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bearsbeetsbeskar · 10 months ago

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Din Djarin cock worship drabble (din djarin x you)

pairing: din djarin x f!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI, explicit descriptions of smut, (assumed age gap maybe???), the armour stays on except for when din eats pussy (which is 24/7 in this universe), overstimulation wc: 1.4K a/n: hello lovelies, this is just a part of something that has been cooking in my brain for the last week. I was ignoring my schoolwork and other responsibilities as usual and rewatching mando, and just thinking about how that modulated rasp makes me melt, and how I would give anything to tie Din Djarin up and suck the soul out of him to hear those moans. that man deserves his cock to be worshipped, and I think about that on the daily tbh . this is unfinished but i hope to complete it this weekend!

Impenetrable beskar steel forged under sweltering heat that could rival Tattooine’s binary suns. Stealthy, calculated, choreographed skills of a warrior, so innate to his being, an exoskeleton similar to the armour he wore. An unshakeable creed that represented devotion, honour, humility, and strength.

Powerful, weathered strength. Strength that shouldered hundreds of bounties, countless days of survival in the harshest planets, and so many physical injuries he’s lost count at this point.

Din Djarin was a humble man. He never boasted his abilities or displayed a cocky nature. He had no reason to. Growing up in the covert, competing drills and sparring with other Mandalorians, he let his combat skills speak for himself as opposed to his words. Din would never deny his strength however. He knew he was strong, despite his age, and despite the aches and pains that permeated his body after each hunt. It was a quality that he could always pride himself on- at least that’s what he thought up until this point. Until he met you.

It turns out the stoic facade of strength that the hardened warrior so heavily relied on, crumbled the instant you could get your hands on him. Well, your hands and your mouth.

Nearly 3 months had passed since you joined the mandalorian And the child. Three months since you offered your skills to help him with his bounties and take care of the child when he was off on his hunts. 3 months since your relationship progressed from just ship mates and acquaintances coexisting in solitude and monosyllabic answers, to partners that shared each others bed every night. A cacophony of grunts and deep groans to catch your breathless whimpers and keening whines filling the hull of the razor crest.

You soon learned how much of a pleasure dom that mando was. Well, Din to you, now that he had entrusted you with his name. Once he learned what made you tick, what made you scream out his name as your eyes rolled into the back of your skull, he was fucking insatiable.

Most nights he wouldn’t fuck you until he made you cum on his tongue or his fingers at least twice. And even then you’d be a mess. Squirming and sobbing as you pushed his head off your dripping sensitive cunt. Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, you could feel the heat rolling off his broad body as he caged you against the bed.

“It’s okay, you can take it cyar’ika,” he would coo at you as he fed his thick cock into your warm wet heat. “Need this tight pussy nice and wet before I stretch you out on my cock.”

You never lasted long, your orgasm crashing over you as you pulse around his length, writhing into the bed sheets.

He reveled in being able to take you apart. Pushing you to the limits of your pleasure that it almost became painful. He fed off of it.

It was rare however, that Din ever let you return the favor. Whenever you attempted to take him into your mouth, to show him your desire and appreciation, he would bat your hands away. Or he would only let you taste him for a minute or two before he’d manhandle you back onto the bed, legs spread by his massive palms, as he beheld you like a deity he wanted to worship over several lifetimes. His ferocity to have you usually outweighed his usual firm patience.

You doubted that you were bad at giving head or that he didn’t enjoy it. Din was vocal, that much you were surprised to learn. As vocal as that modulator in his helmet would allow. Nothing rivaled the groans and curses you were rewarded with as you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, eyes never straining from the T of his visor, taking him deep in your mouth, sucking on the head. You could only bask in the glow of his praise and delicious sounds for so long before Din became impatient and hauled you off his cock, the desire to be deep inside your warm wet heat his sole focus. “Need to have you now meshla,” he groaned, “can’t fucking wait any longer.”

Tonight would be different, you thought to yourself earlier that day as you watched Din stroll down the ramp of the Razorcrest, eager to begin his hunt for the next quarry. You had landed on Trandosha near dawn, and while the lush landscape of the planet appeared inviting Din had made it clear that you and the child couldn’t explore while he was gone.

“The quarry hasn’t exactly been covert about laying low, so it shouldn’t take long to track him down.” He explained as he restocked his munition and triple checked his weapons.

Something about the methodical, almost choreographed manner in the way he loaded the pulse rifle bullets in his bandolier, reloaded his blaster, secured his vibroblade on the inside of his boot made you ridiculously horny. Watching the weathered faded leather of his gloves, caress the barrel of the rifle, mold around the handle of the blaster, those same gloves that molded to the curves of your body. You felt your throat go dry as he kept talking.

“Are you listening cyar’ika?”

Two leather clad fingers settled underneath your chin, urging it upwards to meet his visor.

“Huh?”

His helmet tilted to the side ever so slightly as he appraised your glossed over gaze, not before letting out one of those deep sighs that you had come to know and love.

“No leaving the ship while I’m gone, under any circumstances. Got it?” The fingers under your chin shifted as his hand curled around the nape of your neck, thumb rubbing gently over your jaw.

“Trandosha may be a decent planet but Trandoshans are ruthless hunters, and they wouldn’t miss an opportunity to capture a sweet thing like you, or the child.”

The thought didn’t scare you. Having been around Trandoshans before, you knew they were cunning hunters, but the large reptilian species were slow on foot and clumsy with weaponry. They were nothing in comparison to Din’s prowess and perfected combat skills.

Humming in response, you walk your fingers up the cool beskar of his chest plate, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Good thing I am traveling with one of the most ruthless and equally feared bounty hunters in the galaxy hmm?”

Burying your fingers in the curls peeking out from underneath his helmet and tugging slightly, you reveled in the shaky exhale he let out.

He leaned down, resting the forehead of his helmet against yours. A quiet rumble leaving the depths of his broad chest.

“Ruthless huh?” His strong arms snake around your waist, pulling you flush against his broad body. You basked in the warmth emanating off his armour. While he appeared a mountain of metal, it sent a thrill through you upon feeling the humanity coursing through his body, the life exuding from underneath his beskar shell.

“Yes Din.” You replied with a smirk as you arched your back, smushing your breasts against the cool, hard angles of the chest plate.

“Ruthless in catching your bounties, ruthless in destroying your enemies,” you look up at him from under your lashes, “ruthless when you fuck my pussy and make me cum so many times I lost count.”

He lets out a noise, between a groan and a growl, as his hands slithered down to grip your ass, tightly cupping your ass cheeks, trying to pull you impossibly closer than you already were. It wasn’t enough to be pressed up against you, he needed to be inside you. That much was evident as you felt the hard outline of his cock, nudging against your lower belly.

“Damn fucking right I am. That tight little pussy is mine.”

It was your turn to shiver as your eyes fell shut and you bit your lip. Stars, the power that this man had over you. How he was able to make you fall apart with just his words, that filthy fucking mouth hidden underneath his unreadable halo of steel.

He leaned down till the helm of his helmet was beside your ear. “No leaving the ship,” he repeated in that delicious rasp. “I’ll be back soon okay?”

Little did Din know the surprise you had in store for him later.

#din djarin smut #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #din djarin drabble #i need him so bad #i need this man of metal to crumble underneath my tongue #and the armour stays on ofc #my 'drabble is over 1k' what a joke #idk what drabble is clearly

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butdaddyilovehim-hs · 1 year ago

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Enough For You

Based on this ask :)

Summary: Harry kisses EmRata in Tokyo and Y/N his girlfriend finds out on Twitter

Warnings: angst, sadness, insecurities

Word Count: ~ 2k

“Hi my love. Just calling to say I miss you and I love you more than anything. I know it’s super early for you so listen to this when you wake up and know that I’m thinking of you! Call me when you’re up.”

Y/N smiles tiredly as the sound of Harry’s low tone rumbles through the speakers. She loved the little messages he left for her to listen to when she wakes, since she’d been missing him so much on tour. They’d been together for almost two years but Y/N still wasn’t quite used to all the time they spent away from each other. Harry was constantly touring and while she tried to join him as often as she could, she had a full time job that she loved and she couldn’t just up and leave. Harry wasn’t due to come back for another 3 weeks but Glenne had let it slip that he had a few days off in Tokyo and Y/N decided to surprise him. She was flying out on a red-eye tomorrow evening and meeting him in the city.

She wasn’t really sure how she had gotten so lucky with Harry. They hardly ever fought, he’s kind and attentive and he really loved her. She knew he did and he made sure she knew it. They had been nervous being seen together in public because Y/N enjoyed her privacy and she had seen the internet tear apart Harry’s previous girlfriends. But, Harry’s fans had surprised her and been nothing but supportive of their relationship. Y/N even followed a few update accounts on instagram, thinking how sweet it was that they cared so much. Harry liked to joke that they were bigger fans of her than they were of him.

Jeff however, was not Y/N’s biggest fan. He had severely advised Harry against making things public with Y/N saying that “his image needed someone well known.” That comment had caused a rift between the two men as Harry fiercely and loudly defended his love for Y/N. Jeff had since apologised but things had been slightly tense ever since. Y/N tried not to let it get to her. She knew that it wasn’t strictly personal and he just wanted the best for his client.

“Hi my love. Daily update for you. I’m about to go on for the last show in Tokyo. I adore it here, wish you could be here with me. We’re heading out for some drinks with the crew after the show tonight. I think Jeff is bringing some people for press and all that. No shows for a few days so at least I can let loose tonight. Mostly a boring update today but I miss you! Talk soon sunshine.”

Y/N blinks the sleep from her eyes as she listens to Harry’s message, before properly looking at her phone. He would have sent that around 7 hours ago and her brow furrows slightly at the plethora of notifications on her phone. A quick glance at her notification screen shows a lot of missed calls, texts and twitter mentions. Y/N’s been with Harry long enough to know that the fastest way for her to get information is on Twitter.

So she clicks on the notification. Then she clicks on the link. And she immediately regrets it as her heart sinks to the bottom of her stomach. Because it’s a video of Harry and a woman she doesn’t immediately recognise because all she can really focus on is the way his body is moulded against hers and the way their lips are attached and the way the video is over a minute long.

Harry and EmRata in Tokyo last night?!? Did he break up with Y/N??? You guys WHAT IS GOING ON?

Did you guys see the video?

Guys what the fuck?! I didn’t even know they broke up…

Y/N and Harry were together a few weeks ago? Did Harry cheat on her? He looks pretty drunk in the clip

#HarryStylesEmRata

#HarryY/NBreakUp

It’s tweet after tweet after tweet and Y/N sits upright on their bed, silent and numb for a moment. Then she promptly rushes to the bathroom and throws up.

She calls in sick from work and takes her time in the shower, turning up the heat and letting the water soothe her. It isn’t until after she’s changed and catches sight of her screen lighting up again and again that she cries. Sinks to the floor with a gut wrenching sob, clutching her chest as though her heart is actually going to break. Because she knows it’s him. And he’ll tell her he’s sorry. He’ll tell her he loves her and he was drunk and it meant nothing. But all Y/N can think to herself is “Why wasn’t I enough?”

Y/N isn’t prepared for it her to physically be in pain but she is. The tears flow down her cheeks and it’s almost never-ending as she finally has the courage to pick up her phone and read through her notifications. Some texts are from friends checking she’s alright, wondering if they broke up, one is from Gemma and about 40 are from Harry. He’s called her about 30 times, sent multiple text messages and left voicemails.

She opens Gemma’s text first, because it’s all she can really bare at the moment. The two women were close and Gemma knew just how much Y/N loved her brother.

(8:19am) Gem: I’m going to fucking kill him. Y/N I am so sorry for my idiot brother. Are you ok? Shall I come over?

(9:07am) Y/N: No don’t come over. I’ll be ok.

(9:08am) Gem: Did you talk to him? Please tell me you’re going to work it out.

Y/N bites her lip as she stares at Gemma’s message. She types and erases before finally sending something in response.

(9:12am) Y/N: We haven’t spoken. He’s called though. And, I don’t know if we can Gemma.

Y/N decides she can’t bring herself to listen to Harry’s voicemails so she opens his texts first.

(5:06am) H: Y/N I need to talk to you about what happened when I went out last night. You’re probably asleep but I’ve tried calling. Just… please call me when you get this.

(5:49am) H: Well there are videos on the fucking internet. Please don’t watch them before talking to me. You have to let me explain my love. Please hear me out.

(6:16am) H: Y/N I can’t tell if you’re asleep or whether you’re ignoring me. Baby I am so sorry. I had way too much to drink and Jeff arranged for her to be there and I… please call me back.

There were 6 other texts, which were all similar variations of the same thing before a final one about an hour ago.

(8:19am) H: I’m flying back home to talk to you. Stay in the apartment please.

Y/N knows that it’s almost 15 hours from Tokyo to London. She also knows that Harry is crazy enough to fly out of the country in the middle of tour. So she waits, wraps herself in blankets and lets the tears dry on her cheeks.

It’s close to midnight when Y/N hears the key turn in the lock and her heart stops. Because he’s here and she’s here and she isn’t sure she’s going to be able to get a word out without crying. Y/N keeps her eyes down as she hears him walk into the bedroom and drop his bags on the floor. She looks up at him slowly, taking in his red rimmed eyes and dishevelled appearance. He stays close to the doorway, his movement slow and calculated as though he’s scared she’ll run if he gets too close.

“Love, I am SO sorry.” Harry starts speaking, walking towards her slowly and Y/N’s eyes fill with tears.

“What did I do wrong? Why wasn’t I enough for you?”

Y/N’s voice breaks off into a sob and Harry feels it like a knife to the chest. She hadn’t meant for that to be the first words out of her mouth but it’s what she’s feeling. Every insecurity she’d ever had, had just multiplied itself by 10 and come pouring out. Harry reaches out to tuck her hair behind her ear and Y/N flinches at the contact.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I fucked up Y/N. Jeff invited her over as a good press opportunity and I had too much to drink and she kissed me.” He moves to sit beside her on the bed and Y/N brings her knees in to her chest.

“Harry. You kissed her back. I saw the video, you don’t need to lie to me. I… I can smell her perfume.” Y/N feels nauseous again and Harry looks at her with the most broken look on his face.

