#but also i don't want to put her through the torture that is dai's story ahah

[hiddenbeks]

they don't know i'm planning major changes to my da worldstate,,

[chouxsardine]

Coming back to me---Jake Kiszka x reader

Summary: You miss him terribly, you wish he were here. Unexpectedly, there he is---Jake walking on you masturbating and you spill some more.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 4082

Warnings: 18+! Minors DNI, female masturbation, unprotected penetrative p in v sex, explicit use of derogatory terms, sexual fantasy, allusion of exhibitionism, implict soft dom!Jake, guitar worship(??) (you can already tell it's a lot and I'm going to hell for this...let me know if I've missed any)

Genre: smut, slight angst with agonizingly sweet fluff, slight hurt/comfort, agonizingly romantic Jake

Author's note: This is my second try on writing smut. I tried to be a lot bolder this time. I want this to be sweet and spicy and damn it is enjoyable and torturing for me to write. What an experience. I intend to dig further into this, so let's consider this as Part 1 of improper guitar use fantasy (more on it's way) I really really hope you enjoy this. If you want a visual for the short film mentioned, （which is also 18+!! you don't need it to enjoy the story but it's a very interesting piece) here's the link to that scene: Amante Menguante (or watch its full version in Talk to Her (2002), 1:1:01-1:1:06); That's all--Dig in :))

🎧: Baby’s Coming Back to Me by Jarvis Cocker; Homesick by Sleeping At Last

-----------------------------------

It wasn’t the film that turns you on; it’s him—it’s always him. The film only provides you with the idea.

It was a Friday afternoon, and you are mostly certain that you are going to spend the weekend alone again. Jake is out of town for a photoshoot and an interview for some magazine afterward. The time is too tight for a roundtrip back home. You clicked on a random movie to put on as background noise. It’s Talk to Her, which you have seen a long time ago and only have a vague memory of. You do remember there’s a nice song in it.

What you didn’t remember is the mise en abyme in its latter half, and you also certainly didn’t expect you to start touching yourself during it. The black and white silent film is titled Amante Mengunte, translated as The Shrinking Lover—the hero, Alfredo, drank a potion invented by his scientist girlfriend, which caused him shrinking to the size of a thumb. He is small enough to wander around on his girlfriend’s body while she is asleep. One day, he goes for a walk on her breasts, gives her a sweet orgasm in her dreams by climbing inside her vagina, and becomes part of her forever.

You catch your hand midway as it inches towards your mound. You felt embarrassed at first, getting all hot and bothered from just seeing almost any sex scenes like some horny teenager, but you know there’s something more to it. The gush of desperate longing wells in the pit of your stomach. You miss Jake so much that the idea of keeping him in you so that you never have to be apart seems enticing. The thought scares and arouses you at the same time. You press your knees together, the familiar swelling in between your legs throbs and spreads. You know exactly what you need.

Being led by your desire, you scamper downstairs to Jake’s studio—the place that feel most like him in the whole house. Simply putting your hand on the door handle sends a buzzing current through your body. The whole action has an excitement of forbidden secrecy. It is not that you are not allowed here, quite the opposite—Jake loves having you in his studio, calling you his muse, asking you just to be there doing random stuff like going through his vinyls or reading while he strums the guitar, like you are some model posing for his artwork. However, being here alone without him makes you feel like an intruder.

Upon pushing open the door, the musky, masculine scent whirls towards you. Given the time that Jake has spent down here, the room still smells awfully like him even after the many days that he was gone. The dampness of the basement reminds you of Jake’s hair freshly washed after a shower. The fresh bergamot cushions the hidden spiciness of black pepper that tingles the upper palate of your mouth like a sensual tongue during a teasing kiss. You inhale greedily before closing the door behind you, not wanting the smell to dissipate.

You turn on your laptop and connect it to the projector in the back corner of the room. With trembling fingers you plug in a silver flash drive and click on the folder labeled with a guitar emoji.

This is probably one of your biggest secrets. You have been collecting clips of Jake’s performance that are circling on social media, some shot by professionals and some by fans. (You prefer the ones by fans though; they always have the best angles and manage to capture the hottest moments. After all, you are just one of them before you start dating Jake.) And you have been editing the videos together, making a personal documentary of Jake’s performance. So far, the length of the film has reached 17 minutes, and you still have more clips patiently lying in the footage library.

You waste no more time clicking the play button. As the bright light shines through the small transparent lens on the projector, the video comes to life on the wall in front of you. You drop down to your knees.

It starts with the clip of Norwegian Wood. You like to ease yourself into it, despite already being slithery between your fold. Watching Jake play the acoustic guitar tenderizes and relaxes you. Each note, crisp and mellifluous, drips from the strings; the misty and ethereal background sound resonates in the stadium, adding to the ambience. As if the descent of a deity, Jake walks into the light as the cheering and applauding grows louder. You let out a soft sigh. Although much sweeter and mellower than its electric counterpart, the acoustic guitar dallies with your nerves. Thanks to the inadvertent little things that let Jake’s domination shine through—the way he moves the cable out of his way with a single flick of his wrist, the way his hand moves away from the strings to quickly rub the sweat off on his pants and adjust the waistline, the way he sticks out one foot to tap the pedal—every single move is a stimuli that rouses a response from your body, reminding you of how he slaps the outside of your thigh when you are squirming a bit too much under his tongue, how he spreads your release on your lower belly when he pulls out his fingers, how he nudges your knees apart and the cool air makes your clit quiver…

The music changes, and you’ve watched the video enough times to know that the next clip is the solo to The Weight of Dreams. You chose that particular video because of how unrelenting it is. For almost seven minutes, the ruthless grip of the music washes your mind empty. You stroke your hood up and down, feeling the flesh pushing down on your clit. You try, albeit futilely, to match your speed with the beat of the music. You lift up your head and gawk at Jake’s fingers tapping and plucking the strings, the muscles of his forearm flexing and the veins pulsing. The rhythm he wrings out of the instrument drips down your throat, gliding through your fold. You scuffs closer to the wall. You miss his fingers, the callouses; the ridge that separates the hardened skin from the soft slightly scrapes your walls and occasionally grazes your clit. In slight frustration, you slam one hand against the wall for leverage, leaning forward for more friction.

The overwhelming desire, plus the whining of the guitar, must have muffled your other senses. You are completely oblivious when the door opens behind you.

Jake throws the car in the driveway and almost trips as he kicks his shoes off at the doorway. A delightful change of plans allows him to come back home for the weekend. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way your face lights up when he surprises you. To his dismay, the house is eerily quiet. Your coat and bag are both hanging by the door. He walks into the living room—the film is still playing on TV, now with the credit rolling; you blanket is bunched up into a messy pile, obviously being yanked aside; the bedroom and the washroom doors are wide open, showing no signs of you. He was about to pull out his phone when he hears the muffled melody coming from downstairs.

He could never mistake the sound of his own riff. The thought of you listening to his music when he’s away strokes his ego in the best way. He smiles to himself as he pushes open the door. The sight in front of him makes him gulp. Blood rushes to the lower half of his body.

The projector’s bright light and the video on the wall are the only light sources in the room. He could only see the right side of your face from where he is standing. But that is enough to make his dick harden. Your eyes are closed, mouth slightly agape, with your jaw slack. Your hand is buried in your underwear, the bulge created by your fingers trembling with the circular movements. The blue light illuminates your face, softens your features, and bathes you in a holy glow. With your chin tilted up and your knees pressed, it looks as if you are kneeling in front of an altar, waiting to receive some religious blessing. And there it is, the image of him in front of you, playing on stage, shredding the guitar.

Making as little noise as possible, he closes the door and makes a bee line to your laptop. He presses on the volume button until the sound is completely muted. Sensing the change, you open your eyes and almost jump out of your skin at the sight of Jake standing behind you.

“Jake, I—” Before your hand spring out of your panties, you feel a warm and firm weight on your shoulder, holding you right in place.

“Keep going.”

His hand stays there for two more heartbeats, silently restating the command, as if he knows you intend to get up. You have half a heart to protest, but you quickly yield. Seeing him shatters your judgement and your sense of shame. Rarely do dreams come true, and when they do, it’s stupid to shut the door in its face. Your fingers dig deeper, picking up the speed.

“Eyes on me, love.”

The nickname muttered in his raspy voice has your head shoot up. You watch as he walks to his guitar stand, picks up his Gibson, and plugs it into the amp.

“I say there’s no need for a mirage now that yours truly is right here,” he turns off the projector and flicks on the backlit panel lights. The room is now shrouded in a puny indigo glow. “Am I right, my dear?”

You swallow thickly. Usually, this is when Jake expects an audible answer from you. But he is particularly lenient towards your reticence today.

“Now, where did we left off?” he speaks in a low mumble. He glances at your laptop screen before shutting it off. “Ah, Meeting the Masters. Very well.”

The throbbing between your legs now matches the thumping of your heart. Each contraction directly pumps blood to your clit, ballooning up the inflamed fervidity. You feel the bundle of nerves getting softer and spongier as you get wetter. Your insides ripple as you watch Jake pushes up the neck of the guitar as the trill of notes spills. Even in your murky state of mind, you recognizes that he is improvising by adding twist and turns spontaneously.

“I can hear the gears in your mind turning,” Jake tilts his head as he studies you through hooded eyes. “And it’s interfering with the music.”

He speaks to your pussy the same way he speaks to his guitar.

“Now, tell me what you are thinking. Entertain me with some of your thoughts, baby doll,” the music halts as he stands in front of you. Lifting up your chin, his thumb brushes across your bottom lip. “I’ve missed your voice, y/n. Talk to me.”

It sounded more like a plea instead of a command. Hearing that he misses you too warms up your heart. The pent-up grievance wells up to your throat, pressing a whine out of you: “I miss you so much…I-I imagine you are here.”

Jake hums encouragingly: “Be more specific, love. How, exactly?”

Dirty talk was never your metier. Jake is the talker in bed. He is fully conversant with your body as well as the effect that each of his moves has on you; you’ve always assumed he knows exactly what you want, and he’s always been correct. However, he is determined to push you further today. Seeing your hesitation, he decides to help you out.

“Am I there? Are you watching me?”

“Y-yes,” You take a deep breathe. “I am in the stadium. You..you are playing on stage.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Just you, only you. You are playing, and I am in the pit, by the barricade. And I get wet. I kneel down, just like—like I am doing now.” Your fingers flinch away from your clit, the feeling a bit too intense for you to continue the words.

“I am touching myself as I watch you play so perfectly, but you…you are not looking at me.”

Jake lets out a pitiful coo: “awww, I’m being mean, am I? Ignoring my sweet girl?”

“N-no!!” You quickly deny, shaking your head frantically. If you are in your normal mindset, what you are about to say would make you burst, but the fluttering sensation down there is burning a trail of wildfire straight up to your brain; the stiff string in your mind uncoils around the pole of shame as the next sentence fall from your lips hurriedly: “It’s me, I’m seeking emotional validation because I’m such an attention whore.”

Upon hearing that, Jake’s heart clenches. He knows that you are deep in your head and whatever you say now are probably some of the most cathartic and earnest words he will ever hear from you. The words revealing your deepest desire, your long-repressed yearning for him. While flattered by the love and devotion, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt hearing your utter self-degradation. His grip on the guitar tightens, and the base of his thumbnail pales. He almost relents, wanting to scoop you up in his arms, carry you to bed, and adore you with kisses. But you are not finished.

“The gravel is grazing my knees and there will be scratches and bruises after. I finger myself. I close my eyes and imagine it is you doing it…you fucking me with your music. I imagine your fingers fucking my pussy the same way they move across the fret board and strum the strings,” now you find yourself unable to stop—the words plummeting out of you, one after another. Your fingers still dance around your throbbing clit, rubbing your labia up and down faster, drawing breathy moans.

“Haah.. Aaah…Wh-when I look up, I saw myself being projected onto those giant screens on both sides of the stage, the camera zooms in on my face…so, ah, fuck, I am watching you…and me fucking myself at the same time. Oh, please, Jake—” Your hips fall back down to your heels and you drop your head in defeat. Your movements lost its rhythm.

“Keep talking.” Jake paces towards you. You can only see the tip of his sock-clad toes and the way they slightly dig into the carpet. Your hand involuntarily reaches for him, holding onto his ankles first and then slowly creeping upwards. He bends at the waist, the guitar hanging from his shoulder, its neck knocking at your collarbone. His lips graze your ear, a mere whisper reverberates like thunder: “Go on, what else?”

You bite back more moans. “Uh…hum…The people, the people around me. They t-take out their phones and start recording and taking pictures of me.”

“Really, do they? How do you feel about that?”

“Oh God. There’s…I can hear so much…so many clicks and clacks of the shutters. And your guitar. And they talk…” Your hand on his calf fraps, a futile attempt to draw him closer. Your forearm feels sore, your neglected clit screaming for more love and contact.

“Please, Jake. I want to cum…I…” You open your mouth only to chock on a whimper as you feel Jake’s middle finger gently pressing on your clit. He is not moving; his finger merely stays there like bee on a flower's anther, pulling more sticky nectar out of you. Your arm gives out, smacking down on your thigh as you hurl forward.

“Tsk tsk, patience, love. You haven’t finished yet,” Jake leaves sloppy, wet kisses along your jawline. You pander to his lips, head lolling to the side. Every kiss feels like a searing cigarette burn.

“What do they say, y/n? Do they call you a slut?”

“Hell, yes. Yes, they post them online, the videos. They hashtag it…Mmm.. ‘Jake Kiszka’s slut,’ ‘the guitarist’s hoe’…”

With those last two words, Jake’s finger start circling your clit, a silent reward for your honesty and a bait to egg you on further. The agonizing buildup leaves you drenched at this point. The wet gushy sound is your pussy’s content purring, now that she was finally granted some attention.

“And in the end I finished. I finished along with your solo. I—I was so spent that I couldn’t even stand. Then, you finally look at me. You look at me straight in the eyes, and y-you…you said…”

“Good girl.”

“Good girl.”

Reality overlaps your imagination as you both mutter the two exact same words.

Your eyes widen. You lips brush passed Jake’s cheekbone and your forehead drops to the part where the body of the guitar meets the neck. The material cooling your skin like cooling pads for a feverish patient, breathing a sense of clarity into your mind. You are in a complete state of submission to the guitar, almost prostrating and bowing to it—a pagan, blindly asking for blessing and begging its approval.

Holy guitar spirit, please do not take up all of his time; share this man with me as well. God, I ache for him like no one else.

You will probably realize how stupid and abject the plea sounds later, that is, if you still care to recall; but right now, you couldn’t care less. You are hovering perilously on the edge of the precipice.

Lowering his gaze, Jake takes notice of your fingernails digging into the flesh above your knees and how your iron grip around his ankles strengthens even more. He knows it’s about time.

“So fucking pretty, my sweet baby.” The tip of his finger latches down on that exact spot, moving infinitesimally but effective enough to summon all your sensory nerve endings to orchestrate a collective hymn.

“Let go for me, love.”

That’s all you need to hear. Your shoulder hunches, ribcage pulls inward, stomach hollows, the muscles of your thigh contract as the walls of your pussy press together, dragging and sucking Jake’s fingers into you. Immense pleasure, like rock candy, bursts and bounces hither and thither all over your body. A part of you wish time could stop right there, so that you are preserved in the moment of forever bliss with a part of him slotted inside you, like an ignorant beetle being caught in a dollop of tree sap.

Jake makes sure you ride out your high before he straightens up. The soreness of his back only feeds more to the hardness of his cock. He slings the guitar off of his shoulder and sets it flat on the floor using only one arm, not even bothering putting it back on the stand; his other arm already wraps around your shoulder. He kneels down in front of you, his hands closed on each side of your face and his forehead resting against yours. Your breaths mingle as your heartbeats align. Jake gently pulls on your nape as you bury your nose in his chest, feeling his fingers scratching your back.

“Did so well, my love. My good, good girl.”

You catches your breath and musters your strength to look up to him with a tired smile. Your hands trail toward the bulbous erection restricted by his corduroy pants. Your mouth follows.

Jake hisses through his teeth, throwing his head back at the much-needed contact. With impressive willpower, he reaches down and cuddles your chin, pulling you up. “As much as I would love that, I also misses my girl terribly. I want to make love to her. Is that okay? Do I have her permission to love on her properly?”

The echoing tingles from your last orgasm hurtle back, making your head swoon. “Oh God, yes. Please. Jake, please.”

Jake scrambles to his feet and lifts you into his arms. Your legs feel like putty from kneeling so long. You stagger and fall back onto the leather couch. The couch is clearly too small for two grown adults, but neither of you mind or care; if anything, the limited space amplifies every sense. He guides your hands down his length and pumps it a few times. The closeness of your bodies makes his swollen tip pointed directly at your clit. You let out a needy moan, threading your finger through his curls and tugs gently until his eyes are level with yours.

Jake will forever revel in the way you look at him with your doe eyes, your pupil dilated, like you couldn’t believe he is real, like you’re intoxicated by a case of him.

“Hi, beautiful.” he grins.

“Hey you.”

You cup his face and go in for another kiss. He spits in his hand and reaches between you, positioning his length at your entrance and nudging his head in tentatively. You are too caught up in the moment that you didn’t realize your body is so taut, not out of nerves and rejection, but out of a desperate urge to hold him close. The hollowing eagerness that has been compiling for the past few months return with a vengeance. The weight and warmth of Jake’s body on top of you is all you could’ve asked for and more.

Jake can feel the confliction between the welcoming pulsation of your pussy and the hindrance clamping down. “Easy, dear,” he says as his hand on your breast traces down to your hips, rubbing soothing circles on your pelvis.

You tilt your head backwards. Your belly falls as your ribs flare out to the sides. He presses in slowly as you opens for him, until he is fully sheathed inside you. The final piece of the puzzle is being put into place. He moans a silent “fuck” into your sternum. The shiver of air travels right to your heart, through the flesh and bones.

Jake is right, no words other than “make love” can better describe what he is doing to you. Every single one of his movements murmurs “love”—his hand grabs yours and places it against his chest, right where his heart is. His cock repeatedly thrusts and retreats like crashing waves, brushing that particularly sensitive spot. His lips entwine with yours, nibbling and licking.

Pleasure, accumulating rapidly, like an empty bottle under the running tap. The surface tension jiggles, threatening to spill.

“Jake…fuck! I’m gonna—”

“Let go, baby,” Jake’s voice is unsteady too. “I’m right behind you.”

In fact, he didn’t even mange to hold out that long. The pressure sprints down his spine and blasts right to his cock. It spasms inside you, pinching and squirting. You climax together. For a moment, your hearts banging crazily against your ribcage, swearing to break out so they can be pressed together even closer.

