#don't laugh i had to draw him a beard

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A WEEKEND AT THE OVERLOOK HOTEL

Do you dare to check in? 🛎️ The infamous Overlook Hotel, nestled in the isolated Colorado Rockies, has a dark and mysterious history. Known for its eerie atmosphere and paranormal activity, the hotel has attracted visitors looking for a thrilling experience. This weekend, a group of individuals, each with their own reasons, has checked in. As night falls, strange occurrences begin to happen, turning a weekend getaway into a nightmare. ⸻ imagine yourself in the situation and create your character as they are trapped in a horror movie come true. bonus: get your creative juices flowing and write a oneshot. what happened before the picture? where is your character headed now? are they searching for their friends/the people that arrived with them or are they investigating something different entirely? what else is lurking amongst the shadows?

Contains some spoilers for The Boys Season 4, strong language, violence, blood, gore, body horror, psychological horror.

feat. @heartofglass-mindofstone special cameos @vikasgarden @ausgetrieben @thisis-elijah @arasanwar

Ein junger Mann schaute schräg von seinem Platz auf, der Blick gelangweilt und müde. Gefühlt halb festgewachsen an seinem Stuhl, saß er seit über zehn Stunden an der Rezeption des Hauses. Einst ein nobler Schuppen, der hochdekorierte Gäste beherbergte, hatte mittlerweile die Zeit ihre Spuren an dem Anwesen hinterlassen. Altmodische Lampen an dunklen, vertäfelten Wänden gaben ein gedimmtes, gelbliches Licht ab und erzeugten eine schummerige, schaurige Atmosphäre. Zur Winterszeit war es kalt und es zog im Foyer. Um dem entgegen zu kommen, brannte ein echtes Kaminfeuer bei der Rezeption. Markus, der Concierge, wollte längst abschließen für heute aber zu später Stunde kam noch ein Gast ins Haus. Er brachte einen eisigen Windhauch durch die Fronttür mit sich und die Flammen in der Nähe flackerten unruhig. "Ihr Name, Sir?" "B... Kessler. William Kessler." Ein hochgewachsener, dunkelhaariger, bärtiger Mann im schwarzen Ledertrenchcoat stand vorm Empfangstresen. Irgendwie kam dieser Markus bekannt vor. Stirnrunzelnd starrte er ihn ein paar Sekunden lang an, danach schüttelte er den Kopf. Er sah schon Gespenster. Tat er ständig an diesem gottverdammten Ort. "Ein Doppelzimmer, nehme ich an?" Markus' Augen wanderten ein Stück herüber zu der anderen Person im Raum. Ihr hübscher Anblick zauberte ihm prompt ein Lächeln auf die abgeschlagene Miene. "Ein Doppelzimmer für mich und meine Misses.", der Tonfall des großen, groben Mannes fiel unterschwellig knurrend aus, instinktiv zuckte der Concierge zusammen. Dabei entging es ihm keineswegs, dass das Paar keine Trauringe trug aber seinen Gästen neugierige Fragen zu stellen gehörte nicht zu seinen Aufgaben, solange sie ihre Rechnungen bezahlten und nicht gegen die Hausordnung verstießen. Somit trug er die Eheleute William und Anastasia Kessler ins Verzeichnis ein und überreichte ihnen ihren Zimmerschlüssel. "Willkommen im Overlook Hotel. Das Restaurant hat schon geschlossen aber Sie können einen Drink an der Bar zu sich nehmen und wir haben rund um die Uhr Roomservice." Was für ein seltsames und ungleiches Paar, dachte sich der junge Herr als er ihnen nachsah wie sie auf dem düsteren Korridor in Richtung Verderben Zimmer 237 wanderten.

"Deine Misses? Sag bloß du mochtest den Concierge nicht oder für wen war diese Show gedacht? Der war doch süß." Ana hatte offensichtlich ihren Spaß daran den alten Mann zu piesacken und der schoss missmutig, in typisch griesgrämiger Manier zurück. "Diese halbe Portion? Ich bitte dich, der sah aus als hätte er nichtmal Haare am Sack." So verlief ein ganz normales Gespräch zwischen ihnen und diese Dynamik war unbezahlbar, fand er heimlich, oder vielleicht auch nicht ganz so heimlich. Am Ende des Korridors befand sich der Fahrstuhl, ein uraltes Ding. Ächzend setzte sich die Kabine in Bewegung, der Aufzug kam aus dem zweiten Untergeschoss nach oben gefahren und brauchte dafür ewig. Die Mechanik der Tür wirkte wartungsbedürftig, sie öffnete sich nur schwergängig, begleitet von unangenehmen Kratzgeräuschen. Ana drückte ihr Unbehagen darüber aus. "Ich weiß nicht was mit dir ist aber ich gehe lieber zu Fuß." Sie zögerte nicht damit, drehte sich auf dem Absatz um und nahm die angrenzende Treppe. Billy sah ihr verwundert nach und betrat den Fahrstuhl dann halt ohne sie. Ein weiterer Mann befand sich in der Kabine und die Leuchte für den dritten Stock war schon aktiviert. Der andere Gast war etwa gleichgroß, ein bisschen schmaler jedoch und ein paar Jahre älter, hatte silbernes Haar und trug einen dunklen Anzug mit blau-grauem Schlips. "Ich weiß noch nicht was ich von deiner Begleitung halten soll." Sprach der Fremde von schräg hinten. Sie schauten sich gegenseitig an, durch die Verspiegelung der Kabine. Butcher verzog eine Miene und drohte dem Mann unmittelbar. "Ich schwöre wenn du ihr ein einziges Haar krümmst, finde ich hundert Wege es dich bereuen zu lassen." Der andere war sichtlich amüsiert, trug ein gehässiges Grinsen zur Schau und hob scheinbar beschwichtigend die Hände. Butcher verengte die Augen und ignorierte ihn, wandte den Blick ab von ihrem gemeinsamen Spiegelbild und schon war es ruhig. "Ping." Der Aufzug verkündete, dass sie im dritten Stock angekommen waren.

"Sind dir die Bilder auf dem Flur aufgefallen?", wollte Ana von ihm wissen nachdem sie ihr Quartier bezogen hatten. Dabei warf sie ihre Reisetasche auf einen Sessel und kramte beiläufig ein paar ihrer Habseligkeiten hervor. Ein Päckchen Zigaretten, Feuer, ein Etui mit Make-Up, ihren tiefroten Killer-Lippenstift wie Billy ihn gerne nannte und zwei Handfeuerwaffen mit angeschraubten Schalldämpfern, die sie seelenruhig in ihre Einzelteile zerlegte und anfing zu reinigen. "Von was für Bildern redest du?", antwortete Billy ihr halbherzig, mit dem Kopf in der Minibar steckend auf der Suche nach anständigem Sprit. Er schnaufte frustriert weil er fast nur Bier und Mischgetränke fand. Nein, er wollte keinen fizzy Mojito aus der edlen Glasflasche, Grapefruit Margarita oder fucking Strawberry Daiquiri. Von ganz hinten lachte ihn endlich eine große Flasche Jack an, na bitte. Daneben befand sich ein tiefblaues Getränk, ein starker Likör mit dem Label "Blue Curaçao". Er griff nach der Flasche da er fand, dass die Farbe so schön passte zu dem kleinen Blue Bird dort drüben und vielleicht mochte sie das Zeug ja. Zurück zu ihrer Frage. "Ich hab da keine Bilder gesehen." Er stellte ihr den blauen Likör vor die Nase und sank neben ihr aufs Sofa, schraubte den Whiskey auf und trank einen kräftigen Schluck. "Ich glaube du brauchst bald eine Brille, Daddy. Du hast Glück.", feixte sie und setzte ihm kurzerhand ihre Sonnenbrille auf. Vom Typ Pornobrille aber in fancy, mit einem kleinen, strassbesetzten Schmetterling am Bügel und mit türkis-zu-violett verlaufenden Gläsern. Givenchy. Nicht, dass er davon Ahnung hätte aber es war neben der Verzierung eingraviert. Immer noch sichtlich amüsiert krabbelte sie ihm auf den Schoß, nahm demonstrativ sein Gesicht in ihre Hände und bewunderte ihren vorzüglichen Modegeschmack (kein Sarkasmus) und wie gut ihm das Schmuckstück stand... nicht. Ihr resigniertes Seufzen ging durch den Raum. Mit dramatisch aufgesetztem Schmollmund gab sie schließlich klein bei und setzte ihm die Gläser wieder ab. Schon besser, sie wirkte gar besänftigt beim Blick in seine Augen. Billy verstand diese Geste ihrerseits und lächelte schwach. "Aber mal im Ernst", fuhr sie fort, "ich dachte ich hätte im Gang Bilder gesehen von Personen, die ich kenne. Findest du nicht auch, dass diese Absteige eins zu eins aus The Shining sein könnte?" "Du guckst zu viele Horrorfilme, Liebes. Die Wände sind so kahl wie Skurges Schädel in Thor 3." Aus reinem Trotz verkniff sie sich das Lachen, er war so ein unfassbarer Idiot. "Halt den Mund oder ich sorg höchstpersönlich dafür, dass du's tust." "Now we're talking.", konterte er sofort. Natürlich hielt er nicht den Mund.

"Thank goodness, das Zimmer hat eine Badewanne!", rief Ana von nebenan. Während sie sich ein entspannendes Schaumbad gönnte blieb Billy träge im Bett zurück. Eine glühende Zigarette hing ihm lieblos im Mundwinkel als er sich durch verschiedene TV Kanäle zappte. "Vier der gefährlichsten Starlighter wurden bereits in Gewahrsam genommen, doch Starlight selbst sowie William Butcher sind immer noch auf freiem Fuß. Ihre Ergreifung hat oberste Priorität und wir erbitten dabei Ihre Mithilfe, der kleinste Hinweis zählt. Kommen wir nun zum Sport, präsentiert von Turbo Rush Energy Drink. Erleben Sie Ihr blaues Wunder mit der brandneuen V-Edition." Reglos starrte er den Bildschirm an auf dem gerade noch sein Gesicht gezeigt wurde, aber kein Grund nervös zu werden. Er hatte einen Vorsprung und einen Plan, er musste es bloß unbehelligt quer durchs ganze Land schaffen. Dass Ana ihn begleitete war allerdings spontan und wich vom ursprünglichen Vorhaben ab. Sie hatte ebenso beruflich an der Westküste zu tun und hätte dafür eigentlich ganz unkompliziert in einen Flieger steigen können. Aber Billy hatte sie einfach gefragt, ob sie bei der Gelegenheit mit ihm einen Roadtrip durch die Staaten machen wollte, nur sie beide und sein alter Caddy. Für sie wäre es ein hoffentlich vergnüglicher Trip und Abwechslung zum straff durchorganisierten Alltag. Ihm bedeutete ihre Gesellschaft noch sehr viel mehr als das, aber er wusste auch schon wie die Story enden wird. Der Mann aus dem Fahrstuhl vorhin würde ihn jetzt verhöhnen für seinen Anflug von Schwäche. Er wollte nicht allein sein auf der wahrscheinlich letzten Reise, die er antrat. Ob er Ana im Verlaufe ihrer Tour noch die ganze Wahrheit auf den Tisch packte wird sich zeigen. Er wusste er schuldete es ihr. Was nicht automatisch bedeutete, dass er es wirklich über sich bringen würde. "Woran denkst du gerade?" Sie war längst aus dem Bad wieder zurück und lehnte im Handtuch über ihm. Erst ihre Stimme holte ihn aus seinen tief versunkenen Gedanken. Er neigte den Kopf und sah sie an. Kein schiefes Grinsen diesmal, kein Versuch die Sache mit einem schlagfertigen Kommentar herunterzuspielen wie er es sonst schon aus Gewohnheit machte. "Ich wünschte ich hätte dich früher getroffen und mehr Zeit." Kurz stand ihr der Mund offen, mit soviel Ehrlichkeit rechnete man bei ihm wohl eher nicht und seine überraschende Antwort war entwaffnend. "Komm her.", verlangte er und zupfte an ihrem Handtuch bis es sich von ihrem Körper löste und zu Boden fiel. "Ich frage mich ernsthaft wofür das Bad gut gewesen ist wenn du jetzt zu mir ins Bett zurückkommst."

Als er am folgenden Tag wach wurde war er wie gerädert, nur langsam öffneten sich seine bleischweren Lider. Er rollte sich herum und streckte den Arm aus, um die andere Bettseite abzufühlen aber dort lag niemand. Schwerfällig setzte er sich auf und hielt sich einen Moment lang den verkaterten Schädel. "Fuck me." Er war allein. Irgendwas war in dem beschissenen Jack gewesen, so sehr haute es ihn normalerweise nicht aus der Spur. Ganz kurz hatte er beinahe vergessen wo er war, wie er hieß und welches Jahr sie hatten. Es benötigte ein paar Minuten bis sein Kopf klar wurde. Im Anschluss sah er sich im Raum um. Anas Tasche lag drüben auf dem Sessel und ihr Kram befand sich nach wie vor auf dem Tisch, neben dem halb leer getrunkenen Curaçao. Er erinnerte sich daran und fühlte sich erleichtert darüber, dass der gestrige Abend dann wohl kein wilder Traum gewesen war. Irgendwann kriegte er endlich den Arsch hoch und nahm eine ausgiebige, nicht zu heiße Dusche, die ihn sich wie ein halbwegs lebendiger Mensch fühlen ließ. Im Wohn- und Schlafbereich befand sich ein bodentiefer Spiegel und er nutzte die Gelegenheit, solange er allein war, für ein wenig Selbstinspektion. Ihm fiel es schwer anzunehmen und überhaupt ganz zu begreifen was mit ihm passiert war über die letzten Wochen und Monate. Er suchte mithilfe seiner Augen und seines Tastsinns nach dem Symbiont in seinem Körper. Hin und wieder tat er sich hervor als schwarze, sich bewegende Masse. Deutlich zu erkennen, wie ein kriechender Wurm, direkt unter der Haut. Das Ding zeigte sich für einen Augenblick, oberhalb des Hüftknochens, es kroch ihm quer über die Bauchdecke bevor es auf der anderen Seite auf Höhe des Rippenkorbs wieder verschwand. Er hatte ein paar frische Kratzer an den Schultern und entlang der Brust, erst wenige Stunden alt. Sie heilten bereits ab. Das bedeutete aber auch, dass seine Fähigkeit sich von Verletzungen zu erholen vergleichsweise bescheiden ausfiel. Im Gegensatz zu Kimiko beispielsweise, die sich innerhalb von Sekunden selbst vom Boden aufkratzen konnte, im wahrsten Sinne des Wortes. Dass Anas durch und durch menschliche Fingernägel überhaupt imstande waren durch seine Haut zu dringen und ihn zu kratzen war eine weitere Erkenntnis, die er auf diesem Wege mitnahm. Kurz gesagt, in Sachen Unverwundbarkeit und Regeneration hatte er so ziemlich die Arschkarte gezogen. Seine Fingerspitzen wanderten in die Mitte seiner Brust. Seine Haut und das Gewebe darunter fühlten sich im Moment normal an, aber dort konzentrierte sich seine gesamte Angriffskraft. Zwei Mal hatte er seine Kräfte benutzt, davon nur ein Mal im Vollbesitz seiner Sinne. Je länger er sein Spiegelbild betrachtete, desto mehr Abscheu empfand er. Dieses Gefühl kroch ihm wie eine körperfremde Kälte langsam die Glieder empor und schnürte ihm die Kehle zu.

Allmählich fragte er sich wohin Ana verschwunden sein könnte. Die Zeit fürs Frühstücksbuffet hat er fundamental verschlafen aber wenn sie allein gegangen wäre müsste sie dann nicht langsam wieder zurück sein? Nachdem er sich angezogen hatte kam ihm die Idee, dass jemand eventuell die Gartenanlage erkundete, vielmehr das verlockende Labyrinth im Außenbereich. Er beschloss sich dort umzusehen und begab sich vor die Tür. Auf dem Gang traf er Markus, den Concierge. "Hast du zufällig meine... meine Frau gesehen?", erkundigte er sich im Vorbeigehen und Markus hatte eine erfreuliche Antwort darauf. "Ja, ich hab sie vorhin beim Frühstück gesehen. Wenn ich das richtig mitbekommen habe, hat sie zufällig zwei Freunde getroffen und die wollten zusammen losziehen." "Ah. Danke, Junge." Seltsam, dachte Billy sich als er weiterging. Er nahm sein Phone zur Hand und tippte eine Nachricht. 'Wo bist du? Ich such nach dir.' Nicht gesendet. "Fuck." Kein Empfang hier draußen am Arsch der Welt. Warte mal... er ging jetzt bestimmt schon minutenlang in Richtung Fahrstuhl. Aber da war kein Fahrstuhl in Sicht, nur Korridor. Er blieb stehen und drehte sich um, dieselbe Aussicht bot sich auch in die andere Richtung. Kein Ende des Ganges in Sicht. "Was zum Fick...?" Er schaute zu der Tür in unmittelbarer Nähe. 237. Die Tür gegenüber? 237. Genauso wie alle anderen. 237. 237. Kein Grund zur Panik, die Nerven zu verlieren würde ihm nichts bringen. Als erstes versuchte er die Tür direkt zu seiner Linken. Wenn es 'sein' Zimmer war, müsste sie doch aufgehen? Falsch gedacht, wäre auch zu schön gewesen. Er probierte es mit roher Gewalt, warf sich mit der Schulter voran, mit vollem Gewicht dagegen, aber es war nichts zu machen. Frustriert trat er auf die Tür ein und für einen Sekundenbruchteil offenbarte sich die richtige Zahl. 292. Ha. Zügig nahm er den Weg zurück den er gekommen war und zählte sorgsam die Türen die er passierte, bis er wieder vor seinem Raum stand. Sein Schlüssel passte und die Tür öffnete sich. Sofort eilte er zum Fenster in der Hoffnung dort etwas Empfang zu kriegen. Aber als er es aufriss verschwand die Winterlandschaft und dort war nichts weiter als ein leerer, schwarzer Raum. Instinktiv wich er zurück, denn von der Leere ging ein Sog aus, in den man nicht hineingeraten wollte. "Kessler, du dummes Arschloch. Jetzt wäre ein guter Zeitpunkt mit mir zusammen zu arbeiten." Sich blind darauf zu verlassen wäre bestimmt sein sicherer Tod, deswegen durchsuchte er das Gepäck nach was Nützlichem. Schließlich bewaffnete er sich mit seinem treuen Brecheisen und nahm auch beide Feuerwaffen von Ana mit sich. Der einzige Weg hinaus war dann wohl durch die verdammten 'Gedärme' dieses Hauses.

Er hatte keinen Plan und keine Route nach draußen, alles was er tun konnte war wahllos Türen auszuprobieren. Seine Brechstange erwies sich dabei als wahrer Segen, damit hatte er schonmal eine Sorge weniger. Mühelos brach er die erste Tür auf und betrat den Raum. "Butcher?" Eine vertraute Stimme kam aus dem Zimmer und ein kalter Schauer lief ihm den Rücken runter. "Kleiner? Aras?" Er war nicht dumm, das war doch eine Falle oder? Vorsichtig näherte er sich mit gezogener Waffe der Gestalt, die auf dem Sofa saß. Erneut sprach Aras mit ihm. "Ich freu mich so dich zu sehen. Wie lange ist das jetzt schon her? Ich hatte die ganze Zeit gehofft, dass du mal nach Vegas kommst. Aber ich verstehe schon, du bist schwer beschäftigt. Genauso wie ich. Ich hab darüber nachgedacht ein Studio in New York aufzumachen, dann könnten wir uns öfters treffen und zusammen einen trinken. Was meinst du?" Billys Augen weiteten sich beim Anblick des Horrors und er senkte die Waffe. Auf der Couch saß Aras oder jemand der aussah wie Aras. Er war mittig am Torso durchtrennt worden und nur noch sein Oberkörper saß dort, in einer Pampe aus Blut und Eingeweiden. Sein linker Arm fehlte, der Rest hing als lebloser, blutender Stumpf herunter und seine Beine lagen dort hinten auf dem Boden. "Oh, Junge. Was hat man dir angetan? Wer ist das gewesen?" "Huh? Ach das! Kein Grund zur Sorge, ich chill hier nur, mir gehts gleich wieder gut." "Ich, uh, ich freu mich darauf wenn du nach New York kommst. Sag mir dann unbedingt bescheid, ja?" Er wandte sich langsam um und schluckte einen riesigen Knoten im Hals herunter. Dann ging er zurück zur Tür, er konnte hier nichts tun. "Natürlich. Aber wo willst du hin, willst du nicht noch ein bisschen hierbleiben? Butcher?" Billy schlug die Tür zu was Aras' Worte zu einem Murmeln verblassen ließ. Schwer atmend lehnte er sich von außen an und verschnaufte. Diese Begegnung hatte ihn eiskalt erwischt. Das größte Unbehagen was er dabei empfand war, dass er nicht unterscheiden konnte ob sich das alles in seinem Kopf abspielte oder ob wirklich Aras' Leiche in diesem Raum war. Natürlich, dass er noch redete war eine Halluzination aber jemand könnte ihn in dieses Hotel entführt und abgeschlachtet haben. Er hatte keine Zeit zu verlieren. "Ich finde dich, Liebes."

Blutüberströmt wankte er auf dem Gang entlang. War nicht sein Blut. Im letzten Raum hatte ihn ein riesiger Werwolf angefallen. Wie lange machte er das hier jetzt schon? Tagelang? Er wandelte von Tür zu Tür, blickte in die gequälten Gesichter ehemaliger Gäste und manchmal wurde er angegriffen. Eine gewisse Unentschlossenheit machte sich langsam breit, ob er froh sein oder darüber verzweifeln sollte, dass er Ana noch nicht gesehen hat. Nein, er glaubte daran, dass sie lebte solange er ihre Leiche nicht fand. Keine Zeit zu verschnaufen. Das nächste Zimmer wartete auf ihn. Erneut stand alles auf Null und er rechnete mit jedem erdenklichen Szenario. Dieser Raum wirkte friedlich. Auf dem Boden kauerten zwei Gestalten. Je näher er kam, desto stärker wurde sein Verdacht, dass er diese Gesichter kannte. Der Schock von der Begegnung mit Aras steckte ihm immer noch in den Knochen. "Elijah?" Das war Elijah Williams, er kannte diesen Mann. Er saß da mit leerem Blick und hielt die Leiche seiner Freundin im Arm. Wie war ihr Name? Liz. Ja, genau, Elizabeth Cunningham. Sie war auch Anas beste Freundin und die Erkenntnis schmerzte ihm heftig in der Magengegend. "Verdammt. Bist du verletzt? Kannst du aufstehen?" Vielleicht könnte er ja wenigstens einen von ihnen retten. Für Liz konnte er nichts mehr tun, sie war lange tot. Die Maden fraßen bereits an ihr. Elijah hob langsam den Kopf, er sah zu Billy als würde er ihn erkennen aber alles was er sagte war "Es ist zu spät." Billy beugte sich zu ihm runter und versuchte ihm zuzureden. "Ich finde einen Weg hier raus. Ich bin schon die ganze Zeit dabei. Gehe von Tür zu Tür, irgendwann muss ein Ausgang dabei sein. Ich könnte einen guten Strategen wie dich brauchen." "Es ist zu spät." Schwer seufzend akzeptierte er, dass das entweder nicht mehr Elijah war oder etwas hatte ihn so gebrochen, dass er keinen Willen mehr besaß. Vorsichtig legte Billy ihm zum Abschied seine Hand auf die Schulter. Bevor er ging, zog er eine seiner Waffen aus dem Hosenbund und legte sie neben Elijah auf den Boden. "Vielleicht kehrt dein Kampfgeist zurück und du musst dich gegen was auch immer verteidigen." Er lächelte schwach, dann richtete er sich auf und wendete sich ab.