“Y/N it didn’t mean anything I swear. I was trashed and I got carried away.”

“Carried away? Harry, I saw the way you were holding her. You were kissing her like you were in love with her.”

“Y/N-”

“You kissed her like you kiss me.” It comes out almost as a whisper. Like a secret observation Y/N had been holding in.

“That’s not true. All I do is think about you Y/N. I’ve just missed you so much and I-”

“Sorry sorry hold on.” Y/N cuts him off with a watery, bitter laugh. “You missed me so much that your solution was to make out with another woman? Right. Got it.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t love her. I love you. I flew here to tell you that. You’re my whole life. And I will spend the rest of mine trying to make this up to you. Because I can’t lose you Y/N.” He grabs onto her hand and squeezes and Y/N’s heart tells her to forgive him because she loves him. But her mind speaks before her heart catches up.

“I think you already have.”

A/N: Sorry guys :) Thinking of leaving this as a one shot...

Tags: @lukesaprince @harryspirate @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lilyrmason12 @styleslover-1994 @stylesfever @kathb59 @indierockgirrl @bxbyysstuff @gills-lounge @lomlhstyles @opheliaofficial07 @behindmygreyeyes @gem1712 @stylesmoonlight12 @babyiamperfectforyou

#harry styles #hslot #harrystyles #love on tour #harry styles au #harry styles fics #harry styles fic #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles fan fics #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles x yn

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afeelgoodblog · 1 year ago

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The Best News of Last Week

1. Amazon deforestation falls over 60% compared with last July

Deforestation in the Brazilian Amazon fell by at least 60% in July compared to the same month last year, the environment minister, Marina Silva, has told the Guardian.

The good news comes ahead of a regional summit that aims to prevent South America’s largest biome from hitting a calamitous tipping point.

2. 4,000 Rescued Beagles, Bred for Research, Found Homes and Best Friends

A heartwarming story unfolds as a beagle named Fin marks the end of a heroic 60-day mission to save almost 4,000 dogs from distressing conditions at a breeding facility. Beagles once underfed, sick, and mistreated have found their way into loving homes, enjoying grassy romps and birthday cake celebrations.

From "Sir Biscuit of Barkingham" to "Nervous Nellie," these four-legged heroes are adapting to their new lives with wagging tails and leaps of joy.

3. 'Cancer-killing pill' that appears to 'annihilate' solid tumours is now being tested on humans

A "cancer-killing pill" has appeared to "annihilate" solid tumours in early research - leaving healthy cells unaffected.

The new drug has been in development for 20 years, and is now undergoing pre-clinical research in the US.

4. Petting other people's dogs, even briefly, can boost your health

It turns out even short, friendly interactions with canines can be good for our health. Evidence is accumulating that levels of the stress hormone cortisol drop in people after just 5 to 20 minutes spent interacting with dogs — even if it's not their pet.

5. FDA approves first pill for postpartum depression

The Food and Drug Administration on Friday approved the first-ever pill for postpartum depression.

The medication, called zuranolone, is taken daily for two weeks. In a pair of clinical trials involving women who experienced severe depression after having a baby, the drug improved symptoms — such as anxiety, difficulty sleeping, loss of pleasure, low energy, guilt or social withdrawal — as early as three days after taking the first pill.

6. Taylor Swift Gives Bonuses Totaling Over $55 Million to Every Person Working on Massive Eras Tour

The pop superstar recently gave bonuses totaling over $55 million to everyone (from her dancers to riggers, sound technicians and catering, among others) working on her massive show.

TMZ previously reported that Swift, 33, gifted truckers on her tour $100,000 each ahead of her concert stop in Santa Clara over the weekend.

7. Successful room temperature ambient-pressure magnetic levitation of LK-99

In summary, this paper provides confirmatory synthesis and enhanced magnetic levitation of LK-99 at room temperature. The results support the possibility of intrinsic high temperature superconductivity in this system, but lack electrical evidence. More measurements and theoretical work are still needed to conclusively demonstrate and explain claimed room temperature superconductivity in this apatite material.

----

That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation:

Support this newsletter ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog.

#best news of last week

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bucketsofmonsters · 1 year ago

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The Witch's Apprentice - Part 5

cw: demon summoning, prolonged isolation, size difference, non-human genitalia, oral sex, agoraphobia, magical branding, more tags will be added as the story continues

male demon x afab reader

Word count: 4k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

By your third week of being locked in your room, you felt like you might lose your mind.

Considering you’d been locked in the house for years you’d think the room wouldn’t be so bad. The actual space wasn’t that much smaller but the real problem was that there was nothing to do. Everything you’d been busying yourself with for years was locked outside, your books, your garden, your best friend.

Any pretense of freedom had disappeared. You could no longer go outside, chose what to do with your day, or see another living thing.

Well, most living things.

Eden had soundproofed all of the rooms for her own usage, so no one overheard anything she didn’t want them to. She knew how to break through it and project sound through the walls, something you’d never learned to do. However, you had no qualms about using the soundproofing to your advantage.

Lucien was less and less incredulous with every new time you summoned him. What do you want’s turned into easy greetings and his exasperation with you faded, although he seemed loathe to let you notice.

The summonings had become almost daily events.

You never made it more than an hour or two without at least giving it a shot. Your lack of actual summoning materials or techniques made it so he didn’t strictly have to come, could just decide not to show up, but he almost always did, choosing to stay with you for hours on end.

Every now and then he’d drop out, feeling a tug of being summoned by some other witch before he’d pop back, unsummoned and of his own choosing.

Today you were laying back on your bed while he sat on the floor. Even sitting, he was tall enough that your heads were roughly in line with one another.

You never did much. You would ask him question after question and watch as his answers got more and more evasive, not even to hide anything but seemingly doing it just because he could. He spoke in circles just to watch your head spin and see how long it would take before the questions stopped in favor of throwing pillows at him.

All the pillows lay scattered around him leaving you tragically out of ammo. You supposed you’d just have to hope that he’d had a change of heart in his neverending quest to irritate you.

It never worked. Not really.

Even if it weren’t for the boredom that made you cling to every word, there way something almost charming about his refusal to commit to an answer, to dance around the question and try and make you forget what you’d originally asked, regardless of whether he cared about you knowing the answer or not. It felt almost like a game.

“What does it feel like when you get summoned?” you asked, curious what happened on his end when he got that distant look in his eyes.

“Why, do you think you're getting summoned?” he asked with a laugh. “Is there another witch out there who wants to lock you in an even smaller room?”

“Stop it. She’s just worried.”

“Uh-huh. How long do you think this is going to last?” he asked, staring out at your locked door with blatant disgust.

You were less evasive with your answers. “I don’t know. If it lasts longer I might actually lose it.”

“So let me take you somewhere. Come on, I’ll have you back before you know it.”

Where the teasing and talking in circles was entertaining, this was your biggest point of contention. Lucien had become fixated on getting you out of here, on showing you the world.

You’d be lying if you said part of your apprehension to leave wasn’t fear. It had been so long, even talking to him had been such a big step. You couldn’t imagine just being somewhere new.

But you also couldn’t do that to Eden, betray her trust like that. No matter how many times he reassured you that she would never know, it left a churning feeling in your stomach. She’d been there for you for so many years, kept you safe. You couldn’t just leave her like that, behind her back.

You avoided the topic as often as you could. Other than those little arguments, seeing him had absolutely become the best part of your day.

You supposed that wasn’t hard to do. You spent most of the time he wasn’t there sleeping, What else was there to do?

You told him as much and he couldn’t quite manage to hide the flash of pity that crossed his face, the one that showed up whenever you mentioned your current living situation.

He did his best to push past it. “Have you been having fun dreams?” he asked with a grin.

You tried to brush off the comment despite his suggestive tone and allusion back to what he’d seen before. “They’re fine. Why don’t you show up in them anymore?”

“Just fine? Maybe dream me needs some pointers.”

You leaned off the bed, reaching for the pillow that lay closest to you on the floor. You managed to get a grip on it right as you started to slide off the bed but Lucien pushed you back up before you could fall to the floor.

He was rewarded for his efforts by a pillow flying towards him that collided with one of his horns as you let out a quiet harrumph.

“You’re so rude to me. And why are you asking? I’m here all the time, do you miss me?” he asked, cooing at you with faux sympathy. “Because if you want me there all you have to do is ask.”

“None of that was an answer to my question,” you informed him, well aware it wouldn’t get you anywhere.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re much more fun when your inhibitions are gone.”

“Mmhmm, I’m sure. And do you take a lot of humans to your little sin room?”

“Only the cute ones.”

You snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

“I could take you back there.”

“You are so shameless. If you want me to get all loose and flirty again just bring some wine by or something.”

“Not like that. I just think it would be good for you to get out, stretch your legs.”

“For the last time, I’m staying right here.”

“Suit yourself,” he said with a huff, as if there was even the smallest chance that he’d finally give up on the idea. “If it were me, I would have killed that bitch by now.”

“Stop it! You will not talk about her like that!” Your defense of Eden was as reflexive as ever. You knew he had every right to be unimaginably angry at her but she was still your best friend, your savior.

His inevitable upcoming protest was cut off by your dinner being slid under the door, Lucien keeping absolutely still as the metal tray scraped against the floor.

He hated being here when she was nearby, even if she wasn’t interacting with you much these days. He claimed it was because he didn’t want to get you in even more trouble and get any more of your freedoms taken away.

You were sure that was part of it. But you saw the way he tensed up when she got close, when any sign appeared of her existence right on the other side of the door.

He was afraid of her. Absolutely terrified.

It made your heart ache, seeing him like that, seeing the fractures in his facade. You couldn’t help but wonder what she’d done to him to make him act like this.

Not that he’d ever tell you. You knew better than to push that point, it was one secret he was more than entitled to.

You did your best not to dwell on it too much. If you did you’d have to reflect on the way he always put himself between you and the door, the way he tensed up whenever she called out to you, knowing you couldn’t even respond unless she allowed it through the soundproofing. She never did.

You couldn’t be sure exactly when, maybe when you summoned him on your own the first time, maybe when you’d told him about all the years you’d spent stuck in this cabin surrounded by the vicious woods, maybe when you’d broken that summoning circle and trusted him, but at some point he’d decided that you were just as much Eden’s victim as he was. Some mysterious point where something switched in his mind and it moved from being you and her against him to Eden against the two of you.

You didn’t blame him for it. Eden had done horrible things to him, that much was clear. He needed her to be a villain and you could give him that.

Lucien always waited a long time before speaking after she showed up so you just lay there, attempting to sneak glances at him and getting caught every time.

Eventually his shoulders untensed and he seemed to decide it was safe to speak again, although a simmering anger still burned in his eyes.

“She isn’t teaching you jackshit.”

“Well…” you attempted to protest before he immediately cut you off.

“Not a question. I could teach you, you know. Your little witch isn’t the only one who knows magic.”

You laughed. “And what’s the price? You want my soul or something?”

“Please, if I wanted your soul I’d probably just need to ask, your dumbass would just hand it over to me.”

He probably wasn’t that far off the mark, if your history was any indication.

You shrugged as you replied. “There’s no real point in teaching me anyways, I’m not very good at it.” You weren’t even sure why he was offering, he’d already seen more than enough of you to know you were a lost cause.

“Being good at things isn't the only reason to do them. Come on, have some fun with it.”

Everything in you screamed that it was a bad idea, that you’d fuck it all up. But the way he was looking at you, daring you to say yes, managed to override those instincts just long enough to squeak out, “Fine. But you’re not allowed to get mad when I mess up.”

You weren’t sure what to expect of Lucien as a teacher. Whatever those confused expectations in the back of your head were, he certainly didn’t match them.

He was a patient teacher, letting you feel things out quietly and slowly. His jokes and evasiveness disappeared completely and every question you had was met with a careful answer.

You discovered very quickly that his sort of magic was very, very different from Edens.

Eden was all about rules, about maintaining the security and purity of her spells first. Everything was a strict ritual to be observed.

Lucien’s magic contained a freedom you thought couldn’t be afforded to humans. Instead of a list of materials and steps, what you were faced with most frequently now was instructions to shut your eyes and imagine, to put all the trust you had into the idea that when your eyes opened, whatever you imagined would have happened.

It was something you struggled with. That faith that it would work.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe in the magic, you’d seen far too much for that. It was thinking it would work for you that you kept stumbling

Where Eden’s magic was like a recipe, Lucien’s felt more like a trust fall.

And still, you progressed. Without the same confidence Lucien carried himself with, but progress nonetheless.

He brought you little gifts every time you made progress, slivers of the outside world.

You’d been getting frustrated with yourself. The very first thing he’d tried to teach you was just the ability to reach out to someone.

You sat there, day after day, attempting it. The way he’d explained it, everyone had an aura, a little pool of energy that hovered around them. If you focused you could reach out, stretch it thin and find someone else’s.

It had to be close. Not in proximity but in a more abstract sense. He reassured you that the two of you were more than close enough for it to work.

One night, after he had long since left, you were practicing and getting frustrated once more when you felt that aura of yours he’d described time and time again bump into something warm, and a sense of familiarity washed over you.

A moment later you felt something back, a meandering sense of something winding inside of you, pulling at some part of you that made you giggle. Who knew auras could be ticklish?

The next day he came bearing an eclair. It felt like a breath of fresh air. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been able to eat something sweet like that.

You treasured the little paper doily it came on, sometimes just tracing the intricate designs that bordered it.

A few days later was a soft scarf in a bright red that had been given to you when you opened your eyes to find yourself letting off a faint glow in that same red.

The next time you managed to do something, this time it was simply to warm up a surface by a few degrees, he reached out and handed you a gift he had at the ready. It made your heart swell that he already had it, like he had absolute faith you’d be able to do something to deserve it. This time it was a tiny ceramic fox that had its little head lifted defiantly towards the sky

You kept them all buried under your pillow, terrified that any day now would be the day and Eden would come in to free you only to see mysterious trinkets that could only have come from elsewhere.

You kept the fox wrapped up in your scarf, afraid you’d roll over wrong in your sleep and it might break but still unwilling to hide the little treasures too far away from yourself.

More often than not, you woke up clutching them, a habit you couldn’t break no matter how hard you tried.

