungrily, tasting salt and desire on her lips. His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as he continued to drive into her. The selkie moaned into his mouth, her body trembling beneath him.

Breaking the kiss, she gasped, "Yes, Theon. Just like that. Be good for me, please… give me… just like…."

Her words ignited something primal within him. Theon's thrusts became more forceful, more desperate. He could feel the pressure building again, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to overwhelm him.

The selkie's inner walls clenched around him, her body shuddering with each thrust. She buried her face in the furs, muffling her cries of ecstasy. Theon could feel her climax approaching, her muscles tensing beneath his hands.

"Look at me," he growled, surprising himself with the command in his voice. "I want to see your face when you come undone."

The selkie turned her head, her eyes meeting his. In that moment, Theon saw the vastness of the sea in her gaze - deep, mysterious, and utterly wild. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

With a final, powerful thrust, Theon felt himself tipping over the edge. The selkie cried out, her body arching beneath him as her own release crashed over her. Theon groaned, burying himself deep inside her as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. It felt like he was being pulled into the depths of the sea itself, drowning in ecstasy.

As the intensity of their shared climax began to ebb, Theon collapsed onto the selkie's back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He could feel her heart racing beneath him, her skin cool and slightly damp against his chest. For a long moment, they lay there, intertwined and breathless.

Slowly, carefully, Theon rolled off her, falling onto his back beside her on the narrow bed. The selkie turned to face him, her eyes now soft and warm like the sea on a calm summer day. She reached out, tracing the line of his jaw with gentle fingers.

"You have pleased me well, my iron prince," she murmured, her voice rich with satisfaction. "The sea will remember you fondly."

Theon chuckled weakly, still trying to catch his breath. "I don't think I'll ever forget this night," he said, turning his head to meet her gaze. "Or you."

The selkie smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Perhaps," she said softly. "But the memories of men are often as fleeting as seafoam on the shore."

She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before rising from the bed. Theon watched, mesmerized, as she moved about the small hut, her body glowing faintly in the dim light. She retrieved her cloak, fastening it around her shoulders, and gave him a sad, sorrowful little smile. “Go back to the bears now, my kraken. I’m sure you are missed.”

“But… can you not just… stay here? For a while at least?”, Theon asked, quickly gathering up his own clothing. Normally he would’ve left just as quickly as she was about to, yet she was no Ros, no Wintertown whore.

The selkie paused, her hand on the door. She turned back to Theon, her eyes softening with a mixture of fondness and regret.

"Oh, my sweet iron prince," she said softly. "Your words warm my heart, but I cannot stay. The sea calls to me, as it always has and always will."

Theon felt a pang in his chest, a longing he couldn't quite name. He stood, still naked, and took a step towards her. "Then let me come with you," he said impulsively. "Just for a while. I... I miss the sea."

The selkie's smile was sad and knowing. She reached out, cupping his cheek in her cool hand. "You are not ready for my world, Theon of the Iron Islands. Your path lies elsewhere, at least for now."

She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Theon could taste the salt of the sea on her breath, feel the pull of the tide in her touch. When she pulled away, her eyes seemed to shimmer with unshed tears.

"But know this," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crashing waves outside. "The sea never forgets her children. When the time comes, if you truly wish it, you may find your way back to us."

With those words, she slipped out the door and into the night. Theon rushed after her, but as he stepped outside, he saw only the empty beach and the vast, freezing waters, the selkie’s figure retreating into the waves.

Theon stood on the shore, the cool night air raising goosebumps on his bare skin. He watched the waves crash against the rocky beach, searching for any sign of the mysterious selkie, but she had vanished as completely as if she had never existed. The only evidence of their encounter was the lingering taste of salt on his lips and the slight ache in his muscles.

With a heavy sigh, Theon turned back to the small hut. The interior still smelled of sea and sex, and for a moment, he wondered if he had dreamed the entire encounter. But no, his clothes were strewn about the floor, and he could still feel the ghost of her touch on his skin.

Slowly, he began to dress himself. His fingers fumbled with the laces of his breeches, his mind still clouded with the intoxicating memory of the selkie. As he pulled on his tunic, he noticed it smelled faintly of seaweed and brine. He wondered idly if Lord Stark would notice, then dismissed the thought. The old wolf rarely paid him much attention anyway.

Theon retrieved his cloak from where it had fallen, shaking out the sand before fastening it around his shoulders. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to tame the wild locks that the selkie had so eagerly mussed. As he did so, he felt something caught in the strands – a single, iridescent scale that gleamed in the dim light. He stared at it and reverently tucked it into his satchel.

Stepping out of the hut, Theon took one last look at the sea. The moon hung low on the horizon, its reflection shimmering on the dark waters. For a moment, he thought he saw a seal's head bobbing in the waves, watching him with knowing eyes. But when he blinked, it was gone. The sea had claimed him, he thought, and he would honour it.

[ofthemorningstars]

Movie Night (kabukiaku AU)

TerzoMega ~ Smut below the cut

2.1k words

Ao3 Version

Based on the character depictions of Terzo and Omega that have been lovingly crafted by @kabukiaku , thank you so much for allowing me to create something based off of your characters, and for giving me guidance and insight along the way! They truly are so special to me, and writing them has been such a fun process!

If you enjoy this story, check out her other socials too!

kabukiaku's Ao3

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Omega is ready for date night with Terzo. Or is he?

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Omega fidgeted in front of the door to Terzo’s chambers. He scanned his surroundings, making sure he hadn’t been spotted. Clutching the bouquet of roses in his hand a little tighter, he steeled himself and made his first tentative knock, wondering idly when the butterflies would still. Deep down, he knew they wouldn’t. 

Terzo wasted no time in answering, greeting him with a dazzling smile. Omega’s stomach did a backflip. 

“Ciao bello,” Terzo greeted him warmly, taking a moment to look him up and down. “Aren’t you looking dashing tonight,” he assessed, approving of Omega’s powder pink sweater vest and dark grey slacks.  Terzo stood on his toes expectantly, Omega leaning down to allow a kiss to the cold metal cheek of his mask.

“Come in, come in. Put your things down,” Terzo said, ushering him inside and taking the flowers with a playful bow. Omega obliged, setting his bag by the door. He’d needed to stop by his own chambers before their date; even though he practically lived at Terzo’s at this point, he had needed to refresh his ever-growing wardrobe that was accumulating in Terzo’s closet. Omega shuffled his feet, waiting awkwardly for Terzo to come back with a vase. Omega still needed him to take the lead, even after all this time. After a moment Terzo returned, carefully arranging the flowers before taking his hand and drawing him to the sitting room.

“Sit, sit. Make yourself comfortable,” Terzo instructed, letting his hand slide up Omega’s arm, lingering at his shoulder for a moment. Omega did as he was told, settling down at one end of Terzo’s plush purple suede sofa, propping himself up on an armrest. He watched as Terzo fussed with his beloved Stella, the antique projector that was his most prized possession; tonight was movie night. When he had selected a film and successfully set everything up, he beamed at Omega before shutting off the lights.

“You’re in for a treat tonight, my darling ghoul,” Terzo said as he took his seat at the other end of the sofa, curling his legs up under himself. “We’re watching The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. A true piece of cinema history. I think that you will love it.”

Omega felt himself begin to relax more as the images flickered before him. He wondered why date nights always set his heart to fluttering; for all intents and purposes, they lived together, after all. But there was just… something about the formal nature of calling it a date. It was something that Omega had never really done before, not until he met Terzo. Terzo was different. He was special. He made Omega want to step outside of his comfort zone. To learn.

Terzo drifted closer and closer as the film progressed, spouting facts about the movie and its production all the while, and when his head finally came to rest on Omega’s shoulder, it was a welcome relief. Omega wrapped his arm around Terzo’s much smaller frame and pulled him snugly against his body. Terzo let out a little sigh.

When the film was over, they sat in silence for a few long moments, content in each others arms.

“So, what did you think, amore?” Terzo asked, running a hand across Omega’s chest. Omega was grateful that the growing blush across his cheeks was concealed behind his mask. He swallowed hard before clearing his throat. 

“I enjoyed it. I felt like the themes were very reflective of the time it was made in, yet still timeless.” He really had been listening intently to Terzo’s impromptu lesson. He always did, and he wanted to affirm to Terzo that he hadn’t been just talking to himself. “I can see many similarities to the more modern-day films you’ve shown me. It must have been very influential.”

Terzo looked pleased, rewarding Omega with a peck on the forehead of his mask as he went to stand up. “My my, you are such a quick learner, mia ombra.” Omega grinned.

They ended the night as they often did, with Terzo’s favorite, Metropolis. This time when Terzo returned to the sofa, he resumed his previous position, nestling firmly into Omega’s side. Omega hummed, content. Throughout the movie Omega found himself stealing longing glances at the human tucked beneath his arm, lost in the comfort of his warmth and weight and hanging on his every word as he continued to talk about what they were watching. He was enraptured. Omega would happily watch this film every night for the rest of his life if it meant that he got to hear this passion in Terzo’s voice. The film ended too soon, as always, and again they sat together in the quiet darkness.

Terzo turned to nuzzle his face into Omega’s chest, inhaling deeply, breathing in his scent, his hands beginning to wander. When Terzo’s fingers teased their way under the hem of Omega’s shirt and began sliding up his stomach, Omega’s breath hitched. 

“Grazie, mio caro. I know you have seen that one many times. It is just the perfect way to end a date, don’t you agree?” Terzo said, looking up at Omega through lowered lashes.

“Y-yes. It’s, uh… It’s an excellent portrayal of class divide. Really speaks to those at the bottom. To searching for a better tomorrow…” Omega stammered before trailing off as Terzo’s hand grazed his pecks. His face was getting hot. 

“Mmm, you are such a good listener.” Terzo craned his face up to place a kiss to Omega’s neck, then another, trailing his way up to the edge of Omega’s mask. He climbed onto Omega’s lap, tongue snaking out to take a lick up Omega’s thoat. Omega let his head fall back as Terzo began to move his hips, gently grinding down on him. Omega felt himself stir, repressed excitement that had built up all throughout the night bubbling to the surface.

Terzo’s hands resumed their explorations under Omega’s shirt before going to lift it from the bottom. Terzo’s eyes met his questioningly, asking for permission. Unable to find his voice, Omega nodded enthusiastically. Terzo’s answering smile made Omega’s heart skip a beat. Terzo removed Omega’s sweater vest and shirt in one go, being careful not to displace his mask when lifting it over his head. Omega sighed as the growing heat that had been trapped began to dissipate. Terzo’s hands greedily roamed the now-freed flesh, making stops along the way to tease, to tangle in the soft white hair he found there. His mouth reversed its course back down Omega’s neck, trailing licks and soft kisses down his chest. Terzo’s tongue swirled around a nipple and Omega tried and failed to bite back a moan, his breath echoing harshly in his mask. Terzo released him with a gentle smacking sound, looking up at him with hooded eyes. 

 “Would you like one more show before the night is over?” Terzo purred. Omega nodded, unsure of what Terzo was planning but eager to find out.

Terzo rose to his feet, slowly unbuttoning his shirt as he fixed Omega with a sultry stare. Terzo was close enough that their knees touched. He shrugged the garment from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. His hands trailed down his own chest now, his stomach, teasing just under the waist of his pants. Terzo undid his belt, then his trousers, revealing a pair of black lace panties, the fabric straining against his erection. Those he took his time with, sensually sliding them inch by painful inch down long, shapely legs. By the time Terzo stood naked before him, save for his socks and garters, Omega’s own pants were painfully tight. Omega shifted in his seat, hands itching to touch but keeping patiently to themselves.

Terzo guided Omega into lying down on his back, fitting as much of his tall frame as he could on the sofa. Terzo straddled him, moving to undo Omega’s belt. He shimmied Omega’s pants down his hips, leaving his underwear on. Terzo cupped and rubbed Omega through the thin fabric, lingering at the growing wet spot sticking to Omega’s skin. Omega whimpered, hands drifting up above his head.

“Si. Mio amato monstro, always such a good listener,” Terzo cooed at Omega, leaning down to place a kiss where his mouth would be. Omega wished he’d taken off his mask, wished that he could kiss Terzo back, but with the way Terzo’s hand felt on him, he couldn’t have found the strength to remove it if he tried. Terzo began to move his hips rhythmically, his precum-wet cock gliding across the fabric of Omega’s underwear. Omega groaned.

Terzo’s hands teased beneath Omega’s waistband before dipping down below, pulling him free. Omega winced a little at the contact, overstimulated from the previous friction through the cloth. Terzo began stroking him with one hand, cradling his balls with the other. He bent down to run his tongue up Omega’s shaft, stopping to suck gently on his tip. Terzo touched himself, too excited by the noises Omega was making to wait. He fit as much of Omega as he could into his mouth and began to bob, Omega writhing beneath him. The room was beginning to spin.

Terzo pulled away to catch his breath, sitting up and leaning back on a palm, resuming pumping himself, his mismatched eyes boring into Omega. 

“You like what you see, amore?” Terzo said with a chuckle as a fresh drip of precum slowly trailed its way to Omega’s stomach. Indeed, he quite enjoyed what he saw. He must be a sight himself, he thought, sweaty and flushed and foggy as he was now.

Terzo leaned forward, rubbing their cocks together, and began to grind. One of Terzo’s hands found Omega’s above his head, fingers twining together. Omega’s free hand slid up Terzo’s thigh until it found its place on Terzo’s ample ass, squeezing firmly. Terzo’s mouth once more found a nipple and Omega threw his head back with an unrestrained moan. Terzo began caressing Omega’s chest, his belly, his hip, before reaching down to rub his inner thigh. Whimpering pitifully, Omega tangled his fingers in Terzo’s hair. His tail wound its way around Terzo's leg, needy. He wanted so badly to pull Terzo’s face down to meet his for a kiss, again cursing his lack of forethought.

When Terzo began to ride him faster, Omega let his arm fall uselessly to the sofa, fighting hard not to tear into the fabric with his claws. Terzo licked the side of Omega’s mask before nipping at his ear, his breath harsh against Omega’s skin.

“Omega…” Terzo whispered to him. “I want to hear you. I want to hear you say my name when you cum.”

Omega gritted his teeth, fighting with all of his strength not to finish on the spot. He began to move his hips in time with Terzo’s almost involuntarily, bucking hard when Terzo’s teeth sank into his shoulder. Fingernails scratched down Omega’s chest, stinging sweetly. Terzo released his bite to softly moan Omega’s name in his ear, over and over.

“Terzo!” Omega came with a cry, back arching, body trembling. Terzo gave a few more frantic thrusts before following behind, sighing beautifully. 

As Terzo fell to Omega’s heaving chest, Omega heard his own heart pounding wildly in his ears. They lay there in a heap together, a mess of tangled limbs, tail still clinging tightly. Omega rubbed soothing circles into Terzo’s back, although trying to steady himself more than his little human partner. When he had gathered the strength to do so, he lifted a shaking hand to his mask, taking it off with a sigh of relief before gently setting it down on the floor. He coaxed Terzo into lifting his head, finally pressing their lips together in a tender kiss. Terzo’s tongue licked up into his mouth, and Omega couldn’t help but smile.

“Mmm,” Terzo hummed, before letting out a small yawn. “Do you think we should go to bed now?” He looked dreamily sated.

Omega nodded, stretching languidly and becoming aware of how sticky his stomach was with both of their release. “Maybe a shower first, tesoro.”

“An excellent idea, my darling” Terzo said, cringing as he pried their bodies apart. He extended a hand to Omega after he’d made it to his feet, an offering Omega gladly took. His knees felt weak as he stripped his pants and underwear the rest of the way off, leaving them where they fell as they headed hand in hand toward the ensuite.

