#dark cell masterlist

[sunnybunnyy2]

Father Knows Best

Daryl Dixon x platonic!reader

Negan Smith x daughter!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.2k

TIME: season 7

Warnings: imprisonment, swearing, mentions of Daryl’s abuse, mentions of savours, transpires in season seven, spoilers for season seven of the walking dead, possible typos and bad writing

CHAPTER 3 to the Dark Cell Series

Not much Daryl in this one, sadly, but he will be in it much more next chapter!

Series Masterlist Official Masterlist

This one came out way quicker than the second and I’m sorry for that, but I am beginning to get into a regular posting times! So here it is!!

Your eyes were forced open when you heard the loud pounding of a fist consistently colliding against your door.  

You let out a groan as your senses began to kick in, the once blackness that you were seeing behind your eyelids was replaced with the bright light that shined through the window that was meant to be covered by your curtain but you had been growing even more tired since your visits with Daryl. 

It had made sense. Normally you would be asleep before the second night shift, so around 11 pm, but now you couldn't fall asleep until around 3 am, sometimes even 4.

That paired with the times that you had to wake up each morning had given you a maximum of four hours a night. Then you had to work all day and repeat the cycle again and again. 

You couldn't risk falling asleep before you met Daryl, knowing that he would starve that night, and that thought alone kept your mind racing all day. 

You constantly wondered how he was doing at the hands of your father. You wondered if he was being beaten, even if the old bruises on his face had started to fade you knew it wasn't long until they would reappear again. 

You wondered what else Dwight was forcing him to do. You couldn't really put anything past him. 

You used to admire how kind he was to others and how kindly he would treat his wife, Sherry, and her sister, Tina. But ever since Tina had been killed when they had escaped the sanctuary over a month ago and he had faced the wrath of her father, he hadn't been the same.

You knew it was because of his wife. Sherry had offered to become your father's wife to spare Dwight's life. 

You didn't agree with your father having multiple wives especially so soon after your mother's death. It had been just over two years and he was pretending she didn't exist. He was coercing women into being his wife, in hopes of filling the dark that was left after your mother had taken her own life. 

You could see how their presence in his life wasn't providing in the way he had hoped it would. You could see it in his eyes. 

He was miserable. So he was bringing pain onto other people to make himself feel better. You didn't agree with his ways of coping but it's not like you could change his mind. He was a grown man and could certainly make his own choices.

He knew where you stood and what he chose to do with that was up to him, you supposed. He knew you weren't a fan of his 'marital' status so he kept it as far away from you as possible. Making sure that he never showed affection to them around you, making sure they stayed out of your way. But that wasn't the issue. You did like his wives, they were kind to you. Always making sure you were okay. Never talking about your father around you. 

You had felt like his wives were a majority of your closest friends. When you pushed back the fact that they were sleeping with your father.

You tugged the sheets off of your body roughly as you jumped to your feet after realizing that the knocking wasn't getting any quieter.

You pulled your shirt down from where it had been yanked up in your sleep from your turning as you walked towards the door before jerking it open, causing the knocker to stumble slightly as they fell forward, making it clear that they were leaning against the door as they waited for a response. 

"Jesus," she spoke your name as she caught herself from falling to the hard ground. "Your dad wants you. Said you had something you wanted to talk to him about." Laura informed you as she looked at you with a blank face but you knew her facial features well enough from the two years you had known her to tell that she was confused about what you had to talk to your father about. You had always confided in her about the way you felt about your father. 

The disappointment and frustration but also about how you missed the old times between your family. About how you missed your old father and how you missed the comfort your mother had brought you before she died.

She had also spoken about how she missed her parents as well and even though her situation wasn't remotely the same, she still understood what it felt like to be a younger girl who just wanted her parent's love and affection. 

"Yeah, yeah...um where is he?" You asked as you ran a hand through your hair in an attempt to smooth out some of the tangles. 

"In his room. You better get ready, he ain't got all day." Laura sent a nod your way before sending you a half smile, clearly as tired as you as she was sent to do more work around the sanctuary. She never seemed to have time to rest. She was constantly either at Negan's aid or on watch somewhere around the sanctuary. 

"Sir, yes sir." You saluted.

"You wish I was a sir?" She asked with raised eyebrows.

"Nah, you're just fine to look at now." You smiled slyly.

"Jesus, you're just like your father." She shook her head with a smirk. 

"Damn, Laura. You wound me. Seriously that was so hurtful." You half-joked as you wiped away imaginary tears as you turned your head away from her. 

"I take that back, you're way better." She shrugged as she spoke the truth that everyone at the sanctuary thought. Though you had always assumed some of the saviours had befriended you because of Negan wasn't entirely true. Sure some did in hopes of earning extra points for themselves and their families, but most just genuinely thought that you were one of the good ones. That you could possibly be able to persuade your father to change his ways. 

"Alright. I forgive you, Laur. Even if you started my day off with a fucking headache." You spoke as you rubbed your temple, your words earning a very 'unladylike' snort from Laura as she started to back away from your room and down the hallway. 

"My pleasure, Miss. Smith." She saluted before she turned around and quickened her pace to her shift which she was surely late from, leaving you to stare at the hallway wall as you mentally prepared yourself for the conversation you were about to have with your father, knowing it could go two ways. Well, which was the unlikely scenario or, Awful which you were leaning towards. 

And that's how you ended up here. Sat at the table with your father as he settled in his seat after having poured himself a small glass of bourbon. 

You watched as Potter, a worker in the sanctuary, placed two plates of eggs, home fries and some ham on top of the table for you two. You sent a smile his way as he nodded at you and your father before turning to make his exit, but your father's voice stopped him. 

"Oh, Mr. Potter..." Your father spoke in a sing-song voice as tapped his fork on the table. 

"Yes, Negan?" He asked as he turned back to the pair of you. A trail of sweat hastily coming down his brow, as his anxious eyes flicked between you and your father in hopes of getting a read on your body language.

"I think you forgot something." He pointed to his empty cup of water before snapping his fingers as if the second after he spoke lasted an hour. "Today." He rolled his eyes as the man rushed over to pick up the pitcher of water and pour it into his cup.

"Would you like some as well, ?" He spoke your name as he turned to look at you. Your father's glass now filled with ice water. 

"Of course, she wants some. What do you think, she wants to eat your dry ass food without having something to wash it down with." Your father let out a laugh as if it was the funniest thing in the world all while glaring the poor man down, who was practically shaking in his boots.

"No thank you, Potter." You managed to smile softly at him as if to calm him. Your body lowered down slightly as your body inadvertent shrank into yourself in embarrassment at how your father was treating the kind man.

Your demeanour didn't seem to put the man at ease as he still looked as though he was about to stroke out, which apparently was hilarious to your father as he let out a booming chuckle from deep in his throat, his rough and deep voice spoke from behind his pearly white teeth. 

"Jesus, man. I'm just joking. It's just a jokey, joke. Holy fuck," he spoke your name, "did you see his fucking face? He looked like he was going to piss his pants." He laughed before looking at the floor as though he was looking to see if the older man had done just that. 

"That will be all, Potter. Thank you." You looked away from your father to face the middle-aged man before nodding to the door, not quite able to hide your anger well, causing him to look to Negan for permission.

Your father watched you with amusement glimmering in his big brown eyes, clearly finding your annoyance entertaining, before he nodded, still looking at you as he spoke. "Do you need her to tell you again? Leave. Now." Without wasting a second he scurried out of the room, probably to go cry in the corner somewhere. Your father seemed to always have that effect on people. 

"Did you really have to scare him away? I was gonna get him to cut up my meat." He laughed.

"You're a grown-ass man. I think you can do it yourself just fine." You narrowed your eyes at him, watching as his eyes widened slightly before they were amused again, a small laugh leaving his lips.

"You really are my kid, ain't ya."

You guys sat in silence for a minute. You glaring at him and him trying to hide the merriment in his eyes.

"If you've got something to say, baby, just spit it out." He said as he crossed his arms while leaning back in his seat, eyes studying your face. 

"What is wrong with you?" You asked with anger clear in your voice as you shook your head.

"Well, sweetheart, I have a lot of things wrong with me so you're gonna have to be more specific." 

"You know what I'm talking about, Dad. That. How you treat people." You scoffed at his attempt at humour, normally you would laugh at his stupid attempts at making you laugh but now, when he humiliated people for a good laugh, your blood would quite literally boil in your skin. 

"I was just having a little fun. He doesn't mind." He dismissed as he laughed, shaking his head before he began using the fork he was still gripping to take a substantial bite of his over-easy eggs.

"It's not a 'little fun', Dad. You scared him half to death. Does it not make you feel bad when you treat people like shit?" You shook your head in disbelief.

"No, it doesn't. I'm in charge. Im not treating anyone like shit here. Do you see all that I do for these people? What I provide for them." His face grew annoyed at your words.

"Yeah, Dad. I do. But you can help keep these people safe without treating them like shit. You don't need to make them fear you to keep them sa-" He cut you off before you could finish your sentence but you could tell by his tone that you got your point across.

"They need to fear me to stay in line. That's what I do. I keep them in line. How else do you think we're still standing? If I become buddy, buddy with them they'll think they can get away with shit they just can't get away with."

"You can be a decent person and still have loyal followers. I mean, shit, how do you think half the groups still alive are operating?" You tried to mile your tone down as you began cutting up your ham. 

"You mean the groups we're gonna take over? They won't be operating like that for long." He shook his head in dismissal before wiping away the yellow egg yolk that had dropped into his pink lips.

"But why can't you form alliances with other groups? Instead of controlling them?" You tried to reason.

"Look, hunny. I love you, okay? But I don't tell you how to lead your little posey so don't fucking tell me how to lead mine." He said angrily before taking hold of his glass of bourbon and gulping down all of its contents. 

"You do realize you just called you and your people pretentious, right? I do think it fits, though." You snorted as you took a small bite of your scrambled eggs. 

"What did you want to talk to me about? I have things I need to get done." He rubbed a hand over his face in annoyance.

"Oh sorry, I didn't know having a conversation with your daughter was such a burden." You shook your head as you began to stand up but we're stopped when your father grabbed your arm.

You looked over expecting to see a look of anger on your father's face but sat back down when all you saw was remorse for his words that were obviously taken out of context but they had hurt you nonetheless, as that was what he hated the most. Hurting you.

"You know what I meant. I love talking to you, you know that, don't act like you don't. Tell me what you want to talk about, baby. Please." He pulled his and away and picked up his fork, signalling for you to speak. 

"What is that community called?" You asked as you picked up the pitcher of water, not missing the look your father sent you that practically said, 'You should have just gotten Potter to do that' but you just brushed it off, knowing you were more than capable of pouring your own cup of water.

"Who am I? Fucking Professor X? You're going to have to be more-"

"That new community. The one you took a prisoner from." You specified, know that was his next word.

"How the hell do you know about that?" He asked with slight anger. He had tried to keep you as far away from his duties as much as he possibly could. 

He had constantly restricted you from leaving the sanctuary in hopes of keeping you alive and blissfully unaware of his actions, knowing that he had shaped his men well enough that they knew they needed to die for you. 

"Everyone knows about it. You don't exactly keep it under wraps. I can hear you boost about it from my room. Your voice travels." You studied him, wanting to make sure he wasn't going to try and keep something from you.

"Huh, so I've been told." He shrugged as he then began to study you, checking to see if he could notice any alternative motives. You could only hope he didn't.

"So?"

"Why do you wanna know anyway?" He questioned.

"I'm just curious. Sick of the gossip and rumours, just want to know what's going on. That's all." You attempted to play it off, hoping he didn't notice the slight quiver in your voice.

"I hate gossipers too. They seem to be everywhere, don't they." He replied as he squirted some ketchup onto his cooling grilled potatoes.

"Yeah, they do... so...?" You pressed, hoping he would stop beating around the bush and just reveal what you were wanting to know.

"Alexandria. It's a nice place but the people make it a fucking shit hole, their leader, Rick, is a joke. A fucking pussy if I've ever known one. Hell, I bet Potter could take him in a fight. Truly it's embarrassing." He ranted as he rolled his eyes, his fork scraping against his plate as if the sheer thought of Daryl's leader, Rick, had brought him so much rage that he had to take it out on the plate.

"So is there a lot of people there?" You asked, trying to sound casual.

"Two-hundred and thirty-four." He revealed causing her to tense.

"So we have more." It was a statement rather than a question.

"By a landslide, baby. We have five hundred and four through all of our outposts. In any way, we outrank them. You know what's hilarious? Their leader is so hellbent on killing me even though he knows my people could wipe his people out in a blink of an eye. Everything with that guy is a dick-measuring contest. But he should know by now that he's not gonna win in that department." He laughed once again forgetting that his daughter was sitting across from him. 

Your eyes rolled as he once again found a way to boost about himself.

"Jesus, your daughter is right here!" You exclaimed as you rolled your eyes. Sometimes he was such a child, you thought. If your mother was here she would beat him with her shoe.

"Sorry, sorry. But hey, I want to show you something." He said as he wiped his mouth with a cotton napkin, before placing it on top of his now empty plate, the streaks of ketchup and yellow remained.

Your food on the other hand was still half full, but you knew your father would have somebody wrap it up for you to eat tomorrow as he knew that it took you at least an hour after waking up to be able to eat. 

As you guys walked you caught sight of a man with long dark hair and a broad frame hunched over a mop. You didn't clue in until you saw Dwight roughly grab the man to make him continue his moping a little way ahead. 

It was Daryl.

You didn't have much time to react before your father was speaking again, drawing their attention.

"Dwighty boy, what do we have here?" Your father said as he stopped beside Dwight, smirking down at Daryl as he watched him silently continue his task, his head angled downward.

"Just Daryl, doing what he's told," Dwight spoke with a slight smile while watching Daryl.

Your father let out a booming laugh and you could see Daryl pause his movements for a moment having to mentally restrain himself from physically pouncing on him. 

You knew if he were to break loose you couldn't really blame him. Your father had put him through hell, but that's what he was. Your father. You couldn't let anything thing happen to him, no matter how much you understood how he was feeling.

"You missed a spot." Your father said as he watched the slightly shorter man conceal his anger with delight, clearly enjoying the inner battle that was going on inside of him. Your father kept his eyes on Daryl as he tipped his bourbon bottle on the floor, the dark liquor mashed with the newly clean floor. The half-drunken bottle now sized down a noticeable amount, he laughed again before he shoved the bottle into Dwight's chest. "Here, buddy. You deserve it." Your father tore his eyes away from Daryl before looking up at you, noticing the beyond-dirty look you were sending his way. 

"Thanks, boss." Dwight nodded as he clutched the bottle.

"Get back to work, you mutt." Your father smiled at Daryl but you could tell it was forced as he roughly patted his shoulder in a condescending way before making his way back over to you, sensing your unease about what he was doing.

He nodded at you to follow him before he began to stroll back down the hallway. You followed but your eyes were still trained on Daryl.

Your heart pounded in your chest when he turned his head slightly, watching Negan go before his eyes found you. 

They narrowed once he caught sight of you. You couldn't quite read the look that took over his emotionless face but you knew he didn't feel joy in seeing you with Negan. 

You saw flashes of rage, confusion and a flash of fear? 

Your eyes were locked on each other before Dwight harshly shoved Daryl back to his task which he complied with but at a slower pace, as if his mind was processing the fact that he had seen you outside of his cell with Negan of all people. 

You waited a moment before you turned back around, and in that moment you saw Dwight studying the two of you in confusion.

You hurriedly turned forward to look at your father's back as you turned the corner finally making your way into the kitchen. The one you had found yourself in more often than ever.

"Ta-da," your father said in an overdramatic voice, a wide smile on his face as he waved a hand towards a big a machine that was shaking as it operated, the small, shiny window was wet with condensation. 

"Holy-shit! Is that what I think it is?" You exclaimed in an excited tone as you practically hopped over to the machine in pure astonishment.

"Well, I sure as shit hope I didn't have seven of my men working themselves into the ground carrying this piece of shit back here all for it not to be the fucking ice cream machine that I've been askin' for, for a fuckin' year?" He spoke as you leaned back slightly as if to amplify his words. 

You let out a yell of excitement as you ran into your father's arms, his arms wrapping around your upper back as you tucked your head into his chest. You could feel his smile as he rested his forehead on top of your scalp.

It was moments like these that you missed. The pure moments of a father and daughter showing care for one another. Sure you were still angry with him for what he did to Daryl just minutes ago and for all the bad he was doing, but you couldn't spoil this moment.

The moment that your inner child craved to have.

The moment you were robbed of one too many times. 

You wondered if the sadness could be shown in your eyes. The longing for the love of your parents. 

You knew that Laura could see it. Just as you could see your sadness as well. It was like an understanding for the two of you. You both didn't get to experience much love from your parents, her from way before the outbreak and you, after.

You knew that your mother wasn't at fault for not being there for you. You knew that if she could be here, she would. That's just who she was. She would never miss any of your important achievements and even your minor ones, she always made sure to show up, no matter how much shit she would get at work. She would take all the yelling from her boss just to see your smile when you noticed she was there. 

Your father tried his hardest to be there but most of the time something else was always more important. You were always left having to deal with his half-ass excuses as to why he couldn't show up; only to find out that he was too busy fucking your godmother aka your mother's best friend.

You weren't sure how your mother could forgive him after all the stress he had caused her in the early stages of her cancer, but you knew it was most likely because of how much she loved him.

You had never quite seen someone treat their significant other as well as your father did when he found out about your mother's diagnosis.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You chanted pulling away from your father to look at the grey and blue machine again causing your father to laugh at you, even though he was feeling elated at the fact that you had enjoyed his little present. 

"So, you want to take it for a spin?" Negan asked with a grin, knowing that he was gonna get a taste of the treat that he had also been craving.

"Do Andie and Ben end up together in 'How to lose a guy in 10 days?' " You asked with a raised eyebrow, a smile on your face. 

"Uh, I don't know, do they?" He asked in confusion, not quite realizing the reference.

"Yes!" You exclaimed before rushing to the ice cream machine, your father hot on your tail.

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[endereies]

JUST NEED YOU - CS

No Nut November - Day 3

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ After a long day, Chris goes to you for comfort

Being awake late into the night repeatedly created such a messed-up sleep schedule and it was taking its toll. Ever since the triplets made a new schedule to fit around meetings and events, they found themselves filming into the dark hours of the day so that they could publish a higher quality video.

Chris was always energetic, and he portrayed that during every free opportunity. However, today was slightly different. Him and his brothers planned a stream about midday, along with a late filming session. Nothing he couldn’t handle until his team wanted to have a sudden meeting about his upcoming Fresh Love merch drop. It was early in the day compared to what he was used to.

The meeting wasn’t anything special, but it cut into the hours of rest he hoped would get him through the day. He wasn’t even sure of the meeting wasn’t necessary or a topic that couldn’t be discussed over a few strings of emails.

Then the streaming session followed. So many interactive tasks messed with his brain. Reading out the subs, communicating with the chat, following the requests, playing games while having to make the content engaging with commentary, it was becoming too much. Everything started to blur together, and his brothers could see that. They picked up on the subtle changes of their brother and brought the stream to a close.

“You going to be okay for filming dude?” Matt’s voice caught his attention and dragged it away from the day dream he didn’t even know he was having,

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just a little tired but I’m fine. I’ll grab an energy drink or something.” He shrugs, hiding the mental exhaustion on his face behind a meek smile. His brothers chose not to bring it up again and trust Chris with his words.

“Alright then, see you later.” Chris mumbled a goodbye to Nick, leaving the room to grab a drink from their fridge. The crack of the can giving him some hope that he’d feel more awake. But that’s the opposite of what happened.

The triplets had scheduled a car video for this Friday and if Nick wanted to have it edited by then, they had to film tonight. He was sat in the passenger seat, his third drink laying in the centre console. The filming started promising. Even with no topic, they each found small topics of conversation to entertain. He felt the drinks start to wear off and he couldn’t help but feel more agitated. Bantar turned into insults and left his mouth before he could process. Guilt filled his stomach as more words came out, eventually falling to silence.

When the camera finally stopped showing the red light, Chris sunk into his seat. Overstimulation ran through him by now and he hated it. Every cell in his body practically vibrated and he didn’t feel okay.

“Matt?” He offered a sincere tone to his brother, not opening his eyes while he leant back.

Matt glanced over to his body, evidently full of fatigue. “Yeah buddy?”

“Could you drop me at y/n’s house, please.” His brain felt fuzzy, he needed to just take his mind off his life for a moment. With his own home full of cameras, social media plans and reminders of what he had to do next, he needed a secondary. Your place held sanction to everything that made Chris feel calmer, safer. Away from cameras, away from his job and into your arms. When Matt hummed in response the car grew silent once more. Relief flooded him and a gracious smile twitched at his lips.

Neither Nick nor Matt uttered a word about the situation to Chris. They understood. There had been times where both of them had been in the same boat. The weren’t about to ridicule and tease Chris for that. Chris was just staring out the window at this point, falling silent which allowed the aux’s music to be heard. His eyes traced the painted lines on the road awaiting the moment those lines turned into the gravel of your drive way.

Chris knew you were home, he had been on and off messaging all day. Every few hours he’d receive a text from you just asking about his day. It wasn’t uncommon for Chris to seek your attention after a harsh day, today was no different.

He found himself stood in front of your door for mere moments before pushing the door open. His breathes instantly levelled and a feeling of relief filled his body as he took in the familiar surroundings. “Baby?”

“I’m in my room, Chris!” It didn’t take him long before he wondered into your bedroom.

When he pushed the door open, the scent of your vanilla candles breezed past him, the light casting a soft glow against your skin. You were stood by your closet, organising out piles of clothes freshly washed and dried. He couldn’t help but admire the way the flickered candle lights lit up the room. You feel his eyes baring into yours.

“What’s s’matter babe?” You don’t lock eyes with him briefly as you stretch your body to place a t-shirt away. Chris dawdled towards you, a breathy chuckle leaving his mouth.

“Too fucking much, m’exhausted and stressed.” His arms easily wrapped your waist, the feel of your skin making him sigh softly. You felt the pressure of his face, buried into your neck as he breathes in your scent.

“Would you want to lie down for a bit?” A small giggle passes your lips when Chris’s grip on your waist gets tighter. “Thought you’d never ask…”

Reluctantly, he let go of your body only for his hands to find yours, dragging you both towards your bed. Your bodies align so easily so that you were lying on his chest. Peppered kisses trace your features gently. Chris loves these moments more than anything, the times of the day where he could just be him with no camera or responsibility pushed into his face.

You settle your body in his arms, his heartbeat prominent when you placed your head flat on his chest. Chris’s hand finds his way to your scalp, running his fingers back and forth.

“You want to talk about your day?” You whisper softly, tilting your head to meet his gaze once more. Something in the way you look at him makes his body relax further.

He is quick to shake his head, planting a kiss on your lips. “ Jus’ need you…”

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© ENDEREIES 2024

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

(Dark!) BNHA: Toxic Relationship

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

Boys -> Hawks + Bakugo + Dabi + Deku

Reaction: Moments from your toxic relationship with your Pro-Hero boyfriend.

WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship; Abuse; Manipulation; Non-con.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Let me know if you like this reaction format or what 🙂

–

Hawks

“Y/n is a real clutz, y’know. Can’t even walk on even ground without tripping over her own feet.”

Your cheeks flame with humiliation as the camera pans to the crowd that laughs heartily at the demeaning words, as if Keigo had dropped the funniest joke they’ve ever heard. 

“That’s adorable.” the woman laughs, “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she has no quirk? I believe you said she is quirkless, right?”

Keigo chuckles, nodding as he crosses an ankle over his knee.

“She sure is. Can’t even imagine what type of quirk she’d have, she’s just not the type.”

Your hand grips the remote tighter. What does he mean by that? Does he think you’re not good enough to have a quirk?

You consider turning off the TV, but fortunately the interviewer changes the subject. They casually speak about the current stance of heroes and their struggles on fighting off criminals and villains.

Keigo is charming as usual, delivering answers that are a perfect portrait of responsibility with a sprinkle of humor. He’s good like that, even though his previous answers left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Somehow, they end up reaching the topic of hobbies and free time. 

“Going Pro Hero leaves little time for myself, so sadly I don’t really have much time for hobbies. Wish I had.” he says humbly. “My girlfriend has lots of them, though.”

You inhale sharply. Not again. 

For your misfortune, the woman gets interested.

Perhaps because it’s an exclusive interview and her network channel gave her orders to squeeze every drop of information they can get on Hawks’ personal life. 

“What type of hobbies? She looks like she’s a great cook.” she tries to guess, but Keigo bursts laughing, holding his belly in an exaggerated mannerism. 

“Nah, cooking isn’t really her department. Burned eggs and half-cooked pancakes are more her style. She doesn’t even-”

You change channels in a heartbeat, bursting in tears at the low insults.

You’re not that bad. Sure, you’re not amazing at cooking, but never once did Keigo complain when he eats the food you diligently make after he returns from patrols. 

And now he slanders you on national television? 

And the worst part? It’s not even the first time he’s done this. 

Dabi

“There’s nothing to eat in the fridge.” 

“There is.” 

“There isn’t.” 

You stop writing your notes, swallowing back an annoyed sigh, already aware of what was happening.

“There is food in the fridge.” you repeat, “You just have to cook it.”

Dabi looks at you, unimpressed. 

“No shit Sherlock. Maybe you can do it for me.” 

“You serious?” 

Meeting his arrogant smirk, you huff. 

“Dead serious, babe. Not like you’re busy anyways.”

Your mouth drops at his audacity and you open your arms to indicate the mess of books, papers and pens in front of you. 

“I’m studying, Dabi. Can’t you see that? Grow up and cook for yourself, yeah?” you snap your attention back to your books, but your mood has already turned sour. 

You pretend to scribble down a few words when Dabi walks to you slowly. He peeks into your annotations, snorting. 

“That handwriting is kinda shitty.” he mocks you. “Besides, what exactly are you even studying for? You’re not exactly cut out to be a doctor, y’know? Not enough brain cells in you to become that.” 

You glare at him, angrily swatting away the hand that condescendingly tries to pet your hair. 

“You’re such an asshole, Dabi. Maybe if your life revolved around something other than your stupid daddy’s issues, you would actually get a job. Not like Endeavour is worried sick about you, not when he’s got Shoto.” you spit the words venously.

Not the nicest words, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to bother. 

A dark shade crosses Dabi’s face, his amused expression turning colder. You’d be lying if the sight didn’t ignite some fear in you.

“Is that so?” his crooked smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “And why would I need a job - or Endeavour, by that matter - when I have you?”

His hand reaches for your shoulder and there’s an edge in his eyes that immobilizes you. You shouldn’t have mentioned Endeavour. 

“I’m not with you because of that bitchy attitude, you know. I like my girl to know who’s in charge. Respect is really important in a relationship and your behavior is making me really upset, baby.” his tone is scaringly soft, and his hand travels to your neck.

You hold your breath when the staples on his hand scratch against the delicate skin of your throat. “So, if you need me to remind you of your place, I’ll gladly help you with that.”

His fingers heat up at a low temperature, not enough to actually burn you but it doesn’t stop the lonely tear that slides from your eye, the only sign of the chilling terror you’re feeling.

He leans forward, kissing your forehead before sliding his hand away. 

“Are we understood?” 

The nod you give him is shaky at best, but Dabi smiles nonetheless. 

“Now, how about that food you’re gonna make me?”

Bakugo

“I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

Besides a low hum, Bakugo doesn’t acknowledge you much, too busy French kissing your neck.

His hands head for your ass, provoking a wince in you when he gropes it with unnecessary strength, your left ass cheek being kneaded like it’s dough.

Katsuki uses his grip on your ass to push your hips forward even as you complain again. The thin fabric of his sweatpants does nothing to hide the hardness that shamelessly rubs against your thigh. 

“Katsuki.” 

Once again he gives no sign of hearing you, rolling his hips with more urgency and you barely catch the tired groan that almost rolls away from you.

The clock on your side reminds you that despite the early hour, you’ll only have 6 hours to sleep. 

You really have to sleep and if you’re being honest, tonight you’re not feeling sexy or horny enough to sleep with your boyfriend. 

But that doesn’t make you feel any less awkward when Bakugo’s movements turn more vigorous and needy, humping your naked thigh as if he’s fucking it while you remain as alive as a statue. 

“Fuck, this isn’t enough.” he growls against your skin, and your heart skips a beat when his hands reach for your shorts, tugging them down halfway until you panickedly grab his wrist, wiggling your body away from his.

“Seriously, Kats, I’m not in the mood tonight.” you say, quickly pulling back your shorts. 

“You fuckin’ serious right now?” he growls through gritted teeth, still hovering above you. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you timidly nod. 

“Maybe we can do this tomorrow? It’s just that-”

“Yeah, whatever. Not like you haven’t used that stupid excuse on me before.”  

Your eyebrows raise with surprise at the bitter tone on his voice as he gruffs, pushing himself off you. 

“I’m not making up excuses.”

“The hell you aren’t.” he looks at you, angry. “Every time I try to start something, you turn into a damn nun. Always too freakin’ tired,  too busy or not in the mood.”

He scowls, spiky blonde hair falling to his eyes. 

“All you have to do is open your goddamn legs and let me do the rest, and you can’t even do that.”

His words hit a sore spot and he turns his back on you, settling on the distant side of the bed after delivering strained punches to the pillow to soften it up.

“Maybe I go after those Dynamite's groupies that are always throwing themselves at me. Since you never want to fuck anymore.”

You’re left too stunned to speak, sadness blossoming at the cruel meaning of his words and it’s a struggle to swallow the tears. 

He wouldn’t really, would he? But your mind lingers on the disturbing thought. He’s popular with girls, even with his angry mood.

Bakugo is tall, muscular and not even the ever present scowl in his face is able to contradict the attractive facial features he’s been blessed with. Meanwhile you’re just mediocre, if even that...

Your insecurities strike back, taunting you. 

Your hand reaches for his arm before you even realize it, and you’re mildly surprised when he doesn’t shake you off. 

“The hell you want now?”

