#you thought this blog was dead? SURPRISE

[varjopeura]

.

[sloaaaa]

t

[dekuneho]

tenderly, tragically ☆ ( ​prohero!katsuki x reader ) — aftermath of a huge argument, clingy and soft katsuki my entire blog’s agenda

You wake to an empty bed once again — the third time this week. It’s cold on your right; that’s a bit unfair. Does Katsuki take all the love and warmth along with him? Or it could be because it’s two AM and every trace of fatigue drained out of you at the reminder of your lone bedroom, like a cold, empty picture of a memorial.

You shuffle out of bed, ignoring how strangely unsettling it is not to have a body to crawl over just to get to the kitchen. You forgo the house slippers; you only steal Katsuki's pair anyway — and right now, he's out of the question.

The kitchen feels just as stale. No surprise there. Katsuki's absence sucked the life out of your shared apartment.

A glimpse of orange by the dining table begs for your attention. You approach carefully, stomach swooping. It’s a lunchbox, still with leftover food greasing the sides, unwashed. You know this one well enough because you bought it for him. For Katsuki. This was never here before, though.

You aren't sure how the fight started, if it was something blandly petty, or if either of you crossed an unforgivable line that tipped towards a night of screaming and shrieking that had your neighbors complaining hours after. You find that you don't have it in yourself to care anymore. This apartment, that bed — all without Katsuki is worse than any hurtful dagger of words you threw at each other.

Your fingers skim on the orange lunchbox, tracing the little ‘X’s sprinkled throughout like some off-brand copy of his hero costume, intimately familiar. Katsuki snorted when you gifted it to him — it was a really, really ugly laugh.

"Oh."

You startle and whip your head to the source, gaze landing on Katsuki, stunned and mid-way through rubbing the back of his hair with a towel.

You flinch away from the lunchbox, embarrassed. Insulting him brought him to life.

The comfort you'd been craving for the past three days materialized in the physical embodiment of the person you were supposedly angry at. It’s hard to summon even a trace of it now, not when the person you’d been aching for is standing a few feet away, just shy out of reach.

“Why are you awake?” Katsuki starts, uncharacteristically soft, gratingly rough like left unused for a while.

“Why are you here?” you ask instead. You refuse to admit outright that you couldn’t sleep without him — refuse to admit that it’s what’s been eating you up since the fight.

Katsuki frowns. “This is my place too.”

“What?” You’re not even mad. You’re just — “I thought you crashed at Kirishima’s house this entire time.”

“I’m not just gonna—” Katsuki bites his tongue, looking off to the side. He continues drying his hair, the biceps of his arm rippling. “Been sleeping on the couch. So I didn’t wake you up, or whatever.”

Well, you don’t know what to feel. Are you supposed to feel excited that Katsuki still came home even when you both unspokenly swore not to face each other? Furious that he hasn’t tried to apologize and instead snuck around the apartment like a thief on a hit-and-run in the dead of the night?

Maybe both. You might just be relieved that he didn’t hate you enough to keep himself away, even if he didn’t crawl up in the same bed.

“Right,” you say in a soft exhale. “Okay.”

Katsuki’s eyes flick up to you again warily, dangerously still. You don’t know what to say to him, so you keep quiet. Red eagerly follows as you reach for his lunchbox and pad over to the kitchen sink. As if sensing his response, you spare him a glance.

“I’ll do it,” you say. “I’ll wash this. Go change.”

You face away from the bedroom with purpose, scrubbing diligently. Soon enough, his footsteps sound across the silent apartment, fading to your bedroom. His closet is there, meaning his clothes are stacked in it, too. You wonder if he’s ever looked at you asleep and thought it looked as empty as you felt it was.

After you rinse off the suds and wipe the excess water on the towel hanging over the stove, Katsuki greets you with a sight of him resting against the bedroom door frame. How rude. You’d given him a free pass, and he’s blocking you off in return.

“Katsuki,” you mutter, walking closer.

He stares, tracing the curve of your cheek and the swell of your mouth. You missed him, too. Now that he’s here, emanating heat, the vestiges of lethargy wriggle back into the bones of your body. You long for your bed; you long to take him along with you.

“D’you wanna talk about it?” Katsuki rasps out.

“Not right now.” You shake your head. “Not really.”

“Okay,” says Katsuki softly, shifting to shuffle past you.

You latch onto his wrist, trying your best to keep his gaze. “Sleep on the bed.”

Katsuki freezes, then turns and gazes into your eyes searchingly. You hope you can convey well enough that you hate him for fueling your bubbling fury, for sharing the heated remarks; most of all, you hate him for leaving.

“Okay,” Katsuki says again. “Okay, yeah. Let’s go to bed.”

Somehow, you end up on the bed with Katsuki’s arms caged around you from behind. His breaths hot against the nape of your neck, your body warmed head to toe. He has one leg in between your thighs, pulling you closer, and closer, until you can almost cry from how good it feels to be back here. You’ve given him an inch and knew he would take a mile.

“I don’t like when we fight,” Katsuki grumbles, sounding half-asleep.

“Mm.”

“So let’s just forget about it.”

“Is that healthy?”

“Dunno. Don’t care.” Katsuki’s mouth hovers over your neck, teeth marks a threat. “What’s unhealthy are the bags under my fuckin’ eyes.”

You laugh, breathy, and a violent shudder courses through Katsuki. You turn to your side to meet Katsuki’s little scowl, a pout. For every villain and civilian’s worst nightmare, he’s really charming. 

“Are you only trying to make it up to me so you don’t have to take up the couch?”

Katsuki would usually fire back with a snark, but this time, you get to watch as his eyes soften and his shoulders lose their tension. He hides it away with a large hand on your face in the guise of tousling your hair.

“No,” he murmurs, “can’t sleep without you.”

Your eyes slip shut, giddy like it’s your first date. “Then I guess our feelings are still mutual.”

[barcaatthemoon]

party girl || barcelona x reader ||

a night out at the club takes an interesting turn for you.

minors dni, 18+, smut warning.

a huge thank you to everybody who has followed me. 1500 is a lot for a blog i never really thought anyone would pay attention to.

the club was a mess of sweaty bodies grinding against each other just barely to the beat. it was like you were in a bubble with every single person on the dance floor. within your little bubble, life was great. you had a sense of euphoria as the strong hands that had been holding your hips for the past three songs moved up along your sides.

it was always risky to let strangers touch you like this, but you knew that you were in a somewhat safe space. the club had good security, and nearly every patron you had come across was a woman. you felt lips press against your neck and your head fell back against a slender shoulder. your eyes were closed as you turned around, perfectly catching this woman's lips.

you felt your knees grow a bit weak as this woman deepened the kiss. just before your knees did buckle, you felt very familiar hands on your waist. lucy tugged your head back a bit as your eyes opened to see ingrid standing in front of you. immediately, your heart began to race with panic as you started to look around for mapi.

"don't get scared now," lucy teased. you turned around to glare at her, but you stopped when you caught sight of mapi and ona behind her.

"come back with us," ona told you. she reached out and took your hands in hers. you were a bit too shocked to argue as ona led you out of the club. it wasn't until you were in the back of an uber heading towards what you assumed was ona's apartment that you realized what you had done.

"mapi's going to kill me," you groaned helplessly. lucy rolled her eyes as she placed her hand on the back of your neck. "i'm a dead woman, i kissed ingrid."

"ingrid kissed you, first of all. second, she's not going to kill you, trust me. we wouldn't be bringing you over if we thought she'd kill you," lucy promised. you let out a small whimper, and lucy pecked your lips before you could start pouting. "lucy!"

"it's fine," lucy huffed. you were torn between arguing with lucy and apologizing to ona. ona seemed to understand what was going through your mind, and before you could do either, she kissed you. you had never kissed ona before, and you didn't think that you'd ever kiss anyone like that again. you had expected her to be softer, but instead, ona kissed you roughly. your lips were definitely bruised, and you were surprised that she didn't draw blood when she nipped at your lips. "come on, we're here."

"what am i here for, exactly?" you asked as lucy pulled you out of the car.

"we're gonna fuck you, obviously," lucy said. your hands began to sweat a bit as they brought you into the building. everything was moving quickly, but you weren't sure that you would have even considered going home alone if you had the chance to. "you still like this sort of thing, don't you?"

"lucy," you hissed as you swatted at her to be quiet. the blush on your cheeks told lucy everything that she needed to know.

"come on, we wouldn't want to keep our guests waiting." this time, you were surprised by ona being the one to push you forward. you wondered what lucy had told her about you from your days as a lioness. you weren't overly proud of all the things you had done or let people do to you, but there had never been a dull night for you at camp before.

mapi and ingrid stood in the hallway waiting for the three of you. it felt wrong to watch as ingrid greeted ona with a kiss. you found yourself turning away, but also desperately trying to avoid mapi's gaze. you couldn't shake the feeling that she was somehow upset with you for kissing ingrid despite both of them being here waiting for you.

"hola chica." mapi greeted you the same way that she did at practice when you tried to keep to yourself. it was hard, but you had finally shaken the "party girl" persona that you had been dubbed with at the beginning of your career. "no kisses for me? i am sure that everybody else got one."

"she's always a little shy at first," lucy said as she unlocked the door. mapi stuck by your side as the group made their way inside. ingrid didn't seem to mind at all, far too preoccupied with ona. "if you don't want to do this, let me know, okay? i know that i sprung this on you, but it's always a little spontaneous isn't it?"

"i'm fine, i promise," you said quietly. lucy nodded and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. she walked off, leaving you alone with mapi on the couch. this time, you couldn't ignore the older spanish defender. "d-did you know that ingrid was going to kiss me?"

"no, but i hoped that she would. one of us had to make a move to get this started, right?" mapi asked. it was stupid, but you felt embarrassed as you nodded. you had never made the first move with anybody before, always the one sought after by teammates and strangers alike. although, you'd never do something like this with a group of people that you didn't trust to take care of you. lucy had hooked up with you both by herself and with others, so she knew all of your rules by now. "can i tell you a secret?"

"sure." you glanced over at mapi, who leaned in close to whisper in your ear.

"ingrid made most of our first moves. other than the ring, that is. i did the big one, and that's what counts," mapi told you. you weren't surprised, having noticed how mapi and ingrid were with each other when nobody else was looking. "i can make this move with you, don't worry."

mapi gently cupped your face in her hands. her thumbs rubbed along your cheekbones as she leaned in. mapi moved much slower than you had expected, but you didn't mind it. the build up made the kiss even better, and you found yourself melting back into the couch as mapi covered her body with yours. her tongue swiped past your lips, giving you a taste of the mint from her drink that expertly masked the bit of alcohol.

"you're being greedy." ona wedged herself behind you. mapi broke the kiss to say something back to ona, who wasn't listening in the slightest. ona cared much more about pawing at your clothes as she kissed you. once again, you could feel your lips begin to bruise from the roughness of ona's mouth against yours. you felt your stomach tighten as you thought about how rough she'd be with you in bed.

"let's go somewhere with more room," lucy suggested. you were led out of the living room with mapi and ona both competing for your attention. lucy and ingrid didn't seem surprised in the slightest by any of this. you could see lucy's hands on ingrid's body as they slid beneath ingrid's top. that was the first article of clothing successfully removed.

you tried to lean towards where ingrid and lucy were, but it was no use. mapi finally managed to get the top of your dress undone, causing it to fall in a pool at your ankles. you didn't even have a chance to step out of it before you were being pulled onto mapi's lap on the bed. ona followed up closely, placing herself in between everything happening.

out of the corner of your eye, you could see lucy splitting her attention between ona and ingrid. you couldn't do much aside from watch as clothing disappeared at breakneck speed while mapi hooked her legs around yours to keep them open.

"lucia has told us a lot about you, but i want to know what you like," mapi said. she ran her fingers through your hair, smirking when your body went lax against hers. "talk to me, chica. what do you want me to do to you?"

"i want you to fuck me so good that your name is the only one i can think to scream," you told her. mapi took it for what it was, an open challenge. "i want you to split me wide fucking open."

"careful what you wish for (y/n)," lucy warned. you shot her a glare before turning your attention back to mapi. the spanish defender captured your lips in another kiss as her hand moved down your body to rest in between your legs. she wasn't doing much other than just letting her hand cup your pussy, but you were still moving your hips to seek out more contact. "she'll break you if you tell her to."

"mapi wouldn't hurt me unless i really wanted it, isn't that right?" your tone was dripping with false innocence and sweetness. mapi bit her lip as she let her hand lay flat against you. you continued to grind your hips, now getting yourself off by rubbing against her fingers. you let out a soft moan, one that prompted mapi to kiss you a little more.

those kisses were interrupted by ona, who pulled your face away from mapi's. you could see ingrid behind her, thrusting harshly, and lucy's body beneath the both of them being the only thing keeping ona from slamming into you. the kiss with her was messy and desperate, like ona had been craving her moment with you all night.

mapi slowly began to pull more of your attention away from everything else in the room. she had two fingers plunging deep inside of you, keeping a steady rhythm as she began to fuck you. next to you, ingrid and lucy were fucking ona harshly, and mapi noticed that your eyes continuously drifted over towards them.

"do you like it rough? i can fuck you like that. i'll bend you over so you can get a better look too," mapi offered. "would you like that? just say the word and it's all yours."

"mapi please, i want it so bad," you told her. you were surprised how quickly you were reduced to whining. lucy had always liked to joke that you were easy to break, that it was why you were so fun to pass around for a night. you could spend an hour getting fucked relentlessly and once you had the energy to would be asking for it all over again.

"bring her over here," ingrid said. mapi moved you over ona and lucy's bodies. ingrid helped to position you once you were close enough. her touch was less gentle now than it had been earlier in the night. she was being less careful with you, like she was no longer afraid of scaring you away. "do you want to taste ona?"

"yes, please." ingrid surprised you by pulling out of ona and guiding your mouth to the tip of her strap. the subtle smirk on her face grew as she watched you swallow up every inch of her strap that she offered to you. mapi eased into you as ingrid pulled out and pushed your face down towards ona's cunt.

you could hear lucy fucking into ona's ass from beneath her as ingrid guided each stroke of your tongue. occasionally, she'd pull your head away from ona to have you suck on her strap or give you a close up as she fucked ona. it was a lot, and the way that mapi roughly thrust in and out of you had your legs shaking quicker than anybody else had in a long time.

mapi kept thrusting into you even after your body had stilled. her pace was relentless, and you could only get her to stop by squirming away. you laid back against the pillows for a moment as you watched the scene in front of you. you got the sense that they had definitely done this together without you. mapi's strap found a home in ona's mouth, guided by lucy's gentle praises and the strong grip of her hand in ona's hair.

their positioning switched, and you found yourself invited onto lucy's face. lucy's tongue was comfortable and familiar, something that you had come to know well. lucy moved the same way that she always did with you, holding your thighs to keep you on her face until she was finished. you had more than enough freedom to wiggle around and position yourself more comfortably on lucy's face. she knew how important control over your own pleasure was for you sometimes, often having her own reservations about giving that sort of thing up, especially in front of a group.

"you look so good on lucy's face." ona's words were just barely strung together as ingrid began to fuck her once again. mapi was beneath ingrid, eating her out like how lucy was eating you out. you wondered if you were in what would normally be ona's spot, and if you were, the small spanish woman didn't seem to mind one bit.

she relished in the harsh thrusts of ingrid's strap moving in and out of her. you wondered what it would have felt like to be in her position, but you were content where you were. lucy's tongue brought you right up to your peak before easing you away from it only to work you up again and again. you weren't to the point of begging. you had never been able to hold out well, but lucy knew how to edge you for explosive orgasms.

you drenched her face as you squirmed and wriggled your hips wildly. ona was leaned over to lick away the cum you had left on lucy's face. you couldn't believe what you were seeing, and if your body didn't feel so spent, you would have re-joined them. lucy seemed to understand your exhaustion as she pulled you away from the bed to the bathroom.

the shower was spacious with a little ledge for you to rest on. lucy took care in helping you clean up, and the two of you soon found yourselves joined by ona, who seemed to be in a similar state to you. lucy took care of both of you with equal amounts of effort. the three of you were nearly finished when ingrid and mapi came into the bathroom. ona wrapped you up in a robe and led you into a different bedroom than the one you had just been in.

"do you want to stay?" ona asked you. you weren't used to having a space to stay. someone was always there with you, usually a roommate or close friend. someone who never judged you or would raise too many questions in the morning. everybody knew what you got up to, but none of them really ever put much thought into whether or not you spent the rest of your night alone.

"the question is do you want to sleep in here with us or do you want to go back to mapi and ingrid's room? it'll be cooler in here and mapi sleeps naked," lucy said as she walked into the room. there was an extra pep in her step, the one you recognized as her pride from making you and ona cum. she was feeling herself, and the confidence was extremely sexy.

"i don't think that-," ona started, only to be cut off by both you and lucy speaking in unison.

"it's different," the two of you said. ona rolled her eyes as she put a sleep shirt on and nothing else. you found yourself in a pair of lucy's boxers and one of your old england shirts that had mysteriously gone missing years ago. lucy got dressed in her own pajamas before she got in bed with the two of you, placing herself in the middle. the three of you fell asleep together, both you and ona laying there comfortably with one of lucy's arms around your shoulders each.

[lovesickhughes]

late nights | nico hischier

a/n: i have risen from the dead ! i wrote this fic inspired by one of my old ones from my previous blog and thought who better to write for this than our beloved nico ! not edited so i apologize for any mistakes ! i hope you enjoy & please send in requests ! 🤎

warnings: none! absolute fluff 🤎🧸

tags: dad!nico x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The wails of your newborn stirred you awake from your peaceful sleep. It had become a routine, the moment you had found a position that was comfortable for your healing body and your eyes grew heavy, the deafening sound of an upset newborn brought you right to your feet, rushing into the nursery to aid your newest addition to your growing family. What had made it even better, the clock on your nightstand had read three-thirty-five, exactly twenty-four minutes since the last time you had gotten up to soothe your daughter to sleep. 

You drag your hands down your face, then up towards your hair, entangling your fingers within and pushing it out of your face in frustration. Becoming a parent was something you had always dreamt of when marrying Nico. You knew from the moment your relationship grew serious that he was going to be the father to your children. But the extensive diaper changing, shocked you; who knew a small human could make that much of a mess, simply from breast milk. You knew you were going to be a good mother, learning each day that your daughter grew, but when all of your diaper changes, feeding, cuddling and soothing went to waste by the loud, heart-wrenching wails, it made you doubt your abilities. You questioned what it was that you were missing to decode the newborn, and how others made it seem so simple. 

You had tried every “New Mommies Club” suggestions, articles from professionals, and even resorted to your own Mother’s tactics; letting your baby cry herself to sleep. 

That lasted a mere five minutes before Nico urged you to check on your daughter, warning that he would find a way past the door you barricaded with your body, whether you were in the way or not. 

You listened to your daughter let out one more scream before both Nico and you cradled her and rocked her to sleep. 

You quietly padded your feet along the dark, hardwood floors of your bedroom, slowly pulling the door to the hallway open, being mindful of your husband, Nico soundly sleeping with his back turned to face away from you. However, that was after he had gained your attention by planting soft kisses to your shoulder to wake you and alert you of your crying daughter. 

Walking the short distance to your daughter’s nursery across the hallway of your home, you push the door open, seeing your daughter maneuver beneath her zipped up sleep onesie. As you approached, and turned the dim light beside her crib on, you watched her mouth open with a distressed look on her face, letting out a tired cry, making your heart ache and tears well in your eyes. You wished it was easier, you wished you could have a simple solution to allow her to sleep, yet nothing seemed to work. 

Your bottom lip pushes out as you pout and reach to grab your daughter from her crib, bringing her close to your chest and instinctively rocking her softly. Her cries were muffled by her face being against your chest, but she still let out soft whines. 

You rubbed your hand against the fabric of her onesie, making more attempts to put her to sleep while pacing the room. By surprise, it hadn’t worked, so you walked towards the reading chair Nico and you had placed in the nursery when decorating for your expecting child. 

Pulling a blanket from the basket beside the chair onto your lap and up to your shoulders to provide your baby and you more heat and comfort, you hum her favourite lullaby to calm her. 

After finishing the song, you planted a kiss to the top of her soft, peach-fuzz hair, “my angel,” you cooed, “please do Mommy a favour and go to sleep, it’ll be so good for you.” you attempted, although you knew she wouldn’t understand a single word that came out of your mouth. Your daughter still fidgeted in your grasp, making small noises, which you knew meant she wasn’t tired. 

“Why doesn’t Mommy pass our little munchkin over to her Daddy so he can try to put her to sleep?” You hear from the doorframe. You look over to see a shirtless, half-asleep Nico rubbing his eye to come to his senses as he enters the room to where you were, reaching his arms out towards you. 

You frown with empathy, knowing Nico’s efforts were because of his delicate and precise attention to you. It’s what you loved most about him. He knows every little quirk and pet peeve you have, knows you inside and out, so when he watches you carefully hand your daughter over him, he gives you a sad smile, seeing the exhaustion written on your face. 

Your daughter was only just past three months old, and ever since she has entered the world, she has been destined to be Daddy’s princess, and Nico loved it. He knew there would never be a moment missed where he wouldn’t do anything for his daughter. 

Nico placed your daughter against his bare chest, whispering soothing words into her little ear as he slowly paced the nursery, and after only a few minutes of you watching Nico work his magic, your daughter was sound asleep in her crib, and the two of you exited quietly back to your own bedroom. 

Nico finds himself under the covers again, the duvet covering just up to his hips, exposing his bare and toned chest, and you slide yourself into bed, laying against his chest with his arm falling behind your back, rubbing your side. 

“I don’t get it,” you mumbled against Nico’s chest, feeling the vibration of your own voice reverberate against your cheek and Nico chuckles at your remark.

“She’s a Daddy���s girl, what can I say?” 

“It’s not fair,” you protest, “just wait until we have a boy, then he’ll be all over me and want nothing to do with you.” You affirm with a confident nod, lifting yourself up to look into your husband’s eyes. 

Nico only grins, revealing his mood-changing smile, making your heart melt. 

“So you want to have another? You just gave birth, which is pretty life-changing if you asked me.” 

You shrug nonchalantly, “only 2 more months until we can start trying again. I want to keep making mini-versions of us.” You smiled. 

“I would give anything and everything to continue growing our family with you.” Nico says as he reaches his hand to your cheek, pulling your face down to his and connecting your lips into a soft, but intimate kiss.

You both pull away at the same time, cheekily grinning at one another.

“Anything and everything.”

[shy-writer-999]

Embarrassing Confessions: Zoro is a virgin and he's insecure (Part 1)

Warnings: MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS DNI. THIS IS NSFW CONTENT.

Author’s note: Part One is tame angst and pure plot (no smut), ~5,400 words. Part Two will have all the smut, so stick around for that. I have a fascination with the idea of Zoro pining over you in secret and getting flustered and embarrassed about it. In this fic, Zoro’s ego gets bruised and you comfort him. You both get drunk and Zoro runs his mouth too much. It’s a slow burn like my last fic and will also end with smut (◡‿◡✿) Plz note that the reader is sort of giving OC, she (you) gives a brief description of ‘losing’ her virginity to some guy from ‘back home’.

TW: Alcohol abuse – Zoro blacks out; also if you have emetophobia maybe skip this one? There's a brief nod to the usual hangover symptoms.