While they waited for the water to heat up, Terzo pulled him down for a kiss, soft at first, but quickly building. As they broke away to catch their breath, Terzo met his gaze, a hand finding its way to the back of Omega’s neck. 

Terzo smirked up at him, mischief in his eyes. “Maybe we have time for an encore, no?”

[twisted-dork]

Ctimene Headcanons Her Relationship With Her Family (+Polites and Ares)

(+What she mainly calls them)

Mom (Anticlea): 8/10 I can see Anticlea disapproving of Ctimene being a bit of a tomboy but loves her regardless like any good (I said good, not great) mother would but is still vocal about her wishing that Ctimene would act more like a girl than a warrior. Despite this they have a good relationship from their often gossiping together, spending time together, to the times of Ctimene having a bad day only to be held in her mother’s arms like she always did for her and Odysseus since they were infants.

Father (Laërtes): 4/10 Laërtes and Ctimene used to have a good relationship before he went crazy. He would give her gifts and treasures he knew she would like, he would tell her stories of heroes, and he often carried her around. But when he was crazy he would sometimes not recognize her and treated her like a stranger until Anticlea reminded him who Ctimene was. They would have their moments but Ctimene wishes they could go back to what they once were.

Big Brother (Odysseus): Odysseus would be to Ctimene like Fergus (Merida’s father) is to Merida. He wouldn’t care that Ctimene would ‘do things a princess shouldn’t do’ if anything I feel like he would take pride in being the first person to say teach her to shoot a bow and arrow (Merida and The Challenge reference). And despite having rival war gods as their Patrons they have a more healthy sibling relationship than Ares and Athena. Let me paint you a scenario: If Odysseus were to win against a duel between them he would help her get up before ruffling her hair and instructing her what she did wrong and how she could improve. But if Ctimene were to win the duel she would cheer in excitement before doing a victory dance and saying how she was the best (classic sibling behavior). Odysseus knew that he wanted her to be happy so when he noticed that his friend Eurylochus would look at her as though she was the only person he was seeing and she would smile awkwardly at him he knew. So when his best friend asked to marry her he knew his answer not caring to hear the rest of his friend’s claim and unknowingly accepted a dowry for Ctimene marriage that he later gifted her as a wedding present. He is the number 1 Eurymene shipper. Through it all they both know that they can at least trust each other even if it feels like everything and everyone is against them.

Polites: Best friends who annoy Odysseus for fun sake’s. The number 3 Eurymene shipper. Knows what cheers her up when she’s down. Was adopted as another brother by her. Was either the flower boy (Hercules Mulligan) or Man of Honor at her wedding.

Ares: The number 2 Eurymene shipper. Even though Ctimene knew the story of Ares as a warrior and how he represented the bad parts of war she couldn’t help but admire the god for how caring he seemed to be with Aphrodite, Artemis (helping her with the Amazon warriors), Hera, and his daughters even killing a son of Poseidon because he had assaulted his daughter if anything she was shocked that not that many people in their kingdom worship him but she did. She made a little alter dedicated to the God of war and would always make sure that it was up to standards for the god. When he chose her as his champion she was ecstatic. As he trained her she began to view him as a father figure and she knew he cared for her like a daughter even if he never admitted it.

I attempted to draw her in the traditional way but I will say I didn’t get the hair right

[teyamsgrl]

how sorry i am ✧ lo'ak

❗️MDNI ❗️

OKOK lo'ak is ofc our sweet baby but the idea of enemies to lovers with lo'ak just 🦋🦋🦋 / i hope you all enjoy!! just look at his lil mean face above >:(

°˖➴ warnings: fem metkayina reader, enemies to lovers, agedup!lo'ak, mean!lo'ak, sub!lo'ak, blood mention (not sex related), slight angst, slow burn??, body worship, oral f receiving, some nipple play - paskalin: honey

lo'ak being your brother's best friend was quite the shit position. ever since lo'ak and his family joined the metkayina people a year ago he has despised you, very publicly as well. anytime he saw you, he teased you, talked down to you, etc. he made you feel shitty, but here's the catch: you had an undeniable crush on him. as much as you wanted to deny the fact, you just couldn't. it was something about how you saw him with other people, observing how he really is. how he took care of his little sister and was always willing to help others out. you knew he harassed you for a specific reason; what it was you had no idea. you still acted hostile towards him to keep your true feelings covered, plus it was unfair to let him treat you like this without retaliation.

"lo'ak's staying over" you brother says as he enters your pod late in the evening, lo'ak trailing behind him. you roll your eyes, "great..", you glance up quickly to take in lo'ak's appearance. pretty. "trust me, i'm not pleased about seeing you either" lo'ak scoffs and takes a seat on your brother's cot, taking his bow off of his back. you continue cutting the fruits scattered around you on the woven mat, tossing them into a bowl afterwards. you go to slice the next one in half, accidentally nicking one of your fingers. "ouch.." you mumble, looking down to see the pearl of blood on your finger. you wipe it on a nearby rag, catching lo'ak's eyes on you. "awwww, can't handle a little cut?" he teases, pouting at you. "shut up" you mumble again, moving back to continue cutting, making sure the blood didn't get anywhere else. "can't even cut fruit properly, damn" he smirks watching your eyes narrow in anger. sometimes you wish your brother did something to defend you, but he probably just accepted that you and lo'ak hated each other and it would always be that way. you ignore his comment, "always knew you were a bit incompetent but shit, that's bad" he chuckles mockingly, causing anger to bubble up inside of you. you may secretly like him but he is a dick. you throw down the large fruit in your hand and the knife, standing up and rushing out of your pod. you had it with him, and yourself. what kept drawing you to him? and why couldn't you turn it off? you turn and run past all the other marui, feet hitting the sand as you exhale. you approach the water, about to call your ilu before you hear a voice calling you, "y/n! wait!"

you scoff as you recognize the voice right away, "just leave me alone, lo'ak" you state firmly, back facing him as he comes closer. "y/n" he places a hand on your shoulder, urging you to face him. the ecstatic feeling that ran through your body was indescribable, he had never touched you before, even when passing by. you turn to come face to face with him, your eyes gazing up into his. "i'm sorry-" he mumbles, his amber eyes blank and searching yours. "sorry? you're sorry? after a year of harassing me you're suddenly sorry? i bet my brother made you do this..." you sigh and bring your hands to your head, tugging your braids gently out of frustration. "he didn't, i swear-" you cut him off again, feelings bursting out of your mouth without a second thought. "yeah sure, lo'ak, i doubt it. what made you feel so bad today? instead of yesterday or the day before? fuck- you have never felt bad about making fun of me before, and it's so stupid that i don't just avoid you because of my... because-" you stop yourself before you go too far off the edge and are unable to turn back. "because of what?" he inquires, you have never heard his voice so gentle towards you before. "because i like you, okay?! i like you too much for my own good and i hate the fact that i do!" you scream, tears forming in your eyes as you realize what you've just admitted. you take a deep breath in, unable to release it before lo'ak's lips are on yours, kissing feverishly. you gasp and pull away, trying to figure out if that actually just happened. "don't- don't do that just to mess with me, please" he shakes his head immediately, denying your accusation. "i'm not, i'm genuinely sorry about everything i've said to you. i don't know why i did it, probably projecting my own shit but- i like you too, so much. i just want to make it up to you, if you'd even let me.." you notice how his tail is moving, softly moving left and right as if in anticipation. you nod at his words, trying to comprehend his side of things. "i'm willing to forgive you. you'll most definitely have to prove it, but i'm willing to. and willing to become more eventually… if you'd want that", a small smile pulls itself onto your lips. "thank you..." he smiles back and reaches for your hips, "let me make it up to you, show you how sorry i am, please. how much i feel for you..."

you breathe shakily as he sinks to his knees, bending to start at your ankle and place delicate kisses up your leg. your run your hand along his cheek as he moves to repeat the actions on your other leg. "you're so beautiful, so beautiful..." he whispers and stands back up, kissing along your jaw now. you sigh in delight and tilt your head to allow him to continue. he smiles against your skin and moves down your neck and the middle of your chest. "can i take it off?" he questions as his hands run behind your back to the tie of your top. you nod and shiver as he removes it, the evening air grazing your nipples, breasts perky and freckles glowing. "shit.." he breathes and kisses his way to your nipple, flicking his tongue over it once to test the waters. the whimper that leaves your mouth says enough as he sucks it into his mouth. "l-lo'ak" you stutter out as his warm mouth has your nipple encapsulated, your thighs pressing together to relieve the arousal beginning to pool.

he releases it with a pop, kissing to the other. "i just wanna worship your fucking body.. never seen someone prettier" you whine at his words as he sucks the other nipple into his mouth, tongue rolling around it and toying with it. your hands weave their way into his hair, tugging on his braids as another whine escapes your lips. he hums and unlatches again, hands lingering over your loincloth. "wanna taste.. wanna make you feel good... please", he almost whimpers the sentence out, "yes, lo'ak, yes". he unties your loincloth and helps you step out of it, moving to his knees again. he licks his lips and looks over your wet pussy, his head leaning on your stomach. "tell me what you want, please princess, i just wanna please you..." he kisses your stomach and awaits a response from you, his ragged breaths tickling your stomach.

"mouth, mouth..." you look down on him as he places one of your feet on his shoulder, giving him the perfect angle to dive in. which he does. his tongue makes it's first move against your clit, eager bud pulsing under his tongue. you moan and toss your head back, your hips fervently pushing against his tongue. he moves further, tongue delving into your tight and dripping hole. "that's good, that's so good-" you gasp and keep yourself steady by your grip on his braids. he hums into you, the vibrations bringing you even more pleasure. his mouth never falters, licking and sucking and kissing all over your pussy. he shifts away to breathe quickly, "you taste so sweet, even better than i would've thought. so beautiful, i wanna be down here forever" he whines out and moves back in, nose nudging your clit as his tongue glides around and in your hole again. he takes note of your demeanor change, breathing more heavy and hip movements more aggressive.

"you're close, baby. fuck my face, use me. just feel good... i got you" he mumbles as he brings a couple fingers to stroke your clit at a fast pace, desperate to bring you to an orgasm. your eyes roll back as you hold his braids tighter, grinding onto his tongue and into his fingers. "oh great mother- i'm- lo'ak i'm gonna-" you squeal as he frantically rubs your clit, removing his mouth so he can coax you through it. "that's it, you're so perfect, i got you, so perfect... just let go" he moans softly as your orgasm snaps in you, cum flowing out of you as his tongue retreats back into your pussy to collect what he can. your chest is heaving as your legs wobble, mind out of sorts at the fact that lo'ak who 'hated' you just hours ago confessed to you and made you cum.

he helps your leg down, holding you close as he stands back up. "there we go..." he says as you instantly hug around his waist. "thank you, lo'ak" you look up to catch his eyes which are now glowing softly. "no need to thank me, it's the least i could do. you know, to apologize and prove myself to you, all that. i will be doing that very often, if you'll let me" he holds your face in his sizable hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. "well, that was amazing honestly.. and yes, i want to please you sometime as well..." your one finger trails down to his waistband and plays with it. "mhmmm, but you're my first priority always, and i'm gonna start acting like it. no more mean guy..." he sighs, clearly ashamed of how he's acted this past year. "it's alright, paskalin... let's spend the day together tomorrow? i want to show you a special place" you rest your head on his heart, hearing the rapid beats. "i'd really like that" he smiles and rests his chin on your head, basking in your loving presence.

[gatitties]

HEY! I really hope your requests for TokREv are open because I had an idea plagued in my mind since this morning!! It defiantly changes canon, takes places after Kisaki gets kicked out of Toman! What is reader is his older sisters (19-20) and she finds out about what he did and she's pissed! Like she has ties with yakuza so she is able to get info on where mikey and his friends are hanging out and she shows up, dragging hanma and Kisaki by their hair/ears and she looks really scary before she just forces the two on their knees infront of the Toman captains and forces the two to apologize before she herself apologies for her brothers behavior and she's really sincere about it and promises Mikey that they'll never here from Kisaki Tetta or Hanma again, bows then just leaves, still dragging the two trouble makers behind her. This can be crack or fluff or serious. Headcanon, fic, scenario. Its really up to you, I just want to see this idea play out please.

─Tokyo revengers x kisaki!reader

─Summary: You discover something you don't like about your little brother and decide he needs to apologize

─Warnings: none

Oh this was fun to write, a interesting idea!!

"Don't fuck with me…"

You massaged your temples after one of your friends had told you some information about small teenage gangs, having friends from the yakuza gave you the privilege of finding out about all the acts of vandalism that were about to happen or had happened, you always met with them to spill the tea on gang gossip.

And while you found some of the stories about teens fighting each other entertaining, you didn't fully support that behavior. Finding out that your little brother was involved in a group like that didn't please you very much. Even though you weren't the best sister in the world, you had to draw a line in his behavior for planning to destroy a group of friends. You didn't mind that he got into fights because you knew that he wasn't the typical one to throw punches, you knew that Hanma, his friend, would do it for him, but they would learn the lesson that violence wouldn't lead to anything good on their own.

But it was something different when you saw all the ins and outs that went into his main task, you weren't going through that, he wasn't going to go through that, trying to destroy people just out of contempt or trying to impress someone, in no way had you been taught those ethical values at home, your parents would be disappointed if they found out, you did him the favor of keeping that information to yourself, however, his actions were a hard blow to your morale.

Your friends talked to you a lot about fights, but also about respect, just like how they raised you, and a mistake comes hand in hand with an apology, whether it was sincere or not, depended on your brother, although it would be on your part.

That same day you entered the house, hearing the voices of both teenagers, a grimace on your face, still somewhat grumpy at their behavior, you didn't even knock on the door to ask if you could come in, you walked in with long strides, looking at the duo with a frown as Tetta looked back at you.

"What's up with knock the door and respect privacy?"

"What about having a minimum of values and not manipulating people?"

He looked away clicking his tongue, Hanma just smiled slyly, he even seemed amused by the situation because he couldn't give more than a damn about that whole Toman betrayal thing.

"You shouldn't care what I do or don't do with my life decisions, get out of my room."

You let out a sigh of surprise at the aggressiveness in his words, looking stunned as he even approached you to push you out of his room, a bad decision, when his hand touched your shoulder to push you, you put him in a headlock, holding his head.

"What the hell!? Hey, let me go!"

"I'll let you go when you apologize to that gang! What you have done is disrespectful and a stain on your morals."

He squirmed in your grip but you stopped him from letting go, although a laugh made him escape from your deadly hold, you turned your head slowly to see Hanma laughing heartily at your struggle, your eyes turned into burning flames, you used your dominant leg to kick the door shut while cracking the bones in your knuckles, they had pissed you now.

"Shit, did you have to laugh at a time like this? She's going to kill us."

Younger Kisaki muttered to his friend, his face paling at the sight of your completely serious expression, though Hanma didn't seem to take it seriously until he spent at least half an hour locked in the room with you. A few knocks on the door made you step back, you adjusted your clothes and hairstyle, smiling when you saw your mother open the door.

"Have I heard screams? everything is alright?"

"Perfectly, mom, we were just playing Uno, and you already know how wild the game is."

"Oh yeah, you two hate losing at Uno, anyway, don't you want something to snack on?"

You looked back, Tetta tried to say yes to get rid of you, knowing that your mother would kick you out of his room if he complained asking for privacy for himself, but you cut him off with just a look.

"Don't worry, I haven't spent time with my dear brother in a long time, I'll take him for ice cream!"

