#so when they shake their wrists around you get the rattle sound

[chai-en-kaadhale]

what if undead monster such that their teeth look like snake teeth that hinge back into their mouths and their entire jaw unhinges to let them fold out and they like being warm bc theyre undead and they cant be warm-blooded so if you befriend one you get a lot of hugs?

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

Safe and Sound - Jacaerys Velaryon

A/N: Hi, hi! The hotd brain rot is REAL. All I can think about is this beautiful prince above. I'm working on a longer story for him, but in the meantime, enjoy is blurb. This was jointly inspired by a genuine bad dream I had (the brain rot!!), and the Taylor Swift song that was playing when I was writing this at work. Hope you enjoy!

TS Prompt #7: Safe and Sound

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 1.3k Synopsis: Jace comforts the reader after they wake up from a terrible nightmare.

Warning: This does not follow the canon, but I do base the nightmare off of real events that have yet to happen in the show. Do not read if you don't want spoilers.

Sweat drenches your brow. Swords clash, arrows whistle through the air, and dragon fire paints the sky orange.

Your heart thuds as you spin around amid the chaos, searching for a green dragon or for a head of dark, curly hair. For any trace of Jace.

An ear-splitting scream rattles the sky, and before you can make sense of what you are seeing, Vermax's body crashes into the water, sending up a raucous wave.

Panic flows through your body. Searching, searching, searching. You need to see any sign that he made it, that he is alive. The water is riotous, making it impossible to figure out where he landed.

You nearly fall to your knees in relief when you see him crawl up onto floating wreckage, injured badly, but still breathing. You know you need to get to him, need to do whatever it takes to get him out of enemy-infested water.

As you move towards the coast, you have no plan in mind. Out of the corner of your eye, you see an approaching ship, making its way towards Jace. You run, wanting to scream his name, but also not wanting to give away his location.

You reach the shoreline and the water laps at your feet. Jace spots you the moment the approaching ship spots him.

You know he won't be able to get to the shore in time. You wade into the water, watching as he struggles to swim towards you. He's too far away, too weak, and you're not strong enough to pull him back.

The sound of a crossbow trigger pierces through the crash of waves. Jace's eyes widen - looking into yours - as the arrow speeds towards his chest.

"Jace!" you scream.

You tear out of your dream in a cold sweat, waking to your dark bedroom.

Jace wakes when you scream, crying out his name. His eyes adjust too slowly to the darkness, so he grabs for you blindly. He needs to know you're alright, needs to feel your warmth, your pulse. It thunders beneath his thumb as his hand wraps around your wrist.

His eyes finally adjust and he sees you sitting up in bed, your night gown wet with sweat.

"What is it?" he asks, sitting up next to you. "What happened?" He does a quick scan of the room, confirming his first guess. The room is unchanged from the evening before. There is no danger within its walls, just within your head.

You've had another nightmare.

He brushes the hair off your forehead as you put a hand to your pounding heart, clearly coming to the same realization. Jace leans closer and kisses your shoulder gently.

"It was just a dream," he says lowly, his lips still pressed to your skin. You take deep breaths as you try to relax. You have yet to look at him.

"Y/N," he says, "It was just a dream." He tugs on your arm and finally, you look at him. Even in the dark room, he can tell your skin has paled.

"It didn't feel like just a dream," you say. He frowns and rubs soft circles on your back.

This has become your miserable routine. You wake up in the middle of the night, screaming, and he sits next to you, feeling useless to change anything.

"Tell me about it," he says quietly.

"It's the same dream I always have," you say, looking at him sadly, trembling. He pulls you into his arms, holding your shaking hands in his. His gaze focuses on the Valyrian steel ring he put on your finger a year ago. The promises he made to you that day flash in his mind.

"The Battle of the Gullet," he says in response.

"Yes."

"I regret ever telling you about that day," he says with a shake of his head. The movement jostles his hair, and you tuck it behind his ear gently, your hand linger on his face. "I'm fine, Y/N."

"I watched you die."

"What do you see now?" he asks, taking the hand cupping his cheek, pressing a loving kiss to the palm. He moves it down to his bare chest, to the beating heart beneath his warm skin. "I am alive and well."

You continue to frown at him, but your hand presses to his chest. You take a few more deep breaths.

"I'm sorry," you say, tears forming in your eyes as you look up at him. He shakes his head, his heart hurting that you would ever think that your pain was an inconvenience to him.

"Hey," he says, pulling you into his chest, your tears falling onto his skin. "You don't ever have to be sorry."

"I know that we are safe now. That war is over. But I am still so scared," you say, and on the last word your voice breaks. Jace holds you tighter.

"I know. I am, too, sometimes."

"Really?"

"Really," he says, "You think I don't have nightmares about that day? Or any from the past year."

"You don't ever tell me about them," you say, pulling away to look him in the eye.

"That's because I don't want to worry you," he says, smiling shyly, playing with your hands. "There are memories I have that I wouldn't dream of sharing with you, that I don't want you to carry."

"That doesn't seem fair," you say, "You get to worry about me but I don't get to worry about you?"

"It's hard," he says, his eyes still focused on your hands. "Sometimes I still see the dying dragons. Still remember when I'd look outside and see everything on fire. Still see the war raging."

"But you don't seem like any of it haunts you," you say, leaning in so he'll look at you. He gives you a soft smile, his thumb tracing circles on your hand.

"Guess I've gotten good at hiding it."

"Tell me how," you say quietly. He hates that he can hear the longing in your voice. He notices the dark circles under your eyes. How many nights in a row have you woken from your sleep like this?

"I just try to remember everything good that I still have. Vermax is alive. My mother is alive. You are alive," he says. "Safe and sound."

"Safe and sound," you say disbelievingly.

"You are, I swear it. I won't let anything happen to you," he says. "Ever again."

"I know," you say, touching his cheek softly. "I love you."

"I love you," he says. He draws you in close and kisses your lips slowly, his movements languid, like he's got all the time in the world. He hopes you feel it. Hopes you realize that this is what the rest of your existence together looks like. No wars, no death, just the pair of you in this room, reminding each other what you fought for.

"Let's get some sleep," he says as he lays the two of you down. He adjusts the sheets around you, keeping you close to his body. You run a hand over his chest, humming softly.

"I'm not sure I'll be able to," you say.

"Just close your eyes," he says, kissing your forehead, feeling the pull of sleep wash over him. "You're alright, Y/N. No one can hurt you or I now."

"Promise?" you ask.

"I do."

"You'll never leave me here alone," you say. It's not a question.

"I'll never let you go," he says, tucking you in tighter. "You and I are safe and sound."

"Safe and sound," you mumble. Jace waits a few moments for your breathing to fall into a slow rhythm. When he knows you're asleep he lets himself close his eyes. He vows to himself that he'll do whatever it takes to make sure you never feel so scared again. He vows that you'll never feel ashamed to talk to him when you do. And he vows to have more moments like this, with you asleep on his chest, his hand in your hair, and less like the one he jerked out of sleep to.

[suksatoru]

HEAVEN AND BACK.

SUMMARY *ੈ✩‧₊˚ he's destroying a rivalry villain base when he finds you there, a prisoner. known to the world as a villain - Dabi becomes your hero.

Dabi could be very cruel sometimes.

It was instances like this where he knew he was born to cremate. To reduce the world to ashes and nothing more as he kills every low life he comes across. Each one more pathetic than the last, Dabi erases them all within seconds.

The Meta Liberation Army had given the League resources and access to facilities they could have only dreamed of before. The base they were on currently belonged to a rivalry villain group - one which the League despised. They were a pathetic group of people really, power hungry in all the wrong ways.

Dabi hears the sound of what seems like rattling chains from across the hall, and he pauses his movements in confusion, the man in front of him withering on the ground and pleading for mercy-

Dabi finishes him off before carefully making his way towards the source of the sound, his boots maneuvering through the bodies on the ground stealthily as he narrows his brows. Dabi thought he had cleared this floor.

He hears it again - it was unmistakable now, he had mistakingly left someone alive.

Dabi slams the door open with a single kick - it was reinforced with welded hinges, but it was no match for his flames - which melted the metal easily. He steps inside the dark room, hands raised and ready to end whatever unfortunate soul roamed inside.

He sees someone moving in the corner of his eye - the dim light concealing their figure. He moves his flames closer, attempting to shine some sort of a light on the stranger who so stupidly made no attempt to escape while Dabi was distracted with the other villains.

His flames glow in the dark, and he finally sees you, shackled to the ground with wide eyes trapped in a trance - like a deer caught in the headlights.

Your lip trembles as you tug on your restraints once again, a pitiful whimper leaving you as you glance at Dabi with a sheen of panic glossing your pretty eyes

Slowly, he lowers his hand. Trying to understand just what he'd stumbled upon.

A prisoner.

Dabi had a knack for figuring out what kind of people deserved to die. He liked to think that he's always been able to know who was worthy or living and who wasn't. But...

He makes no move to save or end you as he watches quietly, his hands lowered by his sides as gentle, blue sparks glowed from his large palms. His fingers curl into a fist as he remains utterly still, his gaze burning as hot as his flames as you tug again on the cuffs secured around your wrists. You're crying now - tears gliding down your soft cheeks as you peer up at him

You're so quiet, he notices. Even as you cry, not a sound leaves your throat as you keep tugging on those damned restraints. The sound of metal clinking against metal has Dabi snapping out of whatever trance he was in as he slowly takes a single step forward

Seeing him move closer has you kicking against the ground in a weak attempt to get away, backing yourself up against the wall as your eyes shake - hands fumbling as you tug harder and harder-

"Don't move."

You want to cry just at the sound of his voice. His tone sounded like if you did move, those flames you'd seen earlier would return as death finally takes you - it was so cruel. The whole world - that's all you can think as your squeeze your eyes shut and pray for him to not have some sort of an liking to watching his victims suffer as they burned.

You tuck your knees to your chest and lay your head down, your hands hanging limply as your breathing becomes erratic - you're scared. Absolutely terrified.

He uses one hand to hold both of your wrists in place as his fingers shove between your wrist and the metal around it. Slowly, he focuses his quirk to push through the thin space and melt the bounds around you. You don't look up - make no major movement as Dabi breaks them - the metal clangs noisily against the floor. Your breathing has calmed just the slightest bit by now, and you finally look up as you feel the dead weight lift off.

It's quiet as you wait for his next movements - anything that shows that he has intentions to hurt you, to kill you - but he's still kneeling beside you - palm flat against the wall beside your head as he watches your gaze flutter to his - you catch your lip in between your teeth once you realize what he'd done - an attempt to keep yourself from bursting into grateful tears.

"Can you stand?"

His hot breath tickles your ear, warm and the most soothing thing you've felt in so long. He tucks a single arm under yours when he's met with silence, easily bringing you to your feet as you quickly gain composure - breathing unevenly as you lean against the wall

Dabi's heart stutters in his chest when you turn and look at him like that.

Like he put the stars in the fucking sky.

You're sitting beside him in a very crowded get-away car, his coat draped over your head while you peer around at the cheerful number of people - villains - around you. The Liberation Army talked and bustled around you loudly as Dabi remained completely silent from where he sat beside you, a single, protective arm laying on the railing behind you.

He told anyone who asked about you that your quirk is useful - a healing one that pairs great with him for his burns. And while he's lying his ass off completely knowing no one could reverse the damage, he has an excuse for Re-Destro to get you a room right beside his.

You'll be knocking on his door just about every morning, holding a plate with a shy smile as you hand him the fresh food he missed - 'because you weren't at breakfast, Dabi'

He found out you had a habit for drawing when he saw you sketching him onto a fogged window - your finger dragging carefully through the thin layer of frost as you draw his signature scars and soft, puffy hair. All with a smile on your face as you gaze longingly at it. The sight is too much to bear - and he'll leave before you can catch him standing on the other side of the room.

He'd sneak into one of the offices of the building and steal a notebook and various pens for you - leaving them outside your door, in hopes you'll capture the blueness of his eyes and the soft crook of his rare smile amongst the pages.

He'd let you lay with him on nights you couldn't sleep, never once protesting to your soft pleas or questions. You asked him about all sorts of things - and he indulged in you, because what the fuck? Life had been a bitch to him the moment he entered this world. If there was a mistake in the cosmos that led him to his angel, he would take advantage of it and allow himself this one good thing to keep forever.

"Why do you even stick with me anyways, doll? You got the whole world - I bet they'd love you better than I ever could." He whispers, knowing nobody could hold a candle to his love for you. A love that was bigger than life itself.