Er legte eine Pause ein, um seine Ein-Mann-Armee neu zu formieren. Hatte eine Minibar geplündert und saß mitten auf dem Gang mit einer Dose Bier und einer Tüte gesalzener Nüsse. Theoretisch hatte er endlosen Zugang zu Essen und Trinken und könnte das hier für lange Zeit machen sofern ihm nicht irgendeine Monstrosität das Licht ausknipste. Trotzdem konnte es so nicht ewig weitergehen. Irgendwann würde er schlapp machen oder verrückt werden. "Sieh an. Wer da wohl mit seinem Latein am Ende ist?", kam es spöttisch von der Seite. Kessler lehnte an der Wand, die Hände in den Taschen und er sah amüsiert grinsend auf Billy herab. "Du steckst hier doch genauso fest wie ich." "Ich könnte dir vielleicht dabei helfen die Sache zu beschleunigen. Aber ich sag es ganz ehrlich, dieses Mädchen ist mir ein Dorn im Auge. Sie macht dich schwach. Ich helfe dir dabei hier rauszukommen aber sie lassen wir lieber hier. Sofern sie noch lebt." "Fick dich." Damit war die kurze Unterredung auch schon wieder beendet. Schließlich stand er auf und war bereit erstmal so weiterzumachen wie er angefangen hatte. Plötzlich krachte es ohrenbetäubend hinter ihm und der Schreck fuhr ihm tief bis ins Mark. Er drehte sich schnell herum. Eine der Türen war förmlich explodiert, die Holzsplitter lagen überall verteilt auf dem Korridor, steckten in den Wänden und in den Türen gegenüber. Eine Frau war auf den Gang gefallen, sie lag bewegungslos am Boden. Mit dem Brecheisen in der einen Hand und einer Schusswaffe in der anderen ging er in Richtung des Geschehens. Sie atmete, das konnte er aus einiger Entfernung schon feststellen. "Oi, Mädchen." Er beobachtete eine Regung bei ihr und blieb daraufhin stehen. Abermals sprach er sie an. "Wurdest du angegriffen? Verfolgt dich jemand?" Sie atmete schwer und hob den Kopf, drehte langsam ihr Gesicht zu ihm. "Billy?" Noch jemand, den er kannte. Das war Vika, das Feenmädchen. Sie hatten sich erst kürzlich getroffen. "Ja, ich bins." Sie riss panisch die Augen auf und schüttelte den Kopf. Dabei rappelte sie sich auf und wich verängstigt zurück. "Nein! Nein, lass mich bloß in Ruhe. Du bist nicht echt, du bist nicht real!!", rief sie laut und griff ihn überraschend an. Mehrere Ranken wuchsen ihr aus dem Rücken, blitzschnell wickelte sich eine um Billys Hals, vier weitere um seine Hand- und Fußgelenke. Er kannte diese Viecher, das waren dieselben Gewächse wie in ihrem Garten. Messerscharfe Dornen bohrten sich in seine Haut als sie ihre Schlingen fester zog. "Hör auf!", keuchte er. "Ich versuche schon seit Tagen einen Weg nach draußen zu finden. Ich bin völlig real und jetzt sei ein Schatz und ruf dein fleischfressendes Gemüse zurück, ja?" Sie wirkte sichtlich irritiert. Das war schonmal gut. Anscheinend glaubte sie ihm, denn der Zug ihrer Ranken ließ nach. Sie lösten sich und zogen sich eine nach der anderen zurück.

"Wir müssen von diesem Gang runter.", Vikas Stimme zitterte. "Aber wie? Das ist eine verdammte Endlosschleife. Es gibt kein Entkommen von diesem Korridor." "Es gibt einen Weg nach draußen. Wir müssen die richtige Tür finden und den Wächter überwinden.", antwortete sie. "Ich habe ein Buch über dieses Anwesen gefunden und einen Blueprint. Dieser Gang erscheint endlos aber der Weg offenbart sich wenn man bereit ist ein Opfer zu bringen. Jede Tür kann der Weg nach draußen sein." "Was hast du gerade gesagt?" Aus einem Spalt der zersplitterten Tür drang ein Licht an seine Augen. Es erschien anders als der Rest und er schaltete zügig. "Es tut mir so leid, Liebes." Ein Schuss fiel. Er hallte noch lange nach in den Weiten des verfluchten Korridors. Billy hatte auf Vika geschossen. Ein einziger, sauberer Treffer in ihr Herz. Ihr erschrockener Blick tat ihm endlos in der Seele weh. Wie in Zeitlupe fiel sie nach hinten und sank zu Boden. Das Licht aus dem Spalt hinter ihr war Tageslicht. Zusammen mit ihren Worten hatte er verstanden was er tun musste. Er wollte nicht hinsehen und versuchte an ihr vorbeizugehen, aber sie griff mit ihrem letzten Atemzug nach seinem Bein. "Woher... woher wusstest du.... dass ich der Wächter war?" "Ich wusste es nicht.", seine Stimme klang schwach und gebrochen. Er stieß die Tür auf und trat ins Freie.

Eisige Kälte wehte ihm ins Gesicht. Sie fühlte sich an wie eine sanfte Brise der Erlösung. Er stapfte ein paar Schritte durch den knöcheltiefen Schnee und drehte sich zum Anwesen um. Seine Fußspuren führten ganz normal zurück zur Fronttür. Sein Geist klärte sich mehr und mehr mit jeder Sekunde an der frischen Luft. Er war nicht länger in Blut getränkt, trug seine Waffen nicht mehr. Ana saß in der Nähe des Labyrinths auf einer Bank und sie drehte sich zu ihm um, schimpfte ihm von Weitem entgegen. "Wo bist du gewesen? Ich hab dir mindestens drei Nachrichten geschrieben. Ich hab Liz und Elijah beim Frühstück getroffen, die beiden hatten zufällig auch hier eingecheckt. Wir wollten uns das Labyrinth anschauen und dass du auch kommst. Aber die beiden sind vorhin weitergefahren und dich hatte anscheinend irgendein Abgrund gefressen." Seine Schritte wurden zügiger, er hat es jeden Moment geschafft. Als er sie endlich erreichte, fiel er ihr wortlos um den Hals. Er sagte nichts, machte keinen dummen Scherz, motzte nicht zurück, gar nichts. Er hielt sie als würde er nie wieder eine Gelegenheit dazu bekommen. Als wäre es das Letzte was er in seinem beschissenen Leben tat. "Billy?"

tagged by: @vikasgarden @heartofglass-mindofstone @thisis-elijah tagging: everyone who has read this far, you're the goats.

[dilf-c0nn0isseur]

lets take this to the back seat - wolverine/logan x fem!reader

NSFW

summary: after a nice dinner out together, you and logan find yourself unable to keep your hands off of each other during the drive back to his apartment, forcing him to pull off into a parking lot and give in to his urges.

wc: 2.3k

Although Logan often seemed broody and cold, he was nothing if not a gentleman when it came to you. That's why, as the two of you approached his car after leaving the restaurant where you had just dined, he first walked you to the passenger side and opened the door for you. It didn't matter that he always did this- it still gives you that giddy 'first date' teenage feeling. It also made you feel special that you were the one person he treated this way.

"Wow, such a gentleman," you said with a teasing smile. Before you slid into your seat, you gave him a playful nudge with your elbow.

Logan feigned annoyance, shooting an eye roll your way. "Common date etiquette to open the car door for your lady, sugar." The nickname brought another smile to your face and his comment roused a laugh from you. "You know I love giving you a hard time, Logan." He gave you a 'Yeah, I know,' look as he closed the door to your side and headed to the drivers side.

Getting into the car, he locked the doors and started it. You leaned over across console and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"That's an apology for always making smart-ass comments."

The side of his lips twitched up into what only you knew was his way of smiling with affection. This urged to you to plant a small peck on his lips as well. "And that's for the romantic dinner date."

"Hearing you call me romantic is unusual," Logan quipped back with his signature smirk. God, that witty, lazy smirk always got you. Rolling your eyes, you fastened your seatbelt. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get used it."

He shot another slight, lopsided smile your way before focusing back on the road, reversing the car and leaving the parking lot. You looked out of the window as he drove. The silence in the car was far from an awkward one; it was comfortable. That's how everything was with the two of you. Comfortable.

Though comfortable together as the both of you were, that didn't eliminate the amount of times he surprised you, the amount of times you surprised each other. Always trying new things, showing the other the willingness to explore. It was exciting. Exhilarating, almost.

Ten minutes, down the road, you leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder. A content sigh escaped your lips.

"Tired?"

Glancing up at him, you smiled. Seeing the outline of his jaw beneath his beard, the way that even though his eyes were trained on the road, you knew he still had his attention on you. Just seeing this ignited a familiar warmth in your lower stomach. All you could muster was a slight 'Mhm,' neither denying or agreeing with his question. Lifting your chin a little, you met the crook of his necks with your softly parted lips. You planted several kisses here, listening intently to the audible reaction this got from Logan. A deep, husky sigh left his mouth. Hearing this encouraged you to continue. One of your hands found its way to his chest, tracing circles round and round with your finger, til you began to drag it down to the hem of his shirt, where you were met with the button of his jeans.

To your surprise, one of Logan's hands left the wheel, grabbing your wrist and removing it.

"Don't tease me like that woman," he said in a voice slightly above a whisper, his eyes not once leaving the road. That deep voice, the way he was warning you, made you squirm in your seat.

"Oh yeah?"

What bravery had possessed you tonight, to respond to him with a comment as testing as that?

Since he had released your wrist to get both hands back on the wheel, you returned to where your fingers had just been ripped away from. This time, you let them slip underneath his shirt, drawing a line up and down the trail of hair that lead to the waist of his jeans. You were focused back on his neck, nipping at the skin. You Logan slam on the brakes and make an abrupt right turn. This caused you to sit up and look where he had just pulled off.

Outside the car, your eyes scanned over a parking lot. Deserted of course, as it was late, and pitch black save a few street lights in the distance. Playing clueless, you asked, "Wrong turn, Lo?"

Without a single word, he put the car in park and swiftly got out, not even 5 seconds passing before he was on the passenger side swinging your door open.

"Get out."

That burning feeling quickly reignited between your thighs. Adrenaline pumped through you, excitement bubbling in your chest. You slowly stepped out of the car and watched as he slammed the door behind you. "What are you-" your question was cut short by his lips smashing against yours. You could feel the desperation in his kiss. You felt a sharp canine grazing your bottom lip, earning a small gasp from you. Your hands found their way to his chest and gripped his shirt between your fingers with desire.

That's when he broke the kiss and the contact that you had just made. He slipped behind you and opened the back door. "Get in the back."

"But Logan," you started, glancing out at the road. "What if someone sees us, I mean there are still people out this late, you know."

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't have decided to be a fucking tease 5 minutes ago while I was driving then." His harsh tone raised goosebumps on your arms, somehow turning you on even more. "Now get in the back."

It was a command, and you listened. You crawled into the backseat to where you reached the far side, then turned around with your back pressing against the handle and window of the door. Not a beat passed before Logan was in after you, door slamming shut behind him. The confined space of his car really encapsulated how big he was, how much bigger than you he was.

His hands found their grip on both of your legs and forced them apart. You were wearing a dress, so this action immediately exposed the lacy black thong you had sported for your date tonight. "I should already be fucking the shit out of you for what you just pulled on the road, but I can't resist getting a taste of you first."

His remark sent shivers down your spine and couldn't help but let your legs fall further apart, giving him complete access to what he wanted. In one swift motion, he pushed your dress up to your waist so he could get to work. You swear your heart was about to beat out of your chest. For a second, he just took you in, staring up at you from between your legs. The primal look in his eyes sent a shiver through your body. Even though you knew what was coming, you still let out a gasp of surprise when you felt his lips press against your clit through the sheer fabric of your thong. "Don't act like you didn't know that was coming," he growled, and the vibration of his words against your pussy had you soaked. He snickered at this and used his teeth to grab your panties and slide them off, spitting them out into the floor board.

"Please, I can't wait a second longer Logan," you begged. That was all it took for him to swipe his tongue slowly up your slit, his lips meeting your clit again. He wrapped his mouth around it, sucking gently. This elicited a moan from you. The sound you made while he pleasured you made him crazy and you knew it. This was only further proven when he grabbed your thighs, fingers digging in to your soft skin. There were definitely gonna be bruises from that.

Leaving your clit, he let his tongue swipe up your slit, parting your folds. Just this had you on the verge of an orgasm. He forced his tongue inside of you, fucking you with his mouth. One of his big, veiny hands left your thigh and found your clit, his thumb rubbing circles around it. "Fuck, Logan!," you yelped, your hands making his way to his head, fingers gripping his soft hair. Hearing you say his name like that made him let out a groan against your pussy. His tongue and finger switched places and now he was lapping at your clit, finding a quick, steady rhythm. You felt a finger prodding your entrance. It quickly slipped in, giving how wet he had you.

"You like that sugar?," he asked between licks at your clit.

"Yes, yes! Fuck, yes I like that!"

He somehow quickened his pace, still working at your clit while curling his finger inside you, feeling the walls of your cunt. Your body shook and your back arched up. You let out a long, helpless moan as you felt a knot in your stomach, so tight it was bound to snap at any second. "I'm almost there," you managed to spit out between moans. Your grip in his hair tightened and he let out a sound that could only be described as a growl. "Let go baby, I wanna get you there."

If his touch wasn't enough to make you cum, those words sure were. You threw your head back as you reached your orgasm, close to hitting the window behind you, but you felt Logan's hand fly up behind you, cushioning the blow. You could feel yourself dripping, a mixture of your cum and Logan's spit now a mess on his beard. He placed his finger that was previously inside you into his mouth, sucking off any remnants of your taste.

"You're a fucking mess, you know that?," he remarked with a slight smirk. You grinned back at him, still on a high from your orgasm. "'Cause you make me a mess."

Lust returned quickly to his eyes and he sat up in the seat, beckoning for you to come to him. You slid over, swinging your legs over him so that you were straddling him, face to face. He grabbed the back of your head, pushing your lips against him. You could feel him undoing his pants with his other hand and your pussy started dripping again, just at the thought of what was about to happen. Leaning back from the kiss, you looked down and saw his hard cock, precum leaking from the tip. "God Logan, you're so fucking big."

Your comment made him laugh, almost cockily. "I'm gonna make you wish you hadn't started what you did while I was driving," he growled. Without another word, he guided himself until the tip of his dick was sliding against your cunt, threatening to slip in with how wet you were. You gasped and placed your hands on his shoulders. As you started to lower yourself down on his length, he thrusted his hips upward, each inch of him getting lost in you.

Logan let out a low groan and pushed himself upward, forcing his dick against that sweet spot inside of your pussy. This sudden contact made you moan, letting your head fall against his. He stayed where he was for a second, letting your body accommodate to how big he was. "Move, please Logan. Fuck me."

He snickered and placed his hands on your hips, his familiar strong grip forcing you up on his cock. "Begging me to fuck your pussy now, eh?" Oh, how you loved his ego.

Not a beat passed before he pushed you back down, the tip of his dick hitting that spot again. But this time, he didn't stay still. He began thrusting in and out of you, watching as your pussy consumed every inch of him. His breathing was harsh, almost panting as he increased his speed. You were a moaning, wet mess, wanting to be as close to him as possible. "Harder," you begged. And harder, he did. You could feel the car rocking underneath the two of you. You could feel a second orgasm coming on, your pussy clenching around him as he continued his thrusts.

"Fuck," he groaned, letting your name fall past his lips. That was it. That was what would bring you to your peak. You cried out, feeling yourself cum around him, losing control over yourself. He kept his hands on your hips as his movements became sporadic, indicating his climax was near.

"I want you to cum Lo," you managed to say, a whine in your voice. "Cum inside of me."

"I'm gonna fucking-," he let out a grunt and interrupted himself as he slammed back into your pussy, "fill you up," he finished. You felt his cock twitch and clenched yourself tighter around him. His head fell back against the seat as he let out a long, primal groan, and released himself inside of you. You could feel his cum coating the walls of your pussy, dripping out onto the seat below you. After a few more slow, deep thrusts, he stopped his movement, letting you sink down onto him.

Your head fell against his chest. You could feel him start to get soft inside of you, but all you wanted right now was to be close to him. His hands slid up from your hips to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him so that your body's were crushed against each other. "You look so fucking gorgeous while I'm filling you up with my cum," he whispered into your hair. This brought a flush to your cheeks and you smiled softly.

"We gotta make this car sex more of a thing now."

[retiredteabag]

Choso watching you interact with children

Babysitting with Choso and him getting emotional realizing that his love for you goes deeper than he understands...

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

The two of you had been watching your niece, spending hours together, playing outside, drawing, and making snacks, and now you, Cho, and your niece were watching a cartoon on the television.

Nobody was really paying attention, too focused on the conversation that bounced from your niece's school friends to her hobbies, to her neighbor's pet lizard.

Choso was listening intently, asking questions that made the girl leap on the sofa, eager to tell him more. He never seemed annoyed or bothered by her attention. He was very intentional with his care.

You found yourself staring at him with hearts in your eyes, he was just so good with kids.

“And when I first met him he was this big-“ she brings her palms together, “but now he’s this big!” She dramatically pulls them apart, showing the width of what must have been the world's largest bearded dragon. “But anyway… yeah, I need to go potty!”

You look over, “okay, I can pause the TV, we’ll wait for you.” You offer her a smile and she makes a serious face.

“Good. I like this episode a lot.” She bounds off to the restroom and you chuckle, knowing she wasn’t paying any attention to the show on the screen. You look back to the man at your side and smile.

“Ya know, you’re pretty good with her.” You nudge Choso.

Choso’s love language was words of affirmation, through and through, but you didn’t praise him because you knew this, he truly just had so many good qualities, it would be a crime not to tell him!

He beams, “It’s easy loving people.”

Your heart warms, knowing he was telling the truth. “You’re so good at conversation though, she gets so excited when you're with me. And when you don't come, you're all she wants is to talk about.”

He lights up, “Really? That makes me happy! She's very silly.” He looks at your face intently, "She has so much energy, it reminds me of Yuuji." He plants his palms in his lap as if really considering what he had just said.

The two of you had fallen into a comfortable silence before eventually, you began to hear a repetitive jolting sound.

Frantic rattles were coming from the door of the bathroom and it wasn’t long before you heard a cry of your name.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” You shouted, rushing to the bathroom door, sure the child had somehow locked herself in.

Dramatic weeping came from the inside and you were instantly brought back to a time when you had been stuck inside of an elevator as a kid. The panic you experienced in that moment had been insurmountable as a child.

You jiggle the knob, “Sweetie is it locked?”

But your niece wasn’t hearing you, “I-I can’t ge-t it open!”

“Okay! That’s alright, I’ll get it, don’t worry, honey!” You look around for something to push the lock through to the other side.

Choso was pacing, unsure of what to do, nibbling on his pointer finger. You’ve just pulled a pin from your hair when the child’s wails reached a new height.

“Help me! Help me, please! I’m stuck!”

“Okay, okay, it’s alright, honey, I’ve got it.” You push the pin in the doorknobs hole and punch the lock out of place, immediately twisting the door open.

And within a second your niece is flinging herself into your arms. You kneel to her size and hold her in your grasp. Petting her hair and cooing in her ear.

“It’s okay, see? Nothing to worry about, we were here, you were okay.”

You rock her back and forth, her little shoulders shaking wildly.

“I was s-scared I was gonna be in there for-for forever!”

“Noooo-” you don’t laugh, knowing she truly had been frightened, “No, I wouldn’t let that happen.”

The little girl pulls back with a ridiculous frown, fat tears are in her lash line but she pulls a face and whines, “Only cause my mommy would be super duper mad if you did!”

She tugs you in for a big, tight hug, and is gone in a flash. Sitting before the TV as if nothing had ever happened.

You’re stuck squatting by the bathroom door, aghast at how quickly children move on. Just as you’re making to stand though, Choso kneels to help you up. He’s smiling sweetly but there’s something else in his face, something you haven’t seen before.

The television starts up again and you go to grab Choso's hand, the stress of the moment evaporating but he just squeezes at your touch and mutters something about needing the restroom himself.

You nod and make your way back to the living room, distracted by his odd behavior, but still, you focus your attention on your niece, who was suddenly enthralled with the show she had been ignoring not ten minutes earlier.

It was a while before you realized Cho was still gone. Had he never left the bathroom? What was he doing in there, you wondered.

After such an eventful afternoon, your niece, who had been so captivated by her "favorite show" seemingly dozed off, laying on the couch.

You stretched your legs, stood up, and made your way back to the bathroom, expecting to just check up on Choso when you began to hear sniffles and huffs from behind the door.

Not wanting to wake up the kid, you knock gently with a knuckle, whispering, "Cho, baby, are you alright?".

It was a moment before there was a response, but after hearing a shuffle of feet, the door was creaking open and Choso's tear streaked face came into view.

Seeing him like this sent you into overdrive, "Oh- Baby what is it? Cho, what happened?" Your brain is trying to recall what might have happened to have caused his obvious distress but you're pulling a blank.

He looked as if he was almost getting the words out before a choked sob left him and he was squatting on the floor suddenly. You crouched down to meet him, frantic to understand.

His shoulders were shaking, it broke your heart but as you were patting his shoulders you noticed that his cries sounded a bit different.

"Baby, baby, what's wrong? Can you tell me?" You rubbed on his back, it was just as he was lifting his head that you noticed, his shoulders weren't shaking with cries, but rather, laughter.

He looked at you with a wobbly smile on his lips, his eyes still full of tears and he chuckled. Your dread eased some but you kept your hand on him, rubbing at his arms.

"What?" You smile back, "what is it?"

"I just-" He began, but a bout of air broke out from his lungs. He sucked in a deep breath and sighed, "I just... It was watching you...with her." He points to the living room from his squatted position on the bathroom floor.

"I just realized...how gentle you are, with her and me... and everyone." And his smile wobbled again and more tears broke his waterline.

"Oh, Cho, that's-" You smile at his embarrassed face but he holds up a hand to cut you off.

"I just. I know you're the one for me, I've known forever, but I-I" He huffs a deep breath again, a hand on his heart. "You say I'm so good with kids, but you are too, I just think... I just think we would make a good f-family...".

His voice wavers and the tears are steadily falling now. "Cho," You pat his arm and smooth over his hair, "Cho, it's okay, you're the one for me too. Didn't you know?"

He nods shakily, a wet smile still on his face.

The two of you are still crouched on the bathroom floor, Choso has a drippy face and is looking at you with so much love you could hardly bear it.

You want to scoop him up the way you had with your niece, he is quite a bit larger than the girl so you settle for wrapping yourself around him as tightly as you can.

