#the voices must be inserted somehow

[whirlybirbs]

— THE FOOL ; KYOJURO RENGOKU ; 煉獄

summary: all you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside to the ubuyashiki mansion's onsen. pairing: kyojuro rengoku / f!hashira!reader wc: 3.6k tags: set-pre season 1, rated T, hashira dynamics, kyojuro's impeccable manners, tengen uzui is a son of a bitch, good fluff, embarrassed flirting, slightly forbidden romance, retable reader insert who just wants to be left alone to bathe in peace a/n: don't look at me.

Your bones are tired. 

Not just your bones — but every ounce of marrow in those very bones. The expression 'bone tired'? Yea, it was written and smithed with you in mind. Tonight, you're the muse for true exhaustion — battered, bruised, and barely hanging on. 

The short walk up to the Ubuyashiki Mansion's onsen is proving formidable. 

Every muscle in your body aches and with each step closer, you pray you'll have a moment of quiet peace to yourself. After all, Shinobu insisted (read as threatened) that you soak in the hot spring after administering simple medical aid post-mission. 

Something, something, hot spring stimulates blood flow, blah, blah, strong healing properties.

All you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. Here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside through the willows of wisteria on a lantern-lit path to the hot spring.

Your geta catches on a root and you trip up, scoffing tiredly as you catch yourself and grumble a curse. Ow. Irritation simmers under your skin, and you wonder absently what's gotten into you. 

It normally takes more for you to be so... cranky. And openly so.

When you reach the gate of the onsen, your eye twitches.

Son of a —

There's Hashira abound tonight. 

"Look who's back from her little foray out East!"

Did Tengen need to be so loud? 

All the damn time?

The small, dimly lit spot is surrounded by wisteria and maple. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you sigh and shut the red gate behind you, paying careful mind not to catch your fingers in the latch. Lanterns are perched on rocks, candles only beginning to run with wax in the evening air. The open-air bath overlooks the sprawling estate down the mountain. 

You sigh deeply from your chest, your eyes practically at half-mast when you turn around to snipe Tengen with an unamused look.

"Our dear Dream Hashira... you look like shit," comes the rogue commentary, "No offense, beautiful."

Tengen is at the far edge of the steaming bath with both arms outstretched along the edge. As always, he's taking up as much space as humanly possible. His silver hair hangs about his shoulders — and he even goes so far as to pin you with a rogueish smile. You stare flatly at him in response.

Then: the middle finger. 

"Woof. Tough crowd tonight," he rumbles as he slides a look towards a decidedly uninterested Sanemi. The Wind Hashira has his head hung back against the edge with a towel over his forehead — his eyes are closed. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he was asleep. 

"Tengen, do me a favor," comes the gritted reply from the scarred man, "and shut the hell up." 

You motion plainly to Sanemi — the gesture says thank you — with your brows raising in silent agreeance. Even the act of speaking right now is all too much. 

"I must agree with Tengen," comes the wistful and soft voice of Muichiro Tokito as he lifts his chin from its submerged position; his hair is swimming about him. The Mist Hashira looks... almost peaceful; but his words are damning, "You do look like shit."

Somehow it's worse when Tokito says it.

That makes Sanemi lift his head and pry one eye open. 

You serve him an unenthused look from your spot by the benches. You hope for a bit of sympathy, but instead:

"...What the fuck happened to you?" comes his dry response to your current state of being. 

Which — fine, maybe it's fair. The others rarely ever see you in any state aside from perfect. You're meticulous about your appearance; from your uniform to your posture, you value perfection over all else. The devil that has always haunted you is the details. Perhaps it was your rigid upbringing, but regardless—

"Ah!" suddenly, there's a resoundingly warm voice booming across the small courtyard from the onsen's koshitsu, "I see you've returned, Lady— Oh... my, are you quite alright...?"

You've got to be kidding me.

Kyojuro Rengoku's face is twisted into genuine worry. He's standing in the middle of the path, his focus entirely on you. His hair is undone and the sunburst strands are spilling along his chest and back. There's a small cotton towel slung around his narrow waist. You purposefully level your eyes with his, not daring to let your gaze waver — and then you curse Kocho Shinobu a thousand times over for sending you here.  

(Tengen is smirking. You want to throw your sandal at his head.)

Finally, you speak. 

"I'm fine." 

You don't sound fine. You sound like a woman who'd endured being unceremoniously whipped about by a snake Demon in a swamp for three hours before she could finally land a killing blow. 

Kyojuro frowns. His eyes — like two gems of carnelian — are nearly glowing with concern. Those dark brows of his knit and you try to grit out a tight smile. It fails. It looks more like a wince than anything.

It's... pathetic.

"Perhaps a soak will help," the Flame Hashira offers gently. His tone is soft with pity.

Shit. Fuck. Damn it. Fucking Shinobu, fucking hot spring, fucking swamp demon, fucking—

Right. Right, a soak. It's the thing that Tengen Uzui is somehow singlehandedly making more unbearable — he's dragging Sanemi and Muichiro by the necks from the onsen — by leaving you alone with Rengoku. 

"Go on you two! We're just leaving anyways, right fellas?"

"Die," you spit hoarsly in his direction; your expression is flat.

Tengen throws you a wink. "Relax a little, pretty. You deserve it!"

You could still hit him with your geta. Maybe if you put enough force behind it, it could kill him. 

After all, he's been doing this ever since you let it slip about your little crush. 

And just when a girl thinks she can trust an ex-shinobi... never again. You don't care if Tengen is the one offering to buy the sake, you're never drinking with that man again. He's a gossip and a whore. A gossiping whore. A devoted husband-whore who gossips like no-fucking-other. 

Admitting to Tengen Uzui's stupid face that you've been avoiding Kyojuro Rengoku because of your feelings was the second worst mistake you ever made.

Your first worst mistake was not dragging your sorry ass back down the mountain after you and Kyojuro were left alone in the onsen. 

At least — at the very least — it's quieter now, even if the silence feels oddly intimate. 

You're thankful Kyojuro has retreated into the water of the bath; the distance allows you to ignore the burning pit in your gut at the thought of him and you together. In the onsen. Alone.

You've bathed alongside the other Hashira before. The whole lot of you are warriors. There's no shame in the body — and admittedly, you grew up around konyoku onsen in Tokyo. 

It wasn't the nakedness that was the problem. 

...Maybe it was a little bit of the nakedness. 

But, mostly the fact it's Kyojuro Rengoku: the kindest man you've ever met, a man whose smile is nearly as bright as the morning sun, a man whose laugh feels like a summer thunderstorm. A man who is tall, strong, and handsome. It's no small secret he's well-loved among the ranks; respected, admired, sought after... Who wouldn't make an attempt atcatching his eye? After all, he's capable, swift, courageous, honorable—

Having a heart attack.

He's having a heart attack.

I mean — it's you. And him. Alone. 

...Naked. And alone.

He himself could have strangled Tengen when the ex-shinobi scurried off, leaving him here — though he'd never admit it. That sneaky bastard is fully aware of Kyojuro's feelings towards you, and Kyojuro swears the Sound Hashira gets off on forcing him to confront the very thing he forbids himself to even dwell upon. 

Your voice pulls him from his enraptured internal monologue.

"I am fine," you break the silence as your fingers work at the obi around your waist in nervousness. Your back is to him, and as the grey kimono slips down your shoulders, he panics, "I swear."

"I'm not sure I've ever seen you in such a state as this," he tries to sound level, confident, as he turns in the water; suddenly the mountainside is very beautiful. Yes, very nice. Very... mountain-y. 

Kyojuro's eyes flick over his shoulder briefly, back at you.

He sees skin. More of your skin than he's ever seen. There are dimples at the base of your spine. Good god. He swallows tightly and turns his gaze forward once more. 

Even the act of shrugging your kimono off is enough to make you rasp. The ribs Shinobu had been so concerned about are protesting now. It's fine. Everything is fine. You peek over your shoulder. Relief floods you as you realize Rengoku's back is turned. 

Quickly, you slip into the onsen. It's the quickest you've moved all night. 

You plunge in deep, ignoring the burn of the water along of the more raw marks and bruises bitten into your skin. Your ribs wail in protest as you inhale sharply at the heat, and you try your best to coach your expression into unwavering when Kyojuro turns back around. 

"Better?"

All you can do is grunt from your submerged position.

That makes him laugh.

You try to memorize the warm sound and tuck it neatly into your heart. It's cute, the way his eyes scrunch when he laughs. You find yourself staring for a second before swallowing down your affections.

"Shinobu demanded I come," you explain slowly, lifting your hands and playing with the surface of the water, "If I had it my way, I'd be in bed."

Or murdering Tengen in his sleep.

"The hot springs are good for healing," Kyojuro chirps brightly, canting his head as he speaks almost as if he's going to reprimand you. His voice drops an octave, "You know that, Lady Hashira."

He's teasing you.

He's — he's seriously teasing you.

You're naked and he's teasing you.

You sink a little lower into the water and narrow your eyes at him — the act makes you look a bit like an angry, wet cat. Kyojuro can only grin. Truly this is rare form for you. Your disposition is usually sunny, if not well-manicured and mindfully well-mannered. You are every bit a Lady Hashira. Moreso than Shinobu or Mitsuri in a way. 

You are the Dream Pillar, after all, and a woman composed purely of romanticism in his eyes. It's the way he could see you, in another life, in a fine silk kimono and delicate make-up; he could see you in gold and pearls, pouring tea worth more than his monthly salary into fine ceramic cups. Suitors abound.

Though, perhaps that's not so different than now.

Not with the way you're delicately pouring yourself a helping of Tengen's abandoned sake at the edge of the onsen. You'd think it was the most expensive liquor in the land with the care you take to not spill a drop. 

You slide him a hesitant look over your shoulder, the water lapping at your bruised back. Kyojuro lifts a brow.

"What?" you ask, feigning innocence as you turn back to the task at hand, "It'd be a shame if it went to waste."

"I didn't know sake had healing properties," Kyojuro offers slowly, his lips twitching upwards as he watches you take a long sip from the cup.

"Something, something, blood flow," you murmur mostly to yourself, tossing back the rest with a scowl and a wince, "I'm sure Shinobu would agree."

Kyojuro leans back against the wall, sinking a little deeper as he settles onto the seat beneath the water. The ends of his hair are soaked, turning an even darker shade of crimson. His shoulders flex as he relaxes his arms against the stones. 

His own body is tired. Beneath the water, he absently stretches his legs and pays careful mind to the twinge of pain in his left knee.

"Whether she agrees or disagrees is none of my business," he supplies diplomatically.

You reach for the jug, giving it a light shake. It's nearly empty anyway. 

You extend it, offering it to Kyojuro.

The Flame Hashira shakes his head. "No thank you. I reserve drink for special occasions only."

You quirk a brow. Your tone is light. Airy, almost. "I didn't know that about you."

He hums. You place the sake down, sink lower into the water, and try to focus on his face — not the strength in his forearms, nor the water running in rivets down his chest. 

"My father has quite a love for the stuff," he admits with a controlled frown, "I avoid it when I can."

Ah. 

Right. 

Your own father, also a retired Hashira, voiced many a feeling about Shinjuro Rengoku when he was given the chance. You'd visited home months ago and when you mentioned serving alongside Kyojuro, his eyes narrowed dangerously and impeccably sharp. His tongue lashed out at you — as if you were the retired Flame Pillar himself. 

There's a history there, it seems.

"I apologize."

"Don't," he says; firm yet soft.

"It is better that way, really," you mumble in an attempt to soothe the ache you can see across his face, "Liquor leads to making many a fool."

Kyojuro's brow quirks. "You sound as though you're speaking from experience."

"Perhaps," you say slyly, wandering to the far end of the pool. You're nearly submerged to your nose, "A lady shall never tell."

"And if I asked Tengen?"

"You wouldn't dare." The water splashes as you whip around and glare — though Kyojuro senses no real malice. 

It was no small secret you'd been dragged through the mud after you and Tengen's night on the town. Why the Master called a meeting that morning was beyond you, but there's a part of you that wonders if he was slightly amused at your less-than-pleasant state. You swore you were going to puke all over the engawa when you bowed — never mind the fact the morning sun's brightness was enough to nearly drill your brain into a pulp. 

Kyojuro had never seen you so... disheveled. 

Second to tonight, that is.

The Flame Hashira smirks. "If the lady forbades it, then who am I to ignore her wishes?"

Fucking Tengen, fucking Shinobu, fucking Kyojuro—

Fucking honorable, respectable, polite Kyojuro.

"Well, this lady does forbade it," you say with narrowed eyes, "So there."

"You really are in rare form this evening."

He's smirking. That's new.

"Yes, well," you mumble as you lull your head back and wet the rest of your hair; the warmth seeps through the strands and feels soothing on your scalp. You already feel better. Less like a swamp demon's plaything, more like a girl trying her best not to let her petal-mouthed feelings slip out, "We can blame Muzan Kibutsuji for that."

"I surmise it has been a difficult day?" he rumbles quietly from his spot in the onsen.

"You haven't the slightest idea."

"Care to enlighten me?" 

"And embarrass myself?" she mutters, splashing absently, "I'd prefer to remain capable in your eyes, Rengoku. I'll spare you the details. And anyone else who asks."

He's grinning. That sort that appears in an optimist's dream. Bright, sunny and so enrapturing it feels like your heart is being scorched by its warmth. 

"Your capability will never waver in my eyes," Kyojuro supplies as he flicks the water absently; his gaze has fallen to the sway of the wisteria in the evening air, "You are amazing. One particularly bad day does not diminish that fact."

Maybe it's the sake. Maybe it's the compliment. Either way, the tips of your ears feel warm. 

That little, nibbling feeling is back in his chest. The very one he's been trying his best to ignore for months. 

"You are only being kind," you mutter, "Because, as the other's made very clear, I look like shit." 

Kyojuro finds himself smiling a bit at the jest — his fingers glide along the top of the water, tracing idly patterns into it as he watches you sink deeper and deeper into the hot spring. Finally, for a moment, you descend below the surface.

Then, you break the surface slowly. Your hair is swimming around you, clinging to your bare shoulders. You exhale, brush water from your lashes, and inhale. You look... beautiful. A different sort of beautiful than he's used to. This sort of beauty is relaxed. Tired. You seem a bit freer than usual — unrestrained by the image you aim to keep well protected amongst the others. 

Kyojuro sinks a little deeper himself.

He's still watching you.

Your eyes find his. 

There's a moment where all you two can do is blink — Flame and Dream mingling for a breath beneath the stars. Wide eyes bound by a moment of silence, a moment of hesitation. He feels like all the breath has been swept from his lungs. All Kyojuro can do is stare into your eyes.

Then, he speaks.

Blurts, more aptly.

"You are beautiful."

...Did he just say that? 

Your lips part in quiet shock.

Suddenly, his posture is more rigid, and his expression a bit panicked — perhaps because your own eyes widen a mile at the words that spill from his mouth. Kyojuro raises his hands as he inhales sharply, the heat of the bath inching a degree hotter. Whether it's from the sudden admission or a misfire of his breathing technique, you're unsure. 

His cheeks are hot. He leans forward, shaking his head.

Damn you, Tengen. Damn you, damn you—

"I-I simply mean — you... You do not look like shit—" He attempts to explain.

"Oh—"

"Yes, yes, I—"

"Thank you," you say quickly, trying to calm your own racing heart as he swallows down a bought of embarrassment and offers a pained smile your way. It's enough to quell his panic.

"Of course," he breathes out, sagging a bit deeper into the water as he fiddles with his hands. He has a habit of rubbing at his callouses. Kyojuro swallows, then hoarsly admits: "One might think that I was drinking the sake with the way I'm making a fool of myself."

Your laugh is like a balm. 

"Hardly," you offer as you sink into the water with a smile; your eyes are glimmering with something a bit mischievous as you swim towards the water's edge. You pause, then slip a look his way over your bare shoulder, "...Do you mean it?"

"That I'm a fool? Of course."

You scoff quietly. Kyojuro's smile is tight — knowing. 

Then, he speaks warmly and kindly. He confirms your question with ease. His arms are wound across his chest. "You are truly beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever had the grace to lay eyes upon, my Lady." 

Maybe you could drown yourself here. 

You're not entirely sure how you'll ever recover from this — not from how tender he says it, not from how honest his words sound. So suddenly you feel as though he's hung every star in the sky for your eyes only, having wished upon them, time and time again, for nothing more than a moment of your time. It's reverent is what it is.

You're about to open your mouth and say something when a bright, girlish giggle cuts through the tension—

Kyojuro Rengoku has never been more thankful for Mitsuri Kanroji's ill timing. Behind her is Lady Shinobu. 

The pink and green-haired Hashira is ecstatic to find both yourself and Rengoku in the hot spring — her delight is palpable as she waves her arms and cheers brightly into the air. Her crow caws overhead. Her darker-haired counterpart levels them both with polite smiles.

"Oh, this is just lovely! My friends!" she's chirping as she closes the gate, "I am so glad to see you both back safe and sound—"

"Heading my advice, it seems," Shinobu says slowly — almost like she knows something you don't. Her pale, lilac eyes flick between you and Rengoku. For a moment, you almost suspect she's about to ask something.

"How are you feeling?" Mitsuri cries in your direction, shrugging her kimono off with ease — unbothered entirely by Rengoku's presence. The two are like brother and sister, and Mitsuri has never batted an eye about nudity, "How are your ribs?"

Kyojuro levels you with a look. 

You offer a sheepish grin. 

"Yes," Shinobu mutters as she slips out of her geta, "Four broken ribs."

Kyojuro's nostrils flare. "You said nothing about the sort."

You lift your chin in defiance. "I told you I was sparing you the details."

Mitsuri's bright eyes dart between the two of you — a little bit of giddiness blooming at the sight of Kyojuro looking so worried about their fellow Dream Hashira. 

He slides a look towards Kocho. Then rolls his shoulders. With a sigh, he moves to stand, the water lapping at his waist. You decidedly find the edge of the onsen very interesting as you try to coach yourself through the overwhelming urge to stare. 

"I trust you'll monitor her condition, Kocho," he murmurs as he moves through the water; the words sit nicely in your heart and you feel a little pride swell at his indication that he cares if you're alright, "I'll let you ladies have some time amongst yourselves."

You catch his eyes for a second. A moment. A lingering little breath that mingles between you — like Kocho and Mitsuri aren't there. Then, he stepped from the bath and gathered his robe.

For now, the two of you will pretend earlier never happened.

For now.

Just a little thing between the two of you — and suddenly, you're not so cranky. Once the muse for exhaustion, you're now the muse of lovesickness. 

When the gate closes behind Kyojuro, Kocho speaks.

"...What was all that?"

Nevermind. The crankiness is back.

"Shut up."

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main AU 3

Masterpost

So this one is a bit longer, but that's because part of it is the same phone conversation from the other side.

~~~~~

“Road trip!” Dick calls out. All of the- siblings(?)-younger people start to scramble before Bruce calls out for them to stop.

“This is going to be a 12 hour drive one-way, which means we won't be back until dinner tomorrow at the earliest. Not all of you can go.” This causes a lot of frowns and Danny holds in a chuckle. They start arguing over why they should be able to go and Bruce pinches his nose, right between his eyes as they shout at him.

“First and Foremost, I do believe that Masters Duke, Damian, and Stephanie have school tomorrow.” Alfred inserts. Everyone quiets to listen to him, Danny notes. Everyone else they’ll talk over, he must be important, be extra nice to him.

The three must sigh and sit back down at the table. 

“Cass, if you wouldn’t mind staying to keep them out of trouble overnight. I’m sure Alfred will see them out to school.”

Cass shrugs, then signs at Dick who responds “Of course!” Danny hadn’t realized that she was speaking sign language this whole time.

Bruce then turns to face Dick and Tim. “You have absolutely no way to keep us from coming.” Dick sing-songs.

“You both have work tomorrow.”

“Actually, Dick and I called out ten minutes ago, family emergency.” Tim shrugs. “We won’t be in for a few days unless things change.”

“Alright, go grab your things.” They both whoop and you can just tell they were both about to start running when they catch eyes with Alfred and just start walking really fast. “Pack light, and grab some changes of clothes for Jason!”

Before they can leave a phone starts ringing. They all look around before all eyes settle back on Danny. He feels around his pockets for where the phone is, before pulling it out and seeing his own number on the caller ID.

“Oh, it’s me!” Danny hurries to pick up as he hears someone mutter “Why didn’t we think of that?” from the table. Dick and Tim are almost immediately right next to him as he mumble out a hello.

“Um, hello, Jason?”

“Yeah, this is Jason. You with my family?” His heart thumps when he hears his own voice coming out the other side of the phone. It somehow makes the whole situation seem a bit more real then it did before.

“If the people that were in the room with you before are your family. I really only have confirmation that one of them is your dad.”

“Hey, we’re his family”

“We’re all his brothers and Cass is his sister.”

“Have those motherfuckers not even introduced themselves?” 

So much talking at once, Danny tries to focus on his own voice coming through the phone. It’s a little deeper than it usually is, gruffer and lilted like it’s trying to talk in an accent the mouth isn’t familiar with shaping. Danny supposes the voice he’s speaking with now must be doing the same.

“Sort of. Eventually.” Jason sighs loud enough to hear over the phone and Danny chuckles at the response. 

“Right, well your name is Danny right?”

“Yeah! Have you talked to my family yet?” They were all home the last he checked, and Jazz usually tells him before she heads out. 

“No, haven’t left your room. Your name was on your homework though.”

“Oh, please do not judge the homework.” Danny rubs a hand down his face just thinking of that - his homework- being his soulmate's first real impression of him. 

“Didn’t even look at that part. So, I’m assuming that you guys are coming to me?”

Danny shakes off the embarrassment “I think so?” 

“Of course we are!”,  “Was he not paying any attention as we decided who should go?”, “We were just planning.” There are so many people talking at once again.

 Danny pulls his face away from the phone and turns to the room at large “Stop it, buzz off!”. He turns to face a wall and takes a few steps away.  “They said yes.”

“Please tell me they’re not all planning on coming.”

Danny hums, focused on something else. “Look, I do need to warn you…” what if he goes ghost, can he go ghost with Jason in his body? What are his parents working on today? “ about a few things actually. Jazz, my sister, her room is across the hall and she’ll be able to help you if you. I sort of have… like a medical condition. I would rather explain that to you in person, but she’ll watch out for you if you go meet her.”

“I can do that. Anything I should look out for?” Weird ice mist coming out of your mouth would be pretty unexplainable at the moment, but random things shooting at him can be avoided!

“My parents leave all kinds of weapons around the house, and sometimes they’ll target me-you- at random, so try not to touch anything, and either stay upstairs or have my sister take you somewhere in town. Whatever you do, don’t go in the basement, the lab is down there.” Almost everything in that lab is to be avoided, although since he is already in Danny’s body he shouldn’t be bothered by the potential radiation.

“Kid, what?” 

“This is really an in-person talk.”

Danny does not know how he would explain this over the phone, with a room of eavesdroppers behind him. Although they’ve become respectfully quiet, more whispers than anything now. 

“Sure, okay. Find Jazz, preferably leave the house.”

“Yep!” That would be best, Jazz will definitely help him. “Is there anything I should know?”

“Shit, if I had time I would give you a warning about everyone in my family individually, but for now… I don’t know if this will translate over…” It will, but there’s really no way to explain that. “I have… I guess it’s sort of a health condition as well. My family knows what triggers it, and they should be on their best behavior right now anyways, but if you wouldn’t mind putting someone on the phone I can threaten them properly.”

Danny laughs and puts the phone on speaker before calling out to the room, “You’re on speaker!” so everyone in the room knows as well as Jason. 

“I swear to god if any of you scare him, hurt him, or anything I’m going to kill you. I know everything you love and if you don’t act normal, just know, it will be destroyed.”

“Yeah, yeah. Jay, this is your soulmate!” Dick has bounded back over to Danny, right up in the personal space. 

“Also, most of us love you so that threat doesn’t work as well as you think it does.” Steph yells from the table, where she continued eating at some point.

“Bitch, I died once, I’ll do it again. Don’t test me on this right now.”

Danny starts laughing so hard he doesn’t register everyone else in the room having frozen at the outburst.

“Oh, wow, same.” Danny gets out once he can breathe again.

The room is staring at him again, but they seem to do that a lot.

“You must be Jazz.” They hear coming through the phone. “I’m Jason.”

“Jazz!” Danny calls out. 

“Danny would like to talk to you.” There’s a small shuffle. 

“Danny?”

“Hey, Jazz! So, apparently I’m the younger, so today’s the day. I’m with his family right now.”

“You have a plan? Are you coming home?”

“Yeah, just. Would you mind keeping an eye on Jason until I get there? It’s going to be a long drive so could you make sure nothing shoots him and that he gets edible food?”

“I’ll take him to Nasty for dinner, don’t worry.” Danny sighs in relief, he knew Jazz would help, but he did not need his soulmate food fighting with dinner.

“Sounds good, he’s in my body so he shouldn’t really be poisoned but Mom and Dad still can’t really cook. Speaking of which! He is in my body so if anything happens with the, um, medical condition, help him through that as well.”

“Of course, Danny.”

“Thanks Jazz! We were just deciding who was coming along, but apparently, it's about a 12-hour drive? So, you guys won’t see us until tomorrow.”  There’s a lot unspoken in this conversation, but Danny knows she’ll do her best. “Try not to interrogate him, and no psychoanalyzing!”

[politemenacephd]

Stress Relief (18+)

Miguel O'Hara X GN!Reader Content: Heavy Daddy Kink, Mild degradation, Workplace sex, Spanking, PinV sex, Size Kink, Mild Breeding kink, Creampie

Notes: (No gendered terms are used for reader and there's no mention of characteristics, but vaginal terminology is used so be aware!!) forgive me I'm just a little feral rn lol

‘Mm- f-fuck, Mig—’

‘Shh, shh.’

Miguel’s sharp rebuttal made you pout, but the feeling of his fat cock stretching you out quickly humbled you once more. You bit your lip as he continued to rail your body into his desk.

‘Come on, one more.'

‘F-Fuck—daddy.’

You felt your face burning as you offered up that sweet gratification, and he rewarded you with a sharp smack to your bare ass. You felt him grunt with pleasure as it bounced against his calloused hand.

‘Así así, mm- tu pucha está mojadita' he murmured, more to himself than to you.'

You were bent over his work desk which he had hovering in the air, offering just the barest semblance of privacy for your little fuckfest. You’d only come in to give him some paperwork from Jess. Now he was balls deep inside you with your waist in his grip, his fingers barely an inch away from squeezing your little ribs to dust.

You knew he must be stressed, because he hadn’t even bothered to fully undress either you or himself. He’d phased away the part of his suit covering his cock the moment he had you over his knee, and while he'd remained patient enough to slip your clothes aside he'd then immediately riped a hole in your panties to get what he wanted.

You could still feel them there, sopping wet and tight around your ass and lips, utterly spoiled by the copious slick he was pumping out of you with each thrust.

‘You like that, huh?’

‘Mm- so, so good—’

‘You like daddy’s cock?’

You involuntarily squirted as he angled his shaft deep, your translucent slick left hanging in strings between your pussy and his pelvis. The clap of his skin on your rear was now resoundingly wet, the debaucherous sounds echoing in his giant office.

‘Fuck- I’m gonna have to clean my suit’ Miguel grunted. You whimpered, thinking at first that you’d somehow displeased him, but then a low groan vibrated through his chest. His clawed hand came down hard on your right ass cheek, his palm leaving a large and distinct red mark. The sting made you squirm.

‘So fuckin’ dirty, huh?’ he panted. You could hear the gratification in his voice, so husky and deep.

‘Someone’s—MM—Someone’s gonna hear that’ you whimpered. If Miguel heard you, he didn’t indicate it, as he refused to slow down.

He was pussy drunk beyond reason. He didn’t care if he got caught.

‘Say it again’ he barked. A fresh slap to your ass caused it to jiggle, and before you could even finish moaning he’d used both hands to spread your cheeks wide. Your feet scrabbled at the floor with each toe-curling insertion, each sopping wet thop of his cock as it filled you.

‘F-FF—Daddy, fuck—’

‘Mm. Again.’

He was being merciless today. You could barely get the words out as he thrust you against the cold metal desk.

‘D—mm- da—dadd—daddy—’

‘Again.’

You felt him throb and you clenched him right back. You felt every inch of his shaft as it pulsed, every vein and every contour now imprinted on the velvety walls of your cunt. You knew he’d already painted your cervix with his pre-cum, like a fingerprint pressed onto your insides.

‘Please, daddy, more’ you begged.

You squeaked as he suddenly lifted your thigh up and onto the desk. The metal was cold on your bare skin. He bent your back and arched inside as deep as he could, filling you with a virile mixture of pleasure and pain in your core. He was thrusting right up to the navel.

‘F-FUCK—’

You had to bite your hand to muffle your wet little moans, but Miguel was merciless. He reached around and gripped your neck as he pulled you taut, his pace quickening as he started to pump you to completion.

‘That’s it, mm- fuck, that’s it, so god damn tight, so—’

‘Hey! Miguel!’

Your eyes widened in horror as a voice echoed up from the floor of his office. They widened even further when Miguel refused to stop.

‘I’M BUSY!’ he snapped back, his voice rising to mask how breathless he was.

Miguel’s hand went smoothly from your neck to your mouth, helping to muffle your pathetic mewling from being heard. Thank god he had because he chose that moment to slide back against your g-spot, right as his balls started smacking your clit. You squirted in silence for a third time.

On this occasion, you felt Miguel take notice. He slid his hand down to where your skin met and covered his claws in your slick, letting it drip between his digits as he held them up.

You heard something wet, and as you tilted your head you realized he was licking it off his fingers.

‘Oh, uh- sorry! Just—we need your help with something!’ the voice called for a second time. You heard Miguel’s fangs clack.

‘I SAID IM BUSY!’ he snapped back down, his voice carrying a certain gruff bark to it this time around.

You could feel the sweat on his thighs as they clapped your bare legs. His thighs were huge, sculpted and hard just like the rest of him. You knew he could break your back if he wanted. Good thing right now he just wanted your pussy.

‘Oh, uh- okay! Sorry, I’ll- catch you up later!’

You heaved a silent sigh of relief, but it was short lived. The moment the intruders footsteps had echoed into nothing Miguel let out a vicious grunt, and soon your body was being pounded into the desk once more.

‘Alright, come on, time to let daddy finish’ Miguel groaned. You could feel him humping to completion, his cock fucking you raw. You barely stopped yourself from screaming.

‘Say it’ he ordered.

‘Daddy!’

‘More.’

‘Daddy, fuck—’

Your soft moans filled the room with the clap of his thrusts. Your whole body was bouncing now.

‘Come on, that’s it. You wanna make me a daddy for real?’ he breathlessly teased.

In a flood of dumb pleasure your cunt clenched him tight, so tight that his knees almost gave out.

‘MM—Fuck, please, yes daddy, please!’ you cried.

That was enough for him. His claws sprang out and dug into your waist as he emptied himself out, his cock pulsing load after load of thick, white seed into your pussy. It was almost scary how much he managed to fill you with. You could feel it squishing, oozing, thick and heavy inside you, warm and wet as it dribbled down your thigh before he even pulled out.

The moment he was spent he pulled out and immediately phased his suit back on. He tried to help you by pulling your panties back over, but they were ruined. They’d been ripped by the friction and served just to hang there all pretty over your creamy little hole. You could sense him admiring the view.

‘Good, well done’ he praised in his usual stilted way. He put a hand on your head and gently scratched at your scalp with his claws. You barely even noticed; you were trying not to collapse as your legs shook.

‘You did good. Now uh- go clean up for me baby, okay?'

[karajaynetoday]

and i'd give up forever to touch you, cause i know that you'd feel me somehow | jack hughes

Thank you for all the love on hey now, you're an all-star - i am honestly blown away by those notes!! here is a part two. let me know what you think, and what your predictions or desires are for a potential part three! xo

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings:  nothing major. uni stress again, jack being a bit of a dick. angst. all of the angst.

(This is a fem reader insert) read part one here read the part three here

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

Waking up was always slightly disorienting for you, and the next morning was no different.

Your dreams could be quite vivid, or you couldn’t remember them at all once you awoke; but the first thing you could sense on this particular morning was the strong scent of coffee wafting through the room. As your eyes adjusted to the morning light streaming in the windows, you became suddenly and painfully aware that you were alone on the couch. A blanket had been draped over you at some stage of your slumber, but Jack was nowhere to be seen.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your face, trying to ignore the anxiety that was building in your chest. You could hear a shower running, somewhere in the hotel suite, and hastily threw the blanket off your body as you scanned the room for your belongings.

Shoes. Where were your shoes? And phone? Keys? Did you bring a bag with you? What time was it? What time did your class start? Would you be able to get an Uber to Campus in time? Wait, was your class online or on campus this morning?

Your brain was churning out a thousand thoughts a minute, and your heart rate was starting to match it. You felt like a deer in headlights. Or a cat under a rocking chair. Or… just… lost. You were so lost.

Someone cleared their throat behind you and you jolted, whipping around to face Quinn, who was decked out in a brown leather jacket and grey pants, holding two steaming coffee mugs in his hands.

You must have looked distressed, because Quinn offered you a gentle smile and one of the mugs which you cautiously accepted.

“Thanks, Q. I really should get going soon, though. Get out of your hair before the big draft day circus arrives.” Your voice was still slightly groggy with sleep.

“Take as long as you need, sugarplum. Our call time isn’t for another two hours. Jack’s in the shower, and he’d hate it if you left without saying goodbye.” Quinn raised his eyebrows at you as you both took a sip of coffee.

“Watching Jack try and untangle himself from you on the couch did provide me with my morning entertainment though. Surprised he didn’t end up with another injury given how clumsy he usually is.” You felt your cheeks get warm at Quinn’s comment and the smirk on his face.

“He could’ve just woken me up…” You offered weakly, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance.

“No offence, but that was a risk that neither of us are willing to take. Not after last summer.” Quinn bit back a laugh as you narrowed your eyes at him.

Last summer at the lake house, you’d stayed up all night trying to finish the latest novel in your favourite fiction series. Jack had come into your room to wake you for the boat day you’d discussed the day before, but instead of a gentle approach to waking you up, he’d literally jumped onto your bed. Which caused you to sit bolt upright and “accidentally” punch him in the face. At least he thought the black eye made him look tough for a couple of weeks.

“Nice jacket, by the way.” You tried to change the subject.

Quinn stood up straight and puffed out his chest.

“You think so? Jack and I got to go down to Hermés and pick out our outfits yesterday. I felt suuuuper out of my league to be honest.”

Your eyes widened at the brand name Quinn just dropped, slightly choking on your coffee.

“Hermés? That’s proper designer, Q. Like, tens of thousands of dollars of jacket, right?”

Quinn didn’t answer you, but he didn’t have to. The look on his face told you that the jacket he was wearing was worth more than six months of your rent. Maybe more.

“Well, we have to do this red carpet thing, and I figured we should probably try a bit harder than team merch.” Quinn reached over and tugged playfully on the sleeve of your hoodie.

Well, Jack’s hoodie. That you happened to be wearing. Which was previously super comfortable, but now felt like your skin was on fire underneath it.

“What time is it, anyway?” There you go again, changing the subject.

“Like, 9.15?” Quinn offered, pulling his phone out of his pocket and showing you the time on his home screen.

9.15? Why was that important to you? What was at 9.15?

The test. In your economics class. Worth a decent chunk of your grade. It was at 9.30am. But was it online or on campus?

You downed the rest of your coffee in one gulp, ignoring how it burned your throat, and thrust your mug back at Quinn before tugging the hoodie over your head and throwing it on the floor. You turned around, searching wildly for your phone and spotting it on the couch where you’d been sleeping, not that long ago. You lunged for it, frantically unlocked and trying to find your university schedule in the calendar app.

“Oh thank god. It’s online. Holy fuck.” You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm yourself down.

“Sugar? You okay?” Jack’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you looked up from your phone to see him standing in the doorway to his room.

Clad in black jeans, with a towel around his shoulders and his hair still damp from the shower. Shirtless. Of course he was shirtless. You squeezed your eyes shut out of instinct, and also to stop yourself from blatantly checking him out. When you opened them, Jack was striding towards you, his face etched in concern.

“What do you need?” Jack spoke quietly, but firmly, reaching out to rub your arms reassuringly. His touch sent a zap of electricity through you, which seemed to kick your brain back into gear.

“I need… Do you have a laptop I can borrow? I have an online test in 15 minutes that I forgot about, for a subject I’m almost failing, and if I miss the test then I don’t know that I’ll be able to recover my grade.” You half-whispered, almost wishing that Jack and Quinn couldn’t hear your confession out loud.

You were supposed to be the smart one. That’s what everyone said, when you were growing up. You were the brains, Jack was the beauty. You were the bookish one, he was the brutally athletic one. Talking about failing university out loud was suddenly terrifying, even though you’d known it was a possibility for a few weeks or more.

“Hey… hey.” Jack squeezed your arms, trying to centre you, and dropped his head down to your eye level. “It’s okay. I’ve got a laptop you can use, and you can stay here for as long as you need.”

All you could muster was a nod in response, and Jack leaned in to kiss your forehead before disappearing back into his room, presumably to find his laptop. You sat back down on the couch, suddenly unsure of what to do with yourself.

Quinn had briefly left to place your coffee mug in the kitchenette, but he was back and leaned over the back of the couch to squeeze your shoulder.

“You’ll smash it, kiddo. Make sure you ask Jack what his laptop password is though, I’d hate for you to get locked out during your test.” Quinn said quietly, before his phone rang and he stepped into his room to answer it.

“Here you go, sunshine. Fully charged, but the charger is in my room if you need it.” Jack was back in the living room, handing his laptop to you, already logged in and a web browser open for you.

You stood up from the couch and moved towards the dining table, setting the laptop down and pulling out a chair. It only took a minute to log into your university portal and navigate to the subject page you needed for the online test. You were about to click the start button, when Quinn’s comment flashed in your mind.

“Jack?” You squeaked, turning to face the couch where Jack had flopped down moments before. Still clad in black jeans, still fucking shirtless, absolutely ignorant of the effect he was having on your ability to breathe calming, mindlessly scrolling on his phone.

“What’s up?”

“What’s… what’s your password? In case I get locked out and you’re not here? Could you write it down for me please?”    You reached for the hotel notepad and complimentary pen that was on the table you were sitting at, waving them in Jack’s direction.

Jack rolled his bottom lip under his teeth as he stood up and took the notepad from you and began scribbling on it.

“I have to go downstairs and meet Bratter for some team social media stuff, but I’ll see you later, okay? Text me when you finish your test.” You’d never seen Jack move so quickly as he handed the notepad back to you, retrieved a shirt and jacket from his bedroom and disappeared out the hotel room door, all within a minute or two. 

You were confused, to say the least. You glanced down at the notepad Jack had thrust into your hands, and you could’ve sworn your heart stopped when you saw what he scrawled on it.

Password - SugarpluM2001Jh!

–

Quinn had headed out not long after Jack did, leaving you to complete your test in silence. Despite the disorienting start to your morning, and all of your revision notes being on your desk at home, you managed to scrape through with a 75% result which would supplement your final grade significantly. 

The waves of relief washed over you, as you clicked out of web page you were on. You reached for your phone and typed a quick message to Jack as promised, and you were confused when the laptop chimed with a notification noise. 

Oh. Oh. Jack’s laptop was linked to his phone, and his messages were suddenly popping up on the laptop screen in front of you. 

You shouldn’t pry. You knew that. Your logical brain was telling you to close the laptop screen and get going. But your anxiety brain was telling you that you should take a peek. Just a little one. 

Before your logical brain and anxiety brain could battle it out properly, the laptop notification chimed again, and a girl’s name that was not your own flashed up on the screen. 

What happened last night? I thought you were coming to my room after your dinner?? Xx

You felt your jaw drop, as you started to realise what was happening in this conversation you shouldn’t have been privy to. You froze, as the little bubble popped up in the chat, showing you that Jack was typing a reply.

Sorry babe i got caught up with some boring family bullshit, you know how it is. Would’ve rather have been with you obvs but i just couldn’t get away. Then today is crazy with media stuff anyway. I’ll see u at the drew house event tonight though? Go back to yours after that? Xo

Sounds great. I’ll be wearing this for you, J. *image attached*

You slammed the laptop shut when the image loaded, showing someone wearing a red and black lingerie set. 

You felt bad for snooping, but you felt worse knowing that Jack considered last night as “boring family bullshit”. Is that all it was? Were you stupid for thinking it was more? That it could ever be more between the two of you?

Or was that all you could ever hope to be? Like family. Forever intertwined, always floating in each other’s orbit, but never more than friends. Platonic soulmates at best, childhood acquaintances at worst. 

You were spiralling, yet again, and your phone buzzing with a notification provided a brief reprieve. Until you saw that it was a text from Jack.

Well done on your test, champ!! Knew u could do it. See you at the draft tonight? There’s two passes in your email for you and your dad to come visit. Might even get to meet bublé, if that’s your vibe lmao

Suddenly, there was a bitter taste in your mouth. Why was he pretending like he wanted to spend time with you? When surely all he actually wanted to do was sneak off with the girl he was texting just moments ago?

You swiped into check your email app, and there were the passes as promised. You quickly scanned the email to see if they were assigned to any particular name, and all you could see was “guest of Jack Hughes” rather than you or your dad specifically. You quickly hit the “forward” button, and sent them on to your dad and your cousin Tom, who had met Jack and Quinn a handful of times over the years, and was a massive hockey fan like your dad. You knew Tom would love to go, and your dad would be happy enough to have Tom join him.

You sent through a quick message to Tom saying you weren’t feeling well and that he’d be doing you a favour by taking your pass, to which he immediately replied with lots of exclamation points and thanks. 

Next, you typed a message back to Jack.

Thanks again for the laptop and for the passes. Something’s come up so i can’t come but dad will be there with tom, hope that is ok? Didn’t want the passes to go to waste. Good luck for the draft, don’t let quinn bully you too much lol

You were hoping that Jack wouldn’t question you, or pick up on the shift in tone. Well, maybe you wanted him to sense the tone a little bit. Jack’s typing bubble popped up in the text conversation, then disappeared, then popped up again, then suddenly your phone was vibrating with a call and Jack’s name was flashing across the top of your screen. Your fingers hovered over the answer/decline buttons, before you abandoned both and dropped your phone back onto the table, letting the call go to voicemail. 

You stood up from the table and began to gather your belongings. The bitter taste was still in your mouth, but otherwise you felt nothing. Just numb. You barely realised what you were doing when your body moved towards the hotel suite door, into the elevator, through the lobby and out onto the street. You waited a few minutes for your Uber, before slipping away through the streets of downtown, and as far away from Jack as you felt you needed to be. 

By the time you got home, Jack had called you twice, and sent you about ten text messages of various question marks and confusion, and a fair amount of concern. You plugged your phone into the charger on your bedside table before heading into your bathroom for a much-needed shower.

Your shower felt like it took about 3 hours, when in reality it was probably more like 20 minutes at most. You washed your hair, and spent some time sitting down on the shower floor staring into space, pondering the events of the last 24 hours. When you finally emerged, putting on your favourite sweatpants and an old Canucks hoodie you found on your bedroom floor, you realise your phone was flashing with more notifications.

You settled down in bed before picking up your phone and scrolling through the home screen. Jack had resorted to sending you photos of sad baby pandas to elicit a response, your dad had texted you to say thank you for the passes and to feel better soon, but it was a message from Quinn that caught your eye. 

Q: What did he do? He’s freaking out. Are you okay? I can beat him up if you want me to. Or give him a hug. Just let me know which is more appropriate based on whatever the fuck he did 

You hesitated, contemplating whether to tell Quinn the truth or not. But then you remembered that Quinn had literally known you since you were four. He could tell if you were lying in a heartbeat, even over text message. 

You: Maybe just remind Jack that his text messages pop up on his laptop. See if that helps him to figure it out lmao sorry to miss tonight quinny, hope you draft all the canucks you want xo

Q: He now looks like he’s going to throw up?? Still unsure if hugging or punching is required tbh

New message - Jack Hughes -

You sighed and rolled your eyes, before clicking on Jack’s message notification. 

I am an idiot. I’m so sorry, sugar. I swear i am.

Sorry for categorising me as “boring family bullshit” or sorry that you got caught trying to get your dick wet? Or sorry for pretending to be my friend when you apparently just tolerate me to be polite?

We have press for two more hours then i can call you. You’re my best friend, sugar. I love you.

You felt tears start to prick in your eyes as you read Jack’s message. Sure, he loved you. But not in the same way that you loved him. And right now, you felt like that would never change. 

You clicked out of your message thread with Jack without replying, and opened up your conversation with Quinn instead. 

I’ll come to the all-star game on saturday, but nothing else, if that’s okay with you? I just need some space for a bit, sorry x 

Whatever you need, kiddo. I’ll give the game passes to your dad tonight. I still don’t know what jack did, but i think not seeing you will be punishment enough for whatever it was??

You didn’t reply to Quinn’s message. You didn’t reply to any more calls or messages for the next day or so, switching between trying to catch up on study and catching up on some Netflix episodes. You were typing notes on your laptop on Saturday morning, when a New Jersey Devils Twitter alert popped up on the screen and caught your attention.

#NEWS: Jack went home to Jersey last night after participating in Thursday’s draft and Friday’s media hits. He was extremely honoured to be a part of All-Star Weekend, especially sharing it with his brother. He’s really close to returning and wanted to get back so he could continue to focus on the rest of the Devils season. 

The bitter taste you thought you’d gotten rid of suddenly returned with a vengeance. 

Jack went home to Jersey last night. You had no idea when you’d see him again. And to be completely honest, you weren’t even sure that you wanted to. Your laptop dinged again, this time with an email notification. You were confused to say the least when the new email appeared to be from an airline, with a voucher attached.

Your phone buzzed with a new text message.

I couldn’t stand being there knowing you’re mad at me, but i also don’t want to force you to talk to me when you’re not ready to talk yet either. Use the voucher to come to jersey whenever you want. I’m sorry. 

You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, torn between accepting Jack’s offer and wanting to be stubborn and not let go of being mad at him just yet. You hated what Jack had done, but you also hated yourself for cutting short your time with him that was already in short supply as it was.

I’ll let you know. Might be a flight to Jersey, might be a flight to Michigan. We’ll see. Good luck getting back out there!

You knew the Michigan comment was a cheap shot, but Jack had hurt you, so you wanted to be childish and hurt him back. The idea of not seeing him for almost four months until the summer break, where you’d all gather at the Hughes lake house as you did every year, made you feel slightly ill. 

Whatever you want, sugar. Mac n cheese in michigan on me. Love you. 

The mac and cheese comment made you smile, and the love you comment made you want to cry. 

Love you too, J. Maybe too much. I don’t know. I need time. x

[multific]

Modern Warfare Men as Sugar Daddies (Extra) - Preferences

Part 1

Warnings: Smut, Sugarbaby-Daddy relationship 

A/N: Since the previous post was very well-loved, I decided to write more details about the characters. Apologies if there are things which have been mentioned before. I also considered the vote and wrote this according to what people wanted to see the most. 

John Price

It was never about the money for John.

But now, he enjoyed every aspect of it.

Buying you everything you wanted, and in exchange, you would oh-so-nicely bend over his table without a question.

John is a very giving person but he does enjoy being taken care of. 

"I'll take care of you, Daddy." you would say with a sweet voice and John would be a goner.

He loves oral. Bot receiving and giving. 

But let's be fair, he is a giver after all.

He can spend hours between your legs and is not afraid to overstimulate his pretty little doll.

He likes to hear you plead and beg. 

But in the end, he would always give you exactly what you want.

And after sex, he would be a sweetheart. But let's be honest, he first needs his sleep. A little nap for Captain John Prince and then, he would be good.

He would be so hungry so no matter if you are as well or not, food would be a given. 

So be prepared for a nice order of any he craves at the moment.

You never had sushi naked before? Now you will. 

Johnny MacTavish

Let's be honest this man has a kilt.

And he fucked you many times while wearing said kilt. He would hike it up and then pound you.

The little devil doesn't even wear any underwear under his kilt.

Johnny likes you in pretty dresses. The shorter the better. Without anything under.

Just a dress. 

That's it.

Every restaurant you go to, you always feel people watching you.

"They are jealous, Bonnie." he would say. And you believe him.

Being with a handsome Daddy, wearing pretty dresses and jewellery, who wouldn't be jealous.

He likes to give you jewellery.

But his favourite is always that pear necklace he gives you every night.

Seeing you covered in his cum turns him on. It is a way to show that you are indeed his.

After the fact, showering is a must.

He would just kiss every inch of your skin while washing your entire body.

Kyle Garrick

Kyle likes to tease you in public. The thought of getting caught turns him on and you never object.

He likes to buy you things so he can rip them all off.

"I'll buy you something prettier. Let me eat that pussy now." he would always say.

And again, you don't object.

You couldn't even go to the movies without his finger soon finding your clit.

"Don't make a sound and I will give you a reward," he whispered into your ear.

You loved his games. 

And he loved to play with you.

Every outcome of his games was always so pleasurable. 

Giving you nice little rewards which could either be a night of long fucking or a new pair of shoes.

Kyle could be very kind even if he preferred to be a tease. He has his sweet moments when he just enjoys spending time with you. He would have such a sweet smile every time.

Simon Riley

Never call him Daddy. Ever!

Even IF he is your Sugar Daddy, calling him that would not work. Given how his father was with him, he banned you from calling him that after you did once.

You didn't ask why, the hurt in his eyes spoke louder than any word. So from then on, you called him Sugar or Simon. 

He would be fine with silly nicknames.

Just imagine the faces of people when you come running with a new bag to him asking him to buy it and you call him your little bunny.

Simon's favourite thing is when you tell him that he can do anything.

And you do mean anything.

So, for his upcoming birthday, your daddy asked you one gift.

Anal.

Without hesitation, you said yes.

Not like you can say no to him.

You weren't too surprised anyway. He always somehow managed to insert at least one of his fingers into your butt whenever he was fucking you, no matter the position or occasion.

But then, the next week his hyperfixation is your boobs. He wants nothing more than to fuck your beautiful boobs, no matter their size. 

After the fact, Simon would need a moment for himself, just like 2-3 minutes alone in the bathroom/kitchen to collect himself. But as the months pass, he would get more and more used to having you and he would stay in bed with you. He would pretend to sleep, he enjoys you cuddling to his side and he refuses to admit it.

König

After your little photos and videos you send him, he always sets his mind to punish you.

You deserve it, he always says. And he can be ruthless. Yet, he would never do something you don't like.

Like that one time when he was mad because you disturbed him during his debriefing, he arrived home and set his mind to fuck you senseless. 

And he did.

He fucked you first with his fingers, then a toy and finally, when you were so cock-dumb, he finally gave you his cock.

But before he did, he looked at your face, the tears and he stopped for a moment.

"Are you okay?" It was a simple question but it held many meanings. 

"Of course, Daddy."

"What's your safe word?"

"Diamond."

"Good girl."

To say that this man fucks is an understatement.

This man fucks and destroys furniture.

It got to the point where after your fifth bedframe, you two ended up with only a matress on the floor. 

The frame left marks on the wall, to the point where it needed a fresh coat of paint.

He was called King for a reason. And he is the King of your Pussy.

Logan Walker

He got used to you rather fast. To his brother's delight. 

Now the two often teased each other about you.

To your surprise, Logan is mostly normal in bed, nothing too freaky-deeky. 

Which did make you want to see the wild side of Mr Walker.

You want to know more, do more for and with him.

But you knew better than to ask his brother... that would be too weird.

You needed to find out yourself

And so, you pushed him to the edge. With what?

Jealousy.

Wearing a dress too short, looking at a man across the bar maybe for too long. 

And it did the trick.

Logan dragged you home, tied you to the bed and teased you for the entire night.

While he might not be freaky, he for sure likes to spend time with you.

You noticed he liked to just be in the same room.

Doesn't have to be sex.

But you promised to never make him jealous again. He made it clear, you were his and his alone.

He doesn't share. And the marks along your body were the proof of his claim over you.

Alejandro Vargas

Having him as a Sugar Daddy, you called him your Mexican Devil Daddy.

The one who whispers sweet things in Spanish into your ear while he does the most unpure things to your body.

He likes to have you in his arms at all times. 

Never ask him for a reason behind it.

He doesn't have to explain himself.

His hand is glued to your thigh as he drives.

Alejandro is not a huge fan of punishment but if you push his buttons, he wouldn't be nice.

He says he hates it when you whine but he actually loves it. He for sure has a thing for your brat side.

Keep telling him how much you missed him and he will give you anything you want.

"Chiquita, what would you like?"

"Dinner with you, Daddy."

"Hmm. At the place you like so much?"

"Yes."

"With the private balcony?"

"Yes."

"Do you plan on being naughty like the last time we where there? When you 'forgot' to wear your panties and I had to punish you right there and there?"

"I would never do that, Daddy. I am a good girl." 

He would laugh, you adore his laugh. 

But he would give you the world. 

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster@capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak   @manduse   @jacalineiscomingforyou  @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hiii Miss Ravennn! 😊 I’m sure you’ve seen the new club Leona by now and if not now then at some point you will. 🎤 Care to share with the class about what your thoughts on it are?

-Insert groaning sfx here-

IF I MUST... 💀

***Spoilers for Epel, Ruggie, and Leona's Club Wear cards below the cut!!***

*aggressively leans into the mic* ALRIGHT, WHICH ONE OF YOU TWST DEVS DECIDED TO PUT THE GUY WITH THE BIGGEST CHEST NEXT TO TWO OF THE FLATTEST GUYS IN THE WHOLE CAST 🤡 That poor belt looks like it's going to burst, it truly is the strongest soldier of Magift/Spelldrive Club... I'm going to have to avoid scrolling on socials for like the next week or else I just know I'm going to be clocked by fan art after fan art of Leona in uniform 🪦

BUT HEY, IT'S OKAY, IT'S FINE, IT'S FIIIIINE. Let's compare the club outfits of Leona against his teammates to distract me from thinking about rolling for L*ona!

Many fans already predicted Leona's new hairstyle would be something that kept his hair out of his face, similar to what we see for Epel and Ruggie. This makes sense, as you would not want anything obscuring your line of sight if you're going to be playing a sport. I like that they differentiated Leona's ponytail from the one he wears in his PE Uniform card! In his new Clubwear, Leona's bangs are slicked back to not get in his way, and the ponytail is much higher. The PE Uniform ponytail still has his usual bangs and the ponytail is very low.

Around Leona, Epel, and Ruggie's necks appears to be some kind of... cord???? (I'm not familiar with sporting gear, so I don't know what the terminology for this piece is. Sorry!!) There is a different number of golden notches, and I wonder if this corresponds with their year level since Epel (the first year) has one, Ruggie (the second year) has two, and Leona (the third year and club captain) has three.

Leona’s jacket also appears to be slightly longer than Ruggie and Epel’s, though it’s hard to tell for sure because of his pose. Is that to indicate he’s the leader??? (If it’s signaling seniority, then Ruggie’s jacket would be longer than Epel’s). Edit: Leona’s longer jacket is confirmed in his voice lines to be someone only the club leader wears.

An interesting detail is that Ruggie and Epel have goggles with different colored coatings on their lenses to reflect their dorms (golden for Savanaclaw, purple for Pomefiore). Leona, however, does not have traditional goggles, nor are they mounted on his head. He seems to have a pair of trendy-looking sunglasses dangling from the little side pocket that holds his magical pen. Ruggie and Epel's footwear also indicates their dorm allegiance via colors. Leona's shoes are that signature Savanaclaw yellow as well, but... ahbdbyovqyfefe THEY'RE SO EXTRA???? At first I thought it was a bunch of shiny golden particles but upon closer inspection, it looks to be more like a purposefully textured fade. Truly, hats off to the designers and artists for somehow making a variant of the club uniform that conveys Leona’s arrogance and includes luxurious fashion (though let’s be honest, Ruggie probably maxed Leona’s credit card buying these accessories for him www).

…

<_<

>_>

A n y w a y

I think my favorite part of this new card is Leona’s face. You can unfortunately get a good look at how handsome he is here 💀 The cocky smirk, the sharp and bright eyes, his sharp jawline, how his locks fall around his face and call attention to… YOU KNOW, EVERYTHING???? 😭 His regal aura really is there front and center…

But no, no!! I shan’t roll for him 🙃 I can appreciate from afar, I don’t need to have ojitan in my card roster, nope.

Since the Epel Clubwear first dropped and I saw the buckles… I’ve been on a spiritual retreat in the mountains and lived a humble life as a nun, meditating in the peace and tranquility of nature to attain enlightenment. I have no worldly desires such as Fake Cat 🙏 This is me coping

[gojoidyll]

aventurine getting his fortune told.

reader has long hair in this btw (if you don't want long hair, just ignore that part <3), and is a fem!reader insert.

At first, such a thing doesn't interest him.

He doesn't need to know anything like that.

Besides, it's much more fun taking a gamble and see if you win or lose. (Not that he worries about losing...)

Though eventually, he can't stop his curiosity. Especially when fellow gamblers at the casino start bringing in that superstitious crap.

Which was how he found himself sitting at your table.

To he completely honest, with all the movies he has seen, he was expecting a dark room lit by candles, a glass ball in the middle of the table with you wearing some frilly purple garb of some sort while placing cards on the table.

However, instead, he found none of those things.

In fact, when he walked into your establishment, you were wearing sweatpants, a baggy t-shirt that was 4x your size with food stains on it, your feet were decorated with bright colored flip-flops and your hair was long and tied into a messy bun. It also didn't help that you were sitting on a couch sitting in some weird position that must hurt your back, while watching some gruesome murder documentary about a body that was found in a lake.

"Uhhhh, hello?"

At the sound of his voice, you looked over your shoulder.

Glancing at him, looking him up and down, you turned back to the TV.

"Don't hang out in the black hole too long, ok?"

'The hell?'

He had many questions, but when he opened his mouth to ask everything went dark and he was no longer in your establishment.

When he went to look for your place, your shop was no longer there.

"Looking for someone, young man?"

An elderly woman who owned a tea shop had stopped him.

"Yeah, the fortune teller lady... her place- it was here-"

The elder had laughed.

"That's y/n. And I'm afraid her shop only shows up when you mostly need it. And if her shop isn't showing itself to you now, well, then that just means you have to wait."

Aventurine found he wanted to see you again.

You seemed unprofessional yet somehow all-knowing in a sense.

He wanted to know more. But not about his future.

[haleyusesherwords]

I continue to be amazed by the polar opposite approaches Grian and Pearl are taking to manage the inevitable issues that creep up as the hermits use their government infrastructure.

Grian is inserting himself directly in the middle of everything while Pearl is radiating “pet owner trying to keep their cat from getting tangled in the blinds again” energy.

Grian, adjusting his tie: Yes this is the permit office. No it’s not a workplace sitcom, I’m clearly going for a very different vibe or have you not noticed the sisyphean beaureacratic tasks and literal backrooms I subject you to? Yes all permit tasks must go through me directly. If you have other plans I also invented the police.

Pearl, in the most exacerbated and exhausted voice imaginable: Please stop breaking the redstone. Please respond to your Discord messages. Please stop spamming people’s mailboxes. And whatever you do, please please stop innovating new ways to pester each other before you maniacs somehow reinvent the Reply All button.

[yama-does-art]

Magic on the Lost Light - Part 2

Lost Light x (gn)reader

Part 1 | [Here] | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | End

Content: mtmte human oc insert, discontinued

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.4k

Buddy I

You nodded, gaining a smile from the metal giant before you. This was the third alien you have met today. The first being Perceptor, the science officer who found you suffocating to death. The second being Ratchet, the medic that saved you, and now this psychiatrist, Rung.

This one was smaller than the first two, lanky in both stature and build. It was nice to talk to him. Perhaps it was his profession shining through, but he seemed genuinely concerned for your welfare. It helped put you at ease, somewhat. 

Now you were just tired. One moment you were dozing off against a tree, the next you were on an alien ship unable to breathe. While you were grateful that they saved your life, it was rather jarring to see these holographic avatars interact with you. Entities that were not quite human. It was much easier trying to communicate to their true forms, even if they happen to be three stories tall.

Apparently, this species referred to themselves as Cybertronians, hailing from a planet called Cybertron. They are an autonomous group of  lifeforms, inorganic in nature, and composed of living metal. non-binary organisms, though masculine oriented when dealing with organic races. Referring to them as AI, robots, or machines is considered highly offensive, preferring to be called mechs instead.

This particular group is on a quest through deep space to find the alien equivalent of the Holy Grail. And you just happen to land on their ship that recently underwent a catastrophic engine failure that is being ‘handled’ by the current commanding officers. They don't even know where they are due to the ship's failure. In other words, nowhere near this world's Earth.

They said they meant you no harm. You hope that it is true. You want it to be true, yet there was no way to know until you meet the captain. At least the commanding officers had been to Earth before, so there was hope.

Hell.

You already missed the feeling of grass.

Rungs voice broke through your thoughts, “This must be an incredibly surreal experience. How are you feeling?”

That was a loaded question, if you ever heard one. Frustrated. Alone. Afraid. Overwhelmed. You sighed, "Tired, if I am being honest,"

It was fascinating how his facial expressions seem to mirror that of a human. A slight downward tug to his lips accompanied by furled eyebrows. “I still have to wait here but if you need to rest, don't let me keep you."

It was touching to see him actively worry about your needs. You wave him off, "it's fine, I won't be able to sleep anyway. Not until I meet your captain, that is. Do you have any water by chance?"

This time you heard something akin to an engine stall. “No I don't… I apologize, given the current circumstances, we would have to wait for Ratchet," his voices laced in static,"Is it life threatening?"

You have a small smile, "It is fine for now. Ask me again in another day or two."

Another engine stall and somehow he looked even more worried.

"Easy, there," you say, "Just a joke. Kind of. I still need water, but death by dehydration occurs roughly around 36 to 48 hours. Plenty of time."

The mech let out a stream of warm air. Was that a cybertronian equivalent to a sigh? "It pains me to admit that I know very little about organic races, let alone humans. Now that I am in your presence, it frightens me how fragile you are compared to Cybertronians. Something as simple as a lack of a critical resource could be considered fatal."

He cared. It was so touching, you could not help but walk over to where he rested his palm. You smiled, placing your hand on his. It surprised you that the metal was warm. "You are very kind Rung. Given the circumstances, I am glad you were one of the first mechs I got to speak to."

You could see his luminescent eyes flicker behind his glasses. More hot air was blowing in your direction. Perhaps it was an involuntary reflex to being uneasy? You backed away just in case. "Sorry, I didn't know how else to convey how grateful I am, I won't do that again if it makes you uncomfortable"

He frowned, tilting his head slightly. "What made you think that?"

"You emit more warm air when you frown, or during emotional parts of the conversation. I also saw your antenna twitch when I touched your hand, I didn't mean to be rude."

His mouth hung for a second before he shook his head, "You just startled me, that is all. Are all humans physical when conveying their emotions?"

You laugh, "yes, some more than others. It's actually detrimental to our psyche if we don't touch another living being for long periods of time."

More hot air drifted from the mech. "I cannot fathom living in such a precarious state, yet I am awestruck by your resilience to it all."

You slowed to a chuckle, "You underestimate my ability to compartmentalize my emotions. A part of me is absolutely terrified right now. "

His antenna twitched again. "Yet you still laugh."

“Heh, another biological response to stress,” you say, shrugging, “I talk and I joke because it is the only thing I can do. Without your continued kindness, I am incapable of  surviving on my own, at least in this environment. Don’t get me wrong, I am eternally grateful, but it leaves me in a rather uncompromising situation."

He frowned, the realization seemed to hit him. “Is that why you’re afraid?

“Oh sure, that’s a big part of it. I hate being trapped in general, so being here in an unknown location, surrounded by strangers, without any sense of agency definitely rubs me in all the wrong ways. It also doesn’t help that the lizard portion of my brain insists that you’re going to chop me up and cook me for dinner.”

Suddenly, you felt a rumble through your body. “That’s absurd! I would never do something as cruel and abhorrent as that to you. A cybertronian cannot even process organic matter, regardless of substance.” His frown deepened at the hearty laugh of the individual.

You tried to choke back your giggles, “Sorry, human joke. I know you’re not going to eat me. I mean, I’d be rather impressed if you could, but I figured as much.”

 He let out a long sigh rubbing his.. Nose arch? Do Cybertronians have a sense of smell? In one swift movement, he removed his glasses to place them to the side.

“I can see now, that your sense of humor is a defense mechanism. While I may not understand the biological mechanics of it, or the context of your jokes, I can see the pain behind it. Even though there are parallels between our respective species, it only confirms my belief that I would be unfit to serve a psychiatrist for one such as yourself. However,” He held his palm in front of you, his cyan optics met yours, "I, Rung of the Pious Pools, swear to you that I will do everything I can to help you through this.”

Fascinating, he managed to identify your coping strategy and acknowledge the similarities between your two species. He was also aware of their differences to admit that he could not serve in a professional capacity. So what was he asking of you? To believe in him? To trust him? You wanted to. Never in this entire conversation had you felt threatened. Even the medic and science officer was adamant about your safety.

You looked up to the copper toned Cybertronian, you realize that his optics was the same brilliant cyan as his core. Eyes were said to be a gateway to the soul. Was it also true for these giants? Why else would he remove his glasses if not a gesture of trust? You looked back towards his hand. You could hear faint ticks emanating from it and see plating shift even in its relative stillness, all reminders that it is a part of something very much alive. As you walked near him, a terrible thought came to mind. It was reckless, foolish, and insane. But it would also prove a point.In an instance, you swung your body into his palm, settling at its center. You grinned in satisfaction at the bot above. Taking careful note of the increased air circulation around you and how his antenna twitched violently while the rest of his body tensed. “Alright Rung of the Pious Pools, I am trusting you with this. My life is in your hands.”

Next ->

[hotdwriter]

A prophecy- Chapter 1

Benjicot Blackwoodx ofc

A girl raised in the sept of dragonstone during the dance of the dragon is tortured by vivid dreams. Her ability is a great asset to the queen, to forsee the future. The house of Blackwood is somehow linked to her dreams, what could that possibly mean?

~4K words

(Can be used as a self insert, due to little to no description of the character)

A few men, with clothing representing their house sigils, were walking up to each other. She couldn´t make out their voices since her view wasn´t clear enough. Suddenly the men started fighting, and in the next second, she only saw dead bodies spread across the meadow and bloodied limbs in the river.

With the blink of an eye, the scenery was long gone, and instead, she now saw the sept in front of her. ´A vision´, she thought. Her breathing became irregular, and her hands began to shake uncontrollably.

An elderly woman dressed in a gray gown walked outside the sept and noticed the girl in front of her. "Vikenja!" The woman snapped her out of her dreamy trance. The girl met the septa and bowed slightly in acknowledgment. "Septa Margareth, I will be inside very soon."

The older woman looked at her with distrust in her eyes. "Always have a good grip on your necklace if you wish not to sin, Vikenja."

Septa Margareth continued to walk down the steps and left quickly afterward to teach the royal children. The girl turned her gaze to her own hands, which now held the pendant of the faith of the seven. A tear fell into her palm, wetting the charm. Since her early childhood, she has dreamed of visions that soon became true.

One would say she was insane; the septa called her stained due to sinful behavior. Vikenja, not being a believer in the faith of the seven, had often gotten into trouble for speaking her mind out loud, belittling the religion she practiced.

Septa Margareth was the only mother-like figure in her life since she was raised in the house of the seven. However, she never truly fit in due to her visions, which were treated as if they were the work of the devil.

Vikenja took a deep breath and stood up again, now entering the seventh. Her first task was to light the candles inside the dark hall. It was cold inside, and the hall looked the opposite of holy. As she began to light the different-sized candles, a new vision flashed before her eyes. It was the same as before, but the view was more clear now.

Vikenja was able to make out the different house sigils. She gasped as she realized the men in front were from House Blackwood, including Lord Samwell, one of the Queen's most loyal supporters. Their bloodied corpse was lying on the grass with an arrow sticking out of it.

In less than a second, the match fell out of her hand and onto the table, which, in return, was lit on fire. A surprised scream erupted in her throat as she quickly searched for a bucket to fill with water and extinguish the fire with it. While smearing the sweat off of her forehead and straightening her hood, she let out a deep breath.

´ I must let Her Grace know of this´, she gasped.

But would the queen even believe the girl? Vikenja hesitated; her gaze was glued to the puddle of water, with multiple drops falling to the marble floor. The Septa might have ignored her ´unholy´ dreams, but the queen could have a different view on this, a ´non-religious´ one.Vikenja quickly ran out of the house and went on her way to the castle.

Thanks to Dragonstone being a small island, the route didn´t take too long. As she arrived at the gates of the castle, a knight noticed the girl's attire and greeted her. "Please bring me to the queen; I have urgent news for Her Grace."

He bowed in return and opened the gates. His footsteps were heavy and fast, echoing through the entire hallway. Vikenja was quick on her heels to follow, and the knight soon stopped in front of a tall door and opened it, announcing Vikenja's presence.

The girl bowed in front of her queen and watched the knight close the door behind him. The queen was in her chambers, sitting in silence as she grieved the death of her son. The atmosphere was thick and overwhelming with sadness.

As the queen turned around to see the girl standing at the door, she quickly stood up and flattened out the folds on her dress.

"Septa Vikenja, might I ask what news you wish to announce?" The girl took a quick breath and corrected her. "I am not a septa yet, your grace. I am still in training," she began. Rhaenyra nodded in acknowledgment, though the confusion was still visible on her face. "Your Grace, it lies in Your judgment to decide what You wish to do with the information, but..."

Vikenja thought about how to tell Her Grace about her dream. "I am afraid that House Blackwood and House Bracken will soon have a battle at the Burning Mill where the men of House Blackwood will fall, including Lord Samwell. I saw it in a vision, Your Grace."

Vikenja's eyes were glossy and droopy. The queen hesitated, unsure how to answer. Her brows furrowed as she looked outside the window and watched the beach. "Do you often have such kinds of visions?"

"I was born with the torment of seeing the future, like some sort of warning, I suppose." Her voice quietened at the end of her sentence.

Rhaenyra looked at her with a certain amount of understanding held in her gaze and took a step forward. "May I?" she asked and proceeded to take off Vikenjas Hood. As the queen saw her silver hair, she raised her head. Her theory was correct; the girl was a true dragon dreamer, just like Rhaenyra's own father. "You´re a dragon seed; it is in your blood to see dreams as vivid as if they were reality."

Vikenja looked at her with a questioning gaze. "Dragonseed? I am afraid I am not able to follow, Your Grace." She wasn´t aware of her parentage, since she was raised in a house where last names did not exist.

"I suppose you do not know about your true parents; it does not matter now, but you are a descendant of House Targaryen. In our lineage, some have been born with the ability to foresee the future." The queen now held Vikenja by her shoulders in a comforting manner.

"It is a burden and a blessing at once."

Rhaenyra sat on the couch and motioned for Vikenja to do the same. The girl slowly made her way to the red furniture and let herself fall on the comforter. "I must thank you for trusting me with this personal information, though I must admit my confusion. A dragon's dream is mostly linked to one's future; it must mean that you are somehow linked to the battle of the burning mill."

Feeling the anxiety rise in her body, Vikenja began to pick at her short fingernails, and her lip began to quiver. Her being linked to such a grotesque event was troubling her mind. How could she possibly have anything to do with the murder of hundreds of men? "I do not understand, Your Grace."

Noticing the self-harm, Rhaenyra quickly took the girl's hand in her own and carefully caressed it. She then took a strand of Vikenja's hair and tucked it behind her ear, caressing her head in a motherly way. Rhaenyra knew the girl lacked a mother figure in her life, and she felt herself magically drawn to comfort the child; somehow she saw her son Lucery in the girl.

"I am afraid I cannot give you an explanation behind the meaning of it." Vikenja slowly leaned into the queen's touch, letting her own guard down. "Tell me, dear child, how old are you?"

"My fourteenth name day was three moons ago, Your Grace."

Rhaenyra looked down at their interwoven hands and sighed softly. "Tell me, Vikenja. Do you wish to live the rest of your life in September?" The unexpected question made Vikenja overthink her current situation. The religion that was forced upon her made her feel imprisoned, but she never thought about anything else.

It was always very clear to her that she´d become a Septa and practice the faith of the seven until she would grow too old to see another day in this world. "I suppose I didn´t give it much thought, but I don´t have much of a choice," she said, turning her head to the other side so that the queen wouldn´t see the tear falling down her face.

"You could live here in the castle, grow up, and learn more about your ancestry." Vikenja's eyes widened at the offer. Why would the queen do such a thing? "I have nothing to offer in return, Your Grace."

Rhaenyra averted her gaze down to her feet as she let go of Vikenja's hand. She then stood up and paced around the room, Vikenja's eyes watching her the entire time.

"We are currently at war. I need everyone's help, especially if they can foresee the future. Besides, you have the dragon's blood flowing through your veins, and there are untamed dragons on this island."

Rhaenyra truly felt bad; she knew her offer would give her a worse fate than living the rest of her life in a boring Sept. It was selfish of her to involve a girl in the war, but Rhaenyra was desperate.

The queen stopped in the middle of the room to await the girl's answer. "Are you sure, Your Grace?" Sincerity was written across the queen's face as she took Vikenja's hands again. She pulled the girl from the comforter and took her into an embrace. "Your presence would be appreciated greatly."

The girl nodded slowly as she pulled out of the embrace. A physical touch from the queen herself made her feel conflicted. It felt like a mother's embrace, which made Vikenja slightly uncomfortable.

"Do not fret; I will announce it myself to the Septa Margareth. You might go to your new chamber; Ser Lares will show it to you." Rhaenyra opened the door and whispered something to the knight standing behind the walls of the queen's chamber. He nodded in return and bowed in front of Vikenja, motioning for her to follow in his footsteps once again.

"Your Grace," she said, lowering her head and leaving the Queen Chambers. She walked through the castle's hallway at a quick pace. The walls were thick, the stone was of a dark color, and the surface of the floor was marbled, similar to the sept. Vikenja was able to see her reflection on the marble. She had a troubled expression, and her eyebags turned a light purple. Her new life would be dangerous from now on; it was even expected of her to bond with a beast, which even the bravest of men were afraid of.

The girl almost stumbled into the knight when he halted in front of a dark brown door. "Your chambers, Lady Vikenja."

Her brows furrowed at the newly given title. She bid him goodbye as she entered her new chamber. To the right was a tall window, showing the scenery of the cold sea. In the middle was a queen-sized bed with golden charms carved into the bedframe. She stood on a black carpet; she presumed it was from sheep.

Next to the bed was a nightstand, graced with candles, and a bathtub next to a closet. The room radiated a certain amount of warmth and comfort that she wasn´t familiar with. Everything looked so expensive and luxurious; she never would have thought she´d see the privilege of living with royalty. Vikenja walked up to the bed and caressed the soft material of the bedsheet.

She closed her eyes in delight at the newfound softness. A knock came from outside the door, and a maid entered with a gown that was black and red. The maid was a young girl herself, not older than seventeen.

"Lady Vikenja, the queen requested for me to give you a bath and dress you in the gown I´ve brought." She nodded and walked towards the maid, asking for her name. "Belise, my lady."

"I can take a bath alone; please leave the gown on the bed." The maid nodded and filled the bath with water before putting the dress on the bed and closing the doors behind her.

Vikenja exhaled deeply as she took off her gray gown, stepping into the warm water. She took off the religious pendant hanging around her neck, throwing it on the ground with enough force to see its break.

She then closed her eyes as she sat down. The candles in front of her flickered while she let her thoughts run freely. This would be her new life now, being washed in the freshest of water and clothed in the silkiest gowns in the entire realm. It all felt surreal for her, like it was all a dream she was having.

Her dreams all held a warning, so she was told. Was this also one?

-----

Rhaenyra walked into the library, where she found the septa Margareth teaching embroidery to the princesses Rhaena and Baela. Both of the girls shared the same bored expression. It seemed like they did not care at all for such things, especially when they could be training outside instead.

"Septa Margareth, a word, please" the queen said, shifting her weight on one foot and playing with her golden ring. "Your Grace," the two girls mumbled before leaving the hall, leaving the two women alone. The Septa stood up from her stool and bowed in front of the queen. "Your Grace, is something troubling you?"

Rhaenyra cleared her throat before answering, "The Lady Vikenja will not continue her training." Instead, she will be staying here in the castle." She gave the Septa a short explanation, refusing to give her any more clues.

The Septa opened her mouth to reply, shocked to hear such a thing. Rhaenyra interrupted her, not giving her the chance to ask more questions. "I will not repeat myself Vikenja will stay here from now on. Tell the princesses their class is finished for today."

Rhaenyra didn´t wait for an answer and quickly spun on her heel to leave the library. She was aware of the weight of her actions. She may have caused the future death of a child, but she had to do it, didn´t she? Or was it Daemon entering her head and influencing her judgment?

Speaking of which, he still has not returned, and she has ceased to care for him. Rhaenyra selfishly projected her dead son onto the girl, easing her grief by mothering Vikenja.

--------

The feeling of comfort suddenly left Vikenja's body, as she was now aware of her newfound duty. Vikenja quickly washed her hair with the oils that had been put to the side and readied herself to meet the queen again.

As soon as she opened the doors, Ser Lares turned to her and stepped aside. "The queen has requested your presence in the grand hall." Vikenja gave him a quick nod and walked beside him.

The doors were opened by a different knight as Ser Lares led her inside. In the middle were multiple people gathered around a long table, which was a map of Westeros. The queen stood at the front, next to a boy a bit older than Vikenja, as she met the girl's gaze, her eyes lightening up at the dress the girl wore.

"Lady Vikenja Waters, please accompany me." She smiled softly, but her voice held a firm tone of authority. The Lords who stood beside her looked at her with curious eyes. As her eyes wandered through the different people, she noticed a man who looked familiar. His clothes were of the same color as her gown, though his sigil was the one of Blackwood. Vikenja met his gaze, and then she realized it was Lord Samwell.

The dead man in her vision Her eyes widened, and she quickly looked at the queen, who slightly nodded and took her hand in her own.

"Is the bastard a dragon seed?" Lord Staunton spoke freely without mincing his words. The girl felt under pressure as she felt her anxiety rise once again.

"As you can see, Lady Vikenja is of Targaryen descent; she bears the blood of the dragon." She lives here in the castle and will soon claim a dragon, so we will have more dragonriders on our side."The brunette next to Rhaenyra watched Vikenja with distrust in his eyes, similar to the Septa Margareth. He didn´t know Vikenja's true intentions.

Vikenja glanced at her silver hair while listening to the queen's words. She was never aware of the fact that her hair color held significance—not even the blood that ran through her veins. Lord Samwell glanced at the girl's face, and his gaze wandered down to her body. "How old is the lady?"

"Fourteen, my lord," she answered loudly enough for him to hear. He nodded quickly and seemed to be in thought afterward. The queen returned to the political discussion they held before Vikenja's arrival. While trying to pick up any of the information the conversation withheld, she understood little to nothing.

After the meeting was over and the Lords left, Rhaenyra shifted her attention to the girl next to her. "Do you wish to visit the dragonmont with me?" she asked, giving her a small smile.

Vikenja nodded, unsure whether to say something or to keep quiet. "You will learn everything about political arrangements when the time comes, dear child." She caressed the girl's shoulder as she led her to her own dragon.

The girl gasped as they got near it, never having seen a dragon up close. She wasn´t as scared as she thought she´d be, but instead was in awe.

"Her name is Syrax." Rhaenyra walked up to the dragon and petted its head. Vikenja giggled as she watched the dragon lean into its owner's touch. Rhaenyra guided Vikenjas Hand to pet the she-dragon. The scales under her palm were a weird sensation for the girl.

Rhaenyra felt a tear slip from her eye as she watched the girl caress the dragon. The girl's nervousness and naivety reminded her a lot of Lucery. It might have been the reason she offered housing to the strange girl.

"You will need to know commands before claiming your dragon. The words Dohaeris mean to obey, Lykiri means calm, Soves means to fly, and Dracarys means dragon fire. You will need to know how to calm the dragon beforehand, so it won´t be alarmed by your presence."

Vikenja nodded, processing the new information. "The dragons are somewhere up on the dragonmount. There are three of them in total, the gray ghost, the cannibal, and the sheepstealer. The cannibal is rumored to be a dragon with black scales, while the gray ghost shares the same color as its name, and the sheepstealer has a brown color to its scales."

Rhaenyra refrained from explaining the dragon's names to Vikenja, not wanting to fear the girl.

Rhaenyra proceeded to point up to the volcano in front of them. Next to it was the narrow sea. "Be careful."

Vikenja nodded and bid her goodbye, walking towards the sea. The air was fresh and smelled salty, and the water was a beautiful light blue. By taking her shoes off, she could go into the cold sea, her dress getting drenched while bathing her feet.

As she looked up into the sky, she noticed a white figure pacing through the clouds that hid the sun. ´It must be the Grey Ghost´, she thought. His scales were pale gray-white, and his build was slender, which made it hard for her to see him. Vikenja slowly made her way out of the water, drying her feet with her gown before putting on her boots again. She hummed a soft melody in the hope of awakening the dragon's curiosity.

She then began to walk around the sea, still humming the melody that she was familiar with. It was the same melody that she always hummed to fall asleep due to her fear of sleeping alone. It always calmed her nerves when she was left alone.

Minutes, eventually an hour, had passed, and she was still humming the melody. Vikenja was going to stop, but then she saw the same figure in the clouds again. She quickly began to realize that the dragon was encircling her, flying to the music she was producing. Vikenja held out a hand as she hummed more loudly now.

The dragon landed on the volcano and screeched at her. "Lykiri, Grey Ghost," she said as she put a hand in his direction. She began to walk up towards the dragon, trying her best to be slow and calm. "Lykiri," she repeated, but now in a firm tone. The dragon lowered its head as it awaited Vikenja. She continued to hum the song while taking the last step towards the dragon, and then she waited for the dragon to lean its head into her palm while whispering Lykiri the entire time.

The shy dragon slowly leaned into her touch as he listened to her commands. "Dohaeris, Grey Ghost!" she exclaimed while walking to the dragon's body, climbing it slowly. As soon as she sat on top, she regretted her decision to not have a saddle.

But she knew this was her chance to bond with the dragon, so she commanded him to fly.

"Dohaeris, Soves, Grey Ghost!" she exclaimed, the anxiety raising in her voice. The dragon stood up and began to walk before quickly taking to the sky. Vikenja had to grip his horns so she wouldn´t fall. She screamed as the air whipped her face, closing her eyes.

When she noticed that the dragon's movements were more smooth, she opened her eyes again to see the scenery before her. She held one hand out to graze through the clouds. It was a calming experience, it was nothing like she expected it to be. Due to the bond between Vikenja and her dragon, she was able to feel his emotions the other way around. Their personalities were similar in a way, both have always been alone.

Vikenja smiled as she petted his back. Both of them continued to fly for a few more hours until it was time for supper. Her dragon landed on the beach, in front of her chambers. She quickly dismounted him and sent him back to fly away, before alarming the guards of her presence.

Four dragonkeepers were soon sent, carrying a saddle for the dragon. When Vikenja called her dragon, she had to calm him the entire time, so that the men could do their work. She felt her anxiety rise due to feeling the dragon's stress.

She softly hummed the same melody as before, until the dragon keepers were finished and Grey Ghost could fly back into the sky and away from the castle.

Vikenja felt proud of herself for the first time in her life. She felt as if she had accomplished something that would change her life forever. With a dragon on her side, she was now a force to be reckoned with.

The girl soon went into the castle to meet with the queen and tell her about her accomplishments. The queen welcomed her with an embrace, which Vikenja awkwardly accepted. Rhaenyra kissed the top of her head and told her how proud she was of her. The more time Rhaenyra spent in the girl's presence, the more she didn´t want to let go of her. She couldn´t make the same mistake twice, could she?

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 6

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader 

Did he just say that? He just said that. Right?

I wondered if I had somehow inserted that last excerpt from Dr. Miller’s mouth into the conversation on my own. Had my mind made it up because I wanted him so badly?

He was smiling now, not at all able to fight it back. I could tell that he was attempting to without avail.

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” His voice caused my knees to part under the table. I didn’t know if it was instinctual or if the muscles in my legs had suddenly just turned to Jello but I literally felt myself melt down further into the oversized mahogany chair.

“That, uh..” I toyed with a strand of my hair for a half-a-second in my nervous tic, “That makes me a lot of things.”

“Another round?” The waitress appeared out of thin air and I was about to speak but Dr. Miller responded, with a simple, “We’ll take the check.”

I wanted to stay. When he was so eager to get the check after just one drink I couldn’t fight off the look of discouragement that was written all over my face. I knew what I must have looked like and I couldn’t reel it in. And then I thought about it some more. Maybe he was getting the check because he wanted to go somewhere else.

Like his house. It was wishful thinking.

“Stop looking like someone just shit in your cereal.” His accompanying laughter made me grin. There had to be something up his sleeve. This night couldn’t end with such an obscene, suggestive comment and lead nowhere.

“Didn’t want another drink?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“It’s a school night. We both have to be up early.”

“It’s barely nine o’clock.”

Dr. Miller gave a chuckle again and then looked up as the waitress handed him a black, leather case with the tab for two drinks tucked inside. He held up a finger, slipped a one hundred dollar bill inside and then handed it to her.

“I’ll be back with your change,” replied the woman.

“It’s yours.” He looked me in the eye as he spoke to her again and then began rising to his feet as he reached for his coat.

I followed his lead and allowed him to lead us out of the place.

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

Was the night really over? On that note? On that red hot amorous note that had been left with a teetering, ‘dot, dot, dot’ next to it. To be continued? Would it?

Stop freaking out! My brain was screaming, shrieking; throwing a fit like a five year old in Toys ‘R Us that didn’t get the toy she wanted to play with. On the outside I smiled, gripped my keys and tried not to stare for too long as I walked beside Dr. Miller.

“You never gave an elaboration to your response,” he said to me once we stood by the driver’s side door in front of the old church.

I looked down and back up. “Should I elaborate?”

“I’d like to know where we stand.” He looked at me with certainty but, again, there was the slightest hint of uneasiness in his posture. Dr. Miller was tense in his shoulders and it traveled up his neck into his jaw as he waited.

“So would I,” I responded, taking a breath. I couldn’t look away from those brown eyes that were swelled black around the pupil. I knew what that meant - at least I thought I did.

“Well, how about this?” He took a step in my direction so there were only a few inches between us. “If you want to discuss it further, I’m opening up my office hours during our regularly scheduled class time on Thursday. Seven-thirty, I’ll walk you into the building, myself.”

I cleared my throat. Of course I was going to go. “Thursday.” I gave a little nod, wishing I had something to say that would affect him as much as he was currently affecting me.

“Email me if you change your mind.”

“I won’t,” I said right away. My chest heaved beneath my jacket and I opened my mouth to speak. At first nothing came out but then I finally asked the question that had been on my mind for the past seven or eight minutes, “Was that true what you said?”

“Which part?”

“About the elevator.” I swallowed hard now and Dr. Miller laughed again.

“Save all of your questions for Thursday at seven-thirty.” He took a step toward me and then nodded toward my vehicle, “Now get in your car so I know you’re safe.”

I looked at his lips. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to lean in and see if he reciprocated, but from what I could tell of Dr. Miller, he was a forthright individual. If he wanted to kiss me, he would kiss me. He wanted to tell me about his racy musings when we were alone in the elevator. He wanted me to meet him alone at the school on Thursday. If he didn’t lean in for a kiss that means he didn’t want one.

Yet, I told myself.

I hit the button on my key fob and heard the click as my headlights flickered to let everyone in the immediate area know I had just unlocked the car.

“Goodnight (Y/N).” Dr. Miller gave a pained smile that emphasized the crow’s feet on the outskirts of his eyes.

“Goodnight Dr. Miller.” He didn’t correct me this time or ask me to refer to him as Joel. I knew at least a part of him liked having the title roll off my willing lips to acknowledge his authority over me.

Shutting my car door might as well have been shutting the jail cell. I gave a wave and started up the vehicle before reluctantly backing away from where he now stood on the walkway.

Even as I drove down the road, I glanced in my rearview mirror until I could no longer see his figure there and then finally turned the corner to head towards home.

The next day-and-a-half had me worrying about myself. My behavior felt obsessive. I had inspected every social media outlet in search of Joel Miller but there was nothing. He didn't even have a LinkedIn. That one, I had to say, surprised me.

No Snapchat. No Instagram. No Facebook. Nothing.

For my own senseless reasons it frustrated me. I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to see a collection of pictures from his life over the course of the past decade. I decided I was spoiled for having access to just about anyone else's life I wanted to dig into.

Maybe I should put my profiles on private. It was Dr. Miller's casual piece of advice. Anyone could dig into my life and I was too concerned about getting “likes” than I was my own privacy. 

I'm a walking cliche of today's pre-thirty generation. 

Seeing as though my plan to gain access to Dr. Miller's life fell flat on the pavement, I carefully adjusted the private settings on all of my accounts. It had been a suggestion echoed to me by numerous friends and professionals that I hadn't taken seriously; yet here I was after one fleeting proposition from a man I just met making the meager change to my digital identity.

After work on Wednesday I found myself driving past The Library. My eyes scanned for the black Mercedes and I was actually satisfied in knowing that Dr. Miller wasn't out at the bar - at least when I drove by. It allowed my brain to rest rather than toy with the idea of dropping everything to go search inside for him.

Yes, I was officially obsessing. It felt like a violation of not only Dr. Miller's privacy, but also my own sanity.

It didn't stop me from repeating the action on the following afternoon after work. My amateur investigations weren't particularly thorough, though I assumed his car would stand out if he had been around, especially when my eyes were actively seeking out one specific automobile. 

There was a light at the end of the tunnel, however. It was Thursday. It was the evening I would be attending Dr. Miller's office hours.

Office hours. I was sure he hadn't actually posted any office hours. I was going to be alone with him.

In all of my years I hadn't had an off-kilter fantasy. My brain had never fancied the idea of taboo love affairs, or men in uniform or any of the typical sexual scenarios that I had heard others speak about.

Now, the idea of letting my handsome, older professor take me on his desk was enough to ignite a fire in every single part of my body - my head, my heart, my soul, my.. everything.

I wouldn't deny him. Correction, I couldn't deny him. I had created the scenario in my mind time after time. It was far too heavy a weight on my shoulders by now to just shy away from. I wanted Dr. Miller in the worst way.

Tori, my roommate, eyed me suspiciously as I exited my bedroom that evening. My clothes were casual, though rather than a sweatshirt and my white Converse sneakers I wore knee-high, brown boots and a tight, gray sweater that revealed just a bit of cleavage. 

My ponytail was replaced by perfectly straightened hair and just a tad more than the average amount of makeup I typically sported. Yes, if our roles had been reversed I would have had questions. Unless we were going out somewhere I always slummed it in the most comfortably acceptable clothes I could manage.

“Umm..” My roommate’s eyebrows pressed together, “Do you have a date I don't know about?”

I decided to meet her questions in the middle. “I'm going to a quick study session.” Tori gave me an ‘I don't believe you’ look and so I went on, “And then I'm going out with a guy I met at school.”

My professor, I added in my mind.

Not quite a lie. Not quite the truth. But she seemed to believe it and so I smiled when she offered me good luck.

“I'll fill you in,” I lied, knowing whatever happened that evening I would surely be keeping to myself - at least for the time being. Although I loathed the ‘YOLO’ expression, there was a time for everything and so I reminded myself, you only live once.

The drive to Woodbridge had my stomach in knots. I didn't know what was going to happen. Suddenly I wondered if I would even know what to do. I was twenty-seven. I had had sex before - plenty of it actually. I wasn't a nun.. but I wasn't a freak either. What was Dr. Miller expecting? He had certainly been around the block a time or two.

The faintest hint of sweat coated my hairline, a result of my budding anxiety. I couldn't wait, but then again I was so completely out of my league. I had never met a man so sure of himself. The guys I had dated, we were on an even playing field. I felt like a fan in the stands of a rock concert that was just called on stage to sing with Bon Jovi.

Stop putting him on such a pedestal, I told myself; though I truly couldn't help it. All reason had betrayed me.

The black Mercedes was there when I pulled into the lot and I saw Dr. Miller casually step out of his vehicle the second my blinker winked in favor of the parking lot on the left off the main road that cut through campus.

I parked closer to the building and slowly climbed out of the car as he approached. I knew I was a mess. There was no hiding what I was feeling. I was sure he might even be able to hear the thudding of my heart in my chest.

“I offered to walk you in,” he reminded me, to which I nodded as we walked in silence through the threshold of the academic enclosure.

Dr. Miller walked with a purpose toward the elevator in the main lobby, eagerly pressing the down button that would lead us to the basement where his office and our lecture hall sat vacant.

I thought of his words from Tuesday night at the bar as the doors opened and we entered. There were no other people in the building that I saw. There were no cameras in the elevator. As the doors shut with a resounding thump I side-glanced at my professor.

Out of my peripheral vision I could see how tensely straight he stood. His eyes were straight ahead; focused. He didn't blink or move. It almost looked as if he was holding his breath.

Please. I begged him in my mind, though I have to say when the doors reopened and we emerged to the basement level I was disappointed that he didn't immediately try to jump my bones. The opportunity had presented itself for Dr. Miller to do all the dirty things he claimed to have been craving and he hadn't even flinched on the ride. It was okay, now, wasn't it? Now that he knew I was a willing participant.

You're being ridiculous. I was currently questioning my every thought, my every word, my every move.

The stillness of the typically buzzing building heightened my anxiety. It felt as if butterflies were having a rave inside of my stomach. The only sound that gave a mild echo off the walls of the vacant corridor were the gentle clicks of Dr. Miller's shoes.

My temperature felt like it was rising with each door we passed. I counted them to maintain some level-headedness.

One. Two. Three. Four.

When the fifth door came into clear view, Dr. Miller reached a hand into his khakis and removed a ring of keys. 

Next to the oversized, wooden door was a black piece of plastic with Dr. Miller’s name etched into it. Below his name was the door number: 007.

Of course it is, I thought, almost smiling and rolling my eyes. The heat returned to my cheeks, however, when my gaze met his from just a few inches away.

I swallowed hard when the silver key eased into the door handle, glancing down for just a second, before regaining his eyes.

There was a moment of hesitation on Dr. Miller's part before he finally turned the key and let the door swing open from a little push of his forearm.

“After you.” His arm extended outward now and the light automatically went on as I crossed through the threshold. “Can I get you something to drink?” 

He waltzed in, loosening his tie a bit as he rounded an oversized, espresso desk. 

“Umm.. no.” I shook my head, “No I'm fine.”

The corner of Dr. Miller's mouth tipped up in a little smirk. “Please, have a seat.” He motioned to a chair across from where he made himself comfortable and leaned forward with both hands folded on top of the desk.

I did as I was told. On the surface I thought I appeared like I had my shit together; like I wasn't imagining him pinning me down on the desk and having his way with me; like I wasn't conflicted about whether my feelings on the matter were wrong or right; or if he could lose his job if something did happen between us.

The man had a way of building tension. The brief moment of silence that lingered was deafening. His stare was almost too much for me. I wanted to say something, anything, but I couldn't find the words to kick off a conversation.

“I assume you still have the question in your mind.” Dr. Miller finally spoke. “From the other night.”

My chest heaved up and down once from a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. I opened my mouth to speak but I was interrupted.

“Dr. Miller!” An overzealous young man waved a stack of papers and held an IPad under his arm as he entered through the open door from the hallway.

I held my breath for half-a-second. It was Trevor Nelson. I had had two classes with him and his sheer presence alone was enough to drive me crazy. Right then, he was the bane of my existence. What was he doing here?

His stammering repetition of Dr. Miller’s name almost led me to a physical eye roll.

“Good evening.” Dr. Miller extended his arm out and Trevor eagerly shook it. “Remind me again of your-”

“Trevor,” he more-or-less shouted, glancing at me briefly.

I could see Dr. Miller was taken off-guard, though it was his organically, suave nature that allowed him to get through the unwanted conversation with ease.

“What can I do for you Trevor?”

“I just wanted to discuss a few points from the reading if you had a moment,” Trevor said, “And seeing as though you sent out an email with office hours I suspected you had the time.”

Office hours. He did send out his office hours.

Fuck! Was I all wrong?

“Yes,” Dr. Miller motioned to a second chair beside me. “I wasn't expecting you,” he admitted, “I sent out a sign up sheet-”

“My Wifi kept malfunctioning,” Trevor went on, cutting him off. “I tried. And that's why I printed some things out. I just assumed you would be here anyway and..” He shrugged and then looked at me for the first time, “I'm surprised to see you here.”

Dr. Miller huffed a laugh now. He looked at me with raised eyebrows as if to study what my reaction would be. What would I say to Trevor’s snide remark?

His very tone and uppity attitude was the precise reason why I couldn't stand him.

“I had questions about the reading, as well.” I remained cordial. There was no way I was about to air out a petty reply that would make me seem bitter or immature in my ways.

“Well.. great. We can bounce questions off one another then.” Trevor forced a smile that, while mum, seemed to have the same whiny tone as his nasally voice. 

“I blocked off twenty minute time slots,” Dr. Miller reminded him. “I have another appointment at 7:50.”

My stomach dropped and our eyes caught one another’s. He winked as Trevor took a fleeting peek at his watch with as much disappointment as I knew my face had suddenly been white-washed with.

Despite the wink I couldn't tell if he was serious or lying. Was Trevor really fucking up my twenty minutes alone with Dr. Miller? Was there another student coming in at ten of eight?

As my classmate began his vexatious ramblings I felt a burning hostility brewing in my core. At one point Dr. Miller's foot grazed mine beneath the table but he didn't look in my direction as it happened.

I decided I had to harness my disdain, which I knew was heightened to an unwarranted degree for poor Trevor. I actively told myself to stop being a jerk.

The genuine question that I had from the reading the other night popped into my head. Hallelujah, reason prevailed.

“If it's not too morbid, do you think whoever killed the girl on campus might be suffering from Antisocial Personality Disorder?” It was my first genuine attempt to engage in the conversation. 

Typically, I truly did enjoy the subject matter. That night, however, my mind was deep in the gutter. That's why I had to run with the lone, pertinent thought that inhabited my brain.

Dr. Miller turned and a small smile formed on his face. The dimples that drove me crazy were out in full force and I could see he was intrigued by my question.

“Interesting.” He leaned back in his seat and folded one leg over the other. “Depending on the motive I could entertain it as a possibility.”

I smiled wide, enjoying his mild praise.

“That is an interesting question,” Trevor added.

My eyes shifted toward Trevor for a second as he eyed the ceiling as he pondered my question. When I looked back, Dr. Miller had tipped his mouth up in a half-smirk again.

When Trevor came back down to earth, our professor motioned to the clock above me on the wall. “I'm sorry to kick you out.” Dr. Miller looked directly at Trevor now, “I think we've ended this session with a valid question that we can open with during Tuesday's class.” He rose to his feet and extended an arm in my classmate’s direction, “Sit on that idea over the weekend. Bring some notes to class.” He glanced at me and added, “I think that was a great topic of conversation Ms. (Y/LN).”

“Thank you.” I gave a little nod and Trevor appeared appeased as the three of us began a natural shift toward the door.

“Thank you for your time Dr. Miller.” The young man smiled and tucked his IPad back under his arm before vacating the room ahead of me. He turned for a second and asked, “Do you think they'll catch whoever killed that girl?”

My gaze switched from Trevor to Dr. Miller and he sucked his teeth while folding his hands together on top of the table. “I'm no investigator,” he said, “But if you want my honest opinion..” a breath exited through his nose and he finished with a simple, “No. No, I don't.”

“Why not?” Trevor leaned an arm on the door and Dr. Miller laughed while motioning to the clock again.

“Save it for another time.”

Like Trevor, I wanted to know his reasoning; though I didn't dig deeper into it right then. As intriguing and scary as it all was, other emotions were tugging at my core.

“I'll see you in class,” Trevor said, though I didn't know if he was speaking to me or our professor. 

I wasn't so quick to leave, but I knew it was time. I hadn't expected Dr. Miller to actually post office hours so it was probable that there was another student about to arrive.

Was it a female student? Yep, sparked jealousy inside of me.

When Dr. Miller didn't immediately make a plea for me to stay, I wandered through the open door toward the hallway.

And then I jumped. It was almost inhuman how fast his arm wrapped around my midsection and pulled me back into the room with him with the ferocity of a wolf mauling a lamb.

A gasp escaped my lips when he turned me around to face him as the door closed and my back planted against it. It was all one giant obscure action; a whirlwind of tension released when our bodies were finally pressed up against one another's and I was left panting.

“I thought you had another-”

His finger found my lips to shut me up. A wicked smile advertised his true intentions and his blackened eyes could have set me ablaze right there.

“You are as gullible as your friend Trevor.”

Before I could respond his lips crashed against mine. They literally crashed leaving the back of my head slamming against the thick wood behind me. I barely felt it. 

What I did feel was a rush of adrenaline and desire and a thirst for the man that I couldn't suppress - not when his hands were roaming my body and his tongue aggressively penetrated my lips.

I could barely keep up. I had built the moment up so much and now that I was wrapped up in the middle of this avid tornado of passion it had far surpassed my fantasies.

My arms wrapped high around his shoulders, though he quickly pinned them above my head against the door with one hand. His other hand hastily fiddled in his pocket to remove a set of keys, at which time my cheeks blushed a more fiery red when I saw his arousal peaking the front of his khakis.

My eyes were the only part of me capable of moving freely. The rest of me was a willing prisoner to the force of his body against mine. I never wanted to be released.

Dr. Miller's key slipped into the slot in the center of the doorknob and a click secured us behind closed doors.

With an echoing clank the keys hit the floor and my aching, vacant lips were welcomed back with the immediate warmth of his. When his hand released both of mine on the door my arms instinctively wrapped around him again. I was on cloud nine; in a state of mindless bliss. For the first time, possibly ever, I thought of nothing and just acted without reserve.

It was only when I struggled to breathe that I took a parting breath, allowing air back into my aching lungs. Dr. Miller groaned with the brief separation though it gave him the second he needed to wrestle with the button on my jeans.

In that one swift movement of his fingers he had access to everything I had to offer. I bit my lip in anticipation of him touching me for the first time. Just before my eyes were forced shut I saw his hungry eyes drinking in every part of me.

Dr. Miller's over-pronounced sigh accompanied the sensation of his first two fingers as they made home against my most sensitive areas.

I moaned as quietly as possible, though he made the task more difficult when his lips grazed the area just beneath my ear.

I let out a louder moan when his fingers pushed inside of me and his hot breath landed on my neck, the other cupped over my mouth and my eyes suddenly snapped open.

“Shhh..” Dr. Miller gave a hushed reminder that we weren't exactly in our own private love shack while his fingers continued their exploration. “We wouldn't want Trevor to wander back here because he heard a suspicious noise would we?”

Slowly, his hand was removed from across my mouth. I reached a hand down toward his waist but he swatted it away.

“You're not ready for that yet,” he growled, still speaking in a voice just above a whisper.

I was paralyzed. Paralyzed by pleasure. Paralyzed by the thrill. Paralyzed by my raw attraction to Dr. Miller. At that moment I didn't think I could speak if I tried.

A brand new combination of nervousness and arousal made home within me when his free hand now lingered on my throat. The barely-there pressure added something to what I had been feeling all along.

“You like that?” It was closer to a statement than a question but I choked out a whispered, “Yes,” in response.

There was a shake in my legs that I couldn't relieve. Dr. Miller felt it. There was no way he didn't. I was writhing beneath him against the door as the distance between my parted feet on the floor widened with the spread of my legs.

It didn't take long to reach my climax that was induced by his fingers, his hand on my throat, and the dirty nothings he whispered as he encouraged my impending orgasm.

I struggled to maintain my composure. As the first curse word escaped my lips his hand more forcefully clamped over my mouth again, though all the same his lips found my ear again as he encouraged me to, “Let it out,” in a hiss of whisper.

That was the final push. Fireworks might as well have gone off in my lower half as my muffled moans sounded off against the warmth of his palm. My eyes alternated between open and closed in those final seconds and Dr. Miller's provocative growling voice took my right back to the dream I’d had. This was no dream.

The shot of adrenaline had filtered through my body, numbing my limbs like some type of drug had just been injected into my veins.

Fuck! For several seconds I could only focus on the pleasure as I breathed heavily in and out in an attempt to remain quiet.

When I began to come down off the high. All of my senses began to return and I could hear my own breathing as his generous hand warily crept back out from beneath my damp panties.

A smile formed on my face as he stared at him. I was hot and disheveled. My pants were still down off my waist and as I went to tug them back up Dr. Miller stopped me.

“Oh we're not done yet,” he assured me, glancing over his shoulder toward the oversized desk. When he turned back around he reached for my hand and towed me across the room. I felt like I was floating.

When he made himself comfortable in the oversized chair, I just stared at him. With the two fingers that had just been inside of me he waved for me to come to him and pulled me down in for another heated kiss before whispering against my lips. “Now you're going to get down on your knees and return the favor.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @grogusmum @michilandcof @morallyinept @akah565 @cesspitoflove @brittmb115

[shdo-xplosion]

PART TWO: CLINICAL

☼masterlist☼

01 <-☼-> 03

warnings: 2.4k; captivity, telepathy, restraints, non-con, forced orgasm, fingering, squirting, toys? (more like tools), speculum, ben-wa balls (sort of), insertion, medical play? in the name of research, we call bakugou ‘kat’ for now! (this chapter is hard to tag)

notes: hahahaha um hi. this is gross. and it’s only going to get worse, so prepare yourselves. (˵ᵕ̴᷄ ˶̫ ˶ᵕ̴᷅˵)

tags: @ssplague @makepastanotwar13 @kaidabakugou @kiarathace @kllrkitty @itachiwho @siempre-entre-dos-opciones-blog

let me know if you would (or would not) like to be tagged, but you must have your age somewhere visible on your blog!

You recognize the blond alien immediately. It paces into the room without giving you so much as a glance, just walks straight to the control panel behind you that you’ve yet to get a glimpse of.

“What are you doing?” you ask now that you know they can all understand you. When it still doesn’t acknowledge you, you try again. “Hey!”

This time, with your neck craned uncomfortably, you’re met with an intimidating scarlet gaze.

What?

Your eyebrows raise at the sound of his voice. His mouth didn’t move at all which leads you to believe… “You’re telepathic.” Something that scientists on earth have just barely begun to figure out.

The alien grunts and nods.

Does that mean you can hear me too? you think and are met with another throaty noise of confirmation.

For a few seconds, you’re in awe, fascinated by how advanced they are. Then the implication sets in, and you shut your eyes.

So, you’ll always know what I’m thinking then.

Yes.

Just another leg up that these terrifying creatures have over you and your crew mates. There’s no way out of this. Any plan you may come up with, any plot to escape, they’ll know from the beginning.

Closing your eyes, you look back to the high ceiling as the alien fiddles with the panel. All you hear are little clicks, but then the table beneath you begins to move, the extensions that your legs are bound to spreading apart. On your chest, the tiny massage balls become firmer as they roll over your tits, and when you begin to squirm the straps around your wrists pull tighter.

Fuck. Fuck fuck. What is about to happen to you? What is—

Relax. I’m only here to do research.

“What kind of research?” you ask frantically, your voice too loud as it rings through the room.

I have to see what your body is capable of.

My… ?

Your cunt, it says explicitly, sending shivers down your spine.

You’re so used to tears flooding your waterline that you barely even notice it now.

You whisper between heavy breaths, “are… am I going to…”

This isn’t the impregnation phase, no.

Phase. So there’s a phase. The fact that this is not it brings you minimal relief as the promise of it still hangs over your head.

The creature walks around to the end of the table and waves a tray of some sort over. Telepathy and telekinesis? Or is it something else?

It sits down on a chair you had no idea was even there, then lifts the thin covering off of your legs so that you’re exposed to it.

Wait, wait, you stall, trying to give yourself just a little more time to get mentally prepared. What’s your name?

You wouldn’t be able to say it.

Try me, you insist, chest heaving as you panic.

As expected, the alien makes a noise void of any softness. Ktsk, like someone being strangled.

Okay, you chew on your lip as you think of what to call it. Kat. Kat works. Less like a choke, more like a scream.

Fine.

You feel hands on your knees, travel higher and higher, and again, you stop him. “Hold on!”

He actually sighs in what sounds like exasperation. What?

Are you male or female?

There’s more than just male and female here, he corrects, which makes sense. I am male, though.

You can stop calling him ‘it’ now. It doesn’t humanize him since he isn’t human at all, but it somehow makes him slightly less of a monster, a beast that lives in your closet rather than under your bed.

Without any more questions—any that can be answered anyway—you lay your head back and inhale deeply. There’s nothing you can do to stop him from touching you, so you need to do your best to make peace with it.

He doesn’t trace patterns up your thighs or waste time with gentle touches, just leans between your legs for a closer look. You wince when you feel fingers spread your lips, not because it hurts but because it’s cold.

Body tensing, your hole clenches in front of him, prompting Kat to run the tip of his finger over it. It feels curious, as if he truly has no idea what he’s looking at. Do the female aliens not have anatomy like you?

Kat prods around in a way that would be amusing in any other situation, but no giggles escape you, only shallow breaths.

When he tries to push past your entrance you let out a high-pitched sound of discomfort, ow ow ow, and it makes Kat stop immediately.

What is it?

You can’t just… push something in there dry, you explain. You need some kind of lubricant otherwise it hurts. You’re teaching him for your benefit, keep him from tearing anything.

He switches gears, hesitant and possibly confused. If he’s anything like earth men, he’s too embarrassed to ask for any extra information on the matter.

Feather light touches dance around your hole now, spreading your folds apart again. The first nudge of your clit makes your body jolt in shock, almost impressed that he found it so quickly. You think you can feel him staring at your face, but you refuse to look at him. Your thoughts are already giving too much away.

A pleasure point?

Yeah. No reason to deny it.

Kat touches the bundle of nerves again, like a button at first, but when all it does is make you scrunch up your nose, he begins to flick it instead. Back and forth, back and forth. You feel it begin to swell, becoming more firm, more obvious, the longer he toys with it.

A different kind of pulse between your legs proves that his actions are affecting you, a subtle throb deep in your pussy that makes slick coat your walls.

Lubricant? he thinks.

You hate yourself as you nod. It’s a biological response, your voice of reason reminds you. You don’t like it, but this is natural.

Kat doesn’t say anything else, just dips a fingertip into your hole to gather your arousal, dragging wetness over your folds and slicking your clit with it. His touches become smoother, which makes it feel better, which makes you hate yourself even more. This is sick. Even with your logic you can’t help but believe something is wrong with you if your body is enjoying this.

He is an alien. An alien who almost killed you. Who put a parasite inside of your captain and plans to do the same to you.

I didn’t do anything to your captain, you hear, and you’re about to argue, but before you can think of a comeback, Kat slides a thick finger into your pussy. He presses in slowly, but it only gets deeper and deeper. You hadn’t actually realized how big his hands were.

You can’t place the noise he makes, but you think it might sound… satisfied?

He twists his hand a bit, wiggling the digits inside of you. You understand what he meant by research now. It all seems so clinical. You sort of expect him to pull out a notebook.

Without asking, Kat begins to move, pushing his finger in and out of your body. You bite your lip hard and squeeze your eyes shut. The bindings on you feel so much tighter all of a sudden. You can’t close your legs at all, can’t use your hands to hide yourself. All you can do is let him touch you.

As he fingers you, he brings his other hand up to touch your clit again.

Fuck.

Is that good or bad?

You don’t want to tell him. Don’t want him to know that it does, in fact, feel good. But you can’t deny it. He can hear your thoughts. Even though you don’t confirm it, he knows.

Faster. In and out, the pad of a finger rubbing over your clit. He pushes another inside of you, your hole stretching at the intrusion. A slight burn accompanies it, but at the first downward twitch of your mouth, Kat speeds up on your clit.

The tip of one of his fingers is dragging over your g-spot, and it feels wonderful. Makes a certain pressure build in your pelvis, in your bladder, and as more hot tears fill your eyes, even hotter squirt begins to dribble down your folds.

If Kat is confused by it, he doesn’t make a show of it, just continues the same motions as your legs start to shake. You wonder if he’ll understand the concept of overstimulation. What will happen if he doesn’t?

Helpless, you remember. You’re helpless.

The third finger makes you groan out loud, back arching, and the movement brings to attention the device locked into your chest. Your tits are tender now, nipples hard enough to peek through the see-through tubing. You’re embarrassed at how your body is reacting to him. You can’t remember the last time you were this wet, the last time slick dripped from your cunt in thick strings.

What is he thinking? Has he ever seen something like this before?

No. Your body is different from our females.

How?

He removes his fingers and you swear you almost whimper at the loss.

Smaller. Tighter, he says, and then, softer.

You blink up at the ceiling, not sure how to respond. If humans are smaller, surely you can’t tolerate being pregnant. Probably can’t even tolerate taking one of these alien cocks. It’s a vulgar thought, but it’s still there, and it’s still troubling.

Is that all? Are you finished? you ask. You don’t even care that you haven’t actually cum.

You see the strange, blond spikes of his hair move when he looks up your body to lock eyes.

No. I still some more tests.

A test that involves some kind of speculum, stretching you open open open until you’re breathing through your teeth. He uses something to swipe at your gummy walls, reminds you of getting swabbed at your old physician’s office, only you doubt Kat is screening for cancer or STDs.

Then, still stretched to your limit, he begins touching your clit again. All of your muscles tense, but you can’t actually clench like you’re used to, the tool wedged inside of you preventing any type of contraction despite your body’s want to do just that.

And something about that, that feeling of being pulled so thin, wide open and vulnerable, it makes your eyes roll back. Kat is swiping multiple fingers over your swollen clit, drops of squirt streaming down the tool, the curve of your ass, and the table beneath you. Your spine curves as much as the restraints allow it too, and with a shuddering breath, you hit your climax.

Oh my god, my god, fuck fuck fuck. Normally your cunt would pulse and spasm with every wave of your orgasm, but it can’t, your body trying to force the barrier out of you without success.

When it finally stops, after it feels like it never will, you tremble and gasp and try to ignore the way your vision is dancing with little white dots.

“Okay, that’s… that’s it, right? You got what you wanted?”

Kat slowly slides the speculum from you and places it on the tray next to him, not looking at you as he answers, no.

He examines you again, no tools, just his red eyes and thick fingers. Your pussy is swollen with blood flow, coated with enough slick to dull some sensation, but every tap to your clit makes you whine. This time when he makes you cum, he’s able to see the way your cunt clenches, hole tightening then loosening.

He holds you open, swirling the tip of his finger around your sloppy entrance so that you squirm.

Final test, he thinks, moving to retrieve something else. When he holds three shiny spheres in your line of vision, you shake your head. They have to be two inches in diameter. There’s no way…

I just need to see how much you can handle, he tells you as if that answers all your questions.

Resituating himself between your legs, Kat presses one of the balls against you, slicking it up with your juices before lining it up with your entrance and slowly pushing it inside of you.

The stretch actually isn’t bad, not after so much prep. Your muscles are spent and relaxed, covered in viscous arousal.

Using his fingers, Kat pushes the ball as far as he can, hitting the wall of your cervix so that you jerk and cough.

There’s one.

The second is much the same, your pussy greedily sucking in whatever it’s given. With two inside, you feel the weight, how they crowd your insides. Three will be too many. You know that for sure.

But Kat still tries, slipping the last smooth ball inside of you, making the others shift where they’ve settled in your guts. As soon as he moves his finger, that final ball slips right back out, the sensation disturbingly pleasurable.

Kat grunts in disapproval and pushes it back in, trying to get it in a little farther this time.

It’s not gonna… they’re too big.

You hear a little huff when the ball breeches your hole again, rolling onto the table.

Fine. We’ll just try again soon.

Nothing’s gonna change, you tell him. It’s not like my vagina is just gonna grow another couple sizes.

Kat stands up and looks at you, eyebrow cocked, one side of his mouth just barely pulled up.

Don’t worry. I’m sure I can figure out some ways to stretch you out better.

He disposes of his tools then gives the straps around your wrists a little slack. As he starts toward the door you call out loud, “wait! Aren’t you gonna get these things out of me?”

Kat turns then slowly paces over to you. Your eyes go wide when he leans down close enough for you to feel chilled breath on your face.

No. He puts a thumb on your chin, pulling down until your bottom lip reveals your teeth. You watch as his split tongue darts out of his mouth, quick as a flash as he catches one of your tears on it. I wanna see if you can do it by yourself.

But…

I told you already. I need to see what this cunt can do.

Needs to see how much you can take, if you’re strong enough to birth his race.

You already know that you’re not.

2023©️shdo-xplosion. please do not plagiarize or repost my work to any other platforms.

[jokeringcutio]

Halloween requests!!! I've been vibing for pumpkin season since September 1st, so this is fantastic! I can't wait to see what Halloween horrors abound here 😍

Hook (Peter Pan 2003) x female reader

Smut: No preference, so whatever strikes your fancy

Reader is at a Halloween party and somehow ends up in Neverland? Bonus if Hook has something to say about her pirate costume (author's choice if it's in the style of big boxstore tacky, sexy, 'authentic', or what have you 🙃)

If you aren't up for the request, it's all good!

Captain James Hook (imagine Jason Isaac’s Hook) x Reader Rating: T Warnings: Halloween Party, Pirates, Kiss. AN: Hope you enjoy! I am open for Reader insert requests, come at me ya'll.

Halloween Pirate

The night was alive with the laughter and chatter of guests, their costumes creating a colorful sea through which you had to find your way. The Halloween party was in full swing, held within a grand ballroom adorned with cobwebs and flickering candles, casting eerie shadows upon those who danced beneath the crystal chandelier. Macabre decorations of skeletons and bats hung from the walls, pumpkins were found in each corner.

It was a party you couldn’t just attend without an invitation. And a costume. Those who weren’t dressed for the occasion were bluntly sent home. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in your own pirate costume. It was an ode to days long past, with loving attention paid to every detail, ensuring authenticity and capturing the spirit of a swashbuckling adventurer. From your tricorn hat adorned with golden trimmings to the billowing white shirt peeking out from underneath a deep red waistcoat, it was clear that no expense had been spared in the making of the ensemble. Your black pants hugged your hips, tucked into tall leather boots that comfortably encased your feet, perfect for dancing. Or dueling.

"Ahoy, matey!" a friend called out to you, raising their plastic lightsaber in salute. You grinned and returned the gesture, allowing yourself to be swept up in the lively atmosphere.

A fellow pirate approached you, clearly impressed by your attire. "You've really outdone yourself this time," they said admiringly, eyeing the gleaming cutlass hanging at your side.

"Thank you," you replied, your voice filled with warmth and genuine appreciation. "I wanted to make sure it was as authentic as possible."

As you exchanged pleasantries with other party-goers, you couldn't help but feel a certain thrill – a sense that tonight would be one to remember.

You danced a bit with your friends and laughed a lot. But after a while, you felt your mouth turn dry and looked around for the tables with food and drinks on them. Of course, the drink you had set your eyes on was gone. An empty spot glaring at you. There was more in the kitchen, one of the waitresses told you, and so you decided to venture into the kitchen for a drink.

You made your way through the crowd, which was quite the challenge, to find yourself in front of a closed door that should lead to the kitchen. Here you had seen the waiters pass through all evening with fresh snacks and drinks.

But the wooden door was closed.

Weird, you thought. The door wasn’t very big either, smaller than you had thought it had been. Hadn’t there been double doors here? You must have remembered it incorrectly.

Pushing it open with a sense of adventure, you stepped into an opulent chamber that seemed worlds away from the raucous celebrations outside.

"Wow," you breathed, your voice barely audible as you took in the lavish surroundings. The walls were draped in rich tapestries depicting exotic lands and mythical creatures, while the floor was adorned with plush velvet cushions and ornate rugs. An enormous chandelier cast a warm glow across the room, illuminating a magnificent table laden with delectable treats and goblets of sparkling wine.

"Where in the world am I?" you wondered aloud, feeling as if you had somehow been transported to a realm of enchantment and luxury.

As you wandered deeper into the room, your fingers trailing over the smooth marble of a nearby statue, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something strangely familiar about this place, as if you had stumbled upon a forgotten corner of your own imagination.

A large map spread across one of the walls. Curious, you approached it.

Only to realize that this wasn’t a world map. Not the one you were used to, anyway.

There was no Africa, no United States, no Europe. This was no ordinary map. Perhaps something of a fandom, you mused. Perhaps this was part of a storybook or a movie? It depicted a world unlike any you had ever seen before, a place where mermaids swam in crystal clear lagoons and pirates' coves lay hidden among rocky shores.

Absentmindedly, you traced your finger along the coastline of the fantastical island full of detail, more than you would have expected from a fantasy map. The word "Neverland" was emblazoned across the parchment in bold, swirling letters, and your heart skipped a beat as childhood memories of Peter Pan and his Lost Boys came flooding back to you.

"Neverland," you giggled softly, shaking your head. Of course, you knew about that fictional world.

"Ah, so you have heard of our little slice of paradise, haven’t you?" A husky, low voice came from behind you, catching you by surprise. The huskiness sent shivers down your spine. There was something raw about that voice, something that made a warmth spark in the pit of your stomach. You turned around to find yourself face-to-face with none other than a man dressed as Captain Hook himself. He didn’t seem familiar, not anyone you’d ever met before. But he looked amazingly in character.

His piercing blue eyes seemed to bore straight into your soul, while his long black hair fell in seductive ringlets around his chiseled, stubble-lined jaw. He was dressed in the finest velvet, his tall hat adorned with soft white feathers that quivered with every movement. A silver hook gleamed menacingly from the stump of his right hand, a testament to both his ruthlessness and cunning.

"Captain Hook," you breathed, entranced by the vision before you. It was as if the infamous pirate captain had leaped straight from the pages of your favorite childhood storybook, brought to life in all his dark and twisted glory. This man’s costume was superb.

"Indeed," he replied with a wicked grin, stepping closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "So you have heard of me?” A pleased hum escaped his lips. “No wonder, since you are here.” He clicked his tongue, brushing the tip past his lips in a pensive gesture while he studied you for a moment.

“And who might you be, my dear? I don’t remember having seen you on my ship before."

You laughed, thinking the man made a funny in-character remark. The room did look like a luxurious cabin on a ship, you thought. And the man himself, he looked astonishingly like the real deal. Or well, like how you had imagined the captain would look like if he had been real. A perfect Halloween outfit, you thought.

“A fellow pirate?” He asked.

"Something like that," you replied coyly, your pulse quickening as his intense gaze roamed over your pirate costume. There was something undeniably alluring about this man.

"Your ensemble is quite remarkable," Hook complimented, his husky voice sending shivers down your spine. "One of the finest I've seen in some time."

"Thank you, Captain," you replied with a playful curtsy, enjoying the way his eyes remained fixed on you with a subtle undercurrent of attraction. "I do my best."

"Clearly," he murmured, stepping closer until the scent of leather and sea salt filled your nostrils. His presence was intoxicating, filling you with a heady mixture of excitement and danger, and you found yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame. "Now tell me, lass—where exactly do you hail from?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" you teased, meeting his intense stare with a mischievous glint in your eye. The game had begun, and you were more than eager to play along.

"Indeed, I would," Hook replied, his tone growing rougher as he sensed your willingness to engage in this dance of wits. "Perhaps I could persuade you to share your secrets, hm?"

"Perhaps," you mused, your heart pounding in your chest at his nearness. "But I think I'd rather keep you guessing for now."

For a moment, the man’s features darkened. As if he was frustrated by your response. Then his lips curled into a wicked smirk. "Very well," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "But remember, a captain always needs to stay informed. About anything,” here he paused and his blue eyes slid down your frame once more, “and everything,” he then added.

"Of course," you whispered, your breath hitching as you felt the weight of his words settle in your chest. Was he implying what you thought he was? Surely not. But then again, his eyes roamed your body and had darkened.

And then, before you could think about it any further, his left hand brushed past yours, and fingers tangled with yours, pulling you along gently but firmly. You followed, trying not to stumble at the sudden movement.

The tension in the air was palpable as Captain Hook led you away from the strange map and into a dimly lit, quiet nook. The atmosphere seemed to shift. You felt your breath hitch as Hook pressed you against the wall, his body effectively trapping yours.

“And right now,” the man whispered in your ear, breath tickling your skin, “I have stumbled upon a stranger dressed in such fine clothes, it makes me suspicious. Can she be a spy?”

Your eyes grew wide, feeling how you were still trapped between his upper body and the wall. The slight pressure was enough to keep you in place and at the same time, the friction created was making your nipples peak. “No, not a spy,” you quickly said, frowning. “I was looking for the kitchen. I never intended to end up…” Here you hesitated and tried to look around the man. Was this an expensive-looking office? Where exactly had you ended up?

"Be a mysterious, lass," he murmured, his husky voice sending shivers down your spine. His gaze roamed over your outfit once more, this time lingering on the intricate details that made your pirate attire so authentic. "I must admit, I find myself quite taken with you."

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your eyes away from his piercing blue ones. As Hook's hand began to explore your body, tracing the curves and edges of your clothing, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of fear and excitement. His touch was firm yet gentle, and the contrast between his warm fingers and the cool metal of his hook sent an electric current through your veins.

"Tell me," he said, his breath hot against your ear. "If I were to take off these fine garments of yours, would I find you just as enchanting beneath them?"

His words hung heavy in the air, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat. Was this man serious? Then again, why didn’t you even try so much as to stop him? How come you enjoyed this? He was a stranger!

Hook had always been a figure of mystery and danger in your mind, but never before had you imagined yourself in such an intimate situation with him. And yet, here you were.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" you managed to tease, your voice barely above a whisper. It was a risky game you were playing, but one you couldn't resist.

"Indeed, I would," he growled, his grip tightening on your waist. The pressure of his fingers and the sharp edge of his hook served as a reminder of his dominant nature, and you couldn't help but shudder at the thought of what he might do next.

"Perhaps," you continued, your heart racing in your chest. "But you'll have to earn that privilege, Captain."

Hook's eyes darkened with desire, and you knew you'd successfully stoked the flames of his curiosity. Whether that was a wise decision or not, only time would tell. But for now, you were both caught up in the dangerous dance of attraction, unable to break away from the magnetic pull that kept drawing you closer together.

"Very well," he whispered, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "Tell me a story.”

His request surprised you, his voice low and inviting. A story? About what?

"Alright," you agreed, laughing softly. "Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a girl who found herself at a Halloween party, dressed as a pirate..."

You began to spin a tale that danced between fantasy and reality, weaving together your own experiences with elements from stories you'd grown up with. As you spoke, you couldn't help but notice how intensely Hook was listening to you. His gaze never wavered, and you felt as if he was seeing straight through to your soul.

Feeling bolder, you reached out and let your fingers trace the intricate embroidery of his velvet coat, finding it surprisingly soft beneath your touch. Not the fancy dress material, you noted, but the expensive real deal. Your eyes flickered up to meet his, gauging his reaction. He didn't pull away, instead, his lips curled into a slight smile, encouraging you to continue.

"Go on," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the gentle hum of the party in the distance.

Emboldened by his response, you allowed your hands to wander further, exploring the taut muscles beneath his clothing. The contours of his body sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself both fascinated and excited by what you discovered. The dangerous undertone to your actions only served to heighten the thrill, making your pulse race wildly in your chest. Whoever this stranger was, he was well-built, making your core pulse hot and wet. You knew you should stop before things got too far, but why stop now when feeling him up was bringing you such pleasure? You deserved a little bit of fun every now and then, didn’t you? And this man was fun. At the very least, he was exactly the type of man you had dreamed of. And he wanted to be touched by you. How often have you had a chance like this?

Hook's breathing grew heavier as your fingertips grazed over his chest, the feeling of desire clearly mutual. His striking blue eyes darkened with lust, locked onto yours as if daring you to push the boundaries even further.

"Interesting," he commented, his voice husky and thick with unspoken need. "But how does your story end?"

"Perhaps it doesn't have to end just yet," you suggested, your voice trembling with anticipation. You were playing with fire, but you couldn’t resist. A tad longer, you thought, just a bit more. Enjoy it as long as it lasts…

You felt your fingers trail down the curve of his shoulder, every inch of him a testament to power and danger. The tension in the air thickened as you brushed against the fabric encasing his arm, your mind racing with the excitement of the unknown. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn't help but wonder if he could feel it too.

"Careful," Hook warned, his voice low and almost playful. "There's more to me than meets the eye."

"Isn't that true for everyone?" you replied, curiosity guiding your hand further down his arm. When your fingertips grazed over something cold and metallic, you hesitated, your pulse quickening.

"Ah, you've found my little secret," he murmured, his eyes darkening as they held your gaze. "Would you like a closer look?"

You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from the gleam of metal. As he slowly raised his arm, you realized with a start that what you had felt was not a mere ornament or accessory. It was his hook, glistening silver and wickedly sharp.

It was real.

And its presence sent shivers down your spine. Because this was more than just a fancy dress item. This was more than a costume. The hook was attached with expensive-looking leather straps. Too glorious to have been crafted for a Halloween feast. Perhaps he had played the part somewhere else, you wondered. But an eerie feeling settled in the pit of your stomach that there was only one explanation for why this hook looked so real and so sharp.

This man truly had no hand.

And this hook was truly a replacement for it, sturdy and made to last all the wear and tear of ordinary day life.

"Your... your hook..." you stammered, your wide eyes shifting between the deadly weapon and his piercing blue gaze. "It's real."

Hook grinned, a sinister edge to his smile that made your heart race even faster. "Of course, darling," he purred, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I am Captain Hook, after all."

In that instant, the line between fantasy and reality blurred. You were struck by the powerful realization that this man, this pirate, might be more than a man in a costume. He was alive, dangerous, and undeniably captivating.

“You seem surprised,” he murmured, “You weren’t a moment ago. What changed?”

Unable to find words, you stared at him, lips parting and closing like a fish.

"Does it frighten you?" Hook asked, his voice laced with a dark and seductive undertone that made it impossible to look away while he twisted and turned the hook in front of your face. You had no other choice but to watch the cold metal up close, see the sharp tip glisten in the light of the lamps.

You hesitated, but then your eyes met his hypnotic blue ones. A strange sense of resolve washed over you.

"Maybe," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I think... I think I like it."

Hook's grin widened, and for a brief moment, you could have sworn you saw a flash of genuine admiration in his eyes. "Well then," he said softly, as if sealing an unspoken pact between you. "Close your eyes," he instructed, his breath warm against your ear. Obediently, you allowed your eyelids to flutter shut, surrendering yourself to him completely.

And then, suddenly, you felt his lips on yours, soft and insistent, claiming you as his own. The kiss was like nothing you'd ever experienced before, a dizzying blend of passion and tenderness that left you breathless and aching for more. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, losing yourself in the intoxicating taste of him.

As the two of you kissed, warmth spread through you, making your skin tingle. This man was a good kisser, you thought. Too good to be true. Your knees turned to jelly and you were grateful to be wearing such sturdy boots or you might have melted into a puddle.

When at last you broke apart, your chest heaving with the effort of catching your breath, you opened your eyes to find Hook smirking down at you, a wicked gleam in his eye.

"I think I know the ending to your tale,” he whispered, his fingers tracing a delicate pattern along your jawline. "And they lived happily ever after,” a soft whisper that sent goosebumps down your skin.

Then he started to laugh, his grip on you tightening as he pulled you in close. Then he cut off his own laughter by pressing his lips against yours once more in a demanding and sensual kiss that made you see stars.

“I suppose you are mine now,” the captain mumbled once the kiss was broken. “After all, you are on my ship. And you know what they say, finders keepers.”

You wanted to laugh, wanted to say how silly that idea was, even though you felt flattered that he wanted to keep you. But then the wooden door through which you had come opened and a new man appeared. A sailor. Mr. Smee. He looked shocked, probably just as shocked as you. Because behind the sailor you didn’t see the ballroom you had left only minutes ago. Instead, you saw and heard the sloshing sea. Rambunctious pirates walked the deck. Seagulls flew overhead. And the very real and very cool metal hook was now near your throat, lovingly bringing you in for another kiss, when you realized, this was no mere man dressed in a costume to attend a party.

This Captain Hook was real.

~*~

AN: Out of 10, how screwed are you? Or… how much will you screw? . . . if you want to show me some support, why not buy me a virtual drink and help me buy new glasses in real life :) ♡ Support me on Ko-Fi ♡ Love you all

[succubusdaydream]

Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again || Gale Dekarios Angst

A/N: Hi lovies! Sorry I’ve been absent; I recently moved and started a new job that actually gives me hours so my weeks are going to be pretty busy. BUT! I am working on BTGoTM in any spare time I have. I have finished part 6 and am working on part 7 and hopefully both will be up by the end of the month. In the meantime, here is a small angsty story to keep my mind a little fresh and to give myself a break from The Moon. Inspired by the title, a song from Phantom of The Opera, I give you Gale angst. And I know this song is sung by Christine to her father but every time I hear it I imagine this- Love you all <3!

Warning: Angst, canon BG3 violence, mid writing, inserted lyrics. Mystra when I catch you- when I catch you Mystra- Mystra when I catch you-

Masterlist

Word Count: 2401

---

                Weeks of fighting and battling a cult was finally coming to an end. The stem of the Netherbrain was mere feet away from you, twitching with gross squelches. The sky above Baldur’s Gate was un-seeable, the smoke from the burning buildings covering the skyline. Your party and yourself were covered in blood and soot from flames that burned around you. Each of you were breathing heavily as you took a moment to collect yourself.

                Behind you, your lover spoke up. “Can you feel it? We’re almost there.” Gale took a stance next to you, a look in his eyes you couldn’t quite decode. “The brain… it’s high above the city now- far away from any innocents.” A pit formed in your stomach as his gaze turned to meet yours. “I can end this now- stop the Absolute and spare the city. The stage is set for my final act. Mystra’s bidding. And the redemption that lies beyond.”

                You quickly shook your head, grabbing his hand in yours. “What? No, Gale we’ve discussed this. I won’t allow you to sacrifice yourself for her. City be damned, I won’t lose you. We said we’d all do this together.” You smiled at him taking a small step towards the brain’s stem. “We started this journey together and now we’ll finish it together. Just as we promised.”

                He pulled you back towards him, a soft smile taking over his expression. “I am right where I need to be,” he moved in front of you, his back now facing the stem and yours to your party, “I have no right to ask more of you.” Your brows creased and it was then that a noise reached your ears.

                A soft humming was heard through the chaos of the burning Baldur’s Gate, and when you turned your head, what you saw was a white doorway. You had looked around, realizing the rest of your friends were gone and, in a panic, you turned back to your lover. “What’s going on.”

                “It’s time I spirited you to safety, for this is a fate I must face alone. There is an endless wonder out there. Infinite possibilities. Perhaps fate will bring us back together, before the universe dims.” Tears began to fall down your cheeks and you gripped his arms, not wanting to let go.

                You began to beg, vision blurring with tears as he moved his hands to cup your face. But as quickly as you began to plead, he silenced you. His soft lips meeting yours in sting of sadness, tears of his own beginning to fall along with yours.

                And it was with one final ‘I love you’ that you felt your body begin to fall backwards. Your tried to reach out, seeing the form of your lover become engulfed with white as the world around you change from the city to forest. He had transported all of you far away enough that the blast of the orb would do you no damage, but you could still see the city from the ledge you now collapsed onto. As well as the brain’s silhouette.

                “Soldier! There you are!” Karlach’s voice rang from behind you and echoed in your ears. All the noise around you echoed as you stared at the far-off city in disbelief and betrayal. She had continued to try and speak with you, her warm hands caressing your back before you roughly shoved at her.

                You let out panic cries as you ripped your satchels and pouches off, dumping out all of their contents in search of something-anything- that could get you back to the city. Incoherent pleases and begging fell from your lips.  And when a scroll of a flying spell hit the ground, your shaky hands quickly grabbed it, tearing the paper and letting the magic flow through your body.

Your friends let out panic cries as you launched yourself off the edge, the wind whipping your hair in your eye and the strands stuck to your wet face. Despite the magic, your armor weighed you down and you knew. You knew somewhere that you weren’t going to make it and the pit in your stomach grew bigger and bigger.

                And finally, in a bright and almost beautiful way, a purple light shown from the top of the brain. Its brightness growing in size before disappearing and re-erupting with a loud boom. Your cries were drowned out by the noise and your body shook in the air as the edge of the blast just barely hit your form.  You could only stare in a stunned silence, watching in shock as the brain and all the nautiloids around it fell to the ground and sea below. Crashing into the city and demolishing even more of its beautiful structures.

                Your body slowly lowed to the ground, and you fell to your knees, not even affected by how the rocks and jagged ground of the forest clanked into your armor. You were never going to make it. Hells, you were only a little way away from the cliff your party stood on, watching in horror and sadness as the brain was taken out by their beloved friend.

And you wails soon echoed to their ears as you fell onto your hands, your body violently shaking with sobs as you pleaded with for any God to bring him back.

---

                “Up you go then, Gale. Best make this count… the whole world is watching.” Gale’s hand dug into the flesh of the brain’s stem as he hauled himself up to the crown.

                “Come to die? Come to kneels? Surrender and live-THRALL!” The voice of the Netherbrain echoed in his mind.

                “Thrall? No, I think you’re mistaken. My name is Gale of Waterdeep. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” His form stood proudly in front of the Crown, though his eyes held a different expression. “Though our time together will be exceptionally brief. Farewell, and happy landings.”

                His eyes began to glow along with his hands as a dagger materialized from the Weave. He briefly sighed and gripped its handle, and with one final thought of his beloved, he plunged its blade into his chest. The sharp tip collided with the orb as he let out a cry of pain, driving it deeper with a disgusting squelch.

His final thought as his arms were violently stretched out? You. The image of your teary eyes staring into his with betrayal was the last thing he saw as his world erupted into bright lights of purple.

---

                Months had passed since the defeat of the brain. The beautiful green of trees and forests had fallen off as a cold blew through the city of Baldurs Gate with winter. The soft plush of the snow crunched beneath the feet of a hero as they somberly made their way through the darkening streets. The clouds covered the sky as even more snow fell from them, sticking to the hooded cloak that dawned the hero’s back.

                The city had quieted down as the sun set behind the dark clouds, leaving the streets in a quiet peace. Only a few people scattered the walkways, those closing shops or leaving the various taverns that finally decided to kick them out. Besides that, all the city was peaceful. The glow of the various streetlamps lighting the perfect path through the streets

                Soft hums sounded from the hero’s lips as they passed through the main city square. They stopped and turned to look at a statue that stood proudly in the center of said square. Its completion was recent, being built soon after the battle for the City was won.

The hero that was depicted was different from the one that stared at it. Even made of stone, the hair of the man looked soft and the spell in his hand was one to burn forever. A beautiful purple illuminating the plaque that was displayed on the base.

Gale Dekarios

Who gave his life for the citizens of Fearun

May his soul rest in peace

Hero of Baldur’s Gate

                Tears fell down cold red cheeks as the hero still standing turned away, continuing their walk to their true destination. It hadn’t taken them long to reach it as they soon came face to face with the tall gate the opened to the cemetery. They creaked open, stiff and frozen from the cold and snow that continued to powder the world.

You were once my one companion

You were all that mattered

You were once a friend and lover

Then my world was shattered

                The hero let out a shaky breath as they crossed under the gate, wiping the never-ending tears from their frozen cheeks. The only sound that was heard was the wind and the crunch of their footsteps as they made their way past a plethora of stones, each holding meaning to different people. But nothing to them.

Wishing you were somehow here again

Knowing that I never would

Dreaming of you won’t help me to do

All that you dreamed I could

As they went deeper into the site, the headstones grew bigger, a few smaller monuments and sculptures for those who could afford it. All dark stone coated in a plush white. The hums continued as their body started to shiver, the cold finally seeping through their cloak and boots.

Passing bells and sculpted angels

Cold and monumental

Seem, for you, the wrong companion

You were warm and gentle

Another gate stood in front of them, a soft blue shining from the bars in a tell-tale sign of a magic lock. With shaky hands, they held their palm to the keyhole, a soft glow emitting from it before a click rang out and the doors creaked opened. Behind it, a building with another set of glowing doors, angelic statues standing proud on each side to guard what it held inside.

Too many years

Fighting back tears

Why can’t the past

Just die?

As the hero unlocked the tomb doors and made their way inside, they finally broke. Falling to their knees, whining as their bones met the cold hard floor. Their sobs echoed through the tomb, echoing through their own ears as they held their hands to their chest. Hiccups racked their body, and they couldn’t tell which was making them shake more, the cold or sadness that ripped through their soul. Perhaps neither was good for them.

They tried their best to speak through their cries. “I-I wish you were here again. I wish I could at least say goodbye. You were supposed to be here with me! We were supposed to save the city together. She didn’t deserve your sacrifice. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without you. What happened to the future we talked about?”

“I don’t want to feel this angry with you! You gave your life to save mine. But I never got to say goodbye! I-I’m trying to forgive you, my love. Teach me to live!” Their words were cut off by hiccups before they took a second to catch their breath, their cries quieting down to soft whimpers. “At least give me the strength to try, Gale. Give me the strength to try.”

They sat silently, staring at the concrete bed that lay in the center of the monument. They couldn’t even properly mourn their lover, as their coffin was empty. His body had disappeared when his spell went off. The only thing the hero could cry to was an empty slab of stone.

Time passed quietly; the silence only broken by the occasional hiccup from the frozen hero. And if it weren’t for the crunch of footsteps, they wouldn’t have noticed the equally cold hand that was placed onto their shoulder. The scent that hit their nose immediately told them who had joined.

“You’ll get sick if you stay like this for too long, Tav.” Astarions voice was soft as weight was removed from their back before being replaced by something lighter. A new cloak that wasn’t as cold or wet, soft furs doing a better job to keep the snow away than the fabric one now held by the pale elf. “I knew I’d find you here. No doubt this week has been rough for you.”

Tav slowly rose from their kneeling position, wiping their eyes and nose as they turned to finally face the vampire. He held a look of sympathy in his eyes, their crimson shade holding a sadness to them, though not as deep as the hero before him.

“It’ll be a year next week. I wanted to see him before I leave for Waterdeep soon. There’s not a lot left for me in Baldur’s Gate and according to Tara, his tower has accumulated quite a bit of dust in his absence.” Their eyes continuously drifted from Astarion to the stone coffin, small tears still falling from their eyes.

“I suppose that means you’ll be leaving me all alone then? I guess I’ll just have to put up with Wyll’s rant about Grand Duke duties and only occasionally seeing our dear Shadowheart.” His tone wasn’t one of seriousness. “But… I suppose if it gives you comfort and something to busy yourself, I can compromise with the occasional visit. So long as you promise to write.”

The hero smiled at him, taking his cold hand in their equally frozen one. “Thank you Astarion. And I promise I’ll write.”

The elf let out a sigh, taking a small step back. “Come along dear, I’ll walk you home. I wouldn’t want you freezing to death in a gloomy graveyard.” As he led them to the door, his arm was held back.

Tav took one last look in the tomb, releasing Astarion’s hand to reach into the pocket of their trousers. From it, they retrieved a letter. The note Gale had written for them the night he made his decision. The hero placed the folded paper on top of the concrete before raising the hands, muttering a spell with a soft pink light.

From the light, a beautiful purple flower that seemed to glow in the darkness was placed on top of the letter, forever keeping their lovers’ spirit company as they turned to finally leave. Taking Astarion’s hand once again, they locked the arcane gates behind them and walked into the now dark city as the snow continued to softly fall.

Help me say goodbye

[sleepingdeath-light]

the next best thing ; 18+

kinktober day four

pairing ; alcina dimitrescu x cis female!reader insert

fandom ; resident evil

masterlists ; fandom | kinktober | ao3

content ; implied dominant!alcina dimitrescu, submissive!reader, phone sex, mutual masturbation, praise kink, jack off instructions, potentially ooc alcina

minors and ageless blogs do not interact

Alcina’s voice sounded like pure sex as she all but purred her instructions and praise at you through the speaker of your phone. And even though you were thousands of miles and an ocean apart, you could almost see that lustful smirk of hers worming its way onto her sharp features as the call went on and her demands became more detailed and, somehow, more shameless than ever before.

At first her instructions were simple, clear, and sandwiched between enough reassurance and praise to have your skin burning and your heart aching for her presence: grope your breasts, touch yourself through your panties, pinch your nipples through your bra — all tasks you fulfilled easily and eagerly, moaning and whimpering and groaning your approval and pleas into the phone and soaking up each and every morsel of approval your beloved gave you in return.

‘Good girl,’

‘So obedient,’

‘Well done, dragâ mea,’

‘I wish I could see you…’

‘You must look so beautiful right now,’

‘Louder, my darling, don’t deprive me of your pretty sounds,’

And then her commands started to become more intricate and vulgar, her velvety voice carrying a tinge of desperation that became more and more apparent as the night went on. Though between the faint wet sounds of her fucking herself on the other end of the line and the coiling pleasure building tightly in your abdomen, you didn’t really have the presence of mind to do anything but eagerly and sloppily obey her as you chased the blissful high you so desperately craved.

So when she groaned out a demand for you to ‘finger that pretty pussy of yours, darling’, you didn’t even think before reaching between your legs with your dominant hand and sliding as many of your digits as you could fit into your drooling entrance. Quickly adjusting your position on the hotel bed and settling into a clumsy rhythm that allowed you to just barely reach your g-spot with the tips of your fingers with every crook and thrust, and not even pausing when you whimpered out a bratty complaint about it not feeling as good as hers — which, much to your delight, earned you a shaky sigh of your name and more of those mouth-wateringly sloppy sounds from the other end of the call.

And when she firmly instructed you to start playing with your clit ‘the way I do it’, you waste no time before you’re spreading your legs even further apart and reaching down with your free hand to start toying with that swollen bundle of nerves you’d been neglecting. Though, frustratingly yet predictably, your own clumsy, fucked-out attempts at replicating the delicate and practiced cursive font Alcina so loves to trace against you is… lacking. Messy. Barely legible, even. You only knew what was being written because you’d had it traced onto your skin so many times before.

a

l

c

i

n

a

Each letter looping gracelessly into the next as you whimper and cry out for her. Barely able to process the praise she’s showering you with as she fucks herself in tandem with you.

‘Keep on going, my love,’

‘Are you close?’

‘You’re doing so well for me,’

‘You sound divine, sweetheart,’

‘This trip of yours can’t end soon enough…’

But one brief command — more breathless plea than authoratitive instruction — manages to break through to you: ‘cum with me, sweet girl’. And so you do.

You cum hard enough to have your vision obstructed with little black spots that appear even on the insides of your eyelids. You cum hard enough to steal the breath from your lungs and leave you panting and practically heaving when you come back down to earth. You cum hard enough to soak the insides of your thighs and the bedsheets beneath you with your slick. You cum with your name on your lips like a prayer and with the rumbling sound of her reaching her climax alongside you echoing in your ear — a thousand miles apart yet the vision of it all so clear in your mind that you might as well be in the room with her (her slumping back in her chair, her black hair all messy and undone and sticking to her skin, her pale skin all flushed, her plush thighs trembling and as wet as your own…).

But it’s not enough. It’s not enough because your touch isn’t hers, her voice alone isnt enough to make up her her absence beside you, and now that the fog of your orgasm has receded from your mind all you’re left with is the cold nothingness where she’s supposed to be. It’s not right. You need your wife. You need her like you need air.

… this is going to be the longest trip of your life.

[moodymisty]

Hey sickly anon here. I feel like I should explain myself a little. I was really worked up last night and just kinda sent that ask without any context and I know it must look like a troll ask.

I get that there is a lot of content focusing on thin readers/women(I don't much like those either)

It's not really that I'm super bothered by protrayals of different weight, it was just the phrasing that hit a nerve last night I think. I got sick in highschool and soon legitimately looked like a gaunt skeleton(still do tbh :/)

So not the cute desirable version of thin. More of the "is she terminal? poor thing.." To this day I get people doing horrified double-takes at me because of how I look so I guess it's slowly made me ultra sensitive about it.

And last night I had a guy get in my face and legit SCREAM because I couldn't process his return since he didn't have a receipt. And then had to do basically 3 people's jobs because 2 different coworkers decided to go to the club last night instead of work. A typical day in retail I guess.

So I get home and go straight to your blog because its a big comfort for me and I just kinda crumpled being reminded of my mess of a body.

But it wasn't really your fault. Like when you have a REALLY bad day and one more barely noteworthy little thing goes wrong/feels bad (like you drop your spoon or something) and you just McFricken lose it and can't stop the tears.

That was me last night lol. A little embarrassing in retrospec after I slept it off. I hope you don't think I was attacking you personally or anything. I was overwhelmed and just felt hurt and had to express myself somehow (did a terrible job of it I know lol. I was flustered.)

TL;DR: had a really bad day at work, getting reminded of my health condition and appearance was the last tiny nudge I needed to become a crybaby, cried about it, went to sleep, woke up feeling better and a little embarrassed I let it bother me so much.

Anyways, shenanigans aside I hope you have a good weekend :)

Hey, thanks for coming back to clarify, I preciate it. It’s no big deal, this is all a bunch of fictional stuff on the internet after all.

I grew up with a mother with severe eating disorders that put her in the ER multiple times. The way she views being fat as the ugliest thing you can be to the point she would rather die than be that way has become my inner voice for a long while and I’ve only just started to deal with my own eating disorder. The Fulgrim chubby chaser thing was just a fun meme that I was encouraging because so much of reader insert stuff has the “thigh gaps and running fingers through your hair, tiny cocktail dresses and picking you up” and it’s fun to pretend that maybe someone might like the way I look XD

And just because I answer a few asks about chubby people, they all exist in their own universe and it’s not like that’s canon. I have plenty others that don’t mention anything at all.