#It was intended to be more serene at first

[mikeyisbrooklyn]

Kept ya waiting, huh? Miss me?

Hoo boy, I think this is longer than both parts prior, at least it felt longer. (Speaking of, read both parts here: 1 2)

Feels good to get back to writing (three week sudden hiatus who? not me, haha please laugh). But with that said, let’s skip the foreplay and get straight to it, yeah?

Tags: @on-a-lucky-tide @etanesnil @jgvfhl @roachs-pet-roach

CW: mentions of sex (oral and anal) and gym injuries

Enjoy!

Why We Can’t Have Nice Things (3)

Eight weeks came and went, and unfortunately for Price, mind-numbingly so. In the first week, after enough grinning and bearing it and letting Nik pamper him (Price did not have to force himself to accept the expensive as hell cigars and whiskey), the pilot finally stopped hovering around him like he was a porcelain doll centimeters from the ledge. Weeks two and three consisted of what Price could only call tooth-rotting domesticity. The only meals Nik didn’t home make, were five coursers he had some American bloke fly in to make from them. There was more than a few instances of near quiet between Price and Nik—filled only by ambient sounds from inside the house like water flowing through pipes and outside like chirping birds and light winds—that never veered towards awkward, only peaceful. One morning, Price was (forcibly) carried to a beautiful garden out back where he lit up while Nik read, leading to Price resting his head onto Nik’s shoulder with Nik’s free hand idly carding through his hair.

The serenity of the moment was almost enough to convince Price it was a good thing he wasn’t back in his office working to catch the slippery bastard that evaded them, without nearly getting himself and his men killed this time. The peace almost made him forget that if he hadn’t fucked up so colossally, Nik wouldn’t have to be benched and wouldn’t have to be subtly checking him every other second like he was waiting for Price to keel over. The sappy romance of it all almost made him believe he deserved things so easy and pure.

Almost.

For all the endearing sincerity of the domestic moments, there were more than a few…erotic ones that Price was more than willing to allow as distractions. When a gaggle of men came by for landscaping, one tall, fit lad—a man with skin smooth as marble the shade of mahogany and half Price’s age—had taken off his shirt in the heat, revealing abs Price couldn’t have even dreamed of at his best. It caught Price’s eye from the window, of course, and though he knew he couldn’t be less interested, some people are impossible to look away from. Nik also noticed the man, but more so, he noticed how the man winked at Price once he had been staring for longer than 30 full seconds. When the Russian went outside, Price was half afraid (and half turned on) that Nik would break the lad’s jaw. Instead, he took off his own top and got to work with the law men. It’s not as if Price had anything else to do but even if he did, he was fully glued to the window by this point, forgetting all else but the powerful body obviously showing off for him. Price was all but literally drooling and knew exactly where he wanted to quench his thirst.

Later that night Nik was more than willing to give Price what he needed. There was never a question, but Price himself was more than willing to ensure Nik who he belonged to if the way he screamed his name was any indicator. Though, frustratingly, even sex couldn’t entirely distract Price from the war in his head as he could tell Nik was much gentler with him physically due to his leg. Nik valiantly attempted to mask it as another way to pamper Price but he could feel the restraint.

He didn’t intend it to, but it made Price pull away from Nik—not literally, the jaws of life couldn’t pry him away from that warm, fuzzy chest—it didn’t feel right to encourage Nik’s coddling of him. The pilot clearly meant no harm, but Price could feel the strain he was putting on his partner. So, Price stayed quiet as they caught their breath and did his damndest to hurry to sleep, maybe then he wouldn’t be stressing Nik out so much.

Week four was when Price started going to physical therapy. Nik gave him what he thinks are words of encouragement on the first ride to the therapist’s office. It was sweet but if anything heightened Price’s nerves. If he didn’t do well in physical therapy, they would likely extend his leave. The thought shook him to his core.

In reality, PT was dreadfully uneventful. The first few sessions were simple joint and motor control exercises—swinging his leg and rolling his knee, that kind of stuff. There was, disappointingly, still some soreness and discomfort in many spots. It shouldn’t have disappointed Price, he knew he wasn’t gonna walk any time soon, but still, knowing he was crutch bound was annoying to say the least.

Weeks five and six saw real progress being made. With every PT session he felt more and more comfortable using his leg, though he still couldn’t stand on it and apply very much pressure at all, it was better than he was before. The therapist attributed it to the rest Price was getting more than the exercises but Price wouldn’t tell Nik that lest the Russian go full nurse on him again and never let him leave his bed.

Speaking of, even with Price’s steadily increasing mobility, Nik was not seeming to get any less vigilant. It’s like he was waiting on Price to fall at any given moment. Price wanted to believe the man was just over worrying out of concern but he knew what Nik knew—that Price was a liability now—so he only went above and beyond in his exercises. Needed to prove him wrong. Needed to get better. If he hurt himself a little then no one had to know, especially as he mastered hiding his winces.

Week seven saw Price getting beyond antsy; as besides physical therapy, he had not left the house in weeks. Normally without work to focus on, he could go fishing, hit a pub, or hit a gym. Though right this instant, he knew he needed more physical activity than fishing could offer and he had ample liquor at his disposal thanks to Nik and still needed to get out of the damn house; so, gym it was. Nik initially wasn’t fully convinced it was a good idea, even after Price promised to stay light on his leg like the physical therapist ordered and focus his arms and chest. But Price did remember his mum joking with her friends about the three ways to a man’s heart—so after a full dinner, half a bottle of vodka, and a few minutes with his head between Nik’s legs, Price had managed to crack the Russian.

The gym was thus far the only thing to get him out of his head and keep him out. Something about the burn of each muscle as he worked it gave him something to hone in on. It certainly helped when Nik would join him and give him a sight to see. Watching the Russian throw weight around didn’t just give Price a problem in his joggers, but it was nice to see that Nik was still, well, Nik.

The Nik strong enough to hop out of his heli to help Price carry men too wounded to walk on their own was the same Nik repping 50kg bicep curls like it was nothing. The Nik so ready for anything he brought bags to dispose of bodies in an alley before Price had even asked was the same Nik that had his bag packed with spare clothes and protein bars and their water bottles already filled for the gym this morning before Price left the bed. The Nik who got the perfect arsenal fit just for Price like he could read his mind was the same Nik who not so subtly laid claim to a machine in the corner of the building, somewhere he knew Price wouldn’t be interrupted and could focus.

Seeing Nik still be Nik, even with Price crippled and burdensome as he was, felt like a pressure lifted off his ribcage—and he didn’t mean the barbell he was absentmindedly lifting off his chest. Maybe this is exactly what Price needed after all; to get out of his head, to see that he wasn’t some corruptive force, ruining his partner. Maybe he could just be a bloke who shattered his leg with a lover who jumped at the opportunity to care for him. The thought was…was nice. Maybe he could have this nice thi—

Price let out a strained yelp as the barbell came crashing down onto his chest. If he had been paying attention—or had a bloody spotter—he would’ve noticed his left wrist wobbling before it gave out. Guess he wasn’t as much out of his head as he thought. Luckily, he caught the weight before it fully crushed his torso but the sharp pain and winded sensation he felt confirmed that it was only just barely. Instinctively, Price rolled the weight to one side and ducked to the other, ending up arse over tea kettle next to the bench he had been on catching his breath with the bar rolling away.

At the sound, Nik turned and saw the state of Price—now flat on his back, eyes shut tight in pain and clutching his chest. “Chert voz’mi!” He threw the weight he was in the midst of lifting down and hurried over to Price’s prone form. “Mishka! Jonathan, what happened, are you alright?”

Price forced his eyes open and saw that wretched worry had made its way back onto Nik’s face. Price groaned and turned to roll over, whether in pain or embarrassment he wasn’t sure, but was stopped by two large warm hands on his shoulder.

“Nyet! Do not move!” Nik started feeling across Price’s body, clearly looking for wounds or blood. A large bruise was already forming in the space between his clavicle and left pectoral. “Blyat! I knew we should not have come here. I am no medic. Here, I will carry you to car, let a doctor see—“

“No!” Price stubbornly rolled away, forgetting about his still recovering leg and groaned in pain. Nik shouted his name and came over to him but Price kept his eyes screwed shut and stopped fighting, knowing that he looked more and more like a foolish brat or a stunted dunce rolling around on the gym floor with a fractured leg after nearly offing himself. The irony of this being the second time in as many months that his poor judgement was nearly his demise. No wonder Nik was looking at him like he was frail little thing as he scooped him into his arms.

There were a few worried gym goers and an attendee even offered to call an ambulance for Price, but Nik just held him tighter to his chest and waved them off as he carried Price and their bags back to the car. After carefully setting Price into the passenger seat and buckling him in, Nik took no time to buckle up himself and take off. Price finally turned over to look at Nik, the pilot visibly stressed.

“Nik, please, just—. ‘M fin—“

“You are NOT fine!” Nik yelled out a growl. Price’s eyes widened as he couldn’t recall the last time Nik had raised his voice at him, barring once in a club in Bosnia with speakers that apparently couldn’t be lowered under three thousand or so decibles. “You—you, I…” He was stuttering, and Price pretended he couldn’t see the way his lip quivered because there was no way he was actually seeing that—he would not believe it.

“Alright, ‘m not fine, yer right.” Price cut Nik off this time, “‘M all fuckin wrong but please don’t take me to the bloody doc. Please.” He put his hand on Nik’s forearm to get him to look him in the eye. Nik had a face between a kicked puppy and a rankled coyote.

Nik turned away and seemed to fight himself in his head before pulling off to the side of the road. “If I cannot take you to the hospital then who?”

“Who?”

“Who will care for you?” Nik looked at him like it was the most obvious thing. The Russian dragged a hand through his hair, “I know you do not like hospitals, that is why I took you in. Somewhere nice, or I had hoped. But you hate it there.”

“Nik, I don—“

“You do. You can not wait to leave it. And I understand, it does not suit you. So while there I try to distract you but you are always—your mind, it is elsewhere.”

“Nik—“

“Jonathan, I want to help but I am clearly not! You are hurt and I can do nothing but make it worse and I am sorry. Who—“ He took a deep, wet breath. “Who can I take you to that will take care of you better? Please tell me, rodnoy, I can handle it.”

Price hardly recognized the question. Too caught up on…on how wrecked Nik sounded, as if when the weight crashed on Price chest it was Nik that was crushed instead. Did…did Price make him feel this way? Fuck.

“Nik, I—fuck me…” Price rubbed his face with his hands as he let out a strained breath. “I— don’t think there’s anyone in the world who can take care of me, if ‘m honest.”

Nik became visibly more distressed at this. If there was ever a wrong thing to say to his emotionally devastated partner, count on John Price to find it. Price stuck a hand out before Nik could react.

“What I mean is—I’m not one to be cared for in the first place. You won’t find someone ‘better’ to care for me. So why don’t you just take a deep breath and take me back to the house, eh? You could ice my chest, check my leg—hell, even read me a bedtime story if you want.”

“That is—but you are not happy.”

“Of course ‘m not! I’ve been benched almost two months now! Never thought I’d miss paperwork this much. But it’s almost over, I’ve been counting the bloody days so I know it’s almost over. Then we’ll be back to normal.” I won’t be a damn burden anymore is what Price almost finished with.

“You counted th—right. Da, of course, you counted.” Nik let out a sigh. Frustratingly, Price could tell it wasn’t one of relief but he couldn’t tell what it was. “Okay. No hospital. But I will read you bedtime story.” And like that, he was back to normal.

Well, normal enough. Price could tell there was something there, but frankly, his chest hurt like hell and he’s all emotionally tuckered out, so he’ll look into it later if he needs to. “Knew I shouldn’t’a made that bedtime story joke.” Price grumbled but with no heat in his tone.

“Too late. As the sergeant would say, ‘no takesbacksies’.” Nik grinned to himself as he drove back onto the road. “Let me think, ah! Da, I know the perfect story: the Itsy Bitsy Spider.”

“Oh bloody hell!” Price groaned.

By week eight, Price was all but literally bouncing off the wall—only because if he were, it’d definitely fuck up his leg. Nik actually walked with him into hospital, not wanting to be a part after having to give Price space during the PT sessions. Sessions that Price got full marks on, much to his pride. Now it was just a matter of Dr. Omar giving a second approving opinion and final verdict. He felt like he was being court martial’d.

After a nurse kindly guided them to an empty room, Price sat in the bed—an uncharacteristic anxiety rolling off him. Nik next to him tighten his grip on Price’s hand and brought it to his lips.

“You will be fine, Mishka. Even if the good doctor advises more leave time, you will not die.”

Price dismissively harrumphed. “Agree to disagree.”

Dr. Omar didn’t keep them waiting too much longer. “Good morning, Captain Price, Mr. Nikolai.” She walked in clipboard in hand. Her tone was light and her face neutral; Price attempted to decipher if that was a good sign or not.

“Good morning, good doctor!” Nik greeted with a firm handshake.

“Mornin’ doc. Got good news for me?” Price cut straight to the point. He felt Nik tug on his hand, almost like a silent rebuke. Price did not acknowledge it.

“Always business with you, Captain.” She smiled, holding in a chuckle. “I understand, I can only imagine you’ve been itching to get back in the field.”

“More than you could ever know.”

“Well, then yes, I have good news.” She looked back at her clipboard. “According to this, you’ve been an excellent patient for the physical therapist.”

“You sound shocked. ‘Ave I been that bad a patient for you?” Price said, finally cracking a smirk of his own.

“It’d be unethical to lie to you and unprofessional to answer that question the way I’d like so I’ll plead the fifth, Captain.

At that, Nik got a hearty chuckle and even Price approved the cheeky shot with a soft laugh.

“As I was saying, the physical therapy seems to have gone well. I’m glad you took your recovery so seriously. I’ll ask you, how are you feeling, Captain Price?”

Price took in a breath debating saying what he thought would get him the result he wanted but thought better of it. For all he knew that would backfire immediately. Interestingly, on top of Dr. Omar’s eyes, he felt a pair of deep browns burning holes in the side of his head without even turning to see them. Sighing, “I feel fine. Some days have been better than others and there’s soreness here and there. As much as I’d like to be in tip top shape, I know I’ve still got a way to go ‘til 100%, doc.”

Dr. Omar smiled. “I appreciate the honesty, Captain, and based on what I’m reading, I’m inclined to agree.”

A hand grasp and release of breath to his right that Price is sure was done subconsciously confirmed that Nik shared a similar sentiment.

“Knowing what I know about your field of work, your medical history, the state of recovery, your age,” Dr. Omar continued, pausing at Price’s disgruntled grunt at the reference to his age, “you know it’s a factor like any other, Captain, don’t shoot the messenger. Anyway, I think you’re clear to go back to light work. Nothing extensive, definitely nothing in the battlefield—“

“Desk duty.” Price summarized for her.

“Desk duty.” Dr. Omar confirmed with a nod. “But it is me allowing you back as soon as you’d like.”

“That would be now.” Nik half-joked.

“Well, then don’t let me stop you! Let me get you some reading material and see what alterations or additions need to be made to your prescriptions and then get you outta here, Captain!” With that, she handed Price a thin packet and left the room.

Price sighed in relief. Nik moved his hand to Price’s shoulder and brought him into a side hug before lowering his lips to Price’s temple. In Nik’s arms, knowing he was minutes from medical freedom—sorta, Price felt for the first time in two months some semblance of normal. Though, he could tell that Nik’s grip around him still had the same tension as before, as if he thought Price would slip from his grasp. It was a reminder that he couldn’t get comfortable yet, couldn’t let his guard down. He knew that the moment he did, he’d do something to fuck it all up again. He wouldn’t let himself, not after the shitshow that was the last eight weeks, and all the stress he put Nik through.

Price would make it right. He’d get better, he’d be a liability no longer. He had to.

[extreme-neutral]

Merry Christmas @idlenight !! 🎄🎁

Ever since I saw it, that wip of yours wouldn't leave my mind, so I made a pixel animation of it as a Secret Santa gift. 🎅

Something about River and water themes, FHR and fish tanks themes and the overall calmness of the scene just wouldn't let me go.

Hope you enjoy! Cheers! 🥂

[afewfantasies]

🗡️ꜰᴇʏᴅ'ꜱ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ 🗡️ - I - Nightmares

MASTERLIST

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.8K

��ᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Feyd-Rautha X Reader

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: "Feyd-Rautha he's psychotic", at least thats what people say. Only, people forgot to add that your father's decided you were to marry. It's been over a decade and Feyd's committed to have the marriage and you with him as he ascends as heir and na-Baron of Geidi Prime.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: abduction, masterbation, voyeurism

🗡️ꜰᴇʏᴅ'ꜱ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ 🗡️

“Another one?” Your best friend and fellow Bene Gesserit sister asks as you wake in another cold sweat. Nodding you sit up in bed blinking through the darkness. Leia lights the lamp and a yellow glow shines into both of your faces. The first vision was a decade ago, you had been sleeping under the stars. Pale skin and a bald head. A large brute of a ban killed another. Then there was a boy clearly terrified but shaking with anger too. Black eyes, black teeth, pale skin, a temper. Year after year the visions became angrier, more psychopathic. Handing you materials Leia climbs into bed beside you and you begin your account of the vision.

“Will you tell the reverend mother?” She asks.

“Not yet” you confess ordering your thoughts and placing the coded message on the scroll. Leia watches in silence. This vision was in a black room probably on Geidi Prime. You were asleep on a larger black bed with four posts. You were asleep only to wake up to the black eyes looking down at you. He’d never spoken before but he’d said two words in the strangest grittiest words before. “You’re mine” unlike all the other dreams you felt him in the bed, felt the friction of him coming closer, felt his breath on your skin, the heat coming from his body.

“Are you alright?” Leia asks, handing me a glass of water.

“No” you confess as the two words haunt you. There’ve been all kinds of visions. Brutal murders, sick torture, murderous games with concubines, moments of tyrannical rage and now. Now he’d come for you. Stepping out of the bed you find solace in the coolness of the stone on your feet. Leia follows and you search your things for the herbs that dull your senses. It’s a necessity for sleep and reprieve. Since childhood you’d been careful not to share but as you’ve grown it’s only become clearer and clearer the subject of your dreams. He was tall, strong, angry, well off, psychotic and some would say handsome. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the na-Baron and your original betrothed.

“What is it?” Leia asks.

“He’s coming for me mother must teach me the way” you say against your training with fear and foreboding.

——-

Feyd’s earliest memories were of you, he’d been with his father on your home planet looking into your cradle. Your mother was beautiful and your father kind. You were peaceful and little and he’d held you in his arms. He felt protective and during the commitment ceremony he’d meant every word. As a second son your world was promised to him. Even as a child the differences between your two cultures were glaring to him. The freedom to play and be a child, the kindness of the people and you was something to look forward to. But then Rabanne had murdered his father, and his mother had been indifferent and after a few years it enraged him to no end. In a fit of anger he’d killed her. Even with all of his concubines he’d never felt as peaceful as he had with you in his arms as a child. He’d stopped a genocide in your home world looking for you only to find your mother’s kind eyes fearing for her life. He’d done right by sending her to a peaceful planet instead of taking her life. He learned you had been taken by the Bene Gesserit sisters which meant you could be anywhere. No matter where,  he intended to find you.His heart felt like a displaced magnet. Angrier still was the fact that he imagined you living a full life without him. Unbothered, not tortured by the distance as he was, happy and serene. Still he could not disclose his search to anyone in fear for your life. He would have to move carefully to keep his commitment to you.

 Another planet, stepping off the ship he’s given respect by the procession awaiting his arrival. His heart races; he knows your close. Sticking earplugs into his ears he applies the fasteners having his guards to the same. No one would use the voice on him today. He moves quickly spilling no blood. He can feel you. He’s getting warmer. He can feel it. Moving quickly he heads down into the belly of the academy moving quickly through the bunkers. His heart pulls as he passes an entryway stopping when he has a familiar sensation. Heart racing violently against his chest he stops Turing to face the steel door, he stops breathing allowing the violence of his heartbeat to reverberate through him like a war drum. Feyd-Rautha signals for his men to wait outside. Using the code scrambler he gets into the door. Hiding you hold your breath ducking down into the thick of your clothes, the sound of the alarms system’s failure are blaring. Fear racks through you as you try to keep calm remembering the Bene Gesserit mantras. Fear is the mind killer. The noise stops and you relax a little waiting for an announcement. Heavy boots hit the floor forcing you to freeze, the steps come closer stopping in front of the closet. Leis screeches and its muffled, trembling you contemplate your next move. The steps come closer and you see the door open, light filters in. You cover your mouth hoping for safety until a black eye meets yours.  Familiarity and horror paralyze you. Pale skin and a bald head. The face from your nightmares. Feed-Rautha Harkonnen. Pinching yourself you discover he’s finally free’d himself from your dreams and is now material. He steps in separating the close from around you leaving you crouched against the wall with no cover before sitting on your bed and watching you like he has all the time in the world.. His smirk is unsettling and it takes a moment before you stand feeling silly and all too vulnerable crouched in the deep closet.

“Get dressed” he croaks but you’re shaking like a leaf. Snarling he procures robes from the closet placing one over your head. The trembling intensifies. And he steps back feeling rejected. Leaving he has his men pack up your things and then there’s a barrage of people asking you all sorts of questions from what you like to wear and eat and do and it’s all so much. You’re loaded onto a Harkonnen ship and placed in a room alone. Looking through the window you gaze into space. When a few hours have passed you hear the door open and know it’s him before it closes. He takes a seat in his leather robes. You turn to face the man who moves like a snake. He’s more terrifying in person than in your dreams. His eyes watch your every move drinking you in. Parting his lips and showing his black teeth.

“Are you comfortable?” His words come as a surprise. It’s the thing you’ve least expected. It takes a moment before you nod, trying not to be rude as you look around the room.

“Yes, thank you” you respond.

“We are heading to my home world. I understand you have different needs. The Mentats are sourcing food and clothes if there’s anything you need let them know” he explains sanely.

“Ok” you respond, your hands begin to shake again. You sit on them trying to hide the true fear you feel. House Harkonnen is known for many atrocities. 

“I’m sorry” you apologize, terrified and embarrassed.

“Do you know who I am?” He asks.

“A Harkonnen” you confess and his snake-like eyes look displeased.

“Do you know who I am to you?” He asks, forcing you to frown.

“Nothing” you respond only to regret it instantly. Feyd-Rautha takes a breath inflating his chest as he trembles with rage, the paleness of his skin flushing as searing anger bubbles to the forefront. He stands stepping back from you in fear of hurting you.

“My father and yours promised us to each other” his fierce voice cracks as he struggles for control. His terrifying blackened teeth make your eyes shut. He’d done terrible things to people, slight and then slash that's how it went. He was one with his knives and happy to use them. You wait for life to end, your breath to hutch and everything to fade into darkness but it doesn't happen. You hear boots hit the floor three times. Bravery, curiosity? Perhaps it was so quick and painless that this is purgatory? You open your eyes and see Feyd has given you more distance. He’s recalled his anger and he stands stoic, fierce and regal.

“Do you not remember?” He asks because that day had been so monumental to him.

“I had heard heard whispers but …” you trail considering the realities and the odds. Your visions, how you’ve been in hiding. Out of all the things they call him; liar isn’t one of them.You consider the possibilities and it comes to you. Your heart begins to race, you feel stinging in your thumb, like a pinprick. A commitment ceremony was held. The realization is dizzying. “You wish to be married?” You ask and he nods. “To me?” You specify and he nods again. “But I’m nobody from an extinct world. I’m not even a high ranking member of my order” you declare in truth.

“No, you will be na-Baroness Harkonnen” Feyd says, taking a step in your direction. He watches you try to make sense of it. He’d never considered your reaction to being found, he hadn't expected fear or reluctance. He expected your inherent trust in him for you to cling to him for support and comfort as you once did, for you to relish his touch and be most comfortable in his arms.

“na-Baroness” you whisper, looking up at him. Pride fills Feyd at the sound of the words coming from your lips, utter perfection.

“My wife” he rasps and somehow your fear seems unfounded. “I made a vow that I do not intend to break” Feyd says recalling you in his arms as a babe. Your eyes looking up at him without fear in your swaddling helpless, innocent, true and his. A knock at the door causes him to withdraw, he turns standing in front of you. The guard tries looking around to you until Feyd stomps a foot. The man averts his gaze telling Feyd your landing is imminent. Nodding he straightens his gown as he stands tall. Feyd-Rautha holds out a hand. You take it with a deep breath and it seems to amuse him. The heat of him feels familiar. “There will be a crowd, I will send you along in a pod” 

“With who?” You ask standing with him.

“My men” he specifies and it's unsatisfactory. Grabbing your head dress you place it on your head and move forward that way. You hold his hand he secures yours warmly walking at your side. You keep up with him and as the door descends you start to tremble. He stands in front of you as you try to overcome your fear. His eyes are reassuring, his strong hands gripping yours in solidarity. There's no weakness in him. He’s all strength, cunning, volatility, rage and psychopathy. His eyes urge you to get a grip but the roar of the welcome party is unnerving. Your fathers reign ended to a crowd. Soldiers came and there was shouting, there was cheering and you had no time to say goodbye before your mother put you into an escape pod with a scroll. You arrived at an outer planet to find out your father had been beheaded. It’s why you hate crowds to this day.

“Not today” he whispers motioning for someone to come get you. The roaring is violent and you follow them into a pod lighting up at the sight of Leia. The two of you embrace each other warmly. In moments you’ve deemed each other okay. The guards watch the two of you closely. Sitting beside her you take a moment to check the beauty mark on the inside of your thumb. It had been there as long as you could remember. You should be terrified by your current predicament, inadequate training, no  preparation, playing a part of an unsanctioned plot of sisterhood, at the mercy of perhaps the galaxy’s most unbalanced man. But he’d been nothing but reasonable thus far outside of your abduction. 