Pulling on his arm until he finally turns to the side, you kiss him. 

He groans against your lips, allowing your hand to rest on the warm plane of his chest and you let it slide lower until it touches his clothed member. 

Neither of you speak a word, but you feel Bakugo smirking against your lips while he practically shoves your shorts down. 

You allow yourself go limp underneath him, letting your boyfriend fuck you in the way he wants to. Holding back a tired sigh when the fluorescent numbers on the clock mock you. 

You really have to wake up early.

Deku

“Are you serious, Izuku?” 

The tall hero jumps, eyes widening almost comically when he realizes you’re standing on the bedroom’s doorway and not cleaning the kitchen, like he clearly assumed you to be. 

“I wasn’t- The phone-” he stammers with his words, plowing your phone onto the bed with a bit too much force.

Crossing your arms, you flash him a frustrated glare.

“You promised me you wouldn’t spy on my phone anymore, Izuku.” your stern tone has him frowning and Izuku practically sprints closer to you.

“I wasn’t spying! I was just- just checking the time.” his words aren’t convincing enough for you to actually believe in him. 

You squint your eyes at him, dodging his grabby hands with a nasty slap, despite the hurt expression on his face.

“Izuku.” 

“I wasn’t! C’mon, you gotta believe in me.” 

You don’t. 

“Even if I did go through your phone - which I didn’t - why would that be such a problem?” he complains, dragging his voice. “Do you have something to hide or what?”

You point a warning finger at him.

“Don’t you dare. This isn’t about me. You’re the one who went behind my back because you’re just too insecure to fully trust me.”

He shakes his head, emerald eyes turning feverish. 

“You’re being dramatic, of course I trust you.”

“You don’t, stop lying.”

“I do trust you!” his voice rises in volume.

“No, you don’t!” you scream, voice breaking before you crumble in tears. 

You’re exhausted. Of arguing, of dealing with Izuku, of everything. When did things turn so frustrating, so tiring? Why does he always have to ruin things for you?

Izuku curses under his breath before rushing to you, engulfing you in a comforting embrace as you cry on his chest. 

“You don’t. You never will and I know that.” he stays silent, not contradicting you this time. 

He lets you cry on his chest, his hand gently caressing your hair as he mutters apologies. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” Izuku hugs you harder, arms tightening around you. “I’ll do better, okay? I promise, I will.” 

And like a fool, you accept his promise - even if you know it’s meant to be broken.

[doitforbangchan]

Captiv(e)ate - H.H

Pairing:Mafia boss! Hyunjin x Doctor/EMT!reader

Requested: Yes, you can see the original ask here.

Warnings: Fem/afab reader, Guns, blood, kidnapping?, cursing, kissing, suggestive, petnames (angel and darling), and probably more

WC: 4.4k

Sorry to the original asker that this took literal months 🙃i also want to add that i took a lot of creative liberties here and changed it up a bit. Hope you like it! Not proofread Masterlist

“Are you sure we’re in the right area? I don’t see any businesses, only abandoned buildings. Wasn’t the call for a business injury?”  

“This is where the address is showing on the gps, Y/n.”

“Yeah, I get that,” you sighed, looking out the front window of the ambulance. “But doesn’t it just seem a little… off?” 

Ray, the driver, shrugged, “ Guess we’ll see when we get there. The building should be right around the corner.” 

You continued to look out of the window, doubt etched across your face. Being an EMT has taken you to many sketchy places since you started your career, but nothing has ever set the knot in your stomach so tight as it is now. A few minutes later the gps alerted that the destination was directly in front of you. With a deep breath you prepared to enter work mode and put your nerves aside and as the vehicle stopped you opened the doors. 

Immediately you saw a small swarm of men filter quickly out of the building. Before you could hop out, the one who came out first reached behind him and pulled out a silver pistol, aiming it directly at you. You froze, eyes wide with terror and a chill down your spine.You slowly put your hands up to show you are unarmed. You could hear Ray behind you yelling in fear but you remained silent.

“No one move an inch.” The man with the gun growled menacingly, he had an Australian accent. “This is how this is gonna go. We are all getting into this ambulance, and you are going to treat our friend. You cooperate- you leave with your lives. You don’t… then you don’t. Capisce?” 

You both nodded quickly, keeping your hands up. The man was satisfied with your choice and he motioned for you all to move aside. Once you did all the men began to hop into the ambulance, two of them carrying another who was nearly unconscious. 

The men dropped the injured one onto the gurney then shut the doors harshly. “First things first,” The man with the gun said. “Give me your cell phones. No calling the cops.” The two of you shakily took out your phones and handed them over to the man. “Alright now do your jobs. Driver, head south towards Gangnam.” 

It was incredibly cramped in the ambulance with all of the people but nonetheless you scooted closer to the man on the gurney. Your eyes did a quick sweep over the men; some were glaring at you in intimidation, others were looking at the injured man with deep worry on their faces.

With a deep yet shaky breath, you snapped on some rubber gloves and began to access the patient in front of you. He was a young guy, probably early 20’s. His lips were plump- the shape reminded you of a dumpling. His eyelashes were long and dark, flitting on his cheeks as he twitched with his eyes closed.  Overall he was a very handsome man, they all were really, but something about this man in particular made your heart flutter. If he wasn’t bleeding out in front of you you might have taken a little more time to eye him up, but now was not the time to get distracted. Especially since your life was on the line if you didn’t save this man. 

You could see that the blood was pouring out of a wound on his side and you lifted his shirt to find a bullet wound. You winced, finding a cloth and holding it on the wound quickly to help with the copious amount of blood. When you pressed into it, he gasped from the pain and his eyes shot back open.

 “Nnnnhgggghh” He choked out and suddenly his hand was grasped from beside him. A young looking man with shoulder length blonde hair held his hand and with an unexpected deep voice tried to sooth him. 

“Shh easy, Hyune. The docs gonna patch you right up.”

Another one spoke up from behind you, “Yeah you’re gonna be alright boss!” 

Hyune, as he was called, looked over to you, his teeth clattering as he tried to hide his pain, and with a shaky nod he motioned for you to continue.  You steeled yourself the best you could and got to work. 

‘Hyune’ was banaged the best you could, but you would need a more steady place to work that wasn’t speeding down a highway. When you conveyed that to the men around you, you were met with glares. 

“No, you will get it done here and now.” The one with the gun still out stated with a growl. 

“C-chan..” Your patient croaked, “H-home..” They all did a double take at the man on the gurney, some scoffing and looking like they wanted to disagree but before they could he held up a hand and instantly they all stopped talking. “That’s an order.” 

The man with the gun, ‘Chan’, sighed. “Ok, you got it.” Then he turned to you with hard eyes, “Do you know how to drive this thing?” 

You were taken aback, “Uhh, no I don’t.” 

He hummed, then looked at a man with copper colored hair and thin eyes, “You’re up, maknae.” the both of them went over to where Ray was. “Pull over in this cluster of buildings.” Ray did as he was told and pulled over behind a large factory. 

The copper haired man reached behind him, “Sorry man, this is the end of the road for you.” 

You couldn’t help the gasp that left you at the man's words. “No, please no!” 

Both the men looked at you as if you were dumb, and then the younger one pulled out a wad of cash from his back pocket. He shoved it into the hands of Ray who was shaking in his fear. 

“Take this as a token of our appreciation for your help and your silence about this.” 

Ray nodded and got out of the ambulance, not even sparing you a glance. The younger man got into the driver's seat and began to drive the large vehicle with ease. You looked out the window to see Ray counting his large stack of cash with a smile on his face. It almost made you sick with how easily he was bought off. 

One of the men who was still standing near you pulled a dark piece of fabric out from his pocket - a blindfold- and smirked at you. “Sorry, we can’t have you knowing where our hideout is.” 

He sure didn’t sound sorry… 

Your thoughts were cynical as the man wrapped the fabric over your eyes. He tied it tightly and then held your arm for the remainder of the ride. 

It had felt like hours (though it had only been about 15 minutes) before you could feel the vehicle coming to a stop.The doors to the ambulance were quickly opened and you could feel the heat from outside immediately seep in. You yelped as you felt someone lift you into their arms.

“Shut it, I’m just helping you get out.” It was the voice of the one who blindfolded you. He hopped out with you in his arms and set you back down on your feet. You wobbled and almost tripped when he started to usher you to move, keeping a hold on your arm the whole time. You were led into a building and down a hall.

 Suddenly the fabric was ripped from your eyes as the other men hurriedly wheeled in the gurney with ‘Hyune’ on into the room. The blonde one rushed in behind them with his arms full of medical equipment. The items were laid on a table and you were pushed closer to the injured man. 

Chan threw a pair of rubber gloves at you, “Get to work doc.” 

You put on the fresh gloves and breathed deeply to steady your nerves. You were a medical professional that worked as an emt, you thrived under pressure. This was no different… at least that’s what you told yourself as you got to work removing the bullet from this very good looking man. 

You were able to breathe a sigh of relief when you finally finished sewing up the man. The entire time you worked you had been supervised and scrutinized by Chan and the blonde one, both of them keeping their gaze trained on your every move. You had worked in silence the whole time, and you were thankful for the quiet as it allowed you to focus. The silence also helped you think about the circumstances you have found yourself in. 

You came to the conclusion that these men were part of the mafia- or some kind of gang- and the man you operated on was their boss. The realization did nothing to ease your anxiety, nor did the awareness that once you were done here they would most likely be done with you. You ignored the sick feeling within your stomach as you took off your bloodied gloves and stepped back from your patient. 

“I-i’m done.” Damnit, you didn’t mean to stutter. “He just needs to rest and heal for a while. I gave him some morphine for the pain so it’s imperative that he relaxes to avoid further risk.” 

The blonde one was by his side in an instant, grabbing his hand and checking him over. “Hear that, Jin? You’re gonna be fine.” Hyune tried to lift his head up but he was lightly pushed back down by the blonde. “Nuh uh you have to rest.” 

��Felix..” He mumbled and tried to speak but it was coming out so quietly you couldn’t hear what was said, you only saw the brow raise from ‘Felix’ at what Hyune was saying.

“Uhh yeah, ok. Whatever you say.” Felix waved over Chan who came over. Chan side eyed you as Felix whispered something in his ear, making him sigh in frustration. Then he waved you closer to them. 

You gulped and shuffled over to them. You were surprised when the injured man reached out and grabbed your hand, and he turned his head to look directly in your eyes. His eyes were droopy as if he was struggling to stay awake and he had a dopey grin on his face that made him look even more boyishly handsome. 

“You saved me..” He started, staring directly into your gaze. “You must be an angel.” 

“Uhh.” You felt your face heat up despite the small tinge of fear that still remained inside you. “No, m’ just a doctor. My name is Y/n.” 

Your response caused him to burst into a fit of giggles, which in return made both men next to him let out a few chuckles. Seeing them laugh so casually made you feel slightly less anxious and you felt your shoulders relax a little. 

“You’re funny. I like you.” He squeezed your hand again, his grip was shaky and clammy but for some reason it comforted you. His eyes flickered over to Chan, who rolled his eyes and approached you. “Be nice to her, Channie. S’ not everyday we have an angel among us.” 

Chan snorted and grabbed your arm again, leading you away from the others and down a different hallway. He led you to a room and he opened it, motioning for you to enter. When you were apprehensive he ended up shoving you in and closing the door quickly behind you. The pit in your stomach grew as you heard the distinct click of the door being locked. You spun around and grabbed at the handle of the door but it didn’t budge. 

Fuck. 

It was at that moment that all the emotions you’ve been holding onto since this whole ordeal started came rushing to you all at once. All of the fear, frustration and anger began to pour out of you in the form of tears. Your hands went to your face as you sobbed and your back slid against the door until you were seated on the ground. 

How did you get yourself into this mess? All you did was come to work. And now look at you. Locked away in some mobsters house. You finally lifted your head to look at your surroundings and saw you were in a bedroom. There was a small bed in the corner and another door that led to a small bathroom. You looked around for windows but there was only one tiny one with thick looking glass. So you couldn’t break it and escape.. 

You supposed there were worse places to be held, at least you weren’t in a jail cell,  though you would have preferred to not be captive here in the first place. For what had to be two hours you sat there and thought about how unlucky you were, until finally there was a knock on the other side of the door. 

You scrambled up and to your feet just as the door was unlocked and opened, revealing a man whose name you did not know. He had chunky cheeks and big dark boba eyes. He offered you a gentle smile when he saw you standing there. 

“Hi. It’s uh- it’s time to check on Hyunjin.” So that was his name. Hyunjin. “He started complaining about the pain again.” 

“Oh, ok.” You let him lead you out and down another few halls and up a set of stairs. The house you were in was huge and gorgeous. Beautiful floral paintings lined the walls and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings. Obviously these people had taste. 

The man with you- who had introduced himself as Han- opened another door and led you inside. Laying in a massive bed was Hyunjin, blinking up at you as you carefully approached his bed side. He beamed when he saw that it was you who entered his space. “There's my angel.” 

You shook your head, “I’m not an angel, sir. I’m just a doctor. How are you feeling?” 

“Don’t call me sir, my name is Hyunjin. But my friends call me Hyune.” He winked after he said ‘friends’ and it brought more heat to your face. “And I’m feeling alright, Angel. Just a little tender with the morphine wearing off.” A quiet scoff and a ‘little tender my ass’ was heard from behind you, then Hyunjin sent a glare at Han who mumbled his apology quickly with a giggle. “How are you, Angel? My boys treating you well? You are my special guest here after all.” 

“I’m your special guest?” You asked, shocked at his words and that he cared that you were being treated nicely. You tried not to show your surprise as you got back into work mode, checking his wounds and beginning to replace the gauze. 

“Of course. You saved my life and I don’t take that kind of thing for granted. So you are the specialist guest I’ve ever had.” He gave you that dopey grin again and you felt your heart palpitate. Why are you reacting this way? Get a grip! He’s just a man! A dangerous one at that..

But a really really cute one.

Han cleared his throat, “Uhh boss, I don’t think your in your right mind yet, seems like the morphine is still-” 

Han was cut off by another harsh glare sent his way by Hyunjin, “ I think I’m perfectly in my right mind, Jisung, and I appreciate your concern, but what I would appreciate more is you shutting up.” Han mimicked zipping his lips and locking it, raising his hands in surrender. Then Hyunjin turned back to you just as you finished wrapping him up again with that charming smile. 

You offered him a small one in return, “The wound has been cleaned, it’ll have to be cleaned and rewrapped twice daily to avoid infection. No strenuous movements for a few weeks while it heals and make sure you’re drinking enough water and eating.” 

He grabbed onto your hand once again, “Ah thank you so much, Angel. Speaking of food, have you eaten? Are you hungry?” You shook your head but he didn’t accept your answer. “ Oh come on you must be a little hungry, you’ve been working so hard today. I’ll have dinner set up, whatever you like, hmm?” He nodded over at Han who pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. “So what will it be? Steak? Lobster?” 

You said the first thing that came to your mind in a panic, “How about pizza?” 

“Pizza?” He laughed, crinkling his eyes. “You could have anything in the world and you choose pizza? Oh Angel, you are surprising.” He brought your hand up and laid a kiss on the back of your hand. “It’ll be done before you know it.” 

You found your confidence in that moment, the burning questions rattling around and begging to escape. “Can I ask you something, please?” Your voice came out more timid than you intended and you mentally cursed yourself. 

“Of course.” He didn’t even hesitate, having an inkling about what you wanted to know. 

“I’m still not totally sure what is going on here.. I mean I get that you guys hijacked my ambulance and you needed medical help, but I don’t know what I’m still doing here or why you’re being so nice to me or even who you guys are.” You twiddle your thumbs and avoided eye contact, though you were not sure why you were so nervous. 

Hyunjin chuckled, patting you on the back of your hand, “Promise not to freak out?” You nodded in agreement. “This is the Straykids headquarters. You’re still here because you have been more than useful to me and you saved my life.” 

Upon hearing the name ‘Straykids’ you knew exactly who he was. This was the leader of the most notorious mafia group in Seoul; Hwang Hyunjin. This man was known for being dangerous, violent and bloodthirsty. His whole gang was, really. You had seen first hand the leftovers of one of their shootouts, having been called to the scene a few months prior to try to find any survivors. There were none. 

But this man doesn’t seem to be the cruel criminal that he had been made out to be- though maybe it was the drugs you had administered that was altering his mind. So far he had been kind to you, and had worried that you were being taken care of. 

It was like he could see the gears turning in your head and he let out another chuckle. “Don’t worry, Angel, you’re safe here. No one here is going to do anything to harm my special little Angel.” Hyunjin winked again, then a ding was heard from his phone. He leaned over and read the text, “Pizza is here. Hannie will take you down to the dining room, I will join you in a moment. Ok?” He finally let go of your hand and sent you off with Han. 

You were seated at this long elegant oak dining table, a gang member on each side of you as they call scarfed down the slices of pizza. Hyunjin sat at the end of the table, keeping his eyes on you as you picked at your food. He could see how nervous you were to be surrounded by infamous criminals but he was also intrigued by how well you were holding yourself together. He was starting to like you more and more. 

“So how long have you been an EMT?” The question came from the boy next to you- I.N he was called- as he shoved another bite into his mouth. 

You cleared your throat, “About a year. I worked in the hospital for a while before this as a resident.” 

He nodded, swallowing . “What made you leave working in the comfort of the hospital? Seems like it would be a pretty cushy gig” 

“Yeah it was.” You agreed, “But it was so boring. I like to be out there in the action.” 

That had caught everyone's attention. A few looked at you with raised brows. “Action huh?” Minho had asked from across from you. “Like what?”

They noticed how you lit up as you started talking about some of the medical emergencies you had seen, how passionate you sounded as you described how you helped people. Hyunjin especially could see all your emotions as you spoke. 

“Sounds bloody.” Minho said, earning him a light hit to the head from Seungmin. “Fuck off!” He grouched at the boy next to him.

You shrugged, already feeling more comfortable. “It can be. Nothing you guys aren’t used to, I’m sure.” 

All eight men started to laugh, some nodding along as your words rang true. They were all much more personable now, acting like normal guys and cracking jokes and laughing together. In fact they were all so normal it was almost unsettling. These are not the kind of men you envisioned when you imagined the deadly mafia. They seemed more like a family than a gang. 

You felt a hard pat on the back from Chan who was sitting on the other side of you, “You’re kinda funny, doc.”

“Thanks I try.” You gave a small grin to him and finished your pizza. 

It had gone like this for the next two weeks. Every day you were let out of your room to treat Hyunjin and keep the wound from getting infected, and then you would either go back to your room or were allowed to hang out with some of the mafia members. 

Every day Hyunjin would flirt with you, calling you Angel and telling you how much he valued you. You didn’t want to fall for his charms but you were just a girl. And he was one appealing man. He made sure you were cared for, and showed you kindness. There was never a moment (other than that first day) that you had felt like you were in danger with him or the other members.

His injury was healing nicely and you knew that soon there would be no use for you, and that was the only thought that brought you any kind of anxiety. You doubted they would just send you on your way; you knew way too much about them and their ‘organization’. They hadn’t been exactly secretive about it since you’ve been there. 

You went to find Hyunjin to do his exam and found him sitting at his desk in his office. Since he was healing he was able to do more behind the scenes work and as the leader he definitely had work to do. Organized crime required more work than anyone realized. 

You walked in and he looked up from whatever he was studying and offered you one of his dazzling smiles. “Hiya Angel. Is it that time again?” 

You nodded, “Uh huh, lemme see it.” 

He smirked and lifted his shirt to reveal his toned abdomen. “If you wanted me to take my clothes off you should have just asked. I would never deny an Angel.” There he was with his flirting that always brought a deep heat over your face and ears. 

“Yeah yeah, just come ‘er.” You muttered and took off his bandage. You examined the wound. Just as you thought, it was healed enough that you would no longer need to take care of it. “It’s healing very well, Hyunjin. You have been taking great care of it.” 

“That’s all thanks to the incredible doctor that stitched it up and brought me back from the brink.” He said, looking down at you and dropping his shirt back back. 

“Well you’ll be happy to know that you no longer require my expertise, it should be just fine as long as you keep it clean.” You tried to smile but it didn’t reach your eyes and Hyunjin could see right through you. 

“What’s wrong, Angel?” He cupped your cheek with his big hands, making you face him. 

You tried to shake your head, “Nothing, I’m happy you're doing better.” 

“Buuuut” He prompted. 

You let out a sigh, embarrassed you even feel this way. “ But I’m done treating you. And now you're going to toss me out.” 

His eyes widened and confusion washed over his features. “What? Who said that? Did one of the boys tell you that?”

“No they didn’t say anything but I just assumed tha-” 

“Don’t assume anything, I had no plans of getting rid of you.” He stared hard into your eyes. 

“B-but you don’t need me anymore..” 

He tsked, “You silly girl. Haven’t you come to realize that I’ll always need you? Who else would take such good care of me and the boys. Don’t think I didn’t see it when you patched up Minho after his cooking incident. Or when you cured Felix's cold last week.” 

“Oh that was nothing.” You protested, your hands coming up to fist his shirt as he got even closer.

“Not to me.” He leaned closer to your face, getting his point across. You thought he was going to kiss you but instead he pressed a peck to your forehead. Then he pulled back slightly. “If you want to leave, then I will let you go. I know you wouldn’t say anything about us to anyone. But before you have to know that I want you here. I want you to stay by my side. Not just as my medic but as my woman. You are the most interesting and incredible woman I’ve ever met. You captivate me like no one ever has.” 

Your hands wrung in his shirt at his sentiment. You didn’t know how to answer. You knew the smart thing would be to go- to leave this place and never think twice about these mobsters. But for once you wanted to follow your heart, not your brain. You wanted to stay and you wanted him. 

“I-I want that too..” You said quietly and screwed your eyes shut. “I would like to remain here. With you, Hyunjin.” 

You heard him hum in satisfaction and then you felt your face being tilted up and suddenly the softest pair of lips you had ever felt were on yours. You let out a squeak of surprise and then melted into his kiss. You groaned when his tongue swiped on your lower lip asking for entrance which you gladly gave him. 

Hyunjin suckled on your own tongue for a moment then pulled away from you, leaving you breathless. Both of your lips were swollen and you couldn’t stop gazing into each other's eyes. He ran a thumb along your cheekbone, “Welcome to heaven, Angel.” 

©doitforbangchan

Im not the proudest of this but it took me so long 😭😭 plz enjoy. comments and reblogs are appreciated

Tagged; @jehhskz @athforskz

[wholoveseggs]

Hey girl, I love you and your stories <3

Can I maybe request an enemies to lovers with a female reader and Elijah, which leads to a threesome between her Elijah and Klaus. Maybe with a little punishment and very kinky maybe with a little light bondage and just light beds in general, I'll leave the details up to you

thank you already <333

Captive

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x Klaus Mikaelson x Vampire!Reader} You are being held captive by a group of nasty witches, being tortured, starved of blood and interrogated night and day... You've lost all hope, until two old enemies show up to save you, and you spend the evening reminiscing and making up for lost time.

♡♡ Thank you lovely anon! Its been so long since I did a ménage à trois with the boys & it's always so much fun to write! ♡♡

7.1k words {hehe} - Warnings: smut, lots of drinking, Klaus being a little shit, oral sex {m! and f! receiving}, a little bondage, praise kink, a little punishment, slight dom!Elijah and Klaus, blood sharing, rough sex, double penetration, overstimulation && aftercare ...

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05

In the dark, dingy cell; there was no way to tell the passage of time. Not that you were in any condition to care about that.

It had been so long, you had forgotten the feeling of sunlight kissing you skin, the smell of flowers in the wind, the sound of birds chirping in the morning, the taste of rich red wine, the laughter of friends. The last few days- weeks? months?- were spent in a haze. Time had become a distant concept.

All you knew now was cold, stale, dirty water, and the constant pain of hunger, and the agony of torture.

At first you blamed your captors, with their unrelenting desire to grab at power. Then you blamed your stupidity, your lack of caution. But most of all you blamed the Mikaelsons, for they were who the witches had targeted. They were the ones you were being tortured for.

If only you had not made such enemies, if only you hadn't gotten involved, you could have lived your immortal life without consequence, without guilt. You would have avoided all the pain, all the torture. Indulging in men of that caliber always came with a price, you just didn't expect it to happen to you.

In a way, it was a mercy that your body had long since given out. That you had become too weak, too hungry, to do much more than lay against the dirty floor, staring blankly ahead. Soon your limbs would stop working, only dust left in your veins. You would desiccate and die a slow, painful death, the only relief would be your own insanity.

It was there, in that dark place, where you accepted your fate. The witch's spells kept you trapped, you were too weak to even crawl out the door, and there was no one who knew where you were, no one who would come for you.

That is, until you felt the cold chill of the witch's magic suddenly disappear, like a weight lifted from your shoulders. Then the sound of fighting outside, the screams of the witches and their death rattles, and the door creaking open. And a cold laugh you never thought you would hear again.

"Isn't this a sight?" Klaus said, crouching down outside of the cell, leaning close to the ground to meet your eyes, "I never thought I'd see you in such a state, little fox."

His tone was light, almost mocking, and his grin was as cold as ever. You blinked a few times, hoping you were imagining things, that the delirium had finally set in. You had experienced plenty of hallucinations since the witch's had captured you.

But he didn't disappear. He stayed, watching you, like a snake waiting to strike.

"She looks awful," He mused, looking you over.

"And she smell even worse," another voice chimed in, his soft lilting accent completely unfamiliar, and yet somehow familiar at the same time.

"You've let yourself go, sweetheart," Klaus teased.

"Are you going to sit and gawk, or are you going to rescue the poor girl," The second man said, his voice growing closer as he joined Klaus.

It was Elijah, his way with words unmistakable, even in the attempt at an American accent he spoke with now.

"I was actually thinking about killing her, would it be easier?" Klaus replied, his grin widening, "What do you think brother, is she a lost cause?"

Elijah peered through the bars, his dark eyes taking you in. You wanted to hide, or scream, or cry. His face bringing back a thousand buried memories, all the reasons why you had tried so hard to forget him.

"I'd say she's quite beyond salvation," he said, "but you know I could never resist a damsel in distress, even one as ugly as this."

That hurt, even though you certainly deserved it. Many great fables are written about the tragic love affairs of humans, but nothing compared to the heartbreaks between vampires.

Klaus laughed at the pain in your eyes, the way they watered ever so slightly, despite how weak and dehydrated you were. But he reached out and grabbed the iron gate, tearing it off the hinges with a grunt.

"I think we're past pleasantries, don't you agree, love?" He asked, striding into the cell and lifting you up.

The moment his hands touched your skin, you knew it was real. That by some divine miracle you were rescued and it was by the worst possible people.

"You should really take a bath, it's unbecoming for a lady to smell like a sewer." Elijah commented, watching the way you were limp in Klaus' arms.

You choked out a half laugh, half sob, every small movement felt like sandpaper rubbing against your skin. You swallowed hard and it felt like a knife had been forced down your throat.

"Fuck you," you wheezed.

"There she is!" Klaus said, holding you bridal style, "We were wondering if you had actually died."

Elijah reached out and placed a hand on your head, smoothing out your hair and giving you a gentle smile. You leaned into the touch, the first kindness you had felt in so long.

Klaus carried you out of the cell, and into the room above. He sat down in an old wooden chair, the same one you had been tortured in countless times. Your breathing hitched and you tried to struggle, but he held you tight, pressing his face into your neck.

"Relax," he said, "I'm not going to kill you … yet."

The threat hung in the air, and Elijah rolled his eyes at his brothers' dramatics. You felt the tip of his tongue lick up your neck, and his fangs graze your skin, before pulling away.

"Any of them still kickin'?" He asked Elijah, who was peering around the room.

"One, she's alive. Barely," he replied, his gaze falling on a witch laying face down on the floor, her neck was at a weird angle, no doubt snapped by Elijah.

He dragged her to the middle of the room, her body limp, but you could hear the faint beating of her heart, her blood still pumping. She was still clinging to the last threads of existence. Her blood smelled divine, the sound of her heartbeat was music to your ears.

"Here's a deal," Klaus said, pulling your attention back to him, "I give you her blood, and you answer our questions. Sound fair?"

Your lips were chapped and your throat was dry, but you forced out an answer, "Yes, please."

You hadn't begged for anything the entire time the witches had imprisoned you. Not for freedom, not for mercy, not for blood, not even for your own life. But in that moment, all of your pride had been stripped away, and there was nothing left but desperation.

Elijah lifted the witch up, biting down on her wrist and offering it to you. The taste of fresh blood filled your mouth, and you moaned, gulping down as much as you could. But the relief didn't last long, as he pulled away.

"Enough," he said, his grip tight, "can't have you drinking too much."

You felt life returning to your limbs, your bones tingling as you were able to wiggle them, your skin turning from a gray pallor to its usual color. It wasn't much, but it was more than enough to take the edge off.

"Now, let's start with the obvious," Elijah said, "Why are you here?"

"On vacation," you replied sarcastically, your voice hoarse, but not as quiet as before.

Elijah didn't say anything, instead he gave you a cold stare, daring you to make another joke. You shrunk away, but not much. It had been so long since you had been with them, but the way they made you feel, was ingrained into your bones.

"The witches, what do they want from you? I will not ask you again," He asked, the anger behind his words making you nervous.

"They wanted you two," you said, "they knew we had...history."

"History?" Klaus said, chuckling, "that's a very bland word for what we had."

You bit your tongue. He wasn't wrong, but you weren't willing to admit that to them.

"They thought I could get to you, so they tortured me," you explained.

"And could you? Get to us?" Elijah asked, his eyes narrowed.

You didn't respond, instead you looked down. The truth was, you had been avoiding them for centuries and to do that, you always kept tabs on them. So yes, if you wanted to, you could have gotten to them, but that would have meant reopening old wounds, and the last thing you wanted was to feel that pain all over again.

"We could always compel the answer out of you," Elijah mused.

You shook your head. It wasn't that they couldn't, but that they didn't need to. You were already at their mercy, and had no desire to fight them.

"I... I kept your secrets, no matter how much they tortured me," You said, "I never told them anything."

