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yayakoishii · 6 months ago

Note

can we get some drunk love confessions from sanji?

Sober (Pt. 1) | Sanji x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x GN! Reader

Word Count: 2k

Genre/Tags: Light Angst, Fluff, Insecure Sanji; there's a scene that might feel like dub-con to some but it's consensual from both sides– please read at your own discretion! ♡

A/n: thank you so much for this prompt anon,, I love drunk confessions myself so I was excited to write this!! I wasn't sure if you wanted the reader to be confessing or Sanji, so I decided to make it Sanji this time since I already wrote a fic where reader drunk confessed. I hope you enjoy this ♡

Part 2

also available on ao3!

The shouting on the ship got your attention from where you were playing cards with Usopp. Across the deck, Zoro and Sanji were fighting again. Even in the dark cloak of nighttime, they sure had the energy to fight without missing a beat. You sighed to yourself then decided that it would be better if you went over and distracted Sanji so the fight would end.

Except, before you had even stood up, the screaming stopped and the two were now stomping towards Zoro's stash of sake. You raised an eyebrow as you saw them sit down across each other, still glaring. You hurried over to them after telling Usopp that you'll be back in a while.

"What's going on?" You asked quietly to Nami and Chopper who had been watching over the two.

"They're having a drinking contest," the navigator replied matter-of-factly. Your eyebrows shot up in shock. Why would Sanji challenge Zoro to a drinking challenge of all things? "Zoro challenged him. And of course your lover boy couldn't back down."

"Nami!" You hissed at her, cheeks flushing. "Don't say that so close to him!"

Nami gave you a deadpan look. She still lowered her voice for your sake, "Sanji is dense as fuck. I bet all my money he wouldn't figure out your feelings from such a simple term."

"I'd still rather not risk it," you muttered underneath your breath before turning your attention to the drinking challenge in front of you. The two of them had already managed to down more than half of the first bottle. Illuminated by the lights on the deck, you could see the slight flush starting to rise on Sanji's cheeks.

The blonde chef could hold his liquor well but going against Zoro was probably equivalent to digging his own grave.

"This is not gonna end well," you sighed. "I'll just go finish my card game with Usopp. Are you gonna watch over these two or…?"

"They're paying me to play referee," she shrugged. You rolled your eyes and bit down the smile trying to come up. Chopper announced that he was going to sleep and to call him if something happened. You both waved him goodnight. Giving Nami a thumbs up, you went back to your seat too. Usopp was staring intensely at his own cards. You stared at him for a few seconds.

"You looked at my cards, didn't you?" You said flatly. Usopp's eyes widened and he started denying but gave up when you started shuffling the deck again. "Let's play one short game before turning in for the night."

You could still hear Zoro and Sanji fighting in the background, the noise just incoherent enough that you couldn't quite make out the words. You could tell Sanji was steadily getting more and more drunk as his voice started getting a little higher and shrill as he shouted. Even in the dead of the night, the Thousand Sunny was as lively as ever. The thought made you smile to yourself as you triumphantly showed your card sets to Usopp, finishing the game.

"You're suspiciously good at this," Usopp complained as he started packing up the cards.

"Be happy I didn't bet money on this," you grinned and leaned back in your chair. "You'd be a penniless beggar otherwise."

Usopp muttered something under his breath that you didn't quite catch. The day's exhaustion was starting to catch up and you decided that it was a good time to go to sleep. You had the early morning lookout shift anyway.

"Goodnight," Usopp called out as he left. You tilted your head up and down to acknowledge his words but stayed in your seat for a few more minutes. The shouting had ceased sometime ago and the low murmurs of conversation washed over you like a lullaby.

"(Y/n)!" Nami's shout of your name startled you awake from your half-asleep state.

"What is it?" You asked with a yawn as you made your way over. "Is their match over?"

"I had to stop them cause I don't think either of them plans to stop," she frowned. "I don't know about Zoro but Sanji would definitely die of alcohol poisoning if this goes on."

You laughed for a second but froze when you realised that Sanji was staring intensely at you. It made you self conscious and you automatically carded a hand through your hair to ensure it wasn't sticking out awkwardly.

"You should take him back while I squeeze my money out of Zoro," Nami winked at you and ran after the swordsman who had already wandered off somewhere. She was gone before you had even finished nodding.

"Alright, Sanji, come on," you smiled down at him, holding your hands out so he could stand up with the support. The chef stopped staring at your face and switched to staring at your hands instead. From your angle, you couldn't quite see his full face but the red splotches on his ears and cheeks were enough indication of how drunk he was. You waited for a few seconds. After a few beats of silence, Sanji placed his own cold hands into yours. You immediately covered them, trying to warm them as you pulled him up. The blonde must have been more drunk than you had thought because he lost his footing and nearly crashed into you.

Thankfully, you realised just in time and instead of the two of you falling on the deck, Sanji had crashed into your arms. Chests pressing, now he was the one looking down at you with a half-lidded gaze. The proximity resulted in Sanji's smell enclosing you, and you flushed at how one of his hands had sneaked around your waist in the confusion somehow.

"So beautiful," he whispered. Your heart was thudding faster, almost like it was trying to escape the confines of your ribcage. You nervously laughed it off.

"Alright, you've had too much to drink," you joked and tried to separate but Sanji's grip did not loosen. He always fought with his legs so you tended to forget that his arms were just as strong. Fingers spreading apart, his hand splayed across the small of your back. The cold touch over your shirt made goosebumps rise on your skin but you were distracted by the way Sanji's tongue was lightly grazing over his lips. The soft pink seemed to be shining in the light.

"This must be a dream," he spoke quietly, seemingly more to himself than you. You stayed still, praying that Sanji couldn't hear your crazy heart rate and that he would forget this tomorrow. (Or well, maybe he shouldn't forget this. You didn't know which option was more appealing at the moment.) "You smell divine, my love."

"Y- You too?" You squeaked out in panic, wanting to hide your face but your hands were trapped between your bodies, resting on his shoulders. Sanji laughed at your words– a soft, genuine, relaxed laugh that you didn't often get to hear. It made your embarrassment quell down and your heart felt warm. Sanji wasn't wrong. Something about this whole night seemed to feel hazy and distant, like a dream. He would only say such words and smile like that around you in a dream, right?

"I wish this wasn't a dream," his words sent something cold down your insides. "If only this was real…"

You paused and looked up at him. Pushing your body on the tip of your toes, you leaned into his ear and asked quietly, "What if it wasn't a dream? What would you do?"

You didn't know what had possessed you but it felt like the right thing to do, the only natural question to ask after his previous words.

"So many things I've wanted to do for so long," his words were still quiet, almost like he was afraid to break the tranquillity of the night. You stepped back and Sanji let you this time. His expression seemed broken and his eyes looked glassy.

You had never actually seen Sanji drunk. He had a high tolerance for alcohol and he usually didn't drink much to ensure he could take care of anyone else who was. (He always said it was just for the ladies but you knew he was secretly looking out for everyone even though he wouldn't admit it.) He never really cried in front of you either. The fact that a drunk Sanji was sad and broken was news to you.

"Sanji," you didn't realise you had cupped his cheeks until you had already done it. Something about that desperate look on his face had spiked an intense urge in you to hold him close. "Is everything alright?"

"If this was reality," his voice wavered, unconfident and so unlike the usual him, "you wouldn't look at me like you're doing right now. If this was real, you wouldn't be in my arms right now. You would never love me the way I love you and you would never see me as something beyond a crewmate."

Your breath hitched at the words, fingers accidentally pressing harder into Sanji's jaws. He didn't seem to feel it because a tear slipped down his cheek and onto your hand, the liquid trailing between your touch.

"That's okay," he blinked, a few more droplets falling down or getting stuck in his eyelashes. "As long as I can hold you like this in a dream… that's enough for me. I won't ask more of you if this was real. All that you give me is already more than I deserve. After all, for someone like me… There's no way you would fall for someone like me. And that's okay. Because you deserve someone better. But I'm so selfish. I wish I could keep you all to myself. I wish I could hold you like this in reality, and tell you how much you mean to me. I wish I could make you smile all the time and be a shoulder for you to cry upon on your bad days. I wish I could k- kiss you and tell you over and over… how much I love you."

It felt like a swarm of butterflies had suddenly erupted in your chest. The fluttering feeling was ticklish and you couldn't quite form words and you could only gape at Sanji. He still seemed to believe this was a dream because his other hand cupped your cheek. His thumb brushed against it, gentle and warm, no longer cold after all the proximity in you two. Before you could say anything, he dipped down and captured your lower lip in between his own, gently caressing it with his tongue. The sudden sensation made you erupt in flames, the blush reaching the tips of your extremities.

"S- Sanji," you breathed out shakily when he let your lip go to slip his tongue into your mouth. You wanted this. You had wanted it for so, so long– but not like this. You drew your head away before he could successfully infiltrate the warm, wet cavern of your mouth and instead gave him a flushed smile. His eyes still looked glossy but there was an unmistakable softness in them.

You would normally have told yourself that he was just drunk and didn't mean it. But there was a part of you that knew it wasn't the effect of the alcohol. Sanji was unbearably honest when he was drunk. His true feelings were what's making him sad. Denying them would be both idiotic and disrespectful, but you couldn't accept them either. The words he spoke weren't ones he had decided to say himself. He thought this was a dream.

"Tell me this tomorrow morning," you whispered, pressing a gentle and slightly wet kiss on his cheek. "Tell me you love me when you're sober. Tell it to me, when this is real and no longer a dream. I'll wait for you to tell me when you feel ready for it."

Sanji stared down at you, his eyes starstruck and in an expression of awe. The sight made your heart clench but you told yourself that he will do it. He will tell you his feelings again, when he is in full consciousness. For that, you had to let him go right now.

"And then we'll do everything that we have wanted to do for so long, yeah?"

°•❀•°

All likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

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Part 2 now available!

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eyelessfaces · 7 months ago

Text

uncalled for

summary: you get quite upset when poe "saves" your assigned mission by giving orders to your teams without consulting you; poe is determined to fix his mistake.

warnings: (public) arguing, talks of the future; family and having kids

tags: gn!reader, angst, being parents to bb8, fluff, this ends up being real sweet tbh

word count: 1.7k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

(uh yeah I'm back if you even noticed I was gone lol. I might just post this and disappear again for a little longer idk but anyways I'll explain the reason whenever I'm back for good; I'm okay don't worry, and I'm still gonna post fics don't worry it's nothing too serious fr)

It causes a disruption when you both barge into the hangar; despite the constant clattering and whirring of tools and material there, both your bitter shoutings have been overlapping the sounds ever since Poe started following you closely, right from the moment you hastily jumped out of your x wing to try to forget about the awful management of your mission that would probably cost you to never get to lead one again.

“It was my call, not yours” you affirm bitterly, voice dripping with resentment, your steps heavy and hurried as you try to shake Poe off but he is anything if not persevering, so it only manages to piss you off even more and fuel your frustration. “I didn’t need you to save my mission or whatever,” you exclaim, causing heads to turn as you walk across the large room, barely minding what is going on around you.

“I did because I knew it would work!” Poe tries to explain, still heeling you closely. “I wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t sure it would be successful” he declares louder than he needs to, thrown off when you suddenly stop in your steps, turning to him.

“So you think you can make decisions for me? You think I can’t do it, can’t command a mission correctly?” you rhetorically ask, revolted, sighing a profanity under your breath before you storm off again, your steps resonating with frustration. Poe sighs and winces before he follows you again, taking a hold of your arm.

“Babe come on you know that’s not–”

You stop again, your patience running short. “You had no right to encroach on my orders, I knew what I had to do, and you stepping in with your own instructions could have blown the whole mission up!” you call out, pressing a finger to his chest.

It’s when you finally take a moment to take a look at his face that you realize it, what is going on; you are being the center of attention, the little show everyone stopped their current task to sit and watch, your every word carefully awaited by your unwanted audience.

You sigh softly, taking a moment to step back from the situation. “Now leave me alone before we embarrass ourselves further or before I tell you things I don’t really mean just because I’m angry and don’t wanna talk to you” you hiss softly before leaving Poe in the middle of the busy room where he watches you walk away, helplessly standing there.

When he looks around him, most people turn away and avert their gazes to pretend they haven’t witnessed anything, and Poe is well too aware of the tension still lingering in the air even as you exit the room.

When Jessika climbs down from her ladder after watching the scene from her cockpit, BB-8 rolls over to her and chirps sadly, having observed yours and Poe’s argument from afar just like most of the hangar after his master went running after you. She kneels down to the droid’s level, giving him a sympathetic smile.

“That’s gonna be fine Beebs, they always end up figuring it out somehow” she affirms as the droid’s upper part sinks in distress accompanied by saddened beeps. Jessika can’t help but smile fondly at him and his obvious concern, at the fact that he quite literally acts like you are his parents.

—

A few hours have passed when Poe joins you again; you don't notice him at first, having made sure to get focused enough on your paperwork to forget about the whole situation and try to ease the frustration within you. It's only when you put your datapad down that you see him leaning against the door frame.

“You're so pretty when you're focused” he smiles gently when your eyes meet his figure, causing you to roll your eyes and reluctantly smile at his words despite your lingering frustration.

“I’m still mad at you,” you sigh softly as you try to hide your slight smirk, gaze darting back down to enter numbers into your datapad.

He acknowledges your feelings with a nod, his lips pressed together in a tight line. “I know.” he admits, stepping into the room. “That’s why I’m here” You look back up at him, taking a deep breath as you set your datapad aside; despite the fact that everything he did since you wrapped your mission up got on your nerves, deep down you only wish for this to situation to get figured out and eventually be behind the both of you. You join him in front of your desk, leaning against it.

“I knew what I was doing. I was handling it” you affirm before he even gets the chance to do so much as open his mouth.

He holds a hand up to slow you down. “I know,” he nods understandingly. “I shouldn’t have redirected the plan, I should have trusted you. I was just afraid things would go wrong considering how it was all starting to go down so quickly” he explains. “I know I could have fucked it all up, everything you put in place so the mission could go right” you slightly tilt your head to the side in agreement.

