#leering kindly

[divinekangaroo]

I hate writing the word 'grinning' but keep defauting to it for Jack Nelson

[consultingskeletondetective]

Colonel's Girl

You’re the young army nurse on base and König decides to keep a protective eye on you. You don’t mind at all, the Colonel is sweet and safe - until he isn’t.

masterlist 🩷 ao3

tags: military inaccuracies, blood and injury, angst, smut, oral sex, vaginal sex

This was your first time on a real military base. You’d done field medic training of course, but this was the first time in your career as an army nurse that you’d been shipped out to base, far from home, calling a tiny bunk room your own in a building full of rowdy young recruits. 

Their daily training brought them to you constantly with scrapes and bruises and concussions. They were feisty, adrenaline-fuelled young men, and you were one of the few women on base. The catcalling and the leering didn’t surprise you, even if it was unwelcome. 

“What time do you get off, darlin’?” Private Turner drawled in a cockney accent as you applied butterfly stitches to a bleeding split across his eyebrow. “Maybe I can come to your room and we can keep each other company-”

“Turner!” It was barked, a stern command from an accented voice. The private paled as Colonel König stomped into your clinic, and you blushed. König was a very imposing man. He was at least 6”9 by your reckoning, and just as broad, in his late 30s or early 40s with a thick Austrian accent. His years of military training had given him a thick, muscular frame, with his broad thighs barely contained in cargo trousers and steel-capped boots on his feet, a black tee stretched over his chest and biceps the size of your torso. You knew what he looked like under that hood, square jawed and piercing blue eyes, but today he’d kept it on, his eyes framed and dark. It was no surprise you blushed whenever you saw him.

“Colonel?” He stood and turned. His voice held none of its previous bravado. Next to König, he looked like a mere boy.

“Two weeks of toilet cleaning duty.” König said gruffly, “and if I catch you using that kind of language again, it will be a month. Understood?”

Turner slumped. “Yes, sir.”

“Get out of my sight.”

Turner, chastised, scampered out of your clinic without looking at you.

König turned his hulking form towards you and actually had to look down to greet you. 

“Pardon, ma’am. He won’t step out of line again.”

Ma’am . Your blush deepened. You gave him a small, nervous smile. 

“Thank you, Colonel, that’s very kind of you.”

“These boys don’t know yet how to respect a lady, but they will.”

“Once you’re done with them?” You smiled playfully.

“If I have done my job correctly.” He said kindly, before turning on his heel and leaving swiftly. You giggled. 

You didn’t see much of König at the start of training, his rank and his experience meant that he didn’t end up in your clinic as much as his recruits did, but when you did pass each other in the hall or by exchanging paperwork, he was nothing less than a courteous and charming gentleman. It seemed bizarre, considering you’d heard tell that he was a brawling killing machine out on the field, but he could switch from barking stiff orders to giving you a gentle smile that made you blush in the blink of an eye. You had to routinely remind yourself that this didn’t make you special, he was just being respectful, and you weren’t used to that. It didn’t matter that he was a soldier, or nearly twice your age, it didn’t take you long to develop a crush on the handsome and mysterious Austrian. 

A few days later and you were stood in line to the mess hall. It was breakfast, and you’d seen the black pudding in the warming trays as soon as you’d stepped in. You were practically salivating as you waited, it wasn’t often you got a creature comfort like this - something that reminded you of home - on base.

“Not often we get this kind of luxury, eh, miss?” You recognised the coarse accent before you turned. Lieutenant Riley had joined you in the line, a balaclava covering his face. You knew him a little, the infamous Ghost. You’d crossed paths with the 141 on occasion, and you knew Riley, sometimes even Captain Price, dropped into the base to provide training or engage your services. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to make polite conversation with you. In fact, it seemed the norm here. The high rankers felt a bit sorry for you, while the recruits made you feel like a piece of meat or an object of ridicule. 

You didn’t mind much, you were here to do a job, and you kept to yourself mostly anyway, but the offer of friendship was much appreciated. 

You smiled a little shyly in return. “I know, right? I hope the black pudding doesn’t go too quickly. I’ve been thinking about it all morning.”

“A girl after my own heart.” The lieutenant chuckled. In front of you, two privates who had been turning around to eavesdrop on the conversation - more to get a look at Ghost, than you, you understood - burst into laughing at your admission. Your ears turned red and you wished you’d never opened your mouth.

Riley didn’t seem to notice, he was holding his gloved hand out to König, who had somehow appeared next to him in the line since you’d looked away. You actually had to do a double take. For a near seven foot slab of muscle, he was stealthy when he wanted to be. 

The two of them talked among themselves in low voices and you left them to it, knowing you didn’t particularly want to hear the contents of whatever they needed to discuss.

You reached the front of the line and the private in front of you - the one who had laughed - piled his tray high with black pudding until the warming tray was empty. He turned and smirked mockingly at you.

“You can have my sausage, darlin’, if you ask nicely.” At least three recruits laughed. You wanted to shrink down so small you stopped existing altogether.

König’s brick hand clamped around the private’s tray and wrenched it easily from his grip.

“Sir-my breakfast…”

“Get out of the line, or I will feed you my fist.” König didn’t even raise his voice, the cold delivery had the private skulking off empty handed. König placed the tray back onto the counter and then he turned to you. 

“Help yourself, ma’am.” 

“Oh.” Your cheeks were crimson. He cocked his head, his eyes, the only part of his face visible through his black hood, looked amused. It wasn’t unkind. “T-thank you.” 

König tipped his hood towards you before turning his attention back to Riley, and the pair of them moved off to a separate table. You sat by yourself, chewing your black pudding, and smiling like an idiot. 

You glanced over to König a few times more than you would like to admit. He put you at ease, that’s what it came down to, it gave you a confidence you didn’t usually have around military men. 

It was that very ease that left you wholly unprepared for the following week.

It was ballistics training out on the grounds, and you caught wind of an accident halfway through your sandwich.

“Come quick!’ An officer skidded into your office, “there’s been an accident - potential fatality.”

You cursed, and gathered your supplies, before following him out of your clinic and out onto the training ground. Recruits stood nervously holding rifles, their half-shot targets abandoned. A young recruit was wailing on the ground, another kneeling beside him and pressing against his belly with a jacket, there was blood on the sand. 

König was towering over a young private - the same young man who had laughed at you in the mess hall, you briefly noted - and barking bloody murder in his terrified face. It took you more than a moment to realise that König wasn’t actually speaking German, you could just barely make a word out in his fury. 

It was easy to tune out, you’d been out in the field before, and turn your attention to your patient. You knelt beside the terrified looking private stemming the bleeding, and carefully lifted his jacket to look at his wound while the young man screamed.

“You’re going to be okay.” You said confidently, calmly. “It’s nothing we can’t stitch up. Private, keep putting pressure on the wound, just like this, you’re doing a good job.” Just this once, you were obeyed without question. 

“I will have you court-martialed, dummkopf, you could have killed him. You come onto my base, you do not listen to a word I say, and now you attack my men? You sorry piece of -”

“König,” you cut through the accented remonstration, pulling bandages from your bag, “I need your men to carry him to my clinic immediately, then you have to-”

König turned swiftly to you, those bright blue eyes visibly narrowed in the slits of his hood. “Do not fucking give me orders, nurse.” He seethed, voice ice cold with rage, fists clenched and towering over you. “You address me as Colonel, you little girl.” The white hot fury in his eyes matched the venom in his voice. You baulked, in fear, in surprise, horrified to realise tears were gathering in your eyes. You looked back down on the man in your arms and forced yourself to regain your composure.

“I need to get him to my clinic, I can’t lift him myself.” Your voice was steady, if muted, throwing your gaze over your shoulder at König and the recruits staring at you. “Please, colonel .”

König turned from you and began barking your orders at his men and within moments, your patient was being carried between three recruits back to your clinic. You turned and rushed after them. You extracted the bullet from his ribs and sewed up the damage as numbly as you treated any one of your patients. You left your makeshift surgery room with bloody hands and sweat on your forehead, surprised to find König leaning against the wall in your waiting room. He’d stripped out of his uniform to a simple pair of combat trousers and a black shirt that looked like it was losing a fight with his bicep muscles. His hood was held lax in his hand, giving you a rare glimpse at his face. It was no surprise to you that he looked exhausted. He pushed himself from the wall when you entered. Like a gentleman , you thought bitterly.

“Will he live?” He asked you, his voice soft. It was just like every other interaction you’d had on base. 

“It was a flesh wound. He’ll be fine, Colonel.” Your words were stiff, and you walked straight past him without even a glance, feeling like a complete idiot that you’d ever thought he might treat you with the slightest bit of respect. You were angry until the adrenaline wore off, then you cried in your bed.

The recruit, Jenkins, pulled through the night, and the next day he was airlifted to the nearest hospital. The accidental shooter was gone, and you didn’t care to ask what had happened. Training was halted for a few days as a result and you had a quiet week, but you weren’t complaining, as you now had a mountainous amount of paperwork to complete. You were grateful when you were able to file the heft of paper into your pigeon hole to be sent off, and rewarded yourself with a sit down in the breakroom to the main office.

You looked up on instinct more than anything when the door opened. König walked in, in combat boots and a military vest, his hood over his eyes and helmet strapped to his head, like he’d just come straight from deployment. He glanced at you with tired blue eyes, but all you could see was the fury in them when he’d scared you the week before. You felt stupid for thinking someone like König would ever be nice to you. You were just the idiot girl on base.

“Morning, ma’am.” He said pleasantly when he saw you, slipping one hand into his trouser pocket as he poured himself coffee from the pot on the table.

“Hey.” You replied, voice flat, suddenly finding your nails remarkably interesting.

“Is everything okay?”

“Fine.” Another one word answer. You still weren’t looking at him. 

König shifted uneasily. The atmosphere in the room changed. Of course it did, he was used to you being a blushy, smiling, pathetic mess for him. 

Concerned, König crossed the small space to you. He didn’t sit. From what you could see from your lowered head, his hand was no longer in his pocket.

“If this is about what happened…you did well, Jenkins will recover.”

“I know I did fine.” You genuinely didn’t mean to snap. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”

The conversation went dead, the atmosphere was palpable. You didn’t know whether it was his culture, or his military status, but König went right to the point.

“Have I offended you?”

Was he being willfully obstinate? You felt your humiliated aggravation grow. Well, you were in it now.

“Just leave me alone.”

There was a pause. And then another. Neither of you moved.

“As you wish.”

He left swiftly after that, and you finally looked up at the empty room. You felt relieved, but also hollow. It was almost like you’d done something wrong. But you hadn’t, had you? König’s coffee was abandoned on the table.

König left you alone, and that pissed you off even more. He walked past you in the mess hall, he didn’t glance down to smile at you anymore, he didn’t come into the clinic, even though you secretly hoped he would. Your self-esteem was pretty much on the floor after that, and the base got just that little bit lonelier.

Two recruits barrelled into your office a few days later, one had a busted lip and they both had black eyes. They'd clearly been in a fight, but whether that was with each other, or someone else, you didn’t care to ask. You stayed quiet as you applied butterfly stitches to their cuts, and they were happy enough to complain between themselves.

“You’re a dickhead, Williams, the Colonel’s gonna fucking kill us.” 

“Relax, he’s not going to know.”

“He’s been such a dick lately. He put Taylor on shit detail for a fortnight for having his shoelace untied.”

“Probably because he has to look at your fucking ugly mug every day.”

“You’re done.” You cut across. “You can go.”

They thanked you and left, and you were grateful to get the foul mouthed privates out of your office. 

It was getting dark outside and you were tired. You left your clinic and crossed the training ground to the mess hall. There were still soldiers out here, practising hand to hand combat under the floodlights. You gave them a wide berth.  

You didn’t see the abandoned dummy grenade wedged in the sand until your foot hooked around it and you vaulted over with an unladylike grunt. 

A large hand curled around your wrist and stilled you before you ate dirt. You cursed under your breath and turned inward. König was towering above you, your wrist positively dwarfed by his gloved hand. His hood obscured his face, shrouding him in the darkness behind him, all except those bright eyes looking down on you.

“You should be more careful.” He grunted, releasing your wrist.

Your eyes hit the ground and you mumbled a hasty ‘sorry’ before you scampered away to the mess hall. König watched your retreating back as you left.

The next few days passed uneventfully. You worked, you ate, you slept, you called home. The clinic was surprisingly empty. You wondered if the recruits were finally becoming competent enough that they didn’t need you every five seconds. You signed off your discharge sheets for the day and headed to the main office to dump them in the output box. You were surprised to find König in there, sans hood, rifling through a box of papers on the desk. He glanced up when he saw you and his expression wilted. He looked back into the box. 

“I’ll be out of your hair in a second.” He said. “I just need to find the instruction manual for the - s cheiße .” The papers in his hand fluttered to the ground. He bent down to retrieve them and winced, arm circling his broad torso. 

You frowned and took a step closer to him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked. 

“Nothing.” He replied instantly as he straightened. His movements were slower than usual. 

“It doesn’t look like nothing, König, it looks like cracked ribs.”

“It’s fine, really.”

You put your discharge forms on the desk and walked up to him. “Lift your shirt.”

König sighed but complied after a moment. He lifted his dark tee to his pectorals. His deep abdominal muscles rose and fell under his breathing and you found your cheeks reddening under the sight. A makeshift bandage was wrapped around his torso, and you reached out and lifted it. His skin was like lava against your fingers. He didn’t say a word as you lifted the bandage but he may have winced when your eyes widened. The right hand side of his ribcage was purple with deep bruising and lacerated with deep and shallow cuts alike, some were healing, and some were leaving blood stains on the inside of the bandage. 

“Oh my god, what happened?”

“Nothing.” König grunted. “Machine gun training. One of the recruits lost control of the barrel and clocked me in the ribs. It is just a scratch.”

“This cut needs stitches.” You said automatically, tracing the underside of the welt with your fingertip. König jolted and you took your hand away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

“You didn’t.” He replied.

“I have cream that’ll reduce this bruising too-” König huffed and you looked up at him. You couldn’t quite decipher the expression on his face. He might as well have been wearing his hood.

“It is fine.” He said. “The bruising has disappeared a lot in the last few days…”

“ Days ?” You blinked. “Days, König? You can’t have been walking around like this for days. Why didn’t you come to me?”

There was a pause. He was trying to avoid your gaze.

“You told me to leave you alone.”

“König,” it was reprimanding, reproachful, your eyes slackened. “You always need to come to me when you’re hurt, even when I’m mad. I’m sorry.”

König’s eyes snapping to you made you regret the words as soon as they were out of your mouth. Your gaze dropped to the grazes on his ribs but your cheeks were already on fire. 

“Are you ever going to tell me why you are mad at me?”

You didn’t meet his gaze. It seemed pathetic now. “You yelled at me.”

König didn’t respond straight away. When he did - “I yelled at you?”

You fought off the sudden urge to say sorry.

“When Jenkins was shot.” You explained. “I’m not one of your soldiers. I don’t like being screamed at, especially when I’m doing my job.” Your voice dropped a little. “And I’m not a little girl, I’m a nurse. You should respect that, just like the way you tell your troops to.”

You glanced up at König, he looked crestfallen. “I…” He frowned a little, as if giving up on any explanation he planned to give. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head, embarrassed, and lowered his shirt.

“It’s not important now-”

“It is important. I don’t think you are a little girl. Sometimes in battle, things like this become heated. I do not even remember saying this to you, but I am sorry. I do not think that, I truly do not, I was…one of my men was dying, I was not myself. Please forgive me.”

Your eyes met. It felt like the first time you’d looked at each other in a long time. König’s blue eyes were soft and sad.

“Um, come to the clinic, this afternoon,” you rose, flustered, “I, uh, that cut needs looking at.”

You turned swiftly and left but not before you heard König utter a single ‘yes ma’am’ before you did. 

You thought about what he said as you sterilised your clinic for his arrival. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment, but you managed to keep your cool? Why didn’t he? Because he’s a soldier, you reminded yourself. He kills easily and without thought, he’s not the sweet gentleman you want him to be. You shook your head to yourself, that wasn’t the issue and you knew it. You didn’t care that he was a killer, or that sometimes he scared you. You knew what his easy dismissal of you meant - and it hurt.

König reported promptly to your clinic at 1pm that afternoon. He stripped out of his shirt and sat patiently down on the end of your bed and you had to pretend like having a 7ft goliath of a man stripped down in front of you wasn’t making your heart race. He truly was extraordinary. 

You stitched the large cut on his ribs that was worrying you the most and he didn’t make a sound. it didn’t much surprise you, you assumed he was accustomed to pain. It made your stomach flutter with something . 

He was even more impressive undressed, his body heavy with swollen, toned muscle, faded scars criss-crossing over his flesh. You had to remind yourself that you were a trained nurse just to stop yourself from drooling. 

König watched you work rather intently. “You have very small hands.” He remarked suddenly. You didn’t respond, unsure if it was a compliment or not. You both lapsed into silence for another long while. It was like a form of torture. You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. You felt like a foolish little girl, trying to play with a grizzly bear. It must have shown on your face. 

You didn’t expect König to talk again. He must have thought that you were insane - pathetic, at the very least. 

“May I ask you a question?”

Oh. “Of course.”

“Why did you join the military if you hate being yelled at?”

You sighed and finished off your final stitch. “You don’t have to mock me, you know, I already got the message.”

“I am not mocking you. I’m curious.”

Forthright . You forgot.

You took a moment to respond, busying yourself with packing away your equipment. “I didn’t join as a recruit, I joined as a nurse.” You didn’t tell him the real reason, that it was because it was him.

“Right.” 

“It’s not your problem.” 

König stood, and pulled his shirt back on. “It won't happen again.” He said. “You have my word.” 

Your gaze flicked to his handsome face involuntarily. “Um, here’s the cream. Make sure to apply it twice a day, and try to take it easy for a few days.”

König grunted, a ghost of a smile on his face. You could tell he hadn’t taken it easy a day in his life. 

“What message?” König asked suddenly. 

“Sorry?” You froze, trying to backtrack to that particular exchange.

“You said you ‘got the message’.” He repeated. “What message?”

Oh. 

“Um, did I say that?” Your voice was uncharacteristically high. König tilted his head.

“Schatz, my English isn’t that bad. We both heard what you said.”

You blushed and your head dipped. You didn’t know much German, but you knew what ‘schatz’ meant. 

“Well, you know-” fuck, shit, fuck . “P-put in your place by the guy you have a crush on. I get it. I got it. I won’t go there again.”

“Crush?” König responded like a lightning strike, before he fell silent. His brain was calculating, before his expression turned to…well, there was no other way to put it, absolutely fucking floored. “You like me?”

Oh, this was very fucking bad.

“Well…yeah? I thought it was obvious-”

“Obvious? Schatz, I thought you hated me.”

You blinked. 

“Wha- why would you think that?”

“You told me to leave you alone.”

“You called me a little girl! In front of everyone.”

When exactly had you both gotten so close to each other? It was close enough that König could look down on you, and your heart was skipping a beat.

“You can’t like me.” He said quietly.

You frowned. “Why not? Have you looked at yourself? Plus you’re…you know, nice, and the only person in this dump that doesn’t leer at me or treat me like a stupid little girl. When people aren’t dying, I mean.”

“I…” Was König hesitating? The man who had nothing to fear?

“It’s okay,” you murmured, embarrassed. “Like I said, I get the message. Why would you want a pathetic sap like me who can’t even hear a raised voice without crying?”

“Do not say that.” König looked uncertain, his eyebrows knitting together. “You are like a...a flower. Not meant for men like me.”

“A…” Your brain couldn’t quite compute what you’d just heard. “Men like you? What does that even mean?”

“You need someone younger, for a start.” He sighed. “Someone who has seen less death, verdammt, someone who has caused less death.”

“Men like your idiot recruits, then?”

König didn’t respond. 

“I have to go.” He said instead. “Thank you for the…cream.”

“Anytime, Colonel.” It was softly spoken, you watched him freeze, then you watched him go. You smuggled a bottle of wine back to your room and drank until you fell asleep. This really was a new low.

…

The days passed slowly and without incident. On the face of it, there was no difference in you, except for a notably lacklustre delivery of your care. 