"How noble," Klaus replied, rolling his eyes, "your loyalty is truly inspiring, sweetheart."

His grip tightened on your body, his fingers digging into your skin. It was starting to make you angry. Yes, they had saved you, but the way they spoke to you, the way they were acting, it was too much.

"Fuck off," you snapped, "I could have given them anything, and yet, here I am, starving and tortured. So maybe a little respect would be nice, you prick."

Elijah let out a short, sharp laugh, while Klaus glared at you. But after a moment he grinned and chuckled, the sound sending a shiver up your spine.

"You were always so bold," Klaus said, "you never were afraid of me."

"She's a fool then," Elijah replied.

"Well, what is life without a few fools, brother?" Klaus asked.

"Boring," you replied, earning a smirk from both of them.

Elijah leaned down, grabbing the witch by the hair and placing her head on your lap. She was so close to dying, you could hear her heartbeat getting weaker and weaker. You looked down at her, the smell of her blood filling the air, and licked your lips.

"Drink up now, you've earned it," he said, stroking the back of her head.

You sank your teeth into her neck, the taste of her blood filling your mouth, as you greedily sucked up as much as you could. Nothing tasted better than draining the life out of a witch.

When you finished, you tossed the body aside, licking your lips and wiping your mouth. You were finally able to relax, your stomach full, your skin returning to a healthy color. You stood up, steady and sure on your feet for the first time in months.

"Where do you think you're going?" Klaus asked, reaching out and grabbing your wrist.

"A hotel, I'm thinking luxury suite, room service, a month long spa treatment, the works," you replied, "thanks for the save, I'm off."

You tried to pull your arm away, but his grip tightened, yanking you towards him.

"Such hubris, little fox," he said, his voice cold and menacing, "you don't really think we're going to just let you go, do you?"

You struggled in his grasp, but it was no use. He was too strong, and you were still too weak. You looked to Elijah, a silent plea, but he just shrugged, an amused smile on his lips.

"What the hell do you mean?" You asked.

"Well, there is the fact that you owe us a favor, but also," he said, leaning forward, his mouth brushing your ear, "I still think your lying,"

And with that, he reached for your neck and with one swift move he snapped it. You didn't even have a chance to react, and as you fell to the ground, the world fading away.

When you woke up, you were somewhere else, on a large, incredibly comfortable sofa, the smell of leather and wood in the air. The light was dim, and it took you a moment to get your bearings. You heard a crackling fire, the sounds of music playing from somewhere, and the voices of the Mikaelson's arguing.

"I don't believe she was lying," Elijah said.

"Really, I'm surprised at you brother," Klaus replied, "considering how she ended things with you,"

Elijah sighed and didn't respond. You couldn't see him, but you imagined him adjusting his suit, and the way his jaw twitched when he was annoyed.

"I'm not inclined to trust her either," Elijah said, "But I think holding her captive is pointless,"

"She's a risk," Klaus argued, "and she's not leaving till I'm sure she's not lying."

You sat up and glanced around, trying to see where they were. It was a large living room, the furniture was ornate and expensive, with antique looking paintings on the wall, and bookshelves lining every surface. There was a coffee table next to the sofa you were on, and your eyes landed on a fresh horror that was laying there.

You let out a blood curdling scream, one that echoed in the space and made Klaus and Elijah appear almost instantly. You were still staring, frozen in place, unable to look away.

A human head was sitting on the table, his skin pale and his eyes wide and lifeless. It was one of the witches that had tortured you, and it was sitting there, staring at you.

"Jesus Christ, is that necessary?" You snapped, pointing at the head.

Klaus grinned, looking down at the head, and shrugging, "I thought you would appreciate the gesture,"

"I don't!" You exclaimed.

"Perhaps you could have done something a little less barbaric," Elijah suggested.

"Oh come now brother, where's the fun in that," Klaus replied, and Elijah rolled his eyes.

"It's a peace offering," Klaus replied, walking over and lifting the head up, tossing it from one hand to the other, "do you like it?"

"No!" You yelled, covering your eyes and trying not to gag, "I want it gone, get rid of it,"

"Oh, come on little fox, don't be so uptight," He replied, his voice low and dangerous, "I remember when you used to enjoy this sort of thing,"

An awkward tension filled the room. Elijah cleared his throat and Klaus laughed.

"Too far?" He asked.

"Just a bit," Elijah replied.

"Sorry, my bad," he said, turning his attention back to you, "now, let's discuss how you're going to repay us."

"What, not even a hello, or how are you?" You asked, standing up.

Elijah gently pushed you back down onto the sofa. He sat down next to you, giving you a small smile, and placing a hand on your knee. You felt your heart skip a beat, and you cursed yourself for the reaction. You had been the one to ruin things with him, and yet, being near him again, it made you wish you hadn't.

"This happy reunion calls for wine!" Klaus called, he chucked the head somewhere out of sight and strided over to a mini bar, pulling out a bottle and glasses, "unfortunately I don't have anything fancy at this particular bar, but this is a decent 1990s vintage, which I think is passable,"

"I don't drink anything after the 1900s," Elijah replied, leaning back against the sofa.

Klaus scoffed, but didn't reply, instead he poured himself a glass and downed it in one gulp.

"Fine," he grumbled, "make me go to the cellar, like some sort of servant,"

"If the shoe fits," Elijah quipped.

You watched the exchange, trying to process everything that had happened. They were different now, their accents and mannerisms, not to mention their appearances. But the easy banter between them, and the way they were able to get under each other's skin, that hadn't changed one bit.

"Are you two ever not at each other's throats?" You asked, leaning back, "seriously, you are worse than an old married couple."

"Far worse," Klaus yelled, before disappearing down a hallway, off to retrieve the good wine.

"Don't mind him," Elijah said, turning to you, "he's never been very appreciative of fine cuisine."

"I know. He's a heathen," you replied, smiling.

Elijah didn't return the smile, his gaze fixed on you, a strange expression on his face. His eyes were dark and intense, and the longer he looked, the more uncomfortable you felt.

"You've changed," he said.

"So have you," you replied, "it's been centuries and I wasn't exactly eager to run into either of you again."

He didn't respond. The silence hung in the air, neither of you wanting to talk about the elephant in the room. What had happened, was painful, and neither of you had really moved on.

"Why did you do it?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You bit your lip. A million lies flashed through your mind. The truth was cruel, and you didn't want to admit it, but it was the only option.

"Because I was bored," you admitted, "and I didn't know any other way to handle it, so I turned it all off,"

"And found a far more vigorous lover in the process," Klaus said, suddenly appearing with an older bottle of wine.

He handed it to Elijah, who looked over the label and nodded. Klaus gave you a wink and sat down on the chair across from the two of you.

Elijah didn't speak, and you couldn't read his expression. He looked hurt, and his gaze turned away from you. Guilt was a feeling you spent a lot a time accepting back into your life, but to witness the consequences, that was far worse.

"Whoops, still a sore subject I see," Klaus teased.

"Niklaus, shut up," Elijah snapped.

Klaus threw his hands up in mock surrender, and didn't say anything, a satisfied smile on his face. He was just as much to blame as you, but clearly he had no remorse and was loving the awkwardness of the moment.

Elijah uncorked the wine and poured a glass for all three of you. The tension in the room was still palpable, and as much as you wanted to apologize, you knew that nothing would fix what you had done.

"To reunions, and bloody witches," Klaus said, raising his glass, "to past lovers and new enemies, to the future, whatever that may bring,"

He chuckled and took a long drink. You and Elijah didn't move, still looking away from each other.

"Oh, come on, I'm not doing this whole thing alone," Klaus said, glaring at the two of you, "let's play a game,"

"You know, I'm not really in the mood for a game," you said, crossing your arms.

"Well, lucky for you, I'm not asking," Klaus replied, his voice dripping with false kindness, "now, the rules are simple, tell the truth or take a drink,"

"We are not children," Elijah protested, "we don't need games to imbibe,"

"Oh, I beg to differ," Klaus said, "so, what shall we ask first? Hmmm... oh, how about, why were you in New Orleans?"

You stared at him, unsure if you should just answer, or try to get out of the game. He was looking at you, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set. You could feel his anger, and the last thing you wanted was to piss him off.

"I needed an answer to a question," you replied, "it's… important to me,"

Klaus and Elijah exchanged a glance, both of them curious about what you meant.

"How intriguing," Klaus said, leaning back, "and what was this question?"

"Doesn't work that way," you replied, a smile creeping onto your face, "it's your turn,"

"Clever girl," Klaus replied, grinning.

"My turn," Elijah said, turning to Klaus, "where did you find this bottle,"

"Why does that matter?" Klaus replied, annoyed.

"I don't remember seeing that year in the cellar," Elijah replied, taking a sip.

"Perhaps it was from your secret stash…" Klaus asked, smirking, "the one I'm not supposed to know about?"

Elijah glared at him, and you stifled a laugh. Their arguments were always funny, and this was no exception.

"Well, I was feeling sentimental, so I grabbed one of the better years," Klaus explained, "what's the harm in a little nostalgia,"

Elijah didn't say anything, his gaze turning back to the glass, swirling the wine around.

"My turn," you said, "how did you find me?"

"Simple," Klaus said, "we have spies everywhere, and witches are the most gossiping creatures on the planet. When I heard they were torturing a lovely little vampire that matched your description, well… we just had to see for ourselves,"

You were shocked, that they had gone out of their way to find you. You hadn't expected them to care, or even remember you, and to know they had saved you just because they could, it was a strange feeling.

"But, why bother saving me?" You asked, genuinely curious, "you don't owe me anything, not after how I left things,”

They both fell silent, exchanging a glance that seemed to have an entire conversation within it. After a moment, Elijah spoke.

"It's always better to know where our enemies stand," he said, "you are a useful asset, and a potential enemy,"

"And," Klaus added, "we love killing witches who get too big for their boots,"

Elijah glared at him and then sighed, "That too,"

You didn't say anything, their reasoning making perfect sense. You had a history with the two of them, but that didn't mean you were friends.

Elijah's arm stretched behind you, casually resting on the back of the couch. His fingers brushed your shoulder and you felt your breath catch. His hand was warm and you could feel his thumb stroke your shoulder.

"What did the witches ask you?" he said, his voice soft and low. “Tell us the whole truth,”

His hand moved subtly to the back of your neck, a quiet threat, one that didn't require words. You understood the unspoken message and knew that if you didn't give him an answer he was happy with, then you would end up the same way as the head that was somewhere in the house.

"They asked about your weaknesses, how to kill you," you admitted, "I told them to go fuck themselves and in return they upped to torture severely,”

Klaus snorted, clearly impressed. He poured himself another glass, while Elijah gave you a satisfied nod.

"Why the loyalty? We haven't spoken in centuries," Elijah asked, his fingers tracing the curve of your neck, "I seem to remember you hating us both,"

You picked up your glass and took a long drink, not saying anything.

"Not a fan of the question?" He asked.

"It's not loyalty, but self preservation," you said, shrugging, "the wrath of witches is one thing, but you two? That's a death wish,"

Klaus laughed and held up his glass, "well played, sweetheart,"

Elijah didn't remove his hand, his fingers lightly caressing the nape of your neck, his gaze never wavering from yours.

"My turn," you said, trying not to squirm under his touch, "why not kill me? You are clearly afraid I hold secrets you rather I didn't,"

"Call it … Nostalgia," Klaus said, a wicked grin on his face, "I do so love to reminisce, and if I am being honest, you are one of the more fun memories,"

"Ah yes, your one weakness, sentimental attachment to those you've slept with," you quipped, taking another drink, the alcohol warming your throat.

"I guess it's the one thread of our humanity we've never been able to shake," Klaus admitted.

You raised your glass and downed the rest of it, setting the glass down with a small clink. Elijah refilled it, his hand now resting on your lower back. You tried to ignore it, but every touch made you more aware of him, and less able to concentrate.

"Let's make a deal," Klaus said, his expression serious, "we will let you go, if you answer why you are in New Orleans,"

You bit your lip, wondering if they would even believe you.

"I'm here because..." you paused, looking down at the ground, "I heard a witch here can help with... Fertility,"

They both froze, a stunned look on their faces.

"A baby?" Elijah asked, his eyes wide.

"Is that what you've been chasing all these centuries?" Klaus asked, clearly surprised.

You looked up at both of them, two of the oldest beings to walk this earth. Them, of all people, you hoped would understand your reasons.

"I've experienced everything I've ever wanted too in my long life," you began, your hands twisting in your lap, "climbed the tallest mountains, swam in the deepest oceans, drank with Kings of long forgotten empires, fucked and fed from the greatest artists, poets, warriors and philosophers the world has ever known... but now I wish for only one thing,"

You stopped, swallowing a lump in your throat, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall.

"To be a mother," you whispered, "to impart my wisdom on someone, and love them more than anything. To show them the beauty of the world and watch them grow up, have children of their own, and carry on a legacy. It's the one thing I haven't done, and the one thing I want most in the world,"

You thought that Klaus would laugh, perhaps even mock you, but he didn't, instead his expression was sympathetic, and Elijah's was one of understanding.

"You are not the wild, reckless creature that we used to know," Klaus said, "you have changed,"

"And so have you," you replied.

The three of you sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the weight of the conversation settle.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Elijah asked, his arm now firmly around your waist.

"All I found was a chains and a cell," you replied, "I was a fool, blinded by hope. All that awaited me was pain,"

Klaus poured you another drink, they couldn't help you, but at least they could offer you a distraction.

The night quickly dissolved into a drunken revelry. The three of you laughing and drinking, the old days a source of amusement. Your belly was full of blood and wine, and the tension between the three of you had dissipated.

"Now that I have determined you aren't a threat, it's time to get down to the real questions," Klaus said, "who is the better lover? Me or my dear brother,"

"Seriously?" You exclaimed, rolling your eyes.

"What?" He replied, "I'm just curious, I promise I won't get jealous,"

"I'm not answering that," you said.

"Yes, well, I would rather not hear the answer," Elijah interjected.

"You are no fun," Klaus replied, and then leaned forward, his gaze intense, "I'm going to assume it's me,"

"Interesting assumption," you said, raising an eyebrow, "but if we're talking about skills, there is a clear winner,"

Elijah grinned, and Klaus shot you an offended look. You laughed and finished the rest of the wine, setting the glass on the table.

"And I've always preferred passion over... Enthusiasm," you said, a hint of teasing in your voice.

Elijah didn't look up from his drink, his face neutral, but you could tell he was smiling. Klaus huffed, and crossed his arms.

"I would be delighted to remind you," Klaus said, leaning forward and placing a hand on your thigh, "just say the word, and we can retire to a more comfortable location."

You grabbed his wrist and twisted, until you felt his bones shatter. He cried out in pain, then quickly recovered, the bones snapping back into place.

"That's not how this works," you replied, smiling sweetly.

He stared at you, his expression changing from shock to a pleased smile.

"Still the same fire, I see," he replied, "a good reminder of the past,"

"If I were to sleep with either of you again, it would be on my terms, certainly not when I'm held captive," you snapped.

"Who said anything about holding you captive," Klaus replied, "if we were, you would still be shackled to the wall,"

"Some might enjoy that sort of thing," Elijah remarked, his cheeks were a bit rosy from drink and you enjoyed how it made him seem less cold.

"Have you done that sort of thing Elijah?" You teased, "I never would have taken you for a deviant,"

He shrugged, a sly smile on his face, "I don't divulge such things,"

"Oh, please, you can tell us," Klaus said, "unless you haven't, and are simply trying to pretend like you have,"

"Or perhaps he has and is ashamed of the things he's done," you added, laughing.

Elijah glared at the two of you, the playful glint in his eyes giving him away. He simply stood up and held out his hand to you, the confidence in his stance and the way he looked at you sent a jolt of heat through your body.

"The only way to know for sure, is to experience it for yourself," he said, his tone seductive, "I'll leave the choice up to you,"

You stared at him, a sudden desire coursing through your veins. This was a terrible idea, but at the same time, a chance to have a night of freedom and pleasure after months of torture was an offer you couldn't resist.

"If I say no, am I free to go?" You challenged, meeting his gaze.

"You were never a prisoner," he replied, "the only person keeping you here is yourself,"

He was right. They hadn't chained you, or compelled you, and now that the threat of danger was gone, there was nothing stopping you from walking out the door. But that was not what you wanted, and the look in his eyes was too enticing.

"Alright, but I need a shower first, I still smell of dungeon and witch piss," you said, standing up and taking his hand, "and you better not disappoint,"

He smiled, his eyes dark with desire, and pulled you into his arms, his lips crashing into yours. The kiss was intense, and you clung to his shoulders, melting into his embrace.

Klaus scoffed, he loathed being left out.

"Really?" he grumbled, pouring himself another glass. "Can you keep the noise to a minimum, I would prefer to have a little sleep tonight,"

You let out a soft giggle, "oh, don't pout, you can come too,"

Klaus raised an eyebrow, looking to his brother for an answer. Elijah nodded, a smirk on his face.

"If she insists," Elijah said, his voice smooth, "you know I've never been good at denying her,"

Klaus immediately got to his feet, throwing his glass of wine into the fireplace. The flames leapt up, the red embers glowing, illuminating the room in a fiery light. He walked over and wrapped an arm around your waist, his lips brushing your ear, his hand cupping your ass.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've fantasized about having you in bed again?" He whispered, his breath hot against your neck.

You smiled and pushed him away, enjoying his expression of surprise.

"Well, then, why are we still standing here," you said, sauntering out of the room, "the night won't last forever,"

Elijah caught up with you in the hallway, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing you up against the wall. He kissed you, his hands sliding down to your thighs and lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and ran your fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss.

He carried you all the way to his bedroom, never once breaking the kiss. The room was dark, and the bed was large and covered in dark silk sheets. He pointed to his bathroom, and you pulled your tattered clothes off, leaving them on the floor.

You went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, waiting for the water to get warm. You felt his arms wrap around you and turned around, letting him press you up against the tile. He kissed you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth. His hands roamed your body, exploring every inch of bare skin, his touch igniting a fire within you.

Klaus quickly joined you, he had undressed in the other room, and stood naked in the doorway. You smiled at him, enjoying the way his muscles flexed as he moved.

Elijah pulled away from you to undress and you watched as his shirt was unbuttoned and fell to the ground. His pants followed, and your eyes roamed his body, admiring his muscular frame. The two of them were opposites in many ways, but they both had a beauty to them, and right now you could hardly choose which one you wanted more.

You took both their hands and pulled them under the steamy water, running your hands across their skin. Their bodies were warm and firm, their skin soft under your fingertips. You kissed Elijah, while Klaus kissed and licked your breasts, his hands wandering between your legs.

You could feel his fingers brush against your wet core, his thumb pressing against your clit. He slowly circled the sensitive nub, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. Your hands wandered down to Elijah's cock, gently stroking the hard length.

Elijah kissed you, his lips trailing down your neck, his hand gently caressing your breasts. You moaned, enjoying the feeling of their hands on your body.

Their touch was overwhelming, hands and mouths everywhere, and it was only when the water started to turn cold that you all stepped out, laughing and breathless.

Elijah pulled you on to his bed, and you fell on to his chest. His lips found yours and you lost yourself in his kiss. You felt the bed dip and Klaus pressed his lips against your shoulder, his hands running along your thighs. He kissed his way down your spine, his hands pushing your ass up in the air.

His lips trailed along the curve of your lower back, his fingers tracing the line of your hip. He placed a soft kiss on your inner thigh and you moaned, anticipation coiling in your stomach.

You felt his tongue flick across your pussy and you gasped, arching your back. He chuckled and began licking and sucking, his tongue expertly teasing your clit.

Elijah's hands cupped your face and you turned your attention back to him. His eyes were blown wide with lust, his gaze fixed on yours. You kissed him, the taste of the wine still lingering on his lips. His cock was hard against your stomach and you could feel his desire pulsing through his veins.

Your hand trailed down his chest, and you wrapped your fingers around his cock, slowly stroking the thick shaft. His eyebrows arched in pleasure, and you could feel his muscles tighten.

You kissed your way down his chest until you were level with his cock. You ran your tongue along the underside of his shaft, enjoying the sound of his low moans. A gentle hum left your throat and you felt him shudder.

You took him in your mouth, gently sucking and swirling your tongue. He groaned, his hands tangling in your hair. His grip tightened and you increased your pace, taking his length deeper.

Klaus moved away for a moment, and you could see Elijah observing whatever he was doing, a dark smile spreading across his face. You felt the bed dip as Klaus returned, and he grabbed your wrists, pinning them behind your back.

A moment later, the soft leather of a belt wrapped around them, and he secured the belt, tight enough that you couldn't move, but not too tight that it hurt.

Elijah's eyes met yours, and a wicked smile played across his lips. "Do you enjoy being tied up? Being helpless and at our mercy?" He asked, his voice a deep growl.

You nodded eagerly, taking him further into your mouth. His eyes darkened, and he grabbed a fistful of your hair, his hips thrusting forward. You could feel him hit the back of your throat and gagged, your eyes watering.

Klaus kissed your lower back, then positioned himself at your entrance. You gasped as he slowly slid inside, the stretch sending waves of pleasure through your body. He held still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, then slowly began to move.

You moaned, the sensation of being filled by both of them overwhelming. They began to move in a steady rhythm, Klaus thrusting into you while Elijah fucked your mouth. You were helpless, pinned between them, unable to do anything but submit.

The sound of their pleasure sent a shiver of delight through you, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to release. Elijah's breathing became ragged, and his grip on your hair tightened. You knew he was close, so you focused on pleasuring him, moving all the way down and swallowing.

He let out a low groan and came, his hot release spilling into your mouth. You swallowed every drop, then pulled away, gasping for air. You smiled up at him, his expression one of bliss.

Klaus continued to thrust into you, his pace increasing. He leaned forward and bit into your shoulder, his fangs sinking deep. You cried out in pain and pleasure, your body shuddering. His bloodlust combined with his own pleasure, the feeling overwhelming, but just as you were about to cum, he stopped.

You let out a whine, and he chuckled, his hands squeezing your ass.

"I don't think I'm quite ready for this to end," he murmured, pulling out.

Elijah's hands moved down to your arms, pulling you forward and guiding you onto his lap. You straddled him, your hands still bound behind your back, and his cock brushed against your wet core.

"Do you remember how you used to love riding me?" He whispered, his lips brushing against yours.

You nodded, eager for him to fill you. He grinned and lifted your hips, slowly lowering you onto his cock. He gripped your hips and began to move you up and down. You moaned, resting your head on his shoulder and grinding your hips.

Klaus positioned himself behind you, and you felt his hand trail down your back. His fingers traced the line of your ass, and then he spread your cheeks, exposing your other hole.

"You are such a pretty little thing," he murmured, pressing a finger against your ass, "all tied up and at our mercy,"

He slid a finger inside, the tight ring of muscle giving way. You moaned, the feeling of being filled by both of them overwhelming.

Klaus coated his cock with a lubricant and pressed it against your ass. Elijah held you still, his lips claiming yours in a heated kiss. You could feel the tip of Klaus' cock pushing into your ass and whimpered, the stretch bordering on painful.

Klaus slowly sank into you, letting out a low groan. He began to thrust, his movements slow and deep. The feeling of both of them inside you was almost too much, and you moaned, your body trembling.

"Are you enjoying this, love?" Klaus asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"Yes," you whimpered, unable to form a coherent sentence.

Elijah kissed along your jaw, his fingers digging into your hips, guiding your movements, rocking you back and forth on their cocks.

You felt the heat of their bodies pressed against yours, and their hands were everywhere, stroking, caressing, and teasing. The smell of their sweat and desire was intoxicating, and you were lost in the pleasure, your mind spinning.

Klaus pulled on your wrists, his mouth colliding with the side of your neck. You cried out as he bit into you, his fangs piercing your skin. Elijah kissed the other side, mirroring his brother's bite.

The combination of the pleasure and pain was too much, and you came, your orgasm crashing through your body. You writhed in their arms, your body trembling, waves of ecstasy washing over you.

They kept you pinned between them, bouncing you up and down, their movements rough and animalistic. The belt came loose, and your hands came free.

You wrapped your arms around Elijah's neck as another orgasm hit, this one even more intense than the last. He smiled at the look of pure bliss on your face and kissed you, his hands tangled in your hair.

Klaus groaned, pressing himself deep as he came, then he slowly pulled out, kissing the nape of your neck.

Elijah soon followed, his eyes meeting yours as he shuddered, spilling into you. You collapsed against him, exhausted and sated. He gently stroked your hair, his gaze soft and loving.

"I forgot how good you are at that," you mumbled, your eyes drifting closed.

He chuckled, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your skin. You snuggled against his chest, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.

Klaus laid down next to the two of you, his eyes bright, and a smile on his face. "What about me? Any thoughts?" He asked, and you giggled, the alcohol still coursing through your system.

"You were pretty good, too," you replied, reaching out and patting his arm.

He grinned, his hand coming to rest on the top of your thigh. "I don't know why we didn't do this earlier, it would have saved us all a lot of trouble," he said.

Elijah nodded, a small smirk on his lips, "you may be right,"

"I'm sorry for leaving you the way I did," you said softly, running your hands through Elijah's hair, "and thank you for coming to save me,"

He nodded, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead, then helped you off his lap, and onto the bed, covering the three of you with a silk sheet.

"Do you mind if I stay here a while? It's been so long since I've had a good night's sleep," you mumbled, your fingers curling into Elijah's chest, holding him tight.

He didn't reply, just pulled you closer, his hand stroking your back, lulling you to sleep.

"We've got all the time in the world, love," Klaus said softly, his voice barely a whisper, "we'll make sure no more nasty witches get their hands on you,"

It had been so long since you had felt so content, you could feel the warmth of their skin, smell their cologne, hear the beat of their hearts. You could taste the blood and whiskey in the air, and it felt right, like you had come home.

[sareeen]

Unknown Touches for a Lady

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N never thought she would be married to the spymaster of the Night Court. However, they are undoubtedly married and nothing will save her from the night ahead of her.

Warnings: smut, loss of virginity, lovely azriel

Here –> Part 2 Masterlist

A/N: The idea that popped into my head today and I didn't get up until I wrote it. :)

English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistake.

Y/N felt the bed sink in beside her and someone, her husband, fold up the edge of the blanket and slip quietly under the duvet.

Y/N felt as if she would suffocate with fear.

Two hours ago, they had gone through the ceremony where she was forced to marry the spymaster of the Night Court in a luxurious setting.

For a purpose, her father said as he adjusted her veil.

It was nothing more than a means to make a deal for the benefit of the Court of Nightmares. More food, more power in exchange for soldiers and a girl.

In fact, her family had eagerly offered her to the High Lord as a prospective bride, and as she was educated and intelligent enough to be chosen over the other women in the Court of Nightmares.

For a long time Y/N did not know to whom she was to be married. She had been raised from a very young age to believe that she was destined to be a wife and mother, but she never thought that it would be him.

But now she was given a chance. A chance to leave that damn evil place and be away from her family.

Today, for the first time in her life, she could see the stars and feel the gentle touch of the breeze on her skin, bringing tears to her eyes. If she was lucky, perhaps her husband would never send her back there. If she obeyed him – though the very thought made her feel sick. All her existence had consisted of nothing but submitting to others. She would have liked to have ruled over herself, but it would always be a dream, now that she was married.

The shadowsinger moved beside her, causing every cell in Y/N to warn her to run.

Well, it's happening, she thought despondently to herself and closed her eyes.

She knew exactly what her duty was. What must happen.

For this marriage to be legitimate, Y/N must give in to her husband and willingly spread her legs.

“I know you don't want to,” he said softly behind her back before gently placing his hand on her hip. Y/N jumped at the sudden touch. “But we have a duty, Y/N.”

She shuddered as the spymaster spoke her name out of his mouth. His voice was soft, but still a warning tone mixed into the words. She had no doubt that he was not often contradicted and may the Great Mother have mercy on whoever tried.

Y/N licked her lips and let out a shaky sigh, then nodded. Trembling, she turned onto her back and it took her a few seconds to gather her courage and look at her husband.

Azriel watched her silently, his figure illuminated by the faint moonlight that filtered through the gaps in the drawn curtains. Y/N could see his broad shoulder, the swelling muscles in his arm, and even the dark outline of his tattoo in the dim light.

Y/N could feel the golden brown eyes watching her warily as they scrutinized her. She was surprised to find that the shadowsinger did not return her stare for a moment and kept his gaze on her face the whole time. Perhaps he was waiting for her to make a move.

Maybe he was waiting for her to initiate.

Y/N's mouth went dry at the thought that he might have wanted her to. However, she had been raised to do what others wanted, so with all her presence of mind she slowly touched her palm to Azriel's chest. She felt warm, silky skin and felt a steady heartbeat beneath her hand as she slid it a little further away. She heard the Illyrian take a deep breath and the scarred finger she had put the gold ring on a few hours ago gently stroked the cool back of her hand.

Y/N was so startled for a moment that she forgot to breathe. Never had she imagined that the dreaded shadowsinger could be so gentle as he was now.

Perhaps behind the scars and shadows there was not a monster, but a feeling being.

A tiny germ of hope began to blossom in Y/N and she continued to caress him a little more boldly. Her hand glided down Azriel's muscular arm and Y/N was startled to find herself enjoying it.

The way the steely muscles tighten under her touch, the heat radiating from his body as if beaming up at her, inviting her to slide closer and enjoy it.

Azriel, as if hearing her thoughts, took hold of her waist and gently pulled her towards him until their chests touched.

Y/N's nightgown was so thin that the spymaster could easily feel that her nipples were hard and straining against his chest.

Azriel groaned, barely audible, and something inside Y/N stirred at the sound.

Confused, she felt wetness between her legs and some primal longing that she had never experienced before took her. She almost longed for him to return her touch. To have him caress her heated skin. It was so unfamiliar to her, and yet it was as if her body knew how to press herself against him.

Unexpectedly, she felt the hardness against her belly that made her go rigid, but Azriel just squeezed the soft flesh of her hip and didn't let her move away.

