#but since he stays stranger he may simply not

[polaroid-petals]

Stranger doesn't have a name.

Although he has adopted the name Stranger as the name he identifies with and responds to, he was created without a name and had to be prompted to accept a name for himself. He does identify with the concept of a stranger, so the name pleases him. Some headspace creatures may still identify him as Basil if they have known Basil, but he distances himself from bearing that name.

Omori doesn't actually know Stranger's name. He has a vague awareness that he is a Stranger and that he is a variant of Basil, but when he references Stranger internally, it's always through indirect terms. That thing. That shadow. It. The pest. It's entirely uncommon for Omori to reference Stranger at all in his speech, even with those epithets, and if he really needs Stranger's attention, he stares at him until he realises it, tugs at his sleeve, stalks him, or simply starts talking to him. But there is one name that he has addressed him with, and he has done so only once, hissed off the tip of a venomous tongue.

Wakener.

[pin-k-ink]

Yandere kurapika with a heavy heavy breeding kink. He’s absolutely obsessed with the idea of you being pregnant 👀👀👀

progeny // kurapika kurta

tw ⇢ dub-con, obsessive behavior, imprisonment/isolation, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mention of lactation, implied murder, drugging, handjob, grinding

wc ⇢ 7.3k

It had been six excruciatingly long years since the Kurta massacre. Six years of chasing empty leads, of doors slamming shut in Kurapika's face whenever he got close to the Phantom Troupe. His crimson eyes, once a source of pride amongst his people, now mocked him daily - glaring reminders of his failure to attain vengeance.

So when the encrypted message arrived with a potential location on a Kurta survivor, Kurapika could scarcely allow himself to feel hope. Too many times it had been cruelly dangled in front of him, only to dissolve into agonizing disappointment. He pored over the intelligence again and again, his hands shaking. This had to be legitimate. It simply had to.

Four sleepless nights later, Kurapika found himself on the first available airship to Yorknew City. His leg jittered anxiously the entire way, his mind cycling through every possible scenario. A trap from the Troupe? A sick game? Or could the near-impossible be real? When the ship finally touched down, Kurapika moved like a man possessed, following the coded coordinates to a dilapidated apartment complex.

His trembling hand barely registered the flimsy doorbell as he rang. Seconds ticked by like torturous eternities. Then, after what felt like a small age, the door creaked open to reveal...you. Kurapika's knees very nearly buckled at the sight of those telltale scarlet irises. Tears stung his eyes as he choked out a wavering, "You're one of my people."

That first night, he simply sat in reverent silence, studying the sacred eyes of his kinsman that he'd been deprived of for far too long. You seemed equally transfixed, if not deeply uncertain of this severe stranger's intentions. When you attempted to ask him to leave, Kurapika answered with a resolute headshake.

"I cannot do that. It's too dangerous to leave you here." His voice was thick with the weight of trauma, but carried a steely undercurrent of determination. "I'm getting you somewhere safe, where no harm can befall you."

True to his word, Kurapika immediately went about securing a transport ship to whisk you away from potential threats. You didn't have a choice. He had failed his clan once before through negligence - he would not repeat that grave mistake. This time, he would smother any flicker of danger towards the Kurta with extreme prejudice before it could even spark.

The following weeks were a fortified blur as Kurapika installed you in a veritable military bunker tucked high in the treacherous mountain ranges. He pulled every resource at his disposal to ensure your isolation and safety was absolute. Each day, he would rise before dawn to pursue his hunt for the Phantom Troupe, searching for that agonizingly elusive trail of vengeance. But like clockwork, he returned to the safehouse every evening, his frayed nerves only calmed by the sight of your scarlet eyes.

At first, Kurapika tried to keep things professional, nodding stoically whenever you greeted him. But the more time passed, the more you became his sole remaining attachment to a people he had lost. He drank in your every word, no matter how innocuous, wanting to ingrain the cadence of his kin on his psyche again. Your existence, your pure perseverance despite all odds, stoked something primal within him.

Eventually, Kurapika began staying later and later into the night, reluctant to abandon your presence, irrationally fearful something terrible may occur the moment he left your side. He started simpling...hovering. Watching you for long, unblinking stretches despite your visible discomfort. His fixation had been ignited, and it burned brighter with each passing day.

It was on one particularly humid summer evening when the stifling mountain air had you gasping for respite. You moved to crack open one of the safehouse's windows, hoping to coax in even the faintest whispers of a cool breeze.

The moment your fingers pulled against the latch, the electronic lock released a sad, mechanical whir of protest. You froze, realizing in that instant that the safety restrictions were not mere automated security protocols. They were under the total control of your increasingly overbearing guardian.

Slowly, you turned to find Kurapika shooting you a pointed look from the wingback chair across the room. His sharp jawline was locked, lips pressed into a severe line as he clutched the access fob in a white-knuckled grip.

"I wouldn't advise that," he said at last, his tone carrying curt reproach. "It's for your own safety to keep the windows secured at all times."

You opened your mouth to protest the blatant removal of your autonomy, but Kurapika silenced you with a mere arch of his brow. Heat prickled in your cheeks, flustered by his sheer audacity, his utter dismissal of your objections before you could even voice them. Who was he to declare what you could and couldn't do?

But as quickly as that spark of defiance flickered, it extinguished under the knowing weight of Kurapika's stare. He knew better than you, had spilled more blood and peered deeper into the abyss of human monstrosity. If he deemed something a risk, no matter how small, you didn't dare challenge it. Your very life rested on his prudence and protection.

So you bit back the fleeting urge to assert your independence. Instead, you gave a meek nod of surrender and retreated from the window with one last, regretful glance at the impenetrable night sky beyond the sealed glass panes. Your world had become startlingly small under Kurapika's wing.

He watched you like a lion scrutinizing its cornered prey until you sank back into the shelter of your designated space. Only once you had compliantly resumed your spot did that intense scrutiny finally ease, his body unsettlingly loose and calm again.

"There's fresh fruit in the kitchen if you need refreshment," Kurapika offered, as if making peace after the unspoken admonishment. "Let me know if you require anything else for your comfort."

You murmured a soft thanks, careful to not meet his pewter gaze for too long. The complex bundles of emotion they sparked - shame, defiance, loneliness, begrudging gratitude - were still too tumultuous to comfortably untangle.

With a slight dip of his chin, Kurapika turned his attentions back towards the scattered intelligence reports sprawled before him. But you could have sworn you caught the faintest wisp of a self-satisfied smirk playing across his lips as he resumed his nightly obsessive planning.

The message was clear: no matter how insular and temporary you hoped this arrangement was, he had no intentions of loosening his ruthlessly overprotective stranglehold. Not now, not ever. For in Kurapika's mind, he had already failed his clan once before.

He would not fail their legacy again, even if it meant eclipsing your every last freedom under his total, unwavering control. Your life belonged to him now.

What had begun as a flicker of protectiveness had been steadily stoked into an all-consuming obsession. And there would be no putting out that raging fire.

The next few days passed in their now familiar routine of forced complacency. Kurapika would depart each morning on his futile hunt for the Phantom Troupe's latest trail, leaving you confined to pacing the reinforced walls like a caged animal. You attempted to resist the itch of restlessness, but it clawed at your insides, making you increasingly reckless.

It was on one particularly moonless night when Kurapika was delayed by an anonymous tip that you decided to seize your fleeting window. You waited until the security monitors confirmed him still blocks away before punching in the override codes and disabling the safehouse's locks. You didn't have a plan or destination in mind - you simply needed to feel the sweet embrace of open air again, to remind yourself of the unfettered freedom you had lost.

The sleepy mountain town seemed almost haunted in the inky blackness as you strode its deserted streets. The crisp night wind caressed your face, and you reveled in the simple pleasure of being anything other than a prisoner in your own refuge. Eventually, your aimless wandering drew you towards the soft amber glow and faint music wafting from the local tavern.

A hand came to rest on the rickety oak door, then stopped as you wavered. Kurapika could return any moment now. But the fleeting indulgence of a cold pint and casual conversation with strangers was too tantalizing to resist any longer. Steeling your nerves, you pulled the door open and strode inside.

The raucous sound of drunken laughter and the thick fog of smoke immediately assaulted your senses. You wound through the crowd to the dingy bar, squeezing between bodies until you could flag down the bleary-eyed bartender. He poured you a tall glass of the darkest stout on tap without a second glance at your rumpled, out-of-place appearance.

As you nursed the first few sips, savoring the bitter familiarity, a rough voice lilted from behind you.

"Well aren't you a little ways from home?"

You turned to find a smarmy looking stranger waggling his brows lecherously. His breath reeked of stale beer and desperation.

"Just looking to unwind is all," you replied curtly, turning back towards your drink.

His calloused hand suddenly snaked out, gripping your forearm with surprising strength as he leaned in too close. "Well then how 'bout I buy the next round and we can 'unwind' together, sweetheart?"

You wrenched your arm away with a disgusted glare, preparing to hurl a blistering retort. But even as the first word formed on your lips, an eerie wave of dizziness crashed over you, blurring your vision. The tavern seemed to tilt precariously as you swayed on the barstool.

No...it couldn't be. That first drink. You made the mistake of leaving it unattended. As the horrible realization dawned on you, your faculties began to rapidly abandon ship.

"There's a good girl," the leering stranger's voice slurred as if underwater. "Just relax and enjoy the party favors."

You tried desperately to cry out, to raise even a tremor of alarm, but your voice failed you. The room pitched and spun until merciful darkness finally swallowed you whole.

The crisp slap of cool night air was like a bucket of ice water shocking you back to semiconsciousness. Your eyelids fluttered open to find yourself being half-carried, half-dragged down a dank alleyway by that stranger. The cloudy haze in your brain screamed at you to fight, to thrash and flee, but your body responded with only feeble murmurs.

Suddenly, a dark silhouette stepped out from the shadows up ahead, swiftly blocking your captor's path. The figure prowled closer, the dim streetlight glinting off a shock of brilliant blond hair.

Even in your drugged stupor, you immediately recognized the menacing aura radiating off of Kurapika. He had found you. Your heart should have leapt with relief, but your addled mind could only focus on the pure, unadulterated fury etched across his features.

"Let her go." His tone was low, practically subterranean with its seething intensity. "Now."

The stranger paused, seemingly taken aback by Kurapika's threatening presence despite outnumbering him. His grip on your arm only tightened stubbornly.

"This doesn't involve you, kid. I'd beat it while you still—"

He never got to finish that thought. Kurapika's knuckles connected with the man's nose with a wet crunch before anyone could blink. As he collapsed in a heap, clutching his bleeding face, Kurapika moved with terrifying fluidity.

A haze of fists and chains and guttural screams engulfed the cramped alley. You flinched with each tormented wail, hunched against the damp brick wall as your assailant's bones shattered piece by piece. The copper stench of blood flooded the air in thick, viscous clouds.

When it was finally over, the sickening sound of the stranger's gurgling breaths were barely audible above the drumming of your pulse thundering in your ears. Kurapika stood over him, chest heaving from exertion as he slowly retracted his bloody knuckles and Nen chains back into waiting.

Only then did his gaze fall upon your fragile, crumpled form. The molten rage simmering behind his eyes extinguished instantly, transposing into something akin to lucid fear. In a single deft motion, he scooped you up and cradled you against his chest.

"It's alright...you're safe now," Kurapika murmured, his voice dripping with the type of tender worry one reserves for a gravely injured child.

You opened your mouth to respond but only a pathetic whimper escaped your dry lips. Horror at your near miss quickly gave way to the warm comfort of Kurapika's secure embrace. Your eyelids grew impossibly heavy as you nuzzled against the soft linen of his blazer. Even as the world faded to black again, you felt utterly, inviolably safe within the confines of his sinewy arms...his obsessive protectiveness.

When you finally came to again, it was in the dimly lit familiarity of the safehouse's living quarters. Kurapika sat vigilantly on the edge of the mattress, his eyes two orbs of hollow, sleepless torment.

As you stirred, he immediately went into a flurry of doting. Cool rags were pressed to your clammy forehead. Chilled teas and electrolyte waters hovered against your lips, Kurapika tipping them carefully to soothe your sandpaper throat. His touch was insistently gentle, but you could sense the roiling tempest churning beneath that zen exterior.

In your addled state, you kept up a litany of small whining sounds and petulant fidgets. Kurapika bore each one with inexhaustible patience and care, stroking your hairline languidly as you grumbled childish complaints about your headache or an itch that needed scratching.

Even as the last vestiges of the toxin worked its way out of your system over the next several hours, you never felt fear or vulnerability - only the profound relief of being tended to so meticulously under Kurapika's hawkish devotion.

Several times, his gaze seemed to unconsciously drift down to your parted, pouting lips as you whined insistently. You thought you caught his throat bobbing ever so subtly, as if waging an internal war with some primal desire. But the moment never transversed, and he remained ever the devoted, if tightly-wound caretaker through the hazy night.

It wasn't until the first rays of dawn filtered in through the slitted windows that you drifted into a deep, restorative slumber. And in those last, fleeting moments of consciousness, you realized with dawning horror how completely and utterly co-dependent on Kurapika's obsessive protection you had allowed yourself to become.

In the aftermath of the nearly tragic incident, there would be no venturing outside again...not without him. Not ever. The fire of his obsession had been stoked into a conflagration - one he wholeheartedly welcomed if it meant never going through such terror again.

You had been rescued from the depths of pitiful frailty, only to become irrevocably entangled in the dark, singular orbit of Kurapika's unhinging fixation on you. And from that point on, fleeing its gravitational pull would be inconceivable.

In the days following your terrifying brush with tragedy, Kurapika became an utterly inescapable presence in every waking moment. Where there was once at least a semblance of periodic solitude as he attended to his Phantom Troupe hunt, now there was only the soft footfalls of his eternal proximity.

He lingered in the periphery like a silent, hollow-eyed sentinel as you tentatively went about your daily routines. If you retreated to the bathroom to bathe, Kurapika wordlessly trailed just beyond the cracked door - near enough to instantly intervene at any prospective threat, far enough to preserve a facade of privacy. You found yourself instinctively avoiding the mirror, unable to meet the shame of your own reflection exposed under his vigilant leer.

At night when you crawled between the sheets, Kurapika took up an immovable post in the wingback chair at your bedside. You lost track of how many dawns you awoke to find him stock-still in that exact position, eyes open but untainted by even the slightest hint of slumber. His piercing stare studied your sleeping form with the rapt diligence of a memorial statue guarding a crypt.

You stopped attempting to dissuade him from these nightly vigils. The few feeble protests you voiced only caused his jaw to hinge tighter, a muscle throbbing with mute ferocity. He would not be deterred or negotiated with - this was the price to pay for the grave lapse that nearly severed you from his obsessive care.

If you shuffled into the kitchen to prepare meals, Kurapika's shadow would materialize just behind your periphery. You quickly learned to suppress any instinctual startles at his sudden appearances, lest you mistakenly provoke his haunted man's nerves. He never spoke or impeded your chores, but the mere imposition of his intense presence transformed even the most banal acts into ordeals of hyper self-consciousness.

Some evenings as dusk cloaked the mountain safehouse, you would chance hopeful glances out across the perimeter's reinforced windows. Vast forests of pine and spruce swayed in hypnotic tandem with the coastal breezes sweeping up from the sapphire horizon. Your gaze traced every contour of the landscape beyond that glass barrier - drunkenly drinking in the beauty and vast freedoms you had once taken for granted.

Without fail, Kurapika would seem to materialize at your side during these morose ritualistic dances. Not an inch separated your arms as you stood wordlessly, noting how his chest would slowly rise and fall in mirror-sync to your own. His quicksilver irises carefully studied the longing etched across your features, probing for any fragile cracks that may signal another reckless bid for escapism simmering beneath the surface.

You soon discovered it was easier to not meet his needful, imploring stare on those evenings. To instead lose yourself in the melancholy meditation of what lay on the other side of that glass partition - the lush, unfolding world of oxygen and wilderness and infinite possibilities now forever sealed away from your grasp by this compound's fortifications. The reckless abandon that landed you in such peril in the first place.

Even during the sporadic moments you managed to steal for idle time - curling up with a borrowed novel or simply staring vacantly at the safehouse's sterile walls - Kurapika's presence would pervade your space like a congealing, inescapable vapor. You became aware of every infinitesimal motion in your peripheral field, each aborted gesture from him laden with fierce meaning and scrutiny.

He would simply materialize in your blind spots, folding that lithe frame into the nearest chair or loveseat until his entire posture radiated a single, silent statement: I'm here. I will always be here to watch over you from this point onward.

And you lacked the will to protest this gradual dissolution of personal boundaries. Not when the memory of that squalid alleyway still haunted your subconscious with visions of shadowy hands groping, of Kurapika's knuckles shattering bone in retribution. You were in his custody now, for better or for worse.

Even as the weeks blurred indistinguishably together, Kurapika seemed to only swell with more unquenchable determination. Daily you witnessed his demeanor oscillate from the gruff stoicism of a jaded warrior, to the endearingly focused worry of an overly-fretful parent, then finally the predatory ruthlessness of a beast safeguarding its sickly litter from any prospective encroachment.

There was a possessive ferocity igniting behind those slate irises anew each time his gaze passed over you. As if merely looking upon your face, your chest inhaling each breath, was an involuntary ritual - the only reassurance that could momentarily dull the roaring anxiety in his psyche.

So Kurapika kept vigil, and you stopped attempting to politely deflect his obsession. Better to accept this isolated existence under his ever-watchful protectionism than risk another lapse that may invite that same violence and horror down upon you both. At least here, within these confining walls, remained the unshakable constant of his presence...his dominion over your absolute safety.

The weeks crystallized into cold months, Kurapika's fixation only intensifying like a caged flame feasting on its own limited oxygen supply. Until eventually, you struggled to remember what life could have possibly looked like before this arrangement - before his utterly uncompromising ownership of your personal inviolability became the sole, inescapable pillar of reality itself.

You mustered up what little courage remained and approached Kurapika one evening as he pored over the dwindling stack of intelligence reports.

"Kurapika...I need to get out of here, even if just for a little while," you said, trying to keep your tone measured. "Taking a walk through the village, feeling the sun on my face. Please, I'm going stir-crazy cooped up."

His pewter gaze slowly lifted, boring into you with an inscrutable intensity. You braced yourself for the immediate dismissal, the curt rebuff that your pleas for a shred of freedom were selfish folly in the face of your security.

Instead, Kurapika simply gave a slow, deliberate nod.

"Very well. But I will accompany you. My presence is non-negotiable for your safety."

Your heart leapt at his acquiescence, yet you knew better than to voice any objections to his stipulations. That, too, was non-negotiable when it came to Kurapika's obsession.

The next morning, you ventured out with Kurapika at your side, his eyes sharply scanning every alleyway and passerby like a starving falcon scrutinizing the underbrush. You tried not to let his overdone protectiveness dampen your elation at breathing fresh mountain air and ambling aimlessly without the barriers of steel and concrete constraining you.

At one point, you stopped to admire a young mother cradling her newborn along the village square's central fountain. The infant was swaddled snugly in a pale yellow blanket, their tiny face completely ensconced in peaceful slumber. You couldn't help the wistful pang that tugged at your heart watching the scene.

"Would you like to hold them?" the mother offered warmly after catching your enamored glances.

You looked to Kurapika, almost reflexively seeking his permitting nod as if he were your warden. To your surprise, he simply watched in pensive silence as you gingerly supported the bundle's head and brought the sleeping babe into your embrace.

A serene calm washed over you as the newborn's warmth and weight settled against your chest. Your body seemed to instinctively know all the coddling motions - the gentle swaying, the soft shushes, the protective tuck of the blanket over their tiny frame. For a fleeting moment, everything from the outside world evaporated - the threats, the walls imprisoning you, even Kurapika's hawkish presence. There was only the simple perfection of cradling new life, so pure and unblemished by the world's cruelties.

All too soon, the spell was broken as the mother reached to take her child back. You surrendered them with one last, regretful look into their peaceful slumbering features. As you turned back towards the path, you caught an indecipherable look swimming behind Kurapika's silvery irises. Was that...yearning?

The walk continued in loaded silence until you reached the safehouse again. Ever vigilant, Kurapika checked and triple-checked all security parameters were active before allowing you both back inside. He then insisted on giving you a full body inspection, tutting over any prospective scratches or bruises you may have sustained.

Night fell, and you began your usual bedtime routine of winding down with a book on the living room's plush sofa. Right on cue, Kurapika appeared to take up his self-appointed post in the chair alongside you.

Rather than lapsing into his typical reserved observation, he seemed...restless this evening. You caught his gaze flicking over your face and abdomen several times, his stare carrying an uncharacteristic intensity more akin to hunger than mere study. Finally, just as you were about to question his odd distraction, Kurapika leaned forward in his seat.

"You looked quite natural with that baby earlier," he stated in a low, ruminative tone. "I could envision you as a tender, nurturing mother. The image....suited you."

You felt your cheeks flush hotly despite yourself, ears straining to detect even the faintest undercurrents of impropriety in his demeanor. Just what was he implying?

When you finally found your voice to respond, Kurapika cut you off by rising abruptly to his feet.

"Get some rest. That's enough activity for one day."

With that, he swept towards the bedroom, leaving you to simply blink owlishly in his wake. You worried your lower lip, unable to voice the nagging feeling that his comments carried some suggestive subtext your mind simply couldn't piece together.

For now, it seemed Kurapika's ever-watchful protectionism had evolved to encompass...other considerations. Ones that, given his increasingly mercurial obsession over you, prompted entirely new uncertainties to send your heart murmuring apprehensively against your ribcage.

In the days following Kurapika's unsettling comments about motherhood, an inscrutable new energy seemed to permeate his already intense obsession over you.

His customary silent vigils persisted as always - the motionless sentrylike presence shadowing your every action, the sleepless nights spent unblinkingly patrolling your bedside like a fanatical bodyguard. But there was also something... else underlying those mercurial silver irises whenever they washed over your form.

Kurapika's gaze had shifted from the typical hyper-focused studying for dangers into outright lingering. You began noticing his line of sight would unapologetically rake up and down the curves and lines of your body whenever you moved about the safehouse. As if he were committing to memory every last dip and swell, documenting it alongside the myriad threat assessments constantly churning through his mind.

His comments, once clipped and strictly pertaining to your security, started carrying strange insistences that left you disquieted.

"You have such a patient, calming presence," he remarked one afternoon while you lounged with a book. "The kids would love you."

You shot him a bewildered look over the rattling chains of innuendo in his tone, but Kurapika simply arched an expectant brow as if awaiting your acquiescence.

Another evening, you bent to retrieve a dropped utensil from the kitchen floor only to straighten and find his towering presence hunched mere inches away, studying you with unrestrained focus.

"Carrying a child would suit your figure," he stated in a detached, clinical murmur. Before you could even formulate a flustered response, Kurapika simply turned and strode off to catalogue more intelligence reports.

The most overt advancement came one evening as you diligently prepared dinner, muscles burning from chopping and stirring the hearty stew. You were so engrossed in your motions that you failed to notice Kurapika materializing behind you until his sinewy arms snaked insistingly around your midsection.

A startled gasp seized your lungs as his palms came to rest possessively over your abdomen, his firm chest pressing flush against your arched back. For a dizzying moment, you were overwhelmed by the masculine heat and musk of him surrounding you so utterly and inescapably.

"Don't linger over the preparations," Kurapika's lilting voice reverberated against the nape of your neck. You shivered despite yourself as his warm breath danced across your skin. "I'm...starving this evening."

His hips unconsciously canted forward ever so subtly, enough to insinuate himself deeper into the negative space behind you. The unmistakable prominence of his semi erect cock nestled with shameless insistence against the supple curves of your ass through the thin linen of his trousers.

Just as your befuddled mind scrambled for any coherent reply, Kurapika abruptly extricated himself and strode off with the same unruffled collectedness as always. As if he hadn't just allowed the most salacious depths of his obsession over your body to rupture, however briefly, to the surface.

You stood rooted in place, blood pounding deafeningly in your ears as a dozen frantic impulses warred within you. Outrage, indignation, fear, reluctant curiosity... and horrifyingly, something darker and more primal still that responded with undeniable want to the memories of Kurapika's powerful, unapologetic dominion over your personal space.

When you finally managed to recompose yourself and carry the pot of stew to the dining table, Kurapika was waiting with his customary inscrutable expression. No hint of the previous violation lingered in his pewter irises - only that same boundless, soul-deep need to protect and provide that had morphed into such zealous, all-consuming obsession.

As you picked warily at your bowl, hyper-aware of his eyes drinking in your every move, you knew there would be no acknowledgement or discussion of the incident. He had simply exercised another disquieting assertion of ownership over your body and intimate personal freedoms. Just as he had with everything else in the vise of his self-appointed guardianship.

With a smoldering pit of unease taking root in your core, you realized this new dimension to Kurapika's fixation was only beginning. What fresh transgressions would his possessive appetites attempt to justify through the warped lenses of security and obsession?

Only time would tell what depraved lines he may be willing to cross... all in the name of protecting the last remaining embers of his beloved Kurta legacy.

Over the following days, Kurapika's comments about you having children took a disturbingly frank turn. Gone were the veiled observations about motherhood - replaced by straightforward statements that left no room for interpretation.

"Feels like you'd make a good mom," he mentioned offhandedly one evening as you cleaned up after dinner. His eyes shamelessly raked over your body. "Got the hips for it, that's for sure."

You froze, heat prickling your cheeks at his brazen appraisal. Before you could formulate a flustered response, Kurapika simply continued.

"We should think about making that happen sometime. You know, for the clan's sake." He gave a nonchalant shrug, as if discussing something as mundane as laundry plans.

Your mouth opened and closed, utterly stunned by his audacious suggestion. But Kurapika didn't linger or acknowledge your discomfort. With a final weighted look, he turned and strode from the kitchen, leaving you rattled to your core.

The inappropriate remarks only escalated from there. Kurapika seemed to grab any available opportunity to leisurely speculate about you bearing his child in graphic detail.

"Pregnancy's gonna do amazing things for those breasts," he mused one morning while you brushed your hair. You could feel the heated trail of his stare lingering on your chest in the mirror's reflection.

You very nearly dropped the hairbrush, whipping around to gape at him in disbelief. Kurapika simply held your flustered glare, his expression infuriatingly impassive.

