#feral! predator one shot

[yautja-lover]

Yautja//Predator 💀One - Shots Master List ✔ Completed

These one-shots are inspired by the Predator franchise films with alternative versions in a way each one-shot connects to each other, some may contain smut. Enjoy😘

Prey or Mate? - Angst/Fluff Feral! Predator x Dahlia!Human

City of Angels - Angst/Fluff Scout! Predator x Female!Reader

This I Vow - Angst/Smut Scar! Predator x Female!Reader

The Distress Call - Angst/Smut/Fluff Wolf!Predator x Female!Reader

Inseparable - Angst/Fluff Fugitive! Predator x Female!Reader

Dachande's Chiva Sequel to Inseparable - Angst/Fluff Chopper! Predator x Dachande!Hybrid Reader Fugitive!Predator x Dachande!Hybrid Reader

Sankuchuari The Finale to Inseparable - Angst/Fluff/Smut Fugitive!Predator x Dachande!Hybrid Reader x Chopper!Predator

Survivors - Angst/Fluff/Smut Crucified! Predator x Female! Reader

[shybluebirdninja]

Feral Obssession

Summary: Logan's animal instincts go wild when Deadpool casually mentions how often you pass by his place—now Logan needs to see for himself.

Pairing            : Worst-Wolverine!Logan Howlett x Prostitute!Fem-reader

Note                : smut, cum play, very rough sex

WORD COUNT: 3k

Logan’s been living with Wade Wilson for a while now, something that would usually drive him to stab something—or someone—on a good day. Between Wade's non-stop mouth and Blind Al’s random pranks, Logan’s patience had worn thin. But lately, it’s not Wade's annoying chatter or Blind Al’s sarcastic remarks keeping him on edge. It’s you.

Wade had mentioned you in passing more than once. Apparently, you walked past their place all the time—coming home late at night, dressed to kill, a body that turned heads wherever you went. And yeah, Wade had made some dirty joke about what you did for a living. But Logan… he couldn’t shake the image from his head. He had to see for himself.

One night, it finally happened. You walked by just as Logan was outside, smoking a cigar on the fire escape. His eyes tracked your movements automatically, almost like a predator on the hunt, drawn to you like a moth to a flame. You were in tight jeans that hugged every curve, your top clinging to your body like a second skin. Goddamn, you were something.

And the worst part? You glanced up at him, just for a second, a sly smile teasing your lips before you disappeared into your apartment across the hall. That smile. It stirred something in him that he hadn’t felt in a long time—something primal, something dangerous.

Days passed, and every time you passed by, Logan’s instincts got sharper. It was like he could smell you in the air, a heady mix of perfume and something uniquely you. He tried to ignore it, to push it aside. He’d been down this road before, and it never ended well. But damn it, he couldn’t.

One evening, as Logan sat brooding with a whiskey in hand, Wade strolled in, grinning like a damn Cheshire cat.

“Hey, Peanut,” Wade started, flipping onto the couch with all the grace of a drunk cat. “You know that smokin’ hot neighbor of ours? The one with the legs for days? She asked about you today.”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “The hell’re you talking about, Wade?”

“I’m serious, man! Said she’d noticed you staring like a lovesick puppy. Thought you might want to… you know… get to know her better.” Wade waggled his eyebrows obnoxiously. “You into that kinda thing? ‘Cause I might’ve, uh… mentioned you.”

Logan felt his jaw tighten. He didn’t say anything, just shot Wade a look that could’ve peeled paint. But inside, his mind was racing. You noticed him?

“Come on, man,” Wade continued. “She’s into you. And trust me, with a body like that, she could break you in half.”

Logan grunted, trying to keep his cool. He didn’t want to talk to Wade about this, but something stirred inside him, something he couldn’t shake. Maybe it was time to stop fighting it.

Later that night, Logan found himself standing outside your door, hesitating for the briefest moment. Then, with a deep breath, he knocked.

The door swung open, and there you were. That same teasing smile played on your lips as your eyes met his.

“Logan,” you greeted smoothly, leaning against the doorframe, your voice a sultry purr. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, well… Wade’s a pain in the ass,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “But he wasn’t wrong about you.”

You chuckled, the sound low and throaty. “So, you’ve been watching me, huh? Thought I’d noticed those eyes of yours burning a hole through my clothes.”

Logan’s gaze darkened, and for the first time, he stepped closer, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. “Can’t help it, darlin’. You make it hard not to look.”

You bit your lip, the air thick with heat. “Wanna come in?”

The door closed behind him with a soft click. Inside, it was dimly lit, shadows dancing along the walls, but the atmosphere was anything but quiet. Logan could feel it in the air, thick with lust, desire coursing through his veins like a drug. He didn’t need to think. He didn’t need to talk. His instincts took over.

“Logan,” you whispered, stepping closer, your hands trailing up his chest. His muscles were solid beneath your touch, his breath catching just slightly. He was so controlled, so contained… but you could feel the raw power beneath the surface.

His hand caught your wrist, gentle but firm. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, dangerous but full of need.

You smirked, eyes gleaming with challenge. “I’ve been sure since I first saw you on that fire escape.”

That was all it took. In a blur of motion, Logan’s lips crashed against yours, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him. The heat between you was overwhelming, your bodies pressed together, every touch igniting something deeper, something feral.

His hands roamed over your body, rough but skilled, like he knew exactly how to touch you. You gasped as his fingers trailed down your back, pulling you even closer. You could feel the tension in his body, the restraint, like he was holding himself back from just tearing your clothes off.

“Logan,” you breathed, your voice thick with desire. “Don’t hold back.”

That was all he needed to hear. In one swift motion, he had you against the wall, his mouth hot against your neck, his breath heavy and ragged. His hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, his lips trailing down your chest, leaving a burning path in their wake.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed and bit his way across your skin, his body pressing harder against yours. You could feel the hunger in him, the need, and it mirrored your own. It was like you were feeding off each other, every kiss, every touch building the tension higher and higher.

Before you knew it, you were on the bed, Logan above you, his eyes dark and wild with lust. He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, like he needed you to breathe.

And then, with a growl, he gave in.

Logan’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as he buried himself inside you with one deep, slow thrust. The feeling was electric, your body arching against him as you gasped for air. He didn’t move at first, just stayed there, holding you close, his forehead resting against yours as he groaned low in his throat.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice thick with need.

You couldn’t respond. You could barely think. All you could feel was him—inside you, around you, filling you completely.

Logan's body moved with precision, each thrust deep and slow, making your breath hitch with every movement. His hands gripped your hips tightly, grounding him as he pressed into you, his rough palms hot against your skin. You could feel the restrained power beneath his muscles, the tension winding tighter and tighter with every second. The air was thick with lust, and you could barely focus on anything except the feeling of him inside you, your body arching up to meet his, desperate for more.

His lips brushed against your ear, his breath heavy and ragged, filled with low growls that sent shivers down your spine. “You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly, but it was clear he was losing control too. His restraint was unraveling fast, and you wanted to see him give in completely.

You gasped his name, nails digging into his back as his hips moved faster, the slow burn turning into something more desperate. The feeling was overwhelming, your mind fogging over as pleasure coursed through you, and you could barely form words. But then, he stopped—just for a moment, pulling back, his breath harsh in the silence of the room.

Before you could ask what he was doing, Logan gripped your hips tighter and flipped you over onto your stomach in one swift, effortless move. You gasped, bracing yourself on your hands and knees, and before you could fully adjust, you felt his hands slide down your back, rough fingertips tracing the curve of your ass as he positioned himself behind you. The heat of his body hovered over yours, close but not quite touching, teasing you with his proximity.

Without warning, he thrust back into you, deep and rough this time, making you moan out loud. Your hands gripped the sheets as he set a rhythm, pounding into you from behind, each movement powerful and deliberate. Logan's growls became more primal, echoing in the room as his hips slapped against yours. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head back slightly so you could hear the rumble in his voice, feel his breath hot against your neck.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his words dripping with lust, each syllable punctuated by another hard thrust. The angle was deeper, rougher, and you could barely catch your breath as the pleasure intensified, building in waves that made your whole body tremble.

“Logan,” you moaned his name, unable to hold back the sounds escaping your lips. The sensation of his cock filling you over and over, the way he moved, every part of him screamed dominance, but there was something more behind it—something raw and hungry. It was like he needed you, couldn’t get enough of you, and you fed off that need.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled out suddenly, flipping you onto your back. You barely had time to register the change before he was on top of you, his body pressing you into the mattress as his lips found yours again in a heated, desperate kiss. His hands roamed your body, gripping your thighs, pulling your legs up around his waist as he positioned himself over you.

Logan’s eyes locked with yours, dark and wild, filled with a kind of intensity that made your heart race. “I want you to look at me when you come,” he growled, voice thick with lust. And then, with one powerful thrust, he was inside you again, filling you completely.

This time, it was missionary, and his movements were slower, more deliberate again, but every thrust hit deeper, the angle perfect. You could feel every inch of him, the heat between your bodies overwhelming as he moved inside you. His lips found your neck, kissing and biting at the sensitive skin there, making you gasp and arch into him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“You like that, don’t ya?” he muttered against your skin, his voice a low rumble. “Tell me.”

“Yes, Logan… God, yes,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper as the pleasure built again, even more intense than before.

Logan grinned against your neck, his lips trailing down to your chest, his mouth hot against your skin as his pace quickened, his hips driving into you harder now. The angle was perfect, every thrust hitting just right, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His body moved like a machine, powerful and relentless, but there was something deeply intimate about the way he looked at you, the way his hands gripped your hips, holding you close as he took you over the edge.

“Fuck, I can feel you,” he groaned, his eyes dark and locked on yours. “Come for me.”

That was all it took. Your body tensed, your nails digging into his back as the orgasm hit, waves of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you gasping for breath. Logan’s movements didn’t slow down, his hips still driving into you, prolonging your climax until you were trembling beneath him, completely spent.

Before you could catch your breath, he moved again, shifting you onto your side, your legs tangled together as he pressed against you from behind, his cock still buried deep inside you. His hand slid down your body, gripping your thigh and pulling it over his hip as he thrust into you again, this time slower, deeper, more intimate.

You moaned softly, the sensation overwhelming as he moved inside you from this new angle, his body pressed tightly against yours. His hand slid up your stomach, over your chest, fingers brushing your breasts as he held you close, his breath hot against your ear.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled, his voice rough and filled with need. “I could do this all night.”

Logan’s hand slid down your body again, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles as he thrust into you, his pace picking up again. The sensation was too much, and before you knew it, the pressure was building again, another orgasm rising up inside you, ready to explode.

“Logan… I’m gonna…”

“I know,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. “Come for me again. I wanna feel you.”

And with one last thrust, you did.

Logan’s grip on your thigh tightened as you trembled beneath him, your body overwhelmed by the intensity of your orgasm. His pace hadn’t slowed at all, if anything, it was faster now, more primal, more needy. You could feel it in the way he grunted, the way his hands dug into your skin, like he was barely holding himself back.

“Fuck… you’re gonna make me lose it,” Logan growled, his voice so rough it almost vibrated through your body. He thrust harder, deeper, as if he was trying to pull every ounce of pleasure from you, driving you into a state where you were too lost to even think.

His hand snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, almost possessive in the way he gripped you. His chest was slick with sweat against your back, his breath hot in your ear, and the sheer power radiating off him made you feel small in his arms—but in the best way.

“Goddamn it…,” he muttered, and you could feel the tension in his whole body. The muscles in his arms were flexed, veins popping out as he held onto you, like you were the only thing keeping him from coming undone.

His lips brushed against your neck, biting down softly as he pushed into you one last time, deep and hard, holding himself there as a deep growl rumbled from his chest. You could feel the moment he finally gave in, the way his whole body shuddered against yours as he came, the heat of his release filling you, spilling out in hot waves.

Logan’s growl turned into a soft groan, his hips jerking slightly as the last of his control slipped away. For a moment, he didn’t move, just held you there, buried deep inside you, his breath heavy and rough in your ear. You could feel his heartbeat against your back, erratic and wild.

Slowly, his grip on you loosened, his body relaxing as the intensity of the moment began to fade. His lips found the back of your neck again, this time softer, more tender, as he let out a deep sigh, still holding you close.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. “That was… fuckin' intense.”

You smiled, still trying to catch your breath, your body trembling with aftershocks. Logan finally pulled out of you, rolling onto his back beside you, his chest still rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths. His hand reached over, resting on your hip, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin as the two of you lay there, tangled in the sheets.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence was comfortable, the room still thick with the heat of what just happened. You could feel Logan’s eyes on you, but when you glanced over, his gaze was softer, more thoughtful.

You turned to him, smiling lazily, still feeling the afterglow of everything. “Guess Wade was right, huh?” you teased, your voice playful, but Logan just grunted, rolling his eyes.

“Fuckin' Wade,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Bastard won’t shut up about this, will he?”

You laughed, the sound light in the quiet room, and Logan’s lips curved into a small smirk. There was a softness in his expression now, the rough edges smoothed out by the aftermath of it all, but even so, there was still that unmistakable Logan—fierce, untamed, and completely irresistible.

Logan shifted beside you, pulling you closer into his chest, wrapping his arm around you like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. His warmth was comforting, and for once, you could feel the tension in him ease, as if, for now, he could just be in the moment with you.

You were still catching your breath, body limp against the sheets, when you felt Logan shift beside you.

And then, with a low, deep growl, Logan dipped his fingers into the wet heat where his cum was still dripping from you.

You shuddered, the sensation sending another jolt of pleasure through your overstimulated body. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, overwhelmed, but then you felt him lift his hand, slick with the evidence of what he’d left inside you.

He smirked, his fingers glistening with his release, and before you could say anything, he pressed them against your chest—right between your breasts. Slowly, deliberately, he smeared it across your skin, leaving a hot, wet trail in his wake. His touch was rough, teasing, and the way his eyes followed every movement made it even hotter.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice husky and low, almost like he was admiring his own handiwork. His hand slid higher, spreading the warmth across your chest, smearing his cum all over your skin, marking you with it. “Fuckin' perfect.”

Your breath hitched as he dragged his fingers down again, leaving no inch untouched. The way he moved was deliberate, slow, making sure you felt every second of it. The heat of his release mixed with the sweat already clinging to your skin, and the sight of Logan watching you, his gaze dark and possessive, only made you ache for more.

He leaned down, his mouth just barely brushing against your ear. “Mine,” he growled softly, his voice rough with need. “You’re mine.”

[winterzsurprise]

Peaches and Cream || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x f!reader

Summary: There's a stark difference with how your husband and Miguel treats you, starting with how rough the latter can be.

Tags: SMUT, NOT BETA READ, unprotected sex, rough sex, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, spanking, pussy slapping (once), fluff (?), jealous!Miguel, Miguel has a big dick.

Words: 2.2k

I got distracted from writing domestic Miguel after he replaced the dad!Miguel after he got shot. This is shit, my apologies I'll do better and add more flavor next time, promiseee. Title is from the song I was listening to the whole time by Noah Davis.

I don't know how to navigate tumblr as a second blog but thank you to all your comments, reblogs and likes, it really does motivate me to write more and better stuff. Also thank you to two blogs for putting me in their recommendations! I made it guys :''DD!!

cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || mi amor - my love || hermosa - beautiful || pobrecita - poor thing (correct me on this one please) || calladita - quietly (thank you sm @eminenceplant for this)

There's a stark difference between your husband and the man hovering above you like a predator about to pounce.

Your husband's hands were soft and loving as it caressed and wandered your body as he peppered kisses down from your neck and to your inner thigh. All of his gestures are a sweet concoction of loving and adoration.

Whilst Miguel's touch was desperate, territorial as he clawed down your flesh, human nails digging into your thighs and breasts as he left a trail of purple bruises around your neck, collarbones before stopping to nip at your hip bone. Everything he does is animalistic, deprived and hungry as if he hasn't eaten for centuries.

His red eyes were clouded with dark lust, glinted with something carnal, even feral, in the dark that got your spine tingling with anticipation.

To see and feel his perpetual desperation for your skin, your scent and desire for your touch had your pride piercing the heavens. To be wanted as he does like you're the air he breathes is dizzying and you can't help but want more.

It's exhilarating, addicting even.

It hasn't been long since you found yourself in love with another version of your husband, yet you grew to crave more of him as seconds ticked by.

Miguel's muscled arms curled around your thighs, forcing them open before pulling you flush to his face with a surprising strength. A pleased sigh escaped your lips as his hot breath fans over your pubic bone, hand falling to knot onto his hair and tugging him closer.

You soon realised why he paused on top of your mound as he inhaled you in, immediately your cheeks flamed.

"You smell heavenly, baby. So wet for me as well, makes me want to taste you."

You bite your bottom lip, nodding urgently as you tug him closer and he clicks his tongue.

"Hermosa, I need your words."

"Please darling? I'll be nice I swear, eat me out please."

Miguel doesn't need to be told twice, dipping his tongue onto your dripping folds. Your back arched at the sensation, after months of no intimacy following the change in your husband, your arousal lit your nerve endings ablaze.

His left hand that was digging into your flesh then reached to splay itself onto your abdomen, pinning you to the mattress as his tongue flicked your clit with a firm pace.

With every flicker of his appendage, hot pleasure rockets into your stomach, body growing feverish as pressure builds up inside your abdomen.

As if sensing your orgasm from the hitch of your breath alone, his right arm unwinds from your thigh to trail down to your fluttering entrance, caressing the rim so sweetly it hurts.

"Miguel please."

He ignored you, focusing on suckling on your clit with a reawakened fervor. You tugged onto his hair, hard enough for it to hurt, for him to listen to your pleas yet he only grunted, sending ample vibrations to quake your bones.

"Beg for it nicely, cariño. I want to hear you beg for me."

"I want your fingers in me, please! Miguel, baby, I want to feel you in me, please."

He groaned, it rumbled in his chest before sending shockwaves down your spine. Then he shoved two of his thick fingers inside you and you jerked. The burn of being breached got your blood buzzing as it mixed with the pleasure his tongue gave you.

If your husband was gentle with his fingers, inserting them one by one with utmost care, Miguel is everything he stands against. 

His fingers immediately found a punishing pace, plunging in and out of you whilst curling up to touch the spongy spot in your walls. Encouraged by his digits, his tongue grew frantic as it sucked and flicked your clit rapidly, driving you closer and closer to your precipice. You opened your mouth to scream but it was caught short by his other hand clamping over your lips.

"Calladita, you're going to wake Gabriella up."

Miguel's gaze burns your face as he brings you pleasure atop pleasure with every thrust and lick .

To see your eyes roll back and your chest rise as you arch, the greedy monster claws at his neck, wanting for more reactions.

Bet her husband had also made her this way...

An ugly head reared out of the back of his brain, whispering taunts into his ears and reaching around with its rotten hands to blind his eyes. 

With the bitter realization, his fingers pistoned in and out of you with a punishing pace, the heel of his palm slamming into your engorged clit as a pathetic wet squelch echoed in the room. The sudden change in pace got you writhing, your mewls muffled by his hand.

"So fucking wet for me, hermosa. Tell me, do you get this turned on for your husband?"

You didn't respond and that seemed to anger him, pulling his fingers out and cutting off the intoxicating thrum of heat in your veins and you whined, displeased. Hearing this, he brought his hand down for a firm slap onto your clit.

"Fuck…"

"You don't get to react, mi amor."

He sat up, pushing down his sweatpants along with his boxers and his erection stands, slapping against his stomach. Your eyes immediately caught the dribbles of pre-cum pulsing out of his tip and your tongue grew heavy, hand reaching out to grab onto his dick.

Miguel, in more ways than one, is bigger than your husband. Your hand barely closed up around his length and dread loomed over you. He's about to ruin you, mind and body, with this dick.

Fuck, will this fit in me?

"You're so big."

He chuckled darkly, fingers pinching your chin. "No, your husband's just lacking, hermosa."

You should've been angered by his comment but you couldn't find it in yourself to reprimand him for it. Instead, you find yourself flustered at his confidence.

"On your knees."

As if hypnotized, you followed despite the disappointment rumbling inside you for not being able to pleasure him. 

You pushed yourself off of the mattress to turn but he was quicker, ever the impatient man that he is, his large hand splayed between your shoulder blades and pinned you to the cushion, forcing you to present your ass up at him.

"Darling? I really don't think it'll fit."

A resonating slap echoed in the room as he swatted your ass and you whimpered, body lurching away before strong arms dragged you back under him.

"You can and you will. I will make sure of it."

His cockhead poked your entrance and a thrill slithered down your spine. You looked down to your pussy, watching with rapt attention as he dragged himself up and down your folds.

The sight of his disheveled self with his head thrown back and mouth agape to let out groans made you shiver. How could someone look so attractive?

Miguel soon pushed in, the head of his dick immediately lodging into your small hole, stretching you wide as he slowly inserted more of his inches. The sting it brought got you gasping and grabbing tight onto the sheets, already feeling full to the brim with barely half of him in.

"Fuck, you're so tight for me. Pobrecita… your husband must've never fucked you wide open before."

Just when you thought it was done, he continued to push more of him. Your head grows light, pleasure shocking all your nerve endings awake from your legs and to the tip of your toes.

He didn't even let you rest, already pulling back and you almost shot up to grab him, scared he'd leave you hanging but Miguel left his cockhead in before thrusting all of his inches back in with one fluid motion and your mouth fell agape. 

"Fuck…! Miguel please!"

"What a greedy girl. Don't worry baby, I'll treat you well tonight."

If his slow thrust already had your mind fuzzy from the pain of the stretch and pleasure, his callous and frenzied pace got you praying as he released shockwaves after shockwaves of bliss to shatter your bones and down to your trembling legs.

You barely had the mind to bite onto the sheet to muffle your cry as he drove manically behind you. 

Seeing this, Miguel grew displeased. Despite knowing the reason for your actions, he wanted to hear how well he fucks you. It was childish trying to outdo someone he'd never encounter again but his pride is bruised.

That fucker got the chance to devour and have you pliant and panting under him for decades while he withered back in his lab trying to get rid of his unwanted addiction.

The bastard has ingrained himself into your body for years and he can't have that.

There should only be one man you should think about at night and be reminded of when you sit to feel the soreness rendering your lower body boneless.

"I'm gonna install noise suppressors in our room tomorrow then you'd be free to scream my name whenever you like, mi vida. You know how I love it when you cry for me."

You didn't say anything but instead nodded frantically. Fire licked every inch of your skin as the familiar tightness in your abdomen appeared, lightning shooting up your spine with every savage thrusts.

There was nothing else you could think of, focused on reaching your deserved nirvana and desperately shaking your hips to meet his thrust. Seeing how fucked and blissed out you were, Miguel groaned before swatting the globes of your ass, pulling a mewl from you.

"Look at you, so cock drunk for me. So beautiful… It makes me wanna tease you a little."

Feeling your orgasm being torn away as he slows, you whine and reach back to grab his hips, forcing him to piston in and out of you with a mewl. Miguel watched you with heavy lidded eyes, he has never seen such a sinful yet delicious sight until now.

If there was a scene he could ingrain into the back of his eyelids, this would be it. 

You, so desperate for a release and trying to chase it when he refused to. Eyes glazed with tears of frustration as you gave up trying to control his hips and bucked your hips like a madwoman into his dick.