The two of you stay like that, Cho falling to his knees a bit to get a better angle to hold you. You had been with the man for some time, you had known you loved him as well. But the desire to marry, to be one and start a family, that was new. But the sudden surge of emotion was so new and so present, that you could not ignore how obvious it was that Cho would make the most perfect father.

You both had been so lost in each other's embrace that you didn't hear your niece stomping her way back to the bathroom door before she shouted,

"AH! Did you get trapped inside too?!"

Choso pulled back, shocked at her sudden appearance, he giggled in a happy way. His face morphed gently into his normal demeanor, tuning his neck to look you in the eye, he maintained contact as he brought your palm to his lips, only breaking to look at the child again.

"Yes..." he chucked, "I think I did."

His neck slumps as blood rushes to his ears and he hides the embarrassment.

"It's okay! Now that it's over, we can go finish the show!" She shuffles from foot to foot. It was clear she wanted to make Choso feel better after experiencing something she knew to be scary.

Cho dips his head low and pushes his hips to stand, a bright smile on his face. He never took his hand from yours, tugging you with him from his little emotional hideout in the bathroom as he quietly states,

"Thank you, I'd like that."

You knew Choso could not care less for the story playing on the television but nothing brought him more joy than to see a smile on his loved ones faces. He pulled you along to the living room and when the two of you were seated once more, he leaned his face onto your shoulder, kissing the fabric of your shirt before watching the screen intently.

Of course, he was keen to discuss the episodes happenings with your niece over dinner.

[lizzyiii]

His Lady Love (4)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

taglist | to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC ✨

word count | 4k words

summary | reader becomes lost in her thoughts. viserys dies, discussions with helaena, alicent, and aemond

tags | blood, violence, death, angst/no comfort (cuz no one knows she's a vampire), vampire powers, tensionnnnn, reader lowkey supports rhaenyra's claim, but she loves team green as if they're her family sooooo.

note | REMINDER: reader is just a teenage girl who wants her mommy, but is forced to be a blood-sucking vampire. also I haven't thought about the mikaelsons in a while and I just remembered how finn mikaelson was my favourite. #justiceforfinnmikaelson. he's so overhated for what?!!

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

You were engulfed in confusion—terribly so. Confusion swirled within you like the smoky shadows of the Keep's halls. The unexpected kiss from Prince Aemond echoed in your mind, a fiery spark that ignited a torrent of thoughts as you navigated the labyrinthine passages of Maegor's hidden passageways heading towards Flee Bottom. Cloaked in shadow, you traversed the dimly lit tunnel—one you discovered long ago during the cold, shadowy days of your arrival in King's Landing. But as you slipped through the ancient stone corridors, your thoughts remained anchored to that fleeting moment when Aemond’s lips brushed against yours—intense yet tantalizingly soft.

The kiss was a sudden tempest, and the weight of it left you breathless. His strong, musky scent lingered in the air, a potent reminder of his presence, while his calloused fingers cradled your face with an unusual gentleness. You couldn’t help the unbidden smile that crept across your lips. drawing you further from the gravity of your circumstances. In those fleeting seconds, you felt like a simple girl, unburdened by the Mikaelson curse. You imagined yourself as the heroine of a fable, where a gallant prince would pursue his beloved, proclaiming his devotion before stealing a kiss—precisely as Aemond had done.

As you pressed on, a tavern's raucous laughter and the unmistakable aroma of ale and smoke guided your steps. It loomed ahead, a warm beacon against the chaotic backdrop of Flea Bottom. You pulled back your hood, exposure blossoming as you emerged into the dim light. Almost at once, a rather rotund man stumbled out, his unsteady gait hinting at the heaps of wine he’d consumed inside. Fat and flush, with a beard flecked with remnants of his last meal, he teetered on the brink of inebriation, blissfully unaware of the trap that awaited him. With a bleary gaze, he locked eyes with you, his drunken smirk betraying the more unsavory intentions that lurked beneath his merry facade.

Your heart raced—not with fear, but with mischief. Blood would be spilled tonight, but not yours. You softened your expression into a sweet smile, a mask of angelic innocence that belied your true intentions, as you approached.

His dull gaze sharpened upon your arrival, eyes widening as if you were a vision from the Seven’s very own realms. “You’re a pretty girl,” he slurred, the words tumbling from his lips like the last drops from an overturned flagon.

A soft laugh escaped you, a sound like wind chimes in a summer haze. “Am I?” you replied, your voice playful and melodious,.

The man nodded with fervor, his expression blissfully captivated. Beneath the dim lantern light, you could see the way his thoughts scrambled like rats, floundering beneath the weight of both drink and desire. With a teasing tilt of your head, you gestured toward a shadowy alleyway not far from the tavern's entrance. “Why don't you show me how pretty I am?” you beckoned, your tone flirtatious.

His swollen features broke into a foolish, drunken grin as he stumbled forward, entranced, unaware of the peril that followed too closely in your wake. Such was the way of men like him—lost beyond recovery in the coils of their own indulgences, ripe for the taking beneath the watchful eyes of gods indifferent to their fate.

As you entered the narrow alleyway, the shadows seemed to swell around you, encasing you in an ominous embrace. Before you could even turn around, the man's grimy hands, reeking of sour wine and desperation, were upon you, grasping and pawing at your garments.

A wave of revulsion threatened to rise within you, yet you steeled your resolve. Summoning your vampiric strength, with a swift motion, you shoved him hard against the damp stone wall, his body slumping in surprise.

He let out a raucous laugh, the sound echoing off the walls like a jester’s overplayed jest. You grimaced at the foulness of his breath, the acrid scent assailing your senses. “Oh, you’re a strong girl, are you?” he slurred, a foolish grin plastered across his round face.

“Indeed,” you replied, your voice laced with disinterest. Your gaze sharpened, intensity pooling in your crimson irises as you began to weave the threads of your compulsion. “Be silent and remain still.”

With each word, you could feel his will wavering, his body succumbing to your command as his laughter turned into a slack-jawed stupor. The stench of his unwashed skin assailed your nostrils, but it barely registered now as your fangs elongated, sharp and glistening in the hopeless half-light of the alley.

Leaning in close, you felt the rush of your animalistic urges surge through you as your fangs pierced the delicate flesh of his neck, finding the pulsing artery with ease. The man whimpered, his feeble sounds mingling with the night air, yet he made no effort to resist; he was a mere vessel now, a source of sustenance for your insatiable thirst. The bitter warmth of his blood coursed down your throat, igniting a mix of satisfaction and despair.

As you fed, your mind wandered unbidden to Aemond—the fleeting memory of the kiss you had shared igniting a spark of longing that warred with your harsh reality. In that moment, the illusion of being a normal maiden, one capable of love and tenderness, faded into the dark abyss of your existence. The truth clawed at you like a ravenous beast; you were a creature of the night, bound by a thirst that rendered your dreams of affection but a distant whisper.

A wave of sorrow crashed over you, its weight pressing heavy upon your heart. Tears pricked at your eyes, blurring your vision as despair settled deep within your soul. In a fit of anguish, you tore your fangs from his flesh, the act frenzied and primal, as you ripped through his throat. A sob escaped your lips, raw and aching, as you stepped back and allowed the lifeless form to crumple to the ground. Blood smeared across your jaw, a grotesque mark of your nature, but your thoughts strayed not to the corpse before you.

How cruelly fate had woven your path; Aemond, with his fierce spirit and brooding whispers, was a world beyond your grasp. Yet every stolen glance, every shared moment between you only served to deepen the agonizing contrast of your reality. You cast the dead man one last glance, his stillness a haunting reminder of your actions, before turning your back on the grim tableau. As you made your way back towards the Keep, you felt a solitary tear trace a path down your cheek—one more sign of your unfulfilled yearning, echoing in the vast silence of the night.

As you crossed the threshold into your chambers, the heavy atmosphere of despair clung tightly to your spirit. You searched for a damp cloth to cleanse yourself—tinged with the vivid crimson remnants of the blood you had once savored, now leaving a bitter taste in the pit of your stomach. Though the vampiric curse bestowed upon you allowed for days without rest, weariness prevailed, drawing you like a shadow toward your bed.

You felt the weight of your heart, heavy with sorrow and longing for the comfort of sleep—a refuge where you could escape the chains of your reality. Tomorrow, the court would buzz with intrigue and whispers, but you doubted you would leave your chambers. In those fleeting moments between wakefulness and dreams, perhaps you could imagine yourself as someone else—a maiden free of bloodlust, pure and deserving of Aemond's fierce devotion. In those dreams, you could be free. In those dreams, you would be whole.

As the lingering echoes of the previous night's woes finally faded, you stirred, your senses slowly awakening from a slumber that felt both unearthly and heavy with dreams. With a deep sigh, you pushed your head from the pillow, blinking against the fading light that spilled through the window. The sun had dipped lower on the horizon, casting shadows that danced across the stone walls of your chamber—a stark reminder that you had now squandered the day sleeping away.

With a reluctant grace, you rose from the silken sheets that embraced you, and wrung your hands through your tresses, managing to tame the wild locks that had battled against the weight of sleep. Yet, as you got dressed, a sense of urgency gnawed at you. You drew closer to the heavy oak door, intent on rejoining the world beyond its threshold. However, your fingers merely grazed the handle to reveal that it was stubbornly sealed.

Furrowing your brow in irritation, you exerted a bit more force, pulling at the handle, only to find it locked. A huff escaped your lips, and with a determined glare directed at the obstinate barrier, you pressed your hands against the frame, using your strength and pushed. The wood shuddered against your might, yielding at last, the door swinging open with a reluctant creak that echoed through the silence of the guest wing.

When you stepped into the hallway, an unsettling quiet enveloped you, the stillness stretching like an unseen net. You advanced cautiously, each footfall a reminder that something was amiss. Yet, you dismissed the haunting unease that prickled at your skin, shaking off the chill while you made your way forward, resolute in your purpose, as you sought Helaena’s chambers.

The atmosphere in Helaena’s solar was suffused with the same unsettling. The last rays of sunlight filtered weakly through the stained glass, casting muted colors that danced across the flagstones, but they did little to dispel the heaviness of the atmosphere. Helaena, draped in a gown of pale blue, sat by the window, her gaze lost in the distance, and her delicate embroidery forgotten on the chaise, threads of gold and silver glimmering like fleeting memories.

“Princess,” you ventured softly, stepping closer, your voice barely a whisper against the weight of the silence.

She turned slowly, her features—usually serene—now marred by a deep frown that spoke of profound grief. “Where were you?” Helaena’s voice, though devoid of accusation, dripped with a melancholy that made your heart ache.

“Confined in my chambers,” you replied, concern creasing your brow.

Her eyes drifted downcast, fingers twisting nervously together like the tangled threads of her abandoned work. “I am queen now,” she murmured.

Confusion washed over you, a furrow forming between your brows. “I don’t understand.”

“Father died last night,” she revealed, her voice hollow, as if she were reciting a grim tale rather than sharing a wound that plunged deep into the heart of House Targaryen. “Aegon’s coronation took place at midday.”

“Oh,” was all you managed, the weight of her words pressing down upon you like a winter frost.

You had never anticipated this so soon; the insatiable hunger for the Iron Throne had prompted a brutal and ruthless usurpation. The whispers of civil war—so distant and abstract until now—had materialized into a bitter reality. You settled beside her, the familiar warmth of your presence a fragile comfort amidst the tempest of her sorrow. Gently, you took one of Helaena’s hands in yours, your fingers intertwining. She squeezed your hand tightly, her grip a silent plea for strength, and you could feel the tremors of her despair ripple through the fragile connection that bound you together.

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, casting shadows across the Red Keep when you at last emerged from Helaena’s chambers. The weight of her weariness had pulled her into a restless slumber, leaving you with a restless heart. You meandered through the stone corridors, each echoing step leading you toward the chambers of the one whose counsel you desperately sought. Upon reaching the heavy oak door, you knocked gently, and a faint voice called from within, "Enter."

Pushing the door open, you stepped into the dimly lit chamber. The flickering flames of the hearth danced, casting a warm glow that played across the fine tapestries adorning the walls. Your eyes settled on the figure seated by the fire—The Queen, though perhaps now, the dowager Queen.

"Your Grace," you greeted, your voice laced with reverence.

Alicent turned, the light catching her features, her once bright eyes now shadowed with the weight of loss and duty. The depths of her large brown irises seemed to brighten with a flicker of comfort at your arrival, but the sorrow was unmistakable as she murmured your name. "I apologize for the constraints placed upon you. My father thought it best that all liege lords and ladies be confined to their chambers in light of recent events."

You nodded, empathy swelling in your chest as you took a seat beside her. "Helaena shared with me the tale of what transpired," you began cautiously, your gaze intent upon the queen's weary expression.

Alicent sighed, the sound heavy with grief. "The King," she spoke, pain sweeping over her like an ominous fog, “he spoke of Aegon, he named him as heir in his final moments.”

Your heart tightened at her words; skepticism gnawed at the edges of your mind. Could it truly be? "Yet, Your Grace," you ventured, a hint of disbelief coloring your tone, "the King had twenty-two years to declare Aegon as his rightful heir."

Alicent turned her gaze back to the fire, the flickering flames casting an ephemeral glow upon her face. The warmth that once radiated from her presence seemed dimmed, replaced with an aura of fragility. She drew a shaky breath. "Perhaps it is not a matter of time, but of choice," she murmured, her words weaving through the shadows of the room, "In that moment of despair, he grasped for certainty amidst the chaos.”

Certainty which embodied the drunken Aegon? A skeptical expression crossed your features, yet the desperation in the Queen’s gaze expressed to you that it was indeed the truth to her. Despite her conviction, you found yourself unable to fully surrender to her narrative. "Then why did Aegon’s coronation happen so quickly?" you challenged, the words falling from your lips like shards of ice.

For this, the Queen faltered. Her eyes slipped away, a slow shake of her head revealing the anguish that resided within. "If Rhaenyra were to ascend the throne, the lives of Aegon, Helaena, Aemond and Daeron would be forever in danger," she murmured, the words laced with the indoctrination of Otto Hightower.

You held a quiet disbelief in your heart. Rhaenyra, with her fierce spirit and benevolence, would not turn her blades against her half-siblings without provocation. Still, you understood the origins of Alicent’s dread. After all, Rhaenyra was married to Daemon, who was likely to see the children of Alicent as forever living threats to his wife's claim. Still, all thoughts of treachery were now ghosts in the face of Aegon's coronation.

“Will you accompany me to the Sept on the morrow?” Alicent's voice broke the silence, a quiet plea wrapped in a veil of vulnerability.

In that moment, you were swept away by a tidal wave of longing for your own mother. Before you embraced the demonic creature you had become, your mother had nurtured you with a love akin to that of a fallen star gracing the Earth. Now, you found solace in the fragile figure of Alicent Hightower, clinging to her presence as though she might fill the void left by your lost mother. With a gentle nod, you covered her slender hand with your own, "Of course, your grace."

The dawn’s light seeped hesitantly through the thick drapery of your chamber, casting a muted hue across the stone walls of the Red Keep. You stirred from restless dreams, where shadows danced ominously on the precipice of war. A chill licked the air, as if the very stones of Westeros mourned the blood that would soon be spilled. With a sense of foreboding, you rose before the sun had fully chased away the darkness.

Slowly, you donned a gown of soft lilac, the fabric whispering against your skin like the breeze that crept through the narrow window. You painstakingly braided your hair, arranging it delicately. Each movement was imbued with both purpose and trepidation, a ritual that anchored you amidst the chaos that brewed beyond the castle walls.

Before the winds of fate had cast you adrift in Westeros, you had known nothing of faith; the Norse gods of your childhood were mere tales spun by your parents, who were as skeptical of the divine as they were of the world outside their doors. In your past life, the gods felt distant, ethereal, and removed from the fervor of humanity. Yet here, in the heart of Westeros, how the world spun differently.

But within the regal presence of Queen Alicent, whose strength and grace reminded you of a lioness guarding her young, your skepticism began to erode. She embodied the devotion of the faith you had once dismissed; her prayers were filled with fervor as she sought to protect her kin and forge alliances among the houses of Westeros. In her company, you found solace in the faith of the Seven. To kneel before the Mother’s statue, adorned with offerings, was to partake in a ritual that tethered you to something greater, something almost palpable

You found solace in the quiet prayer sessions held in the Grand Sept, the flickering candles casting gentle silhouettes that danced like restless spirits against the stone. In the embrace of the faith, you discovered understanding of why mortals have always turned to religion: it was a way to combat the loneliness that often shrouded their hearts, a mechanism to find purpose and justification in their actions. Your fervent prayers often echoed the same request: a plea for safety—not only for the Targaryens, whose fates now intertwined with yours, but for the family you had left behind.

You prayed fervently for the Gods to soften Niklaus’ heart and lessen his wrath. You implored them to instill in Elijah the profound love he often failed to bestow upon himself. For Rebekah, you sought kindness; you yearned for her to see you not as competition, but her cherished sister. You called upon the heavens to grant Kol wisdom, challenging his rampant bloodlust that often clouded his judgment. And for your gentle Finn, trapped in the dark confines of a coffin wrought by Niklaus’s cruelty, you begged for respite—an end to his suffering and a chance to embrace his freedom at last. Your prayers extended toward your youngest brother, Hendrik, and for your beloved mother as well, who now resided among the stars in Heaven.

And even sometimes with a heavy heart, you whispered prayers for your father as well, pleading for mercy in the depths of his obsession, hoping that perhaps one day, he might find forgiveness before it consumed all the Mikaelsons.

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a knock at your chamber door. Puzzled, you rose from your vanity, the delicate scent of jasmine lingering in the air around you. As you approached the door and opened it, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of Aemond standing there, his presence a commanding force. In that fleeting moment, your mind drifted back to the night years ago when a thirteen-year-old, tousled Aemond had appeared before you—so innocent, so unrefined. But now, the boy had transformed into a striking man, confidence radiating from him.

Time seemed to stretch as the two of you locked eyes, an unspoken weight hovering between you, memories of the kiss you shared two nights prior flooding your thoughts.

“May I come in?” he asked, shattering the spell that had enveloped you both. You nodded, albeit with a hint of hesitation, stepping aside to let him enter. His musky scent enveloped you, a wild and intoxicating aroma that stirred something deep within.

With a small pout lingering on your lips, you inquired, “What brings you here?”

“I came to see how you were faring,” he replied, standing awkwardly in the center of your dimly lit chamber, like the sun caught in the shadows.

You huffed softly, wrapping your arms around yourself, a protective gesture that belied your ancient nature. It was strange—centuries of existence coursing through your veins, a vampire of untold ages; yet here, in the presence of Aemond, you felt like a naïve girl enchanted by the shadows that danced between you.

You spoke with a raw honesty that felt both freeing and heavy, “I’ll confess,” you replied, your voice tinged with frustration, “I’m both surprised and vexed to find myself confined to this chamber all day, only to emerge and learn that the King is dead and Aegon has claimed the throne.” A sigh escaped your lips as you cast your gaze to the side, memories of your family washing over you like a forgotten tide. “I was always the last to know in my family as well."

Aemond stepped closer, a teasing smirk finding his lips, clearly amused by your candidness laced with sass. “I must take my leave shortly to secure Borros Baratheon’s allegiance,” he stated, his voice filled with formality, yet laced with something unspoken.

Your eyes locked onto his striking violet one, and you arched an eyebrow, “So?”

“In exchange for his support, the council has arranged my marriage to one of his daughters,” he murmured, letting the words hang between you like a dark omen, scrutinizing your reaction with utmost care.

"Oh," in that moment, it felt as if your heart had splintered into countless shards. You forced a nod, turning away to shield the tempest of emotions brewing within you, striving for a façade of indifference, “Such is your duty, then.”

“It is,” he admitted, positioning himself directly in front of you, a palpable intensity radiating from his presence. Yet, you continued to avoid his gaze, perhaps in a desperate bid to escape this reality. And as you remained steadfast in your gaze away from him, he added softly, “But when I arrive there, it is Daeron’s hand I intend to offer instead.”

Your heart raced at his declaration, the pulse quickening against the cage of your ribs, yet you still refused to meet look at him, “Why?” you whispered, the question barely escaping your lips.

Aemond softened his stance, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he guided your face to meet his gaze. “Look at me, sweet girl,” he implored, his voice now a low, fervent whisper, compelling you to meet the intensity of his unwavering stare. “Because the only woman in this realm that I wish to call my own is you.”

Pain flashed in your heart, a flood of emotions crashing over you as you furrowed your brows, your voice trembling with uncertainty. “Aemond…”

He leaned closer, placing a gentle kiss upon your forehead, a benediction of sorts. “We will discuss this further upon my return,” he murmured, his breath warming your skin.

With that, he turned away, departing into the shadows that awaited him beyond the door. Alone, you pressed your palms to your mouth, constricting a gut-wrenching sob that echoed in the hollow silence of your chamber, a lament for the hope that quickly flickered out like a dying candle.

next up, Aemond coming back from Storms End

@barnes70stark @izabell26 @urdeftonesgrrrl @helo1281917 @strangefunthornqueen @hueanhdang @elenapri0502 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @caged-birdies-blog @lenavonswartzschild @writtenbyhollywood @gl4ssw1ngp1xy @goddesslilithmoriarty @filmflux @esposadomd @littybeech

[theplumsoldier]

sore loser

summary: the scales of your rivalry with joel miller tips in his favor as he calls out your mistake and you end up a loser. the classic "you hate your partner but fucks him anyway"

pairing: mean!joel miller x afab!reader

warnings: 18+ please and thank you, hate sex, rough vaginal sex, spitting, slapping, choking, fingering, squirting, sloppy/rough blow job, degradation, age-gap, begging, biting, mean!joel, forced orgasm & multiple orgasms, tasting joel's blood?? no aftercare please let me know if i missed anything!! (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

You hated everything about him. You hated the way he looked, the way he spoke, and the way he walked. You hated how he was always confident, how he was always right, and the fact that he always knew which buttons to push. You hated how he was a better shooter than you, how he was better at finding supplies than you, and how he was better at tracking than you. You hated his salt-and-pepper beard, the curls in his hair, and his sun-kissed skin. You hated his brown eyes, his deep voice, and his large hands. You hated how he treated you like a child, how he called you "kid", and how he looked after you.

Most of all, right now, you hated that he shot the clicker before you managed to put a knife to its skull, how he made it look like you couldn't save yourself. He took the win and he got the point.

It was a game and you were losing this battle for dominance, and you hated losing to Joel Miller.

You had been biting your tongue so damn hard to keep yourself from stooping down on his level and the taste of blood lingered in your mouth for about 4 minutes before the last straw had been drawn.

Joel just couldn't stop himself from being an ass and work in yet another one of his snarky remarks.

"Get over yourself, Miller. I had it handled," you grumbled.

"Sure looked like it," he retorted sarcastically, making scattering noises as he dug through a crate in the warehouse.

The way he didn't even bother looking at you only made you more furious. "How the fuck do you think I survived this long on my own, huh? I've been—"

"Ask myself that every time I save your ass," he interrupted mockingly.

Your blood was boiling in your veins. He felt so fucking superior and it was driving you insane. You knew your worth, but for some reason, you had this crippling urge to prove yourself.

"Somebody needs to knock you off your fucking horse, Miller."

Joel chuckled grimly. "S'that right, sweetheart? Wanna give it a go?"