The cheers from the people are thunderous, they celebrate his return with conviction. Once outside the pods you become acquainted with the sprawling palace halls. Uneasiness fills you and your hand clasps Leia’s for comfort, something your guards eyes settle on. Saying nothing you follow behind him seeing a Mentat among your escort. You’re brought into a grand hall with a stately black stone table. Fresh colourful food is on one side while rare organic meat is on another, the sight of the bloody dishes and iron rich aroma sickens you and Leia.

“I wish to retire, I am exhausted” you declare unable to sit. The silent guard turns to you nodding. He motions for a Mentat to guide you and Leia to your quarters. You're separated from her after a long hug. Your room is far grander than your quarters at the academy. It has a familiar quality of the ones from your home world. The colours are less sterile, the hues less grey. Pulling open the drawers you find lush vibrant fabrics, the sort of robes you remember your mother wearing before the fall of your house. It's a strange thing. Turning you lean against the dresser puzzled by the days events and not nearly as scared as you should be.

Finished and energized by his warm reception Feyd-Rautha heads to the dining hall. He waits against the door when he hears no chatter. Bracing himself for anything he pushes open the doors to find the room empty with the exception of the Mentat and a few guards charged with your care.

“She wished to retire” the Mentat explains.

“Did she eat?” Fey’d asks.

“No” The Mentat responds. Feyd’s mood sours, settling into a rage, if it were anyone else he would have dragged them back out of the room, placed a collar around her neck and forced her to do as he pleased but it wasn't anyone, it was you. 

“Set the table in my quarters” he demands heading into his rooms. Undressing he removes his armour until all he has on are slacks and a tunic. Feyd dismisses his staff sitting at the table and pressing a button. A screen emerges from the wall with a wide panoramic view of your quarters on display. He watches you as he eats, watches you let your hair down from the ornate style of the Bene Gesserit sisterhood. He watches the sway of your hips as you go from room to room. He watches you admire the artwork that's been placed there. Feyd-Rautha watches you with pride and admiration, you weren't trying to run as far as he could see. He watches as you return to the sleeping chambers. He feels himself stiffen as he watches you undress, standing he drops the rare meat drawn to the screen with a crooked grin as you make your way to the cleansing chambers. The bounce of your breast, the softness of your skin, everything has him solid as stone. He watches you step in and the misting of water commence, the beads of water glisten on your skin, he zooms in to get a better view of you unguarded. The surprise in your expression as the automatic system goes through the washing ritual.

His thoughts are heinous and depraved, his need for dominance, ownership, acceptance and submission are more than he can take. Releasing his manhood from his plants he begins stroking it roughly. For the first time he doesn’t call his concubines to satisfy him. They would all fail miserably, no one but you would ever again, but this night he would have to do. He needed you so bad he felt desperate. Stroking himself faster he’s practically salivating as the chamber begins drying you, the way your hair blows, the surprise in your eyes, the suppleness of your skin. It takes everything in him to contain his hunger for you, control his passion, his need. He wanted to be inside you marking you, claiming you with his seed. Watching your expressions change as he takes you further and further into the pleasures of passion. You would be his wife soon enough. His hands would never leave your warm flesh. He would keep his manhood sheathed inside you training you well. Coming hard from his own fantasies Fed’s shallow breaths bring him to a stark realization. He would do anything to have you stop trembling at the sight of him, he’d try to be as patient as possible. He needed your submission, your acceptance of him, and he needed it to be real, to want to share his bed. Looking up at the screen he watches you dress in sheer bed robes. Climbing into the large bed he watches you find comfort in it. 

“You’re mine” he says to the screen as a promise.

🖤

Thank you so much for reading 🩶 let me know if you enjoyed, want to be added to the taglist or anything else on your mind 🩶 comment, like & reblog for more Feyd. xx

TAGS: @elf-punk @dvmb4ssbiatch @thegabbyh @fanfiction-addict22

[nina-ya]

Request since you want something nsfw: reader getting horny and interrupting Law while he’s working/studying, reader sucking his cock under the desk (out of view) when someone suddenly enters the room, Law having to control his breathing and pretend everything’s fine, then reader getting absolutely railed against the desk when the other person leaves the room. Happy writing! x

A/N: HI NONNIE!! thank you for being patient with me! I enjoyed this a little too much and made this much longer than I originally intended but here!! Pairing: Law x AFAB!reader CW: NSFW MINORS DNI, oral sex (male receiving), masturbation, would this be exhibitionism? ima say that for now! unprotected sex (wrap it up yall), law calls reader a slut like twice, creampie, rough sex • masterlist • ko-fi • discord server •

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You tried to hold back and wait for Law to wrap up his work. He told you it would only just be ‘a bit longer.’ That was 3 hours ago. You tried so desperately to wait, going through the motions of distracting yourself: flipping through a book, taking a shower, even just lying on Law’s bed, legs dangling off the side The longer Law sat at his desk though, jotting down notes and muttering under his breath, the more restless you became. 

Impatience was soon overshadowed by desire and every glance at him, every time he brushed his fingers over his hair, every shift of his body sent heat pooling between your legs. The way he looked so focused, so intent on his work, only added fuel to the flame. And as the minutes dragged on, your frustration grew.

You bite your lip and glance over at him from where you sat, letting out a huff. He looked so serene, so unaffected, it was as if the idea of getting lost in you hadn’t even crossed his mind. 

Enough was enough. 

You got up and padded over to him. He didn’t notice you at first, too engrossed in whatever he was writing down. You were now behind him, hands reaching up and gently sliding over his shoulders, and in response he just stiffened slightly, barely acknowledging your presence. 

“I said I’d be done soon,” he muttered, but that rasp in his voice told you that he wasn’t quite as unaffected by your presence as he seemed. 

You leaned down, pressing into his back, and your fingers trailed down his chest, slowly. Your lips brushed the shell of his ear as you whispered, “Three hours is hardly ‘soon,’ Law.”

You could feel him tensing up below you, his body going stiff beneath your touch. But he still didn’t look up at you. 

“Come on,” you murmur, “just take a break, you need one.” you pull his chair back, the legs dragging against the floor and you shift so now you’re in front of him. Law watched you, pen still gripped in his hand, and he called out your name in a warning tone. 

You ignored the warning in his voice, sinking to your knees and shimmying slightly underneath the desk with a playful grin. You wanted to make him lose control, to force him out of that concentrated calm. 

Your fingers made quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans, and before he could protest, you were freeing him from the confines of his pants. His cock was already hard, the weight of it heavy as you stroked him slowly, teasing him with feather-light touches that had him gripping the pen in his hand until his knuckles turned white. 

“Stop that,” he growled, though it lacked any conviction. His body betrayed him, hips twitching slightly as you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his tip. 

“Make me,” you whisper, lips brushing the head before taking him into your mouth. Law hissed out, his head tipping back slightly as you swallowed him down. The tip of your mouth, the wet warmth of your tongue as you swirled around him– it was everything that he didn’t realize he needed. Law let out a sigh as he caved to your advances, dropping the pen in his head with a small thud as it hit the floor. ‘Well that didn’t last very long’ you thought to yourself as he gave in rather quickly. He leaned back into his chair, breath deepening as one inked hand snaked through your hair, guiding it up and down his length. 

As you slurped and sucked on him, you can't help but let one of your own hands drift lower. The need between your legs is unbearable, the heat pooling in your core is screaming for attention. You part your thighs, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear, determined to relieve yourself of the building pressure.

The moment your fingers brush your swollen clit, a low moan vibrates in your throat, muffled by Law’s cock between your lips. The sensation sends waves of pleasure surging right to your core, and you grind your hips against your hand as you continue to bob your head, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock in slow, torturous circles.

Your lips glide over Law’s cock, taking him deeper with each movement, your cheeks hollowing as you suck, swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip. “Fuck,” he hisses out, hips beginning to roll in time with your movements, meeting your mouth halfway as you take him in. You hum softly in satisfaction, taking him deeper, your fingers continuing their lazy circle over your clit. 

knock knock knock

Your entire body freezes in place, your mouth still wrapped around Law’s cock, and your heart leaping into your throat. 

“Captain?” a voice calls out, startling you. Fuck it’s Shachi. And he's blissfully unaware of what's happening under this desk. 

Shahi doesn’t even wait before opening the door and stepping inside. Law stiffens, his grip on your hair tightening reflexively as his breath hitches. You hold back the urge to yelp out at the sudden pain in your hair, but the grip loosens thankfully. You see his entire body tense beneath you, but when he speaks up, his voice remains calm. “What is it?”

“I needed to go over some reports with you, do you have a second?” Shachi asked, casually unbothered, as though you are not just a few feet away kneeling under this desk with a cock shoved down your throat. 

Law’s jaw clenches, his gaze briefly flickering to you, eyes narrow as if daring you to move. But you can’t help yourself. A wicked idea flickers through your mind, and you slowly take him once more, the wet heat of your tongue sliding against his length. 

Law sucks in a sharp breath, his hand trembling against your scalp as he struggles to keep his voice even. “Can it wait?” he mutters out rather quickly. 

“Um, we need to get this sorted now-”

“Get on with it.” Law interrupts, praying that Shachi will wrap this up quickly. 

“There’s been an issue with the supply inventory. I wanted to get your approval for–”

Your tongue flicks over his sensitive tip as you bob your head slowly, teasing him in a way that has him biting down on his lower lip to keep from groaning. His thighs tense, cock twitching in your mouth, but he somehow finds the strength to keep it together. 

“Mm… just leave it on my desk,” Law says, voice heavy and more strained than usual. He leans forward slightly, trying to maintain that illusion of composure as you continue to torment him beneath the desk. 

You hollow your cheeks, sucking him harder, determined to make him lose his cool. The satisfaction of knowing that you are pushing him to the edge while he tries to maintain a normal conversation makes your own arousal spike, and you grind your hips against your hand once more, holding back a moan of your own as you work him over. 

Shachi is still talking, something about requisitions and updates, but Law’s mind is far from focused on his words. He lets out a shuddering breath as you take him deeper, the head of his cock brushing the back of your throat. The grip in your hair tightens as a means of warning you, but you ignore it, your lips and tongue moving in a rhythm that is aimed at driving him mad. 

You glance up at him again, watching as his jaw clenches harder, his eyes squeeze shut for a moment as he fights that internal battle. His entire body is taut with the effort of holding back, but you can feel how close he is to losing control. 

Law’s voice breaks just slightly as he interrupts Shachi mid-sentence. “Leave it,” he practically barks out, impatience dripping in his tone. “Now.”

There’s a pause, and you hear Shachi shift, clearly caught off guard by the abruptness. “Uh… sure thing.”

Your heart races as you hear the door shut with a ‘click’ and the second it closes, Law’s hand tightens in your hair, pulling your mouth off of him with a harsh tug. You whine out, the sound echoing in the sudden silence, and you can see his amber eyes darken, igniting with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. There’s something dangerously possessive in his gase as it locks onto yours, and before you can blink, he’s yanking you up from under the desk, forcing you to stand as the chair scrapes back violently. 

“You little brat,” he hisses, spinning you around and slamming your chest against the desk, his body pressed tightly against your back. You barely have time to brace yourself as he tears your underwear down, his fingers sliding between your soaked folds, inked fingers being coated by your essence. “Thought you can tease me and get away with it?”

You whimper out in response, and you push your hips back against him, desperate for more. His fingers graze over your throbbing clit, ripping whimpers from you with every slight touch, before pulling you away, leaving you trembling with anticipation. 

Law growls low in his throat, his chest pressed flush against your back as he leans over you. His breath is hot against your neck and you grip the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white. His fingers, still slick with your arousal, dig into your hips, guiding you into position. The tension between you two is nearly about to snap, and you can feel the heat radiating off of him as his cock throbs against your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts. 

“Is this what you wanted?” he rasps, voice rough. His hand slides up your spine, fingers dancing along your back until they reach your neck. In one motion, he pushes your head down, pressing your cheek against the cold surface of the desk. “Answer me.” 

You try to speak but all that escapes is a whimper, your body trembling beneath him as you strain against his hold. His grip tightens, fingers pressing into your neck as he holds you firmly in place. 

“I asked you a question,” he hisses out, his hips grinding against your ass, pushing you harder against the desk. “Is this what you wanted, you little minx?”

“Yes,” you gasp, “Yes Law. I need you.”

The confession seemed to snap whatever thin thread of restraint he had left and he pushed his cock in, slamming until he was buried all the way inside. The moment that Law thrusts into you, the world narrows to that intoxicating sensation of him stretching you. Your body jerks forward with the force, the hard edge off the desk biting into your hips as your hole swallows every inch of him. The fullness is almost too much, too sudden, and a loud cry rips from your throat. 

His hand keeps you firmly in place as you squirm beneath him, overwhelmed by the intensity of his thrusts, each one rougher than the last. You are completely at his mercy, and the thought of it only makes your body pulse with even more desire. 

His other hand trails along your side, the touch deceptively soft as it makes its way to your waist, squeezing it with a bruising grip. He pulls you back onto him as he slams into you again and again, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room alongside your whimpers and mewls. You can barely think straight, barely holding onto reality as he fuck you deeper, harder, grinding his hips into yours with each thrust. 

“Look at you,” Law growls, his voice thick with need as he looms over you. “So fucking desperate�� couldn’t even wait. You wanted to get caught, didn’t you? That’s why you didn’t stop when we had some company, right?”

Heat flushes your face as the embarrassment of just how right he was and the thrill of it just hits you. You try to shake your head, try to deny it, but the truth still clings to the edges of your mind. You could never admit that the idea of almost getting caught only turned you on more. 

Law’s chuckle is low and dark. “Didn’t care who was in the room, did you?” he continues, each thrust accentuating his words. “So fucking impatient… just had to have me. What would they have thought if you knew what a little slut you are?”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, the discomfort of the desk digging into your hips, the way your face is squished against the surface, the feeling of his cock dragging in and out of you, the overwhelming pleasure bubbling up inside of you, the sting of his words– all combining and sending your emotions into a state of disarray and gasping for air. 

“I-I couldn’t wait,” you choke out, your voice a broken whimper. “I needed you, Law, I–”

“You needed me,” he mocks, punctuating his words with a particularly brutal thrust that rips a scream from your throat. “Yeah? You needed to risk getting caught with my cock in your mouth while someone was standing right there? You're fucking shameless.”

“I-I can’t,” you gasp, your voice breaking as the tears spill down your cheeks. The pleasure building inside of you is unbearable, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter until you feel like you are going to explode. “Law, please”

“You wanted this,” he responds, his voice rough and low as he keeps pounding into you. “Wanted me to fuck you like this, didn’t you?” The hand that was on your neck releases and threads through your hair, gripping and pulling your head back, earning a yelp from you. “You just had to get me riled up like that. Well, here you fucking are, and you’re gonna take it like the good little slut you are, right?”

Law shifts his hips and the head of his cock starts to hit that spot inside of you that makes your vision blur and makes you forget your name. Your cries of pleasure seem to heighten in pitch and your body starts to tremble more. You attempt to whimper out something along the lines of ‘right there!’ and ‘don’t stop’ hoping that Law can decipher your pleasure-induced babbling. And he does, continuing to snap his hips into you as you rapidly approach the edge. 

It doesn't take long before you are thrown over the edge. You chant his name, your body convulsing as your orgasm takes over your entire body, every muscle in your body spasming and twitching as the pleasure crashes over you. Your walls clamp down on him, pulsing rapidly as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

Law is not far behind, releasing the hand from your hair and planting it on the other side of your hips, his thrusts speeding up before he stills, panting heavily as his cock twitches inside of you, ropes of his warm seed filling you. 

You both just stay there for a moment, chests heaving as you attempt to catch your breath. And then slowly, Law pulls you out, earning a whimper from you at the feeling of suddenly feeling empty. He grips your sides and lifts you up, turning you around and sitting you on the desk, now facing him. One of his hands slides up to cup your cheek, wiping away the tear streaks with the pad of his thumb. His touch is much more gentle now, juxtaposing the behavior just moments ago as he leans down and presses a soft kiss to the side of your face. 

“You did so good,” he murmurs, his voice losing that sharp edge. 

Before you can respond, Law captures your lips in a slow, deep kiss. It's so much different from the roughness from before. 

“Thank you for making me take a break,” he mutters against your lips, his voice clearly having a teasing edge to it. And he leans in and kisses you again, the kiss this time being much slower as his hands roam your body, this time with softness and loving as if he is taking his time this time around to memorize the way your skin feels under his fingertips. Law’s lips trail from your mouth to your jawline, planting featherlight kisses against your skin, sending tingles down your spine. 

You smile, and a soft chuckle escapes your lips as your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. “You needed it,” you whisper with a light touch of your own as your hands slide up his chest. 

Law hums in agreement, pulling back and his eyes flicker down to your lips for a moment before capturing them in another slow, deep kiss. His hands, no longer urgent, caress your body with a newfound patience, his fingers gliding ofer your body as if he is savoring every touch. It’s clear now that this isn’t over– not for him, not yet. There is a different hunger in his kiss, one that screams of something far less rushed. 

He pulls away slightly to murmur, “I want to take my time with you this time.” And he kisses you deeply once more as he coaxes you into a slow burning fire that reignites between you. 

The night stretches ahead, filled with more touches, more kisses, more shared noises of pleasure as he takes his time, cherishing every second with you. 

[wntrswolf]

love mirage

✧ pair: benjicot "davos" blackwood (fancast) x freader!secret-lover-betrothed-to-a-bracken

✧ theme/warning(s): slight/implied smut, angst, forbidden romance, star-crossed lovers. — (all characters mentioned are of age!) 18+

✧ word count: 1.8k

✧ author's note: hello! this is my first writing! this one-shot was spontaneously written as it was meant more for self-indulgence but i thought why not share it to others who also has a current obsession with the rising blackwood character, right? :-) anyways, reading fics under the benji tags manifested many scenarios in my head, and gave me inspiration to write something. lastly, forgive me for any possible grammatical errors, i still am an amateur in fictional writing. enjoy!!!

It was the dead of night. The sky had been painted in its darkest hue, the moon stood nearly at its peak, offering its gentle glow along the riverbank. The distant chatter that could be heard during a long day's labor was no longer present, replaced by the solemn silence of nature's symphonies—the flowing river, the rustling of leaves as they danced in breaths of wind, and the lullabies of insects as they clicked and buzzed.

The forest was no stranger to you; befriending the woodland for the passing moons. You often wondered if anyone would, or had, grown an inkling of your periodic disappearance following the hours of supper—what others would think of your father’s only daughter growing a rather sudden interest beyond the walls of your family's stronghold. You always made your way out stealthily, though his words echoed in your mind,

“You are our only hope, daughter. Do not fail us.” A stark reminder of your duty, which would soon bring honor to your family's name.

If it means anything, you knew it was wrong from the start. You had never intended anything as such to happen. For the name of a nobleman was bound to yours, yet your lips would chant whispers of another.

Time became irrelevant right before you met him on this cool summer night. There the young man stood, one hand steady on the hilt of his dagger, ever vigilant should danger lurk in the tranquil embrace of the silent woods; his tense body relaxing upon the sight of your cloaked figure before him—a beacon of familiarity. You had planned to tell him about your betrothal tonight.

Although it was not much longer that you would find yourself a whimpering mess under the Blackwood boy. Your sighs mingled with the saccharine words Benjicot spoke, adding harmonies of moans and gasps of pleasure in the serenity of the haven you both made. You often feared getting caught but Benji assured you in these remote lands, he doubted anyone would be near enough to witness anything— not even the treacherous act you both selfishly indulged in. You still pray to the Gods that they grant you both the favor that no eye spies this clandestine meeting; and the many before.

You never really questioned yourself on why you couldn't confide in your father about your betrothal; had you already envisioned the conversation—mayhem would ensue. It was simple, it was the decision he made—securing your family's position through a marriage pact, a political alliance they called it. Duty, you thought yet again.

You didn't know what, or whom, to shift the blame on—or maybe it was the complexities of guilt. your guilt. You knew the inevitable, yet your selfishness, your greed, your immature desire for love; tainting your rationale. Or that maybe you should feel resentment that your father and the Lord of Stone Hedge, Humfrey Bracken regarded their relationship as close as to being kin. Maybe then you would have the strength to ignore your obligations, this once.

You cursed yourself for thinking the way you did, and you cursed the Gods for the decades-old rivarly between the ancient houses—a hatred and feud born long before either of you were born; beyond your father's time, and his father's before him, yet its roots grew, multiplying the petty divide among those that followed after them.

It made you question what started the war between the two in the first place, as sin begets sin begets sin; however, unwavering was the tryst between you and Benjicot—untouched by the strife and grudges.

He knew. You were aware of his knowledge with the woven webs you had with the Brackens; about your father's bond with the red stallion lord. Your thoughts do not come to a plausible explanation as they endlessly spun in your mind.

And all it took was Benjicot's hips to lower into yours, silencing these whirling thoughts.

Your cloak drapes over you, offering its warmth from the breaths of wind, coming from the riverbank. It spared the watchful eyes of the forest spirits from your unneeded bareness. At your side, Benjicot lays as he adjusts his breeches.

“There’s a war soon to come,” he says as he stares at the sky, hands behind his head, ”And I ought for you to know that given the growing wars, you have not left my mind since.” he nervously confessed.

You hum in response, the weight of his words settling heavily in the quiet of the forest. "I fear what lies ahead, Ben" you whisper, your voice barely above a murmur, filled with both longing and apprehension.

He turns to you then, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that spoke of unspoken promises and uncertainties. "No matter what comes, my love for you will endure." he vows, his fingers gently tracing the contour of your cheek.

You turn your head and sit up, feeling around for your discarded garments to dress.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asks, sitting up, his expression betraying confusion at your abrupt reaction. 

"No, it's not that." you breathed out, your back faced to him. It was this very moment you had feared since the first: the inevitable.

"Well, did you not finish as I had?" he ventured in jest, a playful side of him that you loved. "Or is it because I professed my love for you?", hoping his declaration had not caused you to pull away. "Trust me, I will make sure there's nothing—"

"My betrothal..." you did not let him finish, "it's to Aeron Bracken." you said, still facing away from him as you rose from the ground. You picked on your fingers picked in nervousness of his next response. The weight of your confession hung heavy in the air.

At first he thought he had not heard you clearly, as if the world had gotten awfully quiet. It was when you repeated once more, realizing his ears did not fail him as his blood got hot—of you saying the name whom ignited an unexplainable fury in him.

"Aeron Bracken," Benjicot repeated in disbelief of your sudden confession, "The Bracken twat, eh?" — the very same Bracken he encountered in fresh conflict, near the mill's boundary stones. Although he did not show it, the tension in the air was strong enough to burn and linger its flames; his knuckles turning pale as he clenched his fists at his side.

"A craven false king follower... is bound to your name, to you." he chuckles incredulously. 

He paced in the clearing, his footsteps heavy as he turned to you. "And what are you to do about it?" He posed the question, pain plain upon his face, though hope bled through the mask of his composure. Deep down, he already knew the answer. He could scare tell if asking you such question was to self-inflict torment, or just a desperate need to face the harsh reality of your confession— not a difference between the two really.

You finally turned to meet his gaze, "It's my father's decision," you explained softly. "I... I cannot defy it." You stood before him, as your tears glisten in the faint light. Torn between love and duty.

"Ben," you pleaded, your voice shaking. "You know the stakes. It’s my duty. My family's honor—” 

"Fuck honor!" he interrupted, his voice thundering through the forest. He strides towards you, "It was long gone the very moment we first met—" he huffed out. He knew in his heart that despite the love he developed towards you, the tangled web of your kinship with the Brackens would soon unravel the bond you shared— still, he gambled with the odds, just as you had.

He had ever hoped that the old Gods would bestow the blessing of his fervent wishes—that it would be you, not some other maiden, whom he would take to wife. He often dreamed of you bearing the heirs of his house, growing gray together, and watch as your blood flow through the veins that would carry on his legacy. Yet, it was only ever a distant dream.

You reached out to him, to calm the storm raging within him, but he jerked away. "Tell me, then," he challenged, stepping closer with fire in his eyes. "Where do your loyalties lie, beyond this," he motioned between the two of you. "Are you suggesting that your father, and even yourself, are to declare for the usurper cunt of a King?" he whisper-yells to you. “Or is this some sort of arrangement with those Bracken fucks, to get back at us Blackwoods, simply just using me as a pawn, 'cus you know I'm now Lord?" His words spitting at you like venom;

“Oh, you know where my loyalties lie," you spat, your voice filled with heartache, "But I won't stand for you questioning my integrity nor my family's honor to secure a future." You glared at him as your heart stung with hurt, "And to accuse me... I would not dare to commit something so heinous even if i could; I'm not cruel, Benji."

Benjicot's jaw clenched, shaking his head as he stood facing the river, incomprehensible words muttered under his breath.

"I never asked for this," you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. "But I have responsibilities. We both do." you sniffled, swallowing the tension of your throat away, "And I know you know..." you wiped your tears, "we know... that this was bound to occur, sooner or later, Ben." your voice was barely audible, even with the deafening silence the forest came to be. "There's a war coming."

The silence hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken words and the weight of impossible choices.

Benjicot stood before you, his expression torn between love and anguish. His hands trembled as he gathered his scattered belongings, his movements reflecting the turmoil in his heart. You mirrored his actions, silently picking the remnants of what you felt is to be your last fleeting moment of happiness.

"I swear it," he finally spoke, "would that we were not bound by the enmity between our folks, I would have already vowed myself to you. Long before your father would have you promised to another."

His words pierced your heart with longing and regret, the bitter truth of your circumstances hanging between you like a veil of sorrow. “And I would have gladly accepted it,” you replied with a heavy sigh. "—my Lord."

The Blackwood male nodded, his gaze fixed on yours, filled with a depth of emotion that mirrored your own. With a heavy heart, you both silently acknowledged the futility of your love.

Benjicot turned away first. The distance between you both grew; and his silhouette became one with the dark forest.

