#He’s usually somewhat cold mannered

[camping-with-monsters]

“There there, now…”

Man pictured with her is the Jack of All Trades (who actually belongs to @methum-mint! He was made specifically for this story!), a supposed legendary individual with many stories to his name. Stories of slaying giants, climbing great heights to the clouds, surviving cracking his head open, leaping over open flames, bringing the winter when it refused to arrive on time… they get passed around like the plague. Oddly enough, whenever he’s asked of such feats of strength, he never confirms anything. Usually passes it by with a smirk, or even a glare if he’d rather remain unbothered. However, he’s never really denied these claims to his fame either! It’s all up in the air, really.

Seems for now, he’s been caught in the crossfire of Einin’s harrowing battle with life (and more than just her’s) and death. He can’t help but pity her misfortune. But hey, if slaying giants is on his record, how much different could a giant goose monster that wants to eat this supposedly unassuming woman really be?

[nicka-nell]

How they act when they have a crush on you

Pairing: Kita x, Osamu x, Tsukishima x, Akaashi x, Semi x reader

Warning: fluff, mdni

Part 1 | Part 2 (end)

The man, who is always quite serious and shows little emotion on the outside, subtly softens. 

Kita maintains his direct manner and is no different towards you than he is towards his friends at first. That’s why nobody noticed that he had feelings for you. It even took him a long time to realize it. But gradually he starts to open up a little and shows you unexpected kindness. 

His usually serious look is a little softer towards you from time to time. Nothing that would be noticeable to someone who only sees him occasionally, but his teammates notice this subtle change in his facial features when he talks to you. 

Nevertheless, he remains direct, sometimes not realizing whether his words are perhaps a little too direct, but he never means any harm. 

“Osamu, Atsumu, before you continue arguing here, take off your street shoes. We’re in the sports hall and you have to wear clean shoes. You should know that by now.” Kita says with a serious expression as he stands next to the entrance door and looks at the twins. They flinch at his voice and quickly slip out of their shoes. Just a few seconds later, your voice echoes through the gym as you gasp and look in Suna’s direction. “Suna, you left your notebook in the classroom,” you say, waving it around in the air as you take another step into the gym. Atsumu and Osamu already look at you with a grimace, shaking their heads as if to tell you not to take another step into the hall, but you don’t see them because Kita stands in front of you and takes the exercise book from you. “Thank you for bringing this over. I’ll give the notebook to Suna. You can’t come in here with street shoes. The floor could get scratched by the dirt underneath them.” Kita’s voice is still serious, but it has a gentle undertone and Atsumu feels like he must have hit his head, because it almost looks like Kita is smiling at you.  You sigh as you walk out of the school building and see that the sky is darker. It has started to rain. Somewhat awkwardly, you take off your jacket and hold it over your head, hoping not to get wet. However, the fabric of your jacket is so thin that it won’t work anyway. Yet a large shadow looms over you as the rain stops beating down on your jacket. Confused, you look up and see an umbrella before looking to the side and spotting Kita next to you. He looks up at the sky, down at you before he starts to move. “Rain was forecast for today. You should check your weather app or the news more often. Or... you could always carry one of those umbrellas in your bag. They’re not heavy and it’s better to have an umbrella with you to be on the safe side than to get sick. Don’t you agree?” He lectures you. But he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. He’s actually just trying to make you understand that he doesn’t want you to catch a cold. “Come on, don’t stay out in the rain. Your apartment is on my way home. I can drop you off at home.”

Because you don’t realize that Kita has feelings for you, it’s Kita himself who confesses his feelings to you at some point. 

Although his confession wasn’t particularly romantic or private. 

Suna had asked after training if you had anything to hold against Kita because he behaves differently towards you. Much softer. You didn’t quite understand the question, just like Kita, who turns to Suna and simply says, “That’s because I have feelings for her that are on a different level than those I have for normal friends.” 

Osamu differs from his brother. Unlike him, he is a quiet observer at first, and a denier to others. Whenever his friends try to tease him, he says that he has no feelings for a girl. (Acting like little boys who think that girls are disgusting and if you touch them, you get sick.)

But he knows your daily routine. Knows exactly where to find you so he can “accidentally” bump into you. Shares his lunch with you during your break, or goes to the sports hall with you and gossips a bit about his brother. 

But when he’s alone with you, he always tries to stay calm, giving you little crumbs of his feelings towards you, hoping you’ll get the signals. 

“So, ya didn’t have time to pack yer lunch again today, or do ya like the canteen food here so much?” asks Osamu, who sits down with Suna at the table where you are eating with a few friends. You look up at him, move a little to the side on the bench and make room for him to sit next to you. “The food is... okay,” you say, less convincingly as you look at Osamu’s bento box. At the delicious little nigiri, the egg roll and the chopped vegetables. Almost indifferently, Osamu pushes the bento box in your direction and takes a piece of the egg roll. “I’m not that hungry... if ya wanna, ya can eat with me,” he says, watching you smile sheepishly. ‘Yes,’ he thinks, but then you shake your head. “I can’t snatch your food. You have your training today. You need strength!” you answer him as Suna seizes the opportunity and holds out his chopsticks to grab something from Osamu’s bento box. But Osamu pushes his hand away. “Hands off, that’s my food,” he mumbles quietly so that only Suna can hear him, who raises his eyebrow.  You walk with Osamu to the gym, his pace slower as he matches your speed. You are alone, his hands are casually clasped behind his head, his gaze directed forward. “Man, Tsumu drank my shake again today and then he denied it even though the shake was sticking to the corner of his mouth. Idiot.” Osamu curses. His words make you laugh. Osamu always grumbles so much about his brother, but you can tell that they have a strong bond. A typical love-hate relationship that you have with siblings. “Oh, come on, it would be boring without him, wouldn’t it?” you reply, amused. “Boring? It would be nice to have a boring day at home for once. But ya know, it would be even nicer if I just had a different roommate. I bet it would be much more relaxed and cooler to share a room with ya.” he tries to say as calmly as possible, but notices how his heartbeat suddenly speeds up. “Osamu!” you giggle, playfully slapping him on the shoulder before his tension disappears, and he chuckles at you for a split second. 

His confession also seems rather calm, even though he is probably extremely nervous inside. 

He uses an opportunity where you are both alone, where you are in a good mood and you are having a joking conversation, when he asks you “Would ya rather date my dumb brother or me?”. 

Somewhat surprised by the question, you answer just as casually, “You, of course, you dummy”, not realizing that the question wasn’t meant as a joke. 

“So, am I to assume we’re dating now?” he grins, watching you stare at him like a fool. 

Oh, he is definitely a tease. You could call him Tease-ishima. 

But he doesn’t do it in quite such a childish way by throwing paper balls at the back of your head. He makes light-hearted jokes or playful jabs or hides compliments with teasing comments. 

Sometimes he tries to tease you to the point where you get into little playful arguments with him where he enjoys the back-and-forth between your exchanges. 

However, he also doesn’t realize that he might overstep or hurt you with his comments. If he notices this, he doesn’t try to apologize, but calmly asks why you are still so upset, although inwardly he hopes that you don’t take his remarks too much to heart. 

“Oh, are you trying to impress someone with that dress you’re wearing today? Who would have thought that would suit you?” says Tsukishima asked as he arrogantly tilts his head to the side and grins at you. “Imagine, I didn’t put this on to please you, but thank you, I know I look good myself...” you reply sassy and raise an eyebrow. Tsukishima purses his lips, almost as if he’s pouting, and clicks his tongue. “Whatever. I have to go now anyway. Unlike you, I have better things to do with my time than just standing in the school hallway for minutes,” he says, walking past you.  A little hurt by Tsukishima’s stupid comment about your new hairstyle, you sit on a half-height stone wall in the schoolyard and wait for your friends to come out of the building so you can go home. “Hey weakling, are you still offended about earlier?” asks Tsukishima, coming out of the front door of the school, his hands in his pockets. He stands next to you indifferently, glancing at you briefly before staring ahead into the distance. “You just don’t realize it when you offend people. Sometimes people don’t need your stupid remarks,” you reply, swinging your legs back and forth. You try not to look at him. “You always take everything too seriously too quickly,” says Tsukishima indifferently, but then he struggles with his words. As if he doesn’t know how to continue. Almost uncomfortably, he takes his hand out of his trouser pocket and scratches the back of his neck. “A shaved head would suit you too. Usually nothing disfigures good-looking people.” But before you can even process what he’s just said, Yamaguchi arrives and Tsukishima raises his hand in farewell with a neutral “See you around then.” 

Tsukishima is stubborn. Would he tell you that he’s in love with you? He’d probably wait until you said it. 

However, it could also happen that the key words just slip out in a brief argument with you. “Like what? I’m just being myself. Have you ever thought about the fact that there are people who express their affection in such a way?” he hisses before he even notices what he said to you. “Nevermind. It’s not that important,” he adds quickly, but it’s probably too late to back out now. 

Akaashi is a silent listener and subtle helper. 

He wouldn’t tease you, but he wouldn’t behave particularly differently towards you either. Even more so, he wouldn’t try to impress you. He would just be himself. 

He listens to you when you talk and is one of the few who maintains long eye contact and really focuses on the conversation. If he notices that you are having difficulties with something, he tries to help you. Whether it’s when you’re studying for a subject or because you can’t reach the items on the top shelf. 

Last week you were complaining to Bokuto that you have an exam this week and that you’re a bit scared. Although you’ve studied a lot and memorized the topic well, you’re still nervous because it’s an important exam. You’re sitting nervously on the bench during the break, going over the material for the exam bit by bit, when a small drinking packet suddenly blocks your view of your exercise book. You look up, a little puzzled, and see Akaashi holding the drinking packet in front of your nose while looking at you with a thin smile. “You shouldn’t look at your notebook now. Otherwise you’ll have a blackout during the exam. Have a drink and try to relax. You’ll be fine,” says Akaashi objectively, who overheard the conversation you had with Bokuto last week.  Today at volleyball training, the coach of the boys’ team wants the boys to play a 3-on-3 game and asks you to get the colored coats for the boys to wear over their jerseys so that you can clearly see who is on which team. In the storeroom, you look for the box with the yellow and green overcoats when you see that it is at the top of the shelf. Standing on your tiptoes, you try to reach it in vain. Pouting, you press your hands to your hips before placing one foot on the wobbly shelf, jumping up and touching the box with your fingertips. But you lose your balance as your back crashes against Akaashi’s chest, his arm wraps around your waist to catch you. “Careful. You should have asked for help. You could have hurt yourself,” he says in a neutral tone before reaching for the box and taking it down to hand it over. “Next time, please inform me. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Especially not because of such a small thing that could easily have been avoided,” he adds, making sure the box is firmly in your hands before leaving the room with you. 

Although Akaashi often says what he thinks, he is still a rather quiet person. Since his focus is currently on his graduation, he doesn’t think about telling you about his feelings. Quite apart from that, he assumes that you don’t have feelings for him anyway. 

However, his feelings came out by accident when Bokuto introduced you as Akaashi’s girlfriend during a training match. It was only a joke, but Akaashi’s ears turned red and, uncharacteristically for him, he was suddenly very embarrassed. 

After the training match, you went outside to Akaashi, who wanted to cool off, and asked him directly about his feelings. 

Semi may seem stern and distant to many, but that’s only the first impression. He’s actually a really nice guy, at least to his friends. He’s also nice to you. 

He’s a real social butterfly who indirectly tries to get close to you by talking to your friends, getting along with them, and going to the same parties you go to.

He recently spent an hour talking to your friend, who he doesn’t even like very much. But you sat next to him for the entire hour, nudged him slightly when he made one or two comments. But it was worth putting up with your friend’s talking because he could be near you for the time. 

He often tries to involve you in activities where he can get closer to you.

You’re chatting with your friends about the party that’s taking place at the weekend when you hear Semi’s voice behind you and a short time later, his elbow lightly nudges your arm. “Hi guys, are you planning something cool?” he asks the people he’s made friends with. The girl holding the party nods sheepishly and immediately asks if Semi wants to come as well. He puts on a charming smile before looking at you and shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. “You’re coming too, aren’t you? We could go together,” he says and waits for your answer, which you give him with a sly nod. At the party, he talks to lots of people, but always stays close to you, gets you drinks and asks you if you want to dance with him casually. On the dance floor, he doesn’t even give anyone the chance to dance with you as he swings you from left to right, pulls you towards him and enjoys being close to you. He finds it all the better that you seem to enjoy it.  As the winter tournament is coming up soon, the Shiratorizawa volleyball team is currently training a lot. Since you get along well with many of the boys, you are also there to support them by bringing them water or towels when they need them. The coach doesn’t mind your presence as long as you don’t disturb the active training. He doesn’t care what happens during the breaks. The boys currently have a ten-minute break when Semi waves you over. “You said the other day that you think the serve is amazing. Do you want to try it? I’ll help you,” he smiles and hands you the volleyball and gets behind you to show you how to position yourself and how to move your hands. “Am I doing this right?” you ask, turning to Semi, who is standing quite close behind you. “Yes, it looks good. But take your hand a little further up. The ball should be above your hips,” Semi says in a soft tone as his one hand stays on your hip, the other moves to your hand that holds the ball before lifting it slightly. “There, that’s better.” His words echo smoothly in your ears. A physical contact that is actually harmless, but makes his heart beat a little faster. It’s just a shame that ten minutes are over so quickly. 

Semi wants to be one hundred percent sure that you feel the same way about him as he does about you. That’s why he wouldn’t immediately overwhelm you with his feelings. 

At least that’s what he thought. 

Once, when you were struggling with your words after training, just to tell him that your friend had asked if you could give her Semi’s number, he had looked at you in total frustration and clicked his tongue. “Ehh? Do you really think I’m doing all this, the hanging out with your friends, the parties, the closeness to you, because I want something from your friend? Hell, I listened to her talk about the pigment in lipsticks for an hour because you were next to me and I wanted to be close to you. Not her…” 

[astrow1zar6]

Astro Observations-32

Gemini moons have very unstable opinions and values. They usually change what they believe in based on their social environment. It’s very easy to convince them it’s this and not that if you’re convincing enough. These constant changes can make people confused in what they actually believe in. Very rare they have fixed beliefs about something. They contradict themselves a lot.

Gemini suns if underdeveloped can be big copy cats. I think they do it as a way to fit in so they’re more susceptible to changing their style or mannerisms based off of others they inspire to be like

Aries suns get triggered by everything very easily. If you say something they don’t like or that offends them they can take it from 0-100 real quick. They can be very mean at times but that’s usually their defense mechanism for feeling hurt. They can let wayyy to much things get to them they should learn to not take things so personally even if they are offended (this goes for Aries moon as well!!!) Controlling their reactions to how they deal with bs can help their mental peace a lot. When they learn not everything needs a reaction they can really become some bosses fr

Pisces/12th house placements show different versions of themselves based off of the persons vibe their interacting with. Which is why some ppl can see them as quiet and reserved and another person can see them as hot headed and loud and another can see them as sweet and outgoing etc. They can read ppls energy very easily which is why I believe they’re able to subconsciously change their personality to certain ppl as a defense mechanism to sorta see if that person is safe enough to be their true selfs. This can be why a lot of ppl see them in so many different lights. (Ex: my brother has a 12th house stellium and with family he’s extremely awkward & reserved but I’m his school he’s extremely popular & social and gets in trouble for talking too much). Learning to be more comfortable showing ur true self to others (other than the people they see as safe) can help others pin point better the person you are.

Cancer moons are so emotionally intelligent it’s insane

I notice your moon sign acts more like the stereotypical sign then your sun sign (ex: Scorpio moons act more like stereotypical Scorpios then Scorpio suns)

Leo moons are very passionate ppl. They want to live the intensity of life & they live it like that. That’s why ppl mistake their behavior for exaggeration & drama. These are actually their feelings they don’t exaggerate they truly feel that intensity. They’re only playful with selected people which is why others can see them as cold at times. If underdeveloped they can act like know it alls a lot, they can be very defensive and hard headed to others advice bc they believe they know better. Can result in big ego problems if not checked. But overall genuine hearted ppl.

Virgo moons get the “ick” from people easily that don’t value what they value

Sag moons do you guys deal with deep emotions at all? Everyone I met with this placement is abnormally very jolly & nothing usually bothers them much. How do you guys deal with emotions?? I’m lowkey jealous of this moon placement because of how well you take negatively. They’re able to transmute negative energy into something positive with such little effort. This can be somewhat stressful for deeper signs however to really see under all that joy. This lack of depth can make it harder for others to relate at times. This placement is the definition of golden retriever energy.

Ppl with Aries mars in their chart gain muscle VERY easily (especially in their arms) these people actually enjoy working out and going to the gym normally. As kids they had a surplus of physical energy. They were usually always running around or climbing stuff making obstacles courses, arm wrestling ppl etc. this placement is a blessing in terms of energy levels and health.

Taurus placement can sit around and watch tv all day if u let them. They really love TV especially movies. I notice this more with Taurus mars as well, they’re more likely to watch movies all day or binge watch shows for hours. It’s usually their happy place (and when u add food to it they’ll never leave lol)

Taurus moons usually always grew up loving fashion and clothes. Even as kids they can be very creative with the outfits the wore. They were usually too stubborn to have their mom pick out their clothes cuz they wanted a certain “look” (I’m guilt for this) they are also very fond of thrifting! Can be big shopaholics lol

Pisces moons tend to ghost ppl they’re close too with very little warning. They’ll just randomly decide to move to another state without informing anyone which can catch ppl off guard a lot. They do this especially when they feel overwhelmed with life and responsibilities. These are the hardest ppl to keep in touch with (unless you’re a love interest) they tend to put their love interests before everyone.

Pisces suns fall in love with some of the most psychotic/mentally unstable ppl ever lol. They tend to have very chaotic love life’s and tend to go for people that need some sort of mental help.

Out of all the Venus signs I feel like Taurus Venus’s have the easiest time in relationships. They tend to go for very stable people that usually treat them well. They have the ability to attract very helpful partners. (Cries in aqua Venus 🥲) however they can be more likely to take their partners for granted and don’t realize how good they have it.

Another question for other astrologers does the house of ur Venus give the same affect as the sign? Like for example ( does having a 5th house Venus give the same effect as having a Leo Venus in a way? Or is it not as strong?)

[themotherofhorses]

maybe you think that you can hide (i can smell your scent from miles)

summary: let it be known that accepting defeat is not in aemond targaryen's nature. and with a witch now in his hands, the distance between you and him is only shortening.

pairing: (somewhat) dark!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

warnings: explicit language. mentions of violence, previous smut, and child loss. male masturbation. massive obsessive tendencies on aemond's part.

notes: to quote my mom, megan thee stallion: "pressed, stressed, obsessed, i got 'em."

masterlist | series masterlist

part one | part three | part four | part five

The rain was light. From his chamber’s windows, Aemond One Eye could see the fat raindrops fogging up the glass frames and mudding the open courtyard below, where he usually trained under Ser Criston Cole. The evening weather was peaceful and calm, very soothing, but Aemond’s mind was anything but.

He had been counting the days, as it was all he could do right now.

Three months, perhaps even four, since his own lady wife vanished, leaving no trace of herself behind.

Aemond deeply regretted not having a septon marry the two of them in the eyes of the Seven that very night that he claimed her, or whisking her away to Dragonstone in secret to wed her in the customs of his ancestors. Oh, he knew that his family would object to the marriage, but he did not care. She was his, and they could not, would not, deny that. She and the babe. They both belonged to him.

And now they were gone.

It weighed him down most days- if not all, a sort of feeling so heavy in his chest that sometimes it made it hard to breathe. Were they both alright? Safe and healthy? Had she gone against his wishes and returned to her homeland? Aemond had no way of knowing the answers and that itself was most upsetting, because what if they were dead? Or injured, with the Stranger trailing after them, awaiting the chance to rob them from him?

He shakes his head at that. I will find them, he swears to himself, while a fist clenches into a tight ball, no more of these ill thoughts.