“No,” he whispered and buried his face in her hair, his thumb tracing soothing circles around her waist. “Don't be frightened. This is what happens when –“

“I'm not so clueless that I don't know what it is,” Y/N said, blushing. She thanked the Gods for the darkness. “The women explained everything to me before the wedding anyway. That this is what it takes to conceive a marriage and it's the natural reaction of every man when he touches a woman in a loose fitting nightgown.”

Azriel remained silent, but eventually he involuntarily chuckled to himself. Y/N smiled vaguely, but the man's shaking chest and voice filled her with a certain joy. It reassured her.

“Not all men,” Azriel said, wrapping a lock of her hair around his finger and tugging it gently. “But you're certainly beautiful and you're wearing very little nightgown.”

“I didn't choose it” Y/N muttered grumpily as she lowered her head to look at the said piece. It was a little translucent and she felt a twinge of anxiety when she first saw that she would have to wear it tonight.

“I thought so,” he muttered. “If it's any comfort I think it looks good on you and I like it very much.”

She had heard rumors of the shadowsinger that he hardly spoke, but they were now lying here and he was obviously talkative.

Y/N finally understood that this was Azriel's way of distracting her and calming the emotions that were raging inside her.

Her fear of the unknown and to make her comfortable with the situation. No one had ever done anything like that for her, not even her mother.

She swallowed hard and, not giving herself time to drift away from the thought, leaned into him and pressed her lips to his. She didn't know how to do this, since tonight she was getting the first kiss of her life from Azriel at the altar in front of hundreds of guests. It was more like a little peck than a kiss.

She understood this when Azriel recovered from his momentary shock and kissed her back. This was different.

The spymaster's hand slid into her hair, his fingers tangled in her ringlets as he gently tilted her head into position and everything just got better.

The angle of the kiss changed, deepened much more and something like an excited tremor began in Y/N's belly. The scent of Azriel filled her senses, the cool night mist and cedar balming her soul, her nails involuntarily digging into Azriel's biceps and it was as if he lost all restraint at that small movement.

He rolled Y/N onto her back, then towered over her and kissed her fiercely. His tongue stroked along her lower lip as if asking for admission and she hesitantly opened it and Azriel's tongue immediately made its way to hers. Y/N let her husband guide her and she was almost giddy with pleasure.

She enjoyed the way Azriel's tongue glided over hers, the weight of him pressing her almost uncomfortably into the mattress and the hot hardness between her legs.

The shadowsinger's lips moved to her chin, and Y/N gasped for air as he moved lower and lower, finding a spot in the hollow between her shoulder and neck that made her hip snap away from the bed and involuntarily rub against Azriel.

Heat flooded her face, but she was unable to pull away from him and with long, sensual strokes she wanted more, which he acknowledged with soft moans.

Strong hands now gripped her thighs and Azriel moved lower, then bucked his hips and pushed against her. His pants and Y/N's underwear blocked them, but Azriel touched a space between her legs and moved as she imagined he would when he will be inside her.

She never thought it would be like this. This overwhelming feeling of his body moving over her, which he'd then elicited from her. Sighs erupted from deep within her body and Azriel kissed her as if to absorb the sounds she was making.

“That's it” Azriel gasped as Y/N arched and their hips met. “Just like that, my beauty.”

She groaned at the endearment and watched the wings spread wide on Azriel's back with a glazed look.

The membrane made the room even darker as it blocked out what little light had crept into the room. She wanted to feel the feel of it under her fingers.

“You can touch them,” he whispered, his breathing labored by Y/N's ear. “But only if I can touch you.”

“But you already do” she gasped, a thin layer of sweat beading on her forehead.

Azriel then let go of her thighs and slid between them, then reached down to her panties and pressed the outer curve of his hand to the spot where Y/N's body throbbed and almost burned. Gasping for air, panting, she made sounds that she should have been ashamed of, but her mind was in a fog and she could not contain herself. She would be ashamed later, but for now she could only cling to Azriel's strong shoulder.

“Here, Y/N” Azriel chuckled. “This is where I want to touch you.”

Y/N bit her lip at her husband's lustfuled words and nodded.

“There –“ her throat was tight, she could hardly get the words out. “It's good there.”

“Is it?”

“Yes” she cried softly.

His hand had pulled her underwear aside and was now touching her bare skin, causing Y/N's head to bob to the side and she clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle her voice.

However, Azriel stopped her hard and gave a disgruntled squeak.

“No, Y/N,” he muttered darkly. “I want to hear you.”

His wings fluttered, drawing her attention, and she stretched out her arm. When she touched the taut, silky membrane, Azriel shuddered and rubbed her harder between her legs.

Y/N loved what she was eliciting from her husband, so she repeated the motion and this time touched her fingernail to it a little, letting it gently scratch the inside of the wing.

“Cauldron” Azriel almost gritted his teeth in pleasure and buried his face in her neck. “You drive me crazy.”

Y/N felt the same way. His hand between her legs, his lip now brushing tiny kisses on her neck. It was killing her and she felt like a bowstring being stretched, ready to snap at any moment. Something was building inside her, the warmth in the pit of her belly seemed to be tightening and it was almost unbearable.

Then Azriel slipped a finger into the wetness between her legs and she gasped for air. It was a stinging sensation, but as he curled his finger he hit a good spot in her and she began to moan.

When Azriel gently pulled it out and then slipped back in, she heard that wet squeaking sound and it made her even more excited.

She wanted to touch him too. So much so that she had the courage to slip her hand into Azriel's pants and touch his hardness.

“Y/N” Azriel gasped as he pulled away from the delicate skin of her neck and peered down at her in the darkness.

“Teach me, please” she whispered with heavy lids. “How to touch you so that you feel as I feel now.”

Azriel closed his eyes and laughed softly.

“I already feel like that” he panted, but he helped Y/N and showed her how to take him in her grip. How tightly to squeeze and when he moved his hip to move into her hand, Y/N felt herself die instantly in admiration.

“Honey” Azriel sighed. “I need to be inside you.”

She knew what he meant.

She was a little afraid, because the women had said it would hurt terribly. However, what they had just done with Azriel had never been told that she would feel like this, so she hoped the sex would be different. Just as fantastic as this.

She opened her legs wider, giving him permission to make her his. Azriel immediately pulled her underwear off her and his own pants, then took her in his arms.

He adjusted himself between her legs but stopped and the golden brown eyes almost burned her face.

“This might hurt a little” he whispered to her and stroked her cheek affectionately. “But I'll try to do it as slowly and gently as possible.”

“It's fine, Azriel” she wrapped an arm around his shoulder and that's when she felt him shiver slightly too. Well, he was nervous too. “I'm used to the pain.”

Azriel froze, then sank down on top of her, so that their naked bodies were touching.

“From now on, no one will ever hurt you again,” he growled, his voice hard and purposeful.

Then he entered her, very slowly and Y/N gasped. She tensed in pain and whimpered and Azriel took her head in both hands and kissed her.

Finally when she thought she would pass out, she felt she couldn't take it. They lay there for a long time, but Azriel pushed forward and forward and then stopped.

Y/N sighed shakily and when her pain turned into a dull throbbing, he moved.

It was awfully strange the way Azriel moved inside her. It was unfamiliar, but after a while it got better and she gasped and clung to Azriel as if he would hold her and not let her fall over the precipice.

Emboldened, he thrust his hips faster and harder toward her and pulled her toward him with one hand, making them both gasp for air.

“Gods” Y/N broke from Azriel's lips and she groaned. Somehow the man moved in a different way and it drove her mad. “There!”

As if born to pleasure his wife, he repeated the motion again and his hand slid to her breast. He took one of her nipples between his fingers, then leaned in and licked it, whereupon Y/N clamped herself around her husband's member and moaned.

“Come for me, honey.”

His finger slid to her clit and rubbed it, which triggered something inside her.

Lights exploded behind her eyelids, her insides clenched and an animalistic moan tore from her. The heat was overwhelming her and she was sure it was over, she would die here and now, but Gods - if it is death she will be glad to go with it.

Azriel's hips slammed hard against her and she felt something warm flood over her and he shuddered. She wrapped her arms around him as if to protect him and their sweaty foreheads touched as they panted with the sensations that overwhelmed them.

Y/N opened her eyes and studied Azriel's face in the dim light. His handsome face was now relaxed and a small smile lurked at the corner of his mouth, his long black lashes casting shadows across his cheek. Her breath caught as she opened his eyes and his golden brown gaze locked on her.

There was an air of kindness and contentment that was evident in the way his hand stroked gently down her side.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly and pulled out of her, careful not to hurt her. The sheet was a little bloody, but neither of them cared.

“Yes,” Y/N whispered and turned to face him as he lay down next to her. Azriel covered them with the blanket and took her hand. “It didn't hurt that much.”

He smiled and kissed her hand.

“It won't after this.”

“Will it be after this?” asked Y/N shyly but hopefully.

“There will be a lot after this.”

Y/N almost burst with joy. Maybe this marriage won't be so bad after all.

[lilacxquartz]

part 17 of 19 of kinktober: trapped

pyramid head x gn!reader

plot: while exploring the town, you find yourself incapacitated in the worst possible position — themes: warning for non con, dark smut, gender neutral reader, size difference, monster fucking, horror, gender neutral smut — w.c: 700ish

kinktober masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

You were incapacitated.

Trapped in between the barely pried open iron bars, providing just big enough of a gap for your upper body to squeeze through and then… stall. In a way, it was humiliating, but in another sense, it was also terrifying because existing within the town as a whole was a death sentence in its own right. From one little miscalculation—you had potentially doomed yourself.

You tried to dislodge yourself again but the bars were too narrowly placed and you couldn’t push or pull yourself neither back nor forth and in doing so, you only found yourself more stuck than before. Panic quickly swept through your being in violent waves, abandoning all sense of rationality in favour of a hurried escape but nothing was working—but then finally, you heard it—the all too familiar scrape of metal, the thud of staggering footsteps—oh no, no, no… he was here.

You turned your head slightly back to just about catch a glimpse of him filling out the doorway, blocking all gaps of light that otherwise cut into the cell. In an attempt to avoid your flesh likely meeting the blade, you strove to push yourself forward, to at least nullify his efforts to strike you down… but then something else followed suit.

You froze as you felt his calloused hands brush around the soft contours of your exposed flesh; his fingers breaching the torn fabric and tearing away the cloth from the skin, readily exposing you to him. You remained statued in place as you feared for the worst, unable to quite comprehend what he was actually doing to you; almost delicately feeling you up—pushing—spreading your legs apart, ripping away at anything that acted as a barrier between you and him.

You tensed as you quickly understood what was following suit; feeling the tip of something very obvious poke against your most vulnerable parts. You writhed around and squirmed under his grip like a fish out of water, only to remain caught and hooked in his presence, feeling him drive into you in a near hungry pursuit. You gritted your teeth as you felt him force himself inside of you, feeling overwhelmed by his monstrous length that completely filled you out to the brim.

With shuddering, quaking cries, you softly wept as he continued to take in his brutal girth, feeling his cock slide in and out of your insides and stretch you out beyond a recoverable limit. With an unforgiving pace, Pyramid Head continued to hilt himself into your core, feverishly bucking into your body as a radiating, almost scalding pain akin to searing agony settled within the confines of your form. Of course however, he showed you no mercy, pounding into you with a near primal fervour; his hips slamming against your behind with each sawing motion.

Somehow, he grew needier as he continued to violate you—his fingernails digging bleeding crescents into the soft peaks of your ass, kneading against the cushioned skin and spreading you open as far as you could physically handle. It was as if he was trying to force you to accommodate the entire capacity of his impossible length, taking advantage of the limiting position, knowing that you couldn’t just pull yourself away.

Nearing his impending climax; his movements soon became more erratic and maybe even sloppy. He leaned his towering form closer wherever he could press against your bare back—causing the iron bars to crack open further—growling out heated breaths that rolled hot down your spine. Each passing thrust caused for you to shake, prompting you to involuntarily roll your eyes to the back of your head and perhaps even see stars from just how overwhelming it all truly was.

Just as you were about to pass out however, the monster finally came undone with one final violent rut of his stuttering hips. You gasped as you felt a stream of hot oozing warmth fill your senses to such an extent that your stomach nearly bulged from his pent up release.

Thinking it was all over, you tried to close your eyes to recover—but then you were promptly taken out of the cell, readily carried around like a rag doll, to be used and paraded around per each of his passing whims.

In a way you were thankful that he wasn’t going to end you outright.

But then you realised what your life was about to become and that much had otherwise terrified you.

Not quite a mercy after all and worse yet, rather a sentence in the hell you found yourself in.

[astarionancuntnin]

Remember Me

summary: you cant make sense of where you are or even how you ended up in this cell, hells, you're not even sure of who you are at this point; any memories of your past are a blur. its all the more confusing when a group of adventurers come rescue you, and a particularly worried pale elf takes it upon himself to help you remember who you are.

rating: E

word count: 7k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader, reader is tav)

cw: 18+. angst, act 3 spoilers related to astarion's side quest, mentions of kidnaping and torture, memory loss, blood feeding, vampire bites, smut, oral (f!receiving), p in v, The Leg Thing followed by mating press, sweet love making, love confession. full list on ao3

a/n: loosely based on this audio (18+) from OGY.

read on ao3

my masterlist

or keep reading down below~

Pain.

It’s the first thing that hit you when your consciousness came back to you.

How much everything fucking hurt.

Your entire body felt as if it had gone through the nine Hells, all at once; you could barely find the strength in yourself to get to your feet, let alone push yourself off the ground.

Then it was the disarray when you couldn’t place what had happened for you to feel so awful.

It was as if you had woken up from a long sleep; distant voices in your head, blurry faces merging together when you closed your eyes, and an awful feeling of emptiness, as if you had forgotten something extremely important but you couldn’t put your finger on it, no matter how much you thought about it.

Nothing but endless darkness.

As much as you tried to remember your life, anything before this moment, you were met with a dark fog clouding your vision. Your family, your friends — if you even had any — had all vanished from your memory. You think you remember yourself, for the most part, but even that was a stretch; you couldn’t even remember your own bloody name.

You look around you, realising for the first time that you were in a prison cell. The course of events after waking up in this dark cell hadn’t helped; the sudden cold inhabiting you, followed by this man — this monster — barging in without as much as a warning before pushing you face first against the ground and ripping open your shirt, to then torture you as he carved your back with his knife, only to leave as suddenly as he had appeared. Barely a few words exchanged, aside from some mumbling about teaching “him” a lesson, whoever that was, and you were alone once again.

Alone, with nothing but this seething pain in your back from the butchery you had gone through, the hunger digging into your belly, and your blood leaking from your shivering form, pooling around you on the cold, hard floor.

You barely had the time to gather your thoughts when the same man came back barely minutes later to carry you out of your cell and into a larger room — keeping you restrained with some magic that visibly came from his staff — where more people waited.

By the looks of it, you had been right on one thing: this was indeed a dungeon, and you were located in the deepest part of them; this room contained only a round, rock platform, located above an endless, foggy pit.

In the state you were in, you couldn’t catch everything he said as he went on a monologue. Something about powers, freedom; whatever it was, they needed you to achieve it, that was the only thing that was clear from his speech. You couldn’t understand how any of them would follow a maniac like him, but in their eyes you noticed how they listened to his words with as much fear as awe.

Your form was shivering from the cold; you wanted to cover up your top which had been previously ripped off from your body, but it was all in vain: the restraints of his magic kept you in place, and right after his speech, you were sent flying over a designated spot floating above the ground, just like all the six other people that had surrounded you previously.

Your arms remained bound to your sides by whatever spell this monster had cast on you, leaving your chest exposed to the damp, cool air of this dungeon, and your fresh wound stinging evermore at your back.

You remember the panic tightening in your chest when you realised you couldn't escape. You remember the brief relief, hope even, at the sight of a group of adventurers approaching — one of the figures shouting at the man in the middle of the room — followed by explosions and screams. Then the fear settled in when you saw them execute one of the other unfortunate souls magically held floating around this room, one new truth forming in your mind.

They weren’t here to save you.

You would be next. They would kill you. You would die here.

The pressure in your chest grew tighter as you closed your eyes and mourned your life, one you didn’t even remember experiencing, one that — you hope — had been full of adventures, of acquaintances… of love.

This last one must’ve been true. You remember being loved — more so how it felt, even if the feeling seemed so far and long ago. You remember the butterflies in your belly, the fluster in your heart, the heat between your legs; you remember just enough to know that if you died today, at least, you would’ve died as someone who had been loved.

You didn’t expect your feet to touch the cold hard ground once more. You remember falling to your knees, your body exhausted by the abuse it had gone through in just the last few hours. You remember your dry throat when you noticed the butchered corpse in the middle of the room, barely recognizable anymore.

“Gods… what has he done to you?”

But you couldn’t seem to place the face of your saviour. The bloodied, silver curled elf who had rushed to kneel next to you after defeating your captor, who approached you and held your face so carefully.

How those crimson eyes of his had widened in horror when you flinched at his touch and backed away.

Him and his group had killed one of you who stood in this circle, who’s to say he wasn’t here to finish the job? Lure you in with a sweet touch only to snap your head off; you knew better than to let yourself fall for the first man to approach you.

“Darling, it’s over now.” He had said with his voice low, getting back on his feet to approach you as if you were an injured beast, “Just take my hand, we’re getting out of here.”

You didn’t know whether to feel insulted or reassured by his assertiveness, but you remained frozen in place, your eyes switching from the hand extended out to you and his severe look that you reciprocated with a frown to hide your terror.

“Look,” he sneered, “you can either take my hand, come with me out of this hellhole, or rot away in this godsforsaken—”

From behind him, someone from his group called out a name which stopped him mid-sentence just as his tone was rising.

“Astarion.”

A name that felt oddly familiar, despite the void in your memories. It danced beautifully as it echoed across the room and around your mind; there was something about it that just sounded right.

Astarion. A name worthy of being written in the stars, you find yourself thinking, the sound of it bringing you a familiar sense of peace, of security.

Astarion. Maybe if you repeated it enough in your head, something clearer would come up. Maybe, just maybe, then you would remember.

He took a deep breath and continued, which brought you back from your reverie, “I’m quite certain you went through the Hells and back, but for now, I’ll have to ask you to trust me, just as you’ve done in the past. Can you do that for me?”

He extended out his hand once more, this time a request rather than a command, his voice carrying out his concerns, “Can you trust me?”

“Why would I trust someone I’ve just met?” You wanted to ask, but something about the way he asked struck a chord, as if you did know him. As if you knew he spoke true when he said you used to trust him, and you finally accepted the hand he held out to you.

A hand that pulled you to your feet, and guided you out of this dreadful place.

You were given a cloak to cover your shivering form, and you walked along with them back to their camp. Back to this intriguing, yet charming man’s tent, where they all agreed you should rest for the night.

The first thing that hit you when you stepped in was the smell.

You didn’t know what it was exactly, you couldn’t recognize it, but it was intoxicating; it only made your stomach churn more. As the adrenaline of the previous hour settled down, you fell to your knees, grabbing onto your waist as the pain that had been muted came back screaming through your guts.

“Shit—” He rushed down to check on you, with one hand down your back, holding onto you, “Darling, talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“What isn’t wrong?! I was tortured, starved off, almost sacrificed for all I know, and I can’t even remember who I fucking am!” Is what you wanted to say, but all you could manage out is a groan in the middle of your sobs.

When you lifted your head, your eyes fell onto the set of messily arranged bottles from where the strong smell came from, and a quick exchange of glances told him everything he needed to know.

“Of course, you’re hungry,” He sighed heavily, "Look, I’ll gladly offer you some from my own reserves — after I’ve taken a look at your wounds.”

You had almost forgotten about them.

You averted your eyes from his gaze, your mind now racing as you expected the worst. You had no way to see what had been done to your back, but the pain you had gone through was a good indicator of how bad it would look.

Met with your silence, he continued, “I need… to see what he’s done to you. Please.”

Your eyes went back and forth between him and the dark bottles briefly considering pouncing on them to get a taste as your mouth watered in anticipation, but you reluctantly turned your back to him as you sat with your legs pressed back into your stomach, barely helping mitigate the pain in your stomach.

As you let the cloak fall from your shoulders, you heard nothing but a shaky, deflated sigh behind you. Seconds of silence passed before you considered turning around, but a part of you was terrified of the look you would find on his face.

You finally found the strength to utter your first words.

“Is it… that bad?” Your voice was rough from neglect, as the last time you had used it had been to scream when you received this torture.

You heard him take a deep breath, shaking away the shock that had previously rendered him speechless, “You must’ve already known what he carved away in your back. Hells, I knew before even looking, but seeing it…” he pauses, his tone quieting, “seeing it is another story completely.”

“I… I don’t know,” you muster with a weak voice. It's true, you had no idea, he had carved your damn back, you had no way to see the extent of his torture.

He took a deep breath, shaking away the feelings that had sneaked their way into his voice, “It’s no matter, it’s over now; Cazador is dead. He won’t hurt—” he paused, as if processing the information himself, “Anyone, ever again.”

You turned around to face him this time, “Who’s Cazador?”

He huffed, “I’m glad it was that easy for you to forget about him, but when you’ve suffered under his hand for nearly two centuries, the memories tend to linger.”

You remained silent as you stared at him, just as shocked as you were confused by his words. When he noticed your stare, his face twisted in concern, “Oh shit, you’re serious.”

You nodded silently.

He continued, tentatively, “He was my master, he’s the one we killed back in the dungeons — the one who abducted you, who did this to you. Do you not remember any of this?”

You shook your head slightly, never leaving his gaze.

“Oh dear.” His voice dropped as his eyebrows raised and his eyes widened all at once, “Do you remember anything at all — the absolute, our adventure… Do you remember… me?”

His eyes went back and forth between yours, as if he was searching them for any sign of recognition, looking for you, whoever you were behind those confused, teary eyes. You gave him another shy shake of your head, followed by a single tear coming down your cheek, a tear you weren’t sure why it was shed; whether it was from the loss of yourself, or the mourning of something you didn’t even remember having.

“Gods…” He breathed out heavily as his sight left you, his mind visibly ruminating. “He can’t… He couldn’t have… He…”

His tone suddenly changed as he growled, “That monster.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head before looking back at you, “You were with us just yesterday. You were — are this group’s leader. If… If you have no memories of your mortal life then it means…” he looked away, frowning, “He rushed your transformation to replace me in the ritual.”

None of the words he had said made any sense to you, “Transformation?”

He turned back to you to be met with your visible confusion, and he explained further, “Normally, when you’re turned, you need to be drained of your blood and buried six feet underground, before you can crawl out of your tomb to be reborn. This process takes a day, usually, and when you awaken, you are still you, but immortal and bound to your master,” he spat out the last word like it left a bitter aftertaste on his tongue.

“Now you,” he continues, “you were turned within twelve hours, which would explain why your eyes are only half red, why your fangs haven’t come out yet, and…” his voice quieted down, “why you have no memories of your past. As if the rushed transformation had actually killed this part of you along with your humanity.”

You remained focused on the first thing he had said: your eyes had changed colour?

You hadn’t had the chance to look at yourself since your awakening and if not remembering your name wasn’t anxiety inducing enough, you realised you couldn’t even recall what you looked like.

All of a sudden, panic rushed its way into your heart; you needed to see yourself. You frantically looked around the tent to find anything that could send back your reflection and practically jumped on the pocket mirror when you spotted it nearby Astarion.

Only the mirror was broken. It must’ve been; it reflected nothing.

“If that wasn’t obvious by now, this should’ve clarified things a bit,” he said.

He lowered the mirror you still held in front of you, expecting your image to be reflected eventually, maybe at a different angle, maybe with more light. Maybe another one would, maybe you were just delirious from everything that had happened only today.

“You’re a vampire now. No matter the angle, you’ll never see your reflection come out of this mirror. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Vampire.

The word didn’t make sense; nothing made sense.

Yet, when you parted your lips to let your tongue run against your teeth; you found your canines the same size they were, that they should’ve been, but they were much sharper than what would be considered normal and you almost pierced your tongue from the gesture.

“Maybe…” he carried on, lost in thought, “there’s even a chance that the tadpole has been messing around with more of the changes your body is going through.”

“Tadpole?” You interjected, your head shaking of its own in disbelief. “What?”

He huffed in astonishment, “So you really do remember nothing.”

You sighed, “I— I don’t… As much as I try, I’m met with a void of memories. The only thing remotely familiar since I woke up has been… you.” His eyes had gone soft and bright with hope, but also melancholy. “I don’t know who you were to me, and I don’t know why, but some part of me knew I could trust you.”

He chuckled, a sad smile finding its way over his lips, “Even with your memories gone, it seems I can’t leave your mind, can I?”

You gave him a smile of your own, “Would you mind… reminding me of my life? Of us?”

“Gods, where to start, darling. Would you believe me if I told you our story began with me holding a knife to your throat?”

You found yourself smiling unconsciously, “With everything that's happened to me in the last few hours, I find that easy to believe.”

“And strangely enough it's probably the least odd part of our story.” He tilted his head, giving you a genuine smile before carrying on.

“It’s all tedious, really, but… There’s one memory I want to tell you about: The night of the tiefling party. Ugh, it was dreadful for the most part; the wine tasted like vinegar, the music was too loud, and there were too many of those bloody tieflings at our camp, to be quite sincere— “

“Not a people’s person I take it?”

“My dear, after years of being forced on and by people, the last thing you want is to be surrounded by more of them.” The sight of you parting your lips and raising your eyebrows told him you had also forgotten about this and he quickly caught onto it, changing the direction of the discussion back to the topic at hand. “But, there was one good thing that came out from this night: when we met in the woods. I had high hopes of you joining me there — although no doubts, of course — I was the most suitable option among our group after all.”

“Most suitable? Someone else wanted to spend the night with… me?”

“Darling, the whole world and their mother wanted a special moment with you. But only one of us got that honour. A chance to steal away with everyone’s new favourite leader.”

The faint sounds of the party fading: music echoing through the forest, people laughing, the cool air of a summer’s night breezing through, and good company throughout the night.

“I have been waiting for you. Waiting since the moment I first saw you. Waiting… to have you.”

You blinked, “You… were waiting for me in the woods, I’m— I’m remembering.”

“I did put a lot of effort into my entrance, I would be upset if you didn't remember it quite honestly.” You laughed softly. “Do you remember what happened afterwards?”

Your eyes roamed as you pushed the memory further, before you lifted your head to meet his gaze, “You… kissed me.”

“After you had the audacity to say I didn't have you yet while you had come to me of your own volition, yes, and then?”

You chuckled, but your smile quickly faded as your memory unlocked the next part of this puzzle. He looked at you with a knowing glint in his eyes; he was simply waiting for you to say it yourself.

“We made love.”

He sighed dramatically, “Love is such a big word for what happened back then, but…” his tongue clicked, accentuating the end of the word, “That was certainly the start of it. The start of a series of feelings that came and complicated everything. It’s what pushed me, soon after, to confess to you that it was all part of a silly plan I had to keep you in my favour. I was terrified, honestly, especially considering it was all because I initially manipulated you to fall for me…”

He paused, searching your expression before carrying on, and continued when he found nothing but soft eyes looking back. “But then — despite everything — there you were, holding me tight.”

He let go of a deep breath.

“For so long I had nothing — no one. And all of a sudden, there’s you, who held onto me, who cared so much more than anyone ever did. And I found myself not wanting to let go. I couldn't.”

He frowned, turning his gaze away, “And Cazador used that against me. As soon as he had word of my whereabouts in Baldur’s Gate and the crowd I was hanging out with, he jumped at the first chance to torture me once more. He probably thought I was unaffected by any physical pain he could impose on me by now, so he did the next worst thing: take it out on the one person I cared about in this wretched world.” He shook his head, “If we hadn’t gotten there in time—”

“But you did.” You interrupt. “You saved me and yourself in the process. This ritual wouldn’t have given you the freedom you think it carried.”

His eyes lit up, “You talk as if you knew what it entailed.”

You nodded, “It’s coming back to me, bit by bit. I remember what you told me about him. I remember the purpose of the ritual, and your plan to replace him and take his power instead.”

He sighed, “Gale thought brilliant to kill one of my brothers to stop Cazador from carrying on with the ritual. Bloody wizard didn’t realise it meant I couldn’t continue it myself then.

“Maybe he did.” His gaze flickered back to you in confusion before you continued, “You don’t need satanic powers to carry on, Astarion. You’re free now.”

He huffed, “And all it cost was my life in the sun.”

“Well,” you tilted your head, “It did cost me mine too. Once the tadpoles are gone, we’ll both be banished to the shadows once again. But we’ll be together, and that’s something at least.”

He rolled his eyes before landing them on you, “At least the transformation didn’t take away from your heartbleeding optimism, dear.”

You chuckled, “Thank the Gods for that— ugh!”

You clutched at your stomach, your body tilting forward in pain, and Astarion instantly knew the cause of your suffering; it’s something he recognized all too well.

“Hells, you must be starving. Gods know Cazador wouldn’t waste a single drop on a lowly spawn — no offence, dear.”

“None taken,” you forced a humourless laugh. “I shouldn’t have expected much considering I was to be cattle for a satanic ritual.”

He turned around and you kept a close eye on him as he handled the bottles beside him, pulling out a silver cup out of his bag of holding to pour you a portion.

“Here,” he sat back down, parting his legs open, extending one arm to you, “Come on love, sit back against me, would you?”

You stared unsure for a few seconds but obliged him. You scooted back until your back was fully resting against his chest, leaving no space lost between the two of you.

When he brought the cup forward you reached for it but he pulled back, clicking his tongue, “Oh no, my sweet, I will be the one to feed you tonight. This is your first time, we wouldn't want your primal instincts to take over now, would we?”

You turned around to stare at him for some time with incertitude and he simply tilted his head, with a sly smile, “Humour me, darling. You’ll be glad you did, hm?”

You pressed your lips together almost pouting, but acquiesced as you nestled yourself between his legs, your tense body laying against his chest once again.

He brought the cup to your mouth at long last, while his other hand held onto your chin. You gasped at his touch — while not unwelcome, it was a surprise — and you parted your lips to welcome your drink.