You lie in the afterglow, two shells washed ashore, scoured back and forth by the slews of post-orgasmic endorphins.

“I love you, y/n,” Jake sighs into your hair.

“I love you, Jake. I’ve missed you so much, you have no idea,” your hands roam on his back.

“I could only imagine,” he sounds compunctious. Jake sneaks his hand behind your head, dipping down for another kiss. “I’m sorry for being away. Thank you for letting me love on you, baby. Your body feels like home to me, you know that?”

You are knocked out of words by the vulnerability and the weight enveloped in that statement. You can only nod, blinking fast to dispel the stinging tears.

“Oh, don’t cry, love,” he smiles at you. There’s also something glistening in his warm caramel eyes. “I am here now, will always be here,” his finger laces with yours, traveling in turn, tapping on your temple, your eyes, and finally resting on the left of your chest, “so, Carpe Diem, Carpe Noctem…”

“Carpe Omnia.”

If home is where the heart is, he has finally settled down. No matter how far, no matter where, once and once again, Jake will always come home to you in the end, where together your soul will dance, entangled in an inseparable embrace—day, night, and for a lifetime.

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Yay you made it!!! Thank you SO MUCH for reading!! Let me know what do you think or if we want a taglist. Any comments, thoughts, and feedbacks are GREATLY welcomed and appreciated.

My other works: Permission to Fall || Mariner's Complex || Ticked (all my boxes) || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones

[thechekhov]

Hello! Just wanted to say I love all your content but I wanted to ask if you had any advice/tips for running curse of strahd? I'm working on getting ready to run it with some friends/my partner and while I've run a fair amount of homebrew stuff this is my real first attempt at a legit module so I was curious if you could share anything since I believe you also are running/had run that module as well?

Thanks for asking! This is a very fun question!

I have indeed run Curse of Strahd. It was my first foray into long-term DMing and my team and I finished that campaign a little under a year ago. It was awesome, and I'm always excited to talk about it. Curse of Strahd had be a great game if everyone is on the same page!

First of all, I'm gonna say

Having Experience with Homebrew will be a huge boon

When I ran CoS, I followed the actual module about... 60% of the time. It was good... as a baseline/blueprint. But the reality is that I changed up a lot of the details. Either because I didn't like the vibes of the story, or because the plot points were antithetical to my team's goals. I changed up an entire floor of Ravenloft. I threw away a whole storyline for a major NPC because I felt it was too boring.

I think most people who run Curse of Strahd do this, actually. I've heard countless tales of how others Homebrewed their own meat onto the skeleton, and still came out of the campaign with an awesome, Strahd flavored experience. So don't worry about that part.

Here's my advice:

1. Everyone should vibe with what Strahd IS as a game.

Strahd can be a lot of things - you can Homebrew your own motivations into him, or make him a her, or change the history of his castle if need be. But if there's one thing Curse of Strahd is... it is DARK.

The Venn Diagram of Parties Who Understand That Suffering Can Be Fun To Roleplay and Parties Who Had A Good Time Doing CoS is probably a circle. You cannot do this adventure with a group of people who just want to hit monsters a whole bunch. It's an inherently 'oh my god this SUCKS' adventure. That's the main theme. Your players need to be able to enjoy that sort of game, otherwise they will just be miserable.

One of my players, upon arriving in Barovia, immediately said 'I hate it here' and then continued to say it for the rest of the campaign. That is kind of the catchphrase of CoS. Your players need to be comfortable with that sort of bleak horror and overall misery. It makes the end and the potential to finally end Strahd worth it.

That being said, Strahd can also just be... a lot. It has death and torture and psychological horror in there. KIDS DIE. Please discuss this stuff with your table, and remove elements if they guarantee a bad experience for everyone!

(Yes, you can trim down some of the viscera if you need to, that's fine. But keep in mind it will still be tragic. It SHOULD still be tragic. I set some boundaries for myself, but I also killed a whole town in an avalanche. It happened to be the only town my players had grown to like. It was a dick move. It was exactly what you would expect to happen.)

2. Read ahead - A LOT AHEAD.

For a self-contained world, Barovia isn't actually that big. It's a very small map, compared to some that span continents. That means you have the ability to flesh it out, as it were.

To add to that... some areas are... severely underdeveloped plot-wise. Sometimes there are places your players will go where it FEELS like it should link up to another point in the game but it just... doesn't. There is room to expand there. Use your Homebrew skills to connect the dots that the module doesn't!

I greatly recommend taking the time to either read through the whole adventure OR listen through some video-essays. There IS some cool stuff that comes in in the later game that you can grab and put down breadcrumbs for from day one. Or add to your own story twists.

My recommended resource for this is the Curse of Strahd DM's Guide video series.

...and to that end...

3. Start living in Ravenloft Castle WAY before your players get there.

Listen..........listen. look.

Look at this, and suffer as all GMs have suffered.

Castle Ravenloft is unarguably the biggest, stupidest, most architecturally ludicrous hurdle when it comes to GMing CoS. And I am here to tell you - IT IS DOABLE.

You can understand the castle, you can grow comfortable with it. But you need to start early. Hell, I think I began to set up Ravenloft maps before my players even knew it existed. Then I stopped, because I was scared.. but then I went back, and I.... roleplayed SOLO on my off-days! I set up little scenes between Strahd and others and imagined him setting traps, and doing other things. It helped me understand which staircase led to where, and what floors were accessible from which angles.

A part of me actually thinks that there should be a mini GMs-only class where a more experienced Strahd GM takes some time with other GMs to guide them through a map of the castle. A CoS Learning Oneshot, if you will.

There's also a LOT of talented mapmakers that create beautiful, digital CoS maps! Here's one:

Even if you are playing analogue, at a physical table, I greatly encourage you to check it out for reference. The official CoS maps are bleak and a little bit more... rustic? Than they are gothic.

Anyway, in order to avoid talking your ear off, I will end it here.

My last bit of advice is... to have fun!

Yes I know I just said that Strahd is an inherently bad-vibes game. But it's actually GOOD to let your players goof off now and then. Don't be afraid to let them do shenanigans. It builds character, and allows them to regain the energy they need to role-play properly heavy elements later.

My group did a whole bunch of funny stuff. They felt so bad about losing Ireena that when they saw Ismark, instead of explaining themselves to him they cast Darkness and tried to scramble away. There was a running joke that the cleric was too good to know about sex, so they used the euphemism 'play cards' around her, much to everyone's amusement. They got kicked by a walking house once and never forgot nor forgave. And finally, they defeated some Flame Skulls by putting them into a bag of holding.

Anyway, the point is... have fun! I wish you and your party the best of luck. :)

[queenendless]

💜❤️‍🩹Because You Live (Toji Fushiguro x Adult!Fem!Reader)❤️‍🩹💜

A/n: It finally happened ... wtf? Blame Sage's Rain on YT and his Toji video for making me feel so bad for Toji.

Its my first time writing just Toji stuff and it may not be the best but I got inspired and needed to put something out so there!

Also why is Because You Live by Jessie McCartney seems like the theme for Megumi's parents? Listen to it while reading this if you want.

Credit to yeagernx on Pinterest for these edited pins.

DON'T PLAGIARIZE, STEAL, COPY, TRANSLATE MY FANFIC CONTENT. REBLOG, LIKE AND FOLLOW INSTEAD PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

Toji's rough heart pounded against his sturdy chest.

In their small urban apartment family room, his giant burly form leaned against the archway as he peered down, his narrowed eyes softening at the sight before him.

The decent sized TV screen played lowly in the background, showcasing a random movie, serving as the only light he used to move through the room. The family room's floor was draped with comforters and blankets of the plush variety. Many fluffy soft pillows accompanied them. His two kids noggins used you as their personal pillow.

Tsumiki's cheek nuzzles your side as she squeezed her white dog plushie in one arm while Megumi was tucked against your other side as he pinned his black dog plush between you and himself.

You were on your back, your mouth slightly agape, as you softly snored, drool trailing down the side of your mouth.

Toji snorted out a dry chuckle.

For most of his life, he was the Invisible Man.

To topple the society that his family prided on to the point of abusing and torturing him over for not amounting to their standards and beliefs, he became the Sorcerer Killer.

After losing his wife; the first love of his life that made him believe he was worth so much more than what his family's hatred conditioned in him, he felt himself succumbing to those very demons of his former life.

Barely able to sustain a suitable life for his son; his blessed gift from his late mother.

Having a daughter now to add to the family bundle; her mother dumping her on him when she had the chance then bolted.

Taking any job he could to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table, stuck in a shitty neighborhood with no other options.

So how …

How did you wind up smack dab in the middle of it all?

From an infamous disturbed creep stalking and following his kids on their way home from school one afternoon to you reporting the incident before as his attempts to nab Tsumiki resulted in Megumi's shadow technique nearly swallowing the bastard alive when you knocked them out by a smack with that stray metal pipe you scrounge up by the litter around.

Tsumiki trusted you, feeling indebted to you for saving them. A skeptical Megumi didn't sense the same inkling of dread from you that the now arrested man had.

But when you saw Toji Fushiguro stroll up through the apartment door, he was a bit baffled to see you in their cramped living room, sitting on the floor while braiding Tsumiki's hair as she and Megumi watched anime on their small TV.

You were smitten by the giant burly man as you explained what occurred and the short version of your backstory.

Your father bailed on you and your mother recently passed away in her sleep, which forced you to sell the only home you've ever known. Wandering the streets with all you could take with you. Saving two kids you didn't know at all but knowing a monster when you saw one that day.

Toji offered you to live with them as thanks for saving his kids when he couldn't as well as in exchange for watching over them when he was out doing whatever money making task was available to him.

Why would he take a chance on you, a practical stray?

Well …

Obviously he had Shiu do a background search on you over the phone that very same day to double check your story. When it all does check out, he feels a bit of weight lift off his broad shoulders.

Plus …

He saw glimpses of his first love in you.

Even your smile gave him glimpses of his late wife. But you weren't her.

He thought no one could fill in the void she left behind.

Making it that much harder to live the simple life and raising kids that he felt was out of his element.

But at that moment, seeing your relieved overjoyed smile breaking out across your face when he said you could stay, it already began filling in the cracks his heavy heart bore.

He noticed the endeared affection you bore in your gaze for his rugrats as trickles of sunset hit your figure through the slips of the blinds and curtains.

He wouldn't admit it straight out at the start of this new journey, but you glowed like an angel.

Over time, as days turned to weeks then turned to months, those hard kept emotions within him became unbridled at the seams.

Walking his kids to and from school, making their lunches, cleaning up around the place, finding part time jobs here and there that helped pay the bills, being greeted warmly by you every time he came home, finding you winding down after tucking the babies to bed.

One late night of such endeavors leading up to it found him spotting you laying on the couch, partially awake to the sound of his heavy footsteps when you felt warmth overtake you as he kissed you tentatively on the lips.

Watching your e/c eyes fluttering open up at him made him want to press further. To feel you slowly, tenderly returning the kiss only drove him to get down on his knees as his burly arms wrapped around your waist, pressing his strapping chest against your soft chest, submerged in your sweet scent and you drowned in his overwhelming warmth.

Your hands weaved up those sculpted arms and brushed his nape to his shivering delight, your fingers curled through his hair, bringing his face in closer as your heavy sighs and flustered whimpers made the growling beast want to nip on those lips before his tongue clashed with yours, swallowing you whole.

In his once clouded, now desperate eyes, he didn't want to let you go. To him, you're beautiful, inside and out. Literally, the beauty to his beast.

“I want you, angel. Be mine.”

You could barely think coherently as you pulled away from those addicting lips of his.

“Only when you quit the gambling and get your act together. Help me find a better place to raise them. Be there for them … do it for them … please?”

Unlike Shiu's stern lectures on quitting his gambling routines because he was just that bad at it when it comes to luck, the way your pleading eyes and pouting lips made a long forgotten sensation rise in him.

The willingness to forsake his pride.

To do what was best for all instead of dwindling it all away.

What was best for his kids … what he wanted … if you wanted that too —

“Okay.”

His deep, breath stealing kiss made your toes curl and your form fit perfectly with his own as he laid down with you, moving about until he laid flat on his back with you splayed out on top of him on your tummy.

On that night, he gained a new light in his life, cocooning you in his brawny grasp, nodding off together on the couch.

In this cursed world, he had been giving a new blessing.

A second chance.

Flash forward back to the present.

In your new shared apartment; finding one with help from Shiu, in a safer part of the urban setting, just a stroll away from the kids school, and with a great view of the now starry sky.

Brushing back your loose hair strands, your quiet whimper at the sensation made him smirk before kissing your forehead. “Hey.”

You yawned a bit. “Welcome home.”

“Now what's going on here?” Toji asked as he grabbed the remote to turn off the TV.

“Slumber party. Fushiguro Edition.” You mumbled, knowing his superhuman hearing could pick it up.

Toji snorted before ruffling Megumi's head gently. "Ya want to get them to bed or …?”

“Too comfy … and sleepy … to move.” You quietly whined.

“Then make room for Papa Bear, Mama Bear.”

You giggled at his gruff response, cradling Megumi as Toji carefully lifted Tsumiki out of your grasp to lay her on his chest instead of having her crushed between you both. With his veiny giant hand resting on the small of her back and his other jacked arm wrapping around your shoulders to bring you flush against his side.

Seeing Tsumiki smile and snuggle into his chest made you softly cooed to which a blushing red Toji shushed you despite his grinning face.

“Go back to sleep, you.”

You leaned in to smooch the scar on the side of his mouth. “Night Toji.” Using his shoulder as your pillow now, you easily fell back asleep.

The moonlight trickled through the gaps of the curtains, serving as the only light now. Eyeing his small family in his hold, Toji felt himself unwinding, his sleepy head plopping against yours.

He pressed a drawn out kiss to your forehead, yawning as well, welcoming a good night's rest. With all of you.

“Night … Y/n.”

[gritsandbrits]

In light of recent news over the passing of voice actress Arleen Sorkin, I wish to reflect on the impact of Harley Quinn on my life.

When I was a kid I grew with Harley. From getting fired from a tv show for giving questionable advice, as her backstory in the 2004 cartoon The Batman, to falling in mad love with her own patient as is the origin story in the 92 animated and subsequent media, Harley has such a big role in Batman lore I don't remember a single time where she wasn't involved. Sometimes I wonder what batman mythos was like before her inclusion.

The first thing that drew me to Harley was her design. Red and black the colors of danger which she was. But there was an added playfulness, that she genuinely enjoyed being herself. She was also VERY hilarious and at times out of pocket. Child Me was amazed. Did I want to be her? Not necessarily. But she did look like someone I'd hang out with.

The meta origin of Harley is just as fascinating. The creators of BTAS saw a performance of Arleen in a clown costume. From there inspiration leapt off the pages onto the big screen. Unlike most of the cast Harley didn't originate from the comics. She was created exclusively for the show, an OC if you will. OCs tend to have a mixed reputation. But Harley's concept and execution was so perfect, she almost feels like she could've been a real character in the comics.

And real she became!

Introduced as a psychiatrist, after receiving Joker as a patient, Dr. Harleen Quinzel begins to fall in love with him; and down a path to iconoclastic doom. Her love for Joker is obsessive, hilarious shallow, horrible but also downright entertaining to watch. I enjoyed every moment she was on screen: I still quote "rev up your Harley" to this day! I see her despair, her goofy outlook and morbid ruthlessness. I wanted her to get comeuppance but at the same time I can't help but feel sorry for her.

Joker abuses her, ignores her, and only complements her when she does something good for him. While the makes how awful their relationship clear, there are a good amount of fans who sees the pair as a glamorous whirlwind romance a la Sonny and Brenda or Jane and Mr Rochester. While such fantasies may seem morbid I don't blame them. No matter how horrible Harley is there is a tiny unavoidable spot that aches for her to win. Or at least see Joker for the monster he really is. While Harley is often held accountable for her actions her arc shows that no one deserves to be abused.

Arleen's performance played a major role in brining Harley to life. She nailed her weaknesses and strengths with such a sincere note that elicits pity, humor and shock at the same time. And of course that ear candy of the New Jersey accent that set the standard for future VAs. Whenever I look at a picture of Harley I hear Arleen. Not to say the other VAs aren't bad, but Arleen's performance is that iconic I can't help but think of her!

Over the years Harley grew apart from Clown Prince of Crime. She got her own spinoff comics, made appearances in other DC media. She even gotten her own tv show which sees the DC universe through her eyes. Harley has marginally healthier romances, primarily Poison Ivy (this isn't to say that pairing doesn't have it's share of toxic moments). The Harlivy ship is a fan favorite but even without shipping and the wars, Harley still shines bright as the Bat Signal.

In a way Harley's descent and eventual rise back to normalcy reminds me of my own struggles. I wasn't a happy child growing up, I've made a lot of mistakes and bad choices. To see a person like Harley work to take back control of her life, makes me feel a bit better for my own prospects. Of course I wouldn't torture a kid to near insanity or blow up a whole city but I can at least put my energy towards something constructive. Harley shows people like me thay we can be more than just screwups if we try.

Of course I can't forget Harley's design. The red&black suit is an icon by itself and inspires similar designs in and outside comics. I could talk all day about how cool her design is from a show and historical perspective but that would take me all day. While I prefer her classic palette, her recent blue and pinks aren't bad either and show just how far she's come out of Joker's shadow. It's even to the point where when, I see something black and red and white I have to point it out and say "Harley would love that outfit!"

Nowadays I complain about the oversaturation of Harley quinn (seriously what was DC thinking taking a team started by a disabled character to reclaim her agency) and overshadowing other cool DC villains. But I would be lying of I say she didn't leave an impact. And it's all thanks to Arleen Sorkin for breathing life into a character that proves you don't need to be be from "the comics" to be considered cool.

Thank you Arleen! May her memory be a blessing - Grits.

[katsona-the-katsequel]

If we were to seriously consider a Protag Swap AU, then most of the protags are fucked.

Let's consider P5 for this scenario, since its the most well-known story. The protags considered are Naoya, Tatsuya, Maya, Minato, Kotone, and Yu (and remember, the events of P5 also shape them as they go). Of course, all of them defended the woman and got sued.

I can see everyone but Maya becoming friends with Ryuji and Ann. Those two would get babysitter vibes from Maya instead of reliable older sister (sorry, queen, but maybe you shouldn't have unironically adviced them to Live, Laugh, Love. You're also not a student and have nothing to do with Shujin). We only have Naoya, Tatsuya, Minato, Kotone, and Yu left.