But with no more ill-mannered thoughts come those of vengeance and punishment.

How dare she, this lady wife of his, flee from him!

He promised her everything under the golden sun and more- a plentiful and comfortable life as a princess of the realm and the mother of his heirs, as well as his very own beating heart and soul and seed. What more could the foolish girl long for? Aemond stares out the window, towards the gentle hill slopes of the realm’s countryside. The land was silvery from the rain and blanketed with a thick mist. What could her homeland provide that he could not?

He sighs before turning back to his empty bed, the left side, from where she once laid, now cold and untouched, with her sweet scent slowly fading. He hates it.

Yet some of it was still left, to his many blessings, and he brings the sheets to his nose, taking in a deep whiff.

The smell makes his cock stir and harden in his pants, and he soon grows too weak in the knees and in his resolve. He tears off his trousers and lays on the bed, his cock in one hand, and her side of the sheets in the other, his mind spinning countless images of his young bride. Every thought sent more blood rushing in between his legs, memories of her pretty body and all the marks and bruises her skin wore, her cries and whimpers, and the way her tearful eyes bore into his.

After that night, he took her more and more, in varying positions. Some new, others old. Sometimes he mounted her from behind, shoving her face down into the pillows to muffle her loud moans and screams as her hips slapped against his, and while that was pleasant, he soon realized he did not care for such. Aemond liked seeing her beautiful face twisted in pleasure and the way her breasts bounced with every thrust, and how she easily flustered whenever he leant to whisper a string of praises in her ear.

He also liked when she sat on her knees with his cock in her mouth, her tongue working wonders as she stared up at him as if he was a god and she one of those whores that belonged to the Street of Silk. But he never dared mutter those kind of words aloud, fore his lady wife was so much prettier than them damned wenches, too sweet and innocent and pure, and wholly his.

And not long after that, she began to glow, the sort that came only with motherhood.

He loved it and felt nothing but immense pride.  

Was she still glowing, and swelling with his child? Aemond was certain she was, and he could only imagine the sight, one most beautiful to man. He remembered his mother’s pregnancy with his younger brother- how her feet constantly ached, and all the times she would ask Ser Cole to fan her, or switch gowns because she grew too uncomfortable and moody.

Was it the same for his wife? Were her little feet hurting as well?

The thought of such makes him bite down hard on his bottom lip, trying his best to swallow his own grunts and moan, and with a whine so unlike him, the head of his cock weeps and spills more of his seed, down his hand and onto his thighs.

What a waste, he thinks emptily, while eyeing the mess he had made, all this belongs to her, yet the foolish girl refused to see it.  

Heaving out yet another heavy sigh, he reaches for the rag that sits to his side. What more could be done? Nothing. Foolish, foolish little girl, he clicks his tongue, all this because of you. He then calls for the maid, requesting for her to draw him a bath.

Tonight, he will dream of his lady wife and their little babe and the life they should be sharing at this very moment. He will ponder over names and if the child will favor her looks or his, and how he will need to meet with the royal seamstress for a layette. And as he sinks himself into the scalding hot waters of the bathtub, he smiles in contentment.

One-eyed Aemond Targaryen will have his wife, and his child too, by any means necessary. 

It was after he sacked Harrenhal that Aemond finds the opportunity he had been waiting for.

The sixth month was nearing with still no sign of his little wife, though the princeling did not dare to consider admitting defeat. There was much pent-up frustration and fury within him, festering from all the damned months he faced of constant loneliness and dryness, and the riverlands faced the brute of it, most notably House Strong. In the ward of Harrenhal, at the hands and command of Prince Aemond, no Strong was spared- neither trueborn nor bastard, all but Alys Rivers.

He had previously heard that the rivers woman was an alleged woods witch, though she dabbled in other branches of the craft. Blood magic too, several little birds say as well.

It gives him an idea.

So he demands two of his knightsmen to bring to him the wet nurse, dark-haired and twice his age. When she stands in front of him, dressed in a soft emerald gown and with her bodice sullied wet from her breast milk, he does not expect for her to bat her black eyelashes and promise to warm his bed if he grants her protection.

“I can be of great use to you,” she adds, in tones thick with seduction.

But Aemond is quick to unsheathe his sword and hold it at her throat. “It should be known that I carry no love for your kind, witch, and that I dare not touch another woman who is not my wife,” he seethes, pressing the blade harder against her skin, “-either you pledge to help me find her, or I will sever your tongue. Perhaps I’ll send it to the whore of my eldest sister as a gift, seeing how she loved you Strongs so much.”

In the back stands Ser Criston Cole, biting his own tongue from saying anything. He may have been the second son of Viserys Targaryen, but Prince Aemond was the knight’s through and through.

The woman nods, and Aemond pulls back his sword. In his mind, he is giddy with excitement at the thought of finally having his dear wife back in his arms, where she belongs.

And the babe, he can hardly wait to see him too.

Alys wipes away the tiny welts of blood budding along her neckline, grimacing. She recognizes the blade as Valyrian-steel, with an edge that could have cut her head clean off. It is probably spell-forged too, she thinks. “My time and craft come with a price, Prince Aemond,” she says, steeling her voice to hide the fact that she is licking her wounds. “I expect to be paid in return.”

“Yes, I know,” Aemond hums, while sliding his sword back into its sheathe. “You will keep your life, and still have the chance for more babes to feed from your chest.”

He debates whether to bring her back to King’s Landing, in case his own children need a wet nurse, but the thought is off-putting, and he wishes not to offend his wife when she returns. Instead, he turns back to study the rivers woman. “My wife is missing,” he says, “and I wish to find her and bring her home.”

Alys frowns. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Six months ago, in our room. She disappeared the next morning, leaving nothing behind.” Aemond sighs. “She is with child,” he says ruefully, “and I worry every day." He rubs at his temple, shaking his head. "This is her first babe, and mine as well. I have made her into a new mother with the promise to remain by her side, but now she is gone, and I haven’t the slightest clue where she might be.” The pain returns again, followed by anger and frustration, as well as the deep regret for not doing things differently.

His words give Alys a chill. She always had a soft spot for children and the young maidens that found motherhood too soon in their lives. Maybe because that was her once, so many moons ago, losing child after child well before their lives began.

She mourned so many dead babes that the thought of another girl going through the same felt sinful.

Finding sudden courage, Alys takes Aemond’s hand in hers. “Let me help you, Prince Aemond,” she tells him, all with the gentlest smile. “A father should be with his children, and a wife with her husband.”

His violet eye finds her green ones, and she catches the smallest glimmer of hope flickering within. “Thank you.”

“Blood magic would perhaps be the best way to find your wife, my prince.”

Aemond tilts his head at Alys. “How so?” The Faith of the Seven went against magic, and harbors little love or respect towards those who practice it, and he grew up with similar sentiments. But at this point, he is too desperate to care. All he wants is her back.

May the Father and the Crone forgive him in his later years, though he has a feeling that the Mother might be rather sympathetic and understanding towards his situation.

“It is a strong and powerful craft,” Alys explains, “capable of things beyond our own understandings. This sort of magic- it has the power to deliver life and then steal it away. ”

He hums, nodding along. “And how would it work?”

Alys pauses, unsure of how to say her next words. “It would require the blood of your wife, my prince,” she says, carefully, “even just the tiniest droplet would work well. I could call upon my own gods to find her. If she pricked her finger on a needle or scraped her knee, as long as it drew fresh blood, there is no use in her hiding.” But her head then drops, and her shoulders slump too, “Yet seeing how she has been gone for so long, I do not know how it could be done, or what else to do in that matter.”

Aemond remains quiet from where he sits by the room’s hearth. He brushes his knuckles against his lips as he thinks, and thinks, and thinks some more. “Would dry blood work?”

Alys blinks. “Well, maybe?” Her mouths flatten in a line as she ponders over the idea, trying to remember if her old readings ever mentioned anything about dried blood and rituals. “I suppose so, my prince,” she replies with, fiddling with her long and thin fingers, “Blood is blood, regardless of time.”

At that, he leaves the room, only to return several minutes later carrying a single bedsheet, cream in color. Alys watches as he drapes it over the chair he had sat at, making sure to smooth out any wrinkles. When he is done, he calls for the witch to join his side, and when she stands next to him, he gestures to a bloodstain at the center, dried and a bit crusty but still obvious.

“My wife’s blood,” he says, smirking, “from the night I took her maidenhood and gave her our son.”

Alys glances at him, and her lips pull back into a smirk too. “Perfect.”

tag list: @minttea07 @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @smolnuggie911 @marahisthebest @bibli0thecary @whatsonthemirror @bellaisasleep @witchy-jadda @princeaemond1eye @mefools @xcharlottemikaelsonx @browngirl101

(if I did not tag you, it’s because it did not let me! im sorry, little love, the tumblr gods hate me today.)

[granddaughterogg]

You Let Me Complicate You - Part 3

SUMMARY: Simon "Ghost" Riley is a consummate fuckboy who uses fleeting trysts to blow off steam collected at his deadly job. You - the Reader - are a cynical, world weary girl with a penchant for one night stands. None of you are prepared for the horror of Actually Falling In Love. Also - the mask stays on for ridiculously long. Tags: From Sex to Love, Flirting, Random Encounters, First Impressions, One Night Stands, Dirty Talk, Swearing. So. Much. Swearing, Reader Gets Harassed By Assholes, Simon Beats Up An Asshole, Rough Sex. It's all fully consensual tho!

PART 2 HERE

Music pulsated in your temples, but you've completely lost the will to dance. Streaks of murky blue light cut across the dance floor, where the crowd rippled along with the rhythm. You made yourself comfortable on the plush sofa and watched people for a while. Fortunately, this mass of heads, arms and legs in motion was dense enough to hide that wired fucker from your sight.

You hoped to never see him again.

The one you wanted to see has vanished into thin air like Cinderella. A Cinderella who was six feet four, great at chatting women up and built like a wrestler. Who smelled like a heady mix of drugstore cologne, expensive whisky, sweat – and for some fucking reason also like fireworks.

Could it be that his ride has turned into a pumpkin? You would start to ask yourself whether you've imagined him – the man was larger than life after all – but you could still taste that smokey, alcoholic kiss on your lips.

A kiss which was deranged and therefore unforgettable.

You'd have to wipe your brain with a Scrub Daddy to get rid of that memory.

Son of a bitch.

Disappeared, but left the bottle. He clearly had money to throw around.

You ignored the liquor, pouring yourself a healthy glass of water instead.

It seemed that life had offered you an abrupt comedown from this short, all-consuming high. You sat and swallowed tasteless liquid in a sober – and sombre - manner, considering your options.

Option 1.  You could go ask that bartender with the face like a slapped arse whether he's seen your beau around. Which surely would be Humiliating.

Option 2.  You could give up on vanishing hunks and go home. Which was probably the sensible option, if one you didn't feel like taking.

Option 3. You could do what you usually did whenever life served you with a plot twist: have a smoke break.

You were a woman of culture and therefore perfectly aware that those days, smoking is bad form – almost as much as admitting that one does not intend to go vegan. But then, you were also sensible and knew what kind of end awaits persistent cigarette enthusiasts. A cough which sounds just like torn cardboard, a tracheotomy, or death.

The thing is, you've always considered the spectacle of smoking one of the sexiest feats for a man to perform, while the taste of nicotine soothed your nerves and restored you to the state of being serenely one with the universe. All those vapes smelling of fucking strawberries felt as appealing as Boris Johnson's ass.

So you let out a sigh, finished your water, threw on your jacket, grabbed your umbrella and marched across the club, guessing that smokers have been traditionally banished to the outside.

The iron door creaked open like the hatch to a bank vault. 

Your suspicions were correct. Nicotine hostages stood around the entrance, some on the grass, others on the cracked concrete path. Milky serpentines of smoke blew away quickly in the night wind. Fortunately, the rain had abated somewhat. Instead of an icy wave splashing in your face, you were greeted by a cold drizzle.

That you could deal with.

Unfortunately, fate had yet other things in store for you.

You've managed to pat all your jacket pockets, fish out a box of cigarettes, experience relief, because it wasn't soggy, pat your pockets again, find a lighter, and stick a fag into your mouth...It would take in this damp air, so for a moment there you focused on the wobbly little flame instead of your surroundings.

Which was a mistake.

"Need help with this, beautiful?" Asked some stranger's voice.

"Jesus on a stick", you grumbled without even bothering to meet his eye.

"I said", the voice wasn't to be deterred easily, "Do you need help?"

You looked up. Some dude has obstructed the light coming from the small bulb, hanging above the entrance in its industrial iron casing. He was big, even stocky - not as big as your fleeting masked acquaintance, naturally, but quite thick in his own right. Had a pudgy face that you wouldn't be able to describe even at the police station. The patchy beard didn't help either. That's all you could say about him because he didn't spark your interest.

"Nope", you said flatly.

"What do you mean, nope?" 

The man leaned over you, hanging his head unpleasantly close. He smelled like beer and Axe body spray.

You sighed. "I mean it in general. Go away."

"But I've just come here", the dude grinned, as if he'd said something truly brilliant.

"That's not my problem." 

The tip of your cigarette finally took hold of the fire. You shielded it with your palms, taking half a step away from the persistent bloke. Only a half, because the door was right behind you.

Unfortunately, your new friend wasn't about to take a hint.

"Oh come on now", he whined. "Don't be rude to me like this. Let's have a talk."

You never had a lot of patience, not even on your best days. Now it was running dangerously low.

"I don't have to be nice to you", you hissed right into his stupid grin. "I don't have to talk to you either. Go bestow the gift of your company on someone who'll enjoy it."

You've made two mistakes. The first one was assuming that gassed pick-up artists understand sarcasm. The second one was using words and not just your boot instead.

He leaned forward and grabbed your arm. It was not a firm grip, but the touch of this stranger's sweaty fingers on your skin made you nauseous.

"You don't understand how much you're fucking yourself over" - he went on in that slow, obstinate manner of a drunkard, sizing you up with a glazed look. " You're depriving yourself of a chance...yes, a chance. For something better, something to elevate that sad, lonely, fuckless life of yours! A man walks up to you like a gentleman...chimes in with utmost tact and gets mauled. Women of today don't understand -"

You didn't find out what is it that women of today don't understand. You hurled your lit cigarette straight into his panting mouth and pressed your elbow against the handle of that cursed door. It swung open with a groan - not loud enough to drown out the surprised yelp of your aggressor. He let go of your hand. You jumped inside, trying to slam that door right in his face, but even an agile woman, one well aware of her surroundings is much weaker physically than an average man. 

It was a long time since you had to grasp that bitter truth because you had avoided places like this. Well, that was your reminder.

The dude broke in when you were already halfway into the dark club premises, walking as fast as possible without just bolting it.

Music blared from the speakers, making the walls tremble, but you were still aware that he was coming after you. Slow but tireless, like fucking Michael Myers. You didn't have to look over your shoulder to know. Every woman has this radar installed.

You hauled ass, pushing people aside and collecting bemused looks. You headed straight for the bar like a sailor towards a lighthouse in a storm. You intended to chain yourself to that bar; to make Geoffrey call the cops if necessary.

Eventually, you managed to come ashore. You pushed your way through the crowd of patrons queuing for a drink, ignoring their shouts of disapproval. You climbed onto the first available stool and set your elbows on that cold concrete counter. The bartender was nowhere to be seen. Ain't that just the way.

"Hey, Governor!" you hollered towards the row of glittering bottles behind the counter. "We have a problem!"

"Why hello there", said a high-pitched voice to your left. It didn't sound particularly friendly.

You jumped as if at the push of a spring, spinning around on that stool. Your heart jolted abruptly. For in the dim light, you spotted this long-haired fuckhead from the dancefloor. He sat there, measuring you with a glassy look and sporting a wide, deadpan grin.

You took a long swig of air. This was a fucking nightmare, a Halloween special, and you were drowning in it. Drowning in the waters coming up to your chin, black as ink. A woman who went out simply to have fun.

"I thought I'd find you here", he continued, his voice eerily flat, his gaze pinned to yours. "You ugly slut."

"Geoffrey, shake a leg!" you yelled into the void behind the counter. 

"Think you can just walk around and kick people?" asked the long-haired man as casually as if he'd wanted your opinion on the weather. He leaned closer, adding in a low voice:

"Rabid bitches like you shouldn't be let off the chain."

From what you could gather he wasn't that muscular, but you'd already met men with such hollow eyes and a flat affect. Getting into a tussle with one of them was always a bad idea. Whatever fueled this fucker – illegal substances, his own charming personality or both - you didn't feel like dealing with it.

You jumped off the stool, putting him between you and the guy, spun on your heel...

... only to run face-first into the armpit of that specimen from the front of the club. It turned out he didn't stop his TED Talk this whole time.

"...men and women ought to be friends, there should be a sense of CAMARADERIE between them, a sense of friendship, not this, whatever this is. I am being FRIENDLY to you, I am treating you with reverence, yes, REVERENCE and what do I get in return? I swear -"

Two gorilla arms pawed at you, pressing you against his chest. Your nostrils filled with his nauseating smell and the odour of Axe. You couldn't breathe.

"...this war between the sexes must end, or you will all die alone and you'll be so UNHAPPY, you hear me?" He panted into the top of your head. "You will cry your eyes out, surrounded by sex toys and CATS instead of children -"

You gathered all your strength and pulled yourself away from the numbing stench, driving your nails into your assailant's chest. The dude yelped and let you go. You fell back, parting the crowd. Suddenly two capable hands held at your shoulders, firmly but without causing pain.

You got enveloped in the familiar mix of scents - man, cheap cologne, expensive whisky, fireworks.  Oh, thank god.

"One can't leave ya alone for a minute, eh?" said Skullface, calm as ever.

You almost burst into tears of relief - and into tears of anger, too. He's left you all alone in this shithole and let it happen.

You jumped back, darting your head up to look into those dark peepers of his. There he was, all composed, towering effortlessly over everyone in sight. Tall like an unconquered mountain.

"Where the fuck were you?! I'm being harassed by creeps!"

"Plural?" The skull mask tilted in amusement, but you've noticed how his eyes swept the perimeter, and his hold on your shoulders loosened, but not to the point of release.

"You sure are popular."

You scoffed. 

"This shit ain't fun. But seriously, what were you doing?"

He shrugged. With shoulders like his it was a pronounced shrug.

"Pissing."

"For that long?!"

It was an undignified squawk, but you didn't care. You were stressed. You felt scared and fed up.

The man fell silent for a moment. Then he scratched the back of his head.

"If you really need to know, I also laid a brick."

You stared at him in disbelief, but that covered face betrayed nothing, and his eyes seemed sincere.

"What? You asked", he added.

It was as if some lever had been pulled inside your stressed mind. Suddenly you no longer felt like tearing him a new one. Instead, you wanted to burst out laughing.

"Alright then. I hope you washed your hands", you murmured, stepping forward and touching the front of his hoodie. He cupped your much smaller hand in his big one, tracing over its back with his long fingers. They were so warm.

You both smiled. His eyes looked strangely charming when they creased under all that eyeshadow...or whatever that black stuff was.

"You don't have much faith in the opposite sex, don't ya."

"That's EXACTLY what I've been saying!" 

The stocky dude from before emerged from the fray, pushing people aside and beelining to you as if the three of you were good friends. 

"I'm trying to explain to her how DETRIMENTAL this hostile approach towards men is, but she won't listen -"

"That's Creep No. 1", you murmured.

Skullface got visibly alert. He put you right behind him, blocking access like a guard dog. He straightened up to his full impressive height, but you stuck your head out from his armpit anyway. Now that the danger has dissipated, you felt curious as to how this shit would end.

"You." Said the masked man, pointing his finger at the idiot. "Get bent."

"The fuck you saying to me, mate?" The TED Talker was clearly an obstinate drunk.

"I'm a free man, a citizen of a free country! Can do whatever and talk to whoever I please, including this stuck-up bitch right here and you can't make me -"

Skullface's long, bulky arm shot forward, hand closing around the neck of this champion of men's civil liberties. You watched, transfixed. Your eyes have barely registered movement.