Sooner than you ever could have imagined, you weren’t even afraid to make mistakes around him anymore. When you’d begun, you’d been convinced any slip-up would ruin everything, that he’d give up on you and leave you behind. Now you floundered and messed up spells and it didn’t matter. He made sure that you were alright, that it was safe to learn and eventually you figured them all out.

“I’m running out of rewards,” he said with a chuckle as you beamed down at your fox, one you’d managed to make wobble without so much as touching it. “That’s how you know you’re getting good. How will I ever motivate you now?”

“Are you kidding,” you basically shouted, pride and excitement welling up inside you. “Did you see what I just did? That was amazing! I don’t need a reward to want to learn how to do incredible things.”

“Maybe. I think you deserve them anyways.”

The comment brought a heat to your cheeks, one that was becoming more and more common in you every time Lucien was here. Another thing you tried not to dwell on too much, lest you get swept up in it.

His head cocked to the side with a familiar look as you gave him an understanding smile. “Off to see another witch?” you asked.

He sneered. “Yes, your favorite witch, in fact. Well, I shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

He leaned down towards you and kissed the top of your head before immediately dissipating, a move that didn’t feel quite fair. At least it didn’t give him the chance to watch you flounder.

As you slept that night you found yourself having a familiar dream. The walls of colorful fabrics were a much more welcome sight than the forest that so often plagued your dreams.

A dream Lucien stood before you, per usual. But something was off this time. It took you a second to place it before you realized that even standing here, passively, you could sense his aura. You knew him too well for the trick he was trying to pull.

But after an onslaught of little tricks and his rude kiss and run earlier, you were feeling a little more mischievous than normal. Perhaps he was rubbing off on you.

Before he could say anything to tease you, you strode up to him, got onto the very tips of your toes, and reached up to pull him into a kiss.

He was too tall for you to be able to pull a maneuver like that without him playing along but he eagerly leaned down to meet you, lips crashing together. His hands fell to your waist, helping you keep your balance as you strained to reach him.

You pulled away after a moment and looked up at him with a smirk, giving his aura a little tug as you said, “You really should announce when it's you.”

He laughed. “You didn't give me the chance.”

His hands tightened around your sides, giving you a gentle squeeze as he kept you close. “We don’t have to stop, you know. I’d be a cruel man to rob you of a wet dream.”

Your boldness grew in your chest. You couldn’t remember if you’d ever been around someone and simply not felt nervous before now but these last few weeks, he’d managed to foster that feeling in you. You were eager to try out this new confidence.

You slipped out of his grasp and fell to your knees in front of him. “You know,” you said, “I haven't been able to thank you for being so kind to me.”

For once he seemed to be at a loss for words. After a moment of floundering, he managed to say, “You don’t need to do that, little one.”

“I want to,” you said, looking up at him with big eyes.

You barely caught the quiet groan that escaped him. “What did I do to deserve you,” he asked, and it too was quiet. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was a question meant for you or if it was for the universe itself.

After his little nod of permission, you were immediately undoing his pants, eager to get your hands on him after so many weeks of pining after him.

Being here, now, it felt silly that you’d denied yourself those feelings for so long. Outside of his little pocket of hell where you’d been able to do as you wished, you’d tried to force down those feelings.

But now, despite the appearance of his familiar room, nothing was here to help you along. The dam just broke, and you couldn’t help but wish you’d given in much sooner.

As you pulled down his pants you found he was already hard, his massive cock bouncing up as you freed it of its confines.

Part of you was glad your first encounter with it was in a dream because it was intimidatingly big. It fit his frame as he towered above you but you were unsure if humans and demons were meant to be together like this. You found you didn’t much care either way. You’d make it work.

You gave an experimental lick to the tip, your tongue moving lightly across it.

His hand came down to grab your jaw as you pulled off of him, squishing your cheeks as he angled your face up toward him.

“You’re too sweet, little one. It’s going to get you in trouble one of these days.”

“Wanna be sweet for you,” you said, leaning into his touch.

He released your jaw and tilted his head to the side, giving you the reigns.

You licked up a long stripe up his cock, from the very base. It felt like the most you could manage, your hands encircling him to make up for what you couldn’t do with your mouth.

His breathing was coming faster, his eyes remaining locked on your form. As your hands pumped up and down his shaft, focusing most of your attention on licking at the head of his cock, you couldn’t help but wonder how much of him coming undone so quickly was because of the actual sensation and how much was from him getting to watch you.

He seemed entirely entranced. You felt several times as his hands moved to touch you before pulling quietly away, like he could get head from you and yet was nervous to touch, as if that would make it too vulnerable.

The more grunts and whines you pulled from him, the more determined you became. You pulled back from your persistent licking, taking him in for a moment.

He might be massive, but you focused on the fact that as real as this felt, it was a dream. Surely in a dream you could do whatever you wanted. You were most certainly going to try.

You managed to fit your lips around the head, your mouth stretched wide. You swirled your tongue around the tip as your hands worked his shaft, determined to draw even more noises from him.

You looked up with wide eyes, waiting to make sure you were doing okay. You could feel them watering as you worked him over but you pushed past it as those watery eyes met his, pitch black and full of nothing but lust and adoration.

A massive hand found its way into your hair, not pushing but caressing as you tried to take as much of him as you could.

The hand tightened in your hair and he grunted out, “I’m going to…”

That was the only warning you got before he started to come.

You tried to swallow it all but couldn’t manage it. It just kept coming, it was too much. You popped off the head with a little cough, the rest getting all over your clothes and making you once again glad that this was a dream.

This would have been a nightmare to explain to Eden. You might’ve just had to burn your clothes and hope for the best.

Lucien lets out a gentle chuckle, thumb wiping some of his cum off of your face. “A little over-ambitious but I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

You snorted out a laugh and as he looked down at you fondly, you thought you could happily stay here forever.

And then something other than the contentedness and fondness crossed his face, wrinkling his brow.

His expression soured and before you could so much as ask a question, he simply said, “Wake up” and the world around you fell away.

You woke up frustrated and confused, not understanding why he sent you away. You wanted more and you wanted to stay and more than anything you wanted an explanation. You summoned him almost reflexively, the process second nature to you now.

Before any of your confusion or frustration could come out, he blurted out, “Let me take you somewhere.”

A wounded little sound escaped you as the moment soured and his obsession with whisking you away appeared once more. “Not a chance.”

“But if you could go somewhere…”

“Can we not do this? Please? I can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“Shouldn’t. Whatever word you want me to use.”

“Why, because she says you shouldn’t? I say you should.”

“I say I shouldn’t. Isn’t that enough for you?”

The fight normally petered out right about there, both of you frustrated and exhausted with the uphill battle of trying to get the other to understand.

Not today. Something had changed between the two of you and the desire to linger in it, to bathe in the affection, dissipated as he grabbed your arm and the room around you gave way to the stone walls of an alley.

The narrow, stone corridor was devoid of people but you could hear the buzz of a crowd not far off, probably not more than a few paces away. It was hard to tell exactly as the noise bounced off the walls, echoing in your ears.

Despite your anger, you found yourself edging closer to Lucien. Anything familiar was welcome in this alien place you’d been thrust into.

Your breathing got shallower and you pleaded with him. “Take me back.”

“I will if you want me to. Just not yet. Please not yet. You need to leave, you need to not be there.”

You looked up at him with teary eyes, the trust you’d been basking in being shattered in a moment. “Why are you doing this? I know it’s not for me because I don’t want it.”

“She’s made you afraid. You’ve been tricked and trapped and you need to leave. I need you to leave. You just need a push, that’s it. Just need to be away from her.”

“Listen, just because you don’t like her…”

“No, this is not spite talking, you need to listen to me, you need to figure it out.”

You reeled back. “What?” Surely if he knew something that could change this endless fight, he would have told you. What could there possibly be that you needed to figure out all on your own?

“You just, you need to ask…” his words were cut off with a yell as he doubled over on himself, runes burning into his skin as he spoke. They shone bright red and it almost looked like he was being branded.

The anger faded immediately into concern as you rushed to his side.

“What’s happening, I don’t understand?”

“You can’t say anything,” he insisted, a frantic look in his eyes.

“But you said…”

“I know what I said, you can’t ask anything.”

More than anything, that scared you. The constant pleading for you to break free and push back against Eden and now he was doing everything but that, retracing his steps after unmistakable witch marks were burned into him.

She’d done this. That much was clear.

You couldn’t keep doing this. You needed to know, needed to understand.

“Take me back.”

“I…”

You put everything you had into your voice as you said, “Lucien, take me back.”

The use of his name in his already weakened state with the ruins still charred into his skin was enough, he didn’t have it in him to fight back and you were whisked into the depths of the woods. You returned home.

#terato #demon x reader #demon x human #monster bf #monster boyfriend #monster x human #monster x reader #demon #the witch's apprentice #I love knowing what's going on in Lucien's head when yall don't lol #this is my last chapter of that #answers soon #its going to make his past behavior make a lot more sense ill tell you that much lol

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jamneuromain · 10 months ago

Note

For your Lloyd and Secretary one, what if someone who works closely with Brewer finds out about how he died and seeks out for vengeance? And how about he kidnaps and enslaves Secretary and Lloyd has to get her back? But the Secretary thinks that Lloyd would just replace her, even if she had developed some feelings for Lloyd, she still believed that he would leave her. But Lloyd finds her.

Hi nonnies! Sorry for taking so long to write :3

I love your ideas and I present to you--

Out for Blood

Lloyd Hansen x You

Warning: Mob AU, Mob!Lloyd, Secretary!Reader (Driver!Denny Carmicheal), Graphic Depiction of Blood and Violence (I guess Lloyd is a warning of his own?), Reader has hemophobia (fear of blood), a lot of cursing.

W/C: ~5k

Summary: You were captured by a rival gang. Would Lloyd come and save you?

A/N: This is a sequel to A Whiff of Blood, Thank you for all your love to Mob!Lloyd<333

For the record, your hemophobia is directed to blood coming from other people, not your own. You wouldn’t faint or puke if you had a papercut, but you would (and did) puke when Lloyd showed up at your door a few weeks ago, littered with blood and cuts.

Tasting the faint tang of rust and salt from the cut inside your cheek, your tongue inevitably touches the wound in your mouth.

Ouch, it stings.

An almost ridiculous - but somewhat fits the situation you are facing - idea comes to mind.

You hope Lloyd could pay for your dental care if your tooth gets knocked out.

In a dark humid stinky cell, you are obligated to keep yourself from fainting.

How long is it since you’ve been captured? An hour? Two?

You don’t know. Not that the concrete walls give any clues as to where you are and when is it.

Your head is dizzy, and somewhere on the back of your head is throbbing, possibly the spot where someone knocks your head with a baseball bat or a heavy club.

-who the heck still uses a club to beat the shit out of their victims to issue a kidnapping these days? Aren’t they worried about possible brain injuries?

Your hands and feet are tied to a plain wooden chair with zip ties, not something you can get out of without tools and time. Knowing that they kidnapped you and took you to this place, instead of dumping you down the pier with a large stone tied to your feet? You’ve got time, some of them at least. They want something from you, hence the reason why you are alive.

The problem is to rescue yourself before they realize nothing is coming out of your mouth.

So, the real question is, how much time do you have?

Dull thuds of footsteps approach you. After some screeching from the iron bars and the clang of the lock opened by a key, that is supposed to be the cell gate’s composition, you assume, for you are forced in another direction having been tied to the chair, another screeching sound, and the door swings open, entering two men.

They stand before you, one has his hands on his hips, the other crossing his arm.

Think. Your mind goes one hundred miles per hour. Think. Sometimes Lloyd keeps his captives alive, but only when his men are wearing masks. But these two are showing their faces in broad daylight – nightlight, to be precise, since you left the office around 7:30 pm, and later got a smack in the head after having picked up the dry cleaning for Lloyd.

You watched their faces closely. The first man who appears before you is shorter than the other, it is difficult to tell his height when you are sitting on a chair, but you assume he is approximately your height (which is definitely short for an average man), medium build – again, it is hard to tell with his jacket on, you have to conduct most of your analysis base on guesswork. Something about his face looks familiar, however, you cannot pinpoint who or what, since as a secretary, you meet a lot of people daily.

The other guy, the taller one and the more muscular one, doesn’t strike you as someone you know in the past. A hint of tattoo peeks on the back of his hand, a sharp edge with the color of tattoo ink. The beard covers half his face, and that he’s bald, in contrast to his wild facial hair.

“Well, well, well.” The first one smirks, “If it isn’t Lloyd’s pretty thing in our hands.”

Think. They haven’t killed you yet, but they are planning to. Think of something smart. To stall. Or to gather enough information so that Lloyd will know who to revenge on if you are dead.

The hair on the back of your neck practically stands when the word “dead” crosses your mind for a split second.

You cannot panic. Not now. Think.

“You can drop an invitation to my mailbox, y’know? If you wanna talk.” You look up at them. A small smile raises the corner of your lips, but you are not smiling, not really, because your sharp eyes are taking in the minor changes in their expressions.

The first one raises his eyebrows, somewhat surprised, while the second one remains stoic.

“Impressive.” The man compliments, “Thought you would thrash and kick, but I guess you have seen too much of this - ” He gestures to your tied-up position, “working for Lloyd, eh?”

You neither confirm nor deny, yet, you make an attempt at deciphering his intentions, “What is it with this time?” God, you sound like you have been kidnapped twice a week since you got the secretary job. You raise your eyebrows as he does, “Threats to cooperate? Info about his latest business? Or are you two with the FBI?”

They both glance at each other when you mention the FBI.

Good news, they are not cops.

Bad news, they are not cops, which means they are more likely to kill you.

“Hey, you.” You turn your head to the silent bulk of beard, “Didn’t I see you tattling to your badge buddy two weeks ago? Is it what this is about? That I see you tipped off the cops?”

Of course, you haven’t seen the second man tattling to the cops. You don’t know him. But considering the tension ever since you pose the possibility that they are with the police and law enforcement, it is not a bad way to start an argument between the two of them.

That is, hopefully, there are only two that initiated your kidnapping. The plan of brewing a feud among the kidnappers would be more difficult to implement if there’s another person involved.