"What? Just being honest here," he stated with a casual shrug of his broad shoulders. "Don't act so scandalized. This is a big damn deal for preserving our people."

His dismissive indifference towards your obvious mortification only fanned the flames of your humiliation. You wanted to shriek at him, to demand he stop vocalizing such disturbingly personal thoughts. But Kurapika's piercing stare maintained its unwavering intensity, extinguishing any momentary flicker of outrage before it could take root.

You knew better than to protest his obsession. Raising objections now would only make his intentions that much more overt...and quite possibly hostile. The thought chilled you to your core.

So you suffered in whip-tailed silence as Kurapika's indelicate comments plagued nearly every interaction. No activity, no matter how innocuous, seemed off-limits for him to unsubtly speculate about you becoming his breeding mate in graphic vernacular. And with each new remark, you saw the feral glint smoldering brighter and brighter behind his slate irises.

It was only a matter of time before he outright admitted the depraved depths of his fixation upon you. You dreaded that inevitability, but decided playing meek and obedient remained the wisest strategy for self-preservation. At least until you could formulate an escape plan from under his obsessive watch.

You did your best to hide any discomfort at Kurapika's increasingly frank comments about you having his children. Outward protests only seemed to egg him on with even more graphic remarks. So you kept up a facade of calm obedience, hoping it might discourage him from acting on his unhealthy fixation.

But Kurapika wasn't so easily deterred. His obsession had morphed into an all-consuming hunger that chipped away at his restraint day by day. You saw the signs - his jaw clenching, fists balling up as he inwardly battled those urges. Sometimes you'd catch him staring at you with undisguised longing, his gaze hungrily tracing your curves.

It all came to a head one autumn night as you pretended to read, keenly aware of Kurapika's presence lingering nearby. The tension was suffocating, his pent-up intensity rolling off him in waves. Several times you felt him move closer, only to sense him forcibly checking himself. Finally, you decided to try excusing yourself to the bedroom.

The moment you stood up, Kurapika pounced with startling speed. In one fluid motion, he gripped your shoulders and shoved you back into the armchair, caging you in as he straddled your hips. His lithe body was coiled like a panther pinning its prey.

"Enough games," he growled, his voice low and gritty with want. "No more pretending."

You gazed up at him wide-eyed, taken aback by the naked hunger etched across his chiseled features. This wasn't the restrained Kurapika - this side of him was feral, unrestrained. Arousal and obsession burned in his dilated pupils.

He leaned in close, the hard planes of his body hovering over yours as his hot breath fanned your flushed cheeks. You could feel the thrum of his hammering heart against your own chest.

"You know how obsessed I am with continuing our legacy," Kurapika rasped with grit-toothed intensity. "I'll do whatever it takes."

One calloused hand fisted in your hair, wrenching your head back as he asserted his dominance. You instinctively froze, trembling at his overwhelming presence and display of power. Kurapika drank in your fear and captivation with a ruthless gleam.

"Don't fight it," he warned in a husky timbre. "By morning, you'll be pregnant with my kid whether you like it or not."

A shudder rippled through you at the grim finality of his words. Yet some primal part of your psyche still couldn't help responding to the masterful undercurrents of his seduction, your body warming despite your trepidation.

Kurapika's eyes narrowed, sensing that fractional flicker of reluctant arousal. With taunting slowness, he closed the gap until his lips hovered a hairsbreadth from yours. His tone took on a dangerous, velveteen purr.

"That's it...just accept what's going to happen," he murmured, the barest brush of his mouth against yours. "Don't fight my obsession growing inside you."

Then with a predator's swift strike, Kurapika's mouth crashed into yours with smothering, impatient desire. He hungrily devoured your gasp of surprise, his fervent onslaught of lush dominance overwhelming your senses.

His mouth moved hungrily against yours, hands roaming over your body as if mapping every curve. Kurapika broke the heated kiss for air, eyes glazed with undisguised longing.

"Do you have any idea how gorgeous you'd look pregnant?" he murmured with awestruck reverence.

One of his hands drifted down to splay possessively across your lower abdomen. Kurapika's gaze followed, drinking in the feminine plane as if he could somehow envision it swelling with new life.

"Carrying my child..." he continued in a hushed, wondrous tone. "Your body nurturing the next generation of our people."

He leaned in to trail feverish kisses along the slender column of your neck, causing you to shiver.

"It's all I've been able to think about," Kurapika rasped against your skin. "Just imagining how radiantly fertile you'd look, swollen with my baby..."

His hand stroked tantalizingly over your abdomen again as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling your natural scent like an intoxicating elixir.

"I want that so damn badly," he admitted in a throaty rasp thick with yearning. "To see you heavy and glowing with our future growing inside."

Kurapika's kisses wandered across your jawline until his smoldering gaze locked onto yours again, pupils blown wide with naked obsession.

"Say you want it too," Kurapika pleaded, thumb tracing maddening circles low on your belly. "Tell me you'll let me put a baby in this luscious body..."

He drank in every microexpression flickering across your features with rapt focus, hanging on your every reaction. Kurapika leaned in closer until you were sharing the same heated breaths.

"Can't you just picture how incredible you'd look?" he murmured, voice strained with longing. "Tits getting heavy and full, that stomach finally swelling outward with our child growing inside..."

One of his hands cupped your breast almost reverently, like weighing the promise of its future maternal fullness. Kurapika's thumb brushed over your peaked nipple, drawing a soft gasp from you.

"Fuck...you'd be so unbelievably sexy carrying my baby," he groaned, utterly transfixed. "A goddess - all ripe, fertile curves and that beautiful glow mothers-to-be get."

He nuzzled his scruffy cheek against yours, peppering your jaw with open-mouthed kisses until you squirmed beneath him. Kurapika's palm stroked insistently over your abdomen again, as if willing his fantasies into reality through sheer habit.

"I can see it so clearly, feel how soft you'd be..." His voice dipped into a gravelly timbre. "Just imagine me waking you up with a nice, hard fuck every morning. How many times would I have to breed you before it finally took?"

A jolt of arousal coursed through you, your cunt clenching at his crude, possessive words. You bit back a whimper as Kurapika's hand snaked down between your thighs. His fingers expertly sought the sensitive nub of your clit, coaxing it with languid strokes.

"Maybe I'd just stay buried inside you all night," he growled, grinding his stiffening cock into your hip. "Keep that pussy nice and filled up with my cum, see if that does the trick..."

Your eyelids fluttered shut as Kurapika continued stroking your sensitive folds, his other hand kneading your breast. You felt utterly lost in the haze of his carnal need, swept away by his possessive lust.

"Fuck, that's the sexiest thought," he rasped, grinding his bulge against you. "Imagining you all stuffed and swollen with my kid, knowing I'd bred you..."

Kurapika's lips sought yours, tongue slipping inside to explore and claim. You whimpered into his kiss, helpless to the overwhelming desire coursing through your veins. He finally broke the kiss, his eyes smoldering with naked want.

He didn’t say anything, just studied your features intently as he slowly unzipped his fly. Kurapika's hand disappeared beneath his trousers, pulling his rock-hard length free. He gave himself a few languid pumps, hissing softly at the contact.

You stared, transfixed. His cock was just as you imagined - thick and veiny, pulsing with a hungry need to plant his seed.

"Go on...feel it," he ordered gruffly.

Your hand reached out on instinct, fingertips ghosting tentatively over the engorged flesh. Kurapika let out a hiss, his hips bucking into your touch. You felt a thrill at his response, a surge of feminine satisfaction.

He pressed his cock firmly into your palm, forcing you to curl your fingers around the warm girth. You stroked him experimentally, relishing the velvety-smooth skin stretched tight over his pulsating hardness. Kurapika let out a guttural moan, eyes fluttering shut as his head lolled back in pleasure.

"Get a good look, honey ," he purred. "This is what's gonna put a baby inside you."

His hands reached out to grasp your hips, yanking you down on the armchair until you were splayed before him. Your dress rode up to your waist, exposing your slick-drenched cunt to his ravenous gaze.

Kurapika's cock bobbed excitedly at the sight, already drooling an obscene amount of pre-cum. He gripped your hips, dragging you flush against him. The swollen head nudged your soaked slit, smearing its sticky promise against your heat.

"Gonna make you a mommy tonight," he breathed, eyes glazed with lust. "My sexy little wife, full and round with my kid."

With that, he plunged inside your cunt in one rough, impatient thrust. You cried out as his thick cock stretched you impossibly full. It was a delicious, overwhelming ache, like your body was being molded and shaped to his whims.

Kurapika set a punishing pace, fucking you with relentless intensity. He was like a man possessed, driven by a singular purpose. His hands dug into your hips, nails scoring your skin.

You clutched desperately at his broad shoulders, fingers raking his skin. You were completely overwhelmed by the sensation of him dominating your body, filling you up over and over again with his need.

Kurapika's face was contorted with lust, eyes screwed shut as he pounded into you. His breath came in ragged gasps, sweat-slick chest heaving with exertion. You could feel the raw urgency in his movements, the desperate need to spill his seed deep inside.

Your fingers threaded through his silken hair, gripping the roots as you held his fevered gaze. Kurapika's eyes widened, pupils blown wide with arousal at the display of submission. He gave a guttural groan, his pace faltering as he struggled to stave off his imminent release.

"So fucking sexy," he growled, teeth gritted as he fought to hold himself back. He pistoned into you harder, deeper. His thumb reached down to furiously circle your swollen clit. "Come on, honey. Let me hear you scream..."

You arched into him, the friction of his thumb on your sensitive nub and cock pistoning into your cunt pushing you towards the edge. Kurapika's hips slammed into yours with bruising force, his thrusts becoming more erratic as his orgasm neared.

You felt yourself teetering on the edge, body tensing with anticipation. His hand gripped your thigh, hiking it higher for deeper penetration. That last bit of delicious pressure was all you needed to send you careening over the edge.

Your walls clenched around him, milking his throbbing cock. You came with a strangled cry, body spasming as you squirted onto his cock. Kurapika gave a ragged gasp, his hips stuttering as he chased his own release.

With one final, primal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt. You felt the warmth of his seed flooding your womb, painting your inner walls with his virility. Thick, creamy spurts of cum filled you to the brim, his cock pulsing and twitching as he emptied every last drop.

Kurapika's hips rolled languidly into yours, prolonging the aftershocks of his climax. You clung to him, legs trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. Your bodies were entwined, sweat-slick skin pressed flush against each other.

As the haze of lust ebbed away, Kurapika's gaze softened, taking on an adoring warmth. He caressed your cheek, his voice thick with emotion.

"I hope I got you pregnant," Kurapika murmured, voice hushed with naked longing. He leaned down to trail openmouthed kisses along the column of your neck.

"Can you imagine?" he rasped against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Your belly swelling with our child, my obsession made flesh and blood?"

He nuzzled the crook of your neck, inhaling your mingled scents with an almost spiritual reverence. When Kurapika pulled back to meet your gaze again, his eyes were alight with feverish yearning.

"I'm going to dote on you relentlessly," he vowed in a low rasp. "Worship every curve, every new glow you get from carrying my baby."

His palm stroked over your lower abdomen, fingertips committing every plane and whisper of definition to memory.

"You'll let me, won't you?" Kurapika's tone edged towards pleading. "Let me obsess over you morning, noon, and night while you nurture our offspring?"

He dipped down to trail reverent, openmouthed kisses along the valley between your breasts.

"These are going to swell up so full and ripe..." he muttered thickly, voice muffled against your fevered skin. "I can't wait to taste how sweet your milk will be."

Kurapika's smoldering gaze met yours again, pupils blown wide with naked obsession. His hand splayed possessively over your abdomen once more, relishing the possibility of it bearing new life.

"Just stay right here with me and make my fantasy a reality," he rasped, the barest hint of a plea entering his gravelly timbre. "Let me put a baby in you and finally satisfy this all-consuming obsession."

His thumb stroked over the hint of your hipbone, gaze following the motion with rapturous focus.

"I'll take care of you both..." Kurapika vowed, voice dropping to a rugged murmur. "Mind, body, and spirit - you'll want for nothing beyond my total devotion."

With that, he sealed his promise with a searing, breathtaking kiss that made his singular obsession for impregnating you resoundingly clear.

[moonsaver]

The isekai trope is burning my brain. Pls have this yan!alhaitham with isekai'd reader who actually tells him the deal.

---

What if you got isekai'd into genshin? (specifically sumeru for my taste of scenario)

And alhaitham actually got to know? Maybe you don't even hide it while he's talking to you and writing down whatever you're saying while you're half dazed, sitting up on the stretcher, mentioning an entirely different world. Investigations show no result for it, meaning you really must have come from a different world – which isn't entirely impossible. But it seems yours is a slightly different case.

Regardless, alhaitham still doesn't want trouble. Leaves you be with the matra to discuss and sort out your own situation for the most part.

And then you get assigned to work at the Akademiya.

Its temporary, just until you gain your bearings. And the higher-ups (ahem, Nahida), determine he's appropriate to look after you for a period of time. He's a pretty well-adjusted guy, doesn't bother much, and simple enough to not complicate things (you may protest regarding the kinds of books he reads, but to his standard, it is simple. Just don't bother with that.)

Regardless, he's now in charge of you.

He teaches you the main language Teyvat currently uses, or at least the main language talked in major parts of Sumeru. Stays with you after work hours from time to time to help you learn – but only in exchange for knowledge about your own world. He studies you – or rather your subjects, your culture, your languages. If he's teaching you, you have to appeal something to him, and of equal magnitude aswell. So for the most part, your time is spent trying to piece together how to get you back to your world, or simple cultural and linguistic discussions. Unless that isn't your thing; but you both can find a common ground even then, considering Alhaitham doesn't shy away from different areas of study.

It's only natural your bond progresses. You both go from "somewhere between acquaintances and strangers" to "might occasionally greet while passing by". It's not soon before some of the other higher ups approach you to help get a task done from him, since it always seems like he manages to evade them, going who knows where during his working hours. Maybe it's an important task that can't simply be left on his desk. But you're a bit of a special case - Alhaitham doesn't mind sharing a few details with you; as long as you can appropriately determine what is and isnt worth his time. So you somehow manage to find him and get things done.

Its a bit strange. There's only a few ever constants in his life when it comes to people, and doesn't expect much in return. But having you around is different. Having you around feels.. strangely understanding. Although he doesn't mind the solitude, a part of him has always felt secluded from the masses. And you seem to be stuck in a similar situation. It's only natural you two seem to stick together. It's natural. That's what he tells himself.

And then you start to fizzle out from his grasp.

You make new friends. Newer people who may or may not know about where you really might be from. You learn newer things, far beyond Alhaitham's scope (or rather, just his scope of teaching), you get involved with many, many, people, even get invited to events he doesn't. It hurts a bit when he sits silently at your usual table at the library, cozily tucked away from most prying eyes, sitting across where you should have been, but aren't. but he won't admit it. You did mention you're busy and might not be able to come. But something inside him twists the slightest bit.

And he will admit it– only to himself. He has no grasp on his judgement nor principle when he decides to destroy all your documents, leaving you to hopelessly and despairingly run around to somehow, someway, recover them, trying to revive all the information you earnestly gathered.

He begrudgingly gets up to attend the door in the middle of the night, almost regretting not having worn his headphones, when he stops thinking for a moment. Its you. Of course it is. The corner of his mouth threatens to twitch up, but he resists. He invites your shaking, teary form inside with silence and serves you some tea, before sitting down in front of you. It's almost funny how familiar the scene is – except this time you're alone much later at night with him, and this time you're so distressed you can barely get the words out before you break down.

And he takes care of you, silently. His large, warm hand soothingly rubs your back as he gives you space to cry and blubber out all your stresses, humming to let you know he's listening, tapping the saucer of the tea cup when you're sobbing a bit too heavy and need a break. It's enough to make you realize just who you really need to stick by. None of your friends would really care for you, would they? They're simply fascinated by the strange things you say. Alhaitham and you have a deeper connection, don't you think? Maybe if you're a bit of a romantic thinker yourself, he can twist his words just right enough to even imply you both must have been meant by fate to meet.

In the end, it all settles when you decide to sleep over, cancel your plans for the next day as you get ready to sort out your information with Alhaitham all over again. And this time, he can study you closely.

-

[leaentries]

NEVER MEANT FOREVER - QUINN HUGHES

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SYNOPSIS: there was no way quinn would ever have feelings for his best friend, never.

WARNINGS: angst w/ happy ending, misunderstanding, alcohol, drinking, getting drunk, loser guy harassing reader in a bar, reader breaks a bottle over a loser guys head, reader gets punched, quinn pulling a colin bridgerton (iykyk), swearing, reader gets into an accident, non-life threatening injuries, protective quinn, not proofread

[4.39k+]

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“You know, the longer you stare at her the more pathetic you look.”

“I’m not staring.” 

“Really? Cause I don’t think you’ve blinked in the past ten minutes.” 

With rolling eyes, Quinn finally tore his gaze away from where you stood, enticed in an animated conversation with a random guy. He looked to Jack with an unamused face, hands twirling the straw that danced with the ice of his empty rum and coke. Irritation stirred at the back of his neck, causing him to grunt as he stretched out the muscle. As annoying as Jack could be, he wasn’t necessarily wrong in this situation. 

“Can you blame me?” Quinn barked, “She’s over there smiling with some jackass she’s never met before.” 

Jack just let out a cackle that, to Quinn, reminded him far too much of their father, “It’s called mingling, Quinny.” He slapped a hand firmly onto the older boy’s shoulder, “We came here to have fun and that’s exactly what she’s doing.”

“Well, she could at least be smart about it and not talk to strangers.” He placed the tip of his straw into his mouth, blowing into the empty cup. Quinn knew he sounded like a whiney toddler, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care. Not when it came to you. You had been by Quinn’s side since he got drafted, recently having been hired onto the Canuck’s marketing team. It was all too easy for the boy to immediately cling to your side since both of you were new to living in a new country by yourselves. The both of you found a special solace with each other that could only be described as “home.” At least, that’s what it felt like to Quinn. 

You had become a rock, a symbol of strength and perseverance through his rookie year, and that only seemed to grow stronger with each passing season. He found himself falling reliant on you and your presence, through the little things you would do, such as bringing him lunch when he had been going overtime on the ice or simply helping him clean up the mess of his apartment. Whatever it may be, Quinn couldn’t push away the feelings he had associated with you and your relationship. However, all he could chalk it up to was that you were his best friend, nothing more. 

“Said the world’s biggest introvert,” Jack remarked, “Dude, if you don’t want her to flirt with other people then grow a pair and ask her out.” 

This statement had Quinn’s eyes bulging and shards of ice shooting through the straw he had placed in his mouth. He turned his head, partially to cover his cough, but mostly to hide the red that bloomed on the skin under his stubble. Quinn felt a twang of panic surge through his stomach, nerves spiking. 

Now if you ask Jack, he’d say Quinn was stupid, which could be the only reason the eldest brother let the phrase fall from his lips. 

“Ask her out?” He asked with disbelief, “We’re just friends, I could never be into Y/N like that. Never.” 

Jack felt his own eyes widen at Quinn’s words, coughing awkwardly as his gaze fell behind the brother’s right shoulder. Quinn’s brows formed a deep ‘v’ as he turned around. He swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling his mouth run dry. His throat felt as if it was closing, a gate to the words that wanted to chase after you. He watched the way your eyes filled with an unknown emotion, your shoulders slumping as you made a b-line past him. Quinn’s body was screaming and fighting against his skin to run after you, yet he stayed put. He sat firmly in that chair and watched you run out of that god-forsaken bar. 

He felt as if he was watching his heart rip from his chest and walk away. And in some ways, he was.

-

You felt stupid. 

Stupid for letting yourself feel things for him, stupid for getting close to him, but most of all, for thinking you actually had a chance.

You had been excited to go to the bar that night, having gotten the invitation from Quinn that morning. Admittedly, a sparkle of hope glimmered in your chest every time he invited you somewhere. What started as a casual outing between friends, developed into something far more. His hand would often find home on the small of your back, guiding you and keeping you close if it was crowded. Always taking the liberty of ordering your drinks and food because he somehow managed to remember them all. Beyond all of that, he cared for you. He put in the effort to hang out with you, to check up on you, something that many others lacked in doing. However, all of this seemed pointless now. Empty promises and misread signals now resided where the longing and hoping used to live. 

You could feel your resolve break the second you heard Quinn say those words to Jack. Embarrassment consumed you, and an uncomfortable burning painted your skin red. You felt your heart fall to your ass the second he turned back to look at you.

The worst part? He didn’t even care. 

Quinn made no moves to check up on you later that night after you’d found a ride home, nor did he the following day. Two days eventually turned into a week, and you’d officially gone without speaking to Quinn longer than before the two of you had met. Your heart ached every time your phone lit up, hoping his name would appear under your notifications. You grew tired of waiting, tired of the itch that seemed to cover your fingertips every time you hovered over his contact. 

After the seventh night, your girlfriends decided you needed to quit sulking and go out. And, as if scripted, the familiar knocks at your apartment door announced their arrival. You opened the heavy door, as your two closest friends barged their way in, practically pushing you over. The searing squeak of the metal hinges were begging for help as the door heaved open so quickly. You smiled as they ran to your kitchen, grabbing the tequila bottle, which just so happened to already be on the counter and a few shot glasses. 

“Get your ass over here, y/n/n, we are pregaming this shit.” Demanded Willa, one of your close work friends. She had been there the night everything went down at the bar and didn’t hesitate to get you the hell outta dodge the second she saw tears welling up in your eyes. 

“Do we have to?” You droned, “I want to at least be able to walk to the bar without falling over, Wills.” 

She just rolled her eyes, swatting her hand through the air as if it were your words, “Just one, pretty please?” Her wide brown orbs were rimmed with amusement, clearly getting a kick out of your hesitance. Unfortunately for you, the shit-talking brunette also knew that you were very easily peer-pressured, at least when it came to her. 

“Aren’t you gonna try to convince me to drink too?” You questioned the ginger sitting to the right of Willa. 

Duke just grinned, her freckled cheeks rising to meet her sapphire eyes, “Don’t need to, Will’s already got you covered.” 

You sucked in a harsh breath, giving in to the liquid temptation sitting on the cool granite countertop, “Fine,” You waltz over, snatching the shot glass out of Willa’s hand, “Bottom’s up, bitches.” You guzzle down the shot, the burn almost mute at this point. The situation with Quinn, paired with the off week the Canuck’s had, it was horrible timing for you. But proved to be great timing for the local liquor store. 

Managing to take another shot, you all quickly go to your room to finish the final touchups for your nightly escapades. Duke hooked her phone to the speaker, playing the shared playlist the three of you had, specifically for nights like these. You could feel the tension from the past week melt from your body as you jumped around with your two best friends. 

After the first few songs, you settled down into a comfortable chatter, talking about nonsense as you curled your hair on the ground by your floor-length mirror. Willa sat on the bed, legs crossed as she did her eyeshadow in the camera of her phone and Duke somehow wriggled her way onto your dresser, feet dangling as she sat back against the tan walls. She had never been one to overly dress for clubbing, but her style suited her. 

“...and then he told me that I had a pretty voice,” Willa giggled as she rambled about her newest boy toy. As much as you loved the girl, there was no denying that she got around, but you’d never judge her for that. In all honesty, it was almost refreshing to hear about her many rendezvous, giving you insight into a life you could never live. Not that you wanted to, the thought of jumping from guy to guy made your skin crawl and dread fill your throat. You were more of a one-stop-shop kind of girl. 

“Which one is this again?” Duke’s voice slurred slightly, a tell-tale sign she was already tipsy. 

Willa rolled her eyes, “Duke, have you not been listening this whole time?” 

Duke slumped over to her side, “Sorry,” She snarked, “I’m sure this guy is fantastic and will be the one to get you to walk down the aisle.” 

The brunette scrunched her nose up in disgust, “Ew, not a chance.” 

You just laughed at their banter, finally curling the last few pieces of your hair. Duke turned her attention to you, eyeing you up suspiciously. “You seem rather quiet, y/n/n. Is everything okay?” At her words, Willa looks up from her phone, brows furrowing as she waits for your answer. 

You manage a nod and a half-assed smile that wouldn’t fool them from a mile away, “Yeah, I’m all good. Don’t worry about me.” 

Duke gave you her “don’t lie to me” look, which almost had you spouting yout guts out to them about Quinn, but Willa managed to beat you to the punch.

“Is it Quinn?” She asked, voice uncharacteristically serious. 

You just sighed, giving them the answer they needed. Willa moved off the bed, sinking onto the floor beside you, “Look, I know we are normally supposed to gang up on the guys that hurt us, but coming from someone who watches the two of you interact on a daily basis,” She paused, thinking of the right words, “I think you should text him.” 

Your eyes widened at her statement. Usually, Willa was very anti-man, in the sense that she would smite anyone who looked at you wrong, so hearing her tell you to reach out to him was shocking, to say the least. 

“Why would I do that? You heard what he said about me at the bar. He made it very clear he would never have feelings for me.” 

“All I’m saying is, you never even gave the guy a chance to explain himself, that’s all.” Willa’s voice was resolute. You just nodded, taking her words into consideration. Maybe you’d text him, but not tonight. Tonight was your time to let loose, to have fun. The calm before the storm that surely awaited the second you clicked the call button under Quinn’s name.

-

Getting out of the Uber, Duke grabbed your and Willa’s hands, leading you to the front of the line. 

“Duke? The line starts back there,” Willa said, pointing back to the line that wrapped around the brick exterior of the bar. 

With no reply, Willa just huffed and continued to let Duke lead the way. The redhead turned sharply on her heel, “Stay right here a second, I’ll be right back.” 

“Du-” You cut yourself off. She was gone before you even had the time to call out her name. You looked around, leaning up against the wall. You let your head fall back, blowing out a deep breath into the night air. Despite it being warm outside, your skin erupted in goosebumps, no doubt due to your outfit, which didn't serve as much insulation. Willa groaned, slumping back next to you. She took this moment to bring up the one guy you were trying to avoid thinking about for the night. 

“Do you wanna know why I think you should text him?”

“Depends,” You snapped, “Are you gonna give me an actual answer?”

She nodded, not at all phased by your attitude. Having worked with you for 6 years, she had gotten used to the front you put up when you were frustrated. 

“I think you should text him because I think he was lying.” 

Your eyes snapped to her, and you shook your head in confusion, “Why would he have any reason to lie?” 