"The lady doesn't want to talk to you", Skullface explained, his tone almost friendly. "You better apologise."

The other dude stared at him with bulging eyes. Then he glanced at the large hand, gripping him like a vice. He tried to swallow – not an easy feat when your airways are being compressed – and finally tapped at Skullface's hand with his own shaky fingers.

Your masked friend released him. The bloke staggered, massaging his throat and breathing heavily. He was anything but frail, clearly possessing some strength of his own. And yet there he was, reduced to an ungainly, panting mess. 

"Alrighty then", he gasped. "Sorry..."

"Not to me." Skullface's already deep voice dropped a notch, dark and metallic. You felt a sudden chill licking at your spine. " To her."

The other dude cut you a quick look, his eyes wide and scared. Drunkedness has clearly been choked out of him. 

"Yeah yeah, sorry to you both. Jesus, mate. Chill.."

A snigger tore out of you while you watched that asshole slink away. It felt great. 

"Having fun?" Skullface's tone dripped with amusement.

"Yeah!" you admitted, stepping past his wide frame and looking him in the face. "I wish I had popcorn!"

He blinked at you. Slowly, like a pleased cat would.

"Let's go," he ordered and began pushing his way deeper into the club. You followed suit.

You two found yourselves back in that corner near the dancefloor. Skullface reached for the flask of whisky.

"We're leavin', eh?" he asked.

"Let's," you agreed. "That's enough clubbing for one day." 

You looked around, searching for your jacket, but it was nowhere to be seen.

"Fuck," you hissed. 

He raised his head. "What's goin' on?"

"I left my jacket at the bar. Don't disappear on me again, okay?”

"You got it." 

He sat comfortably and poured himself some more liquor, downing it promptly. You wondered about this man's incredible alcohol tolerance but didn't have the time to ponder on it. 

You squeezed your way back through the crowd, grappling with rapidly growing irritation. First, you'd shout "Excuse me!" again and again and then you'd just work your elbows. 

You told him the truth; you were fed up with partying, with the crowd and with the noise. Wherever this masked man was going to take you would be an improvement.

You finally made it to the bar, threw your jacket on and turned on your heel, starting the journey back immediately, like a ferry connecting two shores.

"Excuse me, excuse me, oh, fuck, sorry, excuse me -"

You stumbled over someone's foot, fell face forward into their T-shirt, pushed yourself away with both hands and then got grabbed by the wrist, which someone held at and jerked it so abruptly that you heard a crunch. Your whole body pivoted, led by the force of inertia. You tried to break free but to no avail. The man twisted both your arms and pinned them to your back, his breath right in your ear, hot and stinking like beer. His words were a searing sludge of intoxication and malice.

"Sorry's not gonna be enough."

You looked up - right into the blank face of that psycho from earlier. His pupils were two black holes. Icy panic flooded your veins, raising little hairs all over your body. He was dragging you somewhere away from the bar, his grip strong and painful. He was elbowing his way through the fray, and nobody around you in this densely populated club seemed to care – or notice for that matter. If they did, they cast you both one glance and decided that they don't want trouble.

You tried your darnedest to fight him, tensed all over in an attempt to break out of his hold, but with your arms twisted there was not much room for action. Or the guy was simply stronger than you. 

Every average man is so much stronger than an average woman, after all. A reminder of this truth came back to you in a bitter wave while your unwilling feet scraped over the concrete floor. 

In moments like these, you saw everything in razor-sharp HD. The dregs of intoxication evaporated from your system while you gained a cool, detached view of the mess you were in.

You looked in all directions, trying to find something that could aid you. It crossed your mind to call your new friend for help. But what name were you supposed to use?

The attacker dragged you into some dark corner and threw you onto an armchair standing there. Its aged springs groaned under your weight. The man pressed both hands into the wooden backrests and leaned so close that you smelled his sour breath.

"I'll put you back in your place", he promised, undoing his belt buckle.

To do this he had to let go of you. It was a small opening, but you took it.

You sat up, reached quickly into your loose chignon, slipped out the hairpin, clenched your hand around it and swung, aiming for the gut -

"The fuck you doing?" he sniggered, grabbing at our hand and stilling it mid-way. "I'll cut you open, you daft cow -"

He did not, in fact, cut you. He didn't do shit, because a dark mountain shaped like a man appeared behind his back.

This time Skullface didn't engage in Manly Posturing. He struck your assailant once, somewhere between the ear and the jugular. The bloke staggered, fell forward, but regained balance, turned on his heel and pounced. Skullface dodged, fast like a bullet, grabbed the other man's arm and twisted it downwards with a profound crunch, at the same time driving his other fist into his stomach.

The dude let out a stifled groan. For a moment he sagged like a rag in your companion's grip but came to quickly and began thrashing around, emitting some unintelligible, high-pitched noises. 

Skullface picked up the floundering man as if his opponent was a rowdy cat. Then he held him at full arm's length, clearly considering the way forward.

"He's on drugs!" You offered. "I don't think he feels pain!"

"Figures," he said. "Should've gone down already."

"Then take him down!" You asked, growing impatient.

Skullface shot you a look from under creased eyebrows.

"S'not that simple,", he explained. "If I hit him again, it prob won't cut the mustard. Bloke's foamin' at the mouth, see? But if I hit him real hard, he might stay down for good. And then Price will yell my noggin' off -"

"SUCK COCKS IN HELL!!!" Chimed in the subject of his deliberations. 

Skullface shook him a little.

"Who's Price?" You asked.

"My boss. He's a real stickler when it comes to those things."

"What things?" Your head was swimming. " Killing people?"

Skullface rubbed his nose with his free hand.

"He says we have an image to uphold...that we need to inspire public trust. Some such tosh." 

He noticed the hairpin, which you were still holding.

"Gimme that. I got an idea."

You handed him the pin and watched in a stupor as he hurled the guy to the floor, using a kick to stretch him flat. The man spat, snarled and threw himself around like a fish out of water, but it didn't do squat. Your masked companion grabbed him by the forearm, pressed it against the wooden backrest of one of the armchairs - and drove the sharp end of the pin right into his outstretched palm, literally pinning him in place. Blood gushed out.

You held your breath. The man howled like a thing possessed, but Skullface had already turned away.

"You broken?" He asked, hunkering down in front of your armchair. His eyes scanned all over you, seeking for signs of injury.

"What?.."

He sighed and shook his head.

"Nevermind. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, he didn't have the time to do anything..." You moved your affected hand and squirmed, seeing a fresh bruise. "Apart from fucking up my wrist, maybe. but I'll live."

"Good."

He stood up and helped you clamber out of the armchair.

"Let's go", he said.

You followed him while he shouldered his way through the club.

You two arrived at the bar, where Geoffrey The Pinched Face begrudgingly poured someone a tequila.

"Geoff, call the coppers", instructed Skullface, putting both forearms on the counter. His voice was low and confidential.  "You've got quite a specimen in here. Mad as a badger, bein' a nuisance to the ladies. Careless with sharp objects, see. Went and nailed himself to a chair."

"Nailed himself?" Geoffrey raised his eyebrows. "On his own? I swear to god, Ghostie. If I didn't like you so much..."

"Then you'd have casualties here every fuckin' Friday." Skullface extended a hand. "Gimme the key. We'll wait this out upstairs."

Geoff silently handed him a small key. The masked man set off across the dark hall. You had to run to keep up with him.

" Ghostie?  Should I start calling you that?"

"It's Ghost", came from behind his broad back. 

"What kind of a name is Ghost anyway?" you inquired, but he didn't grace you with an answer.

You've reached the foot of a winding, narrow staircase made entirely of wrought iron.

"Up there", he ordered. "Watch your step."

You did as you were told. Your boots raised sharp echoes in the steps. The stairs winded upwards for what felt like forever; finally, you stood very high above the dance floor, in front of a black door. The paint was peeling away. A red neon reading HELLO adorned it, but the O had gone out and HELL alone remained.

Fitting,  you thought.  I'm following a stranger into an unknown place. A man who is darkness, yet somehow I am not afraid. 

You were hardly the naive, virginal Persephone. But hey, even myths need to get on with the times.

"That was seriously cool what you just did," you said, turning to your companion, walking right behind you. " Stab! Right between the metacarpals!"

"He'll stay put until the law arrives." He didn't seem to be impressed by your high praise.

"You've sharpened it, didn't you”, he added. "The hair thingie."

You shook your newly freed hair and shot him one incredulous look.

"I'm a woman who's endeavoured a solo night on the town in a tiny dress. What do you think? Of course I've sharpened it."

Ghost nodded slowly.

"A woman after my own heart..."

"Aw, thanks!" you sent him your best seductive smile and invited yourself into his personal space, your back almost leaning on his warm chest and head tilted upwards.

He only pulled you closer.

"Can we go back to having fun now?" You asked. "I'm fucking tired of being hunted for sport."

His long forearm settled across your chest, hand drawing small circles on your opposite shoulder.

"Yeah", he said softly. "We can."

He had to loosen his embrace to insert the key into the lock. The door swung open, creaking ghastly. Your nose filled with the scent of wood and rooms long un-aired. It looked like a typical attic with slanted wooden walls and a small window just below the ceiling. When Ghost turned on the light - which was faint red - you saw low tables and soft futons scattered across the floor.

Music from the dancefloor reached in here too, although it wasn't as loud.

Truth be told, you wouldn't care if they stored onions in there. 

Your attention was fully on the man.

His mask went up again. He slammed the door behind you with a kick, hand already cupping your chin. Then he leaned down. The rough cotton of his mask rubbed at your cheek, followed by the silky flutter of his eyelashes.

You opened to him without hesitation, but this time the kiss was slower, more deliberate. His lips traced over yours, tasting you, discovering this fairly new sensation, nipping and sucking at your mouth with delighted curiosity. He's clearly had a lot of practice.

You tried to fall into this fickle rhythm, but impatience got the best of you. You bit at his lower lip.

A low noise reverberated in his throat – not quite a chuckle, almost a grunt. He turned you to face him, embracing you tighter than before and gave you his tongue. You nipped at the sensitive tip and that's when he lost it. Suddenly your mouth was full of him, claiming you voraciously, setting your blood on fire once again, and you heard your own breathless moan. Somehow your fingers traveled under the back of his mask and ran through cropped hair at his nape. It was butter-soft. He groaned with pleasure under your touch and that sound pierced right through you, making your insides soft and wanting. 

"Oh my god", you panted right into Ghost's mouth, holding at his nape. "Can we just screw already -"

"That's the plan." Could that rough voice of his get any deeper? Smile tapered the edges though, like a glimpse of gold in gravel. 

You weaved your wanting fingers into the longer part of his fade, sliding the mask further up.

He stilled your wrists. 

"Hey. Hey", he whispered cautiously into the bridge of your nose. "Don't even think about it."

"So...the mask stays on?... Like, all the way?" You inquired breathlessly between nipping at his mouth.

"Yes."

You looked this peculiar man in the eyes, now gleaming with fun, but dark and puzzling nonetheless. What was he hiding? Scars? Being a plain ol' butterface? Facial deformity of some kind?

You examined this thought thoroughly and found out that you don't care.

"All right", you said. "But tell me one thing. Are you Deadpool?"

He snorted softly. "I'm just Ghost."

"Ghost?.."

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

And kiss you he did.

Holy fuck, he was so good at this. Even when he let himself loose, abandoning all fuckboy moves in favour of feral lust. 

And maybe especially then.

Your tongues entwined in a blind dance, devoid of any rhythm. It was as un-romantic as humanly possible and you liked it that way. That frenzied, rushed approach of his told you that the man was truly starving, losing himself already in this newly acquired flavour, in your feminine warmth. His desperation set your blood ablaze. 

Because you were hungry too.

Ghost finally broke contact, but before leaning away he glided his tongue over your half-opened mouth. It was as if he just couldn't part with the taste.

"Hold on...fuck, you're something else." He sighed and put both of your hands around his wide neck.

"Hold tight, love", he cautioned as if you two were boarding a ride. 

When you did as told, he grabbed at your ass.

You yelped when his hands pressed into the soft flesh under the thin velvet of your dress. He effortlessly pulled you off the ground and lifted you up. 

"Wrap your legs around me", he asked.

You were not a dainty lady. When other guys attempted such stunts, you usually started to fear for their backs. But not for Ghost. This guy was born for heavy-duty activities. You recently watched him sweep the floor with a grown man.

He could take you. You suspected that he'd carry you out of a battlefield as well.

You pressed both thighs to his wide waist, crossing your booted legs over the small of his impressive back. You felt his firm core underneath you, covered with a healthy layer of soft flesh. That width of his didn't come just from muscles, and the discovery excited you. You liked your men strong, but not starving.

"That's right..." Ghost slid his large hands under your thighs, tearing another yelp out of you, followed by a stifled moan as he pressed your ass against the nearest wall. 

"What are you doing?" you breathed, holding on for dear life.

"Keepin' a promise." That low gritty voice reverberated in your bones.

Right, he had said this earlier.  I could pin you to a wall if you ask nicely.

The next moment all thoughts - the very ability to think - drifted away from you, for he glided his tongue across that space behind your ear. You moaned, your head falling back as if electricity had just pierced you. He chuckled into your collarbone and was already going lower, kissing, licking and sucking the sensitive skin of your throat. His tongue felt like a flame.

"Jesus Christ...", you breathed. "You're gonna fuck me like this?"

"If that's what you want".

"I dunno. It's kinda – aah! - uncomfortable..."

You tried really hard to rein your thoughts, but they fell apart while this impossible man held you against a wall.

It felt like being sandwiched between cold wood and a living furnace.

As if trying to make the thought process even harder, Ghost dug his fingers deeper into your buttcheeks, bunching up the fabric. It slid up your thighs, eliciting a high-pitched squeal from you.

"This fuckin' skirt is in the way", he murmured. After some more finagling, he got away with the velvet and stroked at the sheer pantyhose underneath. His long fingers nudged the lacy elastic, keeping your stay-ups in place.

"Stockings?" He asked, as if unable to believe his luck.

"Yep", you grinned at him.

" Fuckin' hell."

That came out low and guttural. You felt a sharp tingle within as if someone tugged at a string attached to your core.

That narrow strip of lace awakened something in him. He stepped away from the wall and threw you onto the nearest futon. You landed on your back with legs splayed out, but you didn't have time to collect yourself because he was already on top of you, pressing you to the ground with that huge torso, obscuring the dim light, filling up your whole world. He put his arms over your head and pressed them against the soft surface.

Then he leaned over you and dragged his mouth across your cleavage, biting on the skin on your throat, eliciting another moan, and then he let go. You moaned again, protesting this abandonment.

"I know, love", he murmured into your mouth. "But we need to get rid of your knickers."

A breathless, joyful noise tore out of you when he was pulling up your dress.

Ghost's hands pressed firmly into your buttcheeks, sliding the soft cotton down. Yeah, it was your everyday cotton. You preferred stockings over tights simply because they didn't gradually slide off you, creating that abysmal webbing situation in the crotch. You didn't leave the house tonight expecting to get lucky.

He threw your underwear away and held at your hips with more force.

"Listen, are you gonna...", you asked and got quiet mid-sentence. He was already putting your thighs on his shoulders.

His hot tongue glided along your fun parts, making you almost choke on air. He licked you up and down, parting your folds with the tip of his long tongue, tasting you, exploring you, driven by the shameless joy befitting a kid in a toy store. His hungry lips have found your swollen clit and sucked on it as if it was candy. When you answered with a prolonged, ragged moan, his mouth curled up against your pussy. He was smiling.

"You know what I dreamed of at night, sitting out there in some shitty safehouse in the desert?" he asked all of a sudden. 

You had no idea what was that about, but you didn't have the bandwidth to process it either, for he sucked at you again. Your synapses flared up with pleasure.

„Of what?...” you panted with your head thrown back, all tense and wanting.

He looked up, his stare mischievous.

"Of a girl in black stockings, but with no panties on".

"Hey...you got your wish."

Ghost tilted his head and pressed his face against your pussy. The tip of his long nose parted your pubic hair. He stilled, taking in your scent like a yearning animal.

"Fuuuck, love. Need to taste you."

He licked at you again, across the slit and slid his searing tongue inside of you. Your whole body yanked up, suddenly electric. He was exploring you shamelessly until he found that special point within your wet inside. He pressed his tongue to it, forcing a loud, ragged sob out of you. And then he pulled out.

Cool air licked at your moist, swollen, exposed pussy. The unfulfilled desire in your veins surged with fire. You felt like screaming in protest. Instead, all that came out of your mouth was an uneven, helpless, rather embarrassing moan.

He slowly licked his lips, savouring your taste.

"Need me inside you that bad, huh?" He asked, his voice thick and heady. He slurred over his consonants even more than usual.

"Yes!.." you cried out in frustration. "Will you spare the ceremonies and fuck me already?"

Ghost tilted his head and lowered you onto the futon. You could see a thought forming beneath the black cotton, under that surprisingly soft hair of his.

"You don't like being eaten out?"

"Nah, not really. It's usually boring..." you admitted. "Nothing ever comes out of it. It feels like a waste of time." 

Ghost leaned over you, his massive body obscuring all the view. His masculine scent tinted with sweat filled your nostrils, your mouth - and now probably your nether regions as well. You were keen with desire, wanting more of this. More of him.

"One day I'll show you how it feels when it's done right", he murmured.

"Mhm". You cared little about empty promises. 

You cradled his head, pulled his face close and kissed him deeply, relishing his heat and his musky taste, now mixed with yours. Your tongues intertwined again in this dance without fixed steps. For a while all that you heard were the sounds of kissing and your rushed breath. 

Your hips raised on their own, moving up to press against his. 

Ghost grunted in appreciation and ground onto you. You felt his tantalising hardness poking through the fabric. He rubbed onto your exposed sex and you lost yourself in the sensation. Dissolved into this big man tending to you as if you belonged to him. As if he was never about to let you go.

He sold this illusion so well.

"You got a condom?" you whispered into his mouth.

„Always. ”

He sat up, reached into the pocket of his jeans and produced a shiny metallic rectangular.

"Allow me", you offered, sitting up as well. He kneeled right in front of you, those powerful tights splayed. You sidled closer and met his gaze while opening his fly. Thankfully the zipper didn't put up a fight. He let you do it. Watched with his lips curled up when you palmed his hot bulge, clothed in plain black cotton.

"Holy fuck", you breathed, pulling his cock out of its confinement. It sprung out half hard, not as ginormous as you were imagining, but decidedly girthy. You sighed in appreciation, sliding your fingers up and down its pale, hefty shaft. It was enchantingly warm and as smooth as fine suede.

You got reminded how much you love dicks. Beautiful, supple creatures.

"It's so shapely. May I...?" You raised your eyes at Ghost again.

He nodded and repositioned himself on the futon to be more comfortable. Those legs of his seemed to just never end when he sat with them splayed. A smile glinted in his eyes.

You curled your fingers around his root, placing your other hand on his thigh. Then you leaned down, giddy from want. His pink tip felt smooth like porcelain – if porcelain could be alive and searing hot, that is. You noticed a shiny bead of precum and licked it away.

Ghost sighed when you wrapped your lips around him.

He tasted like all men tasted, but also uniquely like himself. You detected a day's worth of sweat, a note of fresh laundry, the faintest whiff of that woodsy-citrusy cologne of his - and salt, for he was already leaking into your mouth. 

Greedy boy.

You didn't try to perform any feats worthy of a porn star. You just sucked, licked and rubbed your tongue at that tender bundle of nerves right under his crown, enthralled with the sensation. He was so smooth and  robust and expanded by the second.

You've always preferred to give head than to be given.

He hardened in your diligent mouth. You could feel his large thigh tensing under your touch, too. You glanced up – he was watching, eyes wide, blinking slowly, those featherlike white lashes of his giving him an ethereal look.

He seemed entranced.

You smiled around his cock and sucked harder, giving it all you've got.

A long, ragged sigh tore out of him.