"Because. You're my hero."

He stills at your words, before kissing your temple.

"I'll be a villain to the rest of the world, but not for you, baby. I'll be your hero - I'll be your everything."

[dyaz-stories]

a house, not a home || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings & tags: canon typical violence, hurt/comfort, hyun-su needs a hug, unresolved tension, mentions of blood

a/n: okay so, for context, this takes place during season 2. reader and hyun-su know each other from high school and reader runs into hyun-su after the events of the first three episodes. reader also doesn't know that he is a monster/neohuman though if people are interested i could definitely write that 👀 I hope you'll like it! Please let me know your thoughts and if you'd like me to write more, and consider reblogging!

next part

The hardest thing to get used to, after what others called the Monsterization Outbreak but you labelled, more simply, the Apocalypse, was the silence. You were the type of person to always have music playing, back when you were a high schooler studying hard to get into your college of choice. Now, music was wasted electricity and, worse, could be a death sentence if anyone — anything — heard it play, or if it dulled your senses and got you killed.

At the beginning, there had been lots of sounds. Screams. Cars colliding. Stores’ alarms, blaring when the looters broke in. Sobs. In your house, for a while, there had been your father, humming quietly as he worked.

Then he’d gotten a nosebleed, left the house, and never returned.

Now it was just you, and you’d learned not to make a sound. So when there’s a knock on your door, it echoes through the rooms and rattles you to your core. For a second, you clench your trusty baseball bat. You took hours and cut your fingers planting nails into it, but it’s worth it, if only for the feeling of confidence it gives you. Truth is, you rarely had to use it. Your strategy relies on avoiding confrontation at all costs.

You release it when you realize that there are very few people who can come knocking at your door.

After all, monsters don’t knock.

You rush to the door without letting go of the bat. Your habits are ingrained in you well enough that you still check the peephole — and when you do, your heart somersaults in your chest.

You keep the hinges well-oiled and the door doesn’t make a sound when you open it.

“Come in,” you whisper, not daring to break the silence with actual words.

Cha Hyun-Su stares at you, looks like he hesitates. He always does, looks like he wants to give you a chance to slam the door back in his face. He’s covered in blood now — ‘not mine’, you know he’d say if you asked —, clutching his wrist, lips chapped, eyes hollow.

“Come on,” you say again, and this time he does, walking by you without a word. Then he goes still once more, there in your entrance, while you close the door behind him. He always does that, until you give him explicit permission.

“Are you okay?” you ask when you turn around, hands reaching for his arms, his torso, trying to check on him, though you cannot see whether or not he is hurt.

“I’m fine,” he replies with that deep voice of his, catching your wrists before you can feel for yourself. “It’s not my blood.”

It never is.

“But are you hurt?” you press, still.

He frowns, and confusion sparks in his eyes.

“I told you. I’m fine.”

You shake your head.

“No, I mean— Does it hurt? Does anything hurt?”

Hyun-Su’s lips part. He closes his eyes. His body sways towards yours, and you freeze. You feel his breath against your cheek, and his grip on your wrist becomes lighter— a caress, at most. You just stay there, not wanting to scare him away, but not wanting to leave him to himself either. You feel a pull towards him, the urge to wrap your arms around him, and you resist it, knowing that he’d flee.

Finally, he snaps out of it, lets go of you, takes a step back.

“I’m fine,” he repeats for a third time.

You don’t push it.

“Do you want to take a bath?”

Clean water isn’t easy to come by these days. Fortunately for you, you have a complex system designed to retain rain water as well as morning dew, put in place by your father, when he was still around. It’s rained recently, and with the help of solar panels you’d stolen with him what feels like a lifetime ago, you’ll be able to have hot water. Showers, you haven’t mastered — though you’re sure your dad would have figured it out by now — but you can at least offer him a warm bath.

Hyun-Su’s eyes are on you, wide and focused.

They’re ever so slightly warmer than they were when he came in.

“I would like that.”

Hyun-Su comes out of the bathroom some thirty minutes later, clean and looking more like himself. He’s wearing clothes he’d left there on one of his other visits, which you’d washed by hand among some of your stuff.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice firmer than it had been earlier.

“It’s not a problem,” you reply, and you have to stop yourself from grimacing at how fake your nonchalance sounds to your ears.

If he notices, he doesn’t comment on it.

“Have you been okay here?” he asks instead.

You bite the inside of your cheek. The answer is complicated. You’ve been safe, physically that is. You have barely caught sight of a monster since he’s last been here — nine days ago. You can’t say you’re bored, either. There’s always things to do, to fix, to figure out around here.

What you are, is alone.

And, though you don’t want to admit it, lonely.

It might be the kind of answer he’s looking for, yet you can’t bring yourself to say it out loud. It’s not even that you don’t want him to know.

It’s that you’re scared that if you did, if you asked him to stay or to take you with him, he would still leave you behind.

“I make do,” you reply, which at least isn’t a lie. “I keep myself busy.”

It’s your turn to freeze when Hyun-Su leans forward, trying to meet your eyes.

“Are you hurt?”

A smile escapes you at his cautious tone as he repeats your words at you. You look up, and there he is, inches away from your face, checking on you in the very same way you’d checked on him when he’d arrived — now that he’s had the time and space to collect himself. For half a second, the corner of his lips lifts clumsily to form a smile in response to yours, and then it’s gone, as he, too, realizes how close he is.

You see him sucking in a breath, then swallowing, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Your heart beats so loud in your ears, you can’t even hear the silence anymore.

“I’m not hurt,” you say, and it is true for now, at least.

Hyun-Su nods without moving away. There’s an intensity in his eyes that you’re not used to, a spark, a craving.

His eyes drop to your lips.

Your whole body is tingling with anticipation, yet you don’t move, no matter how badly you want to close the gap between you. You can’t rush him. You’d never forgive yourself, if he didn’t come back.

He leans forward, just by an inch, then closer again, so close and—

He turns his head at the last moment, late enough that his cheek brushes against yours, before he pulls himself back.

That hurts. It makes your heart ache more than you’ve let yourself hurt in forever.

“Sorry,” Hyun-Su mumbles, stumbling back. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You’re not sure if he’s apologizing for trying to kiss you, or for not doing it.

“I’ve brought you food,” he says in a rush, picking up his backpack by the entrance door.

You watch him as he does, and you can’t help but note the many wounds on his body. Most of them are half-closed, and you know that they’ll be gone by the next time he comes back, but that new ones will have had the time to open and heal halfway.

He hands you his offering of food, without meeting your eyes this time, and you take it from him. Your fingers brush against him, and he moves his hand away like you’ve just burned him.

“It’s late,” you say, your voice quiet even to your own ears, even now that you’re so accustomed to the lack of noise. You don’t want him to go, not just yet. “You should sleep here.”

But, just like you expected, Hyun-Su shakes his head and closes his backpack with shaky hands.

“I need to go,” he says. Then, when you don’t answer — can he tell you’re fighting back tears? —, he adds “I’ll come back. I promise.”

You nod. It’s your turn to avoid his eyes.

“I’ll be waiting,” you say.

You open the door for him, and you force yourself to look at him as he steps back outside, into the unknown, into the danger, and away from you.

He looks back, right before disappearing in the night.

“Stay safe,” you say, though you know he won’t.

“You too,” he says, knowing you will.

And then he’s gone, and you’re alone with the silence again.

next part

[kingtomura]

Tough love

summary: Back and forth banter with a world class villain is all fun and games until he’s gotten you undressed and underneath him, begging for anything and everything he can give you.  cw: tomura shigaraki x female reader, virginity loss, virginity kink, creampie, piv, dacryphilia, very smitten tomura, just smut tbh, drabble wc: 1k | crossposted to ao3

Tomura Shigaraki knows he has a way with words. 

He’s had to learn, especially if he would be the one to rule the underworld, you know. 

It always catches you off guard and it always leaves you wanting a little more — so when you’ve found yourself beneath him in the dark covers of his bed, you slowly realize just how cunning a mastermind villain could really be. 

And it drives you crazy. 

The way he eases into you with promises and whispers of going slow and taking it easy because in his eyes you’re just so fragile he wouldn’t want to break you.

But God, it’s so hard to keep his word because you’re so tight and your little moans and whimpers are driving him crazy.

His thick cock tears through your hymen as he pushes on. Inch by inch, Tomura slides in through the slick, tight walls of your cunt. He’s so deep, the head of it kisses your cervix. 

He gives you a second to adjust — he promised he would go easy on you, but your pretty cunt just takes him so well and you’re being so good for him, he can’t help himself. It’s impossible to keep still and he can’t take the stagnation anymore. 

Your little cries sound like music to his ears and he knows it should make him feel a little more ashamed, but Tomura Shigaraki is not one to feel shame. He adores your cries and wants to hear more of them. 

Tomura wants you to break for him, but he won’t let you know that. 

No, instead he tells you how well you’re doing and relishes in the way you whine as he gets faster — the pain getting a little worse but the pleasure getting a little closer.

And oh it hits just the right spot for him because he’s losing himself more and more into your soft, addictive walls. He knows that if he goes a little harder he may even see those pretty tears trail down your cheeks.

You tell him to slow down, that you don’t think you can take it if he keeps this up, but that’s just what he wants, isn’t it?

He wants you broken and crying for his cock.

He wants you to cum around him as he goes deeper and deeper inside of you with each thrust, cock brushing that sensitive spot inside of you and making you cry out.

You’re such a good girl for him, so good and so sweet — you give him everything he asks for.

You look up at him with those pretty eyes of yours, your long lashes wet with unshed tears and you beg.

The pain has fizzled away and now you're begging him to go faster, harder — to give you more, and he does!

He does with a fever he didn’t know he had as those tears finally, finally make their way down your soft cheeks and he just can’t help himself when he leans down, tongue darting out to catch the salty drops before they trail further and fall onto his dark bedsheets. 

It would be too much of a waste to let them go. Not when he’s worked this hard for them.

You’re close.

He can tell from the way you tighten around his cock and by the way your moans are rising by an octave. 

Tomura decides he loves this part.

He loves to see you come undone completely and surrender yourself to him in a way you’ve never conceded before. He loves to see your expression as he holds your hands above your head, grip tight on your wrists, but careful finger lifted for your protection.

It’s hard not to get carried away. 

There’s the rattling of the headboard as it slams against the walls of his bedroom, the bed is shaking with the force of his thrusts. It should be a sign that he should try to keep it down — that he should be more thoughtful of those who may be within the building, but all it takes is a glossy eyed look from you and he knows it doesn’t matter.

No, none of it matters as he doubles down, his forever careful hands moving to get a better grip on you. Tomura settles for one hand gripping your waist as he leans down onto his elbow of the other. The close proximity is intoxicating as he now has the leverage to really fuck into you without a care.

He watches on as you bring a hand to his cheek, eyes lost in pleasure, but still seeking the intimate affection from him.

He loves the way your eyes close and your brows furrow as you get closer and closer and—

“Fuck..” his own breathy moan catches him off guard, too lost in his own pleasure and watching you that he let himself go along with your release. 

The way your pussy grips him, so tight and so wet, makes his hips stutter and his vision blur as the white ropes of his cum fill your insides. 

You were so pretty, but especially now in the afterglow of it all — sweat clinging to your skin as you tried so desperately to catch your breath. 

Tomura loved it. He loved all of it. 

It’s not enough to let you just lie there so he leans down, capturing your soft lips into a kiss and dipping his tongue into your mouth. 

You moan softly at the intrusion and Tomura drinks it up with a groan of his own. 

You taste so sweet to him, like a fruit he just cannot get enough of — a cold drink on a hot day. 

Tomura finally pulls away to admire his work of your kiss swollen lips and drunkenly pleased smile and it makes his chest clench. 

It’s such a sight that he just can’t help himself when his hips start moving again, steadily going in and out as his already sensitive cock hardened again.

He hopes you’re ready for round two because he’s only getting started.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

In Sickness and in Health

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Sick Reader, Caretaking

Author’s Note: Hope you enjoy! I wrote this because I’m still sick right now sooooooo enjoy :)

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

Winter had settled over the city, its icy grip rattling the windows and sending cold drafts through the cracks of the old flat you and Simon shared. Inside, the warmth of home was dampened by the harsh reality of your illness. You were wrapped in layers of blankets on the couch, shivering despite the heat Simon had cranked up earlier.

Simon “Ghost” Riley stood in the kitchen, preparing a tray with tea and your favorite biscuits. He moved quietly, his bulky frame somehow graceful as he focused on the task. Even when he was home, he carried himself like he was on a mission—steady, deliberate, and meticulous.