You knew that somewhere, amidst the pain and heartache, you would find a way to carry on—a life of uncertainty but fraught with duty. As you walked away from the happiness and love that the forest had given you, the ache in your chest spoke of a love that was lost but will never be forgotten. It would be a bittersweet reminder of what once was, and what could never be again.

[izzyy-stuff]

heyy izzy! i don’t think ive ever sent in a request to you before but i absolutely love your work so i thought i’d send something in. could you please do a roommate!taehyun fic where he accidentally walks in on you while you’re in the shower but then decides to join you which then ends up in him fucking you while you’re pressed against the cold shower wall and one leg pulled over his shoulder so he can hit deep :)

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐇 & 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐘 - 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍

roommate!taehyun x fem!reader

in which what originally was supposed to be just a quick shower to help him relax takes a different turn when he walks into the bathroom and sees you already in the shower, deciding to relieve his frustration differently than he originally intended to.

wc 2.5k

warnings shower sex, unprotected sex + creampie, vaginal fingering, tiny mention of nipple play, oral (f. receiving), overstimulation, pet names, softdom!taehyun, biting/marking

↪ izzy speaks... I can't believe tae had zero works until now... like that's insane. I'm glad I can finally show it to you though. The writing process for this was for someone reason extremely SLOW. Everyone thank serene for being my life saver again and helping me get through whatever writing block I was feeling while writing this.

Kang Taehyun must have been the safest choice for a roommate ever. 

Unlike the other guys in your friend group, he was calm and knew when to shut up. Taehyun could cook, making your life a lot easier when he offered to make dinner as often as he could, and he was outside the dorm most of the time, too. If he wasn’t in the library studying after his lessons ended, you would find him in the gym, keeping in shape. 

He barely went straight to your dorm after school, so you had learned to get comfortable during your alone time. From using your living room for studying and making a mess with your papers and study books all over the floor, which he would have usually pointed out and told you to keep a system, to walking around the apartment with just your underwear.

So it wasn’t unusual when you sat on the couch in your living room in just panties and an oversized shirt you found at the bottom of your closet while cleaning up last week. You were surprised when you found it, confident you’ve never bought nor worn that shirt. But as you put it on, pushing your thoughts aside as there was no possible way of it being someone else’s if it was in your closet, you realized it was more comfortable than the garments you knew you owned. 

You have gone over the math formula hundreds of times and still feel like you see it for the first time every time your eyes land on it again. It doesn’t make sense. No matter how long you stare at it, the numbers and signs seem foreign. 

You sigh, slamming the math book shut and spreading out on the couch as a sign of giving up. You would have to ask Taehyun about it after dinner. But for now, you had other things on your to-do list for the day. 

Put your and Taehyun’s clothes into the washing machine (AND THANK HIM FOR DOING IT LAST TIME!!) 

Wash up 

Learn math 

Call your mom

You mentally cross out math, pretending it never existed. Still, you know you will have to come back to it. To this day, you weren’t sure why you decided to take another math semester when you didn’t have to. You were naive when you listened to your parents and signed up for “the only important class you will need in the future.” You had to scoff every time now when you remembered your mother’s words, knowing you wouldn’t ever need the formulas you were learning. 

Sighing, you get up from the couch and look around the living room. Looking at it now, you understand why Taehyun always wants you to have your work organized. It was a mess. 

Your fingers run through your hair before you pick up a few of your books and put them aside in the corner of the table so that other people can still use it. It also reminds you that you should clean around the house with Taehyun soon. 

But for now, there was the current to-do list you had to go through. 

You grab Taehyun’s clothes basket from his room, as you did many times before, kicking the door behind you so it would close before continuing towards your shared bathroom. 

Having a shared bathroom might have been the only disadvantage of living with Taehyun. You both tried to search for a bigger place so you could each get your own, but once you saw the prices, you both decided it was only a petite inconvenience. 

It doesn’t take you long to sort out all of his and your clothes by colors, leaving Tae’s underwear in the basket for him to do later on his own. You don't mind doing his laundry, just like he doesn't mind doing yours, but there are still limits to what you are willing to do for him. Even though those lines sometimes seem blurry in your eyes.

You aren't sure when or how it happened, but lately, you've found yourself wanting to step over some of the lines you had set for yourself when you first decided to room with Taehyun.

Maybe it was because of how comfortable you got with each other after half a year of living together. Perhaps it was because Tae had become your best friend over the years you knew him. Or, more likely, it was actually because of the amount of times you had seen him shirtless.

“We are friends, Ma. You don’t have to worry about me getting pregnant or something just because I am rooming with a guy. And you have met him many times. You know how Tae is.” You remember the call you had with your mom after you moved in, rethinking all your words. You were so sure back then that nothing could ever happen between the two of you, but a small part of you always wished for something else. 

You snap out of your thoughts, pressing the start button on your washing machine with a sigh. You step over the pile of white clothing you had prepared for the next wash, getting to the shower. You pull down your panties and shirt, hanging them on the empty peg beside your towel. 

♡⸝⸝ 

Taehyun was too exhausted to go to the gym tonight. He had enough. From missing lunch because he lost track of time while reviewing for his upcoming exam to completely forgetting about an assignment due last night. He just wanted to go home and relax for a bit before he would have to fall into the endless circle of studying again. 

So when he got through the door of your shared apartment, his first thought was to shower and go to sleep. He didn’t think much of what you were doing as he took down his shoes. Honestly, that was what he was the least worried about. 

Taehyun shakes his head as his eyes land on your books on the table, but then a smile creeps up his lips. You did listen when he scolded you about making a mess, after all. 

He looks around the apartment, trying to find you with his eyes. Eventually, his sight lands on your room, assuming you didn’t hear him coming in and were busy with your studies, so you didn’t come out to greet him. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

He doesn’t even properly register the sound of the washing machine as he walks toward the bathroom. For the first time in a while, his mind is finally blank, making him relax as he opens the door. 

Neither of you really realizes what’s going on until you drop down your shampoo, your eyes wide as you quickly try to cover your naked body upon noticing your roommate in the room. 

Taehyun’s cheeks could be mistaken for a tomato as his eyes travel from the bottom of your body to your face, swallowing everything he wants to say before even opening his mouth, stuttering. “I– shit, fuck– uhm, sorry,” he blurts out quickly, turning around so he wouldn’t face you. He doesn’t leave, though. 

 You can’t hear your own breath, nor his, as you stare at his back, your mind, unlike Tae’s, clouded with thoughts. “I wanted to shower. I’m– I didn’t know you were in here,” he says, you think. You’re unsure if any of the words actually reach your ears or if it’s all just in your head. Maybe he is just a figment of your imagination, too. He isn’t real. He isn’t standing in the bathroom with his back turned to you. 

“I’ve been so out of it today I just– I’m not sure what I am saying, to be honest. I didn’t mean to, though–” 

You cut him off, your words echoing in his ears. Still, he doesn’t believe what he just heard. “What?” He asks, his boba eyes making you feel weak in the knees as he turns around to face you again. “You wanted to shower and relax your mind, right?” You repeat half your question, your hands slowly falling to your sides. Taehyun bites his bottom lip, fighting all his inner demons to keep his eyes on yours. “Want to join me then?” 

You’re not sure what happens next. It’s all blurry in your mind. But the next thing you know, Taehyun’s hands are all over your body, “helping you to wash up,” as he said, but you both know that’s not what it really is when his hand just so innocently squeezes your breast. 

Your breath shakes as you feel him groan against your shoulder, sending shivers through your body. You tilt your head to the side, biting your bottom lip to prevent a moan from escaping your lips as he kisses your collarbone, his cold fingers playing with your nipples as if he had touched them thousands of times before, as if he wasn’t afraid at all of the sudden intimacy. 

“Tae,” you breathe out, and he only hums in response, his lips on your neck. “Are you okay with this?” He asks carefully, making it almost impossible for you to tell him no. So you nod, whining when his fingers trace down from your chest to your legs, making their way to your clit. “You’re so wet,” he mumbles. 

“S-shut up,” your voice shakes as you try to grind against his fingers, muffling your moan when he removes his hand. Your pussy clenches around nothing when your name leaves his lips, his kisses moving lower on your back until you hear him kneel behind you. You swallow a lump in your throat when his hands wrap around your thighs, the water drops on your back sending shivers through your body. “Mind bending over for me, sweetheart?” 

It feels unreal. Your roommate’s head between your legs, eating you out as if you were supposed to be tonight’s dinner, was all a little too much. You weren’t sure how long you could last. “Wait– I’m–” you try to speak up but end up swallowing everything you wanted to say when his tongue gets replaced by his fingers. You gasp, your hand slowly sliding down on the bathroom tiles as you begin to lose strength. You don’t think he notices, or at least he doesn’t do anything about it. His fingers pump into you so effortlessly, too. Somehow, it feels like he has been in your cunt many times before. 

Your first orgasm of the night is on Taehyun’s fingers, preparing you for himself. “Doing so well,” he coos, slowly standing up. It takes no time for his lips to find your neck again, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit. “‘S too much,” you whine, turning your head around to see him. His boba eyes are soft, full of love even, you’d dare to say. 

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes out when his eyes land on yours, immediately kissing you. You fall into the kiss, turning around to face him. Taehyun takes a step forward, making you press your back against the wet tiles. The water dripping between the two of you doesn’t seem to bother him a bit as he wraps your leg around his waist. 

You are still kissing him when he aligns himself at your entrance, thrusting into you without a warning. You gasp, breaking the kiss. His lips chase after yours again, but you’re too busy trying to get used to him to kiss him back. “So good,” he praises you again, his mouth moving to your jaw and chin. You tilt your head to the side, trying to keep as quiet as possible as he thrusts into you again, starting slowly, with his eyes on yours to make sure you are okay. 

You nod to him instinctively, and he thrusts into you right away, this time faster, harsher. It doesn’t take long for him to set a comfortable speed, and you can feel all his stress in each thrust. “I needed this,” he mumbles. “Needed you.” 

It almost passes unnoticed by you, just some out-of-mind praises, but you catch onto it, and his words get stuck in your head. “N–Needed me?” Your question comes out as a broken moan, making him groan. “The whole day,” he agrees, only thrusting harder. “Everyone’s been getting on my nerves,” he explains. “Couldn’t wait to come home to you.” 

The ticklish feeling in your stomach makes you uneasy. You’re not sure if it’s another orgasm building up or just an after-effect of his words. Honestly, it might be both. But before you can think about it properly, another thrust comes in, with a few mumbles about how perfect you are before you feel his speed slowing down again, letting you know he is reaching his limit, too. 

It only takes a few more sloppy thrusts before he cums inside you, both of you too into the moment to realize he should pull out. Taehyun’s head falls onto your shoulder, but he doesn’t stop holding your leg up, assuring himself he still feels you on his body. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he breathes out, and before you can answer, you feel his teeth digging into the skin on your shoulder. 

You gasp, “What was that for?” He only hums in response, as if he had no idea what you were referring to. “A mark,” he finally mutters, making your eyes widen. “Wanted to mark you.” He says it so casually, while his hand slides between your bodies, circling your clit slowly again. You swallow a moan as his finger makes its way into your pussy again, feeling the mixture of his and your cum sliding down your thigh. You need another shower. 

You stay still for a bit, his head resting on your shoulder and your leg wrapped around his waist while your fingers play with his hair to assure him you are still there, not saying anything. 

You step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself immediately. You keep your eyes on his naked body, rethinking your next moves. “I need your help with math,” you proclaim quietly like you normally would. “I’ll gladly help you,” he nods with a smile. So happy, and for what? He was never rude about it when you asked for his help, but it wasn’t like he would be excited, either. This time, however, he makes you question what’s going on in his mind. 

“Here,” he says, the same smile still on his lips as he hands you your shirt and panties. “I didn’t know you were already wearing my stuff, but I can’t say I would complain,” he teases you, and it all finally clicks. Of course, that’s why you didn’t remember owning the shirt. It wasn’t yours in the first place. “Uhm–” you panic, trying to find a good excuse, but it’s already too late because all Taehyun can think about is the adorable blush on your cheeks.

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[ssa-dado]

0 - Symposium, definitely not Platonic love.

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader (I hope I tagged it correctly woops)

No use of Y/N!

Summary: Hotch, after seeing you reading a book on the jet, picks it up out of curiosity. Late-night texts with you evolve from work to teasing philosophical banter about love, deepening your connection. Through this dialogue, Hotch reflects on both philosophy and his feelings for you, as the conversation subtly flirts with deeper emotions.

Genre: fluff, sapiosexual fluff.

Warnings: Implied alcohol consumption ; Reader and Hotch being completely blind yet marvellously insightful ; Philosophical discussions, I tried my best to make them as user friendly as possible ; Sir kink if you squint, although it's not intended in that way at all ; The story is set around season 3/4 before the team found out about Strauss' drinking problem, I feel so bad anyways.

Word Count: 2.9k

Dado's Corner: be kind this is my first ever Hotch fic and overall first fic I've written in English (yes, I indeed am a real Italian stallion) so there might be some mistakes, bear with me.

next part - set when they first ever met.

Hotch sits on the couch, the soft glow of the lamp casting shadows across his living room, the house is so quiet, he briefly interrupts his late night reading session as he swears he can almost hear Jack’s light breathing from across the house. Those sweet thoughts, mixed up with the muffled night traffic almost lullabies him to sleep while the weight of another long week at the BAU settles into his bones.

His eyes immediately gaze down to his hands, firming holding opened the slim book: Symposium by Plato—a book he wouldn’t normally pick up on his own. The corners of his mouth quickly turn up as he recalls how he’d seen you reading it on the jet a few cases ago, sitting cozily and crossing your legs alone in a seat in front of him, strategically shielded from the table seats occupied by playing the rest of the team, including himself, busingly playing cards.

Every now and then his gaze automatically lingered on your stillness, the only movements coming from the swift air you moved while turning the page or adjusting your pose to be more comfortable, this sight intoxicated him. Your focus was so intense you didn’t even flinch at Derek standing up from his seat and leaning forward, while his hands gravitated towards the doctor’s bare neck after the latter just killed him off the game because oblivious of yet another variation they all added so it would make it easier to beat Reid. An attempt that ended tragically.

In that abrupt mess - from JJ laughing at the ironic hilarity to Reid using the highest-pitched voice his vocal chords could ever produce to defend himself from Derek's accusation of cheating - Hotch only remembers how your statuesque figure slowly had revived itself again as you glanced up to make sure no harm was done to the doctor. You made eye contact with Hotch and and you immersed yourself back to the slim book as soon the Unit Chief signed you not to worry and that he would tackle the situation himself. In a matter of fractions of seconds all your surroundings had disappeared again.

As soon as the Unit Chief was back into his office, curiously reminiscing about your hypnotic serenity, he’d ordered a copy.

Now, as in the comfort of his living room slowly turns the pages, his phone vibrates with a message from you awakening him from his trance, immediately wonders why you would message him so late at night.

“Hotch, quick question: about the profile for the Winger case—should we revise the victimology section?"

…Of course, he almost started to hate how his role as Unit Chief always seemed to ruin his brief-lasting delusions.

He robotically types a response, a straightforward answer to your work-related question but as he presses send, his gaze lingers on the book in his hands. There’s somehow a temptation on his side to share the weird coincidence, to see how you might react.

"Good catch. I’ll review it tomorrow.” He writes.

“Wow that was quick, I didn’t expect you to still be up, did I interrupt your late night reading session?”

He quicky blushes, how could you know him so well?!

“You did. Don’t worry about it. By the way, I’m reading Symposium tonight." He blurts out

There’s a pause, and he can visualize your surprised reaction, how the sight of your smile would always warm his heart; almost immediately, his phone buzzes again.

"Wait, really, Symposium?!”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He wouldn’t smile so much if you were standing in front of him, thankfully, the shield of communicating through texts allowed him to put down his.

You continue. “Not to raise your expectations too much, but that’s my all-time favorite book, just so you know!"

He swears he can hear the intonation of your voice reading that text, visualizing how you would face your palms towards him and raise your shoulders, trying to keep that non-chalant expression of yours and not perk a soft smile to him.

Entitled by that fateful coincidence, Hotch feels brave enough to decide to tease you - just a little - hoping the text doesn't sound that much so out of character for him as much as it does in his head, although he shrugs, sending it before he starts overthinking it.

“Your all-time favorite? A book about love? I should’ve known."

He pauses, imagining you raising an eyebrow, maybe with that knowing smile you wear when he’s teasing you. And even though he’s playing it off as a joke, part of him can completely see how you, could actually have a natural flare for romance - even if you never openly admit it and always tried the best you could to suppress that side of yours.

He decides to blame it on the years spent at the BAU when it was just the two of you along with Rossi and Gideon; At how you were recruited as soon as you turned 21, while the youngest person you worked with on the team and could relate to the most was Hotch himself, even if he was late in his Jesus year.

He quickly remembers how you would always overwork yourself - you both still do nowadays, that's why you're having a conversation at past 2 AM - He could see how you were always trying to prove your worth more to yourself rather than to your co-workers or even to the sketchy police officers and detectives somehow still stuck in the 1400s.

He had always admired you for your intelligence and acute instincts, and so does your nowadays team, immediately entrusting you with the nickname of "Prehistoric Reid" only because because you had started working at the BAU back when they still didn't provide the jet so you all had to move using the trains. Even if you already have 9 years of experience in the field, yet you were the 2nd youngest - still no eidetic memory though - this desire to always prove yourself never fully went away. One day you were the youngest, the other they assume someone way more genius than you were so you can't stand out anymore for merely for your intelligence.

You finally respond: "Well, it’s more than just a book about love. It’s actually quite of a concrete example of Plato’s take on philosophy - the whole thing told through dialogues, like a discussion among friends. But I won’t bore you with all the technicalities"

Hotch chuckles softly, picturing you downplaying your passion, trying not to sound too academic. What you don’t know is that he could listen to you talk about philosophy for hours - especially tonight, about philosophy’s take on love, no less. He doesn’t dares to say that, though.

"I wouldn’t say you’re boring me. In fact, I’m starting to see the appeal. But really, all-time favorite?"

He leans back into the couch, waiting for your reply.

You told him back when you first met that your first ever degree was in philosophy, and now recalling that specific information he's been wondering why exactly a barely-reaching-100-pages-long book holds such a special place for you, out of all the others he’s seen you passionately read during the years. A part of him is genuinely curious, the other part is trying to stretch as much as possible this conversation with you.

"Absolutely. I mean, think about it: a bunch of people crashing at their friend's house, sitting around, getting drunk, each giving their take on love while they feast at a banquet." You continued. "It’s almost like when we’re at Rossi’s, except instead of love, we’re all talking about criminology and cases while stuffing ourselves with his Italo-American dishes".

An image of Rossi pouring wine wearing an ancient greek costume - fake long white beard included - while everyone at the table delves into some intricate discussion about a case flashes through his mind, Hotch immediately chuckles at the comparison. He's sure you've imagined the exact thing too and he can almost hear you suggest hosting a real Symposium next time, his profiling skills never fail him as soon his phone buzzes again.

"Imagine if we recreated the Symposium at Rossi’s. Each of us giving our take on love. I can almost hear Reid's speech delving into the psychology of affection and its variations throughout the various cultures"

Quick on his chubby fingers, after laughing at the scenario, he types the continuation "In stark opposite, Garcia would follow him and pull out her tarot cards and read each of our birth charts, telling us who we're most compatible with based on our stars alignements"

While waiting for you, he stands up and makes his way towards his home bar, reaching for the scotch bottle, swiftly filling up his glass, silently blessing Plato for making this the longest light-hearted conversation you haven’t had in years. You were both either too focused on your work or actively suppressing your romantic feelings and ignoring each other. After all this time he would almost forget how the two of you were first and foremost very good friends. As the liquid burns the back of his throat, his phone buzzes again.

"That's actually really fascinating yet so intimidating, what about Rossi though? Of course he's hosting all of us but I feel he would totally blurt out some old-scool stuff he only understands. I know I'm not the only one who doesn't get his references, but I really feel bad whenever I don't."

He almost chokes himself after your other reply

"So, big boss, have I convinced you with giving us the free week-end or should I extend the invite our lovely friend Strauss? I fear that after a few glasses of Rossi’s wine all that angst towards you might turn into some ol' sweet love. I would watch out if I were you, Unit Chief"

You loved poking fun at him using his rank; It all started a few years ago to jokingly shrug away the awkwardness caused from how the co-worker you always used to joke around, spend the nights together in the same room, sharing your theories about the unsub and building up the profile with suddenly turned into your superior. As much as you both didn't want to admit it, something in your relationship had shifted since this happened, not to mention to the fact that it's much more awkward to admit to your boss you've been having a crush on your him for almost 9 years rather than to your co-worker.

Now Hotch, encouraged by the slight booze, further teases you "And what do you think my take on love would be?"

This was the closest he could ever come to flirting with you, walking on that fine line and never pushing himself further. For Hotch, the gesture of basically asking you to profile him in a moment in which he was so vulnerable, breaking his golden rule of "never profile your coworkers" was the most romantic declaration of love he could ever think that of.

Your text brings him back down to Earth:

"Hmm, I imagine you’d give a thoughtful, analytical speech something with a lot of depth but surprisingly subtly humorous. You would wait for everyone to finish their own speech so you would be last, acknowledging all of us completely busted, only because you have self-control."

You feel the need to add something else, even if you know already he would read into it, at the way how you reserved a mere sentence to describe that scenario involving your teammates. On the contrary, you could write a whole book about him and all his hypothetical remarks, meticulously poiting out every small gesture or expression - or the lack of - of him. Since truth lies in the middle, you decide to dedicate him only another lengthy paragraph.

"You would start with something along the lines of ‘Love is a complex system of emotional responses influenced by myriad factors…’ as if you were delivering a profile, definitely using that same tone as well. You’d probably have us all analyzing every possible nuance and you enjoy watching us slobber, trying to quickly sober up to keep up with your impeccable remarks. Of course we would miserably fail at being analytical whatsoever, but you love whenever we make a fool out of ourselves."

He chuckles "You do know me too well"

He probably hints at the possibilty of having a weekend off with his next text "And since now you're making me think I might have to start prepare my speech about love, it wouldn't hurt to also include a few practical applications for the BAU team’s dynamics."

Ha. You wish he showed you what those practical applications consisted of. Hotch although interrupts even the possibility of recycling this genius quick witted remark with him, making sure to replace yourself with his archenemy section chief Erin Strauss, to not weird him out.

"Jokes apart, your take on love would be fascinating, I'm looking forward to hear it", he says.

"Only if you’re ready for philosophical debates after a few glasses of wine. Though, I’ll warn you - I take my Plato very seriously."

Hotch smiles at that, apparently he took his Plato quite seriously as well. What you're not aware at all is that the late-night session of Symposium you had interrupted wasn't his first.

"I’ll keep that in mind. But honestly, I’ve been finding parts of it… enlightening."

He had actually finished it for the first time less than a hour before you texted. What you actually interrupted was Hotch helplessly going back through certain passages that reminded him of you. He hypothesises your take on the subject of love, trying to gauge how you view it without revealing feelings he’s kept carefully hidden for a long time.

"Enlightening, huh? So you’ve gotten to the part where Socrates explains how love makes us better people?"

Hotch remembers that part well enough, but he hasn’t revealed just how deeply he’s been thinking about it - how, in his own quiet way, he’s been trying to connect those ideas to his life, and to you, so he chooses his next words carefully.

“Not yet." He lies, knowing that the part you appointed to would only come much later in the book "But I’m guessing you’ve got some thoughts on that?"

He imagines you smiling on the other end, maybe a little amused at how he’s obviously deflecting, although you don’t press him, but your next reply doesn't lack a subtle challenge.

"I do. But I think you'd find it pretty relevant, Hotch. Phaedrus talks about how lovers fight better together - how love gives them courage."

He quickly smirks and reminds himself how much he loves when you put him in the corner with the choice of your words, there was no way he could deflect that, since Phaedrus’s speech comes first, he couldn't say he hadn't read that yet.

Hotch's eyes flicker toward the book again, remembering Phaedrus’s discourse: the idea that love could make people fight harder, be stronger… it strikes a chord, reminding him of the strength he’s seen in you, in the unique way you both handle the intense challenges of your work when paired up together. He types, his words more deliberate now.

"Phaedrus might be onto something. Love as a motivator, as a way to push people to be better. What about you? Do you see it that way?"

There’s a slight pause before your next message, and he can almost sense your careful consideration, you’ve never been one to answer these kinds of questions lightly.

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, love isn’t just about being close to someone, it’s about making each other better, pushing each other forward. But that is not easy at all. It takes patience, discipline… and maybe a bit of faith."

Hotch’s expression softens as he reads your words. He admires your thoughtfulness, your ability to cut straight to the heart of something that most people shy away from. He finds himself thinking about how true those words are, how they seem to apply not only to love, but to the way both of you approach life and work. He types slowly, his words carefully chosen.

"Patience, discipline, and faith. Sounds a lot like what we do every day, maybe we’re already living it."

As he sends the message, he sets the phone down beside him and glances at the book again. He’s aware of the irony - that for all the deflecting, all the jokes, he’s learning more about you through this conversation than he would have if he had simply asked.

The words of Plato, the discussions on love, seem to take on a new meaning - one that feels personal, one that makes him wonder if he’s been missing something between the lines all along.

"You know, this conversation feels a bit like Socratic dialogue. Just without the wine. Maybe I’m learning about love through you and Plato’s dialogues in a way Socrates might’ve appreciated."

He sends the message, a small smirk on his face. He knows how much you would appreciate the unexpected extra philosophical remark about Socrates even if he knows little to nothing about him apart from that his idea of love in Plato's book. To impress you he totally forgets how only just a few moments before he stated he hasn’t read his discourse yet. A few moments later, your reply comes through.

“No way! Aaron Hotchner now delves into the Socratic dialectics?!"

Now you smell the lie so to make sure you trick him with the next text "Well, maybe you should read something by Socrates next, he was quite the conversationalist, you would rely a lot to him, especially after all of this philosophical banter"

"Any recommendations?" He naively takes the bait

"That’s the thing, Unit Chief - Socrates didn’t write anything. He relied on his students to record his thoughts. It’s all oral and dialectical. The dialogues are his legacy, not written works, maybe that’s why it’s such a rich experience—like having an ongoing conversation with someone through the ages."