Under the first man’s continuous stare, the second man huffs out a grunt, grabs your hair in one hand, and lands a blow into your stomach with the other.

“Cука.” He grumbles, stepping back to where he was standing.

If it weren’t for the pain in your stomach, as the blow on your stomach feels like your guts have cracked into four pieces, you would most absolutely jump up from the chair that has you tied, and clap, for he has bared his identity before you, stripping clean.

Thank fuck you know a few curse words in Russian, one of them being “cука”, which means “bitch”.

Russian mob it is.

You know about the Russian mob in LA. A few weeks ago, Lloyd teamed up with one of his business partners to sell illegal substances (a nice way of putting it) and gradually took up the Russian turf. He got shot and was nearly killed after that, when the Russians ambushed him in the clinic he used to go, killing his doctor and one of his men. Lloyd himself barely got out alive and took shelter in your apartment.

Today, around 7 pm, Lloyd took his driver Denny and two of his henchmen to a club he owned to meet the Russians to settle for a truce. As his secretary, you know that he usually conducts his mob business there, instead of in the building where you work. So, you finished up the paperwork and called it a night, while ordering some pizza since cooking would take an additional one hour and a half.

You were on your way home, stopping by on the side of the curb to pick up Lloyd’s dry cleaning when you lost consciousness after a hit in the head.

Oh crap, you would have to send those clothes to the dry cleaning again.

Focus. You take a deep breath, clearing the irrelevant thoughts from your mind. Think smart. How could you subtly prove yourself worthy to them?

“Fine.” You huff out, “You are not working with a badge buddy, I get it.” Adding some sarcasm to the mix, you twitch the muscles on your face, your tone as despising as your expression, “I’m sure what I’ve seen with my own eyes is purely some illusion-voodoo shit.”

Great. Now you sound like Lloyd fucking Hansen.

The first man clears his throat, effectively silencing the grumbling Russian guy.

“Quite a temper.” He pulls a chair from the corner of the cell, sitting in front of you, pointing at himself, then back at you, “You know, we could’ve been friends, you and I.”

“Oh yeah?” You quirk your brow, “What’s stopping ya’? Enlighten me.”

Shit. Too Lloyd.

You are somewhat surprised when he responds per your ask, “If you insist…”

Yeah well, you weren’t exactly insisting (or interested, for that matter, you couldn’t care less). Nevertheless, you nod for him to continue.

“Suza Brewer. Rings a bell?” He smiles, but the friendliness is nowhere to be seen.

Of course, the name Suza Brewer rings a bell. Unfortunately, it’s the bad kind of bell.

Brewer had threatened to have you to himself, and asked Lloyd – not in a nice way – to balance between their deal and you.

… since you are alive and breathing and your limbs are still intact, without a doubt, Lloyd chose you, his faithful employee over the dumb biker Brewer, and fed Brewer to the fishes. You had speculated that there were crocodiles underwater where he disposed of the bodies, because damn, Lloyd’s body-dumping was never found by police forces, or any other people, for that matter, and now you are equally tempted to throw this kidnapper beneath the Westside Pier too.

If only you weren’t tied up like a lamb for slaughter.

“Vaguely.” You pretend to think, tilting your head to the side, even though the back of your shirt is soaked with your cold sweat, “Is he in trouble?”

Hell, Brewer is more than “in trouble”. He’s more like “in crocodile”. His body parts could be swimming along with those hideous beasts, travelling hundreds of miles apart from each other, as you speak.

Somehow, the phrase “in crocodile” has you close to smiling. Especially in this circumstance. Fuck. You are most definitely contaminated by Lloyd Fucking Hansen. You bite the inside of your cheek from actually smiling. As a result, you accidentally bite on your wound.

It stings like a bitch.

The man in front of you speaks softly, “Suza is my brother. And your boss, Lloyd Hansen, killed him.”

This is not going to end well.

You pray to whatever deity that would answer, and hope that you could have a better ending than the Brewer guys. If not, then at least a quick, painless death.

The man observes your face for any expression that could slip away some info, but eventually, he sighs and continues, “So, I decided that I would avenge him, by taking away Lloyd’s most prized possession.”

Ah. Lloyd’s most prized possession would be his gun. He’d spend an hour every day wiping it spotless with a fine cloth, counting the bullets in his gun before popping the magazine back in place. You have heard about a few of the henchmen joking that Lloyd would be more pissed if a man touches his gun, compared to touching his dick,

You have seen the gun on many occasions. Most of the times on his belt, occasionally in his hand, and once, only once on the table when he was dismantling it. But he quickly put it back together seeing you with the pile of paperwork and shoved it back on his belt. Twice, if you are counting the time when he nearly bleeds out in your home.

“Aaaaaaand you want to ask me what his prized possession is?” You pipe up.

That’d be easy. However, you doubt what this Brewer brother had in mind could be this plain and straight.

As far as you know, Lloyd doesn’t have any siblings, parents to account for (he was adopted by a gang member around five, who died in an alley fight a decade later), women that he’d ride or die for (he picks different escorts when he’s in the mood, no one, in particular, meets his eyes), or any offsprings (then your job would be more nanny than a secretary). In fact, you wrecked your brain for the answer to this question, and the truth is, that Lloyd doesn’t care about anyone in any way – apart from the men (and women) working for him. Even so, his expression of “caring” is to drop a generous check if any of them was taken out or quit voluntarily, and never pay attention to them again.

He doesn’t have any pets, neither a dog nor a goldfish to keep him company.

You wonder whether he harbors any feelings at all, except the thrill of being a sociopath.

… maybe he loves his gun in a romantic way, who knows.

“No. I got that part.” Brewer No.2 speaks with a wild glint in his eyes, “And she’s sitting right in front of me.”

You huff out a laugh. This could be the top 1 joke of the Hansen Government Services, that Lloyd sees you as his prize? Pfft.

But the man’s determent tone tells you differently. That he believes Lloyd cherishes you the most. Which means he is going to take you away.

“Don’t believe me?” He shrugs, “My intel snapped pictures of a file, hidden in his top drawer, on top of every shit he has.” Showing the pictures he has on his phone, he added, “You were on that file, Ms. Secretary.”

It was Lloyd’s desk. Dimly-lit, but still, Lloyd’s desk. Someone could burn that desk down to ash and you’d still recognize it. And the file laid bare. With a CV and a photo…

Oh no. Oh shit. It is you.

You’d be lucky as hell if Brewer No.2 simply told you something bad about Lloyd and gave you some money to run far away, as if this is some bullshit mob romance novel. In this situation, he is more likely to skin you alive and send your fingers in a FedEx package to Lloyd’s doorstep as a Christmas present. Or pull out your fingernails before shooting you in the head. Or torture you in the most painful ways possible. Oh God.

The fucking Brewer family and both of these men could go straight to Hell strapped on rabid Cerberus with burning white-hot iron shoes that could not come off.

Think. Think! He hasn’t killed you yet. Why he hasn’t killed you yet? You could be more deader than Suza Brewer who was stuck at the bottom of the pier right now. Why is this Brewer No.2 keeping you alive? What does he want from you besides to intimidate Lloyd?

You have no choice but to ask, “I’m guessing that, since I haven’t got a bullet between my eyes, you want something else too?”

A wicked grin perks up his lips. Handing his phone to your face, he says, “I want you to call him.”

Forget dental care, you now hope Lloyd could pay for a decent funeral.

Brewer No.2 dials the number for you and puts it on speaker. Your heart thumping in your ears, praying that he’d answer. But also praying that he won’t. What if it’s a larger trap to lure him here? You’d rather he doesn’t pick up and get it over with. Plus, he’s too busy to pick up calls, he’s negotiating with the Russians-

“Who’s this?” Lloyd’s sharp voice pierces through the speaker, and seems to have gripped your throat tightly.

Brewer No.2 urges you to speak, but turns out he’s too hyped up to wait for your mumbling lips to make a sound. He drags his tone almost annoyingly, “Hello, Hansen. I’m Levi Brewer, brother of Suza Brewer. I’m here to collect a debt.”

“Oh yeah? Enlighten me.”

That’s so un-Lloyd-like. He’d normally end the call until the person on the other end of the phone could learn to speak what they want directly, which you have witnessed a few dozen times. You can almost imagine Lloyd’s unamused face and his killing glare, having had to deal with Brewer No.2, Levi Brewer.

“You, Mr. Hansen, killed my brother, which is why I’m taking the love of your life away from you.” Brewer No.2 announces, pulling out his gun to flip the safe off. The crisp clicking noise is like a heavy punch to your stomach, declaring the clock of your life ticking towards its end.

Jesus. You? The love of Lloyd’s life? You could’ve sworn Lloyd has a deeper bond to that escort named Cherry than you.

“Say hello to the pretty little thing I’ve just captured.” Brewer slams his palm across your face, squeezing a yelp out of your tightened throat.

The only “pretty” thought about you is that you are pretty sure you are neither “little”, nor “thing”, but that’s a debate settled for another time.

“Say your name, beautiful. I’m sure your boss would catch up soon.” Brewer No.2 points the gun to your face, and places the phone near your lips.

No matter how reluctant you are, you know this might be the only chance where you can tip Lloyd off. And maybe, just maybe he’d revenge on Tweedle Dee by allowing Dee – Brewer No.2 share the same fate as his brother. “Evening, Mr. Hansen.” You mumble, the taste of iron roots deeply in your mouth that you cannot speak clearly, “Sorry to disturb you.”

Lloyd doesn’t reply. He must be mad. Deeply mad at you for ruining his negotiation with the Russians.

Russian? Fuck, the Russian in the room – you spare a quick glance at the silent bulk of beard in the corner – shit, they were in on it together. The Russian mobs asked Lloyd to give you up – nonono, it can’t be, Lloyd wasn’t that good at acting, and considering Levi is sharing this news that you were kidnapped just now, he could be plotting with the Russians.

Does Lloyd know? Your head is messing with your thoughts. Does he know about your abduction? Was he permitting this to happen?

No. Brewer works against Lloyd, which means Lloyd couldn’t have known.

Who should you trust? Was Lloyd generous enough to give you up? Even though he declined Suza Brewer’s deal: you for the business? And fed him to the sharks because he disrespected you?

… probably crocodiles, but who cares at this point.

“Are you hurt?” Lloyd asks.

“Not really.” The tip of your tongue presses against the wound in your mouth, eliciting pain to clear your head – desperate measures for desperate times – and you continue, “I was wondering, though. I think two teeth of mine are loose. Does the employee benefit cover dental care?”

Think, think, think! How can you pass on the message?

Before Lloyd can answer, you take a head start, “Must be one of those Alenka … Alonka Chocolate bars?”

Last Christmas, the Russian mobs sent over a basket of those chocolate bars, Lloyd ordered to have them tested (in case there was poison) and gave them to his employees after they came out clean. But that was about a year ago, and Lloyd saw the wrapping papers in the basket near your seat right before the day ended. He joked about “eating with the enemy” while you admitted the chocolate was not half bad.

There. The message. Loud and clear.

“The dental plan gives you a 10% discount,” Lloyd says calmly. Which is a big fat lie, because no dental plan would be so petty. He wants to say something about 10. But about what? Ten minutes until he’s here? He’d bring ten men along?

“But I won’t tolerate tardiness, sunshine,” Lloyd’s voice sends a shiver down your spine, “Your working hours are nine am to eight pm. Don’t you dare be late.”

Holy Mary and Joseph. First ten, now nine and eight? Lloyd is about to tear this place down in less than ten seconds.

“Enough chitchat.” Brewer No.2 takes the phone back and aims his gun at your face again, “Say your goodbyes. Lloyd Hansen, you are about to hear her final words.”

“My final words?” You lean back onto the chair, steadying yourself with your feet as much as possible, “You really talk too much.”

A loud blast erupts from where the silent Russian is standing. He is most definitely covered in a few dozen kilos of rubbles and bricks. Levi instinctively covers his head, but the blast knocks him to the ground, where he stays unconscious. You are the only one with enough preparations to lower your body, even though being tied to the chair. But you still get thrown over by the blast and the chair collapses underneath your body.

A few henchmen armed to the teeth step through the hole in the wall. After them, Lloyd.

Lloyd in a black coat.

Your ears are ringing, and you can’t tell what he’s trying to say.

Another man with a black briefcase comes to your side. Your pupils were examined, your pulse was checked, and your lungs were listened to.

“… you feel any pain?” The other man asks you.

You shake your head. It hurts a bit in your mouth but that’s just a little cut.

“She’s alright.” The man who appears to be a doctor confirms, helping you up from the ground.

You stand on wobbly legs. The past hour has been too much of a scare that your knees are shaking. You trip over your own feet, before a pair of solid arms steadies you.

“Easy tiger.” Lloyd’s voice booms by your ear, having your head snap in his direction.

He came.

Oh God he came.

Knowing this was a semi-trap, but he didn’t need to be here. He could wait until this is over and give you a proper burial.

And you could’ve died. He could’ve died. You both could’ve died.

You stumble into his embrace, fingers clenching his thick woolen coat.

You probably shouldn’t. He’s your employer, your boss. He’d probably sue you for sexual harassment. But you did.

The blood soars in your ears. You dare not breathe out loud, fearing that you are dreaming.

It feels like a dream. It all did.

“ ’s alright. It’s alright now.” Lloyd murmurs. He runs a hand down your spine, inching your head close to his shoulder.

“How-How did you find me so soon?” Among everything, this is the one you were the most curious about. Yet you dare not look at him. Even if he has just saved your life.

Lloyd narrows his eyes. If you were any other girl, you’d be crying and weeping, and wiping snot on his coat, telling him how much you wanted to be with him the moment you thought you were dying. But no. You were not any other girl.

Fuck.

Long story short, he doesn’t want to elaborate, for you have plenty of time to discuss about this later, “Noticed there was something wrong with the Russians. Then your doorman called.”

“My doorman?” You raise your head to look at him, your brows furrow in confusion, “The guy at the residence entrance? Henry?” While your fingers slowly untangling from his coat.

“He had my number – I’m the last tenant of that condo – told me your pizza came and he couldn’t reach you,” Lloyd explains as simply as possible.

Ah yes. You ended your work around 7pm and ordered pizza…

You make a mental note to thank Henry for saving your life.