You were making notes at your desk when Private Jackson and his buddy, Williams, appeared at your desk, complaining of a groin injury. 

You rolled your eyes and returned to your paperwork. “I’m sure it’ll feel better tomorrow, private.”

“I’m sure it’ll feel better right now if you kiss it-”

“Shut up,” Williams chuckled, shoving him, “you wanna get a disciplinary? You know she’s the colonel’s girl.”

Your gaze snapped up. “What did you just say?”

Neither of them answered you, they just sniggered and slunk off. You watched the empty doorway with wide eyes. You tried not to ponder on it. You pondered on it for the rest of the day.

…

You signed the bottom of Williams’ sick leave and ticked off the various appropriate boxes, flipping the page and hoping that was all that was required until you froze. It needed the signature of the patient's C.O. König. Shit. 

You hadn’t even seen König since he’d rejected you and every time you thought about that particular exchange, your ears went hot and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

You were too much of a pussy to talk to him, so instead you went to his office when you knew he was scheduled to be out at training, and scribbled ‘ sign me please :) ’ on a post it note, stuck it on the front page and left the form on his desk. 

You turned for the door with a relieved sigh and accidently walked into König’s solid chest. He was standing in the open doorway, he was the size of the open doorway, wearing his combat gear although he was unarmed, his hood draped covering his face, even so, you could see he was looking down on you. It wasn’t until you glanced up that you realised he was ducking to fit in the doorway. That sent heat right to your cunt.

“Oh, hello.” You said stupidly, eyes hitting the carpeted floor.

“Hello.” He greeted you, accent gentle. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, right, I’m in your office.” You stumbled over your words. “Um, W-Williams needs sick leave approved, he needs gallbladder surgery off base, I need you to sign the form. I - I left it on your desk.”

König walked past you, he smelt of sweat and sand and some sort of hastily applied deodorant. He seemed unfazed that you were in his office, he certainly didn’t seem to be trying to avoid you as ardently as you were avoiding him. You cursed yourself for being so childish.

He removed his hood and draped it over the back of his chair as he picked up the form. His eyes were darkened with war paint, fresh stubble on his jaw. 

“A smiling face.” He remarked as he read your post it note, voice muted. “The way yours used to be.”

You blinked. “Is that meant to be some kind of joke?” You asked hotly.

“Not at all.” He replied, not looking up from the form. “It used to brighten my days.” He signed the form and held it out to you before you could really process what he’d said. “Let us hope Williams makes a swift recovery, he is one of my best.”

You tentatively took the form, mind drawn back to the last encounter you’d had with the young private. 

“He called me…” You bit back your sentence before you had a chance to finish it. But the damage was done.

König’s back straightened, his fists clenched. “Something inappropriate?”

“No.” Your shoulders hunched. Why did you even bring it up? “He said I was…they’re calling me…you know…the colonel’s girl.”

You glanced up at König shyly, to see if there was any truth in it. His back had relaxed, but his stance was still guarded. 

“What?” You asked.

“I told the recruits to leave you alone.” He admitted. “Or there would be consequences.” 

“Oh.” You blushed. “But, that’s not a bad thing, is it?”

“No, it’s not…some of the men have interpreted the order to mean I am keeping you for myself.”

You took a bold step forward.

“And are you?”

König looked at the floor. You sighed and turned for the door.

König’s large hand curled around the front of your throat before you could turn and drew you back, right to his mouth. You whimpered into the kiss. You were forced onto your tiptoes to meet him, feeling his fingers against your oesophagus with every exhale. His lips eased wetly and insistently against yours until you were dizzy, gripping his arms and pressing yourself closer. 

As soon as it started, it was over. König released your throat and took a step back. You had to blink a few times to regain just a few of your senses. You were still on your tiptoes, and you could still taste him on your mouth. Gunpower, and mint.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I shouldn’t have done that.” His voice was ragged, his accent even thicker than usual. Fuck, it was hot.

He turned and left before you could even articulate a response, but you were sure you saw his back muscles twitching as he went.

…

The deployment for the first active mission came about quicker than anyone had been expecting. It was practically a dummy mission, you’d been told, leading a team of recruits on a sweep near cartel lands for stray activity or potential landmines. Still, the atmosphere was palpable in the base, the recruits were scared, you could tell.

You watched from the doorway of your clinic as the men stood by the jeeps, ready to roll out. Riley had returned, and he stood next to König as the latter zipped up his kevlar and clipped on his helmet over his hood. You wanted to wish him luck, even though you knew everything was going to be fine. It was a routine sweep, and he was König, he wasn’t in any danger. Still, your stomach pulled. Fate was cruel. What if this was the last time you ever saw him?

You scrunched your eyes shut, called yourself an idiot, and jogged across the sand of the training field.

Riley saw you first, he knocked König on the chest to alert him - you tried not to read into that - König turned, face obscured, body heavy with kevlar and weaponry. He had to lower his head to look at you.

“Schatz?” 

Your insides ached at the familiar term of endearment that you didn’t deserve. Your mouth was as dry as the sand you were stood on, and you suddenly didn’t know what to say. Don’t go? Come back? How could you say any of those things to the man who didn’t want you.

König solved your problem for you. His fingers closed around your tricep, and his thumb stroked just once.

“Look after yourself.” You said quietly.

He nodded before he dropped your arm. Then you watched as they got into the jeeps and drove away.

…

The recruits were returned to you on a daily basis. Apparently, the drop point of the sweep was particularly hot for cartel soldiers, ready and willing to engage in battle. The wounds you were treating now were not the cuts and scrapes of training, it was cracked skulls and broken bones and lacerated flesh. And the men, Turner, Williams, Jackson, they weren’t the scrappy, joking lads they’d once been, they were crying and they were scared. 

You slept when you could but you were always exhausted. You were waiting for the first time one of them died on you. 

You were awoken that night by a loud, insistent banging on your door. You jumped out of bed and tied your robe around yourself, already gathering your hair up to tie it back.

“What’s happened?” You called, opening the door, “who is it…oh.”

It took a moment for you to realise that you weren’t staring at the pitch black of night, but rather directly at König’s chest. He stood in a dark shirt, helmet removed, hood covering his face, head disappearing behind your doorway, but his blue eyes were bright and wild and looking down at you.

“König! You scared me half to death. Get in here.”

You stood aside and König ducked his head and walked, actually stomped, his way into your room. You prayed you didn’t have any stray underwear on the floor. His shirt sleeves were short and you could actually see his arm muscles thrumming. 

“What’s happened?” You frowned. “What’s wrong, König? Talk to me, please.”

“There was an I.E.D.” He replied, accent thick. You couldn’t imagine what his expression looked like. “Ghost saw it before I did. He pulled me out of the pathway. The fucking thing exploded five feet in front of my face. I could have died. I am a fucking idiot.”

“Oh, König, you…you didn’t die, and you’re not an idiot, okay? Every soldier misses…”

“No, schatz.” He walked forward, backing you against the wall. You swallowed when his large hand came up, pressing your collarbone back against the wall. “I’m a fucking idiot because I could have died without doing this.”

One hand curled around your hip and lifted you effortlessly, and you gasped as you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist - it was a stretch, he was so broad. König wasted no time slamming you into the wall next to your bed with enough force to rattle your bones. You squeaked, but that was all you managed to do. He pushed his hood up to his nose and captured your lips with his.

Your eyes crossed and closed as you groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as your lips slid against his. This was nothing like the first kiss - that was chaste, hurried, this was luxurious, long, wet and slow, the whole world went quiet as König pressed his tongue between your lips and lapped at yours with sure strokes that had you whimpering. Your fingers tangled in his hood as he kissed you like that, and you forgot everything else. 

He hitched your legs around his waist and you whined, muffled, as you felt a solid lump pressing up against your clothed crotch. You didn’t care – you ground down on him as you met his tongue with yours. He growled into your mouth and it reverberated through you, before he was pulling back, kissing along your jaw and grinding his cock against your heat harder than before. 

Then his eyes were on you, piercing and bright through the dark hood, the fabric sat askew on his top lip, his lips pink and swollen with your spit.

“I want you, schatz.” He said bluntly. 

“I - I want you, too.”

Your consent was all he needed. Suddenly you were airborne again, and you clung onto him as he lowered you onto the belt and knelt between your legs. The bed actually dipped under his weight and you blushed.

“K-König,” you murmured quietly.

“No,” it was short, and stiff, as he yanked your night shirt down by your collar hard enough to rip. You yelped as the sound of fabric tearing filled the room and suddenly your tits were exposed. You whimpered in embarrassment but he’d already grabbed them in his rough, gloved hands, squeezing and rubbing, flicking and pinching your nipples between his fingers.

“Hhhh, fuck.” You blushed, biting your lip as your underwear moistened at the rough treatment.

“Fuck, do not tell me they are sensitive.” König’s voice sounded wrecked.

“Please,” it was a whisper, “please be gentle.”

“Wanted to get my hands on you for too long.” Was all his reply was as he squeezed your breast again and leant down, using his hand to guide your nipple into his exposed mouth. He sucked so hard that you thought he was trying to drink your soul out from you. Your head fell back and you gasped, grinding your wet, needy cunt as best you could on the side of his thigh. König took pity on you, lapping at your nipples until they were shining nubs screaming in oversensitivity, while his brick hand - when had he taken his glove off? - cupped your pussy through your underwear. His thumb was jammed right up against your clit. You didn’t know if he’d meant to do that, or if it was coincidental, but either way you ground up onto the solid digit until your eyes were unfocused.

“So wet for me, liebling,” he murmured breathlessly, between your nipples, “you are fucking soaked for me.” He stroked you with his thumb once and your eyes slackened and you came with a shudder, stiffening beneath him as stars danced above your head.

He let your nipple slide wetly from his mouth and suddenly those bright eyes were on you.

“Did you just have an orgasm?”

“Mmm.” You buried your head into his neck shyly, thighs shuddering as the waves of pleasure rolled through you. Your clit twitched against his hand. 

“Oh, sweet liebling.” He murmured, rubbing wet circles over the sodden fabric of your underwear. You shuddered as your thighs tried to close away from the intense pleasure, until one strong hand was on your thigh and pushing it wide.

“König!” You gasped. He was watching you intently as he pushed your underwear to the side with his fingers and pressed the thick digits through your sopping folds. 

“Such a pretty little cunt.” He murmured, stroking his fingertips over your slit. It opened with every heavy breath you took, dribbles of desire wetting his fingers.

“König, please,” you whined, “need you in me. Please -”

“Oh yes? Is that so?” The side of his mouth twitched up, then his finger was sinking inside you.

“Shit, fuck! K-König, you’re so big…” You felt your cunt stretching around his finger, clenching involuntarily down around it as your thighs tried to close but couldn’t, pinned open by his solid hand.

“I know, schatz.” He replied calmly. “You can take it.” He slid a second finger in without warning and grunted at how tight and wet you were, just imagining how your cunt would feel around his cock. You whined and threw your head back, the stretch aching after months of nothing, thighs shaking. You were so fucking wet that his fingers practically glided in, his knuckles against your soft pink entrance. “I want you to come for me, to loosen you up for my cock.”

“König, fuck, I…” Your cheeks were rosy. “My god, please...please move, I need-”

“Shhh, little one, I know.” He wasted no time shoving his fingers deeper in your aching cunt, and you yelped and lifted off of the bed entirely. König growled in disapproval and used the hand on your thigh to pin you down to the bed, keeping you still as he ploughed his fingers in and out of you. You moaned deliriously at the sudden intense, rough pressure to your sweet spot, watching the way König’s large hand was like a blur between your legs.

“I’m-” You couldn’t even say it before you were coming with a wet moan, your release splashing against his wrist and dripping all over the bed.

“Scheiße, liebling, making such a mess for me.” His fingers were still hard and circling your engorged sweet spot. Your body seized in panic as you gripped his wrist with all your might to try and still him. All you achieved was watching your own arms shake as he fingered you mercilessly. The noise was obscene, soaking wet come and slick filthy between your legs and soaking his hand as you squirted again, streaming down his arm with a mix of clear and white desire. You moaned and gasped and sobbed, the pleasure intense and spiralling, your pussy already felt worn out from the rough treatment.

“König, please,” you begged, “it’s too much-”

“Again.” He commanded, hand leaving your thigh and curling around your throat. “Want all of that squirt out of you.” he pinned you to the bed by your neck, using the change in position to drive his fingers roughly home deep in your aching, spent cunt. He didn’t stop when you came, and he didn’t stop when you came again - your eyes in the back of your head, body on fire with ceaseless pleasure, the bed beneath you soaked with your own humiliation. All you could do was take it, and shudder violently. 

Finally, König pulled his fingers from your gaping hole and slapped your cheek lightly, it was a wet noise and you blinked.

“Come on, little girl, do not give up on me.”

“König,” you slurred, heaving. “I…fuck, so good, never…I can’t…”

“Oh sweet one,” he cooed, crowding between your legs, pulling your thighs over his hips. “Fucked you stupid and I haven’t even put my cock in you yet.”

You managed a tired smile as you traced your fingers down the front of his stab vest. You watched him drag the zip of his trousers down, rubbing just the once over the lump there before dipping in and pulling his cock free. It took him three tries - to extract the full, erect length of himself from the tight compression of his protective cup, before he was letting it hang heavy between his legs. 

“Fuck, König- you’re so big.”

“I know, baby,” he stroked the length of his long, engorged cock from length to tip and your eyes widened, cunt throbbing between your legs in your desperation to feel it deep in you. 

“König, please,” you begged, digging your heels into the small of his back, your wet cunt pressed up against his balls, inviting, begging him in, “my pussy - please -”

He chuckled before pressing the head of his foreboding cock against your clit and you trembled and cursed. He lent over you, hand squeezing your breast, the ends of his dark hood tickling your neck as you felt the hot, solid crown of his cock pressing against your entrance. Your eyes were wide, nervous, feeling the pressure, the give, then the hot length sliding home inside of you.

You gasped and arched, clenching around him and his biceps shook where he held you.

“Fuck, schatz, fuck, not so hard, you will make me come.”

“C-can’t help it.” It was a whine, rolling your hips and digging your heels in harder, trying to pull him deeper. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He panted, regaining some of his composure and locking his hand around your neck once more. His hips began to piston and you weren’t prepared for it, the shift of his massive cock in your tight walls making you moan and clench and writhe. Your cunt was obscenely wet, and every noise was a squelch that made you blush, until he was pounding into your sweet spot and you forgot everything.

“Fuck, König, fuck-” it was breathless, eyelids fluttering as you clenched and groaned and sprayed his cock, his balls, with your release. “I can’t - can’t stop, fuck,”

“Guh, fuck.” He grunted, lips ghosting over yours. His cock not slowing, pounding you like he was trying to nail the mattress beneath you. “So tight, liebling, your pussy is drawing me in. I’ve waited so long for this.”

You couldn’t ask him to explain, you were too busy coming, your world zeroed down to the tip of König’s dick abusing your swollen sweet spot. He curled his fingers under your knee and held your thigh up by your collarbone, exposing more of your vulnerable cunt to him as he thrust hard into your aching walls. 

Your moans were broken and never ending, blushing and squirming in delirious agony as you gushed and creamed on his cock, feeling your hot release on the backs of your thighs.

“Look at you,” König didn’t even have the decency to sound exerted as he took you apart. “You can’t stop coming, can you, schatz?”

“No.” There were tears in your eyes, your fingernails digging into his arms, holding on for dear life. “You need, please -” Your mouth fell open as you came again, the splash of your squirt explosive and filthy, “you need to come, please, I can’t, can’t come again, please, König, please.”

König framed your jaw with his hand, stroking along the bone as he slammed his hips into yours, forcing more of your come straight from you with a grunt.

“Nearly there, schatz.” He said into your mouth. “Just a little bit longer.”

“Fuck, please,” your walls clenched and contracted again, vaulted over the edge and nearly losing consciousness, clenching your fucked out cunt tight if only to help him get there. “Please, come, come in me, fuck.”

“Scheiße,” he groaned, cock jamming in your tight cunt as you came so hard you nearly pushed him out. He shoved his way back in and you wailed. “You want me to come inside? I’m not wearing…”

“König, please,” it was pathetic, and he couldn’t deny you, watching your sobbing eyes with his piercing blues as he slammed into your weeping cunt for a few more torturous minutes, then his forehead was pressed to yours and he groaned as he spilled inside you. He was so deep you couldn’t feel it, but you could feel his cock twitching, and you could feel yourself clenching and coming so hard you forced dribbles of his white come straight back out of your slit and dribbling down between your cheeks. 

König was breathing heavily against you as he held himself, forehead against yours, body framing yours, and you watched him as you shuddered and tried in vain to relax. He was…there were no words for it.

You let your hands trail down his clothed back, feeling the solid and bunching muscles there, feeling his cock heavy in your squirting pussy and wondering how the hell this had happened.

“König,” you had a warm, dizzying smile on your face. “You came back.”

He nodded mutedly, face partially obscured by his hood, as he stroked along your jaw, then your lips, and let his hulking body fall and rest beside yours. “Thought you might not want me.”

You shook your head, curling into his chest the best you could. He was still inside you.

“Want you, always. Don’t-'' He'd already curled his bear arms around you, drawing you into his warm chest and cutting you off. You were suddenly so overhot you couldn’t remember what you were going to say.

“I’m sorry I upset you, liebling,” he stroked along your back, his blue eyes slack. “I have always wanted you to be mine. From the moment I saw you.”

This felt like a fever dream. It couldn’t possibly be real. You couldn’t possibly be this happy.

“I’ve always been yours, König, I still am. If you still want me.”

He tilted his head as he watched you, lips pulling up, and you blushed.

“What?” You asked.

“You,” he said simply, voice warm like honey, “are smiling again.”

[hotwings0203]

Needed to get possessive alpha bakugo off my chest, ill prolly write a sequel to this tmrw cuz i got some ideas

Tw: noncon, omegaverse

thinking about childhood possessive bakugo who's pined for his omega since she joined the pack Time after time again since you were kids he'd always tried to get close to you, using a number of strange to threatening courting techniques. It was benign at first when you both were young, with him jumping up the large apple tree to get you the juiciest fruit you could never seem to reach, but when you two grew older and played together with the rest of the pack, his efforts seemed more...possessive.

He'd always single you out and force you to be on his team, following up with growling at you whenever you'd run more than a few paces in front of away from him. His sleek gold and black coat would brush up against you constantly, as if only touching you would satiate his desire for your proximity. Bloodred eyes would glare at you when you'd shyly back away at dinnertime, opting to sit away from his intense gaze.

Not like he'd let you get that far.

When it would come time for bathing with your sisters, somehow, everytime you'd be out of the loop and would end up being forced to wash yourself on your own in the cold water.

Little did you know your sisters were not-so-kindly encouraged to not communicate their congregation to you by a certain fiery alpha.

And so when everyone was by the fire, barking out laughter and telling stories of their weekly hunt, you'd sulk to the riverside by yourself, clutching your towel over your shivering body as youd sink closer in the shallow water.

You wanted to get it done as fast as possible so you could join your pack in merry-making, haphazardly scraping dirt off your paws and washing the crevices between your ears.

But as soon as you take a step towards the lush bank, you hear a heavy splash behind you.

You whip around, ears drawn back immeditaley after seeing the alpha who shamelessly follows you around like he's already claimed you.

"W-whatre you doing here? Everyone's by the..fire..." you trail off unsurely as his spiked-up wet mane shakes in laughter. His lack of concern for the reprimands he'll undoubtedly recieve for being this physically close to you send faint warning alarms at the back of your head. Usually he glowers at you and turns tail, but this is new.

"I thought the pack leaders told you to leave me alone," your lip wobbles as your tone borders on fear and indignation. Your brothers had always kept you safe from him, snarling and hiding you behind their tall legs whenever he was around. Bakugo never seemed to give up though, his own flashing teeth and sick grin mirroring their own worry pulled back from their lips.

"Yeah? But you're here though."

You swallow hard and hope he doesn't hear your whimper as you splash backwards towards the bank, but his low grumble of pleasure upon smelling your sweet fear-omones says otherwise. It proves to him that you're not as immune as your other brothers swear you are to protect yourself against him, theyre actually worried for a reason.