Hotch leans back, wishing these moments would linger forever, hoping the words you exchanged could be eternal just like those exchanged by the men he was reading about, now printed with black ink on the paper resting in his hands. He's surprised he doesn’t feel the tiredness of the week anymore or neither the need to sleep. Damn, he has so much energy he's sure he could run a whole marathon, but only if you’re out there watching him.

"Well, if our conversations end up like Plato’s dialogues, I think I’m in for a rewarding challenge. Just don’t make me drink too much wine before our next discussion."

"Unit Chief I thought you had self-control and didn't need to be babied like us mortals"

His phone buzzes with another message from you.

“Sorry if I ask, I’m curious - what got you interested in Symposium all of a sudden? I didn’t think philosophy was your usual reading material."

Hotch takes a moment to think, considering how to respond without revealing too much.

"You know, it’s funny. I saw you reading it a while back and it piqued my interest. I guess I wanted to see what you found so engaging about it. And honestly, I’m finding it pretty compelling - there’s a lot more depth to it than I expected."

His cheeks turn into a light shade of pink at your last response. "Unit Chief, do you believe you might need some professional insights on that speech you needed so urgently to write?"

"I definitely might need a hand - if I'm not wrong you do have a philosophy degree, don't you?"

Symposium might just become Aaron Hotchner's all-time-favourite book as well, after all.

[vettelsvee]

DO YOU REALLY WANT US TO TRY? | Sebastian Vettel

history series main masterlist | requests here!

retired sebastian vettel x wife!reader

word count: 7265

summary: having the day off from the shootings of the documentary they're shooting about their years in formula 1, so seb decides not only to take y/n on a date in new york, but also to try for another baby

warnings: smut: female masturbation, male masturbation, fingering, oral sex (female receiving, male receiving), p in v without protection (wrap it before tap it!). bad language, curse words, translated german. based on january 2023

a/n: (you can read this while listening to maroon by taylor swift bc oh my) this is one of the extra fics i'm gonna be posting of history series! first volume on the series, meeting, will be posted as soon as i finish writing the first chapter so you can enjoy the same day both the intro, the prologue and chapter 1 🔥 feedback and reposts are truly appreciated, and also comments! thank you for all the support lately, you don't know how much it means to me <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

The dawn light, painting the New York sky in pink and orange, began to filter through the windows partially covered by semi-transparent curtains.

You laid peacefully in bed, on your right side, immersed in a light sleep. Your hair sprawled across the pillow, and your breathing was calm, synchronized with the movement of your chest. A faint smile adorned your lips, possibly reflecting a pleasant dream involving you, your husband and your little ones.

Sebastian gradually woke up, his half-asleep eyes first meeting the serene face of you illuminated by the emerging sunlight.

"Good morning, my love," Vettel whispered, trying not to startle you.

You didn't react, still lost in your peaceful nocturnal fantasy. A tender expression crossed the German's face as he leaned gently to kiss your forehead, taking utmost care not to wake you.

Your day in New York held many plans, and all he wanted you was to be as rested as possible.

"Mmm," you murmured, slightly more aware now. "Seb..."

Sebastian's gaze focused on your lips, but he didn't want to overwhelm you. Nevertheless, he couldn't resist, leaving a trail of kisses from your cheek to your jaw, chin, and even focusing on your neck, well aware that such gestures often led to a morning session of intimacy you had enjoyed many times before.

You mumbled sleepily but became a bit more conscious of your surroundings.

"That was nice, but could you let me sleep a bit more, please?" you asked.

Sebastian smiled, settling closer to you, resting his head on the pillow and letting it rest on his right hand, aligning with your level.

"I think it's already time to wake up, love," he said, gently caressing your cheek. "How about you let me wake you up properly?"

You, as if engaged in a playful banter, slowly opened your eyelids. You blinked leisurely, letting your light eyes adjust to the ambient light, a playful smile forming as you realized how close your husband was.

"What do you mean by waking me up properly?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, intrigued and emphasizing the last word.

Sebastian didn't reply. Instead, he leaned in and brushed his lips against yours, initiating a tender and longer kiss than initially intended. Afterward, he focused on every part of your tired face once again.

"Like that."

"Are we playing Disney princesses as if we were with the girls?" You teased, your cheeks turning slightly red. "Am I supposed to be Sleeping Beauty or what?"

Sebastian chuckled sincerely, admiring the innocence with which you, his wife, sometimes spoke due to the games you played mostly with your daughters throughout the day. Since becoming parents, you both knew your were reliving a second childhood, something you particularly loved as you had become the mother you always wanted to be, but you never got to have.

"Something like that, yes," Vettel replied. "Who could resist the incredible task of waking up a princess? Well," he corrected himself, "you’re not a princess anymore as I'm afraid to say you’re my queen."

"I haven't been awake for five minutes and you're already acting like your 2010 self! Yes, don't laugh, Seb! The one who didn't know what to do with his life and how to get rid of all the crap falling on him," you recalled. "And there was quite a lot, especially, and who flirted with every walking female being."

"But you loved him because, thanks to him, you ended up falling in love with me," Sebastian added with sarcasm. "Besides," he continued, "don't act like you've never put a foot wrong in your life. You weren't an angel a year later either."

Before you could retort, Sebastian moved aside the sheets covering him from the waist down to get out of bed. He put on his slippers and, with a mischievous smile, headed to the apartment's kitchen you had rented for your stay in the city.

"What are you doing, Sebastian Vettel?" demanded you to know, trying not to fall back asleep and figuring out what was going on in the man's head.

A playful smile appeared on Sebastian's face as he turned to you. You were watching him with considerable curiosity.

"It's a surprise, sweetheart," he commented, quickly returning to you, planting a kiss on your forehead and covering you a bit more with the sheets.

"You've got me intrigued," you said drowsily, yawning, "so don't take too long, or I'll fall back asleep."

Sebastian returned to the small space, leaving you confused and stretching in bed. Once in the kitchen, the former driver began gathering everything needed for a simple breakfast, given that his culinary skills were not the best but good enough to impress his wife. Soft sounds of utensils and plates clinking filled the air, along with the gradually brewing aroma of coffee, enough to fully awaken you. Nothing delighted you more than the scent of that brown beverage you loved, wafting through your nostrils.

You sat up slowly, leaning against the padded backrest. A few minutes later, you heard footsteps approaching. Sebastian appeared at your bedroom entrance carrying a tray filled with fresh fruits in an unevenly cut bowl, a buttered toast with peach jam, and a cup brimming with coffee, featuring a failed attempt at a heart. Additionally, there was a vase with some dried flowers that Sebastian had secretly bought the day before from a nearby florist.

"What's all this? Are we celebrating something?" you asked, completely impressed by the wonderful wake-up Seb had prepared for you. "Or is there something you want to tell me, and you don't know how?"

He carefully placed the tray on you lap, trying not to spill anything and cause a mess. Sebastian then sat beside you gently, positioning himself close enough to you but giving enough space for you to enjoy breakfast without feeling overwhelmed.

"I just wanted to make something special for the most special woman in my life," the blonde clarified.

"It's surreal that you've done this for me," you admitted. "Are you sure you're not going to ask me for a divorce or anything like that?" you added while taking a piece of bread with your hands and bringing it to your mouth.

"I thought the nonsense of wanting a divorce was a thing of the past," Sebastian replied. "Besides, this is the simplest thing in the world, love. Remember when I taught you to drive?" You nodded, eating slowly. He had given you quite a hard time, although in the end he became your best driving instructor. "Or when you got so obsessed with Moulin Rouge that I threw you a themed birthday party where you were Satine, I was Christian, and we spent the whole night singing after I spent days learning every single song Ewan McGregor sang in the movie?"

"You looked handsome as fuck in that outfit, and everyone had a great time," you said, recalling that day as if it were yesterday. "Although we didn't enjoy it as much when Mick and that girl he dated, Lara, who clearly intended to sleep together, caught us in bed together ."

The German rolled his eyes, trying to forget the scene where he had you sitting on his face, your face down focused on his penis giving him a blowjob, and the ex-couple, wearing only their underwear, entering the same room where you were.

He didn't want to remember that date even if they paid him all the money in the world, or if they even told him that climate change would end.

"Well," you continued, realizing that Sebastian didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Then you tell me what's all this for."

"Since we had the day off today, I wanted to do something special with you," Sebastian explained. "I know we have to get up at five tomorrow because we need to be at the studio around seven, so I didn't plan anything big," he apologized. "Sorry."

"Spill it, don't leave me in suspense," you said, now holding the fruit bowl in one hand and the fork in the other.

"What if we go to Central Park and spend the day there, sweetheart?"

You lifted your gaze from the coffee, surprised by the suggestion. Then, you smiled at her husband.

"Central Park is always a good plan, especially when it's with you,”  you replied cheerfully. “I like that it's something calm," you confessed, quite happy. "Mr. and Mrs. Vettel need, every now and then, a bit of calm in their lives."

Even though you hadn't finished eating everything Sebastian had prepared for you, you made a move to get up and get dressed. However, he asked you nicely to sit back down and wait for a moment.

"I have something for you," he declared affectionately, thinking about how you would react to the two surprises he had prepared, especially the first one.

Quickly, with your watchful eyes on him, he approached the built-in wardrobe in one corner of the room and took out a small bag containing an envelope and a small box wrapped in Christmas-themed wrapping paper.

"I know it's not the right time for me to give you this," Sebastian explained, pointing to the box, "but I'm sure you'll love what's inside. I couldn't give it to you with the girls around," he revealed, "or they would want to copy their mother, especially Emily. I still think they are too young for that."

You were puzzled by what the German had just said. As he offered you the box, you took it carefully in your hands. Slowly, you unwrapped it, avoiding tearing the wrapping hastily and removing the pieces of tape one by one, even though excitement was eating you.

Once you removed the wrapping, you saw what appeared to be the back of a toy box. When you turned it around you realized you were right and started screaming and jumping on the bed. Then, you ran towards Seb and gave him a tight hug, one of the ones she loved.

"Oh my God, sunshine. I can't believe it!" you exclaimed, completely thrilled. "I know I'm an adult, a mother with responsibilities," you specified, counting with your fingers, "but you've fulfilled my childhood dream!"

Sebastian laughed at your reaction, something that he was already expecting from you. As you became closer in 2008, you talked about childhood toys and that kind of stuff people usually talk about when they meet. You revealed that you had always wanted a Tamagotchi but, due to your family's economic situation, they couldn't buy you one. Your surprise came when Emily, your eldest daughter, asked for one last Christmas. Since then, he often caught you playing with it whenever your eldest ignored it or got bored of it.

He loved seeing you so excited about something as simple as a gadget with a virtual pet or whatever was inside.

"I thought you'd like to have one for yourself," Seb raised an eyebrow. "Considering how often you take it from your eldest daughter..."

You avoided his comment. Instead, you eagerly tore open the box and, once the device was out, you stopped to examine it in detail, trying not to let it slip from your trembling hands. You felt a rush of emotions running through your body, transporting you back to your childhood, remembering every detail you had experienced with your family and the ones that you didn't have around anymore.

But now you had a new family, your own family, and that was what you clung to in moments when you wondered why almost all your loved ones had somehow left you behind.

"And what's the other thing?"

You discreetly pointed, ignoring your feelings as you stepped away from your husband, to the envelope he held in his hands. You tried to reach it, but it was in vain: Sebastian, even just slightly, was taller than you.

"Oh, this?" he said. "It's nothing. Just tickets to go to the theater to see the Hamilton musical."

You opened your mouth completely in shock.

"And you say it so calm?!" you exclaimed, moving towards your husband again. "You're the most utterly unexpressive person I've ever met in my life, Vettel."

"Go get dressed, come on," he avoided that comment, heading towards the front door, grabbing his jacket, and after putting it on, he took the keys to the residence. "I'm going grocery shopping for the wonderful picnic we're going to have today."

"But what picnic are we going to have if it's winter!" you shouted, somewhat puzzled. "Sebastian Vettel, I swear to God that if I catch a cold and, on top of that, when we come back we give it to the girls, I won't be the one staying home to take care of them!"

He left the apartment laughing, closing the door behind him, leaving you to come up with wild theories about what you were going to do. It seemed you knew him very little.

Did you not know that, for him, a picnic always ended up meaning taking you to eat somewhere quiet in the city?

[...]

After almost two weeks of the History recordings, where you had only worn the most formal clothes possible, from almost gala dresses to uncomfortable pencil skirts that remind you of your days working for Red Bull as a intern and, then, as a race engineer, you could finally wear something you could describe as comfortable.

You had always been used to dressing casually except for the years you worked at Red Bull, where you often felt like you were on a fashion runway. So, for a stroll in the most famous park in New York and even for a night at the theater, you decided to wear slightly tight jeans that easily hugged your curves, hidden under a well-worn oversized sweater from your pregnancies. You left your hair, a bit longer than she was used to in recent years, loose, with its natural waves. You also wore tiny pearl-shaped earrings, your father's watch on your left wrist and white Converse shoes.

For Sebastian, an overshirt and a t-shirt hidden under his jacket, along with pants and Adidas sneakers, were more than enough. He wore that almost always, and no matter how many times you told him that it seemed like that outfit had become his uniform, he refused to change it.

And thank goodness he doesn't wear the famous headband, you criticized in your mind. How embarrassing. 

It had been almost three hours since you left your rented apartment and had done quite a few things, although it was nothing extraordinary. First, you walked hand in hand through the park, avoiding athletes and talking about trivial matters. Then, you started feeding ducks in a small pond with a loaf of bread Sebastian had specifically bought for that. You also decided to approach a group of elderly people playing chess to chat with them for a while. Older people were your weakness, and you felt sorry for most of them. You even ended up playing a few games while listening to them talk cheerfully about their lives, sharing some trivial details about yours at the same time.

When you set out for the famous picnic, they decided to call Amelie, your middle sister, to check on your kids. The moment the girl answered the call, the couple could momentarily see the desperation she was feeling:

"I swear tonight has been a disaster," the girl commented in German. "Matilda, at eleven at night, wanted to get into the pool with her Little Mermaid costume to swim and go to the magical kingdom of I don't know what," she expressed angrily, gesturing with her free hand. "Then, Emily wanted to play with your simulator, Seb, and ended up crying because I told her she needed your permission, but you were working and you couldn't give it to her," the mentioned one nodded, gesturing to his sister to continue. "And to top it off, George and Mick ended up falling asleep, leaving me in charge of two little devils."

“And what about aunt Johanna?,” you asked abruptly, leaning closer to the phone. Sebastian could sense your getting nervous, so he quickly took your hand and started caressing it with his thumb.

Amelie sighed, and you even heard a few muttered curses.

"Don't talk to me about your them, Y/N," the girl almost shouted. "They promised me they'd be here around eight, but uncle Hans ended up calling me a few hours later, drunk as a skunk, to tell me they went to a fancy dinner with some of their workmates and couldn't make it home."

"So, you've become the boss of everything, huh?" you commented with humor.

"Sadly."

The family conversation continued. As the minutes passed and you got closer to the place Sebastian had chosen for your meal that day, his parents joined them, having decided to take care of the youngest of the family, your baby boy Carl, while you were out. Michael and Corinna also decided to go to your residence, and with the youngest in her arms, she began explaining to you that he had learned to say a few new words.

"Auto," the baby joyfully exclaimed, while pointing from Schumacher's arms to a photo of Sebastian in his second team that was above the fireplace. "Auto, daddy. Daddy, das Auto ist blau."

That made Sebastian so happy that tears welled up in his eyes, although it didn't last long because you had already reached the door of the restaurant. Soft lights, despite it being midday, illuminated the path to the entrance, which stood out with its wide windows, resembling a glass display, showcasing diners already enjoying their meals.

After hanging up the call with your relatives, you entered and let yourselves be enveloped by the atmosphere. The interior was elegantly decorated, but not overly extravagant. There were plenty of potted plants of all kinds decorating every corner, and you weren't sure if it was that or not, but a very faint scent, like vanilla, seemed to emanate from some unknown place.

A waiter approached you both while you were chatting animatedly about the place.

"Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Vettel," the young man interrupted, who should be in his twenties and apparently seemed to be a fan of your husband by his way to behave and, apparently, nervousness. "If you follow me I'll show you the table we've prepared so you can enjoy your meal without interruptions."

Sebastian and you thanked him with a slight nod and proceeded to follow him. You crossed the different sections of the establishment, trying not to attract the attention of any customers, until you reached a more secluded corner from where Central Park could be seen in the distance.

Once seated, the guy who was serving you offered you menus and, immediately, an older woman placed a few appetizers on the table, saying they were on the house.

At that moment, while deciding what to order, you began to dwell on the conversation you had with your youngest sister before starting to record the documentary for the first time. You didn't know how to broach to Seb the subject of getting pregnant again. You were nervous about his possible reaction, yes, but at the same time, you had a good feeling. Your husband was currently dissecting the steak you had ordered, while you dipped a nacho into some guacamole. Trying not to delay it further, you finally spoke while settling into your chair:

"Seb?" you asked to get his attention. "The other day, Lou told me something a bit... strange," you innocently expressed.

Vettel stopped cutting the piece of meat, dropped the utensils onto the plate, and looked at you a bit uneasy, not knowing what you might be referring to. 

"What do you mean something a bit strange?" he said, frowning and with a concerned tone. "What did she tell you?"

"She said we could go for one more bun," you emphasized the phrase with a bit of irony. "She also said we should have a second honeymoon or something like that," you crossed her arms, trying not to make a big deal out of it. "You know how my sister is."

And, indeed, Sebastian knew. He already had an idea of where this conversation was going, and if you meant it in a positive way, he was totally on board.

"So... one more bun, huh?" he teased, pretending not to know where the conversation was heading.

"I think Lou was talking about having another baby, love," you bluntly stated.

Sebastian nodded with excitement, knowing that your expression was currently a masterpiece. If you thought he wouldn't catch on to what you were referring to, you were absolutely mistaken. Every time your sister had told him that she'd like to have another nephew, she had done it using that phrase which, though totally absurd, had become an internal joke between them both. Now, you seemed to be a part of it as well.

"I know," Seb finally admitted, not wanting to tease you anymore as you seemed a bit deflated. "And... what do you think?"

You had a thoughtful expression, unsure of what to say. On one hand, you indeed wanted to be a mother for the fourth time, but there were so many things swirling in your head, things that would soon become a reality...

"What are you thinking, Y/N? Wouldn't it excite you us being parents again?" 

Sebastian moved his chair closer to the table and took both of your hands while keeping a close eye on you. He could feel you trembling a bit, and it wasn't particularly because of the cold.

"No, it's not that, it's just that... Carl is still a baby... You've just retired, and the only thing you should focus on now is on resting and making up for lost time. I'm starting all this stuff of F1 Academy soon and, on top of that, there's the mess of the documentary we've gotten into," you listed. "I don't feel capable of being a mother again, Seb," she confessed. "It will be overwhelming for us."

The German took your chin and made you look at him. Your gazes met, and your found somehow serenity amidst all the concerns that were overwhelming you at the moment.

"Listen, Y/N," the former driver expressed clearly and calmly. "I'll always be by your side, no matter where I am or what I do, okay?" You nodded, trying to hold back tears. "If you don't think now is the best time to have a baby, I'll wait, and if that time never comes, I'll be more than happy to see our little ones grow up next to you."

"Are you serious?"

"Very serious, Y/N," Seb affirmed once again. "I've always wanted to have a big family with you. You know that for me, the more, the merrier."

You leaned back a bit, surprised by your husband's words. You started reflecting on everything he had said since then, especially the if you don't think now is the best time to have a baby, I'll wait.

Did that mean he might want a fourth child... right?

"Wait, wait, wait," you played with your hands. "What did you say before?"

"I want to have all the babies in the world with you, and I'll wait as long as you need," Sebastian explained again.

Your eyes began to fill with tears of joy, causing confusion for your husband, who began to genuinely worry about you. He hadn't seen you like this for quite some time, and those were not particularly good times.

"Do you really want another baby?" you asked, now crying after you tried holding back tears. "Do you really want us to try?"

"How could I not want it, silly girl?" he rushed to hug you, already knowing what was going through your mind. "I'm willing to do anything you say except to sign divorce papers. So, if you want another mini version of us running around, with the mini versions of us that are no longer so mini running alongside, let's do it."

Your excitement couldn't fit into your body at the moment.

"You're amazing, did you know that?" you expressed, holding onto your husband even tighter.

"Of course," the German laughed, causing you to laugh as well. "I'm just doing what all men should do: be, or at least try to be, everything their girls deserve."

And you knew he was right.

"So...?"

You were nervous about the final answer, although after seeing Sebastian's eyes light up and narrow, revealing the dimples on his cheeks, he didn't need to give you a response: you already knew, and knew your husband too well to understand what was going through his mind at that moment.

"After the musical and dinner I'm going to make you the most beautiful baby in the world. Four kids for us, who have four Formula 1 world championships, is that ok with you?"

[...]

The return trip had created a kind of barrier between you. 

You knew what you were going to do, you had talked about it and, especially, it obviously wasn't the first time you had done it. Nevertheless, doubts always plagued you both when it came to conceiving a baby because, after the miscarriage you had in 2016, fear was always present.

Both the musical, from which you had left crying, and the dinner, despite having been caught by paparazzi and fans, to whom you did not deny anything, were great even Britta wasn't with you to help you. The night was young, and for you it had just begun no matter how much you tried to fool yourselves by promising each other that you would go to sleep soon.

As soon as you arrived at the apartment, you shared kisses that were more intimate than normal, and even some friction over your clothes. You were starting to get very horny, but had to calm down even you became more excited at the same time when Seb told you that, after the shower he was going to take, he would give you a lot of love.

Carl was barely two years old, and although Seb bragged about his three girls every time he had the opportunity to, you knew that what your husband wanted most was to have another small version of him running around.

You took off your clothes quickly, not bothering to put them on properly or look at where they ended up being thrown off. You laid down on the bed, wearing only the black lace panties, a courtesy gift from your sister and which had ended up becoming Sebastian's favorites, and you began to lower your left hand very slowly towards your privacy. You took some time for yourself despite how aroused you were by your touch, focusing on you nipples and, little by little, working your way down to your stomach, leaving a trail of caresses that made you very wet, as you could tell. You had had a lot of problems with your body in the past but, now, you felt like a fucking Greek goddess, and you didn't need Seb's compliments to believe it.

Once you reached your pussy, you tried to spend a brief moment exploring it However, you hunger was getting the better of you, and your excitement even more, so you quickly began to give small massages with the slowest speed you could to your clit, which made you let out a slight gasp. You continued to focus on yourself to the point that you had forgotten about Seb, who had already taken his shower and, completely naked from the bathroom door, was admiring the show that you were giving to him.

At the same time that you were increasing the pressure you were exerting on your G-spot, you began massaging your right breast with your non-dominant hand, the right one, focusing first on the areola and gradually moving towards your nipple, limiting yourself to rubbing it with the index finger. The movement of both of your hands, completely in rhythm, made Seb's penis become completely erect and ready to do anything to you. 

The German had been the one who had taught you everything about masturbation, no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise.

The man walked towards where you were while massaging his penis. As soon as he arrived and had you in front of him, he climbed onto the bed and lay down next to you, still absorbed in your own pleasure. As soon as he had the chance, Seb took advantage to kiss you fiercely, which was eagerly responded by you. You had already noticed that your husband had joined the party, although not yet actively. As if Vettel had read your thoughts, he began to caress your stomach and, without warning, he inserted his hand into your underwear, wasting no time and getting to work with the bundle of nerves between your legs.

"Fuck, Seb..." you whimpered with pleasure. "You could have warned earlier."

"If I had warned you you wouldn't be moaning three times louder right now than when your hand was in my place," Seb said, moving his finger from your clit to your inside, surprising you. "Remember that no one will ever give you more pleasure than me, Y/N Vettel."

Sebastian wanted to continue in that position. However, he knew they had to finish quickly. In just a few hours you had to be up and getting ready to continue filming the documentary, and it didn't seem particularly right to fuck you all night long even though that was his only desire.

Quickly, the German quickly pulled out of you, what made you let out a cry of frustration at the loss of contact. Instead, Sebastian got off the bed, knelt in front of you and took your thighs, squeezing hard to lower you to the edge of the surface and leave your pussy perfectly aligned with his mouth. You knew perfectly well that, in those moments, the blonde was the one who had control of you, no matter how much you wanted to dominate him. But you were not going to object to it: you loved Seb being in control.

Sex for you, who had been affectionately and sarcastically nicknamed the paddock royalty back in the day, was never boring but actually quite the opposite: it was a box full of surprises in which, in a matter of seconds, Seb could go from being rough and dominant, to be the exact representation of the perfect guy in teenage romantic movies.

The man took time to admire you. You only had your panties left over to be completely naked before him. Quickly, he slowly got rid of them, even though you were putting up some resistance. Then, he opened your legs and held them tightly by your thighs, on which he began to leave kisses, caresses and even the occasional slight bite, alternating between them tortuously.

"Sebastian Vettel, I'm not here to play games," you told him reluctantly, anxious for him to take the next step once and for all. "Either you fuck right now or I'll rub myself against the pillow until I come and the pillowcase ends up soaked."

He stood up, stopping touching your body. It caused, once again, great frustration for you.

"Do you think a bag filled with feathers is going to please you more than me?," Vettel asked curiously, playing with you.

"Seeing that you're acting like a dick, yes," you replied, sitting up and resting on the bed with your forearms.

"Are you sure what you're saying, meine Königin?"

You felt more horny after having heard that nickname. Not even a few milliseconds passed when you had already pushed him to lie down again. Immediately afterwards, with his arms tightly holding your lower extremities, the German was already kneeling again and running his tongue throughout your intimacy without any kind of mercy.