"Oh how nice, bonding time, then I'll leave you, be careful and have fun!"

When your mother left you looked back at the duo, they gulped at the sight of your mischievous smile. One of your friends had told you that just today Toman was having a meeting, so it was the perfect time to apologize, you dragged them both by the earlobe, letting their complaints be music to your ears.

Everyone tensed when they saw that both former members appeared, interrupting Mikey, who narrowed his eyes as he watched you drag them towards the first step of the stairs where he used to give his speeches, everyone remained silent, watching your next move.

"In the name of…" you pulled them down, making them kneel, you doing it with more grace and softness, still looking directly at Mikey " this two idiots, I apologize for all the problems caused, with all my heart, I promise that they will not bother you again, if so, I will take care of punishing them again."

You lowered your head, hearing a snort from your brother, you hit the back of their necks, hearing some murmurs that sounded like apologies on their part, although perhaps only Mikey and Draken could hear it since they were the closest. The two leaders of Toman looked at each other perplexed by the scene, they shared a smile, Mikey nodded towards you, ending the meeting.

"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind."

You nodded in the same way as farewell, still dragging your brother and his friend by the ears, once out of sight of all those teenagers ─who were surely laughing at the strange situation─ you let them go, your face softened slightly and you let out a breath you had been holding.

"I hope you two have learned your lesson… now, let's go get some ice cream."

"Ice cream won't solve the pain in my ear."

"No, but maybe you want me to keep stretching your ear until you can get a damn dilation."

You said under your breath, noticing how Hanma stood next to you, obediently, not knowing if it was because he didn't want to know anything more about your punishments or because of the ice cream, Tetta gave up easily, crossing his arms and mumbling here and there, but accepted the ice cream, after everything he had endured today, a refreshing snack wouldn't hurt, he needed to cool his mind to recalculate his plans and make sure you never found out again about the things he was planning.

[palskippah]

Hi!

Some Mareach thoughts regarding their pining for the other because that's my favorite headcanon ever for them, especially if it's painfully obvious that they like the other.

It's all rambling sjdksj Sorry if it's confusing to read! It's just all my thoughts on the matter, and they're loosely based on the drawings I did jsjds

Also, this all may not be very coherent? In the sense of time and stuff, I wrote it on the spot, honestly sjsj

Now, Peach has been in love with Mario for a long time. Before he saved her for the first time, and maybe even before he became the helpful hero of the Mushroom Kingdom.

He was nice to her, respectful and liked to have fun- never mind that she was a princess. With her subjects Peach couldn't exactly run and jump and just play any time outside of the official games (unless it was little children, they loved it, but once they got bigger, they realized she was The Princess, and must be treated with excessive respect and distance, apparently), but with Mario she could get her nice, pink dress dirty with mud or with stains of green grass, get leaves in her hair, or overall be a mess, regardless of the situation. He'd just laugh with his equally dirty overalls, instead of fretting over her nice clothes being ruined.

They'd have simple competitions, who gets faster to that one tree about ten meters away? They'd push and shove to get there quicker, both using their abilities for it. Peach would levitate a rock for it to get in Mario's way, and Mario would jump very high to go past it easily. And whoever won earned a kiss from the loser (alright, Peach shamelessly set that rule, whatever for her to place her lips on Mario's round nose or to get his mustache to tickle her cheek when his lips placed a loud kiss on it).

It was fun and simple, and Peach felt truly relaxed and appreciated when she was with Mario, in a way that with her cousin Daisy or her father Toadsworth she just didn't. Her heart would beat faster, and she'd look forward to seeing Mario's blue eyes and his silly nose and his handsome mustache. And to hear his accented sweet voice, or to see him communicate with gestures, where Peach would do her absolute best to interpret it the best she could.

To simply be by Mario's side could made Peach's whole day.

After she was rescued though, she saw him in a new light- a heroic (and very handsome-) light. He fought against a koopa many times his size and simply flung him out by the tail! Then Mario effortlessly lifted her in his arms and ran her to safety. Mario kind of literally swept her off her feet, and Peach felt that she fell a little more in love with him, in a way that she knew she never would be able to forget or be able to get over it.

But something Peach is very glad of, it's that there's no need to forget or get over it, because Mario likes her too. A lot it seems. The first time he saved her, and once they were back at the castle, Mario seemed to reach for his hat to do a playful bow as he usually did for the princess, but Peach was excited and loved him so much and felt so cared for, that she impulsively leaned in and kissed him on the nose, halting Mario's movements. She muttered in a sweet, loving voice: "Thank you, Mario."

And by the stars, the way Mario's cheeks went pink and his eyes bright, as if something wonderful just happened to him, made Peach's heart sing in happiness. Could this mean that he could love her too?

So, Peach started to be clear in her intentions. She'd be sweeter, she'd get him gifts, and treat him like a king that deserved everything in the world. Because to her, Mario did deserve everything and more. Peach invited him exclusively to eat cake with her, they woudl go to picnics on their own ,to enjoy each other's company. And Peach would very tentatively reach his hand when she could or kiss his face if the situation allowed it, even staright up hugging him, with no excuse or reason to (simply because she wanted!)

To any outsider, it was clear the princess was courting Mario, but to Mario, it was just his good friend being more friendly, which was great! He was very glad to be a closer friend to Peach. So, Mario started returning the efforts, he'd give her silly things he found that reminded him of her or make the time to spend his afternoons with her. He'd be more affectionate in the way Peach was, saying outright what he liked of her or cheering for her in enthusiasm at their games (Mario saying, "I love you, I love you so much!" while clapping).

But it didn't go past that.

Peach wasn't sure if Mario was being oblivious or she wasn't being clear enough- But he'd blush and do silly dances when she said something particularly sweet to him, and his eyes would soften when looking up at her. So, Peach was very confused. Why, even when she said, "I love you, Mario", he answered with an enthusiastically, "I love you too, principessa!" and... that was it. As if Mario just didn't notice that Peach was trying to go somewhere with all their courting (Thinking about the "we look like a couple :3" "A couple of besties! :D").

I'm thinking that ever since they became friends, Mario has had at least a little crush on Peach, and how could he not? She's so beautiful, and nice, and funny. Mario doesn't think she'd be interested in him in a romantic sense though, because he knows very well she cares about him! But romantically? Princess Peach could have anyone she wanted, and there must be other royals more worthy of her love. So, why choose Mario? What could he possibly give her that another guy or woman in a much higher position couldn't?

Mario is very sure of himself in some ambits, and then in others not so much. When time goes on, he truly believes he's worthy of being Peach's hero, because he's strong, agile, he can jump very high, he's smart too! If Peach is in trouble, he will find a solution or a way to rescue her and make sure she's okay. He trusts his physical abilities very much, that's why he trains and does his best to be as strong as he can! What else can Mario give Peach if he can't be useful for her safety-

But he doesn't think he's good enough to be anything else besides that. Because Mario isn't worthy to hold her hand simply because he wants to, unless he's pulling her and running away from danger. And Mario couldn't just hold Peach in his arms in the way a bride is held by the groom, because he only does that if he needs to get Peach away from a castle or danger, again. Or to kiss her cheek just because he wanted to show her his fondness, without having to purposely lose their races.

Mario just wasn't good enough for that, and it always made him realize that no matter what he did, he'd never feel worthy, because he'll always just be Mario, Mushroom Kingdom's and Peach's hero. And Mario was okay with that, really. And what difference does it make, anyway, if Peach doesn't feel the same way. She was so sweet and considerate, always looking out for people she cared about. Mario was just very glad that he was in that group of people that Peach deeply cared for. And he knew he was there, because she did so many nice things for him! Bake him a cake, even when he didn't help her in any significant way prior to it, or hug him out of nowhere or look at him sweetly- it was as if they were dating! And it made Mario immensely happy, because if he tried hard enough, it was as if Peach only had eyes for him, and only did nice, sweet things for him. And looked at him with her beautiful sky-blue eyes, full of love for Mario, as if they were boyfriend and girlfriend.

When he saved her for the first and she kissed him and looked at him as if he was something precious and loving, he felt that maybe Peach could see him as a romantic partner, worthy of very nice things and very nice people such as Peach. But then she said, "You are my hero!" and that hope shattered, because right- hero, Mario was a hero. He was good in helping and saving the day and that's why people liked him! That's why Peach appreciated him too. So, Mario smiled brightly anyways and jumped in joy, because he's happy to be Peach's hero!

In the privacy of his own room, Mario would allow himself to feel sad about the matter, about feeling too little like a person and too much like a hero sometimes. Hoping it could be the other way, or maybe both ways. Anything so Peach could think of Mario and be pleased with the person he was, rather in all the things he could do. (Does that even make sense? it's me, Kym, asking ASJKJS)

And you can bet that Luigi was witnessing all of this, especially Peach's fruitless courting, and Mario's lovesick pining. He'd see the princess acting in the same way a loving partner would, and Mario relishing in the attention, very clearly in love. And then Mario would say something that sounded way to close to friend-zoning, and Peach would look briefly caught off-ward, most likely confused.

And Luigi couldn't blame her, when Mario himself didn't think she was courting him! The idiot (both affectionate and derogatory) didn't have enough confidence to think a princess could like (and love) him. Alright, well, if Luigi had a royal person hopelessly in love with him, he wouldn't believe it either- because he's just little ol' Luigi! Nothing special. But Mario? He was the specialest guy around! But he was so insecure too and wouldn't just see that Peach was almost desperately trying to get him to see that she loved him and wanted to be much more than just friends.

For God's sake, she said 'I love you' to Mario, directly to his face, and not even that seemed to change his thoughts of not being good enough or her not wanting anything besides friendship. Worst part, Luigi had to see his bro pining in their house, sighing, thinking of the princess, and out loud wondering what she was doing. He'd always be thinking of her, Peach this and Peach that- And it's not that it bothered Luigi or angered him, it's just that it was frustrating! The woman was right there! Peach could be with a huge MARIO, WANNA BE MY BOYFRIEND? <3 sign right outside their house and Mario would ask Luigi for which brother it was.

It frustrated him and made him feel sorry for his bro. Mario had something so good right in front of him, and due to his insecurity, he couldn't allow himself to see it.

After months and months of implying a relationship and Mario just, not noticing, Peach started to realize that... maybe Mario just didn't feel the same way. And maybe he just didn't know how to let her know it. Maybe Mario was being nice and returning her efforts just to not hurt her feelings, when all he wanted was to just remain friends. It made Peach feel so sad and so ashamed, had she just been forcing her feelings on Mario? A worse thought crossed her mind, has she been making him uncomfortable with her actions? And all these months...., Peach wouldn't forgive herself if that was the case. Maybe all those blushes and soft eyes and shy smiles were just the things she wanted to see.

Stars, she had to fix it. So, Peach stopped inviting Mario on his own to her castle and baking a cake with his favourite flavors in mind, and started inviting both brothers and also friends. She stopped leaning to hug him or kiss him, and when they'd win or lose races, Peach changed the rule into a high-five, meeting Mario's kissy lips with her palm the first time it happened. She truly hoped her efforts of a romantic relationship could just be forgotten, and not affect their friendship.

Mario was devastated with the change in Peach's behavior. She no longer invited him to the castle, and he didn't receive any more letters with 'Come to the castle, I've baked you a cake! <3', and the worst part- when he ran especially slow to get to kiss Peach in the cheek, and he was right about to do it, Peach's hand received him instead of her face. She smiled cheerfully and said, "Let's do high-fives from now on, yes?'

It was as if Mario's heart shattered- it was the last piece in the puzzle that indicated that he was no longer as loved as he used to be by the princess. Mario was treated like, like Luigi was! Which, honestly, was still very good, but! Mario used to be special! Peach used to treat him like he was someone noteworthy and worthy of the nicest gifts and her nicest smiles, and now it was no longer... If there was a little sliver of hope in Mario that they could be something, it was entirely gone. Now he couldn't even pretend that she loved him romantically, and it made him so, so sad.

Was it something he did? Mario should just ask, shouldn't he? God, but he just couldn't, he was a coward. What if Peach told him she no longer liked him at all, and was trying to slowly distance herself, and she actually hated Mario now?! Obviously, Mario was being dramatic, but he just wanted to explain why Peach no longer treated him in a special way...

That's all I've got 🧍

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Greta Garbo (Camille, Anna Karenina, Queen Christina)—Enigmatic and alluring and made me bisexual. The perfect example of the eroticism in silent films that literally transcends text. Could literally not change anything about her expression but you knew by looking at her eyes what she was thinking. She’s so gorgeous.

Lilian Bond (The Old Dark House)—I owe whoever submitted her for the prelims a huge bouquet of roses bc WOW I'm in love?? The prelims grouped all the ladies by decade and the way she stood out against the beauty standards of the 30s immediately caught my eye (and also that unfairly sexy pic good GOD). There's something about her that feels so real, like you could just walk up to her and start chatting away. I wound up watching The Old Dark House for her and was so charmed. She's so fun to watch! Look at her eyes! Her eyebrows! Her Cupids bow! Her legs! She's both sexy and cute, silly and serious, and I find her absolutely enchanting.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Garbo:

A cold-ass Swedish WLW Sphinx. Had plans to murder Hitler that she never got around to. "She will remain always a child of vikings, moved about by a snowy dream."

First of all, she's on the money; that's how much of a treasure she is. She's beautiful in such a distinct way you need very few lines to draw her. (Drawing by Einar Nerman) She managed to be mesmerizing in both silent and sound films. She kissed a woman in Queen Christina (and probably several more in real life). She was super dry and really funny in Ninotchka. She got the hell out of Hollywood and stayed out, living for almost 50 years after her retirement.

Garbo is one of the many reasons why I'm gay. If you haven't seen Queen Christina please do, She is so gender in that film. Also her accent makes it sound like she's always talking in cursive and it's so hypnotic (or at least I think so).

She's a gay introvert, like all of us here on Tumblr.

Mysterious and aloof, charismatic and enigmatic, with beautiful androgynous characteristics, Garbo is undoubtedly the most eccentric and unique Hollywood vintage star. Her aversion to fame and stardom makes her even more desirable to the audience, and her insane chemistry with the camera, an actress one of a kind! Her particularity and her oddity is what discerns her strongly from her hollywood co workers at the time, noone was like her and would never be like her. I think, to the utmost extent, that she deserves the title of the hottest vintage star, even though that would be an understatement of what she is!

SO gorgeous, her thick Swedish accent makes will turn your brain into pudding

Probabaly a lesbian, absolutely a mood when she retired

Bond:

I know you've said you prefer text to pics but I just love this first pic so so much - she just feels so present and I feel like it captures everything I love about her so well.

you guys, she's literally sooooo cute! i had no idea before i saw her acting, but she has this lovely sort of lively, natural energy. she's really just a joy to watch! thanks to the person who submitted her for introducing me to her! ❤️

[eddiessluttywaist]

desiderium

an eddie munson series

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: eddie’s odd, forgotten childhood friend seeks him out when he needs her more than he realizes.

pairing: bsf!mechanic!bartender!eddie x eccentric!bsf!fem!reader

word count: 4,752 words

content/warnings: eventual smut so MDNI, angst, swearing, loneliness, mentions of drugs and crime, mentions of imprisonment, family issues, feeling unwanted, slight bullying, anxiety, nightmares, insomnia, depression, loss and grief, mentions of spit, super brief mention of alcohol and vomit, very brief mentions of breakups and inappropriate sexual relations (nothing reader or eddie are apart of). i think that’s it!

a/n: this is my first attempt at a slow burn series so i hope it’s good! i’m also trying a new setup with photos instead of gifs ^ i’ve seen a lot of other people do it and i think it looks really cool so! also creds to who owns and posted these photos! they’re not mine, i just made the collage!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

*

Eddie Munson had grown bitter since you last saw him. To be fair, the last time you saw him was when you were kids but still. You always knew him to be boisterous. Adventurer Eddie. Eddie with the weird ideas and cool drawings. Eddie who made you laugh until your stomach cramped and you would cry out that he was going to make you wet yourself.