Embarrassing Confessions: Zoro is a virgin and he's insecure (Part 1)

Word on the ship was that Zoro was still a virgin. It had slipped out somehow, maybe in a game of spin the bottle or never-have-I-ever. But you learned about it secondhand when Sanji made fun of him for it, right in Zoro's face. Sanji said something crude, along the lines of "Zoro's just mad because his virgin ass has never gotten his dick wet."

Zoro was immediately livid. His face turned red and he snapped back with "Shut up Sanji, you don't even know what the fuck you're talking about. Fuck you." Genuinely upset, he stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. When Sanji and Zoro bickered it usually had an element of playfulness, casualness, genuine annoyance, yes, but... you weren't sure that Sanji had said anything this cruel and embarrassing before, outing something that Zoro was, obviously, uncomfortable with and most likely embarrassed by.

You were surprised, both by Zoro’s reaction and the simple fact itself. You had always assumed that Zoro got action wherever he went, I mean, look at him. To think that he had never felt the touch of a woman… you honestly couldn’t wrap your head around it. And you felt like a creep because you were intrigued by it. Truthfully, your intrigue was not arousal but rather an earnest desire to learn more about this man who you had been developing feelings for, for months.

The only person who knew about your feelings was Nami. As soon as Sanji made the remark and Zoro stormed out, you immediately looked at Nami, and she glanced at you at the same time. It was like you exchanged a thought or read each other’s minds, one of those unspoken moments with your best friend across the room. It was a “what the fuck?” moment, a split second, but you knew that Nami would want you to go after Zoro and try to comfort him somehow.

You loved Sanji like a brother, but sometimes he could be a real asshole. “Nice one, Sanji,” you said sardonically, dead-pan and annoyed. “I think that was over the line this time.” You stared him down coldly. He immediately jumped to self-defense, but you waved your hand and told him to “can it,” as you exited onto the deck to see if Zoro was doing okay. You had no idea what you would say to him to make him feel better and you were sure that anything you said would come off as corny and patronizing, but you were damned well going to try. After all, it seemed like no one on the ship could talk about these things with Zoro except for you. There was something about you that made him open up, show a softer side, share things that he would otherwise have kept to himself.

Zoro was nowhere to be seen on deck, so that left only one option. You climbed up to the crow’s nest where he was sitting, scowling, and looking out over the open ocean. He was clearly mulling over Sanji’s comment in his head, turning it over and examining it from different angles, sitting in the embarrassment and trying to figure out why he felt so much shame. He never had put much energy into women, had no urge to ‘lose’ his virginity, as if that was an actual object that one could lose (he scoffed at the thought).

For a long time, Zoro felt like he wasn’t missing out on anything—as far as women were concerned, he couldn’t be asked. But in the past few months he had been feeling differently, no thanks to you. That’s why when he saw you climb into the crow’s nest after suffering that embarrassment from Sanji, he muttered fuck to himself and scowled even harder.

“Spare me the embarrassment,” he grumbled, turning his face away from you. He was starting to blush, but you didn’t notice it.

“That got you pretty worked up, huh?” You sat down on the floor near to him, cocking your head so you could peer more into his face, inspecting his impression, which he obviously did not feel like sharing.

Your observation was met with a terse silence.

“Hey, Zoro?” You said softly. He turned to meet your eyes as your tone shifted and you were caught off guard by how vulnerable and tortured his expression was. “It’s not a big deal. No one on the crew cares or thinks any less of you. Sanji was just trying to get under your skin, he didn’t mean to be cruel or malicious. You know he loves you like a brother.”

Zoro sighed and rested his head in his hands. “I know. I don’t know why I let that jackass piss me off so much… I guess he struck a nerve. I- I’ve been feeling… I don’t fucking know. I guess I’ve been feeling kind of... self-conscious about it, recently…” He trailed off. You were shocked by his candor. You were used to him being honest and more vulnerable with you, but this was more than you had been expecting. He was truly opening up to you. You had never seen him show an ounce of self-doubt or insecurity before.

“Yeah?” You prompted, feeling like he had more that he wanted to say. He turned to you again.

“I never really gave a shit about this kind of stuff before, y’know? I’ve got other stuff to keep me busy. But… recently… I don’t know.” He sighed.

You nodded in response. Zoro was a man of few words when it came to emotional vulnerability, and you could tell that the conversation was coming to a close.

“Well, Zoro, if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here. I was kind of a late bloomer so… I get it.” You looked at him carefully. “Let’s grab a drink later, ‘kay?” He nodded, and that was it.

You didn’t know that you were the main reason Zoro had been reflecting on being a ‘virgin’ (he hated that word). Talking to you about it made him feel some sort of way that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something inside of him twisted a little bit when you had looked into his eyes so seriously and with so much care. He tried to shrug it off and went back to cursing Sanji in his head, avoiding the actual dilemma he was facing, choosing escapism and mentally berating Sanji instead.

---

That night, you and Zoro cracked open a few bottles of sake, as promised. You had done this countless times in the past and nothing weird or unexpected happened except a few lingering glances that you both played off. But tonight it seemed like Zoro was drinking more than usual. You got the impression that he was drinking away his sorrows or drinking to forget about how genuinely upset he had been earlier in the day.

You were matching his drinks, as you sometimes did, just for fun. It felt like a kind of silly competition between you two sometimes. But keeping up tonight was hard, you were already getting a stomachache and could feel the dehydration creeping in… you knew the hangover was going to be a monster.

When he got drunk drunk, Zoro could become callous, rude, sarcastic, kind of an ass. He never really sent that in your direction, it was frequently towards Sanji, sometimes Usopp, Luffy, even Nami, if he really was going crazy. It was your least favorite characteristic about him; it was concerning, and it was a huge turn-off. But usually it wasn’t too bad, only mildly annoying. At worst, it gave you a sort of mini-ick.

Tonight was shaping up to be one of those nights, had it not taken an unexpected left turn. You and Zoro were the only crew members drinking, and everyone else was doing their own thing. It was dusk, warm outside, and the stars overhead were already breathtaking. You found yourselves back in the crow’s nest. This was honestly Zoro’s safe space—the isolation gave him peace of mind.

Zoro was laying on his side, with his head propped up on one arm, leisurely facing you. You had been bickering and talking over silly things for a couple hours at this point, like tidbits of sword-making history, or how much meat you’ve seen Luffy eat at once. After a lull in conversation, Zoro finally broached what had been on his mind all day, a nagging thought at the back of his head that he knew that he shouldn’t ask, but he grew bolder as he got drunker. And he was getting drunker.

“Hey, Y/N,” he began. “When did you lose your virginity?”

That was really out of the blue. You were shocked by the question, not expecting it at all. You two had never talked about anything like this. Oftentimes it was Sanji crossing the line and you telling him to fuck off. But for Zoro to go there…? Weird. He was presumably just wondering about it since you said you were a late bloomer too, and you guessed he must be seeking validation. After all, he was obviously embarrassed about the whole thing. A little reassurance and sincerity couldn’t hurt.

“Well, uh…” You hesitated. “I actually had sex for the first time a couple years ago.” That was enough of an answer, right? No point in oversharing.

“What was that like?” He got bolder, locking eyes with you. He was certainly drunk, and you were too. But beyond that, you felt the vibe shift and his eyes seemed more intense. Your voice got caught in your throat for a second. He probably was just seeking some reassurance, right? Everyone always talked about how they had a horrible first time, I’m sure he’s looking for more confirmation or something like that because he’s insecure… you said to yourself.

“Oh, uh… It wasn’t the best first time but also not the worst. It wasn’t as bad as everyone kind of makes their first time seem, if you know what I mean? It was with some guy from my hometown, we grew up together. Kind of like a childhood crush, boy-next-door type of vibe.”

Zoro felt a pang of jealousy. The alcohol pushed him deeper into a grave of embarrassment, rash behavior, and unspoken boundary breaking that he was about to start digging.

“Lucky guy.” He murmured, barely audible, as he shifted onto his back with his hands behind his head, staring up at the sky. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, now staring straight up. You could see him exhale, jaw clenching.

Wait, what did he just say? ‘Lucky guy’?

You had no idea how to respond to that. He seemed to be implying that the man you slept with was lucky. And why would that be?

An unsure “What?” escaped your lips. It was purely a reflex, you weren’t expecting a real answer, you figured he was going to laugh it off, you heard him wrong, something like that. This was like really out of character for him, at least in your experience. You had honestly wondered if he was asexual sometimes because he just never said stuff like this and had never talked about it to anyone on crew. To hear him ask about this sort of thing after all this time was surprising. Maybe there was a side to him that you never knew.

Without hesitation, Zoro responded immediately, doubling down. “I said, lucky guy.” He turned and looked at you and blush quickly flooded your face. He wasn’t smiling, and his gaze was bold and almost piercing, so… it wasn’t a joke. Unless it was? If he was fucking with you then that would be weird as hell.

“Oh, uh… I guess he was lucky! Hahaha…” You tried to play it off with an awkward smile and half-hearted chuckle, hoping he didn’t notice that your face was bright red.

But Zoro kept going. “Were you surprised that I’m still a virgin?” You now realized he was faintly slurring his words. “I’m just curious.”

What was up with all these questions? You sighed. Well, whatever he wants to find out I guess he’ll find out. Looks like we’re playing 20 questions.

“Yeah, Zoro,” you responded. “To be honest, I was surprised.”

“Why?”  He asked forcefully, but this time he sat up from where he was laying and pulled himself a couple of feet in your direction. This would make him maybe a foot away from you, looking at you straight on. Your heart beat quickened.

Ok now this is getting weird. What is his angle? He must be feeling bad about the whole thing and now he’s fishing for compliments. With this conclusion, you rolled your eyes at him and exhaled. You could be playful with him now that you realized he just had a bruised ego, it wasn’t more serious than that. He was being a little pathetic, but that was all.

“Zoro, I’m surprised because you’re manly, strong, and attractive. Is that what you wanted to hear?” You kind of laughed.

And while you thought Zoro was fishing for compliments, you were wrong. He was finally asking you questions that had been burning in his mind for days. He sincerely wanted to know what you really thought of him, simple as that. And he was curious about your sexual life. He certainly was very drunk but even so, he still cringed as he asked each question. But fuck, he just had to know. He wanted to know so bad that he felt like he was suffocating. He had to have answers, but he was getting dizzy, his body felt heavy, all he knew was that he wanted to be closer to you.

He scooted closer again, so that your knees were touching. At this point your heart was beating out of your chest. His face was less than a foot away from yours. He may not have known, but you did have a painfully intense crush on him, and his closeness was having quite the effect on you. It was the same for him, too.

“Do you really mean that, or are you just saying it?” He slurred out again, stronger this time, leaning even closer. Your faces were maybe six inches away now. You were likewise feeling intoxicated, and it made time feel like it was slowing down, slogging along. Your intoxication was making you not only extremely thirsty (in both ways) but it was making you hyper aware and locked in to the blisteringly intense eye contact Zoro was holding with you, almost not blinking.

“I-I really mean it.” You squeaked out, almost as a whisper. Holy fuck, was he about to kiss you?

“Good.” He mumbled, and then he placed one of his huge hands on the cusp of your knee and thigh. He squeezed. You inhaled sharply. His eyes were still glued to yours. There’s no way he didn’t see your blush, it was vivid. He started to lean in, maybe for a kiss, perhaps he was advancing with no goal other than to be closer to you.

Right when you felt like you were about to explode from the blood rushing to your face and your heart beating out of your chest, Zoro’s eyes closed and he abruptly collapsed forward into your lap, letting out what sounded like a groan and then… was that…. Snoring? It looked like the alcohol suddenly hit him like a truck all at once.

Sure enough, you leaned over him and saw that he was passed out on your lap, mossy hair ruffled, and his mouth open ever so slightly. He is prone to sleeping randomly, you shrugged, and God, he looks so good. He even smelled good.

You sat there until you calmed yourself down, feeling his heavy weight in your lap, the warmth of his skin pressing onto yours. He hadn’t let go of your thigh yet. You shook his shoulder lightly. It was time for the night to be over—he needed to get off you so that you could get him water, a pillow, and a blanket. He’d have to fall asleep up in the crow’s nest because there was no way you could pick him up or drag him downstairs.

“Hey, Zoro?” You said softly. “Zoro, you need to wake up a bit. You need to move so I can get you a pillow and blanket. It’s bedtime. Hey.” You shook him again and couldn’t help but notice the hard ripples of his muscles under his shirt. You paused for a moment and patted his head. “Zoro. Wake up.”

“Wha-what?” He groaned, raising his head ever so slightly.

“Zoro, I need to get up really quick. Lay down on your side for me, ok?

He groaned again, making your heart skip a beat. Fuck, that noise was hot. Sheesh.

Evidently a colossal effort, Zoro squeezed your thigh tightly one last time then raised himself just barely enough to collapse onto his side on the floor next to you. You peered at him for a second, thinking he was passed out again, making sure he was ok. As you rose to your feet and started to climb downstairs, he stirred.

“Baaaby,” he grunted out needily. “Are you coming back, baabbbyy? Don’t just leave me up here, Y/N.” You froze and looked at him. He was in the same position, with his eyes closed, breathing heavily. And yes, you had heard him right. Because he had said it damn loud. Holy shit, that made you feel some sort of way. But Zoro was so drunk at this point there’s no way he could have any control over his words. The lights were on but no one was home. He mumbled your name one more time.

“Zoro, I’ll be right back, I’m grabbing you a blanket and a pillow,” you quipped back, and he murmured something nonsensical while you started the quick descent to the deck.

It took you less than a minute to get him a blanket, a pillow, a glass of water, and a bucket, in case he threw up. You grabbed yourself a pillow and blanket, too. You couldn’t conscience letting him sleep up there by himself when he was so drunk. It took you a couple trips, but you managed to bring everything up to the crow’s nest. Zoro looked like he was proper passed out, so you spread the blanket over him and knelt by his head. Again, you shook his shoulder softly. “Zoro, lift your head up. I brought you a pillow.” He complied. He looked so sweet and soft. You wished you could kiss his cheeks a hundred times and run your fingers through his hair so badly.

You dragged your own blanket and pillow to the other side of the nook, giving him as much space as you could. Moments after you curled up and shut your eyes, Zoro stirred again, letting off another string of vaguely suggestive entreaties. “Y/N,” he murmured, “why’re you… all the way over there… you don’t wanna… w-wwanna sleep with me???”

This poor dude isn’t going to remember a thing tomorrow, you thought. In this moment you pitied him. You were sure he just wanted you to come cuddle with him, which was really sweet and all, but he was way too drunk right now to be touched with a ten-foot pole. And you already knew that if he remembered any of this tomorrow, he’d be too embarrassed to look you in the eye.

“Zoro, go to bed, sweetie, it’s getting late.” He did some more grumbling and nonsensical whining in response but soon he was out like a light, and you followed suit quickly.

---

Sure enough, Zoro woke up at sunrise feeling like absolute shit. He was hungover. Monstrously hungover. He couldn’t remember most of the tail end of last night and that made him uneasy, embarrassed at the thought that he could have said something out of pocket to you. He didn’t even want to think about the possibility of drunkenly confessing his feelings. As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and tried to work the stiffness out of his neck, he realized that you were sleeping peacefully across from him. You must have brought out the pillows and blankets, the bucket and glass of water (which he promptly chugged). His heart twisted a bit when he realized how thoughtful and caring you had been towards him. Fuck.

You were breathing quietly, sleeping on your side facing him. Your hair was messed up, all flopped to one side, your face was soft and sweet. He just watched you sleep for a few minutes, realizing that he was being creepy as fuck but thinking he would not have the opportunity to sit and stare at you like this for a long time. He was taken with you. Anything that you felt even remotely insecure about, Zoro loved about you. On top of that, he thought you were ethereally beautiful; he would muse over how soft your skin must be, how good your hair must smell, how he hoped he’d be able to see the color of your eyes closer, how beautifully your lips turned up into a smile whenever you would see him. He wasn’t merely infatuated with your beauty—it was more than that. He admired you as a person, he thought you were brilliant, smart, and kind.

Fuck. He berated himself. You fucking idiot, what did you say to her?

He remembered asking you when you lost your virginity—or, er… did he ask you how you lost it? It was hazy. He certainly remembered throwing back the glasses of sake like they were water.

He blushed crimson immediately upon remembering that he made some comment like “lucky guy” or “lucky dude” while referring to the first man you had sex with. Fuck, that was embarrassing. And he had a feeling that he took it one step further than that, maybe he said or did something else… he wasn’t sure at that point. He hoped he hadn’t done anything that made you feel uncomfortable or unsafe.

Zoro rarely ever drank this much—he must have been feeling extra bothered and upset by Sanji’s comment about his virginity. Zoro knew that drinking was a horrible, horrible way of coping with his feelings. But sometimes he felt like he just wanted to self-sabotage or self-indulge in feeling like shit. And alcohol certainly made him feel like shit. But he had never drank this much when you were around.

Zoro wasn’t so sure how Drunk Zoro would handle your presence. He had a sinking feeling that he probably made himself look like an ass. Maybe he got way too loud, maybe he overstepped with his questions, maybe he came off as some huge, perverted creep trying to get a better picture about what it would be like to fuck you. He felt many, many pangs of regret and repulsion at himself. He was being hard on himself.

And while it definitely would have embarrassed him, and he would have felt more ashamed than he already did by knowing everything he said, he would have been surprised to know that the version of Drunk Zoro with only you around wanted nothing more than to be close with you—evidenced by the scooting closer, touching your thigh, staring deeply into your eyes, entreaties to sleep with (or was that by?) him. But he had no way of knowing what he did yet, because you were asleep, and he was prideful.

All this angsty reflection and regret was quickly interrupted by the hangover. He needed to do something about that. It was becoming a problem fast. He refused to make any sort of use out of that bucket while you were around. So, he swiped up the bucket, his empty glass, his pillow and blanket, and shuffled down the ladder steps.

---

When he was feeling less disgusting and had chugged a few more glasses of water, Zoro wondered what to do with himself. He would normally be up in the crow’s nest around this time of morning. And it didn’t escape him that you were going to be extremely hungover as well, especially because you had been matching his drinks for the most part (he could remember that) and you had way less of a tolerance than him.

He decided that he ought to bring up some water to you and hang out up there until you woke up. Maybe he’d be able to gauge how massively he fucked up by your expression or demeanor. Only one way to find out. Also, he’d take any opportunity and use any excuse to spend some peace and quiet with you. It was a treat that he rarely got.

He filled a big glass of water for you, and something struck him—what if he brought you up some fruit for breakfast? Would that be weird? He knew that you usually had fruit for breakfast, so… why not? He couldn’t think about it too much or else he’d clam up and get too shy. Fuck it, he told himself. Fruit it is. What’s an added benefit was that no one else was awake to tease him about bringing you breakfast or spending the night with you. So he took a couple of extra minutes to wash up and chop some fruit for you. He plated it as neatly as he could and grabbed a napkin as well. It was a simple but wholesome, caring gesture.

By the time Zoro was making his way back up to the crow’s nest, you had been awake for a minute or two. You were stretching as he climbed into the nook and your eyes met his with a sweet smile. “Good morning,” you chirped, feeling like shit from the hangover, but also tickled that you got to spend just a little bit more time with Zoro. You thought there was absolutely no way he remembered any of the advances or suggestive remarks from last night, and you wouldn’t hold any of it against him or treat him any differently for it. You were just happy to be hanging out with him, and the morning was beautiful. You felt no pressure or even desire to let him know everything that he said last night in the pits of drunken belligerence, and you didn’t plan on sharing unless he prompted.

“Hey,” he greeted you and placed the plate of fruit and glass of water next to you. “Here’s some breakfast. Figured it may get me even with you, since you took care of me last night. Sorry if I was an ass.”

Zoro was doing something as sweet as bringing you breakfast? You knew he had it in him. You always thought that there was some softness and sweetness to him, under those tough layers. Gosh, this was really nice of him.

“Thanks for bringing me fruit!” You responded. “You didn’t make an ass out of yourself, you were actually being really sweet,” you smiled again, and his heart skipped a beat. It felt like it twisted a little bit. Fuck, he had such a crush on you. He felt cringey and awkward when you were around sometimes, hyperaware of his every move, wondering how you felt about him. It was so easy for him to blush when you were around, too. He hoped every time that you couldn’t see it. He knew now that he must have been turning various shades of pink and red because he felt the hot blood rise to his face… and this time you did notice. His cheeks took on a pinkish flush, a shade that fitted him so well. God, he’s so cute, you thought to yourself. He was blushing so hard because you called him sweet.

“Oh, uh.. Sweet? What do you mean?” He acknowledged what you said out loud, putting out a sort of rhetorical question. How had he been sweet? Were you referring to the intrusive questions about your virginity, or did he do something else? What on earth could that mean?

You felt like teasing him a little bit with your answer—nothing too serious, since he seemed a little worried about it. “Yeah, you were sweet… you did call me baby a couple of times. It wasn’t too bad.”

Zoro turned crimson. He started to stutter out an apology— “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I-”

“Zoro,” you cut him off. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. You were super drunk.” He attempted to stutter out another apology and you waved your hand. “Don’t worry, seriously, it wasn’t creepy or anything, it was cute.”

Neither of you thought Zoro could blush any harder, but he did. Cute? He was getting so flustered. He took a beat before hoarsely choking out a response. He expected that he had been a bit weird but… calling you baby? Get a grip, man! He scolded himself. But if that was all… it could have been a lot worse.

“Aghhh… Did I do anything else humiliating?” He asked, shaking his head and covering his eyes with his hand, visibly cringing. He didn’t even think to ask what context he called you baby in. It didn’t matter. He had called you baby, and that was that.

“I wouldn’t say it was humiliating but when you were falling asleep you kind of like… asked me to get in bed with you? It wasn’t creepy though, I think you were chilly.”

Zoro’s jaw dropped. Oh my fucking god. Get in bed with her?! What the fuck? He reprimanded himself internally. This was so much worse than he could have imagined. “Look, I’m so, so sorry I… I don’t know what got into me. I’m sorry, I-”

“Zoro, don’t worry about it, seriously. It was endearing and I didn’t take it any sort of negative way.” You took note of how absolutely vivid red his cheeks were. His fists were clenched. Poor guy was obviously going through it.

Zoro was turning the words over in his mind again and again—sweet, cute, endearing. He had never received any of this sort of praise from you before and it made his stomach flip.

Suddenly a shrill voice cut through the air. “Y/N, MY DEAREST SWEET~~ WOULD YOU LIKE SOME COFFEE MY DARLING?” Sanji shouted up to you in the crow’s nest.

You smiled and rolled your eyes at Zoro, sort of mocking Sanji. “Let’s do this again soon, Zoro… silliness aside… I had a really nice time. You really were being sweet so don’t worry about it. I’m going to get some coffee and take a shower. Thanks for the fruit!” You gathered your fruit and glass and shouted back down at Sanji. “Coming!” You did one last pretty smile and wave and then descended below.

Zoro was still reeling from the revelations of his drunken antics. He could have jumped overboard right about now, had it not been for your repeated description of him as “sweet” and “cute.” Your words rang in his ears—“Let’s do this again soon, Zoro.”

So he had called you baby and tried to get you to sleep with him, but it had been sweet and cute? It didn’t really make sense to Zoro but something inside of him fluttered a little bit. You weren’t totally averse and disgusted towards him after last night, so… that was good, right?