“Fuck, Seb!,” you squealed in surprise, prompting the German to lick faster. "My God..."

Seb was going so fast that your body was constantly rising and falling, your breasts bouncing hard almost in unison with Sebastian's licks. To change the rules of the game, and surprise you once again, he opened your folds widely with one hand and, with the other one, started massaging that button that caused you so much pleasure. Your legs had begun to close due to you being close to the orgasm, and the German could do nothing about it except try to delay the arrival of it. He had seen first-hand that, the longer you took to reach your release, the better it was. For this reason, he decided to slow down the pace of the movements, now replacing them with slower rubbing of your clit fusing it with the penetration of his middle finger.

The screams were getting louder, and Seb noticed how your walls contracted on his finger with increasing frequency and violence. He felt the orgasm close to you, and that was the impulse to add one more finger inside you to the equation, accompanied by the entire surface of his tongue on your nerves. While the two fingers were entering and leaving you, he devoured your pussy with a little bit of difficulty due to the lack of access, but with an incredible hunger. He was excited, and he noticed how the precum began to come out of the tip of his penis. This served no purpose other than to give him more motivation to eat you out as if he hadn't done so in a long time.

He needed to fuck you as soon as possible, but first he needed to please you. You always came first for him in sex, and it had become a ritual that emerged unexpectedly years ago, all thanks to Rosberg.

"I'm about to cum, sunshine," you shouted, hunching your back aggressively and lifting your head as high as you could while you kept pulling hard on your husband's hair. "Let me do something, please... I get on top of you and give you a blowjob while you keep going," you begged. “I’m serious, Seb, don't ignore me. Fuck...!”

Sebastian didn't replied as he was completely absorbed in giving you a good orgasm, because saying the best would be impossible. That position had been earned by those when celebrating your victory in the 2013 World Driver's Championship despite everything that it entailed later.

A few light bites on your clit and the increase in the thrusts, focusing on that point inside you that gave you so much pleasure, were the key to the arrival of your climax as you were holding onto the bed sheets tightly while he writhed wildly. 

Seb took some time to take all of your cum and let you calm down because there was still the best part of sex left.

"That was... lovely. Simply lovely."

Vettel sat up, gladly took the remains of your cum and sat down next to you, leaving a chaste kiss on you forehead and, later, on you lips, making you taste yourself.

"I'm the best at my job, what can I say? The best for my girl," he said modestly.

"So..." you commented before the German went on to the next thing and ignoring his words. "Are you going to let me make you feel good or not?"

"No."

A mischievous smile began to form on the man's face. Although he was quite enjoying making you nervous, the truth is that he didn't want that day to focus on him.

If you were going to make a baby, all the attention had to go to you: for that you were the one who would carry it, with everything that entailed, for nine months... more or less.

"Not even a simple blowjob?," you tried to convince him. "Not even a little suck? Come on, Seb."

"Don't insist anymore, really."

"I hope at least that you let your besties do it for me," you approached your husband, taking you breasts and squeezing them while impatiently bringing them closer to his face.

Sebastian laughed, again refusing your insistence. 

"Y/N," Vettel began to explain, "I want you to lie down," he gave you a short kiss, "and let me do everything," he took you by your waist and began to lay you down on the bed again. "Let me do all the work, love," he finished saying, standing upon top of you and beginning to rub his member against your intimacy. "Let me remind you that we're gonna make a baby, love, and you already know that in the Vettel's baby factory, children are made with love. Much affection and love."

You hated when your husband became dominant when they had sex and as quickly as possible ended up acting as if he were a prince straight out of Disney movies.

"Yes, whatever you say," you reprimanded. "It's not fair, Seb. I want to make you feel good too."

"It's not fair either that you suffer during pregnancy and I just stand by and watch," that's when you had to agree with him. "You...," he corrected herself, "you all women do everything. We only take part in the fun part."

Again, without letting you say anything else, he began to spread kisses along your neck, sucking on the spots he knew you liked the most. At the same time, he began to rub himself impatiently on the your stomach, masturbating himself so that his erection would not go down even though it was impossible at that point.

"I love when you do that..." you moaned when you noticed how the German's teeth dug lightly into you skin, "although I would like more to have you inside me."

"Patience, Y/N."

Sebastian continued kissing you through your entire neck, and all you could do was making increasingly aggressive gestures as you felt your pleasure increasing. His penis was becoming more and more erect and, as he could tell by touching your inner lips, you were very, very wet again.

"Please, Seb, don't stop," you moaned in desperation when you stopped feeling the German's lips. "I want you to do something else now, please."

"What do you want me to do?"

A mischievous smile appeared on the blonde's face at the possibilities that were going through his mind right now about what he could do with you. He looked at the time on his digital watch, and when he saw that it was almost twenty to one in the morning, something in him changed.

"Do you want to be in control now, Königin?," he commented with a hoarse and serious voice. "Is that what you want?"

“If you know that’s what I want, I don't know why you're asking me then.”

"Well," replied Sebastian, who had already reached the height of excitement, "let's do it my way because you haven't given me a clear answer..."

Before you could say anything else, he gave you another kiss, although this time he showed much more desperation than anyone you had shared earlier that same night.

"Are you going to leave me like that or what?," you said, seeing that your husband was not up to the task of what he had promised you and, therefore, he stepped away from you. "Switch positions with me right now and lie on the fucking bed, Sebastian."

He did as requested, completely surprised by the words you had let out of your mouth even though it was not the first time he had seen you behave that way with him during your intimate moments.

You had many facets, but the one where you had control during sex was secretly his second favorite, followed right after the one of you being the world's best mother.

Once you husband was finally lying down, you desperately grabbed his member and began to move it up and down at the same time as you clumsily pleasured yourself. Within a few seconds you already had it in your mouth, constantly putting it in and out of your lips and masturbating what you couldn't fit due to its length.

"Are you going to let me fuck you now or not?," Sebastian verbalized, trying not to sound desperate.

"You'll fuck me when I decide it, Vettel," you said. "So now you better shut up for a while. Let me continue doing my job or I'm afraid I'll have to stop too."

"Princess..." Seb complained.

You couldn't take it anymore no matter how much you tried to make excuses for yourself and restrain your husband. You hated it when Sebastian begged you: you were tough, and you coped differently depending on the day. Suddenly, and to the German's surprise, you straddled him and aligned you entrance with his member, slowly letting yourself fall just to torture him. Seb responded with loud gasps accompanied by several expletives towards you, which served to excite you even more.

Finally, you lowered yourself completely, letting out a scream as soon as you felt the German's cock completely inside you. At first, you put your hands on Seb's chest, although you quickly moved them to the edge of the headboard when you saw that he wanted to have full access to your breasts, which he began to caress more than with desire, with affection, focusing on the nipples especially, while massaging them together.

You increased the promising rhythm of your hips when you saw Seb getting close to orgasm. Him, to help you, took you by your waist, helping you in that swing that your hips were so accustomed to doing.

"Honey, I'm close," said Sebastian, who was having a hard time to even speak.

This only made you squeeze your insides and increase more, if possible, your speed, even causing you little damage. The German's heartbreaking screams were filling your ears and, as soon as you began to touch yourself to try to reach the orgasm at the same time as Sebastian's, you joined his gasps.

"God, Y/N, there. Yes!"

A few more thrusts were enough for Sebastian to cum inside you, who continued riding him with impetus. Just a minute later, you had also reached the long-awaited second orgasm of the day, without a doubt much better than the first one.

With your legs shaking, carefully got off your husband, who helped you even though he couldn't even handle his own body. You laid down next to him, tangling your legs next to his. Sebastian, as soon as he had you next to him, took you in his arms and began to caress you and kiss you delicately all over your face.

Sleep began to take its toll on your bodies, and as soon as you began to get closer to each other, yawns replaced moans. Despite being aware that you had to get up in less than four hours, you wouldn't change anything that had happened between you moments before.

"I never get tired of kissing you," you commented, sliding your fingers through Sebastian's hair and snuggling with him, "or hugging you, or anything with you. I am very lucky to have you, and I would live again everything we have gone through in this and a thousand other lives just to be with you,” you acknowledged.

"I'm the lucky one, Y/N," he limited to say with honesty as he placed a kiss on your forehead for the umpteenth time that day, "and you'll never know how much."

[tojiluv]

Hello new follower here hope you’re having a great day/evening/night💜 could I request any inuyasha characters reaction to accidentally touching their s/o’s cold feet/hands while they’re sleeping at night ? You can ignore this if it makes you feel uncomfortable.

COLD NIGHT — inuyasha characters reaction ft. inuyasha, sesshomaru, koga [headcanon]

context: amidst the camp set up for the night, you spread your blanket on the ground while your partner opts to lie beside you. despite the warmth emanating from the large fire, your body retains a chill, though it doesn't trouble you greatly. however, someone else appears more affected, expressing their discomfort unlike you.

warnings: fluff. slight ooc? lowercase intended. gn! reader

notes: ty for the request anon! if you can't tell, i prefer sesshomaru more lol. also why doesn't Inuyasha and koga have good alias names ugh

INUYASHA ─ ❝ HALF—DOG ❞

➜ inuyasha would sit up against the rough bark of a nearby tree, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, ready for any potential intruders. you settle down beside him, seeking warmth and solace in his presence. your hand reaches out to him, seeking comfort and reassurance that he's beside you.

➜ as your hand makes contact with his, his serene expression swiftly transforms into one of alarm, his eyes snapping open wide. he jerks his hand away from yours, swiftly moving it towards the fire to regain warmth.

➜ “the hell is wrong with your hands!? they’re colder than the damn snow right now!”

➜ you scoff at his words, turning away from him in response. inuyasha grumbled at your reaction before firmly gripping your shoulders and pulling you closer to him, snuggling you into his warm embrace.

➜ “since you wanna be stubborn and not get near the fire, i guess i’ll just stay next to you for the night.”

LORD SESSHOMARU ─ ❝ BEAST KING ❞

➜ unlike inuyasha’s outburst, sesshomaru is more the silent-but-glaring type of partner in this situation. 

➜ when your hand accidentally brushes against his face while adjusting a few strands of his hair, his golden eyes widen briefly at the contact before narrowing into a silent, intense glare.

➜ you pull your hand back quickly, shooting him an apologetic smile as he continues to glare, the sensation of your cold hands disrupting his slumber. it was rare for sesshomaru to join you and the group, let alone to sleep as well, but now, you've ruined it with your never-ending coldness.

➜ you turn around on the blanket, keeping your hands to yourself as you quietly sigh, feeling regretful for ruining the moment.

➜ after a few seconds, you feel something heavy and warm drape across your freezing body. it takes a moment to realize it's sesshomaru's mokomoko, which he has placed on you, providing the extra warmth you need that the fire couldn’t.

➜ even though you knew sesshomaru wasn’t one to talk about his feelings, you appreciated how he expressed his love more through actions than words.

KOGA ─ ❝ WOLF CUB ❞

➜ as the leader of the wolf-demon tribe, koga had numerous responsibilities to ensure the survival of his pack, with one of his main priorities being the protection of you, a human. despite being vastly different from your wolf-demon boyfriend, koga fell in love with you at first sight and would do anything to ensure your safety.

➜ as night fell, you settled around the campfire with the tribe, aiming to get some rest. however, the cool breeze that kept blowing made it difficult, causing your hands to grow numb from the biting cold.

➜ you shivered from the intense cold, despite being wrapped in a blanket. koga could feel your shaking body against his own, which startled him awake. quickly, he turned to face you with a scowl as he realized what was going on.

➜ “why the hell didn’t ya say anything? you’re freezing! here, take my hands.”

➜ you hesitated at first before settling your numbed hands against his warmed, rough ones. his touch sent a comforting warmth through your chilled fingers, and you graced him with a grateful smile for his kindness.

➜ koga would then move your sleeping bag closer to the fire and wrap his arms around your body, pulling you so close to his chest that you could hardly breathe, enveloping you in his warmth. he cared deeply for your comfort and always made sure you were satisfied.

© 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐯 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

[muletia]

Hi, I want to thank you for your scenarios JAJSJAJ, they are so good, Optimus is so cute I just want to hug him and bite him 😭😭😭😭.

But, imagine if the reader for some reason stays overnight at the base, I'm 100% sure this big guy would just stand there watching the reader sleep, like "I wish she was dreaming about me" or like Pearl in that chapter where Steven finds out she's been watching him sleep all his life KKKKKKKKK.

Pd. Sorry if the writing is bad, English is not my main language.

I send lots of love to the author! Thank you! 🥰

hello and thank you so much, your idea was so cute that i decided to make a very small drabble about it <333 also yes, bite this man on the neck, he would love it. and don't worry, your english is great (fun fact english is not my first language either)

word count: 490

It's quiet in the base when Optimus returns from patrol. No sign of the kids or any of his team members. Even Ratchet is missing from his workstation at the keyboard, surprising the Autobot leader. Could it be that he finally went to take the much-needed rest he deserves? He sincerely hoped that was the case.

Still, sadness overcame him. This meant you weren’t in the base either. What a shame. He had naïvely hoped the two of you would meet again. Maybe he would’ve even driven you home...

He transformed gracefully. He intended to head to his quarters to grab a datapad, but before he could take a single step, something—or rather, someone—caught his attention. He wasn’t alone. He allowed himself a subtle smile when he noticed you on the couch. You had a laptop on your lap, though you weren’t typing, and the device’s screen was off. Were you recharging?

He stepped closer, but not even the sound of his massive footsteps woke you, giving him the perfect opportunity to observe your face. You looked so serene, so peaceful. However, he knew that your sleep likely stemmed from immense exhaustion, which you had eventually stopped fighting. Never before had something like this happened—you’d never spent the night at their base. It was his turn to gently remind you to rest. The last thing he wanted was for you to push your body beyond its limits.

He knows he shouldn’t stare, especially now when you’re vulnerable before him, unable to tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable. He was using your slumber for his own satisfaction, indulging in a wickedness that fed his mania. And he hated himself for it, silently screaming that he needed to stop and that he was shameless. But he couldn’t.

How much he’d give to be able to recharge beside you. To hold your body close and finally rest. If you were so near to him, would you still haunt his dreams? Or would you finally allow him some relief? Would your embrace protect him from himself? He would likely never get answers to these questions. But that didn’t stop him from fantasizing, even though he knew he shouldn’t. He couldn’t count how many times he had scolded himself, berating his delusions. It never helped. He was incorrigible.

He wanted to touch you, so badly, but in this regard, he managed to maintain self-control—he hadn’t yet crossed that boundary. He vented heavily and gently took your laptop, moving it to the other end of the couch. Then, he grabbed the blanket draped over the back of the couch, left there by one of the kids, and covered you with it after spreading it out fully. He allowed himself one more moment to gaze at you, to admire your form undisturbed by the realities of the awake world and then left to fetch his datapad. It was going to be a very long night.

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

𝙎𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙧𝙢...

Read part 2 here - Soup...

*vision bored doesn't describe readers' looks it describes the vibes of the story*

screencaps: @din-jarring they are amazing, the best most amazing person. I definitely recommend you check them out 🫶🏻

Pairing: dark!Raider!Joel Miller x fem!virgin!reader

Summary: Seven years after the outbreak and with two days of starvation looming, desperation drives you to attempt stealing from your own assailant. But in this dire bid for survival, what unforeseen consequences await?

Warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, BLOOD, VIRGIN READER, breaking and entering, bondage (belt), groping, spit, fear, non/dub-con, guns, toxic people, degradation, praise, (maybe kind of), fingering kinda, biting, male moaning, breeding kink, kissing, kidnapping, mean joel, daze, kinda inexperienced reader, UNprotected sex wrap it before you tap it, kids. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

WC: 2.5K

Your pulse quickened as a looming silhouette tore through the door of your family's cabin, a formidable rifle in hand. The once serene sanctuary of your family retreat had morphed into something ominous during the seven years since the outbreak. Time had shrouded the cabin in secrecy, but now it felt like it held more secrets than safety. With no one around to offer aid and your provisions dwindling, a sense of foreboding gripped you. Who was this intruder, and what did they want?

Huddled behind the worn fabric of the couch, you trembled, trying to decipher the intruder's intentions. The eerie silence of the cabin was only broken by the sound of your racing heartbeat and the slam of the empty cupboards. The emptiness of the cupboards, devoid of sustenance for two long days, added to the dread coiling in your stomach.

Your father's departure had cast the first shadow of unease. Taking the only means of protection—a small pistol—he left behind a void filled with questions and fear. When days stretched into weeks without his return, your mother embarked on a desperate quest to find him, leaving you alone to wrestle with gnawing uncertainty.

Peering cautiously from your hiding place, you observed the intruder ransacking the kitchen. Panic surged as you spotted the cabin door ajar, a white van parked conspicuously outside. Desperation prompted a daring idea – if there was nothing left to steal, why not take whatever the intruder possessed? With knowledge of the terrain on your side, you calculated a plan to hide in the woods until the coast was clear.

You watched the intruder's every move, hoping for the perfect moment to act. When he cautiously ventured into the bathroom, likely searching for supplies you lacked, you seized the chance to make your move. With a deep breath to steady your nerves, you slipped out the door and tiptoed toward the van, determined to reclaim control of the situation.

Peering into the dim interior, you scanned for any signs of danger before cautiously stepping inside. The van's interior was a jumble of crates and boxes, their contents obscured by shadows. Time was of the essence, so you swiftly lifted the tarp covering the crates, revealing precious bottles of water. With careful precision, you gathered as many as you could carry, ensuring not to drop any or create any disturbance.

Exiting the van, you concealed the bottles in a nearby bush, intending to wait there until the intruder departed. Once the water was safely stashed, you returned to the van, continuing your search. As you reached for a few cans of canned food, you suddenly found yourself confronted by a terrifying sight: a tall, muscular man with a rifle pointed directly at your face.

The sound of the cans dropping from your hands seemed to fade away as you stood there frozen in fear, unable to move or even think. The man had a heavy, muscular build, with dark hair and an incoming beard that made him look even more menacing. It was clear that he had been watching you, and that he had no intention of letting you leave without a fight.

As you struggled to comprehend the situation unfolding before you, the man's voice shattered the eerie silence, causing a shiver to run down your spine. "Caught red-handed, are we? Thought you could just waltz in and help yourself to my supplies?" His words were like a cold slap in the face, jolting you into a state of panic.

Before you could utter a word in response, he roughly pushed you onto your back, the barrel of the gun pressing into your chest. Fear gripped you tightly as you found yourself unable to move, your mind racing with thoughts of imminent danger.

"Please, I didn't mean any harm. I'll put everything back, just please don't hurt me," you pleaded, your voice quivering with desperation. But your words seemed to fall on deaf ears as he grabbed your arm with force, pushing your chest against the center console. Your heart sank as the cold metal of the gun dug into your back, a sense of hopelessness washing over you.

In that moment of vulnerability, you couldn't help but curse yourself for choosing to wear a dress today. The fabric rode up your thighs, leaving you feeling exposed and defenseless. It served as a harsh reminder of how unready you were for the predicament unfolding before you. While you weren't naive, you'd had discussions before, even received "the talk" about the delicate subject of virginity. But contemplating the act itself was a realm you never envisioned venturing into, especially not now. The weight of such responsibilities loomed heavy on your mind, intertwining with the immediate danger at hand, creating a tangled web of fear and uncertainty.

He knelt behind you, his rough, calloused hand replacing the gun at your back. "You want to leave here in one piece? Then you better be prepared to compensate me for what you were trying to steal," he demanded, his grip firm as he lifted the hem of your dress.

As panic surged through you, you attempted to break free, but his hold only tightened. He swiftly changed tactics, his unfamiliar touch gripping your waist just above where your panties ended. With a rough tug, he pulled down your panties, his words and actions leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

"Now that's a pretty lookin' pussy," he taunted, his fingers tracing over your folds. You squirmed uncomfortably under his touch, his chuckle sending shivers down your spine.

Feeling trapped and afraid, you remained frozen, unable to escape his looming presence.

He started to palm your bare clit, making sure to rub the wet spit onto your pussy. You were starting to become wet at his actions, he rubbed his middle finger around your damp pussy teasing you, making you squirm again. “I like it when you squirm. Makes things more interesting," he chuckled, his words sending a shiver down your spine. In a desperate attempt to escape his unsettling presence, you jolted forward, scrambling towards the front of the van, hoping to create some distance between yourself and the menacing figure behind you. He pulled you back and firmly grasped your shoulders, preventing you from escaping further. Then, he cupped your face with his hands, his touch possessive yet tender, his eyebrows lifting in a silent question as his husky voice filled the space between you.

"I'm never—" he began, his lips pressing against yours briefly before he lowered his voice, his gaze locking onto yours, "gonna let you go." His thumb traced gentle circles on your temple, a stark contrast to the intensity of his words.

But then his touch shifted, his lips leaving yours to trail along the curve of your neck and shoulders, igniting a tingling sensation that sent shivers down your spine. It was as if he was trying to seduce you, drawing you in with each caress.

Returning to your lips, he initiated another kiss, and you found yourself torn between conflicting emotions. Part of you felt trapped and scared, but another part couldn't deny the thrill coursing through you. As he deepened the kiss, you found yourself responding, losing yourself in the moment.

Finally pulling back, a small smile played on his lips as he shook his head in disbelief. His voice dropped to a whisper as he repeated his vow, "Never."

As one of his hands traveled down your stomach, a shiver ran down your spine, and he began planting kisses along your neck. For a moment, you closed your eyes, lost in the sensation, feeling a sense of serenity wash over you. But reality crashed back down as he suddenly shoved you forcefully onto the center console. Your head collided with something hard, causing a sharp pain to shoot through you, and blood began to gush from your nose.

Shocked and a little dizzy from the sudden impact, you struggled to gather your bearings, your head throbbing as blood continued to trickle from your nose. Blinking rapidly, you tried to focus, but the dizziness made it difficult to think clearly. Panic began to rise within you as you realized the severity of the situation, your heart pounding in your chest.

One of his hands held you down harshly against the console keeping you trapped once again sanity has left you, his other hand swiftly unbuckled his belt, the sounds of his movements echoing in the tense silence of the van you felt hopeless and dazed as you felt his dick rub against your pussy still wet from the desire of his kiss.

He leaned closer to you, his entire body weight pressing down on yours, his chest now firmly against your back as he roughly pushed his dick into you. he was big you let out a loud shriek as a burning sensation cascaded through your body, causing your eyes to squeeze shut in pain. Desperately, you reached for his thighs, trying to push him off you.

"Quiet." He groans as he pushes deeper into your cunt you felt his pubes brush against your clit, he was so big so overwhelming you could feel him in your stomach even as he was still. He gripped your hands and grabbed his belt from beside him before tying your hands together behind your back. you could feel every movement making you let out small sounds of discomfort as his dick rested inside of you.

"Suckin' me right in." He lifted your dress higher taking a moment to stand and bask in the view of his dick being swallowed by your pussy. he started groping your ass taking his time as he started he's penetrating your soul. he began to thrust setting a slow but harsh pace. "You're gonna be achin' for days.” you let out a few broken moans at his movements your daze and confusion were replaced with a sense of pleasure and warmth as he continued thrusting in and out of you.

He shifted his hands to grip the makeshift restraints around your wrists, then began pushing you towards him so that you met his thrusts. As the new sensation overwhelmed you, you started to squirm again, unable to contain the mix of pleasure and discomfort. "I said squirming makes it interesting, I didn't say be difficult," he murmured, his voice low and filled with amusement. With a swift movement, he hooked you up so you were pressed against him, your struggles futile against his strength. He noticed the blood from your nose and chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine as you whimpered in fear.

He started to thrust up into you harder. more primal for his desire, he moved one of his hands to play with your breast. you let out a loud moan as one of his thrusts hit just where it was needed for his movements to feel like he was heaven. He pushed you back onto the console, this time skillfully avoiding the sharp object, sparing you from any further facial damage.

His weight presses you down onto your back again, forcing you to stay still as he pounds deep into you over and over again. His power and speed never slow down as he bites down hard on your shoulder to muffle his moans, he hits that sweet spot inside of you with every thrust making it impossible to hide your obvious pleasure from his actions making sure to move your hips back to meet him every time it makes you feel so dirty, "You tried to take from me, but now you're learning your place. Beneath me, where you belong, like a whore".He stopped biting your shoulder and whispered, letting out a soft moan

"Don't call me that," you manage to mumble, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance, though you still push back into him, your back arching involuntarily making you press into his chest. "I-I can call you whatever I want when... when..." Your words falter as you struggle to find your voice, the pleasure taking over you. As he continues to pound into you.

But he cuts you off sharply, he pinched your side hard, causing you to whimper in pain. "Shut the fuck up," he commands, his voice harsh and threatening. "I'm tired of your mouth. Keep it up, and I'll find another way to shut you up."

His thrusts grew more erratic, his grip tightening as he abandoned any pretense of restraint, his small moans and grunts escaping him freely. "Shit, I'm gonna need Viagra or something to keep up with this pussy," he muttered, his words punctuated by the force of his pistoning movements. "Gosh... feels like you're gonna swallow me whole."

Suddenly, he stopped hitting that spot that had pleased you, and a sense of disappointment washed over you. As his thrusts became sloppy, you ceased meeting him halfway, hoping he would find that sweet spot again. But he didn't.

With a final, desperate thrust, he let out a guttural groan, his body shuddering as he reached his climax. As he withdrew, leaving you feeling empty and unsatisfied, a wave of sadness and confusion washed over you.

Your walls were slick, not with your arousal, but with his, milky ropes of his release making an obscene set of sounds as he pulled out of you. Still restrained, you watched silently as he got dressed and exited the van, leaving you feeling abandoned and exposed.

Minutes passed, the silence heavy and suffocating, before he returned with a few papers and items you recognized from your cabin. "Hey, those are mine!" you protested, your voice tinged with a mix of anger and desperation.

He ignored your protest, tossing the items into a bag without a second glance. "They're mine now," he replied coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As he released you from your restraints, you felt a surge of defiance rising within you. "You can't just take everything!" you exclaimed, trying to assert some semblance of control over the situation.