You didn’t know it as a kid but even then he couldn’t catch a break from the world around him, and apparently it never stopped spiraling even when it beat him into a hollow shell covered in grease during the weekdays and alcohol—and occasionally vomit—on the weekends. He was worn down by his own worries that never seemed to cease and miserable stories of others admitting things they should’ve never said aloud. Sometimes the stories were fun or at least amusing, but mostly just depressing. This was Hawkins after all.

This wasn’t an Eddie you knew. Had someone told you that man in the garage wasn’t him, you simply would’ve nodded and kept going on your journey to find him.

But it was him, and you were positive he was meant to be back in your life. No matter how much it was hurting right now.

*

You didn’t know why he left at first. It was as if he ceased to exist, and sometimes—when you were all alone at night—you wondered if he had been a ghost. If he had been an imaginary friend, but surely not? He had his own home you hung out in. His own dad who let you guys eat too much junk food and stay up too late. He looked and sounded real when he would scarf down several bowls of honeycomb cereal with those slurping noises you always hated and would whine at him over. He felt real when you would play wrestle—and unfortunately very real when he won and would pin you down while slowly letting a string of saliva stretch down towards your face in an empty threat. He never really did it, but it was gross all the same, and when he’d let up you’d punch his arm as hard as you could.

One day, you asked if your parents remembered him and your father scoffed at the question while he stared at the newspaper, but at least he acknowledged you at all. Meanwhile your mother had all her focus on putting her earrings in and checking her makeup in the small mirror on a wall surrounded by family photos. Those framed pictures felt emptier than the looming threat of Eddie’s spit touching your face.

“Well his father’s a bottom feeder stuck in prison,” your dad flicked his paper to straighten it out again from where it had begun to bow backwards. “And his kid is probably no better. You’ll make other friends.”

You never understood why he was so cold about the loss of your only friend. You’ll make other friends. Yeah right. No one liked you. Everyone made fun of the way you sat idly on swings just to kick on occasion as you focused more on the book in your hands, or the way you’d squat down and give all your attention to a bug in front of you. Either a line of ants that you regarded with pure intrigue because you wondered how they always filed so neatly and did their best to stay together. Sometimes you left crumbs by them just to see if you could watch them pick them up. You’d watch snails and show them the attentiveness and respect you felt they deserved as they slowly trudged along—so determined, you thought. You’d watch butterflies and try to keep track of all the different kinds you saw. A lot of them were small and fluttery with those buttery white wings, but sometimes you saw a monarch and your eyes would grow large with excitement.

You cried when Zachary McKay would stomp on the anthills or teased you about how the French ate snails—something his dad would say was just more proof of how odd Europeans are. They were one of those arrogant “We love our Country!” households with an “I can do whatever I want—America is the land of the free” ideology and it showed in their unbridled and privileged ass of a child. You didn’t inform him that one Spring of the wasp nest that formed on the underside of the slide he frequented. Maybe it was mean, but you were content in silence over on your swing when you heard him crying out in pain one day. He developed a crush on you in high school that dramatically contrasted how he treated you in grade school—and even tried to make a move at Maddi Ecker’s 17th birthday party—but you could only think of the ants and the snails. You turned him down and he was horrible to you again.

You eventually did make some friends, other odds and ends throughout your school, but it wasn’t the same as it was with Eddie. Maybe it was childish and stubborn, but you could feel it deep in your gut that he was one of a kind. So you couldn’t let him go. All those years you ached for your friend who you considered lost. He always came up with wild stories and (when you were still relatively young) you imagined he had become a pirate and was lost at sea. Or became a gunslinger in the Wild West and didn’t draw fast enough. Maybe he went to slay dragons and wound up a burnt crisp of a human. That last one made you cringe the most, but he probably would’ve liked it the most. He loved mythical creatures the way you adored real creatures. By high school you weren’t as naive. You heard about his dad—caught with multiple charges of grand theft auto, a hit-and-run in one of said stolen cars, and dealing drugs. The hard shit. Not weed or shrooms. But the kind of stuff that really ruins lives.

You always thought Eddie had a good home. His dad didn’t hate him the way you were sure your parents hated you, and he had a nice house. It wasn’t a mansion or anything, but they really didn’t need anything beyond a one story and a sizable basement with only two of them. In hindsight, you supposed he couldn’t find a home in that childhood house anymore than you could with yours. Yours lacked love. His lacked a reliable source of income.

Over time you heard about the night with all the sirens and social workers. The night he turned into a spirit that had finally moved on—an imaginary friend that your growing mind ceased to conjure. He lived with his uncle over in Indiana, rather than your small town in Ohio. Even in your mid twenties, he flashed in your mind like a small blip on occasion and it still twisted your stomach.

You thought of asking if you should go to him whenever you remembered, but you thought you needed a sign. What if you showed up too early? And you messed up any possible grand plans? So you avoided indulging in questions about him to your tarot cards or over your pendulum map. On occasion you caved and just asked a simple question: is he safe? It was a yes every time you broke and just had to check up on him, and the answer reassured you for long enough until the next time the concern rose up to unbearable levels.

But then you started getting those dreams. Sometimes they were just memories playing from deep within the archives of your mind. Sometimes they were nightmares of yelling at someone to go away, only to realize it was Eddie far too late—and when you wanted to run after him to correct the mistake, you couldn’t move as quickly as you knew you were capable of.

It went on for about a month before you finally broke. Your eyes had snapped open, accidentally waking yourself in the middle of saying what you had been shouting to Dream Eddie out loud into your pitch black room. You glanced at the time. 11:11 PM. You felt your heart skip a beat before you shoved yourself out of bed. You had to take a moment to steady yourself against your bedpost from the sudden movement making you dizzy, but then you were flicking on the light and digging through your belongings. You didn’t even give yourself a chance to wipe away at the thin sheen of sweat over your skin from August heat mixed with a cheap fan that really didn’t make that much of a difference, and the stress from the events that had played deep in your mind while you slept.

With a shaky breath, you smoothed out your map on the floor where you were squatting, and steadily held your pendulum over the center. Does he need me? You finally asked and watched as the chain connected to a sphere of rose quartz slowly began to circle. It sped up and then began to dart in different directions before finally swinging back and forth between both of the “YES''s on the piece of cloth.

*

It took a little over a month to arrange your departure from your life in small town Ohio—not that small town Indiana was really all that different. You had briefly been back at your childhood house after your lease came to an end for the apartment you shared with a friend (who didn’t want to renew because she wanted to move in with her boyfriend, and you didn’t have the heart to tell her that the card spread you had laid out all pointed towards a breakup). All of this to say you didn’t have a lease or mortgage to tie you down. You certainly didn’t have a boyfriend (you haven’t had one since college), and you didn’t even like your job at the local mart so it was easy to give your two weeks. Your parents were just as sick of your presence now as when you were a child, and were willing to help you in every way possible to get you to just leave again. Had you not been so focused on your end goal, you might’ve taken a beat to really feel the hurt that always came with parents who only came to your aid when it meant keeping you at arm's length. But you couldn’t focus on it and really (for the sake of your mental health) you shouldn’t focus on it. All of your energy went towards Eddie who seemed so far, even if he was supposedly just a few hours and a state line away.

You didn’t have a place yet, which was a mistake on your part for rushing, but you could stay in a motel for the time being. The prices were pretty low anyways and the owner seemed pleasantly surprised by the sudden source of money and company. The lot belonged to her husband who had passed a few years back, so now it was only her running the place. Her daughter helped sometimes, but she had another job to focus on—only coming to help when the older woman was ill. So even though she appeared kind of grumpy at first, she really softened up to you when you wound up padding out of your room the first night and asked if she wanted to play Go Fish. You had been feeling antsy and lonely, and you were right to assume she felt lonely too.

Over the past week or so, you found a friend in that creaking, groaning motel. You did have a bit of a tendency to befriend the adults around you more often than kids your age when you were younger and it still happened now, apparently. A shrink at university pointed out once that it had to do with the lack of guardianship and guidance growing up. That you were trying to replace something that had always been missing, but you didn’t go back to him after a couple sessions. You didn’t like how patronizing he was, telling you things you already knew. And when you asked your dowsing rods if he was sleeping with any of his clients, the two pieces in your fists whipped open in a blatant “Yes!” But he wasn’t around now to make you feel low with his supercilious commentary and his notes that he always scratched down right in front of you. Your parents weren’t around to remind you of how utterly unlovable you can be. It was just you, Martha at Hawkins’ Blue Bird Inn, and hopefully a pleasant reunion on the horizon.

Today was the day to finally see Eddie, and Martha urged some confidence into you this morning before sending you on your way with the directions to the garage. No matter how many times you clarified he was just your childhood best friend, she got that sly look about her that always showed when an adult was all amused about the novice in front of them being openly or involuntarily blind to love.

So there you were. On a mild Wednesday morning in late September, standing before Thacher Tire after a lot of asking around, a lot of time flipping through Martha’s phone book, and even more odd looks. You let out a careful breath, doing your best to reassure yourself with the knowledge that the people you spoke to knew his name in the first place. He had to be here, and even if he wasn’t working today he should at least be employed here. Maybe you could be told when to come back to speak with him or where you could find him outside of work. Would they share something like that? People don’t tend to care about privacy in small towns, that’s why everyone knew (generally) where everyone else was. Maybe if you clarified that you’re an old friend, they wouldn’t treat you as a customer and tell you where he would be.

You were wringing your hands as you eyed the door in front of you. The glass looking in was worn from age and weather, clearly cleaned so people could see through it, but there seemed to be an aging to the corners where the rectangle of glass met the surrounding wood that couldn’t be scrubbed out. It felt like a portal looking into what could be, and you suddenly felt yourself getting anxious with what exactly meant could be. You had a knack for catastrophizing, and spiraled in all of the worst case scenarios until you were running back to your car and abandoning the lot.

*

“Trust me, it’s not as scary as it seems. Going for those intimidating opportunities is always better in the long run than letting ‘em slip away,'' Martha murmured to you before biting into the sandwich you brought her.

You bought typical fast food that you always came running back to when you were stressed, but she didn’t like the grease. You learned that over the past week when you brought up your bad habit, and her nose scrunched up at the mention of crappy burgers and overly salted fries. Instead you got her a tuna sandwich from the nearby marketplace, and she shared her big jug of iced, sweet tea with you.

“I haven’t seen him for over ten years…,” you sigh, toying with the crackling paper that was wrapped around your cheeseburger. “What if I’m the only one who clung onto our friendship? What if it’s stupid to him?”

“Mm, us women always do hold on longer,” she hummed thoughtfully and you refrained from your urge to correct her old-fashioned view of gender dynamics for the sake of staying on topic. “I still think you should go for it.”

“What if… what if it’s not what I think it’ll be? What if I’ve turned him into someone more fictional than Eddie in my mind, and when I’m faced with how he really is now I just… I dunno…wish I didn’t come here?”

“They never are what you conjure up. They’re always better up here,” she pointed a bony finger to her temple and you focused on one of the curls in her short gray hair for a second before bringing your gaze back to hers. “I still think you should go for it.”

You huff out a laugh at her repetition, smiling sadly to yourself as you look down at your hands and notice the thin sheen of grease on them. Maybe Martha’s right. Maybe this food is gross. You grab a few napkins from the brown paper bag and wipe at your fingers.

“Just think of it this way: is it worse knowing the truth or worse never knowing?”

*

Eddie had been having a shit day. Actually he had been having a shit week. If he let himself truly indulge in his pessimism, he’d be acknowledging that he’s altogether just had a shit life, but he was trying not to fall into that trap. It would make him the kind of depressed and bitter that made him snap at others and then feel guilty about it—which only made him feel worse about himself.

He hasn’t been sleeping well, a sudden flare up of his insomnia throwing off his circadian rhythm. He thought with how busy his schedule was that he’d knock out the second his head hit the pillow, but he only seemed to be exhausted until he finally laid down. Then was when his thoughts randomly chose to run and his heart would race with the sudden surge of anxiety-inducing thoughts. He was beginning to feel so overwhelmed by everything that his eyes burned with the beginnings of hot tears but he wiped at them carelessly with the heels of his hands before they could become too real. In his mind, they didn’t exist until they fell.

Eddie ached with exhaustion that only seemed to let up when he could actually get a shot at some rest. He ached with loss and grief. He ached with pure misery and painful seclusion and a silent trailer—besides the occasional buzz of electricity through his lamp that he turned back on when he realized he wouldn’t be sleeping anyway, or the groan of the old mobile home settling against its cinder blocks. The upcoming season made itself known through the ever growing chill that formed at night and occasionally blew through every crack and crease of the trailer, making him shiver and pull his blankets up before inevitably growing hot again and kicking them away.

He missed his friends that he rarely saw. Everyone is busy nowadays. He missed Wayne who… god, he couldn’t even think about it. He missed Chrissy who lit up his world Spring of ‘86 just for them to drift apart. People seemed to drift from him a lot. People seemed comfortable with forgetting him and giving a brief call only when they got a pang of guilt at any reminder that they were getting awfully close to leaving him behind. But who was he to drag them down? It was heart-aching enough to live the way he did sometimes, let alone when people acknowledged just how heart-aching it was. Sometimes he even missed his dad, but he always avoided thinking too hard about him before it could sink his mood to a new level that would be hard to crawl out of.

He hadn’t been able to fall asleep Wednesday night until early into Thursday morning. He settled into a deep rest around 4 AM just to be abruptly woken up by his 6:30 alarm to make sure he was at Thacher’s by 7:00.

“Fuck off…,” Eddie groaned out loud and slammed his fist down onto the alarm clock, never lifting his face from where it was planted right against his worn pillow.

He laid there for what felt like forever, but was really only a few minutes before he finally peeled himself out of his spot. Forcing himself from the comfort of his old mattress was never easy, especially when he couldn’t rely on any excuses he made up as a teenager to just flop right back into his bed. He had to get up. He had to work.

He went to make his usual toast just to see there was only the end piece left in his loaf of bread, and let out a guttural groan of frustration as he tilted his head back. He forgot to stop at the store. Grumbling a bitter so that’s how today’s gonna go under his breath, he shoved the sad excuse for a slice of bread into the toaster and then began looking through the kitchen for something else to satiate him until lunch.

He wound up eating what was left in his jar of peanut butter with a spoon after slathering the small piece of toast with jelly. He didn’t have time to clean a travel mug (which he forgot to clean last night) so he took a regular one with him on his commute, and wound up dumping his coffee all over himself mid-sip when he had to stop short for a kid suddenly biking across the road. The young teen laughed at the close call and made his way to the other side of the street. Eddie glanced down at his drenched t-shirt and coveralls, releasing his third irritated groan of the morning while he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling of his van before focusing back on the road and moving his foot to the gas. He focused on taking deep breaths as he gripped the steering wheel and made his way to the shop.

Thankfully, Linda had already started a pot of coffee in the break room which he happily drank and patted at his wet clothing with one of the blue shop towels. Staining was inevitable and it really didn’t matter with the coveralls anyways, but that didn’t mean he had to be damp. Taking that moment at the start of his shift helped with his mood, but the amount of customers bitching over the phone about how long it was taking to get their cars back were steadily draining him back into a surly mood. The most he had to look forward to and keep himself from unnecessarily snapping at someone was the fact that it was almost the weekend—and yes he would still have to work nights at The Hideout, but at least he didn’t have to get up early.