His infuriating words made you stand to your feet, and frankly, it excited Joel to see you acting like you might just do something about it.

With a groan he got up himself, easily towering over you. You swallowed harshly, jaw clenched.

Joel's face was set in a firm expression, dark eyes analyzing your face to predict your next move. It was a face-off.

There was a subtle smirk and you wanted to wipe it off so badly. This was entertaining to him—a challenge he joined, a game he played just for the kick of it.

You couldn't win a fight against him, you were smart enough to recognize that fact (at least for now). So you breathed out, your nervousness drawing out a shaky laugh.

"I hate you," you spat and turned around, sure you'd only dig a deeper hole for yourself if you looked at him any longer.

"That what you tell yourself when you dip your little fingers down between your legs?" he wondered aloud, not even testing the waters but diving head first into the lake of all your buttons that he planned to push: "Don't think I don't hear you moaning my name when you get off in the night."

Your eyes went wide and shame colored your cheeks pink. You hoped he wouldn't notice as your eyes shot daggers, completely dumbfounded, hoped your anger had already made your face red. You were at a loss for words, completely and utterly embarrassed.

The mixture of emotions compiled a message to your brain for you, and before you had a chance to regret it, you lashed out. Your hand stopped clenching and raised to deliver a well-deserved proper bitch-slap, but Joel caught your wrist. It all happened quickly, and it felt like you were watching on rather than being forced back against the wall, arms suspended against the cool and rough cement in his grasp.

Joel's head cocked, eyes blazing down at you. "You wanna try that again, sweetheart?"

The sudden close proximity made you involuntarily grind your hips forward.

"So that's what all this s'about, huh? You’ve been givin' me that bratty attitude 'cause ya got your panties in a twist?"

"Fuck you!" you snapped, the words seething through your grit teeth, leaving a bad aftertaste on your tongue.

"But that's what you want, innit sweetheart? Goin' around acting like I'm the devil's spawn, but really you just want a good fucking, yeah?"

You hated how he was always right.

Your arms strained in his grasp, writhing to get loose though the heat pooling between your legs protested. You enjoyed having him this close. You could smell him, see him.

"You're so fucking full of yourself, Miller," you snarled but had stopped trying to fight off his grip.

Joel chuckled down at you, tutting: "F’you wanna be full o' me, too, darlin', all you gotta do is ask nicely."

There was no fucking way he was actually offering to fuck you. It had to be a dream. A nightmare. But it wasn't. And he was offering exactly that, you realized as his head tilted. He was dead serious.

You knew it wasn't out of the good of his heart, so he must be wanting this, too. And if he needed it as much as you did, you were going to make him work for it.

You ground your hips into his again, this time very much on purpose.

"Tell me you don't want to bend me over right now, Miller," you leaned forward and whispered in his ear, letting your lips graze the soft flesh of his neck. His cock was hard against your cunt and he didn't do a thing to push you away. "Tell me you haven't just been dying to try out this tight pussy. An old man like you can't have had a proper fuck in ages."

He laughed. "Swallow your pride, sweetheart. You've never even been with a real man before, have ya? Always waltzin' around in your short skirts at the Byson, whoring yourself out for attention from those boys."

"Knew you'd been checking me out," you smirked, the movements of your hips now a consistent grind against him. "But you're right. And those boys can't help, they dunno how to handle me."

"I don't do charities, darlin'. F’you want me to fuck that shitty attitude out of ya, you're gonna have to prove yourself."

This time around, Joel pushed his clothed cock against your pussy and you knew what he wanted.

You wriggled your hands, inching closer to his face but never letting your skin touch. "Kinda difficult to get on my knees when you’re holding me like this, innit?"

Joel let go only to force you down on the ground, but you didn't protest. You had lost all filters, all of your arrogance as you were faced with his cock prodding at the zipper of his jeans.

Looking up as you eagerly undid his belt, you were pleased to see him inhaling deeply, proudly as he looked down on you. You pulled the zipper down, and your breath hitched as his cock saluted. He wasn't wearing underwear.

His cock was thicker than you had imagined, girthier than what you had felt while fingering yourself that night which he had so mockingly reminded you of. Long with a slight curve and a purple mushroom head unscathed. A drop of pre-cum covered the slit and you imagined it was crying for you.

"You gonna put that bratty little mouth to good use or do I gotta do that for you, too?"

Instinctively you glared up at him, giving him a look but it was washed away a second later as he took charge.

Grabbing a fistful of your hair, Joel forced you onto his cock, not giving you a second to wet your lips or spit on it. Harshly pushing you down on his cock, you found that it wasn't needed, there was plenty of saliva in your mouth to lubricate him. A whimper left you when his head hit the back of your mouth, your throat automatically constricting at the sudden intrusion. You felt your cunt mimic the reaction and clenched around nothing.

Joel was heavy in your mouth, the thickness making you worry the back row of your teeth would scrape him. If they did he didn't care, for when you looked up at him through teary eyes he was unconcerned.

He forcefully prodded against your throat, slipping in just enough to push further and you gagged.

Joel inhaled sharply. "S'a tight little throat you got there. Guess you haven't been whoring around as much as I thought," he chuckled, holding your face pressed firmly against him, your nose nuzzled in the patch of curls.

He held you there for a couple of seconds, allowing your throat to get adjusted despite acting seemingly careless about how you felt. A moment later he pulled you off by your hair, and you gasped hoarsely, blinking up at him through the tears slowly blurring your vision.

Hovering over you, Joel cupped your cheeks and lifted you slightly, bending down as he did. For a second you thought he was going to kiss you, but his fingers dug into your face, forcing your mouth open for him and he spat on your tongue, an obscene look on his face.

"Eyes on the price, sweetheart," he chuckled and landed you back on your knees.

With his hand holding you tightly by a makeshift ponytail, Joel pushed his cock back into your mouth and without warning, set a brutal pace sure to give you a headache. As slick gathered between your legs, a migraine was the least of your worries. You snaked a hand between your legs to relieve the tingling strain.

The breaths you were granted came in between the thrusts and you squeezed your eyes shut, feeling dizzy, prompting him to yank at your hair.

"Look at me," he grunted coarsely, voice going straight to your sex and you ground down hard on your hand, gasping for air. Joel admired your puffy lips, smeared with saliva, strings of drool connecting your mouth to the tip of his cock. "You look like a fuckin' mess, sweetheart. This what you been thinkin' about, hm? Been thinking 'bout acting like a little slut f'me, huh?"

His degrading words fueled your fire, both making you want to bite back at him and make him come down your throat. Opting for the latter, you tried to take him back in your mouth, wanting to put your adjusted throat to good use, but he yanked you back. A whimper left your lips and he slapped your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

"F'you know what's good for you, you'll answer when I ask you a question."

Wet and needy, you didn't hesitate. "Yes! Yes, Joel," you cried, one hand on his hip for purchase, the other hid between your legs, fervently toying with your clit. "Wanted you to treat me like a whore! Wa—wanted you to fuck me stupid!"

That's when he noticed your hand between your legs, eagerly seeking out friction. His brows connected in a crease of anger, and he had you on your wobbly legs one moment and hurled you onto a dirty surface the next.

"The fuck you think you're doin', huh? Touching yourself without permission?" Joel growled and for the first time his disappointment got to you.

He held you by your throat and you could feel the calluses in his palm scrape your skin.

"M'sorry—couldn't help myself," you babbled feverishly as he shoved a hand down your undone pants, feeling just what you had been so disrespectful to touch.

A guttural moan escaped him and you could have died just then, knowing you did that to him.

"Christ, sweetheart. You got this wet from chokin' on my cock, huh?" he mused absent-minded and you couldn't decide which you liked more; Joel calling you "sweetheart" or— "such a fuckin' slut.”

You were startled but thankful when he pulled down your jeans in one swift movement, exposing you to the cold air in the warehouse.

He didn't give you a warning before he plunged two fingers into your cunt, curling them against the velvety roof of your wet cave. Clawing onto his shoulder with a gasp of surprise, you instinctively tried to lift yourself and relieve the overwhelmingly intense feeling.

"Where you goin', sweetheart? This not what you wanted?" You desperately wanted to slap the grin off of his face, but he had you completely wrapped around his finger. Literally and figuratively. "Didn't you wanna be used like a little slut, hm?"

"Please," you begged, drawing the word out with a rugged moan and clutching to his shoulders. "Ff—uck!"

He fingered you at an unforgiving pace, three fingers and his palm slapping against your cunt each time. The squelches from your pussy resonated off the bare walls and if you hadn't been so focused on the pain mixing with pleasure, you would have been ashamed Joel was the one making you this wet.

"Joel!" you cried, tugging at the front of his shirt. "Plea-please! Need your cock!"

He choked you with his unoccupied hand, forcing your face inches from his. "Quit whinin' or I'll leave you 'ere," he threatened.

You looked up at him through hooded eyes, unable to comprehend your increasing lust for him from being this close. Joel's breath was hot on your face, breathing his air, you became dizzy from a mix of him and your impending orgasm.

"That's right, sweetheart, cream all o'er my fingers," he beckoned, feeling your contracting walls squeeze his fingers. Your legs were trembling, wanton moans spilling from your lips as Joel pulled an orgasm from you.

You incoherently begged him to fill you up, wanting nothing more than to milk his thick cock, but when he caught sight of your pleading eyes, he applied pressure to your clit instead. It was sore from the heel of his palm having slapped it repeatedly and it made you unable to come down from your high properly.

Your legs spasmed as his torturous fingers brutally skirted across your bundle of nerves. Before you could process what happened, a gush of pleasure sprayed from you.

Your cheeks flushed pink, realizing Joel had just made you squirt. You had never done that before, and you looked at him with an expression of surprise mixed with confusion. He looked proud.

Joel groaned as he stroked his throbbed cock, smearing the precum over the head while his other hand pushed down hard on your belly, holding you just at the edge of the table.

Stammering his name, your attempt at any sort of coherent sentence was foiled as he slid his girthy cock into your cunt.

Your eyes fluttered shut, walls clenching around him. You had never felt so full. "Joel—" you shuddered, gripping his bicep for purchase.

A string of curses left his lips, a crease knitting his brows together in concentration. "Fuckin' hell, sweetheart, s'a tight lil' hole ya got 'ere."

Joel wanted to take a moment just then, revel in the sweet clench of your pussy, catch his breath but he knew you would notice. As much as he had a hidden desire to ruin every other man for you and have you tail him like a lost puppy, he refused to acknowledge how overdue this was.

He didn't give you another second to adjust before he rocked his hips back and slammed his cock back into you. If you thought his fingers hit a spot, his cock fucking destroyed that.

You couldn't even form moans properly as his hips rutted at a bruising pace, expertly molding your cunt to fit him. His face contorted and he grumbled something under his breath, but you didn't care to ponder what as he filled you up. You were still dazed from the previous orgasms and it was like he wouldn't allow you to come down. Your ragged breaths, his grunts, and the wanton sounds of skin slapping filled your head as you soared around on cloud nine.

A large hand snuck under your shirt, the calluses on his palm rough against your skin but you loved the feeling as he squeezed your breast, thumb and index pinching your nipple.

Your knuckles turned pale from clutching down hard on his shoulders, fingernails clawing indents at the exposed skin on his neck and collar.

You hoped the crescents would outlast this moment, that Joel would curse at the sight the next time he looked in a mirror. You hoped he wouldn't be able to get this moment out of his head then, not ever, thinking back to this moment whenever he would see the scars you left on him.

A hiss escaped you and tore the thought of making your mark out of your mind. His deft fingers were rubbing your sore clit once again.

There was determination on his face and animalistic hunger in his dark eyes—he looked as if there was no getting through to him, like he was stuck in a world of his own.

Whether he insisted on drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you for your pleasure or his ego, you did not know. Joel always had something to prove—to himself or the people around him, it was another thing about him you didn't know. In this moment, as he chased every high for you, you didn't care either.

You hated him for making you feel this good. Hated him for making you moan in pleasure, hated him for making your legs shake uncontrollably. You wanted to taunt him, crack a spiteful comment about his age or something, let him know he wasn't doing as well as he thought—but he was. You could lie, but your body would betray you.

There was no snide comment left in you as Joel's hips pistoned into yours. It felt too good. He felt too good.

"S'too much," you gasped and held onto his shoulder, not pushing him away but not pulling him any closer either. "I can't."

The pressure on your clit was too much. The frantic rubbing, the harsh pads of his fingers, mixing pleasure with pain in the most unforgiving way. It hurt too good to want to stop him, though.

Joel surprised you, pressing his forehead against yours. His eyes were heavy, and his jaw was slack, the blissful expression ruined by a smug chuckle.

"You can. C'mon, sweetheart, I believe in you," he tutted like one would to a child riding a bike for the first time.

It spurred something inside you, the degradation. Your hooded, watery eyes caught sight of his plump lip through the blur and without a second thought, you lunged forward and bit it, your teeth piercing the soft skin.

It was the closest thing you would get to feeling them, you knew it, and you weren't about to beg for a taste.

A slap landed on your cheek, sharp and stinging, but he kept his hand there on the side of your face, cupping it in an almost endearing way.

Joel hissed at the taste of blood—surprised but not disgusted. The hand cupping your face in the sweetest way turned to force your mouth open, and you grinned bitterly when he spat on your tongue, tasting his blood.

His thrusts became more frantic, the pad of his thumb sloppily skipping over your clit as he draws your pleasure out. Forcing you to look into his eyes while you come around his cock, Joel's too far gone watching you to notice the way his balls tightened.

"Fuck—"

Slick with your juices Joel slips out of your clenching pussy, jerking his cock a few pumps as he hisses, strings of milky sperm decorating your abdomen.

Your heavy breaths hang in the room like thick syrup, bodies sticky, tension at a maximum as the lust turns back to hatred.

Joel moves from you with a grunt, a sly smirk on his lip as he moves his gaze from the mess on your stomach to your eyes. He leaves you to clean yourself up and tucks his softening cock into his pants, the zipper resounding comically loud through the silence. It reminds you of a secret between children, zipping your lips close as a solemn pledge.

It was over and it would never be brought up again. As you did your best to clean up, get back into your clothes, and comb your fingers through your hair, your eyes were trained on Joel's back—if eyes could kill and all that.

At once, you were back to hating one another. You hoped your nails had dug deep enough into his shoulder, hard enough to leave scars.

[bear-remn]

I am ON MY KNEES, frothing at the mouth for Ayato's post! Keep up the great work!! Loved reading through em all! ♡

— ayato headcanons!

hiii, ty for waiting, ayato is one of my favorites boys in DL so i hope the love is serving, hoping you guys enjoy this post as much as i did writing it!!

tw: this post contains nsfw (+18)!!! if you don't like that content don't read it!

i had such a great time drawing this beautiful man, i really love him so i hope you guys love him as much as i do.

his looks and selfcare

so, ayato appearence... i love this man... cof cof one of my favorites cof cof... so i have a lot of thoughts on him.

to begin with i think ayato is a very, and i mean it, a very attractive man with a masculine presence and aura that makes me weak. for starting ayato is really cute and hot at the same time, and i am only talking about his face.

i think ayato face has a sharp jaw, and his smile is really a plus to his faction's, cute and both handsome at the same time, his eyes are'nt too slanted but has a very cat eye looking, has some long lashes and his gaze is very energetic, powerful, penetrating, dominant and cocky. so he has a killer eyes basically.

i like to think ayato has only one dimple, on his left cheek, it only appears when he smiles or laughs. and ayato has such a cute laugh.

but ayato face even if he has a very strong jaw, he still have a delicate and armonic face, he is a real beauty.

and bc ayato is a vampire he does'nt sweat, any, so does'nt really smell bad, but he does enjoy taking his showers, he prefers showers than baths, and it has to be a hot boiling water, he likes to relax while he cleans himself, ayato uses a scrub sponge to achieve an even greater sense of cleanliness, use a exfoliating soap and his shampoo is made of honey. he likes that smell a lot.

ayato also has a very atlethic body, he likes sports a lot! he began with the basic ones, such as basketball and soccer, but then became interested in swimming, ayato enjoys having this one in the comfort of his home.

i think ayato body is very... good, like bc he is good at sports, has some good muscles, his arms are cozy and his chest too, i love to think of ayato with big pectorals, and his abs??? omg... ayato also has a good and pominent v line, and as shu, ayato also has a (not so bushy) happy trail, i like to think that ayato is not againts his own body hair, he trims it sometimes but ayato just let his body be.

i think ayato knows how attractive he is, so he uses that to pick his clothes, like he is totally into compression shirts, dear lord. also he has a comfy but tight style, like to show his pectorals, abs and strong arms always so he puts tight fits, also likes jackets, i mean, those jackests racers use, or universal ones, or just showy and flashy jackets. very expensive too, dont like dupe's.

and i think that ayato used tio bite his nails, but since the death of his mother he stopped this, now, ayato paints them in black, not always tho, just when he is too bored and look for too long at his nails.

i think ayato also can grow a beard but he feels strange, so he shave it off, and after it he puts sunscreen only where he shaves. one time he did'nt and some acne pop out so he got scared since.

random stuff

so, ayato is really my favorite with these ones.

i think ayato is one of the most clingy and romantic one, probably bc he can't keep his hands, eyes and mouth off you but thats for later.

ayato enjoys, like really, loves romantic movies, he has seen every each one of them, really likes when the couple dont get together at the end, he thinks that is real love but he would never let his lover go.

i think ayato has win like medals of his favorites sports, except for soccer, he is'nt the runner type. and has a little shelf of trophies.

and even if ayato sleep in classes, i think he knows everyting bc how many years has he been in there? like a vampire for ever? he definetly don't need school, and in his childhood he probably studied obligated and unhappy (ofc), so when ayato learning things "obligated" in school he hates to put attention to it. i also think ayato has cheated in some exams or tests, like, he sits at the back and then copy his classmates, gets pissed if someone dont give him the answer.

and speaking about school, ayato is really popular, more than you think, i like to think that ayato is know as the treasure of his grade, i mean, he is maybe the best at gym class and don't get bad grades, he is attractive and stuff. like, you cant walk past ayato and dont look back bc he man is gorgeous.

i also think that ayato deep down, do enjoys spending time with laito and kanato, like, playing for dumb things and joking while eating, i think he do loves them, but he don't give them any kind of affection or let them have his things. oh, and ayato is very posessive, one time kanato used his soap and ayato got really mad that almost hit kanato for it. ayato dont share either food or his stuff, nothing.

i think ayato likes to go to these typical japanese festivals (idontknowthenamessorry) only for the food, and for his pretty privileges never pays, he always makes the people selling stuff give him free things.

i think ayato used to be a really insecure and anxious kid, he bited his nails and his fingers, often ended on sucking his own blood for it. and when he entered his teen ages, i think ayato pulled his hair, you know, like those people that can't help but pull it and dont notice, he had a bald spot once but no one notice.

i think ayato is the guy that when gets mad, randomly yell "bitch!" with no fucking reason, like if he is'nt finding one of his socks and gets upset, he would just yell at the air, or when someone is being terrible annoying he just yell "shut up you bitch!" its his favorite curse word. and also, when he is hearing gossip he would just comment "bitch?" like a reaction. its part of him.

oh, and a little detail, i think ayato is a little scared of religions, but not like physically, more like, he does'nt get it so always get chills from seeing religious things or hearing something related. all bc of horror religious movies, he just thinks those kind of people can be a little crazy.

nsfw

oh, i have been waiting for this, and i know you guys too so.

ayatos dick? oh dear lord.

i think ayato has a solid and proud 18 cm when is hard, like, his dick is thick and his balls also are really heavy, the tip is a little more pink and his pubic hair is there but really short and well kept. and it does'nt look up, its a little down for how heavy his dick is, and ayato always has some of liquid coming out. so his tip is glowy.

i think ayato is so dominant, he is not a bottom, but he do likes when you fignt back to be the dominant one, or talk back to him, or defy him. he really finds it hot. too submissive partner for him can be a little boring.

i think ayato loves to get reaction out of you, like he will literally try to make you nervous in all chances he gets, and his way of doing it, he is really such an ass. like if you two are studying together and he does'nt get something, he totally does but, will ask you to explain, and will play dumb until he randomly just say "i might understand if you sit on my lap... or take off you skirt, maybe like that my mind can focus on you haha" or when ayato take you blood and he is not desesperate and just having a little he will say "enjoying i see, wanting some more? i see what kind of face you are doing, dont be shy now" and his smile with his beautiful dimple? he is really a killer.

i think ayato, ofc when ayato is in love with you or just want you for himself, he is such a little kid, always holding your hand while walking or while he drives and you are by his side he is the kind of guy to hold onto you leg and squeeze it. or when he wakes up he always kiss you sleepy, or when you two say goodbye he will hug you tight and kiss you tenderly. and his kisses really are everything.

i like to think that ayato is a really good kisser, like, he knows how to go from a cute and tender kiss to a hungry and wet one, he just knows, and loves kisses too. like if you two are in a little argument and you face got a little blushed by amger he will just kiss you to shut you up and also bc he loves when you get blushed, he thinks you look so good with red cheeks "muah...what!? don't hit me! i could'nt resist you!"

oh, and if you two are together he totally is the kind of man that when passing behind you will slap you butt, not hard, he just hit it. or when you get up he also slap it, or when you bend over, or when you look pretty, he just like to touch you butt. i imagine ayato having like a normal and totally out of the clue question "hey love, do you know where my charger is?" and when you respond he kisses you "i'll go check" and slap your ass before leaving.

but oh, he doesnt only like your butt, he is obssesed with you body, i think ayato is the type of man that when you two are watching movies is touching you, like you leg, he touch it not sexually ofc, or you feet, or you hair, or any part that is comfortable for him to touch. oh and it is canon that ayato likes when you touch his hair so he also ask for that a lot when you two are just hanging out.

i think ayato can get worked up real fast, like he is so obssesed with you and so in love, in his own way, that a little peck on the lips will do to him. and after that he will try and make you get in the mood. i think ayato is not pushy about it, i mean, he tell you but he likes to work the mood first. i think ayato will start kissing you, ofc, while his hands hold your waist making you come closer, and if you two are standing up he will walk you to some surface, like a bed, a couch, a table even, he does'nt care. but not the floor tho.

and before dropping you in the bed he will squeeze your ass and slap it to then get you on bed. and he can't stand you body being so hot, bc they as vampires, dont get any kind of body heat. so he will take his shirt off before join you in bed "like what you see? be grateful for how good i treat you, ok? hehe" and his dimple really makes you weak.

me too girl, me too.

i think ayato enjoys rubbing his body against yours, like he pushes his erection against your leg as he kisses you, of course bothering your lip with his fangs, while his hands sneak under your t-shirt to pull out your bra, and his cold hands really know what they're doing, touching your skin possessively. and his breaths? when he is horny he can be vocal, but he is just so masculine.

you know when someone has such a masculine presence? and they show it with every action? but they are so pretty and handsome? thats ayato right there.

and ayato definetly will mess up with you, like he will tease your nipples through your clothes, while looking at the expressions you make "if you keep looking at me like that... i wont be able to hold myself from devour you completly" and his dick just trobs in his pants.

and he really holds back from tearing your clothes apart, like, i think ayato might take yout clothes off and just contemplate you, he loves your body. and he is going straight into your pussy.