Zoro was absolutely mind-fucked at the whole interaction. He was kicking himself in embarrassment, flustered, bright red, his heart was beating out of his chest, but he was also ecstatic because you said you wanted to spend more time with him again. He was completely ashamed but buzzing at the same time. He hadn’t felt like this in years and years, in fact, he wasn’t sure if he had ever been this worked up about a crush before.

Upon second thought, he realized that he did have a shadow of a memory of him calling you baby, along with a suggestion in his mind of the moment when he groaned your name and begged you to come to bed with him. He had wanted you to curl up next to him and sleep there, to be close with him, to feel your warmth, your skin, your heartbeat. He couldn’t believe that all of this started because Sanji’s asshole remark yesterday about his virginity. And there was that virginity and you, two things that were currently posing a problem for him. He could only let himself fantasize slightly about fucking you, but… he didn’t let himself get too carried away (yet).

Stay tuned for part two: Zoro is yet again sexually frustrated, and you decide to help him solve his problem (smut, smut, smut)!

Update: Here's part two!

And here's my masterlist...

♡＾▽＾♡ (◕ㅅ◕✿) ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧˚

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! - Z

[plaguechyld]

Omggg finally a blog with dom reader instead of sub!! I'm so excited I don't know what to even request with all the thoughts in my head! I'm into power play, spanking, dumbification, praise kink and overstimulation. I can't think of a storyline but you can choose one of any of those kny characters (muzan, kokushibo, giyuu, yoriichi or kagaya ) thanks!

i’m glad you’re excited!! All of these are right up my alley too lol

first giyuu work of the blog?? Lets goooo (reader is uppermoon two along with douma)

cw: sub!giyuu, dom!gn!reader, demon!reader, uppermoon!reader, praise, spanking, dumbification, overstim, manhandling, crying, reader is said to have an angelic appearance, you/your used for reader, plot, fighting is flirting, reader has strap/cock (referred to has cock but can be interpreted at strap), demons can purr

This wasn’t the way things were supposed to happen, Giyuu was supposed to be in for a suicide mission, fighting uppermoon two alone.

The demon slayer had been confronted by the demon, you, in the dead of night when he was all alone on a patrol of the outskirts of a town in the wild lands of Japan’s countryside.

The first thing he noticed about you, embarrassingly enough, was how stunning your appearance is. Still, that didn’t stop him from drawing his katana from its sheath and baring it at you.

Giyuu swallowed when he saw your eyes, how could he not? They were beautiful after all, though they held the demonic inscription of uppermoon two.

The battle would be bloody, he knew. Your strength outweighed his by an obscene amount, your flesh could mend itself back together within mere seconds and your stamina was nearly unlimited, something he would soon come to see in a different light.

A soft smile played on your mouth, lips tugged up in a gentle manner as the skin around your eyes crinkle slightly. Each blow the hashira dealt was easily sidestepped by you, making Giyuu somewhat enchanted by you despite himself.

Your movements were so graceful, making you look like a living angel as you danced through the entourage of blade slashes directed at you.

Your smile never fades as you gradually get closer and closer to Giyuu despite him thinking that he has quite a handle at keeping you at a fair distance. The elation surprised him and he found himself soon unable to keep you more than a few feet away from him.

Sweat started beading on his forehead as he tried harder, channeling every skill he knew of from both his breathing style and swordsmanship in general. But despite the worry he was feeling at your nearing presence, you didn’t intend him any harm, you just had to exhaust the hashira to the point where he couldn’t fight back any longer.

Truth be told you found him absolutely beautiful, those deep sapphire eyes and dark black hair framing his pale face. Those fluid water-like movements, a signature of water breathing users, just looked so much better when it was Giyuu moving in that way.

In your century of life you have come across many different demons, demon slayers and normal mortals.. Even playing around with a handful that you found physically attractive, though none ever tugged at any heartstrings of yours, nor achieved a second glance.

This human was different, he was undeniably handsome but also his quiet nature intrigued you.

Mortals and even demons varied in personality, of course. But when they were in the presence of you they either become obnoxiously loud, crying and screaming and whatnot. Either that or they would cower in fear, not even daring to speak a word to you, causing you to quickly become bored with their existence.

But Giyuu was different, he was quiet, not screaming at you for your existence but at the same time his silence was not driven by fear. No, it was driven by the pure focus driving him forward.

Undoubtedly Giyuu harbored some hate towards you merely for the fact you were a demon. It didn’t bother you, however. He was respectful in his fight, never once did an insult slip past his plush lips which you found to be quite a pleasing change of pace.

And so you let him fight, let him display his years of training in such a gorgeous way.

Giyuu wasn’t completely unaware of your silent musing, he noticed the way you gazed at him with dreamy eyes. He saw the way you allowed his every attack to finish, even if it never hit you.

Those small things go unnoticed by many, so many that it has annoyed you for multiple decades. But you knew that Giyuu saw them and that only fueled your interest in him.

The fight was quiet, only the soft rustling of fabric, impact against grass and sword slashes swinging through the air.

But at the same time it spoke louder than any word could. The soft dance you two were in together grew closer and closer like it was nearing its grand finish, however that end would not be in death nor would it come that night.

The both of you seemed to look past the slashing of Giyuu’s sword, focusing on the small gestures of movement that brought a soft hue of pink to the hashira’s ears.

Your hand would graze his blade for a moment before he danced away from you again. He wasn’t that easy to woo, you found, which made you try even more. But at the same time Giyuu never rejected you, no. He was just putting on a show, a beautiful one at that.

The two of you had lived a life of darkness and bloodshed so a meeting such as this was only appropriate, no? To many others it would appear that the hashira’s fate was sealed and in a way it was, though there was no promise of death when he was with you.

It was important for the first promise between them to remain silent, not spoken aloud. The words in early days of meeting are unimportant in such a world, the quiet bond that was being built was much more precious, like a small defenseless thing that you wanted to shelter. It was valuable to you, you realized.

In some ways Giyuu felt the same. He just couldn’t help it, he was lonely. He had been lonely since childhood so the promise from such a seemingly… angelic demon seemed tempting to him. That temptation was already drawing him in, he had fallen to it, how could he not? You were so pleasing to be in the presence of. Despite the clear warning of the kanji inscribed in your beautiful e/c eyes the hashira found himself unable to pull away.

You welcomed him, you welcomed him to you, ignoring the biological hatred between the two of you because why would that matter? You had all eternity to have whatever you desired, why would principles make it any different?

The need, no matter how faint, was all too visible to you. Giyuu didn’t hide it from you, never averting his gaze from your own as if he wanted to drive your primal hunger for him. He didn’t fear your fangs nor your sharp nails that could dig into his flesh if he were to make a single misstep.

As his stamina ran out his muscles began to ache, his movements were growing more sluggish from their dance dragging on too long for his human body to handle.

This notion didn’t slip past your notice, after all the two of you were already so in tune with each other despite never speaking a word.

You let him drop right into your arms from fatigue and somehow Giyuu didn’t find himself afraid of what was to come.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Slept left Giyuu after some hours of sleeping. He found himself waking up in a lavish western style bed. The room was comfortable, having a nice scent of something like vanilla and cinnamon.

The hashira found that couldn’t bring himself to sit up out of the bed, feeling too content to even consider it much.

Your presence was easy to sense within the home due to the fact you didn’t bother to mask it from the demon slayer. The trust between the two of you was oddly strong despite the strange nature of its founding.

It didn’t alarm Giyuu when you entered what he could only assume to be a guest bedroom. In your hands was a bowl of pork cutlet, well seasoned with some vegetables on the side. The exhausted demon slayer took the bowl of food with a thankful nod.

As he ate he was able to hear your voice for the first time as you asked him a simple question.

“Your name?” ah, of course your voice would be as attractive as your appearance. The mere sound of it had turned the tips of Giyuu’s ears pink once more as he replied in a soft voice.

“Tomioka Giyuu.” It was a short response but he was happy to see that you didn’t mind his lack of verbalization. You gave him your name in return and he nodded, finishing up his meal with eagerness.

You chuckle softly as you take his empty bowl away and at the same time set down a glass of water. Giyuu smiled softly to himself, hiding it behind the rim of the cup as he took a grateful drink.

This was some of the most gentle treatment he had received after years of tough training, bloodshed and ostracization from his fellow slayers. So he couldn’t help but feel at ease around you, despite your status as an uppermoon demon.

You couldn’t help but feel similarly with his own status as a high ranking demon slayer, a hashira. The two of you didn’t feel like you were in danger when you were around each other which was out of the ordinary but at the same time pleasing.

It was quite comforting to finally be able to form a meaningful connection with someone after all these years.

The wounds he had allowed himself to sustain during a recent mission were now rebandaged, Giyuu noticed. You had spent the time wrapping his arm and waist in fresh white bandages, making the hashira feel a warmth growing in his chest.

Those seemingly small things were quite a gentle and thoughtful thing for a demon to even consider doing, he thought. So the fact that you did it made it all the more special to him.

You had left Giyuu to his thoughts for a little while as you cleaned his dish before putting it away.

You returned to his side not long after and this time the two of you didn’t stay separated for long. Soon you were seated on the comfortable duvet cover of the bed Giyuu had been resting in, looking over at him.

A slight shift in his posture edged his hand just a little closer to your body, a silent invitation for you to take hold of it.

And that you did, your cooler hand slipped into his rather warm and calloused one, gently running your thumb over the top of it as Giyuu allowed his deep blue eyes to flutter shut. Soft touches were so rare in Giyuu’s profession and he was really feeling that fact now.

Some might consider him touch starved, which he couldn’t disagree with. So when you gave him that gentle touch Giyuu could find himself craving more and more. He didn’t care about being greedy and honestly, neither did you.

So a simple hand touch soon turned into you rubbing his arm then to the two of you in a joined embrace on that soft bed. It was painfully comfortable, lying there with Giyuu. So the two of you remained wrapped in each other’s arms for a while longer.

Your hands eventually found his dark black hair, undoing the ponytail it was currently in, letting it hang loose. Giyuu hummed in question only to be met by you slipping down into a lying position on the bed and opening your arms for him.

Who was he to refuse the demon that took him in? So of course he allowed his body to sink against your’s, letting out a soft breath of content when you begin rubbing slow circles on his back. It didn’t bother him that he was without a shirt at that moment, not at all.

All that mattered was being snuggled against you, being pressed so comfortingly against your demonic body. Giyuu loved that you welcomed him into your arms, that you rubbed his back and tended to his wounds. That you cared to make him feel this way.

And maybe.. Perhaps you would also care enough to make him feel better in another way. That thought seeped into his mind with no warning nor invitation but once it was in it made itself a home. Giyuu couldn’t get the thought of you doing such a sinful and loving thing.

Your eyes were busy gazing at his face, admiring his beautiful features. Once he looks up at you he instantly notices how you’re watching him with that sweet look on your face. Instantly he felt blush slowly spreading across his cheeks. You giggle softly at his reaction and cup his cheeks in your hands, gently squeezing them.

“May I?” you inquire with a quiet breath before smiling when Giyuu nods his head. Your lips meet his own soft ones in a tender kiss. 

It’s calm at first until Giyuu leans into it more, urging you to take that next step. Of course, who were you to deny him? So your tongue meets his own, exploring his mouth for the first time that night.

Giyuu was so needy yet so inexperienced, he didn’t know where to place his hands and was messily copying the motions of your tongue. 

So you take the lead, your hands holding his waist possessively, rubbing all over his skin and bandages with a firm touch.

He tasted so sweet and his little muffled whines were so adorable to listen to. It was so hard to take this slow but you knew that he needed it that way, despite his cold facade he was quite a sensitive thing.

His body remained on top of yours but in no way was the hashira in control, he had relinquished that the moment he fell into your arms. 

You eventually sat up with Giyuu in your lap, clinging to you like you’d vanish if he were to let go.

Giyuu felt his air supply running low so reluctantly he parted from your lips, gasping for breath soon after. Your smile never faded and your hands never left his body, they rubbed his waist slowly before eventually grasping it in full.

Your grip wasn’t particularly firm nor possessive at the moment and even so Giyuu could feel warmth pooling in his tummy from the mere touch. It wasn’t long before you sunk your lips back against his, pulling him into another searing kiss.

It was just so perfect that the hashira couldn’t resist attempting to clumsily roll his hips, not knowing what to do but feeling a tightness growing in his pants. After your lips separate for a second time you don’t waste a moment in placing hands on Giyuu’s hips to guide him properly.

A soft whimper escaped his lips, it was breathy and pure, so painfully pure to you. You had to have more, Giyuu was just so stunning when he was like this, after all. Your hands picked up the pace, making the slayer gasp in moderate surprise before leaning his head into the crook of your neck.

You didn’t mind because in that position you could hear each and every sound that Giyuu let out. Every breathy gasp and quiet whimper were easily picked up by you, driving you forward.

Giyuu bit down on his bottom lip out of pure instinct. He was practically in heaven, or so he thought. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself- or you, from continuing the passion that was slowly unfolding in this quaint bedroom; hidden away from the rest of Japan.

“Please, more.” he whispers to you in an almost bashful tone. You knew exactly what he desired and you weren’t about to deny your beautiful human anything, at least not yet. So you obey, unbuckling his belt and “accidentally” brushing your hand against the prominent bulge in his dark black pants.

Each touch of that nature had the water hashira tensing and sucking in a breath of surprise and need. You just had this air about you; it was driving him insane. If you could just do it, touch him there; where he needs it-

Giyuu squeaks at the soft smack that was laid against his now bare thigh. Your hand was quick to rub the soft skin there, of course; but it served as a reminder to be good, to not go off on his own. He needs to listen to you, of course he does; he has no idea what to do.

“Shh, just follow my lead. Listen, baby.” you mutter in reply to his soft pleading sounds. Giyuu swallows before nodding his head, he knows that he has to be good for you to get what he wants, somehow.

Ah, but it was so hard! He was sitting in your lap in only his fundoshi, rolling his hips at a pace you control and to top it off you were still fully clothed. Giyuu merely buried his face even more so against your neck, choosing to stay quiet.

But that just wouldn’t do, would it? No; he needs to voice what he wants with you. You shift him in your lap, placing your thigh between his own so that he can get more friction against his bulge as you whisper teasingly in his ear.

“You want something, what is it?” he tenses slightly as his cheeks flush more. He should’ve known that you would figure it out; after all he wasn’t good at hiding anything from you, clearly. Swallowing his shyness after a moment he replies,

“You still.. Have all your clothing on…” so that was what he was thinking about? How sweet. You chuckle in light amusement before giving him one guided hip roll against your thigh.

“Then take it off.” you reply without missing a beat, making the hashira pause and look up at you with slightly glazed over blue eyes and a confused expression on his face. However that confusion soon turns into blush as he looks down- avoiding your gaze as he nods his head.

With trembling hands he pulls both your kimono and under-kimono open, revealing your chest to his flustered but oh so hungry gaze. You had removed your haori long before settling down in bed with the hashira so now all that remained was your kimono, obi and hakama pants.

Next Giyuu unties your obi with unsure hands. You take the fabric from him and look into his eyes, clearly uninterested in what becomes of it because of the lust that was starting to get to you.

The hashira swallows before continuing to help you undress and slowly, piece by piece, your stunning body is revealed.

But he can’t have all of the fun, can he? So you toy with the edge of his fundoshi for a little while, making Giyuu blush even further before eventually pulling it off. The hashira instinctually covers his erection with his hands, embarrassment flooding through his face.

You smirk softly and take his hands in yours, bringing them away from covering anything. You lay soft kisses on his knuckles as well, smiling at the way he was blushing because of it.

A soft whisper, or rather plea of your name here and there, had your patience nearly snapping. But you had to remind yourself that your baby didn’t know any better, not yet. Giyuu was just calling out for you, wanting you closer, wanting more of your touch; wanting more of you.

“Press your back to my chest.” you instruct in a calm voice, Why were you so calm and collected? Giyuu was blushing so much that he thought his skin was on fire at this point. You really were going to ruin him; though he obeys nonetheless. With his back flush against your chest you wrap your arms loosely around his waist.

You slide one hand to his erect cock while the other trails further up, playing with one of his soft pink nipples.

A light pinch with the first stroke of his cock has Giyuu’s hands flying up to cover his mouth. But even then he isn’t able to hide his squeal from you. You rub your hand up and down the length of his dick, occasionally circling his tip with the pad of your thumb.

“None of that now, darlin’. I want to hear every sound you make.” you whisper, your voice almost a soft hiss. You had to resist being just a bit harsher in your words with him because you knew Giyuu wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

Besides, you had other things planned for tonight…

Giyuu nods meekly as he lowers his hands, instead balling them up into fists as your hand picks up its pace. Another moan is pulled out of the hashira as you give his nipple a sharp tug.

Ah, his bare shoulder is just too tempting for you to not bite… So you lean in and sink your teeth, albeit quite gently for a demon, into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, eliciting a sharp cry from him.

“HnGAH?!~” another bite, another squeal or cry. It was an addicting cycle but you eventually began licking over the marks you had already left, not wanting to be too rough quite yet. Your hand also never stopped, driving Giyuu closer and closer to orgasming.

Your fingers leave his chest to press against his lips, coaxing him to suck on them and coat them with his saliva. For what? He doesn’t know yet; though he will soon. He arches his back, hipping bucking into your hand as he feels the coil about to snap.

“Close, close!~” is all of the muffled warning you get before the hashira comes, pearly white cum staining your hand. You hum, bringing it to your lips to taste much to Giyuu’s embarrassment.

“Mmpfh!” he protests, wordlessly, due to the fingers currently playing with his tongue. You merely hum in response, finding the taste of your darling to be quite pleasant. Looking down into his flustered eyes makes you chuckle softly before giving him a kiss on the head in response.

“Sorry, hun. Couldn’t resist tasting you.” you chuckle quietly before pulling the two fingers you had in the hashira’s mouth out. They were thoroughly coated in saliva now and perfect for what you intended to use them for.

You let Giyuu get another whine out before flipping him to lay with his chest flush against yours once again.

Giyuu can’t help but feel quite comfortable in this position, being able to hold onto you- practically hug you all while feeling your bare skin against his was something he was never going to get tired of.

Your dry hand slowly finds its place on Giyuu’s perky ass, giving it a few rubs before lightly pressing your two wet fingers against his hole.

He sucks in a nervous breath, never having been penetrated before; only jacking off when he was alone at times. But you’re there to soothe his worries, of course you are. You’ve been so sweet to him this entire time.

“Shhh, it’s alright. I’ll go slow, okay?” you murmur in a soft voice before laying another gentle kiss on the hashira’s forehead. Giyuu nods his head as he looks up at you with wide trusting eyes, squeezing them shut when you push your finger in, burying the first knuckle in his warmth. He was grateful you were adding them one at a time as he wasn’t sure if he could take them in from the beginning at once.

“Ngh.. ahn~” his moans are like little mumbles as he smushes his face into your chest, hands holding onto your back as he pushes back on your finger slightly.

Soon enough another knuckle is in him, then another until your middle finger is completely inside.

Giyuu shifts his hips slightly, trying to get used to the sensation of having something inside him like this.

“I’m going to add another finger, alright?” you warn quietly, only acting when Giyuu gives a little nod in response. You slowly ease your middle finger out of him before readjusting so that both your middle and ring fingers slip into the first knuckle. Giyuu lets out a soft hum of pleasure, shifting his hips to let you know that he wants you to continue.

And you do, you ease those two fingers until they’re fully inside of him and at that point the hashira is moaning softly into your chest. You kiss the top of his head as you begin moving them in and out at a nice and slow pace, allowing him to get used to the sensations he’s receiving.

Your fingers work diligently, pressing deep within him every time you move them back in. Occasionally you spread them apart to loosen his muscles, to which he lets out a moan or whine, depending on the distance between your fingers.

Soon enough the tips of your fingers pad against a soft little bump that causes Giyuu to squeal and arch his back without warning. His eyes fly open for a moment before his body shudders and once more clings onto your own.

“Is that where it feels the best?” you ask him, not expecting to receive an answer as your fingers prod away at that sensitive spot. Giyuu can’t answer, his voice too busy being used for moans and whines from the stimulation he was receiving at your hand; or rather, fingers.

Though, to your surprise Giyuu manages a slight nod in response to your question. How sweet… you just had to tease him a little bit, of course. So you press nice and firmly against that spot, not taking your fingers off  like before.

“NYAGH!~ Whu-wai-” his moans are like a sweet melody to your ears, he’s begging, pleading with you. It’s too much, he really isn’t used to these types of touches.

So when you finally return to your normal pace he slumps down against your chest again, whining and whimpering to himself.

You eventually find that he’s been stretched enough, though you’re still thoughtful about how his body will react to the real thing. So you reach over to the nightstand and retrieve a bottle of oil.

You pour a decent amount onto his already twitching hole, noticing how he squirms slightly from the feeling. You kiss him on the forehead, whispering a soft reassurance before spreading the oil along his walls.

His hands still grab at your arms, your chest, your back; whatever he can get at he’s instantly clinging onto. He whines softly when you remove your fingers, having grown used to the sensations they provided.

“It’s okay, darling..” you whisper in his ear, your voice calm with barely concealed lustful hunger. A soft sigh makes its way from Giyuu’s lips, signaling the fact he was quite content in your arms.

However a soft gasp does slip past his lips as he feels your tip pressing teasingly against his slick and oiled rim, as if you did such a thing just to hear him moan more.

Your teasing movement was met with a tremor of Giyuu’s legs and his face being pressed against your neck. It was sweet that he was acting so shyly when only a few moments ago he had pleaded with you, whispering your name in that breathy voice of his.

But you could only tease Giyuu for so long, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to take much of it without proper training.

So you gently grab ahold of his hips, squeezing them lightly as you guide him to slide down on your cock. A choked whine sounds from Giyuu’s lips as his hands squeeze you, holding on for dear life.

“Ah! Feels.. W-weird.. Mngh..” he slurs into your neck, hands still squeezing you as tightly as he could manage. You hum softly in response, eyes focusing on the hashira’s hips.

Giyuu shifts around in your lap, trying to get used to the sensation of being so full. Soft whimpers leave his lips every time you readjust him slightly, getting him into place.

“Hngh.. move? P-please?” He asks, innocent eyes looking up into your own demonic inscribed one. How adorable. He was just too cute to say no to.

You hum and place a lingering kiss on Giyuu’s already sweaty forehead as you buck your hips up into him.

Soon enough you move your beauty onto the bed so that he can relax on his back, arms and legs wrapped around your body as you move your hips at a slow and smooth pace.

You thrust your hips forward, driving your cock into the hashira’s tight heat again and again so that you can soak up the sweet moans Giyuu lets out. They’re heavenly to listen to, sounding like a siren’s call.

“Good boy, you’re doing so good.” you whisper in his ear as your hips keep moving, continuing to thrust your cock deep into his hole.

Heat spreads over Giyuu’s cheeks as he clenches around your dick at the praise, making you unable to resist pressing a kiss to his soft lips again.

He bucks his hips up to meet your every thrust as you pick up the pace you were moving at, now bullying his prostate perfectly.

“Mnghh~ close…” he murmurs between moans that continue to grow in volume, signifying the truth behind his words.

“I know baby, I know.” you reply with a few more strong thrusts of your hips, driving Giyuu closer and closer to his peak.

With one more harder movement of your hips Giyuu let out a wail, cum spurting from the tip of his cock as his nails dug into your back.

You made the choice to not allow yourself to heal the marks that the demon slayer was leaving on your back, you wanted to be able to admire them in the morning after all.