“And I know my move was probably a lot more dangerous than the plan you had in mind to make everything right but you know I would never put you or our teams in danger, only myself” he declares with a concerned nod, causing your expression to soften. “You, never. I would never risk it, no matter what” there’s a soft frown over his face as his eyes flicker with sincerity, his confession making your heart ache as it hangs in the air before he talks again. “And I never doubted your ability to command a mission.”

You nod with a heavy sigh, acknowledging his apology. “I should apologize too. I shouldn't have lashed out on you like that either.” you admit and nod sheepishly, reflecting on your impulsive behavior. “I really wanted this mission to go right”

“For what it’s worth,” he starts with a small smile, trying to dissimulate a bigger one. “I talked about it with Leia and she thinks you did pretty good” his declaration doesn’t fail to draw an appreciative smile from you, one that makes him mirror your action. “And she thinks we would work great together”

“And I agree,” you reply, finally feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as the tension between you begins to dissipate. “We do make a good team.”

Poe’s smile widens, relieved to see you loosen up a bit. “Yeah, we do” he agrees with a small huff, stepping closer to you. “I just hate seeing you so worked up.”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “I hate getting worked up,” you scoff.

“I’ll try to think about it twice next time,” Poe promises, reaching out to gently take your hand in his. “I don’t want to step on your toes or make you feel like I don’t trust you or your judgment.”

Your fingers intertwine with his, the warmth of his touch calming you further. “Well I’ll try not to snap at you,” you promise in return, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze as you let your head rest against his chest with a small, barely audible sigh. “Especially not in front of everyone,” you mutter, earning an amused chuckle from him. You melt into his touch as he leans to press a gentle kiss over your forehead, his hand that is not holding yours coming to wrap around you.

It is only after you pull away from his embrace and leave a chaste kiss to his lips that the corner of your eye notices a sort of spy in the corner of the door frame.

“What’s he doing here”

Poe frowns before he turns around, huffing out a laugh when he notices BB-8 peeking out the door. “How long have you been here?” he jokingly scolds his droid that fully reveals himself now that he has been caught. “You know he doesn’t like when we fight” he softly sighs turning back to you, a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes before he looks at BB rolling over the both of you.

You shake your head, unable to suppress your smile at BB-8’s presence. “Very sweet of him to be looking out for us,” you start, reaching out to pat the droid’s dome affectionately. “But maybe he should learn not to eavesdrop.”

BB-8 chirps playfully, obviously pleased with the attention, seemingly eager to be a part of the reconciliation.

Poe chuckles, kneeling down to scratch behind BB-8’s sensor with a fond smile. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll work on that,” he says before glancing back at you with a soft smile. “He's our kid, he’s been worried sick about us, weren't you?” he turns to BB, who's beeping frantically in agreement.

You glance at him, then back at Poe, a softness settling in your chest at the sight of them together, your little family. “Our first kid, yeah” you smile softly, heart fluttering inside your chest.

“First? Meaning there's gonna be more?” Poe asks with a playful smile, getting back on his feet. He raises his eyebrows as he awaits your response, and you both laugh at the sudden change of atmosphere as Poe wraps a hand around you before pressing a kiss to your temple.

You huff out a laugh at his quick jump to conclusion, “I don't know, you're a pretty good dad to this one,” you shrug.

“A couple hours ago I was dead to you and now we're talking having kids” he laughs into your hair, a teasing tone in his voice.

“You weren’t even close to being dead to me, you’re so dramatic Poe” you declare with a small scoff, poking his chest lightly. “That’s the reason Beebs loves you so much” you tease, making him huff out a laugh. “I’d say we should focus on surviving one parenting experience first,” you chuckle looking down at BB-8, nudging Poe playfully. “But who knows what the future holds?”

Poe grins, his eyes sparkling with excitement as his arm grasps tighter around his hold on you. “As long as I have you by my side, I'm up for anything babe.”

—

reblogs and feedback are extremely (I cannot stress this enough) appreciated!!

star wars masterlist: @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift @whatthefishh @dameronshandholder @campingwiththecharmings @mintgreen24 @spider-starry @jakecockley @cocodiem @spxctorsslxt @friedwings @luxisluxurious @stvnnie @dowbastan @il0vebeingdelulu @hammerhead96 @unear7hly

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fic #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fluff #star wars #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #poe dameron angst

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half-dead-ham · 13 days ago

Text

Tim Drake's I.E.F Ch.1

To all those new to this fic, Hi! Welcome! I'm sure you'll have fun with this since I'll be posting/updating the old update posts all at once. It's a lot, but if I don't do this now I probably won't later, so bare with me, will you?

[Ao3 chapter] [Masterpost] [Chapter 2]

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

Getting shot isn't the best way to start a friendship, but at least nobody died, right?

Gotham is dark.

And big.

And haunted.

It would seem like the worst place for Danny to hide, considering just how many vengeful and sad ghosts there are. And yet, here he is, on his third month here after escaping leaving Amity Park after an unexpected and, frankly, embarrassing reveal of his secret to his parents.

Needless to say, they did not take it well.

Silently cringing at the images of the inside of ecto-proof cages and Fenton blasters running through his head, he floats on his front invisibly about his current interest in lazy circles as they perch on the edge of a rooftop. Red Robin, the first bat he encountered during his stay, and second favourite Gotham vigilante, (his first being Red Hood) was currently working on a case that revolved around a string of break-ins to large electronic stores around Gotham's commercial district. The contents of what was stolen didn't seem to have any pattern, but none of the security systems at previous stores were able to even glimpse at the thief.

Red Robin, hearing rumors through his contacts of the electronic store across the street from them being the next target, had decided to stake out the place in hopes of a clue. The security feed was currently being patched through onto Red Robin's wrist computer as the bird watched silently for any signs of movement. A slight distortion caught Danny's eye and he lowered himself over Red Robin's shoulder to get a better look. Red Robin shivered at the sudden chill, but didn't look around like the first dozen times Danny had hovered into his personal space.

It was weird, the lack of reaction. At the beginning, about a month beforehand was when Danny had first taken interest in the vigilante. He was bored of staying in the decrepit old building he'd started squatting in after the first few nights of paranoia fueled isolation. Figuring the best way to settle his nerves was a midnight patrol, he took off flying in a lazy pattern, first around his new house(not his home, not without them) and then around the rest of the district.

He was just about to head back when he came upon police lights outside a small computer repair shop and curiosity, reluctantly, got the better of him. Danny, invisibly and intangibly as to not be detected, floated cautiously through the roof of the shop to see what had happened. He was not expecting to see Red Robin surrounded by four officers all huddled together watching—glaring—at the monitor displaying the shop's security footage.

Seeing that A. There wasn't anything really bad about the place, like a body or any particularly fresh ghosts, and B. That his second favourite Gotham hero was on the scene had instantly made Danny much less cautious and much more curious. He waited for the officers to focus their attention elsewhere in the store and floated closer to have a look at what the hero, who was currently rewinding the tape, was so baffled about. Red Robin had just hit play when Danny came close enough for his shoulder to accidentally brush the side of Red Robin's head in a momentary lapse of his intangibly, sending the vigilante bounding to his feet in a defensive position, searching for anything close.

Danny, in the split second between his accidental tangibility and Red Robin's reaction, had instinctively moved back and reasserted his powers for good measure. The video played behind Red Robin as he tensely searched the dingy narrow shop for anything that could have caused the cold chill and light brush to the back of his head, but even with the high tech sensors in his lenses he couldn't pick up anything that close to him, just him and the now three other officers in the building. His body slowly uncoiled, the fight bleeding out of him as he watched the officers inspect a particularly interesting piece of wiring near the entrance. 'Like a snake' Danny mused, before silently berating himself for almost getting caught by a bat.

Man, that would've been embarrassing.

Danny was lucky he hadn't thought to switch to thermal viewing, or he would have noticed the massive cold spot just above him to his left.

After that night Danny kept going for patrols around his squat house, and subsequently kept running into Red Robin in his case to find the ghost(ha) thieves. After the seventh time he figured it would be more interesting to just start out searching for the vigilante instead of running into him after the police lights directed him to a crime scene.

An alarm from the store across the street had Danny refocusing on Red Robin's wrist computer. There hadn't been movement on the cam footage, but as Red Robin rose from his crouch Danny noticed one of the camera views where an empty display that had previously held a line of 60 inch flat screens not five minutes before. Rising and hopping off the cornice Red Robin toggled the button on his comm with an exasperated groan.

"Oracle, it's RR," he paused and a woman's voice could vaguely be heard, "So you couldn't see anything either?" He groaned again, louder as he took a few more steps away from the roof ledge. "What kind of tech could hide someone from all the cameras in there?" Another pause, this time from both ends.

"You think it's a meta?" Red murmured, almost to himself. "That could be why we didn't even see the goods getting moved," Oracle was saying something he couldn't make out, then "I'll try, but I don't know how much I'll find even if I can see them." Danny tuned out their conversation after that as another sound caught Danny's attention at the back side of the building. Red Robin was too focused on his conversation to notice or hear, but to Danny the hushed tones were both loud and suspicious.

As he got closer to the edge, the tones became voices, all three deep and rough. He peered over the rear cornice to the alley below, and spotted three men dressed in all black loading the freshly stolen TV screens into the back of a nondescript white van. Two of the men were making their way to the front doors of the vehicle and were wearing large gaudy white belts and were shouting at the third arranging the monitors in the back. The half-ghost only had time to think 'well they don't look suspicious at all' before the first one got to the driver's side door and yanked it open. Belatedly realizing that they were probably the thieves the pacing hero behind him was looking for, Danny made a split second decision and dove for Red Robin's utility belt.

Among the few gadgets Danny had seen Red Robin use, the tracking bug was stored in an easily accessible front pocket at the birds front. Rather than trying to be stealthy for the sake of him not being found out, Danny quickly made a downward sweeping motion with his hand to grab the tracking device intangibly out of the pouch. Only half noticing the full body chill he gave Red Robin on the process, he dashed back to the van of whose driver had just keyed the ignition and stuck the tracker to it's undercarriage in time for it to peel out of the alley back doors only just closing on the turn with a lot 'slam!' and into the dead side street away from the electronic store.

As he watched the van go, he hoped that tracker had an automatic 'on' function or he would be down one piece of mysteriously missing bat-tech and up one very suspicious bat.

Flying worriedly back up to where he had left said bat, he was greeted with his slightly panicked conversation with the person(s?) on the other end of his comm. "-I am not hallucinating! I just felt something go through me and nothing's here! I'm- no I'm not coming down with something Dick! "

Something in the way he said that made Danny pretty sure he wasn't meant to hear that. Vigilantes and their secret identities, right? (was his name really Dick? Or was that just an insult? It felt like a name when he said it…)

"I swear something has been stalking me for the last month and none of you will believe me!"

The half-ghost flinched, realizing that yeah, he maybe hadn't been as sneaky as he'd thought in hanging (haunting?) around the vigilante, but after the first few reactions to his ghostly presence he'd thought Red Robin had choked him up to being some regular Gotham chill or something, only shivering before going back to what he'd been doing previously. Before anyone, present or otherwise, could say anything else, Red Robin's wrist computer beeped and pulled up a map showing the location of the -thankfully operational- moving tracker.

A small "What?" was the only thing to accompany the deep frown as Red Robin lifted his gloved arm showing the tracker, before reaching into the pouch that previously held said tracker and pulling out empty air. Somehow deepening his frown, the bird looked around the empty rooftop, scanning for seemingly anything, before moving his hand back to his comm to speak.

"Guys, I think I got a lead," he stated wearily. He was met with a few seconds of dead air before a flurry of voices spoke one after another in a cacophony Danny could barely even start to decipher before Red Robin spoke over them.

"Something took my tracker. I don't know what has it but it's heading to the docks, I'm going to see where it's headed and maybe find some clues about either who took it, or. that tech."

A distinctly male voice replied this time, and Danny could vaguely make out something about the tracker leading to a trap. Danny really didn't think about what he'd do after setting the tracking device, just that his core urged him to help. Internally groaning at his lack of planning yet again, he was surprised to hear Red Robin's reply.

"I don't think it's a trap. If what I think happened, then that thing that's stalking me might just have given me the lead I need to bust this case open. And yes I know you guys still don't believe me about the thing, but I've seen and felt too many things over the past month not to think something's keeping tabs on me." He started to make hand gestures around halfway through his rant, ending off with a grumble at the notion of invisible teens' currently unknown presence. He heard one more voice speaking up in a cautious tone before the vigilante raised his hand again to the comm. With a reassuring sounding "will do" he switched off his comms and headed to the fire escape off the side of the building and to his bike parked a few streets over.

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

The docks, Danny thought, were both more haunted and quieter than Amity's, and that somehow made them even creepier.

While keeping up with Red Robin's ninja-like movements through the maze of Gotham's harbour he had spotted no less than fifteen ghosts of various power levels and forms, ranging from the usual blobs to some very concerning looking business men in drenched suits.

Coming up on the location of the tracker Danny placed on the thieves van, they came to a warehouse that was a lot less dead than the ones beside it. Creeping up to an adjacent roof Danny could spot three guards, likely armed if their postures were anything to go by. Red Robin surveyed the perimeter before finding an open window on the second floor. He studied the opening for a few minutes to confirm whether or not there was anyone in the room, then pulled out his grapple and shot it at the overhang of the building just above it, sailing through the small hole with practiced grace.

'Most of the batclan could probably take flight really easily… A bat that could actually fly, now that would be terrifying.' The intrusive thought couldn't escape Danny as he floated through the wall behind the bird, watching as he took a roll and came up in -from what the half-ghost could tell- a perfect defensive crouch. Red Robin checked the room for any cameras before creeping over to the doorway, the door itself having most likely been lost to vagrants a long time ago. With no one in the corridor -though with the other doorways having actual doors it was hard to tell- the vigilante stalked towards the open end, presumably where the office portion ends and the warehouse properly 'begins'.

Red Robin stopped just short of where the office hallway met a grated catwalk that overlooked about two thirds of the warehouse below. Though it must not have been originally, the office space was held aloft by solid yet bare I-beams that jutted from the concrete below. Remnants of walls in the form of gypsum dust and water stains were all that proved the existence of a previously blocked off section to a now open space. The open space, of course, held pallets and pallets of stolen electrical equipment; TV's, computers, stereo systems, just to name a few that Danny could see. Along the wall to his right he could see the van he'd tagged with Red Robins tracer, along with two other vehicles of similar make to the one they followed. The first van currently had its rear doors wide open as four men in all black unloaded the monitors into a waiting palette for… storage? It was hard for Danny to say, but by the way the vigilante slightly below him gasped -silently, he noted absently- they had found the mother-load.