When he returned to the living room and saw you curled up, pale and trembling, his heart clenched. The dark circles under your eyes and the flushed hue of your cheeks told him everything he needed to know: you were miserable.

He placed the tray down carefully on the coffee table and crouched beside you. His gloved hand—a habit he never quite broke, even in the safety of home—brushed damp strands of hair off your forehead.

“Hey, love,” he murmured, his deep voice soft with concern. “Brought you some tea. Think you can manage a sip?”

You opened your eyes, squinting against the dim light. “I don’t think so,” you rasped, your voice raw from nausea and dehydration. “I’ll just throw it up.”

Simon frowned, his sharp blue eyes scanning your face. He didn’t push, instead gently cupping your cheek with his warm hand. The gold band on his ring finger gleamed in the low light, a subtle reminder of the vows you’d shared.

“Alright,” he murmured. “We’ll try something else, yeah? But you need to get something in you, Mrs. Riley. Can’t have my wife wasting away on me.”

Your lips twitched faintly at his teasing tone, but the moment was cut short as another wave of nausea overtook you. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you instinctively grabbed Simon’s wrist as if he could anchor you through the storm.

“Easy,” Simon soothed, shifting closer. He slipped an arm around your back, his hand rubbing slow, steady circles. “Breathe, love. In and out. That’s it. I’ve got you.”

The warmth of his presence and the sound of his voice grounded you. Slowly, the nausea ebbed, leaving you exhausted and shaking.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” you muttered, your voice barely audible.

Simon’s lips quirked in a faint smile. “If a truck even thought about hitting you, I’d teach it a lesson.”

A weak laugh escaped you, but it quickly turned into a groan as the motion made your head throb. Simon adjusted the blankets around you, tucking them securely under your chin.

“Stay put,” he said gently but firmly. “I’m getting you something for that headache. Don’t argue.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you murmured, too tired to do anything else.

Simon disappeared for a moment, returning with a cool washcloth, a glass of water, and your migraine medication. He knelt beside you again, his hand brushing over your cheek.

“Let’s start slow,” he said, holding up a sleeve of crackers. “Think you can manage one of these?”

“Only because it’s you,” you whispered, taking the cracker gingerly.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, watching intently as you nibbled at the cracker. When you’d managed a few bites, he held the glass of water to your lips.

“Just a sip,” he encouraged. “That’s it. You’re doing so well.”

His praise brought a faint smile to your lips, even as exhaustion weighed heavily on you. You took the migraine pills under his watchful gaze, and Simon set the glass down before carefully placing the cool washcloth on your forehead.

Without a word, he scooped you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he sat down on the couch.

“Too bright?” he asked, nodding toward the lamps.

“Yeah,” you murmured, burying your face in his chest.

“Alright, love. Hold on.”

With one arm securely around you, Simon leaned over and turned off the lamps, plunging the room into soft shadows. He wrapped the blankets tighter around you and settled back, his arms a protective cocoon.

“You don’t have to stay,” you mumbled, though you made no effort to move away from him.

Simon pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering. “Where else would I be?” he murmured. “You’re my wife, love. I’ll always be here.”

The weight of his words wrapped around you like another layer of warmth. Despite the throbbing in your head and the lingering nausea, Simon’s steady presence made everything a little more bearable.

“Thanks, Si,” you whispered, your voice thick with sleep.

“Don’t mention it, Mrs. Riley,” he said softly, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Now get some rest. I’ll be right here.”

Safe in his arms, the discomfort faded into the background. His heartbeat was a soothing rhythm, and the warmth of his embrace lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep, knowing you were loved and cared for.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[graphedpaper]

Renter Problems 2

yandere!celebrity x fem!reader

Synopsis: You're trying to find a place near your university to stay, and you've managed to find a mansion owned by a celebrity to live in. His name is Jacob, and you've known him since middle school, living in the same city as him. He's blown up as the new, hot celebrity thanks to the movie he's starred in, though, while you're just struggling to pass by. But he's been acting strange, and you're determined to .move out Details: Physical and verbal abuse, manipulation, gender neutral reader, kidnapping

Your head pounds with throbbing pressure from sudden exposure to the singular light of a fluorescent fixture overhead, unsure what happened that lead you to here.

Here, a foggy room of hard gray walls and cold gray floors, it's simplicity unnerves you, a human instinct, maybe.

Your eyes squint from the brightness and you're unable to open them.

Your mouth feels dry, your throat needs water now. You feel sick and nauseous, like almost a fever. Your right arm is sore and bruised, like you had a very bad work out.

It must be earlier in the morning, or maybe it's the afternoon...

You feel a cool, cold, but tight sensation on your wrists and realize your arms are hung up and stretched out individually to thick pipes with handcuffs and chains.

Your screams start to form, an instinctual, guttural, screech of terror that comes rushing out of your mouth with no hesitation.

"Help!" You scream, but your dry throat and dizziness restricts you from yelling loud enough.

Your heavy, tired head droops over and creates a resemblance to a crucification, only this time your raw knees press on the concrete that pushes against your slumped figure.

If not for the handcuffs holding you up, you would fall face flat and crack your forehead.

All you can do is gasp for air into your dry throat, the air stinging your channel that begged for hydration, all sense of a functioning brain and body is gone. Your arms feel numb, all blood rushing to your core. You start to yank your wrists away from the pipe in vain. The heavy metal around your wrists press and brings you another source of pain, the marks all red.

You force your neck up to look at this strange room again. Last thing you can make out before passing out was telling Jacob you were leaving.

What had happened exactly? You forced yourself to dig through your shattered memories.

He had slapped and tossed you across the living room, then he-

Your eyes droop closed. Even with the fear pounding your heart, something is still slowing your thinking. It softens your movements like walking in deep water, fluid, yet thick and weighted.

"Oh. You're up. Couldn't tell from all the screaming." A sarcastic sound hits your ears.

A clear voice calls down to you from the stairs leading up to a now open door that you had not been able to see before.

He looks so satisfied, up on the staircase, hands stuffed in his sweatpants and looking down at you. While you were kneeled on raw ground, face red and puffy from yesterday's event, his face was neat,  hair tousled gently, and smelled of aired cotton sheets, he was superior.

"What did you do- What did you do Jacob? What did you do to me?" You rasp out, no energy in your body. "Don't say that precious, I did nothing. You did this." He replies approaching you.

Your eyes widen in panic and you pull on your restraints once again. The metal shakes and rattles, making unpleasant sounds that echo throughout the deep basement. "Don't come near me! I swear, don't take another step!" You don't order, you don't ask, but beg. Beg him to stop.

You cry out screaming when he doesn't stop and calmly descends the stairs, hands still in pockets. "God, shut up! Shut your fucking mouth y/n." He snaps.

He crouches down to my level and he stares at me, like he's studying an animal he hunted down.

"If you want to get out of..."

He pauses.

"...Out of those then keep still and behave."

He hesitates to say handcuffs, like he's avoiding shattering his little dream world where we're apparently a couple. Because even he knows couples don't do this.

"Let me go please. Let me go!" You beg him, using your strength to rattle the chains connecting to your bondage.

Jacob scoffs at your behaviour. You're so pathetic, begging him to let you go. Let you go where? You'd be begging on the streets then. Better him than random strangers, right?

"Y/n stop it." He grabs your chin and pulls it upwards with his right hand. "You're acting like a fucking bitch right now." His eyes stare right into yours, it's dark. The back of your neck feels strained from the awkward angle.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-" You jump to apologize. It's obvious this is someone unlike anyone you'd meet around town. Inhuman.

A sharp kick to your side pushes you back. It leaves you unable to think, or speak. The impact was unexpected.

He laughs at your shock. "Are you ready now?" Jacob's lips pout slightly, speaking in a mocking tone.

You can only stare at a corner of this room, mouth gaping like a suffocating fish. Still, you manage to nod slightly.

What bad luck.

What horrible luck that your friend recommended you the house of a psycho.

In this moment, you curse your parents and your friends slightly.

Jacob kneels down fully to the ground and slips out a key from his back pocket of his jeans. He swiftly unlocks the segments that connect the individual handcuffs to the chains.

What a joke, of course he wouldn't take the handcuffs off like you thought, he's only separating you from the pillars-

He takes out a second key and takes his time to release your sore wrists from the 2 metal bracelets.

You remain as confused and fearful as ever. What did he have planned now?

"Jacob, why did you do this, why did you put me in these handcuffs?" You ask him, in a raspy voice. It's hoarse from the screaming.

You observe his facial expressions carefully, like a small rabbit may to a lion. He's unpredictable.

He ignores your questions and continues to work at the handcuffs.

"You know y/n, I think you don't remember how terrible of a person you were to me all throughout our teenage years. How much of a bully you were. And that hurts me."

No. No, you were never once a bully to him. But he was to you, spreading rumours, getting his friends to gang up on you. What was he on about? He was insane. You wanted to ask him what he meant, you deeply wanted to argue against this statement. But that wouldn't save you, would it?

"I'm so sorry Jacob, I'm sorry for hurting you like that in the past, but like you said, we can all change." You bite your tongue and hope for the best.

Silence fills the room up to the ceiling, and he pauses working on the last handcuff around your wrist.

"You refused to go out with me, y/n." He stared at you.

What could you say except sorry to this psycho?

"I'm so sorry Jacob." You reply.

"You thought I was a stupid idiot, huh! You thought you could just walk all over me and I would accept it?" He yells.

"Jacob, please, I'm not sure what I did to you, I'm sorry!" You cry out, terrified. Your body starts to shake reactively towards his agression.

His move star face contorts into one of an ugly monster.

"You... you don't even know? You don't even care?" He stands up with a look of angry disbelief.

"No, no, Jacob, please, please, let me out of this place and we can talk it over, okay?" You beg.

He checks his watch then glares at you.

"You're lucky I need to go and do an interview to promote the new movie."

He kneels back down, and before he unlocks the final handcuff, he puts the other set between your two wrists like how it normally would have been used, then takes off the first handcuff that was connected to the chains on the pillar and one of your hands.

He grabs onto your handcuff and drags you up behind him to the first floor. The stairs are long and high, like the architect knew a rich person would need to have somewhere to take out their sick desires.

When he opens the locked door and tosses you to the floor of the other room, you realize its the big, airy living room from last night's dinner. You look around and see no traces of yesterday's fight. Did he get a cleaner in?

Jacob locks the door behind him, and then turns around to look at you.

His facial expression changes from stressed fury to a calmer, serene face.

"Oh y/n, you're too gorgeous to act this way, why can't you just be my perfect partner, huh? Why did you have to try and leave? Weren't we building a connection? We even had a dinner date." He rambles his thoughts to you, like you're a stuffed rabbit toy.

He grabs your hand and leads you up to his bedroom. You've never been in it.

While he's approaching his bedroom door, you decide to attempt to get out of this horror.

You'll ask him to unlock your cuffs and then you'll call the police...

Jacob pushes you onto his bed.

"Y/n, stay in my room and don't have even think about leaving until I'm back from work. There's alarms."

"Jacob, please can you get me out of these handcuffs? Let me go please, I won't ever tell anyone, I wouldn't dare ruin your career, " You try.

Jacob stops moving at your audacity to beg. You're daring, he'll admit that. Begging for him to let you go? His girlfriend?

"I'm not worried about you ruining my career, you'd just be another crazy bitch out for a young man's growing success."

You're stunned by the bluntness of his words and your face finds its way into a grimace.

"Aww. Poor baby didn't like that, huh?" He asks with a sarcastic tone.

You stare at him not sure what to say.

"I'm going to go now, but you have to be a good girlfriend while I'm away." Jacob tells you.

He forces you to kiss him on the cheek in an awkward position and leaves you on his grand bed with the door locked.

You collapse and begin to sob.

Hi, this short text is part of a larger story you can find on Wattpad, @graphedpaper, if you liked this, you should check it out there.

[k1ng-ej]

Leon Kennedy comfort ♡

Note: hi, lets ignore that I disappeared for a year, lots happened. I'm trying to get back into the swing of writing and my latest obsession is Leon.

You had just ended things with your boyfriend in person, at his dorm. Needless to say, he had a bit of a meltdown, screaming at you and becoming violent. You left with a few bruises and went back to your dorm to calm down. You made sure the door was locked and blocked him on everything.