However you don’t stop your hips there, no. Giyuu was just too cute and warm for you to be able to control yourself. The hashira let out a startled moan before sinking his teeth into your shoulder to muffle his sounds.

He only let go to whine out, “t’much! ‘Soo m-muhhch!~” How sweet. It was adorable to hear him whine about everything being too intense for him to handle but at the same time thrusting his own hips up to meet your harsh pounding.

Tears cascade down the Hashira’s face, making him seem even more pathetically cute than before. His beautiful blue eyes roll back in his head as you hit that sweet spot over and over again, causing his dick to harden once more.

He can feel himself growing closer despite having come not that long ago. You were just too good, too perfectly attuned to all of his needs.

A second orgasm rips through him, causing him to arch his back and let out a filthy moan that's soon silenced by your lips connecting with his. It's so much, it's too much!

Giyuu feels like he’s drowning in the best pleasure imaginable. Though he expects you to stop now, after all you’ve gotten him to cum twice tonight and that's quite a lot for him, at least.

But you don’t, you keep going and even pick up your pace slightly. It punches sweet little “Uh uh uh”’s out of the poor thing, making it clear to you that he’s too fucked out to whine about it.

Your hand comes down to hold onto his chin, making him look up at you with that oh so pretty fucked out expression of his.

“Hm, you can take another round, can’t you baby?” you ask, the question obviously rhetorical as both him and you know that his brain is too mushy to answer you.

Instead Giyuu gives a weak whine of protest before holding onto you tighter. Though, his body is a stark contrast of the complaint he had just let out; he’s wiggling his hips, urging you to continue moving your own.

So with a soft chuckle you continue, slamming your cock deep into him, ramming so far inside that Giyuu swears that he’s seeing stars.

“AHN!- mnHN~.. ‘Omgohhhdddd!-" The hashira’s voice is broken up by his heavenly moans, unable to stop himself as you continue giving all the pleasure that you could possibly give him.

Your stamina is downright insane, though what could Giyuu expect. After all, you are one of the higher ranking uppermoon demons.

Even then, you can feel your pace slipping as your thrusts grow sloppier- more intense in pace and less like the strong, deep and practiced ones you had done prior.

“‘M close, baby. Want me to fill you up some more, Giyuu? Hmm?” You murmur into his ear, your breath hot and heavy as you breathe in Giyuu’s intoxicating scent.

Giyuu nods fervently in response as he screws his deep blue eyes shut. His cheeks are all rosy and stained with dried tear marks, making him all the more adorable.

He hiccups as you finally slow your pace, hips moving slower as you cradle his shaking body close to your own.

Oh? It appeared he had cum for a third time from that sloppy pace. What a sensitive thing he is.

You kiss Giyuu’s forehead, finding it drenched in sweat with his black bangs sticking to his. He looks up at you with a dazed look when you finally slow to a stop before closing his eyes again.

A smile finds its way onto your lips as you pull out of him, making him gasp, arching his back for one last time.

Giyuu whines softly, opening those tired eyes of his again as he searches for your touch.

“Mmngh.. Stay…” The hashira murmurs, calling out for you in that sweet and quiet voice of his.

How could you refuse? So of course you wrap yourself around his weakened body.

You use a soft cloth you dipped in the lukewarm water that had been sitting out in a glass to clean the cum from Giyuu’s tummy. 

Your touch is gentle as you clean him up as best you can for the moment, after all the poor thing was much too tired for a proper wash.

In return the hashira snuggles up to you, peppering shy kisses to your neck as a thank you for the night as he was much too tired to talk.

You release a quiet purr in return, it's a sweet and gentle sound which makes it soothing for Giyuu to listen to.

The hashira curls up properly after you set the cloth down, feeling quite content to be wrapped in your arms like this.

He falls asleep quite quickly, clearly your shared night of intimacy had gotten to him quite quickly.

You merely smile and lay another kiss on him, this time to the top of Giyuu’s head.

“How sweet…” You whisper to yourself. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to prolong this… relationship.

[russellsppttemplates]

Never letting you go (Max Verstappen)

There was nothing stopping you and Max now

Note: english is not my first language. This is the first Max big piece to sort of introduce their arc, let me know what you think! ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions Jos forbidding Max and reader of dating, curse words

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"What do you mean you're going to the Grand Prix?", you quirked your brow as your friend Cara sipped her coffee, "I thought you said you'd never be caught dead one of those", you chuckled.

"Matthew's company got a bunch of passes because they got a deal with one of the sponsors - I think? - I don't know much about it, all I know is that he brought three home because he thought you'd like to join us", she offered.

You never hid how much you enjoyed watching Formula One, even if watching it, especially in the last couple of years, often brought emotionally heavy memories back.

"That's nice, count me in! What type of passes are they?", you questioned, taking a bite from the cake on your plate.

"I don't know, he was talking all about them and I must admit I zoned out", she admitted, "but he said they were really good! He was very surprised at what the passes had, but his boss is very cheap so I don't know how great they actually are considering the possible comparison", she smiled as you nodded, "count me in, though. It's been a while since I stepped foot on one of them", you recalled.

The last race you attended was when Max was in Formula Three still. The paddock was so big and crowded with so many people, you doubted you'd bump into him. It wouldn't do you any good, would it?

"How did you get hospitality passes?", you gasped as Matthew handed you the lanyard, "they've invested a lot of money so I guess the sponsors didn't mind loosening the belt", he shrugged, putting his own around his neck after scanning it.

"Thank you for this, by the way", you flashed him a smile, "no worries, Y/N, the only way I could convince her to come was if you joined us, and I don't mind actually spending the weekend with someone who also knows a little about the sport", he chuckled as Cara laced her arms with her fiancé, "I'm glad he has you to talk to as well, there's only so much feigned interest I can muster up", she rolled her eyes.

Scuderia Alpha Tauri had been Toro Rosso, but despite the name change, as soon as you walked in, some faces were still familiar from the pictures you got sent from Max on gia first season with them.

"Why did you get interested in Formula One anyway?", Matthew asked you while you sipped on a latte, "I always loved the idea of the cars going very very fast, and then when I actually had the knowledge to understand how they worked, they really intrigued me", you offered, "I also had a friend who was very into it, so he also escalated my interest in it".

"He didn't pull you enough to work on motor sport though?", Matt wondered.

"I didn't enjoy the competitiveness of all of it", you admitted, "it's very strict, and if you want to be successful, it takes the good things away - your family, your friends", you opened your heart to him, thankfully noticing it and sorting the heartfelt confession seemingly about a job, "they travel a lot and they're really competitive that is, I'd never be able to do that for a job", you smiled, hoping you saved yourself from further questions.

"That's why you did mechanical engineering, then?", he asked, "for the most part, yes", you replied, "Oh, they're starting free practice", you smiled, looking over to the track from the balcony seats.

Sophie walked into the RedBull hospitality, looking for her family. Because it was Monaco, they felt safe enough to bring the Lio and Luka to the paddock, knowing they would be close to home in case things didn't go well as planned.

"Grandma!", the oldest boy called her from his spot on his father's lap, his brother sleeping on his mother's chest.

"Hey, my dears", she greeted, "You won't believe who I found on my way here", Sophie began, "I'm surprised Max didn't tell me he invited Y/N. It's a shame she isn't here with us, though", she commented.

The first indicator of surprise should be the way the blond woman looked at her mother, "what do you mean Y/N is here?", she whisper-yelled.

"I just saw her in the Alpha Tauri hospitality, I was walking with Helmut and he was headed there, that's when I noticed her. Max didn't tell you?", she quirked an eyebrow just as her son sat down next to them.

"What didn't I tell who?", Max spoke, setting his plate of food down on the table.

"Why didn't you tell us you invited Y/N for this weekend?", Victoria was the first to scold him, hitting his arm in a sisterly manner, "and in Alpha Tauri of all places? I'm sure they would've bent the rules a little and give you a pass so she could be a RedBull guest!".

Max thought he heard incorrectly. Y/N, his Y/N was in the paddock, in the sister team of the one he now drove for.

"I, I didn't offer her anything", Max said, his brother in-law looking at him weirdly as well, "I don't know how or why she is here, but I had nothing to do with it. We haven't spoken in a while", he mumbled. A while, three years, same thing, he supposes.

"Well, I just saw her. You should go say hi, I'm sure she would love to but she can't exactly find you where she is, it has to be the other way around", Sophie offered.

"What makes you believe she would?", Max questioned, both himself and his mother and sister.

"Because the way you never forgot her, she never forgot you", Victoria sterned, "don't you think she deserves your attention? She was in it for the long run, Max, and maybe she has moved on, maybe even has someone", the thought alone made Max loose his cool, "but she was your friend, the person you trusted most in the world and you let her slip".

"Don't sugar coat it, please", Max sarcastically replied.

"It's true, Max, and you know it", Sophie said, sensing her son didn't want to talk about the topic, but not allowing him to leave the table without a piece of her mind as well.

Max needed to put on his suit again, ready for qualifying, walking along the corridor until he found his door.

"Hey, before you go", Victoria called her brother as he was about to go into his driver's room, "Lio is really fussy, so we're just going back to your place, I'm sorry", she said.

"It's fine, whatever you feel the most comfortable with", he said, waving at his nephews and brother in-law.

"We will be supporting you from home, then", she said, kissing his cheek, "And Max? I know you're not used to it, but follow your heart", she smiled.

"Can I do that now?", he softly bit back, smiling and blushing at his words.

"What's stopping you?", Victoria said as she walked back to her family.

"Who is that?", Jos asked as Max asked him if he could invite you over for dinner before the season began.

The conversations with Toro Rosso were getting serious and the opportunity for a seat in Formula One was right there, up for him to grab if he worked enough.

"She's my friend, you know Y/N", Max tried to reason with his father.

"For this to work, Max, I think you need to distance yourself from home", Jos advised, ignoring his mention of you and carrying on with his lecture, "I'm talking no parties, no trips to come and see friends and family - I really think those are just getting in the way between you and the career you deserve".

The statement was clear, and Max knew better than to question it.

"I've spoken to your mother - she wasn't the biggest fan -, but you really need to focus on this", Jos reiterated, "no friends, much less girlfriends", he chuckled.

The dinner ended up being just Jos, Max and Victoria, the thought of having you there quickly erased in his head.

When Max met up with you before he left for the season, he was antsy. Just a week before, you had stolen innocent kisses from eachother's lips and revelled in the feeling of being in eachother's embrace without a care in the world. And it felt good, so good, like the piece that was missing in Max's life finally completed the puzzle.

"Hey", you greeted, kissing the corner of his lips and allowing him to pull you down to sit on the sofa.

"I spoke to my dad, I'm leaving in a few days", Max said, "there's some testing they want me to do still", he mumbled, lacing your fingers in his.

"And where do we end up?", you asked the million euro question. Truthfully, you entertained the thought. Even though being away from Max for most of the year would be a challenge, the love you felt for him was too big, too great for you to forgo that challenge. You were his and he would be yours.

"It's not going to work, Y/N. I need to focus on racing", he stated blankly despite how much it hurt him to utter those words out to you as the conversation with his father resonated with him.

"Max your focus is getting a Formula One seat", his father sterned, "do you know how hard it is? How much effort and work you have to put in? There can't be any distractions!"

"But Y/N isn't a distraction!", Max reasoned. If anything, you were the one keeping him humble and with both feet on the ground at all times. You cared for him, not because of his racing, who he was or who he could become, but because you loved eachother.

You'd never do anything to ruin his career, Max thought as he worked up the courage to tell you all of it. He couldn't get distracted, not now. He couldn't afford making mistakes because he had a girlfriend back at home waiting on him.

Your understanding, however, wasn't aligned with his expectations. He hoped you'd fight, at least, but you swalled your tears and nodded, "okay, Max. I hope you get your seat, you deserve it so much, I know it will happen".

Max put in on pole, leaving you to smile and snap a picture of the moment, wondering if you'd have the courage to send it to him.

"So, does this mean it's over?", Cara asked, "Because I could do with going home, actually", she nudged.

"Let's go, then!", you smiled, putting your phone in your bag and looking for the way out, ending up following the other guests into the paddock.

"Y/N, dear!", you heard someone call your name, and on cue, you looked for the voice despite the fact that it wad unlikely someone recognised you there.

Sophie didn't age, you thought, as you looked at the source of the voice that called you.

"I'm not going to hold you up, guys, you can go!", you smiled, waving at Matthew and Cara once you assured them you would be fine.

"I'm sorry, Sophie - they're my friends, and he was the one who got the passes from his office", you apologised for leaving her to wait a little for you.

"It's alright, dear. It's been so long since I've seen you", she nudged, "I'm sure Max would love to see you, too!", she jumped straight in.

"Would he, though?", you squinted your eyes.

"He would, Y/N", Sophie said earnestly, "I saw you this morning - at Alpha Tauri -, and he knows you're here", she smiled, "I'm assuming you're watching the race, too. Pay him a visit, okay?", she rubbed your shoulder and left a kiss on your cheek, "He's also my ride home, so I need to go look for him! Bye, Y/N!".

Race day meant rush everywhere, so you got to the paddock just in time before everyone rushed inside, finding the perfect spot to watch the race.

"I need to take this call, one second", you said to Cara, recognising Max's contact on your phone.

"Y/N, hi! I didn't think you'd pick up actually", you could hear the nervousness on his voice, "thanks for the picture, by the way, it was very... nice".

"It's no problem really, I thought it would be a good memory to keep", you smiled, "are you ready for the race? Or do you want me to give you a pep talk?", you chuckled. Back in the day, whenever he didn't feel too confident about a race, you had the power to help him out his head in the right place and bring his winning mentality to light.

"I'm fine, actually", he smiled, "I- I was wondering if you'd like to meet up later", he gulped, "I'd like to talk to you, but it's difficult until the race finishes, and then debriefs and media and all that".

"Sure, text me when you're done then", you stated boldly, "have a good race Max, you know I'm supporting you".

"Even if you're with Alpha Tauri?", he joked.

"I never stopped supporting you, it's not going to be a guest pass that's going to change it", you said as he bid you goodbye, ending the call and finding your friends.

When Max won, you clapped unashamedly as everyone else seemed to join you in your excitement, and after the race celebrations were done with, you waited patiently for the text to get to your phone.

"So you're staying back?", Cara asked, "I am, I'm meeting a friend", you explained. At her curious stare, you furthered, "do you remember the guy I told you about when you tried to set up that double date?", she nodded, "yes, the guy you were friends with, and when you both wanted to take a step forward, he had this big shot as his dream career and his father wouldn't allow him to date anyone", she said as she realized, "my goodness, he's here? Y/N, go for it!", she encouraged, "I know you still have feelings for him, who knows? Maybe this is your chance to reconnect", she rubbed your shoulder.

After you bid goodbye to Cara and Matthew, a text go through to your phone.

From: Max

Mum is waiting for you at the door :)

Approaching the hospitality, you quickly spotted Sophie, "c'mon in, dear! Max wanted me to get you myself, he was afraid no one would ler you in", she chuckled, guiding you through until you were in their dining area.

"Y/N!", Max beamed, setting down the crayons he was drawing with at the table with Luka and walking up to you.

"Hey everyone!", you waved at Victoria, putting a pin the two little boys' curious stares as they looked at you so you could hug Max.

"Congratulations, Max, I knew you could do it", you whispered into his skin, his arms hugging you so tightly against him.

"Thank you, Y/N", he spoke, "I missed you so much, I missed this so much", he squeezed you one more time before allowing you to greet the rest of his family.

"This is Tom, and that's Lio and Luka", Victoria said after she hugged you tighlty, "say hi, guys!", she encouraged as the two little copies of Max waved back at you.

"We're going to head home, it was great seeing you, Y/N!", Sophie announced, "I'm sure we'll see eachother a lot more from now on", Victoria complimented, helping her husband pack up the kids' belongings and toys so they could retire to Max's apartment.

"I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner sometime this week", he jumped straight forward, "I'm having dinner with the team today and then the rest of the grid want to go to the club, so I wouldn't be able to spend that much time with you, and I want to be able to just focus on you", he smiled.

"That's fine by me, I appreciate the thought", you smiled as he led you to one of the tables, asking one of the caffé staff for something to drink for the two of you.

“Listen, I think, I think we found each again for a reason", he began boldly, not sure if this was the way to go after not having spoken to you in a couple of years. Still, it wasn't a lie.

"Define found, considering we've been iving in the same city for nearly a year", you smiled, "although you don't spend much time here anyway, so I guess that's a nice enough excuse", you teased, your foot tapping his shin playfully under the table.

"So, Monaco, hm?", Max started, "I didn't expect you to live here out of all places", he nudged, wanting to know more about your move but afraid he was stepping in vulnerable territory.

"I did it because of my earnings for sure. I've got to save as much as I can on tax on the fortune I make as a female engineer", you sternly said as he looked the most surprised you'd ever seen him, "I'm joking - not all of us move to Monaco so our million euro salaries have better taxes", you teased.

"Why did you do it, then?", he asked, smiling at how familiar it all seemed. Just like old times, he thought.

"The company I work for was the one that needed the tax benefits", you clicked your tongue, "and they wanted people to move here. Only one of my colleagues moved here with her whole family, as they expected, so they ended up calling the ones that weren't attached to anything or anyone in particular, and I was one of them", you shrugged your shoulders, "I moved to a new country with a different language, the only people I knew were my work colleagues, so I had no one to complain about them to, but I make it work - at least I like to think I do", you smiled.

Not attached to anyone, he recalled, humming at your response, "it's not such a bad place to live, right? Granted I don't spend much time year, but still enough to appreciate it", Max spoke.

"How about you, Mr World Champion", you nudged, "how does it feel?".

"Obviously it's great, and everything that I worked for", he added, knowing the underlying topic in the conversation, "I get to drive fast cars and I travel the world, there's not much left for it to be the complete dream", he said, gingerly touching your fingers over the table and accepting your hold when you laced them together.

Conversation was flowing easily until one of the employees told Max that he would have to go and get ready for the dinner, meaning you would have to part ways.

"Does Tuesday work for you? I'm not sure how well I'll be tomorrow", he chuckled, "yes, that's fine by me, just text me the address and the time", you smiled, getting up and kissing his cheek, "have a good time, Max, but be careful with the alcohol, I'd hate to have to pick you up again", you reminded him of the time he got way too drunk and he insisted he would only go home if you came to pick him up.

.

Dinner was great and Max invited you back to his place, hoping you'd be able to talk properly about the elephant in the room in a more private and comfortable place.

"You're struggling there, aren't you? Even with your itty bitty small hands?", Max teased as your pinky just about stretched enough for you to not lose everything by dumping the contents of your bag on the sidewalk.

As you and Max left the restaurant, you fiddled with your wallet in your bag, hoping to keep the card the waiter gave you safe for the next time you wanted to visit the place.

"I do not have itty bitty small hands!", you argued, shaking your bag a little to make sure everything was safely in place.

"We need to have the same starting line - like", you rearranged them so your wrists would be touching. Still, it didn't make much of a difference on your end. It looked like it even highlighted a few more differences, "yours is much bigger, I give up", you giggled.

"See?", Max said as he held your hand out against his, "these are the size of fairy hands! Tinkerbell probably has bigger hands than yours!", he exclaimed as you noticed how much bigger his hand was compared to yours. His fingers were a little bit thicker than yours and his palm covered all of your hand almost completely.

Now or never, Max thought as he laced your fingers in his once you let your arms drop and rest by your side. His thumb rubbed your skin and warmed you up, "was this your plan all along?", you wondered, feeling the bravery around you two and choosing to act on it.

"Lacing my hand in yours or proving to you that my biggest mistake was letting you go all of those years ago?", Max stated as he looked deeply into your eyes.

"We should talk about this inside", you bit your lip, allowing him to guide you through the apartment complex he lived in.

His living room was decorated in classy tones, probably with the help of him mother and sister, as you sat down on the sofa and face eachother.

"I know I apologised at the time, but I'm still sorry, Y/N", Max said, "at the time it was the dream and I didn't have much room for my own decisions. Still, I should've fought", he concluded.

"You didn't blatantly acknowledge it and decided we couldn't be together, Max", you conforted despite the hurt you felt at the time, "it hurt, - like a bitch actually -, but not because you were following your dream. I never wanted to pull you back and get in the way of your achievements", you gulped, "but I would be lying if I said I wouldn't like to give this a go, to give us a chance", you smiled.

"I know I have crazy schedules - I am barely here during the season -, but you were always the one I thought about. When I first raced in F1, when I got my first podium, my first win, my bad races - I wanted you there", he admitted, blue eyes looking into yours, "I can't promise that it will be easy, but I'll never risk you or our relationship, that's non negotiable", he stated.

Moving closer to him, you cupped his cheek with your palm, the slight stubble tickling your skin, "I'm in, Max", you smiled, taking the plunge and kissing his mouth, lips moving in sync as his hands pulled you into his lap.

The blissful moment was interrupted by a meow, Jimmy and Sassy walking into the living room, "Oh, guys", Max held you close to him as the cats sniffled you, "this is Jimmy and Sassy, my cats, took then long enough to leave the guest bedroom", he smiled as you tried to pet them, "cute, they seem nice enough - for cats anyway".

[skythealmighty]

man. there are so many object shows out there. I NEED TO CATCH UP ON SO MANY why are the4e so many anyway Exclamation Mark (NOT AB) im killing you. he would get bullied off tumblr

#rocket talk #roc save #NOT THE ANIMATIC BATTLE ONE that ones fine #i mean the one in my header #hes an asshole #why do i keep accidentally hitting the number keys lately

(7 notes)

📉 storyboard-but-better Follow

i cant believe my contestants are so pissy over the second challenge still!!!! it was a coherent challenge i think "survive me killing you" is pretty straightforward!!! besides theyre fine now >:/

⏰ timeisatool Follow

Maybe it's becausw you killed them?

📉 storyboard-but-better Follow

well thats stupid

⚪ fuckingcircles Follow

I KNOW RIGHT!! my old contestants got SO pissy when i killed th3m!! just because theres no recovery... 😒

⏰ timeisatool Follow

You dont have recovery????

⭐ everybody-smile-smile-smile Follow

arent u supposed to be dead

⚪ fuckingcircles Follow

well im NOT so

❗ black-and-red Follow

Ugh, I haven't even killed anyone that much and they're still pissy! Honestly... just do the challenges and you'll be fine! I only threatened them..

⭐ everybody-smile-smile-smile Follow

well i thought i killed circle but ig not! and square but nobody else died idk why everuones so afraid of me... whats so wrong w wanting to make a perfect object show?

⏰ timeisatool Follow

Um

🔥 betterheatsflamesman Follow

yeah theres nothing wrong with that! you gotta do what you gotta do for your object show

⏰ timeisatool Follow

😰😰😰😰😰

⏰ timeisatool Follow

I want to leave this group...

#i thought we were all just supposed to be wacky and weird 😰😰 #mom come pick me up im scared...

(34 notes)

🔥🔃 betterheatsflamesman Follow reblogged 🪔 slay-style-queen

🪔 slay-style-queen Follow

Hey guys, just managed to get sponsored with my object show idea!!! (No thanks to you Lip Stick lol) wish me luck!! Also go keep an eye out on Village of Objects Official :D

🪔 slay-style-queen Follow

what the FUCK

🪔 slay-style-queen Follow

oh my god how do you all stay sane actually

4️⃣ four-therecord Follow

we don't! welcome to the club

🪔 slay-style-queen Follow

im never doing this again

#:)

(4,294 notes)

📻 annie-annie-ooh Follow

Who's Animatic?