And that's when you pulled away. A string of saliva bridged his glistening tip and your open mouth, gleaming under the red lights.

He stared at you, dumbfounded.

"Not so fun when it's being done to you?" You gave him a shit-eating grin. " You're lucky that I'm really, really horny. Now give me that rubber."

Ghost snorted, handing you the silver packet. You made short work of it and then used your fingers once again, this time to roll the condom down nice and easy. It slid effortlessly over his stiff manhood.

He swallowed loudly somewhere above you.

"Hands-on approach."

"Yeah." You held at his nape, pulling him closer until you were breathing each other's air.

"Fuck me, Ghost", you asked.

You didn't have to tell him twice.

He leaned over you, forearms pressed into the futon on both sides of your head, positioning his hips just the right way. You watched his eyes, wide, dark and fixated while he pressed his tip to your entrance, already swollen, tender, open and begging. 

He didn't tease you anymore. Just rolled his hips into a slow, measured thrust.

"Oh riiight", you called out, your insides being parted by his hot, rigid, indomitable presence.

He wasn't crazy long, but he was wide. Thick.  Sizeable. It didn't outright hurt because he only went halfway in - but you sure felt stretched. You buckled your hips, trying to make him go deeper. 

"You okay?" he whispered hoarsely, visibly tense from trying to contain himself. "Fuck, love, you're so tight  - "

"Yeah!... Go for it. I can take you", you pleaded, your stare locked onto his.

His eyes were two starless skies when he plunged into you for real. You both cried out when that happened. 

"Oh god!"

„Oh fuck.”

He withdrew almost completely, but before you could raise your voice in protest – thrust all the way back into you, sliding in and out with more and more ease each time. Your insides softened rather quickly, letting him claim as much space as he needed. Letting him fill you with his delicious, delicious dick.

You needed this so badly.

But so did he. For a moment neither of you said a word. Music still played somewhere beyond on the club floor, muted and unimportant, while you two screwed on the dusty futon, creating your own melody. One consisting of ragged moans and rushed breathing, which quickly fell into a rhythm of its own.

The undone zipper of his jeans chafed painfully at your exposed underbelly, but it was a problem for future you. Right now you didn't have a care in the world.

Not when this enormous man took you, groaning through gritted teeth right into your ear. He licked it from time to time and then took it all into his mouth like a mango slice.

You sobbed out loud when he did this.

Ghost let out a breathless, rumbling laugh.

"Enjoyin' the ride?" He asked, sounding way more drunk than before.

"Yes. Go harder..."

Next thing you knew he grabbed at both of your wrists with his one hand and pinned them over your head. 

You cried out in sheer delight.

His eyes glinted. That unwavering stare of his saw right through your kinky soul.

"You like being manhandled, don't ya", he murmured, clearly enticed by his discovery. His other hand reached down, slid under your long-suffering dress and fondled crudely at your breast. His fingers found your nipple and squeezed it without mercy. You moaned again.

"You like to be made...helpless." Dark delight laced his words.

"Yes", you admitted, shameless and staring into the skeleton mask.

Ghost grinned at you like a wolf. "We're gonna have so much fun."

He amped the tempo. You started moaning nonstop while his cock viciously slammed into you, producing obscene wet sounds.

For you were now loose and dripping. He fit snugly into that warm space while your juices trickled out of you. All for him, the burly stranger. You were being fucked with vengeance, that little poach of flub on his stomach meeting yours with a rhythmic slap. He had you pinned down. There was nothing you could do but let him use your body the way he saw fit.

And that's just what he did. He satiated his gnawing hunger with your body, your warm presence, with your mouth, which he would claim one time after another, covering it with sloppy, fervent kisses. Sometimes he didn't even use his lips at all, just pressed the flat of his tongue to yours. It felt so raw, setting your body and your mind ablaze.

"Fuck...you feel so good." His voice right in your ear was a presence of his own, low and gritty and commanding. " Eyes open. Don't you fuckin' look away from me now."

You blinked. His semi-masked face materialised in your field of vision.

Right now you couldn't put a lucid thought together if your life depended on it.

"I love your cock", you confessed dumbly.

His stare got downright manic.

"You like being fucked hard? Like a fuckin' whore?"

Usually, such terms of endearment made you want to kick the idiot in the face, but not this time. Not with this idiot. 

Somewhere inside your soul sizzled a shameful flame of submission. You could be a  whore  for Ghost, and for Ghost only.

"Come on my cock, sweetheart", he ordered, voice low and dripping with authority. Maybe he heard your thoughts. "Come for me."

He reached between you two, pressed his thumb to your clit and started massaging it, going along with the punishing rhythm of his thrusts. You splayed your pantyhosed legs shamelessly wide, crying out from overwhelming pleasure.

"That's right", he rasped into your neck. "Come for me, ya slag."

"Yes", you wailed. "Yes, oh god – Ghost, don't stop – don't stop – don't stop -"

The sounds that came out of you after that weren't words. You dug your nails into the expanse of his firm back. 

Ghost didn't seem to mind one bit.

"Fuck yeah", he growled. "Dig harder. Fuckin' hell!"

A wave of hot, sticky sweetness was rising fast, drowning your wits, washing away all your senses except for touch. Except for this sensation of being taken, being possessed without mercy. You were full of cock. You were full to the brim like a jug of water, ready to overflow. The wave came crushing over your eyes, so you grabbed at him blindly and cried right into his mouth, cursed, and moaned. 

Or maybe it was a prayer. 

Maybe all of the above. 

He held you through it, anchored you while you felt weightless, pressing your chest flush against his - so hard and wide and still fully clothed.

When you came down from this high, he still held you for a while before letting go and falling flat on his back, long limbs splayed.

"You crazy thing", he muttered in delight, slurring the words.

"Ghost...", you breathed, lying flat like a pancake. That futon must've dented under you. Your throat was sore from all this screaming. " I have a question."

"Right now? T'better not be about maths..." 

You chuckled and turned to the side to look him in the face.

Fuck, those eyes,  you thought.  People shouldn't have eyes this big. Eyelids this heavy. I'm never recovering from this man.

"Can we do this again?"

He smiled at you, half-lidded, relaxed. Then he reached out and traced his fingers over your jawbone. Like back then in the beginning.

"M' not in a hurry tonight. You?"

~~to be continued~~

[kennedyalike]

night shift~

pairing: boss!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

summary: nightshifts are your favorite because you can have some ”alone time” with your boss.

tags: slight choking, teasing, groping, vaginal fingering

word count: 2k

The feeling cold air breezing up against the hem of your dangerously short skirt was awakening a small hint of doubt in your chest as you walked into the big building you work at, for a night shift. You were a mere assistant but regardless, you loved your job for one reason, your hot boss. Your boss, Leon S. Kennedy was the big boss around here. You weren’t even sure what he did to be held in such high regard. Being somewhat new to the job meant you were still learning some new things every now and then.

You had been to a couple night shifts and the whole office was quiet, only a couple of people working there at the time. The building was huge but you shared an office with your boss, of course. He was insatiable. He had definitely noticed your doting on him everyday. Stealing small peeks at him over your desk while his eyebrows slightly furrow from the immense focus he was putting into work.

He was always going over some paperwork and your job was basically to follow him around and do whatever he asked. Not that you minded doing whatever he wanted, but sometimes the huge amount of documents he dropped on your desk with the corner of his mouth slightly upturned was exhausting. He was nice, really. You brought him his coffee everyday when your shift began.

Leon was never late to work, he was always there before you and after you. Sometimes you wonder about his private life but he dodges every question. A few months on the job, you had learned a lot about him even though he doesn’t talk that much. He takes black coffee with no sugar, sometimes two cups but usually one. In the mornings he’s quiet and focused and in the evenings he’s moody and tired.

You knew his routine by now and you adjusted yourself to it. He was kind of an asshole sometimes. You just couldn’t figure him out. He never asks for coffee but you bring it each time and each time he just nods and accepts, never thanks. First, you thought he was being rude and that he lacked manners. After some time, you realised he’s quite fond of you. He always brings you something from the cafeteria, he has gifted you flowers a couple times and dropped you off from work. He sometimes asks about your personal life at lunchtime.

One other thing about your relationship with your boss…

The both of you knew about the interest in one another but you played clueless everyday. At first, you thought it was one sided between you two, you taking peeks at him, hoping he doesn’t notice. Never daring to make a flirty joke because you were too nervous around him at first. Safe to say he always picked it up, playing it safe with. ”No need to be nervous, darling.”

It wasn’t one sided, and now you knew it. You picked it up as fast as him. He was always trying to intimidate you by hovering over you slightly. His nicknames. Who calls their assistant ”darling” anyways? His eyes were sometimes peeking at the first unbuttoned buttons on your blouse. His gaze was almost like a burning sensation on your collar bones as his eyes lowered down to your thighs. He did this on a daily basis and always dropped some flirty comments that for sure were not appropriate.

You wouldn’t say anything, of course, because you wanted him so bad. He was tall and muscular, his blonde locks that he sometimes wore down and sometimes slicked back. His straight nose, furrowed brows, strong jawline and wide shoulders had you looking at him for too long. He was for sure the most handsome man you ever laid eyes upon. Safe to say, you thought about him when you were by yourself, feeling a growing sensation between your thighs.

You were too shy and scared to say anything to him, but you did up your game, at least today. You wore a rather short skirt for your night shift today. It wasn’t scandalously short, but noticeably shorter. The skirt was paired with a pair of sheer black tights that caressed the skin of your thighs and a white button up blouse that was loose on your collar, slightly sheer too.

You finally walked into the building, it was dark and only a couple of people were around, everyone couped up in their own offices and floors. You tighten the hold on your purse as you make your way to grab coffee. You grabbed your own and Leon’s. You head to your shared office. With a slight knock on the door with your foot, because your hands were occupied with the hot coffee cups. You push the door open with your back and get in.

Leon knows it’s you so he doesn’t even budge slightly. You roll your eyes at him and sigh as you walk over to his desk and put his coffee on it. ”There you go, sir.” You say politely as you walk over to your own desk, that was in front of him. You set your coffee and purse down on the table. ”It’s been at least two months, think you could drop the ’sir’?” Leon asks while not even lifting his eyes up at you.

You roll your eyes again, not like he was going to see. ”No, sir.” You say unamusedly as you settle down to sit on your chair. Ugh. He didn’t even look your way. Sighing, you sit down and begin working.

After a while, Leon stands up and shuffles some paperworks around the room, putting them inside shelves and pulling new ones out. You don’t turn your head at him, continuing to work in silence. The way his footsteps hit the floor almost echoed in your mind. You come to your senses when you see Leon standing next to your desk in your peripheral vision. He hovers slightly above you, standing much taller.

You turn yourself towards him with the chair, your hands pool at your lap while your body is now turned towards him. He’s wearing a simple button up dress shirt paired with some black slacks. You lift your chin and look up at him. He’s standing awfully close as he looks down at you, until reverting his gaze back to the folder of papers on your desk.

”When you finish those, take them up to the counselor for me, would ya?” He orders rather than requests as he quickly walks back to his chest, sitting down. ”Okay. I’m almost done.” You nod at him while keeping your eyes on him when he sits back down. He isn’t even paying attention to you.

After 20 minutes, you’re done with the papers and you sit up quietly, gathering all the documents in your hands. You sit up and straighten your skirt slightly, feeling embarrassed of your choice of clothing when Leon didn’t even acknowledge it. You make eye contact with him after standing up, you stay quiet but start making your way to the door.

Leon’s eyes started wandering on your body after you broke the eye contact. You almost out the door, Leon quickly remarks. ”Wait.” You stop in your tracks and turn your body to look at him while still holding the door open with your free arms. ”Hm?”

”Nevermind, go.” He says after quickly looking over your figure one more time. Oh he definitely noticed it. Even the tights you’re wearing are different. You nervously walk out the door and start making your way to the upper floor.

After taking the documents up, the counselor had given you something to bring back. It was a folder of some papers that you weren’t bothered to read, they were without a clip and all messed up though. Coming back to your office, Leon was sipping his coffee and leaned back on his seat, shuffling his leg, slowly pumping it up and down. He turns his head to look at you while putting his coffee down. He spins in his chair slowly.

”They give you something back?” He asked, surprised. He stayed in his seat as you walked over to the tall shelf on the side of the office. ”Yeah, it’s all messed up, let me give you a folder.” You explain as you search through the cabinet to find a folder. You end up forgetting about your situation, as you tiptoe a little and lean your body slightly forward to the table while reaching high up.

You hadn’t noticed Leon walking up behind you. He isn’t one to hide anything so he was openly looking at your ass that was now peeking from under your skirt when you were tiptoeing. He keeps his stare on your figure and even catches a small peek at your underwear. He chuckles and quickly hands you the folder you were reaching for, his body only inches away.

Not having heard him come behind you, you got startled slightly. You accept the folder and put the papers in. You nervously turn to face him, he’s probably never been this close. ”Go put them on my desk.” He simply says as he looks at your eyes confidently. You just nod and walk past him, stopping at his desk to settle the papers down.

He walks over to you and suddenly grabs your waist firmly with one hand. ”You thought I wouldn’t notice this, huh?” You turn around, facing him while his hand is still gripping your side. You look down at his hand and then at him, nervously. ”What?” You say, pretending innocent.

”This, darling.” He pulls you closer and his other hand grips your waist while the other sneaks down your skirt and slowly makes its way under it, groping your ass firmly. You gasp slightly, eyes widening at Leon’s action. You’re at a loss of words while you stand there mouth open, he is smirking at you and you’ve never seen him look more cocky.

He gives your ass a slight slap and turns your body around and bends you over his desk. You gasp again, still at a loss of words when his forearm holds you down. Your hands go next to your sides in an attempt to steady yourself. Even though surprised, this is exactly what you wished for, so you don’t fight it. Leon’s hand comes up from behind and grabs around your neck.

”Sir.” You hesitantly say as his digits lock around your throat and squeeze it a little bit. His hands are big and cold, full of veins. While choking you, he smirks as he looks at your panties, seeing a wet spot forming on them as you were now on full display for him, bent over like this. You squirm a little bit. ”Don’t think I’ll let you get off the hook so easily, baby.” He chuckles as he tightens his grip around your neck, earning a small moan from you.

His hand suddenly cups your cunt through your panties, feeling the wet spot on them. He scoffs and chuckles while you squirm. His fingers slips between your wet folds quickly, pulling the panties aside. His long middle finger gathers the slick and brings it to your clit, rubbing small circles around it. You moan loudly and the hand that was choking you, moves on top of your mouth, silencing you. ”Shh, don’t want the others to hear what a slut you are for me.”

read part 2 here

[shalscumbunny]

Trapped | Shalnark x Female!Reader

Summary: And you are there, again and as always, no matter where you go, who you are with, how much you hide, he will always find you, you are trapped by his side... forever.

Pairing: Shalnark X Female!Reader

Warnings: Threatened Reader, Manipulative Reader, Forced Consent, Cock Sucking, Deep Throat, Sex in a Public Place, Mentions of Possible Murder Attempts, Degradation

Author’s note: I always mention it in all my writings in English, but better safe than sorry, English is not my native language so it is very likely to find many mistakes and also that I know practically nothing about writing “X character and Y/N”

Sites: AO3

"You know... if you had been a little smarter you could have run away" Shalnark said smiling, pressing your body harder against the wall.

The train began to leave the station towards its destination, your look of desperation watching as the wheels moved.

"Oh, if only you had gone up a little earlier, I wouldn't have stopped you." Shalnark spoke in that happy tone he usually had.

But after living with him for so long you knew it was a false tone, you smell the anger inside him, probably that's why you haven't dared to look him in the eyes, just as you smell his anger, he smells your fear.

"Look at me when I talk to you" he ordered you in a cold tone.

"I don't want to" You refused now looking at the floor.

"Oh, Y/N. You're so cute" Shalnark grabbed your chin making you raise your head and look him in the eyes "A little bitch like you is in no position to want anything right now."

You gulped in fear, the words didn't come out of your mouth, you saw an opportunity to flee and obviously you took it, however you didn't know how to take advantage of it in the right way, now you were there, next to him again... all your effort went to shit.

Shalnark clung closer to you, your chin hurt from how strong his grip was, his other hand gripped your hip, his nails digging painfully into your flesh making you shiver.

"Little bitches like you are like that" Shalnark lowered his face a little to the level of your ear, kissing it and letting out a puff of hot breath "They take the best of good men like me and then run away without warning"

You tried to distance yourself, intimidated and nervous, but apparently that made him angry, although he didn't show it.

"What happened, Y/N?" Shalnark looked into your eyes. "You were being such a good girl for me, you were being so good that I was considering giving you a couple benefits, but you had to screw it all up"

You wanted to try to say something, but someone interrupted you.

"Gentlemen, is something wrong?" The station guard interrupted you

For a while that clouded your mind, your mouth immediately opened to ask for help, but a strong squeeze on your hip was like a slap to react.

Shalnark broke away from you and turned to the station guard.

"Everything is fine" Shalnark spoke to him cordially.

Your mind reacted, Shalnark and life were giving you a chance, life gave you this officer as another chance to escape, you knew it wasn't to ask him for help, you knew Shalnark and he was capable of killing the poor man in seconds, a man who probably had a family, maybe parents, a wife and children who loved and needed him; but maybe those seconds it took Shalnark to kill the guard would let you escape...

On the other hand, Shalnark was also giving you a chance to have some mercy on you.

"I'm just talking to my girlfriend, we wanted to buy some tickets to travel another day" Shalnark explained to the guard.

If you supported Shalnark to dispel the officer's doubts... he would be more merciful when thinking about a punishment for you... he wouldn't make you suffer... too much.

You gulped and took Shalnark's hand, trying to soften the fear on your face.

"We both have vacations from our jobs, so we wanted to take a little getaway" You argued in favor of Shalnark, grabbing his arm in a smiling manner.

The guard looked at you somewhat doubtfully due to the sudden change in your expression, however, he preferred to believe you to avoid any problems.

"Okay... If you need to see the travel offers, you can go to the station reception" The station guard left you alone, walking in unison to the next train leaving.

You let out a sigh of relief as he left, before you felt Shalnark's hand on your shoulder pulling you close to him.

You looked up somewhat fearfully but his expression was calmer as both of his hands took his face.

"Good girl, you did well." Your shoulders relaxed slightly "It seems that pretty little mouth of yours can also say smart things"

You felt his hand pull you, your mind momentarily clouded by your thoughts, so you just let him guide you as you walked.

For now... you chose a false peace... although you preferred that to carrying the death of a person on your conscience.

When you reacted, you were in an empty alley of the station, dark, narrow and far from the rest.

"W-what are we doing here...?" You asked nervous and confused.

"I want to see what else that pretty little mouth of yours can do" Shalnark whispered smiling, pushing you against the cold wall.

"B-but... Shal-Shalnark" You stuttered nervously and embarrassed.

"Do you really think you're in a position to deny me something? I'm going to consider lightening your punishment for being a stupid, homeless bitch only if you're obedient" Shalnark whispered in a cold tone and with that terrifying but permanent smile from ear to ear "Besides, I need it now, you've been away for a couple of weeks and my cock needs to free itself now that you're here, you have to make it up to me"

Nervous and afraid you simply knelt on the floor, you could see the bulge in his pants, you swallowed and took a deep breath.

"You're not going to play innocent now, are you?" Shalnark grabbed your hair and pressed you against his growing bulge, rubbing your face there "You're a good cocksucker, only your pretty throat is so deep for a cock like mine"

Shalnark couldn't help but delight in your bright, fearful eyes, with that pathetic expression while the bulge of his cock massaged your pretty face.

You half managed to overcome your embarrassment and opened Shalnark's pants, you knew that if you did it right, he would have more consideration for you, but you hated feeling this denigrated and dirty.

You took willpower and pulled down his boxers, watching as his erect member was released, the red tip releasing precum.

With a smile Shalnark took his cock, putting it on top of your face sadistically, his balls a little under your chin and the glans on your forehead.