But his gaze was icy as he looked at you, his expression unreadable. "Watch me," he muttered, before turning and striding away, leaving you feeling small and powerless once again.

"Get comfortable," he called over his shoulder as he headed towards the driver's seat, his voice devoid of any warmth or compassion.

You watched him go, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. As you sat alone in the van, surrounded by the remnants of your life that he had taken from you, the reality of your situation began to sink in.

He wasn't just taking your belongings. He was taking you.

With a heavy heart, you realized that you were now at his mercy, trapped in a situation you couldn't escape. And as he started the engine and pulled away from the cabin, leaving everything you knew behind, he turned to you with a chilling smile.

"You're mine now," he said quietly, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "And you're not going anywhere."

[umemiyan]

𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙏𝙀𝙈 / 𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙐𝙈. — 𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝖨𝖨

𝘗𝘙𝘌𝘝𝘐𝘖𝘜𝘚 𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 ･ 𝘕𝘌𝘟𝘛 𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 ･ 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ･ 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 𝗫 𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ sfw, but minors dni (nsfw future chapters likely) / an interpretation of "came back wrong" gojo (he's not necessarily wrong, just different) / yandere!gojo vibes / disabled-coded gojo with reader acting as caretaker; it's essentially a learning curve for everybody involved / some dubcon physical affection moments, but nothing serious / 3.4k words

well... we have made it to a second chapter!! this overall idea just really resonated with me, and after learning how it affected others as well, i just knew i had to do my best to keep it going. this is the first ever "part 2" of anything i've ever written, so i beg for just a shred of mercy! i'm trying my best, and thank you to everyone who has said kind things about this story so far. i hope you enjoy <3

The winter air is brisk and a little volatile, but you feel blessed to have it whirl past your skin—even more blessed to watch Satoru’s flesh prickle at the sensation. Alive.

You had done your best to rummage through the expanse of his closet to find a suitable coat for him to wear—one that would cut the chill of an afternoon breeze when it inevitably brushed across his body. January could be unforgiving at times—the harshest of winter moths. You wondered how cold death must’ve felt.

“Satoru, where are your shoes?” You inquired, voice muffled in his closet as you sifted through garments, multitasking in an attempt to compose an outfit for him.

He sat at the edge of his bed, eyes fixed on your movements as they often were, mind turning at your question for a moment. He stood then, paced towards the shoe rack that stood outside the closet door, and reached gently for one of your busied hands. Satoru points your fingers towards the collection of shoes.

You paused your movements, eyes curious as they followed his guidance before landing upon their intended target. “Oh, that’s right,” you said with a small shake of your head, bearing a self-defeating smile and feeling rather silly for your oversight. 

It was a challenge to become acquainted with someone else’s home amidst everything else, responsibilities stacking upon responsibilities. However, Satoru continued to prove that he could recall more than you initially thought, that he could act as your guiding light when called upon. A little ironic, you think. A little pathetic, too? No, you are human, after all. Just as he is.

He smiled in return. You swore there was even a hint of a familiar light-hearted, teasing glimmer in his eye, unless you were seeing things.

(You weren’t.)

For once, you are grateful for the rather serene nature of the school’s grounds as you stroll across them side-by-side with him, much like in days from a not-so-distant past. The remaining fallen leaves from the trees dressing the mountains rustle with the wind, colored by the touch of death but still beautiful all the same, just like something else you know.

“We can always go back if it gets too cold,” you say as a reminder to Satoru of his agency, his home on campus easy to circle back to should you take the notion. You fear he might choose to freeze himself into another early grave if that’s what you wished, and you can’t fathom the idea of making him suffer simply because he thinks it pleases you to do so. Your happiness is somehow his, and although this is a new quality you have yet to decipher, there’s still something about it that strikes you as indulgent and rather characteristic of a gluttonous Satoru Gojo.

He doesn’t respond, gaze flitting across his surroundings as he walks, nerve endings and six eyes absorbing a litany of information. A silent Satoru used to be a rare occurrence but is now the default, the air somehow punctured by the lack of his voice riding along it. However, his presence is still stark, his being brimming with energy as if to make up for the words he can no longer speak. 

Unbeknownst to you, he communicates with you not only with his physical body, but with his feelings, too—waves of energy that he projects outward on instinct, hoping you’ll have the means to grasp what he is trying to say even if he isn’t always sure what it is. It has been rather unsynchronized and sloppy thus far, but with each day that passes, your ability to hear him grows.

You can hear him now even with the only sounds being the breeze rushing in your ears and leaves crunching beneath the soles of shoes. There is something somber about him, more than usual, mixed with that same sense of being lost in a world that feels brand new. 

All of it is familiar to Satoru on a physical level—the paths, the buildings, the foliage—but what prickles his mind is attempting to piece together the myriad of strange feelings that arise as he is faced with more and more reminders of a past that he can’t fully recall. 

It’s as though the memories are trying to surface but can’t quite fuse into something tangible, something concrete, like when you feel a word forming just at the tip of your tongue but it never arrives. He can sense them deeply in his body, almost experience a brief image flashing like lightning through his mind before it disappears. Satoru’s frustration is palpable, and he reaches for your hand.

Icy-cold fingers nipped by winter intertwine with yours, tethering him in place as his fractured mind aches with the burden of obscurity. His physical affection is new to you, but you allow it—welcome it, even. As much as the earnest displays contrast with his previous tiptoeing around connection, it is yet another thing you can’t bear to turn down, not after everything that’s happened. 

You hope it isn’t simply guilt of all things compelling you to accommodate him, but wouldn’t it be equally bad to do it for selfish reasons? Could one misconstrue it as taking advantage, of feeding off his need to satisfy some part of you that had always wanted him?

The various implications make your head swim with conflict, so you force yourself to shut them down for the time being. Satoru is only holding your hand, nothing more, at least for the moment. There had of course been instances of his lips pecking against your own, wandering down to your neck, his hand settling on your waist as if to draw you closer�� but you’d always managed to divert his attention in one way or another, severing the connection before either of you could become too engrossed in it. He never seemed overly perturbed to shift direction, but you couldn’t help but wonder just how long his patience might last, and if you’d be able to figure out what you even were to him before then.

Needless to say, nothing could have ever prepared you for something like this. What drives you forward more than anything is your contentment with the fact that he’s here walking the earth with you, as whole as he can be after having been stolen from the arms of death. And despite the abundance of challenges, part of you can’t help but feel special for being chosen to face them.

When your feet bring you near the school’s entrance, gates opening way for a path down the mountain, Satoru stops dead in his tracks, alert like an animal that’s suddenly caught a scent. His grip on your hand tightens, heart plummeting into his stomach as something takes hold of him, something he likely couldn’t put into words even if he had the ability to speak.

You turn to check over him with your gaze, concern etched upon your features at the immediate change of pace. “Satoru…?” you call softly, yearning for a chance to be able to peek into his mind. All you can do is feel the chill of his demeanor.

His name drifting upon your voice earns a split second of his attention, but he is, for once, captivated by something else.

Pierced gut. Blocked throat. Summer sun and the sounds of buzzing.

It’s a memory that lives in his body but not his conscious mind, an instinct telling him to heed the surroundings for a threat that once was. He relives it with a rapid heartbeat, knows it bears importance, but he can only recall shreds of information that don’t merge together to form a full picture. He simmers in mounting frustration.

Black hair. Sharp eyes. Boiling blood—the brink of death.

Satoru turns on a dime and faces a figure in the distance, on guard and brimming with a sort of defensiveness you’d never quite seen before, at least not coming from him. Muscles rigid, he squeezes your upper arm as if to warn you, to keep you close, his extraordinary senses absorbing information quicker than you can even pivot to see what it is he’s looking at.

From around the corner of a building emerges Megumi, clad in warm clothes and a mellow disposition. His distinctly unruly hair makes it easy to identify him even from where he appears down the path, hands in his pockets as he strolls towards you upon recognition. 

Satoru’s mind runs through calculations as the young student approaches, attempting to distinguish and fill gaps and create something he can take hold of as a semblance of fact.

Black hair. Sharp eyes. Something… different? 

Megumi’s cursed energy burns in a recognizable way, striking Satoru as peculiar as he instinctively studies it with the six eyes. But it makes sense to him—it’s familiar, even if he struggles to trust it in full. This is someone he hasn’t met since his awakening, but someone his eyes have certainly seen before.

You can sense the fear radiating off Satoru’s being and into yours, the presence of someone other than you agitating his already troubled state. You must act.

“Look, it’s Megumi,” you say softly with an encouraging smile, encasing his hand with your palm and hoping that your pleasant reaction takes the edge off. Satoru is reluctant to avert his gaze, but does so anyway, blue darting in your direction to witness the happiness written in your features. You appear to trust this person, and he trusts you, so despite the pounding in his chest, the sorcerer relaxes his grip.

You guide Satoru to take a few steps forward with you to meet Megumi as he draws nearer, a tired but welcoming smile turning your lips upward to greet him. It’s nice to see the boy alive and well in the aftermath of his own debacle—or at least as well as someone could possibly be. You wish there had been something more you could’ve done to help him recover, but it was known to many that you happened to have your hands full at the moment. Hopefully he will understand.

“Hey,” Megumi utters quietly, eyes scanning over your face and then his teacher’s, trying to briefly assess your individual states.

“Hi, Megumi,” you respond, appraising him yourself. He seems to be all in one piece, which you had been informed of, but had yet to see yourself. It’s nice to have visual confirmation. “How are you?”

“Fine,” he replies quickly, flatly, minimizing himself as usual. His voice is more sincere when inquiring about your wellbeing. “And you?”

You grin, finding a way to sum up your experience without overwhelming him. “Hanging in there,” you muse with a breathy chuckle. There’s no use in worrying him with all the details of Gojo’s current condition and how it has subsequently flipped your world upside down, but Megumi is shrewd, and you’re sure he can come to some sort of conclusion, especially when briefed by the others who have eyes on the situation.

Megumi awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck, skirting around vulnerability and concern as his next question arises. “Gojo-sensei… how are you doing?”

Satoru has been silent all the while, of course, but sorting through every detail while you and his former student exchange pleasantries. Neurons fire, rewiring frazzled connections, giving him a glimpse at how this boy is not the same as the one he bears a resemblance to.

Megumi isn’t sure what sort of response to expect; in fact, he feels silly for expecting one at all, posing a question that he’s fairly certain can’t be answered directly. But how else was he meant to conduct himself in such an interaction, to show that he cares? To speak as if Gojo weren’t even there would feel like even more of an insult.

You’re caught in the middle, watching Satoru’s face and seeing the gears turning in his head. “I think we’re all just… learning how to adjust to things, y’know?” you reply with a rather vacant smile, turning back to Megumi who understands your subtext with ease. Rather than speak for Satoru, you’ve made a blanket statement to provide just the slightest bit of feedback, and Megumi is well aware.

The student nods his head with a short hum of acknowledgment, doing his best to see his mentor in this new light—one he never thought would be possible, not when it came to someone who had always claimed to be so strong. But at least there is a light at all.

The wind tosses leaves around between the three of you, filling the silence with its quiet whispers. You wish there was more to be said. You wish you had a solid grasp of how well Satoru really was doing.

“I think Ieiri said she wanted to see you soon,” Megumi states, acting as a courier, trying to fill the space with words.

You nod. “Yeah, we’ve been in touch. We’re actually meant to meet up with her tomorrow.” 

Shoko, while expectedly rather removed, had been one of your primary contacts and supports thus far, apart from Ijichi who shouldered the burden of several essential tasks you hadn’t been able to complete on your own. You felt guilty for sending him out for groceries and back to your apartment for extra sets of clothes, but how else would you manage to make it by? Leaving Satoru alone or in the care of someone else wasn’t currently an option, and taking him outside the school grounds didn’t sound like an optimal idea either at the present moment. So you had to make do in the meantime, and you were truly grateful for the help, but you couldn’t help but hope that things would eventually fall into place. Maybe Shoko would have answers.

“That’s good,” Megumi replies with a sparkle of hope in his tone, then reluctantly adds, “and, uh… just let me know if I can do anything to help, okay?”

You respond to his gesture with a warm smile. “Thank you, Megumi. That’s very kind.” You don’t have immediate plans for taking the young man up on his offer, but you appreciate the sentiment regardless. He deserves to rest and seek peace, not fight any more battles for the sake of others.

A twinge of pink colors the apples of Megumi’s cheeks, and he recedes into the scarf wrapped around his neck, unused to accepting grace from others without feeling inclined to quarrel about it. He is at a loss for words, somewhat eager to make his escape before the vulnerability has the chance to further consume his dignity. You take that as something of a cue.

“Well, we—” you start, preparing to make a closing statement and depart, before being interrupted by a sudden movement to your left—Satoru, breaking free from his fixed state to perform a familiar gesture.

As if finally making a connection, he grins and mimics the Ten Shadows hand configuration for summoning the Divine Dogs, clapping his palms together and examining Megumi’s reaction with ardor. The student is startled out of his mild embarrassment, somewhat baffled by the sudden communication attempt and the implication that his mentor perhaps actually remembers who he is. It’s a pleasant surprise to you both, and a moment or two is required for it to sink in.

Your face lights up with glee, heart warmed by the simple action in a way that’s difficult to express. Megumi appears to be in a similar boat—taken aback, but ultimately stricken with joy.

A modest smile creeps upon Megumi’s lips as he softly mirrors the motion with his own hands, acknowledging Gojo’s revelation. “Yeah…” he says, voice faint but pleased. “Divine Dogs.”

Every brief glimpse into Satoru’s thoughts feels like a blessing, and this is certainly no exception. It’s refreshing to watch him have a moment of sincere connection with someone other than yourself, and it leaves you glowing with hope for the future as you bid Megumi farewell and make your way back home.

“Head back, Satoru.”

Water splashes into the bathtub as Satoru cranes his neck to peer up at the ceiling as per your request, a cup full of liquid streaming over his hair and carrying shampoo suds along with it.

After returning from your walk, you’d prepared something for dinner and eventually urged Satoru into the tub for a bath before bed—yet another activity that seemed to get a little easier every time you did it.

Figuring out how to get him to bathe had initially been quite the challenge, but you had managed to devise a method that had gotten the job done quite well thus far. He might’ve looked rather awkward sitting cramped in the shallow bath with a pair of swimming trunks on while you rinsed him with an old plastic cup you’d excavated from a cabinet, but it was the most effective way to get him clean and preserve both your dignities while doing it. Though you were the only one who seemed to be concerned with such things.

Satoru blinks when a few soapy droplets backslide into one of his eyes, causing him to squint, scrunch, and rub it with his fingers until the uncomfortable sensation eases. He looks at you, almost as if to say, “Hey! That burns!”

You chuckle and shake your head with a playful roll of your eyes. “That’s why you’re supposed to close your eyes, goober.”

He wants to submerge in a pout, but your playfulness rids him of the inclination. Satoru instead shifts his focus to the beauty of your frame perched upon the edge of the tub, a beacon of divinity as you cleanse him with care and devotion. He takes the notion to express an inkling of gratitude by leaning forward and placing a kiss against your lips, lukewarm water rippling around him as it gradually cools.

You’re somewhat stiff and unresponsive, the sudden gesture catching you by surprise as it usually does, but you don’t chastise him for it; in fact, it takes a certain level of concentration for you to avoid letting your thoughts linger on his current state: hair slicked back; flesh exposed and glistening with droplets of water; lips warm, wet, and eager for reciprocation…

Your mouth receives his but does not encourage him for more than a split second, pulling back gently from his advance until you can see Satoru shiver as the water chills his body. His eyes are glued to your face, waiting for a reaction as you prepare to make one more pass over his hair with the cup to see that he is fully rinsed, this time using your hand to shield his eyes from any backflow (and from your expression, which is surely indicative of your now rapid heartbeat).

The action is enough to distract him for the moment, but Satoru is still on edge, teeming with infatuation and need. He is unsatisfied with your response—or lack thereof—and is frustrated with his inability to express it, but your hands carefully wiping drops of water from his face act as a temporary soothing agent.

“Alright, let’s get dried off and ready for bed,” you say, standing to fetch his towel from the rack and bring it back to him before reaching down to trigger the tub to drain. “We’re going to talk to Shoko tomorrow.”

Satoru is less concerned with the meaning of your words than he is with how lovely you sound while saying them. He is once again caught in your spell, entranced by the need to be closer but settling for the scraps that you give him—for now.

You aren’t convinced of his comprehension of what you say, but nevertheless, you use the sweetened tone to deflect from the overwhelm of watching him stand and observe your every move as you help to dry his chiseled body. Satoru is tall and looming, scarred in the midriff, but compliant with your ministrations; however, his easygoing nature doesn’t keep your hands from wanting to shake against the towel that repeatedly caresses his physical beauty. You wish you could torch every thought in your mind, switch your brain off to preserve the strength and sanity that remains. 

You aren’t sure how long you’ll be able to remain steadfast and maintain this cycle of “temporaries” until something eventually changes. And what if it never does?

You suppose the only thing you can do for now is try your best and wait and see what the future holds. It certainly can’t be any worse than what you’ve already been through, especially now that Satoru is by your side once more. That is something you’ve realized you wouldn’t trade for anything.

[beomiracles]

「 GREED 」

DREAM RECALL your kind heart often led you down dangerous paths. So when there's a knock on your door and you find a beautiful man in dire need of your help, who are you to turn him down? Even if it may cost you your life.

pairings vampire!taehyun x afab!human reader warnings minor character death, descriptions of violence, descriptions of injury, DUB-CON (taehyun compels reader), blood drinking, oral (f. rec), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, breast play, marking, choking, manhandling, slight dumbification?, taehyun refers to reader only as 'human', prey/predator dynamics. please let me know if I missed any !!

wc -> 6.5k

#serene adds ✎... ahem the literal bible of warnings...anyway! guys I lowkey really like this one, it's my first ever vampire fic, which is crazy because I'm a diehard vampire fan (name any show/movie/book and I will know of it) so I'm surprised that I've managed to go this long without writing one. I really didn't intend for it to get this long and um like 1/3 is just smut... happy reading ! :3

The radio of your old car made a bruising noise before giving up completely, your last bit of civilization diminishing to nothing. Sighing you glance toward your GPS, but even that seemed futile. “I guess it’s just you and me now, Lola”, you state as you peer at your dog in the rear view mirror. 

Ahead, the narrow road made for a bumpy ride as you dwelled deeper into the forest. Surrounding you were pine trees, standing tall and proud, looming over you in an almost menacing way, as if to say; you are not welcome here. With both your phone and radio cut off, you were beginning to think that maybe there lay something in the unspoken words of the trees. This was no place for humans, yet you recognized the way the road turned, if ever so slightly, not to mention the familiar large stone that you had climbed so many times before. 

Soon the small cottage comes into view, and it was just as you had remembered it, save for the overgrown lawn that reaches its way through the old wooden planks of the porch. Your vehicle comes to a stop and as you step outside, the earthy smell of the forest greets you. Lola, on the other hand, sems skeptical; she fuzzes for a moment before finally getting out as you opened the trunk for her. “Oh don’t be so quick to judge it, you haven’t even seen the inside yet”, you give your dog a few pats before retrieving your large bag from the car. 

The old wooden steps creak under your weight as you make your way toward the front door. Rust had formed around the lock and it took more than a few tries to get the darned thing opened. With the push of your shoulder, the old door finally budges and you step inside. Nostalgia immediately fills your senses, it smells stuffy and old yet exactly like your childhood. The many summers you had spent cooped up in the small house, plenty of your drawings remaining on the wallpapered walls. 

It had been years since the passing of your parents, years since the house became yours, and years since anyone had even bothered to acknowledge its existence. In a way, you supposed you felt bad for the place, yet you hadn’t been able to come here without the painful memories of your parents flooding your mind. Not up until recently had you felt ready, ready to return here and remember the good things, the good memories. You wanted this house to remain a happy place for you. 

“Well it could definitely use a sweep, what’d you say, Lola?” The dog lets out a gruff of agreement as she noses at the dust covered sofa with a displeased look. Most of the place had been drowned in layers upon layers of dust and spiderwebs, you were certain that all kinds of animals lingered around the old building, seeking shelter from the harsh conditions the outside world provided. 

You spend the rest of the day cleaning, going through old photographs and personal belongings of both you and your parents. The downs of being an only child you supposed, not having anyone to share your grief with. It would’ve been nice to not be completely alone in the mess that your parents left, from arranging their funeral to selling their house back in the city. The project that was this cabin had all become too much, and thus you had put it off, admittedly for longer than you had originally intended. Though now that you were finally getting around to it, it was with a light heart rather than a heavy. 

By nightfall you had finished off practically all of the first floor. Flopping down on the now very much clean couch, you let out a tired sigh. Lola was sleeping peacefully on the carpet nearby and you leaned to give her a few pats before reaching for your phone. The device had been in and out of signal throughout the day, you figured you could try your luck with a call. 

Bringing it up to your ear, your phone rings, once, twice, three times before there’s a shift in the audio. “Hello?” The voice of your friend calls out on the other line and a small sigh of relief escapes your lips. “Jjunie? Hii, it’s me! Can you hear me?” You ask as there’s a small disturbance in the quality of the call. 

“Dimples?” he asks and you giggle, “who else?” Yeonjun lets out a huff of air and you hear the rustling of his mattress as he sits up, “I’ve been texting you like crazy, where have you been all day?” he questions, a tone of fake hurt lingering in his words. “I know”, you mumble as you pick at your cuticle, “I’ve barely had any service all day, it’s a miracle that this call even went through.” 

“I guess you’re really living that outdoor mindfulness life now huh?” he teases and you could’ve sworn that you heard the shit eating grin on his face. “Ha-ha”, you muse, “careful or I’ll make you spend the next week here with me. You could use a detox from that phone of yours.” Your friend snorts, “as if. My followers need me.” You roll your eyes, “you sure it’s not the other way around?” you ask to which Yeonjun responds with a row of profanities. 

Aside from a few break ups here and there the call runs smoothly and you’re relieved to be having a conversation with another human being for the first time today. After about twenty minutes of catching up, the subject suddenly shifts as Yeonjun’s voice grows wary. “You’ve heard about the stuff that’s been happening right?” 

You frown, "No? What stuff?” On the other side of the line, Yeonjun hesitates. “Well c’mon and tell me”, you press as you sit up a little straighter. Drawing in a long sigh, he then exhales, “well there’s been, bodies…” “Bodies?” you repeat, “you mean like…?” — “Dead bodies, yeah.” 

A small silence lingers in the air as you process the words of your friend. “Hikers”, he then adds and you gnaw on your bottom lip. “Well there’s plenty of good hiking trails around”, you mumble. It wasn’t unusual for people to try their luck up in this forest, during your summers spent here you had seen plenty of tents indicating someone’s stay. “Some are quite dangerous though and-” —- “That’s not why they died.” Yeonjun interrupts with a solemn voice and you feel your throat go dry. 

“Right…” you murmur as your gaze flickers toward Lola, “then how did they die?” Once more, your friend on the other line hesitates. “Please, Jjunie, I need to know, and I don’t exactly have any other way of finding out, other than going out there myself.” Outside of your window, the forest seemed darker than it had all those years ago; something bad had happened here. 

“They think it was an animal of some kind…” Yeonjun whispers and suddenly you feel a slight glimmer of hope. “Jjunie, trust me I’ve encountered plenty of-” — “This one’s different, Dimples.” Your friend interrupts you again, though his voice is now uncertain, “this thing, it’s smarter, it…it lures its way inside.” 

You swallow, “what do you mean?” Though you weren’t certain that you wanted to know. “It…the bodies, they never left their tents. It came to them.” The silence that follows is palpable and a shiver runs down your spine, despite the fact that you were covered head to toe in blankets. 

That night, you barely got any sleep. Your mind kept shifting back toward your conversation with Yeonjun as your gaze flickered to the window. You got up to close the curtains, but it did little to help the uncanny feeling seeping through your veins. Lola seemed to notice it too, she barely made a move to go outside, if only to use the bathroom. As three days passed, your phone refused to work and you became increasingly paranoid. 

By your fourth night at the cabin a heavy storm rolled around. This would also mark your fourth night without any signal whatsoever, the events of the outside world remaining unknown to you. The thunder roared outside, and if it wasn’t for Lola’s sensitive hearing, you probably would have missed the light knock to your front door. 

The persistent barking of your dog turns your attention toward said door, “what is it, Lola?” you ask to which your dog lets out a small whine. There’s a brief pause and for a moment everything is quiet, even the merciless storm outside seemed to hold its breath. Another knock against the old wood sends your heartbeat into a small spiral. You knew better than to open the door for just any stranger, besides, what business did another human being have in the middle of this forest? Unless… They were a hiker. 

Soon a raspy voice echoes out from the other side of the door. “P-please…please help me...” Your eyes widened, were they hurt, had something happened, and why were they alone? “Are you hurt?” you question as you get up and slowly inch toward the door, Lola trails behind you worriedly. 

It takes a moment before the voice replies, ragged breaths and soft grunts are all that can be heard. “...yes.” Their answer makes you hesitate, there was something uncanny about the voice, it felt almost strained. Upon noticing your evident doubt the voice pleads to you once more. “Please, please let me in. It hurts…” The voice morphs from a quiet plea into one of sheer desperation. 

“Who hurt you?” you ask, still wary as you keep one hand on the doorknob. Behind you, Lola whines in protest as she pulls her tail between her legs. The person on the other side of the door draws in a sharp breath, “I…I don’t know, it…I couldn’t see it clearly but it’ll come back I’m certain.. Please, please let me in!” it begs. 

Suddenly, you recall your last conversation with Yeonjun, about the animal preying on hikers. Could this be another of its victims? Whoever was on the other side of the door were in dire need of your help. With one final deep breath you unlock it and turn the handle. 