There were more guys than just the ones unloading the van, obviously. They seemed to keep in groups, but in total there were maybe thirty of them, the ghost boy guessed. All of them had some small firearm on them, about half some visible melee weapon, and all had the same Bad Guy™ wardrobe of black long sleeves and pants.

A good few had those garish white belts on, Danny had noticed due to the fact they stick out like the belt on his HAZMAT, though for different reasons. The goons that wore them didn't unload the goods with the ones who didn't have them, suggesting they had a different job in this operation.

Red Robin was taking all this in just as much as he was, watching the men at work as they catalogued the new additions to a collection that clearly went further than just the department store robberies. 'Maybe they break into houses too?' Danny had to assume that because how else would you get a literal mound of cellphones and tablets without some good ol' B&E?

You can't, that's how.

Both Danny and Red Robin were too captivated by the floor below they weren't paying attention to the floor they were on. Specifically, they didn't notice the goon slip out from one of the offices they had neglected to check beforehand. He didn't see them—really just Red Robin, Danny was still invisible—immediately, but as the bird didn't turn around immediately the thug took the chance to take out his weapon—a short lead pipe in this case—and slunk towards the bird and ghost duo as silently his black converse could.

Danny heard a scuff a second before the guy behind them took a swing—straight at the back of Red Robin's head. Thank the ancients so did he, swivelling on the ball of his left foot and kicking out with his right, sweeping the thugs legs and sending him face first into the catwalk grate with his momentum. As he landed though, he let go of his pipe.

Which fell to the floor below.

Which in turn alerted everyone to what was happening just above their heads.

Danny metaphorically held his breath (not literally, he didn't need to breathe as a ghost) as, as one, the entire warehouse snapped to look in the direction of the loud clang! and eventually the bird in the rafters. Many rushed to unholster their firearms before shooting at the vigilante.

Red Robin cursed and sprinted back the way he came, into the vacant room and back out the window to the opposing roof with his grapple. Behind them shouting and more gunshots could be heard, leaving Danny's ears ringing as the mob of thugs spilled out of the warehouse in pursuit of the rooftop runner.

Danny had to resist the urge to put up a shield to aid the bird in his escape, his core screaming at him protect protect protect! As bullets whizzed by them in the leaps Red Robin took between corrugated rooftops. He deflected as many as he could without being obvious, but due to that a few found their marks, the first one in Red Robin's upper right arm, another grazing his left cheek to the bridge of his nose, and the final one getting through his body armour and through his lower left side, exiting through his chest.

The last bullet made Red Robin yelp in pain, losing focus of his landing position and slipping on a slick spot on the next roof. His legs went out from under him and though he tried to find something, anything to hold onto, the strain had his right arm weakening, and with a look of terror, he fell.

Protect protect protect protect protect pr̵̟̬̬͕̼̜̪̞̊̓͗̊͌͆͠͝ͅo̷̦̟̥̠͉̘͕͛̎͛͝ͅṱ̷̼͔̘̩̆ě̴̗̱͍̤̣̻̯̹̇̍̄c̶̡̤͔̫̠̲̍͋́͐̀͂̕͝t̵͚̟͓̔͐̏͊̈́̕ ̶̘͈͙̻̦̫̱͑̂p̴̧̩͚̝̲͓̜̰͑̅́̉̈́͛͝r̵̨̛̘̕ǒ̷̧̰̟͖͓̳̘̮̓̊̈́͗̉t̵̢͙̝̰͍̗̪̀͛ͅḛ̵͖͎̭̹̾́̀͋͘ç̵̭̭̫̥̭͎͚̯͌̌̀̾ṯ̵̤̪̟̙̹̂̓́̊͛̐̓͘̕͜ ̵͙͈̟͆̀̍̆p̸̡̛̙͎̖̭̐̆̈́̇̏ṙ̸̘̗̪͖̂̽̉́̕o̶̝̬̔̅̈́͑̃t��̨̧̛̖̘̩̩͇̺̀̔͋̈́́̄̈́͝ȅ̴̞̗͗̂͂͂̉̚c̶̛̥̹̃̃̓̐̽ṯ̶͎̈́͂̈͐̎́͒͝!̶̥̇̄̈̓̈́͗̀͝͠

Before he knew what he was doing, Danny dove for Red Robin, catching him by the wrist not five feet from the very hard, very solid, concrete pavement below them. He lowered the vigilante down gently, his legs not supporting him due to shock of not going splat. (or possibly due to trauma and blood loss.) Danny only let go when Red Robin was firmly sitting on the ground, back to the adjacent wall and unharmed -other injuries notwithstanding- and turned to the rapidly approaching thunder of footsteps as the goons came running at them.

Dropping his invisibility, Danny put a shield around the prone teen behind him. Better not to have him get worse due to some stray bullets while he was being protected.

Why wasn't he taking the injured vigilante and getting the hell outta dodge to somewhere safe? Well that's because he was angry. He was angry they hurt something that was his. They would pay for hurting something he was protecting.

And so, as the mob of goons came at the two teens, Danny, for lack of a better term, unfolded.

A multitude of eyes and teeth and claws came gnashing and snarling outwards in a cloud of frozen shadow at the gang, causing many to panic and either shoot or flee. Some of the ones shooting shot the ones trying to get away, and the buildup of panic and screams and fear had Danny cackling in static echos as he gouged and disarmed and covered the mob in his nebulous mass. He never injured enough to kill, but enough to make sure that if they weren't carried away that they'd need a while to recover.

As the stars that were his teeth and nails stopped flashing in blows delivered Danny adjusted himself back to his usual state, teeth only slightly sharp and claws firmly under the white of his HAZMAT gloves. Satisfied at seeing no man left behind was a code the thugs stood by, Danny turned back to the glowing dome that housed his vigilante.

(No, not his, he can't own someone.)

Red Robin was still in the same spot, which is good. He was also unconscious, which is less good. Gingerly, Danny put two fingers to the bird's neck, looking for and finding a pulse that while strong, was erratic and fast. He would bleed out without immediate attention, and it would be a bad idea to try and carry him to the nearest hospital for multiple reasons. Cursing, he took off his left glove and wrapped it under Red Robin's armpit, knotting it tight for a makeshift tourniquet. Trying to assess a chest wound with only the surface knowledge he knows from patching himself up would be disastrous, so from the small interdimensional space that held his possessions while in ghost form he pulled out his to-go med kit. Thankfully he hasn't needed it all that much since he got to Gotham, leaving much of the more heavy duty supplies for cases of emergency—cases like these. He takes the antibacterial spray and applies a generous amount to both the entry and exit wound, then seals both with his ghostly ice and wraps his torso in bandages. Debating on whether or not it was better to dress the cut on the fainted teens face, the need to respect his privacy won out and applied some gauze with a hint of frost to keep it on and to prevent infection.

While not entirely satisfied with his handywork he knows the ice mixed with the spray will kill anything off except the bird himself, he focuses on the hard part.

Telling the bats.

He knows he has to. But the fear of them trying to look into him has him hesitating. His core thrums loud in his chest, urging him to help, protect your human, protect and the fear recedes for a moment. Before it can come back Danny pulls Red Robin's comm out of his ear and holds it over his own. Taking a fortifying breath he technically doesn't need he pressed the button on the earpiece and breathed out a nervous "H-hello?"

"RR, status report." The female voice he recognized as hearing before, Oracle, comes over the comm instantly.

"Uhhh, bird down?" He hadn't seen a code used for when a bat needs immediate assistance. He could've at least tried to sound more confident.

"... Who are you and how did you get Red Robins' communicator?" Anand that just sent her on high alert, great going Fenton.

Ignoring the question and putting a little more bravado in his voice he states "listen, Red Robin has been shot and needs medical assistance. I've patched him up but he's unconscious and might be in shock. One of you bats needs to get down to the docks and help him."

The line was dead for a moment before another voice—was it Dick—came on the line to answer.

"I'm on route to the docks now, tell me where he is and we'll see what happens to you."

Relief flooded through Danny despite the thinly veiled threat and he quickly rattled off their coordinates, noting in between which warehouses they were in before turning off the comm and placing it in its original position.

He stayed to make sure Red Robin was safe until he heard the silent hum of Nightwing's electric motorbike. Turning invisible he watched the older vigilante rush to check over Red Robin's wounds, make a comment into his comms, then turned his head to search for the one who patched him up.

Giving up quickly he picked up his fainted younger bridal style and carried him over to his bike, placing him on the front with him just behind him to secure him. Then they were off, speeding to Danny didn't know where, probably the bat cave? He was about to head home when the thrum from his core gave him pause. It still needed to know Red Robin was safe, still calling to protect, even if there was no danger. Trying to ignore it would just make the thrum turn to a burn, so reluctantly Danny sped off to follow Nightwing and his (no, not his) Red Robin.

'This is going to end either very well, or very badly…' Was all he could think.

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

[Next][Ao3]

#ham writes #dpxdc #dp x dc #danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #batman #danny fenton #tim drake #chapter fic #chapter 1

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eldritch-spouse · 3 months ago

Note

It's ya boy (slice of life triplets fic), so I've gone down the rabbit home. And currently, it's long, like really long. So I've decided (if it's fine with you) to make a series out of it (also, it will be posted on ao3 once i build up the courage. And severely making sure each one is perfect). I was wondering if I could know a bit about the world itself. Like schools like are they separate from humans or are their schools that allow demons. Is demon and human relationships/friendships common. Also, heats are they like puberty. And maybe a few more you could think of. (Also wrote a scene where mervin and main as children get into a yard fight. Cause children are nasty little fighters. And I think it's funny) thank you so much

Howdy. 👋 Yeah sure, you can post stuff on ao3, there's works with the triplets there already actually. I'll try to answer as best as I can, but know that you can also fill in the holes yourself sometimes, I don't take issue with it.

Schools:

Schools are pretty divided, just as they are in real life. There are schools who accept monster and human pupils, who may or may not have separate specialized subjects. There are schools that only accept humans, and schools that only accept monsters. There are girl-only schools who have monsters and humans, the same thing with boys, then there's even more specialized schools who will have gender and species exclusivity. It kind of depends on the location and society they're in.

In Hell specifically, the demographic of schools is 90% demonoid. There are no "type" exclusive schools, but naturally, most of the pupils in Gluttony will be gluttons, most of the pupils in Envy will be envious, so on and so forth. Lust stands out because it has no schools for minors. You may find a human in a school belonging to Hell, but their experience will be truly hellish if they're not mentally resilient enough to handle it. Even monsters have it kind of hard. The schools of Pride tend to be the most taxing, mentally and physically. The schools of Sloth are not as sloppy as you might think, the title of least effective education goes to Wrath.

I believe I specified that the triplets got most of their education on the surface, in a mixed school, with humans and monsters. But if I haven't, there you go.

Demon/human friendships:

In Hell? All over the place. Older generations of demons may turn their noses up at humans, but the younger ones are more than willing to chat it up and create human acquaintances. This doesn't mean that a lot of these connections aren't somewhat opportunistic, because it's in a demon's nature to kind of seek some kind of reward or future compensation for befriending a human- Like free transport to the surface via summoning, for example.

In the surface, it's only a bit rarer to see humans and demons getting along. There's still a sort of stigma going around -Which isn't totally unfounded- And many humans will group up to expell demons from places. I'm reciting basic social tendencies at this point, but this means that some demons will group up to feel safer on the surface and both humans and demons are careful about how they interact with the other. That being said, lately, there has been a tendency for demons and humans to get along more genuinely.

Relationships suffer from more stigma, especially depending on the type of demon a human may be dating. Because not only is the monsterfucker stigma applied, if your partner happens to be a concubus, a great deal of people will see you as nothing more than a sex pest, or a pet. Again, the intensity of this depends on the location you're in.

Are heats like puberty?

No. I'm not sure what exactly you're asking.

Demons, like many other monsters, will start getting their first heats during puberty, which sort of escalate in intensity as they age. The first heat is usually just an episode of total physical misery and emotional instability, as the body prepares for future ones. During this time, parents are obviously going to make sure their child doesn't neglect hygiene and other basic necessities like eating and drinking, but they will also respect that the teen's room should never be entered unless in a medical emergency. It's assumed they've already taught the monster to clean up after themselves by then.

A standard heat for an adult monster doesn't feel like puberty, because a standard monster's puberty is not the same stress-inducing short burst of hypersexuality and possibly hyperaggression. Sure, there are signs that heat is coming which can be similar to puberty syntoms, like a sudden burst of facial acne, but it's not like reliving puberty.

I don't really have anything else in mind, but I'm curious to see the scene with Mervin and the reader brawling like kids. I'm sure you're keeping in mind that demons are somewhat stronger than humans, even as kids, so a bite or claw-swipe from Mervin would be a bit nasty. The reader can always go for the eyes, as that seems to be triplets' main weakness.

#general tce #seaweeds-kelp

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coffeedrgn87 · 15 days ago

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Flame Comments: Name & Shame

I woke up this morning and upon checking my mail I found the below comment, which I've since deleted (because why would I keep it?), but the email still exists. Unfortunately. I chose not to blur out the name of the commenter for the same reason that they chose to leave such negativity on my work.

Prior to taking a closer look at the comment, let's establish a few things.

Little Prince, Kneel is a BDSM fic I wrote some years ago. Due to popular demand and my own personal enjoyment, the fic became a fully-fledged verse with two completed follow-up stories and several one-shots.

The entire verse is locked 🔒 on AO3, meaning you have to be a registered user to access it.

The tags make it very clear that the story features BDSM, kink, smut galore, you name it.

With the above in mind, let's take a look at the comment. The first sentence says—'this is a good story, but not my cup of tea'. As a reader, if I come to this conclusion, I simply click away and find something else to read. I do not feel the need to leave a comment to tell the author of a story that their work is good but that it isn't my cup of tea. Why, you ask? Well, I read the tags. If they don't resonate with me, I simply find something else to read. There are so many fantastic works on AO3, the likelihood I'll find something to captivate me is high. And even if nothing takes my fancy at that particular moment, I've a bunch of books I can pick up and read.