A groan drifts to your ear. You turn around on instinct, as Levi Brewer regains his senses.

“Where… I… What…”

In a split second, Lloyd pulls out his gun to shoot him twice in the chest.

A scream gets stuck in your throat, when the crimson blooms in Brewer’s chest.

Your body is shaking, trembling - a natural fear towards the predator behind you.

Brewer crumbles to the ground.

Lloyd lets out a sigh. He puts his arm around you, guiding your hand towards a piece of lukewarm metal. The metal that has just shot Brewer in the chest.

“You have no idea how to shoot, do you?” He asks, but doesn’t expect you to answer. It is a miracle that you are not fainting, he had hoped for far less before arriving.

Wrapping your index finger around the trigger, Lloyd takes a deep breath before flipping off the safe.

“Eye.” He lifts your chin in the direction of Brewer on the ground.

“Arm.” One of his hands steadies your shaking arm into a stable angle.

“Mark.” He lowers the gun point to Brewer’s forehead.

His warm chest against your back, blocking every possible way of escaping. The familiar feeling of having your throat in his hands creeps up your neck, making it difficult for you to breathe.

Your heart thumping loudly, your breath as shallow as it can be, as the warm air coming out of his mouth reaches your ears.

“Aim for the head. And shoot.”

He curls his finger next to yours, and your finger hits the trigger.

The gun is well-positioned, allowing the bullet to dive into Brewer’s forehead, leaving a round of crimson around the bullet hole.

You spin on your heels immediately, fighting the hurling stomach deep down.

The hard piece of metal comes between you and Lloyd.

A gun.

Lloyd’s gun.

You just used a gun to kill someone.

You are never getting a decent job anywhere in the world.

You are going to keep this skeleton in your closet forever (and of course, working for Lloyd until the day you die).

The cold metal burns your palm. You remember about the jokes that Lloyd never allows anyone to touch his gun.

“I… This belongs to you.” You shove the gun into his hands, as if this is some beast that would bite your fingers off if you keep it for one more second.

Lloyd snorts when his prized gun is pushed into his hands. But he doesn’t say another word. He clasps the gun back on his belt before ordering his men to leave.

You follow his troop out of the building in silence. The past hour has been a series of roller-coaster events that you need some time to process.

Denny is waiting in the car when you climb in. While the rest of Lloyd’s men get in a van, Lloyd barks a few orders to them that you haven’t paid attention to. You sit in the car, your back rigid, and you put your hands on your knees like a pupil in class.

Denny offers a sympathetic smile when your eyes meet in the rear-view mirror. He isn’t the type to talk, serving as Lloyd’s driver. But he’s nice enough to hand you a bottled water from the glove compartment, which you take with a murmured “thanks” and clench it with your knuckles turning white.

The adrenaline fades from your blood system, and your heart beats in a stable rhythm, your breathing finally adjusts itself to slow inhales and exhales.

The bruises on your wrists and ankles are scorching in pain. The back of your head is hurting too. Luckily, none of your bones is broken, which could be the best news of this evening.

This feels way too familiar.

As Lloyd opens the car door, your heart jumps to your throat again.

You are worried. Worrying about he’d fire you, thinking you have leaked information to the Brewer guy. Worrying about you have touched his gun, using it to kill someone, no less, and he’d cut off your hand for using it. Worrying about Lloyd would be dead if he steps into a trap with you as bait, that Levi Brewer intended to kill him…

Why the fuck are you worrying about Lloyd? He’s perfectly fine taking care of himself. It is you who needs extra self-defense lessons.

“What… Um, what happened to the truce you went to negotiate with the Russians?” You can’t help but ask, knowing that the dead Russian who kidnapped you was dragged out of the rubbles and put into a body bag, heading in another direction on the van that had Lloyd’s men on it.

“It was a trick,” Lloyd grumbles, “to stall. We agreed upon no phones, so it took me a while to get the call from that doorman. Then I knew they were trying to stall me from getting to you.”

You were whacked when you had just picked up the drycleaning for Lloyd. “-my car, and my – your clothes -” You remember.

“-were taken care of.” He picks up where you left off, “I’m assigning you an assistant, Claire. She’s living next door. She has driven your car back to the garage, and sent the clothes to dry cleaning as well.”

“An assistant? I don’t need an assistant.” You argue, “I can work fine on my own.”

“And get knocked out on the street in the middle of the night?” Lloyd snorts impatiently, “She’s there to protect you, but ask her to pick up the coffee, take out the trash, and drive the car for you, I don’t care. Claire would be by your side when I’m not close enough to save your ass.”

Ah. So you are a liability to him.

Maybe you weren’t suitable for a mob secretary at all.

You were no prized possession, as Brewer claimed to be.

And he’s your boss. You should feel lucky to be alive instead of mulling over whether he treats you special or not.

“Yes, Mr. Hansen.” You collect your feelings. It is perfectly normal for him to assign you a bodyguard/assistant. Hell, it’s even perfectly normal that he wants to fire you for your incompetence. Hiring an assistant? He doesn’t want you to get kidnapped again, that’s all.

… or replace you when she gets the gist of your job.

You think bitterly, staring at the tinted window.

“By the way, you don’t have to come to work tomorrow.” Lloyd casually tells you, “Paid leave, and it’s Friday anyway, you deserve some time off after this …” He carefully considers the choice of words, “… incident.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hansen.” You reply automatically.

It is such a weird thing that you let out a small exhale of relief when you heard the word “paid leave”, as if he would’ve thrown you off the car and told you that you are fired right after saying you don’t have to come to work.

Lloyd isn’t so ruthless after all.

Your heart beats faster, hopeful for …

What are you hopeful for?

You kick the ridiculous thought into the corner of your mind, answering, “I’ll be back on Monday.”

Taglist (Also tagging those who might be interested): @stargazingfangirl18 @sarahdonald87 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @magnificentsaladllama @biteofcherry @petalj @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @thezombieprostitute @yiiiikesmish @warriorblu @vonalyn @notathingjustthere @lokislady82 @irishhappiness @toozmanykids @alicedopey @cakesandtom @universitypenguin @openup-yourmind @helenaeisenhower @wilsons-striped-ties @tittittoee @bean-is-reading @yearningforsappho @esposadomd @salvatoreitmeanssaviour

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#lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen #the grey man #mob!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen angst

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

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So Me and my boyfriend have been dating since highschool Jr year. It's been a while since then, I'm in trade school and he works at McDonald's. Lately, he's been working very late, for two weeks straight and I understand he's been busy but it feels like he was ignoring me Because the times he was "working" were more than 8-hour long shifts. This cycle kept repeating for 2 weeks and during these 2 weeks, I would express to him that I felt ignored and neglected since he barely had been speaking to me. I was lucky if I got 10 texts a day at most. Which compared to before was very little. I would tell him how I felt and he would apologize saying "sorry babe didn't mean to make you feel that way" and then he would turn around and ignore me again in the same day or the day after. This started to wear on me and it felt like I was being brushed off each time. And this Thursday it all came to a head. For context I suffer from bpd, and being ignored triggers me, I am working on the issue and trying to be better but these past 2 weeks it feels like he was just doing the one thing I asked him not to do, over and over again. And he didn't communicate very well to me, if he was stressed with work or having issues at home I would have understood if he briefly explained. But he didn't I would ask him over and over again if he was okay and he'd just brush me off and say he's fine.

This last thrusday though he did the same thing, from Thursday 9 am to 7. He was "working" and only sent me 4 texts that day. I asked him what was up and why he won't communicate with me and he ignored me MORE. And I had enough and just blew up, I told him that how he was treating me isn't fair, and it's making me unhappy and I feel negelcted and not loved, I told him I felt like he was pushing me away and for what reason I'm not sure. I was fed up and told him if he wanted to break up we could but if he didn't he should call me to work things out. He didn't call me and ignored me more. I took a few hours to myself and then I texted him to explain more, and kind of apologize. I told him that I didn't mean to be so explosive with my anger but I still feel like my dwellings were valid and I explained to him that he just went cold on me for two weeks and didn't explain anything to me. And it feels like I cannot reach him anymore, and that I don't want to break up and work on things if I made him unhappy. But it wasn't fair for him to go cold on me like that. I told him I loved him but there's only so much I can take and I needed space, He once again ignored me. This time going silent for 3 days completely.

I texted him like a day later asking if we could speak the following day. Nothing. I asked him the next day if we could meet to the same day, ignored again. I was worried about him so I texted him again the next day asking if he was at least okay and he ignored me for a couple of hours, before saying he was fine and he's not ready to talk. I respected that and told him I understand and to text when he was ready. I also apologized to him and told him that i was truly sorry for how i acted and that he didnt deserve that. He lied again and said he had work that day (it was Sunday, before the fight happened he told me he ONLY had Sunday off, I'm pretty sure it's illegal to have someone working for 7 days straight) I didn't call him out on this because I was scared I'd upset him more so I just told him I loved him and to have a good day at work.

He ignored me, again.

Please be so honest, am I the asshole? I feel like the asshole for blowing up on him and I know it was wrong for me to do that to him but I just felt stuck and emotionally stuck after being hurt by him almost daily and telling him so only to get ignored. On my end this feels shitty, and I do wish I could take back what happened but I can't. I also feel this is unfair, everytime My feelings get hurt and I express them he doesn't go to the same lengths to Apologize or make it up to me or even make a long term change, but when I hurt his feelings he acts like this and acts like I just committed some war crime against him. Maybe im being unfair but I feel unheard. I'm afraid this may be the end of our relationship and i dont want that.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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red-pill-to-swallow · 1 year ago

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How to be attractive to men and my goals

Hey babes,

like I said – I want to incorporate RPT (Red Pill Theories) into my daily life immediately.

A few things that every women within the community seemed to be content with were:

1. You are never finished with glowing or leveling up. Never stop learning. Never stop trying to better yourself.

2. Pretty privilege is real.

I agree that pretty privilege is very real. I mean, I get affected by pretty people like everybody else, even if I don’t do it on purpose. It’s just something that is ingrained in our brains and I need to learn how to take this to my advantage.

I think I have a decent starting base, because I’m a skinny white woman in her twenties with long blonde hair. I am not really tall – even short men are at least 5-7cms taller than me – but I’m also not extremely short.

I have a petite frame but my body-shape is something between an hourglass and a peach. My face is average – I don’t really have striking features or am a natural beauty model – but my features also aren’t hideous. It’s really just something you can look at without thinking too much.

On a scale, I would rate myself a 5,5-6/10 on an average day and I guess that’s great!

But how can I make myself look better on a daily basis? I really took hours to research how I could make myself more attractive to wealthy and high value men.

Obviously, no man is like the other and every man prefers something different. One man might like tattoos and piercings while another man with the same social status thinks they are hideous. I don’t want to completely change who I am and I don’t want to spend thousands of dollars for it.

However, I really like this whole clean girl and old money aesthetic that is going viral on Tiktok right now – and I think those two aesthetics could fit me and my personality really well.

Most wealthy men seem to like this traits in women:

1. great skin without obvious pimples or enlarged pores

2. long and healthy hair in a natural color

3. straight white teeth

4. clean nails on both hands and feet

5. hairless legs, armpits and at least trimmed pubic hair

6. wearing clean and wrinkle free clothes without any holes

7. wearing a nice smell that is fitting to your overall appearance

I think those are the basics and they can be achieved by almost anyone. If you can’t afford braces make sure that your teeth are always perfectly brushed and that you’re keeping up with your dental hygiene in general.

In fact – if you have problems affording certain beauty procedures, research how to get as close as possible to them with DIYs.

For years, I always wanted to be the mysterious woman in the room. The woman with a dark aura, the woman that doesn’t speak much and remains most of her life a secret.

Well, I am not this woman even if I’m trying very hard. It would be an act that I would put on and I am sure that everyone in the room would notice.

I am naturally very bubbly and I love having conversations with people in general. I would also say that I have a broad knowledge on different topics and that I’m able to talk to almost everyone.

I am also very welcoming and I enjoy making people laugh and have fun in my presence. I tend to have strong opinions and I’m not afraid to take on a discussion.

With everything that I know about myself now, I made some points that I need to tackle in order to level up:

1. stop oversharing. Being bubbly is great but not everyone needs to know everything about my business. Sometimes it’s just better to be silent and to listen.

2. start with exercise again. I am happy with my weight but I am extremely weak and I have almost zero muscle mass. My breath is getting heavy if I have to take the stairs and my legs start to hurt after roughly 15 minutes of walking. I plan on going for a walk every day and doing pilates 3x a week.

3. start doing my hair and makeup again. My hair is long and blonde – so it is an eyecatcher. It’s also very healthy but I usually just throw it up in a bun or in a clawclip, so no one is really seeing it. I have multiple styling tools at home and I need to start using them. The same applies to makeup. I have so much great stuff that looks really beautiful and natural but I am just too lazy to use it. I plan on taking 20 minutes every day to do my makeup and to suck it up – because I usually always do a double cleanse at night, so it’s not really a struggle to take it off in the evening. It’s just inconvenient in the morning.

4. taking better care of my skin and of my dental health. I have high quality skincare and I love doing my skincare but sometimes I’m just too lazy. Let me just say that it doesn’t happen often – but still too much for my liking. Also my dental health – I need to make a dentist appointment asap. I think the last time I went was around 3 years ago!

5. buying better fitting clothes. I don’t like shopping for clothes but it is what it is. Right now I only have cute lounge sets for being at home but when I go out I usually only wear jeans with a basic top and sneakers. I want to look more polished and feminine. I want to stop wearing jeans and focus more on pants, skirts and dresses. Also literally any other shoes than sneakers.

6. go out more. I’m your typical homebody. Movie night? Reading a book? Ordering food? Count me in! I always have fun when I go out but I’m still mostly at home and I want to change that. I want to have a group of like minded friends that want to hang out with me. Maybe even at home. Lol.

I really thought hard about those six points but I think those are the first things that I need to tackle down.

In the end – I was asking myself: what could I do to feel the most comfortable with spontaneous outgoings and meeting new people?

It came down to wanting to look my best. Obviously. I want to make a good first impression and maybe even profit off of pretty privilege.

I’m sure we all know those times when we’re dressed like slobs and suddenly an opportunity to go out arises and we decline because it would take hours to get ready.