Out of all of them, only Minato, Kotone and Yu would give Akechi the time of day. The rest were either weirded out by his attitude, too annoyed by his plastic smile, or decided it wasn't worth it to get too close to someone investigating the Phantom Thieves (or all of them at the same time). Without the Akechi confidant, the others lost a lot of intel and clues the Phantom Thieves actually got to put the pieces of the mystery together and an ally for the Third Semester.

Kotone never began the Kawakami confidant due to not being invited to Operation Maidwatch. Shame, because she would have reacted a lot like Akira did in lots of main events. I also don't want to put her through the interrogation torture.

Now that I think about it, Yu would have been a smidge more reluctant about the regular Change of Hearts business that the Phantom Thieves undertook. If the circumstances and story aligns, he would go with it in the end, but the entire story and general vibes wouldn't have the same impact than when Akira did it. Minato's Joker is a bit more stoic and way less flashy and passionate about the Phantom Thieves' mission, seeing more like a necessary duty.

In the end, only Akira could do it.

[tumblezwei]

I saw an interesting post on Twitter about how Yang and Ruby's perspectives on Summer have diverged over the years, and I kinda wanted to put my own soon on it.

Because like, Summer was this huge mythic hero for Ruby, and Yang was partially responsible for telling Ruby the stories about Summer's heroic feats, which were definitely exaggerated coming from the imagination of a child trying to cheer up and entertain her younger sister. But even though Yang was the one to tell these stories, she herself never held that same idolization of Summer that Ruby did.

And I think a big reason for that is that Yang was forced to take on a role that was incredibly similar to Summer's. She wasn't a huntress out to fight monsters and protect the weak, but she was someone who had to take on a great responsibility and act as an example for others to follow, that being Ruby. She likely did idolize Summer much like Ruby did, but I think having to take on that responsibility at such a young age allowed her to understand easier than Ruby that the idea of a "Super Mom" capable of doing anything and never failing was an illusion created to comfort those who needed her protection.

Even though she still held Summer in her mind as a great mom whom she knew would do anything for her and Ruby, I think she learned fairly quickly over the years that the role of provider and protector just wasn't that simple. But she loved her sister, and she greatly admired Ruby's determination and confidence in who she wanted to be, so of course she'd still encourage her to be like Summer. For as much as Ruby looked up to Yang, I think Yang also looked up to Ruby.

Ruby, on the other hand, didn't have this same experience growing up. Instead her coping mechanisms led her far into her fantasies, sectioning off her own grief and building up this figure of Summer as a way to memorialize a mother she never truly got to know and reassure herself that she could fix what was broken so that no other kids like her and Yang would have to go through that loss.

A common point in Ruby analysis that gets brought up is that she was never naive enough to believe that the world was perfect. She always knew it was broken, and what made her special was her determination to help the world in spite of it. And with the context of the most recent episode, we can see that that mindset was tainted very heavily by her perception of how fixable the world was and how much she could truly handle. Because Ruby Rose is exhausted I'm episode 4. Her past self mocks her ruthlessly with her own prior beliefs, torturing her with the knowledge that she is destined to struggle like this forever and ever until she dies like her mother.

And that's where the schism is. Yang knows her mother was human, can relate to her struggles in a way that Ruby could never understand. And that's why in volume 8 we have her trying to reassure Ruby by saying "mom took a risk the day she left, and I don't think it went the way she wanted it to, but she was still my hero." Yang loves her mother, and Yang idolizes her mother. But she's able to frame that in a context that understands that Summer Rose was human and that whatever she did she did for them. That she tried as much as she was able.

Ruby Rose loves her mother, and she idolizes her mother, but she only knows her in the context that she's created for herself. Summer Rose tried to fix the world and failed. She went up against this unkillable monster and failed. Super Mom Summer Rose always knew what to do, how to save the day, and she failed. So what hope did Ruby Rose have to try the same?

Ruby Rose will never be able to grow until she is able to acknowledge her mother as a person and not a hero. Because until she does that she'll continue to hold herself to the same impossible standard.

[distort-opia]

This might sound silly and i know bruce is bisexual and all but from a queer standpoint, the scene where he proposes to selina feels a lot like compulsory heterosexuality. "I love you. I HAVE to love you."

And considering the timeline, joker was HIDDEN INSIDE BRUCE'S BASEMENT my god the implications, the metaphor....

Yeah, the whole thing is... [clears throat] very interesting. These two panels, which happen relatively close in time, put it into perspective:

Batman (2016) #32 // Dark Days: The Casting

However, to be entirely honest, I don't think Bruce proposing to Selina, and that whole arc... can be boiled down to just compulsory heterosexuality. It's more complicated than that. Bruce is doing this after interacting with the Batman of Flashpoint, his own father, who begs him to try and be happy. And Bruce's idea of happiness, very much inspired by Thomas', is settling down with a woman and having a family. Gaining peace.

Tom King is the one who wrote the wedding arc, and the whole thing is permeated by this... typically masculine, American idealization of women as this isle of peace that a tortured man yearns for, but can never fully choose. I'm sure there's names for this trope or stereotype, but I'm too lazy to look this up. Think Michael Mann movies, think James Bond movies, think stories about criminals and agents and soldiers leading a dark violent life aspiring to put down arms, and the whole dream being entangled with a woman. A female character who usually isn't fleshed out beyond the representation of leaving a life of violence behind, having a nice wife and nice children in a nice house with a nice white picket fence. Tbh it's not surprising to me that King ended up writing Bruce and Selina with these undertones, because of King's infamous background with the CIA before he became a comic book writer.

And thing is, I don't think it's inaccurate to portray Bruce this way. Bruce has lead a long life of violence, and he wants to want to stop. He wishes it didn't define him as much as it does, he wishes there was another path for him-- and this wish drives his attempt to settle down with Selina. "I have to love you" is less about "you're a woman and I should marry a woman", it's more about "if I love you I am more of a human being, and I need that." Yes, it's compulsory heterosexuality too, in the sense that Bruce is drawing from the heteronormative idea that happiness can only be achieved through normality, and normality = wife and retirement. But it's also a sad, desperate attempt at salvaging himself through Selina, whom he does love... but the things he loves about her are less about her, and more about himself. In the end, his own subconscious acknowledges all of it, during the Knightmares arc:

Batman (2016) #69

[sigh] It's all quite sad. And I've said it in a different post, but this is partly why -- in a seemingly paradoxical way -- a relationship with Joker has the potential to work. "You can't love anyone but the Vow, but the Bat," Selina (a figment of his own mind) tells Bruce. And Joker is part of the Vow. In many ways, over the decades, Joker has become the endgame of the Vow, the incarnation of all the things the Bat is supposed to defeat. It's fucked up and makes me want to chew on glass, but the Bat could allow loving Joker, because loving Joker would be a part of the Mission.

Anyway, I went on a bit of an unncessary tangent, but yeah! I do agree, Anon. So many implications.

[katnisspeetaprim]

High Risk

A.N. So I hope you don't mind but I'm using the Suchwita couple for this request since its fits with theor story line! So this would be part 3 of that series. (Link to part 1!) Plus I know nothing about pregnancy, just the basics so take it with a pinch of salt!

Warnings: pregnancy, complications, angst

Word Count: 3070 M.list

You and Yoongi, along with BigHit all decided that it would be best to keep your pregnancy private from the public, at least until you really started showing.

You wanted to keep working for as long as possible and Yoongi agreed. He knew you would be miserable and depressed just sitting at home alone, so he was supportive of you continuing to work, as long as you didn’t do anything too strenuous or stressful. You were currently 6, almost 7 months pregnant and you were definitely showing. Your team had taken to dressing you in exclusively baggy and oversized outfits, even having you sit down on stage and blaming it on illness.

You knew you would have to go on hiatus soon and Yoongi would also do so at the same time. You had to admit, you were excited. You and Yoongi barely had time off together, so suddenly getting to spend a few months together, then meet your baby at the end of it? It sounded like heaven on Earth.

‘Are you finished for the night?’ Yoongi spoke down the phone.

‘Yeah.’ You sighed. ‘Finally. Pre-recordings are always so boring.’ Yoongi chuckled. He knew you had always struggle with the boring stuff that came with being an idol, mainly the hours of waiting and doing nothing, especially now that you were pregnant, sitting around for hours were pure torture.

‘Y/N! Are you coming?’ Your group leader, Yuna, called over to you. You were all pretty tired after being at the studio all day, so you wasted little time changing into loungewear before you leave.

‘I’m coming! Yoon I have to go. I’ll see you in a couple days?’

‘Yeah I should go too. I love you.’

‘Love you too! Bye babe!’

‘How are you doing Y/N?’ The youngest in the group, Mallory, asked. You smiled at her as she placed her hand on your stomach.

‘Nothing I can’t handle.’ You chuckled.

‘YAH! Hurry up you two! We want to leave!’ chi, the fourth and final member of your group yelled out impatiently.

‘OK, ok! We’re coming!’

The four of you were waiting at the V.O.P exit, when your manager walked back in with a perplexed look on his face.

‘What’s wrong?’ Yuna stepped forwards.

‘It’s not good. There are a lot of fans and reporters out there.’ He sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.

‘Do they have nothing better to do? It’s like 1AM..’ Chi scoffed in frustration. Mallory nudged her shoulder and caste her a look.

‘So what do we do?’

‘We don’t have a choice but to push through. Y/N, will you be alright?’ Everyone turned to you, now realising you had been quiet the whole time. You bought your hands to your stomach protectively.

‘Well... We don’t have a choice...’ You trailed off, unconvinced by the situation.

‘The security will keep you safe Y/N, don’t worry!’ Mallory put her arm round your shoulders in an attempt to comfort you, though it did nothing to soothe your nerves.

‘Ok. Keep moving and don’t stop. The car isn’t far. Let’s go!’

You and the girls held onto each other as you pushed through the screaming crowd. You thought fans  had gotten better in recent years, as in the fact that they didn’t crowd round idols like this anymore.... Seems like you were wrong...

There was no barrier, so the crowd was basically rubbing up against you all and your lowly security guard was no match for the immense crowd.

You were almost to the car when you suddenly felt someone tightly grab your arm and forcefully yank you towards them. The shock of being grabbed and the force in which they did it, caught you completely off guard. Time felt like it was moving in slow motion as you felt yourself falling to the ground with a loud SMACK!

‘Y/N!’ You heard your group mates calling out for you, and you could only watch in horror as they all got whisked away by your manager.

The people around you started to crowd you even more, and started to roughly grab at you whilst you were on the ground. You’re sure they didn’t mean to, but you suddenly felt something hard hit into your stomach, causing you to let out a strangled gasp.

Your curled up into a ball in an attempt to protect yourself, but it was getting to be too much. You couldn’t breathe and you were in a lot of pain. You just wanted to see Yoongi.

You heard someone yelling out and shouting your name, before you completely blacked out.

You woke with a start, panicking when you didn’t immediately recognise your surroundings, but soon realised you were in a hospital bed.

You groaned in pain when you tried to sit up, so you stayed down. It was only then that you felt someone sitting at your bed side.

‘Yoongi...’ You whispered, voice hoarse. His head was laid out on his arms on the edge of your bed. His hair was a mess and you could tell he’d haphazardly thrown on whatever clothes were closest to him. You stretched your arm out and rested your hand on his head, gently stroking across his hair.

Yoongi stirred at your touch and his eyes parted slightly, before falling again. You couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at his tired state. it was when he hear your quiet laughter that his eyes shot open and he sprung up when he realised you were awake.

‘Y/N! Oh my god!’ He reached forwards and took your face in his hands, only to begin peppering kisses all over your face.

You clung to his arms as he hovered over you..

‘Yoongi...’ You whimpered, suddenly feeling emotional. He pulled back and stroked your forehead. You frowned up at him as you began to feel claustrophobic laying down on your back, so with a groan you once again tried to pull yourself up. Yoongi jumped in to help when he saw you wince in pain.

‘Easy! You’ve been out for a few hours.’ He fluffed your pillows up behind you, before sitting back down and dragging his chair closer to the bed.

‘Yuna and the girls stayed for a while, but your manager took them home to get rest.’ Yoongi explained to you whilst reaching for your hand.

‘God I feel rough right now...’ You groaned out as you grabbed at your head.

‘There’s something else too...’ Yoongi trailed off. You looked up and saw that he had a solemn look on his face.

‘What is it? Please tell me the other girls didn’t get hurt!’

‘No they are all fine.’ You sighed in relief. ‘When I got here, the doctors told me that you were bleeding...’ You stared at him for a second, mulling over his words, when you felt your blood run cold.

‘What do you mean bleeding!?’ You stuttered out, already feeling the beginnings of a panic attack coming on. Yoongi immediately picked up on your change of state, and once again stood and enveloped you in a hug.

‘Yoongi- our baby-‘

‘Easy, easy. The baby’s fine!.’  He gently stroked your hair as you tried to control your breathing.

‘You were bleeding but they stopped it. The doctor wanted to speak to both of us when you woke up.’ Yoongi explained gently and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, whilst you cradled your swollen stomach.

‘Go get them.’

Not 10 minutes later, the doctor was stood at the end of your bed, while you held Yoongi’s hand in a vice like grip.

‘how are you feeling Mrs. Min?’

‘Awful. Yoongi said you wanted to speak to us?’ You wanted to get right to the point and get the hell ou of there.

‘Well... I’m sure Yoongi told you about the bleeding?’ You both nodded.

‘Well we checked you over and the baby is fine... However because of the blow you took the baby i under a lot of stress, so we’re concerned that you could become high risk.’ You face fell at the doctors words and you squeezed his had even tighter, as if that were possible.

‘So... What does that mean?’ You timidly asked.

‘I’m strongly suggesting you go on maternity immediately, and stay on bed rest for the remainder of your pregnancy.’ Your face fell. This was exactly what you were trying to avoid. You heard Yoongi quietly thank the doctor as they left the room. The click of the door was all it took for you to burst into tears.

‘Jagi, please don’t cry. You’re ok.’ Yoongi soothed.

‘I know I’m being stupid, but I feel so awful right now.’ You sobbed out. Your maternity date was coming up soon anyway, but you thought you would at least be able to go on your own terms..

Yoongi was trying his best to comfort you, but it was all falling on deaf ears.

Without warning, you shoved Yoongi away and swung your legs over the side of the bed, only stopping when a sharp pain shot across your abdomen.

‘Ah!’

‘Hey stop! What are you doing?’ He scrambled to stop you, not wanting you to hurt yourself even more.

‘Did you drive here?’ You snapped harshly.

‘Y-yeah but-‘

‘Then take me home. I’m not staying here a second longer.’ Yoongi was taken aback by your sudden harsh tone, but scarpered away to find you a wheelchair. He knew he shouldn’t take you snapping at him to heart, you were just upset and scared and probably in pain.

You hated feeling useless and you were stubborn too, so Yoongi knew that keeping you in bed for the next 2 months was going to be a real chore... But he would be with you ever step of the way.

Afew hours later, Yoongi had contacted your manager on your behalf to explain the situation. The man explained that he would contact Yoongi’s manager and gt back to him with a plan. They had asked Yoongi if he would be returning to work, but he out right refused, knowing that you needed him more than ever right now.

As Yoongi hung up the phone, he noticed he’d been sent the link to a news article by Hoseok.

Hobi: Thought you would want to know what actually happened. :/

When Yoongi clicked on the article, he was disgusted at what he saw. There was a video of the incident and he watched in horror as people basically trampled all over you. You could have been killed, pregnant or not. Needless to say, seeing that video did nothing to improve his mood. He glanced at the time on his phone and sighed. It was just past 7AM and he’d been up for nearly 24 hours at this point. He was exhausted. You’d already gone to bed and he was about to join you. He left his phone on the kitchen table. If someone needed him, then they would have to come to the house and physically drag him out of bed.

Since you and Yoongi had both dropped off the face of the Earth, everyone was worried. They all wanted to come and see you, but also wanted to give you space during this time.

It was around mid day when you decided you couldn’t sleep anymore, but you couldn’t get up either. Yoongi was still sleeping soundly beside you, so you picked up your phone, only to be met with a wall of text messages from your group and also BTS.

You were moved by their concerned and caring messages, so much so that it bought happy tears to your eyes.

‘Jagi? Why are you crying? Are you in pain?’ Yoongi’s worried voice pulled you rom your trance. He was now sat up and moved closer so he could cuddle you. You turned to him and smiled.

‘No I’m fine. Just our friends being sickeningly sweet.’ Yoongi smiled himself as he read the messages over your shoulder.

‘I called your manager earlier by the way.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah he’s going to talk to mine and get back to us today.’ Yoongi explained while stroking your back.

‘Are they gonna put out a statement?’ You asked hesitantly. You’d done so well to hide your pregnancy till this point, and you’d hoped to hide it a little longer, but if the company thought it beast to announce it, then so be it.

‘Yeah. They’ll probably email the draft over.’ There was a beat of silence.

‘I told them I’m not going back to work.’ Yoongi suddenly dropped, causing you to snap your eyes to him in shock.

‘What!? Why would you do that!?’

‘You and the baby is my number one right now. I’d never forgive myself if something happened and I wasn’t here... Again..’ You cringed at the word again. You knew Yoongi felt guilty for not being there to protect you, even though he was on the other side of the city at the time. You obviously didn’t blame him for what happened. You scooted forwards as best you could and stroked his cheek.

‘Yoongi... What happened wasn’t your fault.’

‘I know. But I want to be here with you.’ You smiled sadly and leaned over to peck his lips, before smirking. You trailed your hand down from his face, and rested it just below his stomach, running your fingers along the hem of his boxers.

‘In that case, I’m glad I get you to myself for the next few months.’ You teased in an attempt to lighten the mood. He laughed at your implication and moved your hand away.

‘Don’t make jokes like that when you can’t deliver!’

A few hours later, you and Yoongi received the statement, now all you had to do was give it the green light. No going back now.

With bated breath, you waited anxiously for the statement to go live.

You’d learned long ago to not look at online comments and that wasn’t about to change now, but it was hard to avoid completely.

You felt like a weight was lifted from your shoulders when the positive reactions to your pregnancy started rolling in. You even got congratulatory messages from other idols and celebrities alike, which was sweet.

You found that in more recent years, fans online tended to have better reactions to things like this than they did years ago. Maybe it was because they’d grown up, or just  became more mature over time. Whatever it was, you were thankful.

You remember a time back in the day when people online were convinced you and Taemin from SHINee were dating, all because he picked up your dropped cue cards for you. The hate you got was insane to say the least, so much so that both BigHit and SM put out statements denying any involvement between the two of you.