His hands were rough against your skin, yet there was a softness to it that made you melt under his touch. Made you want to push further into his hand to know how it would feel around your throat. It was almost enough to make you forget about the drink against your lips. Almost.

While the mere closeness of it had been invigorating, drinking it was ecstatic. It felt like your first meal in weeks, and it might as well have been with the pit that had replaced your stomach.

You took big gulps of the delectable nectar, barely pausing for air as you rushed to empty the cup’s content, eager to have your fill with this delicious substance.

“Slowly now darling,” he pulled the cup away from your lips and you gasped at the loss of your feeding source, “This is your first time feeding; I wouldn’t rush things.”

You frowned, but complied; even if you were starving, he had over two hundred years of experience with this form — you barely had a few hours. Your mind wasn’t all there yet either, and it's true that you couldn’t trust those new primal instincts to be civil enough to drink responsibly.

You held onto the one truth you knew, one that was clear ever since the start: you trust him.

You eased back into him, letting him hold you and guide you throughout your meal. The cup rested at a slightly down angle against your lips to allow you good mouthfuls of blood without overfeeding you all at once.

“There, good girl,” he purred. “You are doing so well for me, love. Small sips now, let your body recuperate from the shock.”

There was something about his voice that soothed you, brought you a peace of mind, a calm after this storm that had been your last few hours.

A shiver down your spine, that travelled all the way down between your legs.

You finished the content of the cup at a slower pace than you had started, soothed by his soft approach and the new blood filling your stomach, and he took this chance to explain more about your condition while pouring you another serving.

“Considering this is your first feeding, you’ll need a bit more to carry on until your next meal. Mind you, it’s normal if you don’t feel full; this is a curse, after all. The real challenge is to learn to live with your hunger.” He cleared his throat as he brought the cup back up to your lips, full again, “Alright now, open up, love.”

You hungrily parted your bloodied lips to welcome another serving.

“There, there, just like that.” A soft whimper left your throat between sips, and he caressed your cheek with his thumb, “Shhh, you're okay, you're doing just fine.” He leaned next to your head to whisper, “You’re perfect, my sweet.”

For a moment, you could swear you felt your heart beat anew.

You drank with his help until you finished one full bottle from his reserve, and with the pain in your stomach settling down, you allowed your body to relax against him. That’s when you felt something poking against your back, something you wanted to taste as much as the blood that had blessed your tongue just moments ago.

And he must’ve known, too.

“So, as you must’ve realised, your hunger was a side effect of the transformation. But what you’re feeling now, which I can very much smell on you, is a result of your feeding.”

If any of the blood you had ingested had made it in your veins by now, they must’ve all rushed to your cheeks at this very moment.

“Blood,” he continued, “Brings us back alive temporarily; it warms us, allows our hearts a few shy beating of their own, but it also reawakens other mortal pleasures. The first time it can be… a tad overwhelming.”

“It’s…” You hadn’t realised how quiet your heart had been until it started beating away once more in your chest; your cheeks felt warm, your breathing had accelerated, and your core was aching. You breathed out your reply, “It really is.”

As you turned your head aside, resting against his shoulder, and your eyes lingered over his lips, another primal urge awoke in you to devour him, in every way possible. You needed to taste him, his mouth, his blood, his come—

Until you were blessed with another sudden memory, and you turned away from his lips, gazing anywhere that wasn’t on him to stop yourself from acting irrationally.

“Wait, no, I’m sorry—”

He grabbed your chin and turned you back to him in one fluid movement. “You have nothing to be sorry for, darling, and I would be more than happy to entertain these carnal thoughts I saw in those eyes of yours. Unless you’d rather spend the night with someone else?” he teased.

You held your breath as he brought you closer to him, his hand lingering over your cheek. If you just closed the distance now, you could—

“No, Astarion, I won't force—”

“Stop that right now.” He cut you off without skipping a beat, stunning you once more. “You are not forcing yourself onto me or forcing me. This, right now, right here, is my decision.”

His other hand came up to cup your face, drawing you closer to him, your lips but a whisper apart.

“I want this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice lustful and heavy with need. “I want… you.”

Your eyes locked and the second after, his lips were pressed against yours and you let yourself get lost into this kiss. How his hands held on to your face, how his tongue tasted the blood on your lips, how he whimpered into your mouth at the contact of your own tongue; this memory of love you had remembered earlier, it had been a memory of this.

His kiss, his touch, his voice, him.

Your kiss was engulfing, springing your heart back to life in a sudden rush as you met every of his kisses with the same passion, and soon enough, you were laying back against his bedroll, with him over you and stealing your breath away; one — you didn’t realise yet — you didn't need anymore.

His hands rested next to your head and you allowed yourself to reach up to hold his face, trace the lines of his age over his cheeks and down his neck, and trailing along the opening of his shirt before he broke apart from your lips.

“I’ve been thinking about this for many nights now.”

“What would I be like as a vampire?” You asked semi-jokingly.

“No, silly — Although, the question did flit into my mind once or twice, but no. I was thinking of how I would have you, the next time I would bed you. I’ve touched myself at the thought of having you again, the sounds you would make, how your cunt would feel wrapped around my cock instead of my hand—”

He took your hand from where it was resting and guided it down between his legs, and a short gasp escaped you when you felt how hard he was.

“ —but tonight, after spending a lifetime looking for it, I finally know what I want.” His half-lidded eyes seemed darker than they had been, and you lost yourself in them, "And Gods help me if I can't have you—”

“I’m yours,” you answered back in a heartbeat, your voice but a whisper, “I’ve always been, and I’ll always be, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Your words broke the remaining chains of control Astarion had over himself, as he pulled your pants off from you and removed his own shirt while your hands fumbled with his trousers. A moment later, you both laid against one another, as bare as you were on your first days on this plane of existence, your lips back on each other.

“Mmh, I wonder…” Astarion let his kisses trail down from your mouth to your jaw, then your neck.

“Hm?”

“Now that you’re a vampire,” he left small kisses alongside your neck and down your shoulder, “your blood will taste different.”

“You’ll still drink from me?”

“Well of course, dear,” he lingered in the crook of your neck, before licking his way up to your ear where he whispered, “And I can’t wait to know how you taste after you’ve tasted me.”

You shivered against his breath, fully expecting him to bite you following those words, and when he didn’t you were almost disappointed. He, on the other hand, seemed extremely satisfied with himself.

“Eager already? And here I thought I was the most depraved between the two of us.” You sighed heavily as he came back up to face you, “Maybe I will be tasting you tonight, after all. Is this something that you want?”

You smiled softly, your hand finding his cheek again, “Yes.”

When your lips met this time, it was soft, pure, communicating words you hadn’t exchanged yet despite your longing for one another. It only made you want him more.

“Speaking of tasting you,” he said against your lips, “I wonder if something else has changed.”

You barely had time to process what he had said when he made his way down your chest, briefly sucking on one of your nipples.

“Mh,” he released it with a pop, “this one still tastes the same.”

He moved to your other breast to give it the same attention, teasing it with his teeth and earning him a moan from you before releasing it, “This one as well.”

He left a path of kisses as he trailed down your navel, until he was resting between your legs with a hungry look in his eyes, “Now, for the main course—”

You weren’t prepared for his fangs to dig in the inside of your thighs, making you scream in surprise as your hands grabbed onto the sheet of his bedroll. The pain quickly turned into pleasure as he nibbled and kissed the softness of your thigh, before making his way to your wet slit, which begged for attention.

The smell of you invaded his senses and you could feel his breath over your core as he breathed you in, his arms now wrapped under your thighs as he laid on his stomach and between your legs, “Darling, you smell divine.”

A soft whimper escaped your lips as his tongue pressed against your entrance and he slowly licked all the way up to your clit, “And you taste— Gods, you taste even better than before.” He smiled up to you, his mouth covered by a cocktail of your blood and juices. “I didn’t think it could be possible.”

You were past words by now, but even if you had come up with something, you don’t think you would’ve been able to utter anything with the way his tongue worked between your legs, devouring you of your essence.

“I would forsake blood for the rest of my days if it meant I could nourish myself only of your essence, my love,” he said between licks of you. “The Gods truly made you to ruin me; I could never move on from your taste, even if I wanted to.”

His hands surrounding your thighs and his nails digging in your flesh kept you in place as he continued to worship you, and no matter how much you wiggled, his hold on you held on, as if you were the first meal he was having in days and he wouldn’t let you go until he was sated.

Astarion recognized the signs of your unbecoming as your breathing started shaking and your legs tensed around his head, pushing him to tease you further.

“Are you gonna come for me now?” He smiled between your legs, “Come on, love. Come for me. Come on my tongue.”

The vibration of his humming as he continued to savour you only added to the feeling of his tongue, lapping at your entrance and sucking over your sensitive bud, and his nails digging deeper into your thighs added a delicious hint of pain. After weeks without any sex, you were sensitive to the slightest touch, and now there he was: tasting you, devouring you, wanting you; it was all too much.

“Ah… Astarion!”

Your head fell back against the rough floor of his tent as your back arched and stars clouded your vision. You knew how ironic it was to think so, but you had never felt more alive than you did at this very moment, with your devoted lover worshipping you like the goddess who had finally answered his prayers from all those years ago.

Your legs collapsed as he let go of them to move back up to face you, and he took this chance to hook your leg with his, pushing it upwards to create the perfect angle for him to place himself against your entrance.

Your half-lidded eyes met his, delirious with lust, and you wanted to express the feeling that had been weighing on you for too long now, but when his lips collided with yours and you tasted yourself, all those words got lost on his tongue exploring your mouth.

“I’ve waited so long to finally have you,” he said breathlessly against your lips. “I kept pushing back, thinking it was never the right time.”

He licked his lips, wiping off the string of saliva that connected your mouths. “When you disappeared… I thought I had lost my only chance. I’m done waiting around.”

He slowly pushed himself into you with a low groan as he felt your slickness wrap around him, and you threw your arms around his neck as you moaned into his ear.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. So tight and warm, all for me. I would stay here inside of you for a decade if I could. You feel exquisite, my love.”

He retracted himself slowly, and plunged back in with the same agonising pace, taking in the feeling of your inside. “I’ll enjoy taking my time with you; discovering what makes you tick, tease every one of your sensitive spots. But tonight — I just want this: feeling you wrapped around me and to know that I’m the reason for your unbecoming.”

His pace accelerated, each thrust of his hips brushing against your clit as your bodies almost fused as one, pushing you closer to another edge already.

A particularly well placed thrust had you dig your nails into his back and he hissed into your ear, “Darling,” he panted, “Remind me to trim your nails when we’re done.”

You quickly realised what he meant when a poignant smell, stronger than the bergamot, brandy, and rosemary you smelled on him previously, invaded your nostrils and your mouth watered in response. What you didn’t realise was how you ended up breathing down his neck, just against the popping vein conveniently displayed for you to bite down on. Just one bite away from ecstasy.

“Still hungry, little love?”

You were snapped out from your daze by his voice purring into your ear, pulling away from his neck and blinking as you gained back control of your thoughts.

“I’m— It’s just— Your blood smells really, really good.”

He chuckled, “I tend to have that effect on people. Would you like a taste?”

You forced yourself to look into his eyes, “I… Are you sure?”

He smiled, “There’s nothing I’d like more, my love.”

His gaze reflected sincerity and you gulped as you found your way back in the crook of his neck, your lips brushing against his sensitive skin. You licked the vein you had sensed earlier but didn’t push further. That’s when you felt the vibration of his chuckle, “Go on, darling. I can take it, I promise.”

With his permission, you pushed your small fangs right over the vein in his neck, relishing in the sudden flood of his crimson in your mouth.

Whatever you drank a few minutes ago was nothing compared to his blood. He was the source in a desert you had been roaming for days, one you couldn’t believe wasn't an illusion, and you drank, and drank, losing yourself in his neck, in his taste, the very essence that fueled him.

You couldn’t tell how much you had drank or how much time had passed when he growled and pinned your arms next to your head. His hips thrusting once, deeper into you and hitting your cervix is what makes you unlatch from his neck with a moan.

“I believe that’s enough, love. Now, let me taste you.”

His lips collided with yours hungrily as he increased his pace between your legs, and he groaned at the taste of himself on your lips, running his tongue across your small fangs.

“Fuck, I need you, I need to make you mine. I need—”

Something snapped within him, a side of him you couldn’t recall ever seeing — one that he could finally let go as he pushed your legs up, pinning them down across your chest and pounded deeper into you.

He growled into your ear as he desperately rutted into you, nearing the edge of his climax at the same time as yours, “I want you, I want you for the rest of our lives, please be mine, be mine, be mine!”

“I’m yours, I'm yours, I— I love you!”

You screamed as you came, his own orgasm following closely after yours, the wave of emotions clashing with the sparks of pleasure coursing throughout your body, and for a moment, you think you died and came back to life within the same minute. It was stronger than anything you remember feeling — even with your memories still scattered, you think you’d remember something as powerful.

It’s only when you came back to your senses and was met with Astarion’s soft, dumbfounded expression, that you realised what you had just said. Panic slowly made its way into your heart and you struggled to find the right words to correct yourself.

“I’m sorry— I—”

He didn’t allow you to finish that sentence, kissing you once more to steal away those thoughts of regret that faded instantly as he pulled back to speak.

“I love you too, darling.”

Your future was paved with incertitude; your memory wasn’t all there yet, but you remembered what was important for now, and if forgetting your past was the price to create new memories with him, it was a price you were willing to pay.

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

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[azrielbrainrot]

Haunted

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Prey/Predator

Description: You and Azriel play a not so innocent game of hide-and-seek.

Warnings: Smut, vaginal sex, rough sex, sex in the dungeons, bit of fingering, dirty talk, bit of cum play, slight (almost non existant) dom/sub dynamics, tiny bit of degradation and a praise kink

Word Count: ~2,1k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

The silence was deafening in between the stone walls, making you far too aware of the sound of your own breathing and how hard your heart was beating. You wouldn't be surprised if he could hear it through your chest even if he was on the opposite side of the dungeons, it was certainly loud enough in your ears.

Moving was difficult as well since you were terrified of alerting him with every step you took, making you move even slower than probably necessary. Not to mention the darkness that set in the dungeon, the moonlight filtering through the small windows not nearly enough to allow you to see even the end of the hallway.

Azriel's dungeon wasn't entirely unknown to you, having been here on multiple occasions for work or even to come find him when he got too immersed in his duties, but you definitely should have prepared better before asking him to hunt you here. It should have been the least you could do after daring the Spymaster of the Night Court to a game of hide-and-seek.

“I have to say I'm impressed, princess,” his deep voice calls out, making you freeze, heart dropping onto your stomach. It takes you entirely too long to realize his voice sounds far away enough, echoing through the walls. “Seasoned assassins haven't managed to hold out this long.”

When the shock dies down a bit and you regain control of your body once again, you keep walking down the hallway slowly, carefully setting one foot in front of the other. As far as he sounded just now, you knew he could walk through these walls effortlessly without making noise and if you stood in the same place, he would catch you before you'd even get the chance to run.

The sound of his knuckles knocking against the wall as he walks makes you jump out of your skin again, and you almost want to curse out at him, knowing he's having entirely too much fun while you sit close to a heart attack.

“Maybe I should have you work for me. You could still be a great spy.”

The relaxed tone of his voice only worsens your nerves. It also annoys you, which you know is his objective, but you won't give him the satisfaction of making a wrong move just so he could find you more easily. You had brought up this game with a clear view of the end, but now your competitiveness wouldn't allow you to simply give up. The reward would be far more delicious if you gave him a good fight too.

Making your way to one of the open cells at the end of the hallway and getting inside, you look for a place to hide. Every cell had been emptied and cleaned before you came, you really wouldn't have expected anything less from Azriel, even during this dirty game of yours he wanted to keep you protected and sheltered.

The room was mostly empty save for a table by the iron bars, a chair and chains on the furthest wall and a box sitting by the side wall. It was full of cleaning supplies by the smell of it which would be perfect since it could mask your scent as well. You quickly duck behind it, sitting on the floor and making yourself as small as you can so you're not visible at all behind it.

A shadow moving in the corner catches your attention, startling you for a second, but with a harsh glare at it you manage to send it away. Azriel had promised not to use them - if he did the game would be over in seconds. His shadows had a tendency to cling to you though, since they were extensions of him and acted on his feelings, so even if they didn't run to tattle on you, seeing them gathering around the box would be like an arrow pointing in your direction.

“How long do you plan on hiding for, my love?” His voice was a lot closer now, it sounded like he was walking down this same hallway. Covering your mouth with your hand, you do your best to calm your heart and not make any noise at all, trying to remember the breathing exercises he taught you. “We both know how this will end.”

Counting down the steps in your mind, you peek out slowly when you're convinced enough time has passed for him to be around the opposite corner of the dungeon. You find the hallway empty and take the moment to start walking in the direction he came from, maybe find another place to hide back there if you're lucky.

“Caught you,” a voice whispers directly in your ear, making you jump and attempt to move away only to be held by your waist against a familiar leather clad chest. Your heart was racing, the sound so loud in your ears that it takes you a moment to remind your body that you weren't actually in danger.

Azriel simply leans into your neck, breathing in your scent, humming into your skin when your body starts relaxing against his. His shadows start crawling up your body as well, happily moving around the two of you after being denied your touch for so long.

“You said you wouldn't use them,” you whisper, scared your voice would give out on you. Fear had fully transformed into desire, the whiplash of emotions and adrenaline running through your veins threatening to make you lose your mind.

“I didn't,” he murmurs, biting into your skin, “I'm a little offended that you think so little of my abilities.” You didn't, not at all, but your next words turn into a moan as he licks at the bite mark. “Now, be good and let me enjoy my prize.”

When his hands reach to the hem of the short dress you wore for the occasion and pulls it off in one swift movement, you thought he would turn you around and finally kiss you, maybe lift you up into his arms and fuck you against the wall, but instead he guides you back to the cell you had been hiding in, letting you know that he had simply been indulging you for a bit longer when he walked away, and bends you over the table you had been eyeing earlier, the cold surface coming in contact with your overheated skin sending goosebumps all over your body.

You can't see him in this position, can't see the appreciation in his eyes as the hazel rakes over your body, or the sick desire when he spreads your legs and finds your underwear soaked through. His thumb delves under your underwear without warning, running it over your folds before tugging at the fabric once, giving you time to stop him if you wanted to, and then tugging harder a second time when you didn't, ripping it clean off your body.

Two of his fingers are inside you before you have a chance to prepare yourself, finding no resistance whatsoever as your cunt greedily sucks them in. Azriel chuckles, a dark sound that makes your toes curl.

“Don't tell me you got this wet running from me,” he muses, fucking his fingers into you faster, “Were you thinking of what I would do when I caught you? Did you imagine me fucking you over this table like this?” The obscenely loud moan you let out is the only answer he needs. “Such a dirty girl, so perfect for me.”

His fingers leave you entirely too soon, prompting a whine of protest out of you, one that gets silenced quickly when he gently kicks your feet apart as you hear him unbuckling the leathers you had specifically asked him to wear. You don't even have time to beg before he enters you in one smooth motion, setting up a punishing pace that has you holding onto the cell bars in front of you.

His hands were gripping onto your hips hard enough to bruise, bringing your body to meet his thrusts. Your moans were echoing around the empty dungeon, leaving your mouth unattended as you got lost in the pleasure, and if it weren't for the spell cast around it to make it soundproof, you would be waking up everyone around.

The feeling of his leathers hitting your naked skin was turning you on more than it should, but seeing him in his Spymaster attire while chasing you around his dungeon could have probably made you cum without him ever laying a finger on you. The thought makes you clench around him, getting rewarded with a deep moan of his own.

Between the adrenaline of the chase and the way he was fucking you so well, you were already impossibly close, trying your best to hold back and enjoy the moment as long as you could, your cunt squeezing around him wildly - you had fantasized about this too many times for it to end so soon. It seemed he had a different idea though, his thrusts hitting all the spots he knew would make you lose control.

“Why are you holding back, my love?” His voice was clearly affected, it sounded like he was holding back himself. “Want to feel you cum on my cock. Come on, show me how good I'm making you feel.”

There really wasn't a chance of denying him even if you wanted to, he was hitting you too deep, too hard, so so good. You were cumming around his cock just like he wanted as soon as the words left his mouth, a silent scream stuck in your throat, entire form trembling against the table as your body struggled to handle the sudden amount of pleasure.

Azriel fucks you through it, his thrusts becoming more erratic and his groans echoing louder around the walls, a telltale sign of how close he truly was. But he surprises you once more, pulling out of you before you even have the chance to really come down from your high, and spins you around, dropping you on your knees. Luckily even through the haze, your body knew what to do, parting your lips and sucking his cock into your mouth just in time for him to cum down your throat, fingers tangled in your hair and head thrown back as he fucks every last drop into your mouth.

It takes him a while to pull out, and judging by the way his cock refused to truly soften, you almost thought he would keep fucking your face, but he does so gently, tucking himself back into his leathers before squating down to your level when you pout up at him, smirking at the mess he made before kissing you, licking any remnants of cum and spit that trailed down your chin.

“Think you can still stand?”

The question makes you take note of the way your muscles still spasmed, but you still nod up at him, albeit a bit confused. He could just winnow you straight to your room, no need to walk all the way back or anything.

“Alright then,” he says with a hint of pride, holding onto your waist and helping you stand, studying the way your legs wobble for a second before letting go and deeming you steady enough on your feet. It's not like he hadn't fucked you way harder before, you were almost a little offended he thought you would be out of commission so easily.

Azriel leans down to kiss you one more time, letting you indulge yourself, hand finding the back of his neck, only to pull away and take a step back, a sadistic smirk playing on his face, sending a chill down your spine.

“Now I want you to run for me again, princess.” His smirk only widens when he sees the excitement replacing the confusion on your face. “Next time I catch you, I'll chain you to the wall.”

A million thoughts run through your mind, one more filthy than the former. He nods his head to the door in encouragement. “Go on, I'll give you a headstart.”

It was going to be a long night.

[sunnybunnyy2]

DARK CELL MASTERLIST

Daryl had gotten used to the loneliness of the cell that he had been banished to. A part of him felt like he deserved it. If he didn’t punch Negan, Glenn would be at home with his pregnant wife, Maggie, and Daryl would be home with his family. But he made his bed and now he has to lie with the guilt. A girl watching him from across the sanctuary catches his eye. He wasn’t sure who she was or why she was helping him when he certainly didn’t deserve it. The guilt was beginning to take over him when this teenage girl began to bring him food, not knowing she was his light at the end of a dark tunnel. He needed to get the hell out of the sanctuary- but he was going to need her help to do it.

Chapter one: Dark Cell

Chapter two: Two Wrongs Don’t Make A Right

Chapter three: Father Knows Best

Chapter four:

Chapter: ??

This is ALL purely platonic, there is no love interest, Daryl has NO inappropriate thoughts about reader and same goes for every other character!

If everything goes how I want it too I will post atleast once a week maybe even more. I’m not sure how long this will go on for but I will be willing to do one shots after the timeskip if you guys want that.

Please request if you have any ideas that you would like me to write!<3

[simplyholl]

Hunted

Summary: Hydra hosts a training exercise for their super soldiers. You can run, but you can't hide from the Winter Soldier.

Pairing: Dark Winter Soldier x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. This is a dark fic. Non con. Death.

See my Masterlist Here

You ran as hard as your feet would carry you. You were terrified, shaking so hard you were surprised that you could even move. Footsteps approached quickly, your breath hitches as you make a decision. You could run, but the super soldier could easily catch up to you. Or you could stay where you are and pray that you are hidden well enough that he won't find you.

Last month, Hydra caught your uncle's company trying to take them down. They killed all the men that worked there and captured all the women. They brought you all to cells under their headquarters. They fed you three meals a day, stating you all would need your strength for what they had planned.

This morning, you learned what they had meant. You were all brought out to the edge of the woods. The man in charge told you that they were training their super soldiers today. They would be practicing their hunting skills. A large van pulled up, and out came ten super soldiers. You looked around, counting the women who were with you. There were twenty-three of you. A second van halted to a stop beside the other. Two large men drug out another.

He was chained up, arms behind his back, black mask almost like a muzzle covered his mouth. His dark, shoulder length hair was messy, piercing blue eyes locking on you. You felt like you were going to faint. The Winter Soldier was the most brutal of all the super soldiers. A skilled assassin, he was sent on Hydra's most important missions. He did all their dirty work.

The Hydra leader who brought you outside explained the rules to the prisoners and soldiers. They were going to give you all an hour head start. Your job was to hide from the men. If they found you, they could do whatever they wanted with you as a reward. Bile rose in your throat, turning the contents of your stomach sour. Some of you wouldn't come out of this alive. But if you were fortunate enough to make it until sunrise, you would be free.

The footsteps grow closer, you close your eyes hoping he won't notice the footprints you had left in the mud. Then you see him, the man was tall, blonde hair shaved off. He walked toward the bushes you were hiding in. Your hand flies to your mouth to hide your cries. To your dismay, one escapes anyway. The soldier's head whips toward the noise, across the way from you.

You realize it wasn't you who cried too loudly. The soldier smiles wickedly, reaching for the poor woman who just gave up her hiding spot. He flings her out of the bushes onto the hard ground. More tears fall when you notice that it's Claire, the secretary from your uncle's failed company.

The soldier begins pawing at her as she tries to fight him off. It's no use. He holds her down with one knee on her torso, as he strips off his clothes. "You're my second one today." He brags. "Let's see if you're luckier than the last one. I choked her too hard." His evil laugh echoes through the quiet forest. When he rips Claire's clothing from her shaking body, you take the opportunity to run.

He looks up when he hears you leaving your shelter. "I'll catch up to you next!" He yells after you. The sun has started setting, you take a precious minute to catch your breath. You know if you stop for too long, you'll lose your momentum, or someone could catch up to you. You hear the screams and cries of your fellow prisoners as you make your way further into the woods. You search for a new place to hide, since it would be dark soon.

They could have at least equipped you with flashlights, you think to yourself. That was the whole point of all of this, wasn't it? You weren't meant to survive. Hydra expected the super soldiers to kill most of you. The women who survived would be brought back to the prison, probably made to work for them now that their spirits had been broken.

It was almost too dark to continue, so you took shelter in a cluster of bushes, shrinking yourself as small as you could underneath it. Night fell, and you laid on the cold ground, the horrendous sounds of the others getting caught filled the air. Finally, you rested your eyes. You needed the rest if you were going to make until the morning.

You woke up, sensing someone was nearby. You silently prayed that it was just another prisoner and not a threat. You release the shaky breath you were holding when they leave the area. The dark sky turns reddish - pink and you sigh with relief. It shouldn't be long now. Sunrise was so close you could almost taste your freedom.

You close your eyes, hoping that when you opened them the next time, this torture would be over. Your few moments of peace were interrupted when the blonde super soldier from earlier reached down into the bushes, pulling you up by your hair. Your scream rips through the woods, the soldier slings you back onto the ground, kicking you. "Shut up, bitch. I told you I was coming for you. You're my sixth, and from the looks of it, my last." He gestures to the sky.

He rips your shirt from your body. You try to cover yourself, but he moves your hands away. A metal hand wraps around the soldier's neck, a sickening crunch filling your ears as The Winter Soldier snaps it with ease. The soldier slumps over, his lifeless body landing with a thud.

"Mine." The Winter Soldier states, blue eyes locked on your exposed bra. A cold metal finger slips under the bra between your breasts, tearing it from your body with no effort. "No please! I almost made it. Please don't do this!" You cry, pleading with him. His hands find your breasts, squeezing roughly. His eyes land on your peaked nipples, taking them between his fingers.

He twists and pulls too roughly. When he's finished his assault on them, he reaches for his face, removing the black mask from his mouth. He's beautiful, you think for a split second. His blue eyes and pouty, full lips seemed like they didn't belong on the same man who was trained to kill. "Like what you see?" He smirks, when he notices you staring at his face. He pushes your breasts together, face lowering toward them. He runs his tongue from one pointed nipple to the other. Chapped lips taking one between them, sucking harshly.

He bites down, pulling your nipple with his teeth. You cry out, hands on his face trying to push him away. He chuckles, as you fight him, biting down your torso to your pants. He pulls them down along with your panties, discarding them immediately. One thick finger runs through your folds, disappointment evident as it comes out dry. "You're not even wet for me? We can't have that. I won't fit if you're not ready."

You shiver at his words. You didn't want to know how big he was. You had studied the super soldier serum enough at your old job to know that the serum enhanced everything. He brings his mouth down against your core, lips brushing your clit. He swirls his tongue around it, metal arm hooking under your legs to bring you closer. His full lips tug on your clit, you can't help but moan for him.

"That's it, good girl. If you're good for me, I'll convince them to let me keep you." You spit at him, kicking your legs, to push him away. "Why would I want that?" He smiles, because Hydra's gonna kill anyone left in these woods when this is over." You gasp, you should have known. "You didn't really think they would just let you go? You know too much. They will let me keep you as my little plaything though. All I have to do is say the word."

You didn't doubt him for a second. “Stop fighting." He commands, lowering his face again. His nose brushes your clit while he works his tongue inside you. You try to fight back, but he misinterprets your movements. He thinks you're enjoying it now. "That's it." The Winter Soldier suckles your swollen clit, hot tongue lapping up every drop of arousal. You bite your lips so hard; it bleeds trying to keep a moan in.

He grabs your chin, jerking your face towards him. "Do not hold back from me, kitten." His warm tongue drags over you slowly before his plump lips suction around your clit. Your thighs close against his ears as he draws a forceful orgasm out of you, legs trembling as you flood his face. Your moan rips through your throat, earning a satisfied smile from the soldier.

He spreads your legs with one hand, his other freeing his hard cock. You were right about the size of it. You were so fortunate that he got you wet first. You'd be lucky if he didn't split you in half. He plunges inside you, you squirm from the painful way he entered you. "Hold still." He says, holding your stomach down. "I can't, it hurts too much." You whine. The Winter Soldier rolls his eyes, lifting you like a rag doll.