*

Never knowing was decidedly worse.

You had concluded this after ruminating on it all night—with and then without Martha’s help. And despite all of your anxieties that were just barely buried under the surface, you made yourself go to the garage again.

An obnoxious, tinny bell sounded and a dull voice said from behind a counter: Welcome to Thacher Tire. What can we do for you?

You approached carefully as if you moved too quickly, the depressing gray and beige setting around you—which held far more meaning for you than just fixing cars—would suddenly melt away and you’d wake up.

“Do you know where I could find Eddie Munson?” you asked in a soft voice, and the woman obnoxiously chomping at her gum looked up at you over the top of her glasses before looking back down at the paperwork in front of her.

“He’s in the garage. Is he working on your car?”

Your heart jumped and although you hated to lie, you did.

“Yes,” you said probably too quickly, but it seemed nothing could get this woman to care.

“Wait over there, please,” she spoke in a voice that was just as greige as her place of work.

You thanked her meekly and shuffled over to one of the worn, faux leather and hard plastic seats. The room smelled of cheap pine air fresheners and the potent combination of oil, and that specific rubber scent of brand new tires. The space with the front desk and the waiting area was small enough to be cramped if it was a busy day, but since you were the only visitor at the moment you didn’t have to be confronted by the full potential of such limited space. You toyed with your hands and tried to pay attention to the fuzzy television in one corner of the room, but you couldn’t help listening in on the receptionist’s call.

“…’s a girl here to talk to ya… uh-huh… yeah I know… uh, no I don’t think so. I doubt it. Her voice is different from the one that keeps calling about the Ford. Might be though... ‘Kay.”

You anxiously wiped your sweaty palms over your jeans as you heard the clunk of hard plastic settling back into its cradle. What if he didn’t remember you? What if he did, but didn’t care? What if he thought you were weird for showing up? What if he grew up to be someone who stomps on anthills?

Your head shot up at the sound of a door opening and then closing from the back, and a man in filthy coveralls approached the woman behind the desk. He had messy, curly bangs settled on his forehead and the rest of his long hair was in a low ponytail. He was sweaty and clearly exhausted as he wiped at his forehead and left a swipe of grease in his wake, speaking quietly to the receptionist before making his way over to you. The closer he got, the better you could smell the grease and sweat and bitter coffee, but it didn’t deter you. What truly threw you were the circles under his eyes and the sort of pale cast to his skin that people got when they were fatigued or ill. You weren’t sure why a part of you expected to see an eleven year old kid approach you with a god awful buzz cut and big brown eyes, even after fourteen years.

This was it. This was your moment. The time to reclaim your best friend, and have the greatest person you had ever met back into your life. Why was your throat suddenly so dry? You swallowed anxiously and then parted your lips to speak and-

“Miss, I know you’re waiting on your car to be fixed before the weekend—I promise I’m working as quickly as I can.”

You tried not to cringe at the use of “miss” and looked up at him with wide, sad eyes wondering why he didn’t see an almost ten year old girl with a messy braid in her hair that she did by herself, complaining at him to chew with his mouth closed.

“I lied,” You said bluntly and the man stared at you in a way that felt blank and still despite his wonderment.

“I-I don’t have a car here. I just wanted to talk to you.”

He eyed you curiously, his hands slowly wiping onto an old rag. It looked like it had been used so many times, you doubted it was even picking up any filth on his hands but just moving it around instead. He was clearly thrown off by the sentiment which brought a sort of youthfulness to his face in that moment of curiosity before his features hardened.

“Listen. I’m sure whatever prank you have conjured up is hilarious, but I’m tired and trying to do my job.”

“No-- no, no,” you tried to clarify, shooting up from your seat. “I—I-”

But he was already swiftly stomping away from you towards the back, muttering to the receptionist with a quick and surely rude comment about you on his way. You were moments from being politely asked to leave, you’re sure, but the woman hesitated with a gentle expression when she saw you approach her with glossy eyes.

“Could you please just give him this?” you asked in a soft voice that you did your best to keep even, but of course it wobbled just enough to be humiliating. You could feel the heat in your face and (even worse) the moisture in your eyes so you did your best to avoid eye contact.

You outstretched your arm and she met you halfway with a nod, allowing you to drop the old friendship bracelet into her palm.

[thechillsquid]

Ford x Bill? Nah

Fiddleford x Ford? Nah

What if I present to you… Fiddleford x Bill

What then, huh? Like think how toxic that would be, espically if it’s post- falling into the portal yet pre full on blind-eye

They’re both so desperate to erase the past and to pretend everything’s fine with a fun little dash of mania and lack of self-care

Like imagine how batshit of a duo!

Here’s a writing of their first official meeting:

Fiddleford didn’t know what to with himself, pacing a hole in the floor as he tried to calm his unraveling thoughts. It had been nearly a week since last he’d even see Ford and he just, he just didn’t know what to fucking do!

He’d helped him, God, he’d helped Ford build a goddamned doomsday device! Who knows what damage had been done!? What could come out of that damned hole in reality! What if Ford opened it again!? What if— if that… that thing came through!

He, he couldn’t go home! He didn’t have a fucking home to go back to anymore! He’d given so much, for so fucking much and— and look where it had gotten him! Fiddleford thought, oh how he’d thought, that this would work out, that maybe he could, could what? The divorce had already gone through, he’d essentially run off with so many damned promises he could have never kept even if he wanted to…

He crumbled to his knees, clutching at his hair with ragged breaths, he— he just wanted to forget—

So occupied with his own spiraling, he didn’t even realize as his body gave into the exhaustion driving him for the last few days. As the world went gray and still. As someone— or rather something— else entered the room.

“Well, well, well!”

Fiddleford jolted, mouth dry. “H-Hello…?” His voice was barely a whisper as his heart skipped a beat. He turned and was met with something odd, and he almost felt glad for the absurdity of it, if it wasn’t so damn familiar.

It was a golden, little triangle… in a top hat and bow tie of all things…?

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

The way this thing’s voice carried, the sugar-sweet wrongness of its tone, that one ever-watching eye. Something in his subconscious withered away from it, his eyes widening. “I know you,” he said, and he hated himself for it, to even give this thing the time of day.

“Is that so, wise guy!”

The… floating triangle (at least it didn’t have any horrid claws or fangs from what he could tell) drifted down to be face to… face (?) with him. That one cat-slit pupil never glancing away for even a second, burning that blank stare straight through his very soul.

He shriveled in on himself, this felt wrong. Wrong and dangerous and…

Triangles… triangles with. With. With one eye.

Fiddleford wanted to throw up. He knew where he’d seen this thing before. Glass stained windows, prisms, statues, murals with symbols and markings too damn neat and tidy, carvings and drawings and—

A portal.

A triangular portal. With that. That one staring eye. Endless screaming, fires burning, things that were strange and horrible and wrong.

“You…” He scrambled backwards, “You’re the one that helped him m-make that damned portal! You’re the one— you’re—“

“The names Bill, Bill Cipher! Just don’t go and wear it out!”

Bill Cipher. So that’s what it was called. “W-What, what do you want!? I— I, I ain’t helpin, helpin’ with that damn—!”

It cut him off with a laugh, and oh, he flinched. It was such a grating, shrill sound. Wrong and cruel and joyish.

“Now, now! Chill out, pal!”

It leaned an arm against his shoulder, that eye narrowing.

“Yeesh! Would you look at those bags, ha, whatcha been up to there, buddy? I thought you meat sacks needed to sleep!”

The man didn’t respond, watching its every move tensely. ‘Bill’ seemed to grow annoyed with that.

“Hello? Am I talking to thin air here, specs? I said, whatcha been up to pal.”

Bill’s voice dipped low and something in him told him to answer, otherwise, things would go very, very wrong.

“I-I, I— I’ve, it’s, it hasn’t been, uh, b-been easy to, to sleep…”

“Aw, what a bummer! Well, lookey-here, specs, but it seems your little chit-chat with my star-A pupil’s gone a little sour, so how’s about we talk about that, hm?”

Who… “F-Ford…?”

The entity brightened, quite literally. The darn thing glowed like a star.

“Well would you look at that! You do still have half a mind rolling around in there afterall, though who knows how much longer that’ll last you! Ha!”

“W-What?”

The demon waved him off, drifting off to kick back and relax.

“Don’t worry about it, specs! Let’s get back on topic, because it seems you’ve gone and made poor ole Sixer go a bit… off the rails. Honestly, it’s like you told him it would be the end of the world or something!”

He rose, feeling somewhat defensive, “W-Well if, if you’re the lunatic that, that h-helped him make that damned portal, t-then good riddance! Go, go and bother someone else!”

It laughed, it fucking laughed at him. Fiddleford bared his teeth, “The hell ya laughin’ at you damned varmint! Don’tcha understand English! G-Get out!”

It turned to him, suddenly inches from his face.

“You know, I’d choose your next words very, very carefully. I’m offering you an opportunity here! You haven’t even let me talk yet! Jeez!”

The thing drifted back, small and cheerful once again, it waving its hand about.

“Fordsey’s practically a mess without you around! And not to mention… difficult. So how’s about we go over there and cheer him up, how’s about it!”

Fiddleford quietly shook his head, stepping back. He couldn’t— he couldn’t go back there, he—

“Ugh, fine. Be like that, I’ll just have to find a snake then…”

“W-What—?” He blinked, and he was once more alone in his room, staring at nothing. One trembling hand came to clutch at his head. He was fucking losing it.

[ssa-montgomery]

Baby, I'm Preying On You Tonight, Hunt You Down Eat You Alive (Just Like Animals)

Word Count: 5590

Summary: Daryl has a darker primal side he's been hiding and Y/N is determined to draw it out, no matter what it takes.

Characters: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, lots of suspense, chasing, Daryl hunts the reader, predator/prey dynamic, primal kink, smut, angry Daryl, overstimulation, dom/sub, degradation kink, use of degrading terms (bitch, whore), punishments, dirty talk, hickeys, marking, biting, possessive kink, ownership kink, choking kink, rough sex, breeding kink, some cum play, begging, use of pet names (doll, girl), Daryl compares the reader to a little bunny, outdoor sex, forest sex

A/N: So uh, this might be some of the most unhinged smut I've written so far. I had this idea for a while and I was debating on whether or not I should write it and once I got the request @azanoni for a Daryl smut using these prompts I just knew I HAD to write it. I think this might be some of my favourite Daryl content I've written. I've had so much fun planning and writing this one (even if it took longer than expected) so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I have!

Prompt(s): “Tell me what you're going to do to me.”

Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open!

Masterlist

Growing up you were taught about the dangers of the woods that grew around your childhood home, poisonous plants and animals that had you scared of the smallest noises among the trees but since the fall of the world, that danger had increased tenfold. Anybody with the good sense to fear for their life was afraid of what they might find this deep into the trees, not just the threat of walkers but the threat of people that would stop at nothing to survive. It was a place that most actively avoided when they could but you, on the other hand, had always found a strange peace in nature, even the sides to it that should have scared you. Mother nature was a force to be reckoned with and you admired that.

You knew better really, knew the danger that came with being this far out by yourself and any other time you wouldn't have wandered off without one of the others by your side but the group was running low on supplies. The food situation was becoming scarce and while Rick and Maggie managed to round up some canned goods on their last scavenge it still wouldn't be enough to last long. Your people needed proper, fresh food and you knew you could hunt better alone without any distractions.

 You were a skilled hunter, that much anyone could see. It came naturally to you the second you picked up a bow and Daryl spent days taking you hunting with him, training you well. The silence of being alone in the forest helped you focus your senses even more than usual, catching even the slightest movements of the animals around you. It was a strange feeling, listening to just how quiet the forest was now. The quiet seemed to surround you, weighing heavy in the trees around you as the space that had once been filled with the sounds of wildlife was now replaced by silence and the distant groans of the dead. It seemed the wildlife had taken just as much of a hit as the rest of the world. Things were changing and you knew it would never be the same again.

You were careful to avoid the overgrown roots that littered the forest floor, stepping over them as you pressed forward, following the trail of a stag you'd spotted a few miles back. You'd watched in awe of the creature for a moment but before you could get close enough to make a clear shot, it took off into the trees. Daryl had given you a crash course in tracking and the knowledge proved useful as you picked up the tracks in the mud, following them deeper into the forest. If you could bag a kill like this, you could feed the group for days.

You weren't sure just how long you'd been out here anymore. The sun had barely risen when you, nothing more than a faint orange glow in the distance but now the light was filtering through the leaves above your head, bathing you in the warm feeling. You were soft with your steps treading lightly across the forest floor as you used the toe of your boot to brush the twigs in front of you out of the way, trying to avoid making any noise, not wanting them to snap underfoot.

Something in the corner of your eye caught your attention, another indent in the mud but it was smaller this time. A separate track from the one you'd been following. Perhaps it was a younger deer, a doe that had joined your stag somewhere along the way. You tried to get a closer look at the print, stooping down behind the wide trunk of the tree as you judged just how fresh it was.

When you were on these hunts, finding yourself in the situation of stalking an animal in this way there was a certain feeling you'd grown used to. It was a dynamic balance, the feeling of power between man and nature, the hunter and the hunted. Predator and prey. The baseline animal instincts that exist inside everyone. 

There was a sense of power you held as the hunter, a confidence that drove you forward but you could quickly feel that draining from your body, instead being replaced by a growing sense of fear. You weren't as alone out here as you thought. You were no longer the predator of this situation. You were the prey. There was somebody, something watching you and you could feel the goosebumps pricking under your skin, your hairs standing on end as a deep feeling you couldn't place settled in your bones.

You couldn't have been sure at the time but you thought you'd heard it just a few minutes before, chalking the slight rustling up to walkers but this wasn't something undead. No, these were too sure, too purposeful, these were footsteps. Real living, human footsteps. The sound was heavy against the soil, a man's footsteps, that much was easy to tell. You could tell whoever this was was trying to cover the noise. They were hiding, stalking you from somewhere among the trees. You glanced around, scanning the tree line as you pretended to search for your deer, not wanting to give away that you were aware they were there.

Something changed in the air around you. A tension thick enough to cut settled around you while your heart started to race, beating against your ribs. You'd been spotted and you knew they could sense the fear that followed. Your movements were deliberate now, trying not to make any sudden movements as you slowly raised from your hunched-over position, trying to steady your rapid breathing. As you moved to step forward there was a louder noise behind you, a twig snapping closer to you than you were comfortable with. They weren't disguising their footsteps anymore and you knew what that meant for you.

That feeling in your bones, there was only one way you could describe it. It was the same primal feeling you saw in the eyes of trapped animals and you knew there were only two baseline instincts for a cornered animal. Fight or flight. You chose the latter. Within a second you were in motion, breaking out into a sprint faster than you could think. You had no idea where exactly you were running to, you didn't have time to plan that far ahead and you'd taken off in the wrong direction to make it back to the group at camp. All you knew was that you needed to get out of there.

Everything in your body was screaming at you to stop as you forced yourself to keep going, you could feel yourself growing weaker with every step, your legs already aching from being on your feet all day. You couldn't stop running now, you knew that much. You were barely aware of anything outside of yourself anymore, your senses overwhelmed by the sound of your heart hammering in your ears drowning out the sound of how close your hunter was getting. The wind whipped almost painfully against the skin of your face but the only feeling you could focus on was that of being chased. Hunted down through the trees.