"Stick out your tongue darling, like the cute cocksucker you are" Shalnark spoke in a mocking tone, taking his cell phone out of his jacket pocket.

You stuck out your tongue in embarrassment, watching the camera point at you, listening to the sound of each click every time the cell phone took a photo of you, completely humiliated.

"I'll put it as my wallpaper, so I'll remember the first time I made you suck my cock in a train station" He said happily as if it were a memorable moment "Now open your mouth like a good girl"

You opened your mouth between small tears, while his cock was inserted, you felt the salty taste and it took a little for your mouth to receive it wide, but Shalnark's gaze on you reflected superiority, sadism and lust.

His hand caught a fistful of your hair making you swallow deeper, his glans lodged aggressively in your hot, narrow throat.

You gagged and let out choking gasps as Shalnark moaned in pleasure.

"Breathe through your nose honey, a couple of weeks can't make you miss practice" Shalnark said sadistically going deeper, his heavy balls hitting your chin and his blonde hairs tickling your reddened nose "Unless you've gotten this far in your little escape by doing these kinds of favors for other guys, after all you're a little bitch, you love to wag your tail at everyone, that's why I've got you locked up"

You gagged more at the first thrust deep into your throat, tears running down your cheeks and strings of your saliva beginning to wet Shalnark's balls.

"A dumb little brain like yours doesn't usually have good ideas after all" Shalnark gasped at the hot sensation of your throat "Your stupid little head forgets that only a big, thick cock like mine knows how to discipline that slut throat that you have"

The fist in your hair was harder and the thrusts were slow and deep, making you cry and gasp, you felt his words sink into your head.

"Yeah, maybe that's it, you've been sucking other men's ridiculous little cocks and that's why you've forgotten how to suck a real cock" Shalnark pulled his cock out of your mouth, using it to slap your dumb face and paint it with spit and precum

You felt so dirty and humiliated, you looked at the lust and contempt in his eyes and you couldn't help but whimper, you hated yourself... you hated yourself so much...

You wanted to run away and at the same time when he spoke to you and approached you, you didn't know how to react, maybe that's why he treated you like that, like a brainless fool, because you acted like that in front of him.

His words hurt you, but you ended up believing them sometimes...

"No..." You tried to defend yourself in vain.

"Are you going to defend yourself? Well, do it. You know the only way to do it, show me that you are good at receiving my cock and I will believe that you have not been walking around like a slut sucking other men" Shalnark caressed your face guiding you to his glans again

Without any choice you began to lick and suck, your lips going up and down around his circumference, releasing small tears from the pain of him pulling so much on your now messy hair.

You listened his gasps and grunts, as he moaned your name, you looked into his eyes as you gave his red, swollen glans a good suck.

You went down to his balls licking them as precum dripped onto your face.

"Good girl..." Shalnark stopped pulling your hair and caressed your face as he rested his cock on your cheek "Could you take a "deep throat," honey?"

You tried to think about it nervously but when you felt his warm hands caress your lips your brain melted.

"Of course, you can, because you are a good girl, a good girl for me" his fingers pulled your chin down making your mouth open "Your punishment will be easy, only if you obey me, my love"

After conditioning you, you just nodded, whimpering as his thick cock jammed into your throat.

"Shhhh... just like that" Shalnark complimented you in a moan starting to push hard into your throat.

Shalnark's cock fit hard into your throat, it felt like heaven for him, it was a magical sensation, not only that you were sucking him, but that feeling of power he had now, the fear and slight excitement with which you saw him. It was sublime.

Your throat was so narrow and it gave a tight, warm welcome to his cock in need of affection, YOUR affection.

After several minutes his milky cum filled your throat and mouth, he obviously made you swallow it and smiled cruelly at your dazed and tearful expression.

He pulled out of your mouth and along with his cock came small strings of combined saliva and semen.

"Adorable" Shalnark laughed wiping your lips with his thumb and putting it in your mouth then you instinctively sucked on it.

Shortly after, he adjusted his pants and helped you stand up, caressing your hair a little and kissing your face affectionately.

Shalnark pulled your hand and took you to the car, he left you sitting in the passenger seat, closed your door and sat in the driver's seat.

"I'll think about your punishment when we get home" Shalnark said, giving you his jacket and caressing your face "But since you've behaved well now, it will be less severe"

You saw the car key turn and heard the engine start, you looked at everything around you still disoriented, but there was resignation in your eyes, you knew there would never be an escape.

"If you run away again" You flinched at the painful grip on your thigh "I'm not going to fuck your throat in an alley anymore, wherever I find you I'll kill the people around you and I'm going to fuck you right there and it won't just be your throat."

You looked down at your thighs in fear and nodded.

"Everything I do, I do because I love you" Shalnark said sweetly, pulling your head to him and kissing your hair, after comb it a little he started to drive with his eyes on the road "Do you understand, my love?"

"Y-yes, honey" You said with a fearful smile.

Thanks for reading this shit 🤍

[sameschmidtdiffname]

MIKE SMUT SMTH ABT HIS THIGHS AND HE S ALSO SUBBY PLSSSSS

DAAAAAAAAAARLIIIIIIIIIIING!

GUESS WHO JUST BROKE THEIR TWO WEEK BREEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAK!

Pretty

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: Men are so pretty. And they can be so stupid. And who doesn't like stupid, pretty toys?

Tags: No specified sex for Reader, Reader is referred to with a male title at one point for sexual purposes (which one I won't say, but it's not daddy! I will say that), otherwise no gendered pronouns used for Reader, sub! Mike, dom! Reader, dynamic switch, accidental kink reveal, thigh admiration (this was not as focused on thighs as I intended, honestly. I'm sorry lmao), Mike gets used like a BITCH, and I mean a BITCH. Bro gets DOGGED, bro gets USED, bro may be PREGNANT after this (he ain't, no mpreg, I'm just being funny), humping, biting, french kissing, marking, choking, just have fun with this. It's a treat for all!

Notes: I'M STILL ON A BREAK! BUT, you guys have been so sweet and so nice. So, a drabble, because I love you all and you deserve it <3

                     ▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

I've always admired hands.

Strong hands, working hands. One of the first things I look for in men is if their hands look like they're capable of long lasting, almost back breaking labor.

The second thing I look for is shoulders. Preferably broad, capable of holding the third thing I look for. Which would be

Thighs.

I don't even have a particular taste for what those look like. The desire doesn't lie within the looks, although I could certainly spend a fair amount of my time stealing glances towards a fine, large pair. Straining against the material of their pants, spread out over a chair, doubling in size once someone sits. No, the desire lies in how sensitive they seem to be. Just a ghostly touch of your hands or lips upon the soft skin can usually send someone reeling. Can make someone sing such a soft, quiet note so raw and genuine before you've even drawn near to the area they want you the most.

I should've touched him sooner like this.

Mike Schmidt doesn't pretend to be a macho man. He's not insecure of his masculinity, he raises his little sister, goes to work, comes to bed. He doesn't have time to worry about being a man's man.

I can attest, however. Once in the bedroom, he has absolutely no issue with expressing his masculinity.

In any way, shape or form.

"Touch me," he moans breathily, bucking his fully clothed hips towards me in a desperate, needing manner.

I never said masculinity involves domination.

It'd just started with us cuddling on the couch. Abby out at a friend's, us snuggled under a warm blanket at home on the couch. The comforter to his bed, to be specific. Everything else was too small or too cold for us, so we just dragged it out. The old TV in front of us displaying a rerun of a movie we were only halfway paying attention to, both of us beginning to drift in and out of sleep. Mike had wrapped me under his arm, placing a soft kiss on my forehead every now and then when he decided it'd been too long since he last had. I was pressed against his side, one hand on his thigh, absentmindedly rubbing circles.

Here's the fun thing about guys. Half the time they are so touch starved, it takes nothing to get them going. And that's fun.

I didn't realize why Mike was beginning to shift in his seat some. Why his heartbeat against my ear had picked up, why his breathing was getting somewhat shaky. Tell tale signs of something, but honestly I figured it was the movie. It wasn't until he pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead, then trailed down to my cheek, my jaw, and began nipping at my neck that it began to dawn on me.

"What's got you in a mood?" I chuckled, my fingers digging I just a little more to his warm, covered flesh.

"Nothing," he said breathily in my ear, his tongue beginning to trace my jawline. "Just thought you looked pretty."

I call his bluff when I dig into a tense muscle, a loud, pathetic moan escaping him that he tries to quickly stiffle in my neck. Moaning and biting at me, his hand beginning to search my chest to graze his fingers against my sensitive nipples, easy to play with under the smooth material of Mike's stolen, cotton shirt.

"Ah," I say, continuing to rub as he pants eagerly against me. "I see."

Mike's trying to maneuver us so that he can position himself on top of me, and regularly I would agree, but I'm not quite done with my new toy just yet.

"Let me up," I say into his ear, trying to pull away. Mike simply moans into my skin, biting harder as his fingers finally wrap around my already stiff nipple, tugging at it, making me moan in harmony to him. "Mike," I say, trying to ground us both.

Mike doesn't care, his other hand searching for my thighs, knowing how much I like for mine to be played with before he spends hours between my legs, gasping, choking, and grinning ear to ear with pride after swallowing whatever amount of cum I'd given him. His teeth sink into my neck again, this time not just playful. Digging in and making me cry out in slight pain, yet pleasure coursing through me as my eyes roll back into my head.

"So pretty," Mike moans against me, his voice soft and high. His lashes flutter butterfly kisses against my forming bruises while his lips trail to my collarbone, his stiff cock brushing against my hand as he shifts.

This is what settles the idea in my mind.

My hand snaps up, pulling harshly at Mike's dark, almost black curls, tugging until his head had snapped all the way backwards, exposing the tan skin of his throat to me. Eagerly, I lick a long, wide stripe up his throat, from bottom to top until I can clearly feel the prickly stubble of his facial hair on my tongue. His adams apple bobs under the wet muscle as he moans openly, a moan that only increases in volume and pitch once I bite roughly into the side of his neck, not allowing him a chance to escape as I keep my tight grip on his curls.

"Fu-ck," he drawls, his voice breaking as he begins to allow me to guide him to my desires, laying him on his back against the worn down couch, his hips subconsciously rolling towards me in anxiety for my touch.

"So pretty," I breathe in his ear, a soft whimper escaping him as his blush deepens, accenting the subtle freckles that decorate his skin like the stars decorate the night sky. I've tried to kiss each one, knowing the task was futile, but was well rewarded by the puddle of mush he'd dissolved into as my lips had trailed against his tan skin. Mike tries to turn his face away from me to hide the blush, unsure of how else to handle the compliment.

God, I love men. They're idiots.

I grab his jaw, forcing his mouth open and adoring the pathetic whine that escapes him as I shove my tongue into his mouth, his eyes half open, watching me as he gives in to the kiss, his hands tugging at my shirt as he humps against nothing, pent up and stupid underneath of me.

They're so cute, right?

When I pull away, a long string of spit still connects us, his eyes obediently trained on me as I pin him down against the couch by his throat, anticipating my next move. I move myself to tower over him, his mouth still open as he pants, and I spit into his mouth. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn't complain. Hell, by the glint in his eyes, you'd think he'd thank me. Though he doesn't.

It's fine. He will soon enough.

I lower myself along his body, my hands once more finding his thick thighs and squeezing them, admiring the firmness underneath of his shorts.

"Have I told you I love your thighs?" I ask, my breath fanning against his covered erection. Mike simply moans.

"I do. Watch them all the time. Don't even realize I'm doing it, honestly," I say. I lean down, placing a feather light kiss on his hip. He whines. "They're so pretty. Just like the rest of you."

His hips buck towards me, his cock obviously twitching underneath the material.

"Touch me," he moans, his face pink and halfway covered with his hand. I reach up and grab his hand away, smacking swiftly at his thigh.

"Be good," I snap, earning me a sharp gasp as he writhes underneath of me, mumbling some sort of agreement.

"Good," I praise softly. "Good. See, that wasn't so hard."

My lips start at his knee, kissing there and beginning to work their way up as he clasps his hands above his head, teeth gritted in an attempt to stay quiet.

"You can moan," I tell him, my other hand slipping underneath the pant legs of his shorts. "I like the pretty sounds you make."

Pretty. I didn't know that was his trick word. The word that could force him into a pathetic, begging mess that can't even keep eye contact. Oh, he's beautiful. Bite marks blooming against his skin, such a deep blush, tossled curls. His soft abdomen shutters with each unsteady breath, slightly exposed, his happy trail dark against his skin and leading to the place that shows how he wants me. His tongue darting out to lick his lips so often they'll be chapped by the end of the night from overstimulation. That's his tell that he's close.

"What, pretty boy gonna cum in his pants?" I ask, my hand trailing along his hot skin and digging my nails in to make him sing. His back arches slightly, eyes trained on the ceiling as his mouth opens in an almost silent gasp.

"No," he clearly lies, his hips subtly moving of their own accord.

"You look like such a pretty mess!" I chuckle against his skin, pressing a soft kiss on his lower thigh. "I wouldn't blame you if you did."

He doesn't respond to this, clearly lost in his thoughts.

"Michael," I say, voice slightly firm. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you."

Mike rolls his eyes, huffing and not obeying. Aw. Cute.

My hands grip underneath of his knees, quickly shoving them to meet his shoulders, eyes wide as he gasps at the maneuver he's done to me so many times I can't even count. Shoved into a mating press, I grind my hips against him, pounding against him quickly and harshly, relishing the broken sounds he makes as I hump him hard enough his head is bouncing against the arm of the couch, his eyes fluttering shut as they roll into the back of his head.

"It's a simple request," I hiss against his skin, rewarded with a loud moan. "I didn't ask for your fuckin' attitude."

The glint in his eyes when they open unintentionally shows he's fine with this response, happy to take more and more until he really does cum with hardly any stimulation to his cock. His mouth is open, tongue peaking out from behind his bottom teeth, his breathing on the cusp of hyperventilating as he submits to my touch.

"Is it so hard?" I ask, keeping even time with my abusive pace. "To just listen to me?"

"No, sir," Mike moans happily.

Oh?

"What was that?" I ask, leaning closer as I shove his knees harder against his shoulders. His eyes snap open, dead ahead on the ceiling as his mind clearly tries to process what to say next.

"Nothing," he says quickly.

"Bullshit," I snap, adjusting my grip so one arm pins his knees so that my hand can snake down between us and smack at his ass in scolding. "Repeat yourself."

"I don't know what I said," he says quickly, avoiding eye contact.

I smack again, this time hard enough he cries out.

"Say it," I seethe, increasing my tempo and pounding harder against him until he looks like he may cry, his eyes squeezed shut and mouth open as he pants like a whore underneath of me.

"Sir," he finally admits, shame burning bright in his cheeks. "I called you sir."

I toss his legs onto my shoulders, my hand now finding his throat as I hump him into the bed, rewarding his honestly.

"I see," I drawl, not relenting my pace nor strength. "Someone's into getting used."

This seems to roll him over the edge, his face bright and relaxing as his eyes flutter shut, only for me to bite at his bottom lip, causing them to open again.

"Watch me," I command, biting harshly into his lip. "I wanna see how pretty you look when you cum like a good toy."

His eyes widen slightly, his mouth slack as he obeys. The moment I release his lip his tongue darts out to wet it, lingering over the soft bite marks.

"It's alright, you can do it," I say softly, choking him slightly harder. "Let me watch, then I'll let you fuck me however you want."

His eyes are pleading, begging for more.

"You want something? Use your words," I tell him, slamming particularly hard this time, hard enough his head slams into the couch concerningly. But he doesn't mind, does he?

"Kiss me," he breathes, so light, the request sounds innocent and sweet compared to the way I'm abusing him on his own couch. I comply, pressing my lips against his in a soft, sweet kiss that he whines into, his lips parting and tongue slipping against my lips in a sloppy, pleading, silent request. And how can I say no?

I part my lips for him, enjoying the way he arches into the kiss, moaning as our tongues slide together in a messy, graceless fight for control. My lips trap the tip of his tongue, sucking on it and tugging it upwards harshly as he cries out, his hips beating against mine as his lashes flutter shut once more, but this time I don't scold him. I simply grind against him as hard and as fast as my tiring body will allow, guiding him through his overwhelming orgasm, the sounds of his crystal clear moans cutting through the air, perfectly complimenting his red face, glistening eyes and shaking body.

"That's it," I coo in his ear. "That's a good toy. Just let me fuck you."

He's stupid and lost to the world, his cock twitching pathetically as thick ropes of cum decorate the inside of his shorts, making the material stick to his skin, overstimulating him as I begin to lessen my pace, beginning to give him grace he no longer has words to ask for.

"So pretty," I whisper as I try to kiss each tiny freckle on his beet red nose, his breath hot against my throat as he tries to regain his focus. "So pretty, and mine."

"Where the fuck did that come from?" Mike slurs stupidly underneath of me, his legs still trembling on my shoulders.

I giggle, smiling as I lean down to place another kiss, sweet this time, against Mike's swollen, glossy lips.

"I dunno," I say, shrugging. Mike whimpers as I pull away.

"Guess I just thought you were pretty."

                             ¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

I'm 100% gonna be late for work because of this, but worth it

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

               •▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Supernova

A/N: *sigh* here we are again simping over a man I shouldn't be. Oh well.

Summary: Imprisoned in deep space, Ettore discovers an old flame still burns as bright. And hurts just as much. NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI

Warnings under the cut~ | Word Count: 5.4k~ | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Ettore Taglist

Warnings: toxic relationships, mentions of sexual related crimes, cursing, choking, Ettore being a simp, masturbation, oral (m receiving), rough sex, biting, face slapping, hair pulling, fingering, pussy slapping, mouth fuccin, swallowing

Of all the fucking people to see on this ship.

He’d have picked anyone else, to be honest. Any other rat-faced, intemperate bitch to spend the rest of his miserable young life with. To wait out his days ‘til, eventually, they’d all die. He could deal with the other female prisoners, it’s not like all of the women on the ship were that bad to look at. Just most of them. Crime had done a number on them after all those years, many of them sullen in the face, violence brimming beneath their expressions.

But he’d take them all on, every single day of his life, instead of her.

His fucking ex-girlfriend.

A brief relationship. Yes. But it frustrated him all the same.

It had been years since then at least, so the sheer bitterness of seeing her again wasn’t so fresh. She’d looked his way once in passing in the canteen, but had not lingered. Perhaps she didn’t even recognise him.

But he’d recognise her anywhere.

Ettore. Who now wouldn't be seen dead in a relationship, having done the terrible things that landed him here.

Ettore. Who had a questionable past with women.

She’d changed. Matured somewhat. Before, she was smaller, slimmer, not a woman you would usually associate with such violence. But what she lacked in stature she made up for in temper, even back then she was a loaded gun with the safety off, threatening to shoot her rage in any direction she seemed necessary.

And for whatever reason at the time, when he was younger, a bit more stupid he supposed, blinded by her striking nature, they’d gotten into a relationship, though never defined. One that was equally destructive to each of them.

He’d always been in and out of the police station. He wasn’t smart, so he didn’t easily evade capture. But she did. She always got off light, using her sex to her advantage. It was much easier when a barely twenty year old girl could easily go from violent offender to playing the victim with a simple expression change. She did it too well.

But now, clearly, she’d done something even she couldn’t escape from.

How many years had it really been? He couldn’t really even remember. They'd all blurred together.

All he cared to remember of their relationship was that it was toxic, on both parts. Never in terms of outright violence, it wasn’t like that, but they hurt each other with their words, with their actions and attitudes. Where he was cold and not willing to back down and admit his wrongdoings, she was sharp, quick-witted, but her insults hurt him the most.

But it was exciting. God it was so fucking exciting to be with her.

As wrong as it was, the only manner in which either of them knew how to get the anger to simmer down, was to fuck. It’s possibly the healthiest sexual relationship he’s had with a woman, and that’s saying something. He doesn’t dwell on that fact too much.