The comment then continues—'Some one who likes this lifestyle may like it. I feel like Harry is degrading Draco.' This right here tells me that the commenter doesn't usually read BDSM fics. Fair enough, each to their own. No judgement there. There are plenty of topics I don't like. But I don't actively seek out authors on AO3 to tell them that. It isn't necessary or appropriate. OK, you can not be into BDSM and still be curious, I give you that much. I've read stuff I thought I might not like and on some occasions I loved it so much that I obsessively sought out other works that were in the same vein and on other occasions I realised that despite giving a story a try, it still didn't work for me. Do you want to know what I did in those circumstances?

I clicked away.

I found something else to read.

I didn't tell the author.

For what? Why should I continue reading a story that brings me no joy when I can simply find something else? Personally, I have so many bookmarks and an entire email folder titled 'to read' that I'm good until next century or so. On a final note, and to bring my thoughts back to the comment itself, there is absolutely no degradation happening in the story. Well, to be perfectly honest, there's one smut scene between Harry and Draco a bit of dirty sex talk. But that's not degradation. So, to me this reads like underhanded kink shaming, and I'll never stand for that. People are allowed their kinks and just because it isn't yours, doesn't mean you have the right to deny others the pleasure by sh*tting on it. Kink shaming isn't only wrong, it's also hurtful, vile, and causes extreme mental anguish to those who may enjoy a certain kink.

As for the next part of the comment—'In words Harry is so in love with Draco but in action he is just using Draco as play thing. The more I read the more I want them to break up.'—we are once again presented with a couple of problematic statements. For example, 'the more I read the more I want'. Clearly the story doesn't resonate with the reader. Instead of feeling supportive of the main characters journey they want them to break up. If that's their feeling, here's a fantastic suggestion: close your browser tab and find something else to read. Literally all of the commenter's upset could be solved by this simply move. But no, they're talking it one step further. They choose to leave a negative comment. Again, for what? There's no part in the reading process that says 'comment to continue reading'. Can you imagine if there was? The outrage of a quasi-paywall. I'm fairly sure that us writers would be secretly delighted, but also no. I want people to leave a comment on my work because they genuinely want to, not because they're being prompted to do so. And I think AO3's writing community would agree with me.

Now, the final part of the comment—'Sorry for the negative comment. Your wording is excellent tho.'—is the real kicker. Here, the commenter comes to the conclusion that their comment is negative, not at all constructive, and it perhaps even dawns on them that their comment is entirely unnecessary. So, instead of abandoning the comment, of stopping right there, deleting what they've written up until this point, and just moving on with their life, they add a 'sorry' and then close with 'your wording is excellent tho' which at this point means f*ck all. OK, maybe you've read some of my other works, decided to check out more, came across an obviously popular story with high stats and decided to check it out. Up until this point, great. No bother. I've been there done that. Even the part of choosing something that's not usually their style, also cool, we're all curious critters.

What is not OK though is leaving a flame. It's never okay to choose to leave a hateful/hurtful comment. I will give this person zero credit for their apology and their haphazard attempt at saying something positive. Nothing about this comment is cool or acceptable.

I'm all for having a reasonable conversation, in the comments or via Tumblr, though I generally prefer if people ask me if I'm receptive to it at that moment. It's a very simply thing, a small token of kindness, if you will. Works amazing in real life. I never fully know what's happening in my friends' life so if I really want to vent about something heavy I ask if they have the headspace for it.

It really isn't all that hard to observe simple commenting etiquette when choosing to share your thoughts with the author of a work. There's really only one rule: Don't be a d*ck.

#drarry #coffeedragon writes #comments #lpk #little prince kneel #so rude #unacceptable #AO3 #how not to comment #opinion

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trespresh · 5 months ago

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let me go, don't you ever

The first time he drinks from you while fucking you, he’s otherworldly.

+ reader: afab, no pronouns used partner: amab, he/him word count: 7.1k rating: explicit. very explicit. tw for basically anything you'd expect with deep nasty vampire sex: primal play, blood play, blood drinking, biting, rough sex (but with feelings!)… and a little cockwarming, as a treat

idk man I just write the fic I want to read about the sex I want to have.

This ended up being one of the big primal scenes I've always wanted to write but never had anywhere to put it. It is purely a fantasy put to words. This is a real plug-n-play style fic. It's xreader but the partner is not specifically described. You can copy and paste your favorite little guy in there, or just use this as a blank canvas and go to town!

This xreader style of fic is a first for me, and I'm still tbd on whether I'll post it to ao3. I think about scenes like this a lot just for my own uhhhh enjoyment, and I’ve just never actually written it down in this format before. I’m a little nervous but taking my own advice about no shame and no judgment ✌️ but also be nice to me lol

(tl;dr - It’s deeply self-indulgent pov primal vampire sex. There will be blood.)

The first time he ever drinks from you, he’s a little crazy-eyed and desperate, a few hours too many past the last time he drank anything.

You’ve talked about this before: how you’d like to try it, how he would too. Never specifics, never how or when. But right now, the air seems to crackle in the space between you, magnetic and intriguing, and you realize that you really want this now. Even as your eyes catch on the flash of his fangs when he licks his lips, you think, yeah.

You want this, and you trust him, and you want to help him if you can, so you ask, “Would it help?”

You can tell he’s trying hard to keep his eyes on yours, but he can’t catch himself before glancing down at your throat a few times. You watch him watch the pulse in your neck before he drags his eyes back up to yours. When he takes a step forward, you can’t help it—your heartbeat kicks up a notch.

“Easy, it’s just me,” he murmurs gently, like you’re a skittish animal, and you’re suddenly aware that he’d heard your heart leap. His eyes finally drop to your neck and hold there. “Yeah sweetheart, it’ll help. Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Your next breath is shaky. You know he hears that, too.

“Will it hurt?” You ask, quiet.

His eyes flick up to yours long enough for you to see a wave of red flood through them completely until they’re so dark they’re almost black. He steps close enough to lean down and nuzzle against your throat.

“A little,” he breathes, his lips brushing your skin in an apologetic kiss. His tongue comes out to lick along your pulse when it jumps at his words and touch. “At first. God, I’ll make it good though, I promise, please just—let me. Let me.”

His voice has a tiny, desperate whine to it, and you can only shiver when you feel the points of his teeth come to rest against your skin like he already knows you’ll say yes. When you finally nod just enough for him to feel it, you barely get the word “yes” out before his hand is coming up to the other side of your neck to hold you still, and then he’s biting down.

He’s right. It does hurt at first, but in a strange, subdued way. Like two small blades sinking into your neck, except they’re so sharp you barely feel it as they split your skin. The pain is almost sweet, somehow.

His teeth withdraw and then you can hear the soft, wet noises of his mouth and tongue on your neck; it’s hard to reconcile what’s happening with the pull under your skin, the strange suction as the blood is pulled from you. It’s like he’s working you from the inside and out—the hot slide of the blood in your veins before it passes through the holes into the equally hot slide of his tongue and down his throat.

It’s far more intimate than you expected. Visceral and primal, somehow, this new way you’ve given your body to him.

You can’t help the strangled gasp you make, and when your hand raises up to grip his arm, he pulls away immediately. That shadowy pool-of-blood color fades until you can see the sharpness with which he watches you, scanning you over. You feel a trickle of blood trail down your neck; when you lift your hand to wipe it away, he snags your wrist out of the air, threads his fingers through yours, and brings your joined hands around to rest at the small of your back. It’s a gentle way of holding you in place, firm enough for you to relax into.

He ducks his head and licks over the skin on your neck. The idea that he’s cleaning you up should maybe gross you out but it doesn’t, it doesn’t, it sends something swooping through your gut, fever-hot, and you realize—oh, fuck, you like this.

When he pulls away from you, you stare up at his face as you’re hit with a strange sensation on your neck—as if the skin is knitting together somehow, closing up and scabbing over. You raise your free hand up to check your neck only to feel half-healed skin instead, as if the pin prick holes are already days old. He grins when you look back up at him in confusion.

“The venom has, uh, healing properties,” he answers your unasked question. “Apparently it's how enough venom can turn someone. Healing the body before it can ever break down enough to die or something, you know?”

You swallow hard at the casual tone in his voice. You don’t want to think about him dying but you don’t know what to say, so you just nod. He watches you carefully for a moment before sliding a hand up to cup the back of your neck and pull you in for a kiss.

“Are you okay?” He asks against your mouth.

Again, you nod. “I’m okay. It was—” you search for the right words, trying to ignore the way you feel the healing wound pull slightly when you swallow hard. “—nice. It felt… not good, but uh. Intense, I guess. Deep.”

Your cheeks heat a bit but he only smiles and hums in understanding.

“For me, too,” he agrees. While he tilts his head to kiss under your jaw, you wonder idly what it must be like for him, to bite into flesh and drink the hot liquid lifeforce underneath. You’re thinking about what the texture of blood might feel like, when he sighs into your skin and adds, contemplatively, “You’re sweet.”

You flush happily with the endearment. “I just wanted to help.”

He meets your eyes again, smiling wickedly. “You did help. Very much. But I meant you taste sweet.”

Your heart pounds again at that, and he hums and taps a finger against your pulse to the beat.

“Yeah,” he says thoughtfully, distractedly, more to himself than to you. “Like burnt, melted sugar.”

You don’t know what to say to that, and he seems to know that. He leans down to kiss you again and says, so quiet you barely hear him, “Thank you.”

And you can’t help but relax into him.

The first time he drinks from you while fucking you, he’s otherworldly.

“This seems like overkill,” you say, trying not to laugh as you sit on the bed, watching him line water bottles, a bowl of fruit, and a package of your favorite cookies on the nightstand. He’s already put a towel down next to the bed. “You’re not a blood donation center, you don’t have to give me cookies.”

He throws you a grin and shrugs. “I don’t know what this’ll be like. I’ve never done this before and I just, I don’t know. Need to make sure you’ll be okay.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, fond despite yourself. “I trust you.”

It was you who finally asked for this but he hadn’t taken any convincing, so you get the feeling he’s just been waiting for you to bring it up, to make the first move. Now that it’s going to happen, his need for preparedness and eagerness to do this right for both of you is endearing. The pillows are soft when you lean back against them, letting your knees fall wide and enjoying the way he watches the movement.

“Come here.”

He pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it aside before crawling over you; you get your arms around his neck and pull him down. He meets you easily for a kiss that doesn’t take long to turn filthy with your gasp when he gets a hand into your hair and tugs gently, and his tiny moan when you nip at his lower lip and meet his tongue with yours.

Without pulling away from your lips, he snakes a hand down to the inside of your knee and pushes your leg open to make more room for himself. He settles his hips just under yours and thrusts up, and you can’t help but rock down in return just to feel him start to harden and press against you through his sweatpants. A gasp escapes you into the kiss when he nudges against your clit through the layers of clothing.

When he pulls away, his hand falls from your hair to rest at your throat.

“Here,” he says quietly, tapping two fingers on your pulse there. His other hand trails up your knee and stops at the top of your inner thigh, where he taps two fingers again. “And here. Okay?”

Your heartbeat picks up immediately and you know he hears it but you don’t care. You swallow hard against the lump of anticipation lodged in your throat, meet his eyes, and nod.

“Good,” he says in a low, pleased tone that sends a happy little shiver down your spine.

His hand leaves your throat so he can lean up on that hand like he needs a better angle—and then he kisses you again like that will distract you from the way his other hand slides up from your thigh to dip under the waistband of your shorts, like it’ll stifle the little noise of surprise when he cups you with his whole hand, curling his fingers down and into you only to the first knuckle. You arch up into his hand as he flexes his fingers to tease between your hole and clit. You’re wet enough already that he can gather some of it on his fingertips and drag the wetness up over your clit, where he circles lightly a few times before dragging his hand from your shorts. He smirks at the way your breathing goes high and quick just from the brief feel of his hand on you.

“Tease,” you huff, and his smirk widens into a grin.

“You think so?” He says, mock thoughtfully, as he sits up and tugs your shorts off your hips, all the way down your legs until he can throw them off to the side. And then he’s shuffling back on his knees, dropping both hands to the insides of your knees, and spreading you wide for him. He spends a few moments just looking at you while you try not to squirm.

It’s uncomfortable, and yet somehow it sends fire through your gut. You can feel his gaze like a tangible weight. You’re not sure if you like the way he’s openly studying you or not, but you want to be what he needs, so you hold still and let him look. You shift a little when he runs a finger lightly right down the very center of you like he just wants to test what you feel like. You shiver, and then he leans down, presses a kiss to the inside of your upper thigh, and lowers his mouth to you.

Your skin is so heated that his mouth feels almost cool, and you moan when he tongues at your clit in a touch so gentle that you writhe up against him, seeking more until he weaves his arms under your thighs to clutch up at your hips and hold you down on the bed. No matter how hard you arch up against him, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s stronger than you. If he wants you held down and open for him, then that’s what you’ll be.

You know you’re lucky because not only is he good at this, but he enjoys it. You laugh breathily at the reminder of that fact when you feel his fingers at your hole—only for your laugh to cut off in a sigh when he slides a finger into you. He immediately crooks his finger up and pets right over your g-spot, as if it’s second nature for him to make you feel good with how well he knows your body by now. As if it’s his goal and his right to watch you throw your head back against his pillows.

And then he buries his face against you and groans softly like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted.

You gasp at the vibration of the enthusiastic noises he makes. Your hands drop to stroke through his hair, pushing it back from his face so you can watch the way his eyes go half-lidded up at you, his mouth working, forearm flexing as he works another finger into you. The way his nose is crushed against you sends the heat of his heavy breaths in waves over your skin and you are so lit up, up, up for him that you just know you won’t last long with his fingers in you like this.

Or his teeth, you realize as you become aware of the feeling of him rubbing two fingers into the skin of your upper thigh. Your clit throbs between his lips when your heart hammers, remembering what’s about to happen, and suddenly you want it so badly you can barely breathe. Either your anticipation is contagious or he’s already as eager for this as you are, because he licks a final, slow stripe up from where his fingers are pressed inside you up to the top of your clit, which he sucks briefly, humming just for the way it makes you arch up and moan—before he finally lets go to trail kisses over to your inner thigh instead, his fingers still moving inside you.