You raised an arm to cover your face as you ran, shielding yourself from the low-hanging branches that would otherwise catch your face as you kept going. You proved too focused on the branches in front of you as you stopped paying attention to anything else around you, instead managing to catch your foot on the root of a tree that was emerging from the ground. By some miracle, you didn't fall. You managed to reach out and steady yourself on the tree next to you as you kept running trying to push yourself forward but the stumble was enough to slow you down. It was enough for him to catch up.

A scream of protest ripped from your throat when you were suddenly tugged backwards, two strong, rough hands grabbing at your upper arms. You tried to surge forward, hoping to break free of his grasp but instead, he manoeuvred you around however he wanted, dragging you by your arms as he pushed your chest against the trunk of the closest tree. You could feel the panic flooding your veins as you struggled against his grip but there was no use. He overpowered you in every way, the solid wall of his chest pressing against your back as he forced you further against the tree, leaning in until you felt his hot breath fan against your neck. 

"Stop strugglin', fuckin' brat. His words were dripping with venom, nothing more than a low growl in your ear as his hands left your arms instead dropping to your waist in an attempt to stop you from trying to wriggle out of his grasp. Your muscles tensed at the feeling of his fingers biting into the soft skin of your waist, your mind racing with thoughts you knew you shouldn't be having in this situation. At first, you weren't sure if the feeling bubbling up in your chest was relief or burning rage as finally placed the voice. You'd recognise that rich southern drawl anywhere.

"Daryl? Oh, you fuckin' bastard." You let out a heavy sigh as your body relaxed in his grasp realising you weren't in immediate danger. You tried to aim another dig at his ribs for the scare he'd given you but he easily blocked you, catching your arm and pinning it above your head. The fear in your body melted away the second you heard his voice but there was something else rising up in its place. A different kind of fear, an anticipation for just how he'd choose to handle this situation. It was a feeling that had you wriggling your hips against him with no intention of breaking loose. "I thought you were some creep out here waitin' to kill me or somethin'."

"I damn well coulda been. Stupid fuckin' girl." Daryl growled out, his voice low as his lips practically ghosted the shell of your ear, his grip on your waist tightening. His grip wasn't trying to hold you in place anymore, the treat of you running having long since passed. In reality, if he let go of you now you'd stay perfectly still just to keep him happy, no his grip now was solely possessive. Holding you close to him and hiding you away from anything out there that might want to hurt you. "I mean what were ya thinkin'? Runnin' off like that without tellin' me? Were ya even fuckin' thinkin'? Y'know how dangerous it is out 'ere, ya tryin' to get yerself killed?"

"I left you a message before I left." You said, your voice dropping in volume with disappointment as you feigned innocence when in reality you knew what you were doing every step of the way since you first left that morning. You wouldn't have come out this far if you didn't know Daryl would follow you, if you hadn't been counting on it. All of this was a game, admittedly a risky one at that and one that you weren't sure Daryl would play along with at first. The fact that he was here, pressing you against the tree with a growing hard-on in his pants proved he was more than willing to play along.

"Right. Yer message. Call that a message do ya? Gettin' Rick to tell me y'went out hours after ya were already gone? What was it ya said? He's a good tracker, tell him to find me if he wants me. Think yer clever do ya?" He bit back the anger rising in his voice as he forced you further against the tree, pinning you there with his hips. One hand found its way into your hair, wrapping the strands around his hand into a makeshift ponytail before pulling your head back, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"I'm - I'm sorry Daryl I didn't mean to -" You stumbled over your words trying to find the right excuse to calm him but you knew it was useless as you met the wild look in Daryl's eyes. It wasn't unusual to see him angry but this look was unlike anything you'd ever seen from him. Anger and genuine concern for your safety mixed with an almost feral nature that seemed to darken his eyes as his pupils dilated. It was mesmerising. 

"Nah. Ya knew what you was doin'.  Is this what y'wanted? Wanted me to hunt ya down through the woods? Chase ya down and catch ya like some kind of prey? Have my way with ya? Ya wanted to be afraid?" His voice was taunting in a way that should have almost scared you but he was right, this was exactly what you'd wanted. Ever since you'd met you knew there was a side he hid, you could see it in his eyes when he fought with the others in the group, could feel him holding back every time he touched you. 

You wanted him to let go, to release that animalistic side that you watched him try so hard to fight, his true hidden nature. He was right, you did want to be afraid. In fact, the feeling turned you on beyond belief. You wanted him to take control of you, to earn your submission entirely until you had no choice but to melt into a mess in his hands. "I should show ya what happens to brats that piss me off."

"Tell me what you're going to do to me."  Your words were breathy, barely above a whisper, coming out as more of a pleading beg than the original demand you'd intended. He was already getting under your skin, making you cave under his intense gaze as your eyes flickered to the forest floor when you could no longer take his stare. His hands were roaming your body now, groping at every part of you that he could reach. Squeezing at your hips, running up your back before gliding over your ribs.

"I'm gonna give ya what ya wanted. I could practically smell how badly ya wanted me for miles. Y'wanted me to let loose and fuck ya like some kind of feral animal so that's exactly what I'll give ya." He dropped his head to your shoulder, breathing in deeply as he took in your scent. The smell of pine mixed with the faint smell of the shampoo you'd managed to find a few days ago, but it was the natural scent of your skin that drove him crazy. 

Daryl's hands snaked around your waist to undo the button of your jeans not even bothering with the fly as he left you with no time to process his words, shoving his hand past the waistband of your panties. You couldn't help the whimper that escaped you at the feeling of his fingers moving roughly over your clit, the sudden feeling almost too much for you. He wasted no time, not in the mood for gentle foreplay as he moved his fingers downwards resting them over your entrance just enough to have you wriggling in his grip for more but not enough to press inside you. He let out a low groan that you could feel vibrate in his chest when he felt how wet you were already, gathering as much of it on his fingers as he could while it smeared over the palm of his hand.

"Look at ya. Already drippin' down yer thighs for me. Fuckin' soaked. Ya like it huh? Like makin' me angry so I'll use ya however I want? Get off of me throwin' ya 'round like it's nuthin' and pinin' ya down?" You were starting to lose it already, still reeling from the feeling of his fingers against your clit you couldn't find the words to answer him. He ground his hips into your ass as he waited for you to admit it. Clearly not happy with your lack of response he brought his free hand up and wrapped it around your throat, using it as leverage to quickly spin you around in his grasp before slamming you back against the tree. "Answer me, girl."

"Y- yes Daryl. I love it. Please I want you to use me. I need it. I can take it. I promise." Your voice sounded desperate even to your own ears as you pleaded with him to give you what you wanted. Seemingly pleased with your answer he tightened his grip on the sides of your throat, forcing a gasp from your lips at the pressure. He took the opportunity the second your lips parted in and shoved his fingers that were still covered in your slick into your mouth. You knew what he wanted immediately as you felt him press down on your tongue, closing your lips around his fingers as you sucked them clean.

"That's it." He hummed tilting your face up with his free hand, forcing you to meet his stare as you struggled not to gag while he slid his fingers further back into your mouth. He thought about forcing you to your knees there and then, using your mouth until he was finished as punishment but who was he to deny you when you begged so pretty? Nobody could break you down as quickly as Daryl, ever since your first time together he had a natural talent for finding that switch in your brain - or he'd argue more accurately in your pussy - that turned you into a drooling submissive mess for him. Not that you were complaining about it one little bit. No matter how much he lost control you knew you were safe in his hands, but right now, you wanted that feeling of danger. "Y'gonna beg me for it like some needy stupid bitch in heat? Need to fucked and bred 'til ya can't think no more?"

"God Daryl, please. I can't - I can't take anymore. I need you inside me." You moaned as you grasped at the shoulders of his worn-down leather vest, trying to feel him closer in any way you could. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, starting to leave hot, messy, kisses there before he sunk his teeth into your skin. You cried out at the sharp feeling, clawing at his back through the fabric of his clothes as his tongue lapped over the area, roughly sucking just to be sure it would leave a noticeable mark. A claim for anyone else who might be stupid enough to look at you to see.

"Y'had so much fight in ya when I was chasin' ya. I had fun huntin' ya like some lil' bunny. Look at y'now. Pathetic." He spat, dropping his hand to toy with the button of your jeans before finally undoing the fly to let it hang open.  You could see the smirk ghosting his lips as his eyes darkened before he started to speak again. You could practically see the plan forming in his head. "Since y'want me to fuck ya so badly maybe I should just leave ya out 'ere for bein' such a fuckin' brat before. Let ya find some other way to entertain yerself. Only good girls deserve to be bred."

"No, no, no - wait! You cried out clinging onto his shirt as he pulled back slightly, threatening to step away from you completely. If he walked away from you now without giving you what you wanted you might have actually collapsed to the ground and cried from the frustration. He was getting on this, the teasing, the making you beg, the wide-eyed desperate look you gave him, that much was obvious from the growing bulge in his pants. "I'm sorry - I'm sorry I just wanted to have some fun. I promise I'll be good now just stay please."

"Y'wanted fun huh?" He said grasping your jaw as he stepped closer, his face so close to yours now that his lips brushed yours as he spoke. He wouldn't kiss you, not now, it almost felt too intimate for his anger at this moment. No, he just wanted to tease you instead as you chased his lips. It was intoxicating, the heat of his breath against your skin and the faintest scent of cigarettes that always seemed to follow him. "Yer idea of fun involves annoyin' the shit outta me huh?"

You could feel your cheeks heating, painting your skin red under his intense stare and harsh words. Admittedly you did find simple joy in winding Daryl up at any chance you got. You knew you hadn't really upset him with the stunt you'd pulled today. If you had he would have dragged you back to camp the second he'd caught up to you and screamed at you until every walker in the state heard him. No, this anger, the biting words that made you crumble, this was his game. This was his teasing.

"Yer gonna take what I give ya and I don't wanna hear ya bitchin' 'bout it. Ya asked for this. Begged me actually." He warned, his voice low and dark as he dug his fingers into the side of your panties. In one swift moment, he had both your jeans and panties pulled down just past your knees, forcefully kicking your feet apart to give him the access he needed. "Do y'understand me?"

"Y-yes." You whimpered out, trying your best to angle your hips towards him needing anything you could get but he wasn't giving you anything until he decided you deserved it. He couldn't hold himself back much longer, something inside him snapping at the sight of you in front of him. With his hands now gone from your body you were using the tree behind you to support your already weak knees, your eyes screwed shut with your head resting against the bark of the tree while you waited for him to make his move, your legs spread apart for him with your clothes still hanging below your knees. The sight was vulgar and it made his cock twitch in his pants. 

"Look at that pretty lil' pussy, beggin' me to fuck ya 'til ya can't take it anymore." His hands were on his belt in a second, fumbling over himself as he finally gave into just how badly he needed this too. There was a desperate need to be inside of you clawing at his chest in a way he'd never felt before. This wasn't exactly the setting for getting entirely undressed, the risk of danger or having to run out here was far too high. Instead, he shoved his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock, his belt still hanging loosely around his waist. "Gonna make ya scream for it s'good they'll hear ya back at camp. Let 'em all know what a fuckin' cock drunk whore y'are for me."

"Daryl fuckin' hell I -" Your words trailed off into a high-pitched whine as he gave in to his overwhelming need to fuck you with no warning and no time to process, shoving his cock inside you and bottoming out with one swift, rough thrust. You brought your hands up and dug your nails into his shoulders feeling your muscles spasming around him, the sudden feeling of being so full boarding on almost painful as you adjusted to his size. "Fuck -" 

He didn't stop to let your body adjust like he usually would, there was nothing gentle about this. Instead, he pulled out until he was just barely inside you and then thrust back into you even rougher than before. He was setting a brutal pace that from the burn you could already feel you were sure would hurt in the morning, leaving you with a limp and bruises where his fingers grasped at your waist but you couldn't bring yourself to care. This is what you'd wanted. You wanted it rough, you wanted it to hurt and to wear the reminder of what he had done to you for days after.

 The pace he was setting was cruel, his hips snapping against yours in a way that already had you gasping for breath as if he was actually fucking the air from your lungs. His hands grasped at the hem of your shirt, not bothering to pull it over your head but instead tugging it up your chest enough to expose your breasts to his wandering hands and greedy eyes. He groped at your breasts rolling his palms over your nipples as he thrust into you. The feeling had you arching your back further into his touch, pulling your shirt up to catch it between your teeth to give him full access.

"Yer tits look fuckin' perfect for me. Pretty lil' view while I fuck ya, practically beggin' for my mouth 'round them. Want me suckin' on your tits while I breed ya huh?" You could almost hear his accent thickening with each word, that rasp taking over as he control of his words giving in and saying whatever came to his mind. His eyes were glued to your chest watching the way your breasts bounced with every thrust he made that forced you upwards. He didn't wait for a response from you, needing the feeling of your skin under his mouth which earned him a moan as he dropped his mouth to catch a nipple between his teeth.

The slight pain of his teeth dragging across your sensitive skin was drowned out by the pure pleasure coursing through your veins with every thrust of his hips and the feeling of his hand kneading at your other breast. His free hand found its way to the back of your thigh, groaning at the feeling of your soft skin between his fingers as he grasped at you, pulling your leg around his waist. He pulled it as high as he could with the restricting fabric of your clothes still hanging around your legs and the sudden change in angle had him hitting your g-spot on every thrust.

There was something completely animalistic about the noise he made as he pushed even deeper inside of you, something caught between a growl and a deep moan. You couldn't help your body's response when he got like this, the cry that crept up your throat as he gave into every, rough and wild thought he'd ever had about you. You tried to lift your hips, wanting to meet him thrust for thrust as the way his pubic bone ground against your clit drove you insane but it was all too much. His movements were too fast for you to match. You gave in, switching off your brain as you gave every ounce of power over to his demanding hands, falling limp against him while his nails bit into your skin where he grasped and groped at you.

 He buried his face into the crook of your neck once more, the smell of sex on your skin taking over his mind as his lips ghosted over the red mark on your neck that was already turning to shades of yellow and purple. You could feel every heavy pant and growl that he couldn't control against your heated skin, the sounds rumbling through your chest where he was pressed against you. He turned his attention back to your neck covering you in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. All teeth and tongue. It was like he couldn't focus enough to kiss you properly anymore, his mind so clouded by lust he was only able to give into that primal urge to feel. His lips moved against your skin, sucking roughly until he was sure you'd be covered in marks across your neck and shoulder. His marks. He pulled away watching with heavy eyes as the bruises started to form over your skin, your neck and his lips still coated with spit.

"Look at ya. All marked up for me. Y'like wearin' my fuckin' bite mark like a brand? Wanna show everyone who owns ya? Show 'em who fucked this pussy s'good ya let me claim ya? Too fucked out to even argue now aren't ya? Takin' my dick like a good lil' bitch." His words were a possessive growl now, barely even still audible. You weren't even sure if he was still talking to you directly or if he was simply giving into the urge to voice that you were his and nobody else's.

Not that he had to remind you who you belonged to. There had never been a single doubt in your mind about that from the minute you met him. No one else could bring you to this kind of high, could dominate you in every way you needed like he could. That man controlled every single one of your waking thoughts and you'd never hesitate to give him anything and everything he ever wanted. You were completely and utterly, his. You wouldn't have it any other way.

Daryl adjusted your weight in his arms as you felt him getting closer, his grip faltering as he struggled to keep his mind focused on keeping you both standing. Part of him thought about just dropping you to the ground, fucking you against the dirt. You could feel the bark of the tree digging into the skin of your back as he lifted you and you were sure you would have small scratched after it but as long as he kept doing what he was you couldn't bring yourself to care. The only thought left in your mind was your impending orgasm. You could feel it building, every nerve in your body lighting up, sensitive to any touch as that tension in your stomach built higher and higher. You felt Daryl's cock twitch inside you in response to a particularly high-pitched moan and you knew he wasn't far behind you.