There's no such thing as guilt when he got to witness you in such a vulnerable state, only gratefulness.

"Mi cielo, please! Move, I want to come so bad please…!"

He had a different plan for the evening but if you begged so sweetly like that, there's nothing he wouldn't give you.

A house, a new ring with the biggest gemstone you love, the world, the universe or something as simple as a climax becomes acquirable if you want them so badly, he'd give it all to you.

"Anything for you, cariño."

Despite the callousness of his touch driven with wanderlust and desperation to the point of passionate worshiping, Miguel differs from your husband by being love-starved and his brimming confidence in pleasing you a hundred ways before tomorrow without breaking a sweat.

A welcomed and fresh change nonetheless, the difference only led you to fall deeper in love with him.

He drove his dick back into you with a fresh yet ravenous pace, pulling back till his cockhead remains before plunging all of himself in. Miguel's nails dug deep into your flesh enough to make you fear for a permanent dent in them.

Your skin flared as the coil in your stomach reawakened, tightening further and further with every thrust. The warmth is maddening yet deliciously addictive as it lashes out, wrapping around your swelling heart.

"Let me come please? I want it please…! Ah!"

He leant down while his hand reached down to roll your clit in tight eights, decreasing his pace yet hitting deeper as he swept the hair behind your ear before tugging it hard.

"Give it to me, mi vida. I want it all, come around me."

With his proximity and whispered command, there was nothing else you could do but burst. 

Ecstasy easily drowns you as it floods your senses, white hot pleasure exploding behind your eyelids as you screamed into the sheets. Your orgasm rippled through you, shimmying under your skin and turning your limbs useless as they grew light.

There's nothing else you could call what you were feeling except 'heavenly'.

With the constant pulse of your velvet walls clamping down on him, Miguel soon followed with a deep resonating groan to his annoyance, painting your insides white with his liquid arousal.

It was a wonder he lasted this long after having only his hands to entertain him for years in the laboratory and spider hub. Nonetheless, he has his life to spend with you, years where he could discover and evoke your deepest desires. 

Placing gentle kisses on your shoulders, he grinned. "Te amo cariño."

"I love you more…" You mumbled back, exhaustion weighing your eyelids. You barely picked up his clicking tongue before he spoke up, sounding determined as if it was set in stone.

"No sleeping, mi vida. We're not done yet, I have months to make up, no?"

[elflutter]

— twin flames

kinktober 02 → claw play + pain kink

logan x mutant!f!reader

synopsis

Logan wasn't shy about his thing for pain. He should have known you would like it too. When pain is your only companion, when it can’t even give you the mercy of death, you learn to master it. To love it.

wordcount: 1.6k

tags/warnings: smut 18+ mdni, reader can heal, pain kink, clawplay, blood, kinda angsty, brief mention of past violence against women, past torture, reader was experimented on, reader is dealing with trauma (similar to logan's), brief description of canon typical violence, established relationship, porn with feelings, unprotected p i v, marking, reader has hair, no use of y/n

You've been alive a long time. Maybe even longer than Logan. You’re not sure anymore. The years blur together after so long. Decade after decade of horrors, of witnessing horrors.

You harbor so much rage. Like fire burning through your veins. Not just for mutants, but for women. For everybody else that the world pushed down, bones upon which they built an empire. If you were able to fucking die, your bones would be in the foundation, too. You’re sure of it.

But you can’t die. So you protected them— everybody that couldn’t protect themselves. Put yourself through pain so they wouldn't have to. Killed the creeps preying on girls, lecherous old men stalking them home through damp streets at night, even if it meant you got punched or stabbed or shot. As you got older, less women needed your protection. But there were always some. And the rage never dulled. You were happy to do the work. You didn't mind the pain.

Eventually, they caught you. Made you a lab rat. Experiments, secret government shit. Months or years of pain and pain and pain. You lost track of the days. Once you got out, you were better than before. Reflexes like lightning. Muscles like steel. Wounds that healed so fast, you could barely even tell they were there. At least it worked, whatever they did. It backfired, though. You finally escaped. Those researchers who tortured you? They're not around anymore.

When you found the school, weeks later, Logan saw so much of himself reflected back when he looked at you. Like looking in a mirror. Hair a mess of tangles, eyes almost feral. More animal than woman, after trekking through the woods or the city streets. He wasn’t sure. Didn’t think it mattered. Both were a jungle, with predators lurking in the underbrush.

As Logan got to know you, the mirror warped. He saw the kind of person he wished he was. Using your strength for the right reasons. Not just a weapon. A weapon of justice.

That’s what led you to seek out the X-men— the promise of making a difference. Continuing your work, with more resources, more protection.

It didn't take long before you were in his bed. After so long with nothing but pain, you needed pleasure. Needed it carnally. For a while you both pretended it was just physical. That charade was doomed to fail. Your souls were twin. You knew everything about each other, because you were the same.

Logan wasn't shy about his thing for pain. He should have known you would like it too. When pain is your only companion, when it can’t even give you the mercy of death, you learn to master it. To love it.

You hadn't felt pain on your terms since you escaped the lab— not real pain. A scratch here and there, as you dragged yourself step by step to Xavier’s School; healed quickly and fast forgotten. The dull ache in your muscles after beating up a punching bag all night. A bloody nose after sparring, once or twice. The hot liquid dripping just a moment before your body could heal itself. Most of the team couldn’t even get a hit on you in hand to hand, reactions quick like the winter wind. Not super-speed, but preternatural all the same.

Charles hadn’t sent you on a mission yet. Knew your flesh healed much faster than your mind. He helped you, as much as he could— always ready to lend an ear. Even if he already knew what was in your head.

One night, lit by dewy pearls of moonlight, Logan fucks you hard into his bed; balls slapping with a loud smack against you. Your face is buried in the sheets, ass up— plump curves on display as he stretches you out on his cock. Your mind is hazy with the pleasure as his velvety length drags along your walls, painting stars across your vision where your eyes are shut tight against the covers.

When you hear Logan’s claws pierce the mattress, your heartbeat kicks up a step. You feel it, then. How you miss it. The sensation of a blade piercing skin; the warmth from pooled red proof you still have a heart.

You want to feel the adamantium on you. You want to control your pain, take it back for yourself. Like how it was before the lab, the experiments.

Logan wouldn't even sleep next to you for fear of his claws. Fucking illogical, but you were working on it.

So you beg for his claws while he drives his hips into you. He likes to fuck you rough, but he’s always careful; holding the wildest part of himself back. It’s so ingrained in him, that kind of control. Knuckles always point away from you, just in case. Everyone around him is so damn fragile. Except for you. He always seems to forget that last part.

A whine tears itself from your throat as he pounds deep, tip brushing your favorite spot. "I'm not made of tissue paper, come on, Lo."

He knows what you’re asking for. He’s just not quite ready to give it to you yet. Maybe won’t be ready, ever. So he does what he can, all his tattered heart can take, as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder. He bites hard enough to bruise, even if you both know the mark will disappear by the time his mouth finds another spot to claim.

“Harder.” It’s grit out through a clenched jaw, an order and a plea.

His fear starts to melt away, when you use that voice. Talk to him like that. So he bites down again, until iron pools on his tongue. He hates that he loves tasting you, even like this. But the sweet little keen you let out more than makes up for it, as you urge him on.

Cries of "fuck, Lo! Fuck—" as he tightens his grip on your hips enough to border on pain. Like he knows you want.

The sting of skin knitting itself together where his teeth had been mingles with the sweet warmth where he ruts into you. He’s getting you so close, reaching around to play with your swollen clit. He isn't giving you exactly what you need. But he will.

Logan knows what’s coming, before you ask. He knows what it is to need the pain. He knows he would be a damn hypocrite if he refuses. You'd been through so much pain; more than him, even. He knows you’re still healing, knows that this is a step along the way. It had been the same for him.

And deep down, he knows you can take whatever he has to give. Can’t help but marvel at the sheer strength of you—  all of you. The resilience of your body, yes. But also the resilience of your psyche. Your soul, if that shit even exists.

So as you beg, voice dripping with need, he knows that he’ll give in. Maybe that makes him a bad man.

“Fuckin’— N-need you claws on me baby, please.”

You want him to let go. To feel safe letting go. Logan needs that as much as you need the pain.

He just grunts in response, as he keeps splitting you open on his cock. Fingers still tracing little patterns on your nub. Logan is impressed you’re still coherent enough to string together a sentence.

“Mark me, Lo,” the words come out through pants, breathless. “Fuck! Like you can’t— W-with anybody else.”

The rest of your plea goes unsaid— even if it will only last a moment.

Logan had long ago resigned himself to being a bad man. So maybe it doesn’t matter, if this makes him even worse. Your soft walls pulling him closer to the edge while you beg for him to tear your open.

His hesitation finally disappears beneath the haze of desire as he pulls his claws out of the mattress. Their adamantium reflects the gentle light of the moon. Logan’s hand shakes before he slowly, so softly that it breaks your heart, drags the claws down your back. A lover’s caress. The same thing you’ve done for him countless times, with blunted fingernails instead of sharpened claws. His breath stutters as blood paints your skin beneath his claws, three thin lines of red down your back. You moan.

He watches, mesmerized, as the wound begins to scab over. Maybe it heals his wretched soul, just a little bit, as your flesh knits itself together. Proof that he can’t break you.

"Fuck, Lo, why'd you stop?" your words are breathless. He hadn't even realized his hips stilled. So he starts again, fucking you deep, his leaking tip finding that perfect spot inside. Tender skin raised where he’d scratched, marks almost gone entirely. Soon, dried blood would be the only evidence.

He retracts his claws from where he rests them in the sheets. He can’t make himself do that again. Not now, not yet. Maybe because he likes it a little too much, watching you heal just like he does. So he opts for something that feels safer, using your hair as a handle while he drives into you. Keeps toying with your clit so he can feel you come on his cock.

Ragged moans fill the room, as you finish together. Your walls pulse around him, milking every drop of his release. Sated, with the knowledge that he’d marked you in more ways than one.

That night, for the first time, Logan falls asleep in your arms. You press a sleepy kiss to the top of his head, before you finally join him in dreamless slumber.

a/n: ahhh, i'm nervous about this one! i feel like i say that every time? i was jealous of wade getting all clawed up in dp&w and reader getting none of the fun :( i know this was pretty tame for a claw-centered fic, i'm a wimp. maybe i can explore this theme more in the future if people like it!

sorry for the angst it will happen again

dividers by saradika-graphics!

[zhongrin]

𒆙 rex lapis

part 5/8 of ⎡∞ / 𝟔 𝟎 𝟎 𝟎 ⁺⎦, a zhongli 2023 birthday event

© zhongrin | 2023  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

𖧷 tags ┈ minors dni, gn!reader, predator-prey dynamics, breeding, implied ovipos, dragon eggs, pure filth

𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝓊��𝓁 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓊 ❬ masterlist ❭ 𐫱 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 ❬ taglist ❭

𝑔ames were the most fun when the stakes and rewards were high.

yet as you ran as fast as your mortal feet could carry you, you realized that perhaps, you had signed up for a game far too dangerous; the risks too high, the punishment too sweet.

it was merely out of curiosity, how you prodded and pushed a few buttons to test your emperor’s patience. though he wasn’t by all means unruly, you found that he had a few weak areas that could flip his human brain with self-control into a feral, moved-by-instinct dragon brain.

and boy, does his dragon brain love a good chase.

your feet carried you amidst liyue's dense thickets of pine trees in the dark and eerie parts of wuwang hill. for a moment, the sound of your shoes crunching against the grassy soil and the gasps of your breathing were all you could hear. the cold breeze against your heated cheeks made your poor heart beat even faster inside your chest, runner’s high clouding your brain with euphoria, creating the illusion of a false sense of safety - one you should not be feeling given the situation.

how long have you run? how much longer do you have to run? where were you even going at this point?

does it even matter?

“shi—”

you saw a pair of glowing, draconic amber eyes stalking towards you, piercing through the darkness. there was a slight rumbling on the ground, like the heartbeat of an excited dragon, and you swore the air was pulsating as you heard a deep growl. one that sounded as if it came from a massive animal you could not imagine the size of.

you could barely catch the golden glint of his hair clip reflecting the erratically pulsing golden geo lines on his arms for a mere fraction of a second before his talons shot forward to grab onto your arms. a rush of air, a yank, and suddenly it felt like a whole mountain had tackled you to the ground.

whirrs and crackling chirps, forked tongue slipping out between lips upturned in a beastly smirk, fangs flashing menacingly as he wets the soft appendages at the sight of the tantalizing meal that was you: helplessly pinned under him - the rarest, most scrumptious looking prey he had ever captured throughout his life up to this point.

“are you done running?”

ripped clothes scattering, his twin cocks rock hard from chasing you around for a full hour, your lord and lover savored you from top to bottom; devouring, marking, scenting, fully intending on breeding you full of his cum. maybe pump you with a few of his clutch while he was at it, too—

“oh, you filthy little mortal…,” the particularly hard thrust made you momentarily see stars, and the throaty moan escaping your throat made him inhale shakily, “do you like the thought of carrying your archon’s hatchlings that much? of course you do…”

nature felt cold against your back, yet your body was burning hot, with both your upper and lower lips drooling, stuffed full of his fingers or his ridged shafts respectively. the sound of your debauchery was foreign in the silent environment, but the feeling of his bulged tips bruising your deepest spots and the excited purrs right beside your ear felt far too familiar. dark filth filled your mind as his scandalous words and passionate grunts tickled your ears. the golden fingers pinched your pebbled nipples, molten amber savoring the cockdrunk expression on your face and the way your swollen lips uttered nonsensical babbles that almost sounded like his name with every roll of his hips.

oh, you could squirm and beg him all you want, darling - but you agreed to this little game and you promised to play it fair.

you have nowhere to run, little prey, so be good and let the dragon have his fun, yes?

𖧷 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 ❬ taglist ❭ ┈ @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sunnshineflxwer | @yuutasbabe | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @marina-and-the-memes | @mixed-kester | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @cakeboxie | @crystalflygeo | @ciexuvia | @illaasya | @celestewritestoomuch | @pams-comfortzone | @spidermanluvr444 | @ourstrawberryclouds | @ryuryuryuyurboat

[sweet-as-an-angel]

t-thigh riding with König when he tells his gf while she's riding that he's snapped grown men's backs across them and he's like "wow you're really depraved huh?" AND JUST, LIKE DEGRADING DOM KÖNIG I'M GOING FUCKIN NUTS FERAL FROTHING AT THE MOUTH ILY ILY ILY

Thigh Riding w/ König

Warnings: 18+, Grinding, Thigh Riding, Breath Play, No Pronouns used for Reader Except 'You', Violent Imagery, Mentions of Injury, Dominant König, Submissive Reader, etc.

König bounced you on his thigh, grinding against you at a Nirvanan angle, making your eyes clasp shut and your mouth hang open. His eyes held neither mercy, nor remorse as he berated you, your neck a small bird in his hand.

"You know, I've killed men twice your size with these hands--" he punctuated his point with a harsh squeeze to your throat, making you cower, shudder. "--Broken their backs over the very thigh you're fucking yourself on."

The image - reality - of your boyfriend in his military wear - the skin of a predator - made you whine; the fact that he could so easily kill you - taint your life with the death that dripped from his occupation - and yet he didn't, made your heart bloom with warmth. For one reason, he protected you from it all, from himself. Even now, he was restraining the urge to destroy you - to bend you over and blow your back out, to watch you tremble beneath his shadow as many had before (albeit under different circumstances).

At your mewls, your growing wetness coating his thigh, his head tilted. "You really are depraved, you know that?" His voice was unaffected by the strenuousness of having your weight on his thigh, bobbing you up and down as if you were a toy. His toy.

He jutted his leg up, disrupting the rhythm he'd allowed you to settle into. He let you breathe, loosening his fingers around your throat, yet you remained in his grip, fatigued from what one could consider no less than abuse.

From beneath lidded eyes, you looked at him; for what, you couldn't tell. But he could.

Past the pleading and desire for release, he saw what you really wanted. Or, rather, his own needs reflected back at him. He smiled, genuine and soft. And it shot electric anticipation through you.

"How can I reward such a...delinquentile pet who is unfazed by death?" he said, taking his hand from around your throat and tangling it in your hair, where his grip stiffened, hardened. Ice. Your heart stammered.

"I suppose I must discipline you," he said. "For I don't think you quite understand the position you're in." He yanked you back by your hair, making you cry out. Your hands shot up to grasp his, to pull him off. Futile.

"After all--" his voice was low as secrecy as he leaned in, his words hot against your skin, "--It is my specialty."

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[bitterrobin]

Imagine this:

You are hated.

You are ten years old and you are hated. Your father existed in your life for only a day, and he doesn’t like you. He can’t understand you. The anger in his voice echoes. You are to obey him. A teenager you just met scoffs at your presence. You feel he looks down on you. You need to prove them wrong.

You try.

They hate you.

Your grandfather sees you as a tool. He loves you, but you are also just a connection to your parents. His expectations weigh heavy. Your mother loves you. But you know this isn’t the life she wanted. The life she deserves. She loves you, but to stay by your side is a shackle.

You see the teenager again. He assumes the worst immediately. You cannot be trusted. You meet a man who calls that teen his brother. He does not like you. He may not say anything, but you can feel the bewilderment, the annoyance. You are a side character, an obstacle to work around.

Still. Still. You want to try again. Your father is here. He is a fighter. You can fight too. You can be better, even. But he leaves you behind. He already has sons who can be better. Your mother tried to warn you.

So you go to your father’s city. America. Gotham. It is familiar in its oppression and yet alien in its hostility, its rules.

You have cut ties with your grandfather. Abandoned your mother. You can’t be alone.

You discover your father is dead. The connection can’t be made. You have lost your family. The brotherly man is there again. He takes you in. But nothing is easy.

Nothing can ever be easy. No one can be kind to you. They never have. You can’t be weak. They will rip you apart. So you persevere. You have to hurt them before they hurt you. Abandon them before they abandon you. Deride them, see their flaws, before they see yours. You cannot be anything less than perfect.

Fighting back makes things worse. You are a monster.

They call you demon. Feral. A spoiled brat. You cannot be a son. You cannot be a child.

They have the privilege of having your father, and they deny your place. You are fighting for yourself. You must survive on your own.

The man gives you a name. It is an honor, but you can’t help but feel it is also a collar.

You are a bird of prey, yet they scorn you for exacting your purpose. What is an eagle if not a predator? You were born to hunt. You were born to maim.

But you are a Robin now. A songbird. You try to fit the mold. You clip your wings, dull your talons. You learn to sing, not scream.

It’s fine. You are fine here. You hold a name that must be cherished. A name that demands more expectations.

It’s fine. You are used to this. Your name was once “tamer.” Now you hold many more names. They watch you. They evaluate you.

You can be hurt, you are strong. You can be shot, you are strong. You can be killed, many ways, but you are strong. They will appreciate you this way. They will praise you. One day. They will love you one day.

You will no longer be hated until you are more than perfect. One day, they will see you as you.

[hypernova-writes]

Kinktober Day 11

[Predator/Prey Kink - Sniper]

“All that running, Just for me to catch ya..”

You were out of breath, but you could hear his footsteps coming up from somewhere behind you. You held your breath the best that you could but you couldn’t help the little yelp when you saw him walk past your hiding spot.

“C’mon ‘roo, I know this area betta than you..Just come out and let me claim my sweet little prize..”

Even though his words went straight to your crotch, you were determined so last longer than 60 seconds.

You waited until he left before you moved. You had to admit, when he was in his element, hunting you like you were a wild animal, Sniper was BEYOND hot. Like it took everything in you not to just run into his arms and let him take you.

But you knew he got more enjoyment from the chase and the thrill of the hunt, so you got up slowly from your spot to try and sneak by him.

But you yelp when an arrow goes whizzing past your head.

“Hmm. Ya lasted pretty long ‘roo..a minute thirty.”

You started to back away, the skimpy outfit he had dressed you in before scrapping against the harsh ground as Sniper appeared in view, panting heavily. He backed you up until you were against the tree that he shot the arrow into.

You were about to dart off again when he slammed your back against the bark, his knife coming up to your neck as he leaned forward.

“Ah, Ah. No more runnin’..i caught you fair and square. You said if i caught you…” He leaned in real close with a smirk on his face.

“You’d let me do anything I wanted to ya..”

He drags his knife down the flimsy lingerie he had you running from in. Easily hooking it with the knife and ripping it, causing it to fall from your body. He then trailed said knife lower, his other hand going to cup your lower region.

“You’re already soakin’ wet Sheila..must’ve been into it like I was..”

You whimper as he ends up ripping the underwear easier than you thought. He then simply taps your thigh, and you’d been with him long enough to know what that meant.

Wrap your legs around his waist.

So you did and he chuckles as he leans into to place open mouth kisses against your neck. “good girl..”

You whimper as you heard the sounds of his pants shifting down before you felt him push into you. You moaned out his name, your hands going to wrap around his neck as he bucked into You were breathless, as every movement he made knocked the wind from your body.

Sniper was a growling and groaning mess, far more feral than what he sounded like when they fucked in his camper van.

Sniper smirks as he digs his nails into your hips, loving how you squeaked for him, he continued his actions before moving you down from the tree to the harsh ground where he had his jacket laid out.

“You look so looking like this..” he purrs as he leans over you, He holds your legs up, moving them up to his shoulders

When you avert your eyes he forced them back.

"Ah. Ah. Eyes on me when I'm fucking you like this sheila~"

Sorry if this one isn't the best— I'm still not feeling very good but I wanna write for you

[aph-america]

Shoot For The Moon (AmeRus)

One week after a sexual encounter with a rouge cop, Ivan finds him knocking on his door.

Rating: Mature Word Count: 7,778 Heavily inspired by @smuttyandabsurd's one-shot 'Rocket Man'. It's such a hot read! Thank you for making me feral enough to write all of this. I also want to thank @jestermarotte for this art! I saw what they drew for the OG story and... I got even more feral and had to get more. Beautiful work!

Read here on Ao3 or below!

Ivan couldn’t stop thinking about last week.

He's helpless, unable to escape his encounter with that rogue cop in the Nevadan desert. Caught with a broken tail light, he's pulled over by an officer. One who's stare made his heart pulsate as he wrote him a ticket.

His offer for a bribe only backfired. Said officer had him out of his car and on his knees. Cock on eye level, with an offer to pleasure him to avoid arrest. Reluctantly, he found himself choking on his length. Afterwards, he was free to go, with only a piece of half chewed gum shoved in his mouth as a token of the act.

A piece of gum he chewed on the entire drive back.

At first he’s humiliated and disgusted with himself, but he can't stop his mind wandering. Relentless thoughts about how the younger man so easily got him on his knees. Without much hesitation of his body or language. No snarky remarks, only trembling lips that parted open when ordered.

Such a cocky, unfazed attitude is a rare occurrence. Most people found him intimidating. His height made him look down to have a conversation with the average fellow. But officer Jones didn’t flitch. There’s no scared gleam in his eyes, he only saw his reflection in his sunglasses. The sight of him on his knees, waiting for instructions. Every time he had an erection, he fought touching it. He couldn’t stomach the idea of him jerking off to such an asshole.

One day, when Ivan was finally beginning to move on, he got a knock on his doorbell.