They know you'd never stand a chance against him.

And his muscles do ripple amid the water as he steadily stalks towards you, leering as he licks his canines and trains his eyes on your feeble form.

It seems like as fast as you flail backwards towards unseen safety, he advances twice as fast, and within seconds your back hits a hard and scratchy surface.

Bakugo chuckles a humorless laugh as you've nestled yourself in a nice, private corner away from the mainland where everyone can see you. You've backed both of you into an enormous concaved treetrunk, one that circles around 10ft and only one opening...

which you've trapped yourself in.

The roots of various plants that have grown inside this hollowed out trunk provide little cushion as you whimper and try to desperatley climb the walls.

"When are you gonna give up?"

His voice is low, raspy with mixed want and bitterness.

"S-stop, stay away from me or I'll call for h-"

"When are you gonna realize you can't escape me?" He harshly whispers right at your ear as he lunges toward you, causing you to squeal with terror.

He nips your soft ear and inhales your neck, craning his own to get a good look at the sensitive unclaimed part of your neck.

His hands grip your sides and mold the squishy parts as though they were dough, his greediness increasing exponentially as he lowers his drooling mouth to your ear and laves his wet tongue over the planes of your neck and shoulder.

You begin to shake and sob, never having been dealt with him actually touching you and being a victim to his lust. You've taken the protection of your brothers for granted, and oh how you wish you could softly howl out if you had the courage to ask for help.

But the blonde's presence itself is enough of a threat to your life and safety, that much being made clear as his hands grow claws, no doubt his physical appearance shifting from being so riled up. Your skin prick and cuts as his nails jab harder into you, his hands roaming up and down your back, feeling your hips and ghosting over the swell of your ass as well as chest.

You writhe against him which unbeknownst to you, pushes your naked chest out against his own shredded pecs, your pebbled nipples grazing his toned skin and practically making his eyes roll back in efforts not to pin you down and take you like his bitch.

"I just wanted to wash," your voice comes out pleading, and meek. You have no idea how he'll react to you being aggressive and defensive against his assault even if you had the courage to speak out against him.

"And I want to claim you as my omega," he growls directly in your ear, causing you to whine again and cower your head beneath his hounding mouth. "But I guess we'll both have to wait for what we want, huh?"

He knows you know.

You have to know.

Have to have known how badly he wants you, wants to hear your voice ring high with laughter like you do teasing your sisters, wants to hear your playful growls as you wrestle with your brothers who let you win just to see you swish your tail with prowess. He wants to feel you rest your head on his chest, wants to see you look up at him with security and ease, knowing that he's there to protect and love you.

But how can he explain that, with years of nothing but threatening looks and yards of distance between you two?

If it brings you familiarity and perhaps ease of seeing him as you've always thought to have known him, as a brute with nothing on his mind apart from taking you like an animal and conquering you, then he'll save the monologuing for later.

"After all," he heaves in the darkness of the seclusion, voicing his thoughts, "your birthday's coming up, right? You'll be of age to be claimed."

He thrusts his knee in between your trembling legs, pushing your shoulders down while following with his head and never letting his mouth rise above your unclaimed mark. You gasp as he begins grinding his knee in circles against your hooded clit, bouncing you lightly to evoke whatever sweet noises he can from your pursed lips.

You choke and sputter, suddenly grasping around his neck for leverage as you try to pull yourself up, but you're no match for him as it only serves to prove his point and enrage him from your constant rejection.

You can lie to him all you want, but your body never will.

"And trust me, little girl, when that cunt ripens for me to take, when that neck fucking sings for me to lay my mark-"

Your voice cracks into a howl as he takes one of his hands and squeezes the fat of your tit while the other spanks your jiggling ass on his knee, feeling whiplash from the onslaught of sensations.

"-I can promise you, there's no running. There's no cowering behind your brother's legs like some fucking baby, there's no using your sisters as an excuse to turn your face away from me."

Bakugo presses you tight against the wall, smothering you chest-to-chest with him and using the confined space to rut his naked erection against your thigh, his hips snapping forward and chasing years of needed release in your presence.

"I'll tie you down on my bed, face down ass-up and breed you as my bitch. I'll take you bent over and wrapped around me against every surface and floor of our secluded cave."

You blubber as you can feel yourself coming to a high, the water splashing obnoxiously at your humping against each other. In an effort to keep your pride, you try as hard as you can to grit your teeth and delay your orgasm, but he seems to catch on pretty quick.

"And then," he drops your tit and uses both hands to pry your asscheeks apart, impaling you impossibly closer down on the hard bone of his knee, your clit grating deliciously as his leg vibrates and flexes from moving you back and forth, up and down, any direction he can get your teeth to latch onto your lip and pussy clench on nothing.

"Then, you won't have to hide that pretty voice anymore. I'll get those years of silence back in exchange for your screams for help."

At this, he hugs you flush against the wall and himself as you shake from your orgasm, the water rippling at your reaction.

"So if I were you, I'd be grateful for any solitude from now on. Because you won't be getting it anymore."

[death-by-physics]

I'm almost done catching up on Earthspark and I hope, hope that Ratchet shows up next season but I need him to show up a certain way

Ratchet shows up for his dunno maybe a twice a year check-in, catches sight of the Terrans, and immediently starts tearing into OP and Megatron because THERES FRAGGING SPARKLINGS AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME???

And coming in behind him is Deadlock. Red optics, Decepticon symbol proudly displayed on his chest, dangerous energy overall

OP and Megatron are watching him warily because what is going on?? Deadlock??? Wat??? And Ratchet is just checking over the Terrans, muttering to himself threats on reformating OP and Megatron into toasters, ignoring the way everyone is suddenly tense because there's a very dangerous Decepticon Oh my Primus Ratchet why is there a very dangerous Decepticon

A very dangerous Decepticon who Ratchet turns around, points a finger at, and tells him to stop leering and make himself useful damnit Drift this is why I said I'd come alone

And Deadlock. Just. Melts. Awww but Ratty

Full on heart-eyes, following at his heels, speaking kindly to the Terrans and kids, the whole nine-yards

The only hiccup is when OP warily slides over and is like So Drift?

And Deadlock turns to him, fangs flashing, It's Deadlock to you

[woso-story]

Hero

Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon

Ingrid and Mapi were walking home after a wonderful night out with their friends. The streets were quiet, save for the faint hum of distant traffic and the crunch of fallen leaves beneath their boots. Ingrid's black dress fluttered slightly in the breeze, and Mapi had draped her jacket over her shoulders. They laughed softly, reliving the jokes and stories their friends had shared over dinner.

As they turned onto a dimly lit street, a group of men stumbled out of a nearby bar. They were loud, their words slurred with alcohol, and their attention quickly locked onto Ingrid and Mapi.

"Hey, ladies," one of them drawled, leering. "Looking good tonight. Especially you in that little dress."

Mapi shot them a warning glance, gripping Ingrid's hand a bit tighter, but Ingrid whispered, "Let's just keep walking."

"Don't ignore us, sweetheart", another man said. "We're just trying to be friendly. What's under that dress of yours, huh?"

Ingrid felt her stomach twist, but she kept her gaze forward.

Mapi, however, couldn't help but mutter, "Disgusting pigs," under her breath.

The men didn't take kindly to that.

"What did you say, huh? Got a smart mouth, don't you?" one of them sneered as they started following the pair.

They quickened their pace, but the men wouldn't let up.

"You two look like you could use some real men," another called out. "Bet you've never had someone show you what you're missing."

Mapi's jaw clenched, but Ingrid squeezed her hand. "Ignore them, Maria. Just get home."

But suddenly, one of the men lunged forward, grabbing Ingrid by the arm. His hand slid down to grope her ass, and she let out a sharp gasp.

Mapi didn't hesitate. She shoved the man away with a force that surprised even herself. "Don't you dare touch her!" she snarled, her voice low and dangerous.

The man stumbled back, laughing. "Fucking dykes,' he spat. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Another one stepped forward, his eyes locked on Ingrid. "You just need a man, sweetheart. You'll know what's good for you." His hand reached out again.

This time, Mapi didn't hold back. Her fist connected with his face, a sharp crack echoing through the street. The man staggered, clutching his nose as blood trickled between his fingers.

"Stay the hell away from her!" Mapi growled.

But the man's friend retaliated, grabbing Mapi and shoving her to the ground. Before any of the women could react, the man began kicking and punching Mapi viciously.

"Stop it! Help! Someone help!" Ingrid screamed, her voice breaking as she tried to get the man away from Mapi.

Fortunately, her cries didn't go unnoticed. A small group of passersby rushed to the scene, yelling at the men. Startled, the attackers fled, disappearing into the night.

Mapi groaned, struggling to sit up. Blood trickled from her split lip, and bruises were already forming on her cheek and arms.

"Ingrid," she murmured, trying to focus through the pain. "Are you okay?"

Ingrid's eyes brimmed with tears as she knelt beside her. "You're asking me that? Maria, you're hurt. We need to get you to a hospital."

She called an ambulance, and soon they were at the emergency room. Ingrid refused to leave Mapi's side, holding her hand tightly as doctors cleaned her wounds and confirmed nothing was broken, though she'd be sore for a few days.

Later that night, Alexia arrived, worry etched across her face "What happened?"

Mapi gave a weak grin, despite the swelling "Would you believe, if I would tell you that I tripped and fell?"

"Stop it. That's not funny" Ingrid slapped Mapi's arm and told Alexia what happened.

Alexia sighed, shaking her head. "You should've just walked away, Mapi. Next time, dont be a hero"

Esmee and Frido showed up shortly after, their expressions a mix of concern and relief when they saw Mapi sitting upright in the hospital bed.

The next morning, Mapi posted a selfie on Instagram, her face bruised and battered but her spirit undimmed. The caption read: "You fight for the people you love. 💪"

Ingrid commented almost immediately: "My hero 😇"

The post quickly went viral, with an outpouring of support and outrage from their fans. And while Mapi’s body ached for days, her heart swelled every time Ingrid looked at her with gratitude and love.

Ingrid knew one thing for sure: no matter what, María Pilar León would always have her back.

[atrocityobsession]

Palatal Porcine

Hannibal x M!Reader (can be read as GN tbh, very few gendered terms.)

cw: dead dove, do not eat. Cannibalism, manipulation, murder, catcalling, implied age gap...

no smut, proof read 1x.

His grip around your waist tightened inexorably. A muscle in his jaw ticked as he noticed the man ogling you a few seats down in the dim theater. Hannibal could hardly concentrate on the music; the swell of the orchestra might as well have been the discordant hum of frayed wires. Of course, you seemed utterly oblivious to the crude leers of the man, your eyes fixated on the spectacle upon the stage before you.  

You could feel Hannibal stiffen next to you, though his mask of reverence never slipped, his facial features remaining stoic and his posture flawless. You turned slightly to peer at him, unable to discern what had gotten him so on edge. But your attention was quickly recaptivated by the opera singer as the aria began. However, unbeknownst to you, the unknown man’s eyes never left yours, tracing the lines of your jaw, the contours of your face, dark and hungry– a brazen lack of subtlety. Undoubtedly, he was aiming for your attention, willing you, telepathically urging you to glance over and meet his dark eyes. Hannibal’s acute awareness of the situation never faltered, even as he forced himself to train his eyes upon the stage. 

When the opera ended, and after the waves of applause had subsided, Hannibal tried to steer you out of the opera hall as fast as possible, brushing off the familiar niceties of acquaintances also in the audience. You took notice of this; Hannibal was behaving uncharacteristically, shedding his usual restraint and commitment to civility as he bluntly pulled you through the crowd without so much as a second glance. But the man had other intentions for you, beelining to intercept where you were walking with Hannibal, stepping out before you. Hannibal steeled himself, attempting to pull you along, past him and out the doors, but halted when the prowler shot his arm out, preventing any recourse and effectively creating a barrier between you and Hannibal.  

“Ciao, bellissimo,” the man purred, his voice oily and deep, his breath hot on your cheek. You flinched at the closeness, instinctively stepping back and, in the process, unwittingly distancing yourself further from Hannibal.

“You’re as pretty as a dream,” the man cooed at you, his hand reaching up to stroke your arm through the fabric of your suit. “I would much rather stare at you all day than anything up on that stage.”

Your face flushed a cherry red, and you began to sputter, glancing up at Hannibal for aid, your eyes wide as saucers. As Hannibal opened his mouth to speak, the man quickly cut him off. The air was permeated by the scent of cheap cologne and stale smoke, and the sour cloud made Hannibal’s nose wrinkle in distaste. 

“Darling, you are simply beautiful, I must say, I’m quite enamored. Why don’t you ditch the old geezer and come with me? I’m certain I could make it worth your while,” The man said, licking his lips before he picked up your limp hand, kissing your knuckles. He left behind a smear of saliva. A wave of revulsion and panic flooded your senses, and you struggled to come up with a response besides a feeble attempt to tug your hand out from his grasp. The man simply chuckled and held you tighter, your knuckles turning white under his harsh hold. Hannibal’s hand shot out, a bruising grip on the man’s shoulder, forcing him back. 

“The gentleman is not interested,” Hannibal interjected, his voice steady but dripping with malice. “It would serve you well to kindly remove yourself.” He said with a predatory smile in an attempt to maintain his manners among his peers. The man sighed, a sleazy smile plastered on his lips. He rolled his eyes at Hannibal, shouldering off the older man’s hand. 

“Ah, but he can speak for himself, can’t he?” the question was directed to Hannibal, but his eyes were still fixated on you, raking you up and down, and again, he licked his lips.

“Surely, someone as exquisite as yourself would want to experience the passions of a real man, yes?” This question was directed at you. Your mouth opened and closed fast as you searched for words, your mouth suddenly dry.

Hannibal exhaled sharply at the comment. Hannibal’s demeanor was that of barely veiled rage, condensing the urge to rip the man apart with his teeth into a mere shove. The man laughed as he was forced back, releasing your hand in the process. 

Hannibal took the opening, slinging his arm around your waist and quickly guiding you out of the opera hall. His free hand reached around to grab the hand the man had offended with his touch, and Hannibal began to rub small circles into your hand soothingly. He leaned down, whispering into your ear. “Pay him no mind,” his voice low and smooth as velvet. His eyes flickered back, side-eyeing the man who stood behind you. “Swine such as him is quite clearly beneath your notice.”

The man chose this moment to wolf whistle, calling out to you. “I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you go!” He called out. Hannibal urged you on faster, committing the man's face to his memory. Transgressions of this caliber hardly ever went unpunished, especially not one as egregious as the execrable display that had occurred tonight— and Hannibal would see to it personally that justice would be served.

⋅˚₊⊹₊˚‧︵‿‧ ୨୧ ‧₊‿︵‧ ˚₊⊹⋅˚₊

Days passed, and you had long since forgotten the encounter at the opera house. You were a little more focused on the fact that Hannibal’s presence in your life over the past few weeks had been noticeably sparse. He had a habit of, every so often, disappearing from your life like this, but despite knowing this, you couldn’t shake the feeling this time; something else was up.

Hannibal finally reached out after one long week, with it, an invitation for dinner at his house. This was a common occurrence, as he absolutely adored cooking dinner for you. You accepted happily, relieved that he had finally made space in his busy schedule to see you. You arrived at the Lecter household fifteen minutes before eight. You knew Hannibal valued manners, and punctuality was one of the most important. In no time, you were situated at his dining room table. Soft piano filled the room, with the occasional clatter of cutlery in the background emanating from the kitchen. Transcendental Etude No. 6 in G minor. One of your favorites.

Hannibal didn’t make you wait long, setting down a covered platter before your seat. He halted, hovering over your sitting form before placing a small kiss on the top of your head. You smiled and let out a pleased exhale. Well, he was certainly feeling affectionate today. You waited for him to take his seat–the head of the table– before you moved to uncover the platter, staring down at the dish. It was foreign to you, as most of his dishes were. Hannibal took great pride in delineating each aspect of every meal he prepared, his words scrupulous. This evening was no different– as you began to take in the dish before, he started to speak with magniloquence almost immediately. 

“Today, I’ve prepared a treat especially for you, my little lamb. Langue de Porc. A French delicacy. Pork tongue. Prior to the time of you or I, langue de porc was considered a delicacy, reserved for the aristocracy and the upper echelons of society. It was a symbol of status, of refinement. A way to demonstrate one's sophistication and worldliness, often in elaborate presentations or terrines,” Hannibal explained as he began to cut into his own dish. You just stared down at the platter, your stomach inexplicably churning. For some unknown reason, you were a mix of anxiety, and as Hannibal spoke, with each word, your sense of unease grew stronger. “The meat itself was said to be infused with certain properties. Properties that served to heighten the senses.” 

You squirmed in your seat, hesitantly picking up your fork and knife. You cracked a smile, though your eyes were swimming with trepidation. Hannibal’s tone was darker, his demeanor clouded with something sinister. He watched with a sly smirk as you cut off a piece of the peculiarly shaped meat. You chewed slowly, savoring the taste. It was unique, with a mild and fatty flavor that melted into your mouth. Hannibal watched you, focusing on the way your jaw worked around the bite as if he were counting each time your mandible contracted.

Only when he watched your Adam’s apple bob, the indication that you had swallowed, did Hannibal relax, offering you a triumphant smile. You cracked a smile in an attempt to lighten the tension. “Kind of small for a pig,” You remarked. It was your lame attempt at small talk. 

Hannibal’s smile begins to stretch unnaturally at the corners. What had started as a harmless quirk of his lips had begun to transform into something sinister, his teeth bared in a grin more reminiscent of a predator; the warmth had drained away from his features, leaving behind a chilling sense of malice. 

Surely you had imagined it, right? The way his eyes seemed to glint with a predatory sharpness, dark and unyielding. The shadows that seemed to deepen around his features– his cheekbones sharpening, his lips curled up almost unnaturally. And then he began to speak, his voice slithering through the air. It was carried on an unnatural calm as if he reveled in the discomfort he was causing. Each syllable seemed to hang in the air. You dropped your fork onto the dining table, suddenly sick with the implication of his words.

“Ah, yes. An astute observation. When measured from the oropharynx, a typical length for a hog is roughly thirteen centimeters.” Hannibal casually began to cut off another tongue piece, savoring it. “This particular type of swine, however, usually measures around eight and a half centimeters.” His eyes were dark pools of onyx. Your breathing increased, knowing his following words. Willing them not to be said. 

Hannibal leaned forward so that his face was a hand’s breadth away. Your head was swimming. “Yes, my little lamb. This particular pig had a foul mouth and a tongue better suited for a butcher’s block than a human mouth.” 

As the words settled into the dimly lit dining room, your vision began to swim, your chest heaving. Undoubtedly, Hannibal had spent the days you had been apart hunting down the foul-mouthed man from the opera, slaughtering the offending profligate and, as some sick and twisted form of recompense, serving his tongue up to you on a salver--his mind diseased with perverted justice.

Hannibal cooed at you, trailing the back of his hand down your face, his fingers catching under your chin as he guided you to look up at him. 

“Oh, mon amour,” He crooned, his hand cool against your skin that was feverish with anxiety. “You look positively green. Is this idea of such delights too much for your delicate constitution?” 

Hannibal released your chin, tutting in disappointment. “Here I thought you might be a little more appreciative to my gift.” Hannibal resumed eating, his eyes never leaving yours. “A dish with a garnish of retribution. Don’t be afraid…” His voice trails lower as he lifts his own fork, a piece of the tongue skewered on the edge, putting it against your lips. The meat easily slides past your plump lips, landing on your tongue. Under his unyielding gaze, you find it impossible to deny him.

“There we go,” He says softly. “Can you hear the sound of your mind breaking when you deny yourself?” The meat settled like a brick in your stomach. “Surrender to the hunger,” he insisted, his breath ghosting over your cheek as he leaned in closer. 

You mechanically picked up your fork, slicing off a piece of the fatty pink meat, and bringing it to your mouth with much chagrin. And you realized… As you bit down and soft flesh gave way with a telltale wet squelch, your teeth coated in a greasy sheen, that this was your indoctrination. That this is what a soul’s slaughter could look like and that Hannibal was going to drag you down with him too, a substitute god for when you longed for devotion. The slimy texture lingered in your mouth, refusing to be swallowed easily. It was as if the dish itself had no intention of being forgotten, clinging to you in a way that made your stomach churn. You had become exactly what he had wanted you to be as you fell into disgrace.