He sits on the ground, lowering you onto him. This position was worse for you. He hit even deeper than before. But he could hold you better this way. His metal arm snakes around your waist, holding you close. He bounces you on his cock, your arms wrap around his neck. His fingers dig into your hips as you get used to it and start to grind on him.

Your clit brushes his dark curls as you ride him. "I knew you would be worth it." He grunts. "I wanted you the moment I saw you this morning. I found you immediately. You're not great at hiding, you know. But I waited. I knew it would be better if I let you think you could escape." He chuckles, "You should have seen those other broads, they would piss themselves when they saw me. But I only wanted you, so I left them for the others."

His dark pants rub against your thighs as he fucks into you. You roll your hips, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. "You feel incredible." He moans into the crook of your neck. You scratch at his leather clad back, as the Winter Soldier's mouth latches onto the exposed skin of your neck. He sucks harshly, making sure it will leave a mark. You clench around him as he cums inside you.

His metal hand reaches between you, icy digits colliding with your heat. His thumb circles your clit, causing you to unravel. You shake in his arms, too exhausted to move as he pulls you off him. He takes his shirt off, handing it to you. "Put this on. I don't want anyone looking at my little doll." You take it, looking up at the sun coming up in the distance.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @queenshu @justsebstan

[kiwicopia]

MDNI | Themetober: Tricked

Fae!Geto x Fem!Reader

CW: noncon/dubcon, kidnapping, imprisonment, chained reader, mentions of starvation/dehydration, mentions of impregnation, dacryphilia, cunnilingus, overstimulation, licking, biting, body worship, face fucking, sex against the wall, creampie.

tags: @sweetchildcloud

Themetober Masterlist

He had to give credit where it was due, truly. Not many humans could evade a fae for as long as you had, but even you had limits to this evasion. He just had to find them; however, he wasn’t as patient of a fae as he should have been. The desire to have you as his was overwhelming to the point that drastic measures had to be taken. One little slip-up was all he needed, and the very second it occurred, he whisked you away to his domain.

“Darling,” he cooed, dark eyes watching as you shied away from him. Your body moved further back in the cell, and the soft clinking of the chains caused the corners of his lips to twitch as he smiled. “It doesn’t have to be this way. Things would be easier if you would simply give in.” Geto inched closer to the bars of your cell, his fingers tightly wrapping around the cold metal as he rested his forehead against it. “You’re being childish.” 

You hadn’t eaten or drank anything in three days, having refused him each and every time he would bring you something—it was such a childish thing for you to do. His eyes lowered, squinting as he assessed your huddled form in the corner of your cell. Geto didn’t want things to be this way. He couldn’t understand why you resorted to such stubbornness, which only resulted in an inevitable deterioration of your body. 

The fae huffed in irritation, brows creasing as his mind came to a single conclusion: be forceful. Honestly, this was the last thing he wished to resort to, but he couldn’t think of any other way to make you see reason and listen to him. With a quick tap of his forefinger against a metal bar, the door to your cell opened and he stepped inside. Your wide, teary eyes watched as he came closer to you, causing you to squish yourself against the cold, hard wall of the cell. 

“You have left me no choice,” he said. Geto then snapped his fingers, causing the chains connecting you to the cell wall to quickly slide back, which lifted your body to your feet. He came closer, stopping a foot in front of you before reaching a hand out to gently caress your cheek. He thumbed a tear away, tutting softly before letting out a small sigh. “You’ll see reason soon enough.” 

Disgust bubbled in your stomach as his hand drifted from your face and down to your thigh. His other hand followed suit, and you squirmed as his fingers wrapped around the flesh beneath your tattered dress before forcing your legs apart. Geto hummed softly, his smile broadening as he lowered himself to his knees. 

“So beautiful,” he whispered. His thumbs rubbed gentle circles against the skin along your inner thighs before cupping the plump flesh and lifting your lower half up. It was just enough for him to roll his shoulders underneath your legs, situating them over his shoulders perfectly—though he still kept his hands cupped beneath your thighs. Geto’s lips kissed along the skin, trailing his movements further up to your awaiting cunt. “So beautiful, and all mine.” His nipped at your flesh, causing you to cry out before attempting to wriggle away from him. 

The fae tutted softly, shaking his head a little before tightening his grip on your thighs. You should know better than to refuse—not that you could if you tried. “Please,’ you begged. His eyes flitted up to your tear-filled expression. The way you cried and pleaded for him to stop brought forth a low rumble in his throat, as well as causing his cock to chub at the sight of more of your tears. You were so beautiful like this. Teary-eyed and pleading; a real sniffling mess as you attempted to wriggle away once more, but to no avail. “Please don’t—.” 

Your words died midsentence upon feeling his tongue lick a thick stripe along your folds, the tip curling slightly to catch your clit at the right angle. His ears rang with cries that spewed from your pretty lips, only to be ignored as he continued lapping at your cunt. The fae’s fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs to quell the constant squirming of yours as you tried pulling your hips back. Geto’s nose soon brushed against your bundle of nerves the further he pressed his face against your pussy, earning a shrill cry as you tossed your head back against the cell wall. 

He couldn’t hold back anymore. The soft slurps rang in your ears, and the fact that your body was so eager to wet itself with arousal as he pleased you felt so wrong. You didn’t want this, you never wanted this. But it felt good. No longer could your mind hold the disgust for what he was doing to you; that feeling now fading as a sick and twisted need for him to continue festered in its place. 

The second your hips began to grind against him, he knew. You were giving in, and he groaned softly as his cock twitched beneath the fabric of his pants. It ached to be free, to be deep inside of you, but not yet. Geto still needed you to give in entirely, and there was only one way to get that. His pace increased as his tongue delved past your folds, lapping up the slick that now coated his lips and chin as he feasted on you like a starved beast. 

His nails dug into your flesh the more you fucked yourself against his face, now whining and moaning for more. You needed more, wanted it, craved it, and he delivered. The fae held your lower half up as your body shook upon releasing a sudden, sharp cry. His dark eyes watched as your back arched while your senses flooded with pure ecstasy. “Pretty girl,” he chuckled. Geto flicked his tongue along your puffy clit, relishing in the whiny moan that slipped out from you. “I’m still not finished eating.” 

He lapped at your sensitive, slick cunt again, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you until he finally felt satisfied. The fae’s tongue licked along his lips after he pulled his face back, relishing in the sweetness of your multiple releases. Your body still twitched from the effects of him overstimulating you, which made you perfectly pliant for him as he stood to his feet and pressed his chest against yours. Geto kept you balanced between him and the wall, with an arm around your waist while a free hand worked to release himself from the confines of his pants. 

His cock sprang free—the tip angry and weeping arousal—and he slowly rubbed the thick head against your folds before easing himself inside. You whined at the stretch, body tensing from the sudden burn that ached the more he disappeared inside of you. The fae’s arm around your waist tightened as his hand moved to grip your hip, and his face buried itself in the crook of your neck. Your scent wafted through his nostrils, causing his dick to twitch inside of you, and Geto gave you a small moment of adjustment before pulling his hips back and slamming himself into you. 

The pace was relentless, with little to no room for gentleness as he fucked you. Gods, you were so tight and warm, with walls that sucked him back in with ease—so heavenly to him, this feeling. His arm soon unwound from around your waist, and both of his hands firmly pressed against the cell wall. Your tears were long gone by now, with eyes rolled back as you babbled nonsense in his ear, to which he let out a breathy chuckle at. 

You were adorable. His little human, getting herself fucked by a fae she thought she could evade. The thought of his little tricks almost not working on you days ago didn’t sit well with him, and he now desired to make you his in more ways than one. Fucking you just didn’t seem to be enough for him. Geto could impregnate you, force the swell of your belly with his seed. Then you would be his forever. 

Such an idea spurred him on, his body squishing you against the wall as his cock bullied your sopping cunt. “Take it, take it, darling,” he panted. Those words spilled from his lips like a mantra, a heavenly chant that would ensure your bond to him for life. Gods, it was enough for him to finally come undone. With a low growl rumbling in his throat, Geto fucked into you one last time, spilling into you and painting your walls in thick, creamy cum. 

His thrusts had slowed, gentling out as he kissed along the side of your neck. You were too fucked out to comprehend what had even happened. Too overstimulated from orgasms prior to realize the fate he resigned you to. Geto was a fae that had always gotten what his heart desired, no matter how sick and twisted it was. 

If impregnating you kept you bound to him, then so be it. Simply another little trick that had to be done. 

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part four.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4.6k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), sex work, pet names, alcohol, mentions of drugs, jokes about death Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part three. / return to part one. | masterlist

Night comes around.

You do not call.

In fact, you don't call the Scout Services Hotline a single time that whole weekend.

As you scroll mindlessly through social media in your bed, fluttering between apps without retaining a single word or meme, your cell phone weighs heavily in your hand.

Don't call.

Just don't call.

It isn't like you're devoid of things to do.

Going out is an option.

Being around people may help your mood — but you don’t feel like unearthing from your snuggie poncho.

Putting on a movie can be a great distraction — but you know your attention span would barely last through the opening credits.

It was him.

Right there.

Right in front of you.

Levi from Scout Services, alive and in the flesh, holding your phone.

No amount of mental gymnastics can make you doubt otherwise. 

He has a voice like no other; one that haunts your day dreams and soothes your nightmares, one that brings this sudden urge to do better for yourself—

Ironically, to be independent and strong on your own.

Which, actually, really fucking sucks now that you’re stuck with the decision to totally disappear from the gym, too.

(Kind of thwarts the whole ‘new me’ chest-puffing you’d started Friday with.)

So you make a final decision:

You still have to go to the gym Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.

Even if you say nothing, keep to yourself, remain a shadow, you have to go.

(There’s a fragile line drawn in the sands of reality. You can toe the edge, but you refuse to. This is his livelihood. You’re not delusional to believe you’re a main character exception.)

Coincidentally, Levi goes every day, too. 

Your stomach flip-flops with the unsettling realization that your perch on a treadmill actually gives you a perfect vantage point to watch him as he sets his station up every morning.

Meticulously he sets towels down to place his shaker bottle and water thermos down, as if worried the ground hadn’t been cleaned overnight.

He even takes the disinfectant cloths and cleans every dumbbell he lines up neatly before starting his workout.

The dark-haired man truly is less-than-average in height, which isn’t a turn-off to you in the slightest, but his arms — his goddamn arms.

Levi wasn’t kidding when he told you that he could pick you up.

He could probably pick two of you up, one arm each.

They’re so toned, his forearms veiny from morning dehydration.

Training vigorously in his own world, not once does he notice that you’re the bumbling idiot that’s tripped on the treadmill (see: a few times) from dissociating.

Hell, he hasn’t a single fucking clue that you’re close enough to yell across the room to him.

Would he know?

That you’re Scarlet.

His, in some made-up world.

(Does your voice stand out in a sea of lonely people?)

The cleaning ritual extends to his cooldown, where he properly cleans each piece of equipment before nestling it back in its place.

Levi sits on his phone for a second, dropping down to a bench to scroll — text messages.

(Damn it, have you really resorted to minor stalking?)

As soon as he stands, though, you drop your chin to watch your sneakers rhythmically pass one another on the treadmill belt.

He passes like a ghost, evaporating into the men’s locker room without a word.

This is torture.

You miss him.

But you still refuse to call.

Can't — because in another world you may be his, but in this world, he is not yours.

.

.

— —

.

.

    Tuesday night rolls around and you decide you hate life.

Annie, Eren, Reiner, and Mikasa are already there by the time you walk into the downtown hotspot.

The boys as well as Mikasa are still in their suit attire from work, their ties loosened at their necks. Annie’s in a hoodie and jeans, clearly much more interested in having a comfortable evening.

If the emptied shot glasses are any indicator of the plans for this evening, then you steel yourself for one hell of a Wednesday.

You glide through the busy crowds of the bar towards the group.

Bodies upon bodies crowd this place — it’s never not a zoo at this hour, no matter the day. Saying excuse me would only waste breath. 

A live band croons on the far end of the smoky bar, forcing everyone to talk ten decibels higher just to hear the conversation.

(Can’t you turn around and go home while you’re ahead?)

In the sea of people, a pair of emerald green eyes over by a cluster of tables in the right-hand corner catch your movement. They widen, recognizing your face, and a lopsided grin of surprise follows.

“Holy shit, she left her cave!” Eren yells, holding up a cheap beer in salute to your arrival.

(Thanks Jeager, you little fuck.)

You don’t hear what she says, but you can see Mikasa’s lips part in tandem with a sharp elbow jab straight to his ribs.

Eren instantly falters his salute, souring in pain.

“I know. Don’t be so shocked,” you state to your colleagues, leaning up against the circular high-top table. “Am I the last to show?”

“Nah, you’re right on time. Armin and Jean’re on their way,” Reiner grunts, holding onto a comically small cosmopolitan in his rather large hand. “Sasha’s on babysitting duty with Nicco.”

You look around the bar for any other familiar faces.

“And Connie?”

“Passed out,” Mikasa supplies. “Took edibles after work.”

“There’s no chance in hell anyone’s waking him,” Eren snorts. “Fucker’s toast.”

Reiner sighs. “For what it’s worth, Jean tried.”

“No, Armin tried,” Annie corrects, finally piping up. She holds something on the rocks — brandy? Whiskey? You can’t tell. “Jean just laughed and kept trying to draw shit on his face.”

“You didn’t see the Snapchat he sent?” Eren asks after a gulp of his beer.

You shake your head, knowing damn well you’ve avoided using your phone for the last several days. 

Missed texts, abandoned tagged tweets, your streak in your mobile game ruined — anything so you wouldn’t be tempted to click that little number.

Damn it.

Enough wallowing.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” you state, disengaging with the table. “Anyone need anything?”

From your peripheral, you see a familiar mop of blonde hair walking towards your group. At his side is a much taller man sliding through the crowd, navigating the shorter one to the tiny table you’ve commandeered from the masses.

Armin and Jean.

Reiner and Annie shake their heads.

“Nope, I’m solid.”

“Good here.”

“Eren’s got the next round of shots,” Mikasa flatly states. “You’re fine.”

“Ha, hell yeah!” Eren exclaims, before he settles into a confused pause of silence. His head whips to Mikasa, blinking twice. “Wait, what?”

You don’t stick around for that aftermath.

Squeezing back into the lion’s den of people, you try not to get hit with any too-full beverages or waving hands.

You manage to weave and duck, eventually finding a small empty corner at the edge of the bar.

Success.

You rush to claim it before someone else can, your forearm on the wooden surface. 

Holding up two fingers to get the one of the three bartender’s attention, she nods once to acknowledge she sees you — she’ll get there eventually.

Two empty stools are available, so you scoot onto the one closest to the wall while waiting for your turn and drop your purse onto the other while you situate yourself. 

It’ll likely take a while if the busyness of the staff has anything to say about it.

An hour.

All you need to do is last one whole hour.

Chat a bit, mingle a little so everyone at work doesn’t think you’re a total goddamn recluse, then you can go—

“Is this seat taken?”

A question sounding to your left breaks your train of thought.

The seat.

The one next to you, where your purse lay.

Way to go, dumbass.

You answer on autopilot, not thinking twice about it.

“Oh — shit, yeah. I mean, no! No it’s not. I’m sorry.”

As your torso turns to grab your purse off of the deep red stool, your eyes drop to make sure nothing spills out of it.

“Hold on, let me just move—”

Your chin lifts to find yourself staring eye to eye with Levi.

Wait.

Levi?!

His cheekbones look even sharper under the warm hue of the bar lights overhead, lips parted like he was interrupted in asking a question.

The whites of his eyes grow more prominent with every passing second, making the blue-gray color of them stand out in stark contrast to the black curtain of fringe falling against his temples.

The realization that you spoke — that he’s seen your face before — seems to be hitting him like a goddamn freight train.

Your blood runs cold as your own eyes round.

“...my stuff.”

Weakly you finish your thought, wishing for nothing but death right now. 

Maybe a stranger, like a secret agent with wicked strength, will simply rush the bar and put you in a headlock and knock you out. 

Maybe your drink will be poisoned. 

You’re happy for anything so long as it’s swift.

Levi grunts in acknowledgement, slowly finding a spot on the empty stool beside yours.

Both of you swivel towards the bar, staring ahead.

Silence.

For what feels like hours, neither of you speak. The noise of the bar becomes overwhelming.

Somehow the surrounding voices feel amplified when you’ve lost your own. 

It’s trapped between a thousand apologies and half a dozen explanations that sound worse than the one before it.

You need to get up.

Excuse yourself out. 

Leave.

You won’t get your damn drink, but that’s fine so long as you’re not here.

“How’s your phone?”

Eventually Levi speaks, and you find yourself wishing he hadn’t. 

The effect of his voice is even worse in person — so buttery smooth, the gravel much deeper in his chest now that there isn’t a phone receiver to dilute it.

“Not… damaged,” you reply cautiously.

“Good.”

Another stretch of silence passes, and you forget about ordering drinks altogether.

Your eyes drop to view his folded hands, how the veins protrude even when resting.

His fingers are slender, strong, and hate yourself for yearning.

You have to apologize.

This is crossing a line.

You need to—

“So—”

“I’m canceling my subscription.”

You blurt a fraction later than Levi, proclaiming your innocence before he can ever condemn it.

When you meet his steely eyes, they squint with curiosity.

From the crown of your head to your chin, he assesses in a serpentine pattern before eventually finding your eyes once more.

“How come?” he asks, leaning further against the bar top.

“I— how come?”

You repeat his question in surprise.

Wildly gesturing towards the space between you with your hand, you snort.

“Uh, because that’s the right thing to do in this circumstance? Because seeing you in person is borderline unethical?”

He hums at that, not giving you much to work with.

“And for the record, I did not stalk you to this bar.”

“Didn’t think you did.”

“I’m actually here with friends—”

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

Levi interrupts, seemingly unbothered by your rambling. 

“At the gym. I can make an educated guess and say you knew it was me from the second I opened my trap, but you didn’t say anything.”

Why isn’t he freaking out?

Shouldn’t he be freaking out?

Just as you open your mouth to continue professing your innocence, the bartender walks over and points to you.

“What can I get you?”

You blanch, no longer remember how to order drinks. 

“I—”

“I got her tab,” Levi interrupts casually, tapping his index finger into the counter. “Two hard seltzers.”

Then he has the audacity to glance your way.

“Pineapple, right?”

Holy shit, he remembers your favorite flavor?

Is this a flex?

(It kind of feels like a flex; a way to say I know you, I was there.)

“...pineapple’s fine,” you murmur in return, hesitant.

The bartender doesn’t waste another second to rummage in the mini fridge on the other side of the bar for two slim cans.

For another agonizing thirty seconds, neither of you say a word.

He raises his chin to watch whatever sport’s game is playing overhead on the television.

You stare at your mirrored reflection in the bar backsplash.

This is real life.

The man you’ve spent hours talking to over the phone to, getting off to, is sitting right beside you, yet he isn’t trying to create distance.

If anything, he’s buying you a damn drink and asking you why.

Why didn’t you say something?

“I didn’t say anything at the gym because that would have been extremely inappropriate,” you finally argue under your breath, keeping the conversation strictly between you. “What would I have said? ‘Oh hey, guy I've paid to talk to on the phone every single night for the past week. Isn’t it crazy that I actually go to the same gym as you?’ That’s so creepy.” 

When he says nothing, still staring at you, you continue to bury yourself into a deeper grave.

“I mean, I thought you lived, like… a billion miles from me. Maybe from another planet.”

His brows pinch with amusement. 

“On Mars, or…?”

Oh.

He’s joking.

He’s actually joking about this.

You turn your chin, brow furrowed. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, and you have to force yourself to maintain eye contact.

“I wondered why you looked so scared of me on Friday. Thought maybe I smelled like shit from my workout.”

No, you want to say. Unfortunately it was the goddamn opposite.

“So you’re not…”

“Worried you’re a stalker trying to dox me because of my job?”

Levi blatantly finishes, and you wince.

Clearly he notices your embarrassment, because he sighs and relaxes his shoulders.

“I’m more pissed that you didn’t call all weekend, but then again, that’s the nature of the job.”

You both watch each other for a moment as the bartender returns, passing you both pineapple hard seltzers to nurse.

He pushes your can to your hand, nudging the icy-cold aluminum against your thumb, then picks up his own.

“The nature of the job?” you repeat, and he nods.

“People get bored. Run out of funds. Novelty wears off fast.” 

Levi shrugs, sipping his drink. 

“Just because you like talking to someone doesn’t mean they stick around. Wouldn’t blame 'em — shit gets expensive quick.”

“I just…”

You trail off, fighting to find the correct words to say.

“...I thought it wasn’t right to call again, knowing I knew what you looked like, so I didn’t.” 

Explaining yourself makes your tongue feel sluggish, like you were caught red-handed in a crime you didn’t know you’d committed until hindsight.

“I can leave you alone,” you decide to add, holding your drink tighter. “Like I said, I’m here with my friends and… after all, you were doing your job. A great job. You’re kind of the reason I’m even here in the first place.”

Levi’s brow knits, and your eyes widen.

“Not like that!”

“Pretty shit at asserting yourself even in person,” he murmurs like it’s a cheeky inside joke, and he sips once more. “So how am I the reason?”

He’s not angry.

Hell, he’s conversational.

Not the least bit worried about how you’ve both managed to get here.

Might as well be honest.

“Because I decided to stop being a little less scared of the world,” you confess softly. “It— That’s why I got to the gym so early on Friday. I wanted to start doing strength training, like how you talk about how much you love it. And… I thought, maybe, I’d spend more time with friends. Get out there more. Be more assertive — beyond right now, obviously.”

The dark-haired man’s expression smooths at that in a mixture of recognition and surprise.

The slide of his brow is beautiful, and your heart squeezes at the sight of an animated Levi in the flesh, just as you pictured.

“Do you have to go back to your friends right now?”

At first you don’t quite register his question, but then it causes butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

He looks left to right, as if trying to find your troop of buddies, before returning his attention back to you.

“You don’t… want me to leave?”

Levi shakes his head.

You feel bolted to your stool, unable to move even if you wanted to.

Simultaneously you sip your drinks, keeping eye contact.

It feels intimate.

Too intimate.

“So, then…” You start slowly. “What does this mean?”

“Well,” Levi begins, mulling it over in his head. “Means the whole provider-client relationship has basically gone to shit. You know my face, now I know yours.”

“Right.”

“Then again, that professionalism was already well into a shit pile way before Friday morning.”

You blink, not following. “Huh?”

“There’s nothing in the company policy about what to do when you stumble into your client at the damn local gym, but there sure as hell wasn’t anything about…”

Levi trails off, clenching his jaw in debate.

“...about crossing the line I practically leapt over. I’m good at my job because of my detachment, but this was the only time I bordered on unethical myself. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

Levi… was sorry?

The words blurt faster than you can stop yourself. “Why the hell are you sorry?”

His eyes widen with a budding uncertainty.

“I… just said I crossed the line?”

“When?”

“On the phone?”

“Okay, duh, but when?”

“Our last session.”

“So that was real.”

Levi actually got off to your voice.

If you weren’t in such shock about sitting here face-to-face with him at a local bar, then perhaps your ego would have, in fact, made a crash landing on Mars.

He considers his next words very carefully. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.”

Then he sips more before shaking his head.

“Look. It’s… a job a friend of mine got me. I’m not a real-life Casanova or any of that shit. Hell, most of my time was spent training punks to fight in a boxing ring, so I never had the energy for relationships or dating.”

You can't hide your surprise. “You were a fighter?”

He makes a noncommittal face.

“Loosely. Personal trainer, training in general — fell into it after I got out of the service.”

“Right, you were in the army,” you murmur, and the edge of his lips upticks at your recollection.

“A couple of months ago the gym I worked for went under, money got tight, so I thought I’d try it out. Guess everyone says it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, but bossing fighters around and fielding horny-ass callers ain't all that different."

Levi turns his chin just so to regard you under a wispy black fringe.

“I can usually predict what someone wants. The people that call this hotline shit, they’re in and out."

He takes a pause.

"You, though — the second I picked up your call, you threw me through a goddamn loop.”

You use your nail on your index finger to absently scratch the side of your thumb, attempting to process everything he’s telling you.

"First night we spoke, actually, I ended up at this very bar to contemplate why the fuck I wanted you to call back. Didn't want you blowing your money on it, obviously, it's overpriced and ridiculous, but — it clearly shook me up enough for me to take then ten-minute walk in the middle of the night in the first place."

Ten minutes.

That length of time strikes something in you.

“So, your… office building isn’t far?” you slowly ask.

Levi shakes his head. “No, no office. I work remotely. Kind of the reason why I took the gig in the first place. I wouldn’t do this shit if I had an audience in a damn two-by-four cube.”

You’re not sure what possesses you to confess it, but you point past your shoulder. 

“My apartment complex is actually six blocks down the street.”

Ten minutes away, is your implication.

His hand had raised to sip from his seltzer can, but it halts immediately.

His eyes narrow. 

“The complex on Junction Ave?”

“Yeah," you say.

“Right across from—”

“The Reiss deli.”

That narrowed gaze shoots wide. “You’re shitting me.”

“You say the word shit a lot.”

“Baby, I live there,” he blurts.

“Wait, what?”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to nearly pop out of your skull.

(You’re too shocked to even process what he called you.)

He huffs in a brief laugh, shaking his head.

“You gotta be fucking with me.”

“I’m not! Wait, you live in the same building as me?”

“You said Thomas was your goddamn mailman,” Levi states. “Do you know how many fucking Thomas the Mailmen there are in this world? I didn’t think we’d have the same one.”

Holy shit.

Oh, holy shit.

You sit up taller in your seat. “Wait, what floor?”

“Sixteenth.”

“I’m on the tenth!” you exclaim in your shock. “Holy shit, so you…”

Have been right above me this entire time.

Your phone buzzes, ruining your train of thought. 

Reflexively you look down to see the preview of Annie’s message over your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Did u die?

Right.

You’re here with friends.

“Friends wondering where you are?” Levi inquiries at the sight of your growing frown.

“Yeah, give me a sec.”

You swipe the screen north and type a reply.

[ME]: Talking to someone. Be over in a bit.

Annie’s reply is immediate, and you turn your phone from Levi’s view in mortification.

[A. LEONHART]: 🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

[A. LEONHART]: WINGMAN??? NEED????

[ME]: NO! Do not come over here!

[A. LEONHART]: ok ok ok noted

[A. LEONHART]: i’ll keep jaeger to the left end of the bar

“Looks urgent.”

“Huh?” 

You shoot a glance back up to Levi, who’s now angled towards you with his cheek squished against his clenched fist. His elbow props him up on the bar top. 

“No! No. It’s just my friend Annie. She — is actually the one who gave me the number to that hotline in the first place,” you confess.

Levi hums in that delicious way you’ve come to crave. 

“I don’t want to derail your evening. I’ve already taken you away from them for a while.”

Your heart is hesitant, but it grows despite yourself. 

“If you want me to stay, then I’ll stay,” you quietly state. “I… liked talking to you. I mean, beyond the whole — you know.”

He nods once, setting his drink down. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want you to disappear, either. My job’s not exactly corporate. Not many people can separate fantasy from reality. With you, I never had to bullshit what it was, but…”

Levi trails off, sighing heavily.

“...but I also understand if it’s just a fantasy, for you.”

Something nestles itself between the lines of his words. 

Something he isn’t saying outright, sussing out if he has any right to try.

“Do you really mean that, Levi?”

That sigh turns into a curbed huff, smile fleeting but enough to bring your stomach butterflies. 

“Damn. Sounds nice, hearing my name in person.”

Oh, sweet Jesus.

You could scream into your damn seltzer, but you decide to play it as cool as you possibly can.

“So Levi’s your real name?”

He nods.

“Not creative enough to come up with an alias."

Levi shifts, rolling out a shoulder.

"But to answer your question, I’m saying I… yeah, I mean it. I wouldn’t mind asking you out for coffee sometime, given we seem to run on the same gym schedule as it is. Just didn’t know if you wanted to leave it at the hotline and call it a day — no pun intended.”

Are you seriously hearing what he’s saying right now?

Does Levi want to step out of a fantasy and into your reality?

Your lips part with a million questions only to end up blurting a very stupid one: 

“Are you single?”

That earns a bark of a laugh, causing his head to gloriously drop back, exposing his neck.

(All you want to do is sink your teeth into it.)

“Yes. Very,” he promises. “Are you, still?”

“Very,” you promise back.

“And my job doesn’t bother you?”

You haven't quite gotten that far, logistically, but it's only a coffee.

He isn't asking to marry you.

Besides, he talks about it like any other office job. You can't find any ill feeling toward it.

“Work is work,” you argue with a one-shoulder shrug. “Sure, it’s unconventional, but… I’m so used to not knowing what I want, or second-guessing what’s good for me, and I don’t think I’ve ever second guessed a damn thing with you.”

Bringing the seltzer back up to his mouth, Levi smirks against the can, mulling something over. 

You smile in return, sipping your drink.

It's the truth.

He may not really know you, but he knows you.

Just as you're beginning to think you know him.

“Well, if you don’t get too wasted with your friends tonight—”

He steals a ballpoint pen from a dampened closed check from his left side.

Then he snatches a napkin from one of the bartending stations with lemons, limes, and straws.

Hunching over, he scribbles on said napkin, before turning a cheek to you.

“—and you end up going to the gym tomorrow morning—”

Levi then sits up taller, folds the napkin, and reaches for your hand resting on the bar top. 

His skin is smooth. 

Heated. 

Your entire body melts to his whim as he turns your wrist over, palm facing up.

One by one his fingers unfurl your fingers, nestles the napkin in your hand, then closes your fist for safe keeping.

“—give me a call.”

Leaving a twenty on the bar counter, Levi lets go of your hand to slip off of his stool.

You say nothing as you watch him give you one last once-over, expression full of admiration, before turning into the sea of people.

A call.

Flexing your hand, you uncrinkle the napkin to read the number etched black on white.

Not the Scout Services Hotline.

No — his number.

Your attention flies back to the original spot where you've now properly abandoned your friends, but you know they'll forgive you for your absence.