It’s thrilling, the way he nuzzles against your thigh like he’s savoring the feel—or smell?—of you. When he starts to suck a bruise into your skin, it’s like a tiny electrical current fires up your thigh and into your clit, down through to where he’s still fucking you on his fingers. He curls them up to drag against your g-spot so perfectly that you sob and try to twitch your hips up every time.

By the time he licks over the new bruise and shifts his mouth just a little lower to a clear patch of skin, you’re feeling dizzy in the face of your looming orgasm. You’re so ready for his bite, so eager to find out what it feels like, that when he scrapes his teeth over your skin and looks up to meet your gaze, you’re nodding before he even asks the question.

He asks anyway. “Are you sure?”

“Do it. Please, I’m ready,” you say, because you think you are.

When he bites through the thin, sensitive skin into the flesh of your inner thigh, though, you can’t help the whimper that escapes you or the way your fingers tighten hard in his hair. It’s the same razor-sweet sharpness you’ve felt in the past when he’s bitten into your neck or your wrist—only here, while you’re naked and spread wide for him and already close to coming on his fingers, it’s like lightning jolting up through you. Like that thin electrical current that had formed alongside the bruise he gave you has now been amplified to a sparking livewire between your clit and where his fangs pierce your skin.

His head jerks a little in your hold when you tug on his hair, and his fingers freeze inside you when he pulls his teeth out, seals his mouth over the wounds, and sucks hard. There’s a breathless, still moment while he gets his first taste of you, and then his eyes glaze over with that eerie red-black color and he whines into your skin; he scrambles to get his free hand under your thigh and pulls you harder against his face.

With every heartbeat, you can feel the blood thrum through your groin, then down your thigh to pulse in thick rushes against his lips and tongue when he sucks on the holes he made in your skin. It’s a hot, liquid feedback loop that has your head spinning, and you clench down around his fingers because you’re close, you’re so close—

“Please, god, I’m so fucking—,” you babble through your open-mouth panting, so caught up in the way he’s playing with your body like he knows just how to curl his fingers and exactly how to twirl his tongue over your skin to make you moan and fall apart for him.

He sucks one final mouthful of blood from your inner thigh before pulling away, panting for air while your eyes catch on how red and wet his lips are. He licks a flat strip over the punctures—and then without waiting to make sure the holes have begun healing, he presses his face between your legs again. His lips close around your clit, sucking messily at the same time he fucks his fingers in and out of you, urgent and deep like he’s frantic to get you there, desperate to see you come.

It feels so deliriously good that you’re already teetering on the edge of your orgasm when he eases down onto his stomach between your legs; between one thrust and the next, he slides a third finger in alongside the other two, dragging hard over your g-spot with each stroke. After that, all it takes is one glance down at him to see the way his hips are grinding down against the bed like he’s so hard right now that he can’t help but seek friction—and then he’s pressing his free thumb to the healing puncture wounds on your thigh and you are launched over the edge into your orgasm.

It explodes through you so violently that you arch off the bed, gasping around a high moan and pulling him into you by your hold in his hair, grinding against his face as he moans and curls his fingers inside you and stares up at you, rapt, like he would rather die than miss this.

You can feel his heavy gaze the whole time you ride down the peak of your orgasm, his fingers slowing into long strokes that ease you through it. Finally, you tug on his hair when you’re twitching through the aftershocks and he pulls away from you, panting. He rests his forehead against your thigh while he catches his breath; finally he says, “Fuck,” and looks up at you with his normal, clear eyes.

“Yeah,” you agree faintly, reeling from the intensity of your orgasm and the memory of his teeth in you, his tongue working against you in such different ways.

You glance down at him, gently stroking your fingers through his hair. His eyes are lazy and satisfied from where he looks up at you between your thighs. His cheeks are flushed a pretty pink, his lips red and swollen, and his hair is growing messier by the minute from your wandering hands. You can’t stop staring at the way his mouth and chin are still wet with your slick and a little bit of leftover blood.

He looks good like this, you decide. Really good.

Movement catches your eye over his shoulder, and when you lift your head to look down his body, you see his hips still working against the bed like he’s not even conscious of it. It sends a strike of need through you so strong that you can’t help but tighten your grip in his hair and tug him up. He goes easily, crawling up your body to get his mouth on yours, and when you deepen the kiss, his tongue tastes sweetly metallic.

“Fuck me,” you say.

He nods eagerly, pressing his hips against yours so you can feel his hard cock through his sweatpants. You push at the waistband, tugging them down his hips demandingly, and he shifts back to pull them down and kick them off the bed. Then he’s naked and hard and kneeling over you, looking at you the way a starving wolf must look at an unsuspecting bunny.

It’s a heady feeling, having that intensity turned on you, so you bask in it and let him take over.

He flips you over with a hand at your side, then pulls you back toward himself and tugs at your hip insistently enough for you to understand—you lift up just enough for him to shove a pillow under your hips. He takes a second to position you how he wants you, hitching your hips up and back toward him. He pushes your thighs together and throws a leg over you so his knees are against the outsides of your thighs and he can really lean over you. You expect the feel of his cock nudging at your hole so you’re surprised when he slips two fingers into you instead, like he just wants another feel. It’s an easy slide; you’re slick enough, wet with his spit and your blood and how much you need him to fuck you right now, come on.

He pulls his fingers free, strokes that slickness over his cock a few times, and lines up. Even though you’re so keyed up and ready for him that you might spark and explode, you immediately clench down when you feel him press against you, throwing a smirk over your shoulder at him.

You know he likes it when you make him work for it, sometimes, and this definitely seems like one of those times; you know you’re right by the way he murmurs, almost playful, “Let me in.” He presses a little harder against you until you feel yourself start to give. “Come on baby, let me in, let me—fuck yeah,” he groans then when he pulls your thighs open just a little and thrusts against you just enough for his cockhead to finally pop in and he can slide in, smooth and sudden.

It’s so good you both moan with it. Fucking finally, you think, once he’s as deep as he can get and rocking his hips just a little to let you both get used to the feel of it. Then he’s slowly pulling back, back, back—until he’s all the way out again and huffing a low laugh when you whine at the loss. He presses his cockhead against you again, so close to pushing inside that it’s cruel, the way he’s holding you down by the hips when you try to rock back onto him.

“Easy,” he murmurs, and you’re about to snap back at the amusement you can hear in his voice when he eases back into you, slower this time like he wants to make you feel every inch.

You gasp and drag his pillow toward yourself, clenching your fists in it just to have something to hold onto. Once he’s fully inside again, he leans down to press a kiss to your shoulder. It’s sweet and still for a moment before he sits up, gets a tight grip on your hips, and starts to fuck you.

You drop your head and moan into the pillow that smells like him, arching your lower back just a little bit more off the pillow under your hips; you can’t help the high moan that escapes, louder, when he drags directly across your g-spot with every thrust. Just like that, you sink against the bed, loose-limbed and pliant in his hold, and let him make your body feel good.

It’s always easy to get lost in it with him—tonight is no different, but it’s more. You can’t stop the gasps and breathy moans that fall from your mouth; not now, not when you’re surrounded by him like this. Even when you turn your head on the pillow and stare to the side, you’re still surrounded by the smell and feel of him.

You’re aware, distantly, that he’s still holding back, and that he’s still so much stronger than you even know. But even so, he’s rougher than normal, fucking you in long, harsh strokes that jerk you forward each time. It’s not long before his hand slides all the way up from your hip into the back of your hair so he can yank your head back. He leans low over your back to nuzzle his face into your exposed neck, and when he breathes in heavily you realize—holy fuck, he’s smelling you. Your already-pounding heart starts to hammer against your ribs and you rock your hips back to meet his thrusts, and you can’t focus on anything except himhimhim—so ready for him to bite down that it makes you throb around him—

But then he’s slamming in hard once, holding for a few agonizing moments while you squirm against him, seeking friction with a desperate whine—before he’s pulling all the way out with a gasped, “Fuck!” and flipping you onto your back.

It’s urgent, now, the way he shoves the pillow under your hips and tugs you toward him. He shifts forward on his knees between your legs so he can pull your thighs over his, and then he’s leaning forward and burying himself inside again with a groan like even those few seconds were too long to not be inside you.

This new angle forces him to drag insistently across your g-spot with almost every thrust and you know immediately that you won’t last long like this. Your eyes roll back but you can feel his gaze on you anyway, watching while your brows curve in and how your jaw drops open on moans growing louder by the second.

He slows his thrusts into long, smooth rolls so that you’re held steady when he leans down to get his lips on your neck. It’s all you can do to hold onto his shoulders, and when your nails scrape down his back again, he shivers against you with a low moan.

“Tell me again,” he says, licking at your pulse.

You don’t hesitate. “Do it, please do it, pl—” you cut off in a strangled whimper when he gets one hand in your hair, tugs your head to the side to make room for himself, and bites down.

It’s blindingly, stunningly euphoric. His teeth split the skin of your neck so gently—such a drastic comparison to the way he’s fucking you—and you feel the way he sucks hard over the wounds all the way down into your clit. Your hand flies down to circle frantically over your clit, listening to his heavy breaths and the messy sound of his mouth on your skin, the wet noises his throat makes as he swallows your blood.

It’s too much, it’s all too much, it’s beautiful and horrible and deep and intense and you’ve never felt anything like this before as he fucks you hard and drinks from you and you love it—but then he licks over the puncture holes and pulls back from your neck to gasp against your collarbone. The holes on your neck ache as they stitch together, and you gasp against the sensation.

You can tell he’s close by the way he slides both arms up under your back to get a grip on the top of your shoulders and hold you secure against him. He ducks his head and his fangs re-pierce your neck through the half-healed holes—you’re surprised when it hurts more than the first time he bit you a few moments ago. You gasp and squirm against him but his hold on you is tight. He sucks at the holes for a brief moment then presses his tongue against them like he’d only needed a taste, before he drops his forehead against the pillow next to you and slams his hips against yours so hard you can hear it.

He wastes no time in launching into a brutal rhythm, and with his face down by your ear, you can hear every noise he makes—a breathy gasp when you dig your fingers into his ass to urge on every thrust, a choked moan when you tilt your hips up and clench around him. You turn your head enough that you can get your mouth on his neck, licking over the sheen of sweat there before you bite him back. Your teeth do no damage, of course, but the heartstopping little whimper he lets out nearly sends you over the edge right there.

He’s never fucked you like this before, so desperate and fevered like he wants to put you through the mattress—and you can’t think, can’t do anything but choke on each breath and dig your nails into his back and scrape them down his sides and shiver at the ragged, guttural edge to his responding groan against your neck. You do it again and his hips twitch; his breaths are coming high and quick and you can feel how close he is, so all you have to do is tilt your head to the side so your bloody throat is bared to him and let a soft, shaky moan out against his ear so he can hear how good he’s making you feel, and that’s it.

He presses his face into your neck with a choked-off groan, wet and filthy and smothered against your skin. His hands fly down to grip your hips and pull you down on him at the same time his hips jerk forward until he’s so deep it almost hurts—and he holds there, his hips just barely moving as he comes inside you.

Every tiny thrust is punctuated by breathy little moans while he uses you to ride out his orgasm, grinding in slowly like he can’t get close enough to you. Like he would crawl his way inside you if it were possible, if you’d let him, and you’re close—you’re so fucking close with the way he’s still rocking against you like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and you’re right on the edge of your orgasm when suddenly his mouth is at your throat again; he chases a trail of blood sliding down your neck with his tongue before his lips close around the wound again and then he bites gently and sucks hard and your orgasm hits you like a tsunami, and you are gone.

You think maybe you scream a little, because he groans in response and starts thrusting a little harder to fuck you through it. It’s good, it’s so fucking good that right at the peak of it, your vision whites out and you wonder, far off and detached, about what this must do to your blood.

It’s clearly something great, you think dizzily as you start to come down from it all, because he’s still buried against your neck, licking slowly over the blood leaking from the bite.

“Fuck, you have no idea what it tastes like when you come like that,” he rasps, voice wrecked and with a faint whine that would sound like he’s in pain if it weren’t for the way he closes his mouth over the holes and sucks again.

You hum in relaxed satisfaction and bring your arms up around his shoulders, luxuriating in the skin contact and the grounding weight of him. You scratch lightly over the back of his head until he shivers against you. Your skin thrums, lit up and abuzz everywhere you’re touching as you breathe against each other.

After a few moments, his hands trail up from your hips. One gets a hold on one of your wrists from around his neck and pushes it down against the sheets; the other hand rests heavily across your collarbone.

He’s leaning on you just hard enough that breathing starts to take some effort, so you say, “Okay,” and tug on the back of his hair with your free hand.

He doesn’t pull back. You can feel the tip of his tongue working against one of the holes in your neck, dipping in just a bit until the sensation teeters on the edge of queasy pain. You make a strangled little noise but still, he doesn’t pull away from the messy wet heat on your neck.

“Hey, okay,” you mutter again, tugging harder on his hair and at the back of his neck, but it’s like he doesn’t even hear you. “Baby please, enough, you—you gotta—” your voice trails off in a weak slur and your grip loosens in his hair.

He’s been hesitant to bite you while fucking you ever since he drank from you for the very first time, and you wonder maybe if this is why. If this is what he meant when he’s always said, it’s… overwhelming. But you’d meant it when you told him you trust him with this—and even now when your mind wanders and your body thrums lazily while his mouth works at your neck, you still trust him to get himself under control.

After all, this is him. You trust him—you always have. You’ve known him for what feels like a very long time, both before and after he changed into what he is now. You’ve been figuring this out together: what works and what doesn’t, what he needs and how much he can take from you to satiate that need without endangering you. There have been a few moments of trial and error that led to learning where the line crosses over into him taking too much from you.

You like him like that, though, after those few rare times when he’s accidentally taken too much, leaving you woozy and exhausted. He gets sweet. There’s something protective and reassuring in the way he dotes, and in how he doesn’t let you lift a finger for a day or two after while you recover. He’s always kept himself under enough control before that it has never occurred to you to feel worried around him.

But now, while he’s got one hand flat across your collarbone and the other holding your wrist down to the sheets—now, while his lips work at your throat, the rush of blood so close under your skin as he pulls it from you and rhythmically swallows—now, as you realize you’re a little lightheaded, and wondering, huh, when did that happen?