That’s the reason why I want to get ready in the morning – so I would only need to touch up if anything came up.

see you soon!

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iamnot-crazy · 10 months ago

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Stowaway Chapter 4

Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Info: This is my first time posting a story on Tumblr and my first time writing a x reader.

Summary:

The reader is a slave to a nobleman due to her devil's fruit ability which allows her to control the emotions of the people around her. She flees to bump into Trafalgar Law and boards his ship.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

After a few days, you built up enough courage to face the crew you finally came out of the medical room. Law was doing his best to calm the crew's worries and fend them off from crowding the medical door. They didn't ask Law another question about your past after his response earlier sent shivers of guilt down their spins. But they continued to ask him how you were currently fairing which he would respond with a very short, "She doing fine." to them that could be a mountain of things and their worry continued. Law was the only one allowed into the medical room constantly coming to visit you to give you food and to update you on the crew.

When you opened the door you were surprised to find the hallway empty for the past few days you have been feeling at least one person by the door at all times. You quietly make your way down the hall heading for the cafeteria. As soon as you opened the door you were showered with "WE MISSED YOU!" everyone jumped up surprising you which caused your heart to begin racing again. You took a step back only to feel a strong arm on your back. You whipped your head around to find your Captain smiling kindly at you.

"I told you not to scare her!" Law immediately disciplines his crew scowling at them.

All their faces fall, "We just wanted y/n to know how much we missed them and care for them." Bepo spoke up looking the sadist of them all.

You just laughed and ran in to hug the giant bear. The rest of the crew join in putting you in the center of the group hug. You smile brightly feeling the love and comfort the heart pirates provide.

***

Over the next couple of weeks, you began having nightmares of your master taking you away from the crew or taking the crew away from you. Either way, you woke up in a cold sweat every night. It doesn't help that your gloves have appeared to stop working and you can feel everyone's emotions. If you accidently woke someone up during your nightly terrors you would be hit with their concern. So you tried your best not to wake the other crew mates and would find yourself wandering the halls at night to avoid your dreams. A few mornings Law would find you in his office curled up on your beanbag with a book in hand after he knew he had walked you to the bunks the night before. During that morning he would carefully close the door to allow you to rest while he took care of another task around the ship occasionally using shambles to quietly retrieve items from his office.

Some mornings the crew would find you sleeping in the cafeteria and not know what to do. No one wanted to wake you from your much-needed sleep but everyone's stomachs were grumbling. Law would see the gathering of people in the doorway of the cafeteria and would speak into you sound asleep. Each time he would shamble you to the office on your beanbag and your figure in the cafeteria would be swapped with whichever book sat on your bean bag at the time. He would go to retrieve the book while everyone flooded into the cafeteria. He would return to the office to find you comfortably sleeping on the beanbag.

When you wake up you pretend like nothing happened and nothing is wrong and continue to do your daily tasks but the dark circles under your eyes grow almost matching the ones your captain wears.

Eventually, Law had enough of hearing the crew's concern behind your back and seeing the state you have become. That night he staked out in the office waiting for you to return to avoid your sleep. You predictably entered the office 2 hours after you promised to go to bed. You turned on the lights only to be met with a grouchy captain sitting in your beanbag awaiting your return.

You turn to leave but he uses shambles to swap places with you now standing above you while you huff in the bean bag. "you are worrying the crew." he crosses his arms and leans on his desk. "why haven't you been sleeping?"

You cross your arms in a pout, "I can't sleep." you respond not meeting the eyes of the captain.

"I know that better than anyone. Why don't you tell me about the nightmares." he pried.

You slouch deeper into the bean bag, "I keep seeing Master taking me back or destroying the crew." you admit still refusing to look him in the eyes. "every time I go the sleep he's there, and if I wake someone up then I not only have to deal with my emotions but theirs as well. Everyone's emotions have been so high lately I feel their concern and curiosity. Everyone wanted to know who that man was and why he was threatening me. But if I tell them then they are just going to become more worried for me and I don't want to feel that."

"Have you been wearing your gloves?" he asked concerned.

You tore off the gloves and threw it to him, "They broke."

Law stumbled to catch the gloves to investigate them. He placed them on his hands and felt how light they felt compared to the last time he wore them. He summoned a room that was still extremely small but was much bigger than last time. He peeled off the gloves and looked closer at the stitching the woven sea prism had snapped in a few places limiting their powers.

"So you have been feeling everyone's emotions for the past week?" he finally spoke and you just nodded.

He bent down and placed his hand on your shoulder, "Y/n, you can come to me for anything and we can work out a solution together you don't have to do this alone." you sniffled slightly but nodded. "can you feel my emotions right now?" you turn to meet his eyes and began to absorb his feeling of calmness and confidence. You take a deep breath as your emotions start to mimic his and you can feel yourself calming down. Your eyes shift to grey answering his question. "good you can use my emotions to ground yourself until I can fix your gloves. I promise I can control my emotions enough to remain calm and collected for you."

You smiled gratefully and gave a soft nod. He got up and began to work on your gloves to find a way to stitch the lace prism back together. You watch as he does so as he keeps his promise to remain calm. Feeling his emotion take over yours you begin to fall asleep peacefully for the first time in over a week.

***

Law had a harder time fixing your gloves than he thought he would. The sea prism would start to affect him as he began to stitch and he would have to start over. He eventually had to give up and ask Ikkaku who doesn't have a devil fruit ability to take over the project. Ikkaku had a lot of questions seeing the sea prism laced in your gloves but decided not to pry and happily took on the project.

You followed Law around everywhere as he kept his promise to remain calm. Even in situations where he would usually be stressed he would look over at you and force himself to calm down. When night came he would sit in the office with you until you fell asleep before he would leave you in your peaceful slumber.

Everyone now seeing the bags under your eyes began to clear and the captain's calm nature began to relax again and ease their worry for you happy that you seemed back to normal.

Finally, after a week, Ikkuka finished the gloves. Law tested them confirming their ability to restrain your powers before happily gifting them to you. As soon as you placed the gloves on you could start to feel your own emotions but you couldn't help but miss feeling your captain's emotions and his occasional slip-ups of remaining calm.

You thanked him but continued your new routine of following him around the ship and crashing into the office. Every so often you would remove your gloves to feel your captain's emotions which mostly remained confident when around his crew but the moment behind closed doors is when you could feel his sadness and grief. When you began to feel his sadness rise when he would close himself in the office you would knock on the door and feel his emotion shift to calm and relaxed after seeing your face.

One night while you sat in the office you felt his sadness rise as he spaced out reading a book. You finally asked, "Why do you feel so sad and guilty?"

His head snapped up at your question pulling him out of his zoned out state. His emotions jumped around from startled to confusion until he looked at you and relaxed. He sighed knowing he can't lie to you when your gloves are off, "I have lost a lot of people in my life." he admitted avoiding your gaze. "sometimes I feel guilty because I am still alive when there are so many people who aren't because of me."

You could feel his emotions mixed with sadness and relief finally getting it off his chest. You get up and approach him with a hug from the back making sure not to touch him with your hands. You feel his emotions become surprised followed by relaxed and... Love...

He reached for your hand placed his fingers on top of your own and forced himself to share all his emotions with you. You were taken aback by his feelings for you.

You release from the hug and he turns to face you and watches your eyes shift to pink. Instead of responding you hold your hand out for him to touch and you share your similar emotions with him. The two of you smile before he grabs you by the waist and pulls you in for a kiss.

***

(Technically you can stop here if you want a happy ending. I just didn't know how to stop writing and decided to keep going. )

***

Next Chapter

#trafalgar law #trafalgar d law x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #fem!reader

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nightlyrequiem · 3 months ago

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The Other Side of Paradise

6) Bad Things, Worse Things, Better Things

Cross posted from AO3

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.6, Ch.7, Ch.8, Ch.9, Ch.10, Ch.11

You try to make the best of your life working at a small bakery in a city with rising cartel violence. One slower day, a man starts harassing your coworker. Despite the obvious threat, you stand up to him anyway. Unbeknownst to you, Valeria just so happened to be there to witness it.

A/N- All chapters containing smut will be labeled mature. The fic is fully written with the whole thing on AO3 but chapters on Tumblr will be posted one a day.

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Dual POV, Happy Ending, Plot with Porn, Graphic Violence, Inappropriate Use of a Knife, Masturbation, WLW

Valeria watches her subordinate with narrowed eyes as he delivers a verbal report. There are British soldiers in town.

"...I saw them myself." He continues. "Riding an armored truck with that colonel." Valeria's lips automatically twitch down. Alejandro. She could kill all of his little vaqueros and he still wouldn't cease being a thorn in her side. She has no doubt that he brought them here to try and take her down. Well, he can try all he wants. It's hard to catch someone without a name or face.

"Do you know their names?" She asks. "Descriptions?" The man shakes his head.

"I only saw them; I don't know their names." He says uncomfortably. "I came to tell you about them straight away. One was a white guy with a dumb haircut but the other one..." He trails off. Valeria clenches her jaw impatiently. The other one what? He needs to finish his sentences faster before she just decides he's more useful without a tongue. "He was wearing some kind of mask... a skull, he had a skull on his face."

Valeria frowns. A skull mask? Her nose wrinkles with annoyance. He sounds like an edgy pre-teen boy. Surely Alejandro has higher standards?

'Are you sure they're soldiers?" She asks. The man hesitates before nodding.

"I'm pretty sure they were. They were dressed like soldiers." She sighs, feeling a headache coming on. This is just what she needs. It's always one problem after another.

"Keep an eye out." Valeria orders. She turns and leaves the room. Walking outside to have a smoke.

She lights one and takes a satisfying hit while she thinks. She's going to have to deal with the soldiers. They can't just waltz into her town, her territory. Soldiers are no trouble for her. Nothing but mere pests, really. Valeria's mind drifts to more pleasant thoughts. It's been a few weeks since you and her had gone out to that bar. Since then, you've been speaking almost daily and she's discovering just how easy to read you are. You practically project your thoughts with every look you give her. She can see how much you want her, and who is she to deny you? She just needs to take care of a few things, free up her schedule. Valeria stubs out her cigarette and walks off to her car. Everything will be fine.

Everything just keeps going wrong. Valeria can feel herself trembling with rage. Not only was Hassan and his escorts attacked, but one of her warehouses was raided, the one holding the missiles she only just managed to obtain. Not all of them, at least. Valeria knows better than to keep all her chickens in the same coop. Still, this is a sizable loss for her. Her men were killed, and some of the missiles were repossessed. Hassan made it out at least. The only issue is, she doesn't know who attacked them. The bodies left over were not wearing British uniforms. Valeria didn't recognize them at all.

She takes a deep breath to calm herself down. She'll have to pay the corporal a visit. He's supposed to be a defense against this kind of thing. It's what she's paying him for. Unless someone offered him more money to betray her. An offence she won't take likely, if that's the case. First and foremost, she needs a break. She decides to pay you a visit. You're the only person not actively irritating her. Like always, you're standing at the counter, just waiting for your shift to be over. You look up from the book you're reading when you hear her come in. The easy smile you flash her calms her down a little.

Maybe she can understand why some people in her line of work get married. Going home to someone completely unconnected to the violence and stress must be nice. A buffer, perhaps. Not that Valeria wants to marry you. Not yet anyway. If you prove yourself to be good enough stress relief, she might consider snatching you off the market for good.

"You look stressed." You remark. She is stressed. How kind of you to notice.

"There's been a few... unexpected surprises at work but I'm dealing." She replies smoothly. That's all she's going to say because that's all you need to know. It would be such a shame if you got too curious and stuck your nose someplace it didn't belong. You seem like a good girl though. Good at minding your business.

You lean down and dig around somewhere before setting down a soft round shape. It's a concha.

"I saved the last one for you, just in case you came in today." You beam at her. "I actually took it out of the display case this morning because if I waited, they would've all been bought." You add on quietly. It's not money, or a solution to all of her problems. The last thing on her mind is baked goods. You did something nice for her though, as small as it is, and she appreciates it.

"Thank you." Valeria says, reaching and grabbing the bread roll. Yes, she thinks, she can definitely see the appeal of having someone to return home to after a long day. She sets her free hand down on the counter. As close to yours as she can get without physically touching.

"It's your weekend tomorrow, yes?" Valeria inquires. You shift your hand subtly and it presses against hers.

"It is." You nod. Looking at her expectantly. Valeria has a lot to do and work out, but she's been doing nothing but work lately. No harm could possibly come from spending one night away from the stress. In fact, the one night away might actually add a few years onto her lifespan.

"We should do something then." She hums. Brushing her thumb against your pinky.

"I'm down for whatever." You murmur.

"I know a good club, I'd love to take you there." Valeria lost the desire to go out clubbing as she entered her thirties, but the club she's thinking of is one she frequented often in her younger years. She's feeling rather nostalgic. That, and it's a good atmosphere to for... physical contact.

You smile.

"Sure, that sounds good." You say. Valeria smiles back. She can't rely on work going her way but at least she can rely on you being so agreeable.

"Great, I'll pick you up tomorrow at eight." She hopes it finally goes somewhere. There's an itch she needs scratching. She could probably find someone else to scratch it in the meantime but even though she doesn't care much for relationships she still prefers to have only one person sharing her bed at a time. A night out with you is exactly what she needs to take her mind off of all her current problems.

#valeria garza x reader #valeria garza #cod mw2

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ktwritesstuff · 6 months ago

Text

The Babysitter (a Last of Us fanfic) pt. 8

Title: The Babysitter Fandom: The Last of Us Rating: Mature Characters & Pairings: Joel Miller x Reader Word Count: ~2,000 Summary: An encounter with a familiar face.

Notes: This one has a point of view change at the end. Hope it doesn't throw off the groove, but someone's keeping secrets from us ;)

Winter & Spring

In the coming weeks, Joel and Tommy worked on the shed so that you could preserve the meat the next time one of them shot a deer or goose. In the meantime you drank peppermint tea by the gallon and ate all the berries you could get your hands on.

With the last of the tomatoes boiled down to a measly pint and the garden cleared of bitter greens, you scoured your little library for information on what plants would support a healthy pregnancy. Wild yam was most commonly mentioned so you tore the yellowing botanical illustration from your book and carried it with you on your daily walks. You searched high and low and despaired to realize your pleasant little valley was too rocky to support root vegetables.