⋅˚₊⊹₊˚‧︵‿‧ ୨୧ ‧₊‿︵‧ ˚₊⊹⋅˚₊

thanks so much for reading. I had this idea swirling in the noggin for about a year now and finally decided to write it. It still isn't as fleshed out as I had hoped, but alas... hopefully, I get the fervor to write more. I swear something possessed me so I finished this entire thing in about two hours 。°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°。

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Eri Reader x Straw Hats Part 24- Whole Cake Island

This is another doozy of an arc, so there will be abridging!

-Sanji made true on his vow to you, as soon as he saw Big Mom, who was pleased to see both him and you, he immediately asked her, “I will do whatever you ask of me, but do not let my family, any of them, anywhere near Y/N.”

-Big Mom seemed surprised by his request, leering down at him while her children were all doing the same, angered that he was making demands when he was going to be killed at the wedding.

-When she asked him of his reason, while you were hugging Sanji close, your arms wrapped around his neck, “You know what Germa 66 is capable of. If they get their hands on Y/N, who knows the torture she’s going to be put through, to get information on her abilities.”

-This made everyone freeze, they knew exactly what Germa 66 was capable of, that’s why they were arranging this wedding, but to see you in Sanji’s arms, trembling with fear, as you wanted to back to all the others, they were a bit more willing to listen now.

-Big Mom agreed to his terms, “Katakuri, my strongest son, will watch Y/N and keep her safe.” The massive man approached, looking so fall, even taller than Doflamingo, as you were a bit in awe as Sanji agree before looking down at you, as he had told you before this meeting that Luffy would come, he knows he will, “Be good Y/N. I’ll see you soon.” You nodded softly before turning to face the Charlotte Family.

-You were scared but when Katakuri picked you up, his hands almost swallowing you up, you felt something, you could tell that he was very strong, but he wasn’t a bad person, you couldn’t explain the feeling, as he held you up on his shoulder, safe and secure.

-Big Mom, curious of your past, as she had heard a lot about you, invited you to a tea party, where she had so many cakes and tea, “You’ll be part of our family soon enough, Y/N, so enjoy yourself!”

-You were confused, looking so innocent sitting on Katakuri’s knee, “But I already have a family, my big brothers, big sisters, and my mama!” Big Mom chose to ignore you, thinking that you had been brainwashed by the Straw Hats. You would come around soon enough.

-You didn’t know that your tea had been drugged, after you ate a bit, so you wouldn’t get sick, just putting you to sleep, and once you were out, Pudding came forward and used her ability to pull out your memory, which almost looked like a movie film reel, so everyone could see it.

-Big Mom knew about the condition of your body, the scars, and she was fully ready to make each of the Straw Hats pay, thinking they had done that do you.

-Only they didn’t they were the ones who rescued you. They saw this unknown man, Overhaul, experimenting on you, making you scream and cry, terrible sounds and visuals that none of the Charlotte Family would be able to forget anytime soon.

-They saw when Luffy found you, rescuing you, and how kindly he treated you, feeding you, and how you had been treated by the other members, all with gentle kindness, other than the occasional forehead flick when you did some reckless.

-Big Mom was distraught when she saw what your abilities allowed you to do, bringing those back from the dead, tears welling in her eyes as she thought of Mother Caramel. However, when she saw the repercussions of your ability, the high fevers, and the risk it put on your life, she was torn. She wanted to see Mother Caramel more than anything, but she wasn’t willing to risk a child’s health and safety for it.

-Seeing that the Straw Hats were not the ones that did this to you, the murderous intent faded for them at least, as Big Mom demanded to know who this Overhaul was, wanting to find any information about him.

-While Big Mom wasn’t going to go after the Straw Hats, unless if they tried anything funny, she wasn’t going to let them take you back, after seeing what you have gone through the past few years. They were incompetent in her eyes, unable to properly keep you safe.

-A few days later, you thought you heard someone saying something about Luffy, but you weren’t completely sure, as you hugged Katakuri face from the side, from your spot on his shoulder.

-Katakuri was unsure of this feeling he felt for you, it was so strange, so new, it wasn’t like the feeling he felt with his cute little siblings. This was something else, but he liked it.

-He did his job, keeping you safe, keeping a watchful eye on you, even when you were playing with other children, including the Charlotte Family children, making sure that you were safe at all times.

-Katakuri was very open with you, not feeling afraid of you being afraid of him, so he showed you his snack time ritual, showing you his true self.

-Instead of being scared your eyes were huge and sparkly as you watched him eat donuts, “So cool! You can eat such big donuts in one bite!!” This is what made his affection for you grow.

-The only thing Katakuri didn’t allow was for you to see Sanji, despite feeling his heart aching, seeing your puppy dog eyes, seeing you look so cute, calling Sanji your big brother.

-Katakuri took you to a place that overlooked the harbor and pointed out the Germa 66’s ship, “That’s Sanji’s family. From what I know he doesn’t see himself as a member of that family, but he wants us to keep you away from them, to keep you safe.” You remember Sanji saying the same thing, and it made you curious, wanting to know why Sanji didn’t like his family.

-When you heard that Luffy was on the island, along with Ace, Nami, Brook, and Chopper, your eyes lit up, wanting to return to your home on Sunny with them, along with Sanji.

-Katakuri felt like scum when you cried, when he told you that you weren’t going back with them, that Big Mom, or Mama as she had been wanting you to call her, was adopting you and you were going to be a part of her family. You didn’t understand and Katakuri felt guilt, seeing you in such a state.

-It was Luffy and Ace, working together, that led Katakuri leaving you with Sanji, who held you close, hugging you so tightly and Sanji felt the ice in Katakuri’s stare when he told the cook to keep you safe while he dealt with the invaders, not outright telling you that it was Luffy and Ace, so you wouldn’t be upset.

-Your little hands cupped Sanji’s face, seeing that he was injured, having been beaten by his family, being the weakest of them all, which made tears well in your eyes.

-Your horn flared to life, and he caught your hands, halting your actions, smiling softly down at you, “Don’t Y/N. I’ll be fine. I promise.” You lifted your pinkie finger to him, and he couldn’t help but grin, feeling warm and locked fingers with you.

-You then heard a new voice, “Is that Y/N?” you both turned and saw three more men, who looked kind of like Sanji, one with red hair, one with blue, and one with green, and a lady with pink hair.

-Sanji held you close, getting ready to move to run before Reiju came over, beaming down at you, “Hello there Y/N. I’m Reiju, Sanji’s big sister!” your eyes went wide, hearing this, and while Sanji seemed okay with her being close, he took a step back when the other three tried to approach.

-You then saw another man, a large man, following them, looking surprised to see you in Sanji’s arms, as he was curious as to where you were, as he knew that Big Mom had brought you to the island alongside his useless child.

-Niji and Ichiji both came over, telling you their names, as they knew their father’s plan on using you, and if they could get you easily like this, away from Big Mom’s watchful eyes, then they were going to take it.

-Yonji came over, looking cheerful, “And I’m Yonji!” instantly your mood and demeanor went from curious to terrified, your hands winding into Sanji’s shirt, your eyes going wide as you started breathing heavily, like you were panicking.

-Sanji and Reiju were quick to notice the change as your eyes were locked on Yonji, who tilted his head to the side, confused as to why you were looking at him like that.

-Sanji was quick to put his hands over your eyes and you quickly turned, burying your face into Sanji’s chest, trying to hide from this man. You didn’t know him, but his voice… it was the same as Overhaul’s.

-Reiju was quick to slap Yonji, demanding to know what he had done to you to make you so afraid, which caused lots of yelling. Sanji noticed Reiju pointing to the window, giving him an out, as she was terrified to see you look so scared, and Sanji ran, leaping out the window.

-His brothers and father all yelled, seeing him escaping, as Sanji used his sky walk to escape, descending safely while holding you close. Sanji was willing to do whatever it took to keep you safe, and if it was his life or yours, he would always make sure that you were safe, every single time.

-Luck was on his side when he saw Luffy, Ace, and Nami again, running to safety after having defeated Cracker and escaping and he shouted, “NAMI-SAN!!” She turned, hearing Sanji as Niji was closing in on him, using his power suit to catch up.

-Sanji squeezed you once before tossing you towards the group and instantly you felt Luffy’s rubber arms wrapping around you before pulling you into his chest.

-You looked up, tears blooming in your eyes as you cried, “Big brother!!”

-He held you close, not letting you look back, as he looked murderous as Niji, Ichiji, and Yonji were attacking Sanji, while Reiju and Judge looked on, but Nami was the one to grab Luffy, and the three of them ran, looking for a place to hide.

-For a while, you were safe, crying in Nami’s arms as you told them what Sanji’s mean family had done and how Big Mom wasn’t going to let you go with them, that she wasn’t going to let you go.

-Ace just ruffled your hair softly, trying to console you, “It will be okay Y/N. We’re going to get Sanji back and then were going to meet up with the others in Wano.” You sniffled softly, giving him a firm nod and he grinned, seeing you looking happier.

-That was short lived when you were attacked by Big Mom’s children, Katakuri taking you back from Luffy, who was demanding him to let you go. You were trembling, looking scared as they were all captured and taken away.

-Katakuri had been furious to see you there, knowing Sanji had betrayed him, but when he returned to Sanji, Katakuri saw that he was badly beaten, as if he had been violently attacked. Katakuri wasn’t dumb to realize that Germa 66 had found you, and Sanji took you to safety, with Luffy and the others.

-You were crying, seeing Sanji in such a state before you scared Katakuri by leaping from his shoulder, to get to Sanji. He caught you safely, sighing softly in relief, “That was reckless.”

-Another voice then spoke up, “I agree.” You both turned, seeing Reiju there, holding medical supplies, looking upset, as if she didn’t want this to happen to Sanji.

-Sanji, through gasps of pain, as he refused to let you use your ability on him, told you that Reiju was the only good one in his family, beside his mother, Sora.

-You noticed Reiju trying not to cry, hearing her mother’s name, and Katakuri remained silent, letting you be with Sanji and Reiju, hearing the tale of how the Germa 66 came to be, and what Sora was willing to do to keep her children safe.

-You were in tears by the time he finished the tale, telling you how Reiju snuck him out all those years ago, getting him to a ship where he would later meet Zeff

-Your horn started glowing by itself as you sniffled, crying as Sanji tried to move, immediately hissing in pain, “Y/N! Calm down!” Katakuri went to touch you when a bright light filled the room and only moments later, a woman was standing there, blond, with curly eyebrows.

-Reiju’s jaw dropped open, her tears welling as the woman gasped suddenly, taking her first breath, “Mother!!” Sora turned, being embraced by her now much older daughter, surprised to see her there before she gasped, “Sanji!!”

-You stumbled back, holding your head, feeling woozy as Katakuri pulled you into his arms, pulling his scarf off, wrapping it around you as you started developing a fever, tears streaming down your cheeks.

-Sanji was in disbelief, seeing his mother there, tears welling in his eyes, but he didn’t care, he openly cried as she held him close, holding her sweet child in her arms once more.

-Katakuri was conflicted, he knew that the Germa 66 was going to die at the wedding, at least those four men who deserved it, but seeing these three, seeing the love they had, it didn’t feel right to let them die too.

-Sora was pleased to meet you, once your fever broke, as Sanji explained your ability, and how you brought her back to life, as she hugged you close, cuddling you. She was a lot like Sanji, so warm and cuddly.

-Reiju then spoke, “Y/N, what did Yonji do to make you so scared of him?” She had been wondering this, as did Sanji, and hearing this, Katakuri and Sora were also curious, but only Katakuri had pain on the mind.

-You hesitated for only a moment before you pushed up one of the sleeves on your shirt, showing your scars, making the two women gasp in shock as Sanji looked mad, seeing them again, “I… he- he didn’t do anything, but he… he has the same voice as… as Overhaul, the one who did this to me.”

-Sora cuddled you close again, vowing to keep you safe.

-Katakuri then spoke, “I know Mama wants to use you as well Y/N, when you’re older and stronger. She said it was to keep you safe, but the safest spot is with that loud mouthed captain of yours. I’ll help you all get to safety.”

-He then told you all about the plot to kill Germa 66, so big Mom could take the technology for herself, to create weapons, and you realized that she was no better than the Germa 66.

-Sanji agreed to go through with the plan, as Katakuri could see, with his future sight, that shit was going to hit the fan tomorrow.

-You remained with Katakuri, to help with the plan, as Reiju, Sanji, and Sora went to rescue the others, telling them of the plan and the inside friend they now had.

-Luffy calmed, hearing that Katakuri was willing to help you all escape, but he agreed to go through with the plan, as they had their own inside man, with Capone Bege, who was helping arrange for the wedding to go badly.

-Sora was distraught to learn what Judge had done to their children, seeing what they had become, but knowing that Reiju and Sanji were good, and that Sanji had you, she was willing to do whatever it took to help where she could.

-Bege had the idea of her being a shock factor, to stop the Germa 66, if they tried to come after them during the fallout, something Reiju agreed to help with, as she was leaving to be with her mother.

-Sanji offered them a safe place with Zeff, whom he knew would take them both in, and they liked the idea of the easy life, working in a restaurant, one that helped raise Sanji into the man he was today.

-You were in Katakuri’s arms, wearing a pretty dress, one fit for a wedding, looking a little nervous as you watched Pudding, who you found out wasn’t as nice as she pretended to be, and Sanji up on the humongous wedding cake.

-Katakuri looked down at you, giving you a tiny squeeze, one that reassured you.

-Shit hit the fan and it hit it hard and fast when Luffy and the others launched their attack, shooting Mother Caramel’s photograph, sending Big Mom into a fit of anguish, one that would have hurt your ears, had Katakuri not put mochi in your ears prior to her losing it.

-Your eyes were wide as you saw Sanji saving his family, who had been encased in hard candy, so they could be easily shot, but he glared down at them as Reiju took his hand, “Never come after me or Y/N again!”

-Reiju beamed at them as they went to stand, to attack Sanji, demanding who he thought he was before a voice spoke up, “He’s my very normal human son!!” They all turned, seeing Sora there and eyes went wide, seeing her alive, realizing that you had brought her back to life.

-Judge looked so elated to see her, trying to approach but she popped off with the mother of all bitch slaps, sending him spinning as she glared hard, “Children are not weapons! I tried to teach you this then, and I’ll teach you this now! Why do you think they had no feelings being faced with death?!”

-Reiju grabbed her mother, hugging her close and took off, using her boots to skywalk, as they rushed for the ship Katakuri had prepared for them, as Sanji had called Zeff, letting him know what had happened and he agreed to take the two women in.

-Katakuri had to make it look like he was fighting Ace and Luffy, to keep up appearances, as they were pulled into the mirror by Brulée, who was in on the plot, willing to help Katakuri, and willing to help you, after you showed her such sweet kindness, one she had never felt before, getting everyone safely to the ship.

-Katakuri hesitated in handing you over, he didn’t want to let you go, Ace saw the look in his eyes and smiled softly, “You’re welcome to join us, if you want to.” Katakuri was startled by this offer, before he shook his head sadly, handing you to Brook, “No, my place is here with my family, just as you all belong together.”

-You caught his hand, surprising him as you beamed, “Don’t forget to come and see me, okay?” he chuckled softly, stroking his thumb down your cheek, before he left, retreating to his family.

-Your eyes were huge and sparkly, watching Carrot go Sulong, which was amazing to see, as you had never seen anything like it, but she was still Carrot, as she hugged you, rubbing her cheek against her own, once she took out several of the opposing ships.

-Ace held you on his shoulders, his hat on your head, as everyone managed to escape as Luffy beamed, “Onward to Wano!!”

-You threw your hands up, cheering with the others, wondering what awaited you on your next adventure!!

[gaily-daily-musings]

Literally no one asked for the nursing home reverse trope and because I am upset I'm taking it upon myself to make y'all suffer

(I've decided to make it a senior community rather than a nursing home)

-

Obi-Wan is 55. An official senior. He hates it. It's awful. Quinlan won't stop making fun of him despite being older than him.

Despite his initial hesitation, the community is regretfully nice. Mace and Yoda and Qui-Gon are all welcoming. He never thought he would be reduced to this but when the divorce hit he'd lost the house. He'd been living with Quinlan for over a year and felt bad for taking advantage. Given his money situation, his options were reduced to a housing community for seniors. He'd heard about it through Qui-Gon who was on his pickleball team.

There's a young man (34) working there. A maintenance man named Anakin Skywalker. Anakin is quite handsome and very charismatic. The ladies will often flirt with him and giggle over his arms. It's all harmless fun. Normally Obi-Wan isn't one to leer, but goodness he was certainly striking.

Obi-Wan near has a heart attack one day when he witnesses Anakin in swim trunks attending the pool. Lord, he's never felt like such a lecher. He's not used to this. To looking. He's a monogamous sort of a man. Never cheated. Even when he and Satine started growing apart years ago he never wavered.

Obi-Wan starts working out more for no particular reason. He was always fit for his age but feels more self conscious than ever. He tries to tell himself he was just trying to stay healthy, but he knew he was lying to himself. He feels ridiculous. The hell was he doing? Anakin was just a nice man jokingly flirting with the elderly. It wasn't serious.

The center puts together an annual event for the residents. This year they decide the theme is “senior prom”. It's stupid. Quinlan talks him into RSVPing.

Anakin is invited by Maria, one of the ladies who is particularly forward in her intentions. Obi-Wan tells himself not to be jealous and fails spectacularly.

Throughout the evening Anakin dances with several ladies. Obi-Wan yearns from the sidelines. He tries to work up the courage to ask. He's not afraid of being rejected, he's just afraid Anakin will see he's being earnest. Did he even want to be taken seriously? Did he want to pursue something real?

Maria makes her way to Anakin again as I've Had The Time of My Life plays. She has no shame as she feels up Anakin's arms and strokes his chest. He takes it in stride and winks down at her. She laughs as they spin around the room.

Three songs later Obi-Wan contemplates slinking back to his room.

“Would you like to dance?”

Obi-Wan startles. He hadn't heard him approach.

“I…uh, y-yes…” he stammers.

He takes Anakin's hand feeling like a school boy. His heart flutters in his chest. He knows Anakin is just being nice, he's already danced with everyone else after all, but he can't help the blush on his cheeks.

Obi-Wan let's Anakin take the lead as he's unsure if he'll be able to keep his head on straight.

“Did you go to your school prom?” Anakin asks.

“Yes. With my ex-wife actually. You?”

Anakin smiles. “Coincidentally I went with my ex too.”

“I didn't know you were divorced.”

“Widowed.”

Obi-Wan winces. “I'm sorry.”

“It's fine. You didn't know. It was years ago anyway.”

They move slowly across the floor. Obi-Wan consciously keeps his hands where they are appropriate.

“So, any kids?”

“Twins. They're 13.”

Obi-Wan chuckles. “I don't envy you. I remember when my son was that age. He went through a whole goth phase.”

Anakin laughs. It's beautiful. “Aw man, you would have hated me then. I was really into the goth scene as a teen.”

They keep talking and dancing. At some point Maria kindly asks for her date back and they reluctantly part.

-

They come across each other while Obi-Wan is visiting the local park. He sees Anakin walking a dog as his kids eat ice cream. He doesn't want to intrude on what is clearly a family outing. But then Anakin spots him and waves him over.

Anakin introduces his children.

“You're that old guy dad talks about,” Leia says.

Anakin flushes.

“Did you fight in a war?” Luke asks. “Do you have any battle scars?”

After the initial awkwardness and round of interrogation, Anakin asks Obi-Wan if he wanted to join them for dinner. Unable to find a reason to say no he accepts.

For the record, Obi-Wan isn't an idiot. Normally when a young person sought out the company of a significantly older person, it was because they were a gold digger. But Obi-Wan hasn't much money to offer. He doesn't have much of anything really. He recalls Anakin mentioning that he never knew his father. With a heavy heart he realizes perhaps that was why Anakin wanted to be around him. He was an older father figure to him. Of course that must be it.