Now, a traitorous little flicker of unease settles in your gut.

You push weakly at his shoulder but it does nothing; it’s like he doesn’t even feel it. His hips are still absently grinding against yours like he can’t help it, like despite the fact that he’s half-soft at this point, it hasn’t even occurred to him to stop moving. The hand on your collarbone trails up to grip your jaw, two fingers sliding into your mouth to rest on your tongue and hold your jaw open like a reminder to breathe—or maybe it’s just another way he wants to be inside you.

His fingers or cock, his tongue or teeth—it’s like he doesn’t know how to hold back from pushing his way inside anyway he can.

A stifled whimper escapes you as he hums into your skin and sucks unhurriedly. He’s holding you tightly, pressed down against the bed. Twisting under his grip does nothing to throw him, and trying to get your wrist free is a useless attempt. He’s strong—you sometimes forget just how inhumanly strong he is, when he usually touches you so delicately, with such control and care.

Right now, while you’re held down under him, still on his cock and with his teeth in your neck—you are forcefully and viscerally reminded that he is not human. He really could kill you like this, if he decided he wanted to.

The thought sends a rare jolt of curious fear through your gut. You’re well and truly caught under him—all his to do whatever he wants with. It’s an alarming, confusingly heated realization that has you twitching your hips up to meet his lazy post-orgasm ruts at the same time your heart starts to pound with instinctual panic.

You wonder distantly if maybe fear does something to your blood too, because only a few heartbeats after the thought crosses your mind, he’s ripping his mouth away from you with a curse and leaning up on his elbows to look down at you with rapidly clearing eyes.

He must see something on your dazed face because he curses under his breath again and his hand comes up to cup your chin. With his thumb on one side of your jaw and his callused index finger on the other side, he gently tilts your chin up and over to expose your neck fully to him. He hums and ducks close to lick flat and warm over the holes in your neck. To heal, not to taste.

You feel the same strange sensation as every other time—that same tickle of the skin knitting together and the blood flow stopping under the sore, healing skin. He keeps licking at you, cleaning the last of the blood from your skin before pressing a gentle kiss first to what’s left of the wound, then up under your jaw, then leaning up even further to press his lips to yours. You’re still a little faded and sluggish but you kiss back as best you can, and you know that when he pulls away with a soft red smile, you smile back at him with blood on your lips.

Your thoughts are fuzzy around the edges, your vision tunneling on him like he’s magnetized, your mind pleasantly blank as you watch him like you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to. He kisses your forehead, your cheek, your mouth again. When he pulls back, he seems a little dazed too in the way his mouth is open and pink, his eyes half-lidded and only half-focused like he’s high on whatever was in your blood.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, an odd plea to his voice. “That was—fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know how it would be. I could have—“ he cuts himself off and swallows hard. He ducks to check the healing wound on your neck like he’s making sure it’s still working. “Are you okay?”

You hum absently. He starts to pull out but you’re quick to tighten your legs around him, holding him close. “Don’t,” you mumble. “‘M okay, just… stay.”

He watches you for a moment before kissing you again. He could easily break your hold on him and pull away, especially with how weakened you are right now, but he doesn’t. He lets you keep him close and returns the favor, holding you tight and rocking his hips to push all the way back inside you. You sigh and settle back against the pillows to bask in the feeling of him holding you down, grounded and safe.

He leans up onto his elbows and reaches for one of the water bottles he’d lined up on the nightstand, cracking the cap before holding it gently against your mouth for you to drink. The berries from the bowl come next, and after feeding you a few, he settles back over you and sighs.

With his thumb running over your cheek, you drift.

Maybe it’s the blood loss and two really fucking good orgasms, or the way he’s still inside you, your legs hitched up around his hips while he takes care of you, but your fear is gone as quickly as it started. This is still him. He still looks like himself, tastes like himself, smells and feels and acts like himself. Still in control of himself, even if belatedly. It’s him, and you know you’re safe.

But in that single moment, that instinctual awareness shifted something aside in your gut. Yes, he is still himself, but that brief flicker of prey instinct was an unexpected, immediate reminder that he is not human. There is something other about him.

You knew this already, but now you know it. You’ve felt it in the strength of his grip around your wrists and in the close, fleshy sound of his teeth in your neck. And, startlingly, it’s intriguing. You are safe with him. You know this in your gut. You have no reason to be afraid of him, but… what if you did?

Flashes of what-ifs begin to crash through your mind: thoughts of him holding you down with all his strength, letting you thrash and fight against his grip until you’re too exhausted to hold him off from tugging your pants down and using you however he wants; the network of bruises his fingerprints could leave on your throat and arms and thighs, and the way they’d ache deliciously for the next few days; the way his back would look scratched bloody from your nails, and the sounds he might make—guttural growls and savage snarls against your neck as he fucks you like you’re both nothing more than animals.

What it would feel like if he looked at you with eyes red-black with wicked intent and said, run. How your heart would pound as he gave you a thirty-second head start as if you had any chance of outrunning him, as if he knew that the desperation that would build within you in those thirty seconds would flavor your blood so sweetly.

What it would feel like for him to hunt you down like prey.

It’s like the door to something dark and primal in your brain and your gut is slowly unlocking as you consider the possibilities of what could happen if he leaned into his natural instincts. If he acted like the apex predator he is.

You shiver. He notices and presses a gentle kiss to your hair.

“Your heart’s racing,” he says curiously. “What’re you thinking about?”

And really, how could you ever ask him for something like that?

You file it away to think about more later. For now, you simply squirm against him contentedly and say, “Nothing.”

He leans up on his elbows and says playfully, “I don’t believe that for a second,” but he leaves it alone in favor of giving you your favorite of all his smiles.

It's the big grin that always makes you smile and laugh in response. It’s a cheesy smile, overexaggerated and goofy, but you love it. It’s cute, how he squeezes his eyes shut and his nose scrunches up, but there’s something sweeter about this smile in the way he’s showing you all his teeth, the fangs prominent and obvious. Almost as if it’s to make you laugh as much as it is a show of comfort and gentle vulnerability. It’s an “I trust you to see me” reminder that makes your heart feel huge as your eyes soften on him.

You pull him down again to kiss the smile off his face, and again, you relax into him. Again, and again, and again.

#vampire sex

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emberunderscore · 17 days ago

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The Sun and the Night Sky is on hiatus!

Quick summary for those that wouldn't like that much reading. Sun/sky is going on hiatus for the sake of my own mental health. I don't know when it will be coming back as I don't know how my mental health is going to change in future. I'm still going to be writing and posting other fics on ao3, just not updating sun/sky but i'll probably still talk about/post art about the fic over here (but not everything will go on the fable smp tag so make sure to follow the tag for the fic if you wanna see updates) and any asks you guys send me i'd love to answer too - just don't ask me when the fic will be back <3

Thank you ♥

Anyways little bit longer rant below (warning for the bad mental healths stuff)

This fic was never supposed to be this long, and it was never intended to cover such heavy topics like it does today. But once I had opened that door it became a really good place for me to project all my struggles with dissociation and past bad relationships with food. But recently my mental health has deteriorated really badly and I had to stop writing more chapters for the fic, chapters 22 - 27 were all pre written so all i had to do was edit them and post them, which was easy enough. But chapter 28 was hardly written at all and 29 + 30 had a lot of extra stuff i had to write, which i managed by only writing small bits at a time and not including any scenes describing Icarus struggling with eating. and then yesterday I got diagnosed with an eating disorder. which is. scary to say the least. especially because i know how much writing this fic had an effect on causing it. i don't want to hate this fic, but at the moment i cannot deal with writing it or i will drive myself to abandon it. which is why chapter 29 + 30 got posted early because i really didn't want it hanging over me for another week.

I'm still gonna write and post fics, but sun/sky will not be updated until i feel secure in my mental state and get a little closer to recovery though i don't know how far away that will be, especially since I thought my mental state was secure before starting to write about those heavier topics but. it clearly wasn't as good as i thought it was. I'm also still going to talk about sun/sky, I have a few little bits to talk about and i'll probably end up doing some art when i inevitably start to miss it. I would also love to answer questions! So please please please always put stuff in my ask box to give me excuses to talk about the fic.

Only thing I will say is DO NOT ask me when sun/sky will be coming back, like previously mentioned i don't know as it entirely depends on my mental state and if you ask me when it'll be back it'll only make me feel pressured to recover faster which will probably make it take longer

I've said it before, thank you so much for all the love and support on this fic. There have been some moments where I've felt this fic and the people who are waiting to read it has been keeping me alive. So thank you for caring about this thing that i've created <33

#the sun and the night sky #underscore.text

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wipbigbang · 3 months ago

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OT: An Open Letter From Mod Ragna

So I would like to take a moment to bring something up to all of you on the Discord server, and similar messages will go up on the Tumblr and Dreamwidth. So bear with me.

I have been homeless all of last round and most of this round. I only lucked into the housing I have right now because the city I now live in owns the apartment. I have arthritis, fibromyalgia and Long Covid. I live on a second floor apartment now. So, naturally, considering I am the most able bodied person in my family even with my disabilities, I am the primary caretaker of everyone: I do the cooking, I do the cleaning and as such, I have been building all the furniture we've managed to get.

Up until last night, all three of us were on mattresses on the floor. I gave up a lot of energy making three seperate beds in a non-air conditioned apartment. It was hard work. I just got my daughter's bed up this evening and I am sore. I decided I'd deal with WIPBB business in the morning and was trying to relax and escape the pain I was in.

What I got this evening was a very demanding email from a participant. Now, I will not name names and circumstances, but the tone was demanding and it immediately soured my mood to the point I am still upset nearly a half hour later. I wasn't fast enough in making a correction. Instead of sleeping, I have now updated the posting list, made the corrections that were demanded of me, and I'm about to post a link to the final drafts check-in form and then stay offline for a few days. Maybe. I'm still not sure about that last part.

We are all human. We all have a lot going on. But I've been pretty candid about what's happened with me and, for the most part, everyone is great when it takes me a few days to do something, or we need to change the schedule to accommodate a change in my home life. But I'm partially considering not running this event anymore as well. I put in a lot of time and energy doing behind the scenes work, not to mention I take on about 40 fics a round to do art for. I love this event. But right now? Any enthusiams I had for making art/fic is gone. And I don't know if/when it will come back.

So yeah. That's where it stands right now. The AO3 collection is open, and I will always make sure people get their stuff posted, but I'm going to take a break for at least a day or two, try and get my temper under control, and reevaluate if I want to spend so much time on this event next year, if I even run it next year. So I'm going to keep the claims list open a few more hours, update it when I wake up, and then I'll take a break. Until then, Mod Ragna signing off.

#wip big bang #!2024 #!admin

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redislazy · 1 year ago

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not only for tonight

i got more than 10 ppl checking out my last fic so i wrote another one :> also on ao3

[SMUT] - Minors DNI

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x afab!Reader

Word Count: 7,132

Content Tags: Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Edgeplay, Smut, Confessions, Creampie, Dom/sub Undertones, Road Head, Blow Jobs in a Car, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Romance, Sexual Tension, Porn with Feelings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

Summary: Ghost stops you from meeting your hookup.

It's been a tough mission overseas, but a successful one. With minimal casualties, crucial intel retrieved, and the enemy leader dead, Task Force 141 and a few men from other SAS units agreed to hit up a pub in the next city over from base to celebrate before their brief break. It hadn't been this lively in ages. For so long, there had been little cause for revelry—lost teammates, failed missions, and innocent civilians who couldn't be saved. It never got easier, but tonight, this felt good. Temporary, but a welcome distraction.

Sipping your wine, you sit alone on one of the barstools. Around you, people are playing pool, watching sports on TV, and chatting. As one of the few female soldiers here tonight, you get along with the guys just fine, but you don’t feel like joining their rowdy games at this time.

Surveying the scene, you spot your Lieutenant, Simon "Ghost" Riley, locked in an arm-wrestling match with another soldier. You smile, amused—this is the first time you've seen him having fun like this.

With each pound he forces into the other man’s grip, you notice how Ghost seems to drift further away from the pub around him. It's not that he dislikes camaraderie; it just feels so different from his usual experience in these settings. When he releases the other man's hand, he grunts, tossing some bills on the counter. "Right then. Any other idiots want a go?"

He spots you sitting at the counter and gestures for you to join him. "What about you, lass? Care to try your luck and see if you can beat me?" he calls out, raising his voice enough for you to hear.

You shake your head, snickering. "Not planning on breaking my arm today, Lieutenant. I'll pass, but I’ll be rooting for you." You motion for him to continue as his next opponent steps up to the challenge.

You watch him for a while, entertained as he effortlessly beats each challenger. Ghost can be cold and stoic, but he's not a killjoy when it counts. You’re about to take another sip when your phone buzzes. Glancing at your screen, you see a notification from the hookup app you'd been mindlessly swiping through earlier. To your surprise, you've matched with someone. Given your unpredictable life as a soldier, relationships are hard to maintain, but every so often, you allow yourself to let off steam.

Your match asks if you're down to meet tonight. Seeing that he’s only twenty minutes away, you decide—why not? You reply, telling him to meet you outside.

Taking one last sip of your drink, you sigh, a sudden emptiness welling up. Resorting to a hookup app because there’s no one waiting at home always stings a bit. You chose this life with no regrets, but you can’t help wondering sometimes what it would be like to have someone who’s there for you, who loves and spoils you. You always imagined it must be nice, but a relationship isn't an option. Tonight, all you can do to ease the loneliness is be held by someone, even if only for a night. Come tomorrow, you’ll pretend it filled the void.

“Right,” you mutter bitterly, sliding off your stool.

Making sure no one notices, you slip away from the pub and head down an alley to wait. It’s not that you enjoy sleeping around; you’re hardly promiscuous. But it’s been a long time since you’ve been with anyone, and tonight feels like the right time.

Suddenly, Ghost’s figure emerges from the shadows, startling you.

“Where’s your sense of loyalty, lass?” he growls, a possessive edge in his voice. “Thought you were sticking around to cheer me on.” He looms over you, his height a reminder of his intimidating presence.