I imagine him kneeling on the bed, he takes your legs and raises your hips to have you at the height of his mouth, he loves to eat your pussy, depending on the mood of course, it will be fast or slow, and if he is slow, he concentrates more than anything on your clit, sucking carefully and caressing it with a flat tongue "damn honey... youre so fucking wet, so good ohmm..." and he moans while eating it. he can get so pussy drunk sometimes.

and yes, he does call you honey sometimes.

and when you suck ayato's dick, he likes to be seated in the bed and you on all fours, so he can see your ass, loves to see your back as well, good arched and if you have dimples on your lower back he goes crazy, and if you suck for too long his tip his legs might shiver so ayato will take his dick off your mouth by grabbing you by your hair "fuck... don't do that honey, keep sucking me good, ok? be good for me... yes ah... only for me..."

i think for the poses that ayato likes, he probably likes a lot of them, like i think his favorites can be with your legs on his shoulders, or from behind.... but do love to have you legs on his shoulders. i imagine ayato putting it in slowly while watching you face, and his eyes are so fucking hot, he is the kind of man that will tell you with his eyes how much he desires you.

and about his pace, i do think ayato likes to start slow and deep and eventually become more rough or fast. so when he is slow he makes sure to bump a little so your tits bounce a little, and he loves to see your tits bounce, definetly will bite your ankles but not drink too much so you can keep up.

and when ayato begins to be more rough, he will slap your ass hard as he thrust you so deep, you can feel how he can touch every part of you. eventually the pose will become a mating press. his dick is just so hard and hot for you and his balls so heavy as they hit your ass.

"fuck.... ooh yes... you like that huh? you take my dick so... fucking good..."

and as ayato's balls slap your ass, he also will slap you on the cheek, not too hard tho, so then he can grab your neck and see you straight into your eyes as he keep fucking you. the room is full of wet noises and your moans, and his heavy breaths.

and ayato if feeling more horny than usual, lol, he will chain you to the bed, or put a collar with a chain to make you move. like i think ayato will be deep in you and you're too lost in it so he pulls the chain from the collar on your neck and smiles when you moan "don't take your eyes off me honey... watch me fuck you" and his abs look absolutely delicious when he thrust into you.

and if you are about to come, ayato will take it out and watch how you squirm and cry out for not cumming, frustrated bc you cant do nothing more than complain, with your hand chains keeping you in place "what? i wanted some fresh aire haha... youre melting me with that pussy of yours" and then put his heavy dick bewteen your folds, slaping a little just to hear how wet you are "hear that? your body is so honest with me... you're hole body is mine" and his cocky smile makes his dimple come out, ofc your pussy reacted to that fucking beautiful smile, so he laughs, he can be a little mean.

i think ayato do know how to make you squirt sometimes, like edging you a little, then fucking you dumb until your legs tremble in his sides, and while you cum ayato will take his dick out and slap it in your folds, and then pushing it in just where you like it over and over, and he loves to make you squirt on his dick, he thinks is so hot.

"oh fuck!... yeah... make that pussy cry... fuck yeah" and then slap your face to kiss you hungry as he keep fucking you.

oh and when ayato cums? he gets sloppy.

i think ayato can't control fully his body when he is about to cum, but one thing he always does, is taking it out and crawl on top of you while masturbating himself so he can cum in your face, and having ayato on top of you, with his dick tip on your lips, his face all messed up, his chest going up and down as he feels it coming, dear lord "open wide... be good for me honey... im close... oh fuck!" and he cums a lot, likes to see you swallow it "you did good, be grateful for making you feel good, yes?"

the aftercare is really cute with ayato, i think ayato will be exhausted after cuming maybe three times? or maybe two, so he will ask you to cuddle him, and he is the small spoon. likes to feel you touching his hair. makes him feel safe. after having a break, he will definetly get in the mood again, or if he bites you, ayato can get sleepy while doing it, but he keeps the need to fuck you more, maybe more calm and not so... him "cmon... wanna be inside you some more... be grateful, i'll make you cum just like before, what about doing it on my mouth huh? it sounds good is innit? haha"

── more of my content here!

[vibingandsimping]

More random intimate positions/scenarios! Pt.2

Morally grey/villain characters this time!

Forewarnings: Dark content… including things like ownership, stalking, gore + obsession. Some pure fluff though :)

(I apologize for this being considerably longer compared to the others. I have been playing some more plus researching the lore. I feel more confident in my understanding of the characters and my writing.)

Gortash had his fingers wrapped around your chin as he beckoned you to look at him. You’re sat in his lap with your hands rested atop his shoulders. His expression is content with how closely pressed you are to his body. He could savor your warmth and read you so intimately. His brown eyes meet yours with a certain warmth laced in all the unwavering dominance. His lips quirk into a smirk as he watches your poorly built facade begin to crumble. His spare hand runs along the small of your back slowly… beckoningly. He'd be the hero of Baldurs Gate soon. He'd have all the power he dreamt of as a boy. Don't you wish to share that with him? His chest purrs when you keen into his touch. Good. He knew you could be a pretty thing for him. Such a formidable foe and he’d have you right by his side.

Minthara had her arms wrapped around your frame protectively. No matter how large or small you were in comparison. She was determined to hold you and plant some sort of reassurance into you. The way she regarded you was not that of any other. No, you were special to her and the woman realized it may not be so clear. She may be a cruel and a standard "drow", but beyond that there was an affection for you within her heart. She plants a kiss against the back of your shoulder-blades and it draws a shudder. Her muscles tighten around you as she presses her face into your shoulder, hot breath washing the junction of your neck and the flesh of your shoulder. You resist a second shudder. Unbeknownst to you, she’d follow you even if it was fruitless. Nothing was shaking her now that she was wrapped around you.

Orin's blade travels down your chest. It was gentle yet sharp... she wasn't particularly aiming to harm you but the thin streak of blood was enticing. The wound was so shallow it barely bubbled- just enough to alert her she broke the skin. Everything about the way she gazed at you was unhinged. You knew if she had pupils they'd be dilated. She draws her face downwards and laps at the tender flesh while you draw a shaky inhale. The whispers of praise and wishes for more barely reached your ears beyond the thrum of your heart. The slimy feel of her tongue worming it’s way up to your collarbones hitch your breath and you watch carefully. Each movement breeds more anticipation- she was soaking in your torment. She was wicked, truly, she devoted herself to you. You’d never understand her… but did you have to?

Ketheric’s hand laced with yours as you walked to his side. He was laid on his throne with open thighs as he acknowledged your presence. The man was aged and once a father. Well, technically still but Isobel regarded him with disowning. He long burned that bridge from his desperation and despair. You entered his life and turned things around. Everyone in Moonrise had never seen him so soft since he lost his daughter and wife. You took a seat on one of his thighs as he drew your hand to his face. His lips planted a gentle kiss on the back of your hand and then along your wrist. His beard tickled and caused you laugh, struggling against his hold as he stubbornly refused to let you go. When he finally did his lips were quirked upwards and there was a twinkling in his eye. He never thought he’d take a lover again… so he was glad when you broke down his walls. He’d once curse you for being persistent but now he’d praise you for it.

Raphael tugs on the invisible leash that was wrapped around your neck. You jerk forward on the bed as you kneeled with palms balancing you on the lush fabric. His wings were on grand display as his typically slicked hair tussled ever so slightly. Expression dark and expectant as you slowly crawled toward him. His brows furrowed as he tutted impatiently, a leg swinging out to hook around your thigh and jerk it underneath you. You collapsed as he drew you towards him with little patience. You now sprawled across his lower abdomen and crotch as his chest rumbles in amusement. Your skin burned with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. The hold he had on you, literally and figuratively, elicited a deep part of your brain. One that wished so carnally to be claimed… to be owned. Raphael would see to that, he promised, with one hand stroking your hair. You were such a sweet thing… and if you weren’t so persistent he’d lock you up for himself.

Kar’niss thought of you as a blessing. Truly, a drider like him didn’t deserve such an angel. He was supposed to be punished for all eternity for his shortcomings. He failed once and will never see to being a normal drow again. That’s why it didn’t make sense for him to be rewarded- but who is he to look at a gift with ungratefulness? He always holds you so tenderly… his body shockingly cold. He’s restless today, you note, as his eight legs skitter and his hands curl at you. There’s a flittering look in his face. A hunger he tried to conceal. When you question, he answers truthfully, drider need to feed on blood to survive. Every four days or he’d succumb to weakness and eventually die an empty husk. You offer yourself and he checks you for any hesitancy before diving in. He pierces the flesh with his sharp nails before indulging in the crimson that flowed. Between suckles and licks, he praises you for your generosity. Endless ‘thank you’s’ flow as much as your blood. He’s sure he’d never fallen deeper in love… or was it infatuation?

Haarlep knew their affection for you was essentially forbidden. Raphael handed you as a toy to them. Nothing more and nothing less- they should regard you only for his entertainment. They somehow found themselves wanting to indulge in your mind rather than your flesh after some time. It was your softness that first stunned them and foiled their pure-desire. Raphael never touched themself with such… they could barely find the word. Gentleness? Regard? They’d lay with you after your shared bliss and inch their nails down the side of your hip as you detailed your life. With a hand propping their head; they seemed enchanted. Mesmerized by how simple yet complex of a creature you were to them. Haarlep was a succubus and spent their life serving that purpose. They almost felt jealous of the freedom you held in life. They couldn’t help but find themselves fantasizing a life where you two lived in better circumstances. It was all a fantasy, though, they knew it with a bittersweetness.

Durge had always watched you from afar. Stalking, following and admiring. You caught their gaze amongst the crowd as they deliberately chose their next victim. You would’ve been easy. You didn’t hold yourself with a particular air in the ranks of Baldur’s Gate. Another citizen lost to the crazed killings of a maniac. It wasn’t until you’d noticed you had a secret admirer did your hackles raise. You could feel a pair of eyes on you at the most inopportune times. Then, came the letters at your doorstep detailing how they defied their nature. You could’ve been another hung corpse but instead they wished to wrap their mind around your heart and their lips amongst your neck. A shiver ran through you… a mix of disgust and a strange intrigue? Surely it was the way the letters were so detailed and deranged. You would’ve ignored it all until the stalking emboldened. You saw their figure in the window at night and through the alleyways. It was only a matter of time before they struck and claimed you as theirs. You’d simply have to keep an eye over your shoulder and hold a dagger close. If you could even strike them, that was.

[eufezco]

Richie with wife reader. Soft!Richie only for his girls!! Anything at all. Fluff and a little suggestive. Tag me later!! Thanks!! :))

Richie asked you if you could stay with his daughter when Carmen called him from the restaurant to ask him for help. There was only a week left before the opening and even though Richie was on his day off, he could not ignore Carmen when he needed him.

It had been a couple of hours since he had left and little Eva was busy watching TV while you cooked dinner. She had asked a few times where her dad was but she felt comfortable enough with you to forget that Richie had been gone all afternoon. You both had watched a movie, made some drawings for Richie and Tiffany while you listened to Taylor Swift, you had prepared a snack for her when she woke up from her nap and now she was sitting on your couch in her pajamas, peacefully waiting for her daddy.

Richie opened the door of the house. —I'm sorry. I'm sorry. How are my sweetest girls? Oh, you missed me? —He asked his daughter when she stood from the couch and ran to him. Richie picked up the girl and hugged her while he walked towards you to give a quick kiss on your lips.

You hummed when Richie kissed you, glad that he was finally home and just in time for dinner. —We've really missed you —You were focused on mixing the pasta well with the sauce. —Do you wanna tell him why, Eva?

—We took a nap —. The little girl confessed and Richie acted hurt.

—You took a nap? Without me? — Richie asked and Eva laughed He smiled. —Was it good at least? —He asked and the girl nodded. Richie gave her another tight hug and devoured the little girl's face with kisses before putting her down on the floor and telling her to go and wait for him on the couch.

Once Eva was focused on the TV, Richie put his arms around your body, hugging you from behind and resting his head on your shoulder while you continued cooking.—I'm sorry, baby. I should've called to tell you that it was going to take longer.

—It's fine, Richie. You know I don't mind looking after her. We've had fun.

He hugged you tighter, you had always been so sweet to his daughter and Eva loved spending time with you. Tiffany had played a big part in it, you both had a lot of respect for each other and she had helped to bring her daughter's relationship with you closer.

—You're gonna be the best mom in the world.

You hummed again. Richie, with his head tucked on your neck, tickled you with his beard. You closed your eyes, feeling Richie's hands caressing your belly over your clothes. You wanted nothing more than to be a mother to his kids, but with all the chaos after the wedding and the opening of the restaurant, you had been too busy to stop and think about it.

—Why don't we start now? —He murmured in your ear. Richie's hands started slowly moving from your belly to the elastic of your pajama pants. His face on your neck started kissing your skin there. You bit your lower lip and stopped mixing the pasta to give him a gentle slap on his hands to get him to behave.

—Richie, Eva's here —. You whispered.

He huffed and let his forehead fall on your shoulder. You giggled at his reaction and put one of your hands on his head to caress his hair. He closed his eyes and enjoyed your touch. Richie didn't want to show you how overwhelmed he was with everything related to the restaurant opening, but he didn't have to because you already knew. You both worked there, you knew how it worked. The only thing that made you relax these days was coming home together and realizing that you had each other. Marrying you was the best decision he had ever made in his life, there wasn't a day that went by that he didn't think about how lucky he was.

—Dinner's almost ready. Why don't you go and take a shower?

Richie nodded and let his arms go from around your body. You turned around and kissed his lips. He showed you a satisfied little smile and went in for another kiss. Then, Richie walked over to the couch and planted a kiss on the top of Eva's head, who was too distracted by the TV.

—Wait —. You said before he went into the bathroom. Richie turned and saw you walking to where he was. His blue eyes lit up.

—Want to join me? —He asked excited. You nodded and his excitement grew. Richie's great imagination was already working and he couldn't have liked more all the images that went through his mind.

—We won't take long.

—We won't?

You shook your head and laughed. His daughter was there and the dinner was ready but food could wait and if Eva needed anything she could knock on the door or just call you, your apartment was not that big, and you would hear her just fine. By the time you finished thinking about it, the bathroom door was already closed and Richie's lips were on yours while he pulled on the hem of your pajama shirt.

@pear-1206 <333

[eloquentlytired]

18+mdni

— full.

pairing: biker!syverson x fem reader

word count: 4k

warnings: semi public sex, raw, breeding, dirty talk

author's note: wanted to pair it w the gif but it got flagged 🥲 I used an ss of it in the edit (3d icon). it's from a movie called Lorelei and the character reminds me of sy!

you're not invisible but sometimes you're just there. your girlfriends are giggling about things you don’t relate to — about boyfriends. about sex. you suck on your straw, although your milkshake is by far gone, because you're too deep in thought to realize it.

there's silence and then you realize the waiter is standing before you. did they order something else? you release the straw with a faint pop when you realize he's looking at you and suddenly there's another milkshake on the table like the one you had finished drinking moments ago. “he said uhm—” the waiter stutters over his words anxiously and you kind of feel sorry for him. “he said it's a gift to occupy your mouth” and then he's leaving without any other information about whoever it is that treated you.

your girlfriends seem more excited than you do because your interest overpowers all excitement. your eyes scan the bar and take in every possible suspect, it isn't packed since it's not a busy day. everyone seems normal or they're too good at acting nonchalant. until you spot them — a pair of blue eyes watching over your every move possible ever since you entered this establishment. your breath hitches and although you have no clue of who the man is, you just know the tasty gift is from him. his stare forces you to clench your thighs as you take him in — piercing eyes, ungroomed beard and a shaved head. the sleeveless leather he's wearing makes him even more intimidating but it isn't fear that you experience upon exchanging glances with him. the stranger eventually gets up, muttering something to the other men in his table, and walks away. you follow.

“ya’ know, it ain't real kind to leave gifts unattended like that.” you turn so fast that you have to grip the sink behind you to not lose balance. “w-what?” the blue eyed man scans you from head to toe as he takes a step forward, towering over you. “the milkshake. ya didn't drink it.” you aren't sure where to look — his eyes, his lips, that beard. or maybe those large tattooed arms that looked like they're not afraid to handle you. you try to take a step backwards but the sink digs into your waist and you gasp. “i... i’m full.” the man laughs loudly and you realize he's amused while you're utterly taken aback by the situation. “full? have you any idea what it takes to be full?” his gaze darkens and you swallow as your heartbeat reaches your ears. you don't get him but you're about to.

the message in his words becomes obvious when sy’s hand clutches the side of your waist while the other hand lifts your leg to slide it around his body. “there we go. what a sweet girl you are.” he rasps as he slides his cock inside your pussy and all you can do is whimper as your walls wrap around him too tightly because it's been a while. and oh he's so thick. “gonna move now. gonna show ya what full really feels like,yea?” he doesn't wait for your reply as he draws back until only the tip of his cock is breaching your entrance. you stare at him with those wide eyes of yours and he can tell you're excited but also nervous. he lowers his head to supposedly kiss you but brushes his beard against your cheek instead and the action makes you smile. your smile turns into a silent ‘o’ because he's thrusting his cock inside you then, inch by inch, until you've swallowed most of him and his tip is kissing your deepest parts. and gods you get it now because this is what makes you full. this completes you.

your hands grip his leather jacket as he fucks you, feeling every inch of his thick cock splitting you open without any mercy. he’s impatient and he deserves this — he deserves this ever since you've walked into the bar and drawed his attention. “so fucking pretty. so wet too.” he growls and grounds his hips against yours while your pussy flutters around him when he starts pressing wet kisses across your neck. “made my whole day, baby. come here.” you can't even think straight as he presses his lips into yours and kisses you. he fucks you like he hates you but he kisses you like you're his favourite sweet. your mouth parts for him willingly and you let his tongue devour you, the taste of your drink still lingering in your pretty mouth. “please.” you find yourself muttering between open mouthed kisses and deep thrusts that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head. each time the man thrusts his hips forward, his skin slaps against yours painfully. it burns and you enjoy every moment. “please what? use your words baby.” you whine in protest and he rolls his hips punishing slow to make you feel the entire stretch his cock offers to your pussy. “want to come- want to be full-” you say and he smiles because this is good, you're a fast fucking learner. he grins, teeth on full display, as he picks up the pace and slams his cock directly into the spot that clouds all your senses. you arch your back and your breasts are squished against his chest, pebbled nipples brushing on him and making him lose his mind. “you sit so kindly. pretending to be good.” you want to protest and say that you are good but his hand clutches your hip and pushes you down on his cock as he thrusts up. “sipping on your milkshake. so sweet,aren't ya?” it's like you can't think anymore when his other hand slides from your hip to your swollen clit and starts rubbing there deliciously. the drag of his cock is heavenly and his eyes can't help but take a peak between your bodies whereas you're connected. it's difficult to not cum just by the sight of your wetness coating his bare cock but he holds back to care for you first. you cum with a cry around his cock and his fingers stay on your clit, toying around with it until you feel so oversensitive. “no more— can't do more!” you protest but he's silencing you with a kiss again while dragging his cock in and out of you, the sight of your unshed tears bringing him closer to the edge. “course ya can — fuck — come on. one more, baby.” and you really don't want to disappoint this big man as he places both of his hands on your hips and holds you flat on the sink, driving his cock exactly where it should be. you don't know how long it takes you to get there but you're squeezing around him again as you orgasm and this time he doesn't hold back either. his chest crashes against yours as he empties himself inside you, burying his face into your neck, and you can feel his cock faintly pulse within you. you're spent as he pulls his cock out of you and helps you stand properly, his hands still resting on your hips. “thank you.” you mutter almost shyly as you fix yourself and your clothing — just enough to look presentable. he does the same although his eyes never leave yours and you can tell that he has things to say. “ya got a paper on ya?” his question surprises you but you shake your head. “scuse me for this then.” he mumbles as he fishes a marker out of his trousers. you want to question him but you don't need to when he's grabbing your arm gently and writes on your skin with the marker. “in case you want another milkshake.” he says with a wink and he's out the door before you know it.

you stare at your marked arm. then at the phone number. and then at the giant syverson written on your skin.

your week is bound to be full.

[fili-urzudel]

Jumbled - Kíli Durin x Reader

A proper, full-length fic featuring our favorite little brother! I'm not the most proud of this but it's finished and I think I should put it out there. No one requested this, but it's to tide you over until I put the finishing touches on the last few requests :)

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: a lot of being oblivious and dumb, but other than that we're good.

There were no words to describe Kíli Durin. That's what you were thinking as the top of your quill lightly brushed your bottom lip, gazing out the inn's drawing room window. This was the last town you would all stop in for a long while, and those of you with families had made the choice to write letters to your families back home as quickly as possible. You told them how you were doing, that you were tired but making progress and eating well, and keeping good company among thirteen dwarves and a hobbit.

You told them a bit about Bilbo and his odd little ways that you found quite endearing, if not annoying at times, and about Glóin, and his unabashed love and pride in his family. You told them about the golden-haired Prince Fíli, who was always a gentleman and had fast become your friend. You told them how Thorin was usually a big grump, but you had seen evidence from time to time, usually in relation to Bilbo, that it was all just a front. But the one dwarf you wanted to tell them about, you found yourself tongue—er, pen-tied over.

There were no right words to describe how you felt about Kíli Durin. Perfect wouldn't really do him justice, with his uneven bangs and his dazzling lopsided smile and stubbly beard that he cursed to the end of his days. Neither would ethereal, with the way his scent of pine sap and the feel of the callouses on his hands were so very grounded and real. Princely didn't fit his flippant attitude and his unceasing laugh and his never-ending jokes that had your lungs cramping at times.

Perhaps the real problem was that there wasn't enough paper.

You sent the letter off without writing exactly what you wanted about the soon-to-be prince of Erebor, save for his best wishes to any female member of your household. He didn't think you would write it down, but there was just enough room for a postscript. That would show him.

And before you knew it, you were on your way again. You readjusted your pack on your shoulders as Fíli dropped back to walk beside you. "I don't suppose you confessed your undying love in that letter by any chance?"

You blushed and nudged him with your elbow, too untrusting of your own balance to attempt kicking him. "Do you have to be so loud?"

"I can assure you it's all lost in the thunderous stomping, my friend," he smiled. "But that's probably for the best. Better for the object of your affections to know first, don't you think?"

"Stop trying to push it, Fíli," you groaned. "I already feel horrible for avoiding him for so long. I just... I can't be normal around him anymore, I—I don't know how to get the words out. This is all... so weird."

Fíli gave you a pointed glance. "If you're worried about him rejecting you, there's no way in all of Arda."

"Is that verified intelligence?"

"I'm his brother."

"Fair enough. I'll try."

"Tonight?"

"...Soon."

You didn't even have to approach the prince that evening, as he sought you out to have supper with. "Hello," you said with a nervous smile, scooting to make sure there was plenty of room for him on the log you had claimed. I hope he doesn't think I'm trying to get away from him.

"Hey," he returned a bright grin. "I just figured I'd better take my chance to spend some time with you while I can. We never seem to be near each other anymore."

"Hah, yeah," you answered awkwardly. "Sorry about that."

"Have you been avoiding me?" He asked, suddenly serious.

"What?" You asked with wide eyes, horrified. You looked to Fíli, sitting just a few yards away, and he gave you a look that said, just tell him.