To say that man scared you would be an understatement. He was downright horrifying. You had a purple ring on your wrist from when he grabbed you, and another was forming on your neck. As the adrenaline wore off, you noticed your hands were shaking and tears forming in your eyes. Your heart was racing, and you slowly fell onto your knees. You had to act like you weren't scared when he was squeezing your wrist with a strength you thought would break it, and choking you until the edges of your vision started turning black. You were lucky he let go. You thought you were going to die in that room at the hands of someone who said they loved you.

You grasped your shirt, your breathing was becoming more difficult, and your vision was blurry from the tears. 

You heard the knob rattle, and your mind immediately thought it was your ex, returning to finish what he started earlier. The door opened, and Leon, your dorm mate, stepped inside. He stopped short, caught off guard by your appearance. You were basically just friends. You'd chat about what's for dinner and discuss classes, but that was about it. You didn't get to interact with him much since he worked right after finishing his classes. By the time he came back, you were asleep.

As he stood there and saw the tears streaming down your face, the noticeable bruising on your neck and wrist, and how panicked you seemed, he did the first thing that came to mind. 

He quickly closed the door behind him, setting down the items in his hands and kneeling in front of you, his hand reaching to wipe the tears from your cheek.

"Hey, you're okay. Breathe deeply for a moment." He spoke softly, his other hand rubbing up and down your arm. His touch was warm and comforting, and the way he spoke to you gave you goosebumps. The way he looked at you with those blue eyes, with a gentleness you hadn't seen from your ex, made your heart flutter.

You managed to nod and took a few slow, deep breaths. Leon kept wiping your tears with his thumb. His touch was so gentle and warm that you couldn't help but lean into it. You managed to calm the panic attack that came on, but you were still on the verge of tears.

"Let's get you on the bed." Leon helped you up by taking hold of your arms gently and guiding you over to your bed.

He sits next to you, putting his arm around your shoulder. Leon didn't want to pry, not wanting to make you remember and cry again, so he sat silently, his finger absentmindedly rubbing circles on your upper arm. He was unaware that his actions were providing you with assistance. His touch was light and soothing, and you found yourself longing for more of it.

You sniffled, wiping your eyes, and turned your head to Leon.

"Thanks for helping me calm down. I'm sorry you had to see me like that." You spoke, your voice sounding a little nasal.

"Don't worry, it's okay. I'm here for you." He gave you a reassuring squeeze, pulling you closer. You could smell his cologne, which had a hint of vanilla and something stronger, crispier, in it. You'd never been this close to Leon before, so you started to notice the little things you hadn't before. The way his muscles felt against your back, his smell, the little freckles on his face, how soft his hair looked up close—you wanted to run your fingers through it. You had to push those thoughts out of your mind. You'd just gotten out of a toxic relationship, so you couldn't be throwing yourself at someone new. You and Leon were just friends, roommates.

He noticed you were looking at him and started taking in your features as well. Your eyes were a bit puffy and red from crying, and the bruise on your neck was more noticeable than before. It bothered him that someone would do such a thing to a person, but he couldn't do anything about it. Before this, your eyes seemed empty, and you often looked like you were at the end of your rope. But now, as you sat next to him, looking into his eyes, he noticed a sparkle that he hadn't seen before. He wanted to pull your head into his chest and tell you everything would be okay, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

The two of you were engaged in a long staring contest, but it felt like only minutes. You went back and forth with yourself for a while, but finally mustered up the courage to rest your head on his shoulder. You stayed there for a moment, then you felt his hand cup the back of your head and pull your face into his chest. The scent of his cologne was more pronounced here, and you felt a bit warmer. His hand stroked your head gently, and he rested his chin on top of your head.

You closed your eyes and let your body relax. You put your arm around Leon's waist, returning the hug he'd given you. You weren't expecting such comfort from Leon, given how little you two had spoken and how distant you were. You found yourself silently thanking him in your head. Part of you was afraid that you were being an inconvenience to Leon, and that this night would make things awkward between you two, but you didn't realize that both of you needed this physical closeness. 

Leon often kept his distance from others, not because he wanted to, but because he was a little socially awkward and could never find time to interact with people even if he wanted to. You were the person he talked to the most, even if The conversations were short and about simple things.

"Thanks again. You really helped me out." You said, managing a small smile.

Leon returned the smile, and you felt heat rise to your face. You didn't often see him smile, but wow, he has such a beautiful smile.

[userautumn]

I have never wanted an infidelity fic as much as I want one with Deacon cheating on Annie with Rocker. Give me all the hot sex and the Catholic guilt!!

two fics in one day :)

"We don't have to talk about it."

"Shut up."

Deacon puts his watch back on his wrist. He pauses, looking down at his hands. They're shaking. That's bizarre, isn't it? He's a member of LAPD SWAT. He runs into gunfire and explosions for a living. Cheating on his wife should be nothing, and yet—

Yet, his hands shake.

He casts a look behind him. Donovan lays on the motel bed, careless as careless can be. He traces his fingers through the come on his chest as if his body were a canvas upon which to smear it for posterity. The sheets sit low on his body, low enough that Deacon can see the cut of his hips, and the thin patch of hair leading toward his cock.

He's a beautiful temptation, and Deacon has eaten the poison fruit enough for one day.

He finishes lacing up his boots rises to his feet. "Don't come out immediately after me."

"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill."

He can hear the smirk in Donovan's voice and it's infuriating. He doesn't know if he wants to kiss him about it or punch his teeth down his throat. He settles for doing nothing at all and hates himself a little more.

"This can't happen again."

Donovan hums. "Tell me another one."

Deacon looks at him. For once, Donovan looks painfully serious. They're not in the business of lying to each other, can't be. Not in this job, not when they need to trust each other enough to walk into battle together. It's why all their coworkers know about this thing between them. No one talks about it, and when Annie shows up, they're all decent enough to pretend they don't know, but they know.

So when Donovan says that this thing will happen again, Deacon knows he's not lying. He really believes it. What's worse is that Deacon believes it too.

"I'll see you at work."

"David."

"No." His hand tightens around the door handle. "It's Deacon at work, and David at home, and last time I checked, we ain't home." He hears the venom in his own voice but he's too tired and too angry to retract it. He turns to look at Donovan but instead of looking wounded or angry, Donovan just looks annoyed.

"Fine. Deacon, then. You're forgetting something."

"I'm not going to fucking kiss you goodbye if that's what you're looking for."

Donovan scoffs and then something hard and solid is floating through the air. It hits him in the temple and then clatters to the ground. Deacon stares down at it, a knot in his stomach.

"It's your wedding ring, asshole."

Ah, there's the anger. Deacon welcomes it.

Donovan gets out of bed. His movements are sharp and jerky as he pulls his shirt over his head. "You know, I figured you didn't want to explain to the missus why you didn't have it on you, but that's my mistake. Maybe I shouldn't assume. God forbid I forget my place as just a convenient piece of ass, right?"

Deacon stoops to pick up his ring. He turns the band over between his fingers, surprised and angry by the hot rush of tears stinging his eyes. He made his decisions, he doesn't get to feel guilty about them now.

"Donovan—"

"No. It's Rocker at work, and Donovan at home, and last time I checked, we ain't home." He bullies Deacon out of the way and swings open the motel room door. "I'm leaving first. Don't follow me immediately."

He slams the door behind him, hard enough to rattle the generic paintings on the walls. Deacon stares at the door. He closes his eyes and leans forward until his forehead kisses the cool metal. He listens to the sound of Donovan's car roaring to life, listens to him peel out of the motel parking lot like the devil is on his heels. Only when it's quiet again does he open his eyes.

He looks down at his hands.

At least they've stopped shaking.

[asimpforthe80s]

You're getting railed when we come home..

Starring: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, use of vibrating dildo, Eddie being angry

- - - - - - - - - ♡

- - - - - - - - - ♡

You're in the passenger seat of Eddies car, casually scrolling through your phone when Eddie snatches it away from you and throws it in the backseat. Your eyes widen in shock. "What the hell?!" You ask him. "Don't 'what the hell' me." He spat, giving you a swift glance then refocused on the road. "What was that?" He asked. "What? You say. "At the restaurant." He snapped. "I saw the way you two looked at each other, I'm not an idiot, okay? That's Steve, for fucks sake." You slump in your seat, uninterested in the conversation.

Your boyfriend was way too overprotective. "Y/N, I'll flip this fucking car upside down and kill us both, sit up properly." He demanded. "No." You spat, crossing your arms. Without hesitation, Eddie increased the speed on the highway. You watch as he races other drivers. He was a reckless driver. "Slow down." You request. "Sit up." He answered. You curse beneath your breath, swallow your pride, and sit up properly. "Happy?" You said. Slowly, he drives back to the normal speed limit. "You're getting railed when we get home." He muttered.

-

As Eddie parks the car, you run up to the doorway, unlock the door, and run up to your room, locking the door. Relieved, you sit on the edge of your bed when you hear the doorknob rattle and unlock. Eddie enters the room and pins you to your bed. "Awww~ don't think that I forgot my promise, princess." You look away, and he forces you to look back at him. His face is inches away from yours.

He picks you up and throws you onto the bed. "Don't move," he says. "Or what?" You reply. "I'm pretty sure you know damn well what would happen." Embarrassed, your face turns into a burning red. "Now, don't move," Eddie says. You obey and don't move as Eddie rummaged around the house for some 'tools'. He comes back with some rope and a vibrating dildo. He tells you to get changed and hands you a bag from Victoria's secret. When you come back, Eddie ties your ankles and wrists so you can't move, and shoves the dildo into your weeping cunt. "If you make a single sound, I'll make this much worse." He threatens. He grabs the remote and turns the vibrating part of the dildo on max speed. Tears sting in the corner of your eyes as you try not to make a sound. But you can't go any longer as your voice let's out a small whimper.

Eddie hears your whimper and turns off the vibrator, roughly taking the dildo out of your pussy. "Aww, princess~ looks like I have to punish you now." You shake your head and let out a whimpers of protest, but he covers your mouth and unties your wrists and ankles. He undresses himself and pins you to the bed once more. Nervous, you look away. Eddie chuckles and shoves his fat cock into your cunt with a squelch. You begin to moan, making Eddie speed up his thrusts. As he goes faster your moans get louder. He pulls out as he remembers that this is supposed to be a punishment and you say, "please, baby~ keep going.."

Eddie replies, "My name isn't baby or Eddie. Try again."

"My love?" You try.

He shakes his head. "Nope."

With a reddened face, you answer, "daddy..?"

He smirks, "Good job, baby." He replies seductivley. "Pick a number from one to ten." He says, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "Uhn.. five..?" You say, sounding uncertain. "Ohoh, you're in for a treat, darling." He chuckles and shoves five fingers into your waiting cunt. You tried to squirm away as he swirled them around. He took his fingers out, wiping them off on your clit. Almost immediately, you cum. Embarrassed, you whisper, "da- daddy, I'm cumming~" Eddie smirks once more and replies. "Perfect. Get on your hands and knees, darling." He went over to the bedside drawer as you got into position.

He grabs a pair of handcuffs and cuffs you. He started licking your cum off of your thighs, slowly working himself up to your cunt. Starting to moan uncontrollably, you warn him that you're gonna cum again. His thumb finds your clit as his tongue starts thrusting in and out of your entrance. As you got down from your high, he orders you to sir in front of your desk chair as he sits down. You obey and position yourself in between his thighs. Eddie cups your jaw and brings your mouth to his cock and you immediately start sucking him off. Eddie grabs a small chunk of your hair, stilling your motions as he starts thrusting himself into your mouth, soon pushing as deep down as he can, cumming in long, white ropes. Exhausted, you swallow his cum, and he gently guides you back to your bed, taking off the handcuffs. You lie down and hug the pillow close. Eddie sighs and gets in with you, making you let go of the pillow and snuggle up to him instead.

[lingerina]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝓡𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃 // kim minjeong

➛ gp prisoner!minjeong x prison warden fem!reader ➛ pwp, g!p, panty gagging, hair pulling, use of handcuffs, mating press, implied multiple orgasms, squirting, creampie ➛ 1k words ➛ you’re shown who’s the real prisoner here.

💬 a belated birthday present for the most deranged beloved winter stan @wintersera ♡

Nightfall has long shrouded the city in darkness, but what’s the difference between night and day when your work environment is darker than midnight woes?

You aspire to be like your aunt: authoritative, firm on her feet, and can rattle fear in even the toughest men.

Because unlike her, you’re soft. You fall apart when someone raises their voice at you. You may have gotten slightly better at keeping your chin up but you’re nowhere near your aunt’s level. A part-time job you worked in high school improved your social skills, so a challenging job where you may deal with some hardheaded individuals—like being a prison warden—should be able to toughen you up even a little bit, right?