"Daryl -" You gasped out trying to find the words to warn him of just how close you were getting but he was losing himself in the feeling, his rhyme faltering as his thrusts started to come faster and faster, more uncontrolled. His face nuzzled at your neck as his thrusts only seemed to grow rougher, taking you for everything you had. "Daryl I'm - ah fuck - I'm so close -"

"C'mon then, take what y'want Doll. Know how badly ya want it. Wanna feel ya cummin' on dick, let me feel that pussy squeezin' me 'til I cum in ya. Y'want that? Want my cum drippin' from ya when I'm done with ya? Let me use ya 'til I'm all spent huh? Imma ruin ya for anyone else. This pussy's all mine." You couldn't hold yourself back anymore at his words, screaming out his name until your voice was hoarse as the tension finally snapped. You were sure you drew the attention of anyone and anything for miles as your screams of his name echoed through the woods but you couldn't bring yourself to care, not with the feeling that was flooding your body. You clung to him as if your life depended on it, your arms wrapped around his neck as you buried your face in his chest when you couldn't take it anymore. He fucked you through your orgasm never once letting up his thrusts.

You ripped a moan from his throat as you clenched around his cock, your body still spasming from the force of your orgasm as you struggled to tell where it ended. He was following you down and you could tell from the harsh rise and fall of his chest as he used his full body to pin you up. His thrusts were becoming sloppy, his pelvis grinding against your clit sending you into overstimulation that had you whimpering as you weakly pawed at his chest trying to escape the feeling. With one final sharp thrust, he pushed himself as deep inside you as he could, brushing your cervix as his fingers flexed against your hips, holding onto you with everything he had.

"Fuckin' perfect tight pussy. God y'feel s'good takin' everything I have. S'pretty all fun and drippin' for me. Takin' all my cum." He panted out this voice breaking as you felt him twitch, finally spilling inside of you. He held himself there for a minute basking in the feeling of your body still slowly coming down around him while he held his cum inside you. He stepped back when he felt himself start to soften and took in the sight between your legs. His cum dripped down your already-soaked thighs and he brought his hand down, pushing his fingers through the mix of both of you before sliding them inside of you again. The feeling of him pushing past your already sensitive folds making you whimper. "Gone and made a fuckin' mess now look at ya. Complete fuckin' wreck."

"Just - just felt so good." You whimpered your eyes falling closed as your head tipped back, hiding the three behind you with a soft thud. You couldn't find the energy in you to move, completely spent and exhausted as you fought just to keep your legs steady underneath you as your knees threatened to give out entirely. You felt Daryl move towards you, carefully pulling your underwear and pants back up your legs before sliding an arm around your waist.

"Think y'can walk or do y'want me to carry ya?"

Taglist: @azanoni @ineedmorefanfics2 @natnoble4 @gutssoverrfearr @ivuravix @spookyspiderseb

[skadilothbrok]

Given The Chance - Chapter 2

In the two weeks that you’d been at the house integrating with the rest of the Ministry, you’d grown particularly fond of Marjorie, Anders and Freddy. Not that you disliked any of them but those three offered you the most entertainment, a certain tall Dane in particular.

“You’re not aiming high enough” the Dane in question commented from behind you.

“I’m aiming exactly the same place you did” you defended as you maintained your aim with the arrow.

“Yes, but you don’t draw back as far, so the arrow won’t have as much speed” he reasoned before moving to nudge your aim higher. Deciding not to argue with him, even as he watched you with that smug look, you loosed the arrow. Rather irritatingly, it was a direct hit, meaning you would have missed before his correction.

“You’re insufferable” you rolled your eyes at him as you handed his bow back to him.

“I believe you mean to say ‘thank you for the brilliant lessons Anders’” he did his best impression of you.

“I do not sound like that” you laughed as you started the walk to retrieve the arrow “and I was never a terrible shot to begin with”.

“I never said you were” he called over to you now that you about reached the arrow “I’m just much much better”. You knew he was right, but you also knew that you were stubborn.

“You’re so sure of your faultless aim?” you challenged. He nodded in response. In a moment of madness you leaned against the target, barely leaving the centre visible at your side of your head. You raised your eyebrows in challenge, and you watched him grin before he proceeded to notch an arrow in the bow.

What on earth were you doing this for? There wasn't a rational answer in your head. You held your position as he aimed and released the arrow seconds later. The arrow hit the target right beside your cheek.

“I can’t believe you didn’t move” Anders shouted in disbelief as he jogged over to you.

“I was assured the archer had faultless aim” you shrugged as you finally moved to pull the arrow free of the target.

“What the bloody hell are you pair doing?” Appleyard appeared and made his way over to you both.

“Archery” you deadpanned.

“I just saw this giant aim for your head” he argued back.

“I was never aiming for her head” Anders defended “it would be such a waste of a pretty face”.

You let out a laugh at that and Apple looked at you both like you were insane. “Why do I bother?” Apple shook his head in defeat before returning to the house.

“I have my throwing knives in my room” you suggested to Anders, too hyped up on adrenaline to finish yet.

“Are you inviting me to your room Y/n” Anders wiggled his eyebrows at you.

With a roll of your eyes you answered “I don’t know, you’ve been flirting with Freddy more than me lately”.

“Oh, so you’re one of those jealous types” he joked back.

“Absolutely” you replied, “I don’t share my toys”.

“Do I look like some toy to you?” he scoffed.

“I don't know" you smirked "you look like I could have some fun with you". With that you turned and headed back to the house, off to get your knives.

Since that archery session, you and Anders had really upped the flirting. The past few days you were sure that the rest of the team dreaded whenever the two of you were in the same room. Freddy had seemed relieved until you had begun throwing comments his way too.

“It’s like I’m being ganged up on” he shook his head as you and Anders sat with him in the common room.

“Oh, is that something you’re into Freddy?” you smirked.

“Lots of people enjoy sharing” Anders backed you up.

“You’re both tireless” Freddy answered.

“Oh, come on, now you’re just making it too easy” you laughed happily, quickly joined by Anders. Freddy gave up entirely and left the room at that point. “Alone at last” you quickly rediverted your flirtations to Anders.

“We have plenty of time alone” he shot back “because you’re always on my mind”.

“Is that so?” you leaned forward in your chair “and just what is it that you think about me?” He grinned wolfishly at your comment and you actually felt your heart jump a little at the sight. You were certainly playing with fire with this whole flirting business.

“I’m not sure there are words to describe some of the more interesting thoughts” Anders doubled down, also leaning forward in his chair “they simply have to be experienced”.

“Perhaps you’re just struggling to find the right words in English, should I fetch a dictionary?” you stood to make a move to the bookshelves along the far wall but a hand on your wrist held you in place.

 “You have no idea what I’d do to you given the chance woman”. The Danish left his lips and you had to fight the victorious smile that wanted to appear on your face. He had no idea you spoke Danish perfectly well.

Moving around the back of his chair, you ran your hand up along his arms before leaning down to speak into his ear “and what if that chance were to appear before you” you whispered to him in perfect Danish and felt him tense up. You completed your circuit of his chair and came back round to the front of him.

The look in his eyes was more heated than you’d ever seen him. He seemed to think for a moment longer before his hands found your hips and pulled you down to straddle his hips. Your lips met in a passionate clash soon after.

You took the opportunity to explore his glorious body, running your hand beneath the hem of his shirt. The other tangled at the base of his hairline, gently tugging. A low growl escaped his lips, and you grinned wide as you pulled back from his mouth. “I think it’s time for you to show me some of those interesting thoughts of yours” you told him.

“It would be my absolute pleasure” he answered before lifting you up and heading for the stairs.

[lanitalay]

Before I Say Goodnight

Chapter 19

a/n: AAAAAH only one more chapter left after this one. Let me tell you this has been such a wonderful experience. I feel more confident in my writing and my story telling I hope everyone who has read this has had a fun time escaping reality with me.

warnings: canon typical violence

word count: 5.1k

Other Chapters

He had made a complete disaster of his Inner Circle and had jeopardized all of Prythian because of the prophecy Amren had found. In his mind it had all been justified. A threat, a mole, an usurper was living amongst his beloved family, charming them, manipulating them. He knew better than to underestimate a human girl with nothing to lose. He had fallen in love with a similar renegade and it had made him love Feyre even more. But this girl… she was not his mate. She was not his subject. She was not his. She would be his destruction if he didn’t act carefully. She was wild, untethered and untested. Now, she was gone. Feyre roars at him from across their bedroom “how could you be so cruel? He is your brother and she has done nothing to any of us”. He had been trying to explain the prophecy but she rolled her eyes “you are not thinking clearly Rhysand. You have been lying to me. Hiding things from me for mother knows how long because of a supposed prophecy?” Blood roared in his ears “I have told you that I, we, will bow before no one. Let alone a rogue queen. If she’s gone we are better for it”. He catches a book Feyre throws his way “what about the rest of the courts? What about not telling me about any of this? What about the Human Lands? What about all the lives that will be lost because you refused to believe Azriel?” He had never seen her disappointment thrown his way. He felt small under her stare. She had never been so mad at her mate. So confused about all of his decisions and erratic behavior in the last months. “I’m going to call a meeting with the High Lords to warn them. I expect you to be there and cooperate” with that she walked out of the room and made a point of slamming the door. 

She wanted to throw more things at him for being so nearsighted and stupid. Rhysand had always been proud and protective of what was his but it was those instincts that made him blind. 

You shudder as you pour the freezing water over your head. Vallahan was nearly as cold as Velaris and the inn you had found did not have plumbing or the capabilities to boil buckets of water. But you had been a stowaway for days and a bath, however uncomfortable, was extremely necessary. Especially if you wanted to sneak into the courtly scene Mor certainly frequented. You had brought some money. Azriel had told you where he kept an emergency fund in the house and you had some savings from working with Jolly. If you were to find Mor tonight, you had a few things to get done before nightfall. Rinse off the last of the soap, pat yourself dry, get dressed in the change of clothes you had brought. It was a simple outfit, nothing to draw attention to you. But you cleaned up nicely. Thick locks framing your newly ephemeral face. It was still an adjustment to see yourself in the mirror. Your eyes looked like your eyes but they were brighter, glittering. The pointed ears that peeked through your hair. Your cheekbones that had shifted slightly when your body had turned fae. The scars, now faint white lines, that adorned your chest. Those were the toughest to look at. You put on a thick scarf and step out of the room for the next part in your hasty plan.

“Silver suits you, my lady” the female at the shop tells you and you really can’t disagree. The coolness of the color enhances your complexion and the reflective nature of the fabric catches the light in such a way that you look like a star incarnate. “Thank you, I’ll take it” she claps a little and says “I suspect you’ll be attending the ball tonight?” Bingo. “Yes, I was in tears this morning when my sister spilled tea on the gown I had prepared. Lucky I found this one” you step into the changing room and strip the dress off. When you emerge the shopkeeper is waiting by the till. When she tells you the total you nearly yelp. It was expensive. But it was exquisite and you needed to get in, no questions asked. So you hand her the gold coins and return to the inn as fast as possible. There was a ball. You had scouted the city the first few hours after being kicked off the ship and quickly spotted the wealthy district. It was more of a street, full of enormous mansions that lined up all the way to golden palace gates. If you had to guess, that was where Mor was staying and hopefully where the ball was. If you were wrong then… then you’d go South and find Azriel by any means necessary. 

You spent the rest of the day getting ready. Putting on cosmetics and fixing your hair until you look like a doll. You had to play your strengths, and beauty was one of them. Once the dress is on you stand in front of the mirror and make sure not one hair is out of place. It really is a gorgeous gown. You run your hands over the metallic material. Once satisfied with the outcome you put on your freshly laundered cloak and make your way out. 

The first part of the plan was finding a carriage.

 They were all over the city and your best bet to get into the palace without raising any flags. You walk towards the wealthy district and a few blocks away you see your mark. He’s a young male. Younger than any of the members of the Night Court. He looked boyish, naive, sheltered. He was dressed in a suit and he was so flustered you could see the blush burn his cheeks. A young girl stood next to him in a stunning gown. Hers was blue silk. It looked like the Northern Sea. Breathe. You had practiced as much as possible before getting caught on the ship. Breathe. You were on the street, under a crystal sky. It wasn’t anything like the Night Court. The stars stagnant. You close your eyes and feel for something to hold onto. You put your hands inside the cloak and clench your fists, feeling the pull of the atmosphere at your skin. It was still jarring. Lowering the barrier that kept you contained in your body and letting your magic flow from your pores. But the next steps were easier. A magnet. You condensed all of the humidity in the air to one heavy cloud right above your heads. Something in you said it was like turning on a faucet.  A simple swipe lets all of the water drip drop right onto the unwitting accomplices. You breathe again, returning to yourself in a gasp. “Where is the carriage?” You make a show of looking around in a panic. The front of your cloak is open, the glittering dress visible but covered from the elements. Bringing up the hood to cover your hair you let out a pitiful cry “this night is ruined”. The male was helping the female into their carriage when he heard the commotion coming from you. A sad sight. You look out of place in the dimly lit street. All dressed up with no one around. His heart clenches when he sees your face is wet and he can’t tell if it's from the rain or from tears. But you’re clearly going to the same place he is so he runs over to you “are you going to the ball?” He asks over the increasing rain “I was supposed to, but my betrothed hasn’t shown up with the carriage, if he doesn’t arrive soon my dress will be ruined” he felt bad for the abandoned lady. So he did not think twice when offering “come with us, we have plenty of room” he held out his hand for you to grab but you grabbed your skirts instead and walked beside him. Once in the carriage you breathed again, this time, to release the clouds you had taken hostage. 

When you arrived at the palace you quickly took off your cloak and made sure you were seen. You made a fuss about thanking the young male that had offered you his help and even promised him a dance once inside. You needed her to see you. Once inside the palace you went about visiting every room available to the revelers, always keeping an ear out for a familiar sultry laugh. So when you hear high heels slam on polished floors and the voice you so desperately wanted to hear say “I apologize, your grace, but my cousin has called me back for an emergency. I will be back when everything is settled…. No, he did not tell me what was the matter… Escorting me is unnecessary. I know my way around…” You want to run up and hug her. The first familiar face you’ve seen in days. But you walk a few feet behind her and the queen until she goes into the residential wing of the castle and the queen returns to the ballrooms. 

“Mor-” she whirls around and shoves you against the wall. Eyes wide in horror when she recognizes you. “What the hell are you doing here y/n?” She lets go and scans you from head to toe “we need to talk, somewhere private” nodding, she grabs your arm and walks you down winding corridors. 

“Spill it” you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I need your help getting Azriel out of Koschei’s lake” her jaw slackens and you can almost feel her heart stop at your words “is that why Rhysand called me back?” You shrug “Maybe, I don’t know” she arches a sharp brow “did something happen?” You nod “a lot has been going on while you’ve been away” Mor motions for you to go on “well, as you probably know Rhysand does not like me and this wasn’t really cause for concern until I electrocuted Eris. It turns out I have powers and they could be dangerous. So Azriel was covering for me, keeping him off my back. Then Azriel got word that Koschei was planning an invasion and when he told Rhysand he sent him to confirm the news. Azriel said that he would be back in a week, that if he wasn’t it was because something was wrong and that I should flee Velaris. He knows war is imminent and he wanted me to get out before it broke out. I stowed away on a ship that landed me here. It was a gamble to try and find you but I can’t rescue him on my own. He needs help, Mor.” She lets out a string of foul curses. Even you were offended and you had just spent days over hearing conversations between sailors. “I suppose Rhysand suspects you have powers?” A nod “Is he preparing for the invasion?” “I’m not sure, I went to him for help before I left but he didn’t say anything other than to stay out of it”. Mor curses. There wasn’t much of a decision to be made between rescuing her lifelong friend and defender and answering a call from her cousin across the sea “Ok, let’s go get Azriel”. 