On your doorstep, you find a young man, slightly hunched over as he maintains a tight grip on his left arm. His breathing is labored and his clothes torn. It is not until he glances up at you, a hesitant yet hopeful look on his face that you finally see him. He was beautiful. Big dark eyes stare up at your own, his skin was smooth and perfect, yet sickly pale, you supposed it had to do with being out in this weather. 

“Oh my goodness…” you quietly mumble as you take in the state of the man. “Come in.” 

Upon urging him inside and shutting the door tightly behind you, you guide him to sit on one of the chairs by the dining table. The man thanks you over and over for your kindness as you rush to get him a warm blanket. “What’s your name?” you wonder as you place the quilt over his shoulders. He silently thanks you before replying, “Taehyun.” 

Just when you’re about to tell him your own, Lola emits a loud bark as she growls toward the man. Taehyun gives her a questioning glance but doesn’t seem to pay her any further attention. “Lola! Quit that!” you scold, embarrassed over your dog's odd behavior. “She isn’t usually like this, I don’t know what’s gotten into her…” you apologize as you swat the dog away with your hand. 

Taehyun gives you a small smile, “it’s alright, I’m certainly not the most pleasant thing to gaze upon at this given moment.” You thought his statement to be debatable as your eyes trail across his well built frame; stopping as they reach the large gash on his left arm. “Oh my, your…your arm”, you exclaim as you watch the way blood trickles from the fresh wound. Following your horrified gaze, Taehyun winces as he flexes his arm slightly. 

“Stay here, I’ll get you something for the pain!” You say as you scurry out of the kitchen and to your bedroom where you kept most of your essential supplies. Thankfully you had thought to bring along a medical kit, in case of an emergency like this. Though you were rather unsure if your meek bandage and lacking surgical skills would do much good to the large gash on his arm. Before exiting, you make sure to shut Lola in, not wanting her to cause yet another scene, she whines in protest as you do but you pay it little mind. 

Hastily, you return to the kitchen, and as you set the medkit down you begin rummaging through it. “I should have some kind of disinfectant here..” you mumble without lifting your gaze. It wasn’t until you went to check on the severity of his injuries once more that you froze in your tracks. The once large wound on his arm was…gone. You frown, “what…but I could’ve sworn…” 

The quiet chuckle emitting from the man before you makes your blood run cold as you lift your gaze to meet his. Taehyun’s once pleading eyes were now peering at you in an almost predatorial way as he studied your perplexed expression. “But I…” your words fall short as Taehyun suddenly rises from the chair, without taking his gaze off of you, he reaches a hand up to his neck, it makes a cracking sound as he tilts his head to the side, a small sigh escaping his lips. 

“You humans are far too kind.” His voice is low and as he takes a step forward, you immediately falter backward. The back of your legs hit the table behind you and you wince as you fumble to move around it. “Inviting just anyone into your home like that.” Taehyun’s eyes never leave you as a smirk etches its way to his lips. “My, your gullibleness is quite endearing.” 

You cast a quick glance around the old kitchen, your gaze falling on one of the larger knives. All you had to do was move one step to the right, reach out and… Taehyun’s eyes follow your own and he cocks an eyebrow. “I admire your plan of strategy, but a mere human’s tool will bring little harm to my kind.” 

His kind? Just what exactly was this man. You swallow a gulp as your gaze flickers between him and the knife, your heartbeat working overtime as you grasp for a decision. Despite his words you end up reaching for the knife, grabbing it tightly with both hands, you aim it toward the intruding man. “What do you want from me?” you grit out as you steady your feet against the wooden floor. 

Taehyun inhales slowly, letting his eyes flutter closed for a brief moment; as if savoring a pleasant scent. When he opens them again they’re a swirling pool of crimson. “Now you’re asking the right questions”, his voice lingers with desire as he slowly makes his way around the dining table. 

Like a deer in headlights you immediately dart in the opposite direction. Tumbling out of your kitchen and into the open spaced living room. Behind you, Taehyun laughs, an almost sinister laugh. Frantically you search for anything to shield yourself with. Settling on one of the armchairs in the corner, you quickly dip behind it. With your knees to your chest and back pressed against the soft cushion; you cover your mouth with your free hand, the other maintaining a tight grip on the knife. 

The wooden floor creaks beneath him as Taehyun slowly emerges from the kitchen. “Your determination to live is surely fascinating” he muses, the sound of his voice only becoming louder as he slowly approaches your corner. “Foolish human, you forget that I can hear the delectable sound of your heart beating from miles away.” 

Biting down on your hand, you will the tears away as you screw your eyes shut. “The human’s weak body gives them away before they even become aware of the dangers surrounding them.” The sounds of his footsteps come to a stop and you hold your breath, you don’t dare open your eyes, prolonging the moment for as long as possible. 

It is not until you feel his cold breath on your face that they snap open. The smirk plastered on his beautiful face as he watches you with much intrigue is enough for you to finally act. Your arm works faster than your brain as you swing the knife toward him. Taehyun lets out a faint hiss as he pulls back, thick red liquid seeps from the small cut on his cheek and his expression soon turns from smug into a scowl. 

Seizing your opportunity, you scramble to your feet as you dart for your bedroom. Though you barely make it 10ft before something hard crashes into you from behind. With inhumane speed Taehyun slams you up against the nearest wall. A cold hand wraps around your neck as he lifts you without much trouble. 

Your feet kick at the wall behind you as your body trashes against his grip. With his free hand, Taehyun wipes the blood from his cheek, the wound closing up before your eyes. In your haste you realize that you’ve lost your knife, your only hope. Letting out a huff of air, Taehyun’s gaze locks onto yours, “the others did not struggle this much”, he mutters. 

The others? As realization slowly seeps in, your eyes widen — it wasn’t an animal that had killed all those hikers. It was him. His tight grip on your neck restricts your intake of air and you barely manage to gasp out the word, “y-you..” Taehyun tilts his head to the side, a glimmer of curiosity flashing before his eyes. The grip on your neck falters, if only for a moment, as he lets you regain your breath in order to continue. 

“It was you. You killed all those people”, you splutter as your chest rises and falls in a heavy manner. He smirks, and from this close you’re able to make out the sharp fangs that prod against his bottom lip. “I see I have earned myself quite a reputation amongst your kind”, he comments before leaning in closer, eyes glinting with intrigue, “pray tell, what else have you heard of me?” 

You part your lips to reply before you stop yourself. As Yeonjun’s words ring in your ears you suddenly realize your mistake. “It lures its way inside. They never left their tents. It came to them.” He had come to you, he had knocked on your door and you had let him in. You hadn’t even left your house and the next time you would it would be in a body bag. 

Everything aligned, the pale skin, his inhumane strength and speed, his ability to heal, the crimson eyes, his fangs. He was a vampire and you had willingly invited him inside your house, ultimately signing your own death. 

“I let you in…” you whisper, disbelief evident across your face. “Ah, you are finally connecting the dots”, he mumbles, “I must admit you differ from the rest.” Cold fingers trace the outline of your face before trailing down your collarbone. His touch causes shivers to ripple through your body and Taehyun’s smirk grows. “Had I not been so insatiably hungry right now, I might have kept you around for a bit.” 

His gaze shifts from your mortified expression down to your neck. Contradicting to his previous tight hold on you, he now gently brushes along the exposed veins. “This forest has been vacant for weeks, I thought my last meal here had long since passed.” He brings a strand of your hair to his nose, inhaling the scent. 

“But then came you. And you smell absolutely divine.” His voice is low as his eyes flicker back to yours once more. Horrified, you shake your head as you push against his chest, your meek attempts at breaking free drew a breathy laugh from him. 

“Let us not struggle now.” The once feathery touch along your neck is replaced by a harsh and cold hand against your chin as he holds your face in place. And as your eyes come level with his own, you suddenly find it hard to look away. Dark pools of crimson pull you in, entrancing you as Taehyun mutters something under his breath. You know that it is wrong, but the longer you stare into his eyes the more you feel like giving yourself to him. Despite every instinct in you screaming for you to shut your eyes and pull back, you instead find yourself going limp in his grasp. 

“Much better”, he whispers as he loosens his hold on your chin. Your feet softly hit the ground again and you glance up at him. Somewhere in the back of your head, the urge to run still exists. But you don’t move, you stay unblinking as you gaze at him with a clouded expression. “You humans are almost beautiful when you don’t fret”, he mumbles as his cold fingers brush your hair back to expose your neck fully. 

His tongue drags across one of his fangs as he eyes the skin of your neck with anticipation. “Don’t worry, your sacrifice will not go to waste”, he assures as he leans in to press his cold lips against your warm skin. The feeling of his sharp fangs piercing the flesh of your neck causes your body to feel as if it were on fire. Yet all but a soft gasp is what leaves your lips at the intrusion. 

Everything hurt and you wanted nothing more than to push him off, pry his teeth from your weakening body. But your limbs felt strangely heavy, unable to move, your vision threatens to give out as your knees wobble. What was going on, why weren’t you doing anything? Taehyun groans against your skin, his hands harshly tugging at your hips to keep you in place.

Soon the burning sensation faded before it morphed into something dangerously similar to pleasure. Your body felt tingly, sensitive, every gulp of blood he took sent minor shock waves surging through you and you let out a small sigh at the feeling. To think that this was how you were to die, as nothing more but the next meal of a hungry creature, and in your last moments you found pleasure in it? The thought alone was enough to have your eyes drooping shut.  

Realization slowly creeps its way into your foggy mind — you were actually going to die. No one was coming to save you, you were all alone and this was how your last moments would play out? It was hard to feel any emotion, your mind far too clouded to even keep your eyes open, but if you could feel something, you supposed it would be despair. 

Teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, you accept your lowly fate. Just as the darkness is about to consume you, everything suddenly stops. Was death really nothing? Was there no heaven, no hell? Just darkness? It takes you a moment to realize that you are in fact not dead, and that Taehyun has pulled himself away from your neck.  

Slowly, your eyes regain focus as you look at him, confused. You were certain that he was going to kill you, did he really intend to prolong your inevitable death, to make you suffer further? You thought him to be cruel but this was far worse than you had imagined. 

His eyes remain a dark crimson as they fixate on you, but they had lost their sharp edge, he no longer looked as if he was eyeing his next meal, but rather his gaze held something akin to desire. Taehyun’s tongue swipes across his lips, coated in your rich blood as he savors the remnants of it. His breath is shallow, though you wondered if vampires ever really became out of breath. 

“You taste…” he trails off, eyes fixating on the puncturers he’d previously caused on your neck, “...unlike any human I’ve ever had before.” He almost looked to be at a loss for words as he stared at you, you weren’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing, and you couldn’t find yourself to care. Your body felt weak, numb and not like your own anymore. Perhaps death had been the easy way out from your current situation. 

As his cold fingers brush along your exposed collarbone, your gaze flickers back up to his once more. The movements of your own limbs still felt restricted by the unknown force caused by Taehyun, and even if they weren’t, you were sure that your body wouldn’t be able to maintain an upright position, much less run away from the creature before you. 

“I wonder if the rest of you taste just as divine”, he murmurs. His peering gaze suddenly shifts toward your lips and before you have time to question his intentions further, he crashes his lips against your own. 

At first you remain unmoving, unblinking, Taehyun pays your unenthusiastic response little mind as he kisses you hungrily. The faint metallic taste of your own blood lingers on his tongue as he pushes it inside your mouth and your nose turns up in slight disgust. Suddenly your body jolts to life once more, as if the spell in which he had put you under was lifted the moment his lips pressed against your own. 

With newfound strength you push against his cold and hard chest in a desperate attempt to break free. Your fighting hands are met by his own as Taehyun pins them to your sides before taking the liberty to explore all of your body. Cold hands wandering beneath your loose t-shirt, earning him a small whimper from you. 

You can’t help the moan that escapes from your lips as his fingers rub over your perked nipples, squeezing the soft flesh of your breasts. His touch felt oddly enticing and your body suddenly craved more, a lot more. But as his lips found your neck, the memories of what had previously taken place, flashes before your eyes and suddenly it feels as if those sharp fangs pierced your skin all over again. You become dangerously aware of what is about to happen as one of Taehyun’s hands tug at the hem of your shorts and you immediately try to twist your body away from his invasive touch. 

“No! Wait- stop!” you shriek as your hands work to pry him off of you. There’s a brief pause as Taehyun once again pulls his lips from your neck. He doesn’t say anything as he looks at you, an impassive expression pending across his face. You swallow, “this- I, what’s happening? This isn’t…” The words fall from your lips in a hasty manner as you struggle to form coherent thoughts, afraid that he would grow impatient at your antics and just kill you off. Finally you settle on, “I don’t understand.” 

Taehyun looks at you as he cocks an eyebrow, an insatiable hunger swirling behind his eyes. “You do not understand the act of indulging in one's sexual desires?” He wonders as he studies you with a mix of apprehension and disbelief. Your mouth falls open as you blink, “...I, of course I do but…” 

“Then you must understand that a vampire’s hunger exceeds beyond just his thirst for blood”, he murmurs as his gaze returns to your lips. “You are a very pretty human.” He breathes, cold fingers trail along your chest, pushing your shirt up to reveal your soft stomach. His eyes twinkle in anticipation, “there are other ways for you to satiate me.” 

With that statement, he reconnects your lips in a kiss filled with yearning. You don’t have any time to react before you feel your feet lift from the ground. The surge that forms in your stomach at his rapid movements remind you of that when a roller coaster drops. Your back hits the soft cushion of the sofa as Taehyun swiftly takes place above you, his arms caging you in.  

With one harsh tug, he pulls your shirt up to reveal your breasts. The cool air causes goosebumps to bloom on your skin, Taehyun trails his fingers over the small bumps as his lips attach around one of your nipples. Sharp fangs graze over your sensitive skin and you shiver in a fear mixed arousal. “I can hear your blood rushing”, he groans against your breast before moving on to the next one, leaving red marks that would soon blossom into purple. Tongue swirling over the sensitive bud, he elicits a small moan from you. 

In a tantalizing slow manner he moves down your stomach, inhaling your scent before stopping above the hem of your shorts. He looks up at you, with that same expression that had terrified you not long ago, he looked ready to eat you whole. “Are you scared, human?” he asks, fingers dipping inside the waistband of your pajama shorts. Your gaze flickers between his hand and his eyes, you swallow, “no.” 

Taehyun smirks, “liar.” Without warning he pulls both your panties and shorts down, a small shriek leaving your lips at the action as your thighs instinctively squeeze together. “There is little point in denying me”, he grunts as his hand easily finds its way between your sealed legs. Upon reaching your already wet cunt, Taehyun’s smirk grows, “and in denying yourself.” You bite your lip, unable to hide the fact that his lips on your own had spurred you on further than you’d liked to. 

“My, are you pretty”, he mumbles as his crimson eyes fixate on the way his fingers glide against your folds. His subtle comment has blood rushing to your face and had it not been for the way your core ached to be touched, you would’ve probably even been embarrassed at the remark. Squirming beneath him, your hips buck in an attempt to seek any kind of relief. Taehyun’s gaze snaps to your face, “you humans are far too greedy”, he snarls, “never satisfied with what they have, you always want more.” 

Your back arches off the cushion as he pushes two fingers inside of you. “Is that what you want?” He curls his fingers, brushing them against that small bundle of nerves that never failed to make you go cross eyed whenever you pleasured yourself. “To be ruined to bits by a vampire, reduced to nothing at my mercy?”

You meekly nod, struggling to keep your eyes open at the intense waves of pleasure that overflow your senses. Taehyun huffs, “I knew that your kind was pathetic, but this sure takes the price.” His words barely register, you’re too lost in the way his fingers move inside of you, thumb pressing up against your clit in a menacing way. 

When he suddenly pulls his hand away, you cry out in displeasure as your eyes shoot open in search of his. You find him already looking at you intently, his gaze unwavering as he watches the steady rise and fall of your chest, the way blood rushes beneath your skin, listening to the supple beating of your heart. 

His hand glides across the soft flesh of your thighs, “I need to taste you again”, he says, his voice strained and hoarse as his stare drops to your glistening folds. Before you have the time to register his words, his head is between your legs and you let out a small yelp at the feel of his cold breath hovering over your sensitive cunt. 

The idea of him, his mouth, his fangs, so close to such a sensitive part of you was terrifying in itself, yet you couldn’t find it in you to push him away. A low groan rumbles from deep within his chest as Taehyun drags his tongue along your slit, leaving you gasping as your nails dig into the cushion of the sofa. 

He pulls back for a moment, his eyes never leaving your core as he licks his lips, as if he focused entirely on the taste of you. Then, without warning he dives back in and your thigh twitches as his lips latch onto your clit. Hungrily, he sucks and laps at your cunt and you wondered how this man had been close to killing you just moments prior. 

Pathetic whines leave your lips as his tongue pushes inside of you, the tip of his nose rubbing against your clit. The harsh grip of his hands holds your thighs down as they threaten to close around his head. Moans and pleas fall from your lips but he pays them little mind, too focused on the way you taste, the way your body reacts to his touch. 

Your stomach draws into knots as you feel your orgasm approaching. Taehyun lets out a sound of contentment as he feels you clench around his tongue. “F-fuck…I’m..” your words are swallowed by the whine that leaves you as he pulls his head from between your legs, robbing you of the high that was just within your reach. 

“Again, you humans are consumed by your greed”, he tsk’s as he watches the way you squirm, pathetically chasing after your desired orgasm. He leans back on his knees as one of his hands frees his cock from his pants. “Patience”, he grunts as his pale hand glides along his shaft, “comes naturally when living for centuries. You humans only live to see a fragment of what I experience, yet you greedily take and take.” 

You swallow as your eyes shift from his intense gaze toward the hand wrapped around his cock. Like the rest of him, it was beautiful, flushed at the tip and slick with precum that spilled from the slit. Your cunt throbbed at the sight and you bit your lip in anticipation. Above you, Taehyun’s expression turns into a sneer, “do not think that I am here to fulfill your bottomless greed, human.” A small gasp leaves your lips as you feel the head of his cock pushing against your folds. 

With one harsh thrust, he buries himself deep inside of you, drawing a small shriek from you at the burning intrusion. Taehyun lets out a groan of satisfaction as his lips return to suck at the mark on your neck, the still fresh wound causing a throbbing pain to flare through your body, mixing with the feel of his cock deep inside of you. 

He moves slowly, taking his time to feel the way your body wrapped around him. The warmth of something so full of life entangled with the very epitome of death. The rapid beating of your heart against his unmoving one filling his senses. Your mind feels hazy and that familiar feeling of pleasure you had felt when he drained you of blood returned. With each slow thrust you felt him graze along every inch of you, the tip of his cock caressing the bundle of nerves that had you clenching around him. You had never felt so full before. 

His lips reconnect with yours, the taste of blood completely gone and now replaced by the remnants of your own fluids. And while it was certainly not something you had let previous partners do, it somehow felt right with him. Your hands loosen their grip on the cushion as they move across his body; the body you had longed to touch since he first appeared on your doorstep. 

Taehyun inhales against your lips as your warm fingers wander beneath his shirt and over his cold chest. Perhaps he was right, perhaps you were greedy, even on the brink of death you had let your desires consume you. But did it really matter? Your life was bound to end anyway. Once more, just once, you would let yourself be greedy. 

His hands glide across your body, squeezing and groping at every part of flesh he could access, relishing in how alive you felt, how your blood pulsated under his hands. Your legs move on their own, wrapping around his waist as you drew him in closer, making him groan into your mouth. 

He breaks the kiss to look at you, watching your eyes roll back in pleasure as your lips part in a silent moan. Cold fingers dig into your cheeks as he keeps your head in place. “Foolish human”, he grunts, “I could kill you right now.” His thumb pulls your bottom lip down, “either you are too dumb to even comprehend the danger of your situation, or you’re just too fucking desperate to care.” 

Without warning he pushes his thumb inside your mouth, you respond eagerly by swirling your tongue around it. “Considering the way your pussy so desperately sucks me in, I would assume the latter”, he sneers before pulling his thumb from your mouth, smearing your saliva across your lips and cheek. 

His thrusts grow ragged as he presses his lips against yours. You know that he’s close, and you were too, if only you could… Your hand slides between your bodies and down your stomach, but before reaching where you need it the most, cold fingers wrap around your wrist. “Stupid human”, Taehyun groans as yanks your hand away. 

The whine that escapes your lips is soon replaced by a soft gasp as his fingers circle your clit. Your legs around his waist tremble as you finish around his cock, a cry of pleasure emitting from deep within your throat as your nails dig into his arms whilst you continuously clench around him. 

Taehyun’s lips travel down your neck, licking over the previous bruises he’d left before hovering above the sensitive bite marks. You’ve barely come down from your high when you feel his hips stutter, the warm liquid that shoots up inside of you makes you completely unguarded for when his fangs re-pierce your neck.

The shock only lasts a moment as Taehyun rocks his hips into you, all the while he takes gulp after gulp of your blood. As you lay there panting, you think that you might just actually die, but then you feel him pull back, the sensation of his fangs withdrawing makes you shiver. 

His tongue drags across the punctures, licking up the very last droplet of blood before he leans back to look at you. Despite everything, you still thought he was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. Even as thick blood coated his lips and chin, his uncanny and red eyes peering at you; contrasting his sickly pale skin, you found yourself in awe. 

Taehyun’s gaze shifts from your neck to your eyes, no matter how hard you tried; you couldn’t possibly decipher a single thought going through his head. “Perhaps there is more to you than just your pretty face, human”, he murmurs as his tongue swipes across his lips. 

“I intend to keep you.”

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[moon-lit-petal]

From Chaos to Comfort Pt1

George Weasley x Fem!Hufflepuff!Reader

Summery: George becomes acutely awear that sometimes, people aren't the biggest fans of his and Freds pranks.

Warning: enemies to lovers(?) George fell hard and fast. I tried to do a slow burn but you can tell I gave up lol. Also, Y/N is a little mean to George Ngl

Word count: 2.5k

Notes: I have almost 12k words written already xD But after my 5k Neville fic, I figured I'd take this one a little slower and give myself time to proofread and make adjustments, for now? Chapter One!!also georges face in this Gif omfg

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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The quiet halls of Hogwarts were where Y/N felt most at ease—especially in the dimly lit corners of the library or the serene grounds at night, where the only sounds were the wind rustling through the trees or the occasional hoot of an owl. As a reserved Hufflepuff, she preferred these moments of tranquility, keeping out of the spotlight and far from the bustling excitement that so often dominated the school.

Unfortunately for her, Fred and George Weasley didn’t share her preference for peace and quiet. In fact, their favorite hobby seemed to be drawing attention to those who tried to hide from it—particularly Y/N.

On this particular evening, Y/N had settled down in the library with a stack of books, hoping to get some quiet reading done before the day ended. The library had a hushed atmosphere, with only the occasional whisper or the soft turning of pages to disturb the stillness.

But that all changed in an instant.

One by one, the books she had carefully chosen began to glow faintly before bursting into song—loud, off-key, and echoing through the entire library. It started with the first book in her stack, a thick volume of Transfiguration spells, which suddenly belted out a shrill tune:

"♬ I’m a magical tome, filled with spells and rhymes, cast a charm on me, and I'll sing for all times! ♬"

The next book joined in, followed by another, until her entire pile of books formed a chorus. Y/N could feel the eyes of everyone in the library turning toward her as the cacophony grew louder and louder. Laughter rippled through the students around her, and even Madam Pince, the strict librarian, seemed too flustered to immediately react.

Y/N's face flushed a deep red as she frantically tried to shut the books, but they wouldn't stop singing no matter how many times she slammed them shut. The laughter and whispers grew louder with each failed attempt. Her humiliation only deepened when she spotted the identical grins of Fred and George Weasley from across the library, clearly enjoying their handiwork.

That was the last straw. Furiously shoving the singing books into her bag, Y/N stormed out of the library, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She could still hear the faint echoes of the enchanted books singing behind her as she hurried through the corridors, ignoring the amused glances and hushed snickers from passing students.

"I swear, I’m never speaking to either of them again," she muttered to herself, her fists clenched in anger. She couldn't even tell Fred and George apart half the time, which only made it worse. It was easier to avoid them both altogether, and that's exactly what she intended to do.

But deep down, a part of her wondered if it would be that simple. After all, it was Fred and George Weasley—masters of mischief. Avoiding them might prove to be an impossible task.

----------

In the days following the library prank, George couldn’t shake the memory of Y/N’s reaction. While Fred had laughed it off, pleased with how the prank had turned out, George had noticed something different—something that stuck with him more than he expected. He had seen the hurt flash across Y/N’s face, the way her cheeks flushed, not just with anger, but with humiliation.

At first, he tried to brush it off. Pranks were what he and Fred did. They brought laughter, lightened the mood, and sometimes, yes, embarrassed a few people in the process. It was all in good fun, wasn’t it? But George couldn't quite convince himself this time. For some reason, the image of Y/N storming out of the library, her fists clenched in frustration, kept playing in his mind.

Fred, on the other hand, barely gave it another thought, moving on to plotting their next grand joke. George, though, found himself paying more attention to Y/N in the days that followed. It wasn’t something he did consciously at first. He’d catch a glimpse of her in the corridors, her head down, her pace quick, always avoiding eye contact with others. In the Great Hall, she often sat at the very edge of the Hufflepuff table, picking at her food while quietly observing the lively chatter around her, as if she were a part of the scene but always apart from it.

The more George noticed her, the more his curiosity grew. Why did she keep to herself so much? Why did she seem to go out of her way to avoid people—even more so after their prank in the library? And why, of all things, did her quietness intrigue him?

During one particular afternoon in the library, George found himself sitting a few tables away from Y/N. She was engrossed in a thick book, her brows furrowed in concentration. He watched as she absentmindedly twirled a strand of hair around her finger, completely absorbed in whatever she was reading. There was something peaceful about her in those moments—a calmness that contrasted sharply with the chaos of his own life.