Willa shrugged her deep-brown shoulders, “Because I can see the way he looks at you. Y/N if you actually paid attention to the way he treats you, you’d understand where I’m coming from. That boy doesn’t just see you as a friend.” 

Your body tenses, scared to ignite that flame of hope again, “That still doesn’t explain why he would have lied about it and made it seem that dating me was a fate worse than death. You didn’t hear him, Wills,” Your voice dropped, “He was being serious.” 

She turned her body to face you completely, her arm now fully rested against the copper-toned brick, “Maybe not, but you didn’t see his face when you ran out of there. He looked like someone just killed his dog.” 

You huffed, annoyed at the whole ordeal, “Then why didn’t he just come and tell me himself?” Your teeth bared down, sending an almost painful tick through your jaw. 

“Now that, I don’t know. I just said he wasn’t being honest, not that he wasn’t a coward.” 

You couldn’t help the puff of amusement that escaped your nose, Willa now sounding more like her usual ball-busting self. Just as you began to grow impatient, Duke emerged through a side door, ushering you two inside the building. 

“What the hell, D?” You asked, very concerned and slightly worried about the fact that you were sneaking into a very infamous bar in downtown Vancouver. She just rolled her eyes and continued down the long hall until you reached the end. A dark metal door with a keypad served as the only barrier between you and the dance floor just beyond. Duke quickly typed in a code, the door making a dull ‘click’ signifying that it was unlocked. 

Before the three of you made into the main floor, Willa grabbed Duke’s arm, “What the actual fuck is going on?” 

Duke laughed at your faces, her husky voice echoing through the, otherwise, empty hallway, “Remember how I mentioned I was seeing someone new?” You and Willa nodded simultaneously, “Well, he happens to own this place and gave me the code for whenever I wanted to bring some friends.” 

You felt all your worry ease from your bones, no longer nervous about getting kicked out, “You know you could have just told us that.”

Duke chuckled as she opened the door for you all to walk in, “I know, but where is the fun in that?” 

Walking into the crowded room, you could already feel the smile forming on your face. Maybe your friends were right about getting out of the house. The DJ on the big stand played some early 2000’s songs and you fought the urge to scream along. You laughed as Willa immediately dragged you to the floor, Duke running off to find her mystery man. You threw your hands up, swaying your hips to the beat of the music. It was intoxicating, being able to let loose and not feel the pressure of everyday weighing down on your shoulders. For once in the past week, you could confidently say, you weren’t thinking about Quinn Hughes. 

After an hour or so, you and Willa managed to push your way through the crowd, desperately needing a drink to soothe your sore throats after all of the screaming and singing. On your way to the bar, a large frame steps in between you and Willa, her body quickly blending in with the sea of people around you. You look up to the man who all but blocked you, noting the devious glint in his eyes. His light hair was cut short, not complimenting his crooked nose or the way his lips turned up. There was something about this man that made your hair stand straight and your gut clench. 

“I saw you dancing with your friend, you looked really good out there.” His rough voice almost made you cringe. You looked over his shoulder, eagerly trying the find Willa or Duke. 

“Uh, thanks,” Your hands picked at the fabric of your dress, nerves now on edge. 

“Wanna show me some more moves?” He bent down next to your ear, “Maybe something a little more personal?” 

His words shot panic through your body, a shiver of fear running up your spine, “I’m actually trying to find my friends right now,” You say curtly, hoping he’d catch on and leave you be. “So if you’ll just excu-” However, he proved to be more stubborn. The man quickly grabbed your wrist, stopping you from going anywhere. Your eyes widened in terror, breath picking up as you rapidly searched for someone to help you. As you tried to pry your arm from his grip, the man let out a sound that was borderline animalistic. 

“You’re not going anywhere, sweet cheeks.” He smiled wickedly at you, his perfect teeth almost sickeningly white. The nickname made bile rise in your throat, stopping any screams or pleased for help from coming out. Seeing a nearby table with empty glasses, you quickly reach to snatch one, not missing to smash the bottle down onto the man’s head. His hand loosened around your wrist and you took the opportunity to tear away from his grip. 

“You little bitch!” He snarled, starting after your retreating form. 

You turn back, noticing the man growing closer on your heels, you try your best to escape him but he grabs your shoulders roughly. As he swivels you around and you reach a hand up to scratch down at his face, aiming for anything to get you the hell away from him. Tears shook through your ribs as a fist came hurling at you. Blinded by the anxious sobs, your head flew back at the impact of the punch. Everything around you went blurry, sounds mixing. A high-pitched ringing echoed through your head, all of your senses seemingly disappearing. At first, you don’t register what happened, but the searing pain on the left side of your face has your mind crashing back into reality. Fresh tears well in your eyes as you stumble away, the man having appeared to run off. 

You manage to get to the bar top, Willa sprinting over the second she notices your bruised and bloody face. 

“What the fuck happened?” She thundered, anger plastered all over her delicate features. 

You couldn’t answer over the deep sobs that racked through your entire body, the pain in your face growing worse by the second. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. We’re gonna get out of here,” She soothed as she pulled you into her body. She quickly took her phone out, presumably to call someone, but you were too focused on getting the hell out to notice. Once you got out of the building, Willa guided you to sit on a nearby curb, letting you lean onto her body as you stared blankly into the black asphalt of the road. You somehow managed a breif recap of what happened, Willa beyond furious, her brown eyes dark with anger. You were so caught up in your head, that every echo or screech sent your muscles tightening and body flinching in response. You whined at any subtle movement in your face, the pain had you hoping to the universe nothing was broken. 

“I called Duke to let her know what happened, she said she’s gonna have her boyfriend look through the cameras to see if they caught anything.” You could only break out a weak nod, not wanting to aggravate your injury any more than it already was, “I also called Quinn.” 

Your head shot up, but only earned a deep whimper out of you as the pain shot through your face and down your neck. Willa just gently guided your head back down to her shoulder, running a hand through your hair.

“FIghting or not, Quinn is still one of your best friends. Are you seriously gonna tell me you don’t want him here?” 

If you had the energy to argue, would you? Probably not. Willa always managed to see right into you, and blame it on the injury, but you wanted nothing more than to feel Quinn’s arms wrapped around your body. You remained in that positon until you heard heavy footsteps hurrying towards you. Picking up your head, you couldn’t fight off the rush of relief you felt when Quinn came up beside you. 

“Who did this to you, baby?” He rasped breathlessly. The boy inspected your face closely, not even noticing the nickname rolling off of his tongue and maybe if you weren’t so uncomfortable, you would have acknowledged it. 

You shrug, swallowing the fresh batch of tear that threatened to fall, “Some random guy,” Your voice cracked, laced with emotion and pain, “I was just trying to get a drink.” 

Quinn pulled your body into his, making sure to be careful with your head and face, “Oh, baby,” He cooed, trying his best to keep his voice soft through the anger that coursed in his veins. He stroked your hair soothingly, letting you grip tightly onto his hoodie, “It’s okay, pretty girl. I’m here now, no ones gonna touch you.” Quinn’s words grew sharp with venom at the end of his sentence. He couldn’t describe the feeling he got when Willa had called him. All he knew was he needed to get to you, and he needed to get to you fast. Did Elias give him a weird look for bursting out of the room at record speed? Yes, but Quinn didn’t give a fuck, not when you were hurting. He would gladly burn down the city if it meant protecting you from the vile monsters like the man who put his hands on you. However, Quinn knew that wasn’t possible, so he settled for what he could do, and that was keep you close to him for as long as he could.

You’re not sure how long the both of you stood there, but the night began to grow colder and a chill ran up your neck. 

“You cold, pretty girl?” His voice asked softly, placing a kiss on your forehead. You nodded, not quite ready to try and speak again. “Okay, come on, I’ll take you home.” 

Bidding quick goodbyes to your friends, you let the comfort of Quinn’s body and hands guide you to his car. Luckily he hadn’t parked very far. In all honesty, he hadn’t really parked at all, far too busy rushing to get you. He helped you in, turning on the heat to the exact temperature you would always pick when in his car. The engine hummed to life as he gripped the steering wheel in one hand and intertwined your fingers with the other. 

The ride back to your apartment was silent, but the unspoken words hung heavy in the air. Neither of you spoke until he walked you up to your place, helping you inside and locking your doors. The both of you stood awkwardly, not knowing how to address the tension. Biting back the pain, you decide to break the ice.

“Why did you say it?”

Quinn let out a shaky breath, “I don’t know.”

“That’s not good enough, Quinn.” You quipped, shaking your head in annoyance. 

“I-I don’t know why I said it,” He replied desperately, “I guess I’m a coward,”

You scoffed.

“But what I do know,” Quinn looked deep into your eyes, “Is that I didn’t mean it.” He grabbed your hands, his warm palms encasing the bitter cold that nipped at your fingertips, “Jack caught me off guard and I didn’t want to admit to myself that I’m in love with my best friend.” 

Your eyes widened at his confession, but before you could speak, Quinn continued, “So here I am, because I don’t want to be a coward anymore and I can’t live without at least telling you how I feel. Because even if there is a sliver of a chance you might love me back, then I have to take it.” 

You were speechless. For the first time in your life, Quinn Hughes had left you speechless. When he got no response, he nodded glumly, taking that as his que to leave. Your mouth gaped as you screamed at your mind to say something, anything. Whatever it took to stop your boy from leaving for good. 

“I love you too,” You squeaked. 

He stopped in his tracks, body turing back to face you, “You what?” He whispered, not believing his own ears. 

This time, your voice came back full force and even the pain in your cheeks wasn’t gonna stop you from saying those five words, “I love you, Quinn Hughes.” 

It took three stride for Quinn to make it back in front of you, his hand gently cupped your non-injured cheek, eyes darting down to your lips. 

“Can I kiss you?” Quinn’s voice was timid, as if he was scared you’d break if he talked normally. 

The only answer you gave was colliding your lips with his. The kiss wasn’t exploding fireworks, but rather a ‘welcome home’. The taste of morning dew and the comfort of a freshly made bed. He tasted like the honey you’d put in your tea and felt like the warmest fire on a winter’s day.

Quinn Hughes was a man of many talents, a man of many things, but home was definitely number one. 

[little-diable]

A Broken Down Bike and Racing Hearts – Benny Cross (smut)

Well, I watched The Bikeriders yesterday, and I did warn y'all. I simply have to write for Benny (maybe also Johnny?). I haven't read any Benny fics yet, so this may have been done before. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Benny's bike breaks down right in front of the reader's house, who invites him in to stay the night while a thunderstorm rages outside.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, choking, slight possessiveness

Pairings: Benny Cross x fem!reader (2k words)

Contains no spoilers!

Her eyes followed his every movement. It had only been a handful of minutes since he had broken down with his bike right in front of her house. No words had been shared between them so far. While he kept fumbling with different parts of his bike, she kept smoking her cigarettes, studying the handsome man with piercing eyes. 

She didn’t look away once, not as he seemed to give up on fixing his bike with a sigh, not as he placed a cigarette between his plush lips with his gaze set on (y/n). Something about him drew her in. Perhaps it was the cut that told a story of brotherhood, of family united by something thicker than blood. Perhaps it was simply the handsome face she wouldn’t mind seeing every now and then. Whatever it was, it urged her on to finally part her lips. 

“I doubt you’ll manage to leave this place tonight.” Her gaze flickered up to the dark sky, knowing that it’d start raining any minute now. The guy wordlessly followed her gaze while blowing out a thick blue cloud of smoke matching hers.

“Is that an invitation to stay at your place for the night?” His voice was raspy, perfectly matching the growing smirk finding its way to his lips. 

“Well, if there’s one thing I know about you bikers, it is that it’s better to have you as a friend than as an enemy. And who knows, maybe I’ll need your help one of these days too.” (Y/n) rose to her feet. She allowed herself to study him for a second or two before turning on her heel to make it back inside her house. The second she crossed the threshold, it began raining as if God himself were urging the stranger to follow her, knowing that this very match would endure all following obstacles. 

The sound of his boots meeting her wooden stairs left her smiling, forcing her to turn back to him as he softly closed the door behind himself. He stepped out of his boots, ran a hand through his golden locks, and let his eyes wander. 

“I’m (y/n).” She softly spoke her name while her feet carried her towards her open kitchen, reaching for two bottles of beer.

“Benny.” It was a simple reply–just his name–nothing more, and yet she didn’t need anything else. She reached the bottle out for him to take, trying to bite down the sharp intake of air wanting to leave her as their hands met. He was a stranger, nothing more than a pretty face, but the excitement his closeness pushed through her, left (y/n) wondering how this night may play out, knowing that she wasn’t one to shy away from an opportunity like this. 

“Are you hungry, Benny? You must have been on the road for a while.” Benny only nodded his head as he took another sip of his beer. He was unusually cautious for a biker–at least in comparison to those she had met before–but (y/n) didn’t mind his calm demeanour, grateful for the comforting feeling he emanated. 

“Do you live here alone?” He plopped down on her kitchen island, letting his feet dangle in the air while he watched her cook. The moment had something homey to it, a domestic atmosphere she hadn’t ever experienced before, torn from a broken home at an early age. Sometimes she had imagined a life like this, with a husband close to love her, to appreciate her like she had always craved. 

“I do. It’s just me around here.” The hum leaving him forced her gaze towards him, unable to bite down her smile at the way he studied her. He seemed to be just as fascinated with her, drawn to the woman who had invited a stranger into her house solemnly because she knew saying no to a biker could end badly for her. But Benny was different–that much she knew already. 

“Must get lonely.” Her tongue kissed her teeth at his comment, trying to hold back from dumping the confusing emotions she had always felt on him. It did get lonely from time to time. But there was no escaping this situation, at least not for now, and she had made her peace with it, grateful that she could live however she wanted to. 

“You get used to it. What about you? Who are you running away from?” The silence that followed her question grew thicker with every passing moment. She was patient, waiting for him to find the strength to speak while she finished cooking their food. The past years had taught her enough about trauma, stress, and fear to understand how much people struggled with whatever it was they were running away from. 

Whatever it was that Benny couldn’t speak of, she wouldn’t force him to let her in, not when she could offer him a safe space for a few hours at least. 

……

“I could take you on a ride as soon as it’s fixed.” Benny was sitting on her couch, feet placed on the small table, as he was nursing another beer. She was sitting close, feet placed in his lap, breaking through the layers that had turned them from strangers to somewhat friends already. 

It had taken Benny almost an hour to let her in, to tell her of the struggles he had faced, the people he was running from, and the fear he couldn’t shake, no matter how fast he was driving, close to bidding this life goodbye. She had listened to his every thought, keeping quiet while he rambled on, finding safety in her closeness. 

“Careful, Benny, you’d have to keep me around for that.” The grin she shot him left him laughing, head rolling back to give the raspy sound enough room to break through him. It was a beautiful sight, leaving her buzzing with heat flushing through her that begged her to move closer. 

Something was lingering between the two, binding them closer together while both waited for the right moment to cross the last line between them.

“Would that be so bad?” It was close to a whisper, rolling off his tongue while he turned his head back towards her. (Y/n) felt heat rise up her spine, whispering to her to give her darkest and deepest longings enough room as if she was drunk off her face, unable to hold back. Benny held a special kind of magic over her, an unfamiliar sensation she couldn’t pinpoint just yet. 

“I don’t think you’re one for keeping women around. And I don’t want to leave this place.” He shuffled around, placed his bottle down before leaning closer towards her. His bright eyes danced over her face while his ringed hand found her cheek, cupping it softly. Benny’s thumb ran over her parted lips, unable to hold back his groan as she sucked his digit into her mouth. 

And then everything happened all too quickly. One second he was staring down at her, and the next she was sitting on his lap, lips locked with his. It wasn’t a soft kiss; it was rough, urged on by their need to be touched, to feel some form of love they hadn’t experienced in months, perhaps even years. 

Trembling fingers worked on one another’s clothes, letting the fabrics drop on the ground while their mouths explored the places that hadn’t been touched in a while. Moans rumbled through them, filling her living room as the last piece of clothing found its way to the ground. 

(Y/n)’s heart was racing, pounding in her chest while Benny couldn’t help but marvel at her body; at every inch he was now fortunate enough to touch. His fingers felt cold against her heat as he pressed her back down on the couch, brushing through her folds to spread her arousal on her pulsing bundle. All while (y/n) tugged on his golden curls with her back arched off the couch and her toes curled in anticipation.

“You’re fucking beautiful, doll.” She barely picked up on his words, too far gone to focus on the praises Benny spoke. His fingers moved fast enough to make black dots appear in her vision, leaving her eyes to flutter while her orgasm crept closer and closer. He dipped his head down to suck marks into the soft skin of her chest, letting his teeth graze her skin to make her feel as if she was burning, set ablaze by his touch. 

“Benny,” she choked on his name. Her thighs were trembling, body aching for the relief he was about to push through her. She wanted to speak more words, wanted to tell him how good he was making her feel, but she didn’t manage to, interrupted by the loud moan clawing through her. 

She came with his name rolling off her tongue, spoken like a mantra she had learned by heart years ago. He kept moving his fingers, circling her pulsing bundle for a few more seconds before letting go. They held eye contact, staring at one another with growing smiles that were glued to their lips. The sound of thunder rang in their ears, followed by the heavily falling rain that rushed down her windows, adding even more intensity to the atmosphere lingering in the room. 

Benny didn’t speak a warning before he flipped her around, only to press her chest against the armrest of her couch. She heard him spit into his palm and heard the soft groan rumbling through him as he pumped his cock a few times before finally pushing into her from behind. Both groaned in unison at the way he pushed into her, spreading her walls around his twitching cock. 

“Feels so good, Benny, move, please.” He instantly gave in to her begging, pulling out of her only to push back in with more force. It didn’t take him long to find a comfortable rhythm, fast enough to leave her choking on gasps, slow enough to give the two enough time to savour every passing second. 

“You belong to me now, doll. I can’t let you go again.” (Y/n) didn’t properly understand what he meant by these words, too focused on the feeling of his hand finding her throat, pulling her into his chest. He tightened his grasp on her throat to hold on to her while he fucked them closer towards their high, knowing that they’d give in soon. 

“Tell me that you’re mine.” He murmured the words against the back of her neck, while he left yet another mark that wouldn’t fade for a while. She was trembling in his grasp, struggling to reply while he softly choked her, heightening her senses. “Speak, (y/n).”

“I’m yours, fuck, Benny, I’ll always be yours.” A satisfied hum left him at her words–a hum that gave her the final push to throw herself over the edge. She came again with a moan, with squeezed-together eyes and her teeth buried in her lower lip. Benny kept snapping his hips against her behind, chasing his own high with his moans vibrating on her skin. 

A deep “Fuck” left him as he came, pulling out of her just in time to paint her behind with his cum. Both were panting, holding onto the couch while they came down from their highs, unable to see through the hazy fog just yet. 

“I mean it, doll, we belong together now.” He pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder before he rose to his feet to disappear from her sight. Her mind was racing, her heart was pounding, but no matter how confused she was, deep down she knew that she wouldn’t want to let go of him, following Benny wherever he’d take her.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

you know how you did bg3 types of yanderes, could you do that for castlevania? Like the trio and isaac, hector, dracula/lisa, carmilla, st. germain??

A/N: For reference, here is the one I did for BG3 villains, and here is the one I did for the BG3 Main Companions. Also, this is unedited as hell so if you see grammar mistakes, no you didn't. 

Castlevania Characters as Yandere! Types: 

Yandere! Trevor: 

Defensive. Calucative. Hardened. Trevor’s seen far worse than you, from humans and monsters alike. He knows the terror and the cruelty that lurks out there. He wants to shield you from it all, for as long as possible. He has this overwhelming need to prevent what happened to his family from happening to you. Even then, he knows your innocence won’t last; it couldn’t possibly. So long as you’re tied to him, you will know hardship. So as much as he babies you, and refuses to grant you complete independence, he is also distant, and frequently unaffectionate. In his line of work, people don’t die of old age; neither of you will be in the other’s life forever. Just let him love you the way he needs, when he asks for it, please. Everything else is so difficult in his life, you don’t want to add to that. Make yourself into the one piece of his life that is easy. And enjoy the easy while it lasts. 

Yandere! Sypha: 

Confident. Feisty. Unyielding. Sypha is always sure of herself. Everything she does, she does with 100% effort and full intent- your relationship is no different. From the moment she sees you, she’s sure she likes you, and she’s certain you like her. Any behavior that suggests otherwise on your part must simply be beginning relationship nerves. After all, she is a scholar and a Speak Magician. Her infectious optimism seeps out of her every pore. Her love for you knows no bounds, and she will not hesitate to throw herself into danger to prove it. I mean, she can conjure fire and ice instantaneously in her own two hands! Who wouldn’t want to be her partner?  Only some sort of complete and total asshole would try and turn her down, or worse, fight against her. She fights for what is right, and what is just. You wouldn’t fight against what’s just, would you? 

Yandere! Alucard: 

Intellectual. Sharp. Melancholic. Alucard is not a stranger to romance nor heartbreak. Losing the people closest to him has left him vulnerable, both emotionally and physically. Instead of processing his feelings, he bottles them up, until he can no longer bear their weight. He feels such pressure to remain composed, remain controlled, not animalistic, to go against the programming of half of his biology. At the same time, he is starving, desperate, and filled with an insatiable thirst for closeness. Such a complicated, disconsolate man, Alucard needs you to stay, more than anything. His life has been so lonely, and so hard; at times it feels like all he knows is loss and the cruel impossible whispers of desire. You need to stay. You need to choose him. He cannot take another heartbreak. It’s quite possible, given his role throughout history, that humanity wouldn’t survive another one of his heartbreaks either.  

Yandere! Isaac: 

Keen. Precise. Self-Righteous. Isaac has journeyed far on his quest for revenge, coming not only into a new land and new role but a new self as well. Gone is the former subservient, sacrificial lamb, who has risen into a stronger, wiser, seemingly benevolent king. Do not mistake this kindness for weakness, however. You must be either admirable or too kind-hearted to pose a genuine threat. Once you’ve caught his eye, prepare for an odd game of cat and mouse, you being the mouse of course. Isaac is not used to having friends, much less romantic companions. You must be patient as he learns the intricacies of your psyche. Surely, you must know he’s been analyzing it since you met? Be an honest, positive presence in his life, and he will keep you safe from all others who may do you harm. Treat him as the wise king he now sees himself as, and perhaps, he will ask you to be his queen. 

Yandere! Hector: 

Reclusive. Embittered. Suspicious. Hector has been forced to toughen up. Too late did he realize at the end of the road, that it is the people, not the zombies you command that can make or break a man. That is where you come in my dear. Following Lenore’s death, Hector’s purpose is up in the air, he is suddenly a puppet, free of its strings. He feels much wiser, but just as lonely. Hector cannot help but latch on to you, the first “normal” person to view him as human. He yearns for a simple quiet life, with a dog (a live one) and a partner to call his own. You’re perfectly plain, or perhaps, you’re just odd enough to make him look normal, and he relishes that. You have to understand that he can’t share much about his past. He can’t possibly tell you about his old life, no, no, no. He’s hiding it from you, hells, he’s hiding from it with you. He loves you dearly, he does. But he can’t trust you, not fully. A man with a history like his cannot truly trust anyone. 

Yandere! Dracula/Lisa: 

Nurturing. Captivated. Smothering. Dracula was not keen on humans before meeting Lisa; she bewitched him body and soul. And now the two of them have become enthralled by you. Dracula has learned the ‘other’ humans are not to be trusted, not with you, and certainly not with his wife. Lisa finds it unfortunate how she is no longer able to treat her former patients in Lupu, but she’s also incredibly thankful now that she has you to take care of! Ever the eager student, she still wants to learn so many things, and how wonderful of a practice dummy you are. Dracula is also eternally grateful that his wife will not be completely lonely; he knows how much helping her fellow humans means to her, and now that you’re here, Dracula no longer has to worry about keeping his wife (and by extension, you) to himself for eternity. 

Yandere! Carmilla: 

Prepared. Calculating. Cruel. Carmilla is a sadist at heart, there’s no denying it. She loves feeling the power she wields over all other people, humans, and vampires alike. For you to have caught her attention, surely you must be something special. Either you are particularly gifted in something she’s not (negotiations, necromancy, art, etc.) or you’re just so unbelievably precious, that she can’t help but want to steal you away for herself. She sees you as a possession, as a rare and beautiful gem, not a person. Even if she did ‘hear’ anything you had to say, she’d simply consider it further fodder to be used in manipulating you should it all come to that. She is not a woman who is denied, not by God, not by man, not by Dracula, and certainly not by you. Chin up, pet. Things could always be much worse. You could be thrown in the dungeons and left to rot. How lovely of Carmilla to instead treat you to more luxury than your kind could ever dare to deserve. For your continued safety, may I suggest showing a little gratitude? I mean it’s not like your life depends on it or anything. It does. 

Yandere! St. Germain: 

Wise. Inquisitive. Obsessive. St. Germain is a man who knows his mind. He knows a great deal about alchemy, and that alchemy, at the end of his days, will be his greatest work. That was of course, all before he met you. You opened up a whole side of him that he didn't know existed. Before you, his conquest was kings and courts; his acquaintances were mages and scholars! But now, in his effort to keep you from himself, you have become his conquest; his acquaintances are vampires and demons, all practitioners of dark magic. To him, it’s of little matter, so long as he can secure you, his one true love. To him, it’s the most important to have someone to share all his knowledge with, all that he’s achieved. To bask in the victory alone does not hold the same merit. He needs you at his side, he needs you to be invested in the great work. Without you, without your love, he fears he cannot achieve it. As such, he will do whatever it takes to get you by his side. And I do mean- whatever- it takes. 

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[sereneabyyss]

Ouija Board At Bat Gas (Dead On Main)

Bat Gas was an unfortunate little, dingy, abandoned gas station situated just outside of Crime Alley in an area where it couldn't be said to be part of The Alley, but was close enough that anyone not from there would never dare to fill up their tanks there in fear of getting mugged and none of the residents of Crime Alley ever bothered filling their tanks, if the car they were using ran out, most just simply jumped at the opportunity to steal another. Safe to say, the gas station hadn't lasted long in the business world.