You sigh, knowing his intrusion is just his way of looking out for you, as he does with everyone under his command. "None of your business, Lt. It’s unimportant,” you reply blankly, raising your eyebrows as if to say, Don’t push it. After all, how are you supposed to tell him you’re out here waiting for a hookup?

Ghost narrows his eyes, stepping closer. "This 'unimportant thing' seems pretty damn important if it means ditching your squad to deal with it." His voice drops, thick with a warning. "I think I’m owed an explanation."

He leans in, his face mere inches from yours, his breath brushing your skin. Though he’s trying to intimidate, there’s an undeniable hint of possessiveness in his gaze. He wants you to answer—but he also wants you to obey.

"Answer me, lass," he commands, his tone soft but demanding.

Caught off guard by his intensity, you look at him incredulously, choosing your words carefully. “Just waiting for a guy I matched with on an app.” You try to sound casual, though discomfort lingers.

Ghost’s eyes narrow further. "Huh. You dating?"

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by his curiosity. "No, just a hookup. Just for tonight."

For a moment, he seems like he might berate you, but a smirk pulls at his lips. "Well then. Guess I can’t blame you for needing a release," he says, chuckling.

He takes a step back, his eyes scanning you up and down before locking his gaze on your lips. "I'm going to make you forget about this hookup, lass. And then you'll see why I'm the only man you'll ever need."

Without another word, he pulls up his mask just above his mouth. He grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you against the wall, pinning you there with his much larger frame. His lips crash down on yours, his tongue demanding entrance into your mouth.

Everything happened so quickly that you are now completely frozen, your eyes wide in shock, but you don't push him away.

You couldn't.

Deep in your heart, you knew you always liked him, but you could never act on it. He was so distant, so serious with his role as your Lt, you just knew he was off-limits. Not that you thought you'd even have a chance with him; he always treated you like one of the boys, and most of all, you are his teammate. Yet, here he was, kissing you with so much fervor, you couldn't help but close your eyes and give in.

You slowly wrap your arms around his back, letting his warmth envelope you as his tongue finds its way inside your mouth. You moan, your fingers trembling as you return the gesture, your tongue swirling and brushing against his. You pull away slowly, your eyes heavy as you look at him. It was dark in the alleyway, but the moonlight perfectly illuminated his masked face.

"Care to explain, Lt?" You shakily whisper, your hot breath grazing on his agape mouth.

Ghost's nostrils flare slightly at the question, but he doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he dips his head down to capture your lips once more, his hands tightening around your ass as you exchange yet another passionate kiss. After a moment, he reluctantly breaks the kiss and looks deep into your eyes.

"Because I wanted to. Because... I can't fucking stand the thought of you in another man's arms. It has to be me. Only me." There's a vulnerability hidden beneath his gruff exterior as he admits his feelings for you. It seemed to you like it took him long enough to finally work up the courage to act on them, and now that he has, he refuses to let anything stand in his way.

Your throat constricts as you struggle to think of what to say. The way he looks at you makes you regret not noticing it sooner. You swallow, your heart pounding so fast that you suddenly feel lightheaded. His words... they took your breath away. You have never heard Ghost this... desperate.

"How long, Lt?" You softly ask.

A low snort escapes Ghost's nose as he hears your question. He tightens his hold on you, pressing himself flush against you as if to remind you exactly how long he has desired you.

"Long enough," he growls. "Fuck, I've wanted you for so goddamn long. From the first day we met, you lit up something in me. But I kept my distance, thinking it wasn't right for me to desire you as your Lt," he trails off, cursing silently under his breath. If he'd known how you felt about him all this time, perhaps things would have turned out differently.

You inhale a sharp breath as you listen to his confession. Your heart is beating erratically, you're not even sure how you're still able to function right now. Ghost, who you've wanted for such a long time... He...

"Kiss me again," are the only words you could manage to utter.

Ghost's eyes widen with surprise at your request, but he complies eagerly. He tilts your chin upward, claiming your lips once more in a searing kiss. Your tongues duel passionately as you explore each other's mouths, your bodies pressed together tightly as if they might merge.

After what feels like an eternity, Ghost pulls away slightly, nipping playfully at your bottom lip before speaking. "You better get rid of that hookup, lass. Don't give him false hope after what is happening between us." Despite the danger in his suggestion, you couldn't help but chuckle.

You pull out your phone, quickly texting the guy, “Sorry; raincheck, not interested anymore.” He immediately replies with an insult, which you ignore, snickering. Then, you delete the app under Ghost’s watchful eye.

When he grins approvingly, you shove back your phone in your pocket, staring at him in anticipation.

"So, now that that's out of the way... Don't disappoint me now," you tease, your eyes salacious, your tone hushed.

Ghost leans forward, capturing your lips with his in a fierce kiss that leaves you reeling. His tongue twists and coils around yours as your teeth click gently together. When he pulls away, leaving you panting, he looks you square in the eye. "I won't," he growls, his hands finding their way underneath your dress to grasp your bare thighs.

In one swift motion, Ghost hoists you up until your legs wrap around his waist, and your groin aligns perfectly with his throbbing erection. "We're going somewhere private to settle this," he mutters against your neck, nipping softly at your skin.

"Then get me out of here," you manage to say between your moans as he marks your neck eagerly. You cling to him tight, your head tilting more to the side, encouraging him to nip on your skin some more.

Without hesitation, Ghost starts carrying you at a brisk pace toward his vehicle. The cool night air whips past you two as he navigates through the dark streets. Once you arrive at his truck, he carefully places you down on the passenger seat before rounding the vehicle to climb behind the wheel. As soon as he's safely behind the wheel, his hand shoots out to cup the back of your neck, pulling your mouth roughly against his for another bruising kiss.

As he starts driving, Ghost glances briefly over at you. His eyes gleam with hunger as he takes in the sight of you.

An idea- or more fittingly- an urge suddenly crosses your mind as you catch his impatient side glances.

"Keep driving- eyes on the road no matter what, Lt," you warn out of a sudden, which visibly makes him shrug in question. Instead of elaborating, you reach into his pants, stroking his length through it, the fabric providing little resistance as his thick cock strains against it. He instinctively groans, but you don't stop. Instead, you unzip his pants and unbuckle your seatbelt before leaning down to his thighs, breathing hot air on his skin.

He keeps his eyes focused firmly on the road ahead despite his best efforts to ignore your ministrations. Your warm breath against his inner thigh sends jolts of desire coursing through his veins.

When you finally free his aching member from confinement, Ghost gasps loudly in relief, his cock springing free. It stands tall and proud, the tip already weeping with precum. Ghost attempts to maintain control of the vehicle, but his concentration slips as you continue to pleasure him.

"No cumming before we reach your place. I want you inside me," you challenge playfully before you dart your tongue out, lapping his ridiculously long length sloppily. You can feel yourself getting wetter, your arousal completely excruciating, making you wish you two arrive soon. Still, you couldn't help but tease him. You want him so bad, your impatience got the best of you. You begin sucking on the tip of his cock, making sure you lick off all traces of precum with your tongue. You teasingly push your tongue on his slit, earning a desperate reaction from him.

"Fuck! You're gonna drive us straight into a damn tree if you keep that up," he warns breathlessly. Despite his protests, he lets one of his hands roam freely across your back and shoulders, digging into your flesh as you work your magic, his other hand secured on the steering wheel still. Every touch from your tongue makes his arousal peak higher, his cock straining harder against your warm lips and eager mouth.

He grits his teeth, stealing glances whenever he dares to look away from the road, determined not to let this feeling pass by unfulfilled. He'd waited far too long for this opportunity, and nothing short of a bomb dropping on your location would halt his pursuit.

"Mhm," you hum as your tongue draws circles around the tip of his cock. "Woah there, Lt, better make sure we don't crash, yeah?" you murmur with a grin as you feel the car slightly swerve, enjoying the way you're making him go crazy. You feel one of his hands grasp your hair tight, which turns a switch inside you. You begin to swallow his entire length, the tip brushing against your throat briefly.

'God, he is so big, I wonder how he'd feel inside me.' You think as his girth stretches your mouth as you try to take more of him. You bob your head up and down, swallowing his fat cock in and out of your mouth as he struggles to drive to his place safely.

Ghost growls in frustration as he continues to lose focus on the road. Every curve and dip in the road threatens to send the car careening off the road as you pleasure him with expert precision. He glances helplessly as you swallow his cock whole, your talented tongue dancing along the underside, driving him wild with need. He worries that if you don't stop soon, he won't have a choice but to pull over and take matters into his own hands. Thankfully, he starts to make out the silhouette of his house amidst the dark.

"Enough," he barks out, gripping your hair even tighter as he yanks you off his cock.

"Mhm...." A whine of disappointment slips out of you as your mouth is now empty of his fullness. You wince at the throbbing force his grip left your scalp, but somehow, that just turns you on even more. You sit back up against the passenger's seat, wiping a bead of saliva on the corner of your mouth with your finger. When he stops the engine, you turn to the side to look at him, your breathing heavy in anticipation as you give him a sultry look, waiting for him to say something.

Ghost zips his pants back before stepping out of the vehicle. He moves to open your door. You climb out carefully, your eyes locked on his briefly before he beckons you to follow him to the front door silently. He suddenly grabs your wrists, gripping you hard as you two enter his home. He takes you with him upstairs to his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

"I'm going to fuck you senseless tonight," he declares gruffly, his gaze piercing into your soul. "And tomorrow, and every day after that." He pauses, taking a deep breath to rein in his emotions before adding, "If you're game for that, of course."

His words cause your entire body to tremble. His deep, hoarse voice... his domineering promise as he implies wanting to do this with you not only for tonight but also for who knows how long. You grab the back of his head, pulling him close to you so that your lips are only an inch away from each other.

"I think you know how game I am," you whisper. "But I don't want to be just your fuck buddy, Lt. With you, it's different. With you... I.."

Before you can finish your sentence, Ghost captures your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue diving into your mouth hungrily. He presses you against the door, pinning you there with his large frame. His hands roam boldly across your body, tracing every curve and plane as he explores you. His rough touch contrasts with the gentleness of your connection, showcasing the complexity of his desires.

Breaking the kiss, Ghost meets your gaze, his expression unreadable. "I don't want a fuck buddy either," he trails off, his thumb running tenderly over your bottom lip.

"God, Lt," you whisper breathlessly as he kisses you fiercely like he's going to devour you if he wasn't going to already. Every spot of your body his hand caresses sends a shiver down your spine. You look at him longingly, your eyes half-lidded and smitten as he continues to run his thumb over your lip.

"It's still absurd to me," you breathe shakily. "How you want me."

"There's nothing absurd about it," Ghost replies harshly. "You belong to me. In my bed, under my protection, where I can ravish you as often as I please, and I can appreciate you right after." He leans in closer, his eyes locked on yours. "From this moment forth, there will be no denying it. No hiding behind titles or rank," he says, punctuating his words with another hard kiss.

His words send shockwaves through your chest. Your want for him intensifies, and you can't do anything else but submit to him.

His tongue glides easily into your mouth, battling yours furiously for dominance, teeth clicking together as your tongues tangle and dance. His hand cups the back of your neck, holding you in place as you revel in your chemistry. With every passing moment, it becomes increasingly clear that both of your passion knows no bounds. You are two souls destined for each other, connected by an undeniable force that cannot be stopped or ignored.

Suddenly, Ghost tears his mouth away from yours, looking deep into your eyes. "Get undressed,"

You swallow in anticipation, and you slowly nod, completely surrendering to his every command. You slowly undress, removing every article of clothing until you stand in front of him, bare and naked. Your cheeks flush, heated by the way he silently takes in your sight. You shift your weight slightly, waiting for him to say something. You can feel yourself getting even wetter, your arousal so unbearable you might have to beg him soon.

Ghost steps towards you, his eyes not stopping to take in every inch of your exposed beauty. Your skin glistens with light perspiration, and your nipples stand rigid, begging for attention. He reaches out to trail his fingers along the soft skin of your abdomen before lifting his hand to cup one of your breasts. He gives it a gentle squeeze, rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger. You let out a small sound, a mix of pleasure and nervousness, but you stay put without protesting. Satisfied with your response, he dips his head, taking one of your hardened peaks into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the sensitive tip.

You throw your head back, your pleasure palpable as your moans slowly fill the air. Your wanton hums intensify with every flick of his tongue over your nipple, making your knees weak by the second. You push him off gently, looking at him with need. "Bed... please..."

Ghost hesitantly lets go of your breast, his chest rising and falling heavily as he regains his composure. He leads you to the bed, helping you lie down on your back before hovering over you. His gaze travels down your body, taking in every curve, every crevice as if memorizing every inch of you.

He positions himself between your spread legs. His hands rest on either side of your face, framing your features as he looks down at you. There is both possession and tenderness in his gaze, reflecting the complex emotions that run deep within him.

You bring a hand to his face, his mask which has only been lifted a touch above his lips this entire time rough against your fingers. You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you are crossing any boundaries, but you swallow all of your reservations away.

"...Can I see you?" you whisper tenderly, hoping it won't shy him away from all of this.

Ghost stiffens at your soft query. Despite his undeniable desire for you, he's never let anyone get this close, not emotionally nor physically. To reveal himself would mean opening himself up entirely, exposing vulnerabilities he thought were safely hidden beneath layers of bravado and self-preservation.

However, something within him responds to your request, craving the trust and intimacy that comes with letting someone truly see who he is. After a long moment of deliberation, he nods curtly, reaching up to remove his mask.

Relief washes over you as he nods to your plea. He slowly lifts his mask, pulling it to reveal a handsome, ragged face. With cheekbones so sharp and jaw so well-defined, you immediately thought of how he could have been a model had he not been a soldier. But then the faint scars on his face say it all. Each one with stories to tell. Ghost winces as you trace the old scars marring his otherwise handsome face, his emotions warring within him.

"You're perfect," you sigh.

The fact that his scars exist only serves as a painful reminder of everything he's experienced—both triumphant victories and crushing defeats. Yet, amidst the turmoil, your simple declaration rings clearly: 'perfect'. The word itself holds such power, striking directly at the heart of his insecurities, giving him hope that perhaps he can find solace in your arms. Despite his doubts, Ghost finds himself unable to resist you any longer. He leans in, capturing your lips in a fervent kiss that speaks volumes beyond mere words.