Eris did not bother with pleasantries when Feyre contacted him. He was days into strategizing and meeting with the other High Lords trying to prepare for an attack they knew was imminent. “I apologize if I am crass but we have no time to waste since Rhysand neglected to inform us about Koschei” Feyre looked a mixture of embarrassed and relieved “I should be the one apologizing, Rhysand should apologize as well. But I am glad you found out and did not hesitate to mobilize”. Most of the villages had been evacuated to the westernmost parts of Velaris. The armies from each court had been warned and were ready for battle. Eris had done so much in just a few days. 

While removing  your gowns and putting on fighting leathers you ask Mor about your lover's captor. You were regretting never going to train with Cassian or Nesta or Azriel. Your little blades more of a hazard then an asset in unskilled hands. 

“So what’s the deal with Koschei? I know he’s powerful enough to curse Vassa and that he wants more power but I don’t know what to expect?

She takes a long inhale “You did not think this through at all?” You sort of had, but doing research on a boat wasn’t possible and up until a week ago Koschei was just an abstract villain from your friends' pasts. So you shrug. Mor sighs “Well, for starters he is one of three immensely powerful siblings. He is the only one that's alive though, the other two died during the war against Hybern. Let’s see… He is not from this realm, the three of them arrived here before Prythian was even a thing. He is an ancient thing. The Fae call him a death god because he feeds off life itself and I’m not sure how true this is but they say his soul is kept separate from his body and that makes him nearly impossible to kill because he keeps his soul hidden away somewhere safe. 

You couldn’t help but notice the similarities in the facts. He was from a different dimension, so were you. His soul could be detached from his body, in a way, so could yours. 

He was on a small platform in the middle of a crystal clear lake. He had been here for a week? Maybe two? He couldn’t really tell. The days had started to blend in together. He was sick. He was starving. He was a goner. It was sad to think that this would be his end. 

He was in the woods that surrounded the lake waiting to see the evidence of what his spies had told him when a snake bit through his leathers and knocked him unconscious. He woke up when two sentinels were carrying him through the woods, the large green and yellow snake warped around him. The weight of it nearly suffocated him. The males walked for hours until they arrived at a large cabin facing a lake. Azriel’s stomach twisted with knowing. When they threw up on the floor of the cabin in a heap he struggled to breathe. Then slow, steady steps paralyzed him. He couldn’t move his head to look around but from where he was on the floor he could tell that the cabin was a place of luxury and opulence. Shiny hardwood floors pressed against his temple. Intricate carved furniture cluttered the space. Large open windows allowed for a freezing breeze to flow through the space and a large stone hearth housed an angry crackling fire. His shadows told him that the male approaching had white hair and dark eyes. He struggled against his restraint. The snake crushed him a little more. 

“Finally caught the pesky shadowsinger that has been breathing down my neck all these months” a hoarse voice boomed through the room. It bounced off the walls and Azriel felt his ears bleed. “It’s rare we get new visitors along these parts, most fae know to stay away” the steps near until he was right next to Azriel, his face hovering over him. The hair was long and stringy. Eyes not just dark, but black. Void.

“You are not who I was expecting, but a lucky surprise” with a nod the snake tightens its grip until Azriel’s world goes dark again. The next time he opened his eyes he was here. Someone would throw his bread every couple of days and he would drink rain water he caught in his hands. But the last few days all of the sentinels had been sent to Prythian. Leaving him alone with Koschei and blurry creatures that swam below. The water was so clear he could see thousands of skeletons lining the bottom of the lake. If he did not figure a way out, he would be joining the underwater grave soon. 

Mor winnowed South. It was still dark out. The sun due to rise in a few short hours. You had devised a plan… of sorts. You were sitting against a tree and she stood in front of you, guarding. You close your eyes and breathe. Just like before the barriers lower and you spill into the misty night. Like a fog you roll through the forest and over the lake. You feel his presence before you visualize him. But before you know it there he is. In the middle of the lake. A heap on a platform. Wings tucked into his back, rigid with tension, ankles chained. You see the cabin. Feel immense energy. There are a million creatures in this small little lake. Insects, woodland animals, strange beings you had never seen. They were all scared, beaten and broken down. Even the worms felt pathetic in the way that only someone shoved into the wrong vessel felt pathetic. 

You return to your body and your eyes water at the image of Azriel, captured but whole. He was intact. “He’s alive, Mor”. She turns to face you and you can see relief wash over her face. “Thank the Mother, what else did you see?” 

“He’s in the middle of the lake, floating. His ankles are chained. There is a cabin where Koschei is, I felt his energy. And I think every single one of the creatures in this place is cursed to their current form” 

“So what do you want to do?” 

“I think I could move the platform towards the shore and then you can winnow him away, we can figure out how to break the chain after”. Mor nodded in agreement. “Are you going to stay here?” 

“Yes, just winnow back here and then the three of us can get away” 

She disappeared before your eyes. Eyes closed. One breath. Walls down. Weave through the forest. Spot Mor in the shadow of the large tree. Condense yourself into water. Drop in the lake. See the bones and the anchor keeping the platform in place. Gather more energy. Zap the tether. Become wind. Lead him to the shore. See Mor approach. See him stir. She held out her hand, reaching. See her grab his hand and… and nothing. He’s awake now, a horrified look on his face. Mor looks upset too. She grabs his other hand now. They remain in place. You feel their energy. You hear their conversation  “what are you doing here?” 

“Getting you out, dumbass” 

“You should leave, the shackles are probably spelled”

“I can’t leave without you” 

“You have too, he’ll know you’re here and if he traps you too then what?”

Become a cloud. Envelope your friends. Protect them from prying eyes. Harness, attract,  and grab energy. Release a bolt of lightning straight to the chain. Hear their loud curses. Muffle them with heavy rain. See him move his legs. Chains intact. Feel a call. A pull from the cabin. Return to your body. Shiver and shake, cry and wail. 

You stand on unsteady ground and walk. Reach your friends. 

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Mor steps away from Azriel as you approach him. He was here. He was real. He was cold and wet from the rain. His brows furrowed. His throat bobbed. His eyes wild. 

“Az… I’m sorry” you can’t think of anything else to say when he’s looking at you like you’re crazy.

“Get out, both of you. Leave now” you shake your head and kneel on the platform with him. You hold his hands, bringing them to your lips. Place kisses on his knuckles and whisper “you’ll be free soon”. He shakes his head “y/n, please, you have to leave. Go North remember? Please-” his voice was raw from disuse. “No one can get that iron off you, Az. I won’t leave you here to waste away” 

“What are you saying?”

“He left you here so I would see you. He’s expecting me” it's something you can feel in the air. His power mingled with yours. Calling you toward the cabin. “No- no, Mor, winnow away. Leave right now, please- I-” 

“It’s alright, you don’t have to worry” you move your hands to his face and move his hair away from his eyes. “It’s just what has to happen right now” he closes the distance between you in a desperate kiss. A kiss that said “I missed you” “I love you” “You’re insane” “Don’t leave me”. You pull away “I’ll be back Azriel, I promise I’ll find you when I’m done here”. Burning in your ribs sealed the deal. 

Wipe the tears from his cheeks. Kiss him again. Tell Mor to wait until he’s freed to winnow away. Hug her. Walk towards the cabin. See that the door is open. Go inside. Black, depthless eyes meet yours. Too white teeth in a glaring smile. White stringy hair. Smooth, poreless skin. Small, dainty nose. He looked like a doll possessed by a demon. Your skin crawls.

“I have been waiting for you, magnificent creature” 

“I’m here, let Azriel go” 

“He can go if you stay” 

“I know” 

Koschei walked toward a small table and sat in one of the two chairs. He motioned for you to sit in the other one. 

“I am pleased to host you in my home” 

“I can’t say I’m pleased at all”

“Getting you here took so much longer than expected. See, I am limited in terms of mobility and have had to delegate most tasks to power hungry brutes”  you tilt your head, questioning. 

“I suppose no one has told you that your arrival to this realm was written in the stars long ago?” You say nothing. 

“Let me explain. Most things happen by chance. But some things happen to be destined. You, my dear, are the latter.” He pushes an ancient looking script your way “The realm will bow to  the queen with no crown. The one who traveled the longest distance,through space and time. The one who brought great danger. She will be created by fate, magic, earth, wind, fire and water. A keeper of lightning. Master of storms. Calm oceans will turn tempestuous at her will. In time, all will bow to the queen with no crown.”

You read it. Again and again. 

“Understand now?” Shake your head. No. 

“The autumn lord was supposed to deliver you to me alongside Galgollem but he got himself  and the monster killed instead” Koschei said with a casual roll of his dead eyes. “My dear, you and I together possess more power than anyone else in the entire realm. I am bound to this lake. But you are as free as the wind. As strong as steel. Be my queen. My equal”. You are free. He said you are free. What good would it be if his puppet was also bound to the lake if his true motives were conquest? 

“Are you the king of anything?” low chuckle.

“I am a God of Death”

“And I am Queen of the Realm, destined by the Mother herself, according to this”. You shove the paper back towards him.  He bristles.  You feel yourself getting agitated. Close your eyes. Breathe. See Azriel and Mor still at the edge of the lake. Return. 

“Let. Azriel. Go” 

“Be my queen and he’s free”  

In that moment you knew. You understood his need for you. To align himself with who he thought was his counterpart. But he did not see that your freedom, your wildness was inherent. It was carved in your bones. He wanted to hold you captive. Send you away on his behalf. Conquer far away lands, oceans and winds. Be his hostage. Nothing more than a marionette. You feel the buzzing, no longer dormant. No longer controlled by concentration and breathing exercises. 

See his face shift from nonchalant to tense. Know your eyes are telling him he’s in trouble. Close them. See Azriel and Mor still in the lake. Open them. See his mouth moving. The drumming doesn’t let you hear a word. 

You lose it. 

He doesn’t understand your power. 

He thinks he can tame you. 

Stand from your chair, walk to him. See him lean back. Reach for his neck. Unleash yourself. Bright white fills the room. Feel Koschei sizzling and crackling in your hands. The energy too much for his vessel to bear. 

The wind is knocked from your lungs when he pushes you away. You fly through the air, smash through the glass windows and land in the lake. Your body sinks. Close your eyes. See Azriel screaming and pulling at his shackles. Mor beside him, horrified. Gather wind and force Koschei into the lake as well. He’s pushed in by a gust that blows away all of the windows. Return to your body. See him trying to swim away. Become water and pull him down. Down. Down. 

The troops are formed in an impenetrable line. His eyes in the skies warned that there were ships arriving from the East. They were as ready as they could be. The Ilirians and Peregrins were launching into the sky with fae bane arrows. The rest were waiting for them to make landfall. All of the High Lords were with their respective armies. Even Tamlin had scrounged up a few warriors from Spring, thanks to Lucien. Rhysand and Feyre were leading the charge for Night,  beside them Nesta and Cassian. Most of their Inner Circle was notably missing. Eris cursed Koschei, he cursed Rhysand and he cursed the Gods for putting him in this situation again. He hated war. Absolutely despised the bloodshed and fighting. He was very skilled in combat, he had to be as  High Lord. But he would choose verbal warfare a million times over than this. Standing in a field, alongside Death. Souls waiting to be claimed. 

They came into view now. Arrows fell from the sky. 

His soul is separate from his body. He is struggling against currents that bring him right to your arms. Hands wrap around his neck again. Creatures you can’t see biting and pulling you apart. Above you, in the sky, a black cloud forms. Azriel’s skin is raw and red around his ankles. The static in the air is palpable. Koschei is fighting you, still. His minions clawing along your skin. You know the shock angered him. Hurt him. 

In your body and out of it at the same time. In the sky and the water. You squeeze his neck feeling his airway close. All it took was one thought and the cloud unleashes everything it has on the lake. Azriel screams. Mor jumps out of the water as bolts of lightning pour from the sky. A curtain of light. You feel a comforting tingle on your skin and know your plan works as the creatures pulling at you go belly up and Koschei convulses in your grasp. His body was not made of lightning. Horrible eyes bulge, neck twists in a way it should not be able to. You call off the cloud. His body sags in your hold, deformed by pain. This is only his vessel. 

The ships are nearing. The air squad firing all the have. Eris can tell no one in that ship has fallen. In short minutes they’ll be on the shore. 

The water brings you to the surface. His limp body in your hands. The current carries you to the shore and you bring his body onto dry land. 

Azriel is pale, nauseous and lightheaded. He swears his heart has stopped and started at least a thousand times. No worse torture than seeing her in danger not being able to do anything about it. But she’s there. Right in front of him. Dragging Koschei’s body across the sand. 

You collapse. Exhausted and drained. But his soul… His essence was still somewhere.

Close your eyes. Pour into the atmosphere. Let yourself feel. The call of his soul was coming from the cabin. It was in there somewhere and you would destroy it. Rage clouding everything. Nothing but his end would make you stop.

He had never seen her eyes like that. They were misty. White light pouring out. She looked so different from the person he knew. Her humanity, her softness vanished. Hair wild and stuck to her face, neck and back. He could see fast healing wounds peeking from the gashes in her clothes. A tornado. Lady Tempest. 

Her movements were precise. She stood and turned. Walking calmly to the cabin. 

The inside was destroyed from the shattered windows and rain pouring in from the chaos outside. His foul energy was concentrated deeper in the house. 

Open a door. Walk down spiraled stairs. Gag. It was disgusting. There was an iron door. Go to open it. Flinch. Send a bolt towards it. Walk through the hole. Dark room. Small box. The vibrations from his soul make you feel ill. Open the box. A smooth white bone lays on a velvet cushion. Walk outside. 

When the ships made landfall the soldiers within them descended on the shores of Prythrian. Running at full speed towards them. Not a single casualty from the arrows. Their army whole.  Eris braces himself, adjusting his grip on his sword and shield. The small dots becoming full sized soldiers in short seconds. 

Hold the bone. Close your fist around it. Breathe. I’m so tired. Breathe again. This being, Koschei, has caused so much suffering for so many people. For people you love. He wants power. He wants war. He wants you to do his dirty work. Just like that the buzzing is back. Squeeze your fist until it hurts. See white light flash between your fingers. Open your fist. Acrid ash is now where bone used to be. Scatter it on a phantom breeze. Return to his body. Drag it to the cabin. Put it in the hearth. Set it ablaze. 

The soldiers that were nearing vanished. The ships disappeared. Eris remained tense. 

This had to be a trick. 

The sound of fire crackling brings you out of your frenzy. What did I do? How could I do all of that? You had brutalized him. Killed him in such a personal way it scared you. Sitting on the wet floor you look at anywhere but the fire. You flinch when you hear footsteps and see Azriel standing in the doorway. You stand and run to him. He wraps his arms around you fully “we should go”. You pull away and walk outside. Mor is standing there, soaked. “Are you ready?” You nod and grab her hand. She winnows to a room you’d never been. 

“Make yourselves comfortable, I’m going to grab a drink and pass out”.

a/n: I hope a lot of questions were answered!!!!!! thank you for reading loves <3

taglist: @luvmoo @leeknows-wife@nocasdatsgay@mybestfriendmademe@evylynny