Thus, it sat there, vines overgrowing the concrete flooring and winding up the empty fuel pumps. Like all abandoned things in Gotham, stories of ghosts haunting and wails of grief filled any conversation about Bat Gas. Many of the street kids liked to make dares out of venturing into the den and going so far as to touch one of the pumps. Risks of rubber bound vipers striking out, possessed by a vengeful spirit, only seemed to fill them with determination to complete the dares of their friends.

Perhaps those stories were what brought Jason Todd out at bat gas on December 25th, a Ouija Board in hand. The original plans to spend the holidays at the Wayne Manor had been scrapped with the raging of pits and glow of green eyes leaving every other member of his family walking on tip toes around him. Normally that would mean ditching Jason Todd for the comfort of Red Hood, except there were no issues in Crime Alley for Hood to take care of. Every bastard seemed to have scampered into hiding in time for the New Year. So, he was left as he was, a lost Jason Todd just looking for some way to ignore the mess of his life on Christmas Day.

So. He was going to use a Ouija Board to see if Bat Gas was actually haunted. What could he lose? His dignity if anyone stumbled upon him? He forsook that years ago.

Walking onto the cracked concrete, it was like an icy wave of contentment washed over him. Any lingering Pit Rage simmered beneath the surface before mellowing out completely. The knots in his chest unwrapped themselves and all that seemed left within him was a feeling of light-weightiness. Like the feeling when he was grappling between buildings and he was falling falling falling until the hook's line tightened and he was flying back up. He wasn't sure he had felt this way since the day he awoke half alive half monster.

(There was definitely something dead here. It was just so familiar. He would never be able to explain the feeling, but it was as if he was bathing in less angry Lazarus Pits.)

Danny perked up as the presence of a halfa (liminal? halfa? he couldn't tell exactly, something seemed off with both descriptions, but halfa was definitely the closest between them) entered the neat little gas station he had decided to make his temporary haunt.

He had decided to haunt the abandoned Bat Gas he had heard others talking about during Christmas, not wanting to deal with questions on why he didn't celebrate. (Seriously, after all the arguments every year and that one time with the possessed candy cane, he had given up any sort of Christmas Spirit he may have had before.) After visiting Mars last year on Christmas Day, he family had given up all hope of trying to get in contact with him for the entire day. So, he knew he would be free to haunt the cool looking gas station with no one hunting him down and trying to stick him in front of a tree with too many blinking lights and gaudy paper wrapping unnecessary trinkets he'll lose between his ribs after like three days.

But! There was a halfa entering his new haunt! And they were maybe ill! He had to see what that was about!

Peeking over the roof he was situated on, he watched as someone continued walking, something weird and rectangular looking in their arms. Tilting his head to the side, he slowly floated down, staying invisible as he took a peak at the stranger.

His eyes narrowed in on the rectangle object in the halfas arms. They placed it on the concrete, giving Danny room to finally look and- ohmygodwasthataouijaboard?! HE WAS GETTING OUIJA BOARDED! HE WAS SO GOING TO SHOVE THIS IN SKULKER'S FACE THE NEXT TIME THEY FOUGHT! THIS WAS EONS WORTH OF BRAGGING RIGHTS! HE WAS GETTING OUIJA BOARDED!

Silently clearing his throat, he sat in front of the halfa, allowing him to get a good look and... fuck, he was hot. Like, thighs that could absolutely crush a watermelon hot. Hair wind swept back with a little white etched into the front hot. A boyish, smugish, hottish face that just screamed danger hot. Hot enough this man could probably melt his ghost ice hot. Did Danny mention he was hot?

Maybe if his Christmases were always spent getting Ouija boarded by incredibly hot maybe halfas he'd have more Christmas Spirit. Santa, he knows you're real, send him this halfa again next Christmas and maybe he'll actually respect you.

The new halfa furrowed his eyebrows as he concentrated setting up the Ouija board properly and Danny almost fainted from how hot he was. Patting his cheeks sharply, he concentrated on the fact that he was getting to do his first Ouija Board! He had to look cool! He had to be smooth! This halfa was hot and Danny couldn't blow it!

"Oh Ghost who haunts this gas station, can you hear my voice?" The halfa called out and Danny had to hold himself together from freaking out over the man's voice. It was just perfect. It wasn't too harsh nor did it have the silken smooth feeling most liars had. It was gruff but in an experienced shit way. Oh my Ancients he could absolutely die once more and be the happiest ghost!

He giddily grabbed the little wood whatever-it-was-called in the halfas hand and slid it towards the YES option.

Jason blinked in shock as the planchette in his hand began moving without him forcing it. He had known something not quite alive was here in the gas station, but he hadn't expected it to actually be able to communicate. "I'm Jason, do you have a name?" Slowly, it began moving once more, spelling out P-H-A-N-T-O-M. Which, he wasn't necessarily expecting such a cheesy name, but it could have been worse... probably. "Nice to meet you Phantom. Why are you haunting Bat Gas? I don't recall there being any deaths here."

I-M B-O-R-E-D.

Yeah that was actually a fair enough reason in his books.

"Is there a reason you haven't passed on? Is something tethering you here?"

A-V-O-I-D-I-N-G P-A-P-E-R-W-O-R-K

Shit? There was paperwork in the afterlife? Maybe that was why he decided to come crawling back after getting dumped in the pits. Unfortunate that being a crime lord actually had more paperwork than being a Robin ever did.

Danny was vibrating so fast it looked like that time he ate lithium batteries (it was for science!). The halfa was still talking to him! He was keeping up an interesting conversation! Ouija boarding was so much fun!

"Can you turn visible? Or is that just something movies make up?" He wanted to see Danny! He was interested in what Danny looked like! Dropping his invisibility, Jason visibly startled taking in the sudden appearance before him.

"Hello! I'm Phantom!"

[huboi]

᭨ ⃟⃜㊙️. THE ITADORIS’ ू✙˚💬 ̳͟͞͞. 📁💢

CHAPTER 1 : EYE-TO-EYE

★ — NEXT CHAPTER

LINK TO ᭨ ⃟⃜㊙️. THE ITADORIS’ ू✙˚💬 ̳͟͞͞. 📁💢 MASTERLIST

╰┈➤ summary; one friday afternoon, you come face-to-face with a man covered in tats. when at the counter, a small voice politely asks ‘papa’ for a cookie…

╰┈➤ includes; gn! barista! reader, single dad! sukuna, child! yuji, extreme fluff, sukuna is 28 (had yuji at 18), reader is early 20s’ so somewhat of an age gap

╰┈➤ a/n; consider this mini series as a 1k follower special! I’m so stoked I made it this far, tysm for all the support throughout the years <3

╰┈➤ taglist; @alluresenses, @ryomku, @slaysksmska, @vduxx, @yanelis-world, @cloudy51, @gangeyes, @khaleesihavilliard, @valen-yamyam16, @craxy-gezel @kunasexygf, @sukunamylovexoxo, @mazzd4 (if you wanna be added just hit me an ask :3)

THE GENTLE TINKLE of the bell alerted you of a new costumer, causing you to turn around away from the coffee machine ready to greet said customer with a smile and polite welcome, only for your body to stiffen in reflex.

the man that now stood in front of the counter had an eerie aura to him. he wore a black wife beater, the tight clothing highlighting the muscles that lay beneath the clothing, his arms covered in black tats, the muscles making the tats seem extra prominent. his grey sweatpants may be baggy, but you guessed that underneath lays muscular legs and thighs that could easily crush a watermelon-

snapping out of checking out the hot, dangerous looking stranger, you gave him a strained smile at him, hoping he couldn’t sense your nervousness. a small voice saying “papa, can I please have a cookie?” startled you. two little chubby hands cling to the counter, a mop of fluffy pink hair peeking at the variety of cookies on display.

“oi you brat! you’ve already had dessert at chosos’, I don’t need you bouncing off the damn walls when we get back,” the man grunted, arms crossing against his chest, which made his man tits more profound.

“hey, how about this; you can have a hot chocolate instead of a cookie?” you suggested, smiling at the cute little boy in front of you.

facing his father, yuji proceeded to plead him with the signature puppy dog eyes whilst a continuous chorus of pleases left his mouth.

sukuna sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before he mumbled out “one hot chocolate for the brat and black coffee for me,” causing yuji to throw a little celebration, squealing in delight and hugging sukunas’ slutty waist, literally jumping with joy.

the sight plastered a small, genuine smile onto your face, unbeknownst to you, causing a blush to form onto sukunas’ usually stoic face, heart pounding in his chest at this new feeling.

when they found a table to sit at, you began making their drinks. whilst brewing sukunas’ coffee you thought to yourself why only the father was out with his son, is the mother out of the picture? do they take turns with custody over the child? is he simply having some father son bonding time?

you choose not to pry over it, it’s none of your business anyways. it’s kind of comical seeing such a scary, dangerous looking guy with a cute little kid. you have to admit though, the kid’s cute, even though he’s just a carbon copy of the man, but cuter.

when finished with their drinks, you quickly carried them over to their table, noticing how yujis’ face seemed to brighten up at the sight of you carrying his sweet drink. you placed their drinks onto the table, yuji thanking you with all his might whilst sukuna mumbled a small ‘thanks’ in response.

“hiya! i’m yuji and this is my daddy sukuna!” the boy greeted before you left back to the counter. you decided to stay and talk to the kid a bit, since it was near closing time and no other customers seemed to be coming in.

“hi yuji, i’m (name), it’s nice to meet you,” you smiled, ruffling his hair, causing him to let out little giggles at the gesture. sukuna sat back idly watching you interact with his son.

‘mmm, they interact well with yuji. I haven’t had any luck with any partners, especially when they find out I’m a father. his mother was a piece of shit and didn’t even want yuji in the first place, she left me with the brat when he was born’ sukuna thought to himself, maybe he could try shooting his shot? earlier he did notice you eyeing him up and down like a piece of candy, so maybe you’re interested?

“oi brat! quit annoying them!” sukuna berated yuji, testing out the waters to check if you really did want to talk to yuji because you wanted to or if you felt obliged to.

“nonesense! he’s not annoying me, a cutie such as him could never annoy me. I love kids, they give me so much joy. your dad sure is a lucky guy to have you isn’t he?” you grinned, pinching his chubby cheeks in the process causing him to whine out in retaliation.

internally sukuna is smitten, he’s never seen anyone treat yuji with such love, other than choso. maybe you are the right one after all? the problem is, how can he ask you out without making a scene? (the scene being yuji making a huge fuss over him having a partner for the first time since his mum)

“do you have a pen by any chance?” the sudden sound of sukunas’ deep voice sent a small shiver down your spine. “yup, just give me a second sir” you curtly responded, rummaging through your breast pocket before grabbing a pen and giving it to the tatted man.

sukuna grabbed a napkin from the table and hastily scribbled down something before placing the pen back onto the table and practically chugging his coffee.

“brat you finished with your drink?” sukuna asked the little munchkin “noooo, need more time!” yuji cried out. you simply took his cup and placed the coffee into a take out coffee cup, giving it to him so he could drink it on the way back.

“thank you!” yuji bowed, before taking his dads’ way larger hand into his own tiny chubby one. you simply watched as they walked out of the shop, the gentle tinkle of the bell indicating that they’ve left.

you spotted the napkin sukuna wrote on, numbers scribbled along with a small ‘my number : if interested text me and we can go on a date’

you became flustered, feeling your heart flutter at the thought of seeing the attractive dilf once again. maybe you’d text him tomorrow, as you’re usually free on Saturdays as the shop closes earlier at 12:00.

you’re surprised that sukuna was interested, he didn’t show much interest during your interaction. he’s going to be a hard guy to read.

© content belongs to @huboi on tumblr, DO NOT REPOST ON ANY SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS WHATSOEVER

[evagreen-stories]

The Forest Beauty | (Aemond x f!modern!reader) (part 1/?)

Summary: time traveler decides to live her new life out in the kingswood, avoiding the new world she finds herself in until an encounter with a certain one-eyed prince changes her life.

Warnings: dark!themes, dark!aemond, obsessive!aemond, book!aemond, no intimacy (smut starts with part 2), intro and first part are kinda a slow burn to introduce the storyline & character

Non-Canon Storyline: 3 years post war – greens won, Aegon's only son was k*lled and only has two daughters remaining, he cannot produce more heirs, Helaena is alive but depressed,Aemond serves as prince regent ever since Aegon got injured during the war and is chronically sick and getting weaker, Aemond is to inherit the iron throne soon, Aemond k*lled Alys Rivers along with all other strongs, Aemond broke the betrothal to Floris Baratheon when he became Prince Regent and won the war (Also, I'm not a native english speaker, please be patient with me)

Divider @targaryen-dynasty

< intro masterlist part 2 > (coming soon)

You wander around the woods, returning from another day of working in the city and coming closer and closer to your home when you start to feel uneasy, as if you’re not alone in the forest. You stop and listen, noticing the sound of footsteps close by. With careful steps you approach the sounds, noticing a head full of silvery hair between the trees and watching it carefully.

A man with an eyepatch, dressed in black leather clothes and carrying a long, sheathed sword on his hip. You monitor him carefully; his hands behind his back as he is gazing out into the treeline, he seems to be taking a stroll. But this deep within the forest?

You stalk him for a while, trailing his steps as you make sure to stay hidden. Too busy with staring at him you don't notice a branch on the ground, stepping on it and causing a loud *krack* sound.

The silver haired stranger turns around quickly, facing you and making eye contact. You know it's too late to hide now, as his lilac eye meets yours and a wicked smile forms on his lips

“Hello there, little one. Are you lost?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” You say, looking him up and down more closely now. He doesn’t look like someone that should be wandering this deep into the forest. You notice the tell-tale signs of a Targaryen. You’ve heard of them and noticed a few children with these features when you explored the street of silk once. But who exactly was this man standing in front of you right now?

His mouth twitches, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Oh, I am not lost, little lamb. Simply having a nice stroll to take my mind off the stress of ruling. May I ask who I have the pleasure of finding so deep in the woods?”

“No, you may not.” You answer, staying wary of the stranger. You’re starting to connect the emblems on his clothes and scabbard with the ones you’ve seen on royal guards patrolling the city before, this man must be one of the princes. “You should leave. These woods aren’t a place for a pretty prince like you.”

“My, my, my. So confrontational. Why the defensiveness, my beautiful little lamb? Are you hiding something?” He steps closer to you, his voice now has a hint of danger in it.

“No one wanders this part of the woods. You’re better suited closer to the city.” You say, trying to sound more polite than before, quickly understanding the prince might not appreciate the disrespect.

“Ah, yes, no one wanders this part of the woods. Well, that only makes me wonder how a pretty little lamb like you got herself as deep in here as I did. Unless, of course, you are not alone.” His eye leaves yours, scanning along the tree line before stepping closer once again.

“Relax, this is no ambush. Unless you keep on intruding on my space, then it just might.” You say sternly, hoping to play into his paranoia and get him to leave quickly.

“I do so wish I could believe you, little lamb.” His eye still scans over the tree line as his hand falls to the hilt of his sword. “How do you expect me to relax when a beautiful girl like you is all alone in the woods? You couldn’t have gotten this far without help.”

“I have. You don’t think all that dirt and tools on me are for decoration, do you?” You say, gesturing to the axe tied to your belt, knifes dangling off the bag you carry that’s strung over your chest.

“And what exactly did I catch you doing all alone in the woods, little lamb?” His voice is firm now, eye narrowing as he takes a closer look at you, trying to judge you.

You remain quiet for a few moments before deciding to answer truthfully. “I live here.”

“You live here, little lamb?” His eye scans over you once more. “YOU live in the woods?” His voice is filled with equal measures of surprise and disbelief.

“I do.” You say affirmingly. “And I’m not fond of guests.”

“A woman alone in the wild? No man to protect her? No family?” His disbelief is evident in his voice and expression. “I cannot imagine how a beautiful woman like you has endured out here.”

Upset at his words, you feel anger starting to boil deep inside of you. Women in this time are still property to be owned, another reason why you decided to live out here, away from society. “Cut the feigned sympathy. I live just fine out here.”

“But is it really living, little lamb? Living in the wild? Surely a woman of your beauty must desire the comfort and luxuries of civilization. Do you feel no desire to start a family, to have someone care for you and protect you?” His tone seems kinder now, almost caring, although his disbelief is still clear and you cannot shake the feeling of danger coming from him.

Suspicious at his invasive nature you raise an eyebrow. “What is this? A tea party to exchange gossip?”

“Oh no, little lamb. You are a most fascinating creature and you have sparked my interest. I am merely trying to find out more about who you are.”

“I’m not interested in conversation-“

“Now, now, little lamb, we’ve come this far already. It wouldn’t be very polite to turn down a crown prince like this.” His eye narrows, an obvious predatory hint in his voice as his hand tightens on the hilt of his blade. “It’s appalling for a citizen to turn down their crown prince, my dear little lamb.”

You tighten your jaw, nervous at the sudden turn this situation has taken but unwilling to comply with his orders. “I am not a citizen of yours-“

“Everyone is a citizen of mine!” His words are soothing with anger as his patience has reached its limit and he pulls the blade from its sheath. “Now come closer little lamb. I’ll help you back to the city where you belong, where it’s safe.” He begins to stalk towards you, his dark gaze fixed upon you.

You take a few steps back before you turn around and start running, using the the fact you know these woods like no other to lure him away from where your home is before skillfully outmaneuvering him in the thick forest, hiding successfully in a small cave. The silver haired man tries to follow you, you can hear him yell profanities and curse words as he struggles to keep up with you, eventually getting caught up in the thicket and falling behind. "Damn you!" Aemond shouts as he breaks free of the branches and finds himself standing in a clearing with no sign of the little Lamb in sight. Where the hell did she go? Damn this forest. Damn her.

He inelegantly shoves his sword back into its casing, taking a last long look around the scenery before begrudgingly turning around to make his way back to the city.

The rest of his day is plagued by thoughts about her, remembering every single detail about his encounter with this strange, wild little Lamb. She lives in the woods all alone, with no one to care for her? Surely, he thinks to himself, no one would truly want to do that.

She did seem awfully skilled at maneuvering the trees and avoiding my chase. Could she truly be completely alone? He wonders, staring into the lit fireplace of his chambers, his finger mindlessly tapping along the rim of the almost drained cup in his hand. His interest in the little lamb was definitely piqued. He would venture out into the woods to find her again once his duties allowed him to.

time skip / two weeks have passed

Things went back to normal after the encounter with the stranger, you didn’t see him again, but you did make sure to be extra cautious about your surroundings at all times, avoiding all travelers for the time being.

You’re sitting on a boulder in the river, only your ankles in the water as you sharpen your axe using whet stones from the river while waiting for the fish you caught this morning to finish smoking. You’re deep in thoughts as when you notice an unusual rustling of leaves behind you and catch a glimpse of the familiar silver head through the trees.

Here we go again.

The silver haired man had been stalking the Kingswood once again as he had done for several days since he encountered the strange little Lamb the first time. Searching for any hints as to where she lived, so that he could go back and speak with her again.

His hope was running low when then he finally saw her again, sitting in the river, tending to her tools. His heart skipped multiple beats, he couldn’t quite explain why he felt like this.

Still, she is the only one this far into the woods. No one around to protect her, just like when he had met her last time. This woman was a mystery he was most eager to solve. He slowly and deliberately stalked over to her, taking great care to be as sneaky and quiet as possible.

Even though you had noticed him immediately you keep focusing on your tool, pretending you hadn't noticed him as he approaches, hiding behind the last tree that provides him with cover before he would have to step out into the open.

"What is it you want?" You ask after a while, your voice loud and clear while your eyes are still focused on the task at hand. His attempts to remain hidden are more amusing than anything else.

The man was startled but quickly covers his reaction with his typical demeanor, standing proud with his hands behind his back as he steps out of the tree line and approaches the mysterious beauty carefully, as if trying not to startle her. She had quite a sharp ear. Although, he should have known better. If this little lamb had survived by herself in the woods, hearing the noises of the trees and animals was a skill she must have honed greatly.

Once he’s only a few feet away he stops abruptly, contemplating his choice of words before he speaks in a friendly yet stern manner. "You are quite perceptive little Lamb."

He remains quiet for a while. You’re still focused on your tool, not looking up, as you probe him further. "Speak. I know you've been following me for a while."

“I was simply fascinated with your lifestyle after our last encounter, that is all." He comes a few steps closer, enough to look at her properly, but not so close as to make himself a threat. "Why do you live out here, by yourself? Away from civilization and society?"

"Because I wish to do so." You say, now leaning forward to wash off the freshly sharpened axe in the river water.

"But is there no other reason little Lamb? You do not get... lonely? You do not yearn for society or friends? This forest is cold, dark, and dangerous." The mans voice seems filled with what seems like genuine concern for your welfare.

"The forests seem like that only to those who aren't welcome in them." You say, now looking up at him for the first time this conversation. "What do I get out of sharing my life story with you?"

Aemond's eyebrow quirked slightly at your words. Your words were not aggressive but they were not exactly kind or welcoming either. „You get to answer your crown prince a few questions that have been gnawing on his mind for a while. Who could say it wouldn’t be worth it?”

“I could say. The less people know about me, the better. Easier to stay hidden that way.”

Aemond stays silent after she says that, thinking over her words in his head. Stay hidden from what? From whom? What could make her feel that she must remain hidden... "Tell me, my little Lamb. Who are you hiding from?" Perhaps after finding out that one thing, he can put this obsession to rest.

"Men like you." You answer, now shifting your attention back to your tools, reaching back into the river to fetch out another whet stone to sharpen a big knife now.

"Men like me?" His eye narrows. " I am no threat to you. What could possibly have led you to believe that? You are alone so deep in the woods and I have not shown you any hostility... yet."

"No hostility?" You say laughing. "Chasing me with your sword was what then? A local friendship ritual I’m not familiar with?"

"Oh, I was simply trying to get you to stop and talk to me. That is all." He says, a small smile gracing his lips at her words. He found her laughter quite endearing.

“Didn’t work very well now, did it?”

"No I suppose not," His smile grows slightly, he finds this strange little Lamb's demeanor quite intriguing. He was never great at interacting with women, but this one seemed comfortable in his company, at least somewhat. Even if she was also incredibly untrusting and suspicious of him, or of men in general. He looks at her intently, savouring her smile as he knows his next words will wipe it right off her face again.

“I want to know more about you. I will not leave until you tell me more.” He says and as predicted, her cheeky smile gets replaced with a frown again.

“I told you, I won’t-“ he interrupts her quickly, almost pleading with her, “I know, I know. But I need to know. I cannot rest at night. I will not tell anyone about you. Whatever you tell me, it will not have any consequences, I swear it.”

You sigh deeply, pondering his words. You couldn’t care less for telling your story, the possibility of sharing too much lingering in the back of your mind. Then again, perhaps this is just what you needed. Sharing a bit of your true self with someone after having to carefully craft a fake persona and uphold it for the past two years. “Fine then. What is it you want to know?”

His eyes light up at that statement as he takes his time deciding which one of his many questions he should ask first. “Your accent, it seems out of place. Are you not from here?”

You immedily begin to regret your decision to talk to him, struggling to find a way to phrase the truth in a way it doesn’t sound too outlandish. “No, I am not. I come from a land far away, you wouldn’t know it.”

“Did you come alone?”

“Sort of. I came here with others but they… forgot me. Or maybe they are just unable to return. I wouldn’t know.”  You say, looking out into the flowing river as you remember.

“Forgot you? Why would your family just forget you?”

“They weren’t my family. They were… people I knew. We went here and they left, never to return, at least not until today. They probably told my family I died.” What had they told your family? You often wondered it. The changes of the seasons and moons made it easy for you to tell how much time had passed here, in this world. Did as much time pass back home? Was your family even informed of what truly happened or were they waiting back home for a sign of life that would never come, with no way of knowing your fate?

Aemond is quiet for a while, processing this information. “How long have you been here?”

“I’ve been here two winters already, the coming one will be my third.”

“THAT long?” He blurts out, mind racing. “You have survived here alone all this time, out in this forest, with no family or friends? How?”

A slight smile tugs at the corner of your lips, amused by his disbelief. “Yes, I have. I’m friendly with some of the farmers around here and some merchants. I was fortunate, really, that I was stranded here with a few tools and a bit of money.”

“That could not have been enough to make you survive here. The winters can be hard, as can be nature itself. I don’t know a single woman that would be able to survive like this even with all the tools in the world.”

“I suppose you’re right.” You shrug. This is your normal, all you knew for most of your life, you often forget just how unusual it really is. “I come from a family of farmers. We lived far out, away from civilization, and I learned a lot about nature that way. I am, or was, my parents only child. I spend many years of my childhood in the forest with my dad. He was an avid fisher and knew all the ways around the forest, while my mom taught me all about her knowledge of herbs. She was a healer of sorts.” 

Your smile returns as she recalls all her fond memories of home. Oh, how you wished you’d never left the farm. “They bred, trained, and sold horses too. I was strapped to a saddle on my own horse before I could even walk.”

His face shifts from one of shock to one of sympathy. He could tell by your words and the tone your voice takes that you missed home dearly. “And you have no way back?”

“No.” You state plainly. Do you? Truthfully, you do not know, but you surely hope you do.

“Why? If I give you coin for passage, can you go back home?”

“I’m afraid its not that easy.” You huff, struggling to make up an answer to this question. “Unless they come get me, I have no way back. I… I’m done talking about this.” You say, now shaking your head.

He wants to press further but understands he shouldn’t, not if he’d like to keep you talking. “Well then… What are you planning to do here then? You can’t just stay out here forever.”

“Why not?” You conter. “I’ve gotten comfortable out here. I know my way around the woods and can survive quite well out here. I’ve come to appreciate my little life out here quite a lot, actually.”

“Is this really life or is this survival? What about finding a family of your own, what about children?”

You sigh deeply. “I may not have answers to all those questions yet, but I do now I’m content here for now. I have no duties here, no bills to worry about. I just need to figure out my next meal and get to enjoy nature the rest of the time with all the peace and quiet it offers me.”

The change of topic strikes a chord in you, one you didn’t realise was as sensitive as it seems to be. The prospect of having to live out the rest of your days in this time is one that seemed more and more realistic and the question of what you would actually do for the next twenty, forty, sixty years of your life was one burning in the back of your mind more and more frequently.

“I’m done talking for today. You may leave now.” You dismissed the prince, frustration growing inside you.

He is not happy about this, his expression shows this as much as the tone of his voice. “Leave? I just arrived. You can’t just send me away.”