Whenever they had a fight, which was extremely regular, they would expel it with hate sex. It was rough, aggressive, borderline violent. And they would say as much to each other, before submitting their bodies, tangled against each other like strangling.

Now, looking at her. Her maturity astonished him. She, in principle, hadn’t changed, but there was something about her that he couldn’t shake. He couldn’t tell how he felt that she didn’t recognise him. Most of the prisoners were indifferent to each other, barely talking even in close situations, so that wasn’t out of the ordinary, but he felt the simmer of that nostalgic anger again when he saw her.

Since realising it was her, his use of the Box had increased dramatically. Using his imagination was horrendous. She was right there. He could have the real thing if he wanted. And yet he found himself, stroking his cock vigorously to the memories of their chaotic fucking. Remembering the way her breath used to feel against his skin, holding back her sounds from being too loud, the way her tits pressed against his chest, the way the flesh of her thighs felt in his palm as he raised them to rut into her deeper. Her skin. Voice. Taste. He wanted to sink his teeth into her, and lick at the blood that pooled to the surface; would she taste as sweet as she used to? For some reason, he thought she would taste better now.

Fucking his hand to the thought of her wasn’t enough, he needed to feel her pussy choke him for all he was worth. Needed to stuff himself inside her until she winced as he reached the end of her. He would pull her back by her hips, digging his fingers in as far as they would go, and watch as he disappeared inside her, each thrust punctuated by her sweet moans.

Each day that went by, her ignorance of him was growing too much. Those dark feelings he’d buried since they broke up and he went down his own path of crime were now bubbling to the surface, angry at having been suppressed for so long.

Now that he had seen her. She was everywhere.

He nearly cracked when he saw her walk the short route from the showers to her cell, her hair all wet and already dressed in her sleepwear, which left little to the imagination. It was the closest he'd come to seeing her body in years.

He wasn't shy about admitting it to himself what he thought in that moment.

Thought about grabbing her, pinning her down. He'd use restraints if he had to. Ripping those shorts off and just taking her right there, not caring if she was ready or not. Just a pure animalistic desire put entirely being fucking himself into her.

He didn't.

But the reins on his control were slipping.

He watched across the canteen as she went to put her tray back, eyes floating over her form. The red scrubs they all wore were shapeless, but his eyes were boring holes in it, wondering if she still looked the same, if her tits would still fill his palm as effortlessly as they used to.

Another male prisoner was talking to her, in a clear, over-zealous manner, with a stupid grin on his face. He was talking excitedly, shooting his shot. And Ettore stared darkly, eyes flitting between them and gauging her reaction.

Something akin to excitement and pride bolted through him when she turned away, rolling her eyes.

God she still does that. Fucking brat.

He watched as she walked away, his eyes fixed on the sway of her hips, the slope of her neck. There’s a heat burning in his belly, one he recognises as desire. He feels his cock impossibly hard at the prospect of having her again.

It’s beyond dark in the hallways by the time he’s finished in the Box. He fans his shirt against his chest as he leaves, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the corridor, barely even seeing someone is waiting for him to be done, leaning against the wall.

His whole body goes warm when his eyes land on her, waiting there with ankles crossed, tapping her foot against the linoleum floor. But when the door opened, she looked up at him, having to bite her cheek to suppress her grin.

The little bitch had known it was him the entire time.

And had chosen to ignore him.

He stood, as amused as she was, and she didn’t move an inch as he stalked towards her, except when she brushed her hair out her face to look at him better. Their eyes bore into each other as he leaned his arm next to her, against the wall, right next to her head. Though she was a head shorter than him, she looked at him as if she held all the cards.

“Ettore” she greeted, her tone rising at the end.

Fuck. Her voice.

He tried hard not to grin. He thought she was being a little temptress and knew entirely what she was doing, pressing all his buttons she knew existed. Poking and prodding at the darkness that lingered under his skin, threatening to burst free in goosebumps.

She raised an eyebrow when he didn’t respond, “I'd say it's nice to see you but…”

“Hm” he responded low in his chest. She was so close. He could just reach out and touch her, she was real. “Considering how things ended”

It was her turn to hum, something dark behind her eyes, “We were younger. Stupid. Especially you” she teased, “We just weren’t right for each other”

Fuck. You. Ettore thought.

“Maybe you’re right…” he hummed, “...we were a bad combination. But you have to admit…we had something. Didn't we"

She smirked, seeing an open window, “Is that what you think about? When you’re in there” she cocked her head towards the Box, “Do you think about me?”

You know I fucking do.

Ettore’s smile faded, replaced by an expression of silent rage. She stood there watching him vibrate with need, practically able to feel the thumping of his heart, able to hear how his blood sloshed around inside him, humming with a deep, dark desire.

“Do you still think about our fights?” she asked, her voice provoking, “how they always ended?” she was speaking in a whisper now, and Ettore’s hand formed a fist, his body yearning to touch her. And how she just stood there, knowing entirely what she was doing to him, with that bratty fucking smirk on her face. He wanted to wipe it off, show her who he was now.

“Savour that memory. Because it’s not happening again” she smiled, slipping from the wall towards the Box.

He saw red, and grabbed her arm tightly, pulling her back with force. Don't you know what I've done, stupid bitch. Her amused expression never falters.

"Nobody says no to me"

“Now, now, play nice” she taunts, “If you do, I will too”

“Who said I want you nice” he asked with a hard expression, “I’m not looking for nice”

Her damned smile is driving him crazy. And he’s surprised, when he shouldn’t be, when he grabs her face but she doesn’t move an inch. His fingers press against her jaw tightly, surely hurting her. Her eyes look over his face, beguiling him, perhaps taking in how much about him had changed.

“I always did bring out the worst in you, didn’t I”

Ettore grinned darkly, “You know how I like it”

Their faces are so close, they can feel one another’s hot breaths, lips yearning to collide like two stars, to only self-destruct into supernova. From here, he can see how his fingers are making red indents in her skin, the way her chest moves from her breathing and how her pupils dilate at the forceful nature of their attraction. He wonders if underneath this hard, bratty exterior, if she is soaking wet for him, pathetic little bitch.

“Christ, you still drive me fucking crazy”

She grins at that, as if she’s won. He hates that self-righteous look on her face. And being so close to him, practically touching, she can feel his manhood throbbing through the thin material of his scrubs, desperately seeking fulfilment.

“What do you say we find somewhere, recreate some of those old memories”

She hums, pulling her face forcibly from him, “Dream on” she shrugs, “Use your imagination”

Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be.

He would be offended, angry even. If he didn’t know her. And knew that this was her nature.

She makes a point of standing in the doorway of the Box, forearms leaning against the frame. Provoking him.

He gives her a cold, hard look, “What if I don’t want to? What if I want the real thing?”

“There’s plenty of women here. Maybe you could pretend it’s me” she winks, making his heart freeze in his chest for a moment, “Goodnight, Ettore”

Fucking tease.

The Box door shuts and he has to ground himself, digging his nails into his palm, thinking about what she’s doing to herself behind that door. What pretty sounds she would make, when his cock forced its way into her again.

When he laid in bed, trying to ignore the stark blue light of the ship and the incessant hum. That wasn't keeping him awake.

What would she do, if he just walked into her cell, began to touch her sleeping form, running his hand over her soft skin. Was she a deep sleeper still, as she used to be? Would his hand on her flesh wake her up?

He imagined kissing and biting her neck, marking her as his own, as she was always meant to be. And if she did wake up soon enough, she'd find him pulling off her underwear, teasing his hot and angry tip against her slit.

It'd be easy to take it by force. He could. If he wanted to.

She was different to the other women, the ones he'd had after her. The ones who met their end.

They were all stupid, wanting a love from him that they could never get in a million years. Wanted more than he could offer. Something they paid for with their lives.

She never expected his love. She saw the darkness in his eyes and wanted to see more of it, to see what abyss it led to in his soul. She had seen that side of him and nurtured it, fed it. Let him take his anger out on her body, and revelled in it, with that look she always gave him, when she knew he wanted it.

She'd given that look today, seeing that darkness lingering in him. Perhaps she wondered if she could fan those flames and see how brightly he'd burn, no matter the cost to them both.

He thought about back then. How he used to start fights, just so he got to fuck her the way they both liked.

It made him hard thinking about it.

He wanted her to want it. Something he'd never admit. Deep down, perhaps he'd known she wanted it too.

It was that odd familiar feeling. Like a spark is igniting his insides when he sees her actively talking to the other guys on the ship. Namely Monte. Tall and broad. Prick.

There is jealousy, sure. But also that raw unbridled lust that used to drive him. Drive them. Maybe she hasn't changed as much as he thought.

He wonders. Could he still make her burn like she used to? Could he still feel the heat himself, and let himself be marred by it?

He'd been so cold for so long.

He wanted to feel alive again.

It frustrated him to no end, now that she knew how much he wanted her again, how much her attitude had flipped. Entertaining the flirting of other guys. She’d taken to wearing tank tops, deliberately not wearing anything underneath, and wearing her scrub bottoms low on her waist, sometimes so low he swore he could see the dimples at the base of her spine, where he used to rest his thumbs to tug her body to his.

Any guy that flirts, or so much as passes a glance in her direction, however overzealous, she welcomes with a wicked grin and flirts back, just to irk him. Whenever her eyes met his, they glinted with pride at getting the reaction she’d wanted.

He felt almost feverish, every nerve and vein in his body felt piping hot. Blood rushed to his cock with astonishing speed whenever she so much as breathed in the same room as him. And the flirting? His fists were tight, white-knuckled, seeing that smug look on her face.

They don’t understand you like I do. Nobody will know your body like I do.

She turns away from Monte, who has a stupid fucking smile again, as if he ever has a chance. And her eyes meet Ettore’s over her shoulder.

Their eyes lock. As if she is saying what are you going to do about it.

A challenge.

Break. Come to me. Show me how much you want me.

He couldn’t wait. Tonight she’d scream.

Staying awake at night, he knew all her movements. She always gets up in the middle of the night, with such quiet, delicate footsteps and goes to refill her water bottle.

It was the only window of opportunity he found, to be alone with her.

Careful not to wake his cellmates, he crosses the threshold out to the corridor, the blue light straining his eyes. But just barely enough to see her disappear around the corner. He felt the chill of the air conditioning on his bare chest, skin prickling up, but it was overcome with the heat that ran through his blood. He was sure that his own cells inside him were vibrating, aching to collide with hers.

He grinned, darkly with all his teeth, when he saw the back of her. If she had heard him approach she didn’t show it. And he thought she was perfect for being taken right then, just how she was. In her sleepwear, a top that hung too big on her, with a pair of shorts on her bottom half, her hair tied in a loose bun, messy from writhing around in bed.

When he heard the water stop, he pushed forward, grabbing her bun and shoved her so hard into the wall he was sure she hit her face against it. It’s pitiful how he groaned low in his chest, the way his erection pressed against her soft ass, how flush his chest was to her back, standing tall over her as if he might kill her.

She gasped and winced slightly at the tight hold he had on her hair, her water bottle forgotten and water spilled to the floor. She hummed a laugh as he twisted her arm behind her back,

“This is pathetic, even for you”

“Shut the fuck up” he whispered, breath hot against the shell of her ear. A pleasant shiver ran through her, “can’t stand you prancing around, acting like a fucking slut with them”

He forgot how strong she was, for someone her size, as she yanks her hands away from him, elbowing him in the chest, making him grunt, annoyed.

“Fucking-” he grabs her again, shoving her back hard against the wall, curling his hand around her slender neck and squeezing slightly, pulling her up to look at him. He can tell just how hard she is trying not to smile, and it only makes his simmering anger build.

He can feel how tight his chest gets when he looks at her, feeling primal at the way his lungs inflate and deflate, “You know you want it, like you did back then” he growls.

She scoffs, “Back then?” she says with a bemused raise of her eyebrows, “...that was then”

“And it can be now too”

It’s like those nights back then, when he’d just become consumed in the smell of sex, just to satiate his hunger for her.

“I don’t think so” she smirks, choking in some air when his thumb presses slightly into her windpipe, choking tighter. He can feel her tits press against his chest as she breathes, the colour coming to her cheeks the harder he pushes on her neck.

“You think anyone could fuck you like I do?”

“I think Monte could” she grins.

He scoffs, pressing himself into her impossibly harder, allowing her to feel his hardness grazing against her clothed cunt.

“You want me to fight for you, don’t you, you little bitch”

Her own hands join his at her neck, fingers trying to dig under his. He can feel her heartbeat through her veins and he allows himself to wonder what she’d feel like inside. He’s never felt more torn, more in control but not at the same time.

“I’ve changed a lot since you last saw me. Done horrible things” she says,

“I don’t give a fuck about that”

I just want to remember how good I made you feel. How good you made me feel. To give you what you want.

She smiles softly, “It was always like this, wasn't it…us hurting each other” her eyes seem to study his face, and though almost imperceptible, his grip loosens somewhat, “I think it turns you on” she whispers, “does it excite you?”

The air seems thin in his chest at what she said. They were both awful people, there was no doubt about it. But that was what drew him in, and what continued to make him come back to her.

That she never judged him for those things, because she was just as bad.

“I think you want to hurt me” she smirks, “you’re pathetic”

Something clicks inside, Ettore crashes his lips against her, knocking his teeth against hers and kissing her belligerently, and though it’s rough and chaotic, she sighs contently into his mouth. It’s a mess of tongues and teeth, the way they kiss reflective of what is going on inside them. And the more he feels her hot breath and lips against his, the more his blood sings with desire, all flooding below his waist, pressing his erection against her stomach.

He pressed his thigh between hers, nudging them apart, one hand dipping beneath the hem of her shirt to feel her hot skin, trailing up and taking her shirt with it when he palms at her breast. He swallows her quiet moan as he kneads the flesh beneath his hand, his lips trailing from hers and dragging his nose across her cheek, taking this moment to breathe in her individual scent. He mouths at her neck, biting softly at first, but becoming more rough as he feels her jolt when his teeth sink into her skin, his tongue running across the bruised skin, groaning when he tastes the slightest bit of coppery blood.

“Stop that” she all but breathes, shoving her shoulder against him in reprimand.

He squeezes her breast hard at that, pushing her so much against the wall as if he is trying to mould her to it.

“You’re mine”

She even has the gall to laugh at him for saying that, despite the position they’re in.

With fire in his veins, pressing his bare chest against her, he bunches her tank top in his fists and tugs, the fabric surrendering beneath the harshness of his fingers, revealing her tits to him finally. His hips rut into hers, pushing her up the wall, one hand clutching her ass in his hand to keep her there as he mouths her other breast, running his tongue over the rosy bud.

Her head tilts back, landing on the wall with a thud as his wet muscle pleasures one nipple, nipping every now and then on the sensitive skin, and the other being moulded in his calloused palms. It feels better than before. Though even now, they’re considered young, they’d seen the glimmer of themselves before all this. And now, hurtling through space, he’s found her again, and this time there’s no letting her go.

Soft moans slip from her mouth, running her fingers through his hair and tugging hard, it makes him moan out as well, the vibration coursing through him into her chest.

His hand slips from her breast, trailing down her front, over her stomach to the hem of her underwear, not even wasting time and dipping beneath. Long, thick fingers glide over her slick mound, down to her entrance, where he shoves them inside her as far as they will go. He feels her body go rigid for a moment, a shocked gasp falling from her mouth, before they turn swiftly into whimpers and moans as he fucks her with his fingers.

She’s so wet, it’s easy. And he feels just how tight she is, every single ridge, just the feeling of her hot insides makes him want to bury himself inside of her as much as he can, as often as he deems fit. After a few moments, he finds that rough spot inside, using his fingers to rub hard against it. Her back arches against the wall, pressing her tits against his chest, the hardened buds rubbing almost painfully sensitive against his skin, her hands squeeze his shoulders and he groans at the sensation of her nails digging in.

“Say you want it” he whispers low against her ear.

He knows she does. He feels how wet she is for him, her sounds.

Her eyes crack open, her lips part in pleasured pants, curling up into a hedonistic smile, “No”

His mouth forms a frown. But she knows better.

He pulls his fingers out of her, giving a hard wet slap to her that makes her jolt and her clit throb, then going to tug her underwear down her legs. She kicks at him, writhing in his hold, her small fists trying to push him back.

“I said no”

“Yeah, yeah” Her face whips to one side and she whimpers as her cheek blooms with pain from his palm, “shut the fuck up”

Despite the hot pain on her face, she feels her insides flutter, clenching around nothing as she looks back at him, to see the hard expression he gives as she shoves his shorts past his hips. Her eyes land on his cock, all hard with the angry red tip weeping precum desperately.

“There he is” she smirks.

He props her up against the wall and shoves himself harshly inside her, barely giving her time to adjust to his size and length, until he hits her spongey end. Her chest erupts in a pink flushed colour, air expelled from her lungs.

He trembles slightly as he bottoms out inside her, completely filling her with himself and feeling her walls quiver uncontrollably around him. Squeezing the flesh of her thighs, he thrusts mercilessly into her, seeking the ultimate fulfilment he feels only her body can offer.

Ettore makes few sounds other than his hurried breaths and grunts into her ear, pushing himself so close to her that the only movement is his hips slapping against her thighs and the wet smack of their moist skin meeting each other. He grabs her face, digging into the skin where he’d hit her and keeps her quiet with his lips on hers, moving his tongue against hers. She hears his low sounds in his throat, deep and primal.

They fuck like they’re fighting, as they always had done. Fingers leaving red welts where he’d gripped her too hard, the mark on her cheek reddening, even the lewd sound of her pussy accepting him, it was all angry and aggressive.

She tightens her grip on the hair at his nape, chasing that pressure that was starting to build in her gut. She can feel him grin against her neck, he must be able to feel it too, the way her cunt trembles around him, the way her eyebrows furrow together and her lips caught between her teeth.

“You gonna cum for me?”

“Fuck you” she breathes, her voice strained by desire.

She never wanted to admit the things he did to her, sexual or not, made her feel excited and dangerous all at the same time. He huffs air as he laughs against her, feeling a sheen of sweat begin to cover his back as the effort of fucking her.

“You asked for it” his thumb pushes past her teeth, collecting her saliva on his thumb before dragging it down her body between them, rubbing in fast, furious circles on her overly-sensitive bud. It makes her strain her neck as she throws her head back, a barely-contained moan escaping.

“Just give up”

There’s little resolve left in her, the way his thick cock bullies that spot inside, pushing against her walls at the top in this position. The sheer lewdness of the situation had her nearly forget where they were, just fucking in a random hallway, and it sends a bolt of excitement down her spine at the thought of getting caught.

He watches how he disappears inside her, a ring of her arousal white at the base of him, how wet she sounds with each slap of skin. Hastening the circles on her clit, she grips him at his nape tight as he buries his face against her shoulder, her entire being shuddering as her orgasm blazes a burning trail through every limb, every cell, igniting her in a way only he ever could.

“Fuck-”

It’s the only sound he’s capable of making as an all-body shudder rolls through him. The way she clenches around him, holding him tightly.

He quickly pulls out of her, briefly feeling disappointed at the loss of her tightness, fisting his cock to completion. That is until she falls to her knees in front of him, looking up at him through her eyelashes, watching the way his chest heaves from this angle.

Cock slick with her arousal, watching the way he fists it quickly, she feels that familiar tug of arousal below her belly button.

His fingers thread through her hair, tugging at the crown to pull her face towards him. Holding himself at the base, he drags the tip over her lips, leaving a glistening path of both his and her arousal behind that she quickly collects with her tongue. Her lips chase his length before enveloping the tip in her mouth, running her tongue over the already sensitive slit.

A long, exasperated sound between a breath and a moan rushes out of him, having to lay his hand flat against the wall as she begins to bob her head on him, accepting his cock into her mouth with a renewed vigour, watching how he reacts.

Gripping her hair tight, she hums around him, sending a pleasant roll of warmth up his spine, and he tugs her head towards him, using her face for leverage to fuck himself into her mouth. He feels himself hit the back of her throat, and how her mouth contracts as she gags softly, trying to relax her jaw.