#It's Your Fridge DJ! #I appreciate all the lovemail and the concern! ❤ #I don't understand some of the asks but thank you anyway!

(725 notes)

🧪🔃 test-tubular Follow reblogged 💥 fans-fantastic-features

🫵 have-you-heard-of-this-os Follow

Have YOU heard of:

🫵 have-you-heard-of-this-os Follow

Please stop debating on whether or not this "counts" as an object show, this was requested by an anon. If you want to do that on your own time on your own blog, feel free!

💥 fans-fantastic-features Follow

SORRY ABOUT THAT SJEHSKEB will move i promise 🙏

anyWAY on another note i miss this showww 😭 i was so intrigued about it but i guess i understand its cancellation... if anyone wants to come up with a rewrite w me hmu my ao3 is in my desc!!!!

⭐ everybody-smile-smile-smile Follow

just as long as you clarify its unofficial!! (:

💥 fans-fantastic-features Follow

its on ao3 ofc its unofficial

💥 fans-fantastic-features Follow

WAIT A GODDAMN SECON

#Fan we were /on/ an object show and technically famous I'm not sure why you're surprised at this point #Also get off your phone we're at Purgatory Mansion

(11,374 notes)

anonymous asked: hey greeny can you say trans rights for everyone out there

🟢 greenyguy Follow

trans rights AND trans wrongs. even if you like burger king i still support you <3

#burger king sucks ass tho dont do that to urself

(34,193 notes)

💥 fans-fantastic-features asked: im SO sorry for the sudden reply earlier, up until your post i thought hfjone was just some weird wild experimental show?? then again i shouldnt be surprised if happy star themselves is on this goddamn site (also sorry in advance for my friend TT sending you asks about alternate universes. shes a science nerd of all types and needs data or sm) if you want i can tell you what i know about your situation in a private chat, ive done a lot of deep dive analysis posts on my blog too and trust me when i say a LOT of the internet wants to help free you and everyone else you have plenty of help available spotty replies tho im investigating smth

🎒 liam-plecak Follow

I... yeah, I'd like that. Thanks.

(34 notes)

anonymous asked: battery ui is kind of already jailed but still

🔒 your-fav-would-be-jailed Follow

Battery from Ultimate Insanity would be jailed!

🔋 theft-and-battery Follow

Yeah

#Why did someone earlier send in that Walkie Talkie person? #I approve of the Blender submission though #Hate that guy

(12 notes)

🎒🔃 liam-plecak Follow reblogged 💥 fans-fantastic-features

🕹 fire-cartoon-schtick Follow

cant have shit in this fuckass hotel 😒😒😒 lens just died 😔😔

🕹 fire-cartoon-schtick Follow

#WHAT THE FUCK #DONT JUST DROP SMTH LIKE THAT AND DIP #ARE YOU OKAY?? #ARE YOU TALKING ABT A GAME???

hi! rhanks for the concern! 😁 i am unfortunately not talking about a game lens is actually dead please help me (dms r open 🙏🙏)

#Since I've gotten a lot of followers recently I feel like I should boost this #I'm busy with my own issues but maybe someone else can help?

(5,204 notes)

⚪ fuckingcircles Follow

i want my SHOW BACK i want my CO HOSTS BACK i want calculatory DEAD i only MILDLY HATE happy star i dont KNOW WHAT ELSE TO COMPLAIN ABOUT

🥝 gela-not-jelly Follow

🫵 Fanny kinnie

�� fuckingcircles Follow

who the FUCK is fanny

#im CIRCLE not a goddamn FAN #who even names themselves fanny anyway

(382 notes)

⚪battleforcircle asked: oml spiderman pointing meme

⚪ fuckingcircles Follow

you sent me this FIFTEEN TIMES get OUT of my ASKBOX!!!!

📉 storyboard-but-better Follow

why are there two of you...

⚪ fuckingcircles Follow

theres only ONE of me i dont know who this IS!!

⚪battleforcircle Follow

theres three of us just three of us

#idk why either tbh #tumblr just recommended his acc to me one day #he seems fun to annoy tho so ive taken it upon myself to do so #tee hee

(89 notes)

📶 she-walkie-on-my-talkie-till Follow

Hey so why is a known criminal on Tumblr?

📶 she-walkie-on-my-talkie-till Follow

Hello???

[obbystars]

It hurts to be something, it’s worse to be nothing with you.

NOTES: dividers by @cafekitsune !!

( Written before 2.2 / Kinda short tbh / Boothill may be OOC / not really angst as it turns into fluff tbh / I blame this / title was chosen because I was listening to the song at the time / GN!Reader )

It took a while for Boothill to even get used to this new life, or new body. Every time he looked at himself, he’s reminded of what was stolen from him. For a time, he hated his body. He sometimes wished he stayed dead. He feels so cold. He didn’t… He never wanted this, though as time passed, he grew accustomed to it. He eventually accepted it, but it never stopped those thoughts from worming their way back into his head.

He doesn’t quite feel… human. Nothing about him truly felt human.

“Boothill? You still there?” The voice was barely above a whisper.

“Hm?”

The gentle beating of a heart entered his ears. He felt warm. He felt a warm hand gently rubbing his face. Another hand was playing with a few strands of his hair before it was now gently brushing it. He opened his eyes, finding himself in an all too familiar room. One he had always looked forward to going back to once he finally had time to spare.

And underneath him? His favorite person, of course. Someone he always looked forward to seeing again, to spending more time with. He looks up at you, and you took note of his expression.

“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you up?”

He shook his head, burying his face into your chest and closing his eyes again, “No, no ya didn’t... Don’t worry ‘bout it,”

His arms were wrapped securely around your waist, trapping you in bed with him. You wiggled around in his grip for a bit to get a bit comfortable, resulting in you having to move him further up. His face was now in the crook of your neck.

Was he crushing you? Surely if he was, you would’ve said something or even tried to nudge him away. Were you cold? He hoped not… You did sometimes push him off of you because he was too cold. Sometimes he wishes he could provide you the warmth you always give him, but it’s not like he can feel it anywhere else other than his face. He hated that.

“You okay?” You questioned, your voice snapping him back to reality.

His answer was only a faint hum this time. He feels your hand brush his hair again, and you swear you can just feel him melt under your touch. It surprised you sometimes. A brash, flamboyant Galaxy Ranger, always full of energy and ready for the next journey across the stars almost turning into mush once your hands meet him. It was something you picked up on very quickly, and it didn’t take as long for you to realize why he reacts this way.

“Does it bother you?”

Your hands stop moving through the white strands, “Does what bother me?”

“This… My body. Does it-”

“No. Not at all,” you suddenly cut in, “You get cold sometimes, but that doesn’t bother me. Why do you ask?”

“…it’s nothin’,”

You turn your head to face him, nuzzling him knowing he can feel you there, “Well… It definitely is something, but… Whenever you’re ready, I’m all ears,”

He can feel you gently press a kiss on his head, and another, and another, and another. The only place where he can feel you, and you were practically showering him with small kisses.

He feels warm, especially when he’s with you. Maybe that’s why he always looks forward to moments like this with you because for once, even if it’s just for a moment, he feels human.

ehhh, this felt better in my head but oh well, I just really wanted to write Boothill

I don’t regularly post fics or hcs like this but maybe I’ll make a silly side blog for it if I do find myself wanting to write so much more for Boothill ( I literally love him so much )

[ethereal-night-fairy]

Slasher!141

AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Price: The captain is a well respected man yet when people go against his orders or disrespect him, there is this blinding rage that threatens to overtake him. His victims consist of rebellious idiots who think they're above the law. For example theives, drug dealers, tax evaders, people who don't pay their workers right, rapists ect. It irks him that they think the law wouldn't come for them. But in actuality it's because he hates the thought of someone thinking they're above him in any regard. Hell this man threatened a general and a colonel while being a captain. He. does. not. give. a. shit. This man just wants control and that's it. He thinks he's helping the masses and he might be but he's doing it for his own selfish reasons. And it was such a shame you had decided to break into his country home. Out of all of the houses you could have chosen you choose his. He's convinced fate had led you to him. (That's the story he's telling the boys) And who is he to deny fate (only when it suits him). He'll just have to teach you a lesson or two in discipline though. You can't be biting him like that. In his mind there was no point killing such a pretty face. He could reform you into the perfect partner. Don't worry pet, you're lucky he found you when he did. He'll fix you and then you'll live happily ever after with him. (Turns out you were a spy but you kept that to yourself) (He already knew though)

Gaz: Not many people know this but Gaz wasn't always this drop dead gorgeous. The poor boy was relentlessly bullied growing up for being a little chubby and maybe not the best looking person. It's not a surprise that he held on to that resentmen even now when people were practically throwing themselves at him. His victims consist of bullies, tormentors and trolls. People who like to bring other people down. Again this is done for selfish reasons as much as Gaz claims he's doing everyone else a favour. It's an outlet to quell his resentment. Gaz found his partner while paying an online shooting game. It was a high stake tournament where you could win some money. To Gaz it wasn't much since he already made good money at his job but maybe to you it was very important. You were relentlessly trying to get under his skin. You kept trolling him in an effort to distract him, not that it worked. The final straw was when you goaded him into trying to find you. "You can't do shit you ugly fuck, come find me if your all that. Oh! but you can't! Because you a fucking moron and a virgin that can't get laid!" Gaz chuckled at the childish insults. Seems like you needed an attitude adjustment. Finding you was easy, convincing you to go on a date was even easier. It seemed you didn't recognize him. All the better for Gaz then. A chase around an abandoned building should set you straight. It would be shame to kill someone so adorable. So he was just going to scare some manners into you.

Ghost: Simon has had a rough life. Growing up in the household he did wasn't easy. No surprise that it led to some psychological side effects. He has so much built up rage and anger sometimes he didn't know what to do with it. It manifests in uglier ways if he doesn't deal with it. His scars being a testament to that. His victims consist of violent alcoholics and violent drug addicts or any violent person in general. Other times it's just loud mouthy douchebags at pubs that harass young woman. He isn't doing this for some nobel reason. He just need to get the rage out before he hurts himself. And the scum of society are usually targets people wouldn't miss. Doing it this way made his life easier. Ghost met his partner in an alleyway as he was finishing up his kill for the night. You had drunkenly stumbled onto the wrong street when you had spoted him. You looked absolutely terrified and ready to run but Simon couldn't let that happen. He wasn't going to jeopardize everything he built because a bird caught him doing something unsavory. You made his job easier by fainting when he came near you. Hauling you in his truck was even easier. He wasn't expecting to find his life partner while out on one of his kills. But it seemed like god was looking out for him. It took a while to make you behave but he got you there in the end. And now you welcome him home with loving arms creating the family he should have had all along.

Soap: Growing up Soap was considered the class clown just because he was a little peculiar. Yes he was extroverted and loud but that didn't mean he was stupid. Though the stigma never really left him. Not in school, not in the military despite excelling physically and academically. He wasn't a demolition expert for nothing. He knew what he was doing but people stilled viewed him like something less than and it made his blood boil. Soaps victims consist of snobs and pretentious idiots, especially ones that pretend to know what they're doing. He goes after people who specifically try to use big words to make others feel dumb. Or people who ridicule and judge others for not knowing niche topics. A good place to find these kinds of people are in prestigious universities where mommy and daddy's money bought their entitled children a space to study. That's how Soap found his partner. It was at a university where people complained about your snobby attitude. It was a running joke that majority of people in uni knew. Turns out you were just introverted and too shy to talk normally so you'd just go on tangents about your niche topics to dispel the awkwardness. People took that as you trying to make them feel dumb. Don't worry though Dove. You'll never have to deal with people like that again. You can just live in the forest with him and he'll listen to all your little tangents while fucking you senseless. You don't need people in your life that don't appreciate your intelligence especially since you have him now.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Slasher!Soap Masterlist

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2024. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or to use with AI technologies.

[zepskies]

A Crime of Passion

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: When Beau Arlen decides to “make it up to you,” he’s damn thorough.

AN: I couldn't help myself lol. I wrote this last night. Here's a quick little drabble for the Take Me Home series, set directly after A Good Man Is Hard to Find!

Based on this request from @jessicalynnann.

Word Count: 550

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Implied smut, fluff, and a murder (of sorts).

Catch up on the TMH-verse: ⤵️

❤️ Take Me Home Masterlist

You just…you couldn’t stop laughing.

“All right, you done?” Beau asked.

You never thought you’d see this man blush so thoroughly. It made you laugh harder, though you tried to stifle it with your hands covering your face.

He had you laid out beside him, still skin against naked skin as the cool air began to dry your dewy bodies.

You were lying against him in an odd position, considering your bed now had a deep crack in the bedframe that ran all the way down the middle. It meant your legs were bent at an angle, almost like you were laying in a recliner seat.

You just couldn’t believe it.

This man had really broken your bed.

In fact, he murdered it. Killed it dead. Though you supposed it was a crime of passion, in this case. (You held in a snort at the thought.)

There were even a couple of screws that had rolled across the tile floor.

“Again, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I promise I’ll pay for a new frame,” Beau said contritely.

The truth was, he was embarrassed beyond belief.

Another giggle escaped you, though you tried to soothe him by caressing his cheek.

“Baby, it’s okay. This thing was old. I’m surprised it survived the move all the way from Chicago, honestly,” you said. The twinkle of mischief in your eyes made his face warm further.

“But how damn lucky am I,” you added, your lips curving. “My man quite literally shatters expectations when he makes love to me.”

And despite the unexpected cracking sound that had left you wide-eyed, it had been a spectacular finish. Even now, you were still tingling between your legs from how hard you’d come on his cock. (Twice.)

You slipped your bare leg between both of his and pressed a sweet kiss to his chest.

Beau fought it, but he had to smile at your words, and your affection. He sunk a hand into your tangled hair, first brushing his thumb against your cheek.

“You sure you’re okay then?” he asked.

“I’m more than okay,” you said. He felt the shape of your smile against his skin. You pulled back to meet his eyes. “Better the bed than my back, anyway. Jesus.”

Beau let out a sigh. Another giggle bubbled over and escaped you. You rubbed his arm.

“Think of it this way,” you said. “Now we can go pick out a new bed together.”

Beau tilted his head at that, and he nodded. A smile grew across his face.

“Now there’s an idea,” he said. It was probably too soon for him to broach the topic of moving in with you, but this could be a good first step.

“Right?” you replied in excitement. But there was something else dancing in your eyes. “We’ll just have to make sure the frame’s reinforced with titanium or something, because goddamn.”

Beau couldn’t help but laugh. He dropped his forehead against your shoulder while his own shook. You held him to you and didn’t bother to try and hide your own amusement anymore.

One thing you knew for sure?

There was no way in hell you’d ever let him live this down.

And one thing he would never tell you…

Beau Arlen was damn proud of himself.

AN: 😂 Well then. That was fun, and I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Keep Reading:

Here’s a one-shot set a couple of months after this one. It’s called S.I.N.G.:

Summary: Beau wishes you’d take this self-defense lesson a little more seriously.

▶️ Next Story: S.I.N.G.

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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[ohcaptains]

abby love spell

pairing. abby anderson x f!reader

synopsis. abby’s been handsy all damn day. can’t even take her hands off of you on patrol, where she should be focusing on something far more important...like staying alive. naively, you think watching a movie will distract her. it’s no use, really.

an. anyway slay. this is based off of this request that someone sent years, nay, millennia ago. what can i say, i was busy procrastinating writing and focusing on playing the game. again. pls enjoy, comment and reblog, etc. it makes the gay thoughts stronger<3 (not showing in tags so reblogs appreciated)

warnings. 18+. please do not read or interact with my blog if you’re a minor. do not copy my shit, i’ll find out. hand on throat (no choking), house wife kink, f!receiving penetration, strap on sex, lots of description of spit because i’m insane. references to oral, but no description. soz. maybe next time champ. 

Something was up with Abby. 

She’d always been an affectionate girlfriend, but today, she was stuck to you like glue. The pair of you, alongside Manny and Nora, had left for patrol in the morning. You had been busy making sure the truck was stocked, while Abby was busy trying to find a way to keep her hands on you at all times. 

You were bent over the crates, checking and re-checking the contents, when her hands had slid onto your hips, thumbs looping into the belt buckles. 

You went to flinch, hand coming out to grab hers, but you felt the familiar scabs on her knuckles. The familiar bumps of her veins – the map you knew off by heart.

“Hi Abby,” you sang, patting the back of her hand. Her chest pushed against your back, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Whatcha doing?” she asked, fully aware of what you were doing. 

You answered her though – anything to keep her locked against you like this. There were a couple of layers of fabric between you, but you could still feel the heat radiating off of her.

“Packing the guns.”

Abby hummed, then grabbed at your hip, using it to twist you to face her. You grunted an oft! grabbing the lapels of her jacket to stabilise yourself.

“Shit – Abby,” you scorned, but she ignored you. Instead, she flexed her arms, and you couldn’t see the lines of muscles due to her jacket, but the bulge of her biceps was there all the same.

“Already got 'em, look,” she grinned, wiggling her brows, and you patted her chest, an amused frown on your face.

“What is with you?” you asked, smoothing out her jacket. “Ben put a little something extra in your porridge this morning?”

“I’m just my regular, goofy ol’ self – what do you mean?”

Her blue gaze flicked to your top, visible from underneath your open jacket.

“That’s my top,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Oh yeah – sorry,” you quickly spoke, glancing down at it, and thus not noticing the tick in Abby’s jaw. She always loved you in her clothes. Loved the way they draped over you – especially the jagged arm holes she cut into them. 

The fabric would always hang loose at your sides, and she’d spend all day glimpsing at the drag of it over your chest. “Lights went out in the East block when you were at the gym. Had to get dressed in the dark—” you’re cut off, the surprise of Abby’s head dropping against your chest rendering your vocabulary to just one word, "Abby!”

“Mm,” she hummed, pushing her forehead between your breasts, “smells like me.” “Abby—” you said again, a giggle cracking at your lips. Your hands fumbled for her shoulders, shoving her away, or at least trying to – Abby was dead weight. You admired her strength. Loved it, but it was times like this when it was a hindrance to your mental stability. Finally, she stretched back to her height, shit eating grin on her face. 

You were too busy transfixed on her features, that you didn’t notice her hands coming out to the bottom of your coat. Suddenly, she pulled the zip up to the top, and she knocked your chin up with her knuckle, leaning down to give you a deep kiss.

You went somewhere else for a second, the drag of her tongue knocking reality out of the way. Melted, succumb to her sudden overwhelming taste -- but she pulled away too soon.

“Cold out,” she grinned, hands rubbing at the length of your now-covered chest, and you were too dazed to respond.

It was like that all. Damn. Day.

She never once stopped playing around with you. 

She’d boost you up walls, hands sliding under your thighs in an attempt to push you up. Hand at the bottom of your back to signal you to walk faster, hands on your hips to pull you out of the way. 

Pulling you around like a damn rag doll. 

Nice shot, she’d say, when it was actually pretty average. 

Good girl, she casually praised, after you’d jumped and grabbed her arm, letting her pull you up onto a roof. That one had got you -- had to take a second to gather yourself as she spoke to Manny about which direction you were going.

Got to an abandoned warehouse and she pulled you to the side, sparing a few minutes to kiss you against a stack of boxes.

What’re you doing? You’d asked, and all she said was, kissing my girlfriend.

Now, you’re trying to watch a movie together. 

Or at least, you’re trying to watch a movie – she’s too busy touching you to focus on the plot. 

You’re comfy on your shared bed, resting on her broad chest as you sit between her muscular thighs, and she’s keeping you there by the arm she’s got slung around your front – bicep on your shoulder – as she lazily kisses at your neck.

It’s distracting, to say the least.

“’um trying to watch,” you whisper, eyes fluttering closed for a brief second. The movie buzzes at you – an 80’s flick, all electronic beams, and bright colours. It’s about robots, and when Mel had brandished the disk in front of you last month, you’d been eager to have a watch. 

Now, the direction Abby’s mouth is taking is far more interesting. 

She scatters lazy, wet smooches over your neck, pausing before she places another as if she’s painting a picture. The drag of it makes you lethargic — makes you comfy and loose in Abby’s grip.

You want nothing more than to give into her touch. You’ve spent the whole day trying to shove down the overwhelming feeling of desire that she’d been pulling out of you. But you’ve been meaning to watch this movie for months.

No, you tell yourself. Focus. You breathe in, and shake your head, snapping back to the screen.

Abby hums. She’s so warm and soft -- her muscular chest surprisingly comfortable – that it’s lulling you into a sense of submission. You rest back against her, enveloped in her arms. Enveloped in the soft brush of her lips against your throat.

Focus, you repeat to yourself.

Got to give this movie back to Mel tomorrow, she’s been asking for it for weeks. “You can watch,” Abby whispers, brushing her mouth over your ear. The wetness of her lips forces a shiver down your spine. You try and run from it, shuffling in her grip, but Abby keeps you steady – lazily locked against you with her arm slung over your shoulder. “Just let me kiss you,” she breathes, placing a soft, delicate one on your ear lobe. Your eyes flutter again. She smells fresh from the shower. Smells clean, like her soap – pine and mint. Her hair is down too – you love it when her hair is down – and it hangs long, smelling like…strawberries? Your shampoo. Fuck fuck fuck. You shake your head, “can’t focus on the movie when you’re kissing me like that.” Abby smiles against your neck, and you feel it – feel it curve against your skin. “Sounds like a you problem.” “You’re an asshole,” you whisper, and she laughs.

“Just be quiet and watch the movie,” she orders, wide palm rubbing your bare thigh. “Quit whining.”

You grumble, mumbling something under your breath, but you do go quiet, and thankfully, she does slow her kissing. Resorts to nuzzling your neck instead, while her left hand continues to rub at your thigh. 

It is nice, and you manage a couple of minutes of this, relaxing and watching the movie before you feel her hand sliding upwards.

You inhale sharply. Breathe in her scent. Wait for her to slow down. Wait for her to stop. Yet she never does. 

Her long, thick fingers leisurely flutter over your bare skin as her hand inches to where you suddenly want it – God, do you – tantalisingly close to the boxers you’re wearing. Hers. 

Your whole outfit is hers and you swear she’s going to touch you, or at least brush her fingers against you, but she pulls back. Slides her hand away, wide palm retreating to your knee.

Disappointment twangs.

You try not to think about it, but the buzz she’d sparked settles low in your belly.

The film continues with its garish colours and cheesy dialogue. Buzzes and crackles, its movie star taking up the screen for an up-close shot. You swallow down the fluttering of your heart.

She’s still kissing you.

Her lips are wet, exploring. Nose cold as it nuzzles against your ear lobe, breath warm as she breathes, and her tongue darts out, skimming over your throat before she kisses the spit away. You hum, hips pushing again, and Abby palms at your inner thigh.  

“Shhh, baby. Can’t hear the movie with all your whimpering.” The breath of her whisper flutters over your neck, forcing goosebumps to rise to the surface. You roll your eyes back and try and convince yourself that it’s from annoyance rather than pleasure.

Her hand starts again, faster now, smoothing over your skin, not giving you enough time as she just brushes the tips of her fingers over your underwear, and your hand jolts out.

“Abby,” you warn, grabbing it. You intertwine your fingers with hers, stopping it in its tracks — clutching it on your lap, and Abby hums a laugh into your neck.

“Not gonna let me touch you there?” she teases, using the hand you’re holding to rub at your groin. 

You’re betrayed by your own knuckles, the touch forcing your thighs to clench together, and hips to jolt up at the sensation. You hate it. Love it, really. She’s winding you up like a toy. “Abby,” you whisper, conflicted. The tv hisses its dialogue, music singing – a car crashes into a wall, and the antagonist cackles in delight. Who’s the villain again? Abby hums a pleased, “Hm?” into your ear. You don’t know. Just have to spit her name out. Get it out of you, before it’s back, brimming at your lips like an omission of truth. 

She pushes her hand into yours, forcing your knuckles to rut against your crotch again, and fuck, your legs widen an inch, welcoming the feeling and silently begging for more. 

She’s smiling, sickly sweet – you know it. Know her. Know she’s grinning from the gradual win.

You keep a hold of her hand as she rubs it into you, coaxing something warm and tingly to build between your thighs. Your face goes hot. 

You suddenly can’t remember the plot of this movie. Try to come up with something convincing to Mel for when she asks for your review, but your temporal lobe has stopped working. 

All you can think about is the sensation between your thighs, the comforting tickle on your chest from Abby’s hair, and the smell of her – familiar, all-consuming. She runs the tips of her teeth over the flesh of your throat, and “Abs,” you gasp, free hand grabbing onto her forearm. 

Her tongue comes out, soothing the scratch from her teeth and you shift, shocked, hips bucking back against her, legs falling open, and she takes advantage – drops your hand and flattens her palm between your thighs, cupping your clothed pussy.

“Shit,” you gasp, clutching her strong forearm with both hands in surprise.

You can’t believe you’ve let her win.

She’s not even moving, just holding you, but the pressure is enough to force your thighs together, pussy clenching around nothing.

“Um’ gonna break up with you,” you quickly rush, eyes clenching closed. Abby cackles. Says, “Yeah?” “Mm,” you hum, nodding, fidgeting, trying to get her to fucking move. “Okay –“she breathes, stuffing her fingers low, thick of them pressing against you. Your mind goes fizzy. She talks. “--After I make you come though, right?” Your face clenches together, your mouth falling open. “You’re the worst,” you brandish, lying through your teeth. Meaning it wholeheartedly. 

She hushes you, “Shhh, I know,” and watches your facial expressions change – watches you try to self-soothe.

“The worst,” you repeat, voice cracking. Somehow, Abby’s lips get closer to your ear.

“I know baby, but I’ll make it good, promise.”

Her admission forces your eyes open, and you look down at where she’s got you – thick fingers barely pushing against your clothed slit, and God, you have to – have to grind your cunt against her. One slight roll of your hips, up and up, then down, and you huff, curse under your breath because Jesus Christ.

“Or you’ll do it for me.” “Shut up.” “No – do it again.”

You do. With your hands holding the forearm she’s got buckled against your collarbones, you hitch your hips up, and she keeps her hand tense, making it good for you. Makes sure the ball of her palm pushes into your clit, and you sigh. A tremor shoots through your belly.

“Keep doing that,” she mutters, mouth close enough that her words echo through your brain. “I wanna see.” She grabs a fistful of your shirt and drags it up. The cool air hits the soft skin of your belly, but Abby warms you as her arm flattens against it, hefty and comforting. 

You watch her strong arm transfixed. Watch the muscles tick as her hand flexes, the scars on her skin white and shiny in the dull buzz of the TV screen. 

Her fingers rub at your pussy, and your hips move, back arches, grinding against her palm, your breathing hitching and catching. 

She’s barely touching your clit, just brushing it, and the sensation slowly builds, pushing, making you reach down and fumble for her hand, pushing it deeper into you.

“Abs,” you choke, and she groans. Nods against your neck and admits, “wanted to fuck you all day.”

Heat rushes over you, forces you to clench together and pathetically whimper. “Been obsessed with me all day,” you breathe. 

In your cloudy vision, you catch sight of the TV screen, the movie playing out to two people who couldn’t care less. Yet you try and focus, but it’s hard to multitask with her hand between your thighs.

The antagonist is being arrested, and you have no fucking clue as to why. Probably something to do with the car explosion – or was it a truck? Abby carries on kissing you, sucking at the soft skin, bruising you with her sweet lips and tongue, “m’ always obsessed with you,” she purrs, the hand she’s got strapped across your collarbones soothing the skin of your shoulder. “Mm, yeah – but something --” she rubs the ball of her palm over your clit, pushes it, this time, and your sentence catches. “Shit —” you hiss, eyes rolling back. A shiver runs down your spine as your brain short circuits. Desperately, you try to keep a hold of reality, try not to fall into the dizziness of it all.

Sometimes that happened with Abby. You didn’t mind, but you wanted to hold on to your consciousness for a little while longer. You huff, shake your head – try to remember your next sentence. “Something different about today.”

“Had a dream that I fucked you last night.”

Oh, you think, that’ll do it. You can’t help but grin -- delighted that you’ve managed to weave your way into her subconscious.

“Things were different, normal,” she explains, still taunting you with her hand. She’s pushing up, grinding up and down your clothed slit with an intrinsic kind of determination, using just enough pressure to make you delirious. 

As she pushes her fingers low, your clit throbs. Your pussy clenches, tight and sore. You were never good at this bit. Never good at waiting. You clutch her hand, tense and fidgety, gut tightening as her fingers slowly push you to some metaphorical edge.

“Don’t laugh,” she adds, and you do, but not at her, more so at the situation. Your big, controlling Abby, asking you not to laugh at her. “M’ not gonna laugh at you Abs,” you pant, grinding slowly, breathing deep, trying to calm yourself down for this admission she’s so ashamed of. 

She leans in close, mouth against your ear as if the TV can hear. All it does is add to the pressure, her voice so close, it’s like it’s in your own head.

“I dreamt that you were my housewife,” she whispers, and fuck, that’s not what you expected. That’s not what you expected at all. “That I came home,” she continues, sliding her fingers up and down, up, and down, and you’re wet against her. Soaked through the cotton, her fingers damp with your slick. Jesus Christ, she’s only been playing. 

Hadn’t felt like she’d been trying all that hard, really, and here you are, making her hand all wet. You both watch her play with you – draw it out, fingers dragging, your hips trying to match her rhythm. “’n’ you were making me dinner, dressed up all pretty – heals on, nothing underneath.” “Y-Yeah?” you breathe, quick and short, the only sound you can make besides the quiet moans you’re mumbling. “And you waltzed up to me, said, honey, you’re home. N’ undid my tie.”

You’re wet enough that she can see the outline of your pussy through her boxers. Gently, she relaxes her palm and slides her middle finger through your slit, your legs widening, watching her, knowing what she’s doing before she does it.

“That’s it,” she mutters, finger pushing against your clit. “So fucking wet, s’so fucking hot,” she breathes into your ear, teeth on your earlobe and fuck, you nearly come. 

Nearly burst, white-hot heat jolting through you, eyes clenching together, pussy clenching – want her inside of you, feels like you’ve never wanted her more than you do now.

She carries on, languidly rolling your clit around, tenderly pushing at the nerve.

“Then you dropped to your knees,” she coos into your ear, and fuck, in your haze you didn’t see her move. Didn’t feel her slide her hand over your throat, holding you still. You swallow against her palm.

“and unlaced my boots. Took them off for me, so good. So helpful.”

She keeps the pace steady. Hits the nerve at such an angle that you can’t run from pressure. Your pussy gushes, and words fail you.  

Abby kisses your cheek, “You okay baby? Gone quiet on me.”

“I think um gonna come,” you quickly admit, voice cracking. You’re clenched so tight that it hurts. Just begging for something, anything, to fill the need she’s building. Your thighs twitch and you feel her smile on your cheek, curved cheekily. She ignores you. Carries on.

“Dinner on the table for me, my favourite. Dessert in the fridge, beer on ice. Your pretty little face so excited that I was back.”

Your small voice shatters through her spiel -- “Did you fuck me against the table?” you whimper, imagining it. “With my dress and heels still on?”

Abby groans. Her fingers break their rhythm for a second, go sloppy – get distracted. You think about her bending you over the kitchen table, your hair in her fist and her strap in her hand. 

She gets her rhythm back and picks up speed. Rubs your clit in tight, controlled circles, and you feel yourself get closer. There’s a familiar ache at the bottom of your belly.

“Yeah baby, I did,” she breathes. “Treated you like a lady. Made you come on my cock so quick that my dinner was still warm.”

“Abby,” you burst, cutting her off. Fuck, you hear it – hear how desperate you are. “You don’t wanna watch your movie?” she teases, using the hand on your throat to push your chin to her. She looks at you pitifully, blue eyes blown wide. “No,” you whine, teeth chewing at your bottom lip, making it swollen. You manage to shake your head, and she pulls your lip from your teeth, using her thumb to slide your spit over your chin. “Don’t wanna see how it ends?” she further taunts. “N-No,” you sob, nearly crying. Actually, no, you are crying. Yeah, your cheeks are definitely damp with something. 

You sniff, and Abby goes soft. For a fleeting second, she switches -- kisses away your tears, and says, “shh, okay. I know sweetheart, I know.”

She pushes her forehead against yours, and you’re lulled into a false sense of security before she pulls her fingers away. 

You shatter, gasp “No!”, and Abby kisses you, shuts you up, hands tugging your boxers down, quickly pulling them over your knees and discarding them onto the floor somewhere.

She tugs your thighs open, too, fully exposing you, and the cool air hits your damp pussy just as she stuffs her fingers back, sliding her thick middle finger through your slick before pushing it into your swollen, aching hole.

The world tips on its axis. For a brief, cataclysmic moment, you go somewhere else. Mouth open, eyes clenched close. The obscene pressure is overwhelming, and you clench around her finger, so tight that she groans into your mouth.

“Jesus,” she curses, “ease up baby, lemme make you feel good.”

It takes all of your willpower to loosen up, to relax. When you do, she slides out, then in, gently, slowly fingering you, warming you up, before she adds another finger, wet enough for the stretch, and you go blank.

You don’t say anything – can’t, no words, only sounds, loud and against her mouth. Cursing her out, moaning her name – garbled and sloppy, hands clutching her forearm, nails digging into her skin -- all sensation. 

You can hear how wet you are, hear your pussy squelching around her fingers.

“'m gonna come,” you gasp, and Abby nods, kisses you, tastes your spit and coaches you through it, “That’s it, baby, just let it all out.”

Seconds later, it rushes over you.

Sucks you under and spits you out, your hips bucking against Abby’s quick-moving fingers as you come, wet and hot, spilling over and soaking the sheets. “m’ my god, my god,” you whine, the white-hot feeling never-ending. 

Legs shaking, and Abby watches, praises you, says, “oh fuck, look at that,” and you can’t, it’d be too much. Instead, you whine against her cheek, back arching, body shuddering, her name spilling from your lips like spit.

“Abby,” you babble, “Abby, feels so fuckin’ good, you make it so good,” you drool, words sloppy, pussy clenching tight. 

The sensation continues. You breathe her name again, Abby Abby Abby – a prayer on your swollen lips. Please, you whisper — please what?

Abby won’t let you come down. Your sensitivity spirals, but Abby doesn’t stop. Drags her thick fingers through your clenched walls, and you gasp, hands grasping out to grab hers. 

You clutch her wet hand in your limp grip, whimpering, please, against her mouth.

“Okay,” she breathes, barely there. “Okay, I’ll stop.”

She pulls her fingers out of you slowly, kissing your forehead as you make a soft humming sound. You’re still so sensitive. 

The heat has cooled, but the feeling still lingers, and Abby kisses your forehead again, quieting the dull ache that’s washing over you. Gently, she pulls her hand away from yours, bringing her slick fingers up to her lips. 

You watch through half-lidded lids as she runs her mouth over them, humming in contentment. Pink tongue darting over the digits – you flush, your own tongue licking at your bottom lip as you study her.

You curl your legs together, thighs wet, feeling the pressure that’s still there. Abby sees you wince. She studies your features -- notes that your eyes haven’t lost their glaze, and now they’re edged with something wild, as if you’ve gotten a taste, but not enough to scratch the itch. 

There’s a familiar softness to you, too. Almost lethargic, as you run your nail over her forearm, eyes flicking over her strong jaw and flushed cheeks.

“You were messing with me all day.”

It’s a whisper, words tentative. Abby licks her lips, noting how your glassy eyes follow the movement. “Messing?” she repeats, inching forward, and pressing her forehead against yours. You close your eyes, a small, contented smile on your lips, then lick them, teeth coming out to chew. “Hm.” “You like when I mess with you?” she teases, and you hum again. The smile you’re donning builds, bubbling into a nod. 

She can’t help but reach out, and gently run her thumb over the pillow of your bottom lip, tugging it free from your teeth. You sigh, body leaning into her touch. “You’re very distracting…” She slides her wide palm over your cheek, dragging it to the back of your neck, then holds you there, inching her head to the left and brushing her mouth over yours – a small hint of you on her lips. “…S ’almost dangerous.” “’ m sorry,” you quickly breathe, come drunk. Drunk on Abby fucking Anderson. In your hazy and small headspace, you suddenly feel bad. She must know because she shakes her head, “don’t be.”

Her breath flutters over your lips, hand flexes at the back of your neck. That pressure that she’d subsided, is back. Feels suddenly critical.

“s’my fault for thinking I have any self-control.”

You want to kiss her. The desire sweeps over you, crashing like a wave. You go to move, but she whispers, “wanted to fuck you in that abandoned warehouse,” and all you can do is ask, “Why didn’t you?” A laugh rattles through her.

“nearly did.”

You think about the blood on her hands, think about the smear of it as she pulled your hips against hers, mouth hot and desperate. She’d sucked a quick bruise under your earlobe, and you’d melted. 

Electric had shot through your belly, warming between your thighs. 

Abby, you’d moaned, and she’d just about growled. Teeth had nipped at your tender skin, just this side of mean, and your brain had short-circuited.

You forgot about the impending danger around the corner — all you could think about was Abby, with her wandering hands and soft lips. The way she licked away the scratch and kissed you again, said, we gotta get this thing over with so I can take you to bed.

“Would have, too, if I wasn’t so damn responsible.”

She tuts at herself, annoyed at her regiment. She licks the spit off of her lip and you pout, I wanted to do that, you think.

“I like the responsible Abby,” you manage to mutter, bumping your mouth against hers, “She keeps me safe.”

Abby hums. Her eyes close as if she’s bathing in your omission. Abby does keep you safe. She’s strong, capable — a brilliant teammate and when she needs to be, a leader. She quiets the anxious thumping of your heart, and when she’s got you like this — floaty and soft — quiets it completely.

“Please kiss me,” you suddenly breathe, overwhelmed with the desire to have your mouth on her. “I’ve been waiting patiently.”

At the back of your neck, you feel her hand flex. She brushes her mouth against yours again, gently teasing, “You have, haven’t you?” her brows raise – followed by a sickly sweet smirk.

There’s something about this space you’re in that makes even the smallest of mockeries big and meaningful.

“I have,” you just about plead, and Abby’s smirk twists, a flash of longing bleating over her features, before she catches your lips, kissing you deep and long -- your resulting moan cracking through the bedroom. 

Her tongue comes in, wet and warm, forcing you closer — forcing you to just about clamber into her lap, damp inner thighs sliding against her sweatpants.

Abby pulls away, eyes dark and cloudy as she whispers, “Want me to get the strap?” and the only answer you find is, yes.

 You watch as Abby drags the leather straps up her thighs, then crawls onto the bed, buckling up one side as she moves. Immediately, with an instinct she’s drilled into you, you get onto your knees to do the other, hands fumbling around the leather. 

You’ve done this countless times before. Know what notch she likes it on. Knows she likes it tight, likes when the leather stretches over her thighs, marring them red. She lubes it up as you buckle her up tightly.

“So helpful – such a good girl, you know that, huh?”

She moves to kiss you, and you giggle into her mouth, catching the back of her head as she pushes you into the bed. Her strap brushes over you, and you sigh, humming at the sudden wet sensation. 

She tastes like you. Tastes like musk and mint and Abby. You tongue your way into her mouth, suddenly wanting more. Wanting her, carnally. Spent all day with her -- you spend most days with her, but it’ll never be enough.

You break away from her, slowly blinking, watching a trail of spit connect the two of you. She’s propped up on one elbow, watching you. 

Her eyes are navy blue under the shadow of the light, the freckles on her nose hidden, but you know they’re there. Know how they sprinkle out evenly as if they were painted there before she was handed off to her mother.

“I like being helpful,” you admit. Something flashes in her eyes. Her features shift, once playful, now soft, and her hand comes out, brushing your hair away from your forehead. 

Instinctively, you move into her palm. It’s warm – calloused, familiar. You move to nuzzle your nose into it.

“I like that you let me come along on patrols,” you whisper.

You don’t see it, but Abby’s face twitches, “I don’t let you do anything – I want you there.”

There’s a beat before you respond, too busy running your nose over her palm. When you turn to her, you flash her a cheeky smile, “So you can mess around with me.”

Abby sniffs a laugh, but she shakes her head, “So you can save my ass when I eventually fuck up.”

“s ’never happened. I don’t remember.”

“Selective memory.”

Her fingers move, forefinger resting under your chin and thumb coming up to slip over your bottom lip. Abby swears she sees your eyes glaze over again. She loves this. Loves when you get like this. It lets her know that you trust her, trust her to do what’s best.

“You with me?” she just about purrs. You hum. She watches as your body goes limp like she’s pressed a hidden button. You shift, your legs open wide, and your breasts bounce with the movement. If you were watching, you’d see eyes shift over your body – hungry and desperate.

You breathe in a sigh, and it rattles in your chest. “Yeah—” you whisper, “---think so. You make me feel so dizzy, Abby.”

Your eyes flutter closed, tongue coming out to catch her thumb. Your teeth go over it, and the hood of her nail drags over your gums, your bottom teeth pushing at the soft flesh. The sensation goes directly between Abby’s thighs. Still, she shows her usual concern. She cocks her head to the side.

“You’ll let me know if it’s too much, yeah?” “Yeah Abby,” you whisper around her finger, “s’never too much though. You know me.” “Promise?” she asks, ignoring you. “Promise,” you repeat, then, “I can still taste myself on you.”

Your tongue closes around her finger, wetting it – warm and soft. Abby briefly thinks: this is what she feels like inside. She goes red at the thought. An ache builds – she suddenly wants to be nestled deep, watching you come undone again.

You suck her finger further, eyes still closed, lost in the motion. The intoxication makes you grab a hold of her wrist, keeping her steady as spit pools under your lips, dripping towards your chin.

“Is this what I did in your dream?” you suddenly ask, blinking up at her. You catch her dark eyes, and she notes the spit that’s drooling over your tits.

“When I was on my hands and knees for you?”

All of the willpower Abby had left snaps in two. She suddenly shifts, moving you by shoving her big, strong hands under your thighs and spreading you open.

“Lemme fuck you,” she babbles, hitching your hips up. You watch her try to gather her nerve, but she talks and talks as she shuffles you around  – “I gotta fuck you baby. Gotta – gotta make it good, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, nodding, seeing her lose her cool. “I gotta.” “Okay,” you whisper again. You reach over with your hand, smoothing it over her cheek, begging her to look at you, but she just takes the hand and tries to get you situated. Moves the pillow, and makes sure your hips are pushed wide enough. “Yeah – I just, fuck. Yeah, fuck. Lemme – please?” she suddenly stops, like she’s caught herself before she falls off the ledge completely. The soft skin of your thumb smoothes over her cheek, and you nod, flexing your hips up, “fuck me, Abby.”

The roles shift and ripple. When Abby gets so turned on, she gets desperate — pleads and begs instead of tells.

But when she’s got the strap stuffed against your wet hole, the roles snap back.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, suddenly overwhelmed. You’re still a little sensitive, and now lightheaded and dizzy with delirium, all you can do is pout against her pretty mouth, eyes glazed and wide. “Shhh, baby. Shh shh shh,” she punctuates. She looks down at where you connect, and slides the strap across your sopping folds, listening for your reaction. You huff, whispering her name – then jolt up when she brushes it against your clit, hands coming for the back of her head again.

“Abs,” you gasp, scuffed knees pressing on her hips.

“Um gonna make it good, okay?” she soothes, “don’t I always make it good for you?”

She does. Abby knows you like the back of her palm. Knows all your buttons, knows when to push them – how. Knows when it’s too much, or when it’s not enough. Her eyes flash open, blue and alive, and she kisses you as she stuffs the head against your hole, slowly sinking in, burying deep.

“Oh my fucking God,” you sob against her mouth, clenching, so fucking full that you have to arch your back. Your breath hitches, letting Abby know that you’re filled up tight.

“Abby,” you whine, hands reaching for your tits. You squeeze them, fidgeting, going a little frantic at the sensation. Abby watches – sees.

“Shhh, shhh, shh,” she hushes, brushing her lips against yours, kissing you sweetly. The tenderness makes you sob, the taste of her tongue intoxicating. It lulls you, quiets you, and she pulls away, ordering, “Hands in my hair, baby, know you like em’ there.”

You do as she says, sniffling, trying to calm yourself down. She’s dragged this out slowly, though. You hadn’t realised how much you wanted her until she stopped.

She reaches over you, grabs a pillow, ordering, “Hips up, high, sweetheart – that’s it,” before she stuffs it under you, the movement jostling her cock, but when you relax back, legs high on her back, Abby stuffs you again, the new position forcing the strap to hit something devastating.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck – “you curse, eyes flashing white. “‘um gonna come so fast, Abs.” “S’okay baby,” she soothes, slowly pulling out of you. She brushes her mouth against yours as she whispers, “I’ll just fuck you until you can’t anymore.”

God, it must take minutes.

Must be minutes – maybe even seconds – of her slowly fucking up into you, splitting you open on her cock, before you’re feeling the familiar swell flood your pussy. 

You’ve got your fingers laced in her long, blonde strands, and you’re pretty sure you’re scraping your nails against her scalp, but Abby’s too busy murmuring how pretty you are to notice.

In your almost drunken haze, you notice how pink her lips are – all swollen from her teeth and wet with spit – and you can’t keep your eyes off of them. They spill compliments all over you. 

Bathe you, before pressing them to your mouth, swallowing your desperate cries.

Abby’s got one hand at the nape of your neck, and the other is clutched around your left knee, keeping it locked up against her upper back. The position means you can’t run from her. 

She’s an all-consuming presence, and it’s almost too much. She moves her hand, but you don’t dare move your knee. It’s locked there, and the position she’s put you in makes you delirious. Then she doubles the pressure with her thick fingers against her clit.

“Jesus – fuck, Abby,” you curse, eyes rolling back, the world going dark. You’re so wet that she can’t catch a grip, and her fingers swirl sloppily over your clit as her face clenches together, as if she’s doing it to herself.

“So fuckin’ wet,” she grunts against your lips, her face a snarl. You don’t see it, but she shakes her head. Shakes her head and then speeds up, fueled by the desire to make you wetter. Make it worse better for you.

The change in speed forces your eyes open. You grab onto her shoulder, hiccuping a sob, wet, hot heat pulsating between your legs. 

Your eyes roll back again, mouth comes open, fingers clench tight and Abby sees it. Knows you’re about to come so hard that she’ll feel it. “Abby,” you gasp, and she nods. Presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips and soothes you with, “I know.” “S’gonna be – b-big, fuck. M’ clenching so fuckin’ tight.”