You amble down the cell hall with a flashlight in hand. Most of the prisoners have fallen asleep, but you have a specific cell to visit.

Not that you need to.

Your eardrums almost vibrate from the deafening thumps of your racing heart, your clammy hand squeezing the flashlight to your chest as you come close to your destination.

Once you reach her cell, you shine the light directly into it and find her, Kim Minjeong, sitting in a chair in the middle of the small enclosure. Slouched, legs crossed and outstretched, and arms folded over her chest as she arches her brow, she smirks.

She has you wrapped around her finger, and you make no opposition.

“I thought you’d never come,” she chuckles.

The clank of the cell door locking reverberates. Maybe the cellmates several doors down can hear it, but you still wince due to how loud it is in your head. Not only does the pin-drop silence amplify every little sound, but you’re concerned that the prisoner you deliberately locked yourself in with may hear your heart threatening to leap out of your chest, and take advantage of your fear.

And excitement.

“Don’t be shy now. Come take a seat.”

It’s shameful. 

You acknowledge your weakness, but you didn’t realize just how low it can go. There’s no excuse for you to engage in relations with a prisoner, but something about Minjeong draws you in.

She’s gorgeous. She shows no sign of inflicting violence on you and doesn’t look down on you as some ‘little girl posing as a guard’. Though she’s heavily flirtatious, she still treats you like a human.

Except in this very moment where your own cuffs are around your wrist and your mouth is stuffed with your soiled panties. She was quick to get rid of your clothes, which have been thrown aside, but she still has her uniform on. You had taken a seat on her lap when she offered and now you’re bouncing on her cock. She’s occupied by your chest, curious hands squeezing your tits together while her lips are latched onto a nipple, sucking and tugging and flicking it with her tongue. Whenever you started slowing down, she’d tangle her fingers through your hair and tug.

Hard.

“Come on, baby.” She pouts. “You can do better.”

Except you can’t.

You’re certain you can’t. Your thighs are shaking—burning—and you can’t control your hands. You can’t balance properly, and you can’t rest for a second. Your pleas and grunts are muffled by the fabric gag. You look utterly pathetic, but Minjeong doesn’t sympathize. She only utilizes the power she has over you.

When you don’t improve, she carries you to her bed and tosses you down. Landing on your cuffed wrists is not ideal but you don’t dwell on it for too long when she presses your legs up to your chest. The pressure of your thighs being crushed against your abdomen nearly folds you in half. A new angle is offered and your eyes immediately roll back as she fucks you.

Her hips don’t slack. You feel the force of every thrust stretching you open and hitting all the right spots. You practically feel her in the pit of your belly from how hard she’s pounding you. Fortunately, the darkness masks your late night rendezvous because you know that one look into her piercing eyes would have you falling apart. To be looked at like prey is to experience a swift downfall.

You like being her prey.

You didn’t get to recuperate after your previous orgasm, so your next one quickly hits you. It crashes over you in waves and you gush around her cock, creaming her with a messy release. She groans as she’s forced out of your squirting pussy, the ample wetness soaking the edge of the mattress and spilling to the floor. You were certain you didn’t have that much to give, but she always proves you wrong.

She will always get as much as she wants.

You’re spent. Shaking. But never mind that. Minjeong is quick to slide back into you, courtesy of your overflowing slick, and your cunt is subjected to another round. You feel so close to breaking. You try to escape her grip but what use is there when you’re cuffed and possess only half the strength that she does?

Who’s the real prisoner here?

“Oh fuck,” she grunts between gritted teeth. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna fucking come, and you’re gonna take it all.”

Fulfilling her promise, she bottoms out. You’re beyond full of her dick, and now the warmth of her release floods your insides, filling you up in ways that no one else can. She draws back, then shoves back in, pushing her cum deeper into you. Slow and steady thrusts like that leaves your head spinning.

She slowly removes her softened cock with a delighted sigh, and you feel her cum dribble out of you. It pools onto the sheet beneath you and you lay there lifelessly, trembling and panting.

You hear the sound of a zipper. Minjeong didn’t step out of her uniform so it should be easy for her to fix herself up. You, on the other hand, have been completely unraveled. It will take much longer for you to get yourself together.

“You can rest a little more, but don’t stay in here for too long.”

She gathers your clothes and gently sets them at the edge of the bed. “Don’t wanna get caught fucking your prisoner, do ya?”

You laugh once you catch your breath. 

“… When do you get out again?”

[thegettingbyp2]

Can I request Stefan and the reader. The reader locked the door and it was just her and Stefan, she took his chains off . The reader gets Stefan to turn his humanity back on while he is locked up in that chamber because she is sick of his sh*t . Very angst because she never gives up on him. He almost killed her

Do It For Me

‘I’m bored,’ Stefan whined, shaking his arms teasingly, making the chains wrapped around him rattle. You sighed and let your head thud back against the wooden door. You’d been sitting here for the past three days, trying to think of anything that would be able to get Stefan to turn his humanity back on. ‘(Y/N), I know you’re sitting there, come on, I’m bored.’

Feeling yourself getting more and more annoyed, you stood up, brushing any dust from your jeans before opening the door and stepping into the room, the clink of the lock sliding back into place causing a wide grin to spread across Stefan’s face.

‘Someone’s feeling brave,’ Stefan said, sounding like the cat that got the cream.

‘Turn it back on, Stefan,’ you said tiredly, not having the energy to retaliate.

‘But I’ve already told you I’m feeling something - boredom,’ he teased, making you snap as you walked towards him until you were just out of his grip due to the chains.

‘You know, I think you’ve already turned it back on but you’re just scared to face what you actually did.’

‘I’m really getting under your skin right now, aren’t I, sweetheart.’ Stefan tilted his head as he looked at you, almost a curious expression on his features. ‘But if you really think I’ve turned it back on,’ he said, opening his arms and grinning at you as the veins under his eyes appeared and disappeared almost instantly, ‘then, by all means, go ahead, let me go.’

Deciding to call his bluff, you reached into your back pocket and pulled out the key. Eyeing him cautiously, you took the final step before reaching over to unlock both chains, unable to stop from flinching when the chains hit the floor with a heavy sound. Breathing out shakily, you took a small step back before lifting your head to look at him, your heart sinking when the cold grin remained on his face. In that moment, you felt yourself fully give up, tears beginning to track down your cheeks.

‘Stefan, please,’ you begged, not thinking and reaching up to cup his cheeks. ‘Turn it back on,’ you whispered, your thumbs softly caressing his cheeks, ‘please, baby, do it for me.’

Stefan smiled sadly at you before his hands came up to roughly grip your wrists, making you let out a quiet, pained yelp as your eyes closed. ‘Now, why would I turn my humanity back on, for you, as you so sweetly begged, when you’ve kept me locked up in here for the past three days, starving me. I mean, that’s not making me want to do anything for you, is it. But I suppose you can make it up to me.’

‘Stefan,’ you said in a broken whisper, futilely trying to pull your wrists out of his grip. ‘Don’t do this,’ you begged as you saw the veins appear under his eyes.

‘Why not? It’s the least you can do after making me this hungry.’ His tone of voice, the way he sounded like he was completely justified, was terrifying you.

‘Damon’s right upstairs,’ you tried before being cut off my one of his fingers coming up to cover your lips.

‘Don’t insult me, (Y/N), Damon went out about an hour ago after you promised you weren’t going to do anything stupid. I’m hungry, but I’m still a vampire,’ he said, tapping his ear.

‘Fine,’ you said, steeling yourself and meeting his gaze. ‘But when you turn your humanity back on and realise what you’ve done, I forgive you, Stefan.’

Stefan looked at you for a moment before a soft chuckle travelled through his body. ‘You’ve always had so much hope, so much faith in me, (Y/N). It’s gonna kill you one of these days.’

That was the last thing you heard before you felt his teeth rip into your neck. His hold on you was tight, and you quickly felt yourself growing dizzy, darkness clouding your vision.

‘Stefan,’ you whimpered weakly, your hand coming up to rest against his cheeks as you felt your eyes close as you drifted into unconsciousness.

The moment Stefan felt your body go completely limp in his hold was the moment something switched in him and, for the first time in weeks, he’d wondered what he’d done.

[sparxwrites]

It’s two in the morning when Gem wakes up to screaming in her castle.

The noise is coming from the entrance hall, and it sounds like neither a wither nor a warden, so she figures she’s good to head down in just her pyjamas and her little silk house-robe. Her sword is a comforting not-weight in her inventory, visible a half-dimension away when she lets her attention slip to the peripheral of her vision. Whatever it is, she’ll be fine. It’s probably some bugged zombie or something – if it’s not just some new god-awful prank from Grian, or Scar, or both. 

(She’s heard that thing under Scar’s base. It’s horrible. If they’ve put one of those in her castle, she’s going to kill both of them. Even if it was just one of them that put it there, she’s going to kill both of them. On principle.)

It’s not a bugged zombie, or a prank. It’s Pearl – also in her pyjamas, red flannel and a button-up shirt – hunched over, pulling at her own hair, howling. Her eyes are huge, wet, the pupils blown so large they’re almost black. There’s dark bags under her eyes, no colour in her skin other than high spots of red in her cheeks, the red of her nose where it’s running.

She’s barefoot – and that shouldn’t be what makes Gem’s heart break in two, but it is.

“Hey, Pearl,” she says, gently, raising her voice to carry over the wounded wailing. “Pearl! Hey. Can you look at me?”

She feels like she should have expected this, really. She’d heard from Mumbo what Grian had been like, after that first game, the one he’d won. She’d not been close enough to experience it first-hand, but she knew it’d been bad. She knows that winning those games is really more of a loss, than anything.

Pearl’s head snaps up. The howling stops, or rather transitions, turns into a choked gurgling, a gasping, this awful and wrenching sobbing like she’s gagging on her own saliva and desperately trying to swallow her screams. Her eyes are hollow, empty, nothing behind them but fear, pain. There’s something else there, too, some kind of deep and welling existential terror that makes Gem want to take a step back. 

She doesn’t, but it’s a close thing. The back of her neck prickles, the hairs on the back of her arms standing on end. She swallows, instead, and forces herself to take a step forward, towards the fear.

“That’s good,” she praises, “that’s great, Pearl, good job. Well done. Now. Can you tell me what’s going on? Seems like you’re having a bit of a rough time, huh?”

When Pearl rushes at her – hunched, animal, too-fast and skittering and staggering – she still doesn’t back up. 

She does, however, flinch. Her gaze slides to the peripheral, again, to the sword there. Just for a moment.

Pearl doesn’t seem to notice. “Tilly,” she gasps, grabs at Gem’s wrists. Her nails dig in, overlong, and draw blood. “Where’s– Tilly, what did they–” Her gaze sharpens, but only for a moment, and there’s still no sense in it. “What did you do to Tilly–”

Like this, this close, skin-on-skin contact between them, Gem can feel how hard she’s shaking.

“I’m sure she’s around here somewhere,” says Gem, as calmly as she can. “Can you tell me where you think you are, Pearl?”

Pearl gurgles, an awful noise. and tips forward. She’s still clutching hard enough to draw blood and, when she falls into Gem’s chest, she’s as cold as the night air outside. Her shaking rattles Gem’s ribs.

“He left,” she says, wet, like a child. “He left, he– he killed, he died, he killed himself, rather than– than be with me. He hates me. He wanted to get away from me so bad that he, he, he–”

She howls again, then, a noise of raw and ragged pain that seems to tear its way out of her like a living thing. 

There are tears soaking through Gem’s pyjamas, and her heart breaks a little with it as she carefully, carefully, shifts a hand to cradle the back of Pearl’s head. Her wrists are bloody with nail marks, and some of it catches, smears in Pearl’s wild hair. She tries not to worry about it. They can wash it out later.

“Shh, shh,” she murmurs, pets at the tangled mess beneath her hand, holds Pearl close while she works through another bout of screaming. “Shh, shh, shh.” She takes them both to the floor, slowly, legs going out from under them as Gem lowers them down. “I’m here, I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

“He hated me,” moans Pearl, between sobs, when the wailing has passed. The shaking is slowing, easing a little, the agony giving way to a slower, bone-deep hurt, the madness passing into grief. “He wanted to die rather than stay.”

That’s not true, Gem thinks, and she thinks Pearl knows that too. But she doesn’t say that. Now is not the time for saying that.