Being on bed rest wasn’t nearly as bad as you first thought it would be. Now being 9 months pregnant, your group mates had made time on several occasions to visit you and make sure Yoongi was looking after you. They would give him hell if he wasn’t.

You’d also started doing live streams at around the 8 month mark, entertaining yourself by talking and laughing with your fans.

You were currently doing a live wilst Yoongi worked in his home studio, when something began to feel off.

Where is Yoongi? You read from the chat.

‘Yoongi is working in the other room. We aren’t attached at the hip guys.’ You chuckled as you watched the chat, hand subconsciously stroking over your belly.

‘I’ve been feeling much better after resting, thanks for asking!’

The door suddenly opened and Yoongi popped his head inside with a smile.

‘Hey.’

‘Hey. I bought you food.’ We walked over and handed you a plat with a sandwich.

‘Look at this guys, no prompt or anything.’ You smirked, teasing your husband.

‘You’re lucky I love you.’ He mumbled under his breath.

‘What was that?’ You teased again, cupping your ear with your hand. He just shook his head and rolled his eyes with a laugh, before leaning down and briefly waving to the camera.

‘just call me if you need anything, ok?’ he gave you a pointed look before leaving the room.

‘Thank you~~ Love you!’ You called after him in  a sing song voice.

Not long after Yoongi left the room, you suddenly felt a twinge in your stomach. It was sharp and sudden, so it made you audibly gasp and reach out to grab the portable table in front of you.

The fans in the chat immediately became concerned, spamming their worried messages.

‘Yeah- I-I’m fine I-‘ You cut yourself off when you felt wetness coat your thighs and the bed beneath you.

‘Oh my God!’ You gasped out. Your waters had just broken while you were doing a live stream. You didn’t even think to reassure your fans as you quickly ended the live.

‘Yoongi!’ You called out with a strangled cry, in hopes that he wasn’t working with his headphones on. Your worries were eased when you heard hurried foot steps approaching, before the door swung open.

‘What is it!?’ He was slightly out of breath from running back and forth. You tried to smile through the pain as you looked to him.

‘My waters just broke.’ His eyes widened and he was by your side in an instant.

‘Do we go to the hospital?’

‘No it’s too early.’ You laughed at his concern. You knew that he was well aware that it was too early to leave, after all he’d been reading every bit of media about pregnancy he could get his hands on.

‘Can you just help e to clean up please?’ He grumbled at the thought of waiting, but he started to pull you up to help you none the less. Yoongi held tightly to your arms as he guided you to the shower. Your heart swelled as he lovingly helped you strip out of your soiled clothes and helped you get clean.

Now you were sat in the living room, whilst Yoongi timed your contractions.

Will you call our parents when it’s time?’ You asked with shaky breath, now beginning to be affected more by the pain.

‘Already done.’ You smiled at his efficiency and continued your breathing exercises. It was going to be a long night!

[thalialunacy]

[for the @calaisreno MayProWriMo, which we're halfway through, whaaaat. take heed: I'm gonna call this one nc-17/nsfw/explicit; also smol cw for John being a middle-aged white dude who tries hard.]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) 16: experiment (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

'The true method of knowledge is experiment.' -- William Blake

John's birthday do turns into a Rosie-themed party, but he doesn't mind. He's chuffed, truth be told. And not at all biased.

Luckily, all the other adults present are also not at all biased, so she has a willing audience for her various toddler antics, and throws herself into them full-speed.

'Perfect,' John says aside to Sherlock as Rosie demonstrates to the twelfth guest how to use her new rocking horse. The thing is solid. 'She'll wear herself down and pass out as soon as I put her to bed.'

Sherlock glances down at him from where he'd been watching a folded-up Stamford give the toy horse a few rocks before listing to one side and plonking down onto the carpet dramatically. 'You have plans?' he deduces easily while Rosie's giggles spin through the air.

John clears his throat. 'Possibly.'

Sherlock's lips curve into a smile, even after he turns his focus back to the room. 'Indeed.'

---

'In the spirit of science, there really is no such thing as a 'failed experiment.' Any test that yields valid data is a valid test.' -- Adam Savage

In true contrarian form, Rosie fights the fight of the exhausted and over-stimulated when John tries to start her bedtime routine after finally shoving all the guests out the door. He gets more water on him than she does during her bath, she ends up with backwards jammies on because she absolutely refuses to wear them any other way, and she has declared her disgust with every single one of their normal bedtime stories before he can blink.

John loves her to the ends of the earth, but he's suddenly feeling some strong nostalgia for his bachelor days. Very strong. Very. Strong.

A few moments before his patience is truly drained to nil, there's a knock on the door and Sherlock sticks his head in. 'Rosamund?' he asks, walking over and meeting her gaze. 'What's all this?'

'Don't want bad story!' she exclaims with watery eyes, like the idea is tantamount to state-sanctioned torture.

Sherlock glances at John, who just shrugs wearily. 'There's no accounting for taste.'

Sherlock snorts. 'Alright, Watsons. Here's the plan. Watson the Elder will go have a bath and some tea, and Watson the Younger will listen attentively while I tell the most riveting story of all time.'

He tucks her blanket back around her and she settles a little at his touch. Then he starts in with That Voice, and she's no match. 'Long ago, there once was a woman named Marie. She was from a land far, far away called Poland.' John makes a noise, and Sherlock in turn makes a shooing motion at him.

Plodding his way down the stairs, John muses that all of Sherlock's Rosie stories have involved female protagonists, usually non-fictional. They're not a particularly outwardly 'woke' bunch, the residents of 221 Baker St, but John reckons it's the little things. Like raising a daughter with heroes like Marie Curie.

It's not something they've even discussed, as her caretakers, and affection for Sherlock hits John hard in the chest. He's the luckiest bastard in the world, he really is.

---

'Argument is conclusive, but it does not remove doubt, so that the mind may rest in the sure knowledge of the truth, unless it finds it by the method of experiment.' -- Roger Bacon

That appreciation is still lingering when John exits the loo in his bathrobe to find Sherlock sprawled on the kitchen table, which is a new one, reading a book that looks about as old as the earth itself.

'Feel better?' he says without lifting his eyes to John.

John nods, approaching him. 'You left out the part where Marie Curie died of radiation poisoning, yes?'

'Obviously,' Sherlock says, easing his legs over the edge of the table until he's sitting on it like a normal person, but still reading. 'That will keep until she's at least four.'

'Right. What's the book about?' John asks as he makes his way between Sherlock's knees.

Sherlock holds up a pointer finger. 'One moment.'

John shakes his head with a small smile, then without really considering it he rolls his palms up Sherlock's thighs. The detective is still wearing his party trousers, fine wool John really doesn't want to know the cost of, and it feels smooth and satisfying under his skin.

He leaves his hands at the top of Sherlock's thighs, pressing lightly into small spaces. Sherlock coughs. 'If you distract me, it'll take even longer.'

John raises his hands. 'Fine, fine. I'll just be in bed.' He lowers his voice a little. 'In your bed.'

Sherlock goes very still, eyes staying glued to the page. But his thighs tighten around John when he tries to back away.

John chuckles, and debates the merits of keeping his hands to himself. But before he's decided, he's interrupted.

'Done,' Sherlock announces loudly, slapping the book shut and putting it down on the table with only a modicum of care. He pulls John into him immediately, but his brow is a little furrowed. 'Do you mean it?'

'We've shared beds before,' John strings him along with.

Sherlock tuts. 'John Watson, don't be coy, it doesn't suit you.'

John sobers, and then nods. 'I want… ' He goes for the plain truth. The opposite of coy. 'I want to sleep in your bed, and I'd prefer it'd be after some orgasms.'

Sherlock makes a noise John's not sure how to interpret.

'If you want,' John adds lightly. 

Crystalline eyes search John's face. 'Aren't you tired?'

His smile blooms slowly. 'Yeah, I am. But not too tired for this.' He reaches up to cradle Sherlock's face in his hands, and kisses him, slow and steady, feeling the beat of his heart.

---

'If I experiment enough, I get a deeper understanding.' -- Terence Tao

The first word gets drawn on Sherlock's right hip.

John's left index finger traces eight letters while his right hand tucks into Sherlock's pants and draws them down and off, his mouth following then trailing along hot, hard skin. He knows Sherlock's watching, and likes the idea that he's being at least a little unpredictable.

He's not done this before, but he's done this before. His tongue, and palate, and salivary glands adjust without much fanfare.

The second word, also eight letters, is then stencilled into Sherlock's right thigh, where the hair is downy, and the tendon cords under John's hand.

'John--' Sherlock murmurs roughly. 'What--'

John, on a whim, tries a thing with his tongue, and Sherlock cuts off with a groan. Then John finds himself so involved he forgets to do the next word until Sherlock pulls him up into a tight embrace.

John lets him, because it leaves him in the perfect position to tongue the ten letters into Sherlock's long, exposed neck.

'John, really. Your penmanship is--' His breath catches as John uses a few teeth. '--terrible.'

John huffs a laugh, genuinely amused. 'Doctor, remember?'

'No excuse,' Sherlock says blithely, then starts pulling away.

John is unashamed to admit he tries to stop him, tries to keep him close. Sherlock's gaze softens, and he leans back in.

'Not going further than this bed,' he says against John's mouth. 'It's just that I have something I wish to do.' He smiles, slow and long, and says, 'You did just have a bath, did you not?'

John searches his face, feeling scorched down to his toes at the implied invitation. His thumb traces the fourth word, only four letters, into the thin skin of Sherlock's unbroken wrist, and Sherlock's eyes widen fractionally.

'Perfect,' Sherlock says, then captures his mouth in another kiss. 'Turn over.'

'Your fracture,' John protests. 'It isn't fully healed.'

Sherlock rolls his eyes, and John is reassured he's still the same as he ever was. 'Which is why you should turn over. I'm going to kneel at the foot of the bed. That alright with you, Doctor?'

 'Oh, hell. Yes.'

The fifth word-- Well, John is surprised it took this long for the tables to turn, really, but the fifth word gets bitten into the rounded flesh where John's upper thigh tucks into his arse, before he has a chance to rise up onto his hands and knees. All seven letters, nibbled precisely into sensitive skin while Sherlock's uninjured hand teases at the goal.

'Jesus God,' John mutters weakly. 'Sherlock--'

'Up,' Sherlock says with a tap. John levers himself into position with a grunt, and barely has time to steady himself before Sherlock licks into him.

'Fuck,' he hisses, almost surging forward but being caught round the hip by Sherlock's good hand, steadied.

And then absolutely taken apart.

'Sher--' he falters, ages and a moment later, panting and trying to hold onto his clanging heart. 'Please, come here, I want-- I want you to come with me-- Oh, fuck.''

Sherlock's groan reverberates into him, and John falls onto his forearms, arse held in the air purely by strength of will. He'll congratulate himself later.

When Sherlock pulls away and climbs back onto the bed, John is caught in a messy web of lust and turns over just enough to pull Sherlock down onto his side. 'Please,' he says roughly, reaching for Sherlock's prick. 'Can I--'

'Yes,' Sherlock hisses, seeking out reciprocation. 'Whatever you want.'

And they sync up without too much struggle, racing to bring the other pleasure, and John can't quite remain tethered when he feels Sherlock's tongue tracing the sixth word over his heart. 'Sherlock,' he whispers. He tenses, and it's over; he's awash with sensation and floating away.

---

Seven steps of the scientific method: 1) Question 2) Research 3) Hypothesis 4) Test 5) Analyse 6) Conclusions 7) Communicate.

'You know,' Sherlock says enough moments later that John can focus on him again. 'The seventh step is debatable.'

John smirks sleepily, reaching blindly for his pants to wipe the majority of the evidence off their skin. 'I'd say communication is the most important part, actually.'

Sherlock huffs; John feels it on his temple and decides he's not moving for a while. And it takes a while for Sherlock to say what John can tell is brewing in his mind, anyway. It's alright. He can wait.

'What was that about, truly?' Sherlock finally asks quietly.

'Well,' John says, thinking as he traces figures, meaningless figures this time, into Sherlock's arm. 'Sometimes experiments are about demonstrating a known fact that’s already proven. '

'And this one proved…?'

John's hand comes to a stop. 'Oh, come on, you know what.'

Silence stretches after that statement, and John finally raises his eyes to meet Sherlock's. A smile spreads across his face at what he sees there.

'Just that I love the hell out of you,' he says matter-of-factly.

Sherlock lets out a stream of breath he'd apparently been holding. 'A reasonable conclusion,' he mutters, bringing their mouths together.

John grins, knowing exactly what Sherlock is saying with those words, and lets him have it.

[❤️]

[cwritesforfun]

Finnick Odair x Fem!Reader: love as sweet as sugarcubes PART TWO

Finnick just wants you home. He misses you and he loves you. You are in the Capitol with Johanna, Peeta, and Enobaria.

Read PART ONE HERE for context!!!

BTW ~ this is set during Hunger Games Mockingjay ~

Y/N's POV

I have no idea how long I have been in the Capitol being poked and prodded by metal instruments of pure torture, but it feels like forever. They've also been injecting me with tracker jacker venom and I hate the hallucinations. So far, my new plan is working. And by plan, I mean act stupid. Johanna hides a snicker back every time I crack my mouth open. I'm glad she seems to sort of enjoy this. I'm just trying to stay alive and keep my brain intact.

As I lie there in the hospital bed, a few Peacekeepers walk into the room. One props up my chair and asks, "Name?" I answer, "Y/N L/N." One of the Peacekeepers asks, "Who is the President of the Capitol?" I answer "Your Mom." I hear Johanna crack up laughing. Glad I could make her day. It's rare to hear a genuine laugh from her or anything good. I mainly hear her screaming or trying to silently cry. One of the Peacekeepers asks, "Who is the President of the Capitol?" I answer, "You guys are no fun. It's Coriolanus Snow." They ask, "Good. Now wasn't that simpler to just say the right answer." I reply, "Yes it really was." God, I hate them. One of the Peacekeepers asks, "And how do you know Katniss?" I answer, "I met her at the games during the training. It was the first time I spoke to her." I'm not telling them much more than that. I answer the questions they know the answers to and not anymore. One of the Peacekeepers asks, "And are you positive about this statement?" I answer "Are you asking if I remember my life correctly? I know I'm right." One of the Peacekeepers asks "Uh huh. We don't believe you. Your heart rate went up significantly when you answered that question. Boys, give her another injection." I feel the venom run through my veins and I feel myself lean back. My eyes close a little and I find myself remembering more memories.

...

I then regain consciousness and I notice that the Peacekeepers are gone. Johanna says, "Y/N, you know you're playing with fire when you snap at them and play dumb." I reply, "You do the same thing. Neither of us is doing better than the other. It's fine. I'm fine. We're trapped anyways. No one will come." Peeta says, "I like to think that they will." Johanna replies, "That's because you are an optimistic person." Peeta asks, "How did Finnick tell you he loved you, Y/N? Was it cute?" Johanna scoffs and asks, "Are you asking her to put you to bed with a bedtime story?" Peeta answers, "Yes." I exclaim, "Alright I can share that." Johanna says, "Yay a love story for bedtime!" I laugh and tell the story.

I notice Peeta asleep by the end and I smile. Good at least he fell asleep and the story time worked. I hope he can get back to Katniss.

Johanna exclaims, "I wish I was more like Peeta and I was hopeful." I reply, "Me too. With everything going on, I have become more doubtful and anxious about our futures. The venom is hurting and the hallucinations are only getting worse. I just don't think anyone will rescue us or I will ever see Finnick again alive." She replies, "No don't say that. Finnick said in the games, you were the only thing keeping him sane. He told me about his dream life with you by the water with kids and pets. Don't give up on that. At least you have someone." I reply, "I'm sure there's someone out there for you too." She laughs and says, "That's the funniest thing you've said all day."

2 weeks later ...

I lay there partially unconscious from all the tracker jacker venom and I notice the power go out. I ask, "What is this about?" Johanna answers, "No idea. I'm too filled with tracker jacker venom to stay awake any longer, so I fall back asleep.

When I wake up, I'm in a different hospital room and someone is cuddling me. I blink a few times and realize it's Finnick. He looks pretty healthy, but he has bags under his eyes, so I guess he hasn't been sleeping well. I'm confused about how I got here and where I am. Everything about my brain is fuzzy. I also have a cast on. I'm very confused. I nudge Finnick slightly and he wakes up. He looks into my eyes, smiles, and says, "Y/N! You're awake! Baby Oh how I've missed you! I probably should be more careful and quiet. Sorry, that was rude of me." He pulls me into a gentle kiss and we kiss. I missed him so much.

I ask, "Where are we?" He answers, "District 13, but you don't have to worry about that. You're safe. I'm safe. We are together and we can spend our future together." I reply, "Johanna told me that you told her that you had a future for us all planned out with kids and pets." He smiles softly and says, "Yeah... I see a real future with you and you make me so happy. I want to marry you one day and grow old with you and our kids and pets. I would've loved to live on the water with you, so we could swim all the time. But, I guess the underground is good for now and we can pick up new hobbies. Also, when I really propose, pretend you never heard this conversation, okay?" I reply, "Ok, but only because I love you so much." He smiles, kisses me on the cheek, and says. "I really love you so much. I missed you a lot too." I reply, "I missed you too. You look like you couldn't sleep without me, but I'm here now and I hope you can rest easier. I should tell you that they injected me with tracker jacker venom causing me to hallucinate. Sometimes I will have nightmares and I want you to know in case I freak out at night." He replies, "I will be here right beside you the whole time." I yawn and say, "Ok, I'm gonna go back to sleep. You can get closer if you want. I won't break." He kisses me on the forehead and then says, "I just don't want to hurt you. The doctor said you are extremely malnourished with lots of tracker jacker venom inside and a broken arm and he said you might have a concussion." I reply, "Ok... um... then just stay close, love." He nods and wraps his arms around me gently. I feel safer than I've felt in awhile.

And they all lived happily ever after... no but seriously, I could write a part three if you want... or not... hehehehehe

[woman-of-balnain]

Corruption Part 1/3 (Alpha Rick x Omega Reader)

Masterlist | AO3 Ver. | Next Part (Coming Soon)

Pairing: Rick Grimes/Fem!Reader

Request: Alpha Rick x Omega Reader….reader was sheltered and doesn’t really understand heats/ruts/presentations as their parents were religious extremists who refused to discuss anything so “unseemly”…let’s say they’re a late bloomer so they could be early 20s at the youngest, so age-gap…anyway, reader has to learn not only how to survive the zombie apocalypse but about presentations too. And there’s something about Rick’s scent that is just making them crazy and one day their heat comes and Rick has to guide them through…what do ya think?

A/N for Anon: Okay, so this may be far less plot than you were hoping for! I tried to write it but I worried about how innocent I was making the reader. Please let me know if you want a sort of prologue to this chapter (another anon ask is fine!) and exactly how innocent and clueless she can be and I will gladly write it!

Also, I'm not sure if I should have Rick cumming inside later and if he should claim her or not. Please let me know if you have a preference and I will accommodate it. And I'm so sorry this ended up becoming 3 parts instead of 1 but the idea just kept expanding. You really gave me the plot bunnies with this request and I love you for it haha

A/N:

I tried to keep Reader’s religious background ambiguous so you can picture it as anything, but I didn’t grow up religious so I’m sorry if I blatantly messed that up without realizing 😅

This is set in the prison era but it's kinda ambiguous as to when. I just figured that was still early enough after the outbreak for Reader to only just run out of suppressants if she had a bit of a stash of them, plus it gives them more opportunities for privacy compared to the quarry, the farm or being on the road.

I've messed with the prison a bit though. Since warden's usually had their own house on site in older prisons, I've got it so the warden in this one had their own quarters, which the group has agreed to keep reserved for heat/ruts cycles.

I'm also obsessed with Rick's lips rn and sorry, but the gifs are gonna reflect that lmao

Some notes on the a/b/o elements in this one:

Alphas and Omegas are fairly rare. Most people are just betas, making Reader's lack of knowledge about presentations etc more believable

She was put on suppressants as soon as she presented and has never experienced a real heat (just minor symptoms after first presenting)

Suppressants completely suppress your heat and are also considered to be sort of a taboo and unethical in this story due to how they mess with an omega's hormones etc.

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (including non-traditional), dominant Rick, sheltered Reader, virgin Reader, female Reader, Rick is experienced and the Reader definitely isn't, considerable age gap (Rick is 38, Reader is 21), masturbation, Reader masturbating while Rick watches, oral sex (female receiving), heat/rut cycles, no knots, Rick with an innocence kink.

Don't like, don't read.

Word Count: 5,472

Dividers by: @newlips + @cafekitsune

Rick turned over for what felt like the hundredth time in the small, single bed of his cell. He couldn’t sleep; his whole body felt restless as traces of your scent continuously tempted him. He knew your heat was coming now and it only tortured him even more than your presence usually did.

Omegas were already so rare – more so than alphas – and to meet one after the fall of civilization felt like even more of an anomaly. But then there was also the fact that you were so damn innocent.

Your presentations meant that he’d been drawn to you from the moment he first picked up on your scent, but as he got to know you, it quickly developed into attraction. It was bad enough that you were so much younger than him – 21, compared to his 38… – but you were also just so sweet and pure, that he felt dirty just thinking about you in any kind of lustful way, yet he also couldn’t help it.

The way you looked at him with so much trust, and how tantalizingly your scent wrapped around him… all Rick wanted to do was see your eyes filled with lust that was directed at him, or to pick up on the traces of desire in your scent as he thrust into you over and over and elicited endless moans from your tempting lips. Your innocence drove him crazy, but Rick told himself that you didn’t see him that way and he tried to stamp down his inappropriate thoughts.

His conversation with you a few days ago only solidified the fact that Rick shouldn’t be thinking about you in any way that wasn’t platonic. You had come to him with an empty pill bottle, saying you’d run out about a week previously and could the group look for more.

Rick had already known about your sheltered, strict and fanatically religious upbringing, but realizing that your parents had put you on suppressants and left you mostly in the dark about your presentation made him rightfully angry. This would be your first actual heat and Rick wasn’t sure how you would handle it, especially after being on suppressants for 5 years, considering the way they messed with an omega’s hormones.

He was brought out of his thoughts as he heard a pained whimper escape you from the cell you slept in, the one directly across from his. It made him realize that your heat must already be starting. Rick debated with himself for a moment, unsure if he should give into his instincts or not.

Because he knew that he didn’t just want to comfort you, he wanted to completely take away all of the pain and discomfort he knew you were feeling and give your body the kind of sexual gratification it was so clearly craving after your natural biological instincts and hormones had been suppressed for so many years.

When he heard another pained but muffled cry escape your lips, Rick knew he couldn’t resist any longer. So, he climbed out of bed and headed for your cell, determined to at least help you in some way.

You squeezed your legs together as tightly as you possibly could, but it didn’t help. You were hot all over, sweat covering your body and your clothes scratching irritably at your skin. It didn’t help that Rick’s scent seemed to wrap itself all around you. You thought you’d found it irresistible before, but now that seemed like nothing because you were barely holding yourself back from going into his cell.

What you would do if you actually found yourself there, you didn’t know. All you knew was the undeniable need you felt to be near him. Your mind seemed to be losing a battle against your body and it left you a little fearful.

You remembered your mother calling you an ‘omega’ shortly after your sixteenth birthday. You could recall the way you felt hot and irritated, but your parents had put you on those pills that made it all seem to wash away and never come back – until now, at least. You also remembered the countless times your parents told you to stay away from alphas.

You’d somehow just instinctively known that Rick was an alpha the moment you’d met him. And while your parents’ words rang through your head, they were gone by the time you met him and now so were the pills. All that was left was this never-ending feeling of heat and the desire to be near him that you felt (but didn’t quite understand).

You’d always had a sensitive sense of smell, but Rick’s scent was irresistible. It filled you with such a mix of emotions, like comfort, protection and happiness. But you also found it sinfully alluring, and it left you feeling slightly ashamed whenever you caught traces of it and you became filled with scandalous desires.

As your thoughts on him lingered, your body seemed to respond and the desperate, aching heat between your legs increased. You curled your hand into a fist, raising it to your mouth and bit down onto your fingers in an attempt to stifle the sound of pure, unrestrained need that left your lips.

“Rick…” you found yourself moaning out, half in shame and half in desperation.

Then you caught his scent getting stronger and you recognized that he was coming closer to you. The realization caused you to feel conflicted between a sense of relief and mortification. Your mother’s words seemed to repeat like a mantra in your head, telling you that the kinds of feelings you held for Rick (especially in that moment) were sinful and wrong.

But when he reached the doorway of your cell and his scent wrapped around you completely, all that you could think was how it felt right for him to be there. You tilted your head to look up at him and the heat inside you only swelled more intensely when you realized that he wasn’t wearing anything except his boxers and a plain, white t-shirt.

“Rick,” you whined out again, a little louder this time and completely yearning for him.

“Hey, it’s okay ‘mega,” he said gently, coming to the side of your bed and bending down to look at you properly. “It’s not that bad yet.”

Not that bad? You thought to yourself incredulously. I feel like I’m burning alive from the inside.

“I…” you whimpered, completely unaccustomed to all the different things you were feeling. “I can’t…”

Rick looked away from you briefly, seeming caught up in his thoughts, like he was internally debating something. But then his gaze met yours again and he looked like he’d made a decision.

“C’mere, ‘mega,” he murmured, reaching out to you.

His touch only seemed to make the fire within you blaze even hotter, as his hand fell to your shoulder. Rick either didn’t notice or didn’t mind, wrapping his arm around you until he was able to help you up. He carefully led you out of your cell and towards the locked door that marked the exit of the cell block.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“The warden’s rooms,” Rick replied. “It’s not far.”

You remained silent then, feeling only a little scared as you exited the safety of the cell block. But as he promised, you arrived there quickly enough. You only gave yourself a brief moment to look around, realizing that the warden of the prison must have lived there, since there was a bed.

“We’re keeping this room for when you’re in heat and I’m in my rut.”

You wondered what on earth a rut was. You’d only just begun to understand the fact that your body would be going into heat now that you were no longer taking the pills.

“You can stay here,” Rick continued. “Until it’s over. You’ll be safe in here, I promise.”

“Wait!” You exclaimed hurriedly. “You’re… you’re not going to leave me in here, are you?”

Rick looked at you with a strange expression, one you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Y/N…” his tongue darted out to briefly lick his bottom lip and it just made you feel even more heated. “I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

You didn’t realize how much you were tempting him with that question. In your mind, you just didn’t want to be left alone and you definitely didn’t want to be without the comfort his scent was giving you.

“You want me to?” Rick asked with a hint of trepidation.

“Please,” you practically begged him.

Unbeknownst to you, Rick was extremely conflicted. There you were, pleading with him to stay, but he was aware that you probably didn’t really know what you were asking. He knew that he should just walk away, but a deeper and darker part of his mind suggested that he could stay and help you through it.

He didn’t have to touch you… he could just guide you and make sure you weren’t alone. He ignored the more reasonable side of him which pointed out the fact that he would eventually lose his self-control. Hell, that was already slipping away as he made his decision.

“Okay…” Rick agreed. “But stay here for a few minutes. I’ll get some food, water… so you have everything you need.”

You just nodded, not minding just so long as he did come back. Rick gave you one last lingering look before leaving and once he did, you sat down on the edge of the bed to wait for him. But with each second that he was gone, your body seemed to get worse. That insatiable feeling between your legs seemed to be aching for Rick and the way his scent lingered in the room but wasn’t strong enough only made it more unbearable.

A thick fog seemed to cloud your mind and your inhibitions started to fade. Your hand seemed to move of its own accord, falling to the top of your right thigh and then sliding down between your legs. You’d touched yourself before, trying to forget your shame in the dark of night, stifling the quiet sounds that left your mouth in your old bedroom and finding a small sense of devious relief.

Maybe you could do it again now. Maybe it would satiate your wicked body until he got back, and you felt his scent wrap around you again… At the thought of Rick, your resolve wavered, and your hand disappeared under the waistband of your sleep shorts. They barely covered anything, and you’d felt slightly embarrassed to wear them at first, but now you were glad that they didn’t restrict you too much.

You let yourself lay back with a quiet moan as your fingers came into contact with your folds and all thoughts of it being wrong fled your mind as your body sang with happiness and relief. You let yourself think of Rick, imagining him while you touched yourself and felt wetness beginning to pool beneath your fingers.

You wondered how it would feel to have him touch you like this. Those long fingers giving you sinful pleasure while his deep voice with that southern lilt murmured dirty things into your ear. It made you squirm because everything you’d ever been taught told you how wrong it was to imagine him like that, while your body seemed to whisper seductively to you, pointing out that it felt so unbelievably good, so what did it matter?

You were so caught up in the pleasure you were giving yourself and the thoughts your mind conjured up of Rick, that you didn’t even notice the door opening back up. When his scent filled the room once again, you just became even more lost in the depths of your unholy desires, never once stopping to think that it meant he was back, and you needed to stop.

“Fuck…”

Your eyes snapped open, and you froze in horror. Rick was standing in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. You became absolutely mortified, realizing how uncomfortable he must have been, seeing you like that. The fog seemed to clear as rationality entered your mind again. You pulled your hand out from your shorts at a rapid speed and blushed deeply.

“I’m so sorry,” you covered your face with your hands in complete and utter embarrassment.

Rick didn’t say anything, but you heard the door shut and the sound of footsteps approaching you. Then he was gently pulling your hands away so that you would look at him.

“You don’t have to be sorry, ‘mega,” he assured you. “It’s normal.”

You just stared at him, not really believing his words.

“It’s your heat,” Rick continued. “You don’t have to feel ashamed by it.”

He seemed to read you easily, and knowing about your sheltered upbringing likely helped him to ascertain the conflict of emotions within you. His close proximity didn’t help, as the intensity of his scent seemed to just make your symptoms unbearable again.

“I can’t stand it…” you admitted, squirming slightly. “I feel like I’m on fire.”

Rick just nodded, understanding. Then one of his hands fell to your left thigh, resting on the space just above your knee. You watched as he swallowed thickly, the action causing the protruding bump of his Adam’s apple to bob slightly. His pupils dilated as his thumb rubbed lightly against your skin and when he spoke you thought you might actually become consumed by that internal fiery feeling.

“You wanna touch yourself?” He asked lowly, voice husky and thick with lust.

He was so blatant about it – something you couldn’t bear to be. You just nodded ever so slightly, stuck between feeling embarrassed and just wanting to know what you should do.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Rick told you. “If that’s what you need, then you shouldn’t hold back.”

“I don’t want you to leave though…”

Your desire to have him close outweighed your need for release in that moment. As if in reaction to your words, Rick’s hand squeezed down slightly on your thigh and his tongue darted out once again to lick his bottom lip.

“I don’t have to…” he suggested ever so softly. “I can stay.”

The idea made your heart skip a beat and once again you were torn between what you’d always been taught to believe, and what your body was telling you, which was to just follow your instincts. Rick seemed to sense your hesitation and when he brought his other hand down to settle on your right thigh as well, you let out an involuntary sound which betrayed your carnal need for him.

A small smile curved up at the corners of his lips, and now with one hand on each of your thighs, he stroked his fingers lightly up and down them.

“Do you want me to?” Rick asked.

“Yes…” you replied quietly, with only the slightest hint of hesitation left.

“Tell me what you need, ‘mega,” he coaxed you. “You want these off?”

His fingers tugged lightly at the bottom of your shorts, and you just nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his, as his eyes darkened even further. Rick brought his fingers up to the waistband of your shorts then and pulled down on them until they began sliding down your legs.

A mix of excitement and anxiety swirled through you because, oh… you shouldn’t be doing this, but you couldn’t find it within you to want to stop. When those immodestly tiny shorts had been gotten rid of, Rick’s gaze fell to the place between your thighs, now only covered by your cotton panties.

“Those too?” He asked, forcing his gaze back up to yours.

You hesitated, unsure if you were ready to completely expose yourself to him yet. But the fluids that had gathered between your folds as you’d touched yourself had only built up even more and it was slightly uncomfortable. So, you nodded again, and Rick was quick to hook his fingers under the elastic and pull them down too. Your panties had barely reached your thighs when he paused, drinking in the sight of your now unprotected pussy.

“Fuck, ‘mega,” Rick groaned. “You’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks heated, as the compliment was directed at such a sinful part of your body. But to hear him praise any part of you made you almost dizzy with happiness. He tugged them down the rest of the way, leaving your lower body completely exposed to him. Then, Rick spread your legs further and licked his bottom lip again. You wondered if he knew how much your heated skin grew worse every time he did it and if he was purposefully trying to torment you.

“You’re so wet…” Rick breathed out and you felt his fingers twitch against your thigh. “Go on, ‘mega… touch yourself.”

It was so dirty, the way he said it and you knew you shouldn’t have been letting him witness such a thing. But you were burning up inside again and your body didn’t seem to care about the beliefs that had been imprinted into your mind. Your hand moved without you really thinking about it once again and when you touched your dripping folds, you let out another sound of desire.

“That’s it, baby,” Rick moaned, barely holding himself back.

He was so close to you; it should have made you feel ashamed, but it only left you more desperate to touch yourself. Rick’s grip on your thighs tightened slightly as he tried to keep himself in check. You were driving him to the edge of his sanity, exploring yourself right in front of him. Rick wanted to instruct you to spread your folds a little more, so he could see more of your perfect pussy, but he reminded himself that this wasn’t about him. He knew that you only wanted him there because of your heat, so he reminded himself to just guide you where you needed it, like he’d told himself he would. But the urge to just reach out and replace your fingers with his own, or maybe with his mouth… it was overwhelming him.

You took in how heated Rick’s eyes were as they remained fixated on the way you pleasured yourself. Your eyelids became heavy as you watched him watching you, wondering if he really was as captivated by the sight as he seemed to be. Your fingers rubbed over your clit, making the desire swirl rapidly through you, increasing with every little movement you made to stimulate yourself further.

“That feel good, ‘mega?” Rick asked, bringing his gaze to yours and catching the way you were staring at him.

“Yes…” you admitted with just a little bit of shame.

“You can close your eyes, baby,” he suggested. “Think of whatever gets you over the edge.”

You just shook your head, because the only thing that would send you towards release was right in front of you and the real thing was better than anything you could imagine in your head.

“It’s okay,” Rick tried to assure you, thinking you were just too shy. “Your heat is a natural part of being an omega. You should enjoy it.”

You averted your gaze from his as your cheeks became heated again.

“I… I’m fine just… just looking at you…”

You blushed furiously, not knowing what had come over you to be able to admit that out loud.

“Omega,” Rick practically growled out, his fingers digging into the skin of your thighs.

You worried that you’d possibly upset him with the admission and frantically met his gaze again as your movements halted.

“I’m sorry!” You found yourself saying again. “I… I shouldn’t have said that…”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” he calmed you. “It’s just your heat… it’ll make you want an alpha and I’m the only one around. It’s okay.”

You frowned and didn’t really consider your words before you spoke them.

“It’s not that…” you admitted shyly. 

Rick’s gaze pierced into yours, silently urging you to continue.

“I know it’s inappropriate but…” you tried to finish what you’d been about to say but found yourself faltering again.

“Have you already touched yourself while thinkin’ about me?”

You avoided his gaze again, looking off to the side self-consciously. Would he condemn you if he knew the truth? But then you felt his fingers begin to caress your inner thighs, slowly moving upwards and you realized that in the fog of that heated feeling you were still experiencing, he was still kneeling down between them.

What use was it to feel embarrassed over words of admission when you were completely exposed in front of him? You went to try and squeeze your legs shut as humiliation washed over you, but Rick’s grip was too strong, and he kept you right as you were – and exactly how he wanted you to remain.

“Answer me, omega,” he demanded.

You just nodded yet again, unable to even form the simple word ‘yes’ as you remained the subject of his intense gaze.

“Do you want me to touch you, instead?” Rick prompted, his fingers continuing their torturously slow ascent up your thighs. “Tell me what you want baby, don’t be shy.”

The fact that he seemed to be encouraging your sinful desires rather than judging you for them, only spurred you on.

“Yes…” you admitted softly. “I want you to.”

“Fuck,” he cursed again. “You’re so sweet, ‘mega.”

“Sweet?” You questioned out loud, feeling like the farthest thing from that as your upbringing made you feel dirty for your shameful desires.

“Yeah,” Rick breathed out. “I bet you taste sweet too.”

Oh, that made your pussy squeeze down with anticipation and you didn’t even really comprehend what he meant, but some secret and hidden part of your body seemed to respond and understand that it was something wickedly good. Rick just smiled deviously as your body squirmed a little and his fingers finally made contact with your wet folds. You let out a restrained sound of desire at his touch, but he seemed to disapprove.

“Don’t do that,” Rick gently admonished you. “I wanna hear every little sound you make, omega.”

Before you could nod or say any words of understanding, Rick pressed down onto your clit with his thumb and the only response you could give was a deep and shameless moan.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised. “Don’t hold back.”

He continued to tease you, rubbing circles over the sensitive nub and it was so different to when you had dared to touch yourself in the past. It was more pleasurable, because now you were no longer in control. It only made it even better that the man you desired in every sinful way possible was the one doing it to you. More moans left you, escaping your lips freely now and your pussy squeezed again as Rick’s fingers moved down to gather up some of the generous amount of slick still pooling between your legs.  

“I’ve thought about you too,” he admitted lowly, continuing his perfect ministrations. “You’ve got no idea how much you drive me crazy, ‘mega.”

The revelation both stunned you and left you feeling overcome with happiness. Did he feel the same way you did? In truth, you weren’t entirely sure how you felt, because this was all so new to you. All you knew was that you felt drawn to him and even though it had started with his scent, it didn’t end there.

“Let me taste you baby,” Rick requested.

You still weren’t entirely sure what that meant but you were very eager to find out.

“Okay…” you moaned out as his thumb pressed down on your clit.

“You ever had a man eat you out before?” He asked with a devilish grin, like he already knew the answer.

“No…”

“What about touching you?” Rick continued. “Like this.”

He teased the sensitive nub further with his fingers, emphasizing what he meant.

“No, you’re the first…”

“Fuck baby… I’m the first one to see you like this?”

“Yes,” you admitted softly. “Rick… isn’t this wrong?”

Your inhibitions came back slightly at the reminder that he was the first man to ever see you so exposed and you remembered why that was.

“No, sweetheart,” he assured you. “Get that stuff outta your head. Lie down and let me take care of you.”

You hesitated just briefly before doing as he said and relaxing back onto the bed. You trusted him, enough to even forsake everything you’d ever been taught. And as you felt Rick shift between your legs and move closer until his warm breath met your dripping wet and exposed folds, you allowed yourself to forget it all too and just completely focus on him.

Then you were moaning so loud, you wondered if it was actually more of a scream as his lips enclosed over your clit. Your fingers curled into the sheets beneath you and your hips started to move up on their own. Rick pushed them back down with his hand though and kept a tight grip on you, holding your hips steady.

“Oh…” you breathed out, all rational thought leaving your mind as you focused on just feeling.

You had never felt so good before, and you didn’t care if it was a sin or anything like that. Your only concern was Rick and everything he was doing to you, everything he was making you feel and how right it all seemed. The tip of his tongue flicked over your clit, pushing up the hooded part and teasing the sensitive nub underneath. His lips sucked down around it and his fingers tested your entrance further down, noticing just how tight you were.

Waves of desire were spreading through your body, and it was almost too much, because you’d never experienced anything like it, or anything so intense. The coarse hair of his short beard tickled at your skin and even provided extra stimulation around your clit, where it sat around his lips.

His fingers pushed slightly inside of you, and it was a little shocking, because you’d never dared to explore yourself like that. Your pussy seemed to automatically clamp down around them, and Rick pulled them back out, apparently thinking better of it for now. Instead, he let his lips travel down from your clit and to the tight hole of your entrance, deciding to test you with something softer.

The tip of Rick’s nose rubbed against your clit and then he actually breathed you in, before letting out a deep moan as though he liked the scent of you there. That seemed so incredibly naughty to you, but your body’s only response was to produce more slick in anticipation of what else he would do to you.

“Ahh…” you moaned out uncontrollably as his tongue pushed into your pussy. “Rick…”

He let out his own moan in response, the sound vibrating through your core sensually. And then he was giving languid strokes of his tongue inside you, pushing you further towards the threshold of your desires. It was soft and pleasant, not feeling intrusive as he tested the tightness of your inner walls.

Rick was completely lost in his lust for you, feeling addicted to the way you were coming undone. A good girl, raised with strict religious morals, now a moaning and sticky mess beneath him, completely at the mercy of his touch. It was exactly how he wanted you to stay, receptive to him and eager for more.

Your scent was so lasciviously tempting to him, and especially with his nose being buried near the scent gland at your pussy. It made him crave every part of you and it was hard to hold himself back. He wanted to bury his cock (still trapped within his boxers and achingly hard) deep inside your pussy. But Rick knew he had to be patient and wait until you were ready, not just physically but also mentally.

Maybe it was a form of corruption, as he peeled away the layers of your innocence, but he couldn’t find it in him to care anymore. He wanted you to be his, in every possible way, just like he wanted to not just be the first, but also the only one to ever know you like this.

Your body felt like it was ascending to some high and just out of reach peak, and as Rick’s nose rubbed against your clit and his tongue thrust into your core, you felt yourself edging ever closer. When he pulled his tongue out of you and licked slowly up your slit until he reached your sensitive nub again, you felt the first ripple course through you.

But then his lips were wrapping around your clit, and he sucked down hard, just the tip of his tongue flicking over the little bundle of nerves. You cried out in shameless ecstasy, all inhibitions thrown to the wind as your body both tensed and seemed to also be overcome with euphoric release.

Your legs shook, with Rick’s head still buried between them and his mouth continuing to overwhelm you with stimulation. He licked and sucked as your entire body seemed to spasm. Your eyes squeezed shut and your mind became blank for a moment. The sensations you were feeling were new and powerful and so wickedly pleasurable. It was strange, but even with the intensity of it all, you still found yourself already wanting to chase that feeling again as your body began to settle.

The raging fire within you also seemed to calm down and your mind cleared slightly. Rick’s tongue slowed in its movements against you and then he was pulling back to look at you. His tongue flicked out again to lick his lips clean of the traces of your slick which had been left there. It was so wicked to think of him tasting you like that, but you found that you liked it.

Rick’s lips curved up into a salacious grin and he got up, moving to trap your body beneath his. You met his gaze, looking up at him with a mixture of awe and slight bashfulness. He reached out to let his fingers gently grip your chin and then his thumb was brushing along your lower lip.

“You’ve got no idea, do you ‘mega?” He asked you lowly.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, only confirming his observation.

“That’s what makes you so damned perfect. You have no idea what you do to me, because you’re not even doin’ it on purpose.”

His thumb pressed down harder against your bottom lip, and you let out a quiet moan. He was right; you were still not fully comprehending all the things he was making you feel, let alone how you were making him feel.

“You tell me now, omega,” Rick continued. “Your mind’s clearer after that, I know it is. You tell me if you want me to leave, because if you don’t do it now, I won’t be able to hold back later. When your heat fully hits you, I won’t be able to walk away, so make a decision now.”

The thought of him leaving made you feel panicked. You didn’t want to imagine experiencing this alone and he had already made it so much more bearable than you feared it could have been. When Rick explained your heat to you a few days ago, it left you filled with anxiety and trepidation. Now that he’d touched you, made you unravel until you reached the height of elation… there was no way your own fingers could compare.

You didn’t care that you’d always been taught that this entire thing must be a complete sin. Rick told you it was natural, that it was a part of you, and he knew in ways your parents would never understand. He was like you, even if he was slightly different. It was like he was the other half that could complete you and help you get through the confusing experience that still lay before you.

There was still some trepidation within you, because you were so inexperienced and unknowledgeable in general, let alone compared with Rick. But he had been so patient and had taken care of you so far. The answer to his request seemed obvious to you.

“Please stay,” you asked of him softly.

Rick didn’t try to talk you out of it or remind you that there was no going back. Instead, his eyes darkened with unrestrained desire and he leaned closer to you.

“Okay, ‘mega,” he murmured. “If that’s what you want.”

You just nodded and then he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours like you had just made a vow to one another and you were now sealing it with a kiss.

_

A/N: I'd really appreciate feedback on this one. Part 2 will involve some more exploration for the Reader with Rick before having her first time with him. Part 3 will involve Rick's rut hitting and be my usual alpha rut scenario, but with a bit of a different feel to it as Rick tries to control himself with the Reader, since she is still very new to so many of the things going on.

_

[teddy-bear-baby]

Their Deadly Flower - Twelve

(A/n: Been putting off finishing this story for a while now because I've poured so much time and love into it, but I think it's time to put it to rest. Sadly, I will be finishing this story with around 15 chapters and maybe an epilogue. Hope you all have enjoyed this story as much as I have. As always enjoy this chapter, my Lovelies and don't forget to leave feedback.)

Pairings: Ghost X GN!Reader, König X GN!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence and torture, angst, slightly crazed reader

Prolog - One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Ten - Eleven - Here - Thirteen

     Ghost and König agreed on only two things. One, you meant far too much to both of them for this stupid fighting to continue. And two, they were completely and utterly fucked in their current situation.

     Both men sat facing each other, bound to chairs and gagged. Their masks had been removed a few hours ago when they were placed into these godforsaken seats. The lack of facial coverings allowed both men a good look at each other’s features as they silently communicated. Using only their eyes and minimal facial expressions they’d begun to slowly devise a plan of escape.

~~~~~

     Two days. It’s been two fucking days since anyone has seen Ghost or König and you are in an absolute downward spiral. Your thoughts are consumed with worry and fear. Dreadful images flooding every corner of your mind as the endless possibilities recount themselves to you, for what feels like, the millionth time today.

     “Iris?” Soap’s wary voice cuts through the thoughts swirling around your brain. Concern evident in his features as he stares at you. “It’s going to be alright.” He attempts to reassure you as your eyes finally meet across the bare living room of the old house. “They’re going to be alright.”

     Gaz nods in agreement with the same cautious concern in his eyes. “We’ll find them and bring them back safely.” 

     All three of the men standing with you had been trying to calm your nervousness and worry for the past two days. Though they should be a calming force, having been like family to you for so long, nothing they said or did had helped much at all. Not since Price had admitted that Alice had said something odd the night before your two men had been stolen away from you. “I might be here with you, but believe that there are people planning in the background, just waiting for their chance.” You were sure in that moment that Alice’s people had taken something important to you either to prove a point, or to draw you out. To get you to do something reckless, like run headlong into danger to keep those around you safe from wraith that was aimed toward you.

     At first Alice’s anger was on the 141 in general for all the trouble we’d given her and her people. But after everything she’d gone through trying to get information out of you for two years, you’re almost certain it’s personal now. A vendetta against you specifically for not only wasting two years of her time but also playing a part in her capture.

     “Iris?” Fingers snapping in front of your face cause you to once again jolt from your dreadful thoughts. Price’s fingers to be specific. He stares at you with an understanding glint in his eyes. He’s worried too, though he’s better at keeping calm in most situations. “Come on,” His hand rests flat against your shoulder blade, applying a little pressure as he begins leading you toward the front door. “We’ll get you a drink, calm your mind a bit and go over what we know again. I need you focused if we’re going to get them back.” His voice trails off slightly as though he wanted to add something to the end of that statement but decided not to.

     Price’s words have the opposite effect of what they were meant to. If we’re going to get them back? You’d at least expected him to say something like “By the end of the week” or “Anytime soon”. You understand though. In a situation like this, when there’s no clear evidence of where they’ve gone or who had been responsible, there is no guarantee that they’ll return alive. If they return at all. 

     A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you step out of the house for the first time in almost four days. The light of the early evening sun burns your retinas and causes you to squint in order to see your surroundings. “Do you really think drinking is a good idea at a time like this?” Your voice comes out strained from the incessant crying you’d done over the past 48 hours. “Ghost and König are out there somewhere, likely being tortured or killed, and here we are going out for drinks.” It felt wrong even if it wasn’t for enjoyment purposes.

     “If it gets you to calm down enough for a proper conversation, I’d say it’s more than worth it.” Soap comments from behind you as he closes and locks the rickety door. 

     You let out another sigh as you climb into the passenger seat of the car they’d come in. You weren’t going to enjoy this one bit. You’d gotten so used to drinking with Ghost sitting across from you, you’re sure you’ll break down more than once.

~~~~~

     It doesn’t take long to get to the local pub, which seems more like a nightclub with the music booming in your ears before you even enter the building. The inside is dimly lit, the music getting exponentially louder as you and your three companions push past a few people lingering around the entrance. Your eyes rove over the crowd of bodies bumping and grinding in the center of the large room. A migraine begins to form in your temples as Soap grabs your arm and tugs you behind him through the crowd. 

     Groaning you allow him to pull you toward a small table in the back corner away from the rest of the patrons. You find it hard to pull your eyes away from the group of people dancing and having a good time, feeling almost envious of how joyful and carefree they are. You wish more than anything that you could be out there dancing and laughing with König while Ghost sits in the corner watching over you. Images of your fantasy flash behind your eyes; König’s bright eyes crinkled at the corners as you dance together a large grin on your own face as you look over to Simon whose eyes have been on you the whole time.

     A harsh shaking of your shoulder pulls you from your blissful daydream. Price stares down at you intently with furrowed brows. “Welcome back to reality, care to stay for a while?” His mouth twists into a small sarcastic smile, his mustache curving with his lips as he attempts to lighten the mood a little.

     You take a deep inhale, allowing the air to stretch out your tired chest before nodding slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.” Taking in your surroundings once more you realize you’re already sat at the corner table, Soap and Gaz are sitting across from you sipping on pints of amber liquid. “Sorry, I’m trying to separate my emotions from work, I really am but-”

     Gaz cuts in and finishes your thought. “But you’ve made a mess of that whole philosophy. We know.” He takes another sip from his glass as he glances around the room.

     You grumble a bit as you pick up the pint that had been set in front of you at some point, draining half the glass in seconds. You can only hope it’ll help numb the emotions enough for you to focus on the present moment. You needed to know exactly what the plan was to get your men back. “How the hell are we going to find them?” Your question is followed by silence and brief glances among the four of you as you look for the others to answer. 

     After a few moments Price speaks up. “Well, the plan was to look for any evidence in the house and hope it’d point us somewhere.” He cocks his head slightly as he idly fiddles with the rim of his glass. “But whoever did it was more prepared than we hoped, left nothing but that handprint. Only thing we can go off of is what Alice said, but that’s not proof of anything.” He sighs and takes a large gulp from his glass, his stress and worry over the situation showing more than before. His composure only slips further the longer you all go without any answers.

     You all go over the events of that morning multiple times, each of you proposing different ideas of what could have happened. None of them end up making any sense or giving way to new leads. The only thing that made sense in your mind was that Alice’s people were out for blood or her return, neither of which were comforting thoughts. Either outcome could and would leave good people injured and dead. Ghost and König likely being among the first to succumb to those afflictions.

     Your stomach turns, whether from the alcohol, the thoughts, or both, you're not sure. Not that it really matters. What matters is making it to the bathroom before your drink comes rocketing from your throat and all over the table. You jump up from your seat clutching your stomach before rushing toward the restroom. You ignore the concerned looks from your companions as you race through the room, pushing through crowds of people. Bile stings the back of your throat, a sour taste forcing its way onto your taste buds as you slam the restroom door open.

~~~~~

     A growl escapes your throat as you deliver another harsh blow to the man’s gut, watching with demented glee as his body tries to fold in on itself. A wheezed breath follows his pained grunt as he tugs against the bindings that hold his wrist to the arms of the old wood chair. “I’m getting tired of the games, Ezekiel.” Your voice flows through the room, bouncing off the cement walls of the basement with a bone chilling sweetness. Your eye twitches slightly as he glares at you through swollen eyelids, that same glare he’d given you just before you’d knocked him unconscious a few hours ago.

     Letting out a shaky breath you tear your eyes away from the reflection in the mirror, unable to stare at your tired face any longer. It’s a clear visual of how badly Ghost and König’s disappearance has affected you and it only served to make your mind spiral further.

     You make your way quickly out of the restroom and back into the loud, crowded pub. You’re about to move toward the table where your companions are seated when your gaze lands on a pair of eyes that seem all too familiar. One orb is a bright emerald green and the other is a dark, almost black, shade of brown. You don’t recognise the rest of the man’s face. Those eyes, however, they’d be recognisable anywhere. Your mind races as the pieces of this terrible puzzle fall into place. 

     This man standing only a few paces away from you was present at many of your negotiations with Alice. His all-too-unique eyes give him away even if he’d worn a face covering to every meeting that he’d accompanied her on. You’d done some research into her and the team she worked with to better equip yourself just in case a negotiation went sideways. His name is Ezekiel and he’s known to be one of the more dangerous members of the group.

     The only question now is what the hell is he doing here? Not that you had to think too much about it after the thoughts that had plagued you for the past two days. It was glaringly obvious to you now that the theory you’d come up with about Alice was almost certainly true. She’d most likely had this as a backup plan if she was found out. But there was no way for her to have known how important Ghost and König were to you. Unless she had someone, a mole of sorts, watching you and your team. 

     Before you can think through your actions you’ve stepped up to the man. He’s large, not as large as König, or even Ghost, but he could definitely be lethal based solely on his build. You could handle him though, especially if he’s not as well trained as the members of 141.

     His eyes move to your form as you step into his space, a quizzical and almost flirtatious look crossing his features. “Something I can do for you?” His voice is like satin, caressing your eardrums in the most spine tingling way. If he weren’t the enemy, and someone who is more than likely involved in the disappearance of König and Ghost, he’d be a nice catch.

     Your mind whirls with visions of ripping his throat out with your teeth before beating him into a mass of blood and bones. You want to tell him off right there, scream at him to give back the two men you hold so precious. You don’t though, knowing it would only cause a scene and give away who you are if he hadn’t put that together already. “You’re eyes,” You manage to force the words out slowly with a small flirtatious smile. “They’re gorgeous.” The words taste like battery acid on your tongue and guilt begins to form in your chest. If you’re lucky you might be able to smooth-talk this guy into leaving with you so you can get some answers out of him.

     It really was that easy. You sweet talked your way past the sour taste in your mouth and managed to get into his head. Ezekiel was all-too-desperate to be taking someone home and you were all-too-happy to follow him out to his car. 

     Wasting no time once the two of you were secluded in his car, you give him a sweet smile. “I would apologize for what comes next, but I have no empathy for scum like you.” You watch his brows furrow as he glares over at you just before your fist makes contact with his temple. He slouches forward against the steering wheel with a soft thump. The only thing left to do now was figure out how to tell your three companions about the reckless move you’d just pulled.

     “So tell me, where are my men?” Your voice comes out low, your harsh tone accompanied by a dangerous glare. You stare him down as you slowly circle around him, a predator studying their prey.

     Ezekiel lets out a low chuckle, something he’d done multiple times since you started questioning him three hours ago. It was different this time, a hint of nervousness seeping into what was meant to be a sound of mocking. “I’m not tellin’ you shit.” His voice is gruff and strained from the number of blows he’d taken to the abdomen. 

     It was an answer, not the one you were looking for, but he’d indirectly confirmed that he knows something about Ghost and König. Whether he was directly involved or not, you now know he has some sort of information that could be useful. A relieved feeling settles low in your belly, knowing now that you’re not wasting precious time with this unconventional interrogation.

     You grin widely at him as you lean down and look him directly in the eyes, certain you look completely insane at this point. “So you do know something about it.” Excitement and intrigue lace your words as you grip his face hard in your left hand. You watch closely as his expression shifts, his brows furrowing as he realizes he slipped up. “Let’s try this again, hmm?” You straighten yourself to stand at full height as you pull out the switchblade König had given you a few weeks ago. “Perhaps I can persuade you to tell me the truth.” Your eyes linger on the knife in your grasp as you flip it open, admiring the way the blade shines in the dim fluorescent light of the musty basement.

      You feel absolutely crazed, finding enjoyment in tormenting this man more than you should. You wanted answers, wanted to find your men and this insect, this pest was keeping you from that. You’re breaking, becoming unstable from the emotional distress of the whole situation. Your mind is slipping, the want to find them giving way to dark thoughts. Thoughts of all the ways you’d enjoy tearing the information from this man’s lips. All the rage you’ve held in over the years is creeping up under your skin, flowing straight to your fingertips as you play with the knife, like lightning to a rod.

     Ezekiel’s eyes stare intently at the blade as he appears to consider his options. "So what, either I tell you what I know or you'll kill me?" He asks incredulously, eyes still focused on the sharp blade. "Isn't that against your code of conduct or something?" He's desperately trying to remain calm but the smallest hint of panic has worked its way into his voice, and that sends a thrilled shiver down your spine. “You’ll go to prison for this.”

     A small laugh burst from between your lips. "Oh, darling Ezekiel," You coo at him as you place the tip of the blade against the underside of his chin, forcing him to look you in the eyes once more. "Do you see a uniform? A badge? Any symbol that would represent a professional bound by some such code?" Your grin widens, a maniacal glint flashing in your eyes as you watch his panic become visible. "No," You shake your head a little while pressing the knife more firmly into his chin. "Not here, not now. You see, right now I am someone looking for something important to me. And you," You pull the knife from his chin and point it directly at his face, enjoying the way his eyes widen as it nearly touches his nose. "You are simply an obstacle standing in my way. Believe me when I say I will dismantle you piece by piece until you give me the information I'm asking for."

     Ezekiel's eyes flit rapidly between the blade and your face, a look of contemplation gracing his features. "You won't do it." His voice is shaky and quiet, filled with uncertainty. Whether he’s uncertain of his own words or your willingness to follow through, you’re not sure.

     Your head cocks to one side as you move the blade to his cheek, swiping the sharp edge swiftly across the flesh. "Are you willing to bet your life on that?" You ask in a low, menacing tone as you force your eyes away from the streak of red on his cheek, looking to his eyes instead. You find your answer there, in his mismatched orbs. A look of pure horror echoed by the way he flinches away from your gaze. "Good. Now then," You slowly pull the knife away from his blood streaked face, wiping it clean against the leg of your pants. "You have three choices here. I can start with your fingers, I can start with your toes, or you can give me the information I'm asking for."

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[thevelria]

Pull the trigger (SFW/hitman!Gojo x mafia!leader!fem!reader)

Author's note: I've been working on this story for weeks lol I really enjoyed writing it, reader is completely different this time. She's cold and ruthless but don't worry, they get their happy end (kinda lol)

And also I did a collab with my lovely friend @randompurr again. Please give her some love, she did an amazing job <3 

DO NOT copy or repost her art without giving credit! Comments and likes are much appreciated.

And thank you to my lovely @ladycheesington for proofreading <3

Warnings: MNDI/ 18+ ONLY!/ injuries, blood, violence, torture. Mention of guns and illegal business. It's a mafia AU after all Wordcount: 5.1K

“Such a shame to kill someone so beautiful.” he thought and for a brief second he hesitated. For the first time in his life Satoru was unable to pull the trigger. In a blink of an eye you were out of his sight. His pupils grew wide and his breath became uneven, because he knew he fucked up. 

“Shit.” he clenched his jaw as he was still staring through the lens of his high tech weapon at the spot you stood just a second ago. 

***

A big yawn and an even bigger stretch helped you get out of the bed in the morning. You knew it was going to be a busy day. Some business meetings then a party where your business partner invited you. So actually it was a must. 

It’s been a few years now that you had to get in charge as the head of the family. Your father passed away and his last wish was you to protect the empire at all costs. He raised you well, if raising a girl as a ruthless yakuza could mean “well”. Skilled, smart, sneaky were just bits of your personality. 

Did you want this role? Sure. Would you have any other choice if you thought otherwise? Of course not.  

For some reason old memories rushed your mind while you were getting ready in the bathroom. Taking a hot shower, standing under the water was supposed to make you feel relaxed. But instead you frowned as an unwanted scene from your past flashed in front of your eyes. 

“Do it! And prove your worth!” you heard your father’s harsh voice. 

“I don’t want to…” you argued with shaky hands. 

“Do you think I wanted it when I was at your age? No! Did my father care about my feelings? Also no! Because our feelings don’t matter. The only thing we need to focus on is to keep the business together, protect the empire at all costs. Never forget that! And now pull the fucking trigger.” he shouted. 

You closed your eyes and obeyed. It was the first time you killed someone. With time it became easier but you were unable to forget the first one. You were only a child for fuck’s sake. 

Your turquoise silk robe hung on the hook and waited for you to put it on after you dried yourself with a huge fluffy towel. As you stared in the mirror you noticed how tired your eyes looked. Circles and massive bags showed you would have needed some more rest or some less stressful life in general. But there was nothing that makeup couldn’t hide. Getting ready was one of your favorite parts of the day. 

Business meetings meant casual makeup and conservative hairstyles. Messing with your bun you chose some gem covered hair pins to fix it. Your typical velvet lipstick finished the look before you walked to your wardrobe to choose an outfit. An outfit that showed you were a powerful and dangerous business woman. 

A black long sleeved turtle neck blouse with also black tight pants were the best choice. You spiced the outfit with heels, a long snow white coat and a pair of leather gloves. A slight smirk appeared on your face as you took a quick glance in the mirror before you left the room. 

Yuuta was ready to escort you as always when you headed to a meeting. During the years you implemented some changes in the family, you rewrote some old rules and replaced them with new ones. One of them was to change the ranking process. Before, members under the age of 30 couldn’t guard the boss. Your father believed young people weren’t able to handle certain situations. Yuuta on the other hand proved his worth more than once, plus you trusted him. So he was the perfect choice. He appreciated your faith in him and did his best to protect you no matter what. Even if the boy was in his twenties he was already a skilled fighter, great in martial arts and even better with his katana. 

You loved the terrified look on people’s faces when they noticed your guard with a huge sword on his back. Of course he was armed with guns as well but no one needed to know about that. 

“Good morning, boss.” he greeted you with a slight bow. “The car is ready and waiting for you.”

You nodded and a tiny smile showed him you were satisfied. Yuuta weren’t only your guard but your personal chauffeur as well. 

On the way to the meeting you felt like someone was watching you. 

“Are you okay?” Yuuta looked into your eyes through the rearview mirror.

“I can’t explain it.” you cleared your throat. “I have a bad feeling about today, so please pay attention. This family is nasty as fuck.”

“You have my word, I will protect you.” he frowned as he focused on the road again. “And if they try anything I will kill them all.”

***

“Why do you want me to kill her?” Gojo grabbed the folder from the table. His client stood in front of him in his office. The man looked determined, hatred flashed in his eyes. 

“I need that family to be wiped out as soon as possible. Starting with the useless boss is the best.” he snorted. 

“Hmm…” Satoru laid back in his chair, chewing on his inner cheek, seemingly hesitating. He was staring at your picture that was attached to the folder. Your beautiful face, mesmerizing eyes, oh and your silky looking hair distracted him for a second. 

“So? What do you say?” The man was getting more and more impatient. “I pay as much as you want. Money doesn’t matter.”

Gojo clicked his tongue as he stood up and threw the folder on his desk.

“Deal!” he slammed his palm into his client’s, shaking hands to make it official. 

Even if he accepted the request he had a weird feeling about it. Something bugged him but he had no idea what or why. 

The next few weeks he spent examining your life. He tried his best to get every useful information about you, about your daily routine and about your family. Once he realized how loyal and faithful your men were, he knew it wasn’t going to be a piece of cake to eliminate you. 

“Okkotsu Yuuta.” he hummed as he made some notes. “This fucker will cause me big trouble, if I’m not careful enough. That katana looks worrying. And on top of that he’s like a lap dog, he’s always around her. So pitiful.” he rolled his eyes. “Who’s next?” he frowned. “Nanami Kento. The consigliere of the family. He seems smooth but he’s a freaking butcher when it’s needed. I definitely have to pay attention to him, otherwise he will cut me into pieces. I know how far he’s willing to go…” he clicked his tongue. 

Satoru kept going on and on with his notes and list about you and the family. He was the best hitman in the area if not in the whole country. His hitting rate was 100% successful, no mistakes, no missed chances. When he accepted a job he was determined to get it done. This was one of the reasons that made him the best. 

But the second he laid his eyes on you he knew he needed to be careful. Not because he wasn’t good enough to kill you, no. But because you seemed that kind of woman who looked sweet and beautiful on the outside and probably was a dangerous, cruel mistress on the inside. 

***

Yuuta opened the car door for you as he pulled off in front of the building. In front of the 65 floor high skyscraper in the heart of downtown, which wore the name of the owner right above the entrance. Enormous letters signaled the importance of the word Zen’in.  

You were wary of the family. Bunch of fuckers as you mentioned them, whenever a conversation involved these people. The way they treated some of their members made you feel sick. For you family was the most important thing. Something that needed to be protected and saved above everything else. For the Zen’ins money and power came first. 

As you stepped out of the car you kept fighting the weird feeling. The feeling that you were watched. For a brief second you turned around and looked at the top of the building on the other side of the road. Nothing. You saw nothing. Maybe a tiny little reflection but it was so meaningless that you didn’t care at all. 

“Boss?” Yuuta’s husky voice snapped you back to reality. “You okay? We should head inside.” The boy stood next to the car, frowning. He was always so ready to step in, to get into action. His senses were always aware of everything. And no one could blame him for not seeing a skilled hitman hiding at the top of a building as high as the sky. 

“Yeah, sure.” you cleared your throat and turned to the entrance. 

The inside of the building looked stunning, rich, luxurious. It represented everything the Zen’ins wanted to show to the world. They wanted people to see them as a higher form of living. As they would be worth more than the average. Obviously it was bullshit and all this circus made you laugh and gag at the same time. 

“Oh, stop this Naoya.” you rolled your eyes. “I thought we were here for serious business but all I hear is “but” and “if”. I don’t have time for this.”

You felt as if he tried to buy some time and actually you were right. The current head of the Zen’in clan tried his best to keep you in the office. He was terrified because you shouldn’t have arrived at all. If everything went according to the plan you would have laid on the ground in front of the building with a bullet in your pretty head. Instead you were pulling faces, rolling your eyes and calling this whole meeting useless. 

After you left the building Naoya became furious. “What the fuck happened?” he yelled through the phone right into Gojo’s ear.

“Stop yelling.” his cold voice sent shivers through his client's body.

“Answer my fucking question! I thought you were the best.” he hummed.

“The job will be done. Stop bothering me unless you want me to change my target.” he clicked his tongue as he ended the call. 

***

“I don’t know, Yuuta.” you frowned. “Am I paranoid or was this meeting off? I mean, I know he is a fucking jerk but…” 

“Something was definitely off.” he nodded slightly as he opened the car door for you. “Maybe you should cancel the party tonight.”

“I can’t.” you sighed frustrated. “I have unfinished business with Kashimo Hajime. I owe that bastard a dance.” 

“Boss…” Yuuta rolled his eyes. 

“What?” you acted innocent. “We made a bet and he won. You do know how important it is to stay true to your word, right? I can’t let rumors spread that I’m a liar.”

“I know, I know.” he waved. “I’ll be aware of every source of danger, just please don’t make it harder than it should be.”

“Seriously?” you hummed a laugh, while you raised one of your eyebrows. “Let’s head to the hair salon, please.”

You spent the day enjoying the luxurious pleasures that rich business women could afford. After the hair salon you stopped to get your nails done. A little bit of shopping and having lunch with Yuuta in a fancy restaurant were the most enjoyable part of the day. You loved spending time with him since he never complained. Okay, it was part of his job but somehow it seemed he enjoyed your presence just as much. He wasn’t only your first Lieutenant, he was your friend. 

In the late evening you stepped out from your room in all your glory. You wanted a dress that showed enough but still stayed elegant. A classic black dress you chose with long sleeves and deep cleavage. A thin silver belt hugged your waist. The bottom of the long dress just brushed the floor, while your right thigh was shown through the slit on the side.  

Besides the dress you wanted your hair to look perfect as well. So you made a messy but lovely looking low bun and spiced your outfit with a pair of tiny diamond earrings. The velvet lipstick was a must. 

When it was about a party or a public appearance in general four or five of your men escorted you. Just in case. Yuuta and Nanami were waiting for you in the hall. The way Yuuta’s eyes widened the second he noticed you walking down the stairs made you smile. 

Kento cleared his throat that snapped him back to reality. “Be professional.” Nanami whispered to the young boy. “And know your place. She is the boss!” 

***

The parking lot was way too crowded in front of the breathtakingly beautiful building. Long stairs guided the guests up to the entrance. As you took a few steps forward someone bumped into you. A young girl with dark green hair and a pair of very fashionable glasses grabbed both of your shoulders. She leaned in quickly and whispered. “Be cautious! Gojo Satoru wants to kill you.” And with that she was already gone. 

Yuuta appeared next to you in a heartbeat, he was furious about being too late to prevent the incident.

“Boss!” he placed his hand on your forearm. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What did she want?”

“She said…” you stared into the nothingness, still in shock.

“What?” he frowned. “What did she say?”

“She said Gojo Satoru wants to kill me.”

“What the fuck? Okay, get in the car. Right now! We need to take you to the safe house and…”

“No!” you raised your hand which made Yuuta quiet immediately. “Kento, please come here.” you turned to your consigliere.

“Yes, boss.” he stepped next to you in an instant.

“Do you know the name Gojo Satoru?” you looked him in the eyes. 

“He is one of the most successful hitmen, boss. If he is after you, we should take this seriously. That man never misses his target.” 

“I’m not gonna let that bastard ruin my night. So it will be your job to be ready to act, understood? I have a plan. Because I’m sure he will try to approach me. You wait for my sign and we’ll capture him. I need to know who hired him.”

“Boss, with all due respect…” Yuuta gulped hard.

“No!” you shot a deadly stare at him. “Do as I say and know your place!” you took a deep, irritated breath before you turned around and headed to the stairs.

***

The inside of the building looked even more mesmerizing. Huge crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, marble floor sparkled under your feet. Everything seemed fancy and expensive, extremely expensive. You hated these kinds of parties from the bottom of your heart. Even if you were loaded you never liked bragging about it. And yet this party was all about it. Every guest, every person in this room was disgustingly rich. 

A few steps you took and eyed the place to find some familiar faces. A friendly voice called you from behind that made you smile. 

“Kashimo, are you already here?” you turned around to greet him.

“Darling.” he smirked and hugged you immediately. “I was afraid you wouldn’t show up. You know…” he blinked “Because of our little bet.”

“Oh, c’mon…” you laughed out loud. “This time you won and I’m true to my words no matter what.”

The night started to get heated, more and more crowded. You had a nice dinner and kept enjoying Kashimo’s presence. Cocktails after cocktails disappeared down your throats but you were aware of the danger.