Abby feels your back arch into her, your tits pushing against her chest. She keeps at her steady rhythm – tilts your pelvis and bucks her hips with an unrelenting tempo, catching the sight of the strap, white from you.

Your orgasm blindsides you.

You’re silent as you come. Mouth open against hers, clenching so tense and tight around her cock that it almost hurts. Then, Abby sees you release, gushing over her cock as your hips stutter and legs shake, your orgasm washing over you, knocking you for a loop.

She groans at her sight, then hears you sob, strangled, followed by, oh my god Abby, oh my fuckin’ – then it’s all whimpers, your pussy still pulsating around her strap.

Abby slows her pace.

She ignores the pressure between her own thighs, and instead, kisses the drool off of your lips, shakingly saying, never seen you come so hard like that twice, s’gotta be a record, and you’re so fucked out that you don’t even laugh.

Your eyes are glazed over, sweat pooling at your hairline, and your mouth is still hanging open as if you’re trying to find something to say. Abby kisses it shut. Tries, again, to ignore the throbbing of her clit. Tries to ignore the desire to fuck you into the mattress and make herself come.

You’re still shaking for fucks sake, but Abby can’t stop. She’s already pushing it by slowing, humming against your mouth, the sounds almost a whimper. 

Her face is snarled together, jaw clenched, and she sees your brow furrow. Feels you clench your fists to her chest, wondering why she’s still fucking you. When she drops her head into your neck, you understand.

“I’m sorry—” she sobs, wide palms dragging under your shoulders and latching onto them. “I’m – fuck – feels so good.”

You snap out of your delirium. Or it twists at least. You spread your legs, ignoring the pressure behind your clit – the sensitivity that never had a chance to subside. Now, you’re here for Abby.

“S’okay baby,” you drawl, voice trembling, but fuck, your girlfriend is desperate. You hitch your hips up and press against her tight, so she has to grind against you to fuck you, and Abby loses it. 

The added pressure against her clit forces her to moan, the sound muffled by your throat.

“Use me, okay?” you whisper against the shell of her ear, hands in her hair, clutching her to you. “use me to come.”

“S-shit, okay,” she whimpers. “Okay okay okay—” lost to her pleasure, Abby sloppily rocks into you. She picks up the speed, sinking into your wet and swollen hole, splitting you open and moaning your name so loud that it rattles through you.

“I’m gonna come,” she whimpers, then, “holy fuck, um gonna come.”

Heat rushes over you, overwhelming. All consuming. You’re suddenly filled with the urge to kiss her. 

Taste her on your tongue, and just this side of mean, you use her hair to move her, dragging your mouth against hers, letting you see her red, sweaty face and fucked out eyes.

“That’s it, baby,” you whisper, nodding, meeting her thrusts as she fucks you. “You gonna come inside of me?” you whisper, pouting, “You gonna fill me up?”

Realistically, you know she can’t. So does she, but that doesn’t stop her from nodding, hips rocking against yours. Going, “Jesus – fuck. Fuckin’ dirty.”

She hides her red face in your shoulder again, as if she’s almost embarrassed by how desperate she is.

“My fuckin’ dirty girl,” and grunts, and she punctuates it with a snap of her hips, knocking the sensitivity up tenfold. 

It feels so good, and if she carries on this way, you’re likely to come again, but by the clutch of her fingers and drag of her breathing, you know she’s not going to last long enough. 

Know that it’s not about you, though. Know that she’ll likely catch her breath for a second and begin all over again. Abby was like that. One was never enough.

Her high-pitched, shaky breathing brings you back. It’s there – even if you can’t see her face, you know it.

“Gonna come for me Abby?” you whisper. Then, with your wet mouth against her ear, you whimper, please baby, please come for me.

She does. You feel her body clench against you, a strangled gasp muffled against your neck, and then she’s shaking, orgasm washing over her and taking her under. 

You soothe her through it. Rub her muscular back, drag your nails over her spine, and kiss the side of her head. When the aftershocks cool off, she laughs. The sound rumbles against your neck, shocked and alive.

“Holy shit,” she curses, giving your neck a sloppy kiss. Your skin is still electric, but it slowly sparks out, bottoming to a dull delicious numbness. A slow, lazy smile pulls at your lips. 

Your head is still a little fuzzy.

Abby hands slide out from under your shoulders, and she presses them besides you, pushing herself up, long blonde hair falling around your head like a curtain. Her cheeks are blushed red, eyes wiry and alive. 

You feel yourself staring at her. Abby stares back. She shifts idly, cocking her head to the side and leaning to kiss you. With her tongue in your mouth, she whispers, “’m gonna move.”  

Gently, she slips out of you, kissing away the scrunch of your brows and pout to your lips. She quickly unbuckles the strap, pushing it to the side before leaning down again, wide palms pushing your thighs apart to try and distill the pressure there.

“Okay?” she breathes, putting all of her weight onto her elbows.

“Mm,” you hum dreamily, leaning up to give her a messy kiss, “That was really hot.” Abby kisses back, humming in agreement, “Feel like I just found out the meaning of life.” “What?” you laugh, scrunching your face at her.

You raise your brows, laughing, “the meaning of life is coming while fucking me?” “Yep,” she grins, bumping her nose to yours. She turns to the TV, the credits rolling.

“Should we start the movie again?” she asks sincerely, but you shake your head, fingers tightening in her hair. 

Lazily, you slip your tongue into her mouth, wrapping your legs around her lower back and using your feet to push her ass into you. She groans, trying to catch up, but you pull away just when she matches your rhythm.

You lick your lips and lean back, your mouth curling into a delicious grin. Abby watches you reach out, your thumb running over her bottom lip, and she catches it in her mouth just as you say, “Still wanna taste you.”

more abby smut

[novaursa]

The Last Fire

- Summary: You survived the fall in the desert, and now it's up to you again to decide where your story leads or ends.

- Paring: sister!reader/Aegon I Targaryen

- Note: This part contains two new possible endings that were requested. Pick your poison. These events happen after The Last Flight, and these two short stories are part of The Broken Crown series. For all parts in one place, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @fiction-fanfic-reader @fireandblood-mharmie @poisonedsultana

Ending where Y/N survives the fall, but still dies.

The last thing you remember is the unbearable pain, the world spinning out of control as you and Tesaerix plummeted toward the unforgiving sands below. Her agonized roar still echoes in your mind, a terrible sound of agony and desperation. The impact had been a blur of fire, darkness, and then nothing at all.

When you wake, it is to the sensation of a dull, throbbing pain that pulses through every inch of your body. The air is thick with the scent of herbs and smoke, and your mouth is dry, lips cracked. Your eyes flutter open, struggling to adjust to the dim, unfamiliar light. Stone walls loom around you, cold and unwelcoming. A Dornish castle. Your heart sinks.

Your first instinct is to move, to fight, to escape, but your body betrays you. Sharp pain lances through your side as you shift, and a low, involuntary groan escapes your lips. Everything hurts. Every breath is a struggle, every thought fogged with the weight of what has happened. You reach for your belly, your hand trembling as it finds the emptiness where there should be life. The child is gone. A sob rips through your throat, raw and jagged. The loss is a hollow ache, a void that you cannot fill, no matter how hard you try to pull the shattered pieces of yourself together.

A guard standing at the door turns at the sound, his expression a mix of surprise and something darker—satisfaction, perhaps. His armor gleams in the dim light, the crest of House Martell emblazoned on his chest. He watches you struggle with an impassive gaze, offering no words of comfort or aid.

“How long?” you manage to rasp, your voice barely more than a whisper, rough from disuse.

“Eight days,” the guard replies, his voice flat. “You’ve been unconscious for eight days.”

Eight days. The weight of it settles over you like a shroud. Aegon must think you are dead. The thought of him mourning you, believing you lost, brings a fresh wave of pain. You try to imagine what he must be feeling—the grief, the rage. It’s almost too much to bear.

You attempt to sit up, but your body refuses to cooperate. Every movement sends sharp stabs of agony radiating through your limbs. The guard takes a step forward, a warning in his eyes.

“Stay down,” he commands, his tone brooking no argument. “You’re under orders not to leave this chamber.”

“Orders?” you ask, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. “From whom?”

“Princess Meria Martell,” he replies. “You are to be held here until he decides your fate.”

Your fate. The words chill you to the core. You are a prisoner, a trophy to the Dornish princess, held captive in the land that has stolen so much from you. Your dragon, your child. The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the hopelessness is overwhelming. You close your eyes, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill.

But you cannot afford to break. Not now. You have to survive. You have to find a way out, a way to let Aegon know that you are alive, that you are still fighting.

The days pass in a haze of pain and frustration. You are too weak to move, too broken to plan an escape. The guards change shifts, faceless men who bring you food and water, who watch you with the wary eyes of those who know they are in the presence of something dangerous, something they do not fully understand.

One evening, as the sun sets below the horizon, you hear it—a low, distant rumble. Your heart skips a beat. It is a sound you know well, a sound that has haunted your dreams since the day you fell. Dragonfire.

You push yourself up, the pain almost unbearable, but you force yourself to ignore it. You stumble to the small, barred window, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The sky is a dark canvas painted with flames, the unmistakable black silhouette of Balerion the Black Dread soaring above, his jaws spewing torrents of fire that rain down upon the castle below.

“Aegon,” you whisper, your voice breaking. He has come. He has come to avenge you, to burn this place to the ground in his wrath. But he does not know—you are still here. Panic surges through you, cold and sharp. You pound on the door, shouting with what little strength you have left.

“Help! Someone, please!” But no one comes. No one hears. The guards have fled, the castle descending into chaos as Balerion’s fury turns stone to ash and sand to glass.

The flames grow closer, the heat becoming unbearable. The walls of your chamber begin to crack, smoke seeping in through the seams. You cough, your lungs burning as you struggle to breathe, to think.

You have to escape. You have to find a way out. But there is no time. The fire is everywhere now, the heat scorching, the air thick with the acrid scent of burning flesh and wood. You stagger back, your legs giving out beneath you as the ceiling above begins to splinter, molten rock falling like rain.

In your mind, you see Aegon’s face—his eyes dark with grief, his jaw set in that way that you know means he is barely holding himself together. You want to reach out to him, to tell him that you are still here, still alive. But the words stick in your throat, lost in the choking smoke and searing pain.

The door to your chamber bursts open, flames licking at the edges, and you know this is the end. There is no escape, no hope. You close your eyes, a single tear slipping down your cheek as you surrender to the inevitable.

“I’m sorry, Aegon,” you whisper, the words barely audible over the roar of the fire. “I’m so sorry.”

The flames engulf you then, and the world fades to black.

The great hall of Aegonfort was cloaked in an uneasy silence. Servants moved quietly, casting nervous glances at the somber figure of the King. Aegon Targaryen sat on his throne, a shadow of the man he had been. His face was pale, eyes haunted, the lines of grief etched deeply into his features. Each breath felt like a burden, each moment a struggle to maintain the stoic facade he had been forced to wear since that day.

He had returned from Dorne victorious, or so it seemed to others. But victory felt like ash in his mouth. The fury that had driven him to lay waste to Sunspear had given way to a hollow emptiness. The cries of the dying, the smell of burning flesh—all of it haunted him, because none of it could bring you back.

It was then that a servant approached, holding out a small, sealed scroll with trembling hands. “A message from Princess Meria of Dorne, Your Grace.”

Aegon took the letter, his fingers almost numb as he broke the seal. His eyes scanned the parchment, and as he read, his blood turned to ice. The words blurred, but their meaning was unmistakable. You had been alive. Captured, held prisoner. And he had—without knowing—burned you alive in his wrath.

He staggered back, the letter slipping from his grasp and fluttering to the ground like a dying leaf. The world spun around him, his knees buckling as the weight of the revelation crashed over him. His vision dimmed, and he would have collapsed, had Visenya not been there, her strong arms wrapping around him, steadying him.

“Aegon!” Her voice was sharp, full of concern, cutting through the fog that clouded his mind. Rhaenys was there too, her face stricken, rushing to his side.

“Aegon, what’s happened?” Rhaenys asked, her voice trembling. She reached for him, her hands gentle but insistent, trying to draw his gaze to hers. “Please, tell us.”

He could barely speak. The words lodged in his throat, a jagged knot of guilt and horror. His body trembled uncontrollably, a tremor that started in his hands and spread through him like a plague. His eyes, wide and filled with unspeakable anguish, locked onto the faces of his sisters, searching for something he could not name.

“I—I killed her,” he choked out, his voice breaking on the last word. “I burned her alive.”

The silence that followed was absolute, the kind of silence that is born from disbelief, from horror too deep to comprehend. Visenya’s grip on him tightened, her face ashen, her eyes reflecting a grief that mirrored his own.

“No, Aegon,” Rhaenys whispered, shaking her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “That can’t be true. You wouldn’t—”

“She was there,” he whispered, his voice hollow. “In the castle. Alive. And I... I didn’t know.” His words faltered, breaking under the weight of his confession. “I thought she was gone, and I...” He buried his face in his hands, a raw, strangled sob tearing from his throat. “Gods, I killed her. I killed them both.”

Rhaenys’ hands flew to her mouth, a sob escaping her lips as she stumbled back, her legs giving way as she sank to the floor. Visenya’s face hardened, though her eyes shone with unshed tears. Her grip on him remained firm, as if trying to hold him together when everything else had shattered.

“Aegon,” she said, her voice breaking through the haze of his despair. “You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known.”

But her words felt meaningless, empty. There was no solace to be found in them, no absolution for what he had done. He had let his rage blind him, had let his need for vengeance consume him, and now the price was beyond bearing. The child—your child—gone forever, as he believes it was taken by his own hand. And you... you, whom he had loved more fiercely than life itself, gone because he had failed you in the worst way imaginable.

His body shook with the force of his grief, tears he could no longer hold back streaming down his face. “I killed her, Visenya,” he whispered, his voice a broken thing. “I killed her and our child. I... I’ve destroyed everything.”

Rhaenys reached for him then, her arms wrapping around him, pulling him close as though she could somehow hold the pieces of him together. “Aegon, no,” she wept, her voice a soft, desperate plea. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

But the truth of it was a knife twisting in his gut. He had believed you dead, and in his fury, his pain, he had become the very thing he had sworn to destroy. He had let his grief turn him into a monster, and in doing so, he had taken everything that mattered.

Visenya knelt beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder, her touch a steadying force amidst the chaos. “We will get through this,” she murmured, though her voice shook. “Somehow, we will.”

But Aegon knew there was no coming back from this. No battle to fight, no enemy to conquer. The enemy was within him, a darkness he could never escape. The flames of Balerion’s wrath had claimed more than just stone and flesh—they had taken the very heart of him, leaving nothing but ashes and ruin.

And so he wept, there on the cold stone floor of Aegonfort, his sisters by his side, but no comfort to be found. The King of the Seven Kingdoms, broken by his own hand, mourning the woman he had loved—and lost—twice over.

Ending where Y/N survives the fall with her dragon near Sunspear.

The air was filled with the acrid scent of smoke and blood, the heat of battle suffocating even in the high sky. Tesaerix’s wings beat heavily, each movement strained, her breaths coming in labored, ragged bursts. You could feel her pain through the bond you shared, a deep, searing ache that tore through your side as if it were your own. She had been struck, the harpoon lodged deep in her flank, just beneath her wing. Her roar of agony still echoed in your ears, a sound that would haunt you forever.

“Hold on, girl,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you leaned forward, your hand pressing against the warm, slick scales near the wound. Blood, dark and thick, oozed from the gash, and your heart clenched with fear. “Just a little longer.”

Tesaerix let out a low, rumbling growl, her muscles tensing beneath you as she angled downward. The ground rushed up to meet you both, but her descent was controlled, her movements careful despite the pain wracking her body. You clung to her neck, every jolt sending fresh waves of agony through you both, but you held on, murmuring soft words of encouragement.

The landing was rough, her massive form crashing down onto the rocky terrain outside of Sunspear with a jarring thud. The impact jarred you from the saddle, sending you sprawling onto the ground. Pain flared through your side, and you gasped, your hands instinctively moving to your swollen belly. The baby. The fear that gripped your heart was cold and sharp. You forced yourself to take a breath, wincing as you struggled to your feet, pain lancing through your body.

“Tesaerix…” You turned to her, your heart breaking at the sight. She lay on her side, the harpoon still embedded in her scales, her eyes half-closed, her breaths shallow. You stumbled toward her, your hands trembling as you reached out to touch her snout, your fingers brushing over her warm, familiar scales.

“We made it,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision. “We’re safe now.”

But even as you said the words, you knew they were a lie. The sound of approaching footsteps and the clatter of weapons made your heart sink. You turned, your body tense, as a group of Dornish soldiers surrounded you, their spears raised, their faces hard and unyielding. Behind them, riding in a litter shaded by silks, was Princess Meria Martell, her gaze sharp and calculating as it swept over the scene.

“You are far from home, Targaryen,” she said, her voice carrying over the tense silence. “And in no position to bargain.”

You straightened, ignoring the pain that shot through your side, your hand still resting protectively over your belly. “I am Queen Y/N Targaryen, wife of King Aegon. I demand safe passage for myself and my dragon.”

Meria’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Demands, is it? You are in no position to demand anything, child. You and your dragon are prisoners of Dorne.”

You glanced at Tesaerix, her body still and trembling with pain, her deep red eyes flickering weakly. Chains were already being brought forward, heavy iron links that were meant to bind her, to keep her grounded and helpless. The thought of her, proud and fierce, being chained once more like a common beast made your blood boil.

“Please,” you said, your voice breaking despite yourself. “She’s wounded. Let her be treated, and I will come with you peacefully.”

Meria studied you for a long moment, her eyes narrowing. Then she gave a curt nod. “The dragon will be tended to, but she will remain under guard. And you will come with us, now.”

The soldiers stepped forward, and you forced yourself to stand tall, even as fear and pain threatened to overwhelm you. Tesaerix let out a low, pained growl, her eyes locked on you as the soldiers approached, her body tensing as if she would rise and fight, despite her injuries.

“No,” you whispered, your voice firm as you placed a hand on her snout. “Stay, Tesaerix. Stay.” She let out a soft rumble, her massive head lowering to the ground, her eyes closing as if to conserve her strength. You turned back to the soldiers, your heart aching, but you forced yourself to move forward.

They escorted you into Sunspear, through winding streets that echoed with the murmurs of the people, curious and wary as they watched the procession pass. You kept your head high, your gaze fixed forward, refusing to show any sign of weakness or fear.

They led you to a chamber in the castle, its stone walls cool and unyielding. The door closed behind you with a heavy thud, the sound of the lock sliding into place echoing through the room. You were alone now, a prisoner in an enemy’s stronghold.

The days blurred together, each one filled with a growing dread. Your thoughts were consumed with worry for Tesaerix, chained and wounded outside the city. You paced the confines of your chamber, your mind racing with thoughts of Aegon, of what he must be feeling, believing you lost. You could only hope he would find out the truth before it was too late.

On the fifth day, Meria visited you. She stood in the doorway, her expression inscrutable, her eyes lingering on your belly before meeting your gaze. “Your dragon will survive, though her wing may never fully heal,” she said, as if discussing the weather.

Relief washed over you, though it was quickly followed by a fresh wave of anger. “And what of me? What do you intend to do with me?”

Meria tilted her head, considering. “You are valuable, Targaryen. As long as you remain with child, your life is safe. But know this—I will use you to ensure Aegon’s compliance. The war has cost too much already.”

You clenched your fists, fighting to keep your voice steady. “And if I lose the child?”

“Then your fate will depend on my whim,” she said simply, her eyes hard. “Do not try to escape, Y/N. Your dragon may be chained, but even a wounded beast is dangerous. And if she dies trying to save you…” She let the implication hang in the air, the threat clear.

Rage and fear battled within you, but you forced yourself to remain calm. “I will not try to escape,” you said, the words bitter on your tongue. “But if you harm her, there will be no place in this world you can hide from my husband’s wrath.”

Meria’s smile was thin, humorless. “We shall see, my lady.”

As she left, you sank onto the hard bed, your body trembling with exhaustion and despair. The days that followed were a blur of pain and uncertainty, your thoughts constantly turning to Aegon, to Tesaerix, to the fragile life within you. You had to survive, for their sake. You had to find a way to endure.

Outside, you knew the chains that bound Tesaerix were a constant reminder of your captivity, her pain mirroring your own. But you were both still alive, still fighting, even if only by clinging to the hope that Aegon would come, that he would find you before it was too late.

And when he did, you swore to yourself, you would make them all pay for what they had done. For every wound, every chain, every day of fear and suffering. You would see Dorne burn for this. You would see them all kneel before the fury of the Targaryen fire.

Princess Meria Martell sat in her chambers, the heavy stone walls of Sunspear pressing in around her like the weight of a great, immovable burden. She drummed her fingers on the polished wood of her desk, her eyes scanning the letter she had penned days ago. She had offered the King a simple exchange: your life and freedom in return for Dorne’s autonomy. It was a calculated risk, a gamble meant to end the bloodshed that had ravaged her lands and threatened her people.

But the answer she received was not what she had expected.

The messenger had barely finished delivering the news when a sudden, deafening roar echoed across Sunspear, shaking the very foundations of the castle. Meria’s heart froze. She shot to her feet, her blood turning to ice as a servant burst into the room, his face ashen with terror.

“Dragons, Your Grace! They’re here!”

Panic seized her. She swept past the servant, her silks rustling as she hurried down the corridors, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. The stone walls seemed to close in around her, her mind racing with fear and confusion. Aegon wasn’t supposed to come, not yet. Not like this.

Reaching the balcony that overlooked the city, she pushed open the doors and stepped out into the blazing sunlight. The sight that greeted her was one she would never forget. Balerion the Black Dread hovered above the city, his massive wings blotting out the sun, casting a dark shadow over Sunspear. Below him, Vhagar and Meraxes circled, their screeching cries filling the air as if announcing the coming storm.

And there, on the edge of the city, near the main gates, was Tesaerix. Her golden scales glinted in the harsh light, her massive form still and tense, the iron chains that held her stretched taut. But Balerion was descending toward her, the great beast’s eyes glowing with a dark, dangerous intent. With a mighty roar, he landed beside her, his immense claws tearing through the chains as if they were no more than threads.

Tesaerix let out a guttural snarl, her wings unfolding cautiously as the last of her bindings fell away. The sight of the great dragon, wounded yet still fierce, stretching her wings and shaking off the restraints, sent a shiver down Meria’s spine. She knew then, with a clarity that burned like ice, that she had underestimated Aegon Targaryen. This was not a king who would bargain or yield. This was a man who would see the world burn before he let anything be taken from him.

Meria turned, heart pounding, as she saw the three figures approaching the castle. Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys dismounted just outside the gates, the air around them shimmering with the heat of their dragons’ breath. The ground trembled beneath their feet, the power of their presence undeniable, terrifying.

She forced herself to move, to descend the stairs and meet them at the entrance. Her guards flanked her, their faces pale, their hands gripping their spears as if holding on to the last shred of their courage. She stepped forward, lifting her chin, though her heart raced like a caged bird.

Aegon’s eyes met hers, and the fury she saw there was like a living, breathing thing, coiled tight and ready to strike. His face was a mask of barely contained rage, the lines of his jaw clenched so tightly she thought it might shatter.

“Princess Meria,” he said, his voice low and cold, as if he were spitting the words through gritted teeth. “You dare to hold my wife captive and then try to negotiate with me?”