Fred, of course, remained blissfully unaware of George's growing fascination. He saw Y/N as just another target for their pranks, and to him, the twins’ antics were a way of livening up the mundane routines of school life. But George found himself torn. The more he observed Y/N, the more he realized that there was something about her that went beyond the surface—something he admired. She didn’t seek attention, didn’t thrive in the spotlight like so many others did. She seemed content in her own little world, even if that world often seemed lonely.

But Y/N, still furious about the library prank, had no interest in any of the Weasleys—least of all George, who she still couldn’t distinguish from Fred. As far as she was concerned, the twins were a package deal of trouble and mischief, and the less time she spent around them, the better. Whenever she caught sight of George, she would quickly turn the other way or disappear down a different corridor, determined to avoid them both at all costs.

George, however, wasn’t ready to give up just yet. The more Y/N distanced herself from him, the more he found himself wanting to understand her, to know what lay beneath that quiet exterior. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was curiosity, or maybe—just maybe—it was something more.

----------

The days at Hogwarts had grown increasingly tense for Y/N. No matter how hard she tried, it seemed impossible to escape the pranks that followed her like a shadow—pranks she was certain came from both Weasley twins. Whether it was her quill turning into a puff of glitter mid-essay or her robes suddenly sprouting a cascade of flowers, Y/N felt like a constant target. Every laugh that echoed in the hallways after a prank only deepened her frustration.

And George, always nearby—watching her, noticing her—was no exception in her mind. She never saw him without assuming he was plotting alongside Fred. Every time he appeared, she would tense up, bracing for whatever prank they’d cooked up next. To Y/N, they were the same—partners in crime who found amusement in humiliating others, especially her.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, George had slowly started pulling away from the pranks, his growing guilt making it harder to join in on Fred’s antics. He had tried to distance himself, letting Fred take the lead while he hung back, watching Y/N more than participating in the mischief. But to Y/N, it didn’t matter. She saw him as guilty by association, and every time she spotted him, her resentment flared.

The tension between them simmered under the surface, waiting to boil over. That moment came one afternoon when Y/N, in a hurry to get to her next class, rounded a corner and collided with someone—George.

The impact was sudden, and Y/N’s heart leapt into her throat. Her body tensed, and she flinched instinctively, taking a step back as if expecting an explosion of fireworks or an instant prank to follow. Her breath caught in her chest as she braced for whatever humiliation would come next.

But nothing happened.

George, equally surprised by the sudden collision, raised his hands in apology. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see—”

Before he could finish, he saw it—the way Y/N had recoiled at his touch, the way her eyes flickered with distrust, her whole body stiffening as if she were preparing for yet another prank. His stomach dropped at the realization.

“Y/N, I—” George began, but the words faltered. He could see the wariness in her expression, the way she avoided his gaze, the way her shoulders remained rigid, ready for disappointment. His chest tightened with a pang of guilt. She saw him as no different from Fred, no different from the pranks that had made her the center of unwanted attention.

Y/N didn’t give him a chance to explain. Without a word, she brushed past him, her shoulder grazing his as she hurried away, her head down.

George stood there for a moment, frozen in place, watching her retreating figure disappear down the corridor. Her reaction stung more than he’d expected. He hadn’t meant to scare her, hadn’t meant to make her feel like this. But how could he undo all the pranks that had come before, all the times she had flinched at the mere sight of him?

Fred’s voice echoed in his mind—“Come on, George, it’s all in good fun!”—but it no longer felt like fun to George. Not when he saw how deeply it had affected her. He clenched his fists, determined to show Y/N that he was different, that he wasn’t what she thought he was.

But for now, the tension between them lingered, thick and unspoken, a rift caused by misunderstandings and misidentification—one that George desperately wanted to bridge, even if Y/N wasn’t ready to see the difference yet.

----------

It was another dreary Monday morning in Potions, and the last thing Y/N wanted was to be paired with any of the Weasley twins. But, as fate would have it, Professor Snape announced the pairings, and her heart sank when she heard George’s name called alongside hers.

Y/N shot a glance at George, her lips pressed into a thin line. He walked over to her, offering a tentative smile. "Guess we're partners, huh?"

Y/N barely looked at him, focusing on gathering the ingredients from the shelf. "Looks that way."

George rubbed the back of his neck, sensing her reluctance. "Listen, I know you probably think I’m going to mess this up somehow, but I promise I’ll be serious about this. No pranks."

She finally turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

George chuckled, trying to ease the tension. “Well, considering my track record, yes. I really do want to help.”

Y/N sighed and handed him a few ingredients. “Just don’t blow anything up, and we’ll be fine.”

As they started brewing, the conversation remained minimal, but George kept trying to break the silence.

“You know,” he said, stirring the cauldron, “I’m actually pretty good at Potions. Don’t tell Fred, though. He’ll never let me live it down.”

Y/N gave him a sidelong glance, clearly skeptical. “Right.”

“Seriously,” George said, trying to sound casual. “You’d be surprised.”

Y/N couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at her lips, though she quickly hid it. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

As the potion bubbled away, George continued to sneak glances at her, noticing the small expressions she tried to hide. There was more to her than her quiet demeanor, and it only fueled his curiosity.

“I’m not as bad as you think,” he said after a while, his tone more sincere this time.

Y/N didn’t respond immediately, focusing on measuring the next ingredient. “You still think this is all a game, don’t you? Even now.”

George’s smile faded, and for a moment, he looked unsure. “No,” he said quietly. “I really don’t.”

Y/N paused at his words, glancing at him again, this time with a hint of surprise. But before she could say anything more, the potion bubbled over, and they both scrambled to fix it, their brief moment of connection slipping away in the chaos.

----------

Later that week, Y/N was sitting in the library, trying to concentrate on her studies. The library was her refuge, a place where she could escape the noise and chaos of the school—and, more importantly, avoid the Weasley twins.

But just as she was getting lost in the words on the page, a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Mind if I sit here?”

She looked up, annoyed to see George standing there with an uncertain smile. “The library’s big enough,” she replied coolly. “I’m sure you can find another seat.”

George hesitated, but instead of leaving, he sat down across from her. “I wasn’t sure if you’d talk to me after Potions.”

Y/N scowled, clearly frustrated. “Did it ever occur to you that I don’t want to talk to you?”

“I figured as much,” George admitted, leaning back in his chair. “But I also figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

She huffed, focusing on her book again, though she wasn’t really reading. George’s presence was too distracting. He wasn’t like Fred. There was something quieter about him, something that made her defenses waver ever so slightly, though she hated admitting it.

After a few moments of silence, George spoke again. “I’m sorry for everything. I know Fred and I have caused a lot of trouble for you, and...well, you’re probably sick of hearing it, but I really didn’t mean to make things so awful.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered up to him, and she could tell from his expression that he was being sincere. But she wasn’t ready to forgive so easily.

“You think an apology will fix everything?” she asked, her voice sharp. “You and Fred don’t get it. You don’t care how it affects people, do you?”

George frowned, sitting up straighter. “That’s not true. I do care. Fred… well, he doesn’t think before he acts, but I see what it does to you. And I don’t like it.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, skeptical but slightly softened by his words. “Then why haven’t you done anything to stop him?”

George hesitated, looking away for a moment. “I guess I didn’t realize how bad it was for you until recently. But I’m trying now. I’m not like that, I dont mean to be. I want to be better.”

Y/N’s expression softened, if only slightly, as she studied him. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, but she wasn’t ready to let her guard down yet.

“Then prove it,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Stop making excuses and prove you’re different.”

George met her gaze, determination flickering in his eyes. “I will.”

They sat there in silence for a few more moments, the tension between them palpable. Y/N finally returned to her book, and George didn’t push the conversation any further. But something had shifted between them—a tiny crack in the wall Y/N had built around herself, and George had noticed it too.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

[fyodior]

TIDAL TEMPTATIONS. - chapter i

༄ pairing: merman!fyodor x afab reader

༄ cw: sfw (for now), non-gory descriptions of and treatment of stab wounds to fyodor, very brief mentions of blood. not intended to be medically accurate, treat ur stab wounds as you wish

༄ notes: hello :) welcome to my first multi-chapter fic! this has been a work in progress for some time, and im quite nervous abt posting this first part so be nice pls <3 just as a note, fyodor is referred to exclusively as he/him until reader names him next chapter (he can't speak human language yet) enjoy!

༄ wc: 4k

Since moving to a beachside village after spending your whole life in a landlocked town, your mother had outlined ample, strict rules regarding the sea.

Rule 1: No venturing out past sundown.

This was the rule you broke on an almost nightly basis. Your mother was quite the early riser, meaning she often was out cold before the fireflies had even begun flashing yellow and green. It was far too easy to slip out the back door with a flashlight, barefoot to keep your footsteps silent as possible. There was no feeling more serene than dawdling down the shore, mushy sand between your toes and waves lapping at your ankles as the salty breeze curled around you. It was pitch black save for the bioluminescent creatures that washed up on the shore and the pale glow emanating from your flashlight, and it was comforting. While many feared darkness, you found solace in its embrace.

Rule 2: No swimming past the sandbar.

Also a frequently broken rule. You found it to be far too restrictive, as the sandbar was only a dozen meters from the shore. No fish could be found that shallow, and it was much easier for crabs to nip at you when you were that close to the sandy floor. Being out deeper, where the gentle waves tousled and hugged you, was where you felt the most at home.

Rule 3: No fraternizing with sea beings.

That’s the name that had been put in place for entities that straddled the line of human and creature. Some believed they were even the missing link. Very little was known about sea beings, mostly due to the universal fear of them. They often had unsettling, bone-chilling appearances and never appeared to be overly friendly to humans, so a firm boundary was set. You must never approach a sea being.

All three of these rules were broken the night you met him.

Well, you assumed it was a “him”. He had a flat chest and sharp, masculine features, but he wasn’t human. His human-esque appearance terminated at his hips, where pale, nearly translucent skin tapered into onyx black scales, flowing into a sleek, obscenely long tail. His fluke, also inky black, was reminiscent of a betta fish’s frail fins, flowy with spindly edges, yet fanned strong against the current.

That was all you were able to see of him, at first. You had swam out well past the sandbar one night, flashlight in hand as you dove past the waves, your beam suddenly illuminating his form. He remained very still, head tilting as you made eye contact, as if he was observing you. And he was – he had heard the unmistakable sound of a human swimming, a somewhat ungraceful, clumsy affair, and followed it. Typically, when he sensed humans in the water, he would jet in the other direction – humans didn’t treat him kindly, and he had the scars to prove it. But there was something… different about you. A sweeter scent and a gentler aura. And he was curious - so instead of making a beeline towards his cove when he sensed your presence in the water, he swam closer.

He was immediately enamored by you. You were much softer and merciful, and he didn’t sense a single bad intention. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t uneasy. The only interactions he’d ever had with humans were traumatic, and other than appearances, he had no way of knowing you were any different. Claws bared, fangs ready, and tail already swishing, he was prepared for fight or flight – though he remained, just watching you. And you the same. It was drilled into your head, the second you spotted a sea being, swim as fast as possible towards the shore and never look back. There were a handful of reports of villagers being attacked by sea beings and barely making it out alive, and one case of a child who didn’t. Their presence was not to be taken lightly.

Yet, for some reason, both of you just… watched.

Watched and waited for the other to make a move - to attack. He thought it was surely any second until you unveiled a spear from behind your back to impale him, and you were just waiting to be torn to shreds by those claws. But nothing ever happened. You held his gaze and he held yours, studying the other.

Just as fascinated as you were by him, he was utterly fascinated by you. He had never gotten this close to a human before, not by his own volition anyway, and he had never truly seen one this plainly. It was easy to tell that you looked similar to him from the top up, but the bottom down was a completely different story. Where he was used to fish tails, scales, and fins, you wore two fleshy, stick-like protrusions that only bent in two places. No wonder humans were so terrible at swimming. He briefly wondered if there was anything between them. 

It wasn’t long before you ran out of air and had to break the surface, but when you dove back down, he was gone. You felt a slight sense of relief that he hadn’t been staking you out as prey, but also a pang of sorrow as you realized you’d likely never see him again. What you didn’t know is that he hadn’t gone far, just hid behind a formation of rocks as he watched you dejectedly swim back to the shore. It was a foreign experience – he’d never seen a human… disappointed about escaping from him.

As you snuck back into bed and drifted off that night, you found yourself gilled and fanged, finding home amongst the waves.

~~

You didn’t see him for a while after that. Despite you returning to the same spot from that fateful night every day, marked by an especially large horseshoe crab shell, he was never there. It became part of your daily routine to venture to that spot, a backpack full of books, snacks, and water, and lay out on a towel as the sun drifted through the sky.

It was never quite clear to you what you were waiting for, though. What would you even do if he reappeared? You couldn’t converse, neither of you could go to the other’s homes, what was to be gained from seeing him again? You never quite answered that question – all you knew was that you just had to see him again. At least one more time.

Things started to look bleak as days turned into weeks. Your mother wasn’t happy with you spending nearly every waking second on the beach. She could never find out why either, as she’d likely ban you from stepping foot on the sand ever again. And you even had started to think that maybe you had dreamt it – no way you just happened to run into a breathtakingly beautiful merman-type sea being who didn’t try to attack you. That just didn’t happen.

This… creature, you just couldn’t get him out of your head. He had found his way onto almost every page of your sketchbook, finding new life in graphite, pastels, and watercolors. The inky black tail swirled long and curled on itself on the page, as you occasionally took creative liberties on his appearance. 

Stories of him and your sure-to-happen future rendezvouses began popping up in your diary too - and not just him as a sea creature. You waxed poetic about what he might look like as a full-fledged human, with legs and without fangs. He’d surely be kind and gentlemanly, charming and funny with a deep voice and proper human language. He’d be well spoken and smart, and everything you’d ever dreamed of. 

If he ever showed up again. And it wasn’t looking like he would. Until he did.

On a night where you hadn’t even been on the lookout for him, were just dragging your feet through wet sand and shells when you spotted a dark form curled up on the shore. The moon was but a sliver barely cutting through dense clouds, compromising your vision, but something convinced you to jog that way anyway.

And it was him. The tide that lapped at the sand jostled his barely conscious body, threatening to pull him back out towards the darkness. You gasped as you ran and fell to your knees next to him, immediately recognizing the onyx tail with the delicate fins and opalescent skin. Except this time his back was riddled with what appeared to be stab wounds – they were likely a few hours old, no longer gushing blood, but still deep, unhealed gashes that needed to be treated.

“Are- are you okay?” you stupidly asked – as if he was conscious or human enough to answer that question.

When he didn’t respond, you shifted to sit with your legs crossed and pulled his head into your lap, brushing his salt-crusted hair out of his eyes. His large eyes fluttered open at the stimulus, a glowing violet gaze shifting to meet yours.

“Hi,” you whispered, laughing lightly. “I had wanted us to meet again, but not like this.” You had assumed he didn’t understand human language, but the way he only stared at you blankly confirmed this belief.

Anxiety and panic started to bubble up inside you as you absorbed the situation but did your best to ignore it. Swift, calm action needed to be taken if he was to be saved. You shifted your gaze to better assess his injuries and counted five different gashes where he had clearly been stabbed with some sort of weapon – it certainly wasn’t something that had happened naturally. The shape of the wounds was reminiscent of those a fishing harpoon would create, and your face fell as you pieced together what likely happened. Existing in his own territory, he probably swam too close to a fishing boat and spooked the fishermen, prompting them to overreact and attack the harmless creature.

You brought a careful finger to trace along the edges of the wounds, making him jump and hiss, thrashing in your hold as he groaned.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” you gasped, your hands immediately flying away. “I’m gonna, um…” you thought for a second. You knew you had medicine and gauze back home, but he was just going to have to go right back in the water, right? It surely was better than nothing…

You slowly started to wiggle out of his grip. “I’m gonna be right back, okay? I need to get supplies to make you better,” you explained slowly, gesturing towards his wounds. He only cocked his head and furrowed his brows. Fuck. He wasn’t going to understand a word you said.

With a grimace, you gently held his head in your hands as you scooted away, slowly laying it back down on the sand. You stood to head back to your house, but the creature suddenly began groaning and crying out, reaching a shaky arm towards you. He was clearly distressed over you abandoning him.

“Hey, hey! I’ll be right back, I swear,” you soothed, crouching down next to him, and gripping his hand. It killed you to have to leave him like this, terrified you might return to either find him dead or washed back out to sea, but you couldn’t just do nothing at all.

You wracked your brain trying to think of a way to communicate to him that you’d be back when words weren’t an option. Grabbing your backpack, you anxiously rummaged through it for some semblance of an idea, all the while he moaned and groaned in pain. Some sort of keepsake you could somehow communicate had value, almost like collateral. Something to say, this is special, proof I’ll be back. As fate would have it, you had decided to do a deep clean of your bag that morning, so you were coming up pretty dry.

The only thing you could think of was an old copy of your favorite book you always carried on you, Crime and Punishment. Mother always teased you for a depressing, old Russian novel being your comfort book, but you never let it phase you. Pulling it out of your backpack, you stared at the old, tattered cover with the faded title, and hoped to god he could make sense of it – that you were trusting him with something that meant a lot to you. There wasn’t much else you could do.

You tucked it under his arm splayed out on the sand, making sure he noticed what you were doing. Petting his hair, you looked him deep in the eyes as you enunciated one more time: I’ll be right back.

Panic coursed through your veins as you clambered to your feet and ran back to your house. The light of your flashlight was nearly useless as you trembled with fear, tripping over shells and driftwood to the point where your feet were probably going to need some treatment too.

The next hurdle in your way as you reached your house was remaining quiet enough so as not to wake your mother – there was no way to explain your way out of frantically searching for medical supplies to run back out with in the middle of the night. When you weren’t even supposed to be out in the first place.

To minimize the amount of time you even had to be away, you just threw anything you could find in the cabinets into your bag, hoping it would be sufficient enough. Though you stopped in front of the mirror as you passed it, staring at your sweaty and distressed appearance, and took a second to wonder what the hell you were doing. Going out of your way to save a potentially homicidal sea being? Those stabbings may have been damn well deserved. He could somehow be manipulating your kindness for… something. You couldn’t even think of what.

You decided it wasn’t even worth fretting about – you had to get your book back anyway.

The trip back to your anxiously awaiting patient felt a million times longer than the trip home, with every step of your bloody feet reminding you that there may be no one – nothing – to come back to. The sea was a place of peace, but cruel and unforgiving. Your prayers were answered as your flashlight once again illuminated his crumpled body, barely conscious but still clinging on to your (soaking wet and likely ruined) book.

A relieved smile illuminated your face as you fell to his side once again, partially burying the flashlight into the sand so it stood upright to act as a lamp.

“You’re – still here,” you smiled, taking a deep breath. You almost said you’re okay, but that wasn’t quite true, yet.

His clawed hand trembled as it reached out for you, the stretch of his fingers revealing the black webbing in between them. You grasped it back tightly and intertwined your fingers together, squeezing. “I’m here, okay?” He offered you the tiniest smile, but immediately dropped it, the miniscule energy it required taking a toll on his wasting body.

The first thing you did was unfurl a massive, striped beach towel you found shoved in the back of a linen closet onto the sand before hooking your elbows under his underarms and dragging him onto it. It was nearly impossible, his entire body essentially dead weight at that point, but you wanted to get him off the dirty sand – and this was the closest thing you could get to a sterile field.

Dumping the contents of your bag onto the towel next to him, you parsed through it trying to figure out some sort of plan of action. You tried to keep the panic at bay as the thought that none of this was sufficient for anything worse than a superficial cut nagged at you. It was this or nothing.

The first thing mother always told you to do for wounds: clean it. A wave of dread washed over you as you pulled out the bottle of rubbing alcohol, your eyes flitting from it to the gaping wounds in his back. The way he looked at you with terrified, leaky eyes, aware that his entire life was in your hands right then, shattered your heart. You almost wished he was unconscious.

Grabbing a washcloth, he watched as you soaked it with rubbing alcohol, his nose scrunching at the offensive smell. Touching his cheek, you tried to smile as he met your eyes. “This is gonna hurt really – really – bad,” you grimaced. He just stared at you, emotionless, until the rag touched the first wound.

As soon as the liquid came into contact with the broken skin, he let out a horrific, inhuman screech that had you dropping the washcloth to cover your ears. His claws tore ragged holes in the towel as he gripped it, panting and writhing in pain. You couldn’t help but cry too. “I’m so, so sorry,” you continually repeated, abandoning the cloth to lay down next to him. Tears streamed down his face and soaked the towel underneath him, barely even acknowledging the way you wiped them away with trembling fingers.

Despite how much you preferred to just lie with him under the glow of the moon and the melody of the waves, you knew what had to be done. Death was worse than temporary pain – there had to be part of him somewhere that understood that. You hoped it would be better now that he was expecting it.

Slowly sitting back up, you grabbed the rag once more and wrung it out to reduce it to only the minimum amount of antiseptic required, and tried to ignore the way he quivered and shook his head. I’m sorry felt like a shitty spell as you chanted it over and over again, though the screeches became easier to tune out as they rang on. You were surprised his vocal cords didn’t fry.

After what felt like an eternity for both of you, you had finally managed to clean out the wounds and remove some of the dried blood that clung to his skin. The towel was torn to shreds and the veins in his eyes were blown with how much he had been thrashing and sobbing. But the worst of it was over now.

“We’re almost done,” you soothed as you gently applied the triple-antibiotic cream you knew was only meant for minor cuts to the gaping stab wounds. Once they were packed with gauze, you sat back with a huff to survey your handiwork. Sloppy and a bit haphazard but… better than nothing. And having the wounds covered seemed to have helped him calm down a little bit. One last thing crossed your mind though – how could you potentially make the dressings waterproof?

Your eyes flitted over to a slew of seaweed on the shore that reflected the moonlight and figured you might as well try. With some gentle and minorly excruciating maneuvering, you managed to wrap a few thick strands of seaweed around his torso to maybe keep the dressings in place, and protect them from water immediately seeping in.

Falling back onto the towel that was mostly just threads at that point, you sighed. Thoughts of what the fuck am I doing? carved their way into every square inch of your skull. Why am I playing doctor for… whatever he- it is? Why do I care?

The sun began to peak up over the horizon, signaling that it was likely around 5 AM at that point. A groan left your lips as you realized you were going to have to leave soon if you wanted to make it home before Mother awoke, but then remembered you had company. Turning your head, you inspected his body. This was your first time seeing him on land in the approaching daylight.

He only watched you as you observed him. He was… mesmerizing. Flowing from the nape of his neck to both of his wrists, swirls of smoky black pigmentation decorated his skin, while both of his hands and claws were solid black. His – admittedly stunning – face was mostly human-like, save for his slightly larger, glowing violet eyes with slits for pupils. And you had found out he had fangs when he kept hissing in pain. His hair was jet black and flowed just past his shoulders, flecked with salt and sand, that obscured the dark gills on either side of his neck. With only the pitiful light of dawn, you couldn’t make out much of his inky tail, only that it was quite long, and lined with multiple flowing side fins that resembled the fluke.

The waterproof digital watch on your wrist began to beep erratically, making the poor creature jump in fear. Shit. The morning alarm your mother had punched into it.

“I have to leave, I’m so sorry.”

Seemingly starting to recognize the sounds of leave and sorry, his already sad expression wilted even more.

“I’ll be back, okay?” you nodded, enunciating each word clearly. “And you probably need to get back in the water, so you don’t dry out.”

The elongated amount of time outside of the water seemed to have made his tail shrivel slightly, the pointed scales more prominent than they were before. Or maybe that was just the sun rising. Either way, you were at least somewhat certain he needed to be rehydrated.

Standing up on your feet, you dusted off some of the sand that now clung to every inch of you and crossed your arms. The tip of your tongue poked out of your lips slightly as you tried to conjure up a plan of how to get him back in the water. Considering the fact that he wasn’t just pure dead weight anymore, it couldn’t be too bad. But the fresh stab wounds were the main barrier here.

“Alright. We’re getting you back in,” you announced, as if you had some position of authority. He just cocked his head and flared his gills.

With time running out, you decided the best bet was just to use the towel to drag his body the couple of meters back towards the water, and rely on the tide to hopefully aid in easing him back in. It was a deliberate choice to ignore his snarls and light thrashing, clearly not thrilled with the idea.

“Stop fighting me, dumbass,” you grunted. Finally, the tide rose high enough to envelop him, allowing him to indignantly flick his tail at you before swimming away.

The trip back to your house was spent fuming as you wondered why the stupid creature was being so damn ungrateful. As if you hadn’t spent hours saving his life. Whatever. Maybe you could give him a piece of your mind when you went to check up on him later that day. What you didn’t understand was that his unwillingness to allow you to leave stemmed from the fact that he couldn’t quite grasp why you were leaving him. What you were leaving him for. And it hurt. He had always been a loner, even amongst his own kind, and you were the only being to ever show him pure kindness. Why would you leave? And would you ever be back?

[milksockets]

well, another year hath concluded. 🫠

getting + staying sober has, for me, been a process of accepting that i cannot continuously escape, and therefore must integrate into reality + society, degree by degree. this past year was my biggest catapult into the “real world” and confirmed what almost everyone else already knew: life is a complete shitshow. from starting my first legal, full-time job to an absolutely bonkers implosion of the only healthy relationship i’ve ever had, it was thoroughly exhausting.

although i’ve said the serenity prayer thousands of times over the last 8 years, the actual harnessing + cultivating of a sense of inner peace has eluded me, as i was more focused on the so-called “cash and prizes.” new transfigurations of my addictive nature popped up at every turn (much like the dudes who display pronounced initial interest, promptly ghost me, and then nonsensically re-appear months or years later), serving as forms of immediate gratification intended to keep myself in a relatively constant state of [low-level, comparatively] stimulation in order to prevent burrowing into reality’s daily inanity.

but what’s become clear to me more than ever is that–especially as the world continues to fracture around us–having a reserve of peace + tranquility is indispensable. this year, i want to hone in on breaking behavioral patterns that, at this point, are starting to bore even me. and if i’m not able to be entertained by + laugh at myself, that’s when i know major change has finally become unavoidable.