Annie knows.

She'll cover for your abrupt disappearance.

On autopilot you yank out your phone, bypassing the texts from your friends, emails from work, and tap the little telephone icon.

Zero through nine appear.

Hastily you type the number, hesitation long gone, and press send.

One ring.

Two.

By the third, it abruptly cuts. You hear shuffling in the background. Cars beeping.

“Hello, Levi Ackerman speaking.”

Levi Ackerman.

Knowing his full name warms your heart.

Standing from your stool, you rise to your toes to search the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Levi stands there on the sidewalk, holding his phone up to his ear.

“Hi, Levi. It’s formerly Scarlet.”

Immediately he turns to the bar, searching the very same window.

Searching for you.

You smile to yourself.

"My schedule just opened up. I know it's a little late for some coffee, but..."

Trailing off, your teeth catch your bottom lip.

Be selfish.

"Are you free for some tea now?”

.

FIN

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

How are we feeling, Hotliner Nation? I teased that this may not be the end of this story. I'm not against writing a sequel, whether to continue the immediate story or time skip, but I wanted to see what people thought before I spoke too soon. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed our hotline journey together.

In the meantime I invite you to follow me here or subscribe to my AO3, as I have other projects in the works (including finishing the final chapters of my canon-based amnesia au with Levi, Silver Underground.)

The last two months have been such a wonderful journey, and I thank every single one of you for engaging the way you have. I never anticipated such a frenzy when I started P4, so sincerely, from the bottom of my heart - thank you for the comments, reblogs, inbox mssgs, etc. Every reblog gives this writer wings.

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (1/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: the angst, kidnapping and imprisonment, abuse of power, violence, panic attack ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

It took him a long time to bring her to the Red Keep. Too long, to his frustration – while Aegon on his throne preferred to loudly announce to his subjects things he could not provide for them, he acted in silence, trying to ensure that he was always one step ahead of their sister-whore.

When Larys Strong's spies reported to them that Rhaenyra was seeking dragon seed among the bastards in King's Landing his brother laughed, but he, their mother and all the lords were horrified.

This meant that the slight advantage Vhagar had given them was going to be in vain, as she stood no chance in a confrontation with so many dragons.

Helaena was riding Dreamfyre, but at his words to move into battle with him she covered her ears and turned her head away, saying she would never burn anyone. Daeron's dragon was still too small, so that left him and Aegon, who was the King and could not die, on the battlefield.

That was not enough.

And then it dawned on him.

Rhea Royce must have been devastated after learning that her hated husband's seed had taken root in her womb. The whole kingdom knew that she and his uncle loathed each other sincerely, and while he stayed in King's Landing, she remained in Runestone.

He thought she certainly felt satisfaction when she gave him a daughter, although the Rough Prince wanted a son.

According to rumour, she was born accompanied by her mother's loud groans a few months apart after his own birth, and was supposed to be the reason Daemon waited with murdering her mother: he did not want the burden of caring for a newborn child to fall on him.

Though he would never admit it out loud, of the many lords or bastards born of dragon seed, his choice was guided not only by her close kinship to their family, but also by the fact that having her by his side could be a humiliation to his uncle, a show of his strength, prudence and sheer malice.

Of how dangerous he was not only because of Vhagar.

He had prepared an ambush for her with reverence, through Strong's spy network weaving servants close to her into his plan.

He had no idea what kind of woman she was, whether or not she resisted, whether or not she could wield a sword like her mother, but he received a letter weeks later that they had succeeded, and Daemon's daughter was heading for King's Landing against her will.

He felt a pleasant tingling in his fingertips at the thought of what he would be able to do with her: if he found her pretty and humble enough, if indeed she succeeded in taming a dragon, he could try to invalidate his betrothal to the Baratheon whore and allow her to receive the honour of bearing his heirs instead.

His own dragon inheritance.

When she finally arrived, she was, much to his mother's displeasure, placed in a dungeon – he wanted her to understand that her situation was serious and that any answer from her that did not satisfy him would end in one way.

Her death.

He went down to the underground with the guards and dismissed them when he stopped under her cell with the torch in his hand, its light exposed her face to him.

She was sitting on the ground with her knees tucked under her chin, her head raised towards him, the look of her eyes frustrated and grim, her dark brows arched in displeasure.

She was not afraid.

For now.

He looked at her figure from top to bottom, finding that he had imagined her differently: he had hoped to see any Targaryen features in her. However, her long hair was dark, her eyelashes long and black, like a fan surrounding her brown eyes, which were as big as those of a doe.

Clearly it was her mother's blood that prevailed, he thought with disappointment, however his face remained stony.

"Do you know who I am, woman?" He asked coldly, the corner of her mouth twitching, her gaze softening as if his words amused her, making him feel uneasy.

"It's hard not to guess." She replied without any pleasantries.

He licked his lower lip in a gesture of frustration, recognising that he would not allow himself to be verbally dominated by her.

He had to knock her off her guard.

"Do you understand why you're here?"

She sighed heavily, looking down at her fingers, suddenly tired and small, like a child who wanted to go to sleep already.

"Because of my father, I guess. You are wasting your time. I don't represent any value to him. He will not pact with you for my sake." She said, and he snorted, grinning broadly – she looked at him in surprise, as if she hadn't expected such a reaction from him.

"You are mistaken. We need your blood."

She shook her head, shocked by his words, raising her shoulders in a gesture as if trying to defend herself against what she just heard.

He liked the look of terror on her face, no doubt at the thought that they were about to cut her wrists open and drain her of blood like an animal.

"We will find one of the wild dragons hidden in the mountain caves and you will try to claim it. You will die, or you will succeed and join the war on our side." He said coldly, and she burst out laughing, as if she hadn't heard a greater foolishness in a long time, causing his jaw to clench in fury.

Stupid cunt.

"I know nothing about dragons or their riders and have no desire to learn about them. This, I think, is something that is destined for those endowed by the gods with white hair. I have no intention of sacrificing myself for your family. Behead me or burn me, but spare me this farce." She sneered, looking away, as if she thought she could get away with such impudent words.

She picked herself up and took a few steps back as he unlocked her cell and a moment later he was beside her, dropping the torch to the stone floor, grabbing her by the neck, her body and head hitting the wall hard.

He stared at her for a moment, listening to her heavy breath as if she was choking, panic in her big, brown eyes.

Fear suited her.

"Do you think I'm asking you for your opinion? You will serve me, and you will serve me well, or I will burn not you, but all of the fucking Vale. Only dust and ashes will be left of the people you knew. Is that what you want, my Lady?" He scoffed, and she shook her head quickly, her lower lip quivering all over, her small, soft hands clenched on his wrist.

He leaned over her, digging his fingers deeper into her delicate skin as if he wanted to break her neck.

"So we have an agreement, as I understand it?" He whispered, as if asking her a secret, something only he should hear.

Her eyebrows arched in pain, her plump lips parted in a deep, shuddering breath as she nodded, her warm gaze filled with pain and regret at the same time.

Was she now begging in her mind for her father to save her?

For him to come to her rescue?

The thought made him want to laugh.

"Mmm." He hummed, looking at her red eyes and full lips, feeling a strange kind of intimacy now that he could feel her veins, her blood, dragon's blood, pulsing under her bare skin.

Their shared heritage.

His seed was stronger than Daemon's, he thought with a confidence bordering on vanity.

Their children would have his white hair.

He felt arousal at that thought, his length pulsed softly in his breeches.

He let go of her, and she took a deep breath, sliding to the ground, clutching at her neck where he'd driven his fingers.

"You will be moved to one of the chambers. You will not lack anything. Serve me well and no more harm will befall you." He said in an offhand manner and simply left, satisfied with how childishly simple it was.

The women and their soft hearts, their despair at the thought that someone else might lose their life because of them, their eternal pondering and tenderness that made them so weak.

"I have heard of your success, brother. I was told we had a visitor in the Keep." Said Aegon, glancing at him, seated at the other end of the table, while his hand played with the marble green orb lying before him.

"Yes. She will obey us. I will personally prepare her." He said, resting his elbows on the table top.

The King laughed.

"You, brother? What does your beloved betrothed in Storm's End would say about it?" He sneered, glancing at the lords around them as if asking if his joke was in fact funny.

He grinned, trying to contain his anger and that familiar, unpleasant feeling of humiliation rippling through his chest.

"Who else would do this? You, with your superior knowledge of the language of Old Valyria will teach her commands and behaviour towards a wild dragon?" He asked, looking him straight in the eye.

His brother grew pale and swallowed hard, tense, feeling that he had lost this battle.

"Bring her in." He ordered.

Soon the door to the room opened, and she walked in, accompanied by the guards: she was wearing one of his mother's old brown gowns, its red sleeves reaching to the ground. Her hair was loose but not in disarray, falling gently down her back, as if she had not let any servant touch it and combed it herself.

"Come closer, cousin." Said Aegon with a smile, raising his hand and nodding, clearly wanting to encourage her.

She reluctantly took a few steps closer, looking around the assembled people anxiously, finally meeting his gaze – she stopped for a moment at his face, as if she was thinking hard about something, and then turned her head away, suddenly tired and resigned.

Good, he thought.

There was no need for her to stand up to him.

"We are overjoyed by your presence, even though you were brought here under not very pleasant circumstances. I hope you will quickly forget about these… discomforts and support us in our cause. My brother is extremely eager to prepare you for this." Aegon said, her lips twitching in a grimace that he didn't like when he mentioned him, but no words left her mouth.

"Are you not glad to face your father? Did he not forget you and abandon you for so many years?" Continued Aegon, their mother looked at him and shook her head, wanting him to stop.

She lifted her gaze to his brother-king and looked at him for a moment, her expression gentle and calm.

"I have nothing to say to you, cousin. Do with me what you wish."

A heavy, uncomfortable silence fell around them – he feared what Aegon would do with this insult – the fact that she had humiliated him by simply calling him her cousin, speaking to him without proper etiquette or manners.

Aegon pressed his lips together and leaned forward, as if thinking hard about something.

"Our family has forgotten you. Left you the fuck knows where, motherless and fatherless. And I am deeply sorry for it."

He looked at him shocked, not believing that he had said such a thing, apologised to her even though it was she who had offended him, and then looked at her face – her eyes turned red, her lips parted slightly, as if he had stuck a needle straight into her heart.

What was he doing?

Aegon spread himself comfortably in his chair with a loud creak of wood, smiling with satisfaction.

"You may leave."

He did not know why he had been furious all evening, why, bent over the maps of Westeros, planning his fucking war, he had been unable to focus or calm himself.

He knew why his brother had done it: he wanted to bond with her, to show him that he was the one she would obey, that he was in control of the situation, that he was the King.

"Bring our prisoner." He ordered loudly so that the servant who was just taking the tray from his table heard it.

"As you wish, Your Highness."

When she walked into his chamber she stopped immediately behind the door, which closed behind her with a loud clatter. He glanced up at her dispassionately and looked again at the books he had taken from his shelves, which he had often browsed through as a child.

This was his legacy, not hers.

But he had to do it.

"Come here. Sit down." He said dryly and after a moment he heard the rustling of her gown.

As she sat in the chair beside him he smelled her, some kind of oil that scented of field flowers, chamomile or daisies, and he thought that she had taken a bath.

Something in that thought, in the idea of her bare, soft body sunk in the warm water, made his manhood throb pleasantly, tingling heat spreading through his lower abdomen.

He moved one of the books towards her, open to the page on which was written what he wanted to discuss with her.

"Can you read?" He asked coldly, and she threw him a look from which he felt like grabbing her cheeks and shaking that little head of hers.

She didn't answer, which frustrated him even more, clutching the volume in her hands and leaning over it, following the text with her eyes.

So she could read, he thought mockingly.

"The dragons understand the language of Old Valyria, and this is how the dragon riders communicate with them. You have to learn to speak the commands properly." He sighed, running his hand over his face, feeling tired and discouraged.

"Dohaerās means serve. Rȳbās means listen. These are the most important words, right next to Lykirī, which commands a dragon to remain calm." He said, tilting his head back, closing his eyes. "Repeat."

Silence.

He pressed his lips together, opening his eyes, thinking he was about to kill her with his own hands.

He looked at her, wanting to hiss to her that he was going to slam her head against the table until she dutifully recited each of the words he was ordering her to repeat but his voice stuck in his throat when he saw the look on her face.

He had the impression that although she froze in stillness, her whole body was quivering, as if she was cold.

Her eyes were open wide in fear, and even though her lips were pressed into a thin line she was breathing heavily, as if she were suffocating, her fingers clenched on the back of the book.

Was it possible that she had heard these words before, had read a book similar to this?

Did Daemon try to teach her the language of Old Valyria when she was a child?

He didn't know what he should do, feeling that if he touched her she would just fall apart, so he merely looked at her, wondering how such a person was supposed to tame a dragon.

He rose from his seat as if burned, snapped out of his reverie when her eyes rolled back and she simply fainted, her body, numb and heavy slid to the floor beneath their feet.

He circled the table and knelt beside her, slapping his palm against her cheek in an attempt to revive her, but she did not wake up.

"Bring the Maester, quickly!" He called out and cursed loudly, restraining himself from screaming with rage.

"What have you done to her?" His mother hissed quietly, so that only he could hear it while the Maester examined her.

He turned his face away and shook his head, wondering if everyone in this damned fortress was against him.

After all, he was doing this for them.

For their family.

"Nothing. She was only supposed to read a few words. I didn't even touch her." He growled, his hands intertwined behind his back clenched into a fist.

Why didn't she trust him?

Why was she looking at him like this, as if she didn't recognise him?

Hadn't he always been faithful to her?

"What words? What did you say to her?"

"Words in Old Valyrian, nothing more. She must learn it if she is not to burn in the dragon fire, and our efforts are not to be in vain." He scoffed impatiently.

"We do not know what Daemon did to her. Whether she saw her mother die."

"I don't care what he did to her or what she saw." He said, throwing her a look from which she froze. "We have an agreement and she knows what will happen if she doesn't fulfill it."

"What will happen? You'll burn the Vale?" Alicent asked with a sneer, and he pressed his lips together, feeling a terrible, piercing shame.

"She will stay in my care tonight. Don't go near her until she recovers." She told him and stepped around him.

He felt as if she had slapped him in the face so he left, not wanting anyone to see the burning tears of disappointment that had gathered under his eyelids.

He didn't let them flow.

He was not weak.

He was not like her.

He was not like Aegon.

He was not like his father.

[ssvnriseya]

IN TOO DEEP (D.D.)

summary - he wants more of you day by day as if he was being seduced by the forbidden fruit.

warnings - MDNI 18+ mentions of attempted rape, violence, language, dark!daryl, unprotected p in v (wrap it up), age gap ( reader is 18, daryl is 30. he has no weird feelings before she was 18 ), breeding kink, panty sniffing, intended lowercase (let me know if i missed anything)

request - keep a secret was amazing! i have a request for you, can you do a dark daryl fic set in prison era. where he keeps tabs on the reader, stalker stuff (steals her undies) and fucks her in prison showers. please include age gap (reader is 18, daryl is 30) and a breeding kink, please! - 🎀

note - okay, the characters deserve a happy ending at the prison, no one can change my mind!

masterlist

it was a hard year for you, you've lost too many people you cared about and gained more to care about.

your mother, lori, she died after giving birth to your baby sister. your little sister and brother were your angels.

they were the reason you still kept going, along with your dad, and the memories of your mom.

you had grown to care about the people of woodbury that now resided at your home, the prison.

whether it be the children, elders, teen, and adults. you absolutely love sasha, tyreese, and mika.

"hey, honey." carol smiled at you as she continued stirring the pot where all the people and your meals is being cooked.

"hey, carol. you didn't wake me up." you groaned at her as you walked to stand by her side.

"you were tired from the run yesterday, rick would kill me if i exhaust you too much." she smiled at you as she cut onions.

"i'll cut them." you smiled at her as you took the knife and chopping board.

"thank you. and i didn't wake you up because everything here is handled." she assured you.

it was early morning and no one was up yet, it gave you both the time to cook and chat freely.

"but, i woke up anyway." you teased her and nudged her as she stirred the pot and you chopped the onions.

"what are we having today?" you asked as you peered inside the bowl.

"just soup again with deer meat." she told you and you nodded, giggling.

"watery soup because we're lacking ingredients." you told her with a groan as you pour the onions in the soup.

"please, carol, remind me when i go on runs to pick up spices." you added.

"alright, young lady." she teased and you smiled, you both had been close ever since lori died.

she had been the mother figure, but not romantically to rick, she also stood as a mother to rick, if that was possible.

"who caught the deer? daryl again?" you asked as you frowned at the chopped meat.

"who else? he's our only hunter." she smiled at you, knowing that you utterly despised the man.

"okay, maybe i won't eat." you joked with a huff as you crossed your arms.

"then don'." someone told you from behind making you gasp in shock.

"daryl! don't sneak up on people like that!" you told him as you looked at him with disapproval.

"if ye' don't like m' deers, don't eat!" he sneered at you making you let out a small smile.

"okay, i won't." you told him and leaned in to carol, to gossip with her. daryl is in a fair distance.

you took over stirring and whispered something to her, "i'm fucking missing one again."

you groaned as you frowned, it was very hard to loose a pair of panties.

it was very hard to find one on runs and you will suddenly loose some?

"if one of the women are stealing them, it's very unhygienic." you shook your head.

"it would disappear only to appear two days or a day after, you'll get it back." she reassured you.

"what the fuck are they doing with my knickers?" you told aloud making daryl look at you.

you rolled your eyes at him and stared into the pot, it was boiling and the delicious smell of it was making you hungry.

your pride was high so you went right back into your cell block once the woodbury people came out into the courtyard.

it hadn't only been half an hour before daryl came knocking at your cell.

"ye' can eat, was jus' jokin'." he told you in a quiet voice, you smiled.

"okay!" you stood up from your bed and placed your book to the side.

you were never the first to apologize, if you knew you weren't in the biggest wrong.

"carol told you to apologize?" you smiled as you stood in front of him, he was a lot taller than you.

"nah." he responded and you nodded, smiling. you stepped out of the cell, brushing past him.

"i'll follow ye' back, 'm jus' gon' do somethin'." he told you with a nod.

you gave him a thumbs up before going down the stairs and out the cell block.

daryl waited for a few minutes before going into your cell, he went to your basket full of clothes.

he quickly placed the panty, that you were missing, back into the basket. he grabbed another one and stuffed it into his pocket.

he wasn't usually like this but you made him crazy, with you scent and the way you acted around him.

you despised him sometimes, yet you could tolerate him enough to flirt with him.

he hated how you made him feel, he wanted to stop what crazy shit he was even doing.

but the thing is, he can't, he's in too deep in the situation. he's fucking addicted to your natural smell.

he fucked your underwear every night, imagining that it was you. he absolutely loved those moments.

call him a creep and whatsoever but he's obsessed with you. so fucking obsessed.

he loved the smell and heat in the shower when he got in right after you finished bathing.

he loved your hair, the way it flows smoothly whenever you ran your fingers in them when frustrated.

don't get him started in your smile, he can fucking kill an entire herd if that means he gets to see you smile.

he loved your skin, your soft milky skin and how they easily turn red when being gripped to tight.

he wondered if he gripped your wrists to tight when he was fucking deep balls into you, would they leave a fucking bruise? he loved that idea, meaning everyone would see that someone fucked you that night.

he loved your body, every curve, every form of you from head to toe.

he went crazy on every teenagers from woodbury who even tried to go near you.

he did it in private, just to not have him scare you off. he almost killed for you, he would do anything just to protect you.

it was when you were on the road, right after the farm fell. you, maggie, glenn and daryl encountered a group of men when you were on the run for the group.

the men was obviously stuffed full, having the weapons and foods that you all were desperately trying to find.

they were obviously a whole lot bigger, not starved during the months that the whole apocalypse started.

glenn and daryl tried to talk to the men, in hopes of escaping the men.

they failed and two of them went to beat up glenn and daryl, making you pull out a gun.

it was a very ugly fight, glenn received a broken nose and multiple bruises in the face and stomach.

daryl was worse, he tried to punch back just to get to you, but to no avail it only made things worse.

that left two other men that was onto you and maggie, you fucking tried to fight him off, he was too big.

he tried to rape the both of you, and that made daryl see red, he was on full adrenaline that he fucking killed the four men single-handedly.

it ended with glenn almost passed out cold, you and maggie shaken up and lastly daryl who was still gritting his teeth in anger.

he fucking swore to himself not to let any other dirty men touch you for their own pleasure.

"daryl!" he was cut-off in his trance by a small voice calling out to him.

he stood up immediately from his crouched position and turned to face the door.

carl stood there with a smile on his face as he nodded at daryl.

"what are you doing here? anyways where is she?" carl asked, looking for you as he inspected the room-cell.

"out in the courtyard... ye' eat already?" daryl asked the little boy as he stepped out from your cell, closing the gate behind him.

"no, i was just going to call her so we could eat together." carl said in a small voice, he wanted to spend more time with you, he felt as if everything that's been happening has been pulling you away from him.

"let's go 'ere together." he put a hand on the little boy's shoulder, giving him a thin smile.

"she's probably eatin' with andrea and carol." he said referring to the older women you hung out with.

"yeah, i'll run so i can see sophia." carl told daryl as the little boy beamed.

"ya..." daryl nodded at carl, and the latter took it as a sign to ran out to the court yard.

when he arrived at the courtyard it was busy with people and their own conversations.

he looked for you and didn't see you, he was worried that maybe you were off with some boys.

he would definitely fucking beat the shit out of the boy who ever tried to take you from him.

his thoughts were proven wrong when a small bunch of people were by gate.

he immediately spotted your hair that made him crazy but not as much as you made him crazy.

he walked towards you with a frown, his frown falling and replaced with a small smile as he heard you laugh.

michonne was there, looking proud and almost eye-teary. you hugged her as you also sobbed with joy.

he was confused why but his smile also grew bigger once he saw what was inside the box that michonne brought back.

the head of the governor was sitting there, eyes in shock and lifeless.

they had spent months hunting for the governor and now they found him, they can finally breath in peace.

the governor looked dirty, his beard and moustache was grown, wildly. like he doesn't have a place to stay and clean himself up.

"we're free, daryl." you whispered to him and you also hugged him, cheeks stained in tears.

he pulled away and wiped your tears away, just like he's always wanted to do.

he looked behind michonne to find a small group of people. they looked relieved to see a sanctuary ahead of them.

"oh, this is the family i found with philip. they didn't know who he truly was, so i explained it all." michonne pointed to the three people standing at the corner.

you gave them a slight wave as you smiled at the little girl, "this is tara, lilly and her daughter, meghan." michonne added.

they smiled awkwardly and gave a little wave back, glancing at daryl, rick, michonne, carol and you.

"and this is eugene, he pretended to be a scientist who knows the cure to all but all is well, rosita, and abraham." michonne pointed to the other three standing at a fair distance from tara's family.

"hi!" you gave rosita, eugene and abraham a small smile and a wave.

you walked to stand beside your dad, wrapping your hand around his arms as he inspected the strangers.

"you sure they could be trusted?" rick looked at michonne, she nodded and glanced back at the six.

"alright." rick said with a smile at michonne, he trusted her and would listen to every thing she said.

"welcome to the group!" you greeted them cheerily, you went near meghan and took her small hands into yours.

"i'll take her to meet the kids." you told lilly and she nodded, she can't believe that there's a sanctuary for them to live in, for her daughter and sister to live in peacefully.

you walked with meghan, hand in hand as you took her to the field where the kids played.

"join them, okay? if anyone bullies you, tell me. i'll kick their ass." you smiled at the young girl.

you instantly warmed up to her innocent eyes and warm heart, listening to whatever she was told.

you turned around and jumped back, looking at daryl in shock as you held your hand to your chest to calm your breathing.

"you scared me, dixon!" you told him with a shark glare as you walked past him.

"ye' makin' threats to lil' kids now?" he joke half heartedly, you giggled.

"i like her, she's sweet." you told him with a small sigh as you walked side by side with him.

"wha' s'wrong?" he asked with furrowed eyebrows as he scanned your face.

"nothing, i just really wanted a baby before all this. they're cute and really sweet." you ranted as you puffed your cheeks.

"ye? baby?" he asked like he couldn't believe it, you pouted at him and rolled your eyes.

"sorry, was kiddin'." he told you with a small smile, you only frowned in response.

"yes... but it's hard, and i don't think i'm ready again as i was before. there's an apocalypse now and there's hardly anyone my age around here, and if there is... t—they just avoid me like plague!" you said with an unreadable emotion.

"who told ye' anything about boys yer' age?" he asked as he walked with you into the cell block.

"i don't get it..." you told him as you walked up the stairs and stopping right outside your cell.

you walked inside and he followed in suit, you smiled and gestured for him to sit on the bed.

"maybe ye' can try wit' someone younger or older." he said with a grunt.

"what are you suggesting, dixon?!" you teased him as you stopped pacing.

you wiggled your eyebrows at him when he started stuttering and turn a bit red.

"nothin' forget it." he told you and he stood up but you immediately were in front of him and held his shoulders to get him back to sitting.

"i was just teasing you, daryl. but, no kidding, i really should try with someone older?" you asked with pure innocence that daryl couldn't face.

"y—ya..." he stuttered and scratched the back of his neck as he looked at his lap.

"well, there's johnny, he's five years older." you told him as you sat beside him.

"nah... he's been wit' almost everyone 'ere." he told you as he shook his head.

"okay... i really need to take a bath, do you mind if we talk later?" you asked him as you stood up from the bed.

he shook his head and also stood up, "also got somethin' else t'do."

"okay, bye!" you waved at him and ushered him out of your cell.

you groaned and went to your clean basket, in search of clothes to wear in the sunny day.

you picked out your clothes and took a glance at the dirty pile.

your underwear, was already there. you picked it up carefully and examined it.

you dropped it with a groan, you had to get used to someone stealing your panties just to bring them back.

but it's creepy as fuck and totally unhygienic if they're wearing it or what ever.

you stood up from your crouched position, your towel and clothes in hand.

you walked out of your cell and closed it behind you, it was quiet inside as almost all of the people living in the cell block was outside.

it was a good time to shower, considering there's a population of a hundred in the prison.

it really was hard to shower with that many people, there were many showers but it looks like the time people wants to shower is whenever you wanted to.

you entered the room where a dozen of shower was, you and your original group shared this shower.

you didn't have to worry about peeping tom's or creepy men spying you.

you placed the towel on the hanging bar and your clothes on the table outside.

you stepped in, undressing yourself as you placed your dirty clothes on another rack.

the fucking cold water was refreshing, you really needed it, considering that it was a hot day in the prison.

you showered very quickly so your group can still have cold water, you felt bad because they've been spending all day in the sun ever since summer.

you pulled on your towel and wrapped it around your body, stepping out on the shower.

you went to the table and grabbed your clothes, going back inside the shower to change.

the clothes you wore were just a jeans short and a camisole, perfect wear for a sunny day.

besides you will be working on the fence today, so you still had to shower later.

work on the fence was exhausting, imagine that you will be standing outside for a few hours just killing walkers with the sun glaring down at you.

but it's worth it because by the end of the day there weren't walkers anymore by the fence.

and when you wake up the next morning there is walkers, and you kill them again.

that was your routine but sometimes you're on babysitting duty with beth, a girl just your age.

she was the sister of maggie, innocent just like you, just more shy and she's not as open-mouthed as you.

you stepped out of the shower again, dressed in clean clothes. you went to the rack that you found on a run a month ago and placed your towel there along with a few others.

an old lady was kind enough to stitch your name on the towel so it doesn't get mixed with the others.

it was a very sweet thing to do, she also was one of the elders you absolutely adore.

you went back to your cell and brushed your hair, it has grown longly, it wasn't the same mid-hair length when the apocalypse started.

instead it reached just above your butt, you smiled as you braided your hair and put little clips on it.

you shuffled on your make-shift drawer and looked for the sunscreen that thankfully michonne found on a run a week ago.

she found a full box of sunscreen and gave it to those who were on fence duty which was twenty people or so.

you don't get bored as much in fence duty when you had karen to gossip with.

she's always telling you how romantic tyreese is, how their dates always end with a sweet kiss.

it makes your heart flutter that your friend found love amidst all this.

you applied sunscreen on your exposed skin, you even went about thinking that you should just wear long-sleeves and pants.

karen would kill you, ranting about how you might faint again like you did once on fence duty.

it worried the hell out of everyone and you were on cooking and babysitting duty for a month after that.

you kind of don't want that to happen so you decided against it.

you placed the sunscreen back on your drawer and went out the cell, after slipping on your cowboy boots.

you walked past cell's when you heard grunts and moans in a particular cell you know too well.

you walked near it with cautious step, "daryl?" you asked him, you can't see anything because of the white sheet that covered the gate.

you opened the cell and found daryl flustered, "you okay, old man? are you having back pain?"

asking him was kind of you, considering you were starting to warm up to him.

"i can massage you if you want, i'll just skip fence duty." you offered to him as you walked by his bed.

your brows were furrowed in worry, he felt bad for making you worry when he was just jerking himself onto your underwear, smelling it like a creep.

"i do it all the time with dad, when he's having back problems." you explained as you sat beside him.

this was one of the reasons he fell for you, your kindness and no hesitation to help.

he didn't know why he started liking you when you all found the prison.

he hated himself at first, for falling for you who's almost half his age and you're most importantly, the daughter of a man he considered his best friend.

he felt sick but he can't do anything with it, his feelings for you grew deeper especially when the woodbury people arrived.

he didn't know what to tell rick. “hey man, i like your daughter.” was that what he's supposed to say?

"nah... 'm fine. ye' should go before yer' late f'fence duty." he told you.

you shrugged but nodded, "okay..." you st oppd up from his bed.

"if you feel sick, tell me." you smiled at him and went out of his cell, continuing your walk down the stairs.

it took a good minute before you were out of the cell block, you walked in the hallways before you managed to exit the prison.

"hi, karen..." you waved at the said woman and walked to approach her.

you also greeted tyreese who kissed his girlfriend good bye and waved back at you.