You eagerly return his kiss, your mouth searing against his in a desperate dance as you both lower your guard down, completely giving in to each other. You brush his fingers over his blonde hair as his tongue moves over yours hungrily.

You then tug on the hem of his top. “How long are you going to stay dressed?” you manage to say in between kisses.

Releasing your lips with reluctance, Ghost looks down at the remnants of his clothes. "Too bloody long," he mutters before starting to strip, piece by piece, tossing them aside as they hit the floor.

He stands fully nude before you, every muscle defined and honed from years of training and combat experience. The scarred evidence of his journey adorns his chest and torso, telling tales of battles fought and lives saved. But that’s not all; his lengthy, thick cock catches your attention as it stands proud against his abdomen. It was dark in the car when you gave him that dangerous blowjob, but seeing it in detail, you couldn't help but suck in a deep breath as you predict how much it will inevitably stretch you.

Without further hesitation, he repositions himself between your spread legs once again. Your eyes lock as he prepares to take you once more, filled with determination and raw desire.

“No wonder all the other women in the unit talk about getting fucked by you,” you playfully drawl.

Ghost chuckles as he gazes down at you. "Is that so? Unfortunately for them,” As if to prove his point, he positions his cockhead at your entrance, his hips beginning to thrust forward steadily, filling you using your convenient wetness in one smooth movement.

“They’re not you.”

Your bodies collide in a rhythmic fashion, creating an erotic symphony of slapping skin and muffled moans. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist, pulling him deeper into your core as he buries himself balls-deep inside of you, setting a pace that borders on brutal.

Grunting with approval, Ghost increases his pace, delivering brutal poundings of his pelvis against yours. His breath grows ragged as sweat beads form along his brow, trickling down his temples to vanish beneath his twitching lower lip. Every muscle in his body tenses with effort as he pounds into you relentlessly, taking what you both want so desperately.

"Look at you," he breathes in awe as he takes in the sight of his cock disappearing inside your hole. His hand wraps tightly around your upper arm, leaving bruises in its wake as he uses it to maintain control during your passionate coupling.

"I,.. please..," you moan obscenely, your hips moving on their own in an attempt to match his rhythm. You're not quite sure what you're pleading with him for, but whatever it is, you want it.

"Don't stop," you beg as your legs tighten around his waist, forcing him to bury himself even deeper in you. Taking hold of your left leg, Ghost lifts it higher, hooking it over his shoulder to provide maximum access. With renewed vigor, he plunges harder and faster into your depths, hitting new angles with each powerful thrust. The slapping of your skin creates a cacophony that fills the room, echoing off the walls as they become lost in a haze of desire. Your gasps and moans intertwine in a symphony of passion as the intensity reaches unprecedented heights.

As he continues his assault on your body, Ghost finally meets your gaze, his eyes dark and wild with lust.

"Fuckin' hell, you don't know how much I've thought of doing this to you. The real thing doesn't even come close."

You let out a gasp as his words overwhelm you. As he thrusts inside you harder than before, you feel your walls pulsating around his cock as his tip brushes against your sweet spot with accuracy. Your back arches in response, your toes curling against his back as you search for that sensation once more.

"Like that,... please... again," you beg desperately, your cries heavy as you stare at him with stupefied eyes.

Throwing his head back with a primal groan, Ghost grips your hip tightly, using it to thrust his length into you harder and faster. Each pounding motion brings you two closer to the edge, your bodies slick with sweat as you lose yourselves in each other's pleasure. With his mind foggy with lust, Ghost focuses solely on satisfying you, determined to give you everything you want and more.

Reaching down, he slips his fingers between your folds, finding your swollen clit and circling it firmly with his thumb while continuing his savage thrusts. "That it?" he grates out, his voice straining from exertion.

"Yes! Like that," you gasp, your mind hazy with pleasure, your body quivering as he assaults you with both his cock and his thumb. He stimulates your clit so skillfully, you lose confidence in being able to hold your climax much further. You start clutching onto his sheets for dear life, your sex-filled senses overwhelming you as he speeds up his pace, all the while still rubbing your clit gently. You can feel tears running down the corner of your eyes from immense pleasure, your release building up the more he hastens his movements.

Feeling you close to the edge, Ghost quickens his hips even more, driving his cock into you with force. He maintains the firm circle on your clit, knowing how sensitive it is.

"Are you close, love?" he growls out, his eyes narrowing as he focuses purely on sending you spiraling over the peak.

Just as you're about to reach your climax, he pulls out suddenly, causing you to cry out in surprise and disappointment. "Not yet. Hold it in for me," he commands, rubbing his cockhead awfully slowly against your entrance once more.

"Please... Ghost... I want to cum," you beg shamelessly, spreading your legs even more, urging him to sink his cock inside you again. You want to land a fist on his handsome face for cutting you right off when you were so close, but you know that you are at his mercy right now. You look at him with pleading eyes, your hands reaching up to the back of his neck, bringing him down closer to you.

Ignoring your plea, Ghost leans in, catching your mouth with his own in a demanding kiss. His tongue invades your mouth roughly, claiming it as his. You can taste yourself on his lips, an intoxicating flavor that fuels his desire for you. As the kiss breaks, his hips start moving again, easing his throbbing member back into you at a torturously slow pace. He wants you to suffer alongside him, feeling the anticipation build once more after being denied moments ago.

Everything about this is about dominance and submission. Even as you both lose yourselves in pleasure, there remains a clear distinction between you two - he controls and you accept.

"Flip over," he orders, motioning for you to lay on your stomach.

You do not even protest; you immediately get on your stomach, your back facing him as you bury your face in one of his pillows. The fabric smells so much like him, his scent so strong it erases all doubts you have left in your head. You lift your ass in the air, swinging it side to side impatiently.

"Hurry," you whine. Chuckling darkly, Ghost grabs onto your waist, positioning himself behind you. Without further warning, he slams his cock inside you with enough force to create a loud slap. You cry out in surprise, your pussy still vulnerable from previous use. Quickly adjusting, you relax into the thrusts, allowing him to fill you deeply again.

Stroking your hair tenderly, he kisses your ear lobe. "Good girl. Now keep still and enjoy it," he whispers seductively. And with that, he begins to pound into you methodically, matching each thrust with a slap on your round ass cheeks that leaves red imprints behind. He hammers into you with renewed ferocity, his thrusts growing more violent and unforgiving with every passing moment.

You gasp loudly, his hard and brutal thrusts rubbing against your walls in pleasure beyond your understanding. Your knees tremble underneath you, your moans slightly being muffled by the pillow as he spreads your cheeks, pulling his cock out entirely. You can tell how he is momentarily studying your twitching hole like he's enjoying his handiwork before he slowly sinks himself again inch by inch. You tremble, your breathing unsteady, your mind lacking any relevant thoughts besides the way he makes you feel so full.

Panting heavily, Ghost buries himself deep inside you once more, picking up the pace quickly. His hips move with a force born from years of punishing workouts and endless battles, causing you to arch your back in response. The mattress beneath you creaks ominously as he powers his way into you, his thrusts growing more erratic and intense. The room seems to shrink around you, becoming nothing more than a tiny sphere consisting of the two of you engaged in this fierce act of passion. Each time he pulls out, he spanks your ass cheeks harder, leaving angry red marks that sting but somehow fuel the fire burning between you even more.

Groaning, Ghost grits his teeth as you plead with him. The feeling of you tightening around him sends waves of pleasure coursing throughout his entire body, almost overwhelming him. Resisting the urge to explode prematurely, he gives you one final, powerful thrust before holding himself perfectly still inside you.

"Ghost- I want to cum! Please," you beg as you feel the familiar sensation of your impending climax rising once more. You shamelessly move your own hips, slamming yourself backward, deeper into his cock as you attempt to chase after that sweet feeling. He's torturing you- completely under his mercy.

Instead of granting your wish, Ghost decides to prolong your agony. Slowly withdrawing from you, he circles your clit with his thumb before pushing three fingers into your soaked warmth. Curling them upwards towards your g-spot, he massages and presses against it until he feels you begin to quake beneath him. Just as you're inches away from exploding, Ghost withdraws his fingers once more, removing all forms of stimulation from your achingly sensitive area.

Holding you down roughly, he positions himself at your entrance before plunging back inside, re-establishing contact with your g-spot, only for him to fully pull out again.

"Ghost!!" you scream, your need excruciating as he denies you your release once more. Your body quivers to the edge, your pussy extremely slick and wet from his brutal stimulation. You want to cum so bad, but he keeps stealing the chance away from you.

"Ghost, please... please.." You beg wantonly, your cries so desperate as you sniffle, your ass still up in the air for him.

Dark satisfaction courses through Ghost as he witnesses your suffering firsthand. Your pleas and begging only fuel his desire to see you squirm and writhe beneath him. His tip leaks precum as it hovers over your entrance, taunting you with the possibility of pleasure before it's cruelly taken away once more.

With a final surge of power, Ghost pushes his hips forward, driving his rigid length deep inside you, claiming what's rightfully his. He groans in satisfaction as your tight channel convulses around him, welcoming his invasion wholeheartedly. "There, feel better now?"

Your back arches once more as his cock's swift, brutal motion causes you to see stars. "Mhm, yes! Yes! Please, Ghost, don't stop," you beg like a spoiled brat, your whines so needy as you push your hips back, your core swallowing his cock deeper.

Leaning over you, his towering frame blocking out the light, Ghost sinks his teeth to the back of your neck, giving you another visible mark that you'll need to hide once tomorrow comes. Grabbing onto your shoulders, he starts moving inside you with purposeful strokes, his thick cock hitting all the right spots inside your tight channel. Your insistence fuels him as he works his hips, determined to satisfy both his desires and yours.

Feeling you quiver beneath him, Ghost knows you're getting close once more.

"Ghost- Like that, God, I'm so close-!" You grit out as he pounds into you with deliberate strokes, each thrust brushing against your g-spot, abusing the sensitive bundle of nerves with agonizing pleasure. You throw your head back, saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth, your hot breaths filling the room with lascivious noises. You're so close- you begin praying he won't deny you of that chance once more.

Grinning maliciously, Ghost pulls you forward, anchoring your weight on his arms as he holds you down. This allows him to penetrate you even deeper, striking gold as he hits your sweet spot multiple times with ease. His pace slows slightly as he feels the last threads of resistance snap within you. It's inevitable now; you'll cum soon.

And then he strikes. Moving with unparalleled speed and precision, Ghost flips you over violently, pinning you beneath him with one leg pressed against yours, keeping you immobile as his cock ruthlessly fills your wet pussy.

"Oh god, oh god-!" You cry over and over again like a broken record, your body quivering as he commits his brutal onslaught against your sweet spot unforgivingly, each time making you lose all your ability to coherently think. Your pussy constricts around him, your entire body trembling as you can feel yourself on the brink of release.

"I can't... I'm going to," you wail, your walls throbbing in need as you can feel your climax rising.

Feeling you tighten around his cock, Ghost leans in, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss, silencing your screams of ecstasy.

"Not yet," Ghost growls out, holding your gaze with a smirk playing on his features. Using your ass as a purchase, he bucks his hips repeatedly, pulling his cock almost entirely out before slamming it home again. His pace is rapid and rough, showing no mercy as he forces you through wave after wave of pleasure that threatens to consume you whole.

Hearing those desperate pleas sent shivers down his spine, enflaming his already intense passion. Gazing into your eyes, he responds to your breathless pleas with a growl, his thumb pressing into the sensitive area of your clit, sending shockwaves throughout your entire being.

"Now." Finally, he gives you permission to let go. He commands, bracing his arms above your head as he watches you surrender to your orgasm. A devilish smile curls upon his lips as he feels your inner wall constricting around him.

Your orgasm crashes like waves against his body, the intensity almost too much for either of you to bear. Your body convulses violently underneath him, milk dripping from your sex onto his waiting cock.

Witnessing your spectacular orgasm sends him hurtling over the edge as well. His hips buck wildly, unloading his hot seed deep inside you as he roars out his climax. After several long seconds, his body goes limp, heavy as lead on top of yours, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Finally, he relaxes, the tips of his fingers tracing lazy patterns across your flushed skin.

"Well fuck," he mutters, still slightly winded from the experience. Lifting himself, Ghost rolls off you to grab a towel nearby. He wipes both of you clean before he lies beside you, pulling you into his side protectively.

You hum in appreciation sighing as you relish in his arms. You stay silent for a moment, still in the process of letting your heart rate come down to normal. Then, you stare at him with a smile.

“I was definitely not disappointed,” you mutter playfully.

Raising an eyebrow, Ghost grins proudly at you. "Better believe that," he retorts, kissing you on the forehead tenderly. Though his voice held a hint of arrogance, it didn't detract from the sincerity in his touch. The afterglow still hung heavily in the air, making every movement feel lazier and slower as if the world were caught in a gentle slumber.

"You did good, love."

Chuckling at his words, you snuggle up to him closer as you let his warmth envelope you. You bury your face into his neck, hesitating to speak for a moment before swallowing the lump in your throat.

“So, I guess you and I are a thing now,” you sheepishly mutter, your breath muffling against his skin.

Catching you off guard, Ghost laughs heartily, his strong arm wrapping tighter around your waist. "Who said we weren't before?" he teases, kissing your temple before nuzzling your nose. His tone softens significantly as he continues, "Of course we are. Didn't you notice how I always looked out for you? How I make sure nothing bad happened to you? Well, it wasn't just because I am your Lt," he explains, smirking down at you fondly.

"You got stuck in my life like a tick, and now...”

You pull your face away from his neck to meet his gaze. You take in his bare face one more time, admiring the way his smile is on display, all for you to see and appreciate. You place a soft kiss on his jaw, then you give him a genuine smile of satisfaction.

“Thank you, Lt, for sparing me a lonely night.”

Returning your smile broadly, Ghost returns your affection with a gentle peck on your lips. "That’s a given." Placing another kiss on your forehead, Ghost closes his eyes briefly, enjoying the peacefulness surrounding them at this moment. His free hand travels down to rest on your exposed thigh, providing comforting heat against your cooler skin.

As you both continue to lie together in silence, content with each other's presence, it becomes clear that your bond has evolved far past mere camaraderie. You share something special, something unique. A connection born from trust, loyalty, and ultimately love—one that will only strengthen with time.

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