By the first frost you had a substantial belly and an appetite to match. You tried not to be greedy, but neither Joel nor Tommy had the heart to let you go hungry, so as your supplies dwindled they starved while your belly grew. As the days grew colder, the icy conditions proved more treacherous as it became harder for you to get around. It wasn’t so cold as to be dangerous, the way it got further north, but it was still much colder than your Texas blood cared for. One morning you woke up to a blanket of snow covering the garden.

You took a spill into the ice cold creek while hunting for the crayfish that burrowed under the rocks. Joel and Tommy stayed up all night stoking the fire just to be sure you didn’t freeze solid. The next morning, Joel put his foot down and insisted on confining you to the house. He worried–as did Tommy, who was far more diplomatic with his concerns–that a wrong step or slip that might otherwise be merely injurious could prove disastrous for you. You agreed to their demands, supposing it was the least you could do under the circumstances, but you weren’t above complaining when the cabin fever set in.

Joel wasn’t quite asleep, but your supply of firewood was dwindling, and the bed was still warm. There was no sense in getting up before dawn. You could hear his stomach growling as he laid in bed beside you, but he wasn’t the only one keeping you awake. You could feel the baby moving, a foot or an elbow pressing hard into your ribs. It wasn’t quite painful, but even now that it was happening more frequently, it still felt utterly strange. It didn’t help that your skin felt so dry and stretched in the winter air.

“Joel,” you whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Give me your hand,” you said.

“What for?”

He sounded irked; you weren’t surprised. Aside from the hunger, he’d barely touched you all winter. He wouldn’t have even shared the bed, if not for his nightmares about you freezing to death in the night. You couldn’t blame him, not really; you weren’t feeling particularly sexual these days. You still had nausea most mornings and laying on your back made your legs go numb.

“Just give it here,” you urged, reaching for him. “Quick.”

You slid his hand between the folds of your robe–one of the only things that still fit–and placed it on the swell of your belly.

“Whoa,” Joel sat up at attention as the baby kicked against his hand and you chuckled. He moved his hand over your stomach, following the path of a tiny foot. “Does that happen a lot?”

“Almost constantly,” you said.

“That’s—shit,” Joel stammered, awestruck.

You had always suspected Joel and Sarah’s mom weren’t together when Sarah was born, but now you realized although he had been a father (and a good one from what you remembered) he had never done this part before. That it was all as new to him as it was to you.

Weeks passed, the snow melted and as the days grew longer you began to notice the first signs of spring. Snowdrops and crocuses poked their heads up along with kale sprouts that had over-wintered. Yellow dandelions polka-dotted the yard and you pulled them up to brew tea and make fritters.

On the first warm day of spring you staged your rebellion, pulling on your boots stuffed with newspapers and declaring that you were going for a walk if it killed you.

“Stay within sight,” Joel warned, although you suspected he was just as happy to get you out of the house as you were to get away from him.

It was harder to get down the hill than you remembered. You tried to brush it off as a product of being cooped up for so long, but it was so pleasant just being outside you were distracted from your worries soon enough. The trees were turning the gorgeous green of the first new growth of the season.

As you walked you caught sight of a spot of red in the brush and realized with delight there was a patch of strawberries ripening among the ferns. You sat right down on the damp earth and began plucking as many berries as you could, shoving them greedily into your mouth, even the palest pink ones that were still quite bitter and astringent. You were so enraptured you didn’t notice someone was approaching until they were right in front of you.

You looked up and there was a woman. She was tall, you guessed somewhere between Tommy and Joel in age. She had long brown hair and held a gun loosely in her right hand; she looked nearly as surprised as you. You froze, eyes wide, paralyzed by fear.

“Easy,” she said, holding her hands out. “Easy–”

You screamed, struggling to push yourself to your feet, scrambling on all fours through the mud back up the hill, too top heavy to push yourself upright.

“Joel! Tommy! Help!”

“Woah,” the woman shouted. “I’m not here to hurt you–”

You were impressed, honestly, by how fast Joel managed to move, sprinting down the hill, rifle in hand. He pushed you behind him, gun raised. The woman raised her weapon.

“It’s fine,” she said firmly. “Everything’s fine. No problems.”

“You’re on my land,” Joel growled. “I call that a problem. What are you doing here?”

You couldn’t see Joel’s face as you cowered behind him dutifully, but you felt like you could read his mind as the standoff progressed. You had made it through winter by the skin of your teeth; you were just getting back on your feet. The garden would feed you for the summer, but everything you had–food, shelter, safety–depended on no one finding you.

“My group sent me to look for food,” the woman said. “I saw your strawberries from the trail. That’s all.”

By then Tommy, who must have been further off when you called, was coming down the hill and the woman–realizing she was out-manned and out-gunned–held her hands up in parley. She cocked her head to one side, peering at you, Joel’s dwindling frame doing a poor job of concealing your bump.

“How far are you?”

“Six months,” you said, only for Joel to shush you.

“Really?” The woman looked surprised.

“What’s it to you?” Joel snapped.

“She looks a little big for 24 weeks is all,” she said. “Every woman is different. Probably nothing to worry about.”

You felt Joel’s body tense. Six months was only an estimate, of course. You knew you were getting big, you moved slowly, your back hurt, your feet swelled, but it had never occurred to you that something could be wrong until now.

“My name’s Tess, by the way,” the woman waited for you to introduce yourselves, but was met with silence. “And, uh, which one of you is the father?”

“None of your fucking business,” Joel snapped, which was as good as a confession as any. For a moment, you thought she looked disappointed.

“What brings you through here, anyway?” Tommy asked, changing the subject before Joel inevitably shot her for asking too many questions.

“My group’s heading north,” Tess explained. “You have a radio?”

You did, but you only turned it on every few weeks to try to save what battery you had.

“Boston QZ lost a third of their population over winter,” Tess explained. “They’re looking for healthy people who can work. They’ve got supplies, doctors, schools–”

You’re sure that must have sounded like a dream to some, but after Atlanta you were in no hurry to be crammed into another QZ. You hoped Tess and her people would get there safely. You found yourself liking her; you didn’t know many folks who could stare down Tommy and Joel and stay calm and collected.

“I guess you better get going then,” Joel said, still peering at her over the barrel of the rifle.

“Well,” Tess gave a long, drawn-out sigh, tucking her gun into her waistband. “I was looking for food. I was hoping you might share your strawberries.”

“Those are my wife’s strawberries,” Joel said.

You blushed inadvertently, hearing him call you his wife for the first time and realizing–though you didn’t have church bells or wedding rings–it felt right. It felt true.

“Well, Sweetpea?” Joel relaxed his grip on the rifle, turning to look at you.

“She can have some,” you nodded.

“Thank you,” Tess said, flashing you a smile so warm you couldn’t help but smile back. “Do you think you could come down and show me where I should pick?”

Joel shot you an exasperated look, waving you on as he and Tommy watched closely.

“Here is okay,” you said, pointing to a section of the plants that you hadn’t entirely picked over.

“Can you show me how?” Tess said. “I don’t want to hurt your plants.”

“It’s not hard,” you said, rolling your eyes, crouching down to pinch one of the berries from its stem.

Tess leaned over, watching closely.

“Are you okay?” she whispered, leaning into your ear. “Do you want to be with these men?”

“Oh,” you gasped, and laughed nervously. “Yes. I’m okay. They’re my family–”

Remembering Atlanta, you thought better of it and tried again.

“I mean, we’ve been together forever, since before, you know. We take care of each other. I like it here.”

Tess nodded along with your explanation. “No offense. You understand why I had to ask.”

“I do,” you agreed. “And I appreciate it. It’s kind of you.”

“So,” Tess said. “Which one is Tommy and which one is Joel?”

“Tommy’s the younger one with the hair,” you explained, soto voce. “And Joel is the older one with the sourpuss.”

“I see,” Tess chuckled. “He calls you Sweetpea?”

“My childhood nickname,” you explained. “To be honest I’m not even sure if they remember my Christian name, but it’s nice to have a reminder of home, you know.”

“And where is home, for you?”

You told Tess all about Texas and she told you about growing up outside Chicago. Despite your better judgment, you recounted a sterilized version of your time in Atlanta, and she reassured you weren’t responsible for your troubles there. You had forgotten how much you had enjoyed the company of other women, and the more you talked with Tess the more charming and likable you found her.

“I want Tess to come to the house for lunch,” you announced, catching Joel and Tommy off guard. You felt bold, stating it as a fact instead of asking permission, but it was as much your house as it was theirs.

“It’d like that, too,” Tess agreed.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Joel protested.

“I want her to come,” you insisted.

Joel looked to Tommy, who shook his head.

“Consider me Switzerland,” he said.

“I said no,” Joel growled.

“I work just as hard as you and Tommy,” you said, probably harder considering you cooked and cleaned and foraged while lugging around an extra thirty pounds of baby Miller. “I want to have a friend. I deserve to have a friend.”

“This is a bad idea,” Joel warned.

Lunch, like every meal for the last few weeks, was watered-down soup of a scant handful of beans and barley, the first young leaves of swiss chard, garlic mustard, with a chickweed and violet blossom salad on the side. It wasn’t much, but Tess was gracious enough to make it out to be the best thing she had eaten in ages. If her travels north had been anything like yours, it very well might have been.

After your meal you felt the day’s excitement had taken its toll and were content to lie down in the bedroom while Joel escorted Tess out of your valley.

Tess and Joel spent most of the walk in silence, each one casting sideways glances

“Listen, we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” Tess said, carefully picking her way through the greenbriers along the road. “I think we can help each other.”

“I don’t need your help,” Joel said.

“Maybe not,” Tess nodded. “But I believe you want what’s best for that girl and your baby. I’m not going to lie, we could use you and your brother out there on the road. We’re no saints, by any stretch of the imagination, but we’re decent people. About as good as it gets out here. We’ll do right by you and your family, I promise you that.

“Because the way I see it, you’ve got six, eight weeks max and that baby is coming, ready or not. She’s young, she’s strong, and there’s a good chance everything goes right. But if even one thing goes wrong, wouldn’t you rather have a doctor there?”

Joel stood in silence, staring at the forest floor. The muscles of his jaw clenched, the very cadence of his breath galloping along with his racing mind.

“I am not trying to scare you,” Tess pressed. “But I’ve got a cesarean scar that says even with the best care, sometimes things don’t go as planned. Come to Boston with us. Get that girl some real care–you owe her that much.”

“I’ll think about it,” Joel agreed. “I have to talk to Tommy, but I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Baby’s First Taglist: @stilllivindue2spite, @amethystwonders11, @teacupcollectorr, @jbaby2, @flyingmushroomsss, @boysddontcry, @cated18, @sunnycamm

#joel miller x reader #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #joel miller #pedro pascal #tlou

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missbubblesoda · 1 year ago

Text

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (17)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 4.1k

“Let me see.” You took the notebook from him, your head resting on his shoulder as your eyes scanned the paper. “Oh! Very impressive. I can understand almost everything.”

“Well, if you want to get better at something all you have to do is practice.” He held the paper away from his face and tilted it slightly, as if trying to get a new perspective. “Practice and practice every time you get the chance to. And, sitting on this bed all day, I can confidently say that I have had way too many of those.”

You stared at him as he rolled his wrist and went back to writing. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for being so strict about the things he was or wasn’t allowed to do. However, this thought process was already all too familiar to your brain, and you had learned how to deal with it over course of the last few weeks: All you had to do was remind yourself that everything was for his own good, and the guilt would automatically start to fade.

You were taking care of him exactly like the doctor had advised, and if the satisfied nods he gave to himself whenever he came to check up on the Commander were anything to go by, you were happy to report it all seemed to be working. The horrible fevers were finally gone, and so was the discharge from his wound. And, not only that, but every time he held your hand, you could tell his grip was getting firmer and stronger.

Life seemed to be slowly going back to normal, not just for him, but for everyone at the headquarters. Well, at least as normal as things could get after everything that had happened. The incident with Reiner and Bertolt had taken a toll on every member of the 104th Training Corps, especially on Eren and Connie, who were the closest to them, even though they wouldn’t admit to it. And, although you hadn’t seen Krista since the Summer, when she had been sent to Squad Leader Miche’s base, you could only imagine how affected she had to be by Ymir’s absence.

And, speaking of Squad Leader Miche, you couldn’t believe he was gone. And not only that, but the circumstances of his passing were downright traumatizing. You had struggled to fall asleep for several nights after filing his death report. The testimonies of those who witnessed th-

“What do you think of this one?” The Commander’s voice pulled you out of the disturbing headspace you had slowly started to sink into.

“I think it’s not fair that your handwriting is prettier than mine when that isn’t even your dominant hand.”

He had been practicing how to write with his left hand for weeks now. That, along with daily walks along the forest path, which by the way had started as a way for him to get some fresh air, but that now had turned into his excuse to wander around the castle supervising everything and everyone, were the only things he was allowed to do under your strict care. But now that the risk of his wound reopening was minimal, you couldn’t wait for him to go back to his routine. You knew that would help him recover faster.

He also received regular visits from Captain Levi and Captain Hange, and they would plot things for hours behind closed doors. Fortunately, you didn’t have to worry about the Commander overexerting himself, because Captain Levi was as much, if not much more, inflexible than you were about what the Commander was or wasn’t allowed to do. You knew he wouldn’t hesitate cutting the meetings short if needed.

As for you and what your days looked like lately, well, you had practically moved to the office. If your mother knew, she would probably say you were married to your job. In fact, there were only two places someone looking for you would need to go in order to find you: your desk or his bed.

During the day, your hand never stopped gliding over papers and seemingly endless reports, and you only got up from your chair if you needed his signature or something from another department. And, during the night, well, you spent most of them with him.

You had stopped sleeping in your room; choosing to stay and keep him company instead. Although his body was recovering well, you were still concerned about his mental health. He was strong and resilient. You knew that. In his time as the 13th Commander, and throughout his whole life really, he had probably overcome numerous tragic situations like these, but the thing is…never without a limb. This was a first. And his dominant hand at that, the one that he needed for virtually everything. So, all things considered, you had decided to accompany him, to stand by him, as he learned to go about his day using his left hand instead.