"that was a sweet kiss, i'm jealous." you teased her and then pouted, you wanted to experience loving someone.

beth have zack and she's your age, carl have sophia and they're younger than you! how was it fair?

you even asked rick if he would allow you to have a boyfriend over dinner the other night.

the rest of the group laughed while carol, michonne and andrea teased you.

you didn't notice how daryl's mood was down the whole night after that.

he wanted you to notice him, he tried to argue with you every chance he got just to have you notice him.

"you'll find them someday." karen knew what you were thinking and you gave her a small nod.

she handed you a sharp spear and you both walked to the fence where the other's are working now.

you worked for hours along side karen and by the time you were done, the sun was almost setting.

it made every sweat worth it because there's not a single walker in sight.

it was really a good setting, with the council and how they handled every thing.

you all were working to make the prison a home, the crops had grown and are ready to harvest every three weeks.

it was all because of the fertilizers you all try to find every run, and the pigs and chicken had more babies.

it was a good life and it would stay like that forever. you said goodbye to karen and placed the spear on the basket just outside the prison doors.

you went to your cell and picked out a set of sleepwear for a quick shower before dinner.

"hey, daryl... you going to shower too?" you asked when you met him down the stairs.

it's been a weird day, you've been seeing more of him ever since today.

you felt like you've seen him a lot more today that you ever did before the prison.

"mhm." was all he responded, you nodded and walked with him towards the bathroom.

"daryl, have you been talking to dad?" you asked him as you synced your footsteps with his.

"ya, why?" he asked as he glanced at your face, he quickly looked away.

"has he been doing better? maybe he wants to step-up again soon, the governor's gone now." you said lowly.

"he's yer' dad. why're ye' askin' me?" he groaned as he tried to not respond.

"we've all been busy, i don't even have time for them anymore." you said sadly, referring to your dad, carl, and judith.

"he's been better, improvin' since lori." he nodded, his southern accent thick.

"do you miss the people we've lost? like jacqui, mom, jim, and dale?" you asked him.

he shook his head, "they were never important t'me." he shrugged and you nodded.

"you must felt absolutely relieved when you found out merle's alive." you nudged him with your elbow.

you were happy for him that he's doing good with his brother, who was a jerk at first.

merle was starting to adjust to the prison and found a woman he love, he's in the council along with a few others.

"what about shane, ye' miss him?" daryl teased you, nodding to your words about merle.

"ew, no! he's a fucker." you groaned in disgust as you imagined the things he did to your family.

"did a number on ye' didn't he?" daryl smirked and you can feel your cheeks heat up just by his smirk.

"but i can't say that he shouldn't have done the things he did, 'cause jude wouldn't be here." you smiled sadly.

"ye' little ass-kicker is growin' fast." he shook his head with a smile.

"i heard that maggie is pregnant." you beamed at daryl, your eyes glinting with happiness at a new baby in the prison.

"ye', glenn told me earlier." daryl nodded, also happy for the couple since the farm.

you both stopped at the entrance of the bathroom, the sound of water droplets is the only thing that could be heard.

you looked at him as you bit your lip, analyzing his brows, his lashes, eye color, and his lips.

you gulped when he leaned in closer, you couldn't deny that sometimes there's that attraction for him deep down.

the attraction you kept hidden down in fear. he was a very closed off man, you were just scared of rejection.

how can you resist him? now that he's leaning in to place his lips onto yours.

you also can't deny that he's a very attractive man, with a shoulder that could make you swoon, and his arms that you wished to hold.

he has tattoos and you found them pretty and meaningful, he had a tattoo on his collar bone.

you didn't know what it meant but it's just a letter, a simple letter placed there.

it was an x.

you closed your eyes when you felt his lips touch yours gently, as if they were just tasting.

he tasted like cigarettes and booze. you can feel yourself getting drunk on his mouth.

you let out a small whimper when he squeezed your ass, he pulled away and took of his shirt.

he placed it on the laundry basket and kissed you again. you took a step back and he pulled the curtains out of the way to enter the bathroom.

"we shouldn't be doing this." you told him, pulling away as you shrugged of your own shirt.

"ya." he agreed and started attacking your neck, making you release small moans.

the clothes and towels you both had were left scattered on the table when you have thrown it.

he gently guided you, taking a step forward as you took a step back.

he guided you to the nearest room to shower, pressing your back against the wall.

he fumbled with your bra as you grabbed onto his hair, keeping your moans at bay.

you helped him slip it off, and he immediately attacked your breasts with kisses.

he turned on the shower and it made you smile at him as you got wet by the water.

you brushed your fingers through his hair, fixing it and moving it out of his face.

placing your hands on his neck, you leaned in and kissed him once again.

you can feel his erection on your stomach and that made you groan.

he held you by the waist and leaned down to meet your kisses as he was taller and bigger than you.

you slid off your panties slowly and you can feel the wetness on your thighs, not by the water but because of him.

he groaned as he rubbed your clit when his hands found it's way there.

you burried your face on his shoulder as you stopped yourself from moaning.

you heard the water stop running on the other stall and a few shuffle here and there.

and finally the moment you were waiting for, the shuffle of the curtains, indicating the person has left.

he lined the tip of his cock onto your entrance and you gripped his shoulders, you weren't sure if it would fit.

he pushed in with one deep thrust making you cry out in pain, you didn't expect him to be that rough.

he started thrusting in and out as you bit your lip you can taste the metallic taste in your tongue.

you moaned, as your hips met his desperately. all the pain was gone now and was replaced by bliss and pleasure.

"s'fuckin' tight, princess." he went deeper and faster with each thrust making you moan loudly.

you were scared to get caught but you couldn't stop the sinful moans that were leaving your mouth.

everyone was probably at dinner already.

you would be disgusted when someone told you that you'd be having sex with your dad's best friend a year ago.

it was so sinful, he was much older and also your dad's best friend, you want to stop but he felt so fucking good.

"daryl, mhm..." you moaned as he kept his thrusting, you can feel the tingling on your lower stomach.

a sense of sign that you were about to cum, it was quick but you can't help yourself.

he felt so good and it was too long ago that you've done this and felt pleasure, the only good thing was that this was better.

"i—i'm about to... c—cum." you moaned as you met his lips for a passionate kiss.

"cum 'round daddy's cock, baby." he groaned into your ear once you pulled away from the kiss.

he can feel your velvety walls clench around him, if he kept going on like this he would also cum.

"yer' so warm." he praised you making you whine, you were so turned on by the sound of your skin slapping together.

"i—I'm cumming." you informed him as you closed your eyes in pleasure.

stopping your hips from meeting his as you came. you moaned from the high feeling.

he kept thrusting into you with force, into your wet, tight and sensitive cunt.

"i'm gonna cum inside you." he looked into your eyes with a dark look.

you shook your head, "i—i'm not on birth control..." you whined as you shook from another orgasm.

"don't care." he shut you up by kissing you with much domination and force, he bit your lip and you pulled away.

"daryl... i—i'm not ready." you whimpered as you pushed on his shoulders.

he ignored you, "i'm gonna fill you up with my babies." he said once again, ignoring your total protests.

"you'd look so pretty carrying my babies." he kissed your jaw and sucked on your sweet spot.

you felt his cock twitch before he finished up inside you, you moaned.

"y-you came inside me!" you looked at him with anger as you unlatch yourself from him.

your legs giving out from intense orgasm, he held you to support you up.

"i love ye', we can have a happy family, you'll have a baby like you've always wanted." he assured you.

you shook your head as you wiped your tears, "w-what would dad say." you whisper to him as you pout.

"i'll worry about him, just be a good girl for me." he grabbed the shampoo as he put some on your hair, washing it for you.

"ye' feel good, so fuckin' good. better than yer' panties." he said with a smirk

you gasped and looked at him, there were a million questions running around your head.

"you're the one who's been stealing them?!" you asked in anger and embarrassment.

"hm, ye' smell so fuckin' good, baby." he praised you, making your cheeks hot again.

"that's embarrassing." you said in a small voice, looking away from him.

"i'll take care of ye' and in just a few months you'll have a baby bump." he kissed you once again.

you shivered and couldn't help but look at your stomach, caressing it.

you can feel his warm cum inside you, it was probably getting to work now.

it was too late for you to take pills, you felt like crying. you weren't ready for a baby, you were before, but you weren't sure now.

he promised to take care of you, he should. what if your dad gets angry if you tell him?

you can't bear the thought of your dad or carl ever being mad at you.

it would ruin you and you can't even think about the people at the prison, the people you love hating you because of your relationship with daryl.

"ye'll look good with m'babies, trust m'." daryl whispered to you, sucking on your neck.

what have you gotten yourself into?

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Three

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Medical inaccuracies, hospitals, medical procedures, medications, nurse!reader. Feelings of fear and anxiety. Flirting. Emotional hurt/comfort. Panic attack. PTSD. Comfort. "You'll be with him?"

“-nna let ‘im die out here-“

“-is too risky without adequate-“ 

Johnny is drowning in a sea of shattered voices, whispers of words that sound like they might be coming from Gaz, or Price, hushed prayers and promises, jargon he doesn’t understand washing over him from unfamiliar, clinical mouths. 

It’s overwhelming. He can hardly get his eyes to open, and when he does, they stay half shut for what feels like hours, even though he knows, logically, it’s mere seconds. 

He’s no longer strapped into a backboard, but a bed, and the ceiling is not metal and rivets, but white and canvas, voices competing with the constant sound of beeping. 

“Soap.” Price leans into his line of sight, hat gone, exhausted. He’s holding a sat phone, the one they usually carry during missions in one hand, a file folder in another. He looks his age, Johnny thinks, for the first time in his career. Looks like he’s spent eons in combat, like he hasn’t had a full night’s rest in a decade. “John. You’re in the hospital on base.” At the use of his government name, Johnny tries to straighten on instinct. The soft, floating feelings he’s been having for the past who knows how long have faded, and his body is starting to feel like it’s been pumped with gasoline, and then lit on fire. From the inside. “Are you with me, Sergeant?” He tries to vocalize, tries to say yes, or nod, but can hardly get his neck to work, bones and ligaments and everything in him screaming in agony. “They want to take you in a flight for life, get you home to a top hospital. Simon's already agreed, but he- he wants to speak with you.” Price wrenches his fingers open and lifts the clunky satellite phone to his face. “I rang him, on the emergency line, at home. Just… you need to-“ he stops, chest heaving with a desperate breath, an indulgence of emotion that Johnny has never seen. His captain wants to tell him- you need to say goodbye, just in case. But he can’t find the words, and Johnny can’t make it fit in his head, the reality, the stark reminder that he could not be here, in a moment. Or an hour. A day. “Open your eyes, John. Stay awake.” 

“Johnny.” The Manchester accent crackles through the receiver. Johnny can almost see him, cell pressed to his face, pacing in the living room. He wonders if he’s got the fireplace lit, if it’s chilly now that it's turning to winter, if there’s been frost on the windows of their little house. If Simon is wearing a pair of sweatpants, if he’s got the television on as he tries to make dinner. “Johnny. Sit rep.” The status check comes through harsh, but the truth is tucked away beneath the grit. Fear. Life altering, heart breaking fear drenches every syllable that spills from his partner. 

Pain sizzles through his muscles, across his brain, but he swallows it, shoves it down into a dark hole for another minute. 

“Pretty banged up.” 

“They’re going to lift you to a hospital,” He thinks he knew that. “and you’re goin’ be alright. I’ll meet you there.” 

“Ah love ye, Si.” It’s all he can say. All he can think about. The excruciating agony that is radiating through his body robs him of everything else. 

“I love you too. Hang on.” Johnny grinds his jaw, blowing short breaths through his nose to try to control his pain response, and then holds his breath when soft babbles echo through the phone. “It’s Da, Pen. It’s Da. Can you say Da?” 

“Da?” Penny mimics her dad, and Johnny wonders if they’re sitting on the couch, Penelope tucked up against Simon’s chest, wispy curls tickling just below his nose as she climbs all over him like a jungle gym. 

“Ma wee lamb.” Johnny whispers. “Ah love ye, Pen.” There’s more babbling, half strung together words, more than appropriate for a fourteen-month-old, and Johnny’s temples shine with tears that drip from the corners of his eyes. There’s talking, around him, people bustling back and forth. A hand brushes against skin, sharp pinch squeezing along the inside of his arm. 

“Can you say, I love you?” Simon encourages, but Johnny knows it’s a lost cause. 

“When she’s old enough to understand, ye tell her Ah loved her, loved her so much. Ye an’ her, is all I ever wished fer.”

“Stop.” Simon breathes. “You’re going to be fine.” 

There’s another poke in his arm, someone lighting a fire in his veins, and he loses the battle to his eyes once more. 

Your neck grumbles in protest when you try to twist it, working out tight muscle and tendon, rolling it across your shoulders and down, back and forth, over and over again.

You should go home. 

You know you should. It’s two hours past seven, you should already be home. Should already be in your flat, showering the workday off and crawling into bed. You could be having a tea, snuggled up in your sweatpants, moving playing on low in the background. Warm, safe. Nearly asleep.

Johnny twitches beside you. His fingers clench in the blankets and then relax, face smoothing out in his dreams. The mask is gone, replaced with the cannula that loops beneath his nose, and the monitor beeps in soothing, reassuring, stable tones. One chime right after another, relaying his vitals to where you sit in Simon’s chair, feet slung over the side, kindle in your lap.

You made a promise. 

And even without that promise, for some reason, you couldn’t just leave Johnny here to wake up alone. The idea of him coming to and being confused, or scared, again, made your stomach twist uncomfortably. Even before you promised Simon to stay earlier, you already knew.

You wouldn’t be leaving.

“He’s had a seizure.” Simon’s eyes widen above the mask and then flatten into something harder, something almost distrusting. “Neuro’s done an exam and they’re of the opinion there will be no long-term deficits, but we’ll need to wait until he wakes to be sure. They’re still trying to figure out what caused it, but most likely it's a result from surgery.” He moves to shoulder by you, no doubt trying to beeline back to Johnny’s room, but you hold your hand up with a pause. “I can’t let you go back in there yet.” 

“Why not?” 

“He’s not awake.” 

“I don’t-“

“Simon, this is the ICU. I don’t know who or what strings you pulled to even be allowed to sit with him in there twenty-four seven, but it’s not the norm. You won’t be allowed back in that room until we are sure he is stable.” You don’t tell him that you don’t want him to be there when Johnny wakes in case there are deficits, that you’re trying to save him from the pain, the heartbreak, of seeing things that patient’s loved ones are not meant to see. 

He regards you silently, and you fidget under the scrutiny, waiting for him to speak, trying to ignore how your mouth is going dry. This isn’t the first he’s watched you like this, stared at you like he’s trying to pick you apart, and you swallow your grimace until the long moment passes, his voice low, gritty with stress. Exhaustion. 

“I’m supposed to go home today for a bit. I… don’t want to leave ‘im.” 

“You can still go. He’s sleeping for now, and when he wakes, they’ll have to do some more tests that you won’t be allowed in the room for anyway.” He looks down the hallway towards Johnny’s room, before his eyes find yours, heavy with grief, indecision. 

“You’ll be with him?” He can’t hide the hopeful inflection at the end of his question, his need for a light in the dark of this situation. 

“I-“ The thought didn’t occur to you, to not be there. You imagined you’d wait until Johnny was cleared by neuro and Simon was allowed back in the room, but the morning has dragged on, and he’s been sleeping peacefully. There’s been no desire to wake him unnecessarily. “Yes. I’ll stay with him. I promise.”  

“He go home?” Johnny’s voice, scratchy from sleep and medication and everything else, startles you from a half doze, spine straightening into a rod before you’re leaping to your feet, leaning over his prone figure.

“You’re awake.” You find his good hand, slipping two fingers into his grip. “Can you squeeze my hand?” When he does, tightly, more strength in it than you were expected, you give him an honest, happy smile, and retreat to the end of the bed, flipping up his blanket to poke at the bottom of his feet. “Can you feel that?”

“Aye.”

“And this?”

“Aye.” He huffs at you, impatient. “Did he go home?” You sigh in response, hand on your hip.

“Yes.”

“Finally. Been tellin’ him he had to. The man’s back ‘s not made to sleep sittin’ up.”

“Well, I’m sure he didn’t want to leave. I told him I’d sit with you.” You reach over to press the page button, looking intentionally away from where those bright blue eyes track you, sweet and soft and open, lips slightly parted. “How’s your pain? I’m not on the clock any longer, so I can’t page the neurologist, but they’ll have come and do a few tests.”

“Ye wanted to sit with me, pretty girl?” Your face gets hot, blood pooling beneath your skin, pit of your stomach liquifying into something honeyed and potent that flows through your veins until you swear you can feel the room getting warmer.

“How’s your pain?” you repeat your question, words dumb on your tongue.

“A five.” You raise an eyebrow. “Alright, a seven. And a half.” The days nurse knocks with perfect timing, all hustle and bustle, bright and cheery, and asks Johnny the same questions, keeping up a perfect stream of small talk between you and Johnny until Neuro is standing at the foot of his bed, and you’re excusing yourself.

“Okay, I’m-“

“Dinnae leave.” He protests, voice quiet. Your stomach lurches at the vulnerability there, and you’re quick to reassure him.

“I’m just going to get a tea.” You promise, even though you know he’ll probably be half loopy by the time you’re back, and the dayshift nurse gives you a nod, acknowledgement of his state, an understanding that she’ll be here with him.

Not an hour later, your pocket chimes with a text from the dayshifter as you half sip your tea, letting you know that Johnny’s exam is done, and as you pass her in the hallway, she gives you verbal confirmation of what you were hoping for: his brain function is normal. He’ll have to go for CT later, but she’s just given him another dosage for pain management. You yawn in the middle of her pass-on, and she tells you that she'll keep an eye on him. You can go. 

She's not wrong. 

You need to go to bed. 

You know your presence at your patient's bedside won't be viewed as unprofessional, since others have done it in far less severe situations, but the pendulum your emotions swing on every time you step foot in that room leaves you with a sinking feeling that's starting to crawl across your skin.

You wanted this. You wanted to stay with him. 

Simon asked you stay with him. 

Yeah, but for how long? He cannot expect you to spend all day here. You have to go to bed. Are you just going to leave him all alone? Are you going to wait for Simon to come back? 

The dread spiral is easily answered when you slide open the glass door and lay eyes on the very handsome man from the other night, the younger one from the chair vigil, now sitting beside Johnny, the two of them softly chuckling.

When Johnny spots you, he manages to fire off your name as a half-effort introduction, more than expected considering his slowly slipping state of consciousness.

“I’m Kyle. Soap an’ I work together.” Soap? Who is Soap? 

“She doesnae know me b’ Soap, only calls me Johnny.” He explains your confused look, to which Kyle raises an eyebrow.

“Wow. Letting your nurse call you Johnny, eh? Simon better-“

“Ach, stop.” He rolls his eyes, but sleep tugs his lids downward.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You give Johnny and his monitor a once over, catching yourself on his sweet, sleepy gaze, flushed face and lazy smile, before directing your attention back to Kyle. “I told Simon, I’d sit with him for a bit before he got back, but…”

“I’m here in his place.” Kyle explains, motioning to the chair, and you breathe a small sigh of relief. You will get to go home and get some sleep, after all. 

There’s a woman with a confused look on her face just outside the elevator. She looks exhausted, skin raw under her eyes, clutching a baby who’s maybe a year, or a bit older, in her arms, glancing up and down the hall before she spots you.

Fuck. You’re still wearing your scrubs. 

“Hi.” You smile, and she visibly relaxes, obviously relieved. The baby tucks her face into the woman’s chest like she’s shy, coyly looking at you from corner of her eye. “You look lost.”

“I’m looking for the nurse’s station. My husband was supposed to meet me here but he’s running late and I-“

“It’s all the way down, take the first left, and it will be at the end of that hallway.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much.” She glances at your ID, punctuating her gratitude with your name, and you give her another smile, leaning to extend towards the baby as well.

“So cute.” You tell her, pressing the elevator button with a ding.

“Cute. But she’s a little terror, especially when she’s missing her Da.” She grumbles, and then waves, setting off against the white tile as you laugh to yourself. Pretty much sums kids up. Cute little terrors.

A week passes easily, beds and rooms changing over, room two sixty-eight remaining a constant. Johnny takes his battles on the chin, burn debridement on his side, casting for his wrist, removal of his chest tube, a third surgery. 

“He’s a fighter.” Simon tells you one night in the dark after he’s slipped off to sleep. “Always has been. He's strong. Spirited.”

“I can see.” You agree, holding out the extra blanket you’ve pulled from a cabinet. When Simon takes it, his eyes meet yours, something soft shining in them, and you give him a smile in return. 

“Thank you.” He murmurs. “For everything.”

A few days later, you’re surprised, and secretly pleased, to find Simon in the café.

He’s standing in front of the counter, paying for what you think might a baked good of some kind, sweet lady behind the register eyeing him up suspiciously as he deposits the note into her hand, and you stay on the outside of the doors, lingering in the hallway, watching.

At least he’s eating something. He’s still wearing the mask, and although it’s not uncommon, especially in a hospital setting, it does give you pause. Does he wear it all the time? Is it just because this is a hospital? He observes the room, steadily taking in all of the people meandering about, some eating, some standing, making their selections, engaging in conversation, and you notice how his hand slides to the back of his neck, distractedly rubbing the hair at his nape before he makes his escape, long legs eating up the distance between him and the door, him and… you.

“Hi.” You squeak when he steps into the hall, turning the corner to find you standing there like a deer in headlights, your water bottle clutched in one hand, phone in the other. His head tilts, eyes narrowed, and you manage to give him a half smile. “Getting something to eat?”

“It’s for Johnny.” He notes. “I ah, had something to eat earlier. When I was home.” Oh, good. Being in the hospital twenty-four seven isn’t healthy for anyone. Not even patients. 

“Cool.” Cool? What is this, a pub? You swallow your embarrassing, awkward acknowledgement, breezing past the word like it didn’t happen. “Well, I’m about to badge in, so I’ll see you in a bit?” He nods, eyes still trained on your face, and you beat back the heat that’s spreading through your body like a fever when they drift down to your shoulders, and then to your badge.

“Cute sticker.” He points to where it’s clipped to your top, shiny bunny sticker from a patient’s child still there, holographic print sparkling in the dusk.

“Oh, thanks. Another patient of mine has a little kid. I was hanging out with him for a bit yesterday.”

“Suits you.” His gaze dips downward, glancing over the curve of your hip, plush from the swell of your ass, taut pull of your scrubs all of the sudden feeling too tight, too stretched across your waist, and you scramble to make sense of his comment. 

“A bunny?” Your brows raise in disbelief, confusion, but he only nods, head tilted slightly, posture broad. Your brain turns over, frantically trying to think of a response, something clever, but he continues to talk, clearing his throat with a question.

“What do you call a line of rabbits hopping backwards?” Huh? 

“What?”

“A receding hare-line.” Wait. What? Is he… joking with you? Your mouth drops into a little o of part surprise, part confusion, before you squint at him in disbelief.

“Oh… my god. That’s…”

“’s not that bad.” His eyes crinkle at the corners, giving you the impression that he might be smiling beneath the mask, making you wonder if you’re hallucinating.

“It’s pretty bad.” You croak, nervous laughter bubbling up in the back of your throat. “Well, I… uh-“ His phone dings, pulling his focus to the screen, and he swipes out something quickly with his thumb.

“I’ll see you up there.” He jerks his head towards the elevator, and you mumble out a mild, flabbergasted reply.

“Alright... yeah.”

Your first break comes up fast. Your morning, everyone’s evening, is busy, with a code, a tricky vent, and a needy, elderly man in two fifty-two. It goes from busy to worse, an argument with the pharmacy heating your blood, spurring anger through your veins and you have to physically bite your tongue to keep from berating the poor tech at the window. Useless. You seethe in your mind all the way back up to your floor, frustration driving you to seek solace, eager to escape the eyes of the hospital, running away from the possibility of being noticed.

But supply closet 2b is occupied, a frazzled resident huffing into a pillow in the back, hyperventilating with tear-stained cheeks.

Without even fully realizing, you find yourself inside two sixty-eight, Simon’s sharp eyes falling upon you with scrutiny. He looks at Johnny’s monitor like something might be amiss, relaxed posture straightening into something tense, structured. There’s a card game in progress on the swivel tray table over Johnny’s lap, the glaring reality of your interruption, and you blanche.

You’re immediately incredibly embarrassed. What are you even doing in here? 

“Miss me already?” Johnny coos, beaming, and your throat feels dry. He’s feeling the best he has since he got here, albeit not great, still in awful pain, still staring down the barrel of more surgeries, but the pain medication from earlier is working its way through his system, and you’re happy to see it’s taking the edge off it all for him, allowing him comfort and conversation with his partner.

“My um… usual break spot is occupied?” You don’t know why you phrase it as a question, it just comes naturally. Like you’re seeking permission. Agreement.

“Ye want to sit with us? While ye eat?” Johnny asks, somewhat pointing to your yogurt cup, and you shrug, but Simon motions to the extra chair, the one that now sits on the other side of the bed, across from him. Guess facilities finally brought down that recliner you requested. 

“Would… would that be alright?”

Johnny looks to Simon, and Simon nods. Slowly.

Your yogurt goes down easy, light chit chat bouncing around the room, Johnny nodding in and out with drawn out answers to your questions, until a noise startles you from the chair, pushing you onto your feet to peer out the door.

It’s a man, yelling, screaming, from a room down the hall, not from sadness or despair, but rage, and your mind goes haywire when security is paged over the PA system.

Deep breath. 

This happens sometimes. Patients, or loved ones, become disruptive. Secrets and lies all come out in the wash in a hospital. Custody agreements, battles, DNRs, last wills and testaments, any of these things are a perfect tinder box. One match, and it all goes up.

A siren blares.

“Code black, code black.” echoes through the hospital, each room on every floor, down every hall.

Johnny startles from his near sleep stupor, eyes alert, the outline of his muscles solid beneath his gown.

Security risk. Lockdown. 

You straighten your spine.

Deep breath.

This is your job. 

Part of your job is being able to handle things like this. Protect, take care of your patients, and their families. Keep them safe.

The man shouts again, sharp tone of anger snapping through the air and across your frame, forcing your muscles tense.

You slide the door lock into place, pulling the curtain to only allow a small line of sight.

“What’s going on?” Simon stands, turning towards the door, and Johnny pats his hand, like he’s trying to soothe him.

“Oh, uh. It’s… just a lockdown. I don’t know.” You’re vaguely aware of the numb feeling that’s spreading from your chest down into your hand, and the sound of the irate man gets closer. Fuck. 

“Ye okay?” Johnny’s voice is gentle, and when you glance over your shoulder to reassure them, you realize they’re both watching you, Simon’s eyes locked onto your now trembling fist, as Johnny regards you softly, with kindness.

“Um. Yeah.” You suck in a quick breath, forcing yourself to steady, gritting your teeth against the frozen, involuntary fear that’s trying to overpower you. You think Simon might be frowning beneath the mask, confusion shading his question.

“Why are you standing at the door?”

“It’s standard operating procedure. If there’s an issue, or a disturbance. If you’re in a patient’s room, if I- I’m in a patient’s room, I’m supposed to act like a… barrier. Just in case.” You keep your eyes fixed out the glass, watching for any sights, listening for any sounds. The door is locked, and glass is thick, and security would be here if anything were to happen, they’re already down the hall, everything is fine. Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep-

“Go sit with Johnny.” Simon's standing just behind you, voice pitched low, sweetened into one of those softer hums, the kind of tone he usually uses with Johnny. Not with you. He’s so close, you can almost feel the heat radiating from his body, and you shake your head with a refusal.

“I have to stay-“ He cuts you off, not even letting you choke out the rest of your quivering protest.

“No. Go sit with Johnny.” He pauses, stepping around to angle his body in front of yours, looking down at you over his shoulder, and you think, for a moment, you see a glimmer of the tenderness there that’s reserved for Johnny. “Please.”

“My wrist hurts.” Johnny calls hopefully to you, mischievous smile and eyes sweet, his good hand outstretched with an open palm. “Need ye to rub it.” Simon nods, serious look quashing any rebuttals you might have, protocol and procedure slipping far from your mind as you let yourself drift to Johnny’s side, settling back into your seat previously abandoned. Johnny offers you his wrist, smile fading when he looks closer at your curled fingers. “Ye’re shaking, pretty girl.”

“Low blood sugar.” You lie. The man in the hallway shouts again, closer, loud and awful, roiling with rage, and you inadvertently tense, jolting minutely in the chair.

“Hey now.” Johnny reaches for you, gentle touch against your skin, warm fingers holding onto yours. You look down to where he tries to give you comfort, where he tries to soothe you, instead of the other way around, as it has been, as it should be, and you get lost in it, the idea of comfort, the feeling of care. It makes your heart stumble in your chest, almost like you can’t breathe, staring off into space, trying to pretend like there isn’t a man screaming down the hall, like you’re not the person you are, buried beneath the insurmountable weight of scars, memories of pain and fear etched into the very tissue of your brain, the backs of your eyelids, every strand of hair.

Ingrained inside of you, forever.

Someone says your name, and you blink back to the face of your patient, who looks to Simon, his expression unreadable until it shifts into tender warmth, re-focused on you. “What is it?”

“I-“ You picture yourself, letting your lips go loose, entrusting your secrets and worst fears to these strangers, these men who you don't even know, who don't know you. “I’m exhausted.” You offer, and shadow flickers across Johnny’s eyes. It’s not a lie, not technically. You’re always exhausted.

“Ye-“

“Code black lifted. Code black lifted. Lockdown complete. Resume normal operation.” The PA system drones, tension between your shoulders draining, and you jump to your feet, palms and fingers smoothing over your scrub top.

“Well, I’ve got to check in at the nurses’ station now. Protocol.” You explain, nearly tripping over yourself on the way to the door. Your heart is still raging inside your chest, beating faster than it should, and you steady your breathing with a mental count. One... two... three... one... “I’ll check in on you later.” You promise over your shoulder, slipping by Simon to disappear down the hallway.