She closes her eyes as he sets his pace, hands resting on his thighs only slightly as she feels his hips press against her face. His cock bullies the back of her throat with a lewd wet sound, and it’s so intense, that she can feel her eyes watering, her slick gathering between her thighs once again and the throb of her previous orgasm still rolling through.

 He’s so close and she can feel it, and when she looks up at him, his head is thrown back, chest rising and falling steadily, eyes scrunched shut as his own pressure builds. She would’ve smirked at it, if he wasn’t buried to the hilt in her mouth. He looked the most handsome light this, pink in the face with his muscles of his stomach flexing, trying to hold back.

As soon as her hands cup his balls, hurtling him towards his own orgasm, his jaw slackens and his grip hardens in her hair in such a satisfyingly painful way.

“Shit-” he pulls himself from her mouth, shoving her head back to the wall and she takes a much needed breath in, “Open”

He fists his cock to her open mouth, his blue, wild eyes boring into hers, chest tightening as he comes undone and releases thick ropes of cum onto her waiting tongue. She blinks up at him, both of them smelling of sex and arousal, her breasts heaving with her breathing. In the stark, low light of the corridor, his face looks so sharp, as if it were made of stone, with a glow that almost looked inhuman.

She dives on him again, sucking off the remainder of his cum and pressing her tongue to the underside, tracing the throbbing vein there. The over-stimulation has Ettore shiver slightly, releasing his hold on her for a moment as she pulls off him with a wet pop. He watches with a lewd curiosity as her throat contracts, a sigh from her lips showing how she had swallowed all of him. Her eyes glisten in a kind of gloating pride right up at him, a mischievous glint behind it all as she smiles in satisfaction.

He pulls her up with a hard grip on her arm, letting his eyes fall all over her body.

“Miss me?” she whispers against his lips.

“Shut up” he responds with a grin, crashing his lips to hers. Binding himself to her irreparably.

And even though it damages them both, it just hurts too good to even think about stopping.

dividers by @saradika

General Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics @theoneeyedprince @thelittleswanao3 @hb8301

Ettore Taglist: @the-common-cowgirl

*Let me know if you want to be added to any taglist! Bold means I couldn’t tag, if I can't tag you you can always turn on notifications for when I post. DM me if you wanna be removed besties

[inkmonster21]

Hearts Across the Divide

4.) Dancing in Danger

Noa x Fem!Human!Reader

Series Masterlist

~oOo~

You and Noa had made it a regular occurrence to meet in the evening mornings, before daybreak at the waterfall. Sometimes you’d play your instrument and relax without exchanging many words. Somedays you two would have in-depth conversations challenging everything you knew. How could someone, an ape, a completely different species, have so much in common with your own soul?

This particular morning, Noa was there first. His back turned to you while he looked down into the water below. He couldn’t help but feel connected with such a structure. Especially with you nearby. The force and strength of the emotions towards you reminded him of the rushing waters.

"Hello," he called, hearing your footsteps on the forest floor behind him. You smile at him, “You’re here earlier today.” He looks away, sheepishly smile on his face, “could not sleep.”

Noa was usually a good sleeper, but ever since you two became friends, he always thought about you right before he went to bed, which kept him awake longer. Noa glanced up at the sky where it was still dark, a few faint stars still visible, and then he looked back to you. "Come sit," he said, patting the spot next to him on the cold rock.

You take the spot next to Noa. Scooting close as if on accident. Your limbs almost grazed each other. If one of you were to move you’d be in physical contact. The thought bites away at your brain.

Eagle Sun lands on the rock in front of you looking at you expectantly. You look at the bird with a small smile. “I didn’t forget about you.” You say before digging into your bag and retrieving a rabbit's foot for the eagle.

Noa watched as you reached into your bag and pulled out a snack for the bird. "Sun likes you more… than me," he teased. Shrugging with a reply, “I’m just likable. That’s all.” Noa rolls his eyes, “is that so?”

“I like to think so. You like spending time with me instead of your clan. I must be somewhat likable.” You smirk at him. Your heart flutters as he smiles wide, his canines grazing his lips. How you wish you could just meet yours in such a passionate manner. But you refrain.

Noa's smile widened at your observation. He couldn't deny that he did seek you out every day and stayed with you for as long as he could. He leaned closer to you.

"You're more… than likable," he whispered, his voice low and filled with warmth. Noa wished he had the words to convey exactly what made him feel, but he didn’t believe there was even a way to describe you in your language either.

Noa watched as your face flushed red with heat at his words, and he couldn't help the sly smile that spread across his lips. He loved the way your cheeks would always turn rosy when he complimented you. He moved even closer to you, so close that he could see the rapid beat of your pulse at your neck. His hand came up and gently brushed along your jawline.

The both of you were fully aware that these feelings were wrong, that you should not feel this way about him, nor you. Yet, when he was this close to you, the thought faded from his mind. Your presence alone was enough to make all rational thoughts disappear. His hand moved from your jaw to the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair.

Noa could read your expressions and understand every little thing you did. He knew your little quirks and all your habits. It was as if he had known you your whole life, even though it had only been a few months.

“Can I show you something?” You ask in a soft tone. You wanted to share every little secret you held. Noa was a bit surprised by your sudden question, and he took a moment to admire the way you looked so close to him before answering. "Yes," he said, his voice softer than he intended.

You stand offering your hand to him. Knowing full and well he of course didn’t need it. You didn’t let go either as he came to stand.

“Follow me.”

The two of you making your way down, beside the rushing water. Noa watched as you led him closer to the waterfall, his grip on your hand still firm. “Do you trust me?” You asked him. He didn't even need to think. "I trust you," he replied confidently, his eyes locking with yours.

Noa's eyes widened in surprise as you led him through the small gap behind the waterfall. When you came through to the other side, he couldn't believe how different and quiet it was here. The roar of the waterfall was muffled behind the thick curtain of water. It was almost like a whole different world.

"Whoa..." he breathed, his eyes darting around the cavern.

You had found this cavern years ago. Since then it had become your very own secret. Not even Loui or mother knows this location. This is where you stash all the human relics you found while exploring the overgrown city.

Noa was completely in awe as he looked around the hidden cavern. He could see all the human relics you had collected and he was amazed. He let go of your hand and walked over to one of the relics, picking it up and examining it closely.

He looked at a small pocket watch, flipping it over and trying to open it. "Did you find all this… yourself?" he asked in amazement, his eyes wide as he looked back at you.

You take the pocket watch and open it for him showing him the face of the cracked clock forever stuck at 3:29 am.

You with a smile as you watch him examine the watch. “Must have gotten close… to the ruins to find… all this," he said, still impressed by your collection.

He then turned his attention back to the other relics, picking up a small book and flipping through the pages. You nod, “I’m not allowed to explore there much. I have to sneak away to do it.” You smirk at your rebellious behavior.

Noa hummed slightly at your mention of sneaking away to explore the city. Possibly the two of you could go sometime. "Sneak away? Just like… now?" he said, raising an eyebrow at you with a smirk of his own. You stare at him, the smirk continuing to spread. “Yes, like now.”

Noa stares admiring the way your eyes sparkled in the dim light of the cavern. He took another step closer to you, his chest almost touching yours. "What would…they do? if they found… us?" he repeated, his voice dropping an octave lower. You ponder on the thought. Truly not knowing the answer. You would expect the worst but hope the best.

Noa watched as you pondered the question.

A small part of him knew that what he was doing right now was dangerous, and he could only imagine what the rest of the clan would say if they found out. But he couldn't stop himself. He moved even closer to you, his chest now brushing against yours, and he gently took your chin in his fingers.

Your breath stills in your chest at such proximity to Noa. He could feel your breath against his chest, making his heart thump faster in his chest. His eyes were fixed on yours, his fingers still holding your chin, gently caressing your skin. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, and he could smell the scent of your hair. Noa’s mind began to cloud as he inched closer.

So close to bringing the two of you together. Inches now. Foreheads almost resting against one another. But your name is called through the trees. You still recognize Loui’s voice.

Noa remained close to you, his fingers still holding your chin. His forehead almost pressed against yours. The disappointment on your face was clear as you huffed at Loui's timing. Noa understood exactly how you felt because he was feeling the same. All he wanted was to spend more time with you, just the two of you. He took a step back, releasing your chin, silently frustrated as he regained his composure.

Noa looked down at the book still clutched in his hand. The moment with you had just been interrupted, and he had to bite back the disappointment that came with it.

He looked back up at you and handed you the book, his eyes still lingering on you for a moment longer before he glanced back at the entrance of the cave. You shake your head and push the book into his chest. “Keep it.” A smile on your face. You wanted him to have something besides simple memories to remember you by when the morning ended and the rest of the day began.

Noa looked down at it and then back up at you, his heart swelling slightly in his chest. He took the book back from you, holding it carefully in his hands. He knew he would treasure it, not for the contents of the book itself but for the reason behind it. He wanted to say something, to tell you how much he appreciated the gesture, but the words got stuck in his throat.

Noa listened as Loui called your name again, this time closer than before. He could tell how much you hated the interruption, and he hated it just as much. He took a small step closer to you again, his eyes filled with frustration but also something else hidden within.

“I have to go.” You whisper with regret.

Noa nodded reluctantly, his heart heavy with disappointment. "I know..." he said quietly, his eyes not leaving yours as you spoke. He reached out and gently took your hand in his, his fingers enveloping yours. "Will I…see you tomorrow?" You nod with a smile. “Just like every other morning. I will be here.” You bring his hand up to your face, planting a light kiss on his palm. You wave a silent goodbye before backing away and emerging from the cave.

As Noa felt your lips on his palm, a tingle ran through his hand and up his arm. It was such a small gesture, but it meant so much to him. He watched as you backed away from him, disappearing from sight from behind the waterfall before he stepped further into the cavern. He clutched the book to his frame, his mind still racing from the moment before the interruption.

You climbed up the rocks to meet Loui, still feeling slightly dazed after the moment in the cave. you looked at him as he asked where you had been, "Sorry, I was just..." you trailed off, your mind still consumed by the memory of Noa’s touch. “Busy.”

Loui looked at you with a confused expression as you finished your sentence. "Busy?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Doing what?"

“That’s for me to worry about.”

Loui watched as you walked away from the waterfall, his confusion still evident on his face.

"You're being… secretive," he called after you, his eyes narrowing as he followed you. You look at Loui, “How? I come here all the time. I have for years.” Loui looked back at you, clearly unsatisfied. Yes, this was one of your most frequent locations, but you’d been disappearing more lately, for longer periods at a time. “don’t understand what is so fun… about old waterfall… you seen many times.” You smirk with a shrug, “Me either, brother.”

Loui caught your smirk, and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He knew you were keeping something from him, he just couldn’t figure out what. “Whatever you’re doing…” he said, trying to maintain his composure, “I will find out.” You narrow your eyes, “oh I’m sure.” Loui met your narrowed eyes with his own, a hint of annoyance in his gaze. "I will.” He said, his voice adamant. “You are not good… at hiding things… known you since young….I can tell when you’re… hiding something,” he said pointedly, his eyes still locked with yours.

You brush off the subject, “Why did you come looking for me anyways?” Loui could tell you were trying to change the subject, but he wasn’t quite done with it yet.

“Mother was looking… needed help with young.” You hadn’t realized how long you’d spent in the cave until suddenly the day had slipped by without you realizing. Loui watched you closely, still curious about the way you were disappearing more often. “Sorry.”

He shrugged at your comment, “You were gone… half the morning.” Loui could see the guilt in your expression, and he knew you didn’t like neglecting your responsibilities.

-

Noa rode back towards the clan on his horse, his thoughts still consumed by the time spent with you. The book you had given him was safely tucked away in the satchel hanging alongside his horse’s saddle.

He couldn’t help but smile at how you had gifted it to him, insisting he keep it. The gesture had meant a great deal to him.

He knew that the gesture of giving him the a gift, such as the book you gave him, was a significant sign in his clan, typically a way to show someone that you’re interested. Was that how you meant it? Did you have the same feelings he did? He hoped so. The possibility of it only made his heart race. He had no way to confirm without risking everything the two of you had.

Upon his arrival to the Clan, Anaya notices, “There you are.” He says walking up to Noa.

He dismounted from his horse and looked at his sunset sibling. “Here I am,” he said simply, trying to act as nonchalantly as possible.

Anaya’s eyes roamed over Noa, taking in his appearance, messy fur slightly out of place. He obviously hadn’t groomed, other things more present in his mind. It was clear he’d been running around somewhere.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Where were you? Never disappeared… like that before.”

Noa was caught off guard by his friend’s question. He didn’t want to lie, but he couldn’t tell him the truth either. Not until he understood his own feelings.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to stall for time. “I just… was scouting the land.” he said tentatively, hoping the excuse was good enough.

Anaya studied Noa, his head slightly tilted to the side, still not completely convinced. Noa shifted awkwardly, silently cursing himself for not coming up with a better excuse.

He tried to maintain a neutral expression, attempting to appear innocent and unbothered by his friend’s scrutiny.

As the two apes walked further into clan territory, Noa’s feet unconsciously led him towards the eagle enclosures. Responsibilities tugged at his mind, reminding him of his duties.

Anaya followed closely behind, still eyeing him with a hint of skepticism. Noa tried to act normal as he approached the eagle enclosures, silently praying that his behavior wouldn’t give him away.

Anaya stopped walking, standing in front of Soona. He watched as Noa disappeared into the rebuilt structure, his brow furrowed in concern. “Noa… acting strange.”

He glanced back at Soona and spoke quietly. She looks at Noa’s disappearing frame. “He is spending much time… outside clan… does not say where.”

As Noa walked into the eagle enclosure, he was greeted with a chorus of respectful acknowledgment. The apes in the enclosure called out to him with reverence, for he was, the Master of Birds. He nodded in response, a small smile on his face. He may have had other things on his mind, but the weight of his position of ‘Master of Birds' was not one he took lightly.

Noa was well aware of the legacy his father had left behind. The shadow of his father's leadership loomed over him, and he was determined to be a worthy successor. He wanted to lead the clan with the same wisdom and strength that his father had. It was a significant pressure, but it also served as fuel for his determination to live up to his father's reputation.

Dar sees her son upon his entrance. “Son.” Noa was looking over the birds in the enclosure when he heard his mother's voice. He turned to greet her. “Mother.” he said, a small smile on his face.

As his mother approached, her eyes roamed over his appearance, taking in the messy state of his fur and the fact that he was clearly ungroomed. Her face held a hint of disapproval. Noa huffed in annoyance as his mother started to groom him, ruffling his already messy fur even more. He tried to resist, but his mother's determined hands and sharp eyes made it clear that resisting would be futile. “Such a mess, son.”

Noa grumbled under his breath as his mother continued to groom him, fixing his messy fur. “I was exploring,” he tried to explain, but his mother tutted at his excuse. “Must hold look… of a leader, son.” Noa rolled his eyes as his mother lectured him about his appearance. “I know,” he said, his voice a mix of annoyance and resignation. “I was not expecting… to be judged… on my grooming skills.” Dar stares at her son, “or lack of.”

Noa huffed again as his mother continued to fuss over his appearance. He knew she was right; as a leader, he had a responsibility to maintain a certain level of dignity and appearance. Still, it was irritating to be lectured like a child, especially when he had more pressing matters on his mind. Noa hadn't even realized how disheveled his appearance had become. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts about you that he hadn't even taken the time to groom himself properly. It wasn't until his mother had pointed it out that he became aware of how bad he must have looked.

“You were gone again… before sunrise,” Dar stated wondering. Noa looked away from his mother's gaze, knowing that she was referring to his earlier disappearance. He hadn't expected her to bring it up, but he should have known she would. “Yes… scouting the area,” he said, repeating the same excuse he had given earlier. His voice was slightly strained, as he tried to keep his true thoughts hidden.

Dar studied her son, trying to decipher the truth behind his words. She could tell he was hiding something, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what.

She paused in her grooming, her eyes searching his face. “You have been gone… a lot.” “There is a lot of land… still unexplored… want to be ready… if something happens again.”

Dar's eyebrows furrowed slightly as Noa explained his absence. “I understand your desire to be prepared, but you disappear so much… I worry.”

Noa could sense the concern in his mother’s voice. He knew she was worried about his disappearance, but he couldn't tell her the real reason behind his frequent absences. Someone had to be here to take care of such responsibilities when Noa was absent. “The elders met today.” Noa's attention was brought back to the present. He had been so consumed by thoughts of you that he hadn't even noticed the mention of the elders. He looked at his mother, his interest piqued.

“Spoke of you.” Dar states. He tried to keep his voice neutral as he asked, “What did they say?” Dar was silent for a moment. “They think it is time… you choose a mate.” Noa's heart skipped a beat as he heard his mother's words. He knew this topic had been on the elders’ minds for a while, but he hadn’t thought they would bring it up so soon. He tried to maintain a calm exterior as he responded to his mother, "A mate?"

Noa's mind raced as his mother discussed the elders' expectations. He couldn't even begin to fathom the idea of choosing a mate from among the apes. Not when you consumed his thoughts and sent his heart racing. Even the mere thought of it made him feel guilty.

He cleared his throat, trying to hide his inner turmoil. “I see.”

Dar began again. “There are many females… who would be suitable… for clan leader.” Noa felt a pang of guilt in his chest as his mother spoke. He knew there were many young females who would be suitable mates for a clan leader. But the mere thought of choosing one of them made him feel uneasy. They were not you.

“I… I do not think… I am… ready.”

Noa's voice was firm as he told his mother he wasn’t ready to take a mate. He tried to sound confident, but it was difficult to hide the uncertainty he was feeling inside. He couldn't explain the conflicting emotions within him, the turmoil of his attraction to you, and his duties to his clan.

Dar looked at her son with a mixture of concern and disappointment. She had expected he would be ready, but it was clear that he wasn't. She placed a hand on his shoulder, her gaze gentle. “I said you would refuse… but…” Noa braced himself for what his mother was about to say. He knew that Dar was not the type to back down easily, and he had a feeling she had a plan in mind. “Maybe… pick someone of friendship… Soona…”

Noa's eyes widened at his mother's suggestion to choose Soona as a mate. She was a close friend, yes, but Noa had never considered her as more than that. He looked at his mother, "Soona?" he repeated, trying to understand her reasoning.

The thought of being with her didn’t ignite the same fire that he felt when thinking about you. But he knew that the pressure from the elders - and especially from his mother - was not something he could ignore. He took a deep breath, trying to quell the storm of emotions within him. "I will… think about it." he said quietly, hoping it would appease his mother.

Night had fallen, and Noa laid in his nest, his mind consumed by thoughts of you. He replayed scenes of your time together in his head over and over, analyzing every moment and subtle exchange of words.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that this was wrong. He was an ape, destined to lead his clan, and yet here he was, completely enamored with a human.

Noa's mind slipped into a dream state as he slowly drifted off to sleep. His surroundings faded away, and he found himself in the familiar cave that he had shared with you. You were there with him, a sense of comfort washing over him as your presence enveloped him.

In the dream, Noa’s hand instinctively reached out to hold your chin, his touch gentle and firm. He drew you closer, his eyes fixed on yours. The distance between you felt impossibly small, the air thick with tension.

“Noa.” You whispered so softly.

His heart skipped a beat as he heard you whisper his name. The sound of it on your lips sent a shiver down his spine. He leaned closer to you, his voice barely above a whisper in response.

Noa rested his forehead against yours, a sigh escaping him. The tension between you was palpable, his emotions swirling in a tangle of confusion and desire. The physical touch, however slight, felt both intimate and forbidden at the same time.

In the dream, Noa wanted to touch you, to explore every inch of your body and commit it to memory. The desire filled him with a fierce need, a need that he couldn’t ignore. His eyes filled with a mix of desire and restraint as he ached to give in to his instincts.

He reached his hand out, his fingers gently tracing the outline of your jaw. The touch was soft and tentative, almost as if he feared that you would disappear if he tried to hold on any tighter. He wanted to pull you closer, to feel your body pressed against his.