After dinner Anakin tucks his kids into bed (or rather just Luke as Leia has outgrown that). Obi-Wan helps clean up. Anakin says he should stay. It was late and he didn't want to send him home like this. Besides he had work in the morning so they could go in together.

Anakin lets him have the bed and sleeps on the couch despite his protests. The next morning Anakin sees the kids off to school. Obi-Wan makes everyone breakfast as a thank you. Anakin then drives them to the senior community. Obi-Wan gets out and goes to his apartment.

He is unfortunately seen getting out of Anakin's car. Rumors fly. His friends crowd him for details. Obi-Wan tries to tell them nothing happened but nobody believes him.

On his 56th birthday his pickleball team takes him out to celebrate. Little does he know that Qui-Gon has invited Anakin. He shows up with a present. Its pink shorts with the word pickleball on the booty. Obi-Wan's face feels warm.

Soon Anakin has to leave to go pick up his kids from school. Now gone, Quinlan takes Obi-Wan aside to ask him when he's gonna make a move on Anakin. Obi-Wan thinks he's being insane. Never? Anakin wasn't interested? Now Quinlan looks at him like he's the insane one.

“He literally gave you booty shorts! He wants to see your thighs!”

“That was a joke!”

Quinlan sighs. He asks the table if they thought Anakin was into Obi-Wan. They all say yes immediately.

“I thought you were already dating?” Bant asks.

The next day Obi-Wan sees Anakin doing maintenance in the lobby. He starts up a conversation. It was so easy to talk to him. Far too easy.

“By the way, thank you for your gift yesterday. Though I'm not sure they'll fit me, they may be a little small.” He jokes.

“I dunno, I think they'll fit just fine.” Anakin deliberately looks him up and down, lingering on his ass.

Obi-Wan gulps.

-

Later Obi-Wan is doing some swim aerobics in the pool with Yoda and Qui-Gon. Yoda mentions having had a heart attack two years ago.

“Seize the moment, one must. Lest life passes you by.” he looks straight at Obi-Wan as he says it.

Obi-Wan blinks. He frowns. He really didn't appreciate his friends barging into his love life. He tells them so.

“What love life? You're single.”

Obi-Wan has no retort.

Is it so wrong to not want to burden a strapping young man with someone like him? Someone who is wrinkled and old and has nothing to offer?

After swimming Obi-Wan grabs a towel and heads off back to his apartment. It's just a short walk over to the building. On the way he spots Anakin between the hedges fixing a sprinkler. He pauses. He looks down at his protruding belly. The worst he could do is utterly humiliate himself and be forced to avoid Anakin the rest of his life. Or until he moves.

“Hi.”

Anakin looks up. He smiles.

“Hey.”

His eyes linger on Obi-Wan’s chest. He swallows. It gives him the boost of confidence he needs.

“I was just, um, wondering if perhaps you wanted to…have dinner again? I can cook.”

Anakin hums, “I can't this week.”

Obi-Wan nearly deflates. He tells himself it's not the end of the world. It's fine. He starts to retreat, backing up the way he came.

“Sorry, of course. I didn't mean to impose. Anyway, I have to head back but it was nice to see you.”

Anakin catches his arm. “Woah, I didn't say I didn't want to, just that this week is no good.”

Obi-Wan blinks.

“But next week I'm open? I can pop by after work. That is if you're up for it still?”

Obi-Wan smiles. “Yes I'd like that.”

Anakin's hand lingers on his arm. Neither wanting to pull away just yet. Obi-Wan clears his throat.

“What would you like? F-for dinner I mean.”

“I'm not picky. Surprise me.”

“Alright then.”

“Alright.”

From the sidelines, Qui-Gon, Mace, Yoda, Maria, and several others are watching from inside the pool center. Maria sighs forlornly. “Should have known he would steal him right out from under my nose.”

“I think it's sweet,” her friend Amanda says.

“Very sweet.” Yoda nods sagely.

[thebest-medicine]

I ‘christ’Miss Our Little Talks

Happy Squealing Santa 2024!!!!! Didn’t it start in like 2014? Is this the 10th squealing Santa???? Dang-a-rang!

A/N: Happiest of holidays! Merriest of Christmasses! And a Happy New Year to thee my giftee @kawaiipeacemusic!!! Hope you had a good holiday season and have a wonderful start to your new year! And all the same to the wonderful, lovely @cantsaythetword!!! Thank you for hosting this year’s fabulous @squealing-santa event!! 

Prompt(s): “we’ll talk” with lee!deku ler!shinso, lee!todoroki ler!bakugo, or ler!todoroki x reader (I went with the first option!)

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Summary: Shinso and Izuku are working on a class exercise together, but Midoriya spends more time muttering to himself rather than strategizing and analyzing with his classmate. When Shinso tries to get Izuku’s attention, he finds a much more effective way to get his classmate on task. Words: 2.4k [read on ao3]

...

“You have the rest of this class hour to complete everything in the assignment. Remember your post-training analysis at the end of the combat section.” Aizawa explained with little enthusiasm.  “Pairs have already been decided, let’s get to it, 2-A.” He waved his class off and turned from the training grounds, walking to find himself a space along the sidelines and observe the young heroes.

Their assignment was a paired exercise focusing on teamwork and communication. They had a checklist of tasks to complete, and a combat training test of how their quirks worked best both together and against each other. Excited chatter began to flood the grounds, everyone pairing off with their respective partners. 

“Looks like it’s you and me, Icy Hot.” Bakugo leered, cracking his knuckles. “Let’s go!” 

“You realize most of these tasks are collaborative, right? We aren’t just fighting..?” Todoroki asked, raising an eyebrow at his assigned partner. 

“Yay! Yao-Momo!” Ashido cheered. “We’re gonna do so good!” She sped over toward Yaoyorozu and lifted her into a spinning hug. 

Laughing, they both made their way through the training grounds as Momo began, “I’ve already started analyzing the list and I think we can…” Her voice faded out to the others as she and Mina carved out their space and started to plan.

Hitoshi Shinso, newly integrated into U.A.’s hero course, was paired up to train with none other than Izuku Midoriya. Shinso, at times, still felt a little unsure of his place in the hero course —like today. Well, maybe today it was just that feeling of being out of sync with Izuku’s unrelenting enthusiasm —well, that and the constant muttering.

Their dynamic felt…well, a bit awkward at first –but functional. He knew Izuku’s heart was in the right place, even if he got caught up in his head a bit when he got too focused on something.

Some pairs of students had run off to complete some of the tasks in the woods or further away in the grounds, while a few other groups, including Bakugo and Todoroki, stayed near the large, outdoor mats and to start out with the versus combat section. 

Izuku, and his overthinking, added a minute or two on to the time it should have taken them as he debated, muttering to himself about which space would be the perfect area for training. 

Hitoshi rolled his shoulders, loosening himself up a bit, and pulled up his mask. “Ready, Midoriya?”

Izuku just nodded back. 

Shinso brought out his capture weapon scarf with a practiced ease, and the two of them began to spar. He narrowly but gracefully avoided a kick and a punch—kindly not done with Deku’s full power. It was hard for Shinso to use his quirk while trying to fight one-on-one out in the open. He would have to try to think of something else to tilt the battle to his advantage. 

Calling for a break, Shinso made his way to sit along the side. He took some sips of water as Izuku paced back and forth, muttering to himself. 

“Midoriya… want to share what you’re thinking?” Hitoshi asked, glancing up at him. 

“Hm?” Izuku made a slight sound of acknowledgement, turning as he continued to pace.

“I’d love some feedback, suggestions, tips.. and to work with you on some of the same.. This is supposed to be a partnered project, after all.”

“Oh, uh, sorry!” Midoriya grinned sheepishly. “Was I muttering to myself again?” He brought a hand to the back of his neck, cheeks pinkening a bit. 

“Yes.” Shinso sighed, reaching his arm out to Midoriya’s side to pull him in closer, help him focus.

Izuku squeaked at the unexpected touch, jumping a little away from Hitoshi. “Ah–”

“What was that?”

“Huh? Nothing!” 

“Nothing?”

“Yes!” Izuku said quickly.

“Then…are you ready to get back to our schoolwork?”

“Y-Yeah! Exactly.” 

“Hm.”

Midoriya started to move himself away from Shinso’s hand on his side, only for the fingers there to reach out further and poke-poke-poke-squeeze. 

“Shi-hihihih-in- whohohoahahaha–” The unexpectedness of it all had been what hit him first—what had really put him off guard—a sudden, playful touch that sent his nerves alight and left him gasping for air between unbidden giggles. Shock turned into pure, unfiltered reaction as Izuku realized he couldn’t stop the laughter that seemed to take on a life of its own. 

Shinso’s eyes sparkled with an inquisitive awe. “So you are ticklish.” He said quietly, mostly to himself. 

“Nahaha- I’m not!” Midoriya squealed, protesting despite the obvious evidence to the contrary. His knees buckled as he crumpled forward onto the dusty mat. 

Shinso followed him down. “Whoever you partner up with, it’s important to be fully honest with one another, isn’t it?” He lamented, teasing as he pinned the other hero-in-training to the floor. “How else will we ever work together?” Shinso grinned then put on a faux pleading look. “C’mon. Talk to me?” He poked along Izuku’s sides, prompting.

Izuku grunted, shaking his head as he tried with all his might to fight his urge to laugh desperately.

Shinso sighed. “Oh, we’ll talk.” Then he dragged one of Midoriya’s arms behind his own back, pinning it bent up against his shoulder blade. “Sooner than you think.” He wrapped his scarf around Izuku’s arm in a few places, then around his chest and neck, securing him in place.

Now, Shinso had him pinned face down, one strong leg over him half straddling his body, one of his arms wrapped down at his side in the capture scarf and the other now half-chicken-winged behind his back. Izuku could probably get out of this with a little concentration, but then… A jolt raced through his mind as he felt a feather-light touch reappear against the side of his ribs, his mind struggling to process the sensation. This wasn’t a quick jab or poke, this was soft, deliberate, giggle-inducing tickling. It started as just a faint, tingling pressure. While his mind was still catching up to what was happening, his body betrayed him, jerking instinctively to the side as the sensation spread like wildfire. His chest ached as he held his breath. 

The realization hit him—he was being tickled—Shinso was really pinning him down and tickling him—and he wasn’t stopping. 

A squeal of helpless laughter blurted out before Izuku could stop it. His breath hitched when he managed to get a breath in, and for a split second, he froze, caught between the uncontrollable urge to squirm away and the disbelief in what Shinso—quiet, brooding, mysterious Shinso—was doing to him (and during class, of all times!). 

He managed to twist his head to the side enough to get a look at his purple-haired classmate, only to see a devious half-smile on his face. Surprise rippled through Izuku—he would have expected something like this from.. honestly almost anyone else—and the shock quickly gave way to a wave of chaotic, fluttery sensations that had him twisting and wriggling without thinking. Shinso upped his tempo, tapping his fingertips along his classmate’s ribs and grinning. “Thought this might help you talk..”

Fingers pinched up and down Izuku’s ribs, whose eyes widened as his mouth curved up in a wide, wobbly smile. It was as if Izuku’s whole body lit up at once, the gentle, teasing contact making it impossible to stay still, his laughter spilling out in uncontrollable bursts. “Nononono Shihihihinso wahahahait!” He giggled helplessly, trying to muffle the sound. “Nohohoho no wahahaha! Hehehe not t-tickling ehehehehe! Peheheheople will seehehehee!” 

His arms struggled against Shinso’s scarf as his legs kicked out against the floor, flailing aimlessly each time Shinso brought his hands up higher along Midoriya’s ribs. 

“C’mon. If you don’t want them to notice, keep it down. Control yourself, Midoriya.” Shinso teased quietly, a smug little smile on his lips. “C’mon, does it really tickle that bad?”

“Yehehehehes! It- ha-ah—” Izuku stopped struggling all at once, his eyes going blank as he slumped against the large mat. 

“Got-cha.” Shinso half-sang, teasing. 

Izuku stared blankly, fully under the grip of his classmate’s quirk. Hitoshi flipped him over onto his back and untangled him from his scarf, adjusting his limbs and spreading his arms out to the sides.

“Now. Let’s see how long you can keep those arms up.” Hitoshi ordered, crawling over his classmate’s body to straddle him, expecting his quirk to be quickly overcome with the desperation brought on by tickling. 

Izuku just laid there after bringing his arms straight up over his head, otherwise unmoving. Somewhere in his mind he was blushing ten thousand shades of red and giggling in anticipation. 

“Good job.” Shinso smirked. “Now… Just in case.” He wrapped the strong scarf around Izuku’s wrists, keeping them together where they laid over his head. 

Inside, Midoriya whimpered.

“Ohh. You know what I want to try, Midoriya?” 

Izuku simply stared blankly up at him. 

“I’ve been working more and more on expanding my quirk and making people talk.. I wonder if I can get you to…” He paused, considering. “Tell me where you are most vulnerable to tickling.” 

No! Somewhere in Izuku’s mind screamed as his mouth opened and he heard his voice answering his classmate with almost no intonation. Like it didn’t belong to him. ‘Hips.’ Dammit dammit dammit! What was he saying now? ‘Stomach. Feet. Armpits.’ Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

“Now we’re talking!” Shinso appeared happier than his classmate had ever seen him. “Alright, now. Stay still for me.” He smirked, adding. “Not that you have much of a choice.”

Shinso wriggled one finger gently under each of Izuku’s arms. 

His expression stayed neutral all of 5 seconds before a smile morphed its way onto his face and he broke out of the quirk’s hold, tearing his bound wrists down in a futile attempt at protecting himself. He giggled loudly, squirming wildly back and forth as Shinso’s now-trapped fingers danced their way across the hollows of his armpits. 

“Plehehehehease!” Midoriya squeaked, kicking his feet into the air. “They’re gonna seeeeheheheheheheee!!!”

“Yeah they might if you don’t quiet down, do you think they’d help me?” 

“No!” Izuku gasped, panicking at the thought before his expression and most of his mind went blank. Caught again. At least the tickling stopped for a moment. 

And then it’s arms back up. Eyes blank. Shinso’s hands closing in… 

“Where else did you say, stomach, right?” As Hitoshi drew his fingers over Midoriya’s vulnerable middle—one that used to be soft and gentle but was now hardened with muscle—he wiggled them like a sluggish spider crawling over his belly. 

He felt the body tense underneath him and saw the corners of Deku’s lips almost start to twitch into a smile. But, it seemed that as long as he remained gentle, didn’t overwhelm, he might well be able to keep his mental hold on the other boy longer. 

On the path back over his shivering stomach, Shinso’s sluggish spidering fingers slipped into Izuku’s belly button, and he hiccuped-laughed his way right back into consciousness. 

“Okahahahay, ohmygosh- Shihihihinso—” Izuku batted weakly with his joined wrists at his captor’s still-tickling hands. “Plehehease—” 

The tickling stopped then, but something in Shinso’s eyes told Izuku it wasn’t quite over yet. 

“Now… I’m not gonna tear off your shoes in the middle of class but I will be testing those out another time.” Izuku gaped at him as he spoke. “But, I did want to try one more spot you mentioned…” Shinso wiggled his fingers slowly toward Midoriya’s middle. 

“Wait! You can’t—” His eyes bugged out wide.

“Oh, can’t I?” 

Izuku shook his head, biting his lip to keep from answering again.

“You know I can just tickle you again anyway, quirk or not, right?”

“Nohohoho!” Izuku whined, he couldn’t help it. 

A beat later, his eyes and face returned to what seemed to be their common state—blank.

“There we go…” Hitoshi smiled, having Izuku reposition himself with his arms over his head. His fingers wiggled menacingly and dramatically slow as they approached his lower waist. And just when they made contact—

Izuku shrieked, breaking free from the hypnotic hold mere moments after Hitoshi’s fingers squeezed into the divots of his hips through his uniform. “WahahahaHA-NOT THERE!”

Shinso chuckled, sounding pleased, as he backed up a bit and stopped pinning the other boy down.

With a quick roll onto his side and a kick into the ground with a small percentage of his power, Izuku jumped to his feet and scrambled away before he could be further caught up in the capture scarf or hypnosis again — or worse, even just pinned from how weak and dizzy he felt with laughter. “Ahahahalright! Don’t we have-have work to do?” Izuku whined, putting his bound hands up between them defensively. 

“Couldn’t help but keep talking to me, even though you knew it was making it worse for you..” Shinso smirked at him affectionately, reaching out to ruffle his hair. 

Izuku flinched away with a sheepish grin. “What? I couldn’t help it. I- you were- you kept-”

“You know… You never actually told me to stop either.” Shinso smirked as Midoriya turned bright red. 

“I- what? No, I- I did.. I mean, well, I couldn’t even–” 

“We’ll talk about that later.” Shinso waved a hand dismissively.

Izuku buried his face in his hands, mumbling into them. 

“Don’t be so embarrassed.” Shinso wrapped an arm around Izuku’s shoulders. “Your reactions were pretty cute.” 

“Ohmygodshutup.” Midoriya whined into his hands, cheeks still burning. “We.. we have an assignment to get done.”

“You’re right. Maybe we can use some of what we learned here in our analysis report?” Hitoshi smiled, still a hint of teasing, as he began to unbind his classmate’s wrists.

Izuku brightened, already overcoming his embarrassment by thinking about how the impacts of an outside stimulus can affect those affected by Shinso’s quirk. Could it be tested further? They stood, discussing ideas, before they continued on with their assignment.

[fandomnerd9602]

Cold Shoulder, Warm Heart

Killer Frost x Reader Headcanons

Request by @konstantin609

You’re a member of the infamous Task Force X or the Suicide Squad. Lover to one Caitlyn Snow or as she’s more commonly known Killer Frost.

Wrongly convicted for a crime you didn’t commit, you were sent to Blackgate Prison.

Waller had you transferred to Belle Reve and made you a member of her team.

Your skills include hacking, explosive work, sharpshooting and surprisingly being a good leader to the team.

Snow saved you from being eaten by King Shark on day one. She found you a nice change of pace.

You treated her kindly and as an equal rather than the cat calling or leering that she normally received.

You worked twelve missions together before snow kissed you. Didn’t take long for the two of you to start dating.

Waller lets you two live together in a little house she has on site. It’s better than living in a cell separated from one another.

Caitlyn loves hugging you from behind and zapping you playfully with little blasts of snow.

She loves it when you hold her in your arms while cuddling by the fireplace.

Killer Frost, the woman you can’t live without. Maybe some day you and her will be able to retire from the Suicide Squad.

[writingsofwesteros]

https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/757969352629862401/taking-it-all

Oh you just know as soon as Ulf arrives at Dragonstone and starts leering and flirting with his wife, Jace would go MAD.

Just pretending she’s been on Dragonstone for a while now, it’s no surprise to anyone when she falls pregnant. Jace was on her like a rabbit, never failing to cause the maids to giggle. Rhaenyra was pleased since her line would be secured further, even if the news may cause discontent and anger amongst the greens. Many of Aemond’s actions so far had been in anger for the snatching of his betrothed and he still held hope that he would be able to rescue her and return her to his side. Rhaenyra would try and hide the news to bide the blacks some time, but their plans would falter when some of the dragonseeds that had attempted to claim the dragons returned to kings landing. Aemond would be furious and it’s what incites him to ask Helaena to ride Dreamfyre, hoping to burn Dragonstone down for his betrothed.

Ulf would see Jace’s wife (is she technically a princess now?) walking down the halls clad in a blood red gown, seemingly seeking someone out. He’s never been with a high born lady before and seizes his chance, calling her into the dining room. He thinks he’ll get lucky :) The sweet girl looks at him and responds to him kindly, never giving in to his perversions, though she softly scolds him to take his feet off the table. He’s laying it on thick when Jace walks in. If Ulf was smarter, he’d know that the glares Hugh gives him mean to stop.He’s not that smart though, and Hugh can only step back as Jace begins to rip into Ulf.

“How dare you talk to my wife like that? You think because you have been given the privilege of riding a dragon, that you can take what is not yours?”

Ulf would just be confused - who is this guy? Only once the conversation continues does Ulf realise the grave mistake he has made. He had heard stories in Kings Landing of the Prince who stole his uncles bride, who rode off with her on dragonback, brutally slaying those who tried to prevent him leaving. Jace is boiling with rage at the sight of Ulf’s eyes landing on his wife once again and raises his sword.

“Take your perverted gaze away from her,” Jace says loudly, before he stalks forward. Ulf has his back into the table when Jace whispers lowly, “You truly believe she would sully herself by fucking you? You could be the last man in Westeros and she still wouldn’t touch you. She will be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and you-”, a quiet scoff escaping the Prince, “you may be a lowly knight allowed to escort our sons to their lessons.”

With that, Jace turns and walks back to his wife. Ulf rests against the table, expression gaping and heart beating rapidly. His eyes trail down to where Jace’s hand rests on the girl’s swelling belly, her gown having hid her pregnancy until she cupped the base of her stomach. She would have to be at least 5 moons along - exactly the amount of time she had resided on Dragonstone. The Prince begins to guide his wife out of the dining room, hands softly brushing across her back as she smiles widely at him and beginning to chatter to him. Ulf can only stare in shock as the Prince turns at the last moment to look over his shoulder, a smug smirk crossing his face.

(Jace would give her more jewellery every month that progresses, until each and every finger is covered in ruby and onyx rings. Nobody would ever mistake her for anything other than the future queen now)

we should all just marry Jace now thank you

Ulf is too funny, he really does not know when to stop running his mouth and Jace has no patience. Poor sweet Princess is too polite for her own good but is soon whisked away by her husband.

"Did you have to be so mean, my love.." She whispered when they were in the safety of their chambers. Jace was still annoyed as he placed his sword down.

"You are mine..he has to know that."

[devilishgaysayshey]

Peter Pan x Male!Demon!Reader

(Oneshot - REMAKE - NSFW WARNING)

≈6000 words

Peter Pan paylist for this fic:

-Here's to never growing up-

–Third pov

Y/N was an adventurous and rather young spirited demon. In search of self fulfillment, or happiness to keep it frank - he had traveled the fairytale forest, the realms of the giants, wonderland, modern world, and even storybrooke. Due to not being bound by the rules of human magic, he could simply portal himself anywhere he'd like.

Although he made many acquaintances and had many adventures he thought fond of, no place made him truly happy or satisfied. No matter what he did, deep down, he always felt a deep feeling of being lost. Having no true place to call home.

But after a year of adventuring, he had heard about a magical island called Neverland, that found itself in a whole new realm he hadn't seen before. Having heard words or rather, rants, from a certain chubby man with a red cap named mr. Smee..

The man spoke of a group named the Lost Boys, their fearsome leader Peter Pan, the magic there, a banished green fairy, and the some-wicked-some-kind mermaids.

It intrigued him so much he decided to travel there despite its nefarious reputation.

However once he got there he decided to use his magic while levitating around, just to see how this place’s energy worked for him.

That caught the leader Pan's attention. As Pan and his lost boys approached him with much disdain, Y/N tried to act as if he wasn't the powerful demon that he was.

Knowing what he knew about Pan is that he was quite full of himself and proud of his power. He figured that now revealing to Pan that he was equally if not outmatched by him would only cause Pan to feel threatened and scornful.

Pan’s lost lost boys tried to attack him, but it was no use, it was almost as if he was made out of invincible steel. That was however, Y/N using his powers, unbeknownst to them, not to Pan however who seemed to have already had an idea of what he was. Now knowing their attacks were of no use, Pan decided to simply capture and imprison the demon boy who did not seem to fight back at all.

Despite Y/N possessing the ability to wield incredible power, Y/N was most intrigued by Pan. So much so, that despite not liking current affairs, he'd bear with it for the time being. He'd figure that Pan would turn around with the means of his inevitable charm. He also found Pan quite good looking and as he was escorted into the woods of Neverland he was very amused and cracked various jokes and clever flirtations towards Pan. Which however, Pan did not seem to dislike. He'd even seemed more smug about it. But the lost boys were stunned by it, it was extremely unusual and odd for a prisoner of Pan act this way.

– Y/N’s pov

I was not exactly a happy demon when Peter Pan captured me on the island. I had trespassed the place according to him and had now found myself in one of his enchanted cages. At least, that was the reason he told me. However I was quite entertained by this debacle, not to mention that Peter wasn’t bad to look at, at all.

"Well this is a most unpleasant welcome." I scoffed jokingly.

Peter Pan leered at me through the bars of my cage. "Well, aren’t you the audacious one. I don't take kindly to invaders here on Neverland. However demon, I do hope you enjoy your stay in this cage for now."

I rolled my eyes. "Kind as you are, I don't think I'll be confined for long. Alas, there's always a way out of a trap." I replied with a mischievous and challenging glint in my eyes.

To which Pan chuckled darkly. "Oh, I wouldn't count on it so confidently if I were you. You'll find that things here in Neverland work quite differently than wherever you're from. No one here, leaves, without my permission.” Peter paused for a moment, staring me down menacingly. “But for now, goodbye demon.." Pan deviously purred as he vanished right after darkly telling his blonde accomplice to: 'hang me over there next to the other one.’

It didn’t take long before the tall blonde bastard grinned satisfied next to his fellow lost boys as my cage elevated high up in a high tree.

Well this certainly wasn't how I planned the beginning of my great adventure to another realm..

I deeply inhaled as I floated around in my cage brainstorming on how to escape the contrapped nightmare I was in.

Although I wasn't able to escape initially, due to Pan’s using blood magic; when I used my knowledge of magic to my advantage I found a loophole - I switched consciousness with a tragically ugly cat that was walking around and managed to get out of the cage as an animal.

– 3rd POV

When Peter Pan caught wind of this, he was furious. However, his anger turned to intrigue when he realized what Y/N could do with his abilities. He knew he had underestimated the lad on that fateful day they met.

Deciding that Y/N would be more useful as part of his Lost Boys rather than kept in a cage. And so, Pan made the decision to make Y/N one of them, that is of course, if he made it through the initiation. But something in Y/N's eyes told him that he would.

After retrieving Y/N back in his own body, he approached him. A wicked grin spread across his face. "I could use someone like you in my band of merry misfits." His hand extended towards the demon boy, fingers curled into a fist. "What do you say?”

This intrigued Y/N. A brand new adventure? He couldn’t say no to that. And by the looks of it he didn't think he had a choice either way, so he agreed to it. "Alright." He said bluntly.

“Splendid!" Peter's grin widened as he took Y/N’s hand in his. Power seemed to radiate from his touch, electrifying you with excitement and domination in equal measure. "Welcome." His voice was low, almost whispering.

A wave of heat ran over from where their hands connected. "Thanks," Y/N said, feeling somewhat overwhelmed.

Peter Pan released the demon boy’s hand, stepping back and looking at him with sparkling eyes. His presence was electric, charged with a wild energy. He seemed to radiate an aura of danger, but there was something compelling about him, a magnetism that draws the lost and the lonely. He eyes the smaller boy down, he looked enchantingly pretty, and he had a strong aura, although the boy didn't quite seem aware of it.

"Now that that's been settled. I'm Peter Pan. What is your name, boy?" He asked curiously.

Y/N blinked twice. He was pretty nervous due to his apparent attraction to Pan. His features were so gorgeously combined, it had really struck him. "..My name's Y/N" He replied rather aloof.

Peter Pan's grin grew wider, his eyes twinkling with amusement and interest. He stepped closer, their bodies almost touching again, the air around them crackling with anticipation. "Well, Y/N," he began softly, his voice a seductive whisper, "I trust you'll find adventure here with us, that is, if you complete our initiation tonight." All lost boys were accepted based on if they heard Pan's flute. Only the lost or unloved could hear it.

"Initiation? What should I imagine by that?" The boy asked confused and slightly off guard.

Peter Pan's eyes glinted with amusement. He loved seeing the confusion on Y/N's face. It was like watching a puppy try to understand a magic trick. “Oh, nothing too frightening,” he assured him, his voice dripping with wicked charm.

"Alright.." Y/N replied with a hint of wariness.

As Y/N mingled with the rest of the lost boys he had quickly acquainted some. The way he fit in with the other boys made it apparent he would most likely get through the initiation.

Besides, he easily charmed the other boys. Apart from being nervous around Pan, he was a daring kind of boy. A kind the other lost boys could quickly get along with, and felt comfortable being around.

After a day of exciting games, nightfall had fallen, and the party of his initiation had begun. Festive drums and flutes could be heard and the other boys danced wild & free. Y/N however was talking to two lost boys named Devin and Felix who tried to convince him to dance

Peter Pan watched as Y/N mingled with the other Lost Boys. Y/N was indeed a charming one, capable of capturing the hearts of others effortlessly. As the drums and flutes grew louder, so did the excitement. Pan decided it was time to make his presence known and play the melodic tune on his magical flute.

Y/N suddenly heard the new instrument mingling in with the drums and flutes. It was so trancing that he lost all that grounded him, he joined Felix and Devin in the circle of dancing lost boys. Y/N's dance fit in well with some of the more acrobatic boys. It was clear, he was a lost boy through and through.

“Ah, the beauty of youth and freedom." Pan whispered under his breath, watching Y/N dance. "He truly belongs here." Peter Pan couldn't help but watch Y/N, his gaze lingering on the boy's lithe form. He was captivated by his energy and enthusiasm, admiring how effortlessly he seemed to blend in with the other lost boys.

After a while, Pan decided it was time. He stopped playing his melodic tune. And that's when all the boys regained their consciousness. "Bravo, Y/N!" Peter Pan called out, drawing the boy's attention to himself. The others fell back, making room for their fearless leader. "You dance like the wind, i am impressed." Pan appeared before him, offering a graceful bow. "Welcome to the Lost Boys, my newest recruit.”

Y/N was stunned about what had just occurred. It all felt so unreal, yet he felt enormous joy, unlike he's ever felt. "Thanks Pan." Y/N said calmly with an ever so slight smile.

Now that the new recruit was officially initiated the drums and flutes started playing again as the boys around them cheered and grabbed the new lost boy to join them all for a final round of dance around the bonfire.

Pan grinned, his eyes twinkling in the flickering light of the bonfire. "Now, let's show our new friend what we do best!" He called out, leading the charge into another round of their frenzied dance. Pan grinned widely, watching Y/N blend seamlessly into the chaotic dance. He moved gracefully through the crowd, his laughter contagious as he danced circles around the bonfire.

After a long time of joyous dancing and partying, Pan's accomplice and now Y/N's new friend led him to his sleeping hut. "So.. Most of us sleep in huts like these, but some of us build treehouses to stay in. I can help you make one starting tomorrow if you want. But for tonight, you can join mine. Most new recruits sleep on the ground but I like you, so I don't mind having you over man." Felix said upbeat.

The next few days Y/N trained with the other lost boys. Being a demon it gave him an advantage to excel at those activities.

But alas, the flying demon proved to be a little too headstrong and rebellious for Peter's liking. Only playing pranks on Peter. Little did Pan know all that was because Y/N liked him and just loved his reactions. At first Pan put up with it, and simply pranked him back.

But after Y/N joked about Peter to one of his fellow lost boys, Pan had had enough and decided to teach him a real lesson.

Even if what Y/N did was technically harmless, Peter Pan still had a reputation to uphold as the fearsome leader of all the lost boys.

Taking Y/N into the center of the island, Pan humiliated him by hanging him upside down from a tree for everyone to see for a whole week.

Despite Y/N having been able to escape if he wanted to, he still wanted Pan to like him. And a part of him was entertained by it all, hence he gracefully sat out his punishment.

But while this punishment may have proved effective on anyone else, it had little effect on Y/N. He remained the fearless free spirit that he was. Plus this was only a win for him, he got a reaction out of Pan.

And so, Peter Pan began to punish Y/N's recently-made lost boy friends instead of him. Making him isolated from all the other boys since they did not want to be punished by Pan like Y/N's friends. Y/N however, didn't mind this and only caused more trouble now having no one to hold him back.

It was beginning to really hit Pan that all Y/N’s troublemaking was aimed at him. It was already clear to him that Y/N was attracted to him, so he finally put two and two together and realized where Y/Ns relentless teasing and troublemaking was coming from. It was textbook ‘I have a crush on you’ behavior from a guy. The cute boy was desperate for his attention.

And so, feeling his other efforts were futile, Pan came up with a new plan of action - rewarding Y/N for good behavior instead of punishing him. He began to show Y/N personal attention in the form of kissing and flattery, painfully aware of the latter's attraction towards him. And if Pan was honest, he enjoyed these interactions as much, if not a little more, as Y/N did.

And before long, Peter Pan started to want a little more than just kisses and alone time with Y/N. In an effort to also bring the boy into further submission, he planned to make the ever so willing demon have sex with him. And so he proceeded to approach him in his treehouse at night.

Peter Pan smirked, his eyes glinting with a mix of anticipation and control. He knew Y/N was down bad for him, and he intended to use that to his advantage.

Y/N, being the light sleeper that he was, opened his eyes, sensing a presence entering his tree house. He swiftly got up and got in stance, preparing himself for whomever it would be that dared to interrupt his precious sleep. Not knowing of course, that it was Pan.

Peter Pan chuckled darkly as he saw Y/N's reaction. "Well, well, look what we have here," he purred. "A spunky little lost boy who knows how to put up a good fight.”

Y/N abruptly untensed his stance and relaxed. "Oh. Pan, it's you. What could possibly bring you here this late? Is there something going on?" Y/N inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, nothing at all," Peter replied, his tone dripping with seduction. "I just thought we could spend some time together, you and I." He stepped closer, his eyes locked onto Y/N's. "Alone.”

Y/N's cheeks flushed. "Uh..What do you mean by that?" Already knowing the answer but wanting confirmation.

Peter Pan smirked wider, his intentions clear now. "I mean," Peter purred, his fingers trailing lightly down Y/N's chest, "I've been quite impressed with how well you've behaved lately. And I thought it was about time our relationship took more... intimate turn.”

"I..I see." His heart raced at Pan's lewd and sudden advances. Taking a step back from the taller guy out of nervousness.

Peter Pan's smirk turned predatory as he sensed Y/N's never seen before nervousness. "Oh, don't be shy now Y/N," he crooned, taking another step forward. His hands moved to Y/N's waist, pulling him closer. "I thought you liked me." Pan said, feigning a hurt and innocent expression. Just to get Y/N to say exactly what he wanted to hear.

"I do like you. It's just.. I'm not experienced at this. At all." Y/N admitted, unknowingly taking the bait.

Peter Pan chuckled softly, "Ah, sweet innocence," Peter cooed, his grin widening. "Well Y/N," Peter said, leaning in closer still. "I think it's time we fixed that, don't you?" His lips brushed against Y/N's in a soft, teasing kiss.

"Just relax," Peter whispered against Y/N's lips. "Let me show you how it's done." His hands slid up Y/N's sides, tracing patterns on his skin as he deepened the kiss. Peter Pan's hands moved up to cup Y/N's face, deepening the kiss. His tongue teased the outside of Y/N's lips, seeking entrance.

As Peter Pan's tongue delved into Y/N's mouth, his hands moved down to Y/N's chest, tracing patterns on his strong torso. He moved one hand to Y/N's stomach, drawing close so his fingers grazed Y/N's nether regions underneath the oversized shirt he would wear to bed. Granting both his hand, and later his business, easy access to him.

Y/N moaned into the kiss as Peter's tongue danced with his own, eagerly returning the other's affections. He felt a shiver run down his spine as Peter's hands teasingly brushed more against his crotch.

Feeling the response, Peter Pan deepened the kiss further, his hand gently massaging Y/N's arousal through the fabric. His other hand moved up to caress Y/N's neck, fingers entwining with the hair at the nape.

Y/N panted into the kiss, his body responding to Peter's touches eagerly. He could feel himself becoming more and more aroused under Peter's ministrations.

“Mmm," Peter hummed, kissing Y/N deeply as his fingers found the hem of Y/N's shirt. With a swift motion, Peter lifted the shirt over Y/N's head, revealing his naked torso.

"Aren't you cute" Peter purred satisfied as he eye-fucked Y/N's exposed body to which the smaller boy's body trembled in anticipation.

"That's it," Peter whispered against Y/N's lips before pulling back in, his hand sliding down to undo Y/N's underwear. "Let go, and let me take care of you." Peter whispered into the kiss. With that, he gently pushed Y/N back onto the bed, following him down and continuing to kiss him passionately.

Hmm, you feel so good," Peter murmured, his fingers working at the button of his own pants. As soon as it was undone, he pushed the pants down, exposing his hard cock. Gaining a small gasp from the smaller boy, smirking at the boy's impressed reaction. Only to then start grabbing Y/Ns crotch again and slowly rubbing and squeezing it.

Y/N moaned into the kiss, feeling Peter's cock against his leg. He arched into the touch, needing more as Peter's fingers teased his bare bits.

"You like that?" Peter whispered, smirking into the kiss. He groaned softly as he continued to tease Y/N's entrance with his fingers.

Y/N whimpered, nodding against Peter's lips. He wanted Peter to take him, to claim him fully. His legs spread slightly, offering himself up to the older boy.

Peter smirked into the kiss, feeling Y/N's legs spread. He could feel the younger boy's need for him. He growled softly before pushing his hips forward, feeling the head of his cock press against Y/N's entrance. He took a deep breath before pushing slowly into Y/N's heat. It was a tight fit but felt so good.

Y/N gasped at the stretching sensation as Peter pushed slowly into him. He arched his back, pushing back against Peter, wanting him deeper.

Peter Pan groaned, feeling Y/N's tightness gripping his cock. He continued to push slowly, inch by inch, claiming Y/N's virginity.

Y/N bit his lip, feeling every inch as Peter filled him. It hurt a little but the pleasure was overwhelming. He gripped Peter's shoulders, holding onto him as he took the older boy's cock fully.

Peter Pan growled, feeling Y/N's tight heat wrap around him. He held onto Y/N's hips, slowly beginning to thrust, feeling the head of his cock rub against Y/N's wall with each deep thrust.

"Fuck, Y/N," Peter panted, eyes almost completely closed. "You're so fucking tight." His movements became more frantic as he lost himself in the sensations of Y/N's body moving beneath him.

Y/N moaned, his body responding to Peter's thrusts. He arched his back, pushing against Peter's hips, wanting more of the older boy's cock. "Peter," he whimpered, feeling himself growing closer to his first orgasm.

"Cum for me, Y/N," Peter groaned, picking up the pace, his thrusts becoming rougher as he felt Y/N's tight heat squeezing him.

"Ahh!! Peter!" Y/N cried out, his body tensing as he came hard around Peter's cock. He arched his back, feeling every muscle in his body clench.

“Fuck," Peter groaned, feeling Y/N's tight heat clenching around him as he thrust into the demon boy. He could feel his own orgasm building, his thrusts becoming harder and faster as he lost himself in the feeling.

“Peter!" Y/N cried out, his voice breaking as he felt Peter's cum filling him up. He arched his back, pushing against the older boy's hips, wanting to feel every last drop.

With a final, deep thrust, Peter came inside Y/N, filling him with his seed. His body shuddered with the force of his orgasm as he held onto Y/N's hips, their skin slapping together in rhythm with their breathing.

Y/N gasped, his body trembling as he felt Peter's cum filling him up. to the brim. It was an intense sensation, both painful and exhilarating at the same time. He lay there panting, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

As their breathing slowed, Peter gently pulled out of Y/N, his softening cock slipping out of the tight heat. He leaned down, placing a tender kiss on Y/N's flushed cheek. "That was quite the experience, wasn't it?”

"Mhm.." Y/N agreed breathlessly. "I didn't know doing stuff like this would feel so good" He admitted bashfully

"Does that mean that you'll let me come back and play with you some more?" Peter asked with a wicked grin, his cock still hard and twitching slightly.

Y/N averted his gaze shyly. "I guess so.. "I want more." He admitted.

A triumphant smile spread across Peter's face. "Wonderful," he purred, leaning down to capture Y/N's lips in a passionate kiss. "I have a feeling we're going to have a lot of fun together.”

This arrangement of theirs ended proving to be an even more effective reward and slowly but surely, Peter began to crave even more from Y/N than he had initially foreseen.

During their adventures in Neverland, Y/N and Peter stumbled upon a plan for mischief.

"What if we replace Tinkerbell's fairy dust with something else?" Peter finished, grinning wickedly. They both shared a sinister laugh, their hearts pounding with excitement and anticipation.

"You know what I've got in mind, don't you?" Y/N said, licking his lips in anticipation. Peter just nodded in agreement as they exchanged a knowing glance before going about their mischievous plan.

As the sun began to set, casting an orange glow over Neverland, Y/N and Peter made their move. They crept silently through the forest, their hearts pounding with anticipation. Finally, they reached Tinkerbell's treehouse, their target within reach.

Carefully, they climbed up to the treehouse, avoiding any noise that might alert the fairy. Once inside, they found Tinkerbell's precious jar of fairy dust, shining brightly.

Are you ready for this?" Peter whispered, his breath hot against Y/N's ear. Without waiting for an answer, he reached out and scooped up some of the fairy dust, holding it tightly in his hand.

Y/N watched nervously as Peter began to replace the fairy dust with a substance they'd found earlier, carefully concealed in their clothing. The impostor dust was “practically harmless”, but it looked exactly like the real thing.

After ensuring that all of Tinkerbell's supply had been replaced, they climbed down from the treehouse, their hearts racing with excitement and anticipation. Now they just had to sit back and watch the chaos unfold.

As night fell, the inhabitants of Neverland who came to Tinkerbell for fairy dust began to feel the effects of the replaced substance. Instead of granting them flight or other magical abilities, it caused them to stumble, fall, and even become momentarily invisible.

“I knew I could count on you to help me with this, Y/N," Peter said, softly grabbing his face with one hand. "Now let's see how long it takes for everyone to realize it was us." They shared a wicked laugh, feeling untouchable in their mischief.

The very day after, they found themselves in the heart of Neverland, near the enchanted river where they often swam and played. As they splashed around, their laughter echoing through the forest.

Feeling more brave by the second, Y/N tentatively tried out a new position, straddling Peter's lap and leaning down to brush their lips together before trailing kisses along his chin and neck.

However, their play slowly turned to passion and they found themselves kissing and groping each other on the shore of the river. Their skin shimmered with water droplets.

Peter moaned in approval, his hands trailing up Y/N's wet back, gently gripping his hips as he pulled Y/N closer to grind against him. He growled softly, wanting more of Y/N's sweet, loving touch.

“Mmm, yes... harder," he whispered, urging Y/N to move rougher against him. The sensations were overwhelming.

Peter arched his back, gasping in ecstasy as Y/N continued to give him everything he wanted. It felt so good, being touched and wanted like this. The two of them moved closer, lost in a world of sensation and desire.

And when the evening came, they cuddled on the rooftop of Pan’s treehouse. Which Peter held under the pretense of ‘being a reward for Y/N's good behavior that day’. But the truth was, that he just wanted to spend time with Y/N. Which made him wonder if Y/N felt the same.

As they gazed at the stars on the roof of Pan's treehouse, Peter looked deeply into Y/N's eyes. "Y/N?" Peter whispered, his voice barely audible in the darkness. "Can I ask you something?”

"Do you... like being with me?" Peter asked, biting his lower lip nervously. He couldn't believe he was actually asking this question - it felt so vulnerable. But he needed to know where he stood with Y/N.

"I do. There isn't anywhere else I'd like to be than here at Neverland. And it's all because of you." Y/N replied earnestly. A bit nervous of Pan's impending reaction to this however.

"Really?" Peter asked, his heart swelling with joy at Y/N's words. He leaned in, pressing his lips softly against Y/N's. "I'm glad," he whispered, feeling a rush of happiness and contentment wash over him.

It became clear to Peter that the feelings he had for Y/N were far more than just him being a useful and powerful asset amongst the Lost Boys or just being nice to look at. No, it had developed to something more in depth.

So, late, on an ever so clear and warm night, Pan decided to seek Y/N out. Not being able to hold these feelings he had to himself for any longer.

Y/N was sitting at the beach with his two latest befriended fellow lost boys, Devin and Felix. They had a bottle of rum with them and laughed as they talked about the most nonsensical things. And while the two other boys were completely hammered, Y/N of course, was still sober due to his high tolerance. It didn't take long before the two guys fell asleep right next to the bonfire. Which left Y/N on his own. Which Pan deemed as the perfect opportunity to have a heart to heart with Y/N.

"Good evening Y/N, mind if I join you?" He asked rhetorically. Sliding up next to Y/N, Peter gazed out into the ocean for a moment before turning back to face him. "I wanted to talk to you about something... important," he said quietly, his heart racing as he stared into Y/N's eyes.

The demon looked at Pan curiously. "Oh, what would that be?" He asked hesitantly due to Pan's unusual serious and earnest tone.

"I... I think I might have feelings for you," Peter said softly, his face flushed with embarrassment. He couldn't believe he was admitting this, but the truth was too strong to ignore. "I've always found you attractive...But recently, I've fancied you as both a company and individual too.”

"Really? I'm highly flattered." Y/N paused for a moment. Trying to find the right words for his mutual fondness. "I must admit, I've been fancying you as well. Your presence both on this island as well as with me personally makes me very happy. And frankly, I definitely find myself with feelings for you too.”

Hearing Y/N's confession, Peter's heart soared. A mixture of happiness and surprise flooded his features. "Really?" He asked, then raising an eyebrow with a smug grin. "So it's mutual then." Peter Pan declared, a small smile maintaining on his face. Despite trying to put out his usual smug demeanor, he couldn't believe his luck. He reached out, gently tracing his fingers along Y/N's jawline. "I'm glad it is.”

After that heartfelt conversation. Pan gradually started to become even more possessive and tender towards Y/N, as his feelings slowly began to transform into something far more serious and romantical.

Another time, they found themselves in the lost boy lair, dancing around a bonfire with the company of Y/N's fellow Lost Boys as per usual. As they spun and laughed together to drums and Pan's hypnotizing melody on his flute. Peter couldn't help but be reminded again of how well Y/N fit into his world.

Amidst the playful chaos, Peter managed to steal a moment alone with Y/N. He grinned, his eyes sparkling mischievously in the flickering firelight. "You know," he began, his voice low and teasing,

"There's still one more thing I want to show you." With a wink, he reached over, snatching Y/N's hand.

“Come on, let's see if you can keep up." And with that, Peter led Y/N on a daring chase through the trees, laughing and screaming as they raced from branch to branch. Y/N followed willingly, trusting Peter completely.

Finally they came to a stop, standing on a high branch overlooking the sleeping Lost Boys in their hammocks. Peter turned to Y/N, placing both his hands on Y/N's cheeks tenderly, looking deeply into his eyes. "Do you trust me?”

Before Y/N could respond, Peter leaned in, pressing their lips together passionately. Their kiss was filled with desire and longing, a testament to the bond they'd formed in this magical world.

As the kiss deepened, Y/N found himself lost in the passionate embrace. It seemed as if the entire world had disappeared, leaving only the two of them in a cocoon of desire.

When they finally pulled apart, both boys were breathless. Y/N looked into Peter's eyes, feeling an intense connection he'd never experienced before. "I trust you," he whispered softly, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

"Good," Peter replied, his voice husky with both desire and affection. He leaned in close again, nuzzling Y/N's neck. It warmed his heart that the demon he so fondly liked, trusted him. And for as much as he was capable of it anyway, he trusted the demon boy too.

After that, they were seen walking back to their home base, hands entwined, still catching their breath from their passionate encounter. As they strolled, they couldn't help but smile at each other, their connection growing stronger by the minute.

Things started to progress a lot more from there. They spend a lot of time together and one thing became clear to Peter, he wanted Y/N here forever.

Months went by, and Pan's feelings had only grown deeper for Y/N by the day. He couldn't help but want to be near him and follow him around as much as his villainous duties allowed him too. He loved how Y/N flattered him, looked at him, touched him and didn't feel intimidated by him, and in a weird way, they complimented each other. Y/N was a very fearless and stoic guy who was much like him when it came to being mischievous, yet he also had a gentle, caring and reliable side. And those very traits slowly developed in Pan towards Y/N as well.

So, on a warm and lovely evening he had requested for Y/N in his treehouse through the means of his loyal accomplice Felix. Y/N, of course being the eager man that he was towards Pan, came straight away.

He was delighted at the quick presence of his beloved demon. "Y/N, you came straight away. I'm flattered." Pan replied flirty. He couldn't help it, Y/N just brought that out in him.

Y/N smiled with a glint in his eyes. "How could I not? Look what i have here waiting for me" He bashfully looked into Pan's eyes then down to his lips and repeated that.

Pan smirked at Y/N's eagerness to him. "Oh, you certainly do have me, Y/N," Pan purred, taking Y/N's face in his hands and pulling him closer for a deep, passionate kiss.

Their tongues danced together, exploring each other's mouths in a tender yet intense display of affection. Y/N's face burned brightly as he returned Pan's kisses. All the while affectionately holding his face.

As the kiss deepened, Peter Pan's hands roamed over Y/N's body, his touch possessive yet tender. He loved the feel of Y/N's skin against his own, the warmth that emanated from him. Pan then gently pulled back as his feelings for the latter overwhelmed him.

He knew it for sure. He loved Y/N. He looked intently into his eyes, those strikingly enchanting e/c eyes.

"Y/N, I love you." There, he finally did it, he declared his love to Y/N.

To Pan's displeasure Y/N wore a stunned expression. He was silent for a good 6 seconds.

Pan looked at him with pleading eyes. He hasn't been this vulnerable in a very long time, and he couldn't have been more terrified of Y/N's response.

"I... I just.. need to- think." Y/N staggered as he flew out the door.

Pan didn't even stop him. Y/N's response had stung him too much.

Effective immediately, severe precipitation befell Neverland. Pan's emotions heavily influenced the island - the weather being one of those things.

All soaked from the weather, Y/N had sought shelter in his hut.

He felt conflicted. Pan's sudden confession really caught him off guard. He knew he had feelings for Pan. But saying those 3 words of the heart scared him.

He had never dared to think Pan loved him, he always seemed so “above it” to him, but mostly he was just scared of rejection. Hence he had only tried to repress his love for him. Expressing it, never even occurred to him.

All kinds of thoughts stormed through his mind. Their relationship started off rocky, but Y/N couldn't deny things had developed a long way since then.

But even in this moment he couldn't help but worry for Pan right now. He didn't exactly give the 'response of the year' to his 'i love you'.

Y/N then realized that he was caring for Pan by feeling this way. Like he always did in the back of his mind. Not to mention Pan pretty much occupied his mind all together all of his days.

The way he craved his presence when he wasn't around. He told himself it was fine whenever it happened. But it wasn't. He needed him.

He always missed him when he was not around. He looked forward to seeing Pan after they would have to separate. And deeply treasuring every single moment they spent together.

Not to mention how he felt when Pan praised him, hugged him, kissed him or more.

He had been crazy for him all this time.

Y/N abruptly got up from his bed and took off to find the guy he loved.

When he arrived at Pan's hut the place was very much abandoned. Where could Pan be?

Y/N then remembered about Pan's beloved thinking tree. If he would be any place right now it would be there. Through the vicious rain he flew through the sky towards Pan's thinking tree.

– Pan's pov

There I sat, alone and drenched like a sodding dog in my thinking tree.

What was I thinking? Proclaiming my love so rashly? I've really let myself become weak. And for what? To make a fool out of myself? To have an aching heart? Maybe I was foolish to think Y/N and I could be more than what we were. Perhaps villains don't get to be loved after all..

I took a deep breath before planning to head back to my hut; when suddenly Y/N appeared before my eyes.

– Y/N's pov

After flying quick circles around the entire tree I found Pan sitting on a branch somewhere high near the very top of the tree.

I approached him and sat down on the branch before him. "Hey."

Pan leaned towards me on a branch just above my shoulder. "Let me guess, you've thought and you're here to tell me you don't love me. Spare me your pity Y/N. I was foolish, I know." Pan scoffed.

I shook my head. "No you weren't. I'm sorry for how I reacted. It's just.. It can be hard for me to translate my feelings to words or any sense. But.. that doesn't make them any less present."

Pan looks to where his hand is holding the tree branch above Y/N's shoulder then back to his eyes, "What are you saying Y/N?" He asked hesitantly. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was it possible? Was he saying what Pan thought he was saying?

“What I'm trying to say is, I love you Pan. More than anything." I confessed.

Pan's expression changed and his heart leaped into his throat before he spoke. This couldn't be happening. He looked up to Y/N with a mixture of shock and disbelief, "You... you truly love me?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper and his heavy feelings beginning to slightly wash away, causing the rain to also slightly clear up.

I decided my words weren't enough. So I took matters into my own hand and pulled Pan in for a deep kiss.

– 3rd POV

Pan hesitated for a moment as Y/N pulled back, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He gazed up at Y/N's eyes then down to his lips and harshly pulled him back in for a new kiss, returning it with an intensity that mirrored Y/N's feelings. Their lips locked passionately, their hands finding solace in each other's presence.

-- Y/N's perspective

There we were, both soaked and making out in Pan's thinking tree, now knowing we loved each other. And all that we knew that awaited, was certain adventure.

-The End-

(perhaps..)

[hotwings0203]

“Daddy?”

You moan and weakly toss your head to your left as you hear the cellar door open

Tw: noncon, blood, kidnapping, abuse, whipping, the usual shindig

His chuckle reverberates throughout the dark room, and you can’t help but flinch at every footstep coming down the rickety steps. Your head is pounding, your heart seems to be caught in your throat and the dingy light in the cellar keeps swaying amidst the draft.

His figure descending towards you makes you nauseous, but you're not dumb enough to fall for his good-natured demeanor as he descends and approaches towards you.

Full eye-contact, a smile as best as you can manage it, and body turned toward him.

As if the chains wrapping around your body like some fucked-up gift wrapping allowed you any mobility anyways .

"Hi there, princess," he coos at you before squatting in front of your weak and bound form, lifting your chin up at him gently with his thumb and forefinger.

You hum quietly and try to swallow the cotton that seems to invade your mouth at the dark humor in his eyes.

"You miss me?"

Nodding as vigorously as you can, you scrunch your eyebrows together and pout your lips the way you know hope melts him. The healing cuts across your forehead and cheeks sting as the scabs are pulled taut with the way you're manipulating your facial expression, but if that's the price to pay to satiate put off his sick desires, then so be it.

"I-"

You cough and desperately try to wet your lips with your tongue to get rid of the raspy warble, and instead attempt to don a soft, higher pitched voice.

He doesn't like it when you give him the impression he's neglectful.

"I m-missed you daddy. Wanted to have your arms around me and feel you, and, and.."

You trail off hopelessly as you scramble for what else he'd want to hear, but in the time your hesitation settles uneasily in the air, his hand has already reached around behind his back to produce a strange black silk bandana.

"Yeah?" He simpers at your panicked expression seeing the new toy. "Guess you can't have missed me that much if you stopped screaming for me."

Your face falls.

That sick fuck

He slaps your face, hard, and violently rips your thighs apart. You yelp and flinch as he cups underneath your knees and brings them up next to your head.

Your legs shake at the strain of being folded in half after being immobile for so long, and you feel the threat of a severe cramp creeping in your calves. He merely grips your legs tighter and shoves you harder against the wall, practically slamming his hips against your own at the easy access.

He grinds slow and deliberate, almost painfully as your lower half buzzes from the attention. You sob as you strain your head to the side to avoid his leering grin right in your face, hair falling over your eyes as a temporary shield to his sadism.

"Aww, look at you. You that shy? I thought I fucked it out of you the first couple times, but I guess the lack of attention really did wonders for you."

"Daddy, please," What you're begging for, you have no idea, but you know your silence will enrage him further.

As he's done so kindly to remind you about.

His raspy growls continue right in your ear, words hot and fierce as you wince in terror. "What, I leave you down here for two days and you only need me for bathroom breaks? For food? What if I just cut that all off, huh? Would you need me then, you ungrateful fucking brat?"

He seethes and suddenly gnaws your ear.

"No! Nonononono daddy, m-my throat hurt after calling out the first couple of hours, I promise!" You wail as he continues to painfully rut and grind against your sore mound.

"Nah, don't start begging now. Your punishment hasn't even started. This is just warming you up, my pretty girl," he breathes into your open and wet tear-stained mouth as he deftly undoes your wrist shackles. His mouth never leaves yours as he lifts you up tightly against him and carries you to the other side of the red room.

The second he places your unsteady feet on the floor he grabs the ropes swinging lightly overhead and immediately starts tying your chaffed wrists again. Even though you're standing now, you feel as though your position bound now in the middle of the room is even more vulnerable that when you were sitting against the wall.

"I'm sorryyyy," your sobs wrack your body as he lets go of your now-bound wrists. Your balance is lost as you let go of your weight and let the ropes hold you up. And yet, you're still not even sure what you did to piss him off.

"Yeah, just like that, keep screaming for me pretty girl," he mutters under his breath as he stalks around the room looking for something.

"I thought the waterboarding and knives were enough to get it through your thick head, but I'll spell it out for you...on your body"

His rummaging around the room stops as he positions himself behind you, much to your terror. At least when he's in front of you you can protect whatever part of your body he's targeting.

All you hear is the pathetic sound of your own sniffles and his heavy breathing.

You make one last attempt before submitting to your own fate.

"Daddy...I thought you couldn't hear me. That's why I stopped calling for you. I-if I had known you could hear me I wouldn't have stopped!" The rest comes out in a rush as if he'll silence your excuses, and your dry throat feels as though it's ripping in half.

There's a very pregnant pause before you hear a shuffling behind you, and he starts to peel your flimsy, dirty nightie off of you.

Your lip wobbles as the silence continues, and he begins to shove his hands up your body, first trailing up and over your hips, past up your sides, and then cupping your bruised tits. You hiss slightly as his thumbs press into your sore nipples as his palms massage the globes in circles.

His breathing picks up again as you do nothing but whimper at his violations, his hips having a mind of their own and rubbing up against your bare backside. You have no idea when he took his pants off, but you definitely feel his unsheathed member dragging hot and heavy over your asscheeks, teasingly releasing precum over the skin.

"Oh, I'm not mad at you baby. I'm gonna let you continue your silence. In fact-"

His rutting and ministrations stop as he seems to have worked himself up to a climax, and you gasp lightly as you feel a cool silk fall over your eyes. You feel him secure it snugly behind your head, and moments later you hear the sound of duct tape being ripped from its coil. Sure enough, your mouth is covered, and you're rendered mute, immobile, and blind within a matter of minutes.

He voices your terror. "Like a lamb waiting for slaughter," he croons as he places his palms flat against the hollow planes against your torso your breasts, pressing you closer into his uncovered erection and chest. It seems as though he can never get close enough to you, even within his grasp.

"Spread your legs." And now his voice is monotone, devoid of the lilt mere seconds earlier.

You're too terrified to do anything but obey, hoping if you react well enough this punishment will also end in minutes tops.

You smell rather than hear the leather first, with its pungent factory scent drifting up to your blood-caked nose, making your nostrils wrinkle in disgust.

And then, you feel it.

He places the bottom of the handle of the whip firmly against your poor widdle clit, and starts grinding in circles, imitating the way he was earlier when you were in his arms.

You squeal against the moist tape and thrash, your wrists aching something fierce as the ropes holding all your weight above prove to be unyielding, merciless.

He laughs cruelly at your distressed state, and continues to rub your bud faster. He rambles on like a madman, and you feel like your ears will bleed with the filth he spews.

"Yeah, yeah, you like that? You want it that badly, slut? I'll make sure you never stop begging me, begging me to love you, to hold you, to fuck you like you need me right now," all the while he rubs his member over your asscrack and cover you threateningly.

His other hand yanks your hair to the side, and he lowers his grinning mouth to the unblemished nape of your neck, fighting for balance against your skin as you try your utter best to thwart his evading teeth.

He bites and sucks at your skin like you're nothing more than a chew-toy, all the while moaning lewdly and growling like a fucking dog.

All the sensations inflicted on your poor, abused body cause your hips to rock in their own rhythm against the handle of the whip, which hasn't stopped its incessant stimulation.

There's a tense moment of re-adjustment as he shifts the handle to his other wrist to prevent his own hand cramps, and he stops his rutting as well as his assault on your neck.

While he straightens up to continue the torture, you however, have not stopped bucking your hips amidst the handle stilling on your clit.

You let out a wail of frustration- at him, and being violated like this, and needing to cum because of it.

When he realizes your hips are actively still bucking and chasing the revoked high, he barks out an incredulous laugh.

"Seriously? And here I thought this was punishment. You sick little freak, you're not supposed to be enjoying this."

And sure enough, you feel the handle shift from stilling against your clit to pushing inside your quivering hole. You moan loudly at the feeling of the lightly ribbed tool rubbing agianst your puckering walls, albeit a bit painfully.

You can hear him exhale in awe as he angles the handle at a place that makes you jump and lift your hips as best as you can just to lower them against the shaft. he keeps it there, letting your buck your hips and work for it yourself, teasing you by bringing it lower and finding yourself unable to drop any further due to the short leash above your head.

But hes a kind master, and soon begins fucking it up into you himself after the sight of your drooling, empty pussy isn't enough to simply satiate himself by molesting your tits.

The squelching sounds of your wet cavern and your girlish moans, along with the sight of your ass shaking from his spanks are too much for him, and he yanks the handle out of you yet again right at the cusp of your climax.

"Not yet baby," he rasps, wiping literal drool off his mouth. "Daddy's gotta feel you cum around his big, fat cock," and with that whisper, he plunges three fingers back inside you. He shudders at your needy howl, and begins dillgently pumping inside of you.

With you distracted on creaming his digits, he grips the slippery handle of the whip and cracks it against your ass.

You whine and thrash again, your orgasm yet again ripped from you, but he merely pumps his fingers faster.

"Louder," He growls.

He lets it crack on the other cheek, marveling at how tight you squeeze around his fingers while the skin blooms a beautiful blood-red.

You scream this time, sure you can taste blood from your parched throat. It's exhausting your body at this point, the pleasure and pain mixing into one while he has his way with your battered skin.

He lets the leather taste your skin once, twice, curving it around your sides to let it lick your tits, making them jump deliciously and creating small rivulets of blood in its wake, behind your knees to make you buckle and fall painfully further on his pruning fingers, on your back to make you writhe.

And finally, when you do cum at his thumb finally, mercifully swiping across your long-forgotten bud, he makes sure he positions himself in front of you to hear you, loud and clear, like you were supposed to the first time.

[sroop]

ineta (ii)

When Duncan does sleep, he dreams of green and something gold looking.

Pairing: Duncan Idaho x OC

Warnings: violence, light blood/gore

Summary: ineta is backed into a corner, and finds that duncan may hold the key to their survival.

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Ineta shrieks and collides against the jagged stone walls of the dungeon.

Why it was necessary to remind all that they were in an Harkonnen dungeon escaped her, as though it were possible to forget. Still, the ram hung over a bloody orange field leered at her. Red eyes and claws. She had thought it a real beast, pouncing on her for its latest victim. She lays a hand over her pounding heart. 

"Miss Ineta?"

Ineta curses her feeble nerves, and draws herself up to a more dignified pose on her own two feet to greet the guard. He's a tall, clean-shaven man only a few years older than her at most. Soft eyes, and a mouth twisted upwards in a curious smile. She eyes the crest on his breastplate warily.

"What are you doing here?" he asks kindly.

Ineta nods towards the cells.

"The Baron orders me to see to the newest prisoner. I am to ensure his survival for questioning," she says levelly. Ineta doesn't wait for him to respond to move past him. There's authority in her words for servants, but soldiers were hard to predict, being more under the command of the Baron and his nephew. It was best to move fast.

"Wait."

Ineta stops and feigns an impatient scowl.

The soldier looks at her with something akin to understanding in his face. She's reminded of the same expression she wears when letting off a slacking maid or clumsy server. "You'd best return quickly then, Miss Ineta. Before the Baron grows impatient." 

He gives a small smile and turns to face the other way. Ineta smiles back.

"Thank you, soldier."

{}{}{}{}

Duncan Idaho is clinging to the precipice of life. At least he still had all his fingers, he thinks. He inhales harshly at a more piercing pain at his cheek, jerking his head away. The pain is soothed by a soft hand. He's been a fighter for long enough to recognize the the pain as a needle and thread, and the soft hand as a nurse.

In the darkness, he can't quite see who's there, though he's uncertain the swelling over his eyes would have allowed him to see at all. He cracks his lips open from the seal of dried blood.

"Thank you."

"You need to save your breath," comes the firm reply. He recognizes the voice immediately as the girl who'd been at his most recent beating. Duncan tries to remember her features, but recalls only the green color of her skirt and something gold looking.

"You saved my life," he says suddenly. It sounds clumsy coming from a spurt of belabored breathing, no doubt tinged with the dank, prison air. But he feels the need to thank her almost oppressively. Briefly, he realizes this is because he is unsure he will ever get the chance to ever again, and stops himself from envisioning a painful death.

No, he must not lose hope. His hands clench in on themselves, only to be unfurled by her.

"Eat it, if you can," she murmurs. Its grainy texture implies bread, but his stomach flips stubbornly. Despite its protests, he brings it to his mouth and gnaws with determination. It hurts to move, to breath, to swallow, but he'd do it if it meant he'd survive to see the red hawk of House Atreides fly again. He just needed a few days. They couldn't be too far off from their next incursion into fortress territory.

He feels her return to work, cleaning and sewing open wounds quietly and quickly, experienced with pain.

"What's your name?" he asks. There's a beat before she answers, like she's considering if he's worth the trouble of replying. Or if he'd survive long enough for it to matter.

"Ineta," she finally says. "Miss Ineta to you."

Duncan chuckles, immediately regretting the burst of pain in his lungs he feels. He clutches his chest and rolls his head over on the stone slab of a cot they'd given him. The cell, from what little he'd seen, was nothing but a simple square, enclosed on all sides save for the barred entrance. What mattered more to him was the corridor leading into it.

One way in, one way out, from what he'd seen. It was nothing but a single, unending row of rotting prisoners.

"I'm glad you can still laugh," she says quietly. Duncan doesn't really hear. He imagines Atreides forces marching through, saving them.

"Duncan?" Ineta calls gently, shaking his shoulder. He must have worried her, going quiet like that. She touches his forehead and sighs at the temperature. "You'll be alright, if you don't get any worse. I'll try to come back whenever I can."

Try. Duncan grasps her wrist. She shouldn't try, not when he wouldn't need it. In fact, she shouldn't be anywhere near him after tonight. He rasps, but the words are sticky with blood and catch in his throat. Instead, he drags her close to him, ignoring the pain of her palm pressed against his chest in resistance.

"Get as far away as possible. You should run," he says. This is foolish, he knows, it is entirely possible that she, the cupbearer for the Harkonnens, would run to warn them. But Duncan has always trusted his heart. He tells her anyway. "Run far, far away. They may not spare you."

He can't see, but he hears her gasp and stumble away. It's comforting to him. At least one person would live either way, the girl who'd shown him mercy in the face of his captors. Captors he knew were cruel masters from his time as a slave here, though he wondered what her true place was with them. Servant? Favorite? Mistress?

Duncan sighs and brings the bread to his lips again.

Moments later, he hears a body crumpling to the floor somewhere. Duncan exhales sharply, filled with cold dread. He felt hot in his head, and cold everywhere else. Useless and weak. He clings to the thought of Ineta and the hope that she will survive, that if she may be brave then he'd do the same.

When Duncan does sleep, he dreams of green and something gold looking.

{}{}{}{}

This time, Ineta manages not to scream. The horror is nowhere less, nor the odor of blood. Distantly, she thinks that it's odd. That that poor, kind soldier, dead on the floor, was not bleeding. And yet, it seemed the world stank of bloodshed.

She cannot tear her eyes from his, even when the Baron chortles.

"Poor boy, that one," he says in a sickly soft tone. "Lied for you, dear Ineta. Died for you, too."

The Baron huffs impatiently. "What is it about you? That my useless son should sire a useless girl, out of some servant on a hellhole of a planet. But that you are the one that they listen to." He looks at her intently, as though to discern meaning from her face. "Why do you inspire devotion?"

Ineta feels that she has nothing in her throat but reeds, snapping in harsh wind and making some eerie screeching of its own volition. She clutches her mouth to try to stop the sounds, but nothing does. She cries and cries, shaking her head.

"I admit, even in myself, I thought you were the best of us however lowly your birth. But this can be forgiven."

"No. No, no, no," she whispers. She could control herself. She really should, but what's the point now? The Baron knows that she was here against implied orders. It was less than what she'd seen him torture and kill for. No doubt, she shared the same, if not a worse, fate as that guard. Maybe the Baron would snap her neck too and be quick with it.

"Look at me," the Baron snaps.

He'd never seemed a more grotesque man than now to Ineta. He towered over her, perhaps triple her mass, with blood on his hands he seemed to relish in. Maybe it was the wine they drank, so dark and pungent it was that it might cause insatiable blood-thirst. It was her fault. She should not have come on some wild dream that she would do good, or that they might be able to escape. Now a man was dead, and she'd follow him.

"This is a predicament. But it seems you've made yourself pleasant to Duncan Idaho, I'd presume? My nephew is... not bright. But perhaps he was right? That Idaho is some lover of yours?" The Baron leaned over Ineta. "I might be motivated to forget this whole ordeal-" he says, gesturing to the body, "-if you were to produce viable information."

Ineta forces her hands from her face.

"Of course, my Lord." The compliance comes easily, after a lifetime of swallowing hard commands. This time though, her voice tremors. Deceit, she thinks, does not suit me.

"Good, it's settled then, dear girl. Leave, and not a word to Rabban or he will kill you both himself."

As Ineta flees, nearly running through the prison corridor where the Baron stood over his victim. She passes the banner of the red-eyed ram over its orange field. It had somehow become flat to her, and she does not pause to glance at it a second time.

Its power is lost. The real beasts, she realizes, are the Harkonnens. It would not matter if she gave in and extracted information, however vital, from Duncan. She was dead anyway, for the simple reason that she betrayed them. There was very little time to act, but she needed to see Duncan again as soon as possible.

Their lives depended on it.

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thanks for reading!

[ghoul-slime]

80 with some mountain/swiss? if you'd so kindly write it :)

Mountain/Swiss with a little bit of mean Swiss and some boot kink (as a treat). Also still taking prompts!

Swiss knows what he looks like up on that stage. How his uniform pants hug his hips in just the right way, how the vest cinched tight around his waist accentuates his broad shoulders and chest. The way he grinds into his mic stand, strokes his rain shaker like it's an extension of himself.

Swiss loves putting on a show, and tonight, Mountain feels like the show is just for him. Swiss has been watching him all night long, eyes shining and brilliant white fangs on display. Every thrust of his hips and flick of his tongue were aimed directly at Mountain’s kit, and Swiss made sure he knew it. Every time Mountain glanced at Swiss’ platform he’d been staring back at him, shooting him that signature too-wide grin normally reserved for the crowd.

Mountain sweats through his uniform faster than usual that night.

At bows he feels Swiss press up against him and take his hand. And he doesn’t let go as they walk off stage, dragging him past the techs and through the venue to the dressing rooms. Mountain is still sweating as Swiss pushes and pulls him, bullies him onto the dressing room couch with his long legs spread. Distantly, Mountain notices that his own boot laces are still untied.

“You’ve been watching me all night, big guy” Swiss laughs, “Pretty sure you’ve been drooling.”

Mountain sputters, wanting to point out that Swiss had been leering at him all night, but the thought is snuffed out when Swiss leans in to kiss him, shoving his tongue into his mouth, wet and hot and licking in deep. He tastes like cannabis and grease makeup.

Mountain is hard in his pants immediately.

Swiss breaks the kiss, straightening back up and grinning down at Mountain again. Hungry. 

He’s still grinning when he lifts one foot to press between Mountain’s legs, digging directly into his crotch with the toe of his boot. Mountain moans ragged and deep as Swiss increases the pressure, bending his knee and leaning in as he presses the thick rubber sole of his boot onto Mountain’s straining cock.

“What? Does that feel good?” Swiss teases, feigning surprise as Mountain whimpers an affirmative, hands scrabbling at the fabric of the couch as Swiss eases the pressure.

Mountain clenches his eyes and nods frantically when Swiss presses in again. This time he twists his foot, dragging the toe of his boot down Mountain’s cock before pressing in one more time with his heel. Mountain can feel the entire sole of his boot pressing against the length of his twitching cock, and he opens his eyes to see a dark, wet patch blooming at the tip, soaking through the fabric.

“Think you can cum like this?” Swiss asks, sounding genuinely surprised. Mountain nods again.

He’s expecting Swiss to take pity on him, press back in with his boot and finish him off right there in his pants, making a mess of his uniform and the dressing room couch. Instead Swiss pulls away completely, leaving Mountain shaking, looking up at him through damp lashes. 

He’s ready to start begging when Swiss hauls himself into Mountain’s lap. Suddenly it’s a blur, Swiss grinding into his lap, dragging his own clothed erection up and down Mountain’s leaking cock as he humps relentlessly against him. The couch creaks with their weight as Swiss attaches his mouth to Mountain’s neck, eagerly nipping and sucking with filthy, wet sounds. Swiss snakes a hand into Mountain’s hair, licking across his Adam’s apple, mouthing thick and slick into his ear, dragging the sharp points of his fangs up the length of his pulsing jugular as he twists and grinds. Treating Mountain’s lap like a mirror image of his mic stand on stage.

Mountain feels the heat coil in his gut, balls drawing up tight and ready to bust when Swiss backs off. He cries out at his ruined orgasm and Swiss only grins down at him, black grease paint nearly completely smudged off, remnants of it staining his fangs. Mountain knows his neck must be a fucking wreck, streaked with black and peppered with bruises, shiny wet with Swiss’ spit.

“Too bad,” Swiss laughs, and pats Mountan’s cheek with the palm of one big hand. He stands, adjusting his own straining cock in his pants and turns to leave with a sway of his hips. 

Mountain can only stare, chest heaving and erection flagging as Swiss makes for the door of the dressing room.

Before he leaves, he looks at Mountain over his shoulder, sporting another wicked grin. 

“Rooming with Aether tonight, think maybe you should ask to swap hotel keys with him.” 

Swiss blows him a kiss and as the door closes, Mountain can hear Swiss laughing to himself all the way down the hallway.

[atropalugosi]

Made a sequel to this post for y'all 😌 was gunna actually write smut but backed out at the last second whoops. Hope y'all enjoy a tiny bit of spice with our lovely Donna 🖤

"Take a break," Donna commands rather than asks. Valeria complies easily, arching back in her seat and humming contently when her poor spine pops and cracks. After the... complete fucking fiasco beforehand, the two florists got right to work on dollmaking. Donna seemed very in her element here in the workshop, and over their last break she had confided in Valeria about her family business. It broke the younger woman's heart to hear about the tragedies of the Beneviento family, but she was happy to be there to comfort Donna.

And she had to admit, she was having a good time learning a new skill with Donna's help. She was a good teacher, giving concise instructions and genuinely helpful advice whenever Valeria appeared stuck or unsure. It made the redhead feel very good about her first attempt at working with porcelain. Her doll was absolutely novice, not nearly as detailed as she imagined Donna would be able to make, but for a first go at something new she was proud of herself.

"I suppose I could use a rest," Valeria sighs. Making a pillow with her arms she lays her head upon the crafting table, watching the older woman inspect her work intensely. She checks over the joints and looks for any blemishes that may lead to breaks down the road, but finding none, she gives a content little 'hm!' and sets it down gently.

"You're a quick learner," she offers kindly, making Valeria preen. The girl might be embarrassed at how easily she took to praise if she weren't in such a good mood.

"Thanks Donna, but honestly, I think you're just a really good instructor."

"Don't cut yourself short," Donna tuts. She looks deadly serious, gaze locked with her mentee, making the young woman swallow harshly. "I mean it, you have a real talent for the arts. An eye for beauty, I suppose."

"You're beautiful," Valeria responds breathlessly. The brunette furrows her brows, looking away stiffly and Valeria quickly sits up, worried she overstepped. "I-I'm sorry, I just, you were saying such nice things and you look so pretty and serene in your element and-"

"If you keep this up, I'll never be able to let you go," the dollmaker husks, bringing colour to Valeria's cheeks.

"What if... I don't want you to either?" She asks tentatively, leaning closer to her mentor. Donna looks back at her like she'd said something most outrageous, but Valeria simply offers a smile, setting her hand across the table for her to take. And she does, slender fingers intertwining with Valeria's as she steps closer to the girl until she's looking down on her.

"I do not think you understand just what you're offering," Donna huffs, a bit of a dark look in her eyes. It sends a thrilling chill down the redhead's spine. "I'd want to keep you all to myself, far from the leering eyes of my neices or anyone else that's tried to steal you away."

Valeria shakes her head slightly at that. Couldn't Donna see yet that she had no interest in anyone else? Least of all Cassandra Dimitrescu and her playboy persona. Pulling the other woman closer until their knees are touching, she keeps eye contact so Donna can really read her.

"I only have eyes for you anyway," she confesses with heated cheeks. "Professor Dimitrescu wasn't wrong calling me your pet, I'd follow you anywhere Donna."

And with that, the botanist is upon her, pulling Valeria to stand and feverishly kissing her. The girl squeals at the suddenness of the kiss, but quickly reciprocates, hands finding their way around Donna's strong shoulders. Donna responds in kind, taking hold of her hips and pushing her back into the workbench gently. After only a few moments the two seperate to catch their breath, Valeria smiling like a fool at the older woman's flushed face. She wouldn't in a million years have expected Donna to make the first move, but she absolutely was going to enjoy it and pray this confidence lasted.

Leaning in for another kiss garners unexpected but not unappealing results as Valeria finds herself lifted and sat upon the table, Donna standing pressed between her legs, and she can't help but squirm and bite her lip at the closeness. Donna plants her palms on the girl's thighs, squeezing them gently and looking delighted at the gasp it gets her.

"I would like you to refer to me the same way you did in front of Alcina. Can you do that for me?" she asks sweetly, looking at Valeria through her lashes.

"Sì mammina," she squeaks, fighting her embarrassment and losing. Donna pecks her on the nose though and suddenly her slip up from earlier isn't so mortifying.

"Brava bambola."

Valeria is pretty sure her entire brain short circuits at that. Fuck being her kitten, hello to a life of being Donna's personal doll to be toyed with whenever. Would she actually treat her like a precious porcelain doll? Dressing her in fancy clothes and touching her oh so gently so as not to break her? Or maybe she would joyfully destroy her knowing she has the expertise to piece her doll back together seamlessly? Or-

"You're lost in that pretty head again," Donna laughs lightly, bringing Valeria back to earth. "Is this okay, or? We can stop, I got a bit carried away."

"No! No, I- we," Valeria shakes her head clear and pulls Donna closer, wrapping her legs around her hips. "I want to keep going, really! Fammi tuo mammina."

Like a switch flipped within her, Donna pushes Valeria back until she's flush against the tabletop and crawls over the redhead, straddling her. She kisses her again, hands exploring the girl's torso like an expert craftsman inspecting a fine piece of art. She runs her palms over her ribs and stops teasingly just below her chest, thumbs brushing along the curves. Tentatively the dollmaker cups her love's breasts, carefully massaging happy little moans from the girl beneath her.

Valeria for her part is feeling up Donna's arms and back, relishing in the strength she finds there. Knowing that Donna could probably do whatever she wanted to her, but seeing how restrained and gentle she was being made her heart swell with warmth. This woman truly made her feel so safe and cared for and good god was she going to do everything in her power to make her feel the same. Donna's lips stray from hers, kissing a path from her cheek to her jaw to her neck, and the redhead sighs contently until-

"Ow!" Valeria hisses, being rudely interrupted from her sweet thoughts by a foreign feeling in her neck. "Did you just bite me?"

Donna doesn't look sorry in the slightest, kissing the offended patch of skin before teasingly nipping her again.

"You asked me to make you mine," she breathes against the girl's neck, eliciting goosebumps. "I'm just making sure everyone else knows it."