#i guarantee i will be weak in the knees

[unriding]

KINKTOBER DAY 29 — DUBCON. dabi x f!hero!reader ﾉ tw dark content: dubcon- very heavy dubcon to be safe, mentions of murder, brief mention of being his pet, fear play, reader has a support quirk that is not fit for fighting alone, forced orgasm, temperature play- kind of, hints of manipulation + corruption

what happens when your curiosity takes you to the league of villains’ hideout? luckily enough, there’s only one of them there to greet you— and the world seems kind enough to let you off with a sweet deal. fuck him just once to guarantee his silence, or so you thought.

The day you held your hero ID in your hands for the very first time also happened to be your first instance of being told to stay far away from the League of Villains.

You only vaguely remember the reasoning being that they were too dangerous for a support like yourself (especially one with zero experience under their belt) along with another thing that went in one ear and straight out the other.

A part of you has always wondered why the heroes you worked under had gone through so much trouble to ensure you stay back. Keep you hidden from the spotlight, perhaps- because how could you improve if you were always being protected? It was frustrating to see everyone besides yourself on the news.

Ironically, it’s the same reason why you’ve never been faced with the realization of how weak you really are until your head is being pressed into a table, arms easily held tight behind your back- and an infamous villain right behind you. A real one.

Not a simulation today- not one monitor in sight.

“Shigaraki would have loved to meet you,” his voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel danger- a concept someone like you is entirely unfamiliar with. “He’s always had a thing for types like you.”

He pushes back inside- this time slowly, as if trying to brand the moment deep into your mind, and you only manage to weakly whimper when his hands tighten around your wrists, the heat emitting from his body acting as a cruel reminder that he has the power to kill- and you don’t.

“N-no,” the desperation in your voice is painfully obvious, “not him, okay? That wasn’t part of the deal..!” You can feel your heart pounding against your chest at the thought of meeting this man’s leader, breathing short and labored as different images flash across your mind as to what being ‘his type’ would imply.

You feel him throb inside you, and a whimper slips out.

“Ah, of course,” his hands land on your hips before he holds you still, letting himself push deeper inside you until you’re stuffed to brim- full of him. “I just wonder about what would happen to that fragile body of yours.”

“Just think about it…”

You think your body definitely shouldn’t be reacting like this. Underneath the trembling and shivering- your cunt flutters around him. Eagerly and hungrily, as if it’s been waiting for someone like him for years.

“Or… actually, how about this, hero?” He grunts- rougher now, pace picking up enough to make you gasp and lock up underneath him. “Forget the deal. Pay me a visit every week, and the League will never hear about you. How about it?”

“B-but—” You halt as soon as you feel his palms heat up against your skin.

“We both know that muscle-head would have a field day with you.” You feel a cold bead of sweat roll down your temples, clammy hands struggling to keep your grip on the table. Your whole body feels numb- disobedient, but he feels good.

Too good for you to register exactly why your core suddenly feels so tight at the suggestion. “And if I remember, Compress likes types like you too. That guy’s got a mean streak,” Dabi leans to press his chest against yours- cold staples making you gasp, and he whispers against your neck, “he’d break you, you know.”

Your eyes widen- knees locking up, and your heartbeat rises to pound in your ears. “P-please— please slow down—”

He ignores you, only giving you a laugh in response. “What a pitiful state you’d be in. Think about it. I’ve been pretty nice, haven’t I?”

“W-wait!” You’re desperate now, reaching back to push at his hips and rising onto your toes to escape him. “I feel��� feel weird—”

Something inside him seems to snap at this. You’re yelping as soon as your head is back on the table the next second- big hand roughly pushing you down and you sob. “What a hero you are,” he’s laughing loudly now, “cumming and crying on some League dick. Where are those pathetic bodyguards of yours now?”

You open your mouth to protest, but he moves to clamp his palm over it- roughly pulling you back in one swift motion until you’re flush against his chest. “Those ones drooling over you? How about I just kill them so you don’t have anywhere left to go? I’ll take you in as my pet,” you feel him smile against your neck- sick and twisted, and your cunt only clenches in response. “Be a good little hero and cum if you agree.”

Your eyes shoot open the same time he slams against a deep part inside you, body betraying every single shred of morality you have left when you cum, hard. It takes you by force, leaving no chance for it to go unnoticed by him when you’re clenching, shaking, and dripping underneath him like this. He has the heart to let go of you, let your weak body collapse onto the table beneath you as your chest heaves up and down for air, tears brimming your eyes and he only throbs inside you once more, hungry for more.

“Then it’s a deal.” His hands run up your sides, content with the way you shiver and lean into his touch. “A good choice, hero.”

[oldsoul007]

crawling back to you

joel miller x reader

summary: you haven’t seen joel since he let you leave boston with tommy, until…

a/n: grumpy joel, angsty and fluffy

joel miller masterlist

The last thing I remember was the blinding midday sun and the crackling of the dried leaves beneath my boots. I’d been walking for hours—too many hours—with no food, no water, and no sign of a single soul. The world was too quiet, and when the dizziness hit, I knew I’d pushed too far.

I hadn’t seen the raiders coming. Not until it was too late. They burst out from the tree line, shouting, armed, and I’d tried to run. But my body betrayed me. My knees gave out before I could process what was happening, and the hard, cracked asphalt of the road rushed up to meet me as they closed in.

Then darkness.

For a while, there was nothing but a foggy void, until I felt something. A jolt of awareness. The weight of the world slowly pressed back on me: the ache in my limbs, the sting in my throat, and the cold chill of shade falling over my skin.

Voices.

“You think she’s alive?”

The words floated into my consciousness, sharp and clear. My heart raced. The raiders—had they caught me? I wanted to open my eyes, but my body wasn’t listening.

“How the hell should I know, Ellie?”

That voice was rough and edged like the bark of an old tree. Deep. Grumpy. Close. Familiar.

“She looks alive. Kinda.”

“Kinda doesn’t cut it, kid.” A sigh, heavy and annoyed. “She’s breathing, so that’s a good sign. Or bad, depending on how you wanna look at it.”

The ground beneath me was rough gravel digging into my side. Someone must’ve moved me. My knife. My hands twitched instinctively for it, but I didn’t feel the familiar weight at my belt.

“She’s got a backpack,” the girl—Ellie—said. “Maybe she’s got something useful on her.”

“Don’t even think about it,” the man snapped.

“Relax, I was just saying!”

They didn’t sound like raiders. But I wasn’t taking chances. Slowly, I forced my eyelids to lift, but it was like peeling back layers of lead. The light stung, and all I could make out at first was a blurred silhouette looming above me.

“She’s moving!” Ellie’s voice jumped an octave.

“Yeah, I can see that,” the man grumbled.

The shapes above me sharpened: a man with graying hair and a perpetual scowl crouched close, while a girl with curious, wide eyes hovered just behind him. Bottoms of their faces covered with a bandana. My muscles tensed, and instinct screamed one thing: fight.

I surged up, lashing out before I could think. My body felt sluggish, weak, but adrenaline drove me forward.

“Whoa!” Ellie yelped, stumbling back.

He moved faster than I expected. In one fluid motion, he grabbed both of my wrists and shoved me back down onto the ground, pinning me there with a strength I had no hope of matching.

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. His face was inches from mine, his grip like iron.

“Get off me!” I spat, twisting against him, but it was useless.

“You wanna try that again?” he snapped, glaring down at me. “Because I guarantee it won’t go how you think.”

“Joel, should I—” Ellie’s voice cut through the wind, and I glanced up to see her pointing a gun at me.

“Hold on,” the man—Joel—said. His voice made something in my chest clench, though I couldn’t place why.

He shifted, one hand leaving my wrist to yank the bandana down from my face. The cold stung my skin as it was exposed to the biting wind, but all I could focus on was his face.

Joel froze. His eyes widened as he stared down at me, his grip slackening just enough for me to shove at his chest.

“Y/n?”

Hearing my name in that voice—his voice—hit me like a gut punch. I blinked up at him, snowflakes catching on my lashes as my brain struggled to catch up.

“Joel?” I rasped, disbelief and anger warring inside me.

He let go of my wrists, sitting back slightly, but I wasn’t done. With a grunt, I shoved him hard enough to make him stumble.

“Get off me, asshole!” I snapped, scrambling to my feet.

Ellie lowered her gun, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Wait, you know her?”

Joel stood slowly, brushing snow off his jacket, his eyes never leaving mine. “Yeah… I know her.”

“Know me?” I barked, crossing my arms against the cold. “That’s all you’ve got to say after years?”

“Not now,” he said, his voice quieter but no less firm. “We need to move. It’s not safe out here.”

“Oh, now you care about safety,” I shot back, but the storm was picking up again, and as much as I hated to admit it, I couldn’t stay out here alone.

Ellie glanced between us, still holding the gun loosely. “So… are we just letting her come with us?”

“She’s coming with us,” Joel said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I snorted, pulling my scarf back up. “Like hell I am.”

“Fine,” Joel said, stepping closer until he was towering over me. “Then freeze out here on your own.”

We locked eyes, the familiar stubbornness in his gaze making my blood boil. Finally, I sighed, muttering under my breath. “Fine. But if you pull something like that again, I’m putting a bullet in your knee.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

Joel smirked—barely, but I caught it. “Good to see you haven’t changed.”

I looked around us.

“Where—” My voice cracked, my throat dry. “Where are they?”

“The raiders?” Joel asked, his tone clipped. “Dead. You’re welcome.”

Ellie shot him a look. “You don’t have to be such a dick about it.”

Joel ignored her, turning to scan the horizon like he was already regretting stopping to help.

Ellie turned back to me, her tone gentler. “You need water? Food? You look like you’re about to keel over.”

I swallowed hard, forcing out a hoarse whisper. “Water…”

Ellie looked at Joel expectantly. “She needs water.”

Joel sighed heavily, like this was the biggest inconvenience in the world, and dug a bottle out of his pack. He shoved it toward me without a word, his scowl deepening.

“Don’t drink too fast,” he muttered. “You’ll puke.”

I took the bottle with shaking hands, sipping carefully.

Ellie gave me a small smile. “See? He’s grumpy, but he’s not so bad., but i’m guessing you knew that already. I’m Ellie, by the way. What’s your name again?”

“Y/n,” I croaked.

“Well, y/n,” she said, leaning back on her heels. “Looks like you’re stuck with us for now.”

Joel shot her a glare, but she just smiled sweetly at him.

As I sipped the water, trying not to choke, I couldn’t help but wonder why Ellie seemed so eager to help me—and why Joel seemed so reluctant to.

The pain in my thigh hit me like a freight train the moment I tried to stand. It was sharp and hot, radiating up my leg with every twitch of movement. I glanced down and saw the blood, dark and sticky, soaking through a jagged tear in my jeans. My stomach turned.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, dropping back to the ground.

Joel and Ellie were still nearby, Joel pacing with his rifle slung low, Ellie crouched by the fire, poking at it absentmindedly. I pressed my hand against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but it wasn’t doing much good.

“You okay?” Ellie asked, looking up.

“Fine,” I lied, my voice tight.

“Yeah, sure you are,” Joel muttered without even glancing my way.

I glared at him but focused back on my leg. I needed to stop the bleeding, clean it—do something before it got worse. My hands fumbled as I tried to tear a strip from the already-ruined part of my jeans, but my fingers were shaking too much to get a good grip.

“Dammit,” I hissed, tugging harder.

Joel finally turned, watching me struggle with an expression that screamed irritation. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I can handle it,” I snapped, not looking at him.

“Yeah, sure looks like it,” he said dryly, crossing the distance in a few long strides. Before I could protest, he crouched down in front of me and grabbed my leg.

“Hey!” I yelped, jerking back.

“Hold still,” he growled, yanking my jeans up over the wound to get a better look.

“What are you—”

“Helping,” he said sharply, cutting me off. “Because you clearly can’t do this yourself.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need you bleeding out and slowing us down,” he shot back, his hands already pulling a small bottle of alcohol from his pack.

I froze when I saw it. “Wait—wait.”

He didn’t stop, just uncapped the bottle and dumped it onto the wound in one swift motion.

Pain exploded through my thigh, white-hot and searing. I couldn’t stop the scream that ripped out of me, my whole body jerking away from him.

“Goddammit!” I shouted, clutching at my leg. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Stop moving,” Joel barked, his hand clamping down on my leg to keep it still. “You’re just making it worse.”

“You could’ve warned me!”

“I did,” he said flatly, grabbing a clean cloth and pressing it firmly against the cut.

“Yeah, great warning!” I hissed, still trying to recover from the burn.

Ellie was sitting nearby, watching the whole thing with wide eyes. “Uh, yeah, he’s not exactly the most… delicate, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Joel ignored her, wrapping the bandage tightly around my thigh with the kind of practiced efficiency that made me wonder how many times he’d done this before.

“Can you walk?” he asked once he was done, standing and offering me a hand.

I stared at it for a second, then grudgingly took it. He hauled me up, steadying me when my leg wobbled.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, even though I wasn’t.

“Sure you are,” he said, his tone making it clear he didn’t believe me.

Later that night, we camped near a small fire Joel had built, the warmth of the flames doing little to ease the tension between us. Ellie sat across from me, poking at the fire with a stick, while Joel leaned against a nearby tree, his arms crossed and his rifle within easy reach.

“So,” I said after a long silence, my voice cutting through the crackle of the fire. “Where are you two headed?”

Ellie perked up immediately, her mouth opening before she could stop herself. “We’re going to—”

“We’re going to the Fireflies,” Joel interrupted, his voice steady and sure.

Ellie froze, her eyes darting between the two of us. “Joel!?” she hissed, clearly caught off guard by his honesty.

I frowned, looking between them. “The Fireflies? Why?” I could tell there was something they weren’t saying, something important.

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Because Ellie’s immune,” he said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of what those words meant. “And they’re working on a cure.”

I blinked, my mind racing to catch up. “Immune?” I repeated, glancing at Ellie.

Ellie shifted uncomfortably, clearly not used to someone new knowing. “Yeah,” she mumbled, shrugging. “I got bit. Didn’t turn. That was, like, forever ago.”

I stared at her, processing what Joel had just admitted. “And you’re taking her to the Fireflies,” I said slowly. “Because they think they can use her immunity to make a cure.”

“That’s the idea,” Joel said, his tone neutral. “Whether it’ll work or not, that’s anyone’s guess.”

I leaned back, crossing my arms as I studied him. Joel wasn’t the type to trust anyone with this kind of information lightly. The fact that he was telling me now said a lot.

“And you’re okay with me knowing all this?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

Joel held my gaze, his expression unreadable. “I wouldn’t’ve said anything if I didn’t trust you.”

That hit harder than I expected. For a moment, I couldn’t find the words. Joel and I had history—messy, complicated history—but this… this was something else.

After a long pause, I finally spoke. “Where are the Fireflies at?” I glanced at Joel, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Salt Lake City,” he replied, his tone flat, as if that was the only answer he had to offer.

I nodded, thinking for a moment. “That’s a hell of a trip.”

Joel didn’t respond to that, so I let the silence stretch a bit longer, watching the flickering flames. The crackle of the fire was the only thing filling the space between us.

I shifted slightly, the weight of the night starting to press on me. “I was with a group,” I said after a beat, keeping my voice low, like the words might break something if I said them too loud. “Good people. Or… they were. Got separated after some raiders hit us a couple days back. Didn’t have much of a choice but to run.” I paused, my gaze flicking to Ellie, who was staring at the fire, her expression unreadable. “I wasn’t planning on being out here alone.”

Joel watched me for a long time, and I could tell he was taking in every word, sizing up what I said, probably weighing if it added up. “You got a place to go?” he asked.

I swallowed, hesitant. I hadn’t told him much about Jackson yet. The thought of it felt like a fleeting memory, a piece of the past I wasn’t sure I could go back to. But the truth was, it might be the safest place for all of us, at least for a while.

“Yeah,” I finally said, my voice steady. “I got a home back in Jackson. It’s… safe there. Got supplies, people. It’s not perfect, but it’s the closest thing to normal I’ve seen in years.”

Ellie looked up then, her brow furrowed. “Jackson? You mean, like, an actual town?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Walled-in, secure. We’ve got farms, housing, everything you’d need. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than out here.”

Joel’s face darkened slightly, though I couldn’t tell if it was from hope or suspicion. I felt the weight of the unspoken questions hanging in the air between us. I had to bite back the words that wanted to spill out—about Tommy, about how he was safe and well in Jackson. But I stopped myself. Ellie was sitting there, and I didn’t know how she’d react if Joel found out his brother was there.

Instead, I kept my tone even. “If you’re heading to Salt Lake City, we can stop there first. Restock on supplies, maybe grab a decent meal. Then you can keep moving.”

Joel turned his gaze toward me, his eyes narrowing a little, his jaw clenched. “You sure it’s safe?”

I nodded, my voice firm. “It is. Safer than out here, anyway.”

Ellie, still quiet, looked from Joel to me. After a moment, she shrugged, but her gaze lingered on me for a second too long. “I mean… doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

Joel looked at her, then back at me. He hesitated for a moment, and I saw the conflict flicker in his eyes. Finally, he gave a small nod. “All right. We’ll stop there. But just for supplies. Ain’t got time to waste.”

I nodded, a small relief washing over me. We’d do this. I’d help them, guide them, and maybe even find a moment to tell Joel about Tommy—if I could. The fire crackled between us, the sounds of the night closing in as we all settled back into the quiet.

Joel leaned back against a log, his eyes flicking upward to the stars, while Ellie poked the fire again, lost in her own thoughts. I wrapped my coat tighter around myself, feeling the weight of the journey ahead pressing down.

I wasn’t sure what would come next, but I was going to get them to Jackson first. Maybe, after that, I could finally tell Joel the truth.

Joel didn’t say anything else, just turned his attention back to the fire. But the tension between us felt lighter now, the weight of unspoken things settling into something almost comfortable.

Whatever happened next, I knew one thing for sure: Joel trusted me enough to tell me the truth. And that, in this world, meant everything.

The three of us sat around the small campfire, its glow casting flickering light onto the trees surrounding us. The temperature had dropped as the sun set, and I was grateful for the warmth of the flames and the smell of something vaguely edible Joel was cooking over them.

Ellie sat cross-legged on her sleeping bag, fiddling with the pages of her battered joke book. She had already gone through a handful of them today, and each time Joel looked like he was about ready to roll his eyes out of his head.

“Okay, okay,” Ellie announced, holding up a hand as though commanding our attention. “This one’s a classic. You ready?” She cleared her throat dramatically, glancing between me and Joel. “What do you call an alligator in a vest?”

I stifled a laugh already, knowing she was probably more excited about the punchline than the joke itself.

Joel, stirring the pan of food, gave her a sideways look. “Do I even wanna know?”

“An investigator!” Ellie exclaimed, cackling as if it were the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

I couldn’t help but chuckle along with her, more at her reaction than the joke. Joel just shook his head and sighed heavily, setting the pan down on a flat rock by the fire.

“She’s been doin’ this since we left Boston,” he muttered, as though he were lamenting some great burden he’d been forced to bear.

“Damn right I have!” Ellie said, puffing out her chest with mock pride. “You know you love it, Joel.”

He gave her a look that was somewhere between amused and exasperated. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, kid.”

Ellie smirked, flipping through the pages of the book again. “Oh, I’m not done. I’ve got more where that came from.”

“God help us,” Joel said under his breath, but there was a ghost of a smile on his face.

I leaned back, my hands stretched out toward the fire, watching the two of them. “You know,” I said, grinning, “I think it’s impressive she’s been carrying that book all this way. Priorities.”

Ellie nodded vigorously, pointing at me. “Exactly! See, y/n gets it. I’m spreading joy in the apocalypse. That’s a valuable service.”

Joel snorted. “Sure. That’s what it is.”

Ellie stuck her tongue out at him before turning to me. “Okay, y/n, this one’s for you: Why couldn’t the bicycle stand up by itself?”

I thought for a second, but before I could even guess, she blurted out, “Because it was two tired!”

Her laughter was contagious, and I found myself laughing right along with her. Even Joel let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe this was his life now.

“Two tired,” I repeated, grinning. “That’s actually not bad.”

“Thank you!” Ellie said, pretending to tip an invisible hat. “I’ll be here all week. Or, you know, as long as it takes us to get to Jackson.”

Joel let out a long sigh, but there was no missing the warmth in his expression as he looked at her. “You’re somethin’ else, kid.”

Ellie beamed, clearly pleased with herself. “Damn right I am.”

And in that moment, as the fire crackled and Ellie started flipping through her book for another gem, I couldn’t help but think that even in a world like this, there was still room for laughter. And that was worth holding onto.

The fire crackled softly, its warmth flickering in the cool night air. Ellie was asleep, her body curled up tightly in her sleeping bag, breathing steady and slow. Joel sat across from me, his figure dark against the firelight, eyes distant as usual. There was a heaviness in the air, a silence that weighed on both of us.

I’d been toying with whether or not to tell him, but after today, I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer. It was something Joel needed to know, something that would either ease his mind or make the road ahead even harder.

“Joel,” I said softly, not wanting to disturb Ellie’s sleep.

His head turned slightly, his eyes catching mine in the dim firelight. He didn’t say anything, just waited for me to speak.

“I’ve been thinking about Jackson,” I began, feeling the weight of the words before they even left my mouth. “And… there’s something you need to know.”

Joel gave a slight nod, signaling me to go on. I hesitated for a moment, gathering the courage.

“Tommy’s there,” I said, keeping my voice low but steady.

The moment the words left my lips, I saw the shift in him. His face didn’t betray much, but his posture stiffened. He didn’t react right away, though I could feel the tension building in his body. His jaw tightened, and for a long beat, he was silent, staring into the fire.

I let the words settle in the air. I could see him thinking, piecing together the years of separation, the anger, the hurt.

“You didn’t know, did you?” I asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

Joel’s eyes flicked up to meet mine, the weight of his past with Tommy hanging between us. “No,” he said, his voice rough, like the realization had hit him harder than he expected. “I thought… I thought he was dead.”

I swallowed, knowing how much those words meant. Joel had carried the guilt of losing Tommy for so long, thinking the worst, even when he didn’t want to believe it. I hadn’t expected the reaction I got—gratitude in his eyes, mixed with that edge of disbelief.

“Tommy’s alive, Joel,” I repeated, my voice softer now. “And he’s at Jackson. He’s been there, rebuilding, trying to make a life. I thought you should know.”

For a long moment, Joel didn’t speak. He just stared at the fire, his brow furrowed, a storm of emotions brewing behind his eyes.

Finally, he exhaled a long, steady breath, as if the news had knocked the wind out of him. “I thought… I thought I’d lost him for good,” he said, almost to himself.

His words trailed off, but the gratefulness in his voice was clear, almost as if he’d been holding onto the idea of Tommy being gone as a way to shield himself from hope. It had been easier to live with the belief that Tommy was lost than to think he might have been alive all this time, somewhere out there.

I watched him carefully, feeling the rawness of the moment between us. “Maybe he’s been waiting for you,” I said quietly, not wanting to push, but knowing the door was now open. “Maybe he’s been hoping you’d find your way back to him.”

Joel didn’t respond right away, his face unreadable. He ran a hand through his hair, the weight of the past catching up with him.

I could see the turmoil in him, the complex mix of emotions he’d buried deep for so long.“You don’t have to decide anything now. But I wanted you to know.”

Joel finally looked up at me, the hardness in his eyes softened by something else—relief, maybe. Or maybe just the shock of knowing his brother wasn’t lost to him after all.

“‘preciate you tellin’ me,” he said quietly, his voice rough with something I couldn’t quite name.

There was a silence, thick with all the things left unsaid. Joel turned back to the fire, but this time, I didn’t sense the same tension in him. The news had cracked something open, a small window of possibility where before there had only been despair.

And as the night stretched on, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was the first step in bringing Joel and Tommy back together—or if the past would remain an insurmountable wall between them. But one thing was clear: the hope he’d long buried was alive again.

The snow crunched softly beneath our boots as we trekked through the wilderness on the way to Jackson. The cold bit at my nose and cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of Joel and Ellie’s banter ahead of me.

Joel led the way, his rifle slung over one shoulder, his other hand gesturing as he explained something to Ellie. She hung onto his every word as usual, peppering him with questions about the terrain and wildlife.

“Do you think we’ll see any bears?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“Nope,” Joel replied gruffly. “Too cold for ‘em right now. They’re holed up for the winter.”

Ellie groaned in disappointment. “Lame. What about wolves?”

“Let’s hope not,” Joel muttered, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “You don’t wanna see wolves, trust me.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ellie grumbled, kicking at a chunk of ice. “I think wolves are badass.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle as I brought up the rear. Ellie’s energy was infectious, even if Joel often acted like he was too old to keep up.

We rounded a bend in the trail, and that’s when we saw it.

An elk.

It stood in the middle of the clearing, its tall, proud antlers stark against the white of the snow-covered forest. Its coat gleamed in the weak winter sunlight, steam rising from its breath as it exhaled into the cold air.

Ellie gasped audibly, her mouth falling open. “Whoa. No way.”

Joel stopped in his tracks, holding out an arm to keep her from running ahead. “Stay still,” he warned softly.

Ellie ignored him completely, taking a careful step forward. “Oh my god, it’s huge. It’s so cool.”

The elk’s ears twitched, swiveling toward us, and for a moment, I thought it might bolt. But instead, it let out a low, guttural bugle—a deep sound that echoed through the trees.

Ellie froze, her eyes going even wider. “Did you hear that? Holy shit, it talked to us!”

Joel chuckled under his breath, his shoulders relaxing as he watched her excitement. “That’s not talkin’, kid. Just elk bein’ elk.”

But Ellie wasn’t listening. She took another step forward, her hands lifted slightly as if to beckon the creature closer. “Hey, buddy,” she said in a soft, awestruck voice. “You don’t have to go. We’re cool, I promise.”

The elk snorted, its breath visible in the cold air, and then—with a graceful bound—it leapt into the trees, disappearing from sight.

Ellie whirled around to face us, practically vibrating with excitement. “Did you see that? That was the most amazing thing ever! Did you hear it? That noise was insane!”

Joel shook his head, but there was a small, fond smile on his face. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“I’m serious! That was so badass!” She turned to me, her grin so big it lit up her entire face. “Y/n, tell me you got how cool that was.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I adjusted my pack. “I got it, Ellie. You’re right—it was pretty incredible.”

Ellie groaned dramatically. “Pretty incredible? That thing was, like, majestic as hell.”

We started walking again, Ellie skipping along beside us as she reenacted the elk’s bugle. Joel shook his head at her impression, and I felt a warm glow in my chest as I watched them together.

The world outside was cold, dangerous, and unforgiving, but moments like this reminded me why we kept going. For Ellie’s wonder. For Joel’s quiet, steady presence. For the strange, beautiful family we’d become.

The cold cut deep as we trudged through the snow, the wind howling like it wanted to drive us into the ground. My leg throbbed with every step, the makeshift bandage Joel had wrapped around it holding tight but doing little to ease the pain. I wasn’t about to complain, though. Not after they saved me from those raiders.

Ellie walked beside me, her steps crunching in the snow as she glanced over. “You sure you’re okay?” she asked for the third time since we started walking.

“I’m fine,” I said, though my voice was tight. The truth was, I wasn’t fine. But what mattered was getting all of us somewhere safe, and Jackson was the only place I could think of.

Joel walked ahead, his rifle slung low but ready, his eyes scanning the horizon. Always the same—guarded and alert, like danger was lurking just around every corner. In this world, it usually was.

I’d agreed to help them get to Jackson. It was the least I could do after everything they’d done for me. And Jackson? It was my home now. A place that, for all its faults, still stood strong in a broken world.

“Not much farther now,” I said, though the storm had made it hard to tell. “If we keep moving, we’ll make it before dark.”

Ellie gave a tired nod, pulling her coat tighter around her. “Good, ‘cause I don’t think my toes are gonna make it.”

Joel glanced back at her, his expression softening for just a moment. “You’ll be fine. Just keep moving.”

We’d just crested a small hill when the sound of horses cut through the wind. My heart leapt into my throat as I turned to see them—figures on horseback emerging from the blinding snow, their weapons drawn.

“Joel,” I hissed, grabbing his arm.

He saw them too, his posture tensing as he stepped in front of Ellie and raised his rifle. “Stay behind me,” he muttered, his voice low and firm.

The riders spread out, circling us. There were at least six of them, their horses pawing at the snow as the riders aimed shotguns and rifles in our direction. My stomach churned as I recognized one of the voices calling out through the storm.

“Drop your weapons!” Maria shouted, her voice carrying over the wind.

“Maria!” I called back, stepping forward despite Joel’s arm shooting out to stop me. “It’s me—y/n!”

The tension in the air crackled like static. For a moment, no one moved. Then Maria urged her horse forward, squinting through the snow until recognition crossed her face.

“Y/n?” she said, lowering her shotgun slightly. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

“It’s a long story,” I said, relief flooding through me. “But these two—” I motioned to Joel and Ellie, who were still frozen in place. “They’re with me. They saved my life.”

Maria’s gaze shifted to Joel, her eyes narrowing. “That him?”

I blinked, confused, until realization dawned. Of course, Tommy must’ve mentioned Joel before.

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “It’s him. And this is Ellie. They’re just passing through. Please, Maria, lower the guns.”

Maria hesitated, her gaze flicking between me, Joel, and Ellie. Then she gave a sharp whistle, and the other riders lowered their weapons.

“Alright,” she said, her tone cautious but less hostile. “Let’s get back to Jackson. You look like hell.”

I almost laughed. “You have no idea.”

The ride back was quiet, the tension between Joel and Maria palpable. Ellie, for once, didn’t say much, her gaze fixed on the snowy landscape as we made our way through the storm.

When the gates of Jackson finally came into view, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The sight of the sturdy walls, the faint glow of firelight beyond—it was the first time in a long while that I felt like things might actually be okay.

The gates of Jackson creaked open as the group rode in, the heavy snowfall outside muffled by the sturdy wooden walls of the settlement. Inside, the warmth of fires and the sound of distant chatter greeted us. It was like stepping into another world—one where life hadn’t completely crumbled. The bustling streets, people moving with purpose, children playing—it was overwhelming after days of cold, silence, and death.

Joel dismounted his horse slowly, his eyes scanning the settlement as if it were a mirage. His rifle hung loosely on his shoulder, his posture stiff, as if he wasn’t quite ready to believe this place was real. Ellie stuck close to him, her eyes wide with curiosity as she took in the sight of people—families—living normal lives, or as close to normal as you could get these days.

Maria swung off her horse, handing the reins to a stablehand. “Y/n, go with Ethan and get checked out. You’re in no condition to be walking around on that leg,” she said, but her gaze flicked to Joel.

Then Tommy appeared.

Tommy was working on some construction, the sound of hammering and the distant clatter of tools filling the air. As we walked closer, I could see a few men working, their backs turned to us as they focused on their tasks. The moment I saw Tommy, though, my breath caught in my throat.

He was hard at work, his back bent as he nailed some boards into place, completely unaware of our approach. I could feel the tension rising in Joel beside me, the anticipation thick in the air.

And then, without warning, Joel’s voice broke through the stillness, loud and commanding:

“Tommy!”

The sound of his name cut through the air like a crack of thunder. The men working nearby stopped what they were doing, and for a brief moment, it felt like the entire world went still.

Tommy froze, his back still to us, and I watched as his shoulders stiffened. He slowly turned, his eyes scanning the area, before they landed on Joel. His face went slack for a moment—an unreadable mix of disbelief, relief, and confusion. The moment seemed to stretch on, as though neither of them quite believed what was happening.

Then, Tommy blinked, and before I knew it, he was striding across the ground, closing the distance between them. He didn’t say a word at first, just reached Joel in two quick strides and pulled him into a tight, almost desperate hug.

The sound of it—the weight of all that lost time between them—was deafening. The hard lines in Joel’s face softened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let out a deep breath, like something inside him had been released. They stood there for a moment, holding onto each other like nothing else mattered.

Tommy pulled back first, his hand gripping Joel’s arm, his voice gruff as he spoke, almost too soft for me to hear. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Joel looked at him, his eyes full of that familiar pain but also something else—something deeper. “Thought you were dead, Tommy.”

Tommy’s face softened, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of the brotherly bond they once shared. “Guess I got a bit tired of waitin’ around, but I’m here now, Joel.”

The silence between them spoke louder than any words could. It wasn’t just a reunion—it was a reckoning. Years of pain, of choices that had torn them apart, now coming to a head.

They pulled back, Tommy’s hands gripping Joel’s shoulders as he looked him over, his eyes scanning every line, every scar. “You look like hell,” he said with a half-smile, though his voice wavered.

Joel gave a faint huff of a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… it’s been a long road.”

Tommy’s gaze shifted, landing on Ellie, who was standing just behind Joel, watching the reunion with quiet curiosity. “And this must be…?”

“Yeah,” Joel said, stepping slightly to the side so Ellie could step forward. “This is Ellie.”

Ellie gave a small wave, clearly unsure of what to say. “Uh, hi.”

Tommy chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “Well, any friend of Joel’s is welcome here.”

For the first time in a long time, the weight Joel carried seemed to ease, if only slightly. It wasn’t just Jackson that felt like a safe haven—it was the connection, the bond that hadn’t been broken, even after all this time.

And for a moment, it felt like the world wasn’t so heavy after all.

Joel walked slowly down the stairs, the creaking of the wooden steps the only sound in the quiet house. The dim light of the living room pooled on the floor, where I sat curled up on the couch, my eyes fixed on him as he approached. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with the weight of everything that had just transpired. His steps faltered slightly, the heaviness of the fight with Ellie still weighing on him.

I didn’t say anything at first, just watched him with an unreadable expression, the flickering light casting shadows across her face. He rubbed his hand over his face, feeling the exhaustion in his bones. The world felt quieter in moments like this, like it was holding its breath.

“You really think that’s the answer, huh?” I said, my tone biting but not cruel.

Joel didn’t meet my gaze right away, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

He huffed out a bitter laugh, the kind that wasn’t funny at all. “Don’t start with me. You don’t know the half of it.”

“Don’t I?” I finally spun around to face him, my voice rising with the heat of my anger. “You think I haven’t been watching this slow-motion train wreck of yours? You think I don’t know what you’re doing—pushing her away before she can leave you?”

His face darkened, the shadows casting sharp lines across his features. “This ain’t about me and Ellie. Don’t twist it. This is about you always thinkin’ you know better.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” I stepped closer, my hands trembling with fury. “You don’t get to stand here and act like you’re the only one who’s been hurt. You let me leave, Joel! You stood there and let me walk out of Boston like I was nothing to you. You never even tried to stop me.”

His silence hit harder than his words ever could. I saw his throat work, his jaw tightening as he stared at me like he was trying to break me down with his gaze alone.

“You wanted to leave,” he finally said, his voice quieter but no less cutting. “What the hell was I supposed to do? Beg? You made your choice.”

“Because you didn’t give me a reason to stay!” My voice cracked, the words laced with all the pain I’d kept buried for far too long. “Do you know what it was like, leaving behind everything—leaving you—because I thought I wasn’t enough? That I’d never be enough for you?”

The firelight flickered in his eyes, and for the first time, I saw it—the guilt, the regret. He took a step closer, his broad shoulders sagging under the weight of unspoken words.

“Y/n…” He said my name like it hurt to say it. “I thought I was doin’ right by you. You deserved better than what I could give you. Still do.”

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head as tears threatened to spill. “You’re such a goddamn coward, Joel. Always thinking you know what’s best for everyone else. You don’t get to decide what I deserve. You don’t get to—”

But before I could finish, he closed the distance between us in one sudden, desperate motion. His hands came up to cup my face, rough palms trembling against my skin. His breath was warm, ragged as it ghosted over my lips.

“I ain’t a coward,” he murmured, his voice raw.

I opened my mouth to argue, to push him away like I had every right to, but the words caught in my throat. His eyes burned into mine, and in that moment, everything else—the fight, the years of distance, the pain—faded into nothing.

He kissed me like a man starved, like he was afraid I might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. My hands found their way to his chest, gripping the worn fabric of his flannel as I kissed him back with all the anger and longing I’d been too afraid to admit.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was years of unspoken feelings, of missed chances and buried love, all colliding in one explosive moment.

When we finally broke apart, his forehead rested against mine, both of us breathing hard. His hands lingered on my face, his thumbs brushing away the tears I hadn’t realized had fallen.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “For Boston. For everything.”

I closed my eyes, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Me too,” I whispered back, my voice trembling.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of our breathing and the crackle of the fire. And for the first time in years, I didn’t feel so alone.

[hitomisuzuya]

hello dear suzu, hope your day’s going well.

I wanted to ask for a Scara x reader, but the reader is obsessed with Scara’s hands and always staring at them.. thinking he didn’t notice. But he actually did and wants to ‘reward’ us after a bad, long day of work.

I hope it’s clear, and I’m sorry if it’s not..!🫰

scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. fingering. fingersucking. squirting. smutty appreciation for scara's gorgeous fingers. soft!dom scara.

scara's fingers are beautiful. and i am weak for them. he is ambidextrous, and it doesn't which hand he uses cause you are always guaranteed to-ahem😳

today sucks. no scratch that shit, this whole week has been bad for you. even right now, right this second, you feel like you are failing at something. sighing, you put your elbow on scaramouche's on your knee and rest your chin in your palm.

your eyes drift to his fingers, and wonder not for the first time if scaramouche knows how beautiful his fingers are. the elegant bend, the precision with which he moves them, the beautiful length. he is only doing something as simple as writing and still you are captivated by them.

you definitely couldn't fail admiring his fingers.

from his place on the bed, scaramouche can more than tell how stressed you are. you have been quiet nearly the whole day. you look tired, and you need to sleep. he could practically feel you staring longingly at his fingers. "hm?" he hums, glancing up from his paper.

you look a little forlorn for a second. of course you didn't think he ever notices how often you admire his hands. you knew sometimes things like this were hit or miss with him. "i was just wondering if you knew how beautiful your hands are? your fingers in particular?" you reply, curling a lock of hair around your finger as you look away shyly.

his fingers sure would make you feel better. this much you knew. his hands are capable of doing so so much.

scaramouche has to admit, he felt his ego stretch (more than) a little. "i know," pure egoism talking, "you have this habit of eye fucking them any chance you get. it amuses me," he smirks seeing the blush on your cheeks suddenly darken.

"i..i didn't think you noticed," you reply, drawn to looking at his fingers again as he twirls his pen between them. you swear he is teasing you because your mouth practically waters.

he waited for the question he could practically see forming on your lips. "can i suck on them? just for a little while?" your heart flutters in anticipation watching him put down his pen.

"here," he offers you his fingers, grazing his thumb over your lower lip. he may make you beg often, but he is always going to give his precious exactly what you need.

"thank you, this week has been really awful," there is nothing but utter sincerity in your tone. scaramouche sighed as his cock pulsed. fuck if it didn't turn him on knowing something so lewd as sucking on his fingers would make you feel better.

he shivers as your tongue licks across his thumb. "open," he commands, taping his index finger on your lips. you open your mouth, oh so eager to please him.

"mmm," you moan softly as his finger is pushed into your mouth. you glide and swirl your tongue, immediately sucking in appreciation as he pumps his index finger slowly in and out of your mouth. your pussy clenches feeling him explore your mouth, pressing his finger down on your tongue.

you moan again. it is erotically exhilarating for you. how much control he has over whether or not he makes you gag. your tongue tingles at the thought. and as if he could read your mind, he did exactly that.

"open again," the gentle press on your tongue makes you gag and open your mouth for his middle finger. you muffle a moan on his fingers, flattening your tongue on them. drool pools from one corner of your mouth as you suck, your hand stroking his wrist in appreciation.

scaramouche always watches you with complete fascination when you suck on his fingers. he never thought someone could get so easily aroused from just merely choking a little on his fingers. he slowly pumps them in and out of your mouth, his cock pulsing from the feeling of your warm mouth sucking in worship.

"take off your clothes and lie down," he pushes his fingers into your throat, smirking seeing your eyes water as you happily gag, going back to sucking without missing a beat. "gives me better access to your body."

your tongue lingers on scaramouche's fingers as he takes from out your mouth. a string of saliva connects your tongue to them, and you marvel at how beautiful they look shiny with your saliva. more than feeling the absence of his fingers in your mouth, you hastily remove your clothes.

he licks his lips seeing the submissive way you put your arms above your head, like you are offering your entire body to him. moving next to you, scaramouche trails his fingers featherlight over your throat. your body practically purrs inside as he grazes them down to your chest.

you move your chest into his hand, a sigh that bled into moan met his ears as he circles each of your nipples. "so responsive," he approves, pinching your nipples in reward.

an sharp jolt of pleasure zapping straight to your clit. your nipples harden, sensitive under the pads of his skilled fingers. your pussy throbs, your walls clenching around nothing as he teases and pinches your nipples. he knows your body and can play it like an instrument.

"i can see the tense desperation in your whole body," you gasp in pleasure as scaramouche delivers one final pinch to your nipples before moving down to your drooling cunt. "it looks very becoming on you. my needy little doll."

your cheeks flush hearing such sweet praise. your pussy soaks so well on his fingers as he dips them between your folds. your hole clenches around the tip as he circles it, teasing as he traces the shape of your pussy.

"keep your legs spread," he commands shakily, wanting a good view of your creamy cunt sucking his fingers in. you nod, moaning as he pushes his index finger inside you. your hips rock up to meet his hand, feeling his finger graze across every sensitive nerve inside you before he slowly bullies your sweet spot.

it wasn't long before you are falling apart in the delicious pleasure only a single finger was providing you. your cunt clenches, begging him for a second finger. "more. more please," you whimper, unable to stand the throbbing in your clit anymore. your eyes look just as desperate as your pussy feels.

scaramouche chuckles at your sweet plea, his cock aching in the confines on his shorts. he always gets hard when you beg. your back arches off the bed as he abruptly thrusts a second finger inside you, scissoring your walls apart.

with his free hand, he sets to work rubbing your clit. a string of louder moans tears from you as his wags his fingers over the swollen, throbbing nub. your hips buck up to grind your clit on them. "that's a good girl, fuck yourself on my fingers," watching you enjoy yourself so thoroughly is exhilarating to him.

you get wetter with every pump and scissor, pleasure humming through you and consuming you as he expertly built up your orgasm. all the stress melts away a little more every time he kisses your sweet spot, his fingers relentless on your clit.

a certain look flashes through your eyes then. one scaramouche knows very well. with how close you are to cumming, you realize then that you are going squirt all over his fingers. "how cute," he taunts, increasing his pace. he only gets harder knowing he is capable of this.

your orgasm came fast and sudden, your pussy gushing on his fingers. you are dazed and drooling, your body trembling as you cum hard in a fit of uncontrollable moans. "let's see if you got another one in you, shall we?" his smirk more than said he wasn't entirely finished with you yet. spoiling you is a kink for him, after all.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Chaotic Night CE: Jude Jazza

☾ CW: Dub-con/Non-con Behavior: I am marking this as both DC & NC, just in case.☾ MDNI: For suggestive themes. This is a fan translation. 100% accuracy is not guaranteed. Cybird owns everything. Thank you so much for your support, and I hope that you enjoy the story! ☾.

(That person’s back, could it be…)

Kate: Jude?

When he turned around, I saw a wizard’s hat and unfamiliar glasses hiding his eyes —

Kate: This is…..

Jude: Don’t look at me.

Kate: Huh?

Jude: Everyone falls asleep when they make eye contact with me ‘cause ‘o that extract that quack made.

Jude: Can’t get no work done, dammit.

His spitting voice hit my ears as I quickly averted my eyes.

(That’s right, he said he had work after the party, so he left early.)

Undoubtedly, the cursed ability that puts anyone to sleep when their forehead’s touched, has been amplified.

(Even so…..)

Kate: Where’d the hat come from.

Jude: Hah?

(The pressure’s more overwhelming than usual….)

Jude: …..Ellis put it on me in the lounge, dunno, but it’s a costume.

Kate: It looks….kind of like a wizard.

My thoughtless words seemed to have struck a chord with him —

Jude: Does the princess see me as a wizard.

(Oh, no……)

Jude: Then, I’ll behave like the villainous 13th Wizard.[1]

With veins popping out on his forehead, he grabbed me by arm and started walking.[2]

Kate: What, where are we going?!

Jude: ……

Kate: Jude.

He didn’t respond as he dragged me away —

Roughly throwing open the door he tossed me on the bed.

Kate: Oof.

The sound of the door locking echoed out, and the moment I tried to look up.

Kate: Mmph.

The back of my head was grabbed, and I was forced into a pillow.

Kate: What are you doing?

Jude: What was that, can’t understand what yer sayin’.

Kate: I don’t know, hmm.

Suddenly, something is pressed between my legs and I let out a sweet moan.

When I moved my legs around, it seemed to be his knee —.

Jude: If I’m angry ‘n there happens to be someone to torment, then I got no choice but to.

The merciless voice from above stimulated me again between my legs.

Kate: Nnn, please stop.

I try to escape the pleasure by twisting myself from the knee that’s grinding against me.

Jude: Yer lookin’ pleased ‘though sayin’ stop, ya must feel good.

Kate: Your wrong!

The close whispers in my ear, and heat touching my back, made me realize that he had climbed on top of me.

Kate: For now, take your hand off my head.

The moment I touched his hand that pressed me against the pillow, there was strong pressure between my legs.

Jude: What’re ya so excited ‘bout?

Kate: [Gasp] !

Just as I was about to hit my peak from the sweet stimulation, I desperately tensed my legs, but….

Jude: Yer squeezin’ my knees, but yer lookin’ like it feels so good ya stand it.

Jude : With yer face pressed into a pillow, unable to move,

Jude: ‘n bein’ tortured…..yer so perverted.

Kate: I’m not.

Jude: What’s not.

When I heard a sigh his knee moved away, and I felt relief for a moment, but

Kate: Ahh.

His hand that lifted my skirt pressed against my sensitive spot over my underwear, making me come.

Jude: It’s wet here though.

Kate: —!

Jude: Even though I only touched ya a bit, ya came.

Jude: Seriously, yer so masochistic it’s laughable.

(This is so embarrassing, why did this happen…..)

I was so ashamed that tears started to form in my eyes,

And his sharp eyes didn’t miss a thing.

Jude: Yer face is bright red, are ya so humiliated that yer gonna start wailin’?

Kate: [sniffle] , please let me go now! [3]

I thrashed my hands, repeatedly hitting his hand that held my head,

Jude: Ha, weak. Are ya serious?

The instant he sneered with laughter, his hand slid up to my chin, turning my upper body around.

My vision is filled with him —

Jude: Can’t be helped, so let’s end it now. Look at me.

The moment our gazes almost met I quickly covered my eyes.

Jude: Hah?

Kate: I don’t want to.

Kate: If I sleep here, then I won’t be able to fight back while being tormented.

Kate: So I will NOT go to sleep!

I bit my lip knowing that I couldn’t just go to sleep after being humiliated.

Jude: Ya really are an idiot.

He sneered in a low, sadistic whisper.

Jude: There ain’t no way ya could fight back.

Jude: I’ll torture ya till I’m satisfied.

(If I had slept then, this wouldn’t have happened.)

As I lay in bed on the verge of tears, too embarrassed to recall the memory,

His hand grabbed my cheek as he ripped off the sheet.

Kate: What are you doing.

Jude: ….All cured.

Kate: What? Oh, you’re right.

When our eyes meet I didn’t fall asleep, and he looks relieved.

Jude: The anger’s also calmed down, ya were useful.

Kate: Really?

I got so happy when he said that, then I came back to my senses…..

Jude: Looks like ya enjoyed bein’ tormented.

Kate: N-no, I didn’t!

Jude: Ha.

He stood up with a mocking laugh, his profile looking different than usual.

Jude: I’ll torment ya again when I have time,

Jude: When that time comes, be ready.

I watched him leave the room, then collapsed on the bed.

(Next time, I won’t let Jude do what he wants.)

I’m filled with embarrassment thinking about the next time, but

(The truth is,)

—There’s no way I could say that I hated it.

Some subjects were tough to identify in this translation. [1] Although we know this is translated as fairy in EN, due to his costume and context, I chose to keep wizard.

[2] ずかずか “zukazuka” was used here, and has several meanings such as: forward, directly, straight, rudely, without hesitation/permission. However, I opted to just use “started walking,” because I am not confident which of these are meant to be conveyed.

[3] There is no onomatopoeic word mentioned, but since she’s fighting back tears, I added sniffles.

[Event Master List] Dividers: @.saradika-graphics/@.natimiles

Tags: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @letter-from-afar @nateko @cosmowgyrall. @lunaaka

Please comment below if you wish to be tagged in translations!

So, what did you all think??? It's not as gory or smutty as his Villain's Night story event from last year, but it was still good I think! I am telling you we are going to see some freaky bedroom shit in his route and events after this.

[twinkling-moonlillie]

Feather Necklace (Hawks/Keigo x Reader)

Warnings: None! This is really fluffy with little hints of angst.

A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!! This was an idea mentioned in my Keigo headcanons that I wanted to expand upon. As always, likes, reblogs, and comments are dutifully appreciated <3

Heroism involved sober servitude, a selfless courage and readied ability to sacrifice. There was no room for prioritization of lives. All lives were equal during an emergency, even if the one in danger was the love of your life. 

This was the life that Hawks lived day after day. His wings were stiffly burdened with the lives of millions and he was sure that the weight would eventually kill him. He never truly minded though. Forming any intimate connection with someone else was a foreign concept to Hawks so adhering to these rules wasn’t that much of a challenge. 

Selfishness was frowned upon heavily in hero society, and Hawks never really minded until he met you. You - with your opulent eyes and dazzling smile - somehow made his knees weak. You, who easily unfolded his heart as if it weren’t made out of steel. You who softly reminded him that it was okay, healthy even, to be selfish. 

Keigo wanted to permanently paint your cheeks red with laughter, to be the one you looked for in a crowded room, to have the honor of intimately studying your skin under the canopy of falling stars. For the first time in his life, Hawks experienced what it felt like to fall. 

But, despite the immense love he had for you, it didn’t change the fact that most of his energy was dedicated to the entire population of Japan. Sacrifice never really held meaning to him until his mind started conjuring vivid nightmares where your fingertips slipped from his, realities where he watched helplessly as the stars in your eyes fizzled out. 

Every morning when he left the warm comfort of your shared bed, he was met with unsurmountable anxiety. If there was an emergency, God forbid an attack, there was no guarantee he could drop all his duties and protect you. There was a certain detachment he had to undergo just to perform his job well. He couldn’t be the fast and accurate hero Japan needed if he was bogged down with worry.

The thought only occurred to him one night while you were gently massaging and preening his crimson feathers. Each plume had enhanced senses, allowing him to hear the gentle murmurs of praise perfectly clear. It was an ability that made him great for espionage and spy work, filthy things that he preferred not to mention. 

Your words of him needing to be a little selfish echoed in his mind. 

“Baby?” 

“Yeah?” Your head popped up from the curtain of wings, lips tugging into a small smile. “Everything okay?”

Keigo turned so that he was facing you, the comforter under him folding messily, blankets splaying off the edges of the bed. “mm…you know how I always worry about you during patrol?”

His hand reached to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing the tinted hue as you looked up curiously. It was completely quiet aside from the light chirping of crickets outside and the sound of cars passing every now and then down the street. He can hear the slightest hitch in your voice. 

“Yeah, and I recall telling you how you didn’t need to worry so much,” You said jokingly, and then with a serious note said “what about it? Are those thoughts a little too loud tonight?”

“Just thinking, I want..I want to give you a part of me, to keep you safe.” His hands nervously ran through his locks and his lips twisted into an almost imperceptible nervous pout. He reached for his back, plucking one of his smaller feathers and lightly tucked it behind your ear. “You’ve always looked so pretty in red.” 

Your face was flushed, preferring to look at the ruffled blanket that was on the verge of falling off the bed. “A-are…are you sure? I know how much these feathers mean to you-”

“Please,” he insists with a small kiss to the crown of your head, “I wanna keep you safe, no matter how far away I am.”

His voice was earnest. 

Vulnerability felt like the frigid wind as it roared in his ears uncomfortably loud. But as inconvenient as it was, loving you was worth the bother. 

[madwomansapologist]

your shan yu x reader fics = me obsessed

what would shan yu x reader with babies be like?

shan yu as a father

Pinterest Board | More Shan Yu | AO3

synopsis: A new dynasty takes over china.

warnings: fluff. do you like happiness? the daddy is a dad now!

note: the way you send me this ask right when i was thinking about him as girl's dad is something

● After you, after China, Shan Yu thought nothing could make him happier. He was satisfied. Shan Yu conquered everything he wanted while feeling your warm embrace. His life was perfect as it was.

● He wanted to have children with you. To expand the family, showing how your love for one another was so great a whole knew being came out of it. But it was never an plan. Never something you both prepared for.

● You're younger than him. He wouldn't ask you something so complicated, not knowing your body demanded different things than his. Shan Yu would never make you feel like it was your purpose to give him children. He saw how woman were treated there, and would never make you think he agreed with that.

● Shan Yu didn't noticed the signs. When you were tired, he assumed you just need to sleep better. When you ate more, he saw it as a sign you were enjoying yourself. When you throw up, he called the healers.

● When you told him the news, his heart stopped for a moment. You were smiling, overwhelmed with pure joy, stroking your belly waiting for his response. You saw it as good news.

● He was happier than ever. To know a part of him grew with a part of you, that in months this tiny ball of perfection would be there, made him cry in front of you. You can count on the fingers of one hand how many times he cried next to you.

● Shan Yu fell on his knees, putting his hand over yours. Kissing your belly, stroking your skin with care and love, Shan Yu thanked you. Once again he declared his love for you, this time by the tears rolling down his face.

● If you thought he was protective and possessive, now you discovered he was controlling himself. You were never alone. Always guards that he trusted following you around, friends and family called without you knowing, or the man hinself were near you. Shan Yu would guarantee you never get hurt.

● You would spend nine months on your bed if it was on him, but Shan Yu already knew you wouldn't behave. Anything you wanted, eveything, he would take care of it. It could be heading to the bathroom in the middle of the night, crying because of the hormones changing, trying to reach a book on a higher shelf. Shan Yu would be there with you.

● He loved how after some months you started to let him support you. Shan Yu would help you sit down, stroke your skin during your bath, cut your nails since you can't reach them anymore. Shan Yu would put the food on your mouth if you let him.

● He never made you feel so desired. At the beginning of the pregnancy, everything was an excuse for Shan Yu to lead you somewhere private. He was gentle, forever caring, but you could see right through him. He was burning with desire. With need.

● During the birth, he was there with you. You could scream at him, smash his hand, do anything that might help you reduce the pain. He never thought you weak, but that proved how strong you really are. A baby girl. Just like you told him.

● The child was healthy and safe, always protected by him. Many thought he would be distant or worse, but his violence is only reserved for those against him. Those he loves will never, ever, had to fear him. Your baby won't know what it feels like to fear his dad.

● He did, whoever, spoke to the baby about war strategics as if she would understand. Asked her real questions as if she was part of his counsil. It would be endearing if you didn't worry about your child learning about gore so young.

● Shan Yu definitely doesn't know how to play with kids. He's too stiff, always aware that she could get hurt. The first time he saw you throwing the baby on the air Shan Yu almost had a heart attack.

● Only close friends and family would have permission to touch her, and even those he would watch closely to make sure his baby girl is being treated right. Shan Yu will protect you both even from dangers that don't exist.

● She could smach his face, push his hair, bite his fingers: all Shan Yu would do was to call her "his little general".

● He was happier than ever.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

GENERAL TAGLIST: @lovelyy-moonlight

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[jadedwoman]

🖤 I need to breed someone and claim them as mine. At first starting off by just spreading my legs whenever they're around, filling the air with my pheromones, watching as they make excuses to get closer to me and claim it's just cuz they're cold or something similar. Eventually, it reaches the point they don't even react when I slide my pants down, my throbbing cock twitching in the cool air as they almost immediately start ogling it, drooling softly as the pheromones become even stronger. Then after a few nights of them staring, I casually grab their head, pulling their face down into my crotch to take a deep breath, their weak whimper telling me they don't mind a bit. Next, I'll order them to suck, watching as they meekly open their mouth and start dragging their tongue along my length, already obsessed with my cock after just a few days. And finally, when they're constantly begging to suck it, I simply tell them to turn around, getting them on their hands and knees as I thrust deep inside them, filling and stretching them out with my cock. My thrusts are harsh and controlled, my hands gripping at their shoulder, making them look back at me, a sadistic smile on my face. And when they finally cum around my cock, I make sure to shoot my seed deep inside them, breeding them as mine, and I guarantee, you will love every second.

[beenbaanbuun]

the show w/ choi jongho

thinking about meeting jongho at a hardcore gig. you don’t really know the band that’s playing, but you’ve heard of them and after finding yourself alone and bored on a random tuesday night, you figure you might as well!

so you take a trip down to your local alternative music club, an oversized band t-shirt handing loosely over the tiny skirt you decided to wear. you can barely see the hem of it before your fishnet-covered thighs are exposed. they bulge over the top of your thigh highs, looking just as soft as squishy as you wanted them to. on your feet rest a pair of old skool vans, beat up and a little gross after years of abuse in mosh pits and venues so disgusting that the floor always seems to be covered by a thick layer of grunge. they’re your favourite pair of shoes, the memories they hold being worth more than their prettiness.

the venue hits you in the face with the scent of stale beer and sweat; it’s gross but you can’t help but smile as you head towards the bar. theres just something so familiar about the foul smell.

“excuse me,” you say to the group of men huddling around the counter, all with full cups of beer in their grasp. they’re too engrossed in conversation to even notice you as you stand there tapping your foot, and you can’t help but let out an agitated sigh, “or just don’t move, i guess; that works too.”

you take a step forward, about to physically push your way through them. the beer that is guaranteed to be spilled down your top is just residual damage. it’s bound to happen anyway since no one can keep their drinks in their hands once a band steps on stage. you brace yourself for the angry grunts you’re about to get and then—

a hand cups your shoulder, holding you back. it’s warm, and as you look down at it, surprisingly well manicured. huh… you didn’t know men who listened to hardcore knew how to take care of themselves to that extent. you follow his arm up, slightly disappointed at the way his beige crew neck covers his arms—with the way his hand is gripping you, you can tell he’s got strength. your gaze shifts past his neck, taking note of the cute little freckle, before moving up to his face.

holy hell.

your lips part a little and you take in a shuddery breath. he’s beautiful.

his skin glows like honey in the sunlight, looking flawless even in the dim lighting of the club. the muscles in his jaw ripple beneath his skin as he clenches it; you swallow thickly. “‘scuse us, gents,” he says, his perfect lips moving in a way that has you unable to stop staring at them. and his voice? god, you want to obey every word that he says in that syrupy cadence.

you don’t even notice when the men part, only moving forward when the handsome stranger puts pressure on your shoulder to guide you through the crowd. you let him, happy to go wherever he takes you as long as his warm hand never leaves your shoulder.

he only stops when the two of you meet the bar and his gaze shifts down to meet yours. you feel your insides melt at the sight of his black irises that seem to glitter as if they hold the universe within them. you suck in a sharp breath though your nose and— holy fuck, is it him that smells that good? the scent of spices fills your head and you feel your knees go weak. your hand finds the bar, ignoring the stickiness in favour of keeping yourself upright.

“what are you drinking?” he asks in that smooth voice. the question almost doesn’t register, your brain too invested in him to even think about anything else. it takes a moment or two for you to realise that oh! he’s taking to you? and a moment or two more for you to pull yourself together enough to give a coherent answer.

“uh, beer?” you say, trying to come off as cool. he smiles and it’s the prettiest thing you think you’ve ever seen.

“you don’t sound too sure about that,” there’s a hint of amusement in his voice and it makes you wonder what his laugh sounds like. probably as beautiful as the rest of him. “i wouldn’t so sure be either; beer is gross. that’s why i’ll be having a double vodka cran… want one?”

you nod silently and his smile grows until you can see his gums. it’s adorable, and it makes your heart beat at an almost concerning pace. is it too early to break out the L word? probably, you tell yourself.

“a vodka cran it is, pretty girl,” he says, and you die a little inside. pretty girl? it’s like he’s trying to send your heart into overdrive, “i’ll have it in your hands in no time. i’m great at flagging down bar staff.” he wiggles his eyebrows as if his self proclaimed sufficiency at bars is something for you to be impressed by. you find yourself giggling, which only makes his face light up more. you swear he mumbles a quick ‘cute’ under his breath, but perhaps that’s just your delusions speaking.

he’s right, though. he does have your drink in your hand in a matter of minutes. he passes it to you with a wink and a click of the tongue before leaning over to grab two straws from the bar. he slips one into his own drink before passing you the other. you take it and slide it into your cup.

“how much was it?” you ask before descending on your straw. even as you take a sip, you never once look away from him. you watch his adams apple bob when you wrap your lips around the paper and suck; you think nothing of it.

“for you? free,” he slips his own straw in his mouth, gulping down a few mouthfuls before pulling a face at the taste. you have to agree, the vodka they use has always been pretty foul; no amount of watered down mixer can mask the taste of the cheap spirit.

you tug the straw away; the strangers eyes flick down to see the lipstick stain left on the paper. he finds himself sending a mental thank you to whoever decided to play the pre-show playlist at an unnecessary volume; at least it hides the involuntary groan he lets out at the sight.

“and for you?” you ask as you swirl your cup in your hand in the hopes of mixing it a little better, “how much was my drink?”

he goes back in for another sip, shrugging as he grins around the straw. it’s soon wiped away by the taste of the beverage, you laugh as you watch a shiver go down his spine. he pulls away and coughs.

“a gentleman never talks about money,” he says with a strained voice, “but just know it was fucking overpriced for how it tastes. does it always taste like this?”

you nod, a pained smile taking over your expression.

“unfortunately so,” you take another sip, only to find out that your ‘mixing’ had done nothing; it still tastes like shit. you purse your lips as you pull away, tensing to stop your own body from shivering. it doesn’t work; the man still lets out a chuckle as he watches you shudder. “what do you usually get?”

a sheepish look takes over his face.

“beer-”

“beer?!” you scoff, leaning forward to hit his arm gently with your fist. it can’t have hurt him, but he pulls a faux pained expression anyway, rubbing over the flesh with his other hand. it brings a smile onto your face to see him play into your antics. “you told me you didn’t like beer!”

he shrugs.

“i didn’t want you to think i’d judge you for drinking something ‘girly’,” he warps his voice and rolls his eyes as he mentions the gendered drinks you hold in your hands, clearly expressing his dismissal of the concept. “but now i’ve tasted it, maybe i am judging you. it really does taste like shit.”

“i know,” you agree.

you fall into a comfortable silence, the both of you slowly getting your drinks down you as the world seems to carry on around you. the bar bustles behind you, but you ignore it in favour of watching the man in front of you. his expressions as he rips the straw free and tips the last bit of his drink down his throat has you giggling. the way he glares at the man who bumps into you has you swooning. how he bops his head in time to the music has you falling deeper and deeper into this pit you’d found yourself in. it’s too soon for the L-word—you don’t even know his name yet—but you’re almost positive that this is how it’s supposed to feel.

you finish up your drink, wincing as the vodka burns your throat on the way down. your lips pull away from the straw and almost immediately, a warm hand covers yours. your stranger pulls the empty cup from your hand and puts it on the ledge to be taken away later. you smile, grateful for the tiny act of service that realistically shouldn’t be making your heart ache to the level it is doing. you don’t even know the man…

“what’s your name?” the sudden question startles him; clearly he wasn’t expecting the lull in conversation to be broken so quickly. he soon recovers, though, smirking at you as if your simple question was akin to you flirting with him.

“choi jongho,” he hums, “what’s yours?”

you tell him. he smiles in response, “pretty name for a pretty girl…” heat burns under your skin; you hope the poor lighting is enough to hide the way your cheeks darken.

“thanks,” you purr, “yours isn’t so bad either.”

he huffs out a breath of laughter through his nose before opening his mouth to say something else. it’s just his luck that the moment he does, the lights dim even further and a loud drumbeat kicks in from the stage.

“good fucking evening! we are—”

the microphone peaks, making you wince at the screech that echos through the venue. jongho’s eyes scrunch shut as he tries to block out the sound, but it’s too abrasive to ignore. he grabs your hand and leans in close.

“i have a feeling this is going to fucking suck,” he yells over the guitar that’s begun to warble tunelessly through the club. you nod wordlessly against him, too distracted by the sudden proximity to actually speak. “i know a pretty cool cafe near-by. it’s open late and they serve really good coffee… do you maybe want to get out of here before we lose our hearing and out will to live?”

again, you nod.

“good,” he leans in to press a warm kiss to your cheek. your heart does a fucking backflip in your rib cage. “it’s a date…”

[allhailsugu]

Content: Tojixfem!Reader, explicit content; minors DNI - you are in early 30s; Toji is in mid-late 30s. smut. smut. smut. smut. Word count: 3k Author's Note: Toji's taking over my mind. Sent help. Did proof read but no guarantees. :-)

When morning came, Toji was already awake, the light of dawn streaming in through the window, the air still quiet and undisturbed. He lay curled around you, his arms wrapped tight around your waist as if he refused to let you move even an inch away from him, his breath warm on your hair.

You began stirring, your body tense as you stretched, tensing your muscles before relaxing them, making a quiet noise before letting out a sigh. The feeling of you stirring in his arms sent a thrill through him, a shiver down his spine that made him tighten his grip on you reflexively, pulling you closer to himself.

“Mornin’, doll.”

He mumbles in a low morning voice that would make you weak in the knees, his breath hot against the nape of your neck.

“Morning…~” You say sleepily turning around to face him. “Did you sleep well?” 

He hums lowly as you spoke, his hands slowly running over your back, tracing gentle patterns against your skin, a soothing gesture.

“Best sleep I’ve had in a long time.” He says gruffly, pulling you closer to him before closing the gap between you to kiss you once on the lips, gentle at first before he deepens the kiss. He slowly pulls back, looking down at you with a content smile as he lazily runs a hand through your hair.

“How ‘bout ya doll? How’d ya sleep?”

“Me too.” You whisper your eyes flicker over his face before staring at his lips as you lean back in to kiss him. He groans lowly as you kiss him, his body tightening with need even as he tries to keep himself in check.

“Gonna be the death of me, ya know that right?” He mutters huskily, rolling you so that your back is on the bed and his body hovers over you, his hands braced by your shoulders on either side as he stares down at you.

“Think ya got another round in ya?” He murmurs, his voice hot and deep as he leans down to press kisses on your jaw, working his way down to your neck, his breath stirring goosebumps along your skin as he leaves a trail of fire in his wake.

“Yeah…” You say breathy, adding, “..woke up feeling hot the second I heard your gruff voice…,” you sigh aroused.

He groans lowly at your words, his teeth grazing your skin as he makes his way back up to your neck, his kisses harder and hungrier as the heat of his body makes yours burn.

“Yeah? How hot ya feelin’ doll?” He murmurs heatedly, his hands running down to your thighs, giving them a harsh squeeze.

“How about you check for yourself…” You whisper hotly and he groans lowly against your skin at your words, the sound vibrating deep in his chest like a growl.

“Cheeky brat.” He mumbles in a heated voice, biting your neck to leave a mark on that perfect skin as his hands run down your thighs, trailing a path of fire that make your breath catch in your throat. His hands are everywhere, like he couldn’t get enough, and he is desperate to feel you. His movements are rough and demanding, possessive even, as he pressed your thighs apart so that he could fit between them, his breath coming out in hot pants against your skin.

He needed you. Needed to feel you, needed to touch you, and he couldn’t hold back longer. Even as he wanted to tease and tempt you, he couldn’t help himself as his body pressed against yours, his hand slipping between your legs, his touch hot and rough making you jolt and shiver. A low groan leaving the back of his throat at the feel of your already soaked cunt as he brushes his fingers along your wet folds.

“Doll, ya gotta stop driving me crazy like this. ‘S hard to go slow when ya feel like heaven.” He groans through gritted teeth, his words strained and needy as he finds your swollen clit, the pad of his thumb ghosting against it and making you shiver with need.

“But it feels... so good-hah… More, Toji...” You whimper bucking into his touch.

“Ya always beg so nice for me doll…” He groans against your skin, a feral sound as he works you faster, his teeth biting and nipping at your neck, marking you as his as sparks of heat race down your spine. His fingers relentlessly rubbing your clit and folds, driving you to the edge of madness as he leaves a path of fire and heat in his wake. Your moans growing louder and more desperate, your body squirming and quaking beneath him. His breath comes in hot pants against your skin, his body hot and desperate against yours as you shiver and tremble under him, his touch both a blessing and a curse.

He is addicted to the way you writhe beneath him, the way you say his name in that pleading tone. He could feel his own control slipping, his body tightens with need as he pressed his lower body more firmly against yours, the sound of your moans like music to his ears.

“Tell me what ya want. Beg for me. Beg me to give it to ya.” He moans huskily in your ear, the sound deep and gravelly as he continues his relentless ministrations, his teeth grazing the skin on your shoulder in sharp little love bites.

“Want you to fuck me… Need it so bad, please… Make me come, Toji... Fill me up, please~!” You whimper squirming.

His response was instant. Your words driving him wild as he couldn’t stop himself any longer. He claims your mouth in a fierce, bruising kiss before pulling back, his eyes darken as he stares down at your debauched form.

“Ya wanna feel me inside ya?” He growls heated.

“Yeah… please… as deep as you go…” You whisper aroused, your body shivering and squirming under his weight. His control snaps as soon as the words left your lips, his eyes dark, almost feral as he lets out a low groan.

“Be careful what ya ask for doll…” He mutters, pulling you closer to him and pressing his body firmly against yours. He kisses you roughly, his tongue invading your mouth as he consumes you with every sense, his hands gripping your hips as he pressed you harder against him, his need a fire that threatens to consume you both. He suddenly grabs your legs and places them over his shoulders, giving him leverage. He positions himself between your legs, his touch rougher now, desperate and demanding, rubbing his swollen tip along your soaked folds. He grits his teeth, sucking in air through them as he keeps coating his own cock with your slick, mixing it with globs of pre-cum that trickled down his girthy shaft. Sloppy sounds filling the room before he penetrates you in one smooth motion, filling you completely and making you shiver as he let out a guttural groan, his sudden intrusion knocking out any air left in your lungs.

“Oh god—….!!” You whimper breathlessly.

“Hah- God, ya feel so good doll…” He groans pushing your legs fully into your chest, folding you as he leans down against your neck, his words muffled as he let’s you adjust to the intrusion, his body shuddering a bit as he tries to remain still inside you.

“Always so rough with me—….” You whimper quietly, pleasure etched all over your face as you regain your breath in slow soft pants.

“Ya want me to go slow for ya, huh doll?” He mutters huskily in your ear, his breath hot and heavy as he whispers. The tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine, the sound low and gravelly as he tries to rein himself in, to go slow for you.

“Never said that….” You whisper letting out a deep sigh. His control snaps, his eyes going dark as he looks down at you, the sight of you breathless and needy beneath him doing something to him that no other person could. 

“Well then….” He groans as he starts moving, rocking his hips slowly, but roughly, deep moans escaping his lips as he buries his face in your neck.

“God, yes!!!” You immediately shout out.

“Yeah, ‘s so good doll.” He groans, the sound a low, deep rumble in his chest as he picks up the pace, each thrust sends sparks straight to your core that make your toes curl.

“Fuck—… Toji! ‘S so deep!” You whimper breathlessly.

“Hah—...So tight doll...so perfect…” He whispers hotly in your ear, every word spoken directly from his heart as he continues his pace, pounding into you as he left your body trembling with need. 

“Can’t get enough of ya...” He groans almost incoherently, consumed by everything he felt, lost in the moment, his only focus on the feeling of you in his arms, the way you say his name in that needy plea that drove him wild. His body strained as he holds himself up above you, taking your legs, parting them wide and letting go of them as he leans forward, supporting himself with an arm braced beside you.

The other hand moving down your thigh and gripping around it where your thigh creases into your hip, his grip hard enough to leave marks that you’d see for days. Your voice filling the room with loud and strained moans, high in pitch and punctuated with his hard thrusts. His breath comes out in hot pants, his body burning hot like fire as he presses his chest against yours, the feeling of your skin pressed against him almost too much to bear.

“…more, Toji..” You pant breathlessly, the sensation of him in you making your mind slip into a haze. 

“Ya want more doll?” He groans, almost teasing at your words, a hint of a chuckle in his voice, despite the strain and need his body was experiencing. It was almost like fuel to the fire, your words spurring him on to do more, to take more. 

“Hnn—.. ya really want more?” He groans heatedly as he suddenly pulls out. The suddenness of it making you gasp, your eyes widen at the sudden emptiness.

“W-wait—… no—… c’m back—….!” You say, hands desperately grasping for his hips to pull him back in.

“Hah-..Impatient…” He groans at your words, the sound deep, almost feral as he watches your hands on his waist, his breath suddenly catching at your eagerness, his control on the edge of snapping completely.

“That badly, huh?” He mutters huskily, his voice strained with need, his body shivering slightly as he rocks back towards you, his tip barely grazing against you, almost a taunt as he waits, watching for your reaction. You let out a shuddered moan at the feel of his tip sliding up your folds, ghosting your clit.

“Please…! Please, Toji…” You whine hastily trying to move him but he wouldn’t budge and his grip on your hip prevents you from moving your hips into him. After a few more attempts and him repeatedly teasing you with his tip you let out a strained whine.

“You’re torturing me…!” You whisper looking up at him through hooded eyes, your tone desperate and needy, chest heaving.

He groans at your pleading tone, his breath catching at your need, his body tensing with the strain of holding back and making you beg.

“Ya want me, doll? Beg for it. Beg for me.” He groans huskily as he presses tighter against you, rocking his hips just barely, teasing the tip against you once more, almost but not quite entering you and driving you both nearly mad. You let out another strained moan at the feeling, your eyes rolling back into your head, almost crossing as you whimper desperately.

“Please, Toji, fuck me! Please, I need you so bad. Wanna be your good doll and cum for you, please. Just fuck me…!” You beg. Your hands moving up your body and massaging your own breasts, desperate for friction and stimulation. Any stimulation.

He growls low in his throat at your words, the sight of you making him lose his control, finally breaking completely as he pushes his hips forward and fills you again, stretching you as he groans out a low, almost guttural moan when he bottoms out.

“Hnn—... Here doll, ‘s all… hah-... all yours…” He groans, his voice guttural like gravel as he lets his weight lean down pushing himself even deeper and making you scream of pleasure. Your body shivering in excitement as you grab onto his shoulders and let out a deep moan from the back of your throat, head lolling back from the sensation of him filling you up again. You are making his body tingle at the sight of your contorted face, feeling your walls flutter and tighten around him, making him grit his teeth.

“Yeah, ‘s what ya wanted, huh?” He groans, his words strained as he snaps his hips back and forth, working you both over the edge. He’s sending waves of pleasure through your body with each deep thrust, his breath hot and heavy as he buries his face against your shoulder.

“Hah….so perfect— haah-...so good around me…doll…” He groans, his pace growing more and more erratic as he chases the sparks of pleasure, feeling your body quiver against his like it was too much to handle. He presses his chest against yours, his body burning hot as it slides against your skin. His arms coming around you to pull you against him as he continues to drive you both towards the edge. He’s trembling with the need to stay in control, to make you fall apart first as he keeps drilling mercilessly into you with hard and fast deep thrusts.

It didn’t take long for you to follow suit as you begin viciously tightening and clenching. You come undone with desperate moans and needy whines as you keep drooling his name over and over. He groans at the feeling of you clenching around him, as you whisper his name over and over, his eyes rolling back into his head at the sound.

“Hah-… so tight-…so good….” He groans, his own orgasm building in his stomach, his breath coming out in hot pants as he continues driving into you, chasing his release as he drove you to madness.

You finally tip over, convulsing and clenching down as you let out an elongated strained moan, making him groan in response to the feel of you clamping down on him. He moves to kiss you, drinking in your moan. His kiss bruising, as if needing to taste you. His tongue invading your mouth as he deepens it between moans and groans while you both hurtle towards bliss, his pace not slowing even in the aftermath of your orgasm.

His muscles strained as he tries to keep up the pace, every sense heightened, his body shuddering from the intensity as he groans against your mouth, his own pleasure building in his stomach, pooling into a knot until he finally reaches it with a final guttural groan, spilling inside you as you tremble in his arms and your eyes squeeze shut. Spurts of white hot mess plastering your clenching walls as you repeatedly tighten down on him. Pleasure still courses through you in ripples, your mouth wide agape but no sound is coming out as you tremble and shiver.

He continues kissing you and pumping into you even through wave after wave of pleasure, consuming you in every way he could, only pulling back when he finally reaches the peak of his orgasm and could no longer move. His breath coming fast and shuddering as he buries his face against the crook of your neck.

“That... was…. A-amazing…..” You whisper after moments of bliss, where only both of your ragged gasps and pants were filling the silence between you. 

“Yeah…hah-...ya can say that again…” He groans, his voice still gravelly and broken by pants and moans as he slowly comes down from his high, pulling away slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your neck.

“Ya good, doll?” He whispers, his body still hot as he presses against you, his forehead dropping to rest on your shoulder as he caught his breath, the heat and smell of you filling his lungs.

You brush his hair back, wiping his sweat as you look up at him. You were still panting as you came down from your orgasm, your body still a little tense as you smile, placing a few little kisses along his jaw.

His breath hitches at the kisses, his body still sensitive to every little touch. He feels a shiver run down his spine as you continue peppering little kisses along his jaw and neck.

“Tease…” He mutters, even though he didn‘t make any move to stop you, his body still too tired to do anything but bask in your affection.

“'M not...” You whisper against his skin as you brush your face along his jaw, your nose trailing down his neck placing more soft kisses as you nuzzle your face into him, inhaling his scent.

“If ya say so…” He mumbles, a grin tugging at his lips, still shivering as your kisses slowly drove him crazy. Your touch sending sparks through his spent body, and he could barely keep the groan in his throat as you nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his scent, your breath ghosting over his sensitive skin. 

“Hnn—... ya tryin’ ta drive me crazy?” He whispers huskily, his hands coming up to rest on your back, the tips of his fingers gently tracing up your spine, relishing in the way you shiver at his touch, his breath catching at the feeling.

“Depends.... Is it working?” You ask chuckling as you lean back to look at him, your hands brushing his hair back and moving down to the nape of his neck before resting on his back.

“Y’ got no idea, doll…” He mumbles, his eyes flicking down to meet yours in the low light, a mischievous twinkle in his gaze, the corners of his lips tugging up in a smirk that said he was far from done with you.

[dropsofpluto-writes]

If Only In Dreams (Hotch x Reader oneshot)

Summary: You've been Jack Hotchner's babysitter for quite some time now, but his dad is what keeps you coming back, even if it's only in your dreams. Until now, that is. 18+, minors dni

Warnings: smut, piv sex, oral sex (f receiving), voice kink, plot if you squint

Grad school was kicking your ass. Fully and completely. Classes and coursework was stressing you to the max, but you remained strong. Still, money was important, so you found yourself in the kitchen of SSA Aaron Hotchner’s home, making a simple meal for Jack to eat before he went to bed. It didn’t hurt that you loved Jack, or that your boss was amazing.

You supposed that you were a woman of simple pleasures. Sure, Mr. Hotchner was generous and kind, always overpaying you for the services you provided. But, by God he was one hell of a man. 

Neat, black hair that you were begging to feel, rugged features that even Michaelangelo couldn’t carve, and his voice. Surely he could recite the first 100 digits of pi and you would go weak in the knees. To your credit, it had also been far too long since you had cum.

But alas, you were just making boxed mac-n-cheese for his young son. Plus, there’s now way in hell he would ever hold you in the same light. You knew that he never spent his free time touching himself to the thought of your moans, your breath on his skin, the way you must taste, the way only your voice could scream his name. But, you imagined all that and more of him. Maybe that was okay. Maybe you shouldn’t violate the one good constant in your life.

“Jack, honey! Dinner will be ready in 5. Could you wash your hands and grab yourself a drink, please?” giggling to yourself, watching the young boy finally walk away from the biggest Lego tower that you’d ever seen him make.

“Yep!”

The two of you ate dinner at the kitchen table, mostly talking about Jack’s newest friend from school, but soon enough he was in bed, and you were cleaning up from the meal.

As you scrubbed the pot, silently cursing yourself for not putting it to soak before they sat down to eat, you found your thoughts were consumed by your employer. On more than one occasion, he had told you to call him Aaron, but you remained in your ways of calling him Mr. Hotchner. you had told him that you liked the formality of the moniker, but you were also terrified that if you were to call him Aaron, it would come out as a choked moan, as it had so many times in the confines of your own bedroom.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your reverie. The lock screen displayed a message from the man occupying your mind.

Is there any possible way you could stay a bit longer tonight? Got held up with paperwork at the office. I would ask Jessica, but she can’t tonight -H.

While you had never spent the night at the Hotchner residence before, you had nothing else of importance that evening, so you agreed without an ounce of hesitation.

Sure thing! Sorry you got held up, but I’m always happy to help. <3

Thanks a million, y/n. -H

You began to make yourself comfortable on the couch and continue with your homework, knowing you would likely fall asleep within the hour. Still, getting some of the work done was better than getting none of it done. 

“Goddamn it!” Halfway through the last assignment, your computer decided to die, and of course, you forgot that damn charger at home. After all, you hadn’t planned on staying the night. You instead occupied yourself with mindless scrolling on social media, eventually drifting to sleep. 

If your thoughts of Aaron during the day were criminal, your dreams at night would surely guarantee eternal damnation.

“Oh sweet Jesus, Aaron, just like that!” you dreamt of the man with his head buried in between your thighs, a rather common theme in your fantasies. The vision of the man you worked for was truly a sight to behold. Tendrils of his raven hair falling over his forehead, pupils blown in ecstasy as he devoured your pussy. He licked through your folds like a starved man. Your legs were thrown over his shoulders, allowing the man full access. His tongue gently circled your clit, engorged with pleasure. As he wrapped his lips around the bud, the all-too-familiar coil in your stomach began to make itself known, signaling your impending orgasm.

“Holy shit, p-please! You’re so fucking good, Aaron. M-make me feel so, so good.” Dream Aaron kept the pace, alternating between thrusting his tongue inside your and sucking your aching clit into his mouth, sending you rocketing toward the edge.

“Yeah, you like that baby? Want me to make you feel good?” you groaned at the loss of his mouth on your pussy, but as quickly as it left, he was back at it, devouring your aching cunt like a starved man.

Your orgasm began to build, feeling yourself reaching the peak, when the dam finally gave way, filling you with white-hot pleasure as you moaned his name.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

Fuck. 

You slowly opened your eyes to the dimly lit living room, and was faced by the gracious image of your boss. There he stood, suit jacket in hand, tie loosened, the top buttons of his tailored shirt undone.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked, hoping that the dull light of the lamp in the room wasn’t calling attention to the fiery blush creeping across your cheeks. Looking at the watch on your wrist, you noted the time. 2:45 AM.

“You were writhing around, and you called my name a few times.”

Were you imagining the knowing glint in his eye? His eyes had always been a point of interest for you, their inescapable depth equal parts comforting and chilling. No, surely he couldn’t know that you were dreaming of his face between your thighs just mere seconds ago.

“Huh. I’m not one to remember dreams too often.”

“Y/n, I am a profiler, and one of my duties is to know when a suspect is lying. Why don’t you tell me the truth?”. He walked toward the side of the couch where you were sitting, his presence both suffocating and bringing you to life.

There was a long pause before you replied, scrambling to think of anything that didn't make you look helpless and desperate.

“I think it was a -um- nightmare? Your tone was utterly unconvincing.

“It didn’t sound like a nightmare to me, Y/n,” the timbre of his voice sent waves of heat between your thighs. “It sounded like you were having a great time. Like we were having a great time.”

You had been caught. Like a deer in headlights, you froze entirely, not wanting to confirm or deny the truth laid before you. Somehow, a small part of your brain chose honesty.

“Yes. You’re right. I’m so sorry. If you need to find another babysitter for Jack I completely understand.” You sat up, hoping to look a little less helpless

“Now that would just make me a hypocrite, Y/n,” his voice was softer now, but just as lustful as you'd dreamt. “You were in my dreams, too. I dream about what lies beneath your clothes, what you’d look like in my bed.”

This couldn’t be real. Surely he was just embarrassing you to make a point. Still, you held out hope that he was being true to his word.

“Oh, God” was the only thing to escape your lips, just above a whisper.

“We can continue, or you can tell me to stop and we’ll never discuss it again. Either way, I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, please. God, yes Mr. Hotchner.”

“How many times have I told you to call me Aaron?” he questioned you, a devilish grin across his lips.

“Please, Aaron”

He was on you in an instant, lips crashing to yours. This was not gentle, nor did you want it to be. This was long-awaited passion. Your arms circled his neck, and his found your waist, picking you up as if you were weightless. He moved his head away from you barely, trying to read your face. All he saw was a hunger for himself, deep in your eyes.

He began to carry you in the direction of his bedroom, the one place in his home you’d never been in. As you entered the hallway, you made sure to be as quiet as you could, not wanting to wake the sleeping boy just a few rooms away.

Aaron tossed you onto his bed, a place you never thought you would actually see. You took him in, his looks, his sound, his smell- clean but still uniquely Hotch. He toyed with the hem of your shirt and brought it up to your navel, gazing deep into your eyes again to gauge your response. You removed the thin garment, exposing your bare breasts, flinging it somewhere near his nightstand. The cool air of his bedroom quickly spread gooseflesh across your skin, nipples puckering in response. 

He removed his own shirt and you pulled him closer to you with a foot behind his knee. You sat up to get a better view of his rolling muscles, a bit padded by age, not that you minded. As you admired his body, you couldn’t help but skate your hands across his skin, up his arms, over his shoulders, down his pecs, toward his abdomen. He had quite a few scars here, and you decided not to ask about their origin.

He leaned in toward you, kissing you again fervently. You responded in kind, aching to be one with him. You sighed into his mouth as your hand found his length, shocked by the size.

“Not just yet, my love. Tell me more about your dreams of me”

You were near naked in front of the man, but you somehow felt a pang of shame again.

He hooked a hand under your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“You eat my pussy,” you said, craving the real thing over the imagined scenario.

A low groan erupted from his mouth as he knelt down at the edge of the bed, gently pushing you onto your back. He parted your knees, kissing gently up your thighs, teasing you.

His hands snaked into the waistband of your shorts, removing them and your underwear at once. You were completely bare to him, and you decided that this was easily the best moment of your college experience thus far. 

He looked up at you from between your legs, and asked you once more, “Is this really what you want?”

“Yes, please. I need your mouth on me”

That was all the affirmation he needed. Quickly, he dipped his tongue between your labia, relishing in your taste. He hummed in approval as you moaned softly.

“So wet just for me?” He chuckled gently.

“Just for you, only for you, Mr. Hotchner”

He landed a soft smack to the outside of your thigh, just enough to sting.

“Call. Me. Aaron.”, he said, punctuating each word with a strong lick across your clit.

“Only for you, Aaron”

He made quick work of you, eventually inserting one finger, then two, feeling your walls pulse as you were brought closer and closer to the edge. His free hand reached up to your breast, cupping and kneading the flesh, then pinching your nipple. Your hands flew into his hair, eliciting a deep moan from the man ravishing you. Gently pulling, you let out a breathy gasp. 

“Oh, Aaron, I think I’m g-gonna cum”

Aaron sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue swiping a circular motion on its surface. You felt yourself hurtling toward oblivion, mind encapsulated by your boss. His fingers curled within you, keeping pace as you rode out your orgasm. 

Once you came down, you stared into his eyes, marveling at the man who was now leaning over your body. His cock was visibly straining against the tight cotton of his slacks, and you gawked at his size. 

“Need you inside me, Aaron. Need all of you so so bad.”

That was all the confirmation that he needed to release his dick. He was quick, unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants down his strong muscular thighs. You made a mental note to tell him just how hot he was. 

You saw his enormous length, red and weeping at the tip. It must be painfully hard, but all you could think about was how to get him inside you. 

He quickly gathered the evidence of your release with a gentle swipe of his cock through your folds, then aligned himself with your aching cunt. With a gentle thrust and a gorgeous moan, he pushed himself inside you, taking his sweet time to bottom out. You were overcome by a sense of fullness. The small thatch of hair at the base of him rubbed softly at your clit, adding to your euphoria.

He started to fuck into you, ravenous look upon his face. God, this man knew some things. With every thrust into you, he hit the sweet spot inside you, brushing against it with a fervor. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, willing him to destroy you. You would sell your soul to stay in this moment forever, but memories would suffice.

“G-gonna cum, sweetheart. Where do you want me?” 

“Oh fuck, Aaron! I’m on the pill, I don’t care, just please make me cum”

Instead of replying, he opted to press his thumb into your clit, making quick work of your orgasm.

You were surrounded by a white hot pleasure, the best you’d felt in eons. You look over to the man at your side, also coming down from his own orgasm. 

“Has anyone ever told you just how beautiful you are, Aaron?” you say, gazing at him with adoration.

“Only you.” His reply was brief, but he had a gorgeous grin spread on his face. You laughed softly, just happy to be where you were with the man you were sure you loved.

[wholoveseggs]

Huhu, me again :) As I am re-reading your stories while stuck at home with the flu, I was thinking of another possible story: Reader is Rebecca's friend and a high-end prostitute. She has seen and experienced some rough things and is not trusting around men at all. Elijah is in love with her, but she will only accept him as a client (just sex for money, no kissing, no tenderness). He does everything in his power to change her mind.

Thanks, ❤️. Hope you have a lovely weekend!

Safe

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

In a world where trust is hard to come by, you've learned to keep your guard up, especially around men. But when Elijah enters your life, he's determined to break through your defenses, venturing into a realm of passion, pain, and the search for something real.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @originals23 I always adore your requests! Hope you are feeling better ♡♡

8.2k words - Warnings: smut, oral sex, white knight Elijah, lots of fluff and affection, Rebekah being badass...

PLEASE NOTE: this has descriptions of sexual assault, trauma & violence... don't read if these things trigger you ♡♡♡

Elijah considered himself a man of experience. He had seen and done everything in his many centuries. He was no stranger to the ways of the world, to the ways of power, to the ways of pleasure.

He watched society evolve and change in many ways, but some things always stayed the same, even after one thousand years.

Elijah knew what he was to women, the way they would fawn over him, the way they would throw themselves at him. It had never bothered him, he used this privilege to disarm potential threats, to protect those he loves.

Never in his long years had he considered paying for sex, he was not the kind of man that needed to pay for a woman's affections. He was a gentleman, he treated women with respect, courted them, loved them.

But then, there was you.

He would meet you in hotels, only the most luxurious, expensive, exclusive ones, where no questions were asked, and privacy was guaranteed.

You were always punctual and dressed to the nines, always with the most stunning outfits, the finest dresses, the highest heels. Your hair was always perfectly styled, your makeup expertly done. 

You were far more put together than he could ever be. It made him want to believe that it was all just for him, but he knew better than that. You looked expensive because you were expensive.

The first time was a complete whim, a moment of weakness. He met you through his sister, at an event she was hosting. He tried to get you in his bed the old fashioned way, with his charm, and it almost worked. He was not used to rejection. But, he got the impression that it was not personal, for you it was just business.

So, he took a chance and hired you for the night. You were not expecting it, he could tell, but you quickly hid it behind a mask of professionalism.

The sex was... Immaculate. He would be a fool to say anything else. In his many centuries of living, he had experienced his fair share of pleasures. He was an excellent lover, he knew it, he prided himself in being one, but you were the first woman he had been with, where he felt like the student.

He would never forget the image of you on your knees before him, with your red lips wrapped around his cock, the sight would stay burned into his retinas for eternity.

You were the perfect companion, always the right thing to say, the right thing to do. You would only give, and never take, leaving him wanting more.

After your first meeting, he became a regular, every Friday at 8pm at the Roosevelt Hotel.

It had become his routine, you would arrive dressed in something different each time, more breathtaking than the last. And each Friday, you would repeat the same motions; meet him at the bar, have a drink, make small talk, before inevitably returning to his hotel room.

You never looked him in the eyes when you rode him, head thrown back in ecstasy, legs trembling and breasts bouncing, the very vision of sin.

You were all fire and passion, never letting your heart get involved, as was your work's rule. Always just fucking, no kissing, no affection, never sharing anything that had the smallest ounce of intimacy.

There was only once where he would have thought he saw an ounce of vulnerability in your eyes.

On that particular Friday, Elijah had arranged for the room to have flowers and champagne and a wonderful spread for dinner. When you arrived, he greeted you the same way he always did, taking you in his arms, feeling the weight of you pressed against him. When he released you from the embrace, he turned to lead you to the couch, but found your cheeks tinged with pink and tears running down your face.

That was new.

You composed yourself almost immediately, a smile returning to your beautiful face. The moment passed. You apologized, saying the roses were so lovely, you felt a bit sentimental for a moment.

He wanted to call it out, but he was not a fool; you were crying because you were moved. He wondered if anyone had treated you with sincerity before. But he held his tongue, only responding that he was glad you liked them.

You drew him in like a moth to a flame. Your beauty, your intelligence, your wit, it all appealed to him, but there was something else, something he couldn't put his finger on.

He wasn't sure what it was, why you affected him so. Perhaps it was the mystery, the fact that he could never really get close to you, not like he wanted.

You were the perfect escort, always attentive, always beautiful, always ready to please. But you were also distant, aloof. You didn't want any affection from him, or to speak of romance, of love.

Your emotional unavailability felt like a mirror, reflecting his own loneliness, his own fear of intimacy.

He wondered how somebody so young, with so little years behind them, could harbor such pain behind their eyes.

Perhaps that is what drew him to you, the possibility that you could understand him, the darkness that lived inside him, the burden of immortality, the isolation that came with it.

He wanted to know you, not just the performance you put on for him, but what lies underneath the façade.

But you didn't allow him to. You kept him at arm's length, never letting him get too close.

He tried to be respectful, he tried not to push you, but he found himself wanting more, wanting things he shouldn't.

You were a good girl, you gave him what he paid for, nothing more. But he wanted more, he wanted you. He wanted to take you out on a date, to spoil you, to make you feel loved, to show you the world.

But he knew that would never happen. You were a professional, and he was just another client. Still, he couldn't help but wonder, couldn't help but hope.

He would keep coming back, and maybe one day, you would let him in. Maybe one day, he would finally get to show you the truth of his feelings.

Maybe one day, you would fall in love with him, too.

You were on another date with a new client, you always met them in public first, making sure they were who they claimed to be before you headed to the hotel.

You were always cautious, using protection, staying safe, trusting your instincts.

You tried your best not to judge your clients, you didn't know why they sought you out instead of dating. For some, it was simply convenience, for others, it was something more sinister. You worked hard to keep the latter far away from you.

This client was a bit shy, he wouldn't meet your gaze or answer any of your questions. It was like pulling teeth. But he didn't have that "off" vibe. Maybe he was just uncomfortable around women and that's why he sought you out.

He seemed to loosen up after a few drinks, his smile becoming more confident, his laugh deepening. His hands would occasionally drift toward your thigh as he leaned in close to talk.

"I rented the penthouse for tonight, it comes with a hot tub," he said awkwardly.

"Oh, that's nice," you tried to sound interested, taking a fake sip of your drink. You never drank or consumed anything while working. You had a fear of being drugged, you prioritized staying alert when with new clients.

"Would you care to see it?" his tone was low and raspy, and his gaze darkened with arousal.

"Of course," you smirked, taking his hand as he led you out of the bar.

Your phone buzzed, it was a text from Rebekah; she always made sure to check in when you were meeting new clients. You smiled, knowing she was looking out for you. The two of you had an emergency plan, if you ever felt unsafe, all you had to do was text her the word 'trouble' and she would come running, and wouldn't hesitate to defend you.

This was another reason you loved being friends with Rebekah, despite the vampire thing, her overprotectiveness of the people she cared for, she was so fierce. It felt good to have someone watch your back in a business such as this. That hasn't always been the case for you.

You texted her your hotel and room number as usual, trying not to let your mind wander to her brother. It was unprofessional to be thinking about him while you were with another client, but you couldn't help it.

It had been nearly three months since you began your arrangement with Elijah, and yet he was always the one that occupied your thoughts, plaguing your dreams, controlling your waking thoughts, your fantasies.

Never had a client affected you in such a way. Sure, you had attractive and charming men seeking your company, ones that smelled nice and tipped well. But Elijah was something else entirely. He made you feel things you didn't want to feel, you had rules, boundaries, reasons to keep a safe distance. Yet with every encounter, you were drawn deeper and deeper.

You pushed the image of him out of your mind, focusing on your present client. In the elevator, his hands were all over you, pawing at you like a horny teen. Clearly, he was very excited about what was going to happen when you got to the penthouse.

"Baby, slow down, we've got all night," you reminded him, hoping he would calm down.

He ignored you and leaned in to kiss you, he was new, so you politely pushed on his chest and let him know what your rules were.

"Hold on baby, there are rules, remember?" you said, pushing his hands away.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I thought that was just a scam, you know, a way to drive up the price," he said, his hand going to his pocket, pulling out his wallet. "How much extra are we talking?"

You could see his wallet was thick with cash and you felt sick, but you played it cool. "Those are my boundaries, honey. No kissing, protection mandatory, no touching unless I say so. That's just how I do business," you said, flashing him a bright smile.

He looked disappointed, but he didn't push. "Fine," he said, putting his wallet away.

You reached the top floor and he led you to the penthouse suite, opening the door and stepping aside. "After you," he said, his voice filled with barely contained desire.

The suite was luxurious, but not the best you've seen. There was a hot tub in the corner and a huge king sized bed. The bathroom was stocked with expensive toiletries and there was a large TV.

"Take your clothes off," he demanded, taking a seat on the bed.

He was far more assertive now that you were alone with him, more controlling. This wasn't too bad, you could work with that. He was older, his hair was a dirty blonde, starting to recede, he was kind of handsome if you squinted.

You began to strip, revealing your black lace lingerie. Your red dress fell to the floor in a puddle of fabric and you heard him growl with excitement.

He eyed you hungrily, licking his lips. "How many hours did I pay for again?" he asked, his voice dripping with lust.

"Five, and I've already started the clock," you said, giving him a coy smile.

"Good," he said, pulling out his wallet and tossing it on the bed. "Come here."

You walked over, stopping in front of him. He reached up, grabbing your breast roughly. "You have great tits," he said, squeezing.

You smiled at him, pretending to enjoy it. You knew he was paying for this, for the fantasy. You pride yourself on your performance, making sure your clients are happy, but you could already tell this was going to be a long couple of hours.

He seemed impatient, rough and demanding. Not exactly your favorite, but this was part of the job. Besides, you had been through worse.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"Yes, sir," you replied, playing the part.

He grabbed your face roughly, making you look into his eyes, then everything became strange, fuzzy, distorted.

Your body felt numb, like you were floating, the room was spinning, and you had the strange sensation of being both in your body and outside it.

You were riding him, you didn't remember how you got there, or when he took his clothes off, but there he was, his cock filling you.

He was groaning and moaning beneath you, his hands gripping your hips tightly. Your neck hurt, your breasts hurt, your thighs hurt, you looked down to see deep bite marks all over you, blood running down your skin.

You blinked, and suddenly you were on your back, the bedspread covered in blood, your blood. You looked up at the man above you, his mouth twisted into a cruel smirk, his eyes completely black.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Not enjoying yourself?" he sneered, his hand going to your throat. He squeezed, cutting off your air supply.

You gasped, struggling to breathe. Your lungs burned, your eyes filled with tears.

"What did you do to me?" You said, your voice sounding like it was coming from far away. He couldn't have drugged you, you didn't consume anything with him, you were always so careful.

He bit into your neck, his fangs sinking into your skin, holding you down with incredible strength. Cold fear ran through your veins, he was like Rebekah, like Elijah, he was a vampire.

You struggled, trying to fight him off, but you couldn't move, his strength was overwhelming. You felt him drinking your blood, his teeth tearing through your skin.

He pulled back, rolling off of you, lying beside you. "Don't worry, sweetheart, it'll only hurt for a minute," he said, his voice full of malicious glee. "Go wash up for round two," he demanded.

You sat up, trying to gather yourself. You needed to get out of there, and fast. You were bleeding heavily, and the world was still spinning.

He got off the bed and headed to the kitchenette, the sounds of glasses clinking and liquid pouring into a glass filled the air. He must've been getting a drink.

You were lightheaded from the blood loss, your legs shaky. You searched for your purse on the floor, the room looked different, distorted, and you couldn't find the damn thing anywhere. You were losing precious seconds looking for it, your adrenaline keeping the panic at bay.

You caught sight of it, it was beside the night table. You snatched it up and grabbed your phone, typing out the word 'trouble' to send it to Rebekah, hoping the word was enough for her to get the message.

You felt his hands on you again, a hard tug against your hair.

"Back on the bed like a good little whore," he hissed, throwing you on the bed. "I wasn't done with you."

He flipped you onto your stomach, hiking one leg up and exposing you to him. The edges of your vision grew dark, and you could hear your heartbeat growing slower, weaker. You tried to scream, but no sound came out.

You were going to die. He was going to kill you, and no one would know. Rebekah wouldn't come. You would be gone, and no one would ever find you.

Then, as your vision faded to black, all you could think of was how this was the end, how you didn't want to die this way. You had fought so hard to escape this fate, to be someone; something better than this, and yet, here you were, being raped and killed by a monster.

In the darkness you heard a bang, the cracking of wood. Someone was yelling, there was a struggle.

Then, a hand on your face, warm, soft. You heard a familiar voice, a voice that made your heart skip a beat.

"Elijah," you whispered, barely audible.

"I'm here, I'm here," he said, his voice full of panic.

You felt him press his wrist to your lips, his own blood filling your mouth. "Drink," he said softly, and you obeyed.

His blood sent a wave of heat through your body, the pain receding. You drank deeply, the world growing clearer.

You opened your eyes, his worried face above yours. He immediately pulled off his suit jacket and wrapped it around your naked form, scooping you up and cradling you in his arms.

You clung to him, feeling the last vestiges of the monster's compulsion fade. You could see Rebekah standing over the man, whose spine was in her hand, her eyes dark with rage.

You were suddenly aware of the gravity of the situation, and tears began to stream down your face. You sobbed, the trauma, the horror of what had almost happened hitting you full force. You thought you had escaped this life, that it was all in your past, but it was there, fresh and ugly, rearing its head like a hydra, reminding you it would always be a part of you.

Elijah held you tightly, whispering soothing words as Rebekah inspected the body. He was solid, strong, his arms encircling you, holding you together.

"Who is he? One of Marcel's?" Elijah asked, his voice low and angry.

"He better not be," she said, taking a picture of the vampire's face and sending it to someone.

She stood up, wiping her hands on her pants, the blood from the dead vampire staining the fabric. "I'll take care of it," she said, her voice hard and cold. "Get her home," she said, gesturing to you.

Elijah nodded, carrying you out of the room. You clung to him, trying not to fall apart, not to let the pain overwhelm you. He helped you get dressed, you felt like you were outside of your body, watching the events unfold from somewhere above, somewhere safe.

It was the same place you went before. When you were younger, when you were forced into this life, it was a coping mechanism, a way to protect yourself from the horror of it all. It was a way to survive, and it was serving you now, letting you function as your body went through the motions.

You found yourself in Elijah's car, his smell surrounding you. You buried your face in his suit jacket, inhaling his scent, letting it ground you.

He was quiet, his face grim, his jaw clenched. He drove quickly, his hands gripping the steering wheel. You expected a lecture about your lifestyle, perhaps a few well-meaning but patronizing comments about how you should change, should find a new line of work.

But he said nothing. He didn't judge, didn't make you feel small, or dirty. He simply drove, his presence a balm on your battered soul.

You arrived at your building, standing at your doorway, trying to find your keys. Your hands were shaking, and he gently took them from you, unlocking the door.

You stepped inside, feeling a sense of relief. You were safe now, he had saved you, and you were home. You turned to see him still waiting in the doorway, his eyes full of concern.

"You don't have to invite me in," he said softly. "I'll wait out here until I know you're safe."

Your heart melted a little, his kindness catching you off guard. He was a gentleman, and his chivalry touched something deep inside you.

You could feel yourself being pulled toward him, and it took all of your resolve to pull back, to remind yourself of the lines, the rules, and boundaries.

"It's okay, you can come in," you said.

He nodded, stepping into the apartment, closing the door behind him. He stood there awkwardly, it was breaking all the rules, being at your home, and he was unsure of the boundaries.

He could see you, the real you, in every facet of your home. From the paintings to the books, the carefully curated pieces of your life. It felt so personal, to be standing in this space, and he could see the pain and vulnerability, the fight in you. The beautiful complexity. It was so... human, to see your life displayed so honestly, no veneer, no illusion, no façade.

"I'm going to take a shower, make yourself at home," you said, gesturing towards the living room.

He nodded, moving towards the couch, taking a seat.

You disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He was angry, furious. Marcel better have answers as to why some random vampire was in the quarter attacking people, because if he didn't, there would be hell to pay.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his rage. He could hear the water running, and he tried not to think about you, what you just went through, what could have happened.

It all happened so fast, one moment he's in the compound, the next he's following Rebekah into a hotel room, watching her rip the spine from that vile beast.

Seeing you there, pale and lifeless, made him snap. He felt something shift inside him, his mind clouded by anger. In the years he lived, Elijah prided himself on being a rational man. He didn't lose control often, or ever, really, but at that moment, seeing you there, he was lost.

Rebekah killed him too quickly, he deserved a more painful death. He would have drawn it out, tortured him slowly, watching the light go out in his eyes. He hated vampires like that. Abusing humans in that way, playing with one's food was so very undignified.

He was so lost in thought, he didn't notice you walking out of the bathroom, wearing a large t-shirt that went past your knees.

You felt a bit more like yourself, the shower having washed away some of the pain and horror. You still felt shaken, and a little dazed, but you were starting to come back to yourself.

"I'm sorry, I think your jacket is ruined," you said, sitting down next to him.

He smiled sadly, glancing at the bloodied garment in his hands. "It's just a suit jacket. I can get another one," he replied.

A silence fell over you, a little uncomfortable, full of the emotions the night had stirred up. You felt raw, vulnerable. Like he could see right through you. Like everything was different, had changed, somehow. You weren't sure why. Maybe it was because he saved you.

You watched as he seemed to have a mental war with himself, his mind far away. You wondered what was going on in that ancient mind of his, what demons he was wrestling with, or what judgments he was passing.

Finally he looked at you, his expression soft, understanding. "I'm sorry about what happened. To you," he said gently.

The sincerity of his words took you by surprise, and tears sprang into your eyes. You blinked them back, not wanting to fall apart.

"It's my own fault, I'm used to this sort of thing," you replied, waving it off. "I knew better."

"You are used to this," he said, his tone careful. "You shouldn't be used to this," he explained.

Your eyes snapped to him, searching for the meaning behind his words.

"No one should ever have to endure that. No one," he said firmly.

He didn't say you should leave the business, act like some sort of savior, telling you what you should and shouldn't do. He didn't take it upon himself to make a proclamation about your lifestyle. Instead he met the facts with pure empathy and honesty.

It felt... genuine. It was a first. And somehow, coming from him, it meant something more. His kindness was a floodgate that allowed emotions, memories and old pain to come rushing forward.

"I ran away from home when I was just fourteen, my mom's boyfriend was... He would beat me, touch me," you said, tears stinging your eyes.

You hadn't talked about this in a long time, you had spent years trying to forget it ever happened, burying it under layers of denial, and in that moment, it all came flooding back.

"I met a woman on the street that offered me shelter for a night, and it snowballed into her making me turn tricks to repay her," you explained, looking anywhere but at his face.

It felt good to talk about it, to get the weight off of your chest. You had kept it all bottled up for so long, and the night had triggered those old memories, so it seemed right to finally share your story. His presence was warm, safe, comforting, and something told you, you could be vulnerable with him, and not be judged for it.

"When the women offered to take me in, it seemed like a blessing. Like she was saving me, offering to feed and clothe me," you sighed, shaking your head, lost in the memories of your youth.

"But she wasn't saving me, she was buying me. Buying my misery, my pain. My innocence, my body, my trust. And then, one day, I was beaten bloody, the guy she sold me to for the night refused to give her a cent and she put her cigarette out on my neck." You looked down at your lap, remembering the smell of your flesh burning, the pain radiating through your skin.

"I wasn't useful to her any longer, so she dumped me like a bag of trash." You spat the words out, trying to stay objective. Distant. You felt his eyes on you.

"And what did you do?" He asked, his voice so low and gentle. So inviting.

"I slept in a dumpster, stole clothes off of someone's line, begged on the corner, just to get by, to eat. A lady took pity on me and gave me enough money for a bus ticket," you continued, wiping a single tear away.

"The first bus I saw took me to New Orleans, and I've been here ever since," you concluded, a cold sense of finality settling over you. You didn't realize how heavy the memory had weighed on you, it had sat in the back of your mind, never giving you a moment of peace, haunting you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to unload on you like that," you said, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"Never apologize for what's happened to you, or how you've reacted to it," he replied. "I know this won't be much help, but you're a survivor. And you did what you had to, and still managed to end up here."

The simplicity of the statement hit you deeply. He understood. He understood what you went through, where you were coming from. He reached out and wiped away another one of your tears. You leaned into his touch, craving the comfort of his warmth.

You didn't understand how, or why, but somehow he had made it into your fortress, your walled off heart. A place no man had reached, touched or explored. Yet there he was. His thumb still swiped gently across your cheek, his dark eyes staring into your own.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth. He was firm and solid, his shoulder the perfect spot to nestle in. This gesture, the simple embrace was overwhelming and your emotions spilling over. You cried, really cried, for the first time in many years. Not just tears streaming from your eyes, or silent drops, you sobbed. Your body racking with each painful outburst, a river of tears flowing over his crisp dress shirt. He held you the entire time, rubbing his hand in small circles across your back, whispering words of comfort, and strength.

Somehow, the mere knowledge of him understanding you, listening to you, opened the dam, releasing all of the pain you had repressed and carried around like an overloaded suitcase.

You cried until you exhausted yourself, and he picked you up, effortlessly and set you in his lap, your arms around his neck, your body folded into his. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, soothing, grounding. You could stay like that forever, cocooned in his strength, feeling truly safe for the first time.

You let your eyes droop, knowing that nothing could hurt you while he was there, and you succumbed to sleep, his hand combing gently through your hair, humming a soft melody murmured in a long forgotten tongue.

You woke up with a start, the morning sun streaming in through the window. You were alone, Elijah's suit jacket draped over you.

You frowned, wondering if perhaps it all had been a dream. If the monster, if the comfort of a stranger had never happened, just a horrible, awful, vivid nightmare. You glanced down and saw the dry bloodstains covering the jacket and realized it hadn't been.

Elijah wasn't a stranger. Not anymore. Something had changed between you, in a matter of hours. He saw all of your exposed, bloody, emotional, broken places, and you showed him a tiny piece of your soul, told him of your past.

You could smell his cologne, his smell lingering in the air, a faint scent left on the jacket. You took a deep breath and slipped the garment back on, smiling sadly.

You were a sucker for a nice suit.

The other smell in the air was coffee and you followed the scent into the kitchen. Rebekah was there, sitting at the table, two cups in front of her.

"Hope you like it strong," she said as you entered, gesturing to a cup of coffee in front of her.

You grabbed it, taking a sip, appreciating the kick of flavor.

"Sleep well?" she asked, glancing at you over the cup of her own.

"Honestly? It's the best night sleep I've had in ages," you admitted, taking a seat, pulling his jacket a little tighter, it felt comforting to have it on, like a security blanket.

She laughed, studying you carefully, her eyes settling on the jacket.

You wondered if she knew, if she was able to tell you had developed a very powerful crush on her brother.

Rebekah didn't know that Elijah was one of your clients, and it felt like a big secret to keep. She never judged you for your job, but she certainly judged those who sought your services.

You felt guilty for not telling her, but it was all so complicated. Your feelings for him were evolving, and you weren't quite sure what they were, or what they meant. She was your only friend and you wanted to confide in her, but you didn't know how.

"Beks, I... I have to tell you something," you said, feeling a bit nervous.

"What is it?" She asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Eli- Elijah has been my client since you introduced me to him," you blurted out.

She sat there, shocked, not saying anything for a moment.

"Elijah. Like my brother... Elijah? The one who was with us last night, and spent the night here? That Elijah?" She said, the look of shock on her face almost comical.

"Yes, that Elijah," you said, a blush creeping across your cheeks.

"My noble brother, who is too honorable and dignified to wear the same tie twice... Has been paying you for sex?" she said slowly, seeming to process the information, before a smirk formed on her lips. "What a delicious twist. I always thought Klaus was the manwhore brother," she added with a cackle.

You blinked, your jaw hanging open, before laughing. The tension easing, knowing she didn't hate you.

You took a deep drink of your coffee, relaxing, laughing. "I'll have you know Elijah is a great client. He's an excellent tipper, not an unkind word to say, and no requests are too kinky or strange," you said with a smile.

Rebekah raised her mug towards you in a cheers motion, clearly amused, but her expression fell a bit when she took you in a little more. "You like him," she stated, her blue eyes studying your face.

"He's my client," you answered defensively.

"Yes, I am aware of the rules you play by, but you like him." She repeated her observation, this time more sure of herself.

"Yeah," you sighed. "Maybe it's wrong to, you know, develop feelings for a client. But something's different, I don't know how to explain it," you finished.

"Well, this explains why he insisted on coming with me to save you last night. And why he's gone all avenging angel this morning. I've never seen him so protective over someone who isn't family," she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Avenging angel? It must have shown on your face because Rebekah launched into the tale of her brother's crusade this morning.

Apparently, he decided to eliminate everyone who associated with your attacker. Including the vampire who sired him and several others. He was methodical, brutal and utterly relentless in his vengeance. Tying them up and letting them burn in the rising sun.

"That's..." You couldn't find the words. It was insane, and it was for you. He was doing this because of you, and it made your heart swell with emotion.

"You're important to him," Rebekah said, her voice soft. "He doesn't do murder sprees for just anyone."

You sat there, processing the information, your mind a whirlwind. You weren't sure what to think, or how to feel, the fluttering in your stomach now a hurricane.

You had never been important to anyone, not like this. Men had always seen you as an object, a means to an end, but never someone who cared about your safety and well-being.

You loved him, even though it broke all your rules, all the careful walls you had built around yourself. He somehow managed to slip past your defenses, stealing his way into your heart and planting seeds for a future.

It had been a few weeks since the attack, and you were finally starting to feel normal again. You went back to work, seeing your regular clients. 

Rebekah had personally vetted and compelled every single one, and you felt safe and protected. None of them could possibly harm you, not with her looking over you.

The only thing that hadn't returned to normal was your regular once-a-week meetings with Elijah. He never called, or showed up, and it ate away at you.

Were you different to him now? After he learned about your past? Maybe he saw you as damaged goods, no longer a fantasy he could indulge in.

You weren't going to reach out, not after what had happened. He had been so kind and compassionate, but you weren't certain if it had really been genuine, or the situation making him act that way.

It hurt. As much as you tried to push it aside, and pretend it wasn't important to you, it was. Not just the money, but his presence, his kind eyes, the gentle way he cared for you. You missed him, and it broke your heart.

You needed something familiar, something safe. You had worn his jacket to bed every night since the attack, it was comforting, it made you feel safe. But not having him, being uncertain of what was going on, it was frustrating, and painful.

So, when you opened the door and saw him standing there, you were surprised. He had a bag of groceries in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other, an apologetic look on his face.

"Hi," he said, a shy smile on his face. "I'm sorry, for being away for so long."

You opened the door wider, gesturing for him to come inside. He walked past you, a nervous energy radiating off of him.

"It's okay, I figured you found another girl to play with," you replied off-handedly, a small part of you hoping to get a reaction.

He placed the bag on the table and spun around. "I assure you, no other woman holds a candle to your charms."

You laughed, liking his response, so typically him.

"I bought some groceries, and some wine," he said, gesturing to the bag and the bouquet. "Is there anything you would like me to make you for dinner?"

You smiled at him, his thoughtfulness making you blush. "Anything would be fine," you said, watching as he moved around your small kitchen. "You didn't have to do all this," you added, still a little taken aback by his gesture.

"I want to," he said, his brown eyes meeting yours. "I have some things I'd like to say, and I think a nice dinner might help."

You nodded, a nervous energy filling the room. He poured some wine, handing you a glass. You hesitated for a moment, fear creeping in, a million thoughts of how this could go wrong flooding your mind.

He noticed the hesitation and gently took your hand, giving it a kiss.

"If you don't want to drink, that is okay," he whispered, his voice full of understanding.

"No, it's okay," you said, smiling shyly.

You sat at the island, watching him as he worked. He was so at ease, so confident. He chopped and stirred, and the aroma of delicious food filled the air.  You never experienced this sort of thing growing up, the peaceful domesticity. It was strange, sitting there with Elijah, it felt so foreign, yet so normal. So perfect. He moved about the kitchen with a practiced ease, humming softly.

You sipped the wine, the sweet taste filling your mouth. You couldn't remember the last time you had drunk a whole glass, let alone several.

After a while, he put the food on the plates, and handed one to you. It smelled delicious, and looked even better. You took a bite, the flavors exploding in your mouth.

"Wow, this is incredible," you exclaimed, taking another bite.

He chuckled, sitting down next to you on the counter, it was so casual, so relaxed, almost intimate.

"How did you learn how to cook?" You asked, curious.

"I've lived for a thousand years, I think it would be pretty embarrassing if I didn't know how to make a proper meal," he replied, his voice laced with amusement.

"I always forget just how old you are," you said, smirking.

"Does it bother you?" He asked, his voice hesitant.

"No," you said, smiling reassuringly.

You finished eating, the two of you chatting about mundane things, no talk of work or pasts, just simple conversation. It was refreshing, being able to just be, no pressure or expectations.

After you were done, he took your plate and started washing the dishes. You couldn't help but laugh, and he turned around, a look of confusion on his face.

"What's so funny?" He asked, drying his hands.

"You just... cooking, cleaning," you said, trying to compose yourself. "I've never seen anything like it,"

"Is that a bad thing?" He asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"No," you said, grinning, "it's actually really nice,"

"Good," he said, chuckling, then he splashed some soap bubbles at you.

You gasped and glared at him, wiping the suds off your top.

"Oh, you did not just do that," you said, a wicked smile on your lips.

You grabbed the sponge and squirted him, laughing as the soap hit his face. He shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes.

"That's how you want to play it, hmm?" He asked, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

He grabbed the faucet and turned it on, spraying you with water. You squealed and tried to dodge, but he was too fast, your feet slipping on the now wet kitchen floor. You went sliding, and Elijah caught you in his arms, laughing.

Your heart was racing, and you were sure he could hear it, beating furiously in your chest. His warm arms were wrapped around you, and your face was inches from his. He was so close, so solid, so real. The world around you disappeared, all that mattered was him. You wanted to give in, to let yourself feel, but fear crept in.

The past flashed through your mind, the memories, the pain, the shame. You pulled away, your heart aching.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your eyes full of tears.

He took a step back, his face full of understanding.

"It's okay," he said softly, his hand reaching out and stroking your cheek.

"What did you want to talk to me about? Why are you really here?" You asked, afraid of the answer.

"I..." He paused, his eyes searching yours. "I am no longer in need of your services,"

Your heart sank, your body suddenly feeling cold. It was the answer you were expecting, but it still hurt. After what he saw in that penthouse, after all of his concern and comfort, he was done with you. Your fears were coming true.

You nodded, forcing a weak smile.

"I just..." he trailed off, his eyes still searching yours, his hand still on your cheek. "I love you, and I've been using you," he said, his eyes full of sadness. "That's why I stopped coming, it was... too much. It felt like I was taking advantage of you."

You stared at him, shock washing over you. It felt like the world had stopped moving. Love? A word you never thought would apply to you, yet here was a man, looking at you with such tenderness, such compassion, such pure undiluted love. It wasn't something you could process, love wasn't a feeling you felt worthy of, it wasn't something you believed you deserved. 

"Elijah..." You whispered, your voice barely audible. "You don't love me, you love the escort, the persona,"

"No, I love you, all of you," he said, his eyes locked on yours. "The good, the bad, the messy, all of it. That's why I can't use you anymore, because I want to love you, not just fuck you,"

You stood there, your emotions warring within you. Part of you was overjoyed, the other part was terrified.

You had never been loved before, and the thought of it was both exhilarating and terrifying. But you couldn't deny the pull between the two of you, the chemistry that was always there.

And it wasn't just physical, there was something deeper, something more. Something that was worth taking a chance on.

You reached out, your hand touching his face. You could feel his breath on your skin, his warmth radiating through you. Your heart was beating so fast, your hands trembling, but you pulled him closer, your lips ghosting across his.

He inhaled sharply, his eyes searching yours, his hand gently touching your face. You closed your eyes, his scent filling your nose. You didn't care that he was your client, that you swore this would never happen, or any of the reasons you always believed it would be better to stay distant.

He was the first one to move, kissing you softly, you could feel the love, the passion, the desire. His hands tangled in your hair, the kiss growing deeper, more intense.

You clung to him, your body pressed against his, the world around you fading away. It was perfect, the moment you had been waiting for. The first time you felt like someone actually wanted you, and it was better than anything you had ever imagined.

His hand slid down your body, his fingers brushing against your skin. You could feel the heat rising within you, the need for him growing stronger. He picked you up, his lips never leaving yours, and carried you into the bedroom.

He laid you on the bed, his body hovering over you. He kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hands caressing your skin.

You moaned, your body arching into him. You wanted him, all of him. You tugged at his shirt, pulling it off. He helped you, then pulled your top over your head.

He trailed kisses down your neck, to your chest, his tongue flicking over your nipples. You let out a soft moan, your hands tangled in his hair.

He continued his exploration, his lips trailing lower, down your stomach, and stopped at the waistband of your skirt. He hooked his thumbs under it, and slowly pulled it down, his mouth kissing your hips.

He kneeled between your legs, kissing the soft skin of your thighs, waiting for your permission to break the rules.

This wasn't work, or something you were forced to do. This was something new, something special.

You spread your legs further, your arousal glistening in the dim light. He moved up your body, kissing your neck as he peeled off his remaining clothes. You reached up, tracing his jaw, and then cupping his face. He looked up at you, his eyes full of love, lust, and worry.

You nodded your head, giving him the permission he needed. His hands gripped your panties, slowly sliding them down. Your heart pounded in your chest, anticipation building.

He kissed your clit, his tongue exploring the sensitive spot. You let out a soft moan, your body shaking.

He took his time, wanting to taste you, wanting to give you pleasure. You deserved to feel good, to forget the pain, if even just for a moment.

He kept teasing you, his tongue circling your clit, then dancing around it. You were aching for him, the tension inside you building.

You gripped the sheets, your body writhing beneath him. You felt the pressure release, a wave of pleasure washing over you.

You floated on a cloud of bliss, your body tingling with aftershocks. He kissed his way back up to you, his lips finding yours.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, cupping his face, pulling him close and kissing him. You had heard that from countless men over the years, but this was the first time you believed it, believed him.

You felt the length of him rubbing against your thigh. You reached down, stroking him, letting him know how much you wanted him.

He was so close, the scent of him filling your senses. He pressed himself against you, his erection teasing you, the ache between your thighs growing.

He wanted to make love to you, to show you what it meant to be with someone who cared about you, who loved you.

He slowly parted your legs, his gaze locked on yours, waiting for the final bit of permission.

You couldn't form the words, so instead you nodded, a shy smile on your lips. He understood, and slowly pushed into you.

You closed your eyes, the feeling of him filling you, stretching you, overwhelming you. It had been so long since anyone touched you like this, and he was doing it so perfectly.

But sudden fear coursed through you, everything replaying in your mind. All the men who had used you, forced you, made you perform. The vampire who dragged you back into your trauma, took away your control.

Elijah could see the distance in your eyes, the disconnect, and he pulled away, slightly, a concerned look on his face.

"It's okay," he said, his voice soft, "we can stop if you want to,"

You blinked, the memory fading, the realization setting in. Elijah wasn't like those men, he was different, caring, gentle. He made you feel safe in a way that no one else ever had.

You smiled at him, your heart swelling with love and affection. You reached up and cupped his face, gently pulling him towards you, your lips meeting his.

You poured your heart into the kiss, your emotions overwhelming you. He rolled the both of you on your sides, his arms wrapping around you. You clung to him, his name a whisper on your lips.

You felt a tingling building, but this wasn't pleasure, it was something else. A sense of euphoria washed over you, and for a brief moment, your whole being was at peace. You felt safe, loved, treasured. Your heart was whole, the pain and darkness gone, replaced by pure happiness and bliss.

You broke the kiss, your eyes wide as you looked at him, your heart pounding. You had never felt anything like it, never thought it was possible. You had experienced great pleasure, had orgasms that left you breathless, but this was something different, something deeper, something beyond description.

You blinked, reality settling in, your thoughts a tangled mess. You had broken your rules, given yourself to him completely, allowed him to touch the most broken and vulnerable part of you.

Your heart.

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[rorja]

synopsis. you, suguru and the taste of victory lingering on his lips as intoxicating nectar — or, my humble thoughts about F1 driver ! suguru

a/n. i can’t stop thinking about formula 1 driver!geto and in honor of japan gp (that is only 4h away), here i bring my wild thoughts. i wrote this on a whim after seeing the qualifying results of today, lmao. unfortunately i really love this idea, so i hope i’ll be able to write a full and lengthy os one day — 🐣

F1 driver!geto who is the most successful driver in the whole season. age 27, suguru has already made a name for himself in the whole championship. shocking, entertaining and winning over the hearts of every single fan out there.

F1 driver!geto that started the season in melbourne with many problems with the car, but never once became a less dangerous competitor for the world drivers championship title. he managed to secure the podium at least in seventeen races out of twenty-one, his name becoming a guarantee for his whole team.

F1 driver!geto who is now racing for the very last race of the season, in one of the hardest circuits known to man in singapore. the humidity is high, the tension suffocating, the steering wheel slippery underneath the gloves. suguru has to survive two hours of pure adrenaline, remaining focused on the circuit and getting out of the twenty-three curves that create the circuit of marina bay.

F1 driver!geto who you easily spot amongst the waves of people starting to disappear from the box. the start of the race only measly hours away, and you can feel the pressure going up. higher than any other race you’ve attended until now. this is the finale and both the drivers have to do well to end the season in the top five at least.

F1 driver!geto with whom you’ve crossed paths with many times in the last year. it’s natural after all, you suppose. you’ve been working as haibara yū’s pr manager for two seasons now, marking probably the longest contract you’ve ever had with the formula one team. they have been impressed by your work and you’ve been more than happy to making it through so far.

F1 driver!geto who has always caught your attention from the beginning. a driver that left behind him only sparks in the narrowest of curves, the same ones that would proclaim him a hero all over again. you can see, as the people disperse inside the box, his gaze focused on the asphalt. his tight and firm hold over the steering wheel of the single-seater car.

F1 driver!geto that when locks his eyes with yours, make you feel weak and exposed all of the sudden. making your heart beat like that very first day you have met him.

F1 driver!geto that gets taken away together with haibara on the earned pole position from yesterday’s qualifying session. you watch him sprint from one of the many monitors of the box, his first lap time probably one of the best performances this season. you feel your knees tremble slightly as you bring your hands to your lips in a silent prayer: “please, let him come back safely from the circuit”

F1 driver!geto who is left on your hands for the upcoming press conferences as nanami is being called in the paddock for an urgent matter. you try to memorize the events listed on the paper left by nanami in a matter of three laps. three laps only to end this big and so anxiously awaited finale.

F1 driver!geto who takes home the golden ambitious prize of the season, earning his third consecutive title of world champion. and the scuderia becomes a complete mess once the car hits the finish line underneath the checkered flag, with never ending hugs and pats on each other’s backs for the hard work. haibara is confirmed fourth. you swear you saw tears of joy gathering on the corners of some engineers at the pit-wall.

F1 driver!geto that jumps out the car the moment he comes back on the pit-lane, indulging everyone’s excitement and answering back with more enthusiasm on his part. a japanese flag immediately being placed proudly on his tracksuit by his mother. a baseball hat taking over the place of the helmet in a blink.

F1 driver!geto whose party dies a little bit too soon once you grab his wrist and leads him down the hallway, telling him that he must reach the podium on the other side of the paddock in a few minutes. however, you don’t notice the smile that curls around his lips. a soft gleam in his eyes, dimming even further the heavy presence of adrenaline in his body.

F1 driver!geto that stops in his tracks and brings you closer with a hand on your hips, turning you around with a swift and smooth motion and making you yelp. “not even a kiss for your champion? that’s rude dear” and he’s teasing, you know he’s just teasing you. it’s infuriating. and yet, you fall for it once again. cupping his cheek with a hand and leaning in to kiss him. your emotions all over the place: worry, fear, happiness, excitement… love. your brain short circuiting as soon as your lips meets his, and you are acutely made aware of just how much he needed this tiny moment with you alone.

F1 driver!geto who announces publicly his relationship with you only a week later. a press conference at eight in the morning, only the two drivers of the scuderia sitting in front of the panel, and you can’t help but feeling giddy when you hear suguru confirming the rumors about a rumored relationship. your name sounding so soft coming from his lips. and you see the smile he gives, plastered on the TV screen, when he confirms his name for the next season. his adrenaline contagious. and you can’t wait to see him once again in the place he belongs to: the highest place on the podium after another great and successful season.

[certainempatheticturkeymuffin]

Unawakened Dream really awoke the plot bunnies! Enjoy!

-

The very fabric of Teyvat is unraveling — shattering into unseemly pieces; leaving gaping holes for the Primordial Sea to flood in. Mondstadt has long fallen — Dvalin and Andrius with it — and Venti thought he had no more tears to cry.

And yet…

“Zhong– Zhongli please! You can't leave me too!”

The geo archon lays at his feet, slowly crumbling to dust as erosion dared to claim him in the worst possible moment. The leaking of the geo archon's power destabilizes Teyvat even further. It brings Venti to his knees — threatens to turn him to stone alongside his last and oldest friend…

But Venti can't bring himself to care, as he grips onto Zhongli's crumbling hand and cries into his chest.

Zhongli does not remember Venti's face. He does not remember their shared battles, nor their hopeful songs or idle conversations. Venti is a stranger. And despite that, he gazes upon the image of their melting, shattering, dying reality, and dismisses it: deeming the sobbing archon above him more important.

Despite everything, Zhongli offers a calming smile, laying a half decayed hand upon Venti's unstained white feathers — a speck of soft and clean perfection in a disastrous painting. His voice is quiet and weak, missing his authority and wisdom, but it is still Zhongli.

“You… are important to me. Do not cry; one needn't waste tears over the inevitable and irreversible.”

‘Inevitable and irreversible.’ The thought stills him.

Because nothing is irreversible. Not to that spark split in three. Not to the power long abandoned. Not to the Shade of Time.

It has been millenia since the use of such power. Centuries since he'd thought of it…

Mondstadt would live.

Zhongli would live.

The tears don't stop at this realization, but Venti's grin isn't dampened as he looks into the clouded eyes of the only one left, “Nothing's irreversible Zhongli — not to me! I can fix this! I will fix this! I'll fix Teyvat– I'll save you!”

His words seem to send Zhongli into deep thought, but he speaks before Venti can even begin to draw upon those dimmed sparks, “Is that a promise?”

‘A contract?’ And Venti pauses. Because Zhongli does not know what power those words hold. Does not know that he is the God of Contracts, does not know that a promise bound by him is one impossible to break without severe consequence.

Venti has never entered a proper contract. Though he has always protected Mondstadt (he failed them), if he really felt like it, he could walk away without consequence. He has always retained the freedom of choice, even if the choices are mere illusions.

But what freedom is there if everyone is dead?

So Venti smiles — face marred only by tears, he is a picture of clean perfection amongst muddled destruction, untouched even in the final hour of Teyvat's demise. Untouchable, for even Teyvat's destruction is no guarantee of his own. He draws upon those faded remnants of Istaroth's power — of the power of the First Descender — and his voice is clear, echoing through the remnants of Teyvat and through the Primordial Sea, touching even the realities beyond their dream,

“I'll fix Teyvat, or die trying. May this contract be bound in stone.”

-

So yeah, may or may not make an actual fic, and did NOT intend this to be as ZhongVen as it was, but that image of Venti using Istaroth's power (of BEING Istaroth) really refused to leave me alone lol. I think it's mostly because I ADORE writing time loops, so even if I do already headcanon Venti as a time manipulator, seeing it in animated form... the temptation was too strong lol

[hey-august]

This story comes to you from the May Event Week 1 results! Check out the full event here.

WC: ~650 (this got so out of hand. I can't guarantee the other poll losers will be this long 🙃) Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, Buggy x GN!reader, not an established relationship, profanity, male masturbation, shower masturbation, hint of a one-bed trope bc why not

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. The ship needed big repairs and everyone had to find rooms on shore. Of course there weren’t enough rooms for the whole crew. Of course he had to share a room with you. Of course there was only one bed. One fucking bed. And you.

The moment you two entered the room, the gravity in Buggy’s body increased tenfold. His stomach dropped and all the blood rushed below his belt. Sharing a bed with you… His swollen head began concocting all sorts of endless possibilities and fantasies. Your bodies touching, the feel of your warmth, skin against skin, leaving whispers of promises and praise all over your body, his shaking with need until you give into his begging, the sound of his name spilling from your mouth.

Buggy took sanctuary in the bathroom, truthfully claiming he needed to wash away the day’s filth. It was all dirt that accumulated within the past few minutes. Maybe he could fuck these feelings out of himself. He could choke the lust out of his own dick. It was already full to bursting, staining his red and white striped underwear with precum.

Standing under the showerhead, Buggy hoped for a moment that the hot water would bring relaxation and simply carry away the desire into the drain. It didn’t work. Of course not. The water felt too good on his aching hard-on, teasing his erection as it twitched for more. For something.

Feeling more pissed than horny, Buggy squirted some of the complimentary shower wash into his hand. This fucking place would rather spend more for unnecessary amenities, like lemongrass soap, than on more beds. That thought popped like a sudsy bubble as he smeared the viscous fluid on his sensitive member. It felt good. Really good.

The splashing water masked the sound of his hand roughly pumping his heavy cock. His balls bounced with each jerk. Knowing that you were on the other side of the bathroom door was fucking awful. And fucking wonderful.

Heavy breathing edged into soft groans. Before being beat down by the falling water, his voice echoed against the tiles. With each bouncing reverberation, Buggy felt delicious guilt. The sweetness of giving into temptation.

What if you could hear him? Did he want that? A part of him did. That’s fucked up. And a turn on. He squeezed tightly, pressing out endless beads of precum as his dick cried and cried, all for you. If you only knew. If you could see him like this, hunched over in the shower and pounding his fist just to the thought of you.

Buggy bit his bottom lip, keeping your name locked in his mouth as he released the rest of his want for you. His vision narrowed as he watched the thick cum shoot against the shower wall. Too much, there’s too much now. The air is too heavy, the shower is too hot, there’s too much water on his body, too much jizz pouring from his body. 

Throwing an arm against the wall, Buggy leaned in and pressed his forehead against a cool tile. Hopefully his knees wouldn’t give out. It would be impossible for him to survive the absolute mortification of blacking out, only for you to barge in and see him wet and naked on the ground, while the hot water cooked the spunk that didn’t drain away. Once the weakness passed, Buggy finished his shower, washed away any clumps of evidence, and stumbled out of the steamy room.

He mumbled something about probably using all the hot water before collapsing into the bed and falling into a deep sleep. When he finally woke up to the sound of seagulls welcoming the morning sun, Buggy felt victorious. He survived the night.

But as Buggy registered the light scent of lemongrass from your sleeping form, which was curled against his, he realized the trap he set for himself. A trap that had his body reacting to the smell, remembering how he took care of his needs yesterday, and wanting more.

[sweetkpopmusings]

seungcheol boyfriend headcanons <3

a/n: posting boyfriend seungcheol hcs next, as requested ! seungcheol just makes me feel so safe !! i won't lie -- it took me a while to write this because i would think about bf seungcheol and feel so warm that all i wanted to do was curl up in a comfy blanket and watch my favorite tv show :,-) pics not mine <3

content: fluff | wc: 1.3k | warnings: none! | pairing: boyfriend!seuncheol x gn!reader | requests: open

i desperately want to be a silly billy and make seungcheol act dramatic so i can fawn over just how precious he is <333 what a goofy lil guy !!!

seungcheol is 100% boyfriend material and the bestest boy

he is SO competitive

he's actually MORE competitive with you because he loves you the most and is so very comfortable with you !!

seungcheol makes competitions out of anything and everything

carrying groceries into your place ?? whoever carries the most bags and the quickest is declared grocery royalty

watching a movie together ?? whoever can guess the plot accurately has movie-picking privileges for the rest of the year

definitely loves playing kids games with you and, if you're into it, drinking games and by that i mean the s.coups game

he gets MAJOR heart eyes if you get even just a lil competitive with him

if you get properly heated during a game/competition ?? he's losing it !!!! (his mind, not the game ofc)

if you beat him at anything, he'll complain and be a lil baby, but he's actually proud of and impressed by you and will brag about it to seventeen because "my partner is the best at everything" <333

i see him holding hands by linking pinkies

it's lowkey but also cute and it gives him all the butterflies that only you can stir up in him

loves it when you'll lean into his side when you're walking like that

it's such a lighthearted and sweet type of physical contact that it makes him absolutely weak in the knees :,-)

it makes him feel young at heart, and he cherishes puppy love as much as he cherishes more mature/grownup love

he also melts when you lean on his shoulder

seungcheol will kiss the top of your head every. single. time.

no room for negotiation on that one because he cannot resist it or you because you are simply too cute

he also loves being babied

if you hold his face in both your hands, he's looking at you with sparkling heart eyes

and he is lost in a giggling fit

he's such a laughy boy <3 he cannot contain his happiness when he's with you !!

also cannot contain the blushing that comes whenever you compliment him, especially when you call him cute

his ears are guaranteed to be pink if you call him a nickname too !

he will laugh at super sweet petnames, but his favorites are special nicknames that only you two share

they're based off an inside joke, a special moment from your relationship, and/or your favorite qualities about each other :,-)

seungcheol will never ever admit the extent to which he loves being babied, but he'll literally hold you in place if you're cuddling and you get up

his face will stay unchanged, save for a small upward turn of his lips, and he is holding on for DEAR. LIFE.

he's a teddy bear covered in super glue and it's all for you <3

he's just so cozy !!! and he thinks you're the coziest person in the whole world !!! both for his heart and for cuddling

one time he told you this when he was very sleepy and had a super blissful smile on his face <3 you will never let him live it down <3

he'll groan every time you bring it up but he won't deny that it's true

seungcheol is also a big fan of matching loungewear, specifically hoodies

he simply adores casual couple behavior

to him, it's perfect because it shows off how comfortable you are with each other, and he loves matching with you when you're alone together because it adds to the specialness of the time and space you share

also really enjoys wearing some kind of matching clothes when y'all are hanging out with friends because it's a subtle way to show off to everyone that you two are An Item

not that they need a reminder because he talks about you constantly and you two look at each other with so much love and joy in your eyes <33

if and when the members tease y'all about your couple outfits and adorable behavior, seungcheol will flat out tell them that they're jealous

and he's right LOL

definitely married couple vibes from you two because you're just so relaxed and content with each other in every way

there’s a security and a deep understanding and trusting connection you share

he is absolutely the best shoulder to cry on

literally that one verse in 기대 when he’s asking for a name of everyone/everything that made you cry is how he feels whenever something's hurting you please i want him to protect me

seungcheol gets fired up when you’re upset because he is so frustrated at the fact there are things/people in this world that dare to upset you, the love of his life

regardless of how >:-( he gets when someone or something has caused you a lot of stress, he will be so soft and tender when comforting you and caring for you in hard times

seungcheol is extremely protective of you and will constantly work to protect and support you in the ways that you need <3

he also asks you to protect and support him when things get hard or overwhelming because you’re the only person he feels he can rely on 100% of the time

he doesn’t have to be strong for you all the time because he knows you’ll love him even when he can’t be strong :-( i'm crying

he feels so safe with you, and you two will always be at each other's side, through the best and the worst of times

i do see him as someone who lowkey loves hating the people/things you hate LMAO

not in a super serious way, but he will always hype you up when you’re venting about That One Person 

in the same vein, he loves to love the people/things you like 

he gets so excited whenever you’re excited !!

he will in fact squeal if he’s celebrating good news with you or if that one couple in a show you’re watching finally get together he’s so soft and cute i’m screaming

going back to seugcheol, you, and hoodies

seungcheol loves to see you in his hoodies/shirts/hats/etc but complains about you stealing them LMAO

when you try to give them back, he acts hurt

“why do you want to give them back?? are they not high enough quality for you??”

and you’re like ??? "cheol, jeonghan told me you complained about not having your favorite hoodie for at least fifteen minutes, so i’m giving you back your favorite hoodie"

he’s blushing and trying extremely hard to keep his annoyed face when he replies, “FINE.”

secretly he’s happy he gets to wear something that smells like you, and slowly but surely there’s a rotation of his clothes in your closet, switching them out when he “needs” them back for an outfit

aka he is taking them with him on tour or when his schedules mean he won’t be able to see you very often so he can at least have something with him that reminds him of you

tbh he's pretty cheesy in this regard and in many other ways but he tries to act tsundere and it just comes out so cute <3

seungcheol is such a laughy boy

he loves to be playful with you

sometimes he mocks you in a childish voice, especially if you're having a playful argument about something dumb, but then laughs cutely right after so you’re not THAT mad

it frequently happens that you both get stuck in a loop of mocking each other's voices like children on the playground and after far too long of it going on you two burst into hysterical laughter

don't be surprised if seungcheol says, "i love you" after he catches his breath and wipes his tears once the laughing fit has passed

you're the only person who can make him laugh like that and it fills his heart with more joy than you could imagine :,-)

seungcheol is the sweetest, most solid partner in the world. he adores you, and he will never let you forget that because you are his favorite person in the world !!

brb i'm going to run as fast as i can to seungcheol so i can give him a big hug and thank him for existing :,-)

i hope everyone gets the seungcheol they deserve <3

[justanothermemestrider]

Nothing Ever Stays Dead - Part 5

Sgt Gadriel x Childhood Friend OC

Good news! Gadriel and Ellie finally have a moment to talk alone.

Bad news! That quiet moment is taking place in a Drukhari ship.

If you missed part 4, you can catch up here :)

I know I probably sound like a broken record at this point, but I am so grateful for all the support this series has had so far. So, all you lovely people, thank you for reading, liking, reblogging and commenting <3

Once again, I've butchered the lore a little bit. But tbh I've been doing that this entire series so hopefully you guys are used to/expect that from me by now 😅

Violence and 40kness under the cut, as well as some light ellusions to some nsfwness at the start. Apologies for spelling and grammar errors, and thank you for your support :D

Love, Memestrider xoxo

When Gadriel walked through their bedroom door, Ellicent had known right away. She'd been dreading it. Praying that it wouldn't happen. But the moment she saw the look on his face, she'd known.

"You've been accepted," she said.

Gadriel closed the door behind him. He let out a tired sigh before turning to face her once more. "I asked if I could return home to say goodbye. They were reluctant, but said yes."

Ellicent closed her eyes. Her knees felt weak, and she sat on the bed lest they give out on her entirely. "Have you told your mother yet?"

Gadriel visibly recoiled from the question. "She said she was happy; that she was proud. But I could tell it was a lie. She wants me to leave about as much as you do."

"Can't say I blame her," Ellicent said.

Gadriel gave her a sad, sympathetic smile. It only infuriated Ellicent more. Taking a seat next to her, he clasped his hands in his lap, eyes fixed on the floor as if ashamed.

"I leave tomorrow," he said quietly.

Ellicent looked at him "Seriously? When?"

"First thing." Still, he refused to meet her gaze. "You and Mum probably won't even be awake yet."

Ellicent bit her lip as a wave of tears threatened to overwhelm her. She was so angry with him. So angry. Why did he have to be so selfless? Why did his heart have to be so noble that he would do something like this for the mere chance of making her and his mother's lives just a little bit better?

"So... What happens next?"

"Well, assuming I pass all of my trials and actually become an Astartes, I can request to have you both transferred to someplace in Ultramar."

"You can request? You mean, it isn't guaranteed?"

"I don't know. It's... It's not a commonly done thing, apparently." Chewing his cheek, Gadriel clenched his hand into fists. "But I'll make it happen. I promise I will."

"You better," Ellicent whispered. "If you can't, then this whole thing would have been for nothing."

They both lapsed into silence. Heavy, tense and melancholic. Tears were flowing freely down Ellicent's cheeks now. The grief she'd been anticipating for months now had broken free of its cage, and is now sewing painful knots in her belly and chest.

Why? She continued to ask herself. Why did it have to be like this? Why did he have to go?

"Ellie?" She felt Gadriel's hand wrap around hers. "Talk to me. Please."

Ellicent sniffed, wiping her eyes with her free hand. She met his gaze and found that he, too, had started to weep.

Her body moved without thinking. Throwing one leg over him, she straddled his lap before pulling him into the fiercest, most passionate kiss she thinks she's ever given him. It took him off guard. So much so, he almost fell backward onto the bed. But he didn't hesitate in returning it. Sliding his hands up her back, he gripped her nape hard, pressing her into him and working his mouth against hers.

The taste of him was wonderful. His scent and touch, the closest things to bliss Ellicent had ever had. And she was about to loose him. The world was trying to take him away. A sob rises into the back of Ellicent's throat. She had to break the kiss in order to let it out. Gadriel cradled her cheeks in his hands, pressed his forehead to hers. He let her take all the time she needed to catch her breath. His own, soft exhales were warm against Ellicent's lips.

Ellicent intertwines her fingers in his hair. It's tangled and coarse, and slightly damp from the humid air outside. But to Ellicent, it's as soft and beautiful as silk.

"I want more, Gadriel," she whispers.

She feels his brows furrow against her forehead. "Do... Do you mean?"

"I do."

"Are you sure?"

She'd expected him to be hesitant. While they had shared a bed for as long as Ellicent had been living with Gadriel and his mother, they'd never slept together. Not for a lack of attraction, of course; Gadriel was easily pretty enough to pass as a high lord's son, and even before he'd started training for the Astartes, his body was a well-sculpted work of soft muscle and olive skin; and while Ellicent is less certain of her own physical attributes, Gadriel has told her time and time again how stunning her figure is, how her eyes reminded him of falling stars.

But even so, their relationship had always been built on emotional intimacy- sex was a line they were yet to crossed.

But Ellicent couldn't wait any longer.

"I am," she said in reply to his question. "I want you, Gadriel. I love you. And if the world is so determined to take you from me tomorrow, I want to have you tonight." Gently, she covers his hands with her own, brushing her thumb across his knuckles. "But of course, all of that is moot unless you'll have me too."

Gadriel's reply is instant. "Of course I will."

"Then please," Ellicent whispered. She pressed her palm against his chest. Felt his now-racing heart beating against her skin.

"Take me."

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

"Welcome to the Dark Star," Ellie says quietly. She hugs her legs a little tighter, resting her temple on her knees so she is facing him.

It's only then that Gadriel notices she's missing her left arm.

"Where's your prostethic?" he asks.

Ellie glances at her empty shoulder socket. Her expression, like her voice, is totally flat. "They took it. Weren't keen on the idea of locking me up with my hyperphase sword." She raps her knuckles on her right knee, making a soft clanging sound. "Let me keep my leg, though. So that's something, I guess."

"But why?" Gadriel asks. "I mean, why are you even here? I thought these xenos were allied with you."

Ellie meets his gaze. Something hot flashes behind her eyes. "They're allied with Severus. Not me."

"But do you not work for him?"

Her next words come out laced with poison. "More like I'm indentured to him."

Despite himself, her words leave Gadriel feeling relieved. I knew it, he thinks. She's not here by choice. She's not a traitor."

"But I see your point," she continues. "And typically, it'd be right: Severus does keep the Dark Eldar off me. But then I fired off that flare and..."

She lapses back into morose silence. Gadriel feels a twinge in his chest unrelated to any of his wounds.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly.

"Don't be," Ellie replies. "It's not your fault. I knew what I was doing, how he would react. I'm just sorry you got hurt because of it."

Gadriel swallows thickly. "I... I'm not just talking about that."

Ellie cocks her head for a moment. "What are you..." Her face suddenly drops. "Oh. Right."

The sad silence returns. Ellie's eyes drop to the floor as she fiddles with a crack in the floor. Small ribbons of light catch her cheeks; tear streaks, Gadriel realises.

He forces himself to take a breath. From the moment he'd seen her again, the same terrible question has been plaguing his mind. But he can't hide from it any longer. Not when they may be so close to death.

"What happened to you, Ellie?" Gadriel asks. "How did you end up involved with... with people like this?"

Her reply is sharp as a blade. "It wasn't willingly. I can tell you that for nothing."

"I'd already guessed as much," Gadriel says gently. "But, truth be told, that only makes me more desperate to know how it all came to pass."

For a long while, Ellie is silent.

"Are you sure?" she finally asks.

The way she says it makes Gadriel's throat close over. "Yes," he answers. "Please."

Ellie goes quiet again. Her gaze returns to the cold, dank floor. "About six months after you left," she says. "Your mother died. Same sickness that killed my Dad. I couldn't stay in the house after that. Too much loss. I swear I could feel it coming out of the walls."

A twinge of grief pangs in Gadriel's chest. He'd already assumed that his mother was likely dead by now- if not from disease, then certainly from age. But nevertheless, the confirmation from Ellie still stings.

"I lived off the streets after that," she continues. "You know, stealing from topsiders, raiding trash piles, fighting for the best abandoned building to sleep in for the night; all the standard type stuff." She lets out a sigh. "Then Severus showed up.

"I don't know how much you know about him, from your mission briefing or whatever, but his main shtick is that he's a slaver. A trafficker. He and his cronies zip around the galaxy, visiting feral hive worlds and plucking healthy-looking vagrants off the streets to... Well, to do whatever he wants."

Gadriel swallows the lump in his throat. "And he..."

"Yup."

"Throne, Ellie."

With her one remaining shoulder, Ellie shrugs. "Wasn't just me. He probably took about a hundred people in the end. I was taken in my sleep. Hit over the head, woke up in the belly of some disgusting cargo bay." Briefly, she looks around her cell. "It wasn't too dissimilar to this, actually. Except a lot less roomy, with more people crammed inside. Most of the people Severus takes are to sell- that's what he's allied with the Dark Eldar for. But sometimes, he'll come across someone he takes a liking to, and he'll keep them as his own."

Once more, Gadriel's mouth fills with acidic bile, and the corners of his vision turn from black to red. When Ellie sees the look on his face, she forces a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, it wasn't like that. Not with me, anyway. Only reason he liked me was 'cause I could handle myself in a fight. He saw a killer in me, not a play-thing. Probably the only stroke of luck I've had during this whole thing."

The only thing Gadriel can think to do is nod. "How about your arm and leg?" he asks. "How'd you loose them?"

"I didn't loose them," Ellie says. "Severus took them."

"He took them?"

She nods. "He'd have taken the others too, if he'd had enough necron parts lying around. But he only had a left arm and right leg, so that was all he could replace." She touches her empty shoulder socket. A soft, harsh laugh slips from her lips. "Another stroke of luck on my part, I guess.

"He made me his hit-man," she continues. "His errand girl."Defend this cargo, Ellicent. Kill this officer, Ellicent. I've got a pack of space marines coming after me, so set a trap for 'em and kill them for me, Ellicent. If you refuse me again, I'll let the Drukhari have you, and you'll be begging me to take you back." That was my life. For fifty years. And the cybernetics, they affected the rest of my body. Hardened my bones, slowed my aging right down. Meant death was hard to come by; even when I wanted it to."

Her voice is so full of emotion, it almost sounds devoid of it. Like an overloaded fuse, there is so much pain in her words, she can't possibly express it anymore. Gadriel's eyes well with tears. He can't stand this. All of these things happening to Ellicent. His Ellie. The girl he's loved from the moment he was old enough to understand what love even was.

All these things have happened to her, and I didn't save her. I didn't even try.

The silence that falls between them is a physical presence, one of hurt, foreboding and grief. Gadriel's wounds continue to scream at him, but compared to those coming from his hearts, they're little more than whimpers.

"So," Ellie mutters. "Now that you know all of that, I have to ask..."

Gadriel closes his eyes. He waits for her next words he were waiting for an executioner's axe to fall.

"Do you still remember the night before you left?"

The question takes him completely off-guard. And the memory it brings... Gadriel can't help but smile. "Of course," he says.

Ellie nods. "Do you remember what you said to me? When it's was all over?"

As quickly as it had come, his smile dies. "I said I loved you."

"Before that."

Gadriel averts his eyes. "I said I'd come back."

"No," Ellie replies. "You didn't just say it. You promised me. You looked me in the eye and you swore it."

"... I... I know."

"So why didn't you?"

Gadriel goes to chew the inside of his cheek, but winces as his teeth grate broken, bleeding skin. Seems the Dark Eldar's poison has kept even that wound from closing, too.

"And don't lie to me, okay?" Ellie adds. Her tone isn't accusatory; instead, it's almost a plea. "I don't want... poor excuses or anything like that. I just want the truth. No matter what it is. Surely I deserve that, at least."

"Of course you do," Gadriel says.

Ellie doesn't reply, but her silence indicates she's waiting for him to continue.

Gadriel looks down at his hands. Already, they're slick again with his own blood.

He takes a deep breath, ignoring the pangs of protest the movement sparks from his wounds, and clenches his hands into fists. "Do you know what re-education is?" he asks.

"No," she answers.

"It's the psychological aspect of Astartes' creation. Just as thorough and invasive as the surgeries and the physical training. But, arguably, it's more important than both."

He hears Ellie shift in her seat. "I don't think I like where this is going," she mutters.

Gadriel exhales hard through his nose. This time, the spike of pain that follows is enough to make him grimace. "I didn't even know it was a part of the process until it was happening to me," he says. "But if I did... I don't think I'd have joined."

The astonishment is Ellie's voice is tangible. "Do you really mean that?"

"I told you I wouldn't lie, didn't I?"

For a while, Ellie is quiet. "What did they do?" she asks softly.

Gadriel closes his eyes. His thoughts suddenly don't feel like his own. The very thing he's trying to tell her about, it doesn't want him to. It's fighting him. Filling his lungs with stones so he cannot speak, hijacking his thoughts to he cannot remember. But Gadriel refuses it. Pulling his eyes up from his fists, he looks at Ellie's face, takes in her scarlet hair and twinkling eyes. He uses them as anchors. As lifelines. For fifty years he's let this thing stand between him and the one he loves. He'll be damned if he's going to let it happen again.

"We were hypnotised," he says. "Then for days, we were fed these pict-casts and vox-recordings. I don't know what they were, but they had been developed by psycho encoders. They were meant to indoctrinate us, I suppose. I don't really remember much from those weeks, only that it was... unpleasant. I remember my throat being very sore after the end of every session. Like all I'd done the entire time was scream."

"You probably did," Ellie says quietly.

Gadriel doesn't respond to that. He doesn't know how. "After that," he continues, dropping his gaze again. "They let Librarians- psykers- into our minds. Again, I... don't really know what they did. But as I think about it now... It was after I'd had those sessions that my life before the Astartes became difficult to recall."

"Difficult how?"

"As in, it felt like a dream," Gadriel says. "Like a fantasy. You and Mum- you were... figments of my imagination. You weren't real. Nothing that came before my becoming an Astartes was real."

"Until you saw me again," Ellie whispers.

Gadriel feels tears prick his eyes. "Until I saw you again. After that, everything came back with startling clarity."

He musters the courage to look at her again. The expression he finds on her face almost breaks him.

"So..." she whispers. "So you never abandoned me."

It's not a question, so much as a statement. Tears roll down her cheeks again, but there's a smile on her face.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Gadriel pushes himself off the wall. He crawls up to the bar wall on his knees, collapsing against it as consciousness threatens to leave him once again. Grimacing, he clutches one hand on the hole in his stomach. But the other, finds Ellie's hand. "If I had known I would've been forced to forget you," he rasps. "I'd have never joined the Astartes. I mean that. From the bottom of both my hearts, I mean it."

Ellie chokes on a stifled sob. Bringing his hand to her lips, she kisses his knuckles. "I'm sorry, Gadriel. I'm sorry I doubted you. I never should've. I should've known-"

"You should've known no such thing," Gadriel murmurs. "And you had every right to resent me."

Tears are rolling down his cheeks now, too. Dropping his hand, Ellie sidles up closer, reaches through the bars and gently wipes them away with her thumb. Her skin is rough with callouses- far more so than he ever remembered. But right now, it's the softest, more comforting thing Gadriel has felt in a long time.

"If these bars weren't in the way I would kiss you right now," Ellie says.

Gadriel smiles softly. "You took the words right out of my mouth."

Footsteps outside his cell make both of them turn.

Long shadows creep up the hallway's wall, moving in time with the steps. Gadriel doesn't need to wait, however, to know exactly who they belong to.

"Wakey wakey, space marine!" The voice is gravelly, feminine, and undeniably inhuman. "Someone wants to see you."

The Dark Eldar wyche prowls up the Gadriel's cell door, clad in leather and bone and wielding a spear. She unlocks the door with a click, before dragging it open and slipping inside.

"No," Ellie says, gripping Gadriel's hand.

Gadriel pulls free to cup her cheek. "Let go, Ellie. It's okay."

"No it isn't. It's-"

Through the bars, the wyche slams the butt of her spear into Ellie's face. Gadriel shouts her name, but the word devolves into a cry as the dark eldar kicks him in his wounded side. "Come on now," she purrs. "Cut that out. There'll be plenty of time for screaming later."

Dark spots flash before Gadriel's vision. The agony in his side is so intense, he can barely even draw breath. Grabbing him by the back of his undersuit's collar, the wyche drags him from his cell. The furious, desperate screams of Ellie follows them all the way down the hall.

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

I'm sorry to have to do another cliff hanger. The wait for part 6 shouldn't be too long, I promise.

Thanks again for reading, and please let me know what you think of the story so far! Your comments and tags are literally food for my soul ^^

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