Going down the stairs of his condo, he didn’t bother to check the peephole as he opened the door. His friendly expression turned into shock when he saw the officer. Here, standing at his doorway. Wearing the exact same uniform and glasses. He’s still as tan and handsome as he first remembered him.

“Hey Russki. Mind if I come in?”

Ivan didn’t respond. Aghast expression, questioning his reality. The world is spinning. Lacking a reply, Alfred pushed himself in anyway.

“I’mma take your silence as a yes.” Officer still had that low, southern drawl that Ivan couldn’t escape out of his head. He’s still smacking his jaw with that mint gum. His hands were in his pockets, his way of attempting to appear less intimidating.

“I-I… Uh…” Ivan stuttered as he closed the door behind him. He didn’t want anyone in the neighborhood to get noisy and see a cop at his doorstep. People had a habit of gossiping. He swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment to compose himself.

“Sir, may I ask, what are you doing here?” He opened back his eyes, wide with confusion. Quiet voice as he didn’t want to appear confrontational. His heart raced from fear of whatever this officer could be at his doorstep for. Ivan worries he’s committed another crime. Giving the officer an excuse for even more devious acts.

“I came to apologize. And take you on a date.”

Ivan shook his head in confusion, eyebrows shot up. He’s hearing this man wrong. He had to be. Especially the proposal of a date. He fiddled with the sleeves of his sweater.

“I-I’m sorry. Excuse me?" His voice is exacerbated by bewilderment.                                        

Alfred sighed, leaning against the wall with his shoulder. “Listen. I can’t stop thinkin’ about ya’. At all. You’re special. That mouth of yours is somethin’ different. That body of yours is different. The way you get on your knees is…” Alfred relieved his perfect grin, with his tongue licking his canine. As if he’s predator salivating over his prey.

“I should of been a lil’ nicer to ya’. Sooo…. I’m sorry.”

Ivan’s mouth went dry as he stared at the ground. He processed what the officer had said. His thoughts cranked as his brain tried to put together the puzzle of a situation he’s in.

“You…” He began, looking back up. “You are… sorry, for making me suck you off… on the side of the highway…?” He reiterated the scene to the officer. He kept having to take pauses to push out the full reply.

“Yes, well, uh, I didn’t make ya’, but I shouldn’t have done that. I should have, like… ate your ass in my patrol car or somethin’.” Alfred scratched the back of his neck, his body language for the first time displaying a sense of guilt.

Ivan scoffed, raising a brow. What an entertaining sentence. “Didn’t make me? Oh sir, so when you had me go on my knees and took your cock out, that was not an order?” He recalled, shaking his head.

Alfred shook his head back. “No. I was just sayin’ if you didn’t wanna be arrested, you could just suck me off. If you said no I would have just arrested you.” He retold his point of view.

Ivan narrowed his eyes with an irritated expression. He found the officer's defense of his actions almost cartoonish in humor. Like that, a real person wouldn't utter these words. This had to be a weird wet dream from all the nights replaying the day in his head.

“Well. Sir, you didn’t have to arrest me at all.” Ivan argued, still trying to stay respectful. This cop already proved to behave in an unpredictable manner. A wrong sentence ended Ivan with him on his knees on the side of the road. And a mouth filled with spit and semen.

“Uh, yes I should have.” Alfred put his hands on his waist, above his holstered gun. “Bribing a cop is a felony.” He explained, tilting his head and raising a brow. He chewed on his gum loudly. “Ya’ probably would have gotten fired from your fancy aerospace job.” The cop then stood straight, slipping his hands back into his pockets. His toothy grin appeared on his face. It made Ivan tense up.

“So tell me. If you could go back in time, would ya’ rather me arrest you. Or would ya’ rather gotten on your knees?” His southern drawl lowered at the last words. There's a cockiness in his voice that only Ivan could dream of possessing.

Ivan stayed silent. He looked down to the floor. To his left and his right. Back to the ceiling. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He had no comeback, as there’s truth in the officer’s statement. He rather have a repeat of that then sitting in the back of his car, wearing handcuffs. Another part that caused him to be speechless is the sheer absurdity of the conversation. The man isn’t prepared to reply to such ridiculous questions. His mind isn’t producing any sharp, witty responses. Only stutters and attempts to form composure.

“Wait… Did you come here all the way from Reno?” Memory of what city he was heading to that day made him question the cops sanity. “That is two hours away!” He closed his eyes and shook his head again. Another check on the list of what was wrong with this officer.

“Well, it’s really one hour with the sirens on.” Alfred responded, snorting with a raised brow. More snapping his gum with his jaw. Eyes still hidden under his aviators.

“You, you came one hour to say sorry, in hopes that it would win you a date?” Ivan crossed his arms and leaned in while he questioned the shorter man.

“Uh, yeah?” Alfred replied as if it’s a no brainer. A silly question.

Ivan put his face in his hands, releasing a breath as he shook his head in shock more. The conversation is getting more incredulous each second.

“I’m sorry officer. But, what in the world… Would make you think… That I would go on a date with you?” Ivan asked in a despairing voice. ‘Do I really look as if I have no self respect? Is my lack of self esteem visible?’ Ivan scrutinized himself and how he appeared to others. He saw the light. He must secretly reek of desperation.

“‘Cause I know you liked it.” Alfred shrugged, his aura unbothered. As if everything he said is an undeniable fact.

Ivan scoffed, his mouth parting open. Offended would be an understatement. He tensed up as he crossed his arms again, his fingers digging into his own skin. Blood rushed to his pale face.

“No I did not! How dare you!” He dropped the polite act, as the officer had lost any sense of respect from Ivan at this point.

The officer only laughed at Ivan’s reaction, entertained by it. “Oh, yes you did, lil Russky. Ugh…” Alfred put his hands on his heart, his shoulders drooping as he leaned in. His smile wobbled, his body language read as a heart stricken boy.

“The way you sucked my cock… Slurped it up… and ugh…” He let out a groan and threw his head back. “You started grabbing my hips to steady yourself…” Alfred stood up straight again, hands in pockets.

“You don’t suck cock like that unless ya’ wanna.” Smirking, he chewed his gum. He had a gorgeous smile, one that Ivan had the urge to knock out.

Ivan’s entire face and ears burned as Alfred gushed about his giving head skills. He’s disgusted, yet intrigued. No man has spoken about him in such a manner. He didn’t know how to react to a man pinning after him, and describing him with vulgar language. Even his ex boyfriend wasn’t that graphic.

His pink lips trembled. Ivan wanted to scream at Alfred to go away. That he’s an idiot and a pervert. Nevertheless;

“You do not know what you are talking about…” Was the only response Ivan could muster. In a pathetic tone, one that isn't convincing. He watched Alfred’s face, and despised the sunglasses. He couldn’t read the man with the pair on. But he could see his own reflection. He witnessed how red his cheeks burned. Embarrassment gave him butterflies.

Alfred licked his canine, chuckling again from the display. “I know I’m tellin’ the truth. Because here I got, a thirty year old man. Three feet taller than me, blushing like a schoolgirl.” Alfred’s accent made Ivan feel a sensation in his lower half that he did not want to address. He spoke smooth, with an effortless demeanor. As if nothing is a big deal. Half charming, half infuriating to Ivan.

“Ya’ know, when I like someone, I’m quite the service top.”

Ivan is thankful when Alfred admitted that, since it got him out of his meek blushing. Instead, a humorless laugh escaped his lips from the absurdity of the claim. Ivan put one hand on his beating chest, and another on his hip. He rolled his eyes with disapproval.

“The man, who left me kneeling on the side of the road, is a service top? Ha!” Ivan put his hands on his temples in disbelief. He wondered what it’s like to walk through the world this delusional. So full of one’s self.

Alfred showed frustration at being laughed at. He crossed his arms for the first time, puffing out his chest. “I am! Don’t laugh at me!”

“You, ha, treated me like a cheap whore!”

“Uh, so did you when ya’ offered me fuckin’ three hundred dollars to get out of a ticket!” Alfred defended himself, eyebrow raised, cocky smirk replaced with a snarl.

Ivan shook his head, letting out a few weak chuckles. “That’s not…” he stopped, not bothering to continue this conversation. He took a deep breath to relax his nerves. He placed his hands together and closed his eyes. He returned to using a softer voice, deciding it’s time for this officer to take his leave.

“Alfred.” He began, “I… appreciate you coming to apologize. That is very nice of you. So. I hope you have a good day, and I am sorry for causing you any trouble.” He offered a fake smile, praying it would get this lying cop out of his house.

“Aw, come on, don’t be that way. I know ya’ want me.” Another chew of his gum, and reveal of his white teeth.

Ivan scoffed, shaking his head. “What… What is it like to walk around the world with such audacity? With such arrogance?” The Russian is close to speechlessness. “Are there cameras somewhere? Is this a joke? Is someone going to jump out and offer me a million dollars?” He wondered if a sick joke was being played on him. What a weird sense of humor some folks have.

“I don’t got a million dollars, but I got a mouth I wanna put all over you.” Alfred’s way of biting back is dirty talking back. He desired to see that blushing face again. He took it a step further.

“I bet I could get you moanin’ and tremblin’ without even takin’ your clothes off.” He said it smooth, zero hesitation in his voice. Tongue licked his canine, as if he’s signaling to Ivan he wanted his meal now. Ivan groaned and argued with that accusation more. The pair went back and forth, with Alfred issuing an offer when Ivan kept insisting that wasn't true.

“Ya’ know what? How ‘bout this. I’ll leave, and I won’t bother you again. If, and only if, you admit to me right now that I could. You just don’t want me to prove it.” He stepped closer to Ivan, his hand on the cuffs attached to his belt. The silver matched his watch. 

“Say, Officer Jones. You could make me melt. I just don’t wanna do it right now~” He said in a teasing voice. His smirk is mischievous, as he isn’t letting Ivan get off easily. “I’ll go. But deny it to my face? I’mma have to handcuff you and bend you over that nice sofa of yours to prove it.” His fingers gripped his cuffs, leaning into the red faced Russian in front of him.

“Say it.”

Ivan couldn’t stomach it. He glared at the younger and shorter man in front of him. Such presumptuousness, audacity, and rudeness. He’s never met a man so cocky, yet so correct. He didn’t want to admit the truth. Even if it would lead up to it being proved anyway. Perhaps a part of him wanted it, but feared asking. He leaned in as well, arms crossed with a raised brow.

“Officer Jones…” His eyes narrowed. “Go fuck yourself.” Ivan spat out, harshness in his tone.

Alfred only let out a deep laugh, shaking his head.

“Oh? You really are a lil’ freak. Go be a good boy and bend over there.” Alfred ordered, pointing to the couch. Ivan stayed still, his heart beating a mile a minute. The cop would have to try a bit harder to get him in such a way.

When Ivan didn’t move, Alfred’s grin turned into a grimace. “I said, get over there. Now!” he hissed, in a similar fashion to when last week. How he ordered Ivan to get out of the car and on his knees. He lowered his head, giving Ivan the opportunity to see his eyes. He’s met with furious baby blues, which finally causes him to flinch and do as he’s told. With a pout, he got on his knees on the sofa. His legs hung off as he rested his arms on the top of the furniture. Alfred scrolled along, whistling and swinging his cuffs with his finger.

He walked behind the couch to meet Ivan face to face again. Before cuffing him, he offered Ivan one more moment of mercy. “I’ll give ya’ one more chance.” He said, truthful. A man of his word. Ivan kept quiet, the only movement was the pout on his lips. They were pink and there for Alfred to bruise.

“Mm. Alright. Put ya’ hands behind ya’ back.” He ordered, but gave Ivan a small snatch underneath his chin. The gentle touch made Ivan tense up. He put his hands behind his back, nuzzling his face into the back of his leather sofa. He felt cold metal around his wrist and a click. And with that, he’s cuffed. His behind sticking out with easy access, Alfred could get away with doing whatever he wanted. To Ivan’s surprise, the officer gently massaged his cheeks. It’s a Saturday, so Ivan’s wearing loungewear. His pants were a thin, soft cotton. It made it easy to squeeze all the fat he held there.

The officer kept up the tender touches. His strong hands went down to rub his thighs. Ivan’s body is malleable. The pressure from Alfred’s fingers up and down his legs, and now to his back relaxed him. Up his arms, to his shoulders. He hadn’t expected Alfred to be so careful, but that isn’t a complaint. Lovers were rarely gentle with him, a fact that he not only hated but hated to admit.

The Russian hummed softly, closing his eyes as he relaxed. The officer even began to run his fingers through his hair, which won him a tiny smile. A man playing with his soft, gray locks could make him purr like a kitten. Since Alfred was behind him, he didn’t get to see the officer take his sunglasses off, relieving his eyes. He placed his pair on top of Ivan’s for safe keeping. He barely noticed, his mind preoccupied by how careful Alfred’s touches were.

Giving his gum a final chew, he took the wrapper he saved in his pocket and folded it inside. Sticking it back in his pocket to throw out later, he got on his knees. Face to level with Ivan’s ass, he groped the squishy fat. “You got the ass of a chick. It’s crazy. So soft…” Alfred praised. He began with the behavior that would turn Ivan’s purring into trembling. Holding his hips, he placed a kiss on Ivan’s asscheek. It wasn’t a peck, he moved his lips and touched as if he’s making out. He licked over the thin cotton fabric, paying it no mind. His mouth treated Ivan’s body as if he was naked. Kisses down his thighs, his thumbs pressing into his sides.

Ivan kept his eyes closed, biting his lip as he fought to make any sounds that’d hint that he’s enjoying himself. He only released deep breaths, but it’s enough to encourage Alfred. Ivan feared that the officer's heavy petting would be enough to win his bet. Sadly, it’s been nearly two years since he’s been intimate with someone. His ex left him heartbroken with a bruised self esteem. He decided to drown himself with his career, distract himself with a luxury car and expensive clothes. Avoid going to bars and dating apps. He didn’t need anyone; he’d take care of himself! But with every lick, touch, and grab from the younger man, it proved otherwise. He couldn’t provide himself with the intimacy he desired. Sensation of love making can't be replaced with a fancy watch.

Alfred pushed Ivan’s sweater, revealing his back. The officer slowly kissed up, dragging his lips as he suckled on his pale skin. Each kiss matched the ones from earlier: deep and slow. His tongue drew circles, adding extra saliva. One hand held up his sweater, and the other kept a firm grip on his ass. This finally caused a few moans to escape Ivan’s lips. Embarrassed, he hid his red face on the couch. But it’s useless, he could feel Alfred’s smirk against his skin. The officer knows he’s winning this battle.

He took it a step further when he pulled down the collar of Ivan’s sweater. Exposing his neck, his hot wet mouth sucked on the back. Alfred’s face nuzzled Ivan’s gray soft locks, while his lips and tongue went to work on leaving hickeys. This won gasps from the Russian, whose legs began to shake. The officer discovered his ultimate weakness: his neck.

Nothing made Ivan melt faster than lips or hands around his neck. The less he could breath, the stronger the orgasm.

“Ah, ha…” He gasped, biting his lip. He regretted it, as he could hear the cop chuckle in his ear. A hot tongue went up his lobe, sucking on it. Ivan tensed up, his wrist yanking against the cuffs. An erection grew, one he prayed Alfred didn’t peek.

“Oh… Haha… Your neck a sweet spot, huh?” The officer asked in a husky voice, returning to sucking on his neck. Ivan’s lips trembled, legs tensing up from the jolts of pleasure. Sharp breathes spilling from his lips, he’s losing to Alfred more every moment. How wrong he was to question the officer.

He’s relieved from Alfred’s neck kisses, but only to get tortured further. Alfred went back to rubbing his thighs and asscheeks. Kneeling down again, he spread his ass cheeks and dropped some spit. Which landed on the area exactly where his asshole is. The fabric wet, Alfred rubbed his thumb over it. This instantly rewarded him with tiny cries from his crush. Alfred could feel Ivan’s puckered hole underneath the thin cotton. Feeling devious, he offered a few licks between his ass.

“Oh… oh…” Ivan cried, giving up on hiding his moans. It’s all such a tease- to be touched so intimately but with a barrier. He could feel Alfred’s tongue on his hole, but he yearned for the pants to be pulled down. To not just feel a hot breath in between cotton, but a wet, moist lick. So close, yet so far from true pleasure.

Alfred’s hand did a quick swipe to check for an erection on Ivan. When confirmed, he stood up straight. Desiring playful confrontation, he walked over to the other side of the couch. Now facing Ivan, he used one hand to hold it. Alfred viewed his red face, with trembling pink lips. Those violet eyes kept glancing down, too shy to meet the officers. The aviators that Alfred had placed on Ivan’s head for safe keeping were still there. Cushioned with Ivan’s soft gray locks, the officer plucked them from his head and returned to wearing it. Ivan would have to wait again for an opportunity to see Alfred’s baby blues.

“So, you gunna tell me I was right or not?” He mocked with pride. A toothy grin, showing off his cockiness. How could he not be? He managed to talk his way into getting his crush handcuffed and bent over the couch. Said crush is now moaning and squirming under him. This only encouraged such proud behavior. His thumb rubbed on Ivan’s lower lip.

“Come on, baby doll. Where’s your manners? A man of the law is talkin’ to ya’.” Ivan isn’t sure if he’s thankful that Alfred had ceased calling him ‘Russkie’. It had been replaced by baby doll, and he hadn’t decided if it’s humiliating or arousing. He avoided glancing up. Alfred’s voice dripped with condescension.

“...I like it…” Ivan confessed, as Alfred wouldn’t shut up until admitted. Eye leveled to the officers crotch again, he saw a large bump pressing against his pants. He fought back the urge to stick out his tongue. As if his mouth desired to be filled by it.

“Mm, you want more?”

Ivan nodded, closing his eyes. It’s all he wanted. More.

“Well, then you gotta tell me. Say, ‘Sir, can you please put your tongue up my ass?’” Alfred came with zero mercy. His cuffed crush would need to beg for any touch. Respectfully.

Ivan’s lips trembled again, his face burning from arousal and embarrassment. He couldn’t recall a time a man spoke to him in such a manner. So dominating, yet playful. Clearly in charge, but had a sweetness to it. He finally looked, meeting Alfred’s gaze. Again, he only saw his reflection behind the aviators. On his knees, face red, just as the week prior. Instead of Alfred having his hand on his cock, he’s caressing his face. He preferred this sight.

“... Sir, can you please put your tongue up my ass…?” He caved, muttering such shameful words. He couldn’t lie anymore, he’d say anything to feel Alfred’s face pressed between his legs. His lips kissing down his bare thighs, his tongue on his needy hole.

The officer licked his canine. Ivan questioned how those teeth would feel on his neck. Alfred leaned in, with Ivan able to smell the mint on his breath again. It took him for the first time; how Alfred had leaned inside his car. How the smell of mint and aftershave hit his nose. How his heart raced out of fear; nervous about the interaction with the cop who pulled him over.

His heart raced now for different reasons.

“Oh, baby doll, I’ll give you whatever you ask for.”

Alfred bent over to give a hot, strong kiss. Their lips moved against each other, with Alfred’s tongue pushing inside him Ivan could taste the mint, and it brought him back to their first kiss. Instead this time, he isn’t frozen in shock like before. He matched Alfred’s energy and aided in a passionate make out.

Standing straight, he walked back behind Ivan. He grabbed the waist of his pants, pushing them down to his knees. Finally exposed is his asscheeks, with Alfred whistling at the sight before him.

“God damn…” He groaned, squeezing Ivan’s bare cheeks. He chuckled when he spread them, revealing his hole. “Aw, ain’t this pretty and pink…” He purred, teasing Ivan as he rubbed it with his thumb. It won him a gasp, with him reacting with a smirk and a slap to his cheek. “Now, these cheeks I think need some color…” Another hard smack, with Ivan tensing and crying out. He adored getting spanked. Other than his neck, it’s another tactic to make him melt.

“You like that?”

Smack

“Mhm…” Ivan agreed in a weak moan. Carnal needs overtaking all pride to fight.

“Well, ain’t you a lil’ slut…” Alfred hissed, grabbing Ivan by the back of the head. He yanked it back, causing Ivan to whimper. “Ow… I am not a slut…” He argued, his tone sounding hurt. Lips pouting, he worried that these interactions would cause Alfred to think less of him. Even if it sounded crazy, Ivan usually wouldn’t let just any man handcuff him in his living room. Alfred is simply an…exception.

“Heh. It’s okay if you a little bit of a whore. I don’t judge.” Alfred spoke, letting go of Ivan’s hair.

“... I have not had sex in two years…” Ivan confessed, hiding his face in the sofa out of embarrassment.

Alfred blinked, tensing up. “Uh, really…?” He questioned, his bow raised. His hand ran down his back and rested on his crush’s hip.

“... Yes…”

Alfred’s expression went guilty, his lips pursing. His thumbs massaged Ivan’s hips. Soft skin under his strong hands. “Oh, uh… I guess ya’ more innocent than I thought…” He let out an awkward laugh. “Sorry for assuming you're a nasty lil’ freak.”

Ivan shrugged, his face still nuzzling the sofa. “I can be… I just… Not all the time. You were being gentle, I… I really liked it…” He confessed. Even cuffed up and bent over, he’s weak to gentle touches and care. He craved them, they were rare in his world.

Alfred raised a brow, going to his pocket to reach for his key. Unlocking the cuffs, he threw them aside. Along with his sunglasses. Hands free, Ivan grabbed the sofa back and rested his arms. He felt Alfred’s fingers go up his sides, pushing up his entire sweater. He leaned, his lips going at Ivan’s neck again. All the kisses were sweet like before. Cock throbbing, he’s close to begging for contact.

“Is that what ya' want? You want me to treat you all sweet and gentle?” The officer purred, nipping at his earlobe. Ivan nodded, humming as he tensed under him. His body burned, this desire unfathomable. He couldn’t recall the last time a man made him want to give everything he could. Submit in every form possible, handing over all control. He didn’t want to think, command, or boss around. He needed a man to take charge. Put him in his place in a way no one else could.

Ivan couldn’t see Alfred’s eyes narrow, as all the pieces came together. “Y'know what? I think I get your deal. You like being treated all sweet. You just embarrassed ‘bout it, so you need a little, uh, push.” He explained, chuckling in Ivan’s ear. Such an accurate analysis left Ivan whining.

“You want someone to treat you like a precious lil’ thang? I bet most don’t. They think you can’t break, huh?” He teased, his tongue wetting Ivan’s neck. Ivan’s fully in his grasp, as there’s no going back. Alfred had him.

“Sorry for the spanks. I’ll be nicer to that fat ass of yours.”

Ivan whined, shaking his head. He didn’t need Alfred thinking he disliked it. “No, I- I love it. I do not mind you being… A little rough…” He spoke honestly. Love making mixed in with spanking and neck bites were perfect. Not too vanilla, it made him feel cared for yet submissive in the perfect blend. He couldn’t recall the last time a man could fuck him in such a mixture.

“Mmm, sugar with some spice, huh?” Alfred teased, standing straight and adding another hit to Ivan’s ass. Such strong arms made it sting. He kneeled again, his face inches away from Ivan’s behind. “I got you. Don’t worry.” His husky voice said, with a drawl. Wasting no time, he stuck out his tongue and gave a long lick between his cheeks. The tip of his tongue swirled the hot ring of flesh. This sent waves of pleasure through Ivan’s lower half. He squeezed the sofa top, throwing his head back to look behind him. All he could see was his bright blond hair, and his hands squeezing his ass.

Alfred’s kisses on his hole mocked the one he got planted earlier. Hot, wet, passionate. The officer groaned, offering a hard slap on Ivan’s ass. His kisses went down to his hanging pair, giving his delicate sac suckles. More deep kisses on his cheeks, clearly attempting to leave a hickey. Enthusiastic would be the best word to describe Alfred. He had vigor in every hit, kiss, and lick. Everywhere his tongue went, not leaving a single part of his ass or upper thighs without a kiss. He used both hands to smack Ivan’s cheeks, winning a cry of pleasure. Ivan could feel the hot breath of groans on his ass. He couldn’t question if Alfred was enjoying himself as the officer smothered his face in his behind.

Both of their moans and gasps for air filled the room. Alfred began to talk in an almost desperate tone. “You're so fuckin’ hot…” He panted, with Ivan feeling his hot breath on his hole. “You’re perfect…” He complimented, giving kisses to his cheeks. “God damn it!” He groaned, his tone switching from desperate to aggressive. He offered a hard hit to Ivan’s cheek, making the other man whimper. “I’mma make you mine.” Alfred then stood so he could lean over Ivan’s back. He held the taller man’s hips, as his tongue licked a bare spot on Ivan’s neck. Said bare spot got a hard bite, one that made Ivan squeeze the sofa and yell. His cock twitched, more bites to his neck and shoulder. His eyes watered; Alfred’s perfect smile was sharp. But even as a few tears dripped down his cheeks, he’d savor every bite. Every suggestion of possession. His heart raced, his body burned, his cock twitched. His needs are insatiable. They wouldn’t stop there. They couldn’t.

“I want you inside me…” Ivan begged in a breathless voice. Alfred responded by licking his neck and going to his ear. “You want me inside you? Fuck you like you’re mine?” His raspy voice made Ivan tense, he’s not used to such possessive language. He questioned if he should be checking Alfred’s tone and comments. The officer could be knocked down a peg or two.

Ivan gave Alfred a ‘shoo’ hand movement, signaling the man to remove his tongue and hands. “I will… grab what we need upstairs…” He said, attempting to stand. However, Alfred had other plans. He grabbed Ivan’s hips and flipped him over, causing him to fall back into the sofa. Leaning forward and getting between his legs, he used his hands to grab the underneath of Ivan’s thick thighs. Ivan wrapped his arms and legs around Alfred’s as a natural reaction. Being lifted in the air, Ivan began to panic. Anytime a man lifted him in such a manner, he’s dropped. He had no hope that the cop wouldn't have a similar story.

“Alfred! Put me down!” He demanded, swatting at Alfred’s shoulder. The officers' strength over powered Ivan’s whining, as he walked up the stairs. He carried Ivan as if he weighed nothing, Hands gleefully squeezed Ivan’s ass cheeks as he smirked. “Be quiet. I got you.”

“You’re going to drop me!” Ivan whined, holding Alfred tighter as his heart raced. Each step up the stairs caused his chest to tingle in fear. As if his body is waiting for Alfred to drop him. His breathing calms down when they finally make it up the stairs. In shock, he looks down at the officer. His arms are wrapped around his neck, with Alfred smiling up at him. His eyes were gentle, less intimidating without the sunglasses. His tan face had freckles adoring his nose and cheeks. A gentle smile on his lips for the first time. Ivan didn’t even notice that the officer had brought him to his bedroom. Caressing his face, he lets out a yelp as Alfred playfully throws Ivan on his bed.

He laughed as he bounced back, his legs spread as his hands ran across his own chest. Alfred licked his canine and smirked at him.

“Now, where ya' hide everything at?” He asked, raising a brow. Ivan rolled to his side and crawled to his dresser, as he reached for the bottom drawer. Alfred came behind, taking advantage of the position by running his fingers over the hickeys on Ivan’s thighs and ass. He could see a box of condoms in the drawer out of the corner of his eye.

“You said you haven’t fucked in a few years, but what you got all those condoms for?” He questioned, a brow raised. Ivan grabbed one and placed it next to him, along with some lube. “I said I haven’t had sex in two years, not that I haven’t had something inside me.” He addressed in a matter of fact tone. Alfred nodded, putting two and two together, his lips forming a quiet ‘oh’. Ivan rolled on his back, his eyes inspecting Alfred. “Now, why am I the only one naked?” He pouted. The officer was dressed, even his shirt hadn’t been unbuttoned much. Ivan yearned to see what’s underneath.

Alfred grinned, his fingers going to unbutton his uniform shirt. Ivan watched with his own little smile; he had fantasized about what the officer looked like naked. Now he’d bear witness if Alfred will fulfill or disappoint. The cop threw the uniform shirt on the floor, and then took off his white under shirt. Ivan bit his lip, Officer Jones was muscular. His intuition came via the muscles that he could see on his arms through his uniform. But shirtless he got to see Alfred’s full form. The officer caught his crushes stares.

“Like what ya' see?” He teased, eyeing Ivan’s erection. He crossed his legs to hide it.. “Mm. Maybe.” Ivan flirted. Alfred’s undoubtedly handsome, and he didn’t stop eyeing him while he dropped his trousers and boxers. He’s distracted by his half hard cock, it’s as big as he remembered it. His lips parted, having crude wishes.

Strong arms, chest, thighs- he could see how Alfred is able to lift him up the stairs. Lost in his staring, he’s interrupted by Alfred climbing on top of him. Leaning in, they exchanged a passionate kiss. Lips pressing against each other, Ivan ran his fingers through Alfred’s bright blond locks. He could feel sturdy hands on his hips. Groaning underneath the make out, the pair enjoyed the sensual moment. When Alfred pulled away, he offered a gentle smile. Ivan’s thumb traced his bottom lip. With his face so close, he got the pleasure of taking in Alfred’s features. Freckles, dimples on his cheeks, bright blue eyes. Full lips and soft hair.

“You know, you have a boyish face and gentle eyes. I think I understand why you wear those sunglasses all the time…” Ivan pointed out, winning his first blush out of Alfred. He giggled, pleased with himself that he made the charmer turn red.

“I know. This face ain’t intimidating.” His eyes flickered away as if he’s embarrassed about it.

“I like that.” Ivan said simply, a soft smile on his lips. Before he could say additional sweet talk, he got off of Ivan so he could roll him over. Ivan let out a laugh as he got to his knees. He heard Alfred squirt lube on top of his fingers and then felt the cold, wet liquid against his hole. “I hate how cold it is…” Ivan complained. He knew it wouldn’t take long to warm up soon, though.

“I know, lube is all gooey an' cold… Oil is better…” He agreed. “But, ya can’t use it with condoms… Unless…” He slipped in one finger, with Ivan humming as first before snorting out a laugh.

“Let you fuck me without a condom? That is funny…” He jested, sitting on his knees so he could hold onto the headboard of his bed. Alfred raised a brow to that reply, speeding up his fingering. It caused Ivan to let out tiny whines of pleasure.

“You would let me if I was your boyfriend…”

“You, my boyfriend? That’s even funnier.” The fingering kept Ivan’s voice from sounding too snarky.

Ivan gasped, gripping the headboard as he let Alfred finger him. He wouldn’t admit out loud, but he’s grateful to feel fingers that weren’t his own. It’s a luxury to throw his head back and let another man do the work. He felt kisses on his ass and thighs, the gentle care getting him to smirk. Throwing a look over his shoulder, he decided it’s his turn to push buttons.

“Mmm… If you'd done this to me last week, I would have gone on a date with you…” Ivan confessed, smirking as he pushed himself against Alfred’s fingers. He heard the cop whine, and grab one of his cheeks.

“What? Really?!” He whined as if Ivan made a shocking statement.

“Mhm…” Ivan raised a brow, finally able to see Alfred’s expression. He licked his lip. “And if you were a good boy during the date, I would probably take you back to the hotel…” The officer's jaw dropped, letting out a ‘what!’. He kept steady fingering him, but had an expression of disappointment on his face

“Mmm… And you know…” Ivan’s voice is husky as he mocked him, moans slipping out. “I work from home a lot. I could have come over a night or two this week…” He teased, with Alfred’s reaction priceless. He looked like a kicked puppy, as a whine escaped.

“What?! But, uh, you’ll come over now right?” There’s desperation in his voice. He sped up his fingering while his free hand massaged his ass cheek. Ivan’s cock twitched.

“Fuck no.” Ivan spat out, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. His lips parted while he moaned. Alfred is hitting all the right spots. He did his best to take control of the conversation.

“You want it? You must come here.” He stated, pointing down to his bed. And he meant it. There needed to be some punishment to hold over Alfred’s head. Currently, letting the officer fuck him in his own bed is not one of them. If anything, it probably made Alfred feel as if he’s off the hook.

“I’ll come over once I like you enough.”

More whines left Alfred’s mouth, his shoulder’s slumping. Ivan knew a mid twenties man, hearing that he could have banged Ivan several times in a matter of a week is shattering to his ego. Ivan personally didn’t find it to be a long time, but the sad noises from the other man showed he did.

“Alright…” He muttered, focusing on stretching Ivan out. The Russian could see in the corner of his eye his intense expression. As if his plan is to fuck Ivan as good as possible.

There’s no complaints from Ivan on that front.

Hot and bothered, he shooed Alfred’s hand. He then sat on his knees, his hands placed on the top of his pale thighs. “You can put on the condom.” He instructed, his voice breathless. He attempted to catch it as his heart raced. Ivan’s face flushed, as his own hand went to relieve the tension in his cock. A few gentle strokes even made him flex. He could hear the wrapper, while he tapped his fingers on his thighs and cock. He took a moment to reflect.

Was he really going to do this? Was this crazy? Irresponsible? Reckless? He’s using protection, he noted to himself. He’s in the safety of his own home, not on the side of the road. Alfred had respected any sexual request from Ivan. He did know Ivan’s address, which worried him if he ended up sucking in bed. He’d have to tell a cop who has his address to kick rocks!

‘Who cares. Let’s have fun…’ Ivan’s inner debate ended.

He turned his head to get a look at the officer. Scrambling to put a condom and lube on, violet eyes scanned his tan, muscular body. Ivan bit his lip as he grinned, deciding to lean into his lust. He even took it step further. “I want you to handcuff me again.” He asked, getting off by Alfred’s reaction. The younger man’s eyes went wide, with his perfect grin matching. With haste, Ivan got to see him go hunt for the cuffs. Conveniently they were in the pockets of his pants that were on the floor. Ivan put his hands behind his back without question, feeling the metal tighten on his wrist. A tiny gasp escaped, his cock twitching from excitement.

“Alright, c’mere!” Alfred said, gripping Ivan’s hips. Pulling him closer, this caused his head to fall into the pillows of his bed. Face down, ass up, a covered tip on his hole. Ivan took a deep breath to relax his nerves.

“Just tell me if I need to slow down, okay?” Alfred proceeded to push the tip of his cock inside him. Gentle and slow, he went a little deeper but paused when he heard a sharp gasp from Ivan.

“You okay…?” Alfred asked, his tone hushed but concerned. Ivan nodded, “Keep going…” Following his lead, he continued pushing inside of him. The tightness and warmth made Alfred groan, while the feeling of being so full caused a loud gasp out of Ivan.

“Oh my god!” He exclaimed in Russian. Wheezing for air, the sensation was intense. His toys weren’t as big as the officer, and it had been so long with an actual man. He tensed around his cock once it’s fully inside, unable to restrain himself. His fingers circled up into fist. Gasping for air, he took a moment to relax himself. Alfred began to massage his ass and lower back, attempting to calm down his crush. He bit his lip as he looked down. “Fuck…” Alfred cursed, waiting for Ivan to give the go to start moving.

“You can move…” Ivan whined, nuzzling his face into the pillow. Alfred did so, starting his thrust carefully. Both hands on his waist, he joined in on the moaning. Little smacks against each other's flesh filled the room. One hand slid from his waist to the handcuffs around Ivan’s wrist. Alfred's hand tightened around, yanking it so he’d have more control. Ivan’s lips trembled, as the pleasure of being so full made it impossible to hide his reaction. He’s dreamed for someone to be deep inside of him, for a hard cock to press against spots that made him groan. For him to see stars, and have that desire to make it happen again. He yearned to yearn after someone. The way he’d crawl on a lover’s waist, give a pout and ask to be taken. To feel a man’s fingers dig into his hips, sharp teeth bite his neck and shoulder. All the sensations the officer gifted him. It all depended on how powerful the orgasm would be if he'd let the man grace his doorstep again.

The officer kept up a steady pace, never going hasty. He’d do a sharp thrust, pull away slowly, and slam back in. Each time making Ivan cry out. Alfred isn’t quiet himself, groans escaping his lips. The mattress creaked underneath them. Drips of Ivan’s own drool on his pillow, as his mouth gaped. He wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t last long. He felt full, with every inch of his body on fire. Naturally tensing around Alfred’s cock, it’s a feeling he missed and could never get used to.

Needing one more act to send him over the edge, he managed to verbalize a request. “Pull my hair!” His voice was out of breath. Ivan felt fingers comb through his hair before he’s yanked up. The pain of his hair being used to hold him up only aroused him. He could feel a hand gripping his waist. Fingers digging into his flesh. No restraint, Ivan let the orgasm take over him. His legs began to shake, unable to stay still. He pulled at the handcuffs, so hard that he’d probably have red marks on his wrist later. Unfiltered cries came out, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes. 

Alfred must have been able to tell he’s coming, as he sped up himself. He had uttered a few phrases earlier, but Ivan didn’t catch a word. All his mind could focus on were the waves of pleasure flowing through him. Alfred let go of his hair, with Ivan’s head falling into a pillow. Alfred laid on top of him, the pair gasping for air. The officer still had enough energy in him to lift himself up by his arms. Covered in sweat, he looked down to a panting Ivan.

“Can… can I get that date now…?”

“...Ah… Fine…”

[brokebonewritings]

Never Before, Never Again

Astarion x Fem! Reader

Tags/ Warnings: 18+, Angst, Abuse, Death, Mentions of Blood, Smut

Summary: It’s been six month since settling down in Baldur’s Gate with Astarion. After killing Cazador, you notice his aggressive nature taking over. How long will it take for you to be truly done with his wrath.

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: I want to start off by apologizing but I felt so inspired after the new romance scenes in Patch 6. I also want to say that I will be writing a good ole, fluff fic with Astarion just to make up for this.

Navigation || Masterlist

You paced down the corridor of the palace you now shared with Astarion. It had been 6 months since that fateful night. The killing of Cazador had been eventful so to say and shortly after you had accepted his invitation to be his. Forever.

It wasn't the same. You started noticing it little by little. His attitude towards you had become increasingly aggressive. Feral even.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that lingered in the air whenever Astarion was around. His once charming demeanor had turned into something darker. As you walked through the palace corridors, you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding creeping up your spine.

Reaching the library, you decided to throw yourself into your research. You were a scholarly warlock, after all. And work you did. For hours you studied magic texts, and the histories behind them.

As you sat in the dimly lit library, Astarion entered the room with a predatory glint in his eyes. His movements were slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. When you turned, you tried to shake off the feeling of fear that gripped your chest as he approached you.

"Darling, is this where you've been all day?" His voice was low and dangerous, sending a shiver down your spine. "I've missed you and your delicious body."

The room turned cold as his words sank in. Something had changed in him, something dark and possessive. 

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure in the face of his unsettling presence. "I've been busy with my studies," you replied, keeping your tone neutral despite the growing sense of dread in your heart.

The dread whenever he was around had only appeared in the most recent weeks. You tried to focus on the book in front of you, but his proximity was suffocating.

Astarion's hand suddenly shot out and slammed the book shut, causing you to jump in your seat. His grip on the tome was tight, his knuckles turning white as he leaned in close enough for you to feel his cold breath on your skin.

"Studies can wait," he whispered, his voice sending a chill down your spine. "I have other ways for us to spend our time together."

You had to play along. It was the only way to appease him. The only way you could escape.

"How is that, my love?" You say as you rise from your seat, taking his outstretched hand gently.

In a swift motion he pulls you in close to his chest. As he held you tightly against him, his grip almost bruising, you couldn't help but feel a surge of fear mingled with a strange sense of thrill.

His lips brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he whispered, "I want to show you a new side of pleasure, my dear. A side that only I can unlock for you." His words were laced with seduction.

As he guided you out of the library and down the dimly lit corridors of the palace, you couldn't shake off the feeling of being led into the unknown. 

You found yourself in a room you were very familiar with. The air was heavy with the scent of ancient magic, and as Astarion's eyes gleamed with an otherworldly light, you realized truly you were not in the presence of the man you one knew.

"Darling, did you bring me in here to ravish me?" You say as you begin to remove your silk dress.

Watching his eyes darken with hunger, his lips curled into a sinister smile. He circled around you like a predator assessing its prey, his fingertips trailing lightly along your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

He finally stops behind you and reaches around your neck to grip your jaw. His touch was both possessive and delicate, a stark contrast that sent a wave of conflicting emotions through you. As he tilted your head back to expose your vulnerable throat, you could feel the weight of his gaze burning into your skin.

Astarion's voice was a low murmur against your ear, promising whispered secrets and forbidden desires. "Oh, my sweet little morsel," he murmured, "I am going to make sure there is not a single place on your skinned that is untouched."

His mouth finds the pressure point in your neck and you moan as he gives it a gentle bite. You know he can feel you tremble beneath his hand. He trails his kisses lower until he is able to fully sink his teeth in.

You begin to gasp and writhe under his touch, the intensity of his grip and the sharp sting of his bite both arousing and terrifying. And then, as suddenly as it began, Astarion pulls away, leaving you breathless and exposed.

"Astarion!" You shout, hand covering the bite marks on your neck. "I told you to ask before doing that!"

"I do not need to ask permission! You are mine! I own you!" He grabs your arm pulling you towards him.

That did not stop the tears from beginning to drip down your cheeks. Everything he did not want to become, he was. After countless promises that he was the same rogue you had met that fateful day.

"Oh darling, do you see what you have made me do?" He whispers. "You know I don't like to shout at you." 

Astarion's features softened as he saw the tears on my face, though his eyes remained distant and cold. He slowly released my arm and stepped back.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the tremors in your body. "You need to control yourself, Astarion. You are beginning to change into someone I don't know."

"Of course I am changing. I am the most powerful being in this world." He walks over to the chair by his desk. "Are you doubting me now?"

Shaking your head, you couldn't help but to submit to the question. "No, no. Of course not, love."

He motions with his finger for you to come to him and you obey. When you approach him, he motions for you to kneel before him. Once again you obey his command.

"Here is what we are going to do, pet." He begins "You are going to be a good girl, and do as I say. Understand?"

You nod. "Yes I understand."

"Such a good girl, aren't you?"

He stands and steps forward grabbing hold of your chin and bringing you in for a searing kiss. Once he was satisfied, he pushes against your cheek causing you to fall back roughly. You try to catch your breath as you sit there, staring up at him.

"Get undressed, and sit on the bed for me, darling."

You stand and finally fully undress. You sit on the edge of the bed, feeling the silk sheets beneath you. You didn't know how to react at this point.

He stepped closer until he was looming over you, his shadow engulfing you in its darkness. Then, he reached down and began to trace the outline of your body with his fingers, starting at your neck and moving down to your chest.

"Spread your legs for me," he commands, his voice low and seductive.

You hesitate for a moment, but then you find yourself doing as he says, unable to resist his authority. He takes a moment to enjoy the sight before him, his gaze lingering on each part of your body that he intends to claim.

Finally, he leans down and kisses your inner thigh, his lips barely brushing against your skin. You tremble as he slowly makes his way up, his tongue tracing a path along the delicate flesh. Each touch of his lips and tongue sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you.

As his lips reach your most intimate place, you arch your back, your breath coming in short gasps. You feel him tease you, his tongue flicking against you, driving you mad with desire.

Astarion smiles, a wicked smile, as he notices the effect he's having on you. He pulls back slightly, giving you a moment to catch your breath before he begins to devour you. His tongue plunges inside you, sending waves of pleasure through you that threaten to consume you.

You can't help but cry out in pleasure, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as his tongue moves inside you. You are completely at his mercy, your body arching and writhing as he takes you to heights you never thought possible. Finally, he pulls back, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He leans down and kisses you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. 

"Now," he says, his voice low and commanding, "It's time for you to learn what it means to truly be mine."

You nod, still reeling from the intensity of the experience. With one swift motion, he grabs your hips as he flips you over. You lay there a moment, listening to the ties of his pants coming undone.

He lifts you up and positions you at the edge of the bed, spreading your legs wide to reveal your vulnerability. His powerful hands grip your hips, and he begins to enter you slowly, his movements deliberate, almost intimate. 

You gasp in pain, then pleasure, as the feeling of fullness envelops you, overwhelming your senses. He moves harder, faster, and you can't help but arch your back to meet his thrusts, moaning his name over and over.

He continues to dominate you, his voice a low rumble in your ear, promising you more pleasure than you ever thought possible. Your body responds, writhing beneath him, your hands clutching the sheets, your moans echoing through the dimly lit room.

"That's it, my love," he growls, his voice low and filled with lust. "Take it all."

His thrusts became more erratic, his breath ragged, and you felt his grip on your hips tighten. Astarion's eyes lock on yours, and you see the intensity of his desire reflected in them. With one final thrust, he groans your name, and you feel him spill inside you.

When you feel him slip out of you, you can't help but turn yourself around to face him. You were met with the unpleasant feeling of a sharp dagger being pressed against your chest.

"Astarion?"

"I know exactly what you are planning to do to me, Darling."

The dagger you had hidden in the pocket of your dress was the exact one that was being held against you.

"Please Astarion, it doesn't have to be like this!" You begin to cry. The man you once knew and loved had been left in that chamber.

"Oh, but it does have to be like this." He presses the dagger a little harder causing you to wince in pain. "You were the last person I expected to betray me." 

"Betray you?" You choke out, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I... I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, Darling." Astarion's voice is cold and murderous, and you can see it in his eyes. "We both know that's a lie."

He steps closer, the dagger still pressed against your chest. You can feel the cold metal prick you, causing you to jolt in pain.

"Tell me," he demands, his voice barely above a whisper. "What did you plan to do to me?"

"You are becoming exactly like Cazador, Astar-"

"Don't ever mutter his name in here again!" His voice seized with venom. "I am more than he ever was! Smarter, Powerful."

His grip tightened around the dagger, its edge digging deeper into your flesh, drawing a thin line of blood. Your heart raced with fear, but you couldn't help but retort, "And yet, you still lack control."

As he raises the dagger back to plunge it into your chest, you quickly maneuver and shove him into the bed without second thought. The knife falls from his hand and slides onto the floor near your feet.

You take a moment to catch your breath and gather your thoughts. This situation has escalated far beyond what you had anticipated, and now you need to act quickly to save yourself.

Staring into Astarion's eyes, his murderous intent shining back at you. With a surge of adrenaline, you push yourself off the bed and lunge for the dagger on the floor. You manage to grab it just as he jumps to his feet, ready to pounce.

With the dagger in hand, you cautiously back away from him, trying to keep your distance. "Listen to me, Astarion," you say, trying to keep your voice steady despite the trembling in your body. "You have hurt me beyond words can explain! I have had enough!"

"I have given you everything you have ever wanted!"

"And yet you have taken everything I needed!"

Astarion's eyes narrowed at your words, and he took a step towards you, menace radiating from him. You raised the dagger in front of you, preparing to defend yourself if necessary.

"You betrayed me, Darling. You lied to me, and now you want to take my life?"

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "I never wanted this! I just wanted.. I just wanted you to be the person you were before, but you've become someone else. Someone I don't recognize."

"I was always this person!" He shouts, you see his hands shaking with anger. "You could not change that even if you tried."

Astarion took a deep breath, his fists clenching and unclenching. You knew he was about to do something that would change the course of both of your lives.

"I'm tired of being your spawn, Astarion."

With that, Astarion lunged at you. The dagger that was held tightly in your hand was raised as you plunged it into his heart. His eyes widen in shock, his breath catching in his throat as the cold steel and wood pierce his chest.

Blood spills from his mouth before he speaks. "I thought you loved me."

"I did love you." You sob, "But I knew for a while that you truly didn't love me."

You watch as his body convulses for a moment before going limp. You step back, staring at the lifeless form before you. The room is silent, only the sound of your ragged breathing filling the space.

Taking a deep breath, the shock of the moment is still fresh in your mind. You never thought it would come to this.

You sink to your knees beside his body, the weight of what you've done heavy on your chest. The blood is still warm as you reach down to touch it, a single tear falling onto his skin.

"I'm so sorry, Astarion," you whisper. "But I had to do it. I had to save you from yourself."

Slowly, you rise to your feet, your legs shaking with the realization of what you've done. You take in the scene before you, the remnants of your love now tainted with blood and death.

Taking a deep breath, you wipe away the blood from your hands, leaving behind a red smudge on the wall. You grab armor from the wardrobe before finally leaving the palace. When you reached the door and opened it, the cool day air felt cool against your skin.

Looking back one final time, you realize just how trapped you had been. Now free, you felt the weight of sadness as you set out on your own once again. You would never let this happen again.

Taglist: @fruityrituals @guacam011y

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[valentine-cafe]

. ˚◞♡ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅 𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒚𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒅 𝒙 𝒈𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓◞ ₊˚

. ˚◞ ꒰ verse 209 rishen ꒱ spider monster x reader, mantis monster x reader, moth monster x reader, mad scientist x reader, yandere x reader ⊹ ۪ ࣪

𖹭. you get chased by the once charming scientist who you quickly discover is a mad monster

shadows laughed at you as your footsteps smack against cold marble floors. white as snow. yet your vision painted them red. scarlet. like his eyes.

heart beating a hundred times through your ears. pounding. crying. sending your mind into disarray.

is he there?

maybe there?

your gaze darts around the tangle of hallways. one wrong choice could echo your screams.

but you have to choose.

you need to.

“running, are you?”

your head shoots up. facing crimson slits. and you scream, stumbling back into the darkness and taking off. your luck will choose your path. a path echoed with his dark chuckle.

he does not run. only prey runs. predators stalk.

wait.

hunger.

you see him in the walls. terrors of his claws etched into the paint. a skitter of a mantis and spider ferally chasing its prey. you catch his gleaming teeth and nauseous head-turn from the side - and scream - darting down another hall.

“oh darling.”

now he’s behind you.

another cry. another shot of adrenaline and you’re sprinting. letting the darkness engulf you in hopes that it will spit you out into a safer place. away from the mad man you called lover, and now horror after discovery of his heinous acts.

and just when you think it’s over. when you have run till the air flees your lungs and burn replaces your airways. when your feet can run no more and you’re gasping out for sweet relief, leaned against a wall.

hoping. praying. you have escaped the monster.

a cold drop hits your forehead.

and upon slowly looking up. your eyes gape. a scream lodges itself in your throat.

at the sight of your once beloved. clinging to the ceiling and his neck twisted so he faces you clearly. jaw unhinged. a twisted grin. painted in crimson.

soon to be doubled - as your scream tears through the air.

[lostintransist]

Tears from Dreams and Memories

Cross-posted from AO3, check out the tags over there but reader beware. I kill everyone in this little one-shot, and if I don't kill them they wish they were dead.

Check those tags out here.

Seriously, if you didn't check out the tags I kill everyone or they wish they were dead. Readers beware

You shouldn’t be running down the halls of the base. You know you shouldn’t be running. But fuck all if they weren’t right on your heels. The men had come back on base drunk and the creepy ones had searched you out. You choked down the sobs that threatened to escape. If you could just get far enough away you might be ab—

You slam into something hard. You had taken the corner fast, a hand still behind you on the wall to help you pivot. You look up, and up, and up. A hard skull mask stares down at you. Blackout paint hides everything beyond the whites of his eyes.

Maniacal laughter starts up from behind you. You can’t stop the flinch that wracks your body. Shifting you aim for the pocket of space between the man and the wall, your socks shift ever so slightly against the inside of your boots. His hand shoots out, grasping your arm before you pass him.

“Wait.”

The tone reeked of a command. No one gave commands on a base like this unless they knew they had the authority to back up the demand. The thump of steps against the thin carpet has you letting out a high-pitched keen and pulling against the bear paw holding you in place.

“Please, please, please let me go.” You barely understand the words tripping off your tongue.

Barbed wire is wrapped around your spine, it pulls tight when two men appear at the end of the hall.

“Ho ho! You found her! Our friend here owes us a good time tonight for bailing on drinks off base.” The blond sways only in his eyes, shifting over your breasts and ass.

The man with the black hair just leers, it’s almost worse.

The man holding you makes no move to let you go or tell off the men who followed you over half of the base for their ‘fun’. A change in the air occurs, a pin of a grenade hitting the dirt.

The hand on your arm tightens. The British accent surprises you, the base had been briefed that a unit on loan from the UK would be joining them for a few months. The line repeated to every man and woman below a certain rank is to leave them alone and if you have any questions submit them to the liasons.

“Get back to your rooms, you have two seconds to get out of my sight or I will be having a chat with your base commander in the morning.”

They gape at skull man, their drunk minds stumbling trying to catch up.

“What?” The blond questions.

“One.”

Both men start to back up, the menace in that single word tightens around your throat. You escaped two predators only to land with a stronger one.

“Tw—”

The soldiers take off, the threat finally process past the alcohol. You pinwheel your arm as their boots disappear behind the corner. You break free of the grip on your arm and start forward away from this new evil. One step is all you can take before arms wrap tight around your chest. He caught your arms too, fingers dangling by your thighs.

All the fight in your body leaves, your brain deciding to there is no escape. Your head rolls forward, you don’t even have the energy to blink.

When you position changes your mind starts recording new memories. Looking around you find yourself on a chair in the kitchen connected to the mess hall. The beast of a man stands in front of you slowly adding hot water to a cup. Your breaths pick up speed, fingers curling on the edge of the chair.

Skull face turns and drops a knee in front of you. He looms close but doesn’t touch any part of you.

“None of that now, I am not here to hurt you. We are just having some tea and then I will walk you to your room.” He speaks with a slow tone, as if coaxing a feral cat from beneath a car.

You can’t tell where is accent is from, England for sure but not the common one associated with the country in your mind.

“I..I…I don’t..don’t…like tea.” You stutter at him.

You see his brows draw down despite the mask.

“Well I will give you a warm cup to hold while I drink my tea then.” His voice is deep as it should be with the breadth of his shoulders.

He stays on his knee, looking you over until at some point known only to him, he stands. He removes the tea bag from both cups. He adds a splash of milk to both cups and an ungodly amount of sugar. He gives both a quick mix and hands you one. He pops a hip on the stainless steel counter. He’s so damn tall he has his left foot flat on the floor and and still comfortably sit on the counter his right foot swaying slightly.

“Can you even,” deep shuddering breath, “call that tea with how much sugar it in it?”

“Can’t call it anything if you don’t try it,” he slips a finger below his mask lifting it enough to fit the mug to his mouth. He wears gloves too.

Once the mask cleared the edge of his jaw you slam your head down. You stare at the tea, the milk slowly swirling into water. You turn away and take a sip. The idea of milk and water as a drink still didn’t compute but the sugar masked any issues you might have had.

You sip at the drink finishing only about half when the sounds of movement bring your head back to the scary man in the room with you. His hand is stretched out to you. Glancing up and down it you slowly place your cup in his hand. You don’t feel so adrift after the quiet company.

You stand, awkwardly holding your elbows while he rinses the cups and spoon, leaving them in the empty sink. When he turns back to you he motions with his fingers for you to head out of the kitchen. You do as instructed. He picks up the chair on his way out. You hold open the swinging door, manners ingrained from childhood. He nods his thanks, tucking the chair just so below the table.

You don’t move until he looks at you. You let the door swing shut and begin to lead the way back to your room. Once you clear the doors of the mess hall he falls into step with you. You walk the brightly lit halls, walls dotted with darkness for windows. He remains a steady presence at your side until you stop in front of a door that looks exactly like the others.

“Thank you for your help,” you stare at your boots, curling your toes inside your them.

“Lock your door tonight.”

With that final command he turns and walks away. You don’t know where the UK team is staying but it is nowhere near the dorms you slept in. You do as instructed, locking the door behind you after you confirm that your roommate is already in bed, snoring lightly. Sleep comes slowly, a skull mask haunting you behind your eyelids.

✮✮✮

Price stares down at his tea, blinking slowly. He sat in an empty officers room. The base commander was courting the 141. He had yet to come out with the goal of this collaboration. He wonders absently if a tip of a flask would make the morning meetings easier to handle.

A file is slapped down on the table in front of him. Ghost sits down, a seat between them.

“I want this one.”

Price blinks at the file, his cup, and then finally his lieutenant.

“It is to early for this. Speak clearly. What do you want?”

In lieu of answering Ghost reaches over and flips open the folder. It’s a personnel file. A neutral faced woman stares out at him from the small photo.

“I am not helping you get a girlfriend, Ghost.”

His joke doesn’t land. Ghost snatches the mug of tea from his hand.

“Don’t be crass, I hate the team the base commander has given us to work with. I want this one.”

“You want a soldier right out basic who knows next to nothing about this base and has probably never even met the commander to be our new point of contact?” Price can’t keep the exasperation out of his voice.

Ghost slurps at the tea. Price sighs and massages right above his eyebrows. This would be a hard sell to the base commander.

“I’ll see what I can do, now get the fuck out of my face. I don’t want to see you until lunch.”

✮✮✮

The wrinkles on the base commanders face absorbed light like a black hole. Price stood before the man’s desk, face neutral.

“You want to change from the team of our hand chosen soldiers to accommodate any need you have on base for a baby? Am I understanding that right?” He flipped through the file Ghost had dropped on the table just this morning.

“My lieutenant has a tendency to eat anyone he doesn’t tolerate.”

“He eats people?” the commander cut in.

“I have no confirmation of if he actually eats people, commander, only that he will chew through any team you give him until they all beg for reassignment. To avoid that strain on your teams I am asking that you give us this one soldier who has been requested.” Price lays the facts out reasonably, tone hinting that the commander would be an idiot to ignore this request.

“How did they even meet? We have strict orders for most of our people to not interact with your team at all,” he tossed down the file on this desk.

“I tend not to ask questions that will only result in a dead eyed stare. He won’t tell me even if I asked, I’ve learned to roll with what he gives me.”

The commander steeples his fingers, elbows resting on the arms of his office chair. Price noted the power move but was more concerned about what the mess hall would be serving for lunch. He wondered if he could put in a request of a clam chowder, the warm creamy soup would hit the spot.

“Alright, I will reassign your current team and give you this one soldier. The paperwork should be done by dinner. I will have her also move to your section as she will need to be on hand for your team.” The commander leaned back in his chair, “Is there anything else your team needs right now, Captain Price?”

“No sir, everything has been satisfactory. I have a few things to finish up, I will see you at the 1100 meeting.” Price extracts himself from the commander’s office, closing the door behind him.

Soap pushed off the wall falling into step.

“So we getting a new aide? Because Ghost requested one?” He grousued. “Ghost who would have bit the aide from the last base if it didn’t mean removing his mask?”

Price smirked, “In all fairness that man was an areshole.”

“Aye he was, but why the request?” Soap pushed open the door they had come to. They were near the training grounds.

“Don’t know Soap. Why don’t we find out?” Price aimed for someone who looked to be in charge.

✮✮✮

You pause, looking around. You were almost sure that someone had just called for you. You look around and see a man waving you down from the edge of the training area. You check that you are clear to cross before jogging over.

“Good, come with me.”

You follow. When you finally slow you are presented to two men. They had to be members of the 141 with skull face. One man, taller than you but not by much kept a trimmed beard, crows feet around his eyes. The other man towered over you, almost as tall as skull face, the mohawk added several inches to his height.

“This the recruit you were looking for?” The man who walked you over pointed a thumb in your direction.

“Think so,” bearded man said. He stuck out his hand, “Nice to meet you, you can call me Price.”

You shake his hand, twice up and down with a firm pressure. You had to learn to ‘shake like a man’.

Mohawk man sticks out his hand next, “Soap.”

You shake his hand and nod, turning back to the man who walked you over.

“Is that all, sir? All of us low ranking members have standing orders to not speak to any of the 141,” you infuse your words with a ‘I’m just doing my job’ tone.

Soap snorts out a laugh, covering it poorly with a cough into his fist.

The man before you stutters before Price jumps in.

“Thank you, that will be all.” He can’t help but smile as you nod and turn on your heel heading back to your task.

As you are walking away you hear Soap’s comment.

“I can see why ‘e wants her, much more spunk there than anywhere else on this base.”

✮✮✮

The news comes down the line of your reassignment to become the sole attendant of the 141. You scarf down dinner, they wanted you presented to the team at 1800. You speed walk to your room, the clock showing a measly twenty minutes to pack your life up to move halfway across base.

You make it, squeaking through the door exactly the time you were requested. The base commander stands, hands tucked in one another behind his low back. He stands looking out the window over a group of training soldiers.

He ignores your presence for a moment before turning towards you.

“Ah, come in. We have a few things to discuss before I introduce you to the team. One question before we start, do you know why you were requested to be our liaison?”

You answer honestly, “Sir, I have not even a singular idea as to why.”

He hums, “We need this to go well. We need to borrow from the 141 from time to time and can only do that if they agree. Your job is to do whatever is needed to secure their agreement.”

Your stomach turns sour at the word choice, do whatever is needed. The military is no different than a pimp, only difference is one gets cheers and free meals at IHOP.

“Of course, sir, I will do my best.”

“Good, now here is what you need to know…”

The meeting takes another twenty minutes, your brain a bit fried when you lift your bag to follow the commander.

You take stock of the nicer flooring and art as you enter the building just beside the commanders. He lived on base since his wife passed nearly a year ago. You enter a room, you would still call it a living room despite all the time in the military.

Soap and a man you haven’t seen sit on the couch intently focused on their game of Mario Kart. They raced along the Rainbow Road. Price and skull face sat at a table near the wall. Price worked away on a laptop and skull face held an e-reader. A fifth man reclined in a chair near Soap, clearly asleep. Feet spread wide, head tipped across the back of the chair, an arm thrown over his eyes.

“This is where you will be staying. Captain Price will be in charge of you until they leave in a few months time. I will leave the introductions of the team to him.” The commander claps a hand on your shoulder, knocking you forward a step.

Price looks up at the motion, pulling a small headphone from his ear.

“Ah, Commander. Thank you for delivering our new aide, we will take good care of her.” He stood, striding over and offering a hand again.

You shake it again, focused on the retreating sounds of the commander. Once the door clicks behind him you feel the tension release slightly from you shoulders.

“Welcome, lets get you introduced to everyone and then get you settled.” Price smiled at you warmly, the crows feet showing it to be a common state for him. “You’ve met Soap, next to him is Gaz.”

Neither man acknowledges their name, to focused on the game. They are on their third lap, neck and neck for the lead. Gaz drops back slightly and throws a blue shell, effectively taking first. Soap jumps to his feet, shouting.

“You feckin’ cheatin’ son of a whore! Not even mother Mary will save you after this!” His accent came out thick in his anger.

Gaz just laughed as he crossed the finish line. Soap rolled in at fifth. With their outburst done Price continues his introductions.

“The sleeping man is Roach, he doesn’t speak much so don’t worry if he doesn’t respond to you. And then we have our L.T., Ghost,” Price gestures to the masked man.

You can’t stop the words. They escape, your brain slowing down the embarrassment to exacerbate the stress.

“Ghosts don’t have bones.” Such a matter of fact tone. Fuck a duck, why are you like this?

Ghost stands. You swallow hard. He clears the space between you in three long strides. Mother-fucking giant of a man.

“What?”

He asks as if he hadn’t heard, not as if he were offended.

You roll your lips between your teeth, answering a bit louder despite his now closer position.

“Ghosts don’t have bones, so your mask is a bit of a silly choice.”

Every man awake busts into laughter except Ghost. You glance over and Gaz is hanging off Soap, struggling to breathe. Soap is curled forward hugging his stomach. Price smothers a chuckle next to you.

You look back at Ghost, his eyes squint slightly at you. You give an awkward smile.

“L.T. how has no one ever thought about that before?” Gaz is out of breath and falls back into laughter after his question.

Ghost blinks once at you.

“Follow me, I will show you to your room.”

You wince at his back, throwing a glance at Price.

“You’ll be okay, he won’t hold it against you,” the laughter in his voice didn’t reassure you.

You scurry after the man you insulted by accident, wincing at every sound you make. The only sound Ghost makes is the slight swish of his pants as they cross with each step. He leads you down a short hall, turning right at the first choice. There are two doors down this short hall. He taps the second one.

“This is your room. Mine is next door.”

“I am really sorry, I didn’t mean to make a joke of your mask,” you stumble over your words.

“Don’t apologize, it’s a funny thought and the men will take to you easier after the joke,” he replies evenly.

You wince again and look at the door.

“Is there anything I need to handle tonight?”

“No, other than we have a nightly debrief at 2000 in the main room.”

You blow out a short breath. “Okay, I can do that.”

Stepping into the room you are surprised at the single bed, dresser, and a desk. Still all military issue but nicer. You drop your bag on the bed, looking over the space. You hadn’t truly been alone since you signed up, this might be an adjustment.

Turning back to the door you startle, Ghost is still standing in the doorway, arms crossed and eyes on you.

“Can I help you with something, lieutenant?” you ask, curious as to why he is still stood in the doorway.

“No. Feel free to join us when you are ready.” He turns away, this sound of his steps quickly fading.

You sit down on the chair at the desk. You put your head in your hands, elbows propped on your knees. How the hell did you end up here? Last night you were running for your life and now you are helping court a specialty group from the UK for the base commander. The only person from the team you spoke to last night had been Ghost. Did he have something to do with this change?

You eventually join the team back in the main room. The 2000 debrief had just been a fancy way of saying they all have a cup of tea before bed. Roach pulled out a deck of cards and you soon found yourself in a game of poker you would lose. You laugh more at the table with these men than you had in all the months you had been in the military. You fell asleep that night a soft smile on your face, the door locked tight.

✮✮✮

The months passed quickly, you became texting buddies with everyone on the team beyond Ghost. He watched you. You noticed but ignored it. He happened to be a grown man and if he had something to say he would have to buck up and use his words.

Roach comes alive through your text conversations, he is full of observations and quirky sayings. He is your favorite texting buddy.

As the time for the 141 to return come crept closer without a hard yes or no from Price about working with the base in the future the commander crept further up your ass. After a particularly unhelpful meeting where the commander ended up yelling at you, you stormed into your room. Throwing yourself face down on your bed, muttering curses.

“Can I help you?”

You eyes blow wide in the darkness created by your face being compressed into the mattress.

Shit. Fuck. Dammit. You had missed your door and landed on Ghost’s bed. You pushed up from the mattress on hands and one knee. The other foot already searched for the ground.

“Nope, sorry Ghost. I just had a bad meeting and missed my door,” you can’t help the blush overtaking your face.

One foot on the floor you pull your torso up, ready to turn and race out of the room once your second foot touches the carpet.

“Pause.”

You freeze finally looking up to see Ghost working at his desk. He has a soft balaclava on today, still a skull painted on but much more inviting than the hard mask. He has no darkening makeup on today, you can see dark brows and light, fair skin of England showing through the hole in the mask. You devour the peek into him.

“Sit,” he turns from you pulling open a drawer of his desk.

You shift to do as you are told. He has never been unkind to you, just the opposite actually. The two men who chased you across the base had been reassigned across the country shortly after you joined the team. Neither of you said it out loud but you know that only Ghost had been aware of what happened.

He spins his chair back towards you. He holds out his e-reader. This thing goes everywhere with him. Ghost could be called a voracious reader. You glance between the small device and his face, not touching the offering.

“Pick anything you like, feel free to stay until you feel better.”

You reach forward, fingers slow to grasp. Once you have a firm grip he lets go and turns back to his work. Starting the device a book opens halfway through. You back out to the main page and scroll through the options.

Several of the titles garner a raised brow.

“Didn’t take you for a smut reader, Ghost.”

The only response is a creaking of the chair as he shifts. Your lips twitch with a smile. You choose a title vaguely familiar and start from the beginning. You read sitting on Ghost’s bed until the nightly debrief. The next day you find yourself knocking at his closed door. You’re just going to ask to borrow his reader until you can finish the story.

When he opens the door what could be called a smile reaches his eyes. The edges of them shift together the barest hint.

“It’s on the bed, right where you left off.”

Bashfulness overcomes you, forcing your gaze to swing down to your boots. You slip past him, sitting against the wall feet dangling off the bed. Once the story has well and truly sucked you in you reach down and remove your boots, eyes not leaving the words as they thud to the floor. Ghost doesn’t say a single word as you end up stretching across his bed feet swinging through the air.

A knock at the door jolts you out of the story. Price’s voice comes after a knock slightly farther away.

“Debrief will be a bit late today, 2030.”

You lock eyes with Ghost, remaining silent. As Price’s footsteps walk away you flip to a sitting position and shove your toes back into your boots. You set the reader down, focused on getting the ties just right. Once they feel tight enough you stand.

“Thanks for letting me read, I guess I will come back when you have a moment you can spare it.” You can’t keep your fingers from digging into your pockets. You can’t believe you rolled yourself all over his bed while reading.

“You are welcome any time. If you are close why don’t you take it tonight and return it in the morning?” his head tilts ever so slightly.

“Really?” Your brows rise as does your voice with the question. “If you don’t mind. I can finish the book after debrief and return it before lights out.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” he raised a brow as a challenge.

“I’m not saying you do,” you glare at him. “Confirming your level of seriousness is not doubting you.”

“If you say so.”

You stick your tongue out at him.

“Careful with that thing, some could take it as an invitation.” He turns back to his desk as you gape at him.

Did Ghost flirt with you?

You snap up the e-reader, holding it close to your chest as you leave the room. You let the door hang ajar, knowing it bothers him.

You wander into the main room, tucking the small tablet into your side pocket. Setting the kettle to boil you prepare a cup for each man, dropping a preferred tea bag in each. As everyone settles in around the table you finish adding milk and sugar to mugs and passing them out. Ghost sits last.

“Sugar with tea for you,” you place the cup down in front of him and take the seat to his right.

Soap chuckled, “Go’ta say L.T. she’s got you pegged.”

“To bad we can’t throw her in our luggage for when we head home,” Gaz chimed in.

Price leaned back in his chair, “Well now there’s a thought. How long do you have left?”

You finish your sip of hot chocolate, “Only about a year, but I am not planning on re-upping.”

“Wanna come work for the 141?” Price lifts a brow at you.

“Put that offer in writing so I can get a visa and absolutely,” you grin. With how much Price griped about paperwork you doubted he would follow through on getting you a work visa.

He glared at you, “You drive a hard bargain.”

“Have you known me to do anything less?” you challenge.

“Do the paperwork Price, or I will.” Ghost dropped the statement like a smoking gun to a criminal case.

You smirk down into your cup, taking a sip to avoid a comment. Ghost hates paperwork more than Price and is so meticulous with it because he hates when he has to redo the ‘fucking devil’s work’.

The men leave the table as their tea is finished, rinsing the mugs before settling into the final activity of the night. You stay at the table and pull out the e-reader. The book sucks you back in.

“Is that Ghost’s reader?” Soap’s shocked voice rips you from the climax of the story.

“What? Uh, yeah.” You settle back into the battle, your main character taking a knife to the ribs.

“Did he let you borrow it or…” he lets the question hang, a noose swinging in the wind.

Irritated, you put the tablet down. Turning to look at Soap you reply.

“Of course he let me borrow it. I’ve been using it for a few days.”

Soap’s brows shoot up his forehead, nearly touching his mohawk.

“Really? Well that’s an interesting development.”

“I guess? Now my character just got stabbed so if there is nothing else I am going to finish this before lights out so I can return it.” You turn back to the table and get absorbed back into reading.

You return the reader to Ghost before bed, and only use it in behind the safety of his door until they leave.

✮✮✮

The anticipation of pain has never once made the pain hurt less.

They are leaving, your friends are heading home to the UK. Price is the one who sat you down and gave you the dates. Two days, in two days you would walk them to their plane and have to move on like you didn’t find family in some of the scariest men you have ever met. You hold it together until you get out of his sight.

Tears slip down your cheeks, a silent testament of the love that has grown for them. You slip into Ghost’s room. He should be out right now, off training with Roach. He isn’t.

Asleep with his boots on, Ghost is sprawled out across his bed. One hand dangles out over the edge. You sit against the bed, his arm draping over your shoulder. You hold his large hand in both of yours. You know he is probably awake, but he does you the kindness of staying still. He isn’t wearing his gloves today. Ghost had many healed scrapes and scars to explore. You let your fingers drift over his hand, bumping over every ridge.

You sniff as tears continue to flow down your cheeks, splattering against your shirt. It’s hard for you to believe that you can love these wacky guys to the point of pain at their departure. You slid right into the dynamic of the crew as if they had held a place for you. Cutting off arguments between the 141 and everyone else had become your primary job. You could talk down any member from retaliatory action for both minor and major slights. You toed the lines between both Price and the base commander to find common enough ground for their agreement to be settled. You still didn’t know why there were here, only that an agreement had been reached with you as a go-between more often than not. Now they were leaving. Leaving you behind. Knowing they have jobs waiting for them, for missions to be completed doesn’t ease the ache in your chest.

You stay like that, fingertips drifting over the skin of his hand until the storm in your chest has petered out and the only signs it ravaged your soul is the tracks on your cheeks and the tears drying on your shirt.

You sniff once, sliding your fingers to fit between his.

“I know you’re probably awake, but thank you for letting me use you for comfort.” You squeeze his fingers once before standing.

Scooting out and away from the bed you take care to not look at him. This private comfort you stole from his sleeping form could only be that, private. Seeing his eyes would shatter the flimsy barrier to your heart and you couldn’t afford to lose any more of that worn organ to men across the sea. Your fingers stayed locked with his as you stood, reaching, touching until at last the kiss of his fingerprints whispered their goodbyes.

You close the door softly behind you, heading for the bathroom. Standing before the mirror with the bright white light illuminating your blotchy face you tuck away your pain to deal with in the dark. You scrub your face with cool water and redo your hair. When the a soldier with a job looks back at you instead of a woman losing her family you leave the bathroom.

✮✮✮

 

Two days later you say your goodbyes. Your number is entered into so many new phones and you are repeatedly asked which secure platform you will use to chat with them all. Their flight is scheduled to leave at 0320, at midnight you are scouring the rooms they used confirming everyone has packed everything.

Ghost finds you ass in the air while your hand stretches for a book Gaz had been missing for three weeks. It had fallen between his bed and the wall. When you snag it you pull back triumphant. You see his legs first, glancing all the way up at his face.

“Oh, hi, Ghost. I am just checking everyone got everything before you all leave,” you smile up at him.

He doesn’t respond, just offering a hand down to you. You take it gratefully, pulling yourself up. Taking a step back you look him over. He is wearing his soft balaclava today, he tends to wear them when he needs to be more comfortable than scary.

“All ready to go home? I bet you are going to be glad for an overcast day and a good cuppa,” the happiness in your voice isn’t faked. Ghost has complained to you a few times about the terrible tea here.

“Ready to be home, not looking forward to the flight.” He looks you over scouring your face, his gaze scrapes like steel wool over your nerves. “Close you eyes and hold out your hands.”

The husky tone of his voice catches you off guard enough that you comply without thought. Gaz’s book is lifted from your hands, leaving them empty.

As you stand you hear the buzzing of the bright light above you, the sound of Velcro opening, and the quiet sounds of breaths, both yours and Ghosts. The fingers on your cheek are a surprise, the callouses marking your skin as they trail from your jaw to your eye.

You push your face into the touch, savoring the contact. His thumb brushes against your lips. You flick the tip of your tongue against it , tasting the ridges unique to that finger. He slides away from your mouth, thumb and fingers curling around your jaw and tipping your face up. He kisses you then. Riots start inside your body. Part of you yearns to open your eyes, devour him, touch the breadth of his flesh. The other, stronger part of you screws your eyes shut tighter, taking the gift as it is given and demanding nothing more.

He kisses as if he bottles his kindness and doles it out only for you. The press of his lips against yours will keep you going. He pulls back ever so slightly.

“I’ll see you in a year dove, stay safe,” he says the words against your lips, pressing them together once more. He puts something in your hands as he steps away, his fingers still on your face.

You keep your eyes closed, waiting for some sign it would be safe to open them again. His thumb taps your jaw before drifting away.

“Open your eyes already you silly bird,” the smile in his voice is unmistakable. His fingers slip away as your eyes open.

This mask is down again, you smirk up at him.

“Why am I a silly bird for respecting boundaries you big oaf? If you wanted me to see your face you wouldn’t have asked me to close my eyes.”

He shrugs, “Didn’t think you would let me kiss you if you saw it coming.”

You can’t stop the full belly laugh that erupts out of you. “I don’t know how to respond to that!”

Shaking your head you look down and pause. Your head snaps up.

“You’re giving me your e-reader? Why?” your brows draw together as you look at him.

He shrugs again, shoulders shifting just enough to indicate he didn’t have a real reason to share.

“It’s still logged in, feel free to buy any book that piques your interest.” His hands lift to your face, cupping your cheeks.

Your eyes flutter closed at the contact. His forehead connects with yours, his warm breath kissing your face as it filters through the mask.

“Don’t die before I get there okay?” You open your eyes, staring straight into his. This close you can see the variations of brown striping through them.

“Can’t promise nothin’, but I’ll do my best.” He sounds sincere.

You give into the urge to hug him. He hesitates before returning the gesture. You stand with him, listening to his heartbeat until you have soaked in the pressure of his presence. You pull back first, wiping at your eyes.

“Let’s get you to your ride, Price will come looking for you soon.”

You grab Gaz’s book, tuck the e-reader in a side pocket and walk with Ghost to the hanger. The silence between you is comfortable, and tinged with the moments you have shared in silence before.

As you get close you wave the book at Gaz who jogs over.

“Where did you find it? I looked everywhere,” he takes the book gratefully.

“Everywhere but under your bed obviously.”

Ghost snorts, walking past you to join Price near the gangplank of the plane. You’ve said all your goodbyes at this point. You only stay to see them off. Everyone but Ghost gives you a hug or a pat on the back as the board the plane. You wave until the door shuts and watch until the dim lights of the wings are swallowed by the darkness.

You blow out a breath and speak into the darkness.

“One year, you can make it one more year.”

✮✮✮

Six months in you can tell things are getting bad for them. It takes longer and longer for replies to come in to your messages and when Soap is willing to share whats happening it is summed up in a single word.

Mole.

They go dark for another three months. Your days are filled with a background of worry and a foreground of doing what you are told.

Ghost is the one who breaks the silence.

>Your paperwork is through, you visa should arrive soon.

The cheer you give in the mess hall has every eye on you. Pinching your lips between your teeth you clean up your tray and slip outside.

>Anything special I should do after it arrives?

His reply comes quick.

>Pack.

You laugh. Some would miss the dry wit with which he pokes at you. You miss him, them.

>I have a few months left before I am out. Should I fly into Heathrow?

>Yes. Send Price your flight details and someone will come get you.

You send a kissy face emoji in response, imagining the eye roll that this would incite.

The final three months slip by like water. Your off time is filled with nailing down travel details and fighting with Price via email over the contract he sent you. He set up a fair contract, but he wanted you on his team so why not ask for a few extra vacation days?

✮✮✮

Soap is the one to pick you up when your flight lands. You drag your achy bones through customs, the clash of accents all around you weighing on your brain.

You set your bags down to hug him. He laughs.

“Miss me bonnie lass?”

You mumble your reply into his chest.

“I’m not anyone’s ‘bonnie lass’.” You nearly match his accent on the words.

“I donne believe you, but tis good to see you back. Let’s get you to HQ.” He looks down at your bags, “This all you have?”

You ignore the prick of judgment the question causes in you. There is nothing wrong with a transatlantic move that only has you bring a carry on and a backpack.

“That’s it, I pack pretty light. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He gives you a heavy side eye.

“Never said there was.”

Conversation falls back into familiar territory as Soap fights his way out of the airport, car inching forward until they are at last out of the city. You don’t fight the pull of your eyelids to meet in sleep as Soap sings along to the radio. A hand on your shoulder wakes you. Soap smirks at you from the other seat.

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty.”

You roll your eyes and focus beyond the windshield at an old barn. You glance at Soap, confused.

He chuckles as he replies, “England is old, we have to reuse what we can.”

“Alright, whatever you say.” You step out of the car, feeling odd to be leaving the left side as a passenger.

You leave your bags in the car. Soap wanted to introduce you to the full team before showing you to the shared flat you would be living in until you could secure your own lodgings.

He is talking about the area, waving his arms this way and that pointing out the range and the picnic tables. He pulls open a person sized door beside the massive barn doors.

“We’re ho-” his shout into the building is cut off.

Something wet sprays across the side of your face. You snap your gaze to Soap. His face is gone, just a mass of bloody tissue gushing blood to the floor.

The scream that erupts from you is genuine. You had managed to avoid combat with the army and had never seen what a bullet could do to someone’s face. He falls slowly, almost as if his body is still fighting against gravity.

A hand claps over your mouth, unfamiliar voices yelling at you to ‘hush up or end up like him.’

You are dragged further into the building before your wrists are secured behind you. You are hurled into a large, windowless room landing next to the gasping body of Gaz. He can’t see you since his eyes are gone.

You vomit, doing your best to aim it away from him. When all the acid has been purged from your body you look around between dry heaves. Roach is hanging by his hands to a hook coming from the ceiling, Price’s face is slowly being peeled away as questions are being shouted at him. Ghost is missing, but you can’t decide if that is a good or bad thing.

Gaz starts to choke, bloody spittle dotting the floor in front of him. You scoot closer to him and lay your head on his. You can’t save him dammit but you can at least let him know he isn’t alone as he goes.

“It’s okay Gaz, you can go. Just stop fighting, rest.” The panic flooding your body makes it hard to talk.

He calms at your voice though, one final cough splattering the knees of your jeans. Gone.

You are wrenched upwards by your hair. You scream and stand, anything to relieve the pressure on your scalp. You are forced to stand before Price, your friend.

You can see a silver molar wink at you from his mangled face.

“Who is this Price?” The question comes from a calm voice.

How could anyone be calm at this time? Your eyes can’t settle on a single thing, flicking from person to person looking for a way out.

“No one, just a new liaison. Just flew in.”

The fact he answers the question tells you there is no way out of this.

A commotion at the door draws everyone’s gaze. Ghost is being dragged in by the back of his shirt, head lolling.

“Look what we found hiding in the rafters, a ghost!” All the men standing laugh as if this is all some big joke.

They tie him to a chair right next to Price. When they rip off his mask you look away.

“Ah lads, she is shy about his face. Good thing there won’t be much to see after we are done with him,” the man with his hand in your hair chortles.

They torture him, making you watch. Each scream from your friends snaps a tenuous hold on reality. Something deep in your brain stem seems to break when you see the bullet enter Price’s skull then hear it blast through Ghost’s. You aren’t anything any more. Nothing can touch you because while your body pumps blood your soul has followed your friends to the afterlife.

They don’t let you in of course, the angels dither over where to send you. You slip away from the pearly gates as they argue, wandering the fence that blocks paradise until hear the hooting laughter of Price getting caught off guard by a particularly funny joke. You find them all playing cards as if they were waiting for you. A cheer goes up and Ghost offers you a hand to hold.

✮✮✮

The night nurse can’t keep a yawn from her face. She takes a long swallow of her energy drink. She was getting to old for this shift. She stands her knees cracking like rice cripsies. Her trainee jumping up joined her.

“Let’s do rounds, midnight is pretty hopping around here. We have several patients that get restless around that time.”

Moving to the door she keys in the code for the day to enter the ward. She leads the way to the craft room. Most of the patients tended to congregate here during the night. The emergency lights meant this room never reached the level of darkness of the personal rooms.

Only one patient today, a young woman from the States who had been deemed too mentally unstable to stand trial. The doctors keep her heavily medicated for fear of her harming herself or others. The nurses gave extra doses of meds as they were able, her constant weeping scared the other patients. 

“Ah, just one tonight. This one you do need to watch out for though when you are working,” the older nurse watched from the doorway as her patient stared out the window rocking slowly.

“Why? She doesn’t look like trouble.” The baby nurse had so much to learn.

“First rule of psych, crazy is always strong. Second is that looks have no bearing on the mind. She’s from the States, word is that she tortured and killed at least eight men who were all special forces trained. The thought around here is that she had a mental break and snapped. Not that I believe that much anymore. Management has mentioned that her former commander from the US is filing a lawsuit to get her case reopened. I looked it up, turns out she never saw combat so there is no way she could have taken out eight trained men. The US embassy is trying to get her home.”

“Oh,” the baby nurse took in the information, slightly more worried about their career choice than before the shift started.

“You’ll do fine, let’s go do our bed checks.” The older nurse turned away from the craft room. “There is nothing else we can do to help her.”

Masterlist

[yanderes-galore]

Could I bother you for a Yandere Ibuki (Beastars) concept?

Wish we had more screen time for him... but his story was told, I suppose. This is my updated view on him. Possible AU where he's not shot 😔.

Yandere! Ibuki Concept

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive/Overprotective behavior, Violence, Biting, Isolation/Kidnapping, Dubious companionship/relationship.

Ibuki is described as intelligent and loyal.

Towards his obsession he'd be protective and caring, similar to how he is with Louis.

Ibuki would try to respect the boundaries of his obsession, unless they are trying to actively leave him.

Ibuki can also be seen as insecure due to his beliefs.

He wants his obsession to reciprocate his feelings, but also understands if you don't do so right away.

Ibuki can be intimidating, He's a Shishigumi lion no matter what.

It's his role.

But Ibuki can also be friendly and kind.

He would not want his obsession to fear him.

Even if it's easy to fear him.

He would hate it if you feared him.

He desperately wants you to view him as more than a large ferocious lion.

Ibuki wants nothing more than to be happy.

He gets that with Louis... He'd also get that with his obsession.

I like to imagine, despite his status, Ibuki would try to be gentle with his obsession.

Carnivore or herbivore, Ibuki would want to be careful and understanding.

I can see him working as both a platonic and romantic yandere.

Platonic is self explanatory, He'd act as a father towards you.

Due to being part of the Shishigumi, He's quite capable of looking out for you.

If his feelings are romantic, there's still a sense of patience and care towards you.

Ibuki would try to be extra careful as much as he can if he had romantic feelings.

Carnivores tend to be intense with such a thing... Even more so if you're an herbivore or smaller carnivore.

He dreads the idea of accidentally hurting you, like biting you and losing control.

Ibuki views his obsession as a way towards happiness.

He struggles with his past, yet tries his best to live in the moment.

He cares deeply for his obsession... but also respects them.

If he's being smothering, you can warn him and he'll back off.

Being Ibuki's obsession most likely means you're part of the Shishigumi yourself in some way.

If you aren't a lion and are indeed weaker than one, Ibuki would keep a close eye on you.

Regardless of his feelings, He'd do anything to encourage and keep you out of harm.

He's tired of being seen as vicious.

He would try to use his strength and intimidation to keep you out of harm.

He tries his hardest not to scare you off... He doesn't want to intimidate you.

Ibuki feels horrible when he tries to show affection and you cower.

If platonic, he feels guilty when you shake in his arms.

He could just be hugging you... only for you to be dwarfed by his strong body.

He could try nuzzling you to soothe you, yet you still can't help but show reluctant submission.

He's not trying to scare you.

If romantic, imagine the struggles of kissing or anything along those likes?

He can't get his mouth anywhere near you unless he wants you to freak out.

The only time I can't see this happening is if you're also a big cat.

Even then, Ibuki would hold back biting... even if he wanted to.

He doesn't want to be seen as feral to you.

Ibuki would want to get his obsession used to his presence.

He doesn't want you to just see him as a large predator with fangs and claws.

He wants you to know how much he cares for you.

You make him happy... so damn happy.

In fact, you may be able to tell this fact by his body language around you.

He softens around you, showing he is fond in some way.

In private he invites you to read with him.

He's fine with just being in the same room with you alone... no affection needed if you wish.

According to my research, Lions can not purr (A disappointment, really-).

However... They supposedly can make a low gurgle/growling noise.

So imagine being near Ibuki... and you hear small growls.

At first it would be... concerning.

However, he's quick to clear things up that he's just... happy... not a threat.

Although, growling could also mean he caught another Shishigumi member staring... which annoys him due to possessive instincts.

Now, would Ibuki kill for his obsession?

Naturally... yes.

He's part of the Shishigumi and has done it before.

But he tries not to do it out of jealousy.

He only bloodies his maw and claws if it means he could lose you.

Mostly if you're threatened...

... That's what he likes to believe....

You could argue that Ibuki would isolate his obsession to keep them in the Shishigumi.

Maybe in this timeline, he let Louis leave because he had you.

So... if you ever tried to leave, Ibuki may give into his possessive instincts.

He's respected your opinions and boundaries up until this point.

Now you wish to leave him....

Ibuki is normally quite nice and understanding, even as a yandere since he cares so much.

He knows he should let you go....

Yet, he let his happiness slip once before...

Ibuki can't bring himself to do it again.

He tells you once you enter the Shishigumi, it's pricey to leave.

So... why don't you stay here with him...?

He'll love you like he always has before... maybe he's being too hopeful... but he hopes you'll feel the same once he convinces you to give in to him.

[aloesarchives]

Tags/Warnings: Fem!Reader/Pronouns, Swearing, Gojo has a hard crush on you, Gojo vs Toji Part 3, The word ass being used, Toji straight up having beef and fighting a bunch of teenagers, Nicknames such as beloved and hon(ney), JJK OCs, Out of pocket moments and sayings, Me being an annoying narrator

[Semi-proofread, informal formatting, and edited as of 12/22/2023 10:18am CST]

Summary: One of the truths behind Toji's beef with Gojo

Word count: 2.8k words

(A/N: I spent 10pm-6am writing this because I just need to or I would never forgive myself if I didn't! I promise I will have some of the "Toji lives" AU posts ready by next week because your girl got her ADHD meds back in stock!! Thank you for being patient with me and my inconsistent updates!!) (12/22/2023 6:05am CST)

💙I love you all! 💙🥰😚💙

💙❤️Please Enjoy!!!💙❤️

The REAL reason Toji has major beef with Gojo is because Gojo had a crush on you during his high school days when you would sub for Yaga in the classroom and training sessions. He did try his best to keep it under wraps but Geto was like,

"Bro, she's the same age as Yaga-sensei. . . Stop reaching, Satoru. . . Do I need to remind you who (L/N)-sama is married to again?"

The Gojo responded with, "Suguru, I don't give a shit about that loser. He's a bum, anyway. The question you should be asking is why (L/N)-dono is fucking married and still in-love to a deadbeat like him. I would have been a better option. Face it Suguru, I'm right."

While Satoru has a point, as Suguru noted, it doesn't change the fact that Satoru was crushing on a MARRIED woman who had TWO kids.

Though it was true, Satoru would have technically been a good husband/father/lover. However, there are many reasons why it must be ruled out.

Satoru is over half your age. Picking him meant allegations and a prison cell. Gojo tried reasoning with you, "But (Y/N)-dono! Age is just a number, give me two years!" "And Prison is just a place, Satoru-kun. I don't want to be labeled as a child predator, let alone be framed for "seDuCinG" the Gojo heir. I want to have a clean record."

While his personality brought you happiness, his carefree nature would clash a lot with you. He can mature but his child-like spirit and carefree persona isn't something you would personally deal with.

He was more of your protégé/junior/student if anything. You saw him more as your son and acted like a parental figure. You wanted to watch him grow and mature. Not become his lover.

To spite the higher-ups and Jujutsu elders(excluding your clan). Given you were a powerful and skillful sorcerer, marrying Gojo would be "BeNeFiCiaL" to Jujutsu society. However, it meant that you were on a watchlist 24/7 and pressured to have an HeIR. It made you physically sick and ill thinking what those old useless dementia white-haired cowards are allow to do that just to better "society" but not its citizens.

You are MARRIED to a man who is trying to step up after his major fuck ups. It's not perfect but Toji is his best trying after you gave him his life and freedom. Since he technically can't leave your home or go to Jujutsu High without your supervision, he's basically househusband duty. And he was getting pretty damn good at it too. Plus Toji's hot, he got you feral and gnawing at your teeth with his signature smile and smirk. And the way his arms flex when he crosses them, or how they feel when you link arms together.

While it wasn't super obvious, okay it was obvious, you always shot down Satoru's playful confessions and light-hearted shenanigans. Basically rejecting him every time. Usually, Suguru would warn you in advance but you know it would happen with each interactions. While you firmly turned him down, you made him understand why it can't and WON'T happen. You still care for him, just never romantically, only platonically and motherly. You made it clear that his "love" for you was just a strong admiration and infatuation disguised as a crush.

Though he was heartbroken, at first. Satoru slowly understand what you mean and his crush slowly fades away as it's replaced with immense respect for you.

HOWEVER, it still linger and not widely known because Toji finally gets word of this through the grapevine. A.K.A, through his two children Megumi and Tsumiki. It happened one day when you brought the two to the school so you can keep a close eye on them since they didn't have school that day. Toji was out doing errands so the two kids are accompanying you. Megumi and Tsumiki were occupied with their books and toys while you taught and trained the students. Megumi and Tsumiki went to find you because they were hungry and you had their lunches. As they looked for you, they see you talking to Satoru. They meet him a couple of times but he's still a stranger to them compared to Shoko or Suguru. So when they see Gojo with you, all alone with no one around, they thought it was major sus.

As they snuck closer, they could hear bit and pieces of what Gojo is saying to you. Megumi lowkey thinks Gojo is super annoying and acts more of a child then he does. But what catches his ears first was something with along the lines of, "(L/N)-dono, please consider it-" "Satoru-kun, how many time will I need to say no to you? You know I can never feel for you that way. Plus it's bad for me to agree to it. You know that it's admiration and infatuation if anything. Not love."

See Megumi knows you only use love as in 'I love you" to him, his sister, and his dad. But to this dude? Nah, something fishy is going on and Megumi gotta tell his dad about it. Megumi comes running, yelling "Mommy!!!". You and Satoru turn to see your son running to you and colliding with your legs. You crouch down and pat your son's head and smile at your daughter following behind him. Megumi hands your hand tightly as you lead them away to have lunch with your kids. Satoru made a face at Megumi when he saw the kid glare at him.

Once you three made it home, you're in the bathroom changing into some home clothes. Meanwhile, Toji was cooking dinner while Megumi and Tsumiki were waiting for you at the dinner table. As Toji was asking them about their day with you, Megumi brought up Gojo's advances and confession towards you. When Megumi said this, the beef Toji was about to flip plopped right back onto the pan. He looks back at Megumi and asks if there's anything else that he can share. As Megumi shares what he has seen through his perspective, Toji asks Tsumiki to confirm is this is all true, to which she said yes, backing up Megumi's claims.

"Yeah, Papa. Satoru-kun is weird. Even though Mama keeps saying she's married to you, he still does it. Tsumiki saw it too."

"I see... Thank you, Megumi and Tsumiki for watching and taking care of Mama for me. I appreciate it a lot. Can you tell her that dinner is almost ready?"

The kids nodded and went to go get you. After dinner and putting the kids to bed, you were sipping your favorite drink as Toji is doing the dishes. You would have helped him but he said no. While you two were talking, he brings up Satoru and his school crush on you.

"Toji, beloved, you know that it's just a small crush. It's nothing more then puppy love for me. Nothing more and nothing less. And you know that you're the only man that I am willing to give my heart to."

"I know that, (Y/N). But what does this brat got on me to think he's a better match for you? Just because this kid is practically a god doesn't mean everyone will bow down to him. I'm definitely not one of them. And to know that said brat is flirting with you even though you're visibly married with kids, he needs to read the room. I will be going with you to school tomorrow. The kids go back to school the next day, and I already got this week's groceries and cleaned the house."

You would have protested if Toji didn't give you a searing kiss while caging you in his arms. Fuck he looked so hot. Curse him and his good looks *punching the air*.

"Fine, you can come. BUT, Toji you need to behavior yourself. You already knew the deal. You better not be doing any funny business."

"Yes, Ma'am. You're the boss, I promise you." Toji says as he gave you a kiss on the cheek before lightly patting your ass.

After dropping the kids off, Toji accompanies you to the school. Toji is just silent and sits in one of the chairs as you do your lessons. Toji is leaning on the chair with a smirk plastered on his face. Not a care in the world. After a few lessons, you were going to teach and train Gojo, Geto, and Shoko for the rest of the school day. As you went to their classroom, they greet you, especially Gojo. However, the mood changed when they saw Toji walk in behind you, wearing nothing but a black slim fit t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Toji gave a head nod to the teens while he just takes a seat in a chair to lean on it. The three were shock to see him.

Particularly because they did expect him to come with you to the school at all. Suguru had an idea but he hoped it wasn't going to be it. After teaching a lesson, you told the three to practice their curse techniques and let their curse energy loose. While doing so, you told them that you would have to speak to Yaga for a bit on something and would be back 15 minutes tops. You told Toji to behave, and he nodded and gave a thumbs up. As you leave the kids and your husband on the train grounds, that's when the storm started brewing. Toji walks up to Gojo and is 3 feet from him. He smirks while looking at him up and down, sizing him up. Shoko and Suguru are on the sidelines as Toji, a married adult male in his 30s, was beefing with a 16 year old high school student.

Suguru: "Satoru, I don't think this is a good idea-"

Satoru: "Hush now, Suguru. . . It's my time to shine. . . Watch the master at work."

Suguru proceeds to roll his eyes but becomes a little weary after his last encounter with Toji was. . . unideal. Given one of their teachers was shot in the throat by Toji saving Anamai, and himself getting injured. It wasn't something he wanted to constantly get reminded of. But ever since you liberated Toji from the higher ups and explained it to your students, Suguru has slowly been changing his views on Toji. It will take a while but it's getting there. Anyhow, Suguru told Shoko to book it once the two were going to throw down.

Satoru: "So, what brings you back here, Toji~? You just couldn't get me out of that little mind of yours~? You're mad I'm 1-0 with you?"

Toji: "Kid, I'm pretty sure that it's 1-1 since I won our first battle. Anyway, I heard through the grapevine that you gave (Y/N) a love confession. Don't you know it's bad to confess and hit on a married woman who has kids? Were you taught any manners? Then again, by the way you act, you probably have none."

Satoru: "You're just mad, Old Man. That I, Satoru Gojo, would treat (Y/N)-dono better and treat her worth. Face it, Old Man. I'm a better match for her than you'll ever be."

Toji: "Like she ever goes for someone half her age, Brat. Plus, you'll never look at you as a lover ever. You're more of a son to her and that's the closest you'll get."

Satoru: "Well, she doesn't need a bum like you around. Imagine fighting a bunch of teens and getting your ass beat by said teens. Skill issue if you ask me."

Toji: "Watch your tongue, Boy. Remember who made you struggle for the first time in your life and actually killed you. While, you know, fucking up your best friend, the second strongest sorcerer, with no curse energy? I got your ass with no gifts other than being a superhuman with weapons. You can never beat me, I'm just built different, Kid."

Satoru: "You wanna test that, Toji~? You got no curse weapons with you. I can pack you up like you're a school lunch."

Toji: "Kid, please. I don't need any weapons to beat you, let alone kill you. You see this? This is a rock, and I can use it to beat you. I also still have my hands too. And I am more then willing to give it to you, Gojo~kun."

Satoru: "You think I'm scared of someone like you? I've ascended, enlighten if you will. If you even know what that word is. Throughout Heaven and Earth, I alone am the honored one. Remember those words, Fushiguro-san? Remember them good because I will put you six feet underground."

Toji: "I see then, Kid. . . So you're playing God? I guess that makes me a God Slayer then. . . Prepare yourself, Kid. . ."

Satoru: "Alright, bet then, Bozo."

Thus, Gojo and Toji started to go at each other for round 3. Shoko was already gone and the two started fighting in the training grounds. Five minutes have already passed and they have made five decently sized craters. Just as both of them were about to throw a punch at each other, they suddenly felt a powerful presence which halted them. They turn to you walking towards them with a furious face unimaginable.

"GOJO SATORU AND TOJI (L/N) FUSHIGURO!!!! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?!?! I LEAVE FOR LESS THAN HALF AN HOUR AND I GET CALLED BACK BECAUSE OF THIS!?!?"

"(Y/N)-dono!!"

"(Y/N)!"

You moved like a blur and appeared next to them vice gripping their forearms tightly. You dragged them to the nearest empty classroom you can find or any room. You were just so livid that you didn't hear Gojo whining about your grip and asking to let you go like a child. As you let them go once you dragged them far enough, you smacked both of them hard on the head. Shoko and Gojo were watching this as Yaga appeared right next to them shortly. It was interesting seeing two of the most broken people in the world kneeling with their heads down in-front of a woman who doesn't have god-like abilities.

"GOJO, WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT USING BOTH OF YOUR ABILITIES DURING TRAINING SESSIONS!?!? YOU KNOW THE CALAMITY AND DAMAGE YOU COULD'VE CAUSED!?"

"BUT (Y/N)-dono! He-"

"NO BUTS, GOJO!! AND YOU, TOJI, I LITERALLY JUST SAID NO FUNNY BUSINESS AND YOU'RE ABOUT TO CREATE THE NEXT SECOND COMING OF CHRIST. I DON'T NEED ANOTHER RAPTURE HERE. I'M STILL DEALING WITH THE AFTERMATH FROM THE TWO OF YOU AS IT IS!!!"

"Okay, Hon. I take full responsibility for my actions today."

"YOU BETTER, TOJI!!! YOU'RE A FULL GROWN MARRIED MAN WITH TWO KIDS!!!"

"But (Y/N)-dono, I was not going to kill him last time-"

"NO ONES DYING HERE!!! NEITHER OF YOU WILL NOT DIE AS LONG AS I AM AROUND. I WON'T LET THE BOTH OF YOU KILL EACH OTHER OVER SOME PETTINESS AND A BOY CRUSH."

You start to calm down but you are still firm with them.

"I know this started because of Satoru's crush on me. . . Satoru, I will not love you romantically and date you. Please understand that. I care for you like family and that is said for the rest of you. Yes you, Suguru, Shoko, and Yaga. And Toji, I'm not leaving you for a child. I would be in jail and not working here. . . Geez, I saw this from a mile away but never expected this to happen. Now, you two better behave yourselves or else. You two don't have to say sorry or anything like of the sort. Just don't go tearing at each other's throats when I both am and am not around. Please, for me. . ."

The two looked at each other before saying a soft yeah. After that, Yaga told you to go home early and he would take it from there. You had to patch up Toji a bit but it wasn't anything of concern. From then on, Toji and Gojo just banter and bicker with each other. It's funny to watch except for Megumi since he's seeing his dad beefing with his unofficial adoptive older brother 24/7.

Satoru eventually grows out of his crush for (Y/N) but Suguru and Shoko never let him down. Hell, it's a running gag in the school about Gojo's old crush on you. Gojo always gets super embarrassed about it, especially when you join in but it's all fun and games with you all.

The only person who genuinely hates it is Megumi because the thought of Gojo having romantic feelings for you and trying to woo you made Megumi visibly ill and sick to his core. He would lowkey help his dad beat up Gojo if Gojo's crush on you became serious again.

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💙Author's Notes💙: 💙I am truly grateful to each and everyone of you in showing me that my writing is enjoyable to read!!! I appreciate you all from the bottom of my heart for making my comeback worthwhile! I hate to sound giga cringe but every single one of you that likes, reblogs, and comments on my writing post make me want to continue writing because I know that there are people out there that like what I make.💙 💙So once again, I am truly grateful and feel appreciative that everyone single one of you enjoy what I have been writing. I hope you all stay healthy, drink your water/favorite drink, treat yourself kindly, and take a break because you earned it!💙🥰 ❄️💙💙Happy Holidays to all of you, my GOATS!!!💙💙❄️

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 10: Feral

You come up with a plan to replenish Jackson's supply of horses. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-9 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: None. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 7k 

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Late Fall, 2003 

You thought you were 20 years old. 

It was hard to tell. You lost track of time quickly after the outbreak but you thought it was November which means you’d turned 20. It was both hard to believe that it had been more than a month since the world ended but it seemed like it should have been longer than that, too. It felt like forever. 

It had been weeks since you’d talked to another person. Leo had been the last human who wasn’t infected you’d seen and you’d rather deal with infected than him. Winter was getting closer. You could feel it in the air, the threat of snow on the wind and you couldn’t keep going like this. You’d need shelter, both for you and for Nike. 

You’d made it a point to stay off roads and stick to the wilderness. There was less chance of running into people that way, assuming there were any actual people left. You still ran into infected people out there, though. Their shrieking, clawing forms were obvious, even from afar. They weren’t smart like predators, they didn’t prowl or stalk. They just stumbled through the world hoping to run into someone else to attack. It made them easy to pick off, able to sit atop Nike and shoot them, dropping them from so far away that they weren’t even really a threat. 

But now, you would have to try your luck with the roads. You needed to find a place to hole up for the winter and you weren’t going to find that where you were, it was too damn remote. It was a risk, you knew, but the bigger risk was staying out in the elements where you’d freeze to death. One was a sure shot at death, the other was just a really good chance of it. 

So when you came across a road, you made the call.

“Well, at least we’ll go down swingin’,” you scratched Nike’s neck and sighed, guiding her onto the pavement. 

You were on the road for a few hours before you came to a town. You could smell it before you saw it, the air rotten and reeking. You scrunched your nose against it, passing the burned out shell of a humvee as you came up on the gas station and dollar store that marked the edge of whatever tiny place you’d stumbled upon. 

The town was small, maybe four streets. There was a McDonald’s and a small grocery store and then, at the center of town, at the corner with a pharmacy and a delivery pizza place and a dentist’s office, was a pile of bodies. 

It looked like the whole town, dozens of them all rotting and bloated, flies gathered on distended and split bellies. 

“Fuck,” you leaned over the side of Nike and threw up, choking and gagging on the sight and smell. 

Once you were sure you weren’t going to vomit on yourself, you dismounted and took Nike’s bridle, stepping as close as you dared to the decomposing pile. One of the bodies was intact enough that you could see what killed him. A bullet to the head. 

“What the fuck?” You breathed, looking over more of the bodies. The few you could make out had all been shot. “What the fuck?” 

They could all have been infected, of course. But the whole town? All at once? To put in some perverse pile like trash? It didn’t make sense. Something else had happened here. 

“We’re just gonna figure out where the fuck we are and pick a place to go,” you said to Nike as you led her to the pharmacy. 

You pried the doors open and went to the single check out counter, looking for something to tell you where you were. You managed to break open the cash register - not that you bothered holding onto any of the money, the sudden realization that these pieces of paper were inherently valueless barely even registering when compared to the pile of bodies outside - and found the cash bag for the bank. There was a label on the front. “Wilson’s Pharmacy 167 Main St. Davis Junction Wyoming.” 

“Davis Junction,” you said to yourself quietly, frowning. The name was familiar. You recognized it from something but you couldn’t put your finger on what. 

You looked outside to make sure Nike was still tethered to the lamp post and made your way quickly through the store, finding what supplies you could from what had already been looted. There were some canned foods, at least, and some bottled drinks. There were also packs of tampons and some pain killers so you took those, too. You loaded Nike down with everything you could fit into the saddle bags and your pack before going to scratch her forehead. 

“Davis Junction,” you said to her. She chuffed. “Sounds familiar to you, too, then?” She stomped her hooves impatiently. You went to climb on her back again when you remembered where you knew the name of the town. 

This was the place where one of the stupid tourist ranches your ranch sold horses to picked up their clients. There was a tiny airport just outside of town, just big enough for all the rich assholes in their private planes to fly in to dress up and play cowboy for a week or two. The ranch was north of town a good 25 miles, you thought, and off the beaten path. 

If it had turned out like where you’d come from, everyone there would be dead or turned and you’d have the place to yourself. The perfect spot to ride out the winter. 

“Let’s see if we can’t find that place, huh?” You gave Nike a pat and pointed her north, heading to where you hoped you’d find salvation. You didn’t want to come back here if you could help it, not to the rotting flesh and the haunting emptiness of the place. 

It took you the better part of two days to find the ranch, relying on the hazy memory you had of bringing horses you’d broken over in the fall of 2002 to turn down different dirt roads that weren’t labeled and seemed to lead into the wilderness. 

But eventually, you found it. You were right, the place was abandoned. You went room by room through the bunk house and the main house and the barn - the horses that had been housed there long gone. There was plenty of tack left, though. Feed, too. If you could keep pests out of it, there was enough to last Nike all winter. 

The trick would be getting you through it all. 

“At least you’re covered,” you sighed, scratching Nike’s neck. She chuffed. “You’re the better of us, anyway.” 

Your first winter on your own was rough. 

You’d never cooked for yourself before. You’d gone straight from living with your parents to living in the bunkhouse where all the meals were provided for you. You’d made mac and cheese for yourself a few times and knew how long to toast a Pop Tart but that was about the extent of it. 

Now, you didn’t have the luxury of a stove or oven or even a grocery store. There were some canned things left behind but you wanted to stretch it, so you started hunting.

You’d hunted with your dad and brothers as a girl but had never dressed an animal, so you took a guess. You also took a guess at how to cook the damn thing, assuming it was safe to eat once the outside was charred black. 

You were wrong. 

You gave yourself food poisoning six times that winter, thought you were dying at least twice. You damn near froze to death in the bunk house before you decided to check out a cluster of cabins for the tourists that you’d passed several times on your hunts but never actually gone into. Sometime about halfway through the winter, you moved you and Nike into them. They were smaller so they warmed up easier and they had working fireplaces. 

Things got a bit easier after that. 

Winter was still hard. You lost weight that you couldn’t really afford to lose and supplies from the ranch were diminished but you’d survived with Nike. By spring, you had a reasonable set up going. 

The books in the tourist cabins - put there for some kind of aesthetic set dressing you were sure - were oddly helpful. Information on hunting and trapping and foraging in the old west was abundant if not necessarily thorough. It was enough that you thought you could live there for a while without needing to risk finding a town where you might run into another person. 

It was in this newly comfortable period that you were out on Nike, further from home than you usually ventured, exploring more than anything else, when you saw them. A whole herd of wild horses, dozens of them, running free.

You weren’t sure how long you watched them. They clearly hadn’t seen people in a while, paying you and Nike no mind as they went about their business grazing and running. You scratched Nike’s neck. 

“All my eggs are in one horse sized basket with you, aren’t they?” You said. 

Many of your traps were too far away to reasonably walk to check them regularly. You were too far from any towns to make it on foot and back in a day, especially hauling anything back with you. You wouldn’t last long without a horse and you had one. If she broke a bone, escaped, got shot in an attack, you’d be fucked. 

You leaned forward on the saddle, watching the horses.

“How about we get you a sister?”

June, 2026

Joel was next to you, close enough that your arm brushed his. 

It was about the only thing keeping you from snapping into a full blown panic. You were wearing the shirt again but the smell was already fading. Having Joel close enough that you could feel him there was helping keep you grounded. 

“Clearly our current patrol schedule and pattern was lacking,” Warren, an ex-Army officer who coordinated the patrols, was saying. “We absolutely cannot cut back, not now. Not if we expect to stay safe.” 

“Our resources are limited,” Maria sighed. “We only have so many horses…” 

“We have the foals,” Warren said. “How long ‘fore they’re trained?” 

“Now is as good a time as any to hear from the stables,” Maria sighed, her eyes finding you pressed against the back wall, your nails digging into the wood paneling until it hurt. 

You froze for a moment, chest tight. 

“You can do this,” Joel said gently. You glanced up at him. He gave you a small smile. “I’ll be right here. You’re OK.” 

You hadn’t really wanted to come to this council meeting at all. Tommy got Joel to talk you into it. Consciously, you knew you needed to be there. The whole purpose of the meeting was to discuss how to handle patrols after the attack now that you were down almost half a dozen animals. You needed to be there. 

But you knew the whole town would be crammed into one room, that emotions would be high, and that you’d probably need to talk in front of everyone. You’d never been one for public speaking, not even before. Now? It seemed like hell. 

But you had to do it. 

You took a deep, shaky breath and crossed your arms over your front before you spoke up. 

“We got…” 

“Can you step forward?” Maria cut you off. “We’re having a hard time hearing you from back there.” 

You clenched your jaw. 

“I’ll go with you,” Joel said quietly. “I’ll watch your back, you’re OK.” 

You pushed yourself off the back wall and walked up the middle aisle of the chairs packed into the meeting hall, Joel close enough behind you that you could feel him there. You kept your eyes on Maria. You liked Maria. She was safe. You stopped in front of the council, Joel close behind, the weight of every eye in the room heavy on you. 

“We got three foals right now but they’re yearlings,” you said, arms crossed, eyes on Maria. “They’re too new to break yet, can’t start workin’ with them until next year. We can try to foal some more, but it’ll take a year before they’re here and two more before we can start to work with ‘em. Add another two months to break ‘em, so three and a half years…” 

“So you’re saying we’re fucked,” Warren said. 

You looked at him, brows drawn together. 

“That ain’t what I said at all,” you replied. “There’s…” 

“Sounds like that’s what you’re saying,” he cut you off before turning back to the council. You clenched your jaw, fingers digging into your biceps. “What we really need…” 

“What you really need to do is shut the fuck up and let her finish talkin’,” Joel growled over him. “This ain’t your area of expertise.” 

Joel had stepped closer to you, at your shoulder now. You glanced up at him and he gave you a nod. 

“What I was saying,” you said, glaring at Warren before looking back to Maria. “There’s another option.” 

“Which is?” She asked. 

“We catch horses instead of breeding them,” you said. The room went almost eerily quiet, none of the soft side conversations still happening. 

“We’ve never tried to catch and break wild horses before,” another council member, Anthony, frowned. “Seems like a big risk…” 

“It’s not,” you said, all but forgetting the room full of people. “I’ve done it before, there are herds of feral horses I think about 40 miles north of here. Getting them back here will take some doing but send enough people and we can do it. Breaking a feral horse is a bit more work than one you foaled yourself but it’s perfectly doable. We send a group up to capture a few, bring them back here. I can get them all to dumb broke and then divide up the rest of the work, Olivia can handle some, Simon, too. In four months, give or take, we can get back to full capacity.” 

“And you’re confident you can do this,” Maria asked, brows raised. 

“Did it before without help,” you shrugged. “Shouldn’t be a problem now.” 

“Then we’ll send a group to find horses next week,” she said. “Warren, in the mean time, find a way for us to cover the immediate area at least partially on foot, get us through until we’re back up to our normal supply of horses.” 

You stayed put as the meeting hall emptied, leaning against Joel as it did. After a moment, his hand went to your lower back and you relaxed into him. You wanted some breathing room before trying to make your way back home, not up for the press of people as they filtered onto the street and went their separate ways. 

“Thanks,” you said, glancing up at him. “Hate fuckin’ talking in front of people…” 

“Warren’s a jackass when he decides he’s right about somethin’,” Joel said. “Can’t tell when to shut the fuck up for the life of ‘em.” 

“Wonder what that’s like,” you smirked a little and caught Joel rolling his eyes when you looked up at him. 

“Let’s get you home before you find a way to cause more trouble,” he muttered. 

“When do I cause trouble?” You turned to look at him directly, eyes wide. He smiled. 

“You stole a horse the first day you were here,” he nudged you toward the door. “So we’ll start there, work our way through the last eight months…” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you elbowed him in the side, the room quieter and empty now. 

You always walked slowly when you walked home with Joel. Sometime in the past few weeks, the balance of something had tipped and you liked it more when you were next to him than when you were by yourself. You were spending more and more time with him as a result, half waiting for him to ask for space from you after you hung around so much. He hadn’t yet. 

“So this horse mission…” he trailed off, hands in his pockets. 

“Yeah?” You looked over to him. 

“Sounds…” he paused, quirking his jaw but not looking at you. “Sounds like it might be dangerous.” 

“Not exactly safe,” you shrugged. “But if you’re not a dumbass about it, no more dangerous than going on patrol.” 

“Not gonna get yourself killed because Warren’s too stubborn to figure out a new way to handle patrols, are you?” He asked, finally looking at you, his eyebrows knitted together. “Because if it’s too dangerous…” 

“I wasn’t lyin’ when I said I used to do this,” you smiled a little at him. “Took and broke probably three dozen horses after the outbreak, I can do it. Getting them all the way back here will be a struggle, though.” 

Joel nodded slowly. 

“You doubtin’ me?” You asked, half teasing but half not. It surprised you but you cared that he had faith in your skills. You needed him to think that you were capable, competent. Needed him to understand that you weren’t some useless thing shadowing him through the world. 

“Bambi, couldn’t pay me enough to doubt your skills with horses,” he smiled a little. “Just don’t want you puttin’ yourself in harm’s way. It’s not worth it.” 

“Will you come with me?” You asked. “To get the horses I mean.” 

He scoffed. 

“Good luck getting me to stay behind.” 

You smiled a little at that. 

“Is where we’re headed…” he trailed off, looking at his feet. “You sounded familiar with it. You been there recently?” 

You nodded slowly, your stomach clenching. 

“Been a few years but…” you shrugged, trying not to think of the place you left behind. Of what you would do to go back to what it was before. “The horses will be there. That’s the important thing.” 

Even with the slow pace, you reach your house eventually. Both your footsteps slow up your walk until you’re at your door. You cross your arms over your body and bite your lip, staring at Joel’s chest for a second before you work up the nerve to speak. 

“Can I ask a favor?” You couldn’t look him in the eye. 

“Course Bambi,” you could hear the frown in his voice. “What d’you need?” 

“I really love the shirt,” you said, gripping the cuffs a little tighter, nails digging into your palm through the cotton. “But… I think I’ve been wearin’ it too much and it doesn’t…” 

“Want another one?” He cut off your rambling and you were actually able to meet his gaze then. He was smiling a little, his eyes crinkled and warm and soft and you had the strangest urge to reach up and touch his face. You squeezed your biceps instead and nodded quickly. “I’ll give you another in a day or two. Don’t want you stuck with somethin’ that’s just sweaty…” 

“Thank you,” you leaned forward and pressed your forehead into his chest, breathing him in. You didn’t fully realize you were doing it until you were touching him - not that you had to go far to do it, you found yourself standing closer and closer to Joel all the time anymore - but you were relieved the second your body made contact with his. There was a relief in touching him. It sank into you, loosening your neck and your shoulders and your arms and your stomach until you had relaxed into him. He delicately put his arms around you, enveloping you in him. But you didn’t feel trapped or caged by it. Instead, you welcomed it, felt secure in it. Your arms slowly, cautiously, went around his waist, your hands splaying wide over his back to press his body closer. His chin came to rest on the top of your head and you could feel the life of him there against you, his breaths and his heartbeat and his heat. You held each other for a few minutes before you started to pull back from him. Not because you wanted to but because, if you didn’t, you weren’t sure what would come next. 

“See you tomorrow?” You asked, your hands shoved in your back pockets. It was safer to have them there, they weren’t at risk of doing something stupid there. 

“See you tomorrow.” 

***

Joel wasn’t thrilled with the people coming on the mission to collect horses. 

There were 12 people including him and you but Tommy was staying behind to help bolster the remaining patrols and protect the town over the few days you’d all be gone. 

Joel didn’t like it. 

There weren’t many people in Jackson he felt he could trust to really do what was necessary in situations like this one. 

Not that he didn’t generally trust the people there. He did. They were good men and women - even if Simon seemed to be begging to get laid out and Warren was a self righteous jackass. He had his issues with some of them, certainly, but they were all good people. People he was lucky to be around, given his checkered past. 

But they weren’t always the most capable. 

And, after the attack on the patrols, it felt like, when they left the town, they did it with a target on their backs.

This run was going to be even riskier than normal. 

The group would be heading far outside the usual bounds of patrols, be in greater danger returning as you guided half a dozen feral horses back across miles of open country. 

And you were helping to coordinate it all. 

Warren insisted on running point which was fine by Joel because it meant that he could stick close to you, try to force you to stick closer to the middle of the pack where you’d be less likely to be hit first by raiders or infected. 

Joel tried to not think about why he was so desperate to protect you, the flavor of the muscle-clenching fear akin to what he felt when he traveled with Ellie. You’d become woven into his life now. It hadn’t been what he’d intended when bringing you to Jackson, though he should have realized the risk of it from the first time he laid eyes on you. But you had quickly become the thing he looked forward to most every day. 

He’d work with Tommy on a construction project and find himself counting down to when he could go find you at the stable and walk to the mess hall for dinner. On days you weren’t working, he opened a window and waited for the squeak on the bottom step of his front porch - a squeak he hadn’t fixed in part because it meant he knew you were there to play guitar a second sooner. 

The one upside to this harebrained mission was the fact that he’d get to be next to you for days straight. Two days before everyone left, you were dragging your feet on the walk back to your place after movie night. Your arms were crossed over your chest, the sleeves of the shirt Joel had given you a few days earlier rolled up to your elbows, the bottom of it tied around your waist. Your lower lip was between your teeth as you looked at the ground, kicking clusters of dirt in the street with your boot as you walked. 

“Want to tell me what’s on your mind or are you just plannin’ to chew your lip off?” Joel asked lightly. 

“I wanna ask you somethin’ but I don’t want you feeling like you’re obligated to say yes,” you glanced up at him. 

“Ask me.” 

“Joel…” You sighed and trailed off. 

“Try me, Bambi.” 

You looked up at him. 

“I haven’t needed to sleep near other people in… a while,” you looked back toward your feet. “I’m not sure… I don’t know how that’s going to go. You’re the only person I trust enough to sleep next to and I was hoping that, if you’re OK with it, when we go out…” 

“Course, Sweetheart,” he smiled a little. “I was gonna try and stick close to you anyhow.” 

“Yeah?” You glanced over at him. 

“Yeah,” he smiled a little. “Warren fuckin’ snores.” 

The journey so far had been mercifully quiet, though you were tense. Joel could sense it on you, see it in the way you sat on your horse and the way you tried to subtly press your nose into the collar of the shirt he’d given you. But you kept looking out at the horizon, like you were waiting for something to come for you. 

Joel was relieved when Warren announced that they were nearing the stopping point for the night. Like he could relax a bit once a watch schedule was set and he didn’t feel like he’d need to look for a threat from every angle to keep you alive. 

You stuck close to him all evening, sitting near enough to him during dinner that your arm brushed his when you moved. 

“Here,” Joel held a flask out to you as everyone started going their separate ways, spreading out sleeping bags as stars appeared overhead. You raised your eyebrows at him. “If you want. Might help you sleep.” 

“Thanks,” you said, taking it from him. Your fingers brushed his and he tried to ignore what the feeling of your skin on his did to him. You took a drink. “You were smart, bringing this along.” 

Joel shrugged. 

“Been a while since I was sleeping rough. Thought it might help.” 

You nodded, taking another drink.

“Was that when you were traveling with Ellie?” You asked, handing the flask back to him. He took a drink, even though he didn’t even really want one. He just wanted his lips to touch where yours had been. He put the flask away. 

“That was a long stretch of it, yeah,” he smiled a little. It was almost strange, remembering that time fondly. They’d spent a lot of time trying to not get fucking killed. But she’d been with him, reading her damn puns and asking every question under the sun and calling him an old man. He’d give anything to do that with her again. “Didn’t seem so bad then.”

The two of you spread your sleeping bags out on the ground, a bit away from the next cluster of people. Far enough that it was almost like you had privacy. 

“What happened with you two?” You asked, sitting on your sleeping bag and looping your arms around your knees. 

“She hasn’t told you?” He asked, sitting on his own sleeping bag. It was funny, you felt oddly far away now even though, just a few weeks ago, he’d have been amazed at how close you were. 

“No,” you shook your head. “Tells me to ask you. Figured if you wanted me to know you’d tell me sometime but…” You shrugged. “Seemed like a good enough time to ask.” 

Joel nodded, trying to come up with a way to phrase it right. 

“We were in… a situation,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “My options were real limited and her life was on the line. I did what I had to do to get her out alive. She disagrees.” 

You nodded slowly, processing. 

“I’m guessing you had to hurt a lot of people to get her out of it,” you said, watching him carefully. 

“Not exactly proud of it but,” he shrugged. “I’d do it the same way all over again if given the chance. It was the only choice that made sense. What was the point of all that if it just ended in her dyin’? All the hell we went through to make it this fuckin’ far, the people who died on the way… I did what any parent would do. I saved my kid. She can hate me for it if she wants, that’s fine. At least she’s alive to do it.” 

You just nodded for a second, still watching him. For a moment, he wondered if you saw him for the monster he knew he was below the surface. If the shadow of the worst of him would scare you off. 

“She’ll understand one day,” you said after a moment. “Once she’s older, she’ll get it. If she’s ever a parent. She’ll understand.” 

Joel just looked at you for a moment, the moonlight casting you in silhouette, the curve of you soft and inviting. 

He lay down instead of touching you. 

“Joel?” You said quietly after a few minutes. 

“Hm?” 

“Would it be OK if I moved closer?” 

His heart beat faster. 

“Course.” 

He watched out of the corner of his eye as you adjusted in your sleeping bag until you were inches - not feet - away. 

“Feel free to shove me back if I snore,” you said, teasing a little. 

He laughed. 

“Sure, Bambi.” 

Joel woke up before you, the soft heat of you against him. You’d moved even closer to him in your sleep, your body loosely curled against his, your face against his chest. He could feel you breathing, your face relaxed in the early morning light. 

For a moment, he froze. Was it right to enjoy this? A closeness you hadn’t intended but had happened anyway? He wasn’t sure. But you were peaceful, looking calmer and more at ease than he’d ever really seen before, the edge of your lips curved into a small smile. 

Fuck, he wanted to kiss you. Wanted to knot his fingers in your hair and pull you close and taste you. 

“Bambi, sweetheart,” he said quietly instead, delicately reaching out and tucking the hair that had come loose from your braid behind your ear, his callused fingertips brushing against your skin and fuck you were soft. You were so fucking soft how were you that fucking soft? 

Your face scrunched, eyebrows knitting together over your still closed eyes. You groaned a little and nestled closer to him. Joel’s breath hitched and let his hand fall gently, delicately, to your cheek. You sighed contentedly. 

He could have stayed like that forever. Lay there, touching you, feeling you close and safe, and never grown tired of it. But he heard the sounds of others starting to stir for the day and doubted that you’d want anyone to see the two of you like this. 

“Bambi,” he said again, voice still soft. “Time to start wakin’ up…” 

You stretched a little and yawned before you opened your eyes and jumped a little, your gaze tracing over Joel’s face for a moment. 

“Sorry,” you yawned, voice scratchy with sleep. He took his hand back. “Wasn’t tryin’ to invade your space…” 

“S’OK.” It was more than OK. So much more than OK. Your eyes trailed down between the two of you, where your bodies touched, before going back to his face. 

“You’re warm.” 

“Been told that.” 

You smiled a little before rolling onto your back and putting more distance between you than Joel ever really wanted there to be. 

He sighed. He desperately needed to get his shit together with you. 

That’s all he could really think about as the group rode the last few hours to where you thought the horses would be. About how he couldn’t let the feelings he had for you take over. It wasn’t fair to you to let them take over. You trusted him, trusted him to not do the monstrous things other men did. You could hardly stand to be in the same room as other people but, for some reason, you’d accepted that Joel was safe. How safe could he really be if he thought about touching you, undressing you, being inside you when you’d made it clear that wasn’t what you wanted? 

Joel was relieved when the group found the horses. It would, at the very least, force him to think about something besides how he shouldn’t want you for a while. 

The animals had clearly not been near people for a long time, none of them so much as stirring at your arrival. There were dozens of them, grazing and casually romping in the shallow hills. It was an oddly idyllic scene, like something from a postcard or National Geographic, the world returning to its natural state now that humans had retreated from their position of power over all things.

“Maybe this’ll be easy,” Warren said as you and Joel rode up alongside him, looking out at the herd of animals

“They’ll take off once we start comin’ for ‘em,” you said, getting the rope from your saddle and slinging bundles of it over your shoulder. “We just need to keep herding them in the right direction until we got what we came for. Try to get younger ones, mares if you can. We still have a few stallions and we can keep numbers up if we foal them ourselves but we need enough mares for that to work.” 

“Right,” Warren clenched his jaw, clearly uncomfortable needing to default to your command. You didn’t seem to notice. 

“If you have trouble actually ropin’ ‘em, just focus on herding,” you said. “I can get them all eventually if we can keep them in this area and they don’t take off too far.” 

“I can do it,” he said, defensive. 

You shrugged. 

“Feral horses are different animals. Don’t feel bad if you can’t.” 

Joel tried not to laugh, Warren looking like he wanted to burst with the indignity of it all. The man wasn’t comfortable not being the best, not being in the lead. You, it seemed, were fine running things, confident enough in what you knew to not need to posture to prove it.  

“My group will go in from the east and the north,” you said, still unbothered. “You handle west and south.” 

The group split in half, you leading one side and Warren the other. You closed your eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and opened them again. 

“Let’s catch us some horses.” 

The system you’d devised may not have been ideal, but it worked. You were right, the horses did start moving once the group got close enough, but you found channels between them, guiding Renaissance with your body as your hands were occupied trying to get a rope around a horse. 

It took you three tries to get the lasso around the first one and you pulled it away from the rest, quickly passing the rope off to Jonathan, one of the men who’d come along for this mission. He started leading it away and you slung another rope off your arm, going for the next one. 

“Got one!��� You yelled, loud enough that your voice would carry even over the thunder of hooves. “Push em’ east!” 

Joel could have watched you run horses down all day. Of course, he could have watched you do almost anything all day. But this was your element, on the back of an animal you’d worked with so much that she could anticipate your movements and you hers, bringing wild creatures to heel with your power. He was in awe of you, had to remember to play his part and not just get lost in watching you. 

You ended up taking five of the six horses Jackson needed, Warren taking the last one and looking none too pleased about his relatively lacking contribution. The horses were all tethered to trees about a quarter mile from where they’d been captured and you started working with them immediately, ingratiating yourself to them with apples and grain and water. By the end of the day, you’d gotten them to the point that they wouldn’t rear back when you approached and you’d started bringing other humans close to them with you, tying the idea of easy food to every new person they met. Joel watched in wonder when you reached a hand out for the calmest of them, like an offering. It smelled your palm and stomped its feet, huffing, before pressing its nose against your skin. 

“There we go,” you smiled, voice soft and gentle, cradling the horse’s large head in the palm of your hand. “See? I know it don’t seem like it now, but I’m a friend. I’ll take care of you, give you a good life. Promise.” 

By the time the new horses were settled enough to even consider moving them it was too late to start heading back to Jackson. You settled your sleeping bag near Joel’s again, but further than the night before. There was a distant look on your face, like you were somewhere else entirely. 

“You alright?” He asked as the two of you went to lie down for the night. 

“Fine,” you said quickly, almost too quickly. 

He frowned. You should be happy. The plan had worked, you’d successfully captured enough horses to make it that Jackson wasn’t short handed. No one had gotten hurt. You had a lot to be proud of. But you weren’t.

“Bambi…” 

“Said I’m fine, Joel.” 

He didn’t believe you when he fell asleep. He definitely didn’t believe you when he woke up, the night still dark and cold, and found your sleeping bag empty. 

He sat up quickly, looking around. Even with a bright moon it was dark and you were nowhere to be seen. 

“Bambi?” He said quietly, not really expecting a response but still feeling the thrill of panic clutch his chest when you didn’t reply. “Shit…” 

He got up, his back aching after a few hours on the ground. 

You might be with the new horses. But something told him he wouldn’t find you there. 

Instead, he went for where the horses that had come from Jackson had been put for the night and there you were, untying Renaissance from the tree she’d been tethered to, talking to her all low and calm. 

“Didn’t take you for the type to sneak off in the night,” he said, making you jump. He turned his flashlight on. 

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you spun to face him, clutching your chest. “Scared the shit out of me.” 

“Where are you going.” 

“Joel…” 

“Where are you going, Bambi?” 

You were quiet for moment, not looking at him. 

“I was gonna be back by morning,” you said quietly. 

“Were you?” He asked. “You’re not a prisoner in Jackson, you really wanna leave that bad, you can just go. We wouldn’t stop you.” 

His chest hurt to say it, to think of you leaving. To think that you felt like you needed to slip away under the cover of darkness, not even saying goodbye.

“I know.” 

“Then what the fuck are you doin’?” His throat was tight. “Takin’ off in the middle of the fuckin’ night, not tellin’ me where you’re goin’…” 

“I lived near here.” 

Joel was quiet. You were looking at him now, eyes wide and open and honest. Pleading. 

“I lived near here,” you said again. “And… It’s been a few years but… I wasn’t sure if there… I left… I thought I could see if there was any sign of… See if they didn’t take everything when they took me and…” 

“How far.” 

“What?” 

“How far,” Joel asked again, going for his own horse. “Not goin’ out there on your own. How far is it?” 

“Only about five miles,” you said after a moment. “Joel…” 

“You really think I wouldn’t give you what you asked for if you just asked for it?” He asked. You were silent. He got on his horse. “C’mon. If we’re gonna be back by morning we gotta get moving.” 

You nodded quickly, climbing on Renaissance and leading the way. 

The ride didn’t take all that long. With just the two of you, you made it in about an hour to a patch of cleared forest that took Joel a moment to realize used to have buildings. 

“What’d they do?” You breathed, dismounting with your flashlight tight in your grip. Joel got down, too, staying close behind you as you looked around the ruins of what had once been your home. 

He could see now that there had been a few small structures here, now nothing but charred piles that had become overgrown with ferns and ivy. It had all burned and not recently.

You walked carefully, delicately through it, looking for something but there was almost nothing to find. It was gone. You made it to the middle of one of the structures and looked over the ground, shining the flashlight everywhere you could reach, picking through the burned piles on the ground, but there was nothing but dirt and ash. 

You fell to your knees and let out a single strangled, choking sob, the sound ripping out from deep inside you. 

“Bambi…” 

He knelt beside you and slowly, cautiously, put his hand in the middle of your back. 

“I didn’t think I’d be able to find…” you were crying, your voice wet. “But I thought… maybe something… I didn’t…” 

You dropped your head to Joel’s shoulder and pressed yourself against his side, your whole body shaking. He held onto you and let you cry there against him until his shirt was soaked and your breaths were steady. 

“I’m so sorry, Sweetheart,” he said, running a hand from the crown of your head down your spine. 

“Should have known better,” you said bitterly. “I know what they’re like, what they take.” 

He wanted to ask but fought the urge, instead keeping his hands on you. 

“Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s go home.” 

Next Chapter

A/N: Bambi is just out here, hugging Joel, sleeping next to Joel, causally touching Joel.

Guys, I think she might... like Joel? 👀👀👀

Crazy, I know!

I do still have a taglist and fully intend on setting up a notifications blog this weekend. If you'd like to be added to the taglist, please comment below!

Thank you so much for being here! I know this story is the slowest of slow burns and I PROMISE it will get smutty eventually. And it's coming up! But I don't want to rush it and I so appreciate you being along for the ride. Telling this story wouldn't be the same without you and I love you all so, so much ❤️❤️

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton

[blogthebooklover]

They Meet At the River's Edge

Author's Note: Hey guys! We are now officially a week away from the release of Kingdom of the Planet of the Ape!!! Here's a special treat: a fanfic one shot featuring Mae and Noa, inspired by Disney's Pocahontas. Edit: Great news, guys. It is now available on Wattpad! I put a link in the description box!

Noa pulled in the reins of his horse, his grip tightening along the leather.  He sniffed the air slightly, scenting it for anything out of the ordinary or for any other predators.  His mount was getting agitated and he couldn’t understand why.  The colt shook its head side to side, Noa could feel the back muscles tense from under his legs.  The young chimp leaned forward to pet the horse’s neck, trying to calm the creature down.

He surveyed the area again, sniffing the air once more for the possible threat.  There, he picked up on the scent, it was a human.  

What was a human doing all the way out here?  He wondered to himself while taking notice of the surrounding woods by the river.  There were tall weeds and large rocks dotting along the bank.  He was way ahead downstream, about five feet from where this potential threat might be.  He exhaled through his nostrils, his decision was made.  

The young chimp pulled on the reins again, turning his steed around to the trees surrounding the river.  He spotted a small patch of shrubs lining the riverside, and led his horse to it.

Noa had pressed himself against the steed’s back, silently hoping he was blending in with the environment.  He exhaled through his nostrils again, trying to slow down his beating heart.  There!  In the reeds, there was movement!  He felt his hackles stand along the length of his back, and reached for the spear that was fastened to his satchel, ready to confront the potential threat in the water.  The young ape motioned his mount forward in the direction of the reeds, his spear ready to throw.  

But he did not.

Emerging from the reeds was a female human.

He slowly lowered the spear when the human crawled out of the shallow water, and stood up at full height.  The female wore ragged clothes, but they were strange attire compared to the other feral humans.  The top covered the torso, only baring her shoulders and the bottoms were long to the ankle.  She was very pale in complexion, with dirt and mud covering her arms and face.  There was a scar on her left shoulder.  Her hair was long and covered with mud from the river.  Her eyes were the color of the sky, and she was staring at his own golden jade colored eyes.

There was only the sound of the leaves rustling in the trees.  And the sound of his breath exhaling through his lips.  He couldn’t help but notice the way the female was looking at him.  

Like they were equals.

All of the sudden, she took off in a run, climbing out of the water and into the surrounding forest.  Noa let out a surprised gasp, and steered his horse in the direction that the human ran off.  

Mae ran as fast as her legs could take her.  Her bare feet burned from the cuts she gained from the sticks and thorns all along the ground.  Her lungs felt like they were on fire.  She ran and ran until she came upon a clearing deep in the woods.  She heard the hooves of the horse behind her come to a halt.

She glanced around for a chance to hide and escape.  There was nothing in the clearing other than the tall grass and wildflowers.  

“Wait,” a voice called out to her.  The young woman turned around slowly, it was the ape from the river.  He climbed down from his horse, the spear still in hand.  Her gaze met with his briefly before turning it to the weapon in his hand.  The ape took notice of this, and tossed the spear away from them.  The male presented his palms to her, indicating that he was not a threat.  

“It is…all right,” the male spoke as softly as he could.  The young ape took a step closer to the human female, “I…want to…help you.”

Mae stared at the young chimp’s hands, so human like but different. She looked around for a way to escape should she need to.

Noa knew that feral humans could not speak, but from the way her eyes looked at him, he could tell there was an intelligent creature within.

The wind rustled the leaves in the trees and the fur on Noa’s shoulders, and the female’s disheveled hair.  The young ape slowly reached out his hand to her.  The female’s blue eyes glanced down at the outstretched hand.  She slowly stretched out her own hand and placed it in the young chimpanzee’s.  

He closed his fingers gently around hers as best as he could, he knew apes were much stronger ithan humans.  And he didn’t want to hurt her, truly.  

Noa pulled her closer to him until he could practically feel the fur on his chest brushing against her shirt. He felt a small smile form on his lips. The female's eyes drifted toward his mouth and back up again. She returned that same smile.

Like an echo.

Yes, that will be her name, Noa decided.