“So…” Kashimo stood up from the table and reached out his hand for you to take “Can I have this dance, milady?” he kissed the back of your hand as you accepted his offer. 

“With pleasure.” you nodded slightly. 

Kashimo Hajime was an attractive bastard, there was no need to deny this fact. His tall figure, toned body and handsome face stole the hearts of the women across the country. Tonight he wore his semi long, bluish white hair down with a messy bun. The suit he chose followed his body perfectly. His dark blue button up shirt showed all his muscles, if you checked him well enough you could spot his abs, too. The black pants fitted his figure and followed his round bum. All in all he looked hot as hell. But you would have never admitted that. There was no way on Earth for you to boost his ego even more. 

The slow song echoed through the marble room and lured several couples to the dance floor. He softly took your hands and guided them around his neck, while his own hands found their way to your waist. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” he cooed.

“It’s been worse.” you teased.

It was just a game between you two. Teasing was your thing. Maybe you were attracted to him, maybe not. Maybe he was attracted to you, maybe not. But one thing was sure, you both loved this cat and mouse game way too much. 

As the dance went on you felt the same weird feeling as in the morning. The feeling of someone watching you. 

“What’s wrong?” Kashimo frowned “You don’t enjoy this nice dance with me?”

“I do.” you admitted without even realizing it “But I have a weird feeling. I think someone is watching me.”

“Oh, you mean the crystal white haired guy in the corner?” he smirked. “He hasn't taken his eyes off you since you walked in. I think he’s a fan of you, darling.”

You rolled your eyes and hugged him just a tiny bit tighter. 

“Be ready…” he whispered in your ear “He’s heading here.” Kashimo thought he did you a favor when he waved to the unknown man behind your back, inviting him closer. He had no idea the man was here to end your life. 

The second he stepped next to you, Kashimo released your waist. “I think you paid the price of losing our bet, darling.” he took a step back and winked at you, before disappearing in the crowd. 

“May I have this dance?” the tall man reached out his hand to you.

“Who am I about to share this dance with?” you looked skeptical.

“My name is Gojo Satoru.” he stepped a bit closer. You grabbed his hand and tried your best not to show any sign of nervousness. Playing it cool was your only goal. You had to get the name of his client no matter what. 

“What a lovely name.” you smiled softly as you placed one of your palms on his shoulder. Gojo was taller than Kashimo and in a wicked, twisted way he looked more attractive. The snow white hair, his handsome face and those undeniably beautiful blues made you weak. 

It seemed your hitman had taste in dressing up. The ebony suit with silver white button up shirt and matching tie made him look unbelievably eye-catching. But you were aware, you knew what he came here for and you weren’t about to give him what he wanted. 

The slow melody filled the dance floor and for a brief second you felt a spark. A spark between him and you. Satoru stared deep in your eyes and you saw…regret?! In that short second you played with the thought of what if you met in other circumstances. What if he wouldn’t be here to kill you, what if you could give yourself completely into this dance. It sounded so ridiculously insane that you almost chuckled, but you felt somehow safe in his embrace. 

The second Gojo pulled you into him and hugged you tight you let out a soft moan. It felt good, it felt nice, it felt natural. You threw your hands around his neck while you kept dancing. To the rhythm of the song your body moved in sync. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. 

“I wish this was real.” you whispered. But he heard you and pulled you back a bit just to look into your eyes. Even if he kept silent his eyes showed more than enough. 

“May I?” he leaned in, closer and closer, inch by inch. Did you want him to kiss you? Oh, yes! Did you let him do it? Well…

His lips were so close to yours that you felt his hot breath on your skin. In that exact moment you raised your hand behind his back and snapped your fingers twice. Yuuta, Nanami and the rest of your men appeared around you in a blink of an eye.

“Let’s not make a scene.” Yuuta growled as he pressed a gun against Gojo’s lower back in a way that no one even noticed. 

“Such a nice act it was, darling. I almost believed we had a moment.” he kept staring into your eyes. 

“Take him.” you sounded ice cold. 

Yuuta walked him out of the building and stopped next to their car.

“Put this on…” he threw a sack to Satoru.

“Is this really necessary?” he clicked his tongue. Yuuta didn’t answer him, stepped a bit closer and punched him in the gut as hard as he could. 

It surprised him, he didn’t think this young boy had the balls to actually hit him. 

On the way to the base millions of thoughts ran through Gojo’s head. He was mad at himself. “This woman…this woman made me vulnerable.” he clenched his jaw. Even if he knew it wasn’t professional, he couldn’t help his feelings. Now that he shared that dance with you, now that he felt your body close to his, now that he almost kissed you he knew what he had to do. “I’m gonna make her mine, no matter what.” he smirked under the cloth. 

But there was one thing he wasn’t aware of. You weren’t as easy to get as he believed. 

***

After your men escorted Gojo into The room Yuuta walked back to you into the living room.

“Boss…” he took a deep frustrated breath “Please let me handle this fucker. I will get the information you need, I swear.” hatred flashed in his eyes.

“Take Nanami with you.” you poked your inner cheek with your tongue. “But you cannot kill him, understood?” 

The boy’s eyes widened when he heard your order. Something was off and he felt it. Normally you were the first one who stepped into the room and beat the shit out of anyone who tried to harm you. Never before have you shown any kind of mercy. Every single time you were the one who pulled the trigger. But this time it seemed different. On your way back to the base you declared that you weren’t going to join them.

***

Nanami walked next to Yuuta but when they reached the door the boy stopped Kento.

“I will handle this on my own.” he said with a serious tone in his voice.

“Stop this bullshit, kid.” the tall blond rolled his eyes “No one needs you to be a hero. Especially not her.”

“Fuck you, Nanami.” Yuuta clenched his jaw “I’m going in alone and I will get from that piece of shit what she needs. But I don’t need you to be there and stop me…”

“She said we cannot kill him, remember?”

“Mistakes can happen.” he shrugged as he slowly opened the door and stepped in. 

Gojo was sitting on a chair in a completely empty room with his hands tied behind his back.  The second he heard the door moving he knew it was going to hurt. And he was right. 

Kento was waiting outside but he heard everything. Every punch, every hit, every hiss. He knew this hitman was a tough one but he also knew that Yuuta would go as far as possible to get the information for you. You were his world even if you didn’t see him like that. 

“Talk, you filthy shit.” Yutta punched Gojo in the face for the umpteenth time.

“Sorry, boy.” Satoru smiled with blood covered teeth “I told you I won’t say anything to you. I’m only willing to talk to her.” 

“Bullshit.” he spat on the ground. 

“Hey!” Gojo yelled out of the blue “I know you hear me Nanami! Please tell her I’m going to tell everything but only to her. ”

Yuuta froze in his action. “How do you know him?”

“I’m sorry boy but it’s none of your business.” 

Kento clicked his tongue before he headed to get you. He wanted this to end. 

“Boss.” he stood in front of you “He is willing to tell everything but only to you. Maybe…”

“Fine.” you rolled your eyes and got up faster than you expected. You didn’t understand your reaction either. 

***

“She would never play your game.” Yuuta pulled an annoyed face. Gojo stayed silent and smirked, because he knew. At least he hoped you felt the same tension between you too. The door shot open and there you were, standing in front of him with the coldest look in your eyes.

“Boss…” Yuuta turned to face you. He saw as you raised your hand to hush him, so he bit back everything he wanted to tell you. 

“Leave us alone.” you kept staring at Satoru who looked way too beaten up. 

“But…” Yuuta tried his luck again.

“Enough!” you yelled and looked him in the eye. “Who do you think you are talking to? I said leave. Now!”

He realized what he did and felt really ashamed. Talking back to the boss was very disrespectful and unacceptable. He knew what his punishment was going to be and he couldn’t do anything but accept it. Deeply he bowed in front of you and walked out of the room. 

“You have 2 minutes to tell me what I want to know.” you said the second you heard the door closed behind you. “Otherwise I let Yuuta in and I won’t hold him back anymore. You know…he really wants to kill you.” you clicked your tongue. 

“I assume Nanami talked about me.” Gojo tried to sit straight even if he was in real pain. This boy beat him up pretty well. “And so you know I could have killed you if I really wanted to.”

“Oh, how generous.” you rolled your eyes. “Name…give me the name of the fucker who hired you.” your ice cold tone sent shivers down his body. He knew it was crazy but he found you way too attractive. The power, the raw cruelty in your eyes made him want you even more.

“Look, I'll tell you the name with one condition. We finish the dance which was interrupted so aggressively.” he tried to smile through his blood covered face.

“You think this is some kind of joke?” you got mad in an instant and stepped right in front of him. “One minute left.” you looked down on him.

Even if you were aware of a lot of things you missed the fact that Gojo was trying to free his tied hands behind his back. During your lovely chit chat he was able to get rid of the rope. As you looked down at him, he slowly looked up right into your eyes. He didn’t say anything but slowly stood up. The way he towered above you made your eyes widen for a second. You really didn’t expect him to break free. Several thoughts rushed through your mind and you realized you made a huge mistake. You let your emotions get in the way and you underestimated your enemy. 

You took a step back but he grabbed your waist gently. 

“Please.” he growled. “Just let me hold you for a second. I can’t explain it and it drives me crazy but look…” he pulled you close to him. “I could never hurt you. Never! ” 

Unbearable tension was throbbing in the air. For a brief second you eased your body and melted into his touch. Satoru felt the difference right away. 

“The Zen’ins” he whispered as he leaned in. “They wanted to get rid of you.” 

You bit your lower lip, you were hesitating. Did you want him to kiss you? Oh, yes. Did you understand why? Not at all. But did you let him…?

His pink lips got closer and closer to yours, just like back at the party. You felt his breath on your skin when suddenly his eyes widened and he froze in his action. The cold steel of the gun, pressed against his tummy, stopped him immediately. 

(colored version is on Wattpad)

“Did you really think that I would let you kiss me?” you caressed his cheek and smiled softly. 

“I thought we had a moment.” he hummed a laugh. For the first time in his life he let his guard down and now he knew he was about to pay the price. 

“You know I have to do it…” you closed your eyes and pulled the trigger. 

Gojo collapsed on the ground and watched you walk out of the room. Barely heard some mumbling between you and someone else. Then everything was black. Pitch black.

“Get rid of him.” you turned to Yuuta “But make sure he stays alive. Understood?” 

The boy gulped hard and nodded obediently. 

***

6 months later:

There was a party where you were invited. A fancy, rich, luxurious party as always. That you hated oh so much. Shining in all glory, you looked more beautiful than ever. Killing time at the bar, while cocktails after cocktails slid down your throat, you heard a familiar voice.

“Looking beautiful tonight, darling.” Gojo sat down on a barstool next to you. 

“I’m glad you’re fine.” you hummed a laugh.

“Are you? Because it seemed you thought otherwise a few months ago.” he teased.

You kept silent, finishing another drink. 

“I was thinking…” Satoru sighed. He's never done anything like this before. 

“About what?”

“About working for you. If you’d accept me of course.” he smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck.

“Hmm…” you pursed your lips. “You’re skilled, I know that. I think I could use those skills…”

“But?” he raised one of his eyebrows. “There’s always a ‘but’.”

“I’m gonna test your loyalty and your will to take orders.” 

“What if I fail?” he smirked.

“Well, then this time I won't miss your heart when I pull the trigger.” you winked.

[harleychick91]

New Story

El Mayarah (M)

Summary: After waking from a recurring dream, Kara tells Lena the truth about her identity and how she feels. Nothing goes as the Kryptonian hopes. After being attacked by The Children of Liberty, the only way to save Lena’s life is to take her to Argo City. What happens there will change everything.

Chapter One

Kara’s POV

Ever since Reign was defeated and The Children of Liberty gained power in the media, I've had nightmares. Some were about fighting The World Killers, losing, and them killing everyone I cared for or The Children of Liberty killing all aliens and everyone who helped aliens. Either way, everybody I loved or cared about ended up dying and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

The only way I could go back to sleep was making a cup of tea and wrapping myself in the blanket Lena had left after a movie night. Sipping the warm liquid, I thought about the last few months. Things are so messed up. Lena and Supergirl are at odds because of kryptonite and she doesn't know the truth. It's been too long. It won't end well when I tell Lena who Kara Danvers really is.

Flipping through Netflix, I put on a comfort show and let it play in the background. Lena still made me the kryptonite armor even after our fight. And she gave Mom the recipe to make more Harun-El. I'm so confused.

Desperately needing sleep, I rinsed my mug and went back to bed. Since the blanket still smelled like Lena's apartment, I brought it to bed with me. Nuzzling my face into it, I inhaled the calming scent.

Waking in my bed, I heard a knock on my door. Rushing to answer it, Brainy stood before me. "Brainy? What are you doing here?"

"You're talking to me. And you know who I am." His brow creased. "Supergirl is-,"

"You can't say that! " Pulling him inside, I closed the door quickly. "It's dangerous to walk around without your image inducer turned on."

"Do we know each other? I am Brainiac 5. A 12th level intellect. The Legionnaires call me Brainy." He walked around my apartment aimlessly looking around.

"Yes, we know each other. Mon-El sent you." Why does this feel so familiar?

"Yes. To make sure your neuro pathways are intact." Brainy picked up a plant and examined it. "Your brain is in remarkable health for someone languishing in a coma."

Oh, Rao. "The coma dream palace thing I was in," I sighed. Not this dream again. "Yes, you think I'm in a coma. I was, but I'm not anymore."

"Did I bury the lead?" His head tilted. "You've been in a coma for two days."

"I know. My subconscious feels most at ease here and so on."

"Yes, you've been in a coma."

No matter what I say, it's still going to play out. Rubbing my face, I went along with it. "I'm in my loft."

"Oh! This is just where your subconscious feels most comfortable. We're not really in your loft."

This can't be happening. "If I'm in a coma, how are you here?" I watched as the man continued to walk around my apartment.

"Mon-El woke me from hyper sleep to communicate with you on behalf of him and your D.E.O. patriates. 31st century technology. It's also what's keeping you alive."

"Alive?"

"Reign defeated you," he spoke curiously. "Don't you remember?"

Flashes of the fight and Alex finding me in the rubble flashed through my mind. Dread filled me. "No. This…Reign is still out there. People are dying. I need to wake up." Rushing to my door, I tried to open it to no avail.

"I don't think you're listening to me." I tried pulling harder but the door wouldn't give. "Could we maybe try relaxing for a bit?"

After finally giving up on the door, I paced the loft. "This is torture," I huffed. Sitting on the couch, I watched as Brainy inspected my kitchen. "What are you looking for?"

"Any sign of decay or damage. In a simulation like this, it can show up in any type of fashion. I want to make sure there's nothing that will harm your reality reentry."

"Reality reentry?" I held a pillow to my chest.

"If you're not properly prepared, you could go into shock. Some people die instantly."

"Wait, does that mean I'm ready to wake up?" Getting to my feet, I tossed the pillow. "Is there anything I need to do?" I made my way towards the door again.

"This is the manifest of your subconscious and that's the only way in or out. Logic says you need to walk through it."

Trying the door again, it wouldn't budge. "It's not opening." I continued to pull. "Why isn't it opening?"

"We drained the tank and you've suffered no ill effects of hibernation." Boiling water, Brainy sipped a cup of tea. I bit my lip realizing he used some of Lena's favorite tea. "Everything is physically fine. There must be a different reason your mind is keeping you here."

"You're saying I'm keeping myself here?" I scoffed. "That doesn't make any sense. I'm the one who wants out of here." I tried punching through the door but was only knocked back.

"Is there a reason your subconscious wants you to stay here? Self preservation perhaps? You were badly beaten." He sipped more tea as he sat on the couch. "Fear can be powerful."

"I am not afraid." I tried using my heat vision until everything around us was destroyed. Frustrated, I started to clean.

"Is there something different about this version of your loft? Something that stands out."

Placing some items on my coffee table, I looked around. My stomach dropped seeing coats, shoes, and other little things that weren't mine. A lot of Lena's things are here. Things that aren't actually in my loft. This is new. The dream has never taken this path before. Turning my gaze to the picture in hand, it was one I took of us. We were cheek to cheek and smiling.

"You've noticed something," Brainy's voice trailed. "Who is this brunette woman?" He picked up a nearby picture I kept on the side table. "Your mate? Mon-El said you were single."

"No. She's…just a friend." My stomach fell. I don't want her to be just a friend.

The man studied me. "You want her to be your mate." His head tilted. "You could be stuck because you're scared."

"I've not told her that I'm Supergirl. She'll hate me." I swallowed hard seeing the brunette in question appear sitting in my armchair. Walking towards her, I wrapped Lena in my arms. "I miss you."

"I'm right here, Kara," Lena nuzzled her face in my neck, holding me tightly.

"She appeared to you for a reason," he coaxed. "What is it?"

Releasing the shorter woman, I turned towards Brainy. "Possibly because I have to face the fact that I've had feelings for her?"

His brow creased. "But you love Mon-El."

"You can love more than one person at a time, I think." I took the safer option, falling for Mon-El. Loving him was easier than loving Lena. He was a certain thing. She's not.

"And now?" Brainy's attention shifted.

Turning back to dream Lena, I cupped her face. The action caused a warm smile to appear. "To get out of here I have to admit to myself that I love her…." That thought terrifies me.

My alarm woke me from my Lena, Brainy, coma dream. Staring at the ceiling, I thought about Lena and my feelings for her. I am so screwed. I need to bite the figurative bullet and tell her. I'd rather bite a real one.

Continue reading on AO3 or FFN

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54436363

FFN: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14336503/1/El-Mayarah

[pinetree-tbb]

"Precautioned Recording"

Something I came up with while having some alone time at work. I thought about panic attacks, what happenes, what the person goes through and ways to help.

I recently became addicted to The Magnus Archives and Protocol and it gave me the idea to write it like a script ( also because I plan to do a comic or animate it some day )

( TMA is a Podcast distributed by Rusty Quill, a really good Horror Podcast written by Jonathan Sims and directed by Alexander J Newall, if you like horror and good story telling I can only recommend listening to it! )

So, this is taking place in S3 Ep7. The Batch and the others are in the tunnels to flee, and I thought, what if the encounter with the CX-1 trooper triggered something in Crosshair wich resulted in a panic attack later.

I'm gonna cut it into parts tho, and thx to my ori'vod for helping me naming this <3

So yeah, hold your tissiues ready and enjoy part one :D

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Hunter Tech Wrecker Crosshair Echo Omega Other

- in the tunnels -

[ slightly shaking, trying to hide it ]

[ Batcher whines quietly at Cross ]

[ notices too, moves to put a hand on his shoulder but is interrupted by Howzer stepping between them ]

Alright! [ shoves him back, ripping Crosshair's helmet off of his head ]

Hey!

[ drops rifle, backs of scared ]

Howzer! ( Rex )

What did he ment by asking you?! What are you not telling us?! [ Howzer pushes Crosshair against the wall ]

[ grunts by the impact with the wall ]

[ Batcher barks outraged ]

Spit it out!!! ( Howzer )

[ breathes heavily, pressing his eyes shut ]

Hey!! [ grabs Howzer by the collar of his back and picks him up ] Back. Off!! [ let's him down, shoves him away, put's himself infront of Cross ]

It's all his fault! He's feeding them information! ( Howzer )

No! No he's not! He changed! [ stepps up beside Wrecker ] He's on our side!

Oh yeah? Then how- (Howzer)

[ voices seem muffled like being underwater breathes heavily, pressed up against the wall, a hand on his chest, trying to calm himself. flashes of Tantiss come up, the torture, the pain, the cold... the lonely, whimperes ]

-Huh? Why that?! Enlighten me! ( Howzer )

He did nothing! It's not his fault!!

Back off Howzer! You have no idea what you are talking about! [ stepps up beside Omega ]

He's a traitor! [ points at Crosshair ]

[ lifts arm up to shield Cross more and hide him behind him ]

[ can't seem to calm down, begins to panic ]

[ looks at Crosshair worried ]

[ Batcher growles at Howzer ]

[ voices still muffled, hears blood rushing and his heart pounding in his ears, breathing becomes hoarse ]

Everyone stand down! ( Rex )

[ can't take it anymore, runs off, just wanting to get away ]

[ Batcher runs after ]

Crosshair? Crosshair! [ wants to go after too ]

[ holds her back ] Let him go.

Running off to feed them new informations huh?! ( Howzer )

[ shoves Howzer back ] Listen here! You don't know anything about him, nor what he's been through! So back the hell off, now!!

[ Howzer steps back intimidated ]

Now. [ steps up to Omega, opening her backpack, shuffles through it ] I'm going after him and bring him back so we can finally get out of here.

[ quietly ] What's with him?

[ sights ] He's having a panic attack. [ pulls out Tech's datapad ] Wait here. [ picks up Crosshair's helmet, runns off ]

[ put's a hand on Omega's shoulder ]

[ everyone looks after Hunter running after Crosshair ]

[ runs down the tunnel, stumbles and falls, groaning by the impact with the ground, gets up again and keeps running ]

[ Batcher trotting beside him, looking up at him ]

[ falls again, panting, crawls to the side, presses himself in a gap in the wall, head in his hands, balls up ]

[ Batcher whines ]

[ runs down the hall, falling into a jog after seeing Batcher in the distance ]

[ Batcher looks up at Hunter after he comes closer to them ]

[ calmly ] Crosshair?

[ whimperes ]

Crosshair it's okay [ kneeles down ]

[ still whimpering and gasping ]

[ types through datapad ] You're gonna be okay Crosshair...

[ sobbs slightly ]

[ finds wanted record ] Here, just listen, okay? [ presses play, hold's datapad up infront of him ]