But, as inappropriate as these thoughts were in nature, and as ashamed as you felt for having them in these moments when everyone, on a personal level and the Scouts as a whole, was going through tough times, you had to admit it was hard to spend most nights in his room, on his bed, breathing his scent, all while not being able to climb on top and have him make love to you.

There were nights when you felt as if you were fighting some sort of addiction, and, at the risk of sounding dramatic, you were pretty confident this was some type of withdrawal experience you were having. The half of the winter holidays you hadn’t spent tormenting yourself over his ex-lover, you had spent fingering yourself to the melodic sound of his voice whispering your name, rubbing your clit to the indecent wet noises he had made when sliding in and out of you that night.

Some nights, especially the coldest ones, when you would snug closer to him and bury your face in the crook of his neck, you had to confess it had taken everything in you not to kiss his inviting skin, not to trace that tempting vein with your tongue. And, needless to say, it had taken everything in you not to reach inside his pants and let your hand tell him how much you had missed him.

And, for some reason you couldn’t explain, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about his thick, remarkable eyebrows locked in a frown of concentration, as his impossibly blue eyes stared at you from between your thighs, and his tongue told your clit all sorts of secrets.

Sadly, however, all you could do was imagine what that would feel like. Because the doctor had been very clear: Refrain from any violent movement or strenuous activity that could hurt his wound. And although, you didn’t ask, you were certain that sex, especially the type you craved and needed, fell under one or both of those categories.

“Well, like I said, practice can only make you better.” He said suddenly, and you honestly had forgotten what he was even replying to. He looked so innocent, eyes glued on his notebook, his inexperienced left hand trying its best to hold the pen, and the remnants of a smile still present on his lips. You knew you shouldn’t, but maybe you could get away with blaming his cotton shirt and the way it clung to the muscles of his broad, sculpted chest; or his tongue and that innocent lick it gave his lips every so often… It all reminded you of a question you wanted to ask that night, when he first made love to you.

“Is that why you are so good in bed?” The moment those words left your mouth, and even before that really, you scolded yourself. You knew you shouldn’t, but you also didn’t know better. Both, your pussy and you, were practically starving, and in such critical condition, decisions are not necessarily rational.

You looked up at him, chin resting on his shoulder, your eyes widening out of hunger more than curiosity. “Did you get a lot of practice over the years?”

He turned to look at you, the way his eyes started devouring your lips instantly getting things tingling in all the right places, especially the very specific bundle of nerves between your legs. It was honestly ridiculous how ready you were for him all the time.

“I hope you’re aware of how unfair that is.” He said, his lips looking more inviting than ever. “Saying that when we both know you are not going to let me touch you.”

You had to admit it was unfair. You were not clueless, you had indeed noticed the way his longing fingers would invite themselves under your nightgown in the late hours, or the way they would linger on your thigh for dangerous periods of time when you were cuddling. And you were also aware of how much self-restraint had been required in order to decline the invitation he was so readily extending. It would have been so easy for you to act on it, you knew he would have welcomed your tongue or your hand gladly.

You sighed and climbed on top of him, choosing to take responsibility for your actions. “I know, and I’m sorry. This one is totally on me.” You couldn’t hide the smile that took over your lips, and in all honesty, you didn’t even try. You locked your hands behind his neck, and lost your gaze into those eyes you would never get tired of seeing. Those deep blue eyes that were to your skin what raindrops to the cobblestones on the hottest day of the summer. And you wondered what harm could a short, sweet kiss do?

“Just a kiss. Okay?” You warned, not even waiting for him to nod before closing the distance between you.

It was not like your lips hadn’t touched at all in the last few weeks. Since you had been staying in his room, of course you wouldn’t pass on the opportunity to kiss him good morning and good night. But it wasn’t the same. Because there was something about finally getting to sit on his lap again, something about the firm grip of his hand on the back of your neck, something about the way he was able to change and control your breathing with a single movement of his tongue. It was like going home after spending an entire life away.

And for a moment, somewhere between his hand pushing your face even closer to his, your mouth opening wider and his tongue reaching deeper, just as the first moan escaped your lips, you felt like you were in your little bubble again. Closed off from the rest of the world, from the loss, the tragedy, the mourning, your insecurities, and the weight of his responsibilities as commander.

And you wondered if it would be possible for the bubble to burst from the inside out. Because your chest was now so full. So full that nothing, not even air, could fit anymore. And maybe that was the reason behind your erratic, shallow breathing; and why you felt as if you were drowning in air.

In his lips.

Your brain was desperately asking you to breathe, but any plea would be effectively hushed by the obscene sounds now leaving your mouth. The rest of your body couldn’t hear the orders, and that would explain why you were completely unable to stop kissing him. And, judging by the way his kiss had turned messy, his lips now devouring the corners of your mouth and your jaw indiscriminately, you could tell he was also finding it hard to stop himself.

His fingers, now completely entangled with your hair, made you think of how different this all felt. So different from the gentle, sweet lovemaking he had showed you the first night you were together. This time, there was something in the air, a raw intensity in the moment, something that was now making his lips abuse a particular spot on your neck, and your fingers, grasp his soft, golden strands.

“Goodness, I miss you so much.” You said, a whisper, the only thing that was able to come out of your breathless lungs. Your mouth opened in a silent moan, as you desperately gasped for air.

And maybe it was the way he started undoing the top buttons of your shirt, or the fact that his face was now buried in the space between your breasts, but you started to feel possessive very quickly. And a very specific person came to mind. She didn’t have a face, because you had never met her. But your insecurities knew her personally.

You looked down and contemplated the way his mouth ravaged your cleavage, his eyes closed and brow furrowed as his lips sucked on the soft, plump skin of your breasts. There was something about seeing his face next to the laces of your bra, and your fingers laced into the base of his soft, blond hair. It hit you: It was your chest his face was buried into. It was the lacework of your underwear the one providing the frame to his gorgeous face. It was your breasts the ones making his brow furrow like that. It was your scent the one making him press his nose so desperately against your skin. It was your body the one he was going feral over.

This was your man. Yours only.

“Commander, I hate the thought of you thinking about a-anyone else.” You said in between moans, moans that his tongue needed to take full responsibility for. “I- I hate to think about your hand sliding under- ah” Speaking of his hand, the way it suddenly squeezed your breast made it increasingly impossible for you to speak. “Under her skirt, or your lips giving her anything other than a quick, a-and very uninterested smile.” You managed to confess, and you wouldn’t blame him if he started to wonder where the fuck had all this come from. After all, he had no way of knowing about the mental breakdowns you had over the possibility of him still loving someone else. “I want your eyes on me. And me only.”

“Well, those are not thoughts you need to concern yourself with.” He stopped ravaging your breasts, and you found yourself hoping it was only momentarily, choosing to lock eyes with you instead. Goodness, you swore there were times that blue could burn so hot. “Because, as far as skirts go…” His fingers trailed along the curve of your ass, until they reached your thigh. “There’s only one my fingers want to slide under.” You took a sudden, violent breath. “It was light blue, silky, tight and so sinfully tempting…”

“I wore it just for you.” You reminded him, hands letting go of his hair and resting on his chest for support as you leaned forward to whisper into his ear. “And I can wear it for you again, anytime you want.” Or I can wear nothing at all, you were tempted to add.

“You know, when I saw you in that little dress,” his lips curved into a subtle smirk, while his hand drew dangerous patterns on your leg, “I had so many thoughts. And each one was more indecent than the other.”

“Like what?” Your eyes bored into his, eagerly waiting for an answer they already had a pretty good guess about.

“I wondered if you would mind my fingers sneaking in through that slit.” You gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly, as if you were about to fall and it was the only thing available to hold on to. “The one in your dress.” He said as his fingertips caressed the tight fabric of your jeans. “And despite how perfect it looked on you, I couldn’t stop thinking that it would look even better on the floor, discarded and forgotten,” he leaned in to whisper, soft and slow against your lips, “along with your panties, in case you were wearing any.”

An obscene whimper escaped your lips as soon as those words left his, and vivid images of him pulling your soaked underwear down and immediately burying his face in between your legs made you clench around nothing. He had talent. You had to admit. So much talent to get into the deepest, most intimate and sensitive parts of yourself with such immaculate smoothness.

“I was, but very little.” You confessed, holding his gaze, as his hand squeezed your thigh tightly. You knew it was just waiting for you to grant him entrance.

So you did.

“Just like the one I’m wearing now.”

Immediately after those words, you felt his hand on you, cupping your pussy; the sudden contact making you groan loudly. His lips, now grazing against your ear, barely touching as they whispered:

“You don’t know how much I want to make love to you right now.” But you knew, the yearning touch of his hand between your legs, fondling you, gave it away. His hot breath in your ear was disarming, and you had no choice but to lean in, to melt into the sweet nothings he had begun to whisper with that smoky voice of his. “I wish you’d let me…” He took your earlobe in between his teeth, pulling it softly. “Because I can’t stop thinking about how good you feel…” You writhed and squirmed against his hand “…And about all the things I would do to you.”

His voice was deeper than the forest, and his words felt like velvet in your ears.

“What things?” You took shallow, loud breaths; eyes closed, basking in all the sensations offered by his hot breath against the sensitive skin of your ear. “What things would you do to me, Commander?” You asked, and you could hear a very faint voice inside your head scolding you for feeding into this. And you tried to remind yourself of the doctor instructions, you really did, but your mouth wasn’t cooperating. It chose to let out another desperate sound instead, one that came directly from between your legs, where your soaked panties were proof of how much you anticipated his answer. You never knew you could need someone’s cock this badly.

“Anything to make you feel good, like you deserve.” His hand, still between your legs all this time, gave you a not-so-gentle squeeze. “Princess.”

You moaned loudly, unable to stop your hips from rolling on his lap. You had to admit that last word sounded exceptionally melodic on his lips.

“Just tell me what you want me to do to you and I will.”

And the honest answer left your mouth before you could stop it.

“I want you to taste me, Commander.” You said, and not in a shy way, as you opened your eyes to look straight into his. You took notice of his pretty lips, now slightly parted, and couldn’t help but imagine how soft they would feel between your legs instead. “I want you to make me come.” You slid your hand down his strong, solid chest, as you leaned forward to confess your fantasy. “With your tongue only.” You could feel him harden under your words, his excitement deliciously poking at your inner thigh, making you repeat your wish. “Please make me come, Commander.”

He studied your face, as your heart restlessly awaited for his response. And, although you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, you could tell, thanks to the desperate squirming of your hips against his erection, that you needed him between your legs immediately, and that any part of his body would be welcomed.

“Is that so? And where would that be?” He asked after a while, his velvety voice sliding into your ear, and reaching every inch of your body. And although, you were certain he had perfectly understood what you meant, who were you to deny him the explicit answer to that question?

“Against your lips, Commander.” You confessed, stealing a glance at those very lips you wished to be devoured by. “In your tongue. All over your face.”

“So sweet.” His hand finally slipped inside your pants, not even bothering to unbutton your jeans. “I bet you taste so sweet.”

You shivered under the icy blue of his eyes, or maybe it was because of the cold fingertips now touching the wet fabric of your panties, delicately playing with your clit.

“So warm.” He complimented you.

“So pretty.” His fingers traced your slit gently, from bottom to top. “Just as those sounds you make.”

You smiled, closing your eyes, before throwing your head back, granting his lips full access to your neck. And just as they went back to sucking on that same spot from earlier, his fingers pushed your panties to the side and boldly slid inside your wet folds.

You jerked your hips on instinct, moaning at the exquisite intrusion. You wanted his tongue to make you come, but goodness, you loved being fingered by him. You loved to have his middle and ring finger inside, sliding in and out with such dexterity, controlling your breath as well as the sounds that came out of you.

“Fuck, I love to have your fingers inside me.” You lowered your head and moaned against his shoulder, trying not to be too loud in the middle of the day, when there were people walking the corridors just some feet away. But it was hard, the sitting position you were in allowed you to move in a way you could get his fingers as deep and fast as you needed. “Deeper, Commander. Please.”

As his fingers pushed further inside your hole, you realized you could be here all day. “You feel so good right there, Commander. Yes, just like that ah-” Or maybe not. Because the pleasant warmth that started to build up in your lower belly when he curled a finger inside, and his thumb started circling your clit, told you that you wouldn’t last long.

“Fuck, Commander, you’re going to make me come. I-I’m so close.” Your forehead was resting against his shoulder, and all you could hear was the wet sounds escaping from between your legs.

Until, all of a sudden, his fingers stopped moving. And, before you could react, you felt his lips against your ear.

“Lie down and spread your legs for me, princess.”

You would have been frustrated by the disrespectful way in which he pulled his fingers out of you, just mere seconds before your orgasm. You would have, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t be mad when his tongue was about to make all your dreams come true. So you leaned back, propping yourself up on your elbows. And, doing as you were told, you spread your legs wide open for him, as your fingers impatiently reached for the button of your pants. But, just as you were about to undo them, he placed his hand over yours.

You looked up to find out what was wrong, and when you locked eyes and he silently, and rather commandingly, shook his head, you understood. He would take care of it all, and everything left for you to do was sit back and enjoy.

As you closed your eyes and let your head fall back, a mix of pleasure and anticipation made your lips curve delightedly.

“Erwin.” You shut your eyes wide open, completely freezing on the spot when you heard something you weren’t expecting.

Captain Levi’s unmistakable voice.

The knock on the door seemed to be the sign your muscles needed in order to start functioning again, because then, you jumped off the bed. Your hands, completely at a loss, didn’t know if they should button up your shirt or fix your hair first.

“Come in.” The Commander said seconds before Captain Levi’s face appeared at the door.

He eyed you suspiciously before turning to the Commander and doing the same. You then saw his lips separate and his tongue move around his mouth as if trying to choose which words to say.

“Who’s in charge of running this place if you both are busy doing whatever it is that you were doing?”

“Sir, I apologize, sir. I- I was on lunch break, sir. I will go back to the office right now.” You nodded to both the Commander and Captain Levi before retreating back to your desk, actually surprised you could walk, given the throbbing dissatisfaction you were now carrying between your legs.

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