What she says, instead, is just, “I’m here. And I don’t hate you.” She hesitates, for a moment, and then leans forward, curls over Pearl where they’re sat tangled together on the floor. Presses her lips to the top of Pearl’s head. “I’m here,” she says, and means it, “and I’ll stay. For as long as you want me to.”

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Oh dear sweet god

Why do I do this to myself

This goof has such a chokehold on my heart I just CANNOT

Working on P is for Public of ABC's of Kink, but it's getting split into two. Part one is SFW, part 2 will be very much NSFW. Already working in it and planning to have it up tonight.

And awaaaaay we gooo—

I lied part 3 will be NSFW don't hurt me

Blacksmith's Daughter

Part 1 of 3

Part 2 here

Series: ABC's of Kink

Letter: P is for Public

Wordcount: 2.7k

Tags: SFW, NSFW (part 3 only), fluff, hurt/comfort other stuff maybe

LA!Shanks X AFAB!Reader

Dear gods I loved writing this one

To say you were in a pickle would have been a grievous understatement.

You and a close friend had been caught sneaking around a Marine base after getting the bright idea to break into their treasury vault. For a few years since your father's death you had been down on your luck, and it had seemed a quick ticket to dragging yourself out of the gutter. You had become over that time a particularly skilled thief, and the training you had recieved from your father in blades, not to mention the pair of cutlasses he had smithed for you, didn't hurt your chances.

And you had been forced to give yourself up after your friend was killed while resisting arrest.

Thrown onto a Marine ship bound for Impel Down, locked in the brig with your hands and feet bound in irons. No family, no friends, set to rot for at least the next few years in prison, if not for the rest of your life.

You were fairly certain your situation couldn't possibly get any worse.

The officer guarding the brig was leaning against the desk across from the stairs that led up to the main deck of the ship, polishing his rifle with a rag and gun oil and whistling to himself. He had an easy enough time of it—you were the only prisoner there, and you weren't bothering to give him a hard time. You had been aboard the damnable ship for three days, stiff and sore from your limited range of movement in the heavy shackles clamped around your wrists and ankles, the gravity of your situation weighing heavily on you, and there really wasn't any fight left in you.

Sudden shouting from the deck overhead made him pause and look up the stairs, his brow furrowing under the brim of his cap as you both listened.

"Open fire!"

"Pirates!"

"All hands! Man the guns!"

The officer glanced into your cell, shouldering his rifle as he tossed his rag on the desk and pointed at you.

"Not a peep, wench."

You just leaned back against the wall of the cell with a sigh. "Yup."

So your situation could get worse. Wonderful.

The ship rattled and shook, the cannon fire making your ears ring. Bits of the ceiling fell into the cell around you. You flinched when a hole was blown through the wall of the cell next to your own, the cannon ball rolling across the floor and clanging against the bars. Rather than rotting in prison, you were just flat out going to die.

A fitting end for a miserable few years.

And then all at once, you heard another voice call for ceasefire. The cannon fire stopped first, and slowly the sounds of fighting on the deck above your head fell into relative silence, peppered with animated chatter and laughter.

That could only mean one thing—the Marines had lost.

And your suspicions were confirmed when, a few minutes later, one of the senior cadets on board burst through the doors and sprinted down the stairs into the brig in an outright panic, whimpering, attempting to draw his pistol with shaking hands—but not before he was followed by a broad-shouldered man with a long black ponytail, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, holding a large rifle with one hand and leveling the barrel between the young Marine's eyes.

The pirates had won. You weren't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Oh, don't shoot the kid, Benn, just get him restrained."

You watched another pirate stroll down the stairs and lean into the wall at the edge of them, bright red hair framing his face, a long black cape hanging around one of his shoulders, and a pair of cutlasses slung over his shoulder—your cutlasses. He set them lightly on the desk and patted his crewmate on the shoulder a couple times as he passed.

There was only one man on the Grand Line that matched his description, and even having lived in a town too far inland to have had much experience with pirates, you had heard of him—Red-Haired Shanks, captain of the Red Hair Pirates, who held one of the highest bounties in the world.

"Be quicker to shoot him." Benn shrugged a shoulder. "Or just coldcock him over the head."

"Kid's probably already shit himself." Shanks grabbed a coil of rope from the wall and tossed it across to him. "No use adding injury to insult."

Benn rolled his eyes over toward his captain...and then his gaze flicked back a bit, landing on you as you glanced warily between him and Shanks. Benn gave a nod toward your cell, and your heart went from racing to ceasing entirely when Shanks turned his head and locked his gaze with your own.

He lifted his eyebrows a bit, his dark brown eyes glinting.

"Well, hello there." You swallowed as he approached the cell slowly. He wrapped his hand around one of the bars, leaning forward. Evidently your anxiousness was written all over your face, as he said next, reassuringly, "Don't worry love, we don't bite. Unless you make the idiot decision of opening fire on my ship," he added, raising his voice just a bit and tilting his head to look back at the Marine cadet, who was putting up absolutely no fight over having his hands tied behind his back now.

Shanks directed his gaze back over to you, flashing a charming grin. "So what're ya in for, sweetheart?"

You took a deep breath, and forced yourself to speak. "I—I, er—"

"She snuck into the base in Nanohana and attempted to break into the treasury vault," the cadet chimed in, and flinched as Benn shoved him down to sit against the wall.

He then grabbed the gun-oil rag from the desk and stuffed it in the cadet's mouth.

"Nobody asked you, kid," he said, leaning against the adjacent wall and crossing his arms, his rifle propped up against the wood paneling beside him.

Shank's grin only widened at that. "Did you really?" You nodded shortly, and he chuckled. "God, what a horrible crime," he went on, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Everyone knows the World Government is horrifically impoverished and doesn't have a single Berry to spare." He leaned a bit closer, resting his head against one of the iron bars. "How far did you get?"

"W...we had just gotten the vault open before we were surrounded," you said quietly. You couldn't tear your eyes away from his, as they widened and his eyebrows shot up toward his hairline, completely taken aback.

"Impressive," he said, his eyes passing over you slowly. He bit the corner of his lip thoughtfully, before his eyes returned to yours. "You said we. You have a crew?"

You shook your head. "It was just me and my friend. Well...more like my brother, really." Your eyes dropped to your knees for a moment. "He didn't make it," you said quietly, still not quite able to process it. Your best friend, your only friend, who you had known for twenty-three years, since you were a toddler.

Gone.

When you lifted your eyes back to the red-haired captain, his expression had softened considerably, mouth turned down in a small frown, his amusement replaced with genuine concern. "I'm terribly sorry to hear that, sweetheart," he said gently. He drew in a deep breath, and let it out as a slow sigh, before flipping his cape out of the way and taking a seat on the floor—and you noticed with a bit of shock as the cloak shifted that the left sleeve of his loose white shirt was empty.

He rest his elbow on his knee, leaning his chin into his palm, hand curled over his mouth for a long moment.

"Arabasta is around three days from here," he said finally. "Provided the wind cooperates, and honestly we could do with making port. We'd be more than happy to take you home."

You swallowed, your heart still pounding, still anxious, but for a different reason now. This man, who didn't even know your name, who was gazing at you with a gentle compassion spread across his handsome features that you were entirely unaccustomed to, offering to go out of his way just to get you home—this man had a bounty of over three billion berries?

After a moment, you shook your head. "Wouldn't be much use," you said, shrugging a shoulder. "I don't exactly have a home."

"Any family?" You shook your head—your father's death had been wholly unexpected, and led ultimately to the closing of his smithy, where the two of you and your "brother"—his apprentice—had also lived. Within less than a month you had been on the streets. "Friends?"

His face fell a little more every time you shook your head no. He ran the pad of his index finger over the top of his lips, glancing briefly at Benn.

Back at you, looking at you almost like you were a poor, abandoned puppy he wanted to take home.

He glanced at Benn again, longer this time, until his first mate sighed, straightening out from the wall. "I'll figure out who's got the keys," he said, already starting toward the door.

"Good man."

From the slam you heard, you were fairly sure he kicked the door open at the top, and his voice boomed over the loght chatter on the deck.

"Alright, you assholes. I'm gonna ask one of you who's got the keys to the brig. I don't get an answer in ten seconds, you're getting an extra hole in your head, and I move onto the next guy."

Your eyes widened a little as you looked toward the stairs, moving back over to Shanks as he laughed a little.

"Has a real knack for subtlety, doesn't he?" he said with a crooked grin. He leaned back, planting his hand on the floor behind him. "Seems you have two options, love. You can stay here, with a bunch of tied up Marines who want to take you—where, Impel Down?" You nodded, and he returned the nod. "Or..." He cooked his head slightly to one side, his grin widening a little. "We can break you out of here and you can come with us."

You blinked a few times. "And...go where?" you said slowly.

Her shrugged a shoulder. "Wherever the wind and the waves carry us."

He was asking you to join his crew. You felt your eyes widen a bit, and Shanks laughed softly when he saw his meaning had sunk in.

"I'd choose the latter option, personally," he said. "Never hurts to have another good thief on board."

"You...can't really say I'm a good thief, given..." You glanced down pointedly at the iron shackles around your ankles. "Well, circumstances."

"Ah..." He waved his hand dismissively. "Everyone makes mistakes early in their career. How long have you been thieving?"

"Two years," you said. "Since my father died. Mostly just...pick-pocketing and sneaking money pouches off vendors. This was the first actual break-in."

His eyes widened a bit. "Your first actual break-in," he said slowly, the corner of his mouth curving into a smirk, "was into a Marine base in a major city?"

You shrugged a shoulder, and nodded. He huffed out a sigh, shaking his head.

"Oh, I like you," he said in a low, flirtatious tone, his eyes making a slow pass over you that made your heart speed up and blood rush to your cheeks. "So tell me, princess...." He finally leaned forward again, resting his arm across his knee, and went on with a debonair grin. "Is there a pretty name to go with that pretty face?"

You managed to stammer out your name, your eyes wide as saucers. His smile softened as he shook his head a little, his gaze locked firmly onto yours as he spoke one word softly.

"Beautiful."

You jumped when the door opened, and both of you looked over as Benn descended the stairs, flicking a spent cigarette butt at the Marine cadet still seated in the corner. He tossed a ring of keys over to Shanks.

"Already informed everyone we have a new thief on the crew," he said flatly, tossing a ring of keys over to Shanks.

Shanks swiped them out of the air, grinning. "And how do you know that? I don't recall telling you."

Benn gave him a look equally as flat as his tone.

"Oh, lighten up, you grumpy old bastard," said Shanks jovially, pulling himself to his feet. Your eyes were glued to the keys as he flipped one out and tried it in the cell lock.

It didn't open.

"So what're we doing about this?" said Benn, gesturing broadly. "Caravel full of tied up Marines. Sink her? Just leave her adrift?"

Shanks shrugged. "Might as well just leave it. Take anything that isn't nailed to the floor."

There was a muffled sound of protest in the corner, and both men turned their gaze to the cadet.

Shanks tried the second key, with no success, as the cadet managed to turn his head and tug the cloth out of his mouth with traction from the shoulder of his coat. "Y—you can't just—there's no telling when another Marine ship will come by!"

Shanks snorted. "Or another pirate ship." He flipped to the next key, smirking. "So you'd rather I sink her?"

"W—well, no, but—but we—"

Benn had evidently heard enough. He rolled his eyes as he stooped down to pick up the cloth, and the cadet's jaw snapped shut immediately. Sighing in irritation, he grabbed the kid by his nose and held his nostrils shut until he was forced to open his mouth to take a gasp of air.

And Benn immediately shoved the cloth back into his mouth, and pointed a finger an inch from his nose. "Do it again and it'll be the last thing you ever do. Got it?"

The cadet nodded quickly, his eyes wide circles of terror.

The third key turned, and the lock clicked. You expelled a heavy sigh of relief at the sound. Shanks chuckled lightly as he watched you lean your head back against the damp wall behind you. "No need to worry, love," he said, kneeling down at your feet and flipping to the attached set of smaller keys for the cuffs and shackles. "I can pick a lock when I need to." He freed the first one, leveling his eyes with yours, and a small shiver coursed up your spine as he reached out and brushed a few strands of hair behind your ear, his thumb briefly caressing your flushed cheek. "I'm not letting a few iron bars and chains keep me from you."

"Oh dear god," Benn grumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes, and you almost giggled a little, biting your lip. The guy wasn't wrong, Shanks was laying it on pretty thick.

Though you weren't really complaining.

Shanks glanced back at him as he set to unlocking the second shackle, feigning surprise. "Oh, are you still here?" he said with a sarcastic smirk. He turned his attention back to the irons. "I fear I forgot there was anyone else in the room for a moment."

He glanced up and gave you a little wink before tossing the shackles away, and touched your shoulder lightly to indicate for you to lean forward so he could get to the cuffs wrapped around your wrists.

Benn leveled his eyes with yours, glancing at his captain, and gave a small snort of laughter. "Good luck."

And with that, he headed back up the stairs.

"Oh, don't listen to him, sweetheart."

Shanks chuckled, leaning over you to quickly unlock the shackles, so close you could feel the heat of his body, smell the leathery scent of his cologne mingling with a subtler hint of spiced rum. Your heart raced as he stood back up, dropped the cuffs, and held out his hand, smiling.

You hesitated for the briefest of moments, before placing your hand in his. He pulled you to your feet...and then flush against his chest, grinning as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

"I promise I'm perfectly harmless."

[k-hotchoisan]

congrats on five hundred darling! so proud! 🥳💕

for the this or that... number 3 perhaps??

keep going! love your work 🫶

3. Tease Yunho with toys or Jongho controlling the vibrator inside you for an entire day?

OK WAIT NOT U CALLING ME DARLING STOP IT \(//∇//)\ This one is a toughie bc boTH SOUND SO FUN…. But OKAY IMAGINE CONTROLLING YUYU…..

I feel like writing yuyu fics are my Roman Empire

When you finally catch the Cupid and decide to confront him in an unconventional way.

Warnings/genres: smut, Drabble, Eros & psyche au!, orgasm control, orgasm denial, toy play, orgasm,

Tag list: @bro-atz @diamond-3 <message me to be in my tag list✨)

K’s 500: this or that? Masterlist here!

You know you had to spend almost every week in the dim-lighted room, with a man who you didn’t even know, and you could only hear his voice and feel his touches. When he first did touch you, you never thought it would be so electrifying and it got you hooked on so quickly. Even though the both of you were always drenched in darkness, your body reacted almost automatically when you feel him cup your jaw and you immediately submit under his soft touches, as he whispered sweet nothings to you.

The only thing that stung your heart other not knowing your companion’s identity, was that by dawn break, your bedside would be left empty and cold. You didn’t mind at first, but as you spent more time together, it was inevitable—you were starting to feel something for this man, and you were getting gradually frustrated.

“You know what you should do? Fucking trap his ass”, your friend says.

“I want to, but how?” You huff in frustration.

A confident smile plasters on your friend’s face, as she pulls out a pair of glowing cuffs, and a bullet vibrator. You cock an eyebrow, picking up the vibrator.

The night came quicker than you thought, and as your heart is beating loudly in your ears. You only had one chance for this. You were always so curious of how your lover looked like, but were you ready to find out who? You almost decide to just leave it be, but the sudden reminders that you were always left alone and cold in the morning only solidified your resolve to find out his identity. You bite back the cowardliness that nips your nerves and hatched your plan.

You see his figure on the bed, obscured by the shadows of the flickering flame. He’s not leaned against the headboard waiting for you like he usually is, rather, he seemed to have fallen into slumber, his comfortable and soft breathing making him look all the more vulnerable. You almost feel bad for what you’re about to do, almost.

You climb onto the shared bed and straddle his lap, hoping it’s enough to trap him, because you know he would never hurt you.

Yunho eyes flutter open. He’s confused for a moment, until his eyes adjust to the familiar dim room around him. You definitely took awhile to arrive that he ended up taking a short nap. He realises two things:

1. You’re on his chest, sleeping soundly;

2. He tries to move, but he can’t. He looks up, and realises he’s been retrained against the headboard.

You stir, when the shaking of the chains disturb your sleep.

“Y/n?” He calls out. You shift, lifting your head as your rub your eyes.

“Hi Yunho”, you greet back, acting like nothing’s happening.

“Hey. I think I’m stuck”, a rattle of his wrists, before you feel his gaze go back to you.

You sit up, your crotch right on his, and you shift to look over, ignoring the way he groans softly under you, looking over at the cuffs you trapped him in.

“Right. You need help with that?”

You feel him nod beneath you.

“That’s gonna have to wait.”

Yunho is confused. He stares up at you, and he puts two and two together almost immediately.

“You’re not going anywhere tonight, Yunho”, you whisper.

“Wha-“ he doesn’t get a chance to complete his sentence, and terror washes over his face when you take the oil lamp seated on the nightstand, and move the light close to his face.

His facial features slowly come into view, and he’s so much more gorgeous than you thought—a face truly sculpted by the gods. It’s the first time you finally feel your eyes lock onto Yunho’s under the light. He looks at you with such softness, and all the more you want to ruin him.

You settle the oil lamp down, and Yunho opts for the smart decision not to wriggle beneath you so he doesn’t get burned (unlike the previous Eros).

“Now you know how I look like, would you let me explain and release me, please?” Yunho pleads, his pupils growing larger. A small pout appears on your lips, as your fingers trace his lips, your thumb swiping his bottom lip. His pleads sound so lovely. But it only feeds into the greed you have—being in control.

The memories of him constantly leaving you alone every morning resurface again, and your smile grows more sinister.

You grind against his slowly hardening cock, and Yunho gasps as you lean into his ear, and the words that leave your lips has shivers sending down his spine.

“No.”

“ Why are you doing this?” He asks, watching the way you remove yourself off his lap, tugging his slacks off him, his cock springing out, long and hard despite his confusion.

“For the mornings you left me cold and alone,” you simply answer, as your fingers wrap around his length, giving it a couple of pumps as you hear Yunho’s breath get caught in his throat.

“Y/n, wait-“

“We can always stop, and never see each other again.”

Yunho’s eyes widen. The truth is, he’s as attached and in love with you more than he realised. What begun as a simple mission from his mother, turned into something more than that. He knew that one day, you would discover his identity, and that it would be over, but when that though crossed his mind, he realises that he never wants to leave your side.

And the thought of you being in control for once? He has no complaints. He just never thought this day would come so soon.

“I guess I could just break Aphrodite’s rules once in awhile.”

Now you’re in between his legs, as he watches you give small licks to his twitching cock. Your eyes dart back and forth to his and his cock, watching his expressions. You relish the sounds of his soft groans and sighs before you take his cock whole in your mouth, and Yunho bucks his hip, a longer drawn groan leaving his lips.

“Fuckkk!” He cries out, trying to fit as much of his length into your mouth. You choke slightly, letting your saliva dribble past the corner of your lips to his cock. You begin to slowly bob your head, creating a rhythmic sensation that only pulls out more cries from the Cupid beneath you.

As his cries only climb in octaves, the many sessions you’ve had with him had conditioned you to recognise his reactions, and you halt, dragging your tongue upwards alongside the underside of his cock as you hear a whine.

Yunho stares at you with such a glazed out look as you’re seated upright again, licking the slick on your lips as Yunho watches on helplessly, the action only causing him to feel more sexually tensed. You pull out the small vibrator.

“Y/n, darling, what are doing?” Yunho asks, trying to hide the shivering anticipation coating his words.

“Venting my frustrations”, you reply as you stroke his thighs. The Cupid calms down slightly, as he watches you lick the device, covering it in your spit before switching it on, as it buzzes to life.

You tap it lightly onto the tip of his cockhead, and the reaction is immediate—Yunho’s whines grow high pitched, and his cockhead spurts out more clear fluid. You shift the vibrator awfully slowly across the skin to the place you know he’s extremely sensitive, and it pulls more cries out of him.

“Oh cupids, oh my gods. Y/n, please”, he begs, his legs opening on instinct, as he tries to control himself. He hates leaving you alone when dawn breaks, because the more he does it, the more it gets harder for him to do so. But he decides that he probably deserves it.

You push the toy harder against the area, and Yunho elicits a high pitched cry. It feels so fucking good, he wants you to keep doing that, he wants you to torture him like this, he wants to fucking cum-

And then it shifts, and Yunho’s eyes snap open wide, horrified, as he watches you drag the toy down his shaft. It feels so good that it hurts. You know his body as good as he knows yours and it’s a double edged sword.

The toy is at the base of his cock, and Yunho feels his balls tighten at the sensitivity—it’s so close to his balls but so far, he feels the ripples of the vibrations but it isn’t enough.

“It’s not that I wanna do it… Aphrodite…” Yunho’s mind is just turning into mush the more his stomach tightens.

You stare back into his glazed eyes, stroking his cheek endearingly, as you watch his face contort into one filled with pleasure as you trail the device upwards again, pressing against his tip.

“Aphrodite is a fucking bitch, you know. So what if she created you?”, you pout, watching him squirm as he tries to chase another orgasm, only for you to remove the toy from his cockhead, and his breathing is so erratic and heavy.

“She doesn’t need to know that I found out how you look like”, you continue. All Yunho could do is nod desperately, as he feels you press the buzzing toy right at his tip again. “For a goddess of love, she has weird rules.”

“Fuck. It’s too much”, Yunho sobs, the constant pleasure building, and being pulled away from him and then immediately flooding his senses.

“You could just break them”, you say as a matter-of-factly, twirling the device around his cock head, looking at the way he flexes his abdomen every time you brush against the sensitive area of his red-tinted cock. “She doesn’t have to know.”

“Do you think you deserve to cum?” You finally ask, albeit way too causally.

“Let me cum, darling, Angel, baby, please”, he tries again, his eyes oh so full of desperation. “I’ll do anything for you. Anything.”

You lean back, deciding to be kind for now, and up the vibration of the toy, pressing it painfully against the tip of his cockhead, and sounds Yunho makes sends so much dopamine into your brain. Your pretty little Cupid, unravelling right before your eyes.

“Cumming, cumming. Oh fuck-“ he cries, as his cock twitches uncontrollably, spurting so much thick cum, the vibrations only sending him into deeper layers of pleasure.

“So fucking good. Oh gods, it’s so much, haah-“ his moans are slowly turning into sobs, as his eyes roll back from the overstimulation. Your breathing is ragged now, seeing your partner in such bliss, that you are almost jealous.

You bite your lip as you drop the vibrator onto the bed after turning it off, as you reach over to uncuff his wrists. Deep down, you knew he had to go since you found out about his identity. But the moment you release his shackles, his wings grow wide as it spans and towers over you, as if his big frame wasn’t enough.

Now he’s on top of you. Yunho has a frenzied glint in his eyes, and it’s your turn for your heart to thump in anticipation.

Yunho has you trapped beneath him this time, as he stares at you hungrily. You’ve never seen him like this before.

“You’d best believe I’d defy Aphrodite. And on top of that, you’re not leaving until I fuck you so fucking sore, not even when dawn breaks.”

[alloftheimagines]

joel miller | left behind

masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

words: 2.9k

warnings: angst, angst, angst. so much angst. ep two spoilers. tess's death. grief. loss. infected stuff. reader is tess's younger sister. age gap. more angst. so much angst. slightly violent reader.

synopsis: in which joel honours a promise he made to tess that means he must force reader to leave your infected sister behind in boston. resentment and a bit of hurt/comfort ensues as you head to frank and bill's.

sibling!tess x reader, reader x joel, little bit of reader x ellie

tags: @sweetbabygirlsworld

“Holy shit. She’s infected.”

You didn’t think the world could fall apart twice, but you look at Tess as Ellie's words settle in and realise you were wrong. Here you are again, losing everything. This time, you don’t know if you can survive. 

“Tess…” you whisper, shaking your head slowly. “No. No. No.” 

Beside you, Joel is deadly still. He looks at your sister with such detachment that you want to scream. This is Tess. Fucking Tess. 

But you know him. You know he’s good at switching off when things get tough. Not like you. You wear your heart on your damn sleeve, and you can’t fucking do this. You look at her again, heart breaking. You feel every tear, every shard slipping through your ribcage. Tess is motionless — resigned. She wears sadness, but no fear. None anybody but you can see, anyway. You grew up with her. You can see the fading light in her eyes in a way the others won’t. 

And you don’t know what to do.

“Let me see it,” Joel orders quietly.

“Joel…” Tess pleads. 

“Show me,” he growls. 

Bitterly, she tears down the collar of her shirt, revealing the infection blossoming across bruised veins. Your knees threaten to buckle, nausea rising in your throat. 

“No.” Tears slip down your cheeks, and you’re already searching the room again for some hint the Fireflies might have left, some sign that it won’t end like this. “No. The girl is a cure. If we can just—”

Tess is saying your name. You’re not listening. If you listen, it will be real. If you listen, you will have to say goodbye to the only family you have left. 

“Joel,” she’s saying now. “This kid… this kid is real, okay? You gotta get her, get them both, to Tommy’s. He’ll know where to go, what to do.”

“No. No, I’m not doing that,” he replies. 

You’re still rattling around, searching old papers and nooks for something, anything; as though you’ll find a miracle in the shadows. 

“If not for the kid then for her.” Tess’s voice rises. You squeeze your eyes shut, your back turned to her. “She needs you, Joel. This is the end of the road for me, but you need to keep going. Promise me."

“I’m not leaving you here!” you shout, throwing the first thing you find against the wall. It smashes to dust. “We’ll find a way out of this, Tess. We always fucking do. Let’s just stop and figure it out!” 

“There is no figuring it out.” Tess marches over to you, gripping your face in her hands. You try so hard to fight it, so hard to stay in denial, but you look at her drawn face and know she’s already half-gone. You know the worry furrowing her brows isn’t for herself, but for you. For what will happen to you now. She practically raised you, toughening you up or else cradling you through the bad nights, never any in between. It made you both strong and so unbearably weak. Not like Joel, who has never let anything touch him. 

You choke on a sob and close your eyes. “Please, Tess. Please. This can’t be it. I need you.”

“I need you. I need you to be safe. I need you to keep going. Please, sweetheart.” She softens, brushing the tears from your eyes. “Please. For me.”

“No—” 

The sound of moans and the shuffling of uneven footsteps interrupt your protest. Joel goes to the window and curses, readying his gun. “Infected. Shit tonne of ‘em. We gotta go.”

You grab Tess’s wrist without thinking. “Come on.”

But she slips out of your grasp, stepping away from all of you. Ellie has tears in her eyes, but she says nothing, looking for the first time not to Tess or Joel, but to you. 

“I can buy you some time, but you have to run. You have to go,” Tess whispers. 

You shake your head again, ferociously this time. “No. No, I’m not leaving. If you stay, I stay.”

She snaps her head away. “Joel. Get her out of here.”

You fight back a bitter scoff, fists curling at your sides — but then hands lock around your arms, nudging you away. “Come on," Joel grunts. "We have to go. Now.”

The betrayal stings. This is fucking Tess. Of all people, he should want to help her. He shouldn’t be giving up on her. 

You snarl, “Fuck you if you think I’m going anywhere!” 

He doesn’t let up, face carved from stone. “We can’t stay,” he hisses, ducking his head to meet your eye. “You want us all to die?” 

“You go! I’m not—”

“Now, Joel!” Tess is yelling. “Get her the fuck out of here now!”

He swears under his breath again and then his arms are like a vice around your waist, your feet lifting from the floor as he drags you away, kicking and screaming. 

“No!” You’re shrieking now, vocal cords ripping apart as you try to reach for your sister. "Tess!"

But she doesn’t reach back. She turns away, and you know with certainty it’s the last time you’ll see her face. 

“Tess, please!” Sobs erupt from you, and you fight harder now, but Joel is too strong, too broad, too heavy-handed to let you go. “Please! Please! Let me go! Let me stay with her! She's my fucking sister, Joel!” 

The fresh air hits you all at once. One moment you’re there, watching your sister get smaller and smaller as infected scratch and rattle the doors, and then you’re back in the rubble of the drab city, the gold dome of Massachusetts State House dwindling. 

And then exploding.

As your feet finally hit the floor and you try to nudge Joel away, the earth cracks with black smoke and you’re thrown to the ground. Joel’s warmth shields you, and you feel Ellie trembling at your side. 

Silence blankets you like ash. It takes a moment for your brain to comprehend it. Any of it. 

You shove Joel to look back at the State House. The building that is no longer a building, just debris and fire. 

The building where your sister was standing not a moment ago. 

“No.” You say the word differently now. Softer. Devastation pierces through it, through you. She’s gone. Tess is gone. 

“Darlin’...” Joel puts his hand on your shoulder and squeezes, and fury sparks through you. 

“You did this!” you scream, hitting his chest again, and again and again. “You took away my choice!” Because the truth is, you would sooner have died in there with Tess than carry on without her. “You took away my fucking sister!” Because he’d gotten her into the jobs, the smuggling. He’d done all of this. 

Joel doesn’t react, barely even budging as you slam into him. His jaw is set, trembling, throat bobbing, and finally he catches your hands and locks his fingers around your wrists. “Look at me.” 

You can’t. You can’t look at him, or anywhere else. You want to vomit. You want to disappear. 

Instead, your chin wobbles and your ribcage opens up and everything pours out of you as you wail. 

He catches you as you sink to the ground, pulling you to his chest, and you’re too weak to push him away now. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair, rocking you gently. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart. There was nothing else we could do. Nothing else I could do. But look at me. Please look at me.” He grips your jaw just as Tess had, and you flinch. You hate him. You fist his shirt between your fingers and you want to destroy it, destroy everything around him. 

Except you don’t. He’s all you have left, and the realisation makes you numb. Joel fucking Miller is the only goddamn person you have. 

You do as he asks. You look at him. 

“She bought us time," he says. "We can’t waste it now. Do you understand? We can grieve her later, but right now, we gotta go. We have to get up and keep going. For Tess.”

You hate that he’s right most of all. As you begin to shut down, shock taking over, you look back at the smoking State House and stand. And then you clutch Joel’s collar and bare your teeth. 

Ellie stumbles towards you, eyes round with fear, but you’ve lost the will to care about her presence. You’ve lost everything today.

“Don’t you fucking say her name again,” you snap. “You lost that right. I blame you. I blame you for who she became, who we’ve all become.”

Anguish curls across Joel’s features, but you refuse to feel guilty. You let him go roughly and grab your backpack off the floor, the same one you’d clutched during the outbreak just after you’d watched your parents get savaged by your infected neighbours, Tess dragging you to safety. You’d been thirteen years old, and your sister had gotten you through hell and back, that night and every other one that came after. 

“It shouldn’t have ended like this,” you whisper into the wind, swallowing your own tears. 

It’s the last moment you allow yourself to have, and then you wipe your damp cheeks and glare down at Joel again. 

“Get up. Let’s go.”

He does, looking winded as he rises from his knees to his feet. You allow him to lead the way only because he knows the city, knows his way around, far better than you did. Tess rarely let you do jobs out of the QZ, protective until the bitter fucking end. 

You wish more than anything you could have protected her. 

***

You don’t get the chance to catch your breath again until you get to Bill and Frank’s — which is empty. You never met them yourself, but you know Tess warmed to them, so to find them dead too… it feels like the last piece of good in the world is truly gone. You slump onto their couch still wrapped in numbness as Joel and Ellie gather supplies, reluctant to so much as look at you. Later, you hear them talking about showering, and Ellie thumps up the stairs, leaving the place quiet. You should wash, too. You should eat, drink, prepare for whatever comes next, but you can’t move. Can’t do anything. 

After minutes, or perhaps hours, of silence, Joel kneels in front of you with a plate of food. “You need to eat, darlin'. I know it’s hard, but you have to.”

You hate him calling you that. He never used to call you that. He barely addressed you at all, stubborn, grumpy old man he is. But he’s been family for a long time, and the three of you… 

You got by together. Until now. 

You glance down at the food and your stomach turns. 

“Please,” he whispers, voice cracking. It surprises you, that vulnerability bleeding into his words — and it seems to surprise him too, by the look on his face. You’ve never seen him like this. Not once. 

You take a bite for that alone. It’s dry in your mouth, and you find it hard to swallow, so you push the rest away. He sighs and puts it down on the coffee table, swapping the plate for his flask. You take a swig, whiskey burning like vinegar in your throat. 

“If I talk,” he asks, “will you listen?”

“No,” you answer honestly. “No, I don’t feel much like listenin’, Joel.”

Still, he takes your hand. You glare at your intertwined fingers but make no move to pull away. Perhaps part of you still needs to be coddled, taken care of the way Tess might have.

And maybe you need to know you’re not alone. That he isn’t going to give up on you the way he so easily did with Tess. Which is sick, you know, but you’ve never much been able to help the way you feel about him. The way you have always wanted to peel away his layers and understand him. Tear away his self-hatred, guilt, grief, for whatever horrors he faced before. 

“I didn’t want this. Not for Tess and sure as hell not for you.”

“I told you,” you bit. “I told you not to say her name.”

“I made a promise to her a long time ago.” He continued as though you hadn’t spoken, his brown eyes pleading. “I promised that if something happened to her, I would always protect you. That’s what I did today. I was honouring that promise, and honouring your sister. If you need someone to blame, someone to hate, if that makes it easier, go ahead. But don’t think for a second that this was a choice I wanted to make. I cared about her. I care about you. And even if I have to drag you kickin’ and screamin’, I’m getting you to Wyoming, to Tommy. You and I still have a job to do.” Slowly, as though unsure how you’ll react, he tucks your hair behind your ear. “That kid needs us, but we need her a hell of a lot more if the cure is real. And I… I need you. I need you here with me, safe. I ain’t losing another…”

He bows his head, words thickening.  “I ain’t going back on my promise to Tess, so you can make it difficult as you like. You can never lay your damn eyes on me again. But I’m getting you through this.”

A tear drips down your cheek, your entire body trembling as the sorrow, the grief, finally takes over. 

“Oh, baby,” Joel whispers, voice full of the same loss, the same pain. 

A whimper escapes you as you put your head in your hands. You can’t even hate him now, because you can imagine your martyr of a sister asking Joel to do just that. To protect you above all else. Still, you despise it — despise that your choices were taken away, your voice ignored. 

“I should have been with her,” you say. “She shouldn’t have died alone.”

“She died knowing you were being taken care of.” He squeezes your knee with rough hands. “She died knowing she saved us. It’s the best anyone could’a done. I wish it could have been different.”

“I don’t know how to do this without her,” you admit, because how can you keep it all in? All the love you had for her, all that grief… where will you put it when it’s spilling out of you without warning? 

“That’s something we’ll figure out,” Joel responds. He’s drawing circles into your lower thigh now, the pad of his thumb wearing down your denim jeans slowly. Wearing you down slowly. “You should take a shower then see about finishing your food. That hot water… it’ll help. And I won’t be mad if you use it all before I get my turn.” He offers you a small smile.

But you can’t imagine anything ever helping. You close your eyes, sinking back into the couch. “In a minute. I just need…” You don’t know what you need. If you’re being honest, you need Tess. 

As though knowing it, Joel rises, the couch cushions dipping with his weight beside you. He lets out a soft sigh, fidgeting with his fingers. You feel the weight of his gaze on the side of your face. 

A moment later, he’s draping a blanket over you, and your lids flutter open again in confusion. 

“S’okay,” Joel says. “Get some rest. I’ll wake you when it’s time to go.”

You don’t need to be told twice. But when you try to nod off, you only see Tess burned on the inside of your eyelids. Her face the last time you saw it. The bite. Her pleas for you to go.

You give up quickly, aware Joel is still beside you, unmoving. It isn’t like him to not be moving. 

Rubbing your face, you sit up, pushing the blanket off. “Joel…”

“Hmm?”

“Blaming you... it doesn't make it fucking easier. I understand why you did what you did, even if I don’t like it. But if you ever take away my choice again… I won’t go on with you. I can’t. I know you and Tess still see me… saw me,” you correct with a wince, “as a kid, but I’m not. Not anymore. And I sure as hell ain’t your responsibility.”

“I don’t see you as a kid,” he says quietly. “And I don’t see you as my responsibility, either. Honestly?” He purses his lips, tapping on the arm of the couch before he continues, “I see you as the only damn thing worth going out of my way to protect. Make of that what you will. Just… don’t expect me to let you die if that’s your choice. I can’t do that. I won’t do that. I won’t apologise for it, either.”

You’re not sure what to say to that; what it means. Why Joel, of all people, is the one to say it. You always thought he and Tess… 

“Why? That promise mean so fucking much?”

“Yeah." He looks at you as though for the first time. "Yeah, it does."

You don’t have the energy to wonder what it means anymore. Instead, you pull yourself up on unsteady feet. Your mind is racing, and that shower is sounding better as reality sets in. Just in time, Ellie returns with damp hair and fresh clothes. She offers a small, reassuring smile, and you ruffle her hair, feeling guilty that a fourteen-year-old was subjected to everything you went through in Boston. Whoever she is, whatever purpose people want her to serve… she’s just a kid, and you couldn’t hold it together for her today. That makes you a shitty chaperone.

“My turn,” you mumble, glancing at Joel a final, wary time before heading upstairs. His expression doesn’t change, but you see something new in it now. Something strange. 

Something that looks an awful lot like care.