"No—no, I wasn't trying to avoid you at all, it's just, you see, well—" gods you were a mess—you sighed. "I just realized, fairly recently, that I'm... in love, and it's made it hard to focus. I'm sorry if I was avoiding you."

That was a terrible confession by any standard.

Rather than looking relieved or hopeful, Kíli looked... pained. Almost angry, and Kíli was never angry. "Oh. I'm happy for you," he said flatly, before picking up his stew and heading elsewhere. He took a seat near Dwalin and Thorin, silently listening to their intense conversation.

You gave a desperate look to Fíli again, and he just shrugged. "I'll try to talk to him," he mouthed, and you nodded in gratitude.

You spent the rest of the evening in silence.

You loved Fíli. Of course, you loved Fíli, Kíli thought as he wandered the outskirts of camp, kicking a rock from one boot to another. Just one look at the two of them could have predicted that clearly enough. He was tall but broad, properly muscular for a dwarf. He had thick, curly hair and enough braids to make Thorin jealous. He had a full beard. He forged enough knives to supply an army and carried half of them on his person.

What did Kíli have compared to that? Bangs he had cut for himself on impulse so that people would have something else to look at instead of his pathetic excuse for a beard? A small game bow that was useless when anything came up close? A sword that he needed help to make?

There was no contest, really. Even if Fíli was engaged, what would that do to stop anyone from seeing his merits?

"You're sure he didn't say anything? Didn't make any significant noises or... grunts or anything?" You asked, on the verge of tears. It had been three days since your terrible confession, and Kíli hadn't so much as glanced your way.

"Nothing. He hasn't said anything to me since, either," Fíli said dejectedly.

There were only two explanations: he had horribly misunderstood you, or he knew you were in love with him and was so disgusted by the concept that he decided to avoid you entirely. As foolish as it was, you were inclined to believe the latter.

"What about what I said would make him hate me?" You murmured.

"Hey now, he may be giving you the cold shoulder, but he does not hate you. Kíli's not like that. You'd have to do something terrible, like... kill me, to get him to hate you," Fíli assured you.

That drew a short laugh from you, and you rubbed your nose on the back of your hand. "I hope you're right," you sighed. "I just wish he would at least look at me."

That night, like the previous two, you sat away from the fire, holding your soup close to your body to stay warm, despite Balin's many good-natured attempts to get you to join them. If Kíli didn't want to be near you, you wouldn't force him.

It was still light out when you decided to lay out your bedroll for the evening, the sun just starting to dip behind the trees. Apparently Thorin had decided you all needed the extra rest.

You glanced up at the sound of footsteps, and your eyes were met with boots. Kíli's boots. "Kíli!" You said, surprising yourself with how... shocked your voice was.

"Are you alright?" He asked, and though he sounded concerned, there was a hardness to his eyes. "People who are in love don't normally appear so sad."

"Well, they do when the object of their affections makes it so clear that they are not interested," you replied glumly. "You don't have to pretend—"

He made a frustrated sort of huff, and you looked up at him in confusion. He had never made a sound like that. "I am sorry for your heartbreak, but forgive me if it frustrates me as well. It is clear to all the world by his disposition, his words, and most importantly, his braids, that my brother is taken. He has promised himself in marriage to a dam he loves, and there is nothing my brother is if not loyal. And I can understand his appeal, but have I not also been a friend? Have I not also tried to be kind and—and charming and gentlemanly and make you laugh? I am not my brother but I would like to think I have my own merits so why are you lovesick over him when I am right here?"

You gazed at him with wide eyes, a smile breaking across your face. "You... think that I love your brother?"

Kíli's brow furrowed. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"Fíli! Kíli has declared me hopelessly in love with you!" You shouted, and the golden prince unceremoniously spat out a spray of his soup, narrowly missing Nori.

By this time you were full-out laughing, and everyone in the company was staring at you, especially Thorin.

"Will you please tell me what's going on?" Kíli asked, all the hardness having vanished from his eyes.

"Kíli, I may have been... fantastically terrible at saying this, and I'm sorry for that, but I was trying to say that I'm in love with you," you explained, taking his hands.

"You're... in love with me?" He breathed hopefully.

"I love you, Kíli, and if your recent outburst was any indication, I'm feeling very optimistic about my chances of you loving me as well," you confirmed.

"But—but I'm short and uncouth and—and I can't grow a proper beard—"

"You were just touting your many good qualities, and I agree with those more," you teased.

"You love me?"

"Yes."

"I love you too," he finally admitted. "May I kiss you?"

"You may."

[gravityfallsreaderinsert]

Mr. and Mx. Mystery

S1E2 - The Legend of the Gobblewonker

MasterList

In the kitchen was Mabel, Dipper and Y/N. The twins were at the table eating pancakes, really it was Mabel who touched the pancakes you made them, as you were at the stove making more for you and Stan. You finished and placed your share on a plate. Deciding to watch the twins have their fun, you leaned against the counter, plate in hand. You watch as the twins sat in their chairs, maple syrup bottles in hand.

"Are you ready for the ultimate challenge?" Mabel exclaimed holding a Sir Syrup bottle in her hands.  "I'm always ready!" Dipper replied with just as much enthusiasm, holding a Mountie Man bottle. "Then you know what this means!" They both turned their bottle upside down in the air, mouths open trying to see who would get their syrup to fall first. "Syrup race, ahh!" They both shouted, cheering for their respected bottles.

"Go, Sir Syrup!"

"Go, Mountie Man!"

"Go go!" They both shout as the syrup in Mabel's bottle starts coming out faster than Dipper's. She then taps the bottom of her bottle, the syrup dropping first. "Almost... almost... Yes," Mabel coughed as the syrup dropped in her mouth and placed her bottle down. "I won!"

Seeing that Mabel won, Dipper put down his bottle and picked up the newspaper he had on the the table. "Hey, Mabel, check this out." He scoots closer toward her, leaning the paper over so she can see. Mabel's eyes light up from looking at an ad in the paper. "Human-sized hamster balls? I'm human-sized!"

"No, no, Mabel. This," Dipper then points to a different ad in the paper that was advertising a photo contest. "We see weirder stuff than that every day. We didn't get any photos of those gnomes, did we?"

"Nope, just memories. And this beard hair." Mabel then pulls out a tuft of white hair from her sweater. Dipper looks at the hair she’s holding in disgust. "Why did you save that?" Mabel shrugged.

"Mabel drop the hair..." Y/N told her, their face also holds an expression of disgust. She lets the grip of her fingers go, laughing as the hair falls to the floor. After the twins are done talking, Stan comes into the kitchen with his own newspaper in hand. "Good morning, knuckleheads. You three know what day it is?"

"Um... Happy anniversary?" Dipper questions, when he does you put your finished plate in the sink and exclaimed. "If it is, I didn't get anything, I have enough pride to admit that." Then Mabel shouts her own guess,  "Mazel tov!” Stan then hits Dipper and Y/N on the head with his newspaper, "Ow!"

"It's family fun day, ya geniuses!" Stan walks over toward the fridge. "We're cuttin' off work and havin' one of those, ya know," Pulls out a carton of milk and takes a whiff of the inside, "Bonding-type deals." He walks over toward the table again about to take a drink of the milk, until you take it out of his hands and replaced it with the pancakes you cooked him. Dipper looked over at his Uncle and asked, "Grunkle Stan, is this gonna be anything like our last family bonding day?"

Stan and Y/N stood over the twins as the two kids were painting on counterfeit money, a bunch of finished one are hanging behind them to dry. You were guiding the twins on how to draw what was needed as Stan criticized them.

"You call that Ben Franklin? He looks like a woman!"

"I don't know, I kinda it." Once you said that, red and blue lights started flashing outside of the shank with sirens making you all turn towards the window.

"Uh-oh!"

Mabel shivered, "Ohh! The county jail was so cold." You walked over to where Mabel was sitting and rufffle her hair as you closed your eyes and sighed in content. "You have to admit though, being held together made us closer, sweetie."

Stan scarfed the rest of his pancakes down and placed his own plate with yours. He walks over to the table and wrapped his arms around all three of you, "All right, maybe we haven't been the best summer caretaker. But I swear, today we're gonna have some real family fun. Now, who wants to put on some blindfolds and get into my car?"

Everyone cheered, throwing their arms in the air until Dipper processed what Stan said, "Wait. What?"

After you and Stan put your suits on, he handed you another blindfold, you looked at it then toward his face in disbelief. You placed one of your hands on your hip and grabbed the cloth out of his hands. "When you mentioned the blindfolds I thought you only meant the kids." He chuckled, slapped both his hands on your shoulders and gave you a playful kiss on the cheek, "Trust me, you'll love it!" Y/N placed the cloth in their pocket and started heading towards the car.

The kids are already in the backseat of the car when you and Stan get there, their blindfolds on. Stan got behind the wheel and you in the passenger seat and tied your fold over your eyes.

It's only been a few minutes in the car, when Dipper feels uneasy. As he felt the pit in his stomach grow, Stan leaned over to play with the car radio, not looking at the road making the car swerve. Dipper mutters to himself. "Whoa! Whoa! Blindfolds never lead to anything good."

"Wow. I feel like all my other senses are heightened. I can see with my fingers." Mabel touches Dipper's face, he laughs as he feels her hands on his cheek until the car hits a bump in the road. "Whoa! Grunkle Stan, are you wearing a blindfold?"

Stan laughs, he leans back a little to look at the twins. "Nah, but with these cataracts I might as well be." he squints his eyes towards the front eye, hand over them, "What is that, a woodpecker?" The Twins screamed as you shouted Stan's name, all three of you feeling the car crashing through something.

"Okay, okay, open 'em up." Y/N and the twin take off their blindfolds, seeing the Gravity Falls lake in front of them. "Ta-da! It's fishin' season!"

"Fishing?" Mabel questioned as you clasped out hand together in joy walking over to stand in closer to the dock, "Fishing!" Dipper placed his hands on his hips and looked at his Grunkle in suspicion. "What are you playing at, old man?"

"You're gonna love it! The whole town's out here!" The twins looked over at the lake and low and behold it looked like half the town was enjoying a summer day on the lake. Whether it was one person or a whole family, there were multiple boats. Including Lazy Susan with a pan in his hand, asking the fish to jump in it, Toby taking a picture of a man who caught a giant fish, resulting in the man being blinded by the flash and falling in the lake and one boat had Wendy's family in it with Manly Dan grabbing the fish with his hands and punching them in the boat as his sons cheered. Stan took a deep breath as he took it all in and wrapped an arm around Y/N's waist bringing them closer, "That's some quality family bonding!"

"Uncle Stan, why do you want to bond with us all of a sudden?"

"Come on, this is gonna be great! We've never had fishin' buddies before. The guys from the lodge won't go with us. They don't like or trust us." Stan said as he made air quotations.

Y/N picked the kids up and hugged them tight, the two straining for air. "Oh, kids! This is gonna be fun! A chance to be together that isn't crime related." You then put them back on the ground walking back over to Stan, excited. Mabel turns to Dipper, "I think they actually want to fish with us." She whispered, looking over toward their great uncle and auncle. Stan walks over to the two with his hands behind his back. "Hey, I know what'll cheer you sad sacks up. Pow! Pines family fishin' hats. That's hand-stitching, ya know. It's just gonna be you, me, Y/N and those goofy hats on a boat for ten hours!"

"Ten hours?!" The twins shouted as Stan then pulled out a booked titled '1001 Yuk 'Em Ups'. "I brought the joke book." Dipper grabbed his head in agony, "No. No!" Mabel then grabbed Dipper by the arms and shakes him back and forth, "There has to be a way out of this."

Runs from dock, comes Old Man McGucket, "I seen it! I seen it again! Hoo hoo hoo! The Gravity Falls gobblewonker! Come quick before he scramdoodles away! Ha ha hoo-ah!" He screamed as he crashed into things and overturned a few others. When he stops he starts doing a dance and slaps himself, laughing. The twins walk over to the commotion and as they do Mabel puts her hands together and leaned her cheek on them. "Aw. He's doing a happy jig." McGucket grabbed Mabel by her arms and shouted,  "No!!! It's a jig of grave danger!" Just as he did his son comes out from the cabin on the lake with a spray bottle. "Hey! Hey! Now, what did I tell you about scaring my customers? This is your last warning, dad." McGucket flinches from the water being sprayed at him. "But I got proof this time, by gummity!" He then motions everyone to follow him toward the end of the dock.

"Behold! It's gobbledywonker what done did it!" He exclaimed as he pointed at a boat that's been broken in half laying in the water. "It had a long neck like a gee-raffe, and wrinkly skin like like these two right here." He then points to Y/N and Stan. Stan was digging in his ear not paying attention as you looked at McGucket in angry, "I beg your pardon!"

"It chopped my boat up to smitheroons!" McGucket then points at the small island that's on the other side of the lake, "It shim-shammed over to scuttlebutt island! Ya gotta believe me!"

"Attention, all units. We got ourselves a crazy old man." Sheriff Blubs said casing everyone to laugh and Tate McGucket to shake his head and hold it down in shame. McGucket then holds his own head down as he walks away in sadness, "Aw, donkey spittle! Banjo Polish"

"Well, that happened. Now, let's untie this boat and get out on that lake!" Stan said as he walks over to his boat, Y/N following him. When you catch up to him, you see the twins talking to each other, "Stan, there's a chance the twins might want to go look for this monster..." Stan waved his hand at you, blowing a raspberry, getting in the boat. "They wouldn't want to miss this family bonding, trust me." As he said this the twins came over with smiles on their faces. Dipper wraps his arm around Stan's neck and said, "Grunkle Stan! Change of plans! We're taking that boat to scuttlebutt island, and we are gonna find that gobblewonker." The twins start to chant, Monster Hunt! Monster Hunt! Monster-" Then McGucket comes over standing behind them, "Monster Hunt! Monster-. Eh... I'll go." He says with his head down again.

"You dudes say something about a monster hunt?" Soos in his own boat pulls up on the other side of the dock. "Soos!" Mabel then walks closer to the boat to give Soos a fist bump. "What's up, hambone? Kapoosh! Pow! Explode! Dude, you could totally use my boat for your Hunt. It's got a steering wheel, chairs normal boat stuff."

"All right, let's think this through. You kids could go waste your time on some epic monster-finding adventure, or you could spend the day learning how to tie knots and skewer worms with your great uncle Stan and auncle Y/N! So, whaddya say?" As Stan is saying this, you watched the kids put on their life jackets and get on the boat with Soos without a single glance toward you or Stan. You folded your arms in front of your chest and frowned. "Stan... they left." You whispered as you watched the boat leave, turning to Stan who opened his eyes watching them go too. As Soos' boat leaves you hear twins shout, "We made the right choice!"

Stan grabs you hand, making you almost fall in the boat if you didn't catch yourself. You both sit down as Stan continued to watch the retreating boat. "Ingrates! Ah, who needs 'em? We got a whole box of creepy fishin' lures to keep us company." You both stare at the lure and shiver, Stan then slams the box shut.

~ Time Skip ~

"Traitors! We'll find my own fishin' buddies.” Stan then starts looking around the lake, a focused look on his face.

“But, what about us all bonding toget-“ Y/N didn’t finished their sentence as the boat was already speeding in some direction, Stan having found his target. "There's our new pals!"

"Now that we're alone, Rosanna, there's a burning question which my heart longs to ask of you." The man pulled out a box as the woman’s eyes began to fill with tears. “Oh, Reginald!” Before the man could continue Stan slows his boat down behind theirs and stopping.

"Hey! Wanna hear a joke?" The younger man was about to speak because Stan interrupted him, "Here goes. My ex-wife still misses me, but her aim is gettin' better! Her aim is gettin' better! Ya see, it's… it's funny because marriage is terrible.” You clapped your hands as you laughed. However the younger couple scoffed and rowed their boat far way from the Stan ‘O War.

“What?!"

You placed a hand on his back as you looked at the retreating boat, "Don't worry, Stan. I enjoy your jokes..."

"Look, when you're threading the line a lot of people don't know this but you want to use a barrel knot. That's a secret from one fishin' buddy to another. Heh heh!" Stan has his arm wrapped around a kid that's in a different boat, the kid looked extremely uncomfortable. "Uh I, uh who are you, exactly?" Stan then pats the kid on the head, Y/N was standing behind his confused as ever. "Just call me your Grunkle Stan!"

"Sir sir! Why are you talking to our son?! If you don't leave right now, I'm calling the police!" The mother shouts as she stands behind her son, making Stan let go of the kid. "Oh no you don't!" You pushed Stan behind you and placed your hands on your hip, leaning over towards their boat, trying to get in the woman's face. She backs up a little but still tries to stand her ground, "I will!

"Ha ha! Ya see, the thing about that is, Arrrr!" Stan starts the engine and zooms the boat in a different direction, almost making you fall.

"Go bother your own kids!"

Stan moved the boat towards the middle of the lake, looking defeated. You looked around the lake, seeing that most of the people and their boats are starting to pack up. You sighed, turning towards Stan and saw him leaning his arms on his knees, head in hands as he looked at his own reflection in the water. You moved over to sit closer to him and wrapped your arm around his shoulder. Stan looked from his reflection to yours, he sat up and wrapped his arm around your waist, the both of you now leaning on to one another. Moments of silence went by until you broke it.

"Hey honey, how you holding up?" You rubbed circles in his shoulder with your thumb, you felt his body sink more into you. He waved his hand, staring at the water.

"I just... I wanted this day to go well. I wanted us to bond with the kids, try to get them to see that we mean well, ya know. To show that I actually care for those like brats. I don't want them to think that we're just a couple of criminals." Y/N sighed and looked back into the water.

"Well, sure today didn't go the way you planned but we still have the rest of summer. So, we have time to bond with them and I don't think they see us like that all the time. Yeah, we have our moments, of course, but I don't think they see us just as that."

"Oh yeah? Ya wanna know what the first thing they did when they first got here was," he glanced over at you, raising his eyebrow. When he saw you nod your head, he removed his arm from your waist and put his head in his hands again. "They were debating on if they should turn us in to the FBI and jump out the window to escape and they asked an eight ball if they should or not... A eight ball, Y/N!"

Y/N removed their arm from Stan and folded their hands in their lap, looking down. "Oh, I didn't know... Well, even if they don't really warm up to us, we have each other still. But, I would still like to try and build some relationship with them and even after today I know you would too." Stan rolled his eyes and groaned, waving his hand at you. "Forget it, those little suckers chose to hang out with Soos instead of their own family. We don't need them," he pulled out a piece of wire and starting to try and tie it into a knot. "Like you said we have each other and fishing! Er, ugh, gah! Mollycoddling..." He complained as he failed to tie it.

"Oh, Stan..."

"Can you please tell me more funny stories, pop-pop?" You and Stan turned to see a grandfather and his two grandkids in a boat. They seem like they were having a good time together, much to Stan's and Y/N's annoyance.

"Anything for my fishin' buddies!" As the the grandfather laughs he pats his grandchildren on the head. Stan growls as he folds his arms over his chest, staring at the family. "Arghh!" Y/N gently placed their hand on Stan’s back, "Stan, just don't look at them."

"Pop-pop, I just weawized that I wuv you." Stan stands up and cups his hands around his mouth, "Aw, come on! Boo! Boo!"

The grandfather stands up in his own boat, hands on his hips. "Hey, there! What's the big idea?" The grandson then looks up at his grandfather with a pity expression and says, “Maybe they have no one who wuvs them, pop-pop."

"Yeah, well, I-I nahh! Ahhh." Before he could say anything Soos' boat speeds past the Stan 'O War soaking him and Y/N. You hold on to the boat to keep your balance as Stan throws his hat in the boat, puffing out in frustration as he sits down and sighed with his head in his hands.

~ Time Skip ~

As Y/N and Stan sat together in silence, you both hear Dipper's voice. "Hey! Over here!" The S.S Cool Dude pulls up next to the Stan 'O War and Dipper takes a picture of both Stand and you with his camera. You and Stan look at each other in surprise then back at their boat or what's left of it anyway. "What the kids? I thought you two were off playin' spin the bottle with Soos?" Stan said crossing his arms, trying to look like he wasn't happy to see them.

"Well, we spent all day trying to find a "legendary" dinosaur."Dipper began and Mabel continued. "But we realized the only dinosaurs we want to hang out with is right here."

"Save your sympathy! We been having a great time without ya, makin' friends, talkin' to our reflection-- we had a run-in with the lake police! Guess we gotta wear these ankle bracelets now, so that'll be fun." He said holding his leg up to show the bracelet. You wave your hand nonchalantly, "We'll just try and take them off later."

"So I guess there isn't room in that boat for three more?" Dipper asked.

Y/N looked over at Stan with a worried look on their face as they placed a hand on his shoulder. Stan looked at the water, then back up toward the twins, they both put on the custom fisher hats that Stan made them. Stan looked over at you, smirking, and nodded his head at the kids. Y/N laughed as they leaned over toward the kids, picking them up and placing them on their lap, both of them cheering. "You knuckleheads ever seen me thread a hook with my eyes closed?" Dipper stands up from your lap, pointing his finger at Stan, "Five bucks says you can't do it." Stan points back at him, "You're on!"

"Five more bucks says you can't do it with your eyes closed plus me singing at the top of my lungs!" Mabel exclaimed as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you warped your around her side, both you laughing.

"Kids, don't make a bets with an ex con-man." You chuckled as Mabel looked at you still laughing, "But that's what makes it challenging!"

"Plus, I like these odds!" Soos then in the boats, causing both you and Stan two look at him in shock, "Whoa! What happened to your shirt?" Soos puts his hand up and and shakes his head. "Long story, dude." Dipper then holds up his camera standing on one stand of the boat. "All right. Everybody get together, say fishing." the rest of you huddle together and smile and shout, "Fishing!"

"Fishing! Dude, am I in the frame?" Soos asked as the picture gets taking. You all then spend of the rest of the day enjoying each others company. Then as the sun sets you all call it a day and Stan starts to drive the boat toward the dock, all you smiling in content until the boat hits a bump in the water.

Dipper turned toward his sister and asked, "What was that?" Mabel looked at him with a smile still on her face and shrugged. "Mm-mm."

Underwater, the real Gobblewonker swims under the Stan 'O War and eats one of Dipper's cameras.

[jmscornerlibrary]

Snape's Retirement Headcanon:

In an alternate reality, in which Snape survives Nagini and is pardoned by the higher powers or whatnot, both Minerva McGonagall and he come to a decision: as soon as the aftermath of the war is over, they are going to retire.

And they do retire. Minerva manages to find two matching bungalows somewhere in a village and after a lot of snapping and arguing Snape agrees to move into the one meant for him. They visit one another every day, read to one another, go on walks dressed exactly as they normally would be in Hogwarts and become somewhat of a mysterious attraction for the locals.

The village children don't like Snape at first - he's always grumpy/scowling, hardly laughs, and he looks pretty ominous in his black clothes which he wears even during the summer. Minerva is slightly more welcoming: she invites the children for biscuits and tea and they after a week or two they all call her Granny Minnie and are fascinated by all the things she has in her house and how amazing the sweets she has are.

After Snape catches a cold or something irritable like that, and the children arrive at Minerva's for their usual visit and after they get scolded for having muddy knees and hands (which they wash), Minerva gets up using her walking cane, gestures with it and says:

"Come on, children, we're all going to pay Mr Snape a visit to see how he is!"

And Snape gets absolutely swamped by these loud and hyper village children (including little girls of six with frilly bows in their hair which fetch their plush toys and dolls and place them all on his bed and rowdy boys trying their best to be helpful whilst fetching things and knocking furniture over) who all offer him tea and show him their treasures and babble nonsense while he vaguely resembles the 'A Bug's Life' ladybird. He's obviously really irritated but cannot for the life of him bring himself to chase them away since they obviously mean well. During all of this, Minerva basks in the image and almost gets a stitch from laughing and... well. After some time, they end up adopting all these village kids, deemed a mad uncle and auntie, get invited by their parents for tea and get interested in the small village community state of affairs (though Snape obviously pretends he couldn't care less, which is a big fat lie).

Minerva often says things like:

"Wow, Franny has grown so tall and quite a proper young lady! We'll have to use a warding charm so that she doesn't get into trouble when the admirers start pouring."

"Don't worry, Dylan, you'll look as good in braces as you did without them, like I have told you before... What? Your teeth magically straightened overnight? Merlin's beard, what a surprise! [hides wand] I cannot imagine how that possibly could have happened."

And Snape:

"You say Antoinetta has a boyfriend, now? Tsh. I remember when she was six and could hardly tie her laces... a tidy, neat creature, that has to be admited. Though she had a gift for breaking all of my porcelain... What? He left her for another girl? She was in floods of tears? [drawing wand] Oh, no, no, don't be silly Minerva, I'm just going to repair the sink. It broke recently... [under his breath] And it won't be the only thing that's broken when I'm through with that wretch."

and:

"No, for the final time, Minerva, I don't give a damn whether Brandon wants a cat or an even an ostritch for his birthday. Honestly. [scoffs and adds 'cat for Brandon' to shopping list] Who do you take me for, a fairy godmother?"

And for them, life is good, and they do live happily ever after.

[paracosm-draw]

Promptober Day 11 - Spaceship + Praise Kink ☄️

I don't have time to write or draw, this is so frustrating 😭 Anyway, enjoy a longer prompt as an apology 🫶🏻

Tags : masturbation, fingering, anal sex, shower sex, top Obi-Wan, bottom Anakin

~~~

“Anakin, slow down.” 

An amused smirk spreads on the young man’s lips at Obi-Wan’s tensed voice. He gives him a side look, noticing how his Master’s fingers had curled up tightly on the edge of his seat, knuckles getting white with the strength of it. 

With a grin, Anakin pushes a finger on the controller, speeding up their ship a little bit more as they flew swiftly over a functioning generator. 

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan groans through gritted teeth. 

The young Jedi grabs the controller with his mechano hand and tilts it to the side, pushing the ship into a series of rolls that make Obi-Wan gasp and Anakin laugh. 

“Anakin, stop it ! You’re going to get us killed !” Obi-Wan hisses. 

“Don’t you trust me, Master?” Anakin smiles widely, just before violently straightening the ship to avoid a random electric pole. “Oops.” 

Obi-Wan’s face has turned white, he is sitting straight on his seat, back and shoulders tense, jaw locked and eyes focused on the windshield. 

“I want to get off.” He says calmly but Anakin can feel his emotions twirling chaotically in the Force. 

He can tell he’s extremely uncomfortable, and if he didn’t know him he would have said scared also. Not that any of this was showing up on his face, right now. 

“And I want you to relax.” Anakin sighs. “I want you to enjoy flying.” 

“I enjoy flying.” Obi-Wan retorts, his whole body tensing again when Anakin brushes the side of a building a little too closely. “I don't enjoy suicide attempts.” 

“I’m not landing until you admit I’m a great pilot.” Anakin replies back, a bit vexed by Obi-Wan’s comment. 

He doesn’t understand why his Master refuses to trust him in this matter. He’s been flying ships for as long as he can remember, he knows perfectly what he’s doing. 

“When was the last time I caused an accident ?” He asks before Obi-Wan can say something. 

Obi-Wan doesn’t answer, and when Anakin gives him a side glance he can see his jaw working with annoyance. 

“Doesn’t mean you’re flying safely.” He says finally. “You never know about the other’s reactions.” 

“I can anticipate.” Anakin huffs. “That’s why I’m a Jedi.” 

“Still a Padawan.” Obi-Wan mutters, even though Anakin is closer to the end than the beginning. “Now, please land somewhere so I can go back to the Temple without fearing for my life.” 

“No way.” Anakin retorts. “I’m bringing you back to the Temple.” 

He makes the ship leap into a tunnel, squeezing them between a speeder and a flying bus, adrenaline still high on his veins. Speeding up, he outdistances them both while Obi-Wan swears in his beard, closing his eyes for a brief moment. 

Anakin can’t help but smile when he catches his Master’s words. He loves more than anything making him slip from his perfectly crafted image to show the real, more human part of him. The one who swears and experiences emotions, the one with flaws and doubts and feelings. 

He stretches out the arm who’s not playing with the controller to gently catch Obi-Wan’s fingers, deeply digging into the leather of his seat. 

“Open your eyes.” He says, tugging on his hand when he doesn’t want to let go. “Enjoy the view ?” 

They exit the tunnel at the same time Obi-Wan accepts to take a peek from under his eyelids. Anakin makes them leave the circulation to push the ship up, higher and higher until they pierce the cloud of pollution hanging low on the city. 

There the air is clearer, the setting sun painting bright colors on the tallest buildings. They leave the crowded paths behind, Anakin reducing their speed to let Obi-Wan enjoy the sight of Coruscant slipping quietly into the twilight hours. 

Obi-Wan relaxes a bit when Anakin slows down, letting the ship float back to their destination, and Anakin takes the opportunity to lace their fingers together. 

“So ?” He asks, turning to him with a smile. 

“You’re a great pilot.” Obi-Wan admits with a sigh. “Probably the greatest I’ve ever encountered. I just don’t like when you put your life in danger.” 

“I’m always careful.” Anakin replies, before biting his tongue when Obi-Wan gives him a look. “Okay, maybe not always. But I’ll never put you in danger intentionally.” 

“I shall hope so.” Obi-Wan says, quirking an eyebrow. 

Anakin smiles and focuses back on their trajectory, guiding the ship with a lazy hand. 

“So you really mean it when you say I’m the greatest pilot you’ve encountered ?” He asks after a few minutes of silence. 

“By far.” Obi-Wan answers. 

He looks way more relaxed now that Anakin flies at a decent speed. He even let go of his seat entirely, one hand resting on his laps and the other holding Anakin’s. 

Anakin blushes faintly at the compliment. He can tell when Obi-Wan is sincere, and it’s the case right now. 

“Thank you.” 

“I’ve never seen someone being that comfortable with a controller.” Obi-Wan continues thoughtfully. “Or being able to fly any kind of ship. I don't really believe in talent but I must admit, when I see you…”

Anakin’s heart makes a little looping at Obi-Wan’s words and his cheeks turn a shade darker. He’s not used to such a large amount of compliments in such a short time. Obi-Wan is not really the kind to praise him every time he achieves something. On the contrary, he’s rather stingy with compliments, making Anakin fish for validation all the time. 

So for a while he doesn’t know what to say. Obi-Wan’s words turn in his head until they’re back to the Temple, filling his chest with a pleasant warmth and making something flutter softly inside his belly. He already knows he wants to experience that feeling again as soon as possible. 

He focuses very hard to make a perfect landing on the platform, making the ship touch the ground with only little shakes, and looks at Obi-Wan expectantly. 

“Nice work, Padawan.” 

There it is again, that tiny little jolt in Anakin’s guts. It feels so good to be praised for his skills and Obi-Wan seems to be in a generous mood today, so he intends on making the best of it. 

“Yeah ?” He asks coyly, looking at his Master from under his eyelashes. 

Obi-Wan turns to him and quirks his eyebrows when he notices his expression. 

“Yeah.” He smiles softly. “I might not tell you often but you’re a good apprentice, Anakin. I’m proud of you.” 

Anakin feels his heart swell with pride and affection at the words. It feels like a warm blanket wrapping him from head to toes, pushing away all his doubts, his constant anger and his insecurities. He’s afraid, suddenly, that when it wears off he goes back to being difficult, unbalanced, unworthy of Obi-Wan’s attention. 

Before he realizes it he’s clutching Obi-Wan’s robes with eager hands. 

“Tell me. Tell me again, Master.” He pleads. “Tell me I’m good.”

I want to be good for you.

Startled by the sudden desperation on Anakin’s features, Obi-Wan’s first reflex is to push him away, but his Padawan grips him tightly. He knows his anxiety is going to throw him in a loop if he doesn’t reassure him. 

“Anakin…” He cups his face gently, disturbed by the anguish in his eyes. “Of course you are. You’re good. Not only for me but for all the people you already helped and the ones you’re going to help in the future.” 

“I’m trying.” Anakin whines. “I’m trying so hard, Master. But I feel like sometimes it isn’t enough. I feel like I disappoint you all the time.” 

“That’s not true.” Obi-Wan replies firmly, softly brushing his thumbs over his cheekbones. “You could never disappoint me, even if you don’t always listen to me.” 

Obi-Wan never understood what triggered Anakin’s sudden self-conscious, anxious crisis. He thought that with time he would identify a pattern but his efforts had stayed vain until now. He wished he could see what happened in Anakin’s wonderful brain but he had to make do with the interpretation of his emotions. 

“Now, be a good boy and go take a shower.” Obi-Wan says, gently patting his cheek. “Then join me for dinner.” 

“Okay.” Anakin replies quietly. 

He gathers all his stuff and disappears into the Temple, heading straight for the shower. 

When he’s finally under the hot water spray, he closes his eyes, trying to prevent anxiety from spilling into his blood and spread into his system to poison his thoughts for the rest of the night. He thinks about Obi-Wan’s words, at the pride he pushed into their bond to emphasize his speech. He thinks about how it felt to be recognized and acknowledged for the skills he worked so hard on. He thinks about the pleasant sensation in his belly when Obi-Wan called him good. 

With a sigh, he slides a hand between his legs, tugging lightly at his soft cock. He wants to feel good like that again. He wants Obi-Wan to praise him like that everyday, giving him the validation he so desperately needs to feel worthy of the world around him. 

He can be good to Obi-Wan, he would do anything to hear him say it once again. 

I’m proud of you.

With a moan, Anakin strokes his hardening cock, not really understanding why those little words made him feel like that. Why he felt the need to touch himself thinking about how good he wanted to be for Obi-Wan. 

“Fuck.” He whimpers, precome dripping between his fingers as he replays the scene in his head once again. 

He squeezes his cock in his palm, playing with his thumb around the head, pressing against the slick slit with each movement, making him shake and moan loudly in the confined space of the shower. A confused thought crosses his mind, wishing that Obi-Wan could hear how good he makes him feel just with the power of his words. He wishes Obi-Wan could tell him again, right now. 

As if Anakin’s shameful thoughts have summoned him, Obi-Wan’s voice can suddenly be heard outside of the door. 

“Are you almost done ?” 

Almost. Anakin thinks. He’s so close it’s hard to articulate a correct sentence. 

“Yes.” He pants, stroking his cock with fast and strong movements pushing him closer to the ledge by the second. “Give me- Give me a minute.” 

There's a silence on the other side of the door, only broken by the rush of water, the wet slapping sounds of skin against skin and Anakin’s labored breathing. 

“Are you okay in there ?” Obi-Wan asks, voice worried. 

Anakin doesn't answer. He can't answer without risking letting out a pretty suggestive moan. Instead he bites his tongue firmly, using his other hand to play with one of his nipples, rolling it between his fingers and tugging at it to add a stimulation to his already overwhelmed body. 

“Anakin ?” 

The door opens at the same time Anakin topples over the edge of his orgasm, spilling between his fingers and against the wall of the shower with a choked, pathetic sound. Pleasure comes in waves, making him fuck messily into his fist to chase it, cum spurting again and again until it calms down, leaving him lightheaded and oversensitive. Leaning forward to press his forehead against the cold tiles, he drags one of his dripping fingers between his ass cheeks, pressing it against his tight hole. 

“Oh, fuck.” He groans when a spark of pleasure ignites deep inside his lower back, making him arch and push his ass against the fingers massaging his rim. 

The haze of his first orgasm starts to dissipate, progressively replaced by another fire in his belly. A second of clarity reminds him that he's supposed to get out of the shower to let Obi-Wan clean but it feels so good and he doesn't hear his Master’s voice anymore. 

That’s when he realizes that he's not alone, his senses sharpening suddenly as he notices another presence in his space. 

Before he can even glance behind his shoulder he feels cold fingers curling around his hips, making him jump and choke on his saliva. 

“What-”

“Can’t you masturbate and shield your thoughts at the same time ?” Obi-Wan’s hot breath brushes against his ear. 

Anakin gasps, his face burning in shame as he tries to make sense of what is happening. He tries to remove his hand from between his legs, tries to do whatever, anything to protect the last bit of his dignity but Obi-Wan is faster, grabbing his wrist to keep him in place. 

“Be a good Padawan and continue what you were doing.” 

“But M-Master…” Anakin whimpers, placing his other hand on the wall in front of him to stabilize himself. 

“Don’t you want to be good for me ?” Obi-Wan whispers against his ear. “Isn’t it what you want the most in your life ?” 

“Yes.” Anakin breathes out, cheeks burning hot at the idea that Obi-Wan discovered his dirty little secret. “That’s what I want. More than anything.” 

“Good.” Obi-Wan praises, wrapping his hand around Anakin’s one to press his fingers back against his abandoned hole. “Then finger yourself open for me.” 

Anakin moans and bites his lip when he feels the press of his fingers, guided by his Master's, against the delicate muscle. Obi-Wan makes him massage his rim for a while before pressing the tip of two of Anakin’s fingers inside. Anakin lets out a shaky breath, trying to relax as much as possible against the intrusion. 

“You already did that to yourself, right ?” Obi-Wan asks before nipping at his earlobe. 

“Yes.” Anakin draws a sharp breath when Obi-Wan pushes his fingers deeper. “Oh.”

“Were you thinking about me ?” 

“Yes.” 

Obi-Wan groans at the answer, tugging on Anakin’s hand to remove his fingers before pushing them back inside. 

“Look at yourself fucking your own fingers. You’re so perfect.”

Anakin cries out at the sensation, shame and adoration mixing in his chest at Obi-Wan’s words. 

“Want to be perfect for you.” He whines, starting to scissor himself open. 

“You’re doing so good.” Obi-Wan hums against his hair, setting the pace of Anakin’s movements. “Make yourself nice and ready for me, sweetheart.” 

Anakin feels dizzy at the implication. Is Obi-Wan going to fuck him ?

“Master ?” He pants, letting their bond fill the blanks for him. 

“That’s what you want, right ?” Obi-Wan rasps, teeth grazing against his neck. “Thinking so hard about me when you’re touching yourself ?” 

“Yes.” Anakin nods rapidly. “Yes. Please.” 

“Then your pretty fingers are not going to be enough.” Obi-Wan replies. “Let me help.” 

Anakin can feel the grip on his wrist relax just before one of Obi-Wan’s fingers slips between the ones already inside him, spreading him even wider. 

“Fuck !” He hisses at the sudden stretch, trying to withdraw from the touch by reflex. “Too much.” 

Obi-Wan kisses his neck, nuzzling gently behind his ear. 

“You’re doing great, love. It’s going to take more than three fingers if you want my cock.” 

“I can’t.” Anakin pants, feeling like his legs were going to give way beneath him. 

“Yes, you can.” Obi-Wan replies softly, starting to move his finger ever so slightly between Anakin’s. “Relax, Anakin. Breathe.” 

Anakin takes a shaky breath, trying to focus on his Master’s warmth against his back, the tickling of his beard against his neck and the way his steady hands were supporting him, pleasuring him. 

It's easier after a while, his body adapting to the stretch and making his muscles soft and pliant once again as Obi-Wan fingers him with more ease. 

The sensation of both of their fingers fucking inside him is exhilarating and soon pleasure hits Anakin back again, making his lower belly tense and his cock leak abundantly. 

“I’m- I’m going to come.” He warns Obi-Wan between two shaky moans. 

Obi-Wan pulls both of their fingers out, then, making Anakin gasp loudly at the loss. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He praises, brushing his knuckles along Anakin's defined back. “Look at you.” 

The gesture makes Anakin blush and whine impatiently. 

“Take me.” He demands. “Let me please you too, Master.” 

Obi-Wan presses against his back, wrapping his arms around his waist, the weight of his hard cock pushing against the cleft of Anakin’s ass. 

“You’re such a good boy, Anakin. Do you know that ?” He murmurs against his ear before placing a sweet kiss on his cheek. 

“For you.” Anakin whimpers. “ Only for you. Please.” 

“Mmh.” 

Obi-Wan wraps one of his large hands around Anakin’s hips, locking him in place while the other guides the head of his cock down the cleft of his ass, dragging slick precome down to his already abused hole. Then he pushes inside in one slow and firm motion, making Anakin cry and press both of his hands against the wall. 

“Fuck, Obi-Wan !”

“You feel so good, dearest.” Obi-Wan sighs against his neck, settling comfortably deep inside him. “You’re made for me, I knew it.” 

Anakin grits his teeth, trying to breath through the burning sensation accompanying the challenging stretch of Obi-Wan’s cock. He closes his eyes for a while, remembering that he wanted this. 

“Move.” He groans when the sensation starts getting too unpleasant. 

Obi-Wan doesn't need to be asked twice. He starts thrusting gently inside him as soon as Anakin asks him to, well aware that his stillness might feel uncomfortable. 

Anakin grunts at this new, weird sensation. For now he doesn't know if he likes it or not, Obi-Wan’s cock feeling more like an intrusion than an object of pleasure. 

That is until Obi-Wan changes the angle of Anakin’s hips, the head of his cock brushing against something that sends a jolt of electricity along his spine, making his toes curl and his muscles tense automatically. 

“Ah !” 

“Found it.” Obi-Wan smiles smugly against his neck. “Feels good, mh ?” 

“Shut up and do that again.” Anakin grunts, pushing his hips back to chase that thrilling feeling again. 

“At your service.” 

When Obi-Wan moves again, Anakin lets his head fall against the wall, his whole body tensing with raw pleasure. 

“Fuck, yes.” 

Obi-Wan does it again, and again until Anakin begs him to go faster, to give him more. He's on his tiptoes, back arched as Obi-Wan presses him against the wall with each thrust of his hips. There’s no more shame in his moans or in the way he asks for what he wants, for what feels good. And what feels good right now is Obi-Wan’s thick cock hitting his prostate relentlessly while he drools against the cold wall, head empty. He knows he's close but he’s not able to form a coherent sentence anymore. 

“Obi-Wan…” He whines instead. 

“I know, love.” Obi-Wan pants right next to his face. “I’m close too.” 

Anakin moans, using his last bits of strength to reach out behind and grab his Master’s thighs, pressing him even closer. 

“Say it.” He breathes. “Tell me.” 

Obi-Wan doesn’t need to ask for clarification. He leans forward, pressing his lips against Anakin’s ear. 

“You’re so good for me, Anakin.” He whispers adoringly. “Such a good boy. I love you so much.” 

It’s all it takes for Anakin’s mind to go blank, his whole body tensing as pleasure explodes into his lower belly, flooding his senses with the intensity of it, making him cry out and cum for what felt like an eternity. 

When he’s done, his body going limp against the wall, he stays there for a little while, feeling high with endorphins, bathing in the scent of soap, hot water and sex. 

He’s almost going to doze off when a sharp knock on the door pulls him roughly from his fantasies. 

“Anakin ?” Obi-Wan’s annoyed voice resonates on the other side. “Are you done in here ? It’s been almost an hour !” 

[paper-crane-castles]

Two Magnificent Imperial Bastards who happen to be voiced by the same VA ~ :D

lol guess who finally watched Bad Batch Season 3 ~

...I nearly died laughing watching Rampart screaming his way off that ship holy shit, had to watch it a second time. I'm just sad Echo and Omega didn't get to hear it. (Look, I let him have his Admiral uniform back, aren't I kind. He gets to keep the DILF beard though)

ANYWAY this is such self indulgent bullshit that maybe me and three other weirdos on our weird little Bode Akuna simp discord channel will enjoy, but honestly I would LOVE to know what Bode and Rampart would think of one another. Nothing particularly pleasant I imagine. And look at me drawing Bode in ISB whites. Again. Definitely don't have a problem.

(Noshir Dalal stop letting Star Wars kill off your Evil Imperial Men please. They're too fun.)

[impala-dreamer]

Wonderstruck

A Magical Short Story

~ Attending a wedding alone is rarely fun. Add to it a bunch of people you don't know all hidden behind masks, things can get a little shaky. But sometimes, if you're lucky, magic can happen...~

Henry Cavill x F!Reader

3,160 Words

Warnings: Nothing but romance and magic and fluff and mystery!

A/N: Yes, it's me. No, I have not been kidnapped. This was written in part for my personal goal of branching out a bit, but moreover as a Valentine's gift for @mariekoukie6661 and @kittenofdoomage <3

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Her dress was sleek and as dark as midnight; her heels were high and deadly. Her lips dripped with crimson; a silver mask hid beautifully sad and strikingly painted eyes.

She kept to the edges of the ballroom, ducking behind round tables clad in expensive linens and gold inlaid china, skirting billowing gowns as they spun on the dancefloor. She slipped in and out of the shadows with a slowly emptying champagne glass pinched delicately between two fingers.

Despite her annoyance in being there, she could not deny the beauty of the night. The massive room was decorated in glamorous gold and pearl accents. Heavy velvet curtains hung over the windows on each wall, letting in a glimpse of the moonlit garden outside. The floors were marble that had been polished to perfection, and a warm candlelight glow illuminated the room.

It felt as if she’d stepped into a fairy tale.

A fairy tale about a sad girl watching the party from afar, alone but for the bubbles in her glass.

Which, sadly, were now gone.

Y/N sighed heavily and looked across the dancefloor at the long bar that stretched across the back wall of the ballroom. A hundred guests in suits and gowns, feathers and masks, twirled in front of her, blocking the path. Silently, she weighed the pain of entering the waltzing throng over going another moment without a healthy buzz in her head. She took a breath. She took a step.

Her heels clicked rhythmically as she laid her course for the bar. She kept her eyes on the goal, carefully maneuvering through the dancing couples, wondering if they’d all been to some class she hadn’t been invited to. All their steps seemed identical; all the women spun with the same flourish. She shook her head. Life should never be so choreographed.

After nearly tripping over a dragging tail of taffeta, Y/N finally made it to the bar and braced herself on the top. As she caught her breath, a deep but soft laugh hit her ear.

She turned toward the sound and spied a large man leaning on the bar a few feet away. He turned as she did, leaning one elbow on the bartop and kicking a long leg over the other. His tuxedo was immaculate and perfectly tailored; his shoes shined like the stones below. He wore a mask of black with silver adornment, and two crisp blue eyes scanned her form from beneath. She could feel them sneak down her body, lingering a bit in the deep curve of her waist and at the globe of her ass.

She cleared her throat, drawing his eyes up to hers.

“Something funny, Slick?” she asked, lips pursed in clear annoyance.

The man grinned. His lips were full and pink beneath a thin scruff of a beard.

“I liked your dance,” he said in reply.

She was startled by his accent - elegant and somehow too perfectly English, as if he were pretending to be from across the Atlantic. She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure him out.

It was nearly impossible. The masks were a problem.

Y/N rolled her eyes. She didn’t know why, but she felt that he needed to work a little harder to get her attention. Maybe she was bored, maybe the shock of his voice had her aflutter. Whatever it was, she turned up the sass.

“Yeah, well, I was a ballerina in a past life.”

Again, he laughed. A little louder, a little more enticing.

“I can see that. Prima ballerinas often trip over themselves and end up slamming into tables.”

She bit back a laugh and turned back to meet his gaze. “We take a special class for that.”

The man cocked his head towards her champagne flute. “And with an empty glass, no less.”

“What can I say, I’m very good at my job.”

Slowly, he pushed himself up from the bar and took a step closer. “May I buy you another?”

Her eyes slid up from his shoes to the loose, curly mop of black hair atop his head. He was tall and broad, and looked as solid as a statue. Her pulse quickened.

“I’m pretty sure it’s free,” she teased.

He stopped a foot from her side. “Still…” With a quick snap of his fingers, he called for the bartender and ordered them both another round.

“A dirty martini, Mr. Bond?” She smiled at his order.

“Shaken, not stirred,” he replied, lifting his glass.

His smile was as intoxicating as the golden liquid in her glass and butterflies swirled in her stomach.

Each took a sip, swallowing slowly with their eyes locked. The blue crashed over her and Y/N lost herself in the sparkle of his smiling gaze.

Worried that she was staring too hard, she tore herself away and let out a hard breath.

“So… how do you know the bride?” she asked, trying to pry his identity free.

He licked a drop of vodka from his lip. “I don’t.”

She laughed gently. “Wedding crasher, huh?” She leaned closer, dropped her voice to a whisper. “Don’t worry, I won’t turn you in.”

He moved in even closer. A warm scent pulsed off of him, flooding her senses with leather and vanilla and something she couldn’t place. Something spicy that made her mouth water so much she forgot that she was supposed to be playing hard to get.

“That’s kind of you,” he whispered. “I don’t think Charlie will press charges though.”

She smiled. “Ah, you’re on the groom’s side.”

“And you?”

His eyes fell to her lips and Y/N’s cheeks burned.

“I, uh… I work with Chloe, the- the bride.”

He nodded and took a sip of his drink. “Charlie and Chloe,” he said with a light laugh. “So many Cs.”

He was too cool, too confident yet sweet. She almost hated him.

“Who are you?” she asked, confused and irked. She had not come to the wedding to meet anyone, let alone a gorgeous, blue-eyed Brit, who may or may not actually be British.

Another slow sip guided her eyes back to his lips and she wondered if he tasted as good as he smelled.

“Henry,” he said softly.

She laughed. “Of course you are.”

“Why’s that funny?”

“Because of course your name is Henry. With your perfect accent and your sexy tuxedo…”

He stood up, suddenly towering over her, and tipped his head, eyes swiping over her again.

“And what about you? You’ve got to be called Celeste or Audrey or something classic and elegant.”

Y/N drained the rest of the champagne at the bottom of her glass and stood to face him properly. “Well, Prince Charming, why don’t you just call me Cinderella.”

Henry reached for her hand and she gave it jokingly.

His kiss was no joke, landing softly on her skin and making the rest of her shiver. She held her breath and nearly fainted when he looked up.

“Pleased to meet you, Cinderella.”

Her head swam a bit and she wondered if that was what swooning was.

“Charmed,” she said with a dreamy smile.

He held her gaze, swept a warm thumb over her knuckles. His touch was like fire and she wanted to run. Away from him or into his arms - she couldn’t decide. All she knew was that there was magic in the air and she could not seem to tear herself away from the mystery of his face. His eyes were tragically beautiful, as if she was lost at sea on a broken raft, thirsting and alone, but she had the comfort of the blue waves to keep her safe. She thought herself insane. He was just a man in a mask at a fancy wedding. Just a tall, impossibly fit, perfectly dressed man at a masquerade ball. A deliciously gorgeous man who smelled like drinking in front of a roaring fire in a cozy library filled with old books in some ancient castle in Scotland. A man who was still holding her hand and her gaze, stealing too many moments and breaths from her day.

Y/N shook herself and pulled her hand from his.

“I should… go…” She turned toward the room. She had to get away, had to free herself from the captivating stranger and return to ignoring her coworkers and the bride’s overly friendly family. “It was nice to meet you, Henry.”

His frown nearly cracked the earth beneath her feet.

“Don’t leave just yet,” he pleaded. “I… Well, I don’t really know anyone here and you’re…”

She looked back over her shoulder as he hesitated. “Yes?”

He blushed and sought comfort in his shoes. Such a beautiful sight: a strong, confident man instantly melting into shyness.

Blue eyes looked up. “Beautiful and enchanting and… I was hoping that we could dance.”

She nearly fell over, knocked out by his voice and charm. A quick breath steeled her nerves. “Sadly, I cannot.”

He stood up fully but somehow still seemed small. “Dance with me?”

“Dance at all,” she corrected.

He laughed. “Well, how about another drink and some conversation?”

With a sigh, Y/N looked back at the crowd, into the sea of indistinguishable masks and unfamiliar forms. Giving in, she nodded politely and spun around to the bar.

They ordered another round and took up residence at the end of the counter, half hidden in shadow, invisible to the other party-goers. Music soared above their heads but they could barely hear it, so engrossed in each other’s stories.

They spoke of simple things- movies they’d loved as children and that well-worn paperbacks were still tucked into their bookcases. She asked him about home and he talked about the London traffic and how he preferred to stay around the house on rainy days playing games on his PC. He poked her about work and she glossed over her job, insisting that they keep the conversation light and free from day-to-day struggles. They drank and laughed and fell even deeper into each other’s gaze.

It was strange to have a conversation with a stranger in a mask. She knew that he was handsome- his eyes were brilliant, his lips perfectly plump. His jaw was tight and his neck was thick. He was big and sturdy, yet gentle and bashful. Though most of his face was hidden, she knew he was perfect.

Perhaps a little too perfect.

But as the alcohol flowed and the night wore on, Y/N couldn’t find a reason anymore to run. The night had cast a spell around them and there was no escape. There was magic in the gilded accents around the room, in the symphony of violins that danced above their heads, in their true smiles and tentative touches.

Even if he wasn’t perfect, she thought, the moment was.

And the moment was suddenly broken.

A firm hand on her wrist dragged Y/N from her place at the bar and onto the dancefloor. The bride would not be ignored and refused to take no for an answer. Pained by the intrusion and the demand, Y/N reluctantly took Chloe’s hands and twirled her around. The skirt of the massive wedding dress billowed like a cloud around Chloe’s small frame and Y/N laughed as she was nearly caught up in the fabric.

Heart racing and smile wide, she turned back to Henry but was shocked to find his place empty. Their glasses sat abandoned on the bar and Prince Charming was nowhere to be found. She felt a tug in her chest and a dampness behind her eyes.

Before she could shrug it off as just a random encounter and push his blue eyes from her mind, a tap on the shoulder made her gasp.

She spun on the spot and found him there with a sweet smile and open arms.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, dipping into half a bow.

Excitement rushed through her and Y/N bit her lip. “I told you, I’m not a good dancer.”

Unwilling to let her back away, Henry scooped her up and held her close, one hand capturing hers and the other pressing gently into the small of her back. He leaned in and teased his lips at her ear.

“Then let me lead…”

His fingers pulsed against her back, guiding her to move against him. They turned a few times until she was dizzy in his arms, laughing as he whispered into her ear:

“Left… right… back… you’ve got it…”

His breath on her skin was like a gust of summer air, warm and delicious, flooding her body with calm.

“See? You’re not too bad at this.”

Y/N looked up into his eyes and felt the world fade away. They rose up together off of the dancefloor, floating gently above the other guests, impossibly alone in the crowd. She knew she was drunk, knew she’d pay for it in the morning, but she didn’t really care. She didn’t care that her friends were watching, probably whispering about the mysterious man she was dancing with. She didn’t care that she’d twice stepped on his toes or that there was no way she could hide the fact that being so close to him wasn’t turning her into a melted, lustful shell of what she usually was.

The music crescendoed and Y/N held her breath. Henry dipped his chin, blue eyes locked on her hers. The world slowed down, the seconds stretched on forever. She closed her eyes, savored his exhale against her lips. His hand slid gently up her back, fingers wove through her hair. She felt her legs grow weak, her stomach tensed, her heart skipped. He took a breath.

The band stopped short and Y/N startled as the crowd shited. The moment was gone, ripped away once more by the party swelling around them.

A rush of silk; the click of hundreds of heels. Cheers rose throughout the room as a giant cake was rolled out onto the dancefloor. It towered up to the ceiling with beautiful rows of white creme roses and pearls strategically placed to make the fondant glow in the warm light trickling down from the chandelier above.

As the guests closed in, Y/N was pulled out of Henry’s arms and her heart ached as he once again was out of her sight.

Black suits swarmed around her, heavy gowns brushed against her legs. Voices rang loud. Bodies closed in on all sides.

Breathless, she spun, searching for an exit, for a way to push through the throng.

A hand appeared and reached for her. She clasped his fingers and Henry raced toward the big doors to their left, pulling her free of the mob.

They tumbled out into the cool air and found relief as the doors closed behind them, blocking the music and the excitement, leaving them alone in the night.

The garden was dark but magically aglow with warm, golden light. Fairy lights twinkled around them, strung from bushes and topiaries, highlighting a stone path. Beyond, a labyrinth of tall evergreen waited for curious souls to venture inside, daring the branches to keep them from reaching the end.

Wonderstruck by the evening- the dramatic escape, the music, the champagne and Henry’s crystalline eyes- she stumbled. One single step turned her ankle and the deadly heels she never wore took her down.

Her gasp tore through the garden, but Henry was there to catch her fall. She swung in his strong arms and her fear turned to laughter.

“This is just absurd!” she said, steadying herself with a palm over his chest.

Henry was calm and stable, easily holding her upright. “What’s that?”

“I mean… You literally just swept me off of my feet.” She shook her head and with a blushing smile, pushed away. “This is getting silly.”

Away from his grasp, she teetered again and Henry took her hand before disaster could strike.

“Why don’t you sit down for a moment,” he suggested, nodding towards a stone bench not far away. “Those shoes are dangerous.”

“You have no idea.”

She let him help her to the bench and watched in awe as he fell to one knee. Like an actual Prince Charming, he took Cinderella’s ankle in his hands and gently ran his fingers over the thin strap holding the shoe in place.

“You’re not swollen,” he reported. “That’s good.”

When he looked up, concern fading from his eyes, she gave up trying to suppress the enchantment of the night and took a deep breath.

Hands cupped around his face, she leaned in and finally met his lips.

Startled but delighted, Henry pushed up to meet her, taking her once more in his strong arms and kissing her properly.

Tiny lights flickered in the breeze, soft music seeped out into the garden, and Prince Charming and Cinderella found each other in the dark. Lips hungry and hands wild; heat mixing between them like a budding fire.

When the clock struck twelve, it chimed loudly and they broke apart, laughing.

“Seems about right,” she joked, looking towards the wedding. “Party ends at midnight.”

Henry dragged a thick finger over her collarbone. “Does that mean you’ll turn into a pumpkin and disappear?”

She laughed softly. “I don’t know when the last time you read Cinderella was, but… no.”

He licked her taste from his lip. “So you don’t need to go then?”

Her smile fell. “I do…”

“You could stay…” He dipped his chin and looked up through the mask, blue eyes dark in the light. “We could… find a spot-”

Y/N shook her head and reached for his hand. “I can’t, I’m sorry. I have to be back in the city tomorrow for work.” She lifted his fingers to her lips and left him with a final kiss.

Henry sighed. “Pity.”

She nodded and gathered her strength to stand and do what she should have done hours ago- run. Except this time, she was certain she meant it to be into his arms. Only this time, she couldn’t.

“I’m sorry…”

Quickly, she turned, carefully stepping back onto the stone path and away from the mystery man with his intoxicating voice and perfectly engrossing kiss.

He stood and called to her, desperate for one more look at his Cinderella.

“Wait-”

She paused, hand on the big glass door, heart in her throat. “Yes?”

“Don’t I even get to know your real name?”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “It’s Y/N.”

Henry bowed his head in thanks and when he came up, the mask came off, slowly revealing a face she’d only imagined in her dreams.

He blushed at her shocked stare and laughed gently.

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

She sighed, blissful and lost in a dream that she prayed would last the rest of her life.

“You too…”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@akshi8278 @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @the-wounded-healer05  

[babygirlispunk]

Summer Fling - PART ONE

Pedro Pascal X f!Reader

Summary: living in a completely different hemisphere, you didn’t expect to bump into Pedro Pascal at a music festival.

Warnings: 18+, mentions of alcohol

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: Reader is not physically or ethnically described but is Australian. Honestly inspired by my own summer romance I experienced when I was younger with a guy who happened to be Latino lol. This is just quickly written to get over my jitters and get confidence to post other stuff SO ITS PROBALY A BIT MESSY SORRY.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

The ground is vibrating beneath you feet, your ears are ringing from hours of listening to loud music for days. The temperature has cooled down from the summer sun with the night sky. Bodies glisten with sweat, dancing in the crowded space as you're all harmoniously vibing and singing to RUFUS. Everyone's either drunk or high, sloppily hanging off one another or shouting aloud enthusiastically.

It's New Years Eve, 10 or so minutes from midnight. You can't believe your seeing one of your favourite bands live and an absolute banger of a song is playing right now and you can't help but raise your hands into the air and dance your heart out, shouting the lyrics not caring how scratchy your voice is from singing along with different singers and bands for the past 3 days.

You manage to hear your name being called out next to you. It's your best friend Syria. You two managed to lose the rest of your group when squeezing your way further to the front wanting to get into the heart of the crowd and the vibe.

She leans in closer so you can hear her over the pounding music. "I reckon we should get to the very front before midnight hits."

"Why don't we ask someone if we can sit on their shoulders?" you yell back.

You both look around to find any guy or girl that would be willing to hold you and Syria up but most people are already paired up or in groups leaving the creepy looking ones left that would probably feel you up.

Bodies keep dancing around you as you duck and weave your way through to the front. You quickly make it, motivated by the words 'You were right' booming from the speakers and the singer announcing that New Years is drawing in. As you emerge to your new spot you bump with some guy passing a quick sorry and turning your attention to the stage. Both happy with how close you are, you wrap your arm around Syria's shoulder and she wraps hers around your waist. You scream-sing, jumping up and down together getting hyped, probably sounding like squealing pigs, when you just hear a laugh next to you.

(Highly recommend listening to You Were Right - RUFUS DU SOL for the next part, for the vibe)

You look where it came from and connect with gorgeous chocolate brown eyes accessorised by glasses, paired with a wide cheesy grin framed by a scruffy, patchy beard and unkempt curly hair. He must've been the guy you bumped... Being polite, you smile back and turn back to the stage singing with Syria.

But it hits you like a brick wall and you double take. You look back to see the guy talking to their friend, up close as they talk into each others ears. Colourful lights bounce off him from the stage and you focus on his face, confirming who it is.

"Syria!" You hiss into her ear but she's too entranced by the music to notice so you give her a shake under your arm and gives you a 'what' face.

"You would not believe who is next to me!" She gives you a confused look then peeks in front of you to look at him, returning to face you with eyes as big as an owl.

Without wasting a breath she shoves you into his direction and you trip over yourself and bump into him again, basically landing on him but he ever so gracefully catches you, hooking his hands underneath your armpits.

"Woah there, had a bit too much to drink have we?" he chimes out loud.

You're embarrassed and can only blurt out a no.

"Sorry about that, those guys next to us knocked us over." Syria covers for you.

"Assholes." he looks at you, still held in his strong hands, smiling sweetly.

He brings you back to your feet and you turn around to say your thanks but your close. Really close. Face to face. Your eyes flicker at every point of his face, really soaking in every detail your buzzed out brain can retain till you land on his eyes. They're looking down at you're lips before they flick up and lock with yours. They're so deep and gorgeous, you could just dive and swim in them

"Thanks." you manage to say despite your heart is beating violently inside your ribcage. He winks back with a cheeky grin making you blush as you turn back to face the stage. The song keeps pumping around you and Syria is dancing and singing her little heart out.

He stands right besides you now and you can feel his hand brushing against your arm as you both dance on the spot. You can feel the goosebumps travelling up your arm as he keeps touching and nudging you. You can't help yourself but steal a glance at him only to see him doing the same, biting your lip, saving yourself from giggling like a little girl. That damn smile hasn't left his face.

The massive crowd surrounding you start screaming out the minute countdown and you join in trying to distract yourself from the closing proximity between the two of you. Try as you might, you still keep looking at him in the corner of your eye only to see him doing the same.

30 seconds left.

A hand gently glides around your waist followed by a body pressing against to your side sending a chill through your body and the butterflies are released, fluttering wildly in your stomach.

20 seconds left.

You look up at him, he's looking forward at the stage bobbing his head pretending like he isn't pulling your body towards him right now. He's clearly showing his interest, there's no point chickening out now.

You snake your hand underneath his loose tee and wrap your arm along his back, placing your hand on his hip using your thumb to caress the skin on his back.

He turns his gaze to you with a smirk on his face and squeezes his hand holding your waist making you gulp down.

10 seconds left.

He bends down so that his mouth grazes your ear ever so softly.

"I was wondering if you would be my new years kiss?"

He moves his face in front of yours, just a breath away, waiting for your answer.

5.

"Are you sure?" was all you could manage.

4.

"Why not start the year kissing a gorgeous girl?" he inches closer to you, nose tips brushing.

3.

You're both breathing heavy, both of your eyes fliting between each others eyes and mouth. Breaths brushing each others skin.

2.

You turn your bodies to face one another. Moving your arms around his neck, his hands not losing contact with your waist, squeezing your lower half closer to his, pelvis' coming in contact inciting a flutter down there.

1.

The song drops and lips crash into one another, the impact cushioned by his plush lips, you feel euphoric. This all surreal even with Syria screaming her lungs out behind you along with cheers from the masses.

You feel the heat of fireworks and sparklers set off from the stage as everyone celebrates the new year but it doesn't compare to the fire burning inside you as he pulls you in tighter making your chests rub against each other as you two are hungrily trying to taste one another. He swipes his tongue along your lips as an invitation to deepen the kiss and you let him in immediately. As your tongues dance together, tasting each others choice of alcohol, you feel his nose tickle against your cheek.

Not wanting to pull away, you inhale and exhale through your nose and you are enveloped by his smell, his sweet musky smell. He is like a damn drug and you're already addicted. Wanting more you tangle your fingers through his hair, desperately trying to bring him in closer, deeper than physically possible.

You're becoming overwhelmed by it all that a moan slips out of you, passing though and exchanged to his lips. You try not to over think it but you feel a slight smile form on his lips as he devour you, returning the moan back for you to inhale. His hand drops to your ass, kneading them in his fists and pulling you even closer than you thought possible letting you grind up his hard rump forming underneath his thick jeans and your core slickens fast.

Not wanting let go but starving for oxygen, you eventually pull back, not letting go of your bodies. He is also out of breath, shoulders rising and falling rapidly.

“What’s your name?”

You say your name through shallow breaths and he repeats it after you. You feel excitement hearing him say it out aloud, making your own name sound like liquid gold oozing from his mouth. Still getting your breath back, be gently nudges his nose on yours, pecking you and not wanting to lose the space between you, eyes never leaving yours.

“Would you come back to my tent* with me? Get away from this crowd and prying eyes…” he says almost desperately asking as his lips keep pecking yours, knowing exactly what he’s really asking.

You nod in agreement and he smiles that sickly sweet smile. Moving his hands from your ass, he threads his hands into yours and turns to his small friend group speaking with each other. You then realise they had watched the little show you two had put on. Then you feel like something is missing.

Syria.

You look all around in the surrounding crowd of singing and dancing bodies but you can’t find her. She’s missing. Letting go of his hand, you continue looking around getting on your top toes, jumping to look over peoples heads. You call out her name but she’s no where to be seen. Every worse case scenario runs through your head. Your group made one rule to follow during this festival.

Never ditch your buddy.

A wide hand grips around your wrist, giving you a slight fright till you remember who it was connected to, following his body till your met with his puppy dog eyes.

“My friend is missing, I need to find her, make sure she’s okay.” You say frantically.

“Let me help you.”

“No no it’s okay.” There was no way you were going to drag an A-list celeb around massive festival grounds swarmed with thousands of people that could horde him, away from the safety of his own friends.

“Are you sure?” He brings you in closer wrapping his arms around your waist as if locking you to him and you hold onto his arms, getting a good feel of how toned they are. You look at his lips, swollen from your kiss, hungry for more but you had priorities…

Giving him one last kiss, you keep it sweet and simple, lingering there for a moment fighting the urge the stay. “It was nice meeting you Pedro.”

As you pull away he give you a sad smile to pair with his puppy eyes. Turning away, shattered your moment was cut short, you weave through the crowd looking for Syria.

You circle round the crazy crowd, desperately looking for Syria but to no avail. You whip out your phone fumbling fingers on the screen trying to call her. Reception on its last bar unsurprisingly but by some miracle she answers. You hear your name from the other side but it’s staticky and broken, repeating over and over again as you try to call her name on your end.

Barely making out the words over the static and loud music pounding around you before it eventually hangs up. You look at your screen, call failed.

You growl in frustration, till a hand grabs your shoulder. Twisting around hoping to see his face, you’re sadly met with your friend Joey.

“Hey we’ve been looking for you!” He yells over the music.

“I’ve been looking for Syria!” You yell back.

He rolls his eyes and grabs your hand and leads you.

Once you’ve reach the back of the crowd, the music is less rattling and people are more spread out, laying on the grass, too drunk or too high, you spot of friend group with Syria.

“There you are! I thought you were kidnapped or something.” You give her a big hug, relieved.

“Oh my God no! I spotted some of the group in the crowd and went to get them so they could witness you getting with your celeb crush!”

“I still don’t believe it. Could be a look alike” Huffs Joey.

“Well luckily I took a pic.” Syria proudly unlocks her phone and shows everyone the photo.

It’s blurry and all you can see is your back facing the camera with the top of Pedro’s head next to yours. The butterflies from before flutter again as you see he’s arm wrapped tight around your waist and his hand gripping your ass.

“Can’t see shit Syria.” Someone else says.

“Fuck off.” Syria shoves the person and turns her attention to you. “I’m sorry I ditched you. Didn’t mean to scare you and ruin your moment. Literally the one time it really mattered. Now you probably won't see him again.”

You give her a big hug knowing she didn’t ditch intentionally. “All good. Just glad knowing you're alive and not kidnapped by weirdos.”

“You hot bitch, you hooked up with Pedro fucking Pascal!” She squeals his name and jumping like an energized puppy, overly excited for you.

You laugh out loud, still not quite comprehending it actually happened despite your skin still hot from his touch, the tingle lingering below and your lips swollen from your intense pash. You bite your bottom lip, reminiscing.

“What a way to start the year.”

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A/N: Multiple day festivals in Australia, typically, people camp at the festival site with tents, camper vans etc. and depending on the festival, they sometimes have the VIP tents with working facilities that cost an extra pretty penny AKA glampin' so he’s chilling in that 👍🏼