“I do not wish to tell any more stories.” You state. Just as he begins to talk again you turn to face him quickly, looking at him for a few seconds before proposing a compromise. Maybe you just needed some time to gather your thoughts and calm the inner turmoil you can feel bubbling deep inside your chest right now. “How about this: If you can find me again, I will answer you more questions. Anything you want.”

His jaw clenches as he lets out a long sigh. This is not how he wanted this conversation to end but he could tell from her expression that she seemed exhausted and the prospect of getting to ask anything he wanted seemed tempting enough to agree. “Fine then. I will seek you out again soon, but I will not rest until I have all my answers. You must swear you will not avoid me again.”

“I swear it.” You answer, a reassuring smile on your lips. “Have a safe travel back, my prince.”

She had been speaking so freely all this time that hearing her address him properly caught him off guard for a moment. He stands still in place, watching her a bit longer, before begrudgingly turning around to leave after bidding a small goodbye.

As he walks away you turn around slightly, watching the swaying of his silver hair until it disappears completely between the trees. A long, deep sigh escapes your lips as you resume your tasks for the day, thinking about all the questions he asked and what you really wanted from your life now.

You were honest, you did love your life as it was now, but sometimes the solitude did get to you as well. A craving for the love and closeness your family had brought you. As much as you cursed the prince when you had first met him, maybe having his attention on you could be a good thing after all.

He thought his mind would be calmed after speaking to her but to his dismay, the opposite had happened. His head is filled with questions still and worse so, genuine worry about her wellbeing. Yes, his little lamb had survived well by herself, but the confirmation that she was truly alone out there was deeply unsettling to him. When he is laying in bed that night, he realised just how little he knew about her. He didn’t know where she lived – did she have a house or did she sleep under the stars? He had never even asked her name. What would it be? If she is from far away, it surely was exotic.

He keeps tossing and turning that night, the picture of her smiling face filling his mind, even more so when he closes his eye, as if he can see even clearer when the world isn’t distracting him. He tries to sleep but he swears he hears her laugh, still as clear and comforting as it had been when he heard it the first time. A sound so sweet it could lull him to sleep, if only there wasn’t the gaping emptiness next to him, reminding him of your absence, of the fact you’re all alone out there. If something happened to you tonight, would he ever find out? He could not bear the thought of it.

His night stays restless. He falls asleep again and again, dreaming vividly about the way your cheeks rounded when you smiled at him, about the freckles on your nose, the small dimples that appeared under your cheeks when you smiled and over your lips when you pursed your lips in dismay at another thing he said.

It was improper, he knew that much. For a prince, the heir to the throne, to be so enchanted by a forest dweller. Nevertheless, his heart skipped a beat every time he had laid his eyes on her. His mind went back to think about all your interactions at every chance it got, even in the midst of important meetings. He was a devoted and proper man; he knew better and yet, something about her felt so fundamentally right that a future without her seemed wrong.

When the first rays of sunshine broke though his windows he had made his decision. He would go to see her again and this time, he would not leave her behind. He could not. He will find her and bring her – well, where? Somewhere, anywhere he knows she is safe, where he knows he can find her whenever he wants to see her. He will figure it all out, he will find a way to make this work.

His feet soon carry him through the castle, unaware of where he is going until he finds himself in front of two wooden doors. The kings, his brothers, chambers.

Currently editing the next part, that one will be 18+! Second series about Aemond x reader coming soon as well (currently proof reading chapter one)!

[ayyy-pee]

Can we get some Nanami fluff where he’s caring for reader on her period?

hi bby!!! i am SO LATE with this one and it ended up being super different than what i first imagined it being lol but i felt like it fit the vibe of SIL so here we are with yet another Strangers in Love bit LOL (click the link if you haven't read SIL yet!)

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Female Reader

Summary: Just a little drabble about how Nanami cares for SIL reader on her period...

Genre: Divorced to Lovers AU

What was it you had asked for again?

Nanami stands in the female hygiene product aisle at the drugstore, arms full of various items that he thinks may be beneficial for you. The confident air he exuded when he’d first entered the store has long faded and has been replaced with nothing but nerves. Nanami ticks off the boxes in his mental checklist, because it’s been so long since he’s had to do this for you, or any woman really, that he’s completely second guessing himself.

“Heating pad…” he murmurs under his breath. “Painkillers…chocolates…or does she prefer gummy worms now? Hmm…”

The large variety of products has his head spinning and he’s embarrassed to admit that he’s been standing in this aisle for far longer than he had intended. This is definitely not how he planned his day to go. 

Earlier That Day…

Nanami’s eyes watch the minute hand tick by on his wristwatch. It’s early Friday morning, and he should have left for work by now. But you haven’t gotten up yet, breaking the routine you two have picked back up on after all these years apart. It doesn't matter what day it is, or what time it is, if you're staying over at each other's places, you're up to say goodbye to one another. So you still being asleep is throwing Nanami off. Not that you can’t sleep in from time to time, but you just…don’t usually. 

And honestly, he doesn’t want to leave without saying goodbye to you. 

He can’t bear to mess this up again when your relationship has been going so well since dating again.

So instead, Nanami sets his briefcase down in your foyer and heads to your bedroom. When he opens the door, he’s met with darkness and silence. He can just barely make out your form beneath the blankets. You must be exhausted to be sleeping in and Nanami does not want to disturb you, so he quietly moves to close your door so he can head out. He’ll simply send you a text that he left while you were sleeping. That way it doesn’t seem as though he left without taking you into consideration.

The door is less than an inch from closing when Nanami thinks he hears something, the noise so hushed he almost misses it. He pauses, gives it a few seconds, and just before he moves to close the door again, he hears it once more. There’s no mistaking it, the quiet little sniffle coming from inside the bedroom, followed by an even quieter sob.

He’s moving before he realizes it. Nanami kneels beside your bed, gently peeling the blankets back and although he can’t see you in the dim early lighting, Nanami just knows. You’re crying. For what reason, he doesn’t know. But it kills him all the same.

“What’s wrong, my love?” He asks gently, a hand coming to caress your wet cheek. “Are you okay?”

His question makes you openly cry now, the tears flowing freely as Nanami quickly shuffles to the other side of your bed to lie with you, not caring that he’s ruining his suit as he scoots to hold you. His front presses against your back, large palm coming down to press against your stomach, and for some reason you sigh as though the warmth and pressure from his hand gives you some sort of relief.

Nanami nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent. “Talk to me, love. What’s the matter?”

It takes you a moment, but when you finally speak, your voice comes out strained and tired. “Ugh…I started my period and I’m so damn miserable…” you groan, sniffling. “I think I’m dying…I need to run to the store but–”

“What do you need? I’ll go for you,” Nanami volunteers immediately. The last thing he wants is for you to go out in this condition. “I think I remember the products you use…”

You make a noise that sounds like a mixture of a laugh and a hiss of pain before you sigh out, “I don’t know if I should be flattered that you remember or I don’t know…disturbed? Are you that obsessed with me?”

“Yes,” he answers, instantly. He nuzzles further into you if possible. “I still remember the first time I ran to the convenience store to buy you products back in college. And the time I had to give you an extra pair of pants when you’d started your cycle unexpectedly, and–”

“Kennnnn,” you whine. “You’re so sweet and so strange. Why do you remember that?”

Nanami chuckles, softly rubbing his hand in soothing circles against your lower abdomen. “It’s not meant to be weird, but I remember these were big moments in our relationship. What I mean is, I want to take care of you.”

“What about work? You’ll be late…”

“I’m not going. You need me here.”

You curl into a ball before him and just a few seconds pass before he feels your body shaking, wracked with sobs. “Stop saying sweet things to meeeee,” you whine. “I love you so muuuuch.”

“Okay…okay,” he agrees. “I’m heading to the store, then. I’ll get you what you need, but if you think of anything else, just message me.” He kisses the top of your head, slowly peeling himself away from you, though he wants to stay in bed for as long as you’re there. But Nanami knows you need these essentials so that you’re comfortable. He’ll make the trip as quick as possible.

Currently…

This trip was not as quick as possible. His brown eyes stare at the selection before him. Did you use winged pads? Non-winged? Scented or not? Heavy flow or light flow? Or maybe you had grown to prefer tampons? Or…what the hell is a diva cup?

“Sir?” A soft voice calls out to him. Nanami turns his head to see a store attendant, an elderly woman, gazing softly at him. Her eyes crinkle at the corners as she smiles. “I’ve passed by this aisle a few times now and you’re still here. Did you need some assistance?”

Well, this is beyond embarrassing. All that talk of remembering your preferences, being obsessed with you (not a lie), and recalling memories that made you feel confident enough in sending him out alone into the world to bring you back something useful. All that, just for Nanami to get to the store, standing in a wrinkled business suit, and having absolutely no clue what he’s looking at.

Not only that, but some poor old woman is now taking pity on him and offering her services. He wants to take her up on her offer, but he also stubbornly wants to prove to himself that he can take care of you. But while he’s being stubborn, you’re suffering and that is something Nanami can’t stand to let continue.

He gives the woman a tight smile. “Actually, if you could–”

His phone buzzing in his pocket cuts him off. He mutters an “excuse me” and he finds himself dropping whatever is in his arms to answer. Only one person would call him this early in the morning. He answers without question, mouthing an apology to the attendant who waits patiently.

“My love,” he answers, brows furrowing when he hears your giggles on the other end of the line. Much different than what he expected seeing as he left you in a puddle of your own tears before going to the store.

“How long have you been standing around at the store?” You ask teasingly, and Nanami purses his lips together.

“I’ll have you know that…” he sighs in defeat. There’s no point in denying it. “It hasn’t been that long.”

Your laughter rings through and Nanami can’t help the wide grin on his face. The attendant clears her throat politely, reminding him that she’s still waiting. He covers the receiver on his phone. “Thank you so much for your help. My wife is going to take it from here.”

The woman nods, making her way out of the aisle and Nanami resumes his call with you.

“You called me your wife…” you breathe softly. 

Nanami feels his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. It was just a habit that he supposes never died. He opens his mouth to apologize, but your giggles surprise him. He expected discomfort, maybe anger given your history, but you don’t seem to feel either of those things. You simply brush it off and keep talking.

“Okay, so, here’s what I need–”

- - - - - -

“It smells so good in here, Kento.” Your sweet voice carries through the kitchen, arms looping around Nanami’s torso from behind. The sun is slowly beginning to set now, casting a warm glow through the kitchen windows as Nanami finishes up dinner. You’ve been resting on the sofa most of the day with your heating pad and whatever strange snacks you’ve been craving. Your pain has finally eased up and Nanami feels like he can breathe easier now that your face isn’t constantly contorted from your cramps. It’s been nice to let you just sit around. He’s simply been helping around your apartment with taking care of some household chores while you recover.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, stirring one last time before tasting the soup he’s thrown together. He makes a mental note to pick up some groceries for you so that there’s a better selection of ingredients for him to choose from for the next meal.

“So much better. Thank you so much for everything today, Kento.”

Nanami switches the stove off, spinning around in your embrace and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Of course. I’m just happy I was here to help.”

You smile shyly, and it’s Nanami’s favorite of all your expressions. “Me too,” you tell him. You lay your head against his chest, sighing contently as you murmur something that sends his heart into full on overdrive... 

“You should move in.”

[1d1195]

Sun-Kissed I

Here is a fluffy/smutty little piece of love on the beach. It’s ~9k words. It’s a love at first sight kind of thing I know it’s kind of ridiculous for them to be falling in love so fast but it’s my story and I’m sticking with it. Also, sorry that I’m really into sunflowers right now. Sunflower Vol. 6 has been on my mind lately so that’s gonna make an appearance for the third time as of late. I don’t know if anyone else cares about all my little easter eggs regarding real life Harry in my writing but I’m really pretty proud of the news one I put in here. I'm sorry they're both teachers again I needed them to have summer's off to make this work. Their careers are not a major part of the story.

Warnings: There’s some pretty 18+ things happening here. Masturbating, public sex (kinda), thigh riding, etc. If you’re not into this, I wouldn’t read it. It's all fluff otherwise. There won't be a bit of angst.

I've been trying to write this for over a year and finally came pouring out. Unfortunately, there will be a second part next Thursday only because I thought it was getting too long. So it does end a little abruptly. Hope you enjoy anyway :)

Harry was fascinated by her, simply put. He wanted to spend forever at dinner with her. Chatting with her. Looking at her beautiful face. Envying how the sun got to kiss her, and he didn’t.

Harry didn’t grow up near a beach so he thought this would be great way to cash in on his vacation time over the summer. Sitting at the beach, reading a book, and dipping his toes in the water when it got too hot. His mum knew someone who knew someone who gave him a great deal on the summer rental, and he was beyond excited to sit and relax for the first time in years.

Being an earlier riser had its advantages. For one, he got the pick of where to set up his summer getaway on the beach. He brought a cooler, a chair, and a few towels along with a book or two to spend the day. Through his sunglasses, he faced the direction of the sunshine. He hadn’t had a proper summer holiday since he was young and now that he was busy teaching and had summer’s off, he was elated to have some time to himself.

Once he settled his belongings, he turned on a summer playlist he’d been working on for a while. He didn’t turn it up loud—he would never want to bother anyone that may join him on the beach—but it was loud enough to hear and not interrupt his imagination while reading.

It was utterly peaceful.

Apparently, Harry was unaware of just how truly peaceful the beach could be.

“Hey,” a voice said softly, it was sweet. A gentle shake on the arm, her skin was cool to the touch. His eyes blinked open unsurely. He realized he fell asleep and didn’t even get through the first page of his book. “Hi,” she whispered with a gentle smile. “You’re going to start burning,” she explained handing over a bottle of sunscreen to his hands while Harry tried to wake himself up. “And your book is in the sand,” she said grabbing it before the spine broke from all the grains of the beach ruining the binding.

“Oh,” he shook his head desperate for his brain to catch up to his surroundings. “Thanks,” he said gratefully.

“No problem!” She chirped heading back to the chair that was a few meters in front of him. “I already burned once this summer and it was miserable. Just don’t want you to suffer the same fate.”

He pushed open the bottle and started rubbing on the sunscreen. It felt like he was going to have a slight burn already. The relief of the lotion on his skin made him wary. “Ah, guess...I should probably leave,” he chuckled. “Try again tomorrow.”

“Oh...if you want to stay, I have an umbrella,” she said cheerfully. “S’a nice day, just give me a minute to set up,” she smiled and gave her name to Harry.

Harry had hardly gotten a good look at her with a sleepy set of eyes a bit wiped by the sun. His brain was foggy with the impromptu nap. This small little town he was staying in had the vibe that someone like her would help a stranger. Everyone had been so nice in the grocery store and when Harry went for his run yesterday, people said hello and commented on how nice the evening was. It was an adorable little town and Harry was already dreading having to leave in two weeks’ time.

“Well, thank you. M’Harry,” he said quietly while he finished rubbing the lotion over his body. He watched her work, his mind less foggy. Glancing at his watch, he noted it was a little over two hours since he arrived. It wasn’t too hot outside still, so his burn would be minor if he got one at all. With the addition of a blanket and the umbrella, it was almost a mirror image of Harry’s little set up. A chair, a cooler, and a couple towels.

She had a ponytail pulled through a baseball cap and she wore a button down, rolled to the elbows. The top few buttons were open revealing a deep blue bathing suit top, that scooped low enough to show off...

Harry had to be careful, or he was going to be sporting a prominent erection on a beach with a ton of families. He moved his gaze down past where he really wanted to look. The shirt came down to just above her knee and he saw a pair of flip flops discarded to the side of the blanket she had laid out in front of her stuff. “Nice day, huh?” She smiled as she twirled the umbrella stand into the sand.

“Tits—it’s really nice,” Harry said quickly stammering through his recovery.

Smooth.

She either didn’t notice his faux pas or didn’t care because she continued about her business. “Have you been here long?” She asked.

“Just arrived yesterday. Did some grocery shopping. Went for a jog.”

“Oh, how nice,” she had this infectious smile. Harry felt so happy just being around her. Or maybe it was the beautiful weather and the prettiest beach he had seen in years.

Or maybe it was her curvy figure that was making him lightheaded with happiness.

She pulled the shirt off finally, and Harry thought he might seriously need to leave. Head back for his little beach cottage to take care of blood rushing to his groin. She’s gorgeous. He thought to himself. “How ‘bout you?” He cleared his throat.

“I grew up here...and live here in the summer.”

He stared at her in surprise. “Here?” He asked.

She smiled and nodded. “It’s my favorite place on earth,” she explained.

“I can see why,” he nodded in appreciation. “Do you have any suggestions for while m’here?”

She nodded. “Plenty—how long are you here for?”

“Two weeks.”

“How lovely...let’s see...you’re at the beach—that’s most important in my opinion. I think if you stay here most of the time, you’ll have a successful vacation. There’s a place about twenty minutes from here where you can go clam digging if you like clams—I don’t really like them, but it’s fun to go. Paddleboarding on the river is also a really big thing. There’s this restaurant that everyone talks about. If you want, I know someone who works there, I could get you in. You’ll need a sweatshirt from the most touristy of tourist shops, but don’t go on a rainy day—everyone will be there. You’ll have to see the sunrise and the sunset. I think there’s a full moon too, so you’ll definitely want to see that over the ocean. I personally recommend ice cream and mini golf too. If you have time, you should also check out the nearby island. Even though this place is beautiful the island is like being in another country. It’s stunningly beautiful,” throughout her speech she continued working on the umbrella stand, putting the actual umbrella into place and tilting it back to create more shade.

Harry thought it would be really forward of him to invite her on all those adventures. Especially when someone as beautiful as she was surely had a significant other. Add in the fact he met her less than ten minutes ago; he would have seemed insane. “Wow, sounds like a packed schedule.”

She laughed and Harry swore he had never heard a sound as beautiful. She was still organizing her items and she gestured under the umbrella for Harry to move his stuff. “I’m really passionate about this place I forget people want to relax.”

“S’okay,” he chuckled. “You’re right t’be passionate. M’sure you’re right; I’ll make every effort t’do it all,” he promised and began moving his stuff below her umbrella. “Everyone is so nice here,” he told her. “Yourself included.”

“Why thank you,” she smiled sweetly and settled into her beach chair finally, facing the sun. He swore that someone this stunning couldn’t be real. She looked like a beach goddess—sun-kissed hair and skin. “What are you reading?” She asked, turning her head toward him covering the side of her face to keep the sun out of her eyes even though she wore sunglasses too.

He couldn’t even remember why he picked the book up. “Er...I fell asleep before finishing the first page,” he admitted shyly. She giggled.

“The beach does that, I swear. Something about total relaxation and the warm sun. I’m like a cat. Once I lay on my stomach, I’m out like a light.”

“Do you read?”

She nodded. “Have to; I’m a middle school teacher.”

“Oh,” Harry smiled. “I teach secondary.”

“No way!”

So, for the whole morning, Harry forgot about his book. Forgot about his playlist that was still going—except for anytime she asked what song was playing. They talked for literally three hours straight never once a lull in the conversation. Work, books, the beach, music, and anything they thought of. He told her about his family coming to visit for the weekend and she told him about her family who didn’t love this place as much as she did who would probably not visit—even if they missed her and loved her with everything in them.

At lunch they finally quieted their conversation to eat and watch the water. “I don’t see a burn,” she told him glancing over his face and skin as she finished her sandwich. He smiled.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully. “I’d be a proper crisp by now.”

She held the sunscreen out to him again. “I know this is a little weird, would you mind getting my upper back?” She asked.

Touch her? Harry didn’t have to be asked twice. Harry made sure to spray every bit of her skin. He didn’t want to be the reason she burned. As soft and beautiful as her skin was, Harry was glad she only asked to rub her back and shoulders. If he had to do her legs or any other part of her body, he definitely would have passed out.

She spread herself out on her blanket. Book near her face. “I’m so going to fall asleep,” she yawned. “Will you wake me if I start to burn?” She asked.

Harry nodded wordlessly and brought his book up toward his face. “Sure, love,” he murmured. Hopefully not showing how smitten he was with her already.

*

Harry might have wormed his way into her heart as her favorite person ever. It was so unlike her to wake a total stranger from a nap. But he was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen in her life. She couldn’t imagine letting him roast in the sun all morning and ruining his vacation. It was even more unlike her to invite him to sit with her.

She liked to believe she was a kind soul—most everyone told her that she was, so it wasn’t unnatural for her to invite him to hang out with her. But if it wasn’t for the fact that Harry was a teacher, it could have been a lot more dicey.

It was so easy to talk to Harry. The entire morning was so much better than she ever expected just by being in his presence or chatting with him. Other than her reading-nap—where Harry woke her up after an hour so she could reapply another layer of sunscreen—they talked literally the whole day. Harry didn’t mind putting sunscreen on her and she returned the favor when they switched positions so Harry could get some on his back.

Touching him might be her new favorite pastime.

She left a bit before Harry wanting to go for a walk and shower before eating dinner and reading a bit on her porch. Plus, she had to pace herself if she was going to last at the beach all summer. After her shower, she put on an oversized shirt like she wore to the beach and a pair of shorts. It looked like she wasn’t wearing pants but didn’t mind. The sun finally crested the top of her cottage, so she was no longer baking in the sun and made the porch the loveliest little place to read and enjoy the evening. She had a bowl of watermelon chunks beside her, and sunglasses perched on her nose.

Growing up she never loved summer all that much. Of course, she loved the beach and the time off from school, but she started working part time when she was fourteen and summer never had the same feeling as it did when she was young until she started teaching. Now she would tutor virtually some nights throughout the summer—especially for college students taking summer courses. But mostly she spent her time here in the little beach cottage her grandma had specifically named to her in her will after she saw how much she cared for it—especially since she was the only one in her family who had summers off and still cared about this little town. Once her grandma passed away, no one really felt the need to stay—her parents sold the home she grew up in. It wasn’t brokenly tragic that her grandma died—she was old, and these things happened. Besides, she felt by being in the little town she grew up in and living in the cottage left to her was enough to live her summers in honor of her grandmother.

Her mother technically owned the other cottage her grandmother had and while her mom really wanted to sell it, she insisted she would take care of it while she was here and tend to any renters.

Which is why her mother texted her at least once a week about the renter at the cottage just three houses down the road. Our renter said there’s only one towel. Any ideas?

She gasped wondering how it slipped her mind to take the towels out of the dryer and fold them neatly into the bathroom linen closet. On it. She responded and practically ran down the road. She knocked on the door to her second home away from home and waited for the person on the other side to answer. While waiting she noticed the little sign below the main window was crooked—fell off the hook again in the ocean wind. She needed to remember to bring a pair of pliers back to close the loop the next time she came over.

The two cottages were almost identical. Except this door was a sea blue and hers was a sea green. They were little wooden cottages, shingled top to bottom. Just two windows at the front of the house, two on the back, and one on each side. There were two skylights in the roof allowing for lots of natural light. Each home had two small bedrooms, a bathroom, a spacious sitting area and full kitchen. They were wall to wall hardwood floors even though her Grandma in the 70s tried very hard to convince everyone it needed carpeting. But try vacuuming sand out of a beach cottage all the time. Due to space behind the home, hers had a little patio but this one was fitted with a little patio and an outdoor shower.

The blue door opened while she was still putting the wood block that read Sea View back in it’s place. “Uh...hello?” He asked. She turned to find Harry, surprise all across his face, to see the girl he met earlier outside his rental.

Of course it was Harry. “Oh, how funny!” She chirped excited to see the gorgeous man from the beach once more—her plan right now was to not-so-casually run into him at the beach again the next day. “I should have asked where you were renting!”

He smirked. “Hi love,” he said sweetly, confused that she was here. “Uh...what are you doing here?”

“My family owns this cottage,” she explained. “Mom texted me that you don’t have towels? That’s my fault. Left them in the dryer when I was cleaning on turnover day. I’ll fold them now,” she said and marched herself inside and maneuvered through the familiar room with ease.

“Oh,” Harry said. “S’okay, love. I didn’t mean t’bother you—I would have found them eventually—”

“Absolutely not, it’s your vacation! You deserve clean towels and not have to worry about looking for things,” she was already piling the fluffy array of sea blue and green towels out of the dryer and began folding them expertly. “I’m going to leave you my number so if you need anything you can just ask me. I always tell her to just give them my number, but she worries about weirdos taking advantage of me,” she rolled her eyes.

What would possess me to say that to Harry?

He smiled as he watched her flurry of activity. Her rambling little monologue. She was definitely scaring him. It occurred to her at that moment she didn’t even wait to be invited into his space. Just strode right in. “Glad m’not a weirdo. I agree with y’mum. Think I would like her,” he nodded firmly.

She felt her face warm, and she hoped the tan hid the blush as much as possible. Harry’s nose and cheeks looked a bit red—like he caught a bit of a cold. The rest of his body was covered by a simple pair of jogging shorts and a simple t-shirt so she couldn’t see if he burned and also didn’t want to be caught staring at him—especially thinking about the abs he had on display under the litany of tattoos she saw earlier at the beach. “Well, I will fold these and get out of your hair,” she said focusing on the towels. But her brain glitched out once more. “Oh, do you like surfing?” She asked.

He chuckled leaning against the frame of the door leading to this utility room. “Only been once with a group of m’friends. S’not m’cup of tea. M’not very good.”

“Oh, okay. I just want to make sure I recommend everything you might like.”

He was smirking at her like she was a bit crazy—and she was—but Harry wasn’t helping. Without sunglasses she saw he had green eyes. Green. She was done before this even started. Once all the towels were folded, she made herself at home once more, hurrying to the bathroom to put all the towels in place. The bathroom smelled like men’s cologne: sandalwood and sage. Jesus Christ it’s like he was built in a lab for me.

Harry followed her as she put the towels away in an alternating pattern. “Thank you,” he said. “Y’really didn’t need t’do all that.”

“You’re the guest. You paid to get this kind of service,” she reminded him. “I’m also...only three houses down if you need something as well. It’s got a sign like yours below the window Sun-Kissed Cabana. My grandma named them.”

He nodded and stared at her for a few moments. She had only known Harry for all of five hours, but she could swear she knew his thoughts. He probably did think she was a bit crazy. “Do...do y’have plans for dinner?”

She felt her heart flutter. She was going to order her favorite pesto pasta dish from a local place that practically recognized her voice when she called. “Uh...no.”

“Would y’like t’go out with me in ‘bout an hour?” He asked.

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, please.”

*

She was finishing up her makeup when her phone vibrated with a second message from Harry. The first one was to alert her who was messaging Hiii, it’s Harry Xx. Followed by: Does this place have a fancy dress code?

No, no. Nothing fancy at all! They’ve def got a beach bar vibe.

Cool :) I’m ready when you are.

Shit. She wanted to curl her hair a bit and look extra nice but maybe that would have looked like she was trying too hard after she just got through telling him it wasn’t a fancy place. She had on a maxi dress. Black top nothing revealing and then the skirt pattern had sunflowers all over it. She would have to forgo the curls and instead pushed the front of her hair back with a headband. Just need like five more minutes.

I’m in no rush, love. Please take your time Xx.

She thought she was going to melt. Fortunately, her tanned skin hid most of the imperfections of her face. She also preferred maxi dresses because it hid the thickness of her thighs and more imperfections like bumps from shaving and bruises from whacking herself on her beach chair. She thought the style she chose also perfectly accentuated the curve of her waist. While it didn’t show off her cleavage—it was her personal belief her boobs were one of her better assets—she thought after a day at the beach with them on full display due to her bathing suit, dinner might be a little gentler without them in Harry’s face the whole time.

With a spritz of her perfume and gathering all her necessary belongings into her purse, slid on her favorite pair of sandals with gold brushed embellishments, and headed outside. There wasn’t really a discussion of how they would get there, but she decided to walk down the road back to Sea View. Harry was crouched by the sign, pliers in hand closing the very loop she said she would. “Oh, I’m sorry. You didn’t have to do that,” she said hurriedly feeling like a terrible hostess.

He turned and smiled at her. “No worries, love. S’easy. Jus’ found some pliers in the utility closet.”

“Well, thank you,” she murmured gratefully. Harry stood, putting the pliers just inside the doorway before locking it with the passcode. He turned to her.

“Is this place walking distance, or should I drive us?” He asked. His hair was fluffed in these beautiful chocolate waves that of course reminded her of the beach but made her want to bury her hands in it and kiss his perfect face until she was out of breath.

“Uh,” she didn’t think she wanted to walk in a dress, but maybe that was the experience of this vacation for him. Harry looked utterly comfortable but perfect (naturally) in a pair of navy-blue khaki shorts and grey short sleeve button down. The lack of sleeves showed off those tattoos that she was continuously falling for. On his feet he wore a pair of light grey sneakers. “We can walk, but it might take me a while in a dress and sandals.”

“Oh shit, of course. What m’I saying? Y’can’t walk in a pretty dress like that,” he said hurrying to the car and opening the passenger side. “After you, love. Jus’ need t’tell me the directions,” he smiled at her.

All the books she had brought to her summer vacation had a romantic flare to them. Her only thought was there should be a book written about this very day—meeting Harry at the beach and going on a date with him. It was impractical and a bit flighty of her to be so taken with him already.

But there was no way she could help it when he got in the driver’s seat, smiled at her with those dreamy dimples and his eyes twinkled at her behind those pretty lashes of his. “Y’look gorgeous, love.”

*

It was effortless how much he enjoyed her company. The idea that it was only his first full day and he had already had a good beach day and another good jog under his belt. The post-beach-and-jog shower was cold-watered but steamy as he thought of the pretty girl in her pretty bathing suit. He imagined her smile, the gentle curve of her lips as he wrapped his hand around his cock as the water cooled off his sweaty and warm skin for several minutes until he was finally relieved of seeing her...assets at the beach.

Seeing her immediately after he inquired about the lack of towels as soon as he had shorts on was like a dream. Her agreeing to dinner with a beautiful girl was not what he expected when he booked this trip six months ago. Only one day in and this was the best vacation he had ever been on.

They arrived at the restaurant and after searching through the menu in silence, they placed drinks and an appetizer to share.

Did he mention how effortless this all was? The conversation was once more not a moment of dullness. She was funny, beautiful, kind, and it seemed that everyone at the restaurant knew her at least a little bit. “Our sun-kissed angel is here!” A man shouted from across the patio where they were seated. Everyone turned to follow the gaze of the man and Harry smirked instead of being jealous because he was right. She was an angel. A tanned, lovely, gorgeous angel.

She rolled her eyes. “Harry, this is my friend Louis. I used to work here in the summer.”

“Before she went off an got a real job, like a traitor.”

Harry was fascinated by her, simply put. He wanted to spend forever at dinner with her. Chatting with her. Looking at her beautiful face. Envying how the sun got to kiss her, and he didn’t.

*

“Okay, well...we can’t not get ice cream,” she said knowingly.

“You just told the waiter you were too full for dessert,” he chuckled at her.

“You don’t get dessert at a restaurant when there are literally seven different ice cream shops within spitting distance,” she rolled her eyes. “Summer is for ice cream. If we hurry, we can see a sunset too.”

“Y’sure know how t’get the most out of a summer day.”

She frowned. “Oh...I’m sorry. I forget that you only have two weeks. We don’t have to. We can head back,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, not at all, love. S’a great idea,” he reached out across the console and rested his hand on her thigh near her knee. With the long dress covering her legs, it wasn’t terribly inappropriate, but it was so instinctive to reach out and touch her he felt he made a mistake when she was suddenly speechless. Unable to tell Harry where to go to get her precious ice cream. “Er...sorry,” he said pulling his hand back to rest on the gearshift between them. “Should have asked,” he felt his face warm in embarrassment.

“N-no, it’s okay,” she nodded quickly. Her voice was breathy as she stammered. “I was...” She shook her head. “You can touch me—I mean,” she put a hand over her face in embarrassment at the encouragement she just gave him. Harry decided to quickly put her out of her misery—he did say tits after looking at her for thirty seconds this morning, even if she didn’t hear it. He gave her leg a gentle squeeze as he moved his hand back to where it was. She was silent again once more and she rested one hand over his. Letting a few of her fingers fill the space between his but not twining them fully together. “Is this okay?” She asked softly.

Harry melted over her sweetness. “Perfect.”

*

They ate their ice cream on the beach sitting on the tall, white lifeguard stand since it was late. There was a smattering of running kids, a few dogs, and families littered closer to the water on the tidal flats. But no one was over where they were. Up on the soft sand encroaching on the dunes. They chatted in between licks and bites of ice cream and Harry was certain he was falling deeper and deeper in love with her by the millisecond. It was ridiculous. Love at first sight couldn’t possibly be real. He had three or four serious girlfriends (four if you counted his junior high love affair, three if you didn’t) all of whom he did fall in love with but over the course of weeks and months. Not minutes and hours. Maybe it was the salt air playing with his brain chemistry.

Certainly, it had something to do with the beautiful girl sitting so close to him he could feel her sun-kissed skin warming him from the gentle breeze floating off the water as the sun started its descent over the horizon. She took her phone from her purse and snapped a picture quickly. Hardly looked at it, barely centered it, yet it was the most beautiful sunset picture he’d ever seen.

“Are y’a photographer in y’free time?” He asked.

She snorted. “No, I do like taking pictures. But I have hundreds of these,” she said showing him the photo album of various sunset pictures she had taken over the years. Harry could see why she was so good at them. No two pictures looked alike which had to be a poem somewhere out there. Harry always considered himself a winter—growing up in cold England would do that to a person—and no two snowflakes were alike. Snowflakes had nothing on her sunsets.

“D’you want t’take a picture together?” He asked quietly.

She smirked. “Do I have chocolate on my face?” She wrinkled her nose at him.

Chuckling, he shook his head. “No,” he promised. Harry wrapped an arm around her waist pulling her snuggly against him. “S’this okay?” he asked almost directly into her ear. She nodded and smiled as she flipped her camera around to selfie mode. Harry had one arm around her waist, the other holding his ice cream cone. She reached her arm out to take the picture while she held her cup of ice cream in her lap with the other. Gazing at her screen, Harry couldn’t believe how effortless it felt to touch her. It was so easy to talk to her. And they looked like the perfect beach couple. “Can y’send that to me?” He murmured in her ear once more. She nodded mutely. Harry didn’t remove his arm from around her waist and he continued eating his ice cream.

Once finished with their treat, they continued chatting and watching the sunset listening to the laughter of families on the beach. The sky was so pretty Harry thought that she was right. This was the best place on earth.

*

They walked back to their cottages hand in hand, Harry stopping outside the door for the place labeled Sun-Kissed Cabana. “S’that why Louis calls you a sun-kissed angel?”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s something else.”

Harry chuckled. Leaned forward and swept his lips on the apple of her cheek. “I had the perfect first day with you, love,” he said softly. “Sleep well,” he hummed and turned to walk three houses down. She pressed a hand on her cheek like a lovesick idiot. She nearly forgot the code to get into her own house and felt like floating all the way to her room where she giggled and kicked across her bed as she smiled into her pillow.

*

The next three days were spent almost the same as the first. The beach: complete with reading, naps, and lots of talking to the pretty girl he liked so much already. Followed by a run, a shower, and then dinner. Harry tried really hard not to touch her without asking. The only allowance he gave himself to touch her without asking was when he truly felt like her back was getting a little singed. On the second day she made the grilled chicken salad she told Harry she was going to make before he invited her to dinner, but once he informed her he was a pescetarian she hurried to the store to get him some fish to grill instead. It was totally unnecessary, and Harry felt guilty she spent money on him like that for dinner (even though he was insistent he pay for dinner and ice cream the first night). Regardless, it was a delicious salad paired with zucchini noodles that truly tasted just like pasta. Harry made her write the recipe down for him.

“I can’t run at all,” she wrinkled her nose when Harry offered to join her on her evening walk the following day.

“I’d rather walk with y’then, love,” he said softly with a smile. “If y’want company, that is.”

She wanted to say she wanted Harry’s company. But thought that was a bit too much. But they walked side by side, Harry gently ushering her to the inside of the road without making any fuss about it. They continued their comfortable chattering. Talking of anything and everything. That night they ordered pizza that was delivered to Sea View and watched a movie in his living room, her feet in his lap where he rubbed the soles of her aching feet without prompting or full acknowledgement.

By the end of the third day, she thought Harry might be her best friend. He made crispy cauliflower tacos. He spent the evening simply reading on her back porch with her in comfortable, perfect silence.

*

The fourth day, they were sitting on her back porch again, sipping bubbly wine spritzers that she put in glasses of ice and combined with a popsicle to match the flavors. Harry thought it was sinful the way she licked the pop. Harry wanted to jump her bones so very badly.

“How do you like the outdoor shower?” She asked looking up at the sky full of stars. There was a citronella candle between them to keep the bugs away and she had a solar set of lights strung about her little patio. She was in a soft warm glow from the lights. Once more, looking sun kissed. She was wearing a shorter dress than the other day, shorts beneath it. She informed him about the shorts because she said it was an athletic-type dress and she may have sat weird and didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Harry thought there wasn’t anything she could do to make him uncomfortable.

“I haven’t used it, actually. M’not sure I—”

She made an almost inhuman noise, a cross between a growl and gasp. It was quite adorable even if she seemed miffed and Harry wished he could have recorded the sound because he thought he would listen to it on loop for the rest of forever. “Harry!” She almost shouted. “The sole reason I took Sun-Kissed Cabana over Sea View was because I knew the outdoor shower would be a huge selling point for renters. You haven’t used it?” She looked nearly betrayed.

He chuckled, sipping his drink. “M’sorry, love. I didn’t realize—”

“Harry, I’m not kidding. You have to go use it. Like right now.”

He laughed loudly. If there could possibly be a downside of this little beach-cottage neighborhood, it would be that the houses were quite close, and Harry’s loud laughter could probably be heard back at his own place. But she was staring at him seriously. He thought she really expected him to get up and leave at this moment so he could get this experience.

“Y’serious?” He asked smirking at her.

“I don’t joke about the outdoor shower,” she promised him.

Finishing his popsicle and taking the last sips of his drink he stood from her little patio table and shook his head with a chuckle at her. “I guess m’going.”

He wanted to invite her. Especially if she didn’t have one here at Cabana. It sounded like she would like it more. “You better,” she continued licking the pop and Harry was grateful he would at least have a new image to think about in the outdoor shower when he imagined his hand around his dick was her mouth instead.

*

The air was cool but somehow warm. Sort of like the water on his skin. He could see the draw and actually surprised himself that he hadn’t used the shower yet. He imagined in the morning it would be heaven—most of his showers had been in the afternoon or evening since he was running at that time. But maybe he could take two showers a day—who cared? He was on vacation.

Was it heavenly? Her message read.

Harry thought about how much how active his imagination got picturing her in that shower with him, his hand fisting over himself until he imagined her pretty cleavage covered in him instead of flowing with the water down the drain. Extremely. But of course, he left out why it was so heavenly. You should write a book of recommendations for your guests.

:) You can come back over if you want. I know I kind of kicked you out, but like I said. I’m very serious about outdoor showers.

Chuckling to himself, he hurried to get dressed again and meet her back there.

*

She knew Harry’s family was coming today so she told him that she would give him all kinds of space but if he needed anything, he was not to hesitate to ask her. “M’mum and sister would love t’meet you, kitten,” he promised. He didn’t mean to call her kitten. But it rolled off the tongue so effortlessly and she was the one who said she felt like a cat in the sun. But he didn’t spend long thinking about it and continued his little speech. “Y’don’t have t’evade us.”

“I’m sure you want family time,” she promised. “Really, it’s fine. Plus, we’ll have a whole other week to do our little routine,” she felt her face warm as she spoke realizing she just told Harry she wanted to spend the remainder of his vacation together. She opened her mouth to backtrack almost instantly, but Harry beat her to the punch before she could speak again.

Given that Harry was this close to telling her he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, another full week spent together seemed like a great idea. “I can’t wait,” he promised.

They decided to do a sunrise that morning. She brought a blanket and was wrapped up in a long sleeve shirt along with a pair of sweatpants. She advised Harry to do the same. “The air is still cool from the night when you get to the beach early,” she explained the night before they parted to go to bed.

They were laying on the blanket angled by the natural slope of the dunes so they could see the view of the sun cresting on the ocean horizon. “Do y’have as many sunrise pictures?” He asked tiredly. With the sun rising at just after five-thirty she was courteous and kind in asking that they get there at five so they could see the dawn and array of beautiful colors painting the sky before the sun got there.

She giggled. “No way. Too early to see it that many times. I do like sunrises more, though,” she said. “It’s so much quieter. It’s not as hot. I don’t know. I think sunrises are just so beautiful.”

He immediately, silently agreed with her that they were. No matter how much he was enjoying sunsets with her. He would wake up at 4:45 every day if it meant watching something she found beautiful, and it made her happy. Harry had her pulled to his side again, his arm looped beneath the back of her neck. His eyes were closed as he fiddled with a strand of her hair running his fingers through the soft tendrils. “Harry,” she whispered after a few minutes. Harry felt the edges of sleep and the dreamworld starting to meld together on his brain. “You’re gonna miss it,” her voice was so gentle. Perfect for morning. She was the most beautiful thing he had laid eyes on but he couldn't bring himself to open them right now.

“Hmm,” he hummed. Refusing to open his eyes. “S’okay. We can see it another day,” he mumbled.

She giggled. “Harry,” she whispered so gently. It felt like magic. Warmth spread through his whole body. “We woke up so early,” she reminded him.

He nodded. “M’sorry,” he sighed. “It’s so peaceful,” he muttered. “You’re warm,” he turned his face to bury his nose in her hair and he nuzzled closer to her. Harry being a cuddler didn’t surprise her. He was quite touchy. But this sent her heart into a frenzy, and she forgot why they were there.

“Harry,” she whispered again feeling brave. Maybe because it was too early, and her brain wasn’t functioning.

“Jus’ lemme sleep, kitten. Please?” He muttered into her hair. “Wake me in twenty-nine minutes.”

She swallowed. “But...I want to kiss you,” she sounded so shy.

Harry’s eyes sprung open, and he pulled back from her quickly to look at her beautiful, perfect face. “M’awake,” he promised and gently cupped her cheeks, his fingers slipping through her hair, and he brought her face closer to his. Kissing her like he had been dreaming about over the last five days was the only thing on his mind.

She moaned against his mouth and Harry was really looking forward to that outdoor shower now. She pressed against him, keening as she licked into his mouth, sucking on his lower lip. Driving him absolutely mad as she nipped at his lip gently with her teeth. She could feel herself squeezing her thighs together for relief because she was finally kissing Harry the way she wished she did at sunset on his first night here.

Harry’s hands were cool against her flushed cheeks. “Kitten,” he hummed against her mouth, pecking at her like he would die without her kisses. “Y’taste so good,” he sighed dreamily.

She rolled to her side to face him squarely while he returned to his side too, instead of hovering over her. He wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her against him. Over the past four days at the beach, she had tried really hard not to stare at whatever was going on in Harry’s swimsuit, so she didn’t look like a sex-maniac. But there was no way she could ignore the hard dick she felt against her thigh as she pressed against the full length of his body. She imagined Harry fucking her so hard in that outdoor shower that the neighbors would have no way of ignoring what was happening. She moaned at the idea once more against his lips, thighs pressing together.

“Oh no,” he hummed. If she wasn’t already so drunk in love with Harry after one date and four days together, she might have thought his voice sounded a bit mocking. Slowly, he rolled onto his back holding onto her and perching her body on top of him as he did. One of his legs separated her thighs apart. “Do y’need something from me, love?” He cooed almost lovingly at the idea she was aching between her legs. He kept her pulled down toward him so he could continue kissing her, effectively melting all coherent thought.

Holy shit, his voice. Oh my God.

Without meaning to, she clenched her legs once more, this time, wrapped around Harry’s thigh causing friction, despite two layers of sweatpants and her underwear (at least those were thin). “N-no,” she almost whimpered trying to get away from his leg. Harry put his hands on her hips and gently pressed her back down toward him while bending his knee a bit. His thigh came closer in contact with her so if she wanted to, she could rub right against him.

“Y’sure, love? You look like y’might need something,” his voice was so sultry. It was too early for this. His eyes were somehow a deeper green. His lips were too pink after kissing her.

“N-no,” she shook her head despite wanting nothing more than to grind her pelvis against his thigh. She knew what it looked like beneath the sweatpants. She knew the tattoos that dotted his skin. Fuck, she wanted to get herself off so bad. But she was acutely aware of her position and tried to lift herself off his leg. “I-I think m’too heavy,” she stammered again.

He groaned and pulled her tighter against his leg. “No way, angel,” he promised. “Go ahead, know y’want to. I want y’to,” his voice was a bit husky. Like he was a bit confused. She groaned softly. God she wanted to. “That’s it,” he encouraged as she ground herself against him.

She felt flush, wishing she wasn’t wearing sweatpants. They were getting in the way. The long sleeve shirt was making her warmer. Or maybe it was Harry that was making her warm. Harry helped shift her hips back and forth against his leg as she moaned and whimpered as she rutted against his thigh. “Y’look so pretty, kitten,” he cooed. “Getting off on m’thigh like that. S’making me so hard, love. Fuck,” he moaned. “You’re s’pretty.”

She continued creating friction on between the two of them worried she would give herself a burn from all the fabric rubbing together but she was so fucking wet she was certain she would slide easily against him if she could take her pants off in public. The sun was still rising, not quite up over the horizon yet, but the sky was brighter, creating a gorgeous image of her beautiful body silhouetted from the light. “S’good, so good, baby,” he groaned. She whined and continued rutting herself against him.

“Harry,” she croaked.

“Yeah, love? Y’gonna come for me? Gonna come from jus’ m’thigh?”

Jesus Christ, she felt like she was a virgin. She was almost certain she was. Had she ever even had an orgasm before Harry? When was the last time she had sex? When was the last time she masturbated? Holy shit. This was bad. He was all consuming and he was fully clothed, and it was just his thigh.

She nodded at his words. Even though she felt a bit silly and stupid for doing this, with two layers of sweatpants between them. “Yeah? Good, want y’to. Y’look so pretty all—”

“Fucking hell,” she whimpered and dropped her face to his chest as she twitched against him. Harry flexed his muscle, gripping her hips and rubbing her against him so he could help her ride out the waves of her orgasm for a few moments. After that, Harry dropped his knee once more, letting her flatten against him. He kissed her forehead as she breathed heavily against him, shaky and sighing as she let the euphoria course through her. He rubbed up and down her back as she did, and he breathed deeply into her hair. She smelled like sunscreen and coconut.

“I really like sunrises,” he murmured. She smirked. Her face against his chest. “Y’sleepy, now, kitten?”

She nodded. “Yeah,” her voice was a bit quiet. Almost unsure. “Sorry,” she mumbled, nuzzling her face against his shirt.

He shook his head, kissing the top of her hair once more. “Don’t be sorry. Been thinking ‘bout y’coming all over me since I met you.”

She giggled. “Yeah?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t very...flattering on his part. It also made it sound like he only liked her for the idea of sex. Which wasn’t the case. He liked her so much simply because she was the sweetest, nicest person he had had the pleasure of meeting for a really long time.

She rolled off him. He kind of hated it because even though it wasn’t freezing cold, it felt like it now that she wasn’t laying on his body. She looked at the outline of the bulge stretching against his gray sweatpants. It was still ten minutes until the sun would be touching the horizon. “Fair’s fair, yeah?” She wondered, looking up at him and then back down at the somehow growing outline. She would be lucky if he fit in her mouth.

“Angel, y’don’t have to jus’ because—”

She frowned. “Do...you not want me to?” She wondered, confused and worried that he was rejecting her. She didn’t know why if he had just used her thigh to get him off.

“No, no,” he said quickly wanting to ease the worry he saw fill her beautiful face. God he would rather die than reject her. “I mean...y’can do whatever y’want to m’body,” he nodded eagerly. “Jus’ don’t want you t’think you have to. Been thinking ‘bout—” his voice choked off as she outlined the bulge. “Oh...s’nice,” he moaned forgetting everything he was saying about what she could do to him. Her fingertip simply ran along absent-minded paths along his length. He struggled to remember the last time he had sex because he could only imagine the episode in the outdoor shower as the last time he orgasmed.

She giggled. “Nice?” She questioned; Harry was so polite. The way he walked with her on the inside of the road, the way he held her door open no matter if they were going in the house or the car, or if he simply carried her heavy cooler off the beach even though he was carrying his own belongings. For him to say it was nice the way she was touching his dick was simply...something else.

He nodded breathlessly. “Yeah,” he was already too far gone with just her goddamn finger touching him. He couldn’t have made any comment further if he wanted to. He moaned as she squeezed gently along the length of him. Five minutes till sunrise and the beach would be covered in light. She glanced around quickly, seeing they were still alone. She had never done this in the five years she had been staying the summer back in town keeping an eye on Sea View while living in Sun-Kissed Cabana.

“Do you think I could make you come in five minutes?” She whispered.

He groaned almost animalistically. “Love, I think y’could make me come in forty-five seconds,” he promised. And with that, she dipped her head toward his waist just until the sun was ready to cross over the horizon.

*

It was quite difficult not to text Harry all day long while his family visited. It was entirely due to having an orgasm at his hand (thigh); the creeping need to bond to the person who just made her entire world flip upside down was a prominent feeling throughout her body the whole day. The words of her book didn’t make any sense, so she opted for cleaning her bathroom. But that proved to be difficult too, and she spilled most of the mop water back onto the floor. After another fit of cleaning that up, she decided to spend her time at the grocery store since she was getting dangerously low on her much-needed items. She nearly forgot to go to the checkout line. After putting everything away she thought about just going to bed at three in the afternoon just to rid her mind of how crazy she was being and how awkwardly she missed her summer guy.

Fortunately, Harry broke first, before she fell asleep.

I know it’s silly, but I miss you terribly.

She felt so much relief reading his message. Oh, thank God. Me too.

You really should just come over. Mum and Gemma want to meet you. I won’t shut up about you. It’s...a bit pathetic how obsessed I sound actually. Mum’s in the outdoor shower while Gemma is taking pictures of the beach. We’re going to have dinner in a bit—you should join us. He put this shy little emoji after his message.

She was currently dressed in a pair of bike shorts and t-shirt that fell past her hips, barely a strip of the shorts showed. She had her hair pulled back by a claw clip. She wanted to go over there immediately. However, her outfit and hair did not look ready to meet Harry’s family. Plus, she was worried she would do something stupid like sit in Harry’s lap in front of his mother and sister and then she would have to jump out a window to hide her infatuation.

I would love to, but really...I’m sure they want to see you.

They want to ‘meet the girl that’s got me all flustered’ that I nearly dropped all our snack bar food in the sand today :)

She giggled. Glad he was also affected by their sunrise romp in the sand. Maybe tomorrow? She hedged instead. She really didn’t want to intrude.

Please, love. That would be wonderful.

*

She must have fallen asleep anyway. But she woke up to a knock at her door. She felt the claw clip sliding out of the back of her hair and she rubbed her eye as she made her way over. There stood Harry and two women outside the screen door. Each of them was holding a dish of (presumably) food. Immediately, she felt underdressed and stupid looking. “Uh, hey beautiful,” he smiled gently. “Sorry t’bother you. But seems the barbeque back there is out of gas,” he explained. “I sent y’a text—”

“Harry, the poor girl was sleeping,” his mother admonished. “I told you we could just go out to eat. Love, m’so sorry. I swear some days he was raised in a barn!” She shook her head. “We’ll leave you be.”

“No, no,” she shook her head quickly, the clip clattering from the ends of her hair to the floor. She felt her face warm, once more grateful for the tan skin to hide most of the blush rushing to her cheeks. She opened the door for them to enter and quickly swept the clip into her hands. “Make yourselves at home,” she said, and Harry ushered his mother toward the kitchen and out the back door toward the patio and grill. Gemma walked slower behind her family to give some reassurance to the girl who was struggling to fix her hair in the little entry way mirror.

“M’sorry about both of them in advance,” Gemma whispered. “Harry hasn’t been able to function normally all day and Mum is already in love with you. When you didn’t answer, it was the first coherent thought Mum had about not begging to see you and thus began Harry pacing waiting all of four minutes for your response before he said we could just come over like absolute lunatics.”

Oh God she liked Gemma. “Thank you. I’m so sorry I look like this,” she winced at the image of her reflection. She was all frizz and pillow lines from the couch where she fell asleep.

She snorted. “Please, we interrupted your evening. Your quiet time and relaxation. Don’t worry about it. You look beautiful,” she promised pressing a hand on her arm and headed after her brother and mother.

If she wasn't already--which she was pretty sure she was--Harry’s lovely little family was going to ensure she fell so hopelessly and terribly in love with Harry.

--

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[n0tamused]

Hello

Would you feel comfortable writing about periods?

If so I wanted to request Jiyan and Mortefi comforting reader during one

Thank you in advance ^^

A/N: Thank you for the request! I went with writing hcs for this, since those are easier to get done. So I do hope you like them anon :)

Jiyan:

-He is not around too much to really be in tune with your cycles but he is no stranger to them. He was raised by his mother who was a medic and not really the person to evade the subject simply because he was a boy

-When he is around and not fighting Tacet Discords or some other beast out there, he will be tending to you. Be it by spending time with you, holding you as you sleep or holding hands as you browse the market down the street - he needs to make up for all the lost time while he was away

-For this specific scenario, Jiyan wouldn’t need much verbal confirmation from you that you’re on your period. He sees the way you hold one hand over your belly and sees the even more obvious - blood stains on the sheets.

-You won’t find any judgment from him, he doesn’t think twice before he’s already looking for new sheets to change the bed while you’re in the bathroom. This man has seen far worse things to even be made to raise a brow at a little bit of blood on the blankets. 

-Doesn’t make any fuss about it and asks whether you’d like him to prepare you anything to help with cramps or if you’d like a massage. And he is quick to tell you to lay down on the bed or sit at the dining table if you choose one or the other. Jue knows he’s tired as hell so when he sees you dozing off after taking medicine or getting your muscles worked out by his calloused big hands, he’s right there with you

-If you’d allow him, he’d spoon you and keep one hand on your abdomen. Sometimes he does it unconsciously too while cuddling, and the warmth of his hand definitely brings comfort and some ease from the aching pain there

-If you happen to be low on any hygiene products he can get them for you - although he will ask a lot about your preferred brands. If they don’t have X product, will Z product work for you? Or maybe a Y product? etc..

-Should you be feeling really emotional due to the wonders of a period, Jiyan is quite cautious to not upset you, and may lack in words a bit, offering you more silence if he sees that’s what would work for you. If you need reassurance he is there to give it to you too, he does strive for a good balance of everything, but he does prefer to communicate everything clearly. Tell him what you need, what you want him to do, and he is at it. 

-It’s all domestic fluff with this man, he’s really chill and only worries if you’re in huge amounts of pain or if you refuse his help.

-You’re in safe hands if Jiyan is there to help you.

Mortefi:

-May come off as a person that would be disgusted by periods or anything that makes a mess, but he is not.

-Although he does fret or fuss a little over any bloodied sheets or a spot on the couch, he is quick to reassure you it’s not your fault - In a nutshell, it comes off like he’s angry at your uterus or pads for letting it all out rather than you. You can’t help it

-He cleans it all up on his own, no one else can do it as perfectly as he needs it all to be

-Doesn’t mind if you stay in bed for longer, and he makes it a point to check up on you throughout the day, even if it happens to be a work day for him, he will make time to walk back home or at least send you a text or give you a call just to make sure you’re doing well

-Doesn’t let you eat much, or any, fast processed food. Instead you get to indulge into even more of his own cooking!

-Besides his favorites - deserts of all sorts - he is not half bad at making good, healthy dishes that hold an abundance of all things good for you

-It’s like having your own personal chef, and he surely does not disappoint. If you happen to be craving something specific and there’s not a food out there that encapsulates that taste, he figures out a new dish just for you

-He would love it if you were at the dining table while he was making all these foods because he loves to talk to you and hear you talk to him, it gives him time to remind you in his own way that he cares

-It feels like he mothers you at times, but he is sweet for it. Sometimes you may catch his ears being dusted with red blush if he says something more straightforward about these feelings.

-Mortefi would also make sure to bring home quality hygiene products. He’d rather not risk your skin getting irritated, he wants you to be comfortable. He gets you heat bottles too, sometimes he uses them too if he has a stomach ache or a particularly bad headache.

-Not big on cuddles but will indulge you all the way. You just need to slide up to his side and draw his arm over your shoulders and he’s pulling you further in. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[bugsbia]

Scaramouche x fem reader

ʚ getting drunk with a man you just met probably wasn’t the smartest idea.

ʚ BEFORE READING: reader works at a casino, scara is just a normal casino goer. I apologise for any mistakes!

ʚ WARNINGS: alcohol, dub-con ish since reader gets drunk, praising (good girl), degrading (slut, whore), fingering, pussy slap, a little orgasm denial

You’re just an average wait staff at a fancy-ish casino not too far from your house, most nights consist of nothing more than bringing people drinks and helping customers whenever they need assistance, and tonight wasn’t much different at first. Until a certain customer kept hanging around you, simply following you around and trying to catch you despite the fact you were obviously trying to work.

The tipsy man leaned against the counter and spoke to you as you wiped it down “What's your name? I’m Scaramouche” he said with a smirk, eyeing you up and down, taking in your details. “You’re far too pretty to be working here” he added as he leaned in closer.

Looking up at the clock you took note of the time, your shift ended in 15 minutes and this man was quite your type. You hesitated for a moment before turning back to him, telling him your name “My shift ends in about 15 minutes, hang around and maybe we can have a drink together” you added.

He happily agreed and went back to sitting by himself, slowly enjoying the drink he’d ordered previously while he waited for you to clock out, taking small glances at you everytime he could, admiring the way you looked in your work clothes.

Some 15-20 minutes later you finally clocked off of work and headed out, looking for where Scaramouche may be seated if he decided to stay and wait for you. For a moment you worried he’d just up and left, but you quickly saw him in the corner of your eye, watching and waiting for you to finally join him.

As you approached him you noticed the way his neutral expression turned to a smirk, the way he seemed to eye you up and down, taking in every little detail of your body. As you sat down across from him he eagerly ordered two shots, sliding one to you, “So, you worked here for long?” he asked casually as you downed your shot.

“Hm.. only a few months at this point, 6 or so I think.” you responded after thinking for a moment, for some reason being so honest with this stranger you just met, perhaps his almost unrealistic beauty just had you in a trance.

The two of you continued chatting for some time, buying drinks for one another and slowly downing them one by one till both of you were tipsy. You were nearly drunk at this point but Scaramouche made sure to keep himself at least a little sober so he could take advantage of this great opportunity.

He stood up and took your hand “You’re awfully drunk, how about you come home with me?” he suggested, you quickly agreed in your drunken state, and that was exactly what he wanted. It was pathetic how easy you were when he got some drinks in your system, but he also found it almost cute.

Scaramouche helped you back to his house, unlocking the door and ushering you in as quick as he could, silently thanking god that he didn’t live far from the club with how you kept stumbling. As soon as you both stepped into his house he pushed you up against the wall and began desperately making out with you, the taste of alcohol lingering on your tongues.

You didn’t stop him as you wrapped arms around him and tangled your fingers into his dark indigo locks, maybe because you couldn’t due to your drunkenness or maybe because you didn’t want to. His hands wandered over your body hungrily as you deepened the kiss, groping at your ass and tits as much as he could.

As you both passionately make out he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as his hands rest on your ass as he carries you towards his bedroom, not breaking the kiss as his tongue explores your mouth with desperation. You could feel the way his bulge pressed against your clothed pussy with the way he held you, the warmth of his body making you feel hot and so very bothered.

He carried you into his bedroom, laying you back on his bed as he finally broke the kiss and hovered over you, looking over your lying form beneath him. He couldn’t hold back any longer as he began prying at your clothes, you too began prying at his. Desperately stripping each other of your clothes as you chase after what you both desire so deeply, within seconds you were both naked.

Slowly he peppered kisses down your neck, taking in the scent and warmth of your skin as his tongue and lips began exploring your body. His lips traveled lower and lower till they met your breasts, to which he took your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while pinching at the other. Small whimpers of pleasure escaped your lips at his ministrations, the desire within you slowly becoming overbearing as you rubbed your thighs together for any sort of friction.

“No. You do what I say” he commanded harshly as he released your nipples, earring a small whine from you as he sat up and spreading your thighs to stop you from pleasuring yourself. He wants to torment you, break you down and build you up again until he’s all you want, until he is the only one who can satisfy you.

Looking down at your form he silently admired the sight of you pussy, already so wet and eager for him, oh it was truly a sight for sore eyes. He trailed a finger up your fold, to which you instinctively tried to grind into for any sort of relief from your growing arousal. Your attempts were wet with a harsh slap on your pussy.

“Behave yourself, slut.” Scaramouche spoke in a harsh and dark tone, one that sent shivers down your spine and made you immediately obey his commands as you nodded. He went back to teasing your leaky cunt, slowly circling your clit at an almost excruciating pace, making you so desperate for any sort of pleasure.

A whine fell from your lips “please, need more” you cried out while remaining still as to not disobey the orders he’d previously given. It was almost pathetic, the way you drunkenly begged for more, it only made him want to torment you more. How he'd love to see tears trail down your cheeks as you beg for his cock.

At your desperate plea he indulged, but only a little as he shoved two fingers inside of you without warning. The little gasp of surprise you made sent him reeling, he wanted more, no he NEEDED more. He began fingering you slowly, watching as you bit your lip. He leaned in close, whispering into your ear “Beg like a good girl If you want more.”

“Please, Scaramouche… need more- please” you begged, and he had to give in. How could he not when you begged so prettily for him? When you sounded so fucking perfect calling his name like that.

“Good girl” he murmured as he increased the pace, his fingers slamming into your greedy cunt at a fastened pace, eliciting pretty little moans from you. He enjoyed every second of it as he leaned it and began trailing hickeys down your neck, you were all his now. Moaning like a whore on his fingers while he marked you up, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

At his quickened pace you steadily approached your orgasm, that knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter by the second, but as it almost snapped he pulled away. “Wait- don’t stop, I was about to cum!” You whined out, a mixture of desperation and annoyance at how he ruined your orgasm.

He sat up and watched your expression closely as he eagerly licked your slick off of his own fingers, a small groan falling from his lips as his fingers left his mouth. “You taste so fucking good” he murmured as he moved between your legs, positioning his cock at your soaking wet hole, “and I bet you’ll feel even better” he said with a smirk as he entered you with one quick thrust.

You moaned out in both pleasure and pain as he thrusted in, your tight walls slowly adjusting to his size as he remained still for a short moment, but that moment was incredibly short. He took it slow, taking his time to reach the deepest parts of your pussy and feel the way your wet warmth envelopes him.

His slow and deep thrusts slowly became faster, turning almost animalistic as he pounded into you. “You feel so fucking good” he moaned out, losing all semblances of paintence and care as he drove himself deeper into, your moans drivinf him absolutely wild with need.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you” he said in such a dark yet lustful voice as he grabbed you by the thighs and folded you in half, wrapping his arms around you and trapping your thighs against your chest, thrusting into you with absolute abandon as he chased his release.

“Scara- scara!” You cried out as his quickened pace made you dizzy, seeing stars every time his tip hit that one spot inside you, each thrust driving you wild with pleasure. He took it a step further, snaking one hand between your bodies and teasing your clit while still holding you tight with the other arm.

Pure ecstasy is what you felt, your ruined orgasm finally catching up to you as you came undone. Your walls fluttered and throbbed around his cock as you moaned his name in an almost pornographic way. Back arching while your hands dug into the bedsheet tightly.

“Fuck! That’s it” he called out, the way your tight walls throbbed around him sent him over the edge, his thrusts growing sloppy as he came. Shooting ropes of thick hot cum deep inside your womb and pussy, groaning in utter delight at how hard you made him cum.

He pulled out of you and loosened his grip around you, letting your legs finally relax as he sat up and looked down at you. Drunk and utterly fucked out, he adored the sight more than words could describe. He almost went for a second round when his cum started dripping from your messy hole, the sight was almost too erotic for him, but he decided to let you rest now. Maybe you’d continue wanting to see him once you sobered up, or maybe you wouldn’t remember.

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 1: Neuvillette x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 5670

Warnings: Afab!reader, boss/employee relationship, orgasm denial, cock finger warming, accidental/ruined orgasm, dacryphilia, punishment in the form of finger cleaning/cum eating, mentioned chastity

A/N: Welcome to October and this year's super freaky nasty spooky kinky extravaganza! 👻 Let me give a quick but massive shoutout to @frozenfauna for being kind enough to beta read these for me, I've so greatly appreciated having your eyes on standby! I was also going to credit the user who made the list I'm using but when I try to pull it up it looks like they may have deleted the post ...? So out of respect for them I'll just say thank you random stranger on the internet!

And without further ado ... please enjoy day one!

⭐

Fidgeting and nervous, you rock forward onto the tips of your toes with your arm raised up to deliver a curt knock to the stately door in front of you only to think better of it at the last second. You quickly settle back on the heels of your buckled shoes again and let your hand drop down to your side. Far be it that you wanted to give up so easily but … oh dear, this wasn’t an ideal situation at all. 

Forlornly, you glance over at the little tea tray you’d just carted halfway across the Palais Mermonia while the faint sound of indistinct voices continues to filter through the meticulously polished wood. One was recognizably that of monsieur Neuvillette, which certainly made sense given that this was his personal office space and it would have been far more strange not to find him here. But the other you do not know, nor is Sedene in her usual spot behind the front receptionist desk to give you any indication whether you should stay or leave. It was a conundrum, and one without a clear cut solution. 

You needed to make a choice quickly though. If you didn’t and your crippling indecision left you floundering out in the hall for much longer, monsieur Neuvillette’s afternoon coffee was going to get cold which would leave you with no choice but to go back and remake it. Although the Iudex was usually such an exhaustively kind, understanding individual he’d been so strict with you recently ever since … 

A sensitive shudder races down your spine when your pussy clamps down hard around nothing, pulsing in high strung need as much as remembered agony. You feel dizzy with the hot rush of arousal that crashes into you all at once, and you sway unsteadily there on your feet before you manage to reorient yourself. 

He expected you to be punctual and obedient, this you knew well, and no excuses or negligence of your duties would be tolerated. If the honorable Chief Justice was too preoccupied to take his coffee then he would tell you so, but you couldn’t just make those kinds of decisions on your own. He’d made it perfectly clear at the onset of this arrangement that you were not well equipped for such matters and you trusted him implicitly despite all that you knew was wrong about having this sort of relation with him. 

So you decisively lift your hand once again and start to bring your knuckles down on the solid wood of the door — only to miss it entirely when it suddenly swings open. Squeaking in surprise, you widen your eyes up at the handsome woman standing just inside the office with your loosely curled fist stopped just short of smacking into her chest. 

Glancing from your hand up to your face, she quirks a single, sardonic brow at you. “Is it time for afternoon tea and snacks already? Hmm. Actually … judging by the rich aroma, the Iudex must prefer coffee.” 

Your mouth works but nothing comes out, so startled by her sudden appearance and the curious yet delicate way she sniffs at the air that you simply don’t know what to say to that. 

Luckily monsieur Neuvillette appears just behind her, sending you a brief, unreadable look before focusing his attention on the unknown woman. “Indeed, I must admit to having a fondness for good brew in the afternoons. Would you like to stay and enjoy some refreshments with me, Lady Arlecchino? I’ll send for another place setting immediately.” 

“That won’t be necessary.” She drawls in her monotone, soft spoken voice with the whole of her gaze focused singularly on you. The eerie intensity in that stare unnerves you more than just a little bit, and you numbly shift to the side to allow her through when she takes a step closer. But she pauses there, peering down at you as if in further consideration. “This little one looks quite skittish, doesn’t she? The working conditions at the Palais must be even more challenging than I thought.” 

“Please do not jest in that manner, Lady Arlecchino.” Neuvillette quietly scoffs behind her. “I can assure you that everyone employed here is treated with the utmost respect and consideration due to them.” 

“I see.” 

Giving you one last, lingering glance, the tall woman steps fully out into the hallway and brushes past you without saying another word. The sharp click of her heels on the marble floor sounds somehow ominous in your ringing ears as you hesitantly tip your face up, looking to monsieur Neuvillette for instruction. 

A distant note of relief curls through you, dispersing some of the fog from your mind, when he offers you a brief smile. This time it is he who steps aside, nudging the door further open with one hand while he gestures into the office with a sweep of the other. “Come in, mademoiselle. Apologies for the delay.” 

“There isn’t anything to apologize for, monsieur. Thank you.” Bobbing a quick curtsy, you retrieve the tea tray so you can wheel it past him into the room. He gently closes the door and you don’t miss the sound of the lock discreetly turning in place as you get to work setting everything up for his break from all the endless paperwork and case files that flood into the Palais on a daily basis. 

“If you don’t mind I think I’ll take my coffee at my desk today.” He says behind you, causing your heart rate to immediately start picking up again. The expectation of how this session was going to play out had now been set with just the simple utterance of a few, seemingly unassuming words. 

Your fast mounting excitement is nearly palpable now as your hands begin to subtly shake around the fine china you’re handling. “Yes, monsieur. I’ll have it ready for you right away.” 

Humming a soft sound of acknowledgment, he steps around you to make his way over to the ceremonious desk situated on the opposite side of the richly furnished office. 

You keep your head down and focus on the task of pouring his coffee into a pristine cup while you listen to him get settled in with a quiet rustle of his robes against the high backed chair. This room and all that was in it had quickly become something you were now intimately familiar with over the last few weeks, as had this routine you’d settled into with him. It was strange and unorthodox, you couldn’t deny that, but there was also something deeply gratifying about carrying on with him in this manner.

You don’t exactly know what to call it but, you idly muse as you take up the smaller hand tray and carry it over to the desk, perhaps it didn’t actually need an official label. Monsieur Neuvillette made you feel safe and secure in a way that very few others ever had, even when you were outright sobbing and begging him for the release he never granted you. Even when it took what seemed to you like hours to come down from the shuddering ledge of oblivion, curled up in his lap while he dotingly petted you back to calmness, there was something about it all that you found unexpectedly fulfilling. As if in the process of punishing your body for some long forgotten transgression that you couldn’t quite recall anymore, he was making you whole again. 

It’s egregiously backwards in many ways but you find that you really don’t care about any of that as you place his coffee and the side plate of carefully selected finger foods in front of him, earning yourself another small smile for your efforts. You can feel your cunt already starting to weep excitable slick when you straighten up to wait for his next command with nothing short of eager, quick thrumming anticipation. 

Nodding his approval, Neuvillette reaches out to take up the cup which he brings close to his face for a slow, savory inhale of the wafting steam. “It smells delicious. Thank you, mon petite. I’m afraid you spoil me terribly.” 

“I’m flattered to hear that, monsieur.” You murmur, flushing even warmer at the praise. “But it is the same coffee that anyone else can make. I don’t think mine is particularly special.” 

“Well, that just isn’t true at all. Everyone seems to have their own unique methods when it comes to preparation. Some end up with a far weaker consistency while others produce little more than black sludge. In fact, there was a housekeeper some years back who was so woefully ill equipped when it came to the matter of brewing coffee that it almost soured me away from the concept all together.” 

Slowly, you bring your head up to look at him. “Is that really true?” 

“It is.” Nodding once, monsieur Neuvillette takes a polite sip from the delicate cup before breathing out a content sigh of satisfaction. Setting it back down with a soft clink against the matching saucer, he lifts his gaze to regard you with a fond look. “And how are you today, my dear? Have you been behaving yourself since our last session?” 

Never mind the fact that it was only just yesterday when you’d stood before him in his office exactly like this, waiting impatiently for the Chief Justice to direct you in the matter of debauchery as he alone seemed apt to do, and your answer since then hasn’t changed. It still makes you fidget though, particularly when you could feel slick arousal slowly seeping into the gusset of your panties to make the soft cotton start to cling. So many days had gone by without being permitted to find your release on his fingers or anywhere else for that matter that you were finding yourself flooding at the slightest suggestion. 

You’d thought it was bad before, at the onset of all this when he’d so expertly turned your own body against you with very little effort to show for it, but the prolonged effects of this treatment were so much worse than you could have ever imagined them to be. It was as if you were slowly going mad, driven by the insistent throbbing deep inside your cunt to keep coming back for more punishment. 

The notion that you were perhaps a masochist of the highest order had never occurred to you before, but now that there was ample evidence to support it you couldn’t exactly write the idea off entirely. 

“Yes, monsieur.” You murmur, anxiously clenching and unclenching your fingers around the hand tray you were still holding. “I’ve been good. I followed your orders precisely as you instructed.” 

Encouragingly, Neuvillette tips his head ever so slightly to the side. “You haven’t been touching yourself when I’m not there to keep an eye on you?” 

“N - no, sir. I haven’t.” 

“Good.” He seems pleased to hear that as he nudges his chair back from the desk at an angle that would allow enough room for you to join him on the other side, holding up a hand for you to come around and take. “Come here then, mon petite. Let’s check that you are telling me the truth.” 

Such an intense surge of heat rushes to your face that you feel well and truly lightheaded with it even as you skitter forward to accept his offered palm. Gloved fingers gently curl around yours in what would have otherwise been a gentlemanly, chivalrous gesture had the opposite hand not promptly lifted from his lap to snake under the flouncy material of your skirt with an unfalteringly casual motion. 

Your eyes seem to vibrate in their sockets from how intensely your pulse pounds, almost making you go cross eyed as he reaches up between your legs. The tips of his fingers find your cunt easily enough and he presses into the center seam, pulling a sticky click from the excess of arousal as pudgy lips squish under the pressure. The sound rushes straight to your pulsing loins to feed into the never fully realized excitement of being touched and doted upon, encouraging yet more copious slick out of you. It was a truly vicious cycle with no end in sight. 

 “Goodness, you’re already this excited?” Ever so slightly frowning at this discovery, Neuvillette gives his head a brief shake with an accompanying click of his tongue. “What am I to do with you, little love? Such an insatiable thing.”  

“I’m sorry,” You mewl even as your hips subconsciously nudge forward to grind against his fingers, asking for more. 

You were so desperate for release on such a bone deep level that you would have happily gotten on the ground and groveled at his feet if he’d requested it of you. Lesser men probably would have. It wasn’t hard to imagine others taking advantage of someone so naive and trusting, and someone who was as delirious with unfettered lust as you were, but that is not the sort of person monsieur Neuvillette is. 

Instead, he primly removes his hand from underneath your skirt so he can pluck the tray from your stiff fingers. You’d almost forgotten you were still holding it at all, and you numbly watch him set it aside on top of his desk before then reaching up to palm over the curve of your waist. 

“Sit in my lap, mon chou. I believe that you are telling me the truth and you have not disobeyed my orders when you are outside of the Palais, which pleases me a great deal. It demonstrates not only an ability to listen but to also learn from your past mistakes. The fact that you still cannot control this libidinous behavior of yours concerns me though. I suspect it might be time to reinforce the cautionary precept I’ve already established for you once before.” 

You almost hesitate to bid his command but under monsieur Neuvillette’s infinitely steady guidance you allow yourself to be coaxed into climbing into the chair with him. 

With a placid, unhurried motion, he reclines against the backrest to accommodate you and ensure you have enough room while you work to get settled in on top of him. It’s a somewhat awkward thing, straddling the Iudex of Fontaine in such a shameful manner, but you at last manage to find a comfortable position with your thighs bracketing his narrow hips. The urge to squirm and fidget nearly overpowers your common sense but you forcibly stamp it down as you look to him for his next instruction. 

Offering you another one of his unfalteringly kind smiles, Neuvillette brings both of his hands around to give your sides an encouraging squeeze before then dragging higher up your body. That he intentionally avoids touching you in any of the spots you would like to have him touch you brings a certain disappointment with it, but you bite down on your tongue to silence those thoughts. And when he firmly hooks his fingers into the space under your arms so he can tug you forward, you happily let him pull you in against him without complaint. 

The motion makes your cunt lift up from his lap, taking some of that delicious pressure off your soaked core, and you breathe out a terse, shaky exhale as your tits press into his chest. Your next inhale brings with it an overpowering rush of his scent straight into your buzzing head and further clouds your senses. Numbly, you lift your hands to clutch at his shoulders in a loose hold as you nuzzle your face into his soft, silken excess of hair. He smelled divine as usual. 

“Good girl.” Murmuring softly, Neuvillette dotingly pets over your head with one of his hands while the other curls down to slip under your skirt again. The brush of his finely made glove against your inner thigh makes you shudder something fierce, while the sensation of him hooking a finger into your panties so he can pull them aside positively steals the oxygen from your lungs. 

Stiff and halting, you kneel there over his lap as if you were a frozen, petrified statue, just waiting for the pin to drop. You’re so punchdrunk and feverish with need that you aren’t quite sure what to expect next but the nudge of fingertips just at your entrance quickly clues you in. 

Still showing you an infinite amount of care and gentle consideration, Neuvillette tenderly parts the seam of your body so he can dip one of those long digits into the sticky mess you’ve made. A small push, a tiny amount of carefully applied pressure, is all it takes to have that gloved finger sinuously sliding up into your cunt. Your mouth drops open as if to let out a dire scream of ecstasy yet all that materializes is a wounded little animal sound as you bask in the friction as much as the stretch. Your pussy doesn’t even try to fight it, so wet and puffy after only a short few weeks of endless edging that it now welcomes the intrusion with nothing short of delight. 

That alone would have likely been enough to satisfy you for the foreseeable future but after giving his digit a perfunctory wiggle to test the give of your inner sleeve, Neuvillette slowly slides a second finger in to join the first. The internal pressure instantly swells to new dizzying heights that leave you groaning a gutted sound into the elegant bend of his neck, gasping for breath. 

“Ooohhh! Monsieur …!”

Shushing you, the Chief Justice turns his face to place a lingering kiss to the side of your head before speaking in the solemn tone he usually reserved for meting out judgements in the court. “Quiet now, little one. You don’t want to alert anyone who might be outside my door of the punishment you’re being made to endure, do you?” 

“N - … no, sir. I don’t.” 

“As I thought.” Nodding once, he slowly trails the hand resting across your back further down to nudge at your hip. “Sit down on my fingers then, and do not even think to indulge yourself in grinding on them. That’s it now, slowly. Just like that.” 

Shuddering, you gingerly settle into place with his digits wedged deep inside your body. The motion forces your cunt to stretch around them and take him in even further until it feels like he’s just short of tickling your cervix. The already blinding pressure seems to double and then triple, and you sway unsteadily there on his lap with a low, gutted moan of wanting. 

“There.” He coos, rewarding you for your compliance with a brief squeeze around the waist. “Such a good girl you are. And are you comfortable? Ah, I suppose that might be a silly question to ask, isn’t it? No matter. All you need to do is quietly sit there while I enjoy my coffee and read over a few documents, and then you’ll be free to go about your day. Simple, isn’t it?” 

That was certainly easy for him to say but you couldn’t claim to be in agreement with the sentiment. In fact, you couldn’t say much of anything at all. 

You were so overwhelmed by the blinding sensation of being impaled on his fingers that it was a struggle just to think straight, let alone speak, and that was to say nothing of the intense pulse making your cunt spasm around the intrusion. It’s as if your body was trying to instinctively milk him of every last drop and you couldn’t make it stop. You were going to cum. 

Archons help you, you were going to cum and there wasn’t a single thing you could do to prevent it from happening. 

“Nnnghn, m - monsieur Neuvillette, I - I —“

“This is only a friendly word of advice, mon petite, but I suggest you learn to control yourself quickly.” He warns in an idle tone as he reaches across the desk for his cup. “I don’t think you’ll be very happy with the next manner of discipline I have to enforce if even this is not enough to make you understand.” 

Screwing your eyes shut, you gnash your teeth and desperately try to will your body to relax around his fingers instead of tensing up around them. It’s an effort in futility and one you don’t think you’ll win after weeks of denial, but with a dull, hollow throb your body reluctantly starts to cooperate. It’s an incredibly difficult thing to do when you were already teetering so close to the edge that you could all but taste release on your tongue, but you somehow manage to reach a purgatorial state wherein you find yourself simply hanging in the balance. 

It doesn’t come without a cost though. 

Feeling simultaneously drained and incredibly euphoric at the same time, you bonelessly sag against the front of him. Your cheek finds his shoulder, staring off into the far distance without actually seeing anything at all, and he noises a soft sound of approval when you go still again. The vibration seems to rattle through his chest and right into you where you’re pressed up against him, the resulting vibration making you whimper in high strung distress. This was somehow even more harrowingly tortuous than your usual sessions with the Iudex. 

After only a few clandestine meetings in his office he’d become so familiar with your body and its tells that he could easily recognize when you were getting close and remove the source of your pleasure before you tipped over into the awaiting abyss on the other side. The current situation was ten times more precarious though, because it put the responsibility of stopping yourself from cumming squarely on your own shoulders and there was no escaping the constant pressure pushing in on your guts. It felt like you were going to devolve into a wild fit of spasms at any second if you let your mind focus back in on your body and what it was feeling for even a moment. 

What manages to register as being even worse is the inherent humiliation that comes with being made to warm his fingers like this. Not only were you forced to deny the natural urge to grind and rut onto them, which was degrading enough on its own, but the fact that you weren’t even permitted to suffer this indignity on his cock further highlights your position here. Monsieur Neuvillette wasn’t doing this for his own gain or satisfaction, nor was he even really doing it for yours. He remains as nonchalant and even disinterested about what’s happening as he seemed to expect you to be, and you wonder how he as a man can be so unaffected by this even as your aching cunt continues to gush around him. 

You’re so wet it seems to border on obscene. Even through the barrier of his glove you’re certain he must be able to feel it too, but he maintains his implacable facade as he drinks from his coffee as if it were any other afternoon at the Palais. And for him it likely was, your presence on his lap not nearly enough to distract the always composed and collected Chief Justice from his duties. A lesser man would have broken by now, given into carnal urges and the chance opportunity you presented to lay you out on top of his desk and have his way with you. At this point you weren’t so sure you would have even feigned to protest it. 

You wanted him. Wanted to cum screaming his name while he laid claim to your perfectly willing body with his cock stuffed deep inside your — 

A violent shudder suddenly assaults you in a rush, and you whimper low in your throat as you deliriously try to reign your control back in. The involuntary throbbing deep within your cunt starts up again, mirroring the frantic pounding of your heart while your hips weakly twitch with the onset of an orgasm you hopelessly try to stop. 

It’s no use though. You’re wound too tight, stretched too thin over weeks of denial, and your pussy clenches so tight it actually hurts. Sucking in a sharp, horrified gasp, you desperately fist your shaking hands into his robes and clutch at him as you’re wracked by an abrupt onslaught of spasms that seem to rock you straight down to your very soul. The only thing that stops you from relishing in it and crying out your pleasure for the whole Palais to hear is the sinking, suffocating dread that comes with the knowledge that you’ve gone against monsieur Neuvillette’s wishes and disobeyed him. 

You were going to be punished for it, of that you were sure. 

Even that knowledge is not enough to cut your orgasm short though, and you tremble wildly through the roiling waves of ecstasy that just keep crashing into you, again and again. You’d been so pent up that it stretches well past the point of discomfort until you finally collapse against him an eternity later, your hips still bucking in a weak attempt to drain his fingers of something they simply didn’t have to give. But it’s an instinctual drive that makes you try, and it isn’t until his free hand comes down to take bruising hold of your waist and physically stop you from moving do you finally give up with a frazzled sound of defeat. 

Slumped against him while you take stuttering mouthfuls of wet, gasping breaths, you dazedly try to reorient yourself to no avail. It felt like the room was spinning, everything impermanent and intangible save the unyielding man underneath you. Truly, monsieur Neuvillette was the only thing that seemed at all real anymore and you blindly cling to him when he brings his hand up to lift your face from his shoulder. 

“Oh, mon petite,” He sighs, sounding disappointed and rueful in equal measure. “You didn’t even last ten whole minutes. I’ve really no idea what to do with you.” 

“I - I - I’m ss - sorry, monsieur.” 

Softly clicking his tongue, he nudges your chin a little higher with the finger he’s got curled underneath. You feel him lean in close then, and your lower lip sadly warbles at the thoughts of punishments and scoldings that dance through your cotton stuffed head, supplying an endless list of possible retributions you might be made to endure next. 

But all you feel is the sudden, damp swipe of his tongue across your cheek and you blearily crack your eyes open to glance at him. You hadn’t realized you’d started crying, though you know not how when your face was so hot and wet with tears. It was glaringly obvious now, and you shamefully try to turn your head from him but he holds fast even as his tongue flicks out to once again lap at the salty tracks coating your skin. 

This was the only thing that ever seemed to pierce through his mask of carefully held stoicism and you still didn’t understand it any more than you did at the start of all this. But the change that comes over him is undeniable, from the mere act of licking up the tears from your face in such an ungentlemanly manner to the way he covetously seems to curl himself around you, like a snake winding around its captured prey. Or … perhaps a dragon of long forgotten myth claiming it’s pilfered treasure would be more accurate. 

You’re not sure why such a strange notion should come to you but it’s an intrusive thought you haven’t been able to shake for weeks now, and you mewl softly when Neuvillette turns your face so he can get at the other cheek now. It was almost as humiliatingly dehumanizing as having his fingers still stuffed inside your cunt as if to stopper some great leak. 

That analogy was perhaps not as inaccurate as you’d prefer it to be but that doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“Monsieur please,” You beg, vainly squirming in his too tight grasp. “I didn’t mean to do it, I - I swear I did not.” 

Rumbling a faint sound that is eerily reminiscent of a growl, Neuvillette takes one last lick at your tear stained skin before straightening up to look at you again. 

“You may not have intentionally disobeyed me, little one, but that does not change the fact that you did. Your behavior must be corrected or I would be remiss for not enforcing the rules I’ve set for you.” Pausing, he issues a quiet breath through his nose as he intently studies your face. The unexpectedly hungry glint in those lilac irises, obvious even when his dark lashes were drooping down in attractive half mast, inspires a hopeful throb low in your gut. 

Surely he wasn’t going to … he wouldn’t actually — 

“Such a lovely flower you are, even now when you’ve displeased me so. There is no need for you to tremble though, mon petite. Your punishment will not be a physical one. Mmmm … and I do believe I have something in mind that should sufficiently correct this insatiable appetite you harbor but it will take me a few days to make the necessary arrangements. Have you ever heard of the term chastity before, sweet girl?” 

Your brows draw inward to knit while you ponder through that question. “Do you mean … my virginity, monsieur?” 

“Not quite.” Chuckling, Neuvillette shifts slightly underneath you with an accompanying soft creak from the chair. “No matter. All will be explained to you in due course, when the time comes. But for right now I must think of some other way to mete out your penalty for this transgression. I’m very disappointed in you, you know.” 

“I’m sorry.” You murmur as you abashedly drop his gaze, too sheepish and embarrassed to meet his eye any longer. 

A quiet beat passes over the still office before he offers up a brief hum as if to signal his conclusion has been reached. “Let’s start with having you kneel for me. On the floor, carefully now. Do not fall.” 

Gathering all of your shuddering strength, you hesitantly manage to pry yourself away from where you were all but plastered to the front of him but he assists you every step of the way with a steady hand. Lifting your cunt up off his fingers is the most difficult part and you grimace slightly at the sticky wet slurp that results when you do, leaving behind a deep ache that begs to be filled with something much more substantial. 

You know that’s not going to happen any time soon though as you shimmy down off the chair and gratefully sink onto your knees between the spread of his feet. Keeping your hands loosely braced on the Iudex’s legs, you obediently look up to him for your next command. 

All you wanted was to be good for him and you think he must recognize that on some level because he fixes you with another kind, indulgent smile that makes your heart skip a beat. But then he offers out his hand to you, the one you’d been sitting on for the last some odd minutes, and a gasp promptly rattles in your chest when you look to find the dark leather coated in a sticky film of arousal. There was something of a thicker consistency clinging to his fingers as well, white and creamy, which you innately recognize as being the end result of your unearned orgasm. 

Deeply ashamed to have the evidence of your failure shown to you, your gaze nervously travels back up towards his face again. ”Monsieur?” 

“Do not look so sad, little one. It is your mess so it’s only right to make you clean it up, no?” Tipping his head to one side, Neuvillette coaxingly nudges his soiled fingers towards you. “Go on. Lick them clean for me and taste yourself on my glove, pet.” 

Jittery uncertainty grabs you in a chokehold as you snap your attention back to his hand. You weren’t quite sure about this when the very notion of doing such a thing was so foreign to you. Of course you’d heard whispers of people talking about putting their mouths on their lover or vice versa, but you hadn’t thought you’d ever be presented with an opportunity to find out what your own arousal tastes like. You'd certainly never thought to do it yourself. 

Even more disconcerting though is the hard note of command in monsieur Neuvillette’s voice when he’d issued the order. You were unaccustomed to him speaking to you like that but, you try to reason, this was supposed to be a punishment. And you certainly didn’t want to displease him any further than you already had … 

So you timidly lean forward, bending your head over his lap in a way that makes you feel hot and bothered again, your pussy distantly clenching around nothing. Your mouth opens just enough to allow your tongue to slip out and you take a shy little kitten lick at the tip of his longest middle digit. The faintly salty, bitter taste of your own cunt instantly swarms your tastebuds, unfamiliar to you yet not entirely disagreeable. It’s a unique flavor, particularly when paired with the leather of his glove, and you issue a quiet, faltering mewl as you somewhat reluctantly close your lips around his finger down to the first joint.  “That’s it, little love.” He breathes out from somewhere seemingly far above you, an almost imperceptible tremor in his voice now. “Make sure you get them nice and clean for me. In just a few days time I’m going to take away your freedom to even think about touching yourself so savor it while you still can. I will have you under control soon enough, sweet girl. That I can promise you.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

[dyingswanpavlova]

Poison || 》 Coriolanus Snow x Reader 《 OneShot

pairing: president!Coriolanus x wife!reader

warnings: mentions of violence, murder

summary: Coriolanus has his ways of making his wife's life miserable, so it's time she finally retaliates.

"You may have heard of it."

I suppressed the urge to slap the living hell out of him.

"It happened a few days ago."

I clenched my jaw. That was the only reaction I allowed myself to have. I gripped my cup so tightly that my knuckles turned white and the heat of the tea burned my fingertips. But I did not care. The only thing I cared about was dead and here he was, mocking me.

"It was very tragic." He said calmly and with not a hint of sincerity. I closed my eyes for a brief moment. There was a lump in my throat and I knew, if I opened my mouth now, I would cry.

But no.

Not infront of him. I'd rather die than cry infront of him.

The bane of my existence, the nightmare that grew blonde curls and turned human.

"You were in love, were you not? Back when you were younger. While you were still in the Academy." His voice was nonchalant, but his eyes betrayed his smugness.

I felt myself nodding.

"Too bad. He was so young, after all. Such wasted potential." He sighed dramatically ans set his newspaper aside. Then he placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. I wanted to shudder in disgust. But instead I forced a smile.

"What a lucky fate that you married me instead, otherwise you would be a widow now, darling." He said sweetly.

Your day may come, I thought to myself.

"I don't think that's how fate works, Coriolanus." I said quietly.

He tilted his head to the side and smiled. Then he reached out and trailed his fingertips down my cheek. From a stranger's point of view it might have almost looked loving.

Almost.

He leaned so close that his breath tickled my earlobe.

"You're right, princess. That's not fate. That's destiny."

I tensed painfully. Did he mean...

No. That was ridiculous. He was indeed a horrible person who had forced and tricked me into this hell of a marriage. But murder?

Or, well...

More murder?

No. That was impossible. He was the president now. He would not risk his position, his everything, out of some jealous stupor, simply to-

I froze. It was not out of jealousy.

It was his way to punish me. To control me.

I slowly looked up and met his gaze. Back in the day when I was naive and clueless enough to fall in love with him, I had thought that his blue eyes were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Now they haunted me in my nightmares.

"You'll be late for work." I whispered hoarsely.

He looked at me for a long moment, his expression nonchalant but his eyes - his eyes were intense, menacing, calculating. Terrifying.

After a moment, he nodded. His usual smirk returned and he leaned in to kiss my cheek.

"I will be home for dinner, my love." He whispered in my ear, before he got up, gathered his things and left. I was still in the same position. I did not cry. I did not scream and I did not curse him.

A person could only ever cry as much, I thought.

Instead I got up, straightened my clothes and did my daily, wifely duties.

Since Coriolanus had declared that I needed neither to work nor finish my studies - What would that look like? You're my wife. You're to stay home and bear me an heir. - my duties were mostly housework, cleaning, cooking...

I finished everything perfectly, just the way he expected me to. I dressed up nicely, a pretty dress, just like he liked. The house was ready and so was dinner. Everything was simply perfect.

But my hands were shaking when I reached for the last, the most important ingredient.

I carefully opened the small lid as I applied the see-through fluid.

And my thoughts were loud and clear as I greeted my husband with a smile.

Too bad. He is so young, after all. Such wasted potential.

[little-diable]

Midnight Hotline - Dean Winchester (smut)

After meeting Jensen Ackles this weekend, I simply needed to write a Dean drabble. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: For weeks now, Dean has been calling the Midnight Hotline to speak to Lilith, a stranger he has fallen in love with while sharing his secrets and confessions. And now as they are in the same city, it’s finally time to meet.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), strangers to lovers

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.7k words)

“Midnight Hotline, this is Lilith speaking.” Her voice rang in his ears, instantly drawing a smile to his lips. He had to clear his throat before speaking up, sinking further into the leather seat as his eyes stared down on the city.  

“Hi, Lilith. It’s me.” The chuckle rumbling through her made his heart skip a beat. A by now all too familiar warmth began to spread through him, instantly distracting him from the grim feeling he hadn’t been able to shake. 

“Bobby! I was waiting for your call.” He still wasn’t used to the name he had given her weeks ago, knowing that he couldn’t share any personal details with the voice on the other end of the line. Dean hadn’t given the name much thought, it had instantly come to mind to comfort himself when he needed strength to move on. Strength only she managed to give him lately - her, the voice of a woman he didn’t know. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I was busy, but I missed talking to you.” The words rolled off Dean’s tongue before he could stop them, trying to ignore the heat now spreading through his cheeks. He fumbled with the zip of his leather jacket, needing to find something he could use to distract himself from the sensations her voice pushed through him.

“Oh, I missed you too! Were you travelling again?” A deep hum left Dean while he wondered how she wore her hair today, what she wore and how she was feeling now, talking to him. Weeks ago he had asked her for a description of herself, it hadn’t been much, besides her hair and eye color, and yet it had been enough to shoot shudders down his spine. 

“I was, I’m in Colorado now.” Her breath shuddered as she exhaled, making him awfully aware of the silence that followed his words. Dean counted the passing by seconds, only allowing the sound of Lilith clearing her throat to interrupt him. 

“I’m also in Colorado.” She whispered the words, making Dean awfully aware of the thoughts now seemingly racing through her mind. 

Could this be their chance? Could this be the moment to break all rules she had once sworn to follow? 

“Where are you at, sweetheart?” Once again she mumbled the reply, leaving Dean to swallow heavily as he stared down at the city whose name she had just dropped. For a moment, he pondered over his choices, wondering if he should go ahead and follow the call of his heart to finally meet the woman who called herself Lilith, or if he should stay away like his mind begged him to. 

“When does your shift end?” His question was met with silence. Perhaps he had gone too far, perhaps she didn’t want to meet him like he desperately wanted to meet her. But the shaky giggle leaving her told Dean all he needed to know. She wanted this as much as he did, bound together by the past weeks, aching to finally meet after imagining the other since their first call. 

“Are we really doing this?” She kept her voice small, seemingly wondering herself if this was a good idea. Dean’s tongue rang along his lower lip, buying his racing heart a few more seconds before speaking up again. 

“We sure as hell are, sweetheart. Where should I pick you up?” 

……

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he had been this nervous. This had something so unfamiliar to it, he had to force his body to stay right there and not to run like he wanted to. For the first time since he could remember, Dean began to doubt the way he may come across, wondering if she felt the same draw he had been trying to swallow and bury six feet under for a while now.

But before he could rerun all the things he wanted to say to her again, the sound of somebody nearing ripped his focus from his phone. He was leaning against Baby, wrapped in his dark jacket to try and shield himself from the cold air of the night, sensations that were forgotten the second his eyes met hers. 

Dean could instantly tell that it was her, carrying a soft smile that made him forget everything around him. His heart was in his throat, pounding louder than it had ever before - all while watching her approach. He allowed his eyes to take her in, wandering up and down her frame, just like hers did with him. Fuck, she was even prettier than he had imagined her to be, a woman so gorgeous, Dean wasn’t sure if he was under some spell, toying with his vision. 

“Bobby?” The sound of her voice forced all darkening thoughts into the back of his mind, purely focused on her. He nodded his head while reaching his hand out for her to take, set on pulling her in for a hug. The scent of her perfume washed through him, forcing Dean’s mind to cling to it with the silent promise of remembering this for the rest of his life. 

Her arms found their way around his middle, letting her head rest against his chest as he hugged her. No word was shared between them, letting their minds catch up with what was happening - something they had been dreaming of and longing for ever since their first call. 

“Hi,” she softly mumbled the word, looking up at him with eyes that seemed to uncover his every secret, instantly leaving Dean breathless. He couldn’t stop his hand from cupping her warm cheek, letting his thumb trace her soft skin as he repeated the word. 

“You’re even more handsome than I imagined you to be.” Her voice didn’t carry much strength as she spoke, just enough to draw a soft blush to his cold cheeks. 

“Well, seems like we got something in common there, you’re gorgeous, sweetheart.” Her smile grew wider at his compliment, keeping her focus on him as she slowly loosened her grip on him. But Dean didn’t let go of her just yet, needing to feel her close for as long as possible. “My real name’s Dean, I’m sorry for keeping that from you.” 

Her laugh left him grinning, watching her shake her head while moving closer once again, “Nice to meet you, Dean. I’m (y/n).” 

Dean had to force himself to snap out of his hazy state, wanting to cross the small distance between them to taste her name on his tongue for the first time before kissing her. But even though his heart urged him on to move, he fought against it, at least for now.

“Are you hungry? Or you want to go for a drink?” She studied him for a handful of seconds, unable to bite down her growing grin. 

“How about you come over to mine? I have some beer at home.” 

……

“Here you go.” She gave Dean a bottle of beer before sitting down next to him, letting her eyes take in every inch of his handsome features. The whole thing felt like a dream, something that was entirely too good to be true, and yet (y/n) tried to cherish every second, not daring to break away from him. “This still feels surreal. What are you even doing around here?”

She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he took a few sips of beer, buying himself some time before clearing his throat. Dean had his arm placed on the couch, resting behind her to keep (y/n) somewhat close without touching her, just enough closeness to give her the opportunity to shuffle closer and rest against him. A draw both were held hostage by, unable to fight against it. 

“My brother and I had some work stuff to do around here.” A hum left her, eyes fully focused on Dean and the soft smile playing on his lips. She could marvel at him for hours, getting lost in the green pupils that told stories she wanted to uncover one by one, learning everything about the man she had developed a crush on without even seeing him. 

“So, you will leave soon again, won’t you?” He placed the bottle down before fully turning towards her, hand finding her shoulder to let his fingers run along her skin. A sombre feeling began to stretch through the two of them, knowing that their time together wasn’t long and would end sooner than both liked. Dean nodded his head, trying to find words that would promise his return, even though he knew it could be weeks, perhaps even months, until he’d get another chance to return.

“Seems like we’ll have to make the best out of our time then.” The words rolled off her tongue seconds before she shuffled closer, letting her arms find their way around his neck. Three seconds passed until Dean began to move, two shaky breaths left them both, and one mumble of his name was all it took for Dean to kiss her breathless.

Perhaps they were moving all too fast, skipping important steps others clung to. But for the past weeks they had shared more with one another than they had with any other person, set on learning everything about the person on the other end of the line. It felt like they simply belonged together, forming a bond so sweet and sincere, neither had felt this alive before. 

Dean pulled her into his lap, hands resting on her waist to try and ground himself. This was more than just a fun night with a woman he’d never see again. This was everything he had never dared to give in to. This was what he had always feared, being with a woman who held his heart in her hands, giving her the power to toy with him. 

“Will this be a one night thing only?” (Y/n) mumbled the words against his slightly puffy lips, not daring to get lost in his darkening eyes before she had her answer. Dean’s hand found her chin, tilting it upwards to let her eyes find his. 

“Do you want it to be a one night thing?” His raspy voice buzzed through her like lightning striking her trembling body, setting her ablaze with a heat so strong, (y/n) feared she was about to lose control over her body. She had never been one for taking drugs, for chasing highs she couldn’t control, but now she couldn’t care about letting go, not when Dean held her oh so close. 

“No.” It was a simple reply, and yet it was enough to make a smirk grow on his lips. Dean kissed her again before he rose to his feet with her clinging to him, wordlessly letting her guide him towards her bedroom with her finger pointed in the right direction. Carefully, he placed her down on her bed, making room for him to shuffle out of his shirt to expose his naked upper body to her wandering eyes. 

“This is much more than just one night, I will come back to you, sweetheart. I promise.” Her laughter reverberated through the bedroom, leaving Dean chuckling before he tugged on her shirt. Both were a mess of tangled limbs as they undressed, leaving them both in their underwear before he pushed (y/n) down on the mattress, hovering over her. 

His lips kissed their way to her chest, sucking on the spots that made her breath hitch in her chest. Dean was high on her noises, wondering if being with women had always been like this and if he had simply never paid enough attention or if this was all about being with (y/n). Everything about this felt different, a routine he had once known by heart turning into something completely new he never wanted to let go of again. 

“Dean, touch me, please. Been waiting too long for this to happen.” (Y/n)’s impatient words left him chuckling while he undid her bra, exposing her breasts to his excited eyes. Sweet nothings left him as he marked her up, sucking on her hardening nubs and letting his hands palm her skin before moving further down south. Their eyes held contact, connected through every passing moment. 

“You’re so gorgeous, baby, I can’t wait to have my way with you.” She mewled his name, eyes fluttering close as he pressed a kiss to her clothed heat. Slowly, Dean pulled her panties down her legs, letting the fabric drop to the ground before kissing his way to her pulsing bundle. A moan clawed through (y/n) at the new sensation, high on the feeling of his rough tongue brushing against her bundle, on the way he brushed two fingers through her slit to spread her arousal on her warm skin. “You taste so sweet, fuck, I could do this forever.” 

“Make me cum, please, Dean. I need you.” (Y/n) arched her back off the mattress, toes curled as her orgasm crept closer and closer. He sucked on her bundle, drawing another moan from her that left him grinning in success. Dean wanted to see her cum when he was buried deep inside of her, knowing that he couldn’t drag this out much longer. “I want you so bad, make me yours.”

“You’re already mine, sweetheart. I’d be stupid to let you go again.” He let go of her to step out of his boxers, hand finding his hard cock to give it a few tugs. (Y/n) momentarily shuffled away from her spot, reaching for a condom Dean rolled down on his length, leaving both nervous for a second as he positioned himself. 

“Oh my god, fuck.” She choked on her words as he sank into her, moving slowly to let them both adjust. Dean pressed his forehead against hers, giving her the opportunity to sling one arm around his neck while the other ran down his back, scratching at his skin. He moved carefully at first, keeping her legs wrapped around his waist while he stretched her perfectly, making her feel full with every thrust. 

“Focus on me, baby.” Their eyes met again, wordlessly sharing their every thought, every longing they struggled to put into words. She felt loved, more loved than ever before, all because of a man she had met for the first time hours ago, even though she knew his darkest and deepest secrets. He felt appreciated and complete for the first time in his life, he had finally found what he had always been searching for, and it had come in the shape of a woman he had fallen head over heels in love with.

Their bodies melted together with every thrust, tangled limbs and racing hearts that formed a completed picture. She whimpered his name, knowing that her orgasm was all too close and ready to bury her six feet under with Dean clinging to her like ancient lovers buried together. Nothing could rip them apart, nothing could stand in their way as they loved one another like they had always ached to be loved. 

“I’m so close, Dean.” Her whispers spurred him on, letting his hand find her bundle to give her the needed pressure. She came first, letting go with another moan as his hips kept snapping against hers. Dean fucked her through her high, watching her unfold beneath him with a proud smirk glued to his lips.

He came moments later, burying his face in the crook of her neck to let the scent of her perfume engulf him. She clung to him, wordlessly trying to find back to reality as both panted, “Never let me go again, Dean.” 

“Never, baby, it’s you and me against the world.”