With ease you leaned into his hold and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling your heads closer together, Noa felt his heart rate quicken. The feel of your arms around him sent a surge of heat through his body, and he found himself unable to keep his hands from your waist, gently gripping the fabric of your clothes.

“Noa.” You whisper again breathlessly.

In response to your whispered breathless call of his name, Noa feels his body react instantly, his grip on your waist tightening instinctively. The sound of his name on your lips in that soft, breathless tone sent a shiver down his spine, and he leans even closer to you, his heart racing. "Yes?" he murmured quietly, his voice laced with a hint of desire.

“Wake up!”

Noa's dream-state suddenly began to blur and shift, your words penetrating through the haze. As he slowly became aware of his physical surroundings, he could still feel the ghost of your touch, your voice lingering in his ears.

As his eyes opened, he found himself in his nest, the memory of your dream-self still fresh in his mind.

Anaya sits on all fours looking at his friend with confusion. “Crying… in your sleep. Thought you were… hurt.”

Noa blinks awake, disoriented for a moment as he realizes that he's no longer in his dream. Anaya's voice breaks through the fog of sleep, and Noa sits up, still trying to get his bearings.

When Anaya mentions crying in his sleep, Noa feels a pang of embarrassment. He hadn’t even realized he had been crying out in his sleep. though it was no cry of pain.

"fine," he reassures his friend, his voice still rough with sleep and confusion. Anaya looks at his friend. “You can tell Anaya… anything.”

Noa's gaze meets Anaya's, a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion. Part of him wanted to shut down, to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself. But deep down, he knew he needed someone to talk to. Someone he could trust.

He takes a shuddering breath, still trying to shake off the remnants of his dream.

"I… had a dream," he confesses quietly.

Anaya nods, still not understanding. “About?”

Noa's mind flashes back to the dream, the vivid memory of you still fresh in his mind. He hesitates for a moment before answering.

"About someone..." he begins. The words feel strange coming out of his mouth, and he can’t bring himself to just come out and say it. He looks down, fidgeting with a loose strand in his bedding.

Anaya smirks and hoots with laughter. “I knew it! Noa sneaking off… very odd.” Noa can't help but roll his eyes at Anaya's reaction. He should have expected this from his friend, always so curious and perceptive. Noa sighed. “You can not… tell anyone, Anaya.”

Noa's voice is serious as he speaks to his friend. The last thing he wanted was for anyone else, especially the elders, to find out about his feelings. Anaya nodded with an understanding. This was to be kept between the brothers for now.

Noa talked, pouring out his thoughts and feelings about you to his friend. He revealed everything, from the first time he laid eyes on you to the way his heart raced when you were near. But the one secret he kept to himself was your true identity as a human. As he spoke, Noa's expression was a mixture of longing and confusion, his voice growing softer as he confessed his conflicted emotions.

Noa could see the happiness in Anaya's smile, and a small part of him felt relieved and validated in sharing his feelings. But the larger part of him was still filled with anxious uncertainty. “But you understand… why I can not pursue these… feelings… any further?" he asked, his voice tinged with resignation. Anaya innocently ponders, “Why not?”

Noa let out a heavy sigh. He had expected this question from Anaya.

"Because..." he began, struggling to find the right words. "Because she's not… from Eagle Clan. And I am first and only son. I have duties… responsibilities to the clan."

Anaya shrugs, “Eagle Clan always accepting… especially if she makes Noa… happy.” Noa lets out a sigh. A stark reminder of the huge obstacle that stands between them. “Maybe.”

As Noa settled back down in his nest, his gaze drifted towards the stars once more. The countless twinkling lights fill his vision, but all he can think about is you. The thought of you staring up at the same stars as he was sent a pang of longing through his heart. He imagined your face, your eyes, the things that he couldn’t have. He closed his eyes, hoping that somehow, somewhere, you were thinking of him too.

[zorosimpclub]

A new life – Toji Comfort (SFW)

⊹˚. ♡ Summary: In which Toji is hired to assassinate the reader but ends up comforting her instead.

⊹˚. ♡ Trigger warning: implied severely depressed reader, implied attempt, happy ending, comfort

⊹˚. ♡ Word count: 3.6k

⊹˚. ♡ Author's note: sorry I've been MIA – life is hectic, hope you're all okay! enjoy this angsty but happy ending comfort piece <3

“Toji Zenin. Handsome and knows it. Hired to assassinate me. Motivated solely by financial gain.”

She said out loud to him, sensing his presence behind her, not looking up from her glass.

"That's me, spot on."

The words that left his lips were low, calm, and coolly spoken. He had a habit of speaking with an even tone regardless of the circumstances or context. He had been standing there behind her, taking in every detail.

His words were short, but he took a moment to drink in her image before him. She wasn't just beautiful, she was breathtakingly gorgeous. Despite this, his eyes maintained a steady, unreadable demeanour as he answered her question without adding anything else.

She chuckled a little and motioned for him to sit down beside her, sliding a full glass of whiskey to him.

He paused for a brief yet significant moment before he slowly took a seat next to her. He took a sip from the glass of whiskey offered to him before he replied, "You sound rather nonchalant about the fact that I'm here to take your life."

“Mm. Yeah. Doesn’t really bother me.” She took a sip and looked ahead of her, watching a couple canoodling together. Couples made her sick. It was only a matter of time before one of them disappointed the other.

He took in her words and her mannerisms, his gaze shifting from her to the couple briefly, before he looked back at her with a raised brow, "I see... you really aren't fazed by the fact that I'm here to end you? You must be a very confident woman then."

“No. Just a woman who has nothing left to be here for.”

The quietness in the air was palpable as his eyes remained on her. It was a somewhat unexpected reply from her. His lips pulled into a thin line, and his eyebrows slanted down, his eyes becoming cold and sharp, but they quickly resumed their usual neutral expression. He took a drink from his glass, "You really have nothing left to exist for?"

“Nope.”

"Huh..." He spoke with a slight air of curiosity. But his tone quickly returned to its previous stoic state. "That's quite pitiful. Mind if I ask why?"

“So guy who hired you to assassinate me is actually my ex boyfriend. Well, he was married. And I found out. Turns out my 4 years with him was just a lie.” She downed her drink, it was bitter but not as bitter as her current reality.

"Ah, a typical married-man affair then." He said with a soft chuckle. He was only slightly amused by the situation. The fact that his mission was due to a failed relationship wasn't really worth his attention. He took another sip.

His eyes scanned her, taking in the way she was sitting, the way she had spoken... she clearly had a nihilistic attitude toward life. She was apathetic. Something about it was compelling. His head tilted slightly to the side without him realising it, as his eyes never broke away from her. He took a drink. "Tell me, miss..."

“(Y/N) Fushiguro.”

“That's a pretty name." He spoke in the same calm that he always does, but in her presence, he felt somewhat differently. Maybe it was due to her beauty, maybe it was due to her unusual attitude, eitherway, he was intrigued. The way she accepted her impending assassination was oddly intriguing to him.

"So... is this a habit of yours? Drinking, I mean.”

“Only when I find out my last 4 years of my life was a lie.” She chuckled dryly, swirling the cup in her hand… not taking any notice of the environment around her.

"So? You're still young. Your whole life ahead of you, yet you'd just willingly let it go..." He spoke with a hint of a sigh.

“And you? Your story I mean.”

His gaze remained on her, unwavering. "You're asking me about my story? Me?" The question took him by surprise, but it didn't take him long to answer it.

"Why should I divulge such details to you?" He spoke with a soft smirk.

“Because you look like you’re lonely.”

The words that she spoke were like daggers to his heart. They struck him right where it hurt. He was silent for a while, not responding, simply continuing to stare at her. It was difficult to find an appropriate answer without betraying his feelings and his emotions. Eventually, he responded, "And what made you believe that?"

"Your eyes, they look lonely." She said softly, treading lightly.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly. She was perceptive enough to notice the look of his eyes and interpret it as loneliness. But he wouldn't show that he was slightly touched by her words. He was silent, the only sound coming from him was the sound of his breathing.

Then he spoke with a slight grin, "Well, you're not entirely wrong. The eyes are indeed a window into one's heart..."

She smiled a little, she was breath taking, "That's true. So make it quick."

"Make what quick?" He smirked and raised a brow, his tone was mocking. "Are you telling me to assassinate you?"

"Precisely, that's what you're here for right?"

His grin only widens. "You're so calm about the fact that you're going to die... Do you have no desire to live at all?" He spoke the words in an aloof demeanor, but he was genuinely curious, something about her tugged at him. He could have just finished his mission and then walked away. It was good money too. But he just couldn’t for some reason.

She looked up at him emotionlessly, "I mean, there's nothing left for me."

"Hmmm... no fear... no attachments, no desire to keep living... not even a single bit of emotion." His eyes remained on her, analysing her, but his expression remained unchanged. He wondered how someone could be so apathetic.

"Are you?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, and a smile played at the edges of his lip, "Am I what exactly?"

"Happy?"

"Happy?" She caught him off guard with her word choice. His usual aloof demeanor cracked a little, and he let out a small chuckle.

"Ah, that word. I don't remember the last time I was truly happy, if ever. But no, in this moment, the answer is no."

She took his hand and placed it on hers. A look of surprise crossed his expression for a second before he looked back up at her. His eyes remained on her as his hand remained on hers, but neither of them spoke. A quiet tension filled the air.

"Toji was it? How about yourself?"

"Someone to live for?" He paused for a little before he continued. "Not anymore... At least that's what I say to myself." He chuckled dryly. "If you're asking me about my past, then yes, I did have someone to live for until I lost them."

"Then you know what it feels like." She said softly, looking into the distance.

He didn’t speak. His words were true, and he could empathise with her situation. Though, there were many differences between her and him, but their pain was one and the same. He remained still, thinking for a second, not breaking contact as his hand remained on hers.

"Would you want things to end?"

It was a bold question coming from her. No one had ever asked him something like that. Not like his answer would make a difference, but he would answer truthfully eitherway. He shifted his weight, but his hand didn’t leave hers, "Sometimes... yeah."

In her presence, he felt a strange comfort. It was unusual for him, and it was quite unexpected. But still, he felt at ease with her next to him. A light warmth washed over him, and for a brief moment, the loneliness he always felt was diminished. The silence between them continued for a while, the only sounds were their quiet breathing.

He couldn’t deny that he was somewhat broken. A loneliness that had been with him for most of his life, the pain of loss that ate at his heart, the despair that he felt on a daily basis, they were all slowly eroding him. She was broken, too, he could tell that much. The thought made him somewhat sad, knowing all that had happened to her.

"What are we but two souls that are lost?" She whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

He watched as she calmly drank her drink, taking in every movement she made. Though his response had been slow and hesitating, he felt something stir within him at her suggestion.

"You know..." He spoke after a few moments, "There are many things that we don't know. How life would play out, if we would be truly happy... or would our lives end up worse off."

She traced his lip scar, "You... this has a dark story, doesn’t it?”

The touch of her fingernails running against his scar only gave him goosebumps. She was right in guessing that his scar was the product of the pain he endured from his clan. He didn't say a word, but from the slight tightening of his jaw, it revealed the truth without the need for words.

She stroked it gently and smiled, her smile not reaching her eyes. He didn't pull away, but his expression held a touch of surprise. They had only known for each other for a short time, yet her action had caught him off guard. His hand squeezed hers in response, his gaze never leaving hers.

"Goodbye, Toji." She whispered and got up, pulling on her jacket weaving in and out of partygoers to leave the bar.

He was frozen in his seat, his mind trying to make sense of her last words. It didn't take him long to reach the conclusion that those were her final words. But he wouldn't let her simply go without trying to show her that live was worth living. He doesn’t know why he cared or why he quickly dashed after her, rushing through the streets to search for her. But he did.

She stood by the bridge, overlooking the city. Watching as the streetlights twinkled softly in the distance, the wind blowing through her wispy hair.

He soon found her by the side of the bridge. He slowed his pace as he approached her from behind, trying to gauge the situation. He could tell that she was standing near the bridge with one goal in mind.

"Wait..."

She turned to him, "Toji?"

His eyes remained on her as her gaze locked with his. "Your last words... they were goodbye."

"You figured it out, huh?"

"I'm not letting you give up." He responded softly, his voice holding a hint of determination. He took a few steps forward and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, his breath catching slightly.

"...Why? Doesn't this make your job easier?"

"Easier?" His voice contained a touch of disbelief. "That's what you think? That it's all about a job?" He sighed, his grip tightening around her shoulder. "You're a person, just like me... a human being. And I would be a terrible person, if I just stood by and let you... throw it all away."

She chuckled dryly, "You're a hired assassin."

"Even an assassin has a heart." The hand on her shoulder remained firm, and he looked right into her eyes, his gaze intent. "And as a person with a heart, I could never stand to watch you give up like this."

He saw a glimpse of her inner torment as the quivering of her lips suggested she was trying to hold back her emotions. He felt pity and sadness for her. But there was only one thing that he could do in that moment. He silently brought his index finger to her lips and gently traced it against them. Slowly, his touch lingered as his finger stayed there for a couple of seconds before he withdrew it. "Don't."

As his finger ran against her lips, her heart skipped a beat, and she could feel something stir within her. A surge of adrenaline rushed through her system, stirring excitement and something else she couldn't quite define. A strange feeling rose within her heart, and for a brief moment, she felt her chest grow tight as she tried to breathe. In that singular act, he had broken the ice between them. It was only a touch of a stranger, but it felt like so much more.

"I have no where left to go... no money to my name...this is easier."

The words had caught him off guard, and he felt a strange twinge of concern and sadness as his eyes remained on her. She sounded... so hopeless. Without a trace of hesitance, he stepped forward, his body filling the gap between them. His hands gently rested on her shoulders, and he looked into her eyes. He was close, very close to her, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he spoke quietly once again, his voice containing a hint of urgency. "You have me."

"You don’t even know me.”

"A stranger can become a companion, and maybe even more." He spoke softly, his gaze never leaving hers. "Let me be the person by your side. I'll give you a reason to try and live..."

She looked up at him, tears welling up in her eyes, "Why would you do that for me...?"

“You're deserving of love.” He said simply enough, his hold on her shoulder tightening. "You're broken and hurt, but I don't see you as a pathetic, nobody has been. I see a person, a human being who's suffered too much in her life. And you deserve to be loved, cared for, and cherished."

Her breath hitched as she searched his eyes for deception, but she couldn't find any.

He was being truthful. Every word that he had spoken was sincere. He didn't see her as pathetic in any way. He saw her for who she was... a human.

"And even though we met for just a short while, I feel a connection between us. I feel it in my gut and in my heart that you and I have much more to give each other. You're not alone anymore. I'm here...."

He instinctively wrapped his arm around her and he felt her body pressed against his own as she hugged him close. He was taken aback by her embrace as he hadn't felt another body this close to his in years. Gentle sobs eminated from her chest as she buried herself into his, allowing his warmth to comfort her. He allowed the embrace to continue, and the longer she stayed within his arms, the more his heart raced.

He could feel himself becoming attached to her, but he didn't mind.

A sudden snowflake brushed her cheeks, and they both looked up to see the lone one softly flutter down to the ground. The night sky was filled with a soft flurry of snow, and the view was breathtaking. His eyes stayed locked on the falling snowflakes, fascinated with their beauty and graceful movements. As his gaze slowly moved back to hers, he noticed the small droplets of moisture on her cheek. He gently brushed them away with the pad of his thumb, and their faces remained close to each other, his heartbeat increasing with every passing moment.

"I..." She trailed off, looking into his eyes defeated by her own thoughts.

He remained silent and kept watching her with a slight smile on his lips, his eyes never leaving her own. The snowfall slowly increased in its intensity, covering the ground in a white blanket, and a gentle wind danced around them. The night sky was beautiful, and their small, intimate moment felt like time itself had stopped. The tension and excitement were building in the air, and his heartbeat was steadily growing faster, his breath coming in a little short.

"I want to live..."

His own heart jumped with joy at her words, and he closed the gap between them. He embraced her once again and pulled her close to his chest. His hand tightened around her shoulder, and he spoke softly, his voice tinged with emotion.

"Then live..." He gently brushed the tears off her cheeks and looked straight into her eyes, his gaze intent and unwavering.

His breath brushed her own, and his other hand moved from her shoulder to the base of her neck, fingers grazing it ever so gently. Then, the lightness of their breaths suddenly grew heavier, as if their breathing was in sync with each other. He remained so close to her that he could feel the heat of her body against his own. His gaze never leaving hers, their eyes locked and their lips mere inches apart.

As the space between them finally closed, the moment exploded with a powerful shock. It was as if, in that single instant, the tension that had built between them, the excitement, and the buildup of their breath, all released in an intense burst. They had finally come together, their lips finally meeting in a fiery, passionate kiss. Their mouths entwined, their tongues intertwined, their breathing intertwined, and their hearts beat as one. The intensity of their kiss only grew as they remained locked in it, their breath becoming faster and more frenzied as the moment intensified.

"Did you...feel that too?"

"...Yes," he replied with a breathy voice, still coming down from the incredible high of their kiss. The nearness of her skin still lingered in his senses, and his heart continued to beat at a rapid pace. "I felt it..." His eyes remained locked on hers, his gaze not faltering. "I felt it all.."

His gaze remained locked on hers. They shared a silent moment between them, their eyes remaining connected as they were still processing the sudden rush of emotions from their kiss. The tension was palpable in the air, as if they were still bound by that powerful surge of emotions from moments ago. He saw her mouth open slightly, as if trying to say something...

She smiled a little, "Looks like you failed your mission."

A smirk tugged on his lips, and his gaze softened slightly when she smiled. "Failed?" He asked, his tone now filled with a hint of amusement.

"Yeah, you were hired to assassinate me, yet instead you took me into your life."

"And I don't see that as a failure," he replied, his voice becoming softer and more vulnerable. "On the contrary, in my book," he added, his voice picking up a teasing tone again. "I'd say this was a remarkable success."

“Take me home…”

"Home?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with surprise. Then a sly grin appeared on his lips, and his arms tightened around her. "Okay..." He paused and added, "But there are conditions.”

"What conditions?"

He pulled her slightly closer as she shifted her body, resting her head on his shoulders. He looked at her for a moment and spoke softly, his breath soft on her skin. "One..." he started, his voice slightly rumbling. "You must promise to never give up to this world. Never let anyone or anything take away your worth. Always believe in yourself. And... never, ever give in to despair..."

"The second condition..." he continued softly, his breath still light on her skin as his thumb continued the soothing gesture, gently wiping away her tears. "Is that you must give yourself a chance. Give life another shot."

He let out a small breath, relieved that he had gotten her to agree to give herself another chance. “The last condition…” he started, and as he spoke, he felt the tension grow once again, the excitement palpable in the air.

The snow gently coated the ground around them as the silent night carried only the sound of the flakes slowly falling down, the silence only momentarily interrupted by their breath. “Is that…” he paused and cleared his throat, making sure to find the right words, “you must promise to let me guide you. To let me protect you. To let me try and love you…”

She felt her tears well up again. His grip on her shoulder tightened again as he felt her body tremble with the sudden urge to cry. He knew the words had hit home for her, and he felt a surge of protective fondness for her, his thumb gently stroking her cheek where the tears were running down. It was a tender gesture, and his eyes remained on her.

"Don't," he whispered softly, his tone carrying a hint of concern. "No more tears..."

She grinned as he wiped her eyes, "A new life."

"A new life," he repeated with a smirk, and his hands moved to run through her hair, letting his fingers drift down to brush her cheeks, and his gaze never left her own, still locked onto her eyes.

"Together." he added softly.

The night was still, and every sound had grown quiet around them, as if the world had stopped to witness this intimate moment. The snow continued its silent descent, covering them in a white blanket as the atmosphere grew heavy. His fingers remained on her cheeks, his gaze never leaving her eyes.

His heartbeat was a steady thump in his chest, his chest moving slightly with each breath. Their lips were just mere inches away, their breaths brushing against each other just slightly. Each moment seemