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these-lovely-monsters · 2 months ago

Text

The Vampire's Kiss

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: m!vampire x f!reader

Content: stalking, blood, blood drinking, fingering, biting, marking, bite marks, possessiveness, yandere

#1 Marking the territory and #27 Bloodthirst from @ozzgin's Monstertober 2024 prompt list

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

You didn’t know it, but this morning while you were working at the quaint little coffee shop, there was a man sitting at one of the tables nearby. He was reading a newspaper while sipping on an espresso you made him. When you cut your hand on one of the sharp corners of the counter, a little bit of blood welled up in the wound.

The scent of it immediately caught his attention and the rest of the shop faded away as he zeroed in on the pulse beating steadily at your throat. It was an intoxicating aroma to him and he’d never smelled anything so decadent before. He was desperate for a taste. For the rest of the day, he was unable to think about anything else but you as he followed you around, lurking in the shadows.

Now, late at night, as you walk home to your apartment building, you swear you keep hearing footsteps echoing behind you. But whenever you turn around to look, there’s nothing there except the empty sidewalk. Growing nervous, you begin to quicken your steps, just needing to get out of the darkness creeping in around you.

Just as you reach your apartment building, you shriek as you’re suddenly lifted off your feet and whisked into the alley beside it. Your heart is pounding out of your chest as your back is pressed up against the wall. A cold, hard body pins you to the bricks.

Looking up into your assailant’s face, cool gray eyes meet yours. He’s devastatingly beautiful with sharp angles and a pale complexion. For a moment, you can’t do anything but stare, mesmerized by him. He gives you a lopsided smirk and you catch sight of a fang peeking out. A vampire.

The notion should scare you but the hunger in his eyes causes your blood to heat in desire. You’ve read so many vampire romance books and now you desperately want to know what it would be like to have one feed from you. When he sees the lust fill your expression, his grin grows wider, revealing the other fang. You watch as his pupils dilate, a barely disguised monster lurking under the surface.

He inhales deeply and drawls, “Do you know how utterly delectable you smell?” Just the sound of that sinful timbre is enough to make you shudder in pleasure. “Will you let me have a taste?”

Not caring how dangerous it might be, a barely audible, “Yes,” slips from your lips on a soft whimper.

He doesn’t hesitate and claims your mouth in a bruising kiss, nipping and sucking at your lips. When you plunge your tongue into his mouth, he groans into yours and the sound travels right to your core.

As your tongue tangles with his, there's a sudden pinch on the tip. You pull back with a gasp, the taste of copper filling your mouth. When he grins at you, blood smeared along one of his fangs, you bite your lip at the erotic image. Tilting your head in invitation, you bare your neck to him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs before shifting your hair to the side and sinking his teeth into the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. You throw your head back against the wall as your hands fly up to grip his hair tightly.

You groan in ecstasy at the feeling of him sucking, drawing in deep mouthfuls of blood. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before and an aching, desperate need begins to build in your core. Your head swims with the intoxicating arousal as wetness pools between your legs and drips down your thighs.

He releases your shoulder and you almost cry out at the loss. But then he moves to the other side, biting you again. He continues to bite and suck all along your neck, ripping open the front of your blouse to pepper the swells of your breasts with even more. With each bite, he lets out long, needy groans as he grinds his hard cock against your stomach.

While his fangs are buried deep in your flesh, he reaches down and flips up your skirt, tearing your panties off with one hard yank. You gasp as you watch him stuff the stolen garment in his pocket. Before you can protest, he’s shoving two fingers deep inside your pussy and all thoughts fly from your head. As he pumps his fingers in and out of you, he swirls his thumb around your clit, causing your back to arch off the wall.

Between his fingers fucking into you and his mouth and fangs on your skin, it doesn’t take long for a toe-curling orgasm to crash into you. It feels like it goes on forever as he draws it out, not stopping until you’re squirming away from the over sensitization.

Chuckling, he releases you and withdraws his fingers from your pussy. When he pulls back, the streetlamp on the corner casts a yellow glow across his face. The crimson blood smeared across his lips almost sparkles in the light. Lifting his fingers, which are glistening with your arousal, he runs them along his lips, mixing the blood with your juices before licking them clean.

“So fucking delicious,” he growls. The words send a shiver down your spine and you’re instantly aroused again, the heady experience of his feeding still swirling around you. Needing more, you let out a sound that’s somewhere between a whimper and a moan, unable to form the words to ask.

As if understanding exactly what you need, he lifts you up into his arms. Wrapping your legs around his waist, he walks you to the front door of your building and sets you down on your feet. You reach into your purse to pull out your keys and wince, forgetting the cut from this morning.

He grabs your hand, flipping it palm up and undoes the bandages gently, almost reverently. Lowering his mouth to the wound, he softly laps at it with his tongue. You watch in awe as your skin tingles and begins to knit back together. Within seconds, the cut is completely gone, smooth unmarred skin now in its place.

You look up at him and run a finger along his bloody lips, whispering a soft, “Thank you,” at his surprisingly kind gesture.

When you turn to face the glass entrance, you gasp at the sight of yourself. Your hair is a mess, your blouse is hanging open at the front, and bite marks cover your neck and chest in a bloody patchwork.

Tracing the marks on your skin, you meet his gaze in the reflection of the door. “Why didn’t you heal these?”

“Because you are mine now, sweetheart, and I want everyone to know it. Now, won’t you let me in?”

Tip Jar :)

#monster fucker #monster lover #monster smut #terato #monster x human #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #these lovely monsters #vampire #tlm vampire #monstertober #monstertober 2024 #yandere #tlm stories #f!reader #m!monster

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royalsweetteaa · 2 years ago

Note

Hi can you do a Steve Rogers x shy reader smut

Where she’s shy to make moans while Steve paces harder to make a moan🥰

Title: Music to my ears

Pairing: dom!Steve Rogers x shy!reader

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - The following fic contains: explicit smut, smut with no plot, fluff, rough sex, dom!Steve Rogers, sub!reader, dom/sub dynamic, p in v sex, cumshot, praise kink, pet names.

It’s quiet as the only noise echoing in the bedroom is the queen sized bed squeaking.

Steve is on top of you, entering the stage of home base as he pushes the tip of his cock past your pussy lips and into your pulsing core. He already goes into a steady pace with your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer.

Your breathing becomes heavier, but that’s about the only sound he gets to enjoy from you while he in contrast audibly grunts. Light squeaks leave your lips at best, and while he absolutely adores those short little noises, he knows there’s more in you.

He knows you’re ashamed and you keep feeling the need to suppress those moans and cries as he makes you feel good with the way his cock hits your cervix with each thrust.

He has heard you scream from horror before as you have watched scary movies together, so he knows the high level of sound your lungs can create.

And oh, how he wishes to hear you scream from pleasure.

Steve doesn’t stop praising you as he continues to roll his hips against yours, his huge cock thrusting in and out of your tight hole, making you see stars by how much he fills you.

“Feels so good being inside of you, baby…” Steve groans as he closes his eyes for a moment, taking in the way your pussy sucks in his cock as he drags himself out before he fucks home again. “I’m going to move a little faster from now on, is that okay?”

You nod shyly as Steve plunges in deeper, and you quickly slap a hand around your mouth to keep quiet as the pool of arousal in your abdomen tests your limits. Already by then, you pick up the look of disapproval Steve pulls, and you frown.

“A-ah, no covering your mouth. I won’t allow it anymore...” Steve sets the new rule as he pins your hand to the side, making your eyes go wide as blood rushes through your cheeks.

“B-But…- mmmhaaah!” A sudden mewl is ripped out of you as Steve starts to pound into you faster, his heavy balls beginning to slap against your ass at the quicker pace.

You become overwhelmed, your mouth left hanging to let out cries for each thrust Steve performs. Embarrassment showers over you like cold water, but the heat from Steve’s breath tickling your neck and the constant friction is enough to distract you from it.

In final attempts you try to keep your mouth shut, but Steve surprises you yet again as he holds you by the chin and kisses you, slipping in his tongue to meet yours. It’s beyond erotic, and it prevents you from keeping any noises slip. When he pulls back, he gives you the warmest smile, stroking your cheek ever so lovingly before he speaks.

“I know you’re shy, hun…but I’m about to show you how much I want to hear you…how desperate I am to have you moan for me…if you won’t allow yourself to make noises, I’ll have to force them out myself.”

He thrusts harder, making sure you feel every inch of his thick shaft slide inside of your wet cunt. Your eyes roll back with your head as you let out the loudest moans you have ever made before. Steve holds you by the hips, pulling you back as he slams into you, causing his cock to enter you ever so deep. You cry out so loud you think everyone in the city must be hearing it, but Steve’s hums of delight reassures you there’s nothing to worry about.

“Mmmh, my love…I could never say enough about how wonderful you sound. Keep making those sounds, be as loud as you want. Let me know how amazing it feels to be stretched…how much you crave to be fucked…”

“O-Oh Steve…Aaaaah!~ Feels too good! I-I can’t - nngh!~ M’gonna cum!” Cries and moans escape your mouth uncontrollably now as Steve pounds away, making him grin with pride. There it is, he thinks.

“That’s my girl…cum for me, doll…sing for me…”

Your back arches against him as you reach your climax through a cry, making your cunt hug Steve’s cock tighter as a new flow of wetness surrounds inside. Steve grunts and snaps his hips into you once more before pulling out, cumming all over your stomach and making a hot mess.

He pants with his chest rising, and hovers over you one last time to kiss your lips tenderly before he lays down to rest next to you.

Steve sighs with content, “That was…”

“Embarrassing…” you barely mutter with your palms hiding your face.

Steve frowns, and let’s out a sudden chuckle as he playfully pinches your cheek, “It was no such thing, my love. Quit speaking nonsense. You were amazing…made me cum so hard and fast hearing your cute cries as you clung onto me desperately during your orgasm…you’re my precious doll…” he picks a towel by the nightstand and cleans his mess off your stomach before he drags you closer to him, giving your shoulder a peck.

“…I love every part and aspect of you. Don’t think otherwise...” He whispers, and it makes your stomach swirl with butterflies at his reassurance.

N/A: Thank you for some inspiration, anon! This became just a simple drabble but it helped getting my writing skills in use!

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! Thank you! <3

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america x reader #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x reader smut

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a-leg-without-fear · 4 months ago

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Sweet

sin sin sin sIN SIN THIS IS SIN. please enjoy pleasuring our dear college!matt

Ship: Matt Murdock x Female!Reader

Rating: 18+ (pure filth, truly)

Wordcount: 2.7k

Warnings: smut, sexual situations, foreplay, some depressive thoughts (because i apparently can't write anything without them)

Warm.

Soft, warm, gentle, sweet. Sweeter than anything he’d tasted. Like dew that’s been licked off a cold strawberry, or the fragrant scent that wafts through the air outside of flower shops. A delicate and tender sweetness. Subtle, comforting, like the smell of home after being away for years. Such sweetness could make Matt lose himself, letting himself drift away on a current of fond smiles and warm embraces. He would allow himself to drown in the sweet taste, even if it was the last drop to pass his lips before he drifted to the ocean floor.

At the sudden loss of the warmth, the tenderness, the sweetness, Matt’s throat let out a whine of annoyance. His body moved of its own accord as he scrambled to reconnect himself to the source. Fingers tangling in silken hair. Hand bunching in a tank top. Teeth nipping at a plump, pink lower lip.

“Matt,” you sighed. The words cascaded past Matt’s tongue and down his throat, carrying a breeze filled with cherry blossoms in their wake. He could distantly feel delicate fingertips brush at his jaw. A tingling warmth trailed behind the gentle touch, only fueling his need to swallow as much sweetness as he could.

“Matt, honey. Breathe.”

Matt’s eyes fell open as he pulled away from his brief reprieve. His senses came crashing down like a cave in. All he could see was a haze of swirling oranges and reds that filled every inch in sight. Streaks of flame and blood painting the college dorm room like a canvas on fire. His cotton shirt was too tight, too scratchy. The humid air settled in his pores like an unwelcome visitor. A sudden cacophony of noise spilled into his ears through the crack under the door and the thin material of the walls. He blinked a few times to reorient.

The first inhale he allowed himself felt like a punch in the lungs. Gone was the taste of strawberries or cherry blossoms, the feeling of warmth and comfort. A sharp tang of stale alcohol plunged its way into his sinuses and left him reeling. Notes of old, worn carpet and water-damaged ceilings shoved their way through to stand side by side to overwhelm thought and feeling. Matt screwed his eyes shut, trying to recall the smell of flowers that flowed like water down his throat.

“Hey, I’m right here,” you whispered, your melodic voice brushing aside the sounds assaulting Matt’s senses. Your soft hand rested along his jaw and brought his forehead to yours. Matt could feel your breath fan across his face. Warm and gentle and sweet.

“I… I’m sorry,” Matt said. He felt naïve. The world was harsh and cold and unforgiving. He shouldn’t have let himself get carried away by the allure you unintentionally provided. The sweet ambrosia that flowed from your lips could never compete with the torrential downpour of too much all around him.

“Sorry for what?” you asked. Your fingers brushed strands of Matt’s dark hair away from his face, then trailed their way down his cheek to rest on his collarbone.

Matt opened his eyes again in a desperate attempt to see you. See anything. But all he was met with was the clouded reds and oranges that submerged the world beneath a pool of blood.

He tried to focus on where your face would be, using the brush of air currents along your seated body to understand where you were on the bed. Your head was cocked, hair falling in front of your kind eyes. Matt could tell you were looking at him. From the way your heart calmly beat behind your ribs and the pheromones that surrounded you like an aura, Matt assumed you were happy. Content.

“I got caught up in the moment,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. You chuckled at his bashfulness, the sound ringing like a small bell around Matt’s head. Hopefully he could deflect from his lapse in awareness. Of course he had to be blind and easily distracted.

“That’s not a bad thing, you know. Just gotta remember to breathe,” you said. Matt scoffed playfully at the jab. He let his hands drift down to your waist, tucking his fingers beneath the bunched-up hem of your shirt.

“I don’t know, you seem to like it when I prevent you from breathing.”

Your breath caught in your throat as your heart leapt and your face heated. A flash of the intoxicating scent that was distinctly you floated from between your legs. Matt could feel his own arousal swirling like a whirlpool in his stomach. An uncontrollable tempest begging to be released over calm waters. Despite how desperately he wanted your clothes off and you beneath him, he pulled his mouth into a cocky grin while his fingers worked their way up to your bra.

“What’s wrong? Feeling embarrassed? Or are you just remembering how good it felt when I choked you?” he purred.

That got you riled up. Your chest started heaving as your skin grew hot and clammy over your entire body. A fresh wave of wetness and delicious scent warmed the inside of your thighs. You swallowed heavily and Matt could practically feel the way the muscles in your throat moved.

But you hesitated. Your fingers stopped their soft stroking along his sensitive skin. Your breath halted just behind your soft lips. Matt’s brow furrowed as a frown tugged at the edges of his lips.

“You okay?” he asked warily. Matt forced his hands to cease in their uphill climb and placed them on your hips. Anxiety gripped at his chest. Did he misread the situation? Misread you? Did he make you uncomfortable? God, what if you finally realized you’d made a mistake in dating him? It was bound to happen, sooner or later.

“Can I be on top tonight?” you asked, as though that sentence didn’t hit him like a ton of bricks to the stomach.

“W-What?” Matt spluttered.

“These past few times you’ve been making me feel good. Really good. I want to try to return the favor,” you explained. Your nails began to pick at a stray thread on Matt’s shirt collar. Matt’s ears picked up on the uptick in your pulse. Were you… nervous?

“If you don’t want to, that's fine, you can be on top. We can also just kiss if that’s more what you’re feeling today. I don’t want to make you feel weird and-”

“Sweetheart, slow down,” Matt said, interrupting your fast-paced tangent. Your mouth clamped shut as a deep breath filled your lungs. Matt grabbed loosely at your shoulders, thumbs rubbing back and forth on your bare skin, as an easy smile fell over his face.

He gave you a few seconds to catch your breath then said, “You can be on top. I just wasn’t expecting you to ask.”

In all honesty, he wasn’t expecting you to ask. Matt’s life was a never ending learning curve of discovering that love was not guaranteed. His mother left before he was a year old, his father died when he was nine, his mentor, Stick, abandoned him at the first sign of affection. He learned long ago to not expect anything from anyone. That was the first lesson Stick had taught him.

And yet, against all odds, here you sat. An enigma if ever there was one. Offering your affection on a silver platter at Matt’s feet. A clear sign of trust, of devotion, of love.

“Okay,” you said. A relieved smile broke out across your face. You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you cleared your throat. Matt’s heart raced in time with yours. His fingers began kneading in the soft flesh at your hips.

“Lie down for me,” you said. Four words, spoken softly with the gentleness of a feather, yet they struck Matt in the chest like a wide haymaker. A sentence that carried the weight of authority and a gentle caress all in one. Suddenly all he wanted to do was follow instructions.

In a flash he had his head on the pillow, arms at his sides, breathing at an alarmingly fast rate. Anticipation burned its way through his veins and clouded his senses. The world outside the dorm room faded away. Like a memory retreating into a dense fog. Loud voices down the hall quieted into nothing, the humidity in the air evaporated, his shirt felt like the softest silk, and the scent around him. God, all he could smell was you. Your breath was like the first day of spring, your skin like rolling hills of green grass, your hair like soft strands of pure sunlight. Matt’s world was, yet again, sweet.

“Let me know if I’m making you uncomfortable,” you breathed, your lips suddenly brushing against his earlobe. Matt would have jumped had he not been so relaxed beneath your comforting presence. Your sense of calm had washed over him like a warm wave at low tide.

“I will,” Matt replied, having to use what remained of his mind to form two coherent words. A soft hum of acknowledgement rustled the baby hairs by his ear. He had just enough awareness to track you as you pressed a soft kiss under his jaw.

A sigh escaped his lips as he tilted his head back against the pillow. You smiled against his skin, rewarding the accommodation by pressing a firmer kiss into the soft skin beneath his ear. Tendrils of goodgoodgood shocked their way through his veins from where your lips connected to the sensitive skin. His breath hitched as he let his eyes fall closed.

“Good spot, I take it,” you said through a smile Matt could hear. Matt barely got out the word “yes” before you licked a broad swipe up his neck and ended at that sensitive spot. Matt’s back arched as a groan kicked its way out of his throat. His hands fisted into your tank top out of pure instinct, practically begging the source of his pleasure to stay put. Another pass of your tongue stoked the embers in his abdomen into a bonfire, flames licking their way over his damp skin.

“Sweetheart, please,” Matt begged, the words a whisper on his parted lips. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was begging for. All he knew was he never wanted you to stop.

Blunt fingernails traced the exposed skin beneath his shirt. Matt’s hips bucked up, chasing the light touch. The muscles beneath his skin jumped as you slowly, so slowly, started pushing his shirt up. It was agonizing, the feeling of your nails lightly scraping along his stomach. Each finger lit up thousands of nerve endings, each nerve ending pushing him further and further toward the edge of a steep cliff.

You pressed a soft kiss to the shell of Matt’s ear as you whispered, “Arms up, Matt.”

You could tell him to kneel at your feet for the rest of his life and he would.

Matt did the best his melted body could to help you take his shirt off. The two of you were a mess of limbs and cotton for a moment before you were able to pull the infernal garment away. Matt’s arms fell beside him like two sacks of grain. Palms as soft as calfskin ever so gently glided down his bare chest. You made sure every divot and round muscle got the attention it deserved, caressing Matt like he was the finest lace. When your pinky brushed against his nipple, a sharp hiss escaped through his teeth.

You hummed, hands retreating in their path, fingers dancing along the edges of Matt’s nipples. Matt choked out a moan, baring his neck as his back arched into your touch. Your tongue made another pass of his throat as feather-light glances of your fingers across both of his nipples chased the last coherent thoughts from Matt’s mind.

“Fuck,” Matt groaned. Every millimeter of his skin felt like it was aflame. Fire left in the wake of your gentle touch. Burning away all sense and reason until all that was left was Matt’s writhing body.

He was close. Embarrassingly so. Matt clung to the cliff’s edge by his fingertips, each kiss and caress prying his fingers off one by one. His hips moved of their own volition. He was bucking into your thigh like a dog in heat. Whines and moans flew from his glistening lips while his hands scrabbled against the sheets.

With your hands still toying at Matt’s chest, you shifted in his lap until the warm heat between your thighs settled over where his shorts had tented. A slurred string of curses and your name spilled from between his teeth. His wild grinding now dispersed your scent in the air around him. And God, there was so much. It settled into every inch of Matt’s skin until he could taste it on his tongue, feel it coat his lungs as he breathed it in.

“Sw-eetheart,” Matt choked out. He could feel his fingers falling away from the cliff in rapid succession. The precipice below him seemed to climb up the cliffside until it was just beneath his feet, tempting him to let go and plunge into its depths.

The final nail in his coffin was when you nipped at his neck, teeth closing around where his pulse flowed strongest. The air in his lungs leapt through his throat in one big gust. His unseeing eyes rolled back in his head, hands grabbing at anything in their vicinity.

Matt’s final grip on the cliff fell away, plunging him into warmth and gentleness and sweetness that surrounded him like a strong embrace. Held him tight and wove its way through every muscle in his body. A shock of white hot pleasure rolled through him like a steam train. Starting in his groin and washing over him in wave after wave of fuckyesgoodfuckkeepgoingdon’tstop. He could barely register how loud he was over the roaring in his ears. His heart pounded against his chest like an animal behind bars.

Your lips found his again and everything clicked into place. Matt lapped at your mouth like he was drinking his first glass after a month in the desert. The sweet nectar that you produced flowed down his throat and prolonged his orgasm. His hips rocked up into yours, chasing a heat that he could feel in his bones. Hands, trembling, bunched themselves in your shirt and pulled your chest flush to his.

It took several minutes for the aftershocks to calm down. Every breath, every twitching muscle made his overwhelmed senses go haywire. In his mind, the world around him was a swirling cloud of bliss. All he could hear was your breathing, all he could feel was your heartbeat against his chest, all he could taste was strawberries and cherry blossoms. He let his fingertips trail along your exposed shoulders, zeroing in on the feeling, bringing himself back to reality.

When you felt the movement, you lifted your head to look at him, “Back with us?”

A tired smile spread itself over his lips. Matt opened his eyes, the effort to lift his eyelids like lifting a dumbbell, and let his empty gaze land somewhere on your face.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he sighed. You responded by giving him a quick peck on the lips. Matt grumbled, brow furrowing, then guided your chin back up to kiss him again. You chuckled against his lips, a whisper of “ridiculous man” absorbed between your mouths. Matt relished in the familiar sweetness before letting you pull away.

“I take it you enjoyed that?” you asked. Matt gave you a solemn nod, at which you laughed. He shifted beneath you so he could attempt to meet your eyes.

“Did you like it?” he asked tentatively. He fiddled with the hem of your shirt as he waited for your answer. He hadn’t done anything for you, he just laid there and made you do all the work. What kind of boyfriend was he? Not to mention you didn’t even touch him. A few grazes of your fingers over his chest and he was done for.

“I loved it. It was fun to figure out what buttons to push,” you laughed. The tinkling tune of your laugh erased any negative thoughts Matt retained about the experience. He let his smile return, holding you tighter to his chest.

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll return the favor,” Matt said, letting that seductive edge find its way back into his voice. You shuddered on top of him. Your thighs clenched instinctively around his. You blew a stray strand of hair out of your face, attempting to mask the want clearly written on your skin.

“3 minutes, then we’re back in business.”

“Deal.”

HUGE thanks to the Murdock Tuna Team for being the inspiration for this fic. i have them to blame for the filth that fills my head on an hourly basis.

Murdock Tuna Team 🐟: @vigilxnte-shit @pastafossa @yarrystyleeza @ecxlipse @sunflowersandsapphires @amphitrite-5 @fuckyeahpommelstrike @mar-thewriter @zomtart @what-i-call-men

#charlie cox #daredevil #matt murdock #marvel #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock smut #college!matt murdock x f!reader #i love writing matt soooooo much #getting to play with how different sounds and smells effect him #man oh man is this guy fun to tease #murdock tuna team

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joelscruff · 2 years ago

Text

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART FOUR

previous chapters | kofi | ok babes, lemme preface this chapter by saying i'm not exactly sure how i feel about it. i wanted it to be longer and i wanted more things to happen but this week has simply been a clusterfuck for me and i wanted to at least get something out to you guys cause you deserve it. i hope yall like sexting and phone sex cause that's all this part really consists of, so if that's not your thing i'm sorry and i hope the next part will be more enjoyable for you. thanks for bearing with me 💕 chapter summary: joel is busy with work but that doesn't mean there aren't other things you can do without being in the same room. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (reader is in her 20s, joel in his 50s), innocent/inexperienced reader, corruption, praise kink (joel calls reader babygirl, sweetheart, etc), dirty talk, mentions of religion (reader’s family are very catholic), sexting, phone sex, mutual masturbation word count: 4.2k ao3

Now that you have Joel's phone number, it's ridiculously difficult not to text him constantly, especially considering he hasn't reached out since his first initial response. You'd replied to his first message with a heart emoji, something you'd almost immediately regretted but have had to come to peace with. You manage to keep yourself busy for most of the day, reminding yourself that he's at work and probably doesn't have time to be texting some shy and inexperienced college girl. It's not like you're in a relationship or anything; you've known the man for three days.

"Three days," you whisper to yourself, settled in your favorite spot in the backyard, near the pool. Three days and he already has his claim on you, the ghost of his touch still peppered all over your skin. You'd put on a bathing suit in case you decided to go for a swim, but also because you wanted an excuse to look at your body again, look at where his hands had been.

It's been so rare for you to ever look at yourself the way you do now, the way Joel has taught you to. You were almost ashamed of having a body to begin with, embarrassed by your legs, your breasts, and especially what lay inside your underwear. You'd been raised to view them all as taboo, despite them all literally being a part of you. The swimsuit you wear now isn't necessarily the sexiest thing, just a black one-piece you'd bought at the beginning of the summer with modesty in mind, but you find yourself feeling different in it, more confident. Mr. Miller likes this body. I like this body.

Your phone buzzes near your head and you scramble to reach for it, pushing your sunglasses down your nose and peering down at the screen. Disappointment floods you when you see it's just from your mom, but your eyebrows raise in curiosity when you read the contents of the message:

Will be home after your father. Don't tell him about Mr. Miller.

Your mother? Asking you to keep a secret? It's probably one of the most uncharacteristic things she's ever done; you have to read the message a second time to make sure you're understanding correctly. Why doesn't she want your dad to know? He was the one who'd attempted to defend Joel in the first place, wasn't he?

Almost like she knows you're going to question her logic, another messages comes in a few seconds later:

I will tell him on my own.

Interesting.

You swipe back to your "conversation" with Joel and feel your heart flutter at his one-word reply. God, you really are insatiable. You wonder what he's doing right now; lifting heavy things? Ordering people around? You certainly know that he's good at telling people what to do...

Your skin warms at the thought and you quickly shake it away, tossing your phone back into the grass and taking a few steps toward the pool. You plunge into the cold water just to soothe the hot ache you already feel between your legs.

Dinner is normal, although the secret hanging in the air between you and your mother isn't lost on you by any means. You definitely didn't get your ability at keeping secrets from her; she's flustered, quiet as she chews her meatloaf and awkwardly questions your father about his day. He doesn't notice anything is amiss though, just scarfs down his food and mutters something about paperwork before disappearing into his office.

"Why don't you want me to tell Dad?" you whisper as you help her do the dishes, watching as she scrubs a plate unnecessarily hard.

"Because," she hisses, eyes darting to his closed office door in the hallway, "Your father will want to ask him over for dinner again and I am not having a repeat of what happened last time." She makes a face at the thought of Joel's previous insult, "If we're going to help this man find his faith we have to take things slow, just like you said. I'll tell your father when the time is right."

You're at a loss for words at the way your lie has somehow already wormed itself into your mother's brain without a shadow of a doubt. She's genuinely convinced you're trying to do the right thing, turn Joel Miller into a God fearing Catholic. It makes you uncomfortable to think about how your lie has already gotten this deep; for a moment you briefly consider calling the whole thing off, changing the story, maybe even telling the truth.

And then your phone buzzes in your pocket.

"Whatever you say," you reply quickly, drying the last plate and backing away, "Um, I'm gonna go read in my room for a bit."

How was your day?

The text makes your heart positively soar as you flop onto your bed again like you had this morning, bringing your phone to your face and grinning like an idiot. He didn't forget about you.

boring. i missed you.

You don't care if you come across as clingy; it's how you feel. Your heart does stutter a bit when you hit send but all nervousness fades when he responds just as quickly:

Missed you too, angel.

You swallow around the sudden lump in your throat, heart pounding when his little speech bubble appears again to show that he's typing something else:

What did you do?

went swimming

What an image to put in my head.

You smile, feeling your cheeks warm. Your face falls however at his next message:

What did you wear?

You grimace, eyeing the ridiculously modest swimsuit hanging off your desk chair, still damp from earlier. Should you be honest or come up with a white lie, put a different image in his head? No, you've already lied enough for one day.

a one piece but i don't like it. it's not very me.

I'll buy you a new one. Tell me what you like.

He'd really do that? You bite your lip and weigh the options in your mind, thinking about the lingerie on those mannequins this morning, the things your roommates back at college wear. You want something you'll feel different in, something that makes you feel more like this sexy version of yourself Joel is helping you discover.

bikini. maybe pink or blue?

You got it. Maybe you can give me another fashion show.

You feel a surge of excitement, of intrigue. You'd wondered at the mall what kind of clothes Joel would want to see you in... he'd loved the dresses this morning - especially the white one - so you can't help but wonder what kind of swimsuit he'll choose for you. You're not completely sheltered; you know there are different types of bikinis. One of your friends had worn a micro sling bikini for Halloween last year as a part of her costume for a party she was attending - you'd taken one look and decided you weren't going.

Would Joel pick a bikini like that for you? The thought makes you feel a bit queasy, suddenly unsure if you'd even want to wear something like that. You want to look good for him but you don't want to sacrifice everything about yourself to do it. You stare at his message, wishing he wasn't just words on a screen right now.

where are you?

At a bar with my crew. But I'd much rather be wherever you are right now, babygirl.

You relax a bit into your sheets at the pet name; the word hasn't even come directly from his mouth but it has you acting like it has. Your body goes loose, that familiar throbbing starting up again in your underwear. You cross your legs and duck underneath the covers to type your reply:

i'm in my bed. i wish you were here

And what do you wish I was doing?

You stare at the text for a moment, biting down hard on your lip and trying to think of exactly how to articulate your thoughts in the best way. You've never done this before, never said or typed dirty things to somebody else. You figure texting is as good a medium as any to finally practice.

i wish you were playing with my pussy

The throbbing gets worse as you type the words. You cross your legs a bit tighter when you hit send, already nervous about what he'll say back. He doesn't waste much time.

You like when I play with your pussy, don't you?

Your cheeks warm as you sink even further beneath your blankets, legs parting slowly. You reach down to pop the button on your jeans, slowly typing out a response with one hand:

yes

The zipper of your jeans is down within seconds, your right hand carefully slipping past the open material and sliding down to cup where you're aching over your underwear. Your phone vibrates again and you hear a small whimper slip past your lips.

And you liked having those big fingers deep in there huh?

yes. it felt so good.

So full, right baby?

You circle your clit slowly with your index finger, mouth popping open at his words. The memory of the way his fingers felt inside of you, the way they'd pushed and prodded you so deep...

really full.

I'll do it again real soon, angel. Promise.

You whimper again, still tracing your pussy through your panties. Your brow furrows when the next message comes in a few seconds later:

I gotta head back now but I'll call you later. Stay up for me, don't fall asleep.

You frown. Oh well, you've gotten off without him a few times so far, what's one more time? You watch as the bubble indicating he's typing again pops up.

And don't touch that pretty pussy until I tell you.

Your hand freezes and you feel your lips turn into a pout despite the fact that he can't even see you.

"Meanie." you murmur at your phone, taking your hand out of your pants and tilting your head back to stare at your ceiling. You look down at the message again and can't help but feel your lips upturn; he's going to call you later... maybe meanie is too strong a word.

You prepare a little too much for your late-night phone call with Joel.

You take a long bath, soothing and relaxing with some lit candles and quiet music, all the while returning to your previous mental state of pretending you don't have anything between your legs. You're just a barbie doll down there, you tell yourself dubiously, there's nothing to touch or feel. That wishful thinking doesn't last very long however when you find yourself re-reading Joel's texts and feeling your pussy begin to pulse again under the water.

After your bath you comb carefully through your hair, counting each stroke to pass the time. You apply more lotion to your skin than you could ever need and then change into a pair of pajamas, just some simple sleep shorts and a t-shirt. You wonder what Joel would think of your old nightdresses, the ones you used to wear when you were a kid, still folded away in your dresser but probably much shorter and more revealing now. You take a quick peek at an old yellow one, lacy and faded; it practically smells of innocence and the bright eyed Jesus loving girl you once were, and you find yourself feeling sad. You shut it away again.

By the time you're freshly bathed and in bed your parents have already said goodnight and are settled in their bedroom down the hall. All you can do is lay back against your pillows and wait for Joel to call.

Nine o'clock passes; you decide to read for a little bit.

Ten o'clock; no big deal, you turn on the TV and quietly watch the beginning of a movie.

Eleven o'clock; you're about halfway into the movie now, feeling sleepy but still checking your phone every few minutes.

Twelve o'clock; the movie ends but you don't pay much attention to the conclusion, staring anxiously at your phone and waiting for it to light up. But still nothing.

It's almost one when you finally begin to face the reality of the situation. He never gave you a specific time, just said he'd call later, but how much later did he mean? Maybe he's already home now, in bed and asleep. He's probably forgotten that he even said he'd call. You're not that important. You're just some kid.

Tears well in your eyes when you finally turn off your bedside lamp and shuffle further beneath the covers, still staring at your phone. Please call, you think pathetically to yourself, or even text. Just do something.

You fall asleep with your phone gripped tightly in your hand.

You wake up to a light buzzing sound and sensation, your eyes squeezing together in confusion. You open them blearily and find yourself facing your bedside clock; 2:23am. It takes a few seconds for you to register that the buzzing is coming from your phone, and when you look down at the screen and see the name Mr. Miller, your eyes go wide. You answer it immediately.

"Hello?" you whisper, burying yourself under the covers again and trying to be as quiet as possible.

"Hey, babygirl," he says softly on the other side, his southern drawl melting smoothly into your ear, "I wake you up?"

"Y-yeah," you mumble, still blinking your eyes and trying to get some alertness back, "Sorry, I know you told me not to fall asleep."

He chuckles and it's the most beautiful sound, charming and gentle, "That's okay, sweetheart. I got back much later than I thought I would, it's my fault," you hear him grunt a little bit, like he's settling onto his couch (or his bed?), "You stay up long waitin' for me?"

You bite your lip, "Um, maybe."

"Aw, baby, I'm sorry," he murmurs, "Poor thing, you must be so sleepy."

"M'not," you say, but your voice betrays you.

"Shh," he whispers, "You go back to sleep, we'll try this again tomorrow."

You try to sit up but you're still half asleep and the blankets are so warm and inviting, "No," you say quickly, "No, I wanna talk to you. I've been waiting."

You can hear the smile in his voice when he replies, "God, you're so fuckin' sweet," he inhales deeply, "What I wouldn't give to have you in my bed right now, angel... all curled up and comfy in my arms."

You smile, eyes closing again as you settle back into the blankets and listen to his voice, "I want that." you murmur.

"I know you do," his voice is so soft and soothing in your ear, almost like a lullaby, "You want so many things with me, don't you?"

"Mm hm," you agree softly, "All of it."

"All of it." he repeats thoughtfully.

The line goes quiet for a moment, both of you just listening to each other breathe evenly. You know you should say something else, try and wake yourself up, but the longer you lie there with the phone to your ear the more tired you seem to be getting.

"Did you touch your pussy, babygirl?" he finally asks, voice still barely a whisper.

Your heart stutters, "No," you reply just as quietly.

"Good girl."

You hum at his praise, melting further into your pillow. You listen as he breathes slowly on the other end. You're starting to drift off again, you can feel it.

"I've got an early start tomorrow," he says softly, "But how 'bout I call you around seven or so, before I leave?"

"Yes," you whisper, "Please."

He laughs quietly, "Okay, sweetheart, you go back to sleep now," he exhales and seems to settle into his bed, just like you, "Sweet dreams."

"'Night," you mumble softly, leaving him to end the call as you fade quickly back to sleep.

You don't make the same mistake you made last night; you wake up promptly at six thirty and make sure you stay awake, washing your face and getting dressed for the day. You hear the shower going in your parents room and hope that miraculously both of them will have already left by the time Joel calls you.

No such luck. You can hear them both bustling around in the kitchen when your phone starts to buzz, and you quietly tiptoe back to bed and yank the covers up over yourself, hoping it'll muffle your conversation.

"Hi," you whisper.

"Mornin'", Joel replies; you can hear a smile in his voice, "Why are you whisperin'?"

You grimace, "My parents are still here."

"Ahh, the same parents who think I'm your guitar teacher, right?"

You bring a hand up to your face in embarrassment, "Oh my god, I forgot I told you that."

He chuckles, "So we're sneakin' around, huh? That what's happenin'? Is this gonna end with me gettin' shot?"

Your eyes widen, "I hope not!"

He laughs again, louder this time, "I'm kiddin', babygirl, don't worry. But you're an adult, you don't need their permission to see me."

"I know that, but as long as I'm under their roof they have rules, and I gotta follow them. Plus..." you make a face, "My mom doesn't like you."

He snorts, "Yeah, I figured."

"I kind of told her that um... that I'm... well..."

"What?"

"That I'm teaching you about God," you close your eyes, feeling your skin burn, "That you borrowed my hymn book and you're gonna help me learn how to play some of them."

There's complete silence on the line after you speak and for a moment you're scared he's hung up. You pull the phone away from your ear and look down at the screen; the call is still active. You bring it back up and he finally says something.

"Jesus, you're naughty," he mutters, voice suddenly dark, rough, "Lyin' about all that, just to see me?"

You swallow, "Y-yeah."

"Naughty," he repeats, "Naughty girl."

Another beat of silence. Then-

"Are you in bed?"

"Yes."

"Take off your panties."

You don't need telling twice, you're already throbbing just from hearing his voice change. You hold your phone against your ear with your shoulder and make quick work of hiking up your dress and tugging your panties down your legs.

"They're off," you whisper, voice shaky.

"Rub your clit," he says immediately, and you hear the unmistakable sound of his belt jangling on the other end, "'Til your pussy's all wet."

Is he...? He must be. You swallow tightly and do as he says, trying to focus on the task at hand and not on the fact that he's most certainly touching his cock right now while he talks to you. Getting wet isn't much of a challenge; as soon as your finger touches your clit you can already feel yourself start to drip.

"I'm wet." you whimper, rubbing your clit slowly.

"Already?" his voice is almost pained.

"Is it...is it weird that I get wet so easily?"

"No," he says immediately and you can almost visualize him shaking his head, "No, it's good. It's just 'cause you're so new to all of it," he groans, low and husky, "Fuck, I can't get enough of you."

You whimper again at his words, rubbing yourself a bit quicker and biting down on your lip. You can still hear the dull sounds of your parents from the kitchen below; you have to be quiet.

"Put a finger inside," Joel murmurs on the other end of the line, rough and scratchy, "Deep as you can go."

You bite down on your lip harder as you carefully push your index finger inside yourself, brow furrowing at the sensation. It's certainly nothing like having Joel's fingers in there and you immediately want to add another one, get that full feeling back.

"Push it in and out," he continues, "With me now, in..." you hear a dull slap, "And out," you follow along, eyes becoming hooded as you listen to what is most certainly Joel jacking himself off, "In....and out..."

He's pretending he's inside you. The thought alone is enough to make you moan, and you have to bring your other hand up to cover your mouth as you fuck yourself along to his pace. You add a second without being asked, whimpering pitifully into the phone and spreading your legs wider.

"Oh, babygirl," he whispers, "Those sounds you make..." he groans, low and deep, "Two fingers now, sweetheart."

"I'm already using two," you admit, still pumping them in and out; he groans again, even louder.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, "Three then, baby. Add your third, that's it." You hear another slap of skin and the sound is enough to make your orgasm begin to build in your belly. You wish he was here with you, holding you, touching you.

"I wish you were inside me," you find yourself whispering, voice shaky and pathetic.

He groans again, "Which part of me, sweetheart? My fingers?"

You shake your head, "No."

"Say it."

"Your cock," you whimper, chest heaving as you feel yourself getting closer and closer, "I want your cock inside me."

"Fuck," his voice is even deeper in your ear, almost like he's right there next to you, "I know you do, angel. Want it so fucking deep, don't you?"

You nod ferociously despite the fact that he can't see you, plunging your three fingers in and out steadily and feeling your legs begin to shake, "Yes, Mr. Miller," you whimper, "I need it."

"You do need it," he groans, "You need this cock, babygirl. Can't believe you never had one before, can't stop thinkin' about it," the slapping is getting faster, louder.

"I wanted it so bad last night," you keen, eyebrows scrunching together in pleasure, "And when you didn't call, I thought maybe-"

"Oh, babygirl," he groans, "Don't think like that, don't ever-" he lets out a deep grunt, almost like a whimper, "Don't think for one second that I don't think about you, about that pussy. Can't wait to be inside you. Gonna fuck you so good, so right," he grunts, his voice becoming more and more strained, "Gonna be so deep inside that sweet little hole, you're gonna feel it in your fuckin' stomach."

Holy fuck. He's never talked this much before, never said things this filthy or graphic. It's too much for you to handle all at once, pussy tightening around your fingers as his words bring you over the edge.

"I'm coming," you manage to squeak out, then slap your hand back down on your mouth as you shake and writhe under the blankets, moaning pitifully into your hand and praying your parents don't hear you.

Joel doesn't tell you he's coming but the slapping sound suddenly comes to a complete stop, and the next thing you know he's groaning loudly in your ear, breathy and rough. You listen to him, closing your eyes and letting his sounds invade your whole body as you come, wrapping around you like another warm blanket. You've never heard him make sounds like this, depraved and guttural and loud. You can only imagine what he looks like right now, what his cock looks like. You know what happens when men come, you know about ejaculation, but the thought of Joel doing that... right now...

"Mmmhmmm," you moan into your hand and feel your eyes roll back, picturing Joel laying in his bed, hand around his cock, "Oh...fuck..." you fuck yourself with your fingers until it's too much, until the sensations are borderline painful. You move your hand away from your pussy and squeeze down on your thigh, trying to get your legs to stop shaking.

There's a few moments of heavy breathing where neither of you speak, both of you coming down from your orgasms and trying to catch your breaths. You open your legs wider and lay there like a starfish, eyes closed, chest heaving. You hear the door slam downstairs, followed by the sound of your father getting in his police car and your mother getting in her SUV.

"My parents just left." you mutter, still breathless.

Joel chuckles softly, "Think they heard you?"

You shake your head, "No way, they'd have already broken down my door if they had any idea what's going on up here."

He laughs again, "Hold on a sec, let me clean myself up here a bit."

You can't help but smile at the image of Joel being vulnerable like that, having to clean up his own mess instead of yours. You shiver at the thought and slowly sit up in bed, body heavy and sated.

"That was... a lot," you say softly, still trying to even out your breaths, "All that... that stuff you said."

You hear the concern in his voice immediately, "Was it too much?"

"No," you say immediately, shaking your head, "No, not at all. I just..." you feel your cheeks burn, "I wasn't expecting....I didn't realize how much you thought about doing that."

"Doin' what?" you can almost hear his smirk.

"...Fucking me," you whisper it, even though your parents are gone, "Putting your...putting your cock in me."

He groans again, softer this time, "I'll be honest, darlin'. It was all I thought about yesterday at work. And it's all I'm gonna be thinkin' about today."

You shiver, lips turning up in a pleased smile, "Really?"

"Really, sweetheart. And I know we're takin' it slow, and that's okay, but fuck if I don't think about how that pussy's gonna feel around me..." he groans again and you feel the undeniable sensation of yourself getting wet again; insatiable.

"What if...what if it doesn't fit?" you ask quietly, unsure just like yesterday, "I know you said we'll make it fit but..."

"It'll fit," he reassures you tenderly, "Don't worry, sweetheart. We'll go real slow, I'll be real gentle, and you just take it," he takes a breath, slow and steady, "You were made to take it, babygirl."

You hear yourself whimper softly, closing your eyes and turning your head into your pillow. God, you could listen to him talk to you like this for hours, just telling you everything he wants to do to you, everything he wants to teach you...

"When can I see you again?" you whisper.

"Well, that's what we need to figure out now, isn't it?" you can hear the hint of a smile in his voice, "When are these guitar lessons gonna take place?"

You wince, sitting up a bit in bed and leaning back against your pillows, "So you're okay with that? With me lying, I mean?"

"If that's what you feel you need to do, then it's okay," he says, and you can tell he means it, "I will probably have to actually teach you some guitar, though."

"I don't mind," you reply with a smile, remembering the way his hands had felt on yours when he'd first shown you those chords, the way you'd settled between his legs and he'd held you so close to him, "...As long as you teach me in your bed."

"Fuck," he murmurs, voice going dark again, "You are a naughty girl, aren't you?"

You can't help but smirk, "It's starting to seem that way, yeah."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #*#fic: feelings on fire

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badly-written-stuff · 1 month ago

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Sheep in Wolf's Clothing — Mhin x Monster!Reader (1/?)

context: reader is a monster, possesses ears and a tail; reader is at least a couple hundred of years old, but has amnesia; they recently began working with Kuras at the clinic.

cw: slight and possibly vague depiction of violence; possibly ooc.

To state that your acquaintance with Mhin was... intense... would be an understatement.

Eridia, whilst home to some of the most dangerous Monsters, was far from welcoming for someone like you. Despite your overall docile nature, many would side-eye you on the streets, occasionally hurling a curse or two in your direction.

It helped slightly that you got acquainted with Kuras after an... unfortunate attack, who offered a place at his humble clinic upon learning your situation. Ever since then you've been relatively close.

The helping hand was very much welcome, yet your affiliation with the most respected doctor in Eridia did not assure completely invulnerable to other's wrath.

...So it really shouldn't have been a surprise when... it happened.

You've been running some errands, each one taking just a little bit too long, pushing the day's hours further and further until it was night time. Knowing the dangers of the dark streets lurking in every corner, you made an attempt to get back to Kuras as fast as you could... but-

Misfortune kept a close eye on you at all times, for you've managed to run straight into a Soulless.

True to Vere's words, a cornered beast bites the hardest, and you were no exception. You were a Monster, after all. You knew how to defend yourself.

Unable to escape, you took advantage of your reflexes and strength to strike the Soulless at the right time with a trusty dagger you kept on your person. The fight, although not vicious, leaves you shaking and panting in fright, adrenaline pumping your heart to such aggression you could barely hear anything.

Taking a life, human or not, was never an easy task, and to some degree, guilt bubbled in your gut... however, it was short lived once several pools of blood entered your peripheral vision. You stepped closer.

Corpses. Not of humans, no. Animals. Cats, more specifically. All torn open, the contents of their tiny selves peeping, half-eaten. It seems you have interrupted a feast. Disgusting...

...Just how distracted were you...? To completely miss this smell, something that assaulted your nostrils and made it hard to breathe. Surely, you should've-

You barely register footsteps behind you, your body attempting to make a turn to face the source, only for a sharp pain to course through your entire body. A twists of your head is enough to locate the source of this pain — a pristine blade plunged deep into your side, barely missing your vitals.

An attempt to stay calm is made, however, rationality betrayed you and your monstrous superiority took hold. How dare they. With your fangs bearing, you manage to push whoever attacked you away. Forced into an animalistic state, you hunch over to steady yourself, sharply snapping to the source of your attacker...

That is when you spotted them. Those icy gray eyes, red pupils, silver hair and that cute beauty mark. Mhin. You've ran into them a couple of times before, none of which were pleasant.

There's was always this coldness and disgust every time you two interacted, yet it never moved past a quip or two before they'd leave you be. This time, however, they looked livid, jaw clenched.

There wasn't a moment to make conversation, ask questions or make accusations. Their goal was clear as ever — to kill, for there was no hesitation in their movement as they rushed to gain back the blade stuck on you. The unknown turned into a bloody fight, earning both of you numerous wounds.

Their blade puncturing your body with eerie precision that left you losing blood whilst your bites pierced their clothes, tearing their skin into a bloody mess of tissue.

Perhaps, that is how both of your lives would've ended — in a heated brawl — if not for the esteemed doctor, who had gone on to search for you.

It was the superior presence that stopped the fight, as both of you were brought into his clinic, Kuras' face scrunched the entire time as he treated your wounds.

Despite the fight being over, Mhin still dared to show their dissatisfaction with the situation, protesting against Kuras' care for "someone like you".

Luckily, Kuras did not budge, merely stating that you were a trusted assistant of his and by no means was Mhin allowed to exterminate you.

Their mouth hung open in shock, only for a moment, before it snapped shut and their glare re-appeared. They never looked at you, only addressing Kuras, which was beginning to piss you off. Rightfully so.

"Since when did you get a pet?". That about did it. "What's your problem?!"

Oh boy.

Ever since that night, upon regaining your sober mind, you couldn't help but stress about what had happened. The Soulless, the cats, Mhin, the taste of their blood.

That... bitter taste and tar-like texture... You were certain they were cursed, and thinking more about your encounter, it just made sense. How did they keep up with you, if they didn't have a little secret of their own?

With the realization, came sympathy and guilt. Now, you understood why they were so cold towards Monsters, why they despised Vere. Yet... even so, you didn't understand why did they strike that night?

Did they assume you were on Hunt? Was there a bounty on your head? Or was it the-

Ever since the fight, you began to grow... paranoid. Mhin was there. You could smell them. They were lurking in the general area of the clinic more often, sometimes even following you from a distance.

It was because of Kuras, of course. Mhin cared too much for the doctor, even if they'd rather be tortured than to admit it. Kuras is just about the most sane person in Eridia, why wouldn’t they worry about his new addition to the clinic? Gods... surely, he had went insane, accepting a Monster as an assistant.

Nonetheless, despite them stalking you like a prey, Mhin never made any move to attack you which, for one, eased your anxiety enough to finally relax.

Then, it was you who observed.

Indeed, they were regularly checking up on Kuras while you were away, hidden under the guise of a check-up. It was true that they were making sure that you cause no trouble to anyone else, especially making sure you never stepped into the same alley as the attack again.

Even if you were supposed to be upset, the gesture... warmed your heart, in a way. Mhin was always... distant. Cold. Alone. It was nice to know that they actually cared about someone.

And perhaps this newfound warmth touched you... a bit too much, for you upcoming plans consisted of approaching Mhin on one of their patrols and apologizing... Yeah, you do have a death wish, actually.

There was no guarantee you would survive this, but surely your good-willed gesture couldn't bring your demise... Right?

Only one way to find out.

next >

#touchstarved #touchstarved game #touchstarved mhin #ts mhin #mhin #mhin x reader #touchstarved x reader #touchstarved x oc #ts game #x reader #curse you character limit

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dallassauna · 4 months ago

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Cold Plunge Pool Home: Dallas Saunas

Rejuvenate at home with our cold plunge pool home. Boost circulation, reduce muscle soreness, and enjoy spa-like benefits in your own backyard.

#cold plunge pool home #traditional dry sauna for home #traditional wet sauna #custom build saunas #building home sauna

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cressidagrey · 5 months ago

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The Starlight Princess - Chapter 5

Summary:

There is a Pool of Starlight in the Spring Court. A piece of the Night Court that has no business being in the land of Eternal Spring. So how did it come to be?

Or: How the Spymaster of the Night Court starts hearing a voice, realises that no, he is not insane after all, frees a princess, kills a High Lord…and finds his mate all at the same time.

Warnings: Definitely NSFW

She screamed.

And into the world, she poured all her pain and her anger and her fury, her magic lashing out to the world that had taken so much from her. That had kept her prisoner for centuries and now threatened to take him from her.

Seren wasn’t sure what she was doing, she only knew that the only thing she wanted was vengeance.

Vengeance. Death. She wanted him dead.

And she did that.

Azriel plunged the knife and Seren was the one who pointed him in the right direction.

The wards broke. The curse shattered. Her magic exploded.

For just one single moment she felt like she was being flayed alive.

And then…then she was back. Back into her body that she hadn’t felt in centuries. Back to having arms and legs and hands and feet.

Back to feeling cold mud underneath her knees, the wind on her skin.

She looked up, her eyes wide…and then she stared at him.

She felt something inside her snap.

Seren had no idea what it was. She didn’t understand what was happening, couldn’t understand what was happening as it felt like the magic in her body swirled…

She didn’t understand what was happening. She didn’t understand what was happening to her.

The only thing…the only thing that she knew was that he was hers.

Hers.

She had never in her life felt anything like that. She had never in her life felt anything like him.

The only thing in her mind that mattered at that moment was he…he mattered.

He mattered because he was hers.

Mate.

Her mate. Hers. Hers and hers alone. Her mate.

It was there. In her brain.

And it was the truth. She could feel that in every fibre of her being. Mate. He was her mate. Her mate.

Mate.

Her eyes met his.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

She covered her body with her own, unable to think, unable to do anything but cling to him…

Her mind reached out, without her permission, unable to even recognise about the dangers she put both of them in as she threw herself against the comfort of his mind with everything she had.

She needed…she needed…

The rhythm of his mind that she knew better than her own…the feeling of it under her mental touch, the love, the power it projected…it was the only home she needed.

And so she blanketed it with her own, wanting to cradle it in safety, needing to feel it, needing to…

*Home. Safety. Protection,* he seemingly chanted. And while she agreed, she needed him first. She fit her mouth over his with a growl, needing him to touch her, needing his attention on her like she needed air to breathe.

She tasted his blood and the salty and iron taste soothed something inside her.

One hand cupped the back of her head and she shuddered, leaning her forward against his, breathing in cedar and mist and something that was irrevocably him.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

He kept a tight grip on him, even when she could feel the magic swirl, grabbed her and they hit the stone floor in a house.

Not that it mattered.

Nothing mattered, but him.

She straddled him, the need rising to a fever pitch, her nails scoring against his warm skin, stretched over rock-hard muscles, and she pushed away the leather falling off his shoulders in rags, the fabric disintegrating under her fingertips.

Her lips pressed against his again, her tongue tangling with his as she needed to have him bare underneath her. Now.

She needed him. She needed him as close to her as she possibly could, her body nearly aching, heat curling low in her belly, burning her from the inside out.

Her instincts were screaming at her, to take and fuck and claim and have him.

She needed him. She needed him.

*Seren.* Her name in his mind only fanned the flames, only made her fingernails score against his skin, his skin slick with blood and sweat and she didn’t care.

He pulled back from the kiss and she growled, staring at him. “Seren, wait.”

“Why?” It was a guttural sound ripped from her throat. Wait? Wait for what? Why should they wait?

If she was going to wait, she would die.

She couldn’t wait.

She attacked his throat instead, nipping the delicate skin there with her sharp teeth, tasting salt and sweat and Azriel and wanting, needing more. Her hands slid over his torso and she could feel him shudder underneath him, could feel the arousal thrumming on his side of the bond…she bit back a smile.

*I need you,* she cooed at him. Hers. She needed him. She needed him.

She could feel his mind, could feel him hover in indecision, could feel him get ready to push her off but she clung to him even tighter. *Please, Azriel.*

Desperation bled through her, as she shifted…and the flames built into an inferno, as she could feel him notch against her there, even with layers of clothing separating him…She could feel him, rock hard and ready for her, ready for her taking.

Her instincts shot into overdrive. *Big. Strong. Will give me strong children,* something inside her purred, pure undiluted need rushing into the cradle of her thighs, her body growing slick and warm in seconds, a throbbing pain making itself a home there. Empty. She was so empty.

She needed…

That’s how far she came.

He twisted them, her body suddenly buried underneath him, before he flipped her over, and dragged her hips up into the air until she was propped up on her knees.

A thin, needy whine escaped her at his manhandling, the arousal suddenly at an even worse fever pitch than it had been before, one broad, scarred hand, shoving her head down, her hands squabbling for purchase against the rough stone.

She fought against him, but she had no chance. Absolutely none, against the pure muscle mass and bulk off him as he leaned over her and pinned her to the floor, one hand grasping her hair, and twisting it around his hand like a rope, yanking her head to the side, his teeth against her neck.

She could see him, could see the dark eyes, the snarl on his face as he buried her body underneath his, her heart thumping inside her chest, like a rabbit caught in the snare of an apex predator.

Seren wasn’t scared. That didn’t even cross her mind.

He growled, the sound feral, a warning.

She whimpered in response, her thighs growing slick with her wetness.

Azriel’s nostrils flared and she knew the moment he caught her arousal.

“Mine,” he snarled at her, magic enveloping them once again, her whole body trembling… enveloping the

And just like that she was at his mercy, her heart pounding in his chest as suddenly he was bare, the thick line of his cock dragging against her cunt, her whole body trembling at the shocking touch, her breath catching in her throat.

His other hand, the one that was not buried in her hair, slid over her hip…pressing his fingers between her thighs, finding that needy, throbbing bud there that was driving her to the brink of insanity. She couldn’t help but jerk as he circled it, a whine escaping her.

She was caught between the insistent press of his cock, still sliding slowly against her, never entering her, and the touch of his fingers that were…

He clucked his tongue at her as she tried to get away from him, the hand in her hair pulling her back sharply. *You’ll take what I give you,* he snapped in her mind, the order like a whip crack and she had no choice but to submit.

Not that she wanted to. a part of her mind was purring in response, more than pleased by him taking control.

*Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate will take care of me,* her mind purred, her trembling only intensifying.

She whimpered, pushing back against him, his fingers having ceased their slow circled

*I will. I will take care of you. What does my mate need?* he purred into her mind. *Do you need my cock?*

Yes. Yes. Yes. Maybe that would finally help against the incessant emptiness that was gaping inside her, maybe then she would no longer feel quite as…

He pulled back and that was all the warning, she would get as he plunged inside her, ripping apart her maidenhead with one deep stroke. Her back bowed, a scream escaped her, at the pure size of him, the width and length that was forced inside her with brutal pressure.

Her walls fluttered helplessly against him, straining and failing.

She tried to shift away, and bucked her hips against his, as everything hovered over the knife's edge of being too much, whimpering pitifully.

He kept her pinned underneath him, so easily it would probably been amusing under any other circumstances. Panic clawed up into her chest, but as she could feel a low growl rumbling from his throat…He forced her body to adjust, to submit, and suddenly something inside her relaxed.

Her body grew lax, no longer fighting him.

But something…something inside her slid into place… something inside her relaxed at the biting heat and pressure and pain and pleasure that this brought her…something inside her slotted right where it should, the bond between them flexing and shifting…

*Such a good little mate, princess,* he purred into her mind and she wanted nothing more than to hear that every day for the rest of her life.

Her instincts purred, satisfaction turning languid…like a cat stretching out in front of a fireplace.

Her thoughts grew hazy, heat pooling low inside her belly as her cunt clenched around him, against the sheer size of him…pinned into place between him and the floor. She wriggled, but she didn’t really want to escape his grip…just wanted to see if she could move…and she couldn't.

Desire pulsed through her at that, at how helpless she truly was in the face of his strength…how heavy and big her mate was as he pinned her to the floor, surrounded her…utterly and completely.

“Mine,” he growled against her throat and she felt his teeth prick against her skin.

“Yours,” she agreed, the words coming out of her mouth in a soft whine, just as he went back to circle that nub begging for attention…

He pulled back slightly and snapped his hips forward, making her gasp. She was quite sure that he was going to bruise her, and she couldn’t fucking care less. Seren could hardly draw breath to scream, her nails scratching against the stone floor as he fucked her hard and mercilessly. It was almost too much to bear.

Almost.

But she revelled in it. She loved every fucking second of it, every second of gasping for breath, her body aching, climbing towards that peak that she was barreling towards too.

This was…this was more than simply taking pleasure from each other, this was a claiming.

And she gave each other over to him with every fibre of her being.

“Mine,” he snarled once again, his teeth snapping closed against her neck and she arched into that sweet pain, as she choked out an affirmative, a high-pitched cry escaping her mouth, as he picked up the pace.

He was ravaging her.

“My mate. Mine.”

Hard punishing thrusts, until finally, her body hit that point where…that point everything went white surrounded her, a wordless high-pitched scream on her lips.

He didn’t stop.

She didn’t stop either. Her body started clenching around his again and again and again, and she wasn’t sure when one climax ended or another began. Peak after Peal, rolling into each other, again and again, until it was one constant cresting wave that destroyed every last bit of her sanity.

She was a prisoner to the pleasure he gave her, every thrust of his giving her another peak or maybe just lengthening that one until her body violently shook in his grasp.

Her mind reached out on its own accord, cracking open, every bit of pleasure he was giving her, pouring out of her and into him and into the world, sharing it, making it stronger….

Two, three thrusts later, he came with a roar. There was no other word for it.

His fingers imprinted on her skin with the force of his touch, bruising her and she sobbed with pleasure as she could feel his pleasure pouring all over her, the molten heat that he poured deep inside her as his cock twitched.

She was utterly surrounded by him, inside and out, his scent covering her.

He collapsed on top of hers, and she could feel that ravaging need deep within her subside slightly.

For just a moment, she only existed, catching her breath, her mind blissedly empty as the only thing she felt was Azriel’s weight on top of her, the mating bond thrumming between them into one golden bond.

Seren was safe. Seren was home.

And then suddenly, Azriel’s feelings poured all over her, shock, horror, an absolutely ridiculous amount of self-loathing, fear and…

“Gods, I am so sorry, Seren,” he choked out as he lifted off her and she managed to crack open one eye, not understanding what he had now.

“Hm?“ She couldn’t even manage to build a complete sentence. To blissed out.

Too…pleased.

“Seren,” Azriel’s hands fluttered around her, not daring to touch and she managed to push up on a pair of shaking arms, her body still thrumming with aftershocks, to catch his hands.

*What’s wrong? Why are you sorry?* she demanded. What was...

“What’s wrong?” Azriel asked her incredulously. “I fucked you like some kind of animal! I bit you!”

“Yeah, and you don’t hear me complain,” Seren shot back, somehow managing to sit up, flinging a blob of mud from her shoulder down onto the floor. She really wasn’t going to complain. Not when she had loved every fucking second of this.

“I can smell your blood,” Azriel choked out and she stared, watching the self-hatred that made himself a home on his face.

*Azriel,* she said pointedly, pushing her mind against his, pushing into his mind, showing him exactly how it had felt…the pleasure he had wrung from her. How much she had loved.

*I am so sorry,* he whispered into her mind and she somehow managed to drape herself half over his lap, pressing herself against his body.

*You don’t need to apologise. There is nothing that you did wrong. But if you need to hear it: I’ll forgive you,* she whispered into his brain. Quite frankly, their first kiss had been her nearly biting off his tongue, so…maybe this wasn’t quite the first time she had expected but that didn’t mean that she didn’t enjoy it.

*This was your first time,* Azriel realised weakly.

*And it was perfect,* she cut him off before he could start it up again. *Though I could use a bath…I do not enjoy being covered in mud.*

He bit out a laugh at that, weak and thin and still lifted her into his arms like she weighed nothing. She was quite certain that they trailed mud and blood all over this house as she tipped her head back against his chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath her touch.

*Where are we?* she asked idly, taking in the comfortable furnishing of wooden furniture and thick carpets over the rough stone floor. It was a far cry from the luxurious appointed House of Wind where she had grown up. Or even the Moonstone Palace on top of the Hewn City.

It was…home.

She quite liked it.

*My house in Velaris,* Azriel answered as he pushed open the door to the bathing chamber. His home?

He had lived in the House of Wind before. Since when did he have that house?

But that question went unanswered, as Seren blinked twice at the absolute massive pool that doubled as a bathtub.

*Makes it easier to wash my wings,* he admitted unashamedly and she grinned as he carefully put her down, dragging him in with her.

Not just his wings. Her wings too.

He indulged her, as she pressed a soft kiss against his mouth, stepping into the steaming water behind her as the pool filled magically. He cradled her face, soft and sweet and languid as the pool filled with warm water and she could feel the mud washing away from her

*You deserved it to be courted like a princess,* he still thought weakly at her as she cupped the water in her hands and gently started to wash him, taking in the sluggishly bleeding scratches on his chest as she cleaned them carefully. She was sure they would scar, disrupting the Illyrian tattoos that marked his skin with scars gained for her.

*Well, I have never turned down a gift,* she quipped, making him bark out a burst of laughter. *You can just make it up to me.* She suggested brightly. *You can be as sickening sweet and doting as you want after we have cleaned up. I am prepared to endure your thorough attentions.*

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x rhys!sister #the starlight princess #the starlight princess story

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takochan-writes · 4 months ago

Text

Backyard Pool - DBF!Joel Miller x f!reader

Pairing: DBF Neighbor!Joel Miller x f!reader

W/C: 900

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI, DBF (Dad's bestfriend), voyeurism, m masturbate, f masturbate, no actual sex happening

A/N: -

Summary: You're alone at home while your parents are out celebrating their wedding anniversary. Feeling daring, you decide to masturbate in the backyard pool. Little do you know, your dad's best friend and neighbor, Joel Miller, can see you clearly from his bedroom window.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over your backyard pool home, you felt a rush of excitement coursing through your veins. You had always been a curious and adventurous soul, never shying away from trying new things. And tonight, you had decided to push the boundaries of your inhibitions.

The water glistened invitingly under the fading light, beckoning you to step in and embrace the thrill of the unknown. With a mischievous grin playing on your lips, you slowly removed your clothes, leaving you in just your red bikini, feeling the cool evening air caress your skin. Goosebumps erupted in response, heightening your senses and sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

Stepping into the pool, you let out a gasp as the water enveloped you, its refreshing embrace electrifying your senses. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to surrender to the moment, relishing the freedom and liberation that came with it. Your hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve and dip with a newfound sense of curiosity and desire.

Lost in your own world of pleasure, you failed to notice the subtle movement in the corner of your eyes. Unbeknownst to you, Joel Miller, your father's best friend and neighbor, stood transfixed at his bedroom window, his gaze locked on your form in the pool. His heart pounded in his chest, torn between shock, guilt, and an undeniable surge of arousal.

As the realization of being watched dawned on you, a mix of exhilaration and embarrassment washed over you. You felt a rush of heat creeping up your cheeks, your heart pounding in your chest. But beneath it all, a spark of defiance flickered in your eyes, daring Joel to look away. His eyes and yours locked in a silent battle of wills, the tension thickening between you both like a tangible force. And in that moment, you made a bold decision. With a devilish smirk, you continued your sensual exploration, basking in the thrill of being seen and desired.

Unbeknownst to you, this impulsive act would set off a chain of events that would forever alter the dynamics between the two of you, blurring the lines between desire and taboo, pleasure and consequence. The air crackled with tension as your playful defiance fueled the growing desire and conflict between you and Joel. Unseen to you, Joel's jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with a mixture of guilt and longing.

He knew he should look away, and give you some privacy, but an undeniable pull kept his gaze locked on your form moving sinuously in the pool. He was lost in your aura of beauty, intoxicated by your presence in your own backyard pool. A small part of him wished he could simply run inside and scoop you into his arms. Yet another part of him wanted nothing more than to rip that red bikini off you and plunge into the water with you, holding you close to his body as your sweet lips claimed his. But he couldn't bring himself to do that. No matter how much he wanted you, no matter how badly he yearned for you, he couldn't break the rules that his parents so strongly enforced. So he watched you, helpless to control his reaction to the sight of you.

A lump rose painfully in his throat when the corners of your mouth curled upward, giving you a wicked, seductive smile. He felt like an intruder upon a private moment like he shouldn't have even seen what she did. He knew it wasn't right. It was then, that Joel saw what your body was doing. As he continued watching you, mesmerized by the way you moved, his blood turned cold and he nearly dropped his glass of beer.

You weren't moving with any sort of sexual intent. Rather, your movements seemed calculated and deliberate. At first glance, you looked innocent enough; a little shy perhaps, but still willing and able to take advantage of your surroundings. But then he noticed the way your hips gently swished back and forth, your delicate fingers down below, the graceful curves of your legs, the way your body arched forward to allow your breasts to bounce against each other provocatively. Joel's heart lurched at the sight and it took everything he had not to break into your house and take you right there in the pool.

The sight sent hot, tingling currents running through his body. He can't take it anymore. He quickly turned around and got onto his bed, struggling to open his belt and jeans. He pulled out his hard erection with the precum already leaking and started pumping harshly. His breath grew labored and his mind began to wander. The only thing he could picture was your face, imagining your body flushed and breathless as you lay underneath him. He moaned quietly. His brain screamed as his body pulsated with need. He started to stroke faster. His pace increased until he reached a fever pitch. He could feel a tight knot forming in his stomach. His breathing became ragged and labored, sweat dripping from his brow and down his neck. Finally, he exploded, releasing his pent-up emotions all over his stomach and jeans.

#pedro pascal #pedrohub #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #pedrito #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fandom #dbf!joel #dbf joel miller

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honey-minded-hivemind · 4 months ago

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Fool, you think I can't handle such dark ideas?

I live for this kinda stuff!

imagine Reader was used as a tracking device to find Genosha without them realizing it- imagine if Reader survived and found out before anyone else and just-

Stared into nothing, their poor robotic brain racing with too many thoughts to properly function

And like- when they're found imagine they just slowly reached up, and without a second thought, began tearing themself apart

They caused so many of their friends to die without realizing it, they're horrible, they're a monster

Those are thoughts that ran through their mind as they tore off their own head

Cube Anon

Oooooo... I see you like where the darkness is taking us...

Reader rips themself apart slowly, unable to cope with the fears and despair and unending unrelenting pain that drenched their core, that smothers each breath, each thought.

Friends of their's were gone.

Gambit was gone.

Leech was gone.

Magneto was gone.

Genosha was gone.

And it was... Reader's fault...

Hearing their friends find our, hearing their anger, their pain, their hate...

Reader couldn't live with it.

They don't go with them to find Trask. They can't. Their friends hate them, and all they want is for Reader to leave tbem alone, to go away, to not come back or cause more damage.

So here Reader is, at the edge of a cold, freezing lake, in the middle of the night, alone, about to plunge in.

They tore open their arms, their legs, exposes the wires in their neck, their stomach, tore their core out and ripped their false hair off and tore at their eyes, breaking them to pieces.

They hated themself.

They couldn't live like this.

They couldn't exist this way, knowing they were the reason everything was bad and their friends were dead and the surviving ones hated them.

So with that final, heartbreaking thought-

They plunge in, screaming as the water burns their system, and their being, into nothingness...

***************************************************

For the X-Men, fighting Bastion amd Sinsiter had been brutal.

It was filled with pain, despair, blood...

What was worse?

Knowing their old friend, Reader, was dead now?

Or knowing that they were innocent, save for the fact Bastion had uses them, created them to be a scapegoat, and would have killed Reader before they'd met the X-Men for being too human for his tastes?

They don't know.

And it burns.

Kurt hadn't turned his back on them. He kept checking the one gift, the one piece, he had left of them, a small wire butterfly, beaded and bright and colorful, just like him, they'd told him. He hated not knowing if they were gone, forever, or if they were possibly in Heaven... He wasn't sure he wanted to know...

The team had decided to build a new safehaven, somehwere safer and more hidden, a place that only allowed mutants and trusted humans into its paradise... It was an island, one that seemed... almost sentient... at times... But it hosted many wonders, good plant life, beautiful animals, clean water, and it opened itself to them, to their kind... It was easy to shut themselves, their new home, everyone and everything, off from the rest of the world. It seemed the only reasonable, the only sane thing, to do, after all they lost and sacrificed amd had destroyed.

And when they discovered pools that could create bodies...

And found out that they could try to enter the spirit realm to bring back those they'd lost...

It was only a matter of time before they started bringing back those who had died unfairly, to give then healthy bodies and a better life and new hope...

All anyone asked, was that they drink of a special liquid and eat its fruit, for then they would know peace...

And it seems the next two they needed to find, the last two, were Gambit and Reader...

***************************************************

(Meanwhile, in the afterlife, Gambit hasn't left Reader, begging them and pleading with then then tell him why they think their friends hate them and who the h*ll told them they were some robot-! How dare someone say that to them?! They're with him, aren't they? So obviously they ain't evil! He's hugging them, murmuring soft words and letting them cry into his shoulder, all to try and stop their sadness, their self-hatred, their pain... He isn't leaving them, no, not for one minute. They need him... But they need to figure out what's taken everyone else, and see if they can't stay safe... So can they please calm down, just for Gambir, please-?)

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere xmen 97 #platonic yandere xmen: the animated series #🌸rose by any other name🥀 au #🦾sentinel reader au

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johnwickb1tsch · 5 months ago

Text

A Walk in the Clouds/Don John crossover outline Part 3 ~

Paul Sutton x fem!Reader x Don John triangle

You grow up at Las Nubes vineyard, and have to go home to your dying father. You take your fake new husband, Sgt Paul Sutton, with you... Warnings: frank discussion about sex & pregnancy, sorta nsfw

<----Part 1 Part 2 chapter map

-You go to a natural pool in the back of the estate, the stones of the dam hand-laid by your ancestors generations ago. The moon is high, and no one else is here, too busy celebrating. “It’s beautiful,” says Paul, filled with wonder. “Everything here is so beautiful.” He is looking at you, when he says the last, and you don’t know what you’ve done to deserve the admiration in his eyes.

You jump in head first, clothes and all. Everything needs a rinse. When you surface the moon is bright enough that you can see his earnest expression, his powerful body poised to plunge in after you to save you. You alarmed him. It’s so endearing, and you feel a little guilty.

“It feels wonderful,” you say, holding out your hand to him. He relaxes a little, gives that boyish smile that ties your heartstrings up in knots. He kicks off his shoes first, before diving in. You are treading water, but he finds a rock with his long legs on which to stand. You cling to his shoulders, smiling like a fool.

“I feel like I found a mermaid,” he says, holding you close. The water is cool, and the line of his body heat against yours is wonderful.

“You’d better hope not,” you tease. “Don’t sirens try to drown sailors after luring them in?”

“Hmm.” He pulls you closer with that gentle smile. “You seem pretty sweet to me.”

You sigh at hearing that. “Oh Paul…” You kiss again, a slow, lingering press of lips that curls your toes, and makes you wrap your legs around him in the water. “Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“I wouldn’t mind, you know, if we really were married.”

With a sigh you rest your chin in the bend of his neck. You feel like you can tell this man anything, and he won’t get mad, and yet part of you just wants to protect him. Most of all, from yourself.

“You don’t want me. Not really.”

“That’s news to me.” You can tell he’s smiling as he says this. It makes you smile too.

“Maybe you want to make love to me.”

He laughs shyly; you feel like your bones are filled with sunshine. “Yes.” You can feel the evidence of this, his hard, large bulge poking against your center. It fills you with stupifying want all over again.

You kiss him behind the ear. “You can.” Another kiss, your lips dragging across his cheek. “Just…don’t finish inside me.” He laughs again, quieter, completely self-deprecating, as though you’ve suggested the impossible.

“Sure. Says the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

“Riiight.” You roll your eyes, drawing back to look at him. He’s beautiful like this, his dark hair slicked back, water droplets silver on his eyelashes.

“I mean it. You are, to me.”

“Paul…” You toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, your heart so full it physically aches.

“I would take care of you,” he tells you gently. “If…we made a baby.”

You believe him, too. It moves you, every cell in your body straining for this man, and inexplicably that makes you angry, mostly at yourself.

It sounds like such an easy thing, like baking a cake. Mix the ingredients, put it in the oven, pull out a sweet little bundle of joy. Make a baby. But you know it is truly a bloody and dangerous business, for a woman. You’ve seen it first hand. And bringing the thing into the world is only the start.

“I don’t want to be a mother, and I don’t want to be taken care of,” you tell him, knowing you sound petulant, unable to stop. You let go of him, pushing off to swim across the pool. Now the water feels unbearably cold, without him.

However, somehow, he still isn’t angry. He just watches you across the water, with those sad soulful eyes. “What do you want, y/n?”

You think he’s the only man who’s ever really asked you that.

“I want…freedom,” you admit, and once you start you can’t stop. “I want to live on my own terms, rather than someone else’s. I want to just be responsible for myself, instead of having to run after children and men who act like children and constantly cleaning up someone else’s mess. I want a room of my own, with a window overlooking the Bay, with an Underwood typewriter. I want to write books. I want to travel. I want…” You look at him, smiling winsomely across the quicksilver waters at you, and your next words ball up in your throat.

I want you.

All the things you named before, seem stupid, utterly pointless, without that last keystone to hold it all together.

You don’t know how to tell him that, without utterly signing yourself away to him.

He nods, to himself as much as you. “I hope you get those things, y/n. I hope you get everything you want.”

“I hope you do too,” you say, and mean it. “I hope you get your house, your family, and your dog.” You can’t see how you fit anywhere in that picture.

He shrugs, looking down at the water, making ripples beneath the surface with his big hands. “It was just…an abstract idea.”

“What do you mean?”

“The things we want can change, with the people we meet.”

“Paul…”

“What if…I just want you?”

“You don’t.”

“Yes I do.” He says it sweetly with a shrug, just so matter of fact.

“I would hurt you.”

“Maybe. But maybe…it would be worth it, to try. I think I love you, y/n.”

You freeze treading water, and almost choke on a mouthful as you sink.

What have you done?

Before you can think of anything to say, or swim to him again to kiss him silly, a hair-raising scream splits the air in the distance. You know that sound, and your blood runs cold.

“What the hell was that?”

“Gato monte.”

“A what?”

“Lion. Mountain lion. Time to go. Vamos!”

Don Juan was a hunter, and he had a rug made of one in his den. Maybe you would show Paul–if you made it back to the house alive. You run back to the hacienda together soaking wet, hand in hand. He left his shoes behind in your haste. As soon as you make it back to the flood of torchlight by the house you feel safe. Only then do you laugh together, leaning on the stone wall.

“The devil have you two been up to?” demands a familiar voice filled with disdain.

You gravitate into Paul’s arms without even looking.

“Swimming, señor,” you answer, short of breath. We heard–a mountain lion.”

Don Juan emerges from the shadows, smirks, pleased for some reason, and you wonder if maybe the sound you heard was not the leon, but a man.

“The two of you should be careful. So many bad fates could befall a man, out in the mountains.”

He is looking at Paul as he says it, and your heart drops like a stone. You know that look from when you were children, and you're afraid don Juan is up to something bad.

TBC...

#a walk in the clouds #paul sutton x reader #paul sutton #don john #don john x reader #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanuverse #keanuverse fic

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acourtofinkandpapyrus · 1 year ago

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My Little Shadow: Part two (Azriel X Reader)

Warnings!: Abusive family, toxic relationship, arranged marriage.

Part one here: Part one

Part three

Thank you for all the people who like and re-blogged my last post! I couldn't believe so many people liked my story, so I worked hard to make sure I had the second part out today! Prepare for two shadowsingers to meet. As Y/N and Azriel meet again, is it the beginning of a friendship, or something more?

The past two weeks had been a nightmare, more so than usual.

After returning to my father’s home, he beat me senseless, afterward throwing me into my room and locking it from the outside.

No one had returned to even bring me food, although luckily I had saved some in a hidden spot for times just like this. I had thought that one day I would need to hide myself, my mother, or my sisters from his wrath.

I would have never imagined this scenario, but I probably should have.

I was his only daughter born before Amarantha’s reign. He had managed to keep us off her radar, but it had only helped so much. And then somewhere in there, he decided that he wanted another child. Seeing no end in sight to our stay under the mountain, he went for it.

Thinking about back then, about what I had done to keep my sisters safe, I clenched my hands, the old scars that ran up my back, legs, and arms hurting again.

I felt a cold hand on my shoulder, attempting to soothe me.

I smiled. There was one thing they could never take away.

After I had first learned how to speak with the shadows, I had discreetly done as much research as I possibly could. I knew that different shadows preferred different ways of presenting themselves, and had seen it myself.

But these shadows had followed me from that horrible cell under the mountain, becoming the only one I could trust. They take the form of a human woman, most likely one they had seen before who wouldn’t be using it anymore.

I couldn’t make out any facial features, and if they stood real still they looked like nothing more than my shadow, but if you looked closely, you might notice how it seems darker than it should, and that when you look at them from a certain angle you noticed that sometimes they were not flat against the wall, but their own entity entirely.

They helped me stay sane under the mountain, and now they were doing the same again as I wondered what would happen when my bedroom door finally opened.

I rested my head against the wall, the chill soothing my stressed mind.

After only a moment of this, I heard my door make a resounding click as someone unlocked it.

I whipped around, standing straight with my arms behind my back, back to being the respectful daughter.

I knew my shadows had gone back to hiding, still nearby in case anything was required of them.

My father opened the door, his clothes and hair more regal and pristine than usual.

“Get yourself dressed, we have an event to attend to.” He said unemotionally, walking away and leaving the door wide open.

Dread pooled in my stomach. Whatever this was, I already knew it wasn’t going to be good.

I put on one of my more plain dresses, hoping to attract as little attention as possible. I stalled for time, taking as long as possible to do my hair.

Maybe I could attempt to stay with one of my friends until Draven gave up on this whole arranged marriage thing. Though I had no clue which of them would sell me out for the most measly of rewards. Maybe all of them would.

Eventually, I could stall no more, my father in the doorway, watching me with dark beady eyes.

“Do I have my sweet little girl back, or am I to have to deal with this ungrateful little thing that’s taken her place?” He asked, placing his hands on my shoulders as he peered into the mirror, looking me in the eye.

I swallowed the hatred that bubbled up, the urge to take the delicate handle of my hair brush and plunge it deep into his chest. I met his eyes, letting none of that show as I spoke meekly, “I’m sorry for my previous outburst father, I promise never to speak to you like that again.”

He lifted a hand to stroke my hair, his expression almost sweet as he smiled, speaking low, “Good, I love you my darling girl. You are making me proud, and helping all of us. Never forget that.”

I forced myself not to shiver as he kissed my head before leaving the room.

Getting up to follow him, I took a few calming breaths, stealing myself for whatever may come.

After surviving years under the mountain, this should be nothing. But sometimes it felt as if I had more freedom then, than I ever will again.

Everyone was gathered in the main room, waiting for me.

None of them spoke a word to me as my father opened the door, and we all followed him out.

I had three younger sisters, and to my father’s disappointment, no brothers. My sisters crowded around me, offering silent comfort, my mother walking at my fathers side.

Was that what my life was going to look like after the marriage? Living a life in silent fear, with no hope of a better future as I was forced to watch my own children be sold away.

I started to feel sick again.

We eventually stopped in a hall and I recognised the rest of the way, leading the way to the living quarters of Keir.

“All of you stay here, and talk to no one.” My father instructed as he straightened the lapel of his jacket.

He looked at me, and I lowered my head as he spoke, “When I call for you, you will behave like the lady you are. Or there will be consequences. Understood?”

I nodded, not meeting his stare.

He made a smug noise before turning and walking the rest of the way down the hall. Keir opened the door after one knock, ushering him in quickly.

We stood there in silence for another moment before I felt a hand grasp mine. “It’ll be okay.”

I looked down to see my youngest sister grabbing my hand. She was too young to understand the difference between this place and Under the Mountain.

I gave her a little smile, placing a reassuring hand on her head. “Of course it’ll be alright. It may seem scary now, but remember what we always say-”

We both spoke at the same time, “Nothing can hurt us as long as we’re together.”

She looked up at me, her eyes wet with the beginning of tears. “But we aren’t going to be together.”

I knew that if my father saw, he would scold me, but I pulled her close into a tight embrace. “It’ll be alright darling, nothing can come between sisters.”

I let her go, quickly smoothing out my dress.

Feeling eyes on me, I looked up to see my mother quickly looking away.

I knew this wasn’t the life she had wanted either. She used to tell me stories of her family, who hadn’t lived in Hewn City but had been just as cruel. They had sold her to my father, just as he was now going to sell me.

Keir’s door opened, and my father poked his head out beckoning me in.

I obediently came to him, and he pulled me inside, shutting the door quickly behind us.

Keir’s taste in decor was awful. Everything had edges sharp enough to draw blood and there was almost no color in anything. It had a somewhat normal sitting situation, but what intrigued me was the painting that hung in the middle of the room, the subject of the portate being solidly him, with all of his family except his daughter sitting around him.

I swear I could see where she had been painted out.

“So this is the daughter you wish to wed to Draven?” Kier asked from the large chair he was lounging in, a disgusting smile on his face as he studied me.

Don’t react, don’t show what you think.

“Yes, say hi Y/N.”

“Hello.” I said meekly, not looking either of them in the eye.

I heard the floor creak, not realizing Keir had gotten up until he was tugging my chin upwards, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

“Hmmmm.” He hummed as he studied my bruised face before letting me go.

“I heard about her little outburst earlier this month. If anyone will be able to tame her, it will be Draven. You have my approval.”

My stomach churned, and I wanted to scream, not hearing the self satisfied words they were passing back and forth now that my fate had been sealed.

I only came back to reality when my father placed a hand on my shoulder. “Did you hear me Y/N? I said it’s time to go.”

I bowed my head, following him out and back to my family.

Apparently, my house arrest was over, because once we made it back to one of the more public halls, he announced he would be at home celebrating if anyone needed him or my mother, dragging her off.

Two of my sisters were quick to rush off, but My youngest sister, Stella, stayed by my side as my eyes unfocused, unable to breathe as the panic struck me in full force.

Stella hugged me, and I wrapped my arms around her tightly, breathing in her scent of sugar, dust, and warmth, knowing that soon I would never see her again except in passing.

“You should go hang out with your friends.” I managed to say once I calmed down enough.

Her eyes were wide as she pulled back, studying my face.

I forced myself to smile as I ruffled her hair, saying in a falsely cheery tone, “Hey! Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’ma figure out how to fix all of this, okay?”

She nodded slowly, and I planted a quick peck on her forehead. “Now go! I’ll be fine.”

I waited until her scent had completely aired out before I let the tears fall, quietly sobbing as I realized that this was the end of my life.

For a little while, the only sound was my gasping sobs until I heard footsteps in the distance.

I covered my mouth, quieting myself even father as I listened.

My shadow companion manifested next to me, obviously noticing the steps as well.

I pondered on whether I should leave, I had already gotten myself in enough trouble, and I dreaded to think about the consequences if I was once again caught doing something my father would punish me for.

But something about the saltwater, baked goods, and dark male scent struck something in me. I knew it from somewhere, but for some reason I couldn’t place from where.

I once again looked to my shadows.

There was something we had learned to do. I wasn’t sure if it had never been documented, or if we were the first to be able to do this little trick, but I had never found anything about it.

I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I could see the world through a dark mist.

My shadows and I could become one in a way, turning me into a shadowy figure that could hide at will.

I could feel the shadows concern for me, and I sighed. “I’ll be fine, don’t be so fussy” I whispered right before I stretched my head around the corner, my breath catching as I saw who stood there.

Azriel.

I watched him, standing there with something like rage on his features as he paced back and forth, his shadows curling around his ear.

I could feel my shadows' curiosity. They loved interacting with shadows from different places, learning the stories they held of other lands.

Sometimes I wondered if they wanted out of this place even more than I did.

As I thought about this I wasn’t watching the Illerian male. And so didn’t notice when he spotted me until he spoke.

“Hello there.”

I practically jumped out of my skin when I heard him speak, preparing to turn and run when one of his shadows reached me, tugging me into full view.

Luckily with my shadows and I being one, I would only look like a stark shadow.

“Who are you?” He asked, not necessarily angry as he approached me, his shadows loosening their grip on my waist.

“Does it matter?” I asked, my voice silkier in this form than normal.

He smirked. “It does if you were spying on me.” He said, and I saw the blue siphons on his armor glow threateningly.

This is normally where I would apologize, play nice until they realized I was no threat.

But he didn’t know who I was, and I was already boiling over with rage.

“If I wanted to spy on you, I wouldn’t have been caught.” I say as I take a step through his shadows, his expression flickered to one of shock for just a millisecond before turning back into stone.

“Then what were you doing here?” He asked, his head tilting as he looked down at me.

I grinned, looking up at him. “Well, I was minding my own business when I heard some footsteps. Really, I should be asking you what you’re doing here.”

His lips twitched upwards as he looked down at me. “I’m waiting for someone to come meet me, but now I’m wondering if I should reschedule.”

My heart started to beat faster with the way he stared down at me, his gaze intense. “And why is that?”

He grinned now. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a shadow quite like you.”

I was trying to think of some response that wasn’t just embarrassed babbling when we both heard footsteps coming closer.

Without a moment's hesitation I turned and ran. He called out after me, but I ignored it, knowing better than to stay around and see who was coming.

Eventually when I was closer to home, I let my shadows unwind, taking their own form again.

“Thank you.” I whispered to them, and I could feel their happiness.

Meanwhile, I was once again spiraling, but for none of the same reasons as before.

What had I been thinking, taunting the high lord’s spymaster like that? There were so many bad things that could happen. What if he found out that I wasn’t just some shadow? What if he found out who I was and told my father?

I took a deep calming breath.

He didn’t know who I was, and so there was nothing that he could do to me.

More confident, and something else than my impending doom to think about, I went home.

As I opened the door, my father cheered, “She’s back! My precious daughter who is going to be our salvation.”

My mother was sitting in his lap, and I quickly looked away as I headed for my room.

“Oh, and sweetheart,” My father said, drawing my attention back to him as he continued, “The date is set, in a little over a month you’ll be married!”

He laughed, happy as could be as he nuzzled my mother’s neck.

I felt sick. About how soon I would lose my last scraps of freedom, how even though I could see the well hidden disgust on my mother’s face, she let him touch her, his hands gripping her hips so tight it must be painful.

As I went into my room and closed and locked the door, I couldn’t help but hope I would run into Azriel again, despite the risks.

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touyas-multi-purpose-saline · 1 month ago

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DAY XVI. — ICE BATH

cw: STRICTLY A CONCEPT TO EXPLORE, Temperature Play, Drowning, Murder, Death, Violence, Fondling, Unhealthy Relationships, Slight Yandere, Delusional Thoughts / Behaviors, Distorted Writing at the Bottom, Uncomfortable Scenarios, General Dark Content Not Suitable for Immature Audiences, Fem! Reader. Reader discretion is advised. 18+ Only!

author's note: This is just an extremely graphic fic idea based on one of my favorite songs. I wanted it to have an erotic undertone, but I wanted to emulate what the song feels like to experience. Regardless, this is NOT a good situation. I do not condone healthy behavior in any sense! This is strictly fiction! Do not force yourself to read if you're uncomfortable.

word count: Approximately 1k words.

Droplets splatter across your face whenever Touya shoves your body underneath the water, plummeting deep in, holding you down. Fearful gasps tear through your cracked lips, spittle flying into nothing, hands on your shoulders. There’s something deranged curtaining Touya’s features, something shadowed in the center of his face that makes him so aloof, distant, and his fingers dig through. Thick ropes of cold whip out, crackling, wrapping around your frame and trapping you within its arctic expanse, blues that never stop feeding. It starts underneath your toes, popping rocks that tickle and jolt, and then it’s in your ears. Everything drowns out, muted, a coma that can’t stretch its hand away.

Terror in your gaze,

“T-Touya—!”

You can barely say his name. Touya just coos softly, shushing any words that could be shared between you before they’re even conjured. One of his hands leaves your shoulders, he presses down harder, and then he cups your jaw, cradling.

“Don’t say anything. Just let this happen. It’ll be better this way.”

His words are sly, but not really, and if you think hard enough about it then it still doesn’t even really make sense. The water seems to broil and bubble underneath, getting hotter and hotter but your body sinks colder and colder. Shivers are earthquakes beneath your flesh, but you can’t keep your mouth shut.

“Please, just—just let me go. You’re—Touya, I don’t understand w-what you’re doing.”

Plunging in fast and heavy didn’t give your body time to properly adjust; the shock doesn’t leave, no, its pressure is atmospheric, unstoppable, and you can feel gooseflesh flourish.

“Us. This—What the two of us share together. It doesn’t make sense. Why do you—what is it about you that sees me and—”

Touya doesn’t finish his sentence. The hand cupping your jaw swipes its thumb over your cheek gingerly, a drastic mirror reflecting a reality that doesn't exist. A line creases between your brows, down your face, splitting your body in half. The water is clawing, letting the blades of its teeth pinch and settle in within you, down to your organs, down to everything and anything that can feel, can comprehend. It’s excessive, the frost, and your skin is firm, wax, and it’s like you’re submerging into a place unknown. It’s getting hard to breathe, but Touya doesn’t stop pushing your body into the pool. He steps closer, horror in his eyes, deadening realization, but he doesn't stop. He never knows when to stop.

Your teeth chatter.

“I love you, Touya. That’s what I see in you—I-I can see right through you. Are you just—doing this b-because you want to hurt me? Or d-do you just want to hurt?”

Touya doesn’t answer. He just smiles.

The water eats you whole whenever Touya fully submerges your body. His body hovers over your own now, homing in but never quite making it, and you can feel his hands start to slide down your body. He touches the latex of your neck, the arch of your collar bone, the incline of your breast, he squeezes. Touya’s saying words, but they never quite learned how to swim. You guess they soon learn, but so do your screams. They gag, they choke, and all you can do is swipe your kitten paws against Touya’s figure to get him away, far far, away. A feeling of exhaustion leaks into your bones, a split on the surface of your skin’s candle, bleeding in, and you’re so tired. So. So. Very Tired. You can’t breathe.

“ Is n’t thi s wha t it’ s su pposed to feel li ke?”

Were those his words or yours? Slurred messes of slosh and dried snow rest heavy on your tongue. It’s hard to even shake your head. Flames burning in your lungs are doused before they can ignite, and you wonder if you’re freezing. Thaw, wonder. Dreams, a haze that begins under the pads of your fingers, smoky nail grins, and start to make a dust storm. Could you even resurface? Do you even want to? Touya’s fingers mold around your breast again, fondling you a few decent rolls before that hand traverses further. It swoops around your waist, finds the small of your back, palms up, and then he locates your hips. Touya drags you to him, pelvis between your loosely flailing legs.

You should have fought him harder earlier. But you love him.

Did you get to tell him that before he suffocated you beneath the surface? Or did he just say that to you? Or were those words even actually real or just illusions your sad brain painted? Touya’s hips slot perfectly between your thighs—just like they always have and always will—and he begins gradually rocking against you. Is he hard? Can you even feel him through the soggy shade? Your swinging paws trickle, wavering, broken strings on a guitar, and they collect against Touya. They fumble, you fumble, your toes flex.

“Th is i s all I know an d I ca n’t und erst and why yo u lo— ? 11 ! 00 ?! 01 !! 00 1 ? — b ut I will ma ke this ri ght.”

You see Touya in your sleep. His visage is the only thing that isn’t twisted. Everything warbles, paper burning over a bonfire, and sparkling like stone beaten against metal. Colors are blotching your vision, sap and moss covering a foggy window, emerald and plum and maroon. He’s thrusting pathetically, is that even what you’re feeling? Your body is stitching seams, pulling itself and lulling too.

“I’ ll let every one kn ow wh at I f elt whe n ! !?! 00 di e be cause of ! 11.”

Touya gets stronger. It gets warmer. Bubbles, immersion. Encroaching darkness.

“An d you ! Y ou st ayed w ith me even whenever 11 0 !! ?? 0000 11 an d isn’ t tha t worth someth ing, !! 011010 ?! !”

Your eyes squint, the chlorine stings. Touya’s chest falls on top of yours, a blanket, fresh linen left in the ice.

“An d !! 001 ! it !! d o you goo d !! 10001 ! ?

00 11101 ? dar ling, ri !!!!

Muted sounds, fading, falling, quieter. Gone. Words no longer words. Burning, flames, passion, the thrusting of hips, the sway of electrical numbness.

“Be cause !! 00

I lo

ve you—1 ! 001 ??—0 1 —

And Touya Teal is that last thing.

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http-paprika · 9 months ago

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IVY AND IRON THORNS

CHAPTER II

a medieval au / sir simon riley x lady reader / 2.7k / warnings descriptions of death, religious imagery, trauma, and an unhealthy response to food. / taglist open

arriving at castle tharn, you are thrust into the startling reality that you are at the mercy of those who govern these unknown lands.

masterlist / chapter III

There’s a dull ache in your head that pools down your throat to the ribs to the stomach and rests in your hips. With every trot of the horse, you are thrown back and forth from heavy exhaustion and startling awareness. While you pretended to sleep under the canopy of stars, you’d heard the quiet murmurings of the knights and what they’d do upon returning to their castle. Dread burrowed deep in your bones as your fate looks as dreary as the morning sky that has been cast with a gray haze of clouds.

The gnawing realization that you’ve fallen from grace, ripped from your place as a lady haunts you every time your eyes close and your stomach twists. A lady of your stature is not supposed to witness horrors you’ve seen, they were not supposed to show the face of humiliation as they arrive in a foreign land. But you fret knowing these knights are leading you to a foreign land and a castle with a lord you do not serve.

Around the company, the pines begin to thin and the hooves fall on a dirt path. Your eyes shutter close and your brows tighten against the gray light of the morning. Even with the sun hidden from your sight, it rivals the dark shadows of the forest. The horse slows along a cliff edge and you cower away from the plunge with its roaring waters and rocks below.

“There she is, Castle Tharn.” Simon directs you, his arm stretched out to the north. Set above the valley of rivers, marshes, and wild green, you can see the dark structure silhouetted. Turrets reach the sky behind fortified walls, and a deep river isolates the castle from the valley. It causes you to shiver in your seat, an unwelcoming sight built like a fort to keep out any unwanted visitors and keep in any prisoners.

Full of excitement to return to their grazing grounds, the horses make haste as they’re led down the cliff path and trot into the valley. Over streams and babbling brooks, past hamlets and homesteads where the people stop and watch the knights return. You exhale as you catch a sense of familiarity in their architecture and clothes, so similar to the servants who filled your home and the villagers you met when you were allowed out of the castle.

There’s a jolt of relief when the hooves fall onto a cobbled road, it leads over a wide river that roars as it splits over stones and falls under the bridge. You glimpse your wavering image in the wild waters, before looking up at the flagpoles, flying high with vibrant dark greens and reds. It feels cold compared to the one of your home, you miss the warm yellows and oranges.

Guards in the watchtower shout at your arrival, raising the portcullis as news spreads through the walls and rooms of the return. You pass under the heavy iron gate, looking back disheartened as you watch it lower and shut you off from the rest of the world. Left to the mercy of those who run the grand estate with its ivy-covered walls, blooming bushes of roses, tall stained glass windows, and faded banners. The whole castle’s alive, bursting at the seams with pride as servants and soldiers move through the bailey.

Simon dismounts from the horse, offering his hand to help you down. He’s careful of your sprained wrist and makes sure your feet are steady before dropping his hands to the sides of his armor. You wrap your arms around your chest and tug your cloak closer in an attempt to cover yourself as people join the knights. A stable boy takes the mares away and you listen as John begins to loudly boast about the bandits they’d slain. Women and men alike peer at you when John makes your presence known, and you shrink away almost bumping into Simon in your cowering.

“Come, let’s get you settled for the night,” Simon orders, gesturing you to follow him. Together, you ascend a side set of stairs into the castle. In the dim interior of the castle, servants stare and whisper amongst themselves. Girls who must be no older than you giggle at your disheveled appearance and what little pride you have left makes your cheeks burn with shame.

You enter into a large kitchen, busy and filled with an air of urgency as food is prepared. Barrels of grains and fruits are stacked along the wall, a goose turns on a spit in the fire that crackles happily in a large hearth. Women bustle around, taking orders from a plump and rosy-cheeked woman whose eyes flash when she spots intruders in her kitchen.

“Ach! What have I told you dirty boys about coming into my kitchen while I’m working, Sir Riley?” The woman berates the knight as she comes up to him, swatting at him with a cloth. But upon seeing you in such a state, wide-eyed and ashamed, she lets out a sigh. “What have you done to the poor girl?”

“I’d tell you if you’d let me speak,” Simon says, plucking up a plum from a bowl and shining it. “Found her while out on patrol with John, Mrs. MacTavish. She needs to be looked after, she’ll see Lord Price in the morning.”

“Well, anything for the poor lamb.” The woman takes your arm and offers you a smile. Warm and inviting compared to the stares you’ve received upon entering the castle. “But, Sir Riley, you tell my son that he is in trouble with his father, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nods, turning to leave you and the kitchen without another thought.

“You’re leaving me?” You call out, naively thinking the knight would stay by your side. Afraid to be left alone in the presence of another stranger, a shyness you’ve never known dawning on you.

“I’m a knight, not a nursemaid. I have duties to attend to.” Simon responds with a firm tone, like a father scolding a child. The knight bows his head to you before returning down the hall you’d just walked through, leaving you in Mrs. MacTavish’s care.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Lamb.” She says, walking you out of the kitchen after she finishes instructing the women for dinner preparation. “Have you got a name, or should I give you one?”

Mumbling your words together, you tell her your name. With hesitation, you hide your status as a lady from her, feeling wrong to address yourself with the name and title that had belonged to your mother. Even if you consider the treatment you might receive brandishing the name.

“Well, you must have had quite the journey, no? I’m sure you’re more than ready to rest.” She asks, slowing her pace and stopping in front of an oak door. The keys on the wrought iron ring jingle as Mrs. MacTavish picks through them, finding the right one and twisting it in the lock.

You follow into the room which is decorated lavishly, a guest room prepared for only the most prestigious of company. Slowly turning to look over the room, you’re horrified by your appearance when you see yourself in the looking glass. Hair in a tangle, dirt and blood clinging to your skin, and your favorite dress shredded into scraps. Unable to look away, the woman hums a tune as she sets to work making a fire in the hearth. When you finally tear your eyes away, she’s left to fetch water for the bath and you slump onto a creaking stool and sit in the unwelcome silence.

Your mind feels at war with grief and fear fighting against the rage as you question why this happened to you. Why had you been stricken down and left to drown in a sea of loss? Such a divine punishment that made you feel like Job, abandoned by God with no money and no prospects. Everything you held dear, your future and dreams are unraveling like a beautiful tapestry torn through, destroying the foolish hopes you had for bliss. After all, what peace could come from this?

The door opens and you startle up, like a deer hearing a hunter. But your shoulders slump again when Mrs. MacTavish returns with buckets of steaming water. She tells you of the castle and its Lord and Lady whilst preparing your bath, singing praises for those who govern the lands. It’s so endearing that you wince remembering the bleak mutters of those who served under your father, the endless strings of complaints when they thought that no nobles were listening in.

“So, lamb, do you want to tell me how you ended up in the care of our knights?” She asks once the bath is drawn and you’re sinking into the hot water. You let it sting and spill over your skin as her calloused hands massage soap into your hair. Mrs. MacTavish works with care, making sure the soap doesn’t spill into your eyes and that you’re comfortable, just like your mother had done with you were a child.

Bloodshot eyes begin to sting with tears at her question and kindness. A sob quakes through your ribs as you bury your face in your damp hands, the hot water suddenly feeling like ice to you. Like a child who’s fallen from a tree and hurt themselves, you’re wailing for your mother but she cannot save you from this.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

By the time you’ve stopped crying, you are alone in the room dressed in a warm, brown flock. There’s a longing to be dressed in black, wishing you could partake in the mourning ritual for your mother though there will be no burial. In vein, you try to recount what the church instructed upon the death of a righteous person. But you feel foolish and disrespectful knowing you cannot give your mother the courtesy she deserves.

You wonder when your father will hear the news, and when he will come and comfort you in this time. The hope of a reunion seems foolish, the idea of grieving alongside the only living member of your bloodline is folly as the confines of the castle are chaining you in. A fear blooms in your chest that you’ll never find the sun again.

The sounds of the fire dying in your idleness fill the room, playing a pitiful song along with your hollow breaths and your nails digging into the plush quilt and animal pelts on top of the bed. The soft feather mattress is a welcome relief from the nights tossed to and fro in the carriage or the dirt under the open sky. And finely woven drapes shield your face from the fading light of the fire as you curl up like a kitten.

As sleep begins to invade your mind, quiet knocks startle you out of the daze. Lazily you rub at your eyes as another knock sounds against the oak door. Finding the strength to stand and covering yourself with a robe Mrs. MacTavish had left, you force yourself out of the warm comfort and find the door in the fading light, the oil lamp in the room having been ignored.

Creaking on its hinges, you blink up at the masked face of Simon. Curiously you wonder if he ever removes the black cloth as you let him into the room and he steps in with a word. In his hand, Simon carries a plate of food covered by a linen towel. Moving through the room, he sets it down on the tea table next to the stool.

Still silent, he directs you to sit down on the stool. And not having the strength to argue, you listen and sit down, smoothing the rough fabric of your smock. “Mrs. MacTavish said you declined dinner.”

With a nod, you glance over at the covered dinner as the smell wafts through the room and causes your mouth to water and tickle your nose. But your mind is refuses to give in, willing your tongue to dry and throat tighten. Painfully stubborn even in a time like this.

“It’s not poisoned. Eat.” Simon orders, uncovering the wooden plate and setting the lcloth aside. Your eyes gleam at the sight of ham, steamed vegetables, fresh slices of bread, and a ripe, red apple that shines even in the dull light. But you make no move to eat, hesitating under the watchful eye of the knight. “You shouldn’t starve yourself. What would your mother think to see you depriving yourself?”

His words feel like an infliction, striking like a whip and pulling at your flesh with a sting. It enrages you even if you know his words are true. She would be grievanced at the sight of you in such a state, eyes dried red, cheeks stained and skin gaunt. You feel as close to a corpse with a beating heart. But still his statement drives you mad, making your mouth sour in distaste.

“Do not speak of my mother! You know nothing about her, nothing about the loss I’ve witnessed!” You speak out, jumping from the stool to glare at the knight despite his intimidating stature. For a moment, his eyes flash with anger and his hands tighten into fists. But Simon does not rebuke your nor does he strike like you anticipate.

Instead, he takes his place on the stool, reaching over for the beautiful, fresh apple from the plate. A sliver knife is brought into the light, no longer hidden away in his garments, and he begins to cut at the fruit. So ripe, the juices run down the blade and into his gloved palm, appeitizing to the eyes as you watch.

“You’re right, I did not know your mother. But I’m well acquainted with the loss you’ve come to know.” Simon admits, stretching out his palm with an apple slice to you in offering. “And I know starving yourself won’t ease the grief or guilt. It’ll only make it worse.”

Your lip pushes out with a frown, but you steady your hand and accept the fruit. The taste fills your mouth with sweetness, flourishing your senses as you take the fill. He continues to slice up the fruit, precise and neat with each cut until all that remains is the sour core that Simon places on the plate alongside the other foods he allows to grow cold. Never pushing you too far.

“I’m sorry, I spoke out of place.” You apologize, dropping your gaze to your borrowed slippers. Blaming the hunger, you’re certain thats what made you so erratic, appauled by your abhorrent behavior to the knight. Even if you were in this fortress against your will, they’ve treated you with nothing less than kindness. They’ve fed, bathed, and dressed you, Simon proved to be a man of chivalry, seeing to your wounds and wellness when you did not ask.

“Don’t apologize.” He responds, wiping off his gloves and standing from the stool with a grunt. Simon turns to the fire, adding another log and bringing it back to life before turning to leave. “Get some rest, you’ll meet with the Lord in the morning. I’ll make sure breakfast is brought and a knight comes to escort you. Lock the door when I’m gone.”

“Of course,” You mutter as he passes by the fire, eclipsing your vision as you watch his silhouette leave you. The door creaks again, shutting heavily behind him. Following his instructions, you bolt it close and rub your hands against the old ironwork that locks you inside. A thin veil of security over in your mind.

But your knees still buckle with fear, you sink on the stone floor and pull your knees to your chest. Though there are no tears left to cry, you still grieve. “This shouldn’t have happened, what am I going to do? I know nothing!”

All those years of being coddled and running about the gardens like a fool have left you defenseless and confused. You are not in the state of mind to believe that there is a chance of negotiating your freedom with the Lord of the castle. The arguments you’d had with your mother and nursemaid did not prepare you for a time like this. Not even empty prayers bring you hope as you drag yourself from the ground. Could God himself even save you?

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