Meria swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. “I offered you peace, Your Grace. An end to this war. Dorne in exchange for—”

“For my queen? For my child?” he snarled, stepping forward, the raw power radiating from him like heat from a forge. “You think you can trade lives with me, like some merchant haggling over goods? I am no man to be bargained with.”

Visenya’s eyes were like chips of ice, her hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister, the sword gleaming wickedly in the sun. “You will release her, and our unborn nephew or niece, now,” she said, her voice a quiet, deadly promise. “Or Sunspear will burn until it is nothing but a memory.”

Rhaenys’ usually warm, vibrant presence was overshadowed by a seething anger. “Do not mistake our patience for weakness, Princess,” she said, her voice taut with restrained fury. “You have made a grievous error.”

Meria raised her hands, trying to project calm. “I do not wish for more bloodshed. I swear to you, Y/N is unharmed. She and the child are safe.”

“Safe?” Aegon’s voice was a roar, his eyes blazing. “Chained like a beast, held in your dungeons, with her dragon bound outside like a common animal—that is your idea of safety?”

Meria took a breath, forcing herself to hold his gaze. “I needed to ensure that Dorne would not be crushed under your might. I needed leverage.”

“And now you have none,” Visenya cut in, her tone sharp as a blade. “Release her. Or I swear by the gods, your city will burn until there is nothing left.”

Meria hesitated, her mind racing. She had known this moment was dangerous, but she had thought she would have time, that she could control the situation. Now, looking at the three Targaryens before her, their dragons looming like harbingers of death, she realized just how badly she had miscalculated.

She nodded, slowly, her voice quiet. “She will be brought to you. Unharmed.”

Aegon stepped forward, his face inches from hers, and she could feel the barely restrained fury radiating off him like a physical force. “If I find one scratch on her, one sign that she or my child has been harmed…” He let the threat hang, his eyes burning into hers with a promise of utter destruction. “I will reduce this city to ash and bone.”

Meria shuddered but nodded again, turning to give the order. As she did, she glanced back at the dragons, at Balerion, who stood protectively near Tesaerix, the massive beast’s eyes glowing with a deadly intelligence.

She knew then that there would be no mercy, no second chances. If she failed to deliver, if she tried to deceive them even slightly, Sunspear—and all of Dorne—would be lost to the wrath of the dragons.

And so she prayed, silently, that her people would not suffer for her misjudgment, and that you would be returned to your king unscathed. Because if not, there would be no place in this world that could hide her from Aegon’s vengeance.

[prismuffin]

Omg! Okay so I just thought of the cuties thing in opinion! And wanted to do an ask of it!!

So, Male Reader is a shape-shifting alien kinda like Marsion's (Ex:Mee-gan ), but they can only be in a form that is not their true form for a limited time. Like 16hrs or something, after that, they shift back to their real form, unless they are in like fight or flight mode. After the time is up their behavior is that of an autistic that is burnout or overstimulated.

The MaleReader's true form basically looks very similar to an Earth's panther (i.e big cat) expect it has 4 sets of eyes and has a pure white coat with red patterns.

So! How would Dick, Jason, Tim, Wally and Conner (sperately) react to Alien MaleReader doing the cat behavior of 'if I fits, I sits' after seeking them out to take a nap and recharge?

Ex: Jason wanting some peace reading while laying on the couch, and reader just climbs his way up the back of the couch, to carefully place himself in between Jason's side and the couch cushions.

I'm working on some full fics but as to not let my blog seem dead I'll get this ask out the way! Anyways I think that-

Dick was in the kitchen making himself some lunch. For once, he decided to sit down at the table to eat instead of going to his room. He was sort of surprised to see you in your true form creeping your way over to him. He, at first, thought you wanted some of his food which he was not gonna give to you but instead you simply shrunk down underneath his chair. Squeezing yourself through the legs of the seat and resting your head on his foot. He was confused but just let it happen, sighing as he realized he was stuck with the cat curse and now he cant move because you're laying on him.

Jason would be sitting on the couch, finally glad to find a rare moment of quiet. He was simply relaxing until you came in, you were in your true form so he didn't think you'd be too much of a distraction. But he was wrong when you walked up to him and practically draped yourself across his lap, resting your head on a nearby pillow. You exhaled deeply and just closed your eyes, joining him in his relaxation session. He looked around at the rest of empty spaces on the couch before looking back at you, shaking his head with a slight smirk he just let you lay on him since you were warm.

Tim would probably be working, mumbling to himself about god knows what when you'd walked into his lab. He turned when he'd heard his door open and greeted you as he saw you enter, asking if you needed anything. You didn't answer and simply walked up to him, rubbing yourself against his legs with your tail held high before diving between his legs. Because of your size he had to steady himself as to not fall over. He let out a surprised gasp before trying to push you out but you wouldn't budge. When he did successfully get you out from underneath him you just followed him and did it again and again. If this was your way of getting him to stop overworking himself so much it is kind of working.

Wally had recently gotten a new package and boy was he happy, besides the fact that he had to assemble it himself. So he sat on the floor of his room trying to put together a gaming chair, screwing together two parts that look like they definitely shouldn't fit that way but that's besides the point. You'd entered his room and he'd given you a quick greeting before going back to building his chair. He'd heard some shuffling from where you were and turned to ask what you were doing only to see you fitting yourself within the large box that his chair had come in. You'd successfully smushed yourself down enough to fit perfectly in the box and he couldn't help but laugh at the sight. He took a picture, ignoring the soft glare you were giving him.

Conner would be resting and taking some time for himself not really doing much sadly. It was a rather boring day so he just sat himself on the couch, submitting to the mindless entertainment that the tv offers. Sooner or later you walked into the common room, spotting the kryptonian you moved over to him before shoving yourself under his legs. He was confused at first and asked what you were doing but didn't get much of a response besides a semi-sassy look as you just laid down and closed your eyes. He didn't move as your presence simply added to the comforting feeling of the couch especially since you were practically a warm footrest for him.

———

Directory

[prentissluvr]

sorry won't cut it (rewrite) — sam and dean winchester

cw : gn!winchester!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, barely different from the original but slightly adjusted to fix some canon details i got wrong and adjust to my changed perspective of the whole purgatory situation, sam and dean did reader wrong, swearing, arguments, crying, nicknames (kid, kiddo, honey, sweetheart), 4.1K words.

summary : since dean disappeared, sam has been distant. when he calls you and you find out dean's back, you also find out that both of your older brother's have been lying to you.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

when sam answers your call, it comes as a relief. a surprise, but more than anything, a relief. it’s been two and a half months, almost on the dot, since he’s answered a call. usually it’s just one month. he has a single burner phone just for you, but it’s off half the time, and the other half he never answers.

you’ve grown used to his distance, to an extent. it still stings when your phone rings till voicemail sometimes, but you’ve just been too tired to argue with him, to ask him to comfort you, make him keep hashing through the pain of looking for dean and finding nothing but trouble. 

you want him to have the normalcy, the girl who loves him and makes him feel alright. you want to have faith that he’ll figure out how to factor you into it all eventually, but you still miss him, and you’re still lonely, so you keep calling, never getting angry or upset when he occasionally picks up. you just act like it’s normal, and you can tell he appreciates it, so you keep it up. in return, he asks you over sometimes, tells you each time how much amelia raves about you after you leave, and hugs you tight before you go.

it’s been several months since he’s invited you over, and he doesn’t really talk about her anymore. you figure something must have happened, but you never push anything anymore with him.

this call is different. one, because he finally picks up. two, because he tells you to meet up with him, no explanation or normal talk about what you should bring for dinner. three, he asks you to meet at a random address in kansas.

he sighs deep, “just… get here as soon as you can. i’ll send you the location.” then he hangs up and it feels like the hunting life all over again.

⟢

it’s a seven hour drive, and you’re tired out of your mind, high-strung and worn out from leaving right after your shift at a diner full of sleezes who don’t tip enough. even though this whole thing is strange for the new, hunting-free sam, there’s relief coursing through you at the thought of seeing him, hoping he’ll let your tired feet carry you right into his arms. you pull into a driveway of sorts, no obvious entrance to the unremarkable building in front of you, but your years of hunting and meeting up with your brothers at strange places during strange hours after strange calls help you find the door. it's a bunker, one you've never seen before.

you were always a little bit more like sam, disillusioned to the hunter life and the way your father raised you. you weren’t a fighter like him, but you slipped away at eighteen to go to college and found somewhere near stanford so you’d be able to visit sam often. he loved that, always so glad that you got out too. but you were barely gone a year before dean came back to collect you and sam to look for your dad. you came easier than sam, less attached to your new place and always finding yourself missing dean.

that’s what you’d been doing this past year. missing dean, and painfully. so when you knock on the door, calling out, “it’s me, sammy,” you freeze when it opens several beats later.

because the person behind the door isn’t sam. but it is your older brother. just the one who’s been who knows where and presumed dead, for the last year or so. the one you’ve endlessly searched for to no avail.

“dean?” your voice is small as his name slips from your mouth.

his eyes go soft, the way they rarely get, and the slight smile on his lips is half pained, half pure relief to see you after so long. “hey, kid.”

you launch yourself into his arms, and he catches you easily, right there in the doorway, and you have to fend off tears that you know wouldn’t put up so much of a fight if you weren’t so exhausted. but you were raised tough, and winchesters don’t cry all that often, at least not where someone else can see. so you swallow hard and tough it out, letting dean pull away from you and lead you inside. he moves through the house with a sort of ease he’d only have if he felt comfortable and safe there. this raises questions, along with the fact that he's here at all.

you’re speechless, but not for a lack of anything to say. endless questions stream through your mind, each one pushing to be asked, even more desperate to be answered.

but the only thing you can figure out how to say is “hi” to sam when he greets you in the living room. he pulls you into a hug, letting you linger for a moment before you know you have to ask all of the hard questions. something in his face is unreadable to you, which is rare when it comes to your brothers. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was a hint of guilt. that rings alarms in your mind, but you brush your nerves aside when dean takes a seat on the couch.

you relax a bit when you sink down next to him, curling into his side a little. it makes you feel a bit childish, but you need it after everything this past year. he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you a little closer. sam sits down across from the two of you and you heave a sigh, wondering where to start.

opening your mouth and forcing words out is like a crack in a dam. everything comes out slow at first, but that lasts mere seconds before the flood.

“where… dean, where were you? i mean, i tried– i tried everything, i looked everywhere,” your voice breaks at that word, the weight of it meaning something only you understand. you look at him, brows taught and you’re confused by the surprise on his face, as if he didn’t expect you to say such a thing.

“what do you mean, you tried everything?” he asks, voice suddenly gruff and severe. you recoil from his side to get a better look at him. you don’t miss the look he shoots sam. this is already departing from what you expected, which is probably exactly what you should have expected, given your brothers. it’s just that, when dean hugged you back and he was solid and real and alive, when he sat on the couch instead of a chair so you could sit next to him, you thought that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to stay tucked safe into his side as they told you what happened, as they asked you to stay with them. 

“what do you mean?” you shoot back. “what, did you think i’d just kick back and call it someone else’s problem?”

“that’s what sam did. that’s what sam said you did.” his voice is accusatory and when you whirl to look at sam, utter bewilderment evident on your face, you can see him physically grimace. which means dean’s telling the truth.

“sam did what?” the question sounds like it’s targeted for dean, but you’re staring the younger down.

“listen, i– i’ll explain it to you later. what do you mean you did everything, you said you were going to school?” sam looks irked and defeated all at once.

“that is completely beside the point, sam, you lied to me?” you ask, voice tired and bordering on distressed, “but you’re not going to explain to me why? why you lied to me or why you apparently didn’t look for dean, i mean what– what’s up with that?” dean’s hand on your shoulder prevents you from standing as your voice grows strained.

“listen, kid, sam and i, we’ve already hashed this out, okay? it’s uh– it’s fine, alright?” with the way he says the word “fine”, you know that it still bothers dean, so you can’t understand why he’d say so. “we’ve got things to discuss here,” dean tries to reason with you before sam can respond. he’s no peace maker, but a full blown fight between the two of you could have an ugly ending.

“things to discuss?” you repeat, in disbelief of the audacity. knowing them, that means they need something from you, which begs the question of why sam asked you over in the first place. you don’t even want to think about them having ulterior motives outside ofjust wanting to see you, so you brush it off angrily. 

“well, i’m glad to hear that you two have hashed it out, but i haven’t yet, so we can discuss whatever that is later.” you shrug off dean’s hand, trying to focus on the things you’re already angry about instead of asking the even bigger question nagging at you now. when the hell did dean get back that those two had time to hash out something that major? you turn your anger back to sam, thinking about what it was like when dean first disappeared. “you told me you looked. you told me you did all that you could, that you tried everything in your power. now dean’s telling me that you did nothing?”

sam sighs heavily. “yes. okay, listen, i’m sorry i lied to you. but i just wanted you to try and live your life for once. i figured if i told you i did everything i could, that, i don’t know, maybe you’d give up and try to move on? go to school, do something you love, have real friends, maybe find someone?” he throws his hands up in the air, a defeated gesture because he knows you don’t agree, while he still thinks he did the right thing.

you scoff, because, god, he really has no idea. arms crossed and face the kind of calm that says run to anyone on the other end of your anger, you nod in false understanding. “yeah, what good that did,” you say, your tone so sarcastic and dry that sam just clenches his jaw and dean’s face turns from concerned to full-blown worried. he wonders if he should ask what that means, because whatever it does, it’s certainly not “good.” 

but you pick up again after a moment of thick, dripping silence. “you know, sam, you have absolutely no idea how this past year really was for me. i’m not saying it was easy for you, because i know it wasn’t. though now i know you also skipped the trouble of looking for dean and really, actually lived that hunting-free life you wanted. and–” you pause a moment, purposefully not looking at dean. “and it’s not– not bad that you got that, sam, all i’m saying is that just about nothing has been all, i don’t know, rainbows and butterflies more like you think,” your voice takes a scathing edge, a tone so rare to both of your brothers that neither knows what to say, “and you know what, sam? it’s looking to me like i’d be a lot better off if you’d just decided to tell me the goddamn truth.”

sam says your name, tentative like he’s testing hot waters, “i thought you said things were going well. you said you liked school, that you were making friends there? just explain to me what you mean so we can figure this out.”

“figure it out,” you repeat under your breath, sticking your tongue against the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something too harsh. “sam, things were going well! they were!” now you’re feeling desperate to make him understand, “but that night you told me there was nothing else we could do, nothing else to try and that i should just do my best to move on? i couldn’t, sam, i couldn’t do that. there had to be something more we could do, so i gave up on the things you said you did and i went further. i let you think i was fine, that i was doing what you wanted for me because you always sounded so tired. you always sounded like one more thing on your plate would make the sweet little life you built come crashing down, so i made sure you wouldn’t have to worry about me.”

dean’s does his best to make his interruption gentle, though he’s not the best at hiding his frustrations sometimes. he doesn’t want to upset you more, but you can hear the tension in his voice when he asks, “kiddo? what do you mean by you ‘went further?’”

suddenly you shrink in on yourself, your lower lip caught between your teeth and your eyes shining with fresh tears. “dean–,” your voice breaks before you can even say anything else. his hand is on your back, meant to be comforting, but it only makes you feel worse about it all. you know how much dean would hate the lengths you went to to try and get him back. “i can’t–” you shake your head, ignoring your oldest brother, “i can’t right now, but maybe… maybe if you’d told me the truth, sam, if i’d just started by reading through all of bobby’s books like you said you did, things would have worked out differently.”

“well, maybe if you told me you were going to keep trying, i could have helped you!” sam fires back.

you let out a strangled, frustrated noise as you stand, unable to keep sitting down. “would you? really? because i really don’t think you would’ve! you were so focused on moving on from losing dean that you distanced yourself from me, too! you barely picked up, never called, only talked about dean in three word sentences to tell me a lie about how you tried and failed to find anything to help! maybe if you paid any attention to me, gave any indication that you wanted to help or see me or be a major part of life like i wanted of you, i would have opened up to you!” it makes you even more angry when your voice turns teary, “and for once, i wanted to try to be the one to take care of you two. i kept my secrets, i never let on how fucking lonely i was, just so you wouldn’t worry about me!” 

a stunned silence falls over you brothers, sam’s guilt beginning to overrun his natural response of anger, and dean making up for that fading anger with his own. your chest heaves with laboured breath as you stare sam down.

dean’s tone is icy as he breaks the silence, “sam, is that really how you treated them while i was gone?”

sam exhales hard, ignoring dean in favor of looking at you, “i was just doing what i thought was the best for both of us. i didn’t know, okay, i’m sorry. i really am.” he looks sorry, and sad, like this is the opposite of what he wanted. under your anger, you know it’s true that he never wanted this. you know that sam thinks people are better off distant from him. but it hurts that he let you be one of those people.

“are you kidding me?” you exclaim, voice turning shrill as your composure slips further and further. “people got hurt, on my account,” you have to force that part out through gritted teeth, “i got kicked out of school, and i spent three months running from hunters!” both sam and dean want to interrupt at that. but you keep going, your voice quieter now, harsh and trembling, “but you were doing what you thought was best for both of us? try what was best for you. dean was gone, and i needed you, sammy, i needed you and the second you said you needed to get away, alone, i knew i didn’t have you.”

that shuts him up, has him deflating and his guilt taking over, and you can see it and you hate it. you almost wish he’d get angry instead because that means you can keep shouting at him to try and make him understand. but all you get are his clenched jaw, his sad eyes, and his guilty silence that tell you he knows he fucked up but he can’t figure out a way to make it better since sorry sure as hell won’t cut it.

it’s dean who cuts into the heavy silence again. “sam.” his name hangs in the air, weighed down with unspoken words. we’ll talk about this later, you guess is the message. you can feel how angry dean is without even looking at him. you know all he ever asked of sam if he was gone was to take care of you, and now dean knows he didn’t. he tried, the way he thought was right, but he didn’t. then his attention is back on you. he says your name, clear and careful. “i’m gonna need you to tell me what you did.”

you wipe at your face angrily as you whirl to face dean. trying to keep the ever present tears at bay, you tap right back into your anger. but it's more tired this time, less convincing with your voice taut from unshed tears begging to be released.

“all that, and that’s what you take away from this? really, dean? you’re gonna need to know what i did? i don’t need you to tell me to know that– that it was wrong and i don’t need you to make me feel any more shitty than i already do right now, okay?”

it’s his turn to wear a look of guilt on his face, but it only sits there for a flash before he keeps going. “kid, that’s not what i’m tryna’ do here, alright? i just wanna understand so i can keep us safe, yeah?” he puts his hands out in a peaceful motion, but something else unresolved floats back up into your focus.

“no. dean, no! because there’s something else here, something both of you have been avoiding this entire time!” there’s a sudden change in the air, like both of them are holding their breath, silently begging you won’t ask the question. “dean, how long have you been back?”

his hesitancy to answer tells you everything. “kid, listen, that’s not imp–”

“don’t you dare say it’s not important! did you hear anything i just said, dean? anything about how shit my life has been since you’ve been gone, how lonely i’ve been?”

“you’re right,” sam relents, forging on before dean can stop him, “he’s been back for three months now. it’s my fault we didn’t tell you. it’s all my fault, and believe me, i am so sorry.” you collapse into a chair with your head in your hands as he continues, “i know that does nothing to fix things, but i am sorry, and i swear i’m gonna spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you, kiddo. i’m all in now, and i did it all so this wouldn’t have to be your life, but you’re here now and we want more than anything to have you around, okay?” 

you lift your head up to stare at him. “three months.” your voice is dangerously quiet. “you two…” your tired mind can’t think of words strong enough, “drive me insane, you know that? dean, you just– you just went along with that and decided, let me guess, that it was best for me? because i was at school, living a normal life and away from the danger of this one? is that it? it’s best for me not to know my brother’s alive? because, you know, that reminds me of something. hm, maybe the time sam hid from us that he was alive for a year because he didn’t have his fucking soul? oh, yeah, it must be that.” you let out a short bark of laughter, but it and your voice are completely devoid of any humor. dean visibly recoils when you mention that. he’s thought of it, and still decided to keep you in the dark. “come on, dean, you know how that feels and you go and do it to me again? really? you gonna tell me you came back from wherever the hell you were without a soul next? where– where even were you?” you ask shrilly.

you’ve beat him too. “sweetheart,” he sighs, “i’m sorry. we were wrong to do that to you, okay? i– i was in purgatory. i can explain the rest later.”

finally, you think you might be out of things to say, to be hurt about. your voice is quiet and fragile now, and the dam holding back your tears is fractured in a million places, more than ready to break. “i missed you so much. both of you,” you whisper. you meant to make a scathing comment about how “sorry” and “we were wrong” don’t even begin to cover it, but you find that you’re not in complete control of the things coming out of your mouth. you’re just too goddamn tired. dean is crouching in front of you in an instant.

“i missed you, too, sweetheart. so much. i’m sorry.” he takes it as a good sign that you let him place his hand on your knee. you want to flick it away, maybe shove him away too.

“and i was so, so lonely. i was so scared,” you cry out, wishing you didn’t have to cry when you got angry. “and i’m so mad that you two did this to me. three months…”

“i know, kiddo, i know. i’m sorry.” gently, slowly, he tugs you towards him and into his arms and you slide onto the floor and cry into his chest, shaking and unable to say a thing. you want to tell him this doesn’t make it right, but dean hushes you gently when you try. “shhh, it’s okay. i’m here now,” he comforts. it’s true that this doesn’t make it right, but it’s almost all you need in that moment.

“sammy,” you choke out, still so angry with him, but wanting him near anyways, knowing that he’s too scared to come close to you after coming face to face with all of the ways you were hurt. his hand is on your back a moment later, hesitant at first, then strong and soothing moments later when you blindly grab for the fabric of his flannel to keep him close.

“okay. okay, i’m here. i’m sorry. i’ve got you, i promise,” he whispers, silently letting a few of his own guilty tears fall.

utterly exhausted, you stay slumped on the floor in dean's arms when your tears dry up. you can barely keep your eyes open and your breathing is soft and slow. 

“let’s get you to bed,” dean whispers, hoisting you all the way up as he stands. “sam’ll grab you a glass of water.” you sigh an imperceptible sigh because you know that dean is still pissed at sam. rightfully so, you’re more than just pissed at both of them, but you’re too tired to care in this moment, and the last thing you want is for them to be angry at each other. that’s your job for when you wake up hours from now. 

dean leads you to a foreign room and foreign bed, and you sink down onto the edge of it. sam is back moments later with the promised glass of water and tissues for your face. you cave to your exhaustion, climbing all the way into the bed. you curl up and tug at the covers slightly, eager to fall asleep.

“see you in the morning,” you mumble, effectively dismissing them with your voice hoarse from crying. you close your eyes before either of them can say a thing, not wanting to look them or your remaining problems and anger in the face.but your words are also a whisper of the beginning of forgiveness. 

“goodnight, kiddo,” dean says, his voice full of a familiar affection that he only uses for his little siblings as he presses a kiss to your hairline. he lingers at the doorway before

you drowsily register the sound of sam setting the glass of water on the night stand by your head. “i’m right across the hallway if you need anything.” a moment, then, “goodnight,” and a gentle hand on the side of your head before a kiss to your temple.

you fall asleep coming up with a list of petty ways you’ll have them make things up to you. neither sam nor dean will be pleased to hear that you’re calling shotgun in the impala for the next three months, minimum. sam for obvious reasons, and dean because he’ll know that means you’ll be taking your job as youngest sibling to annoy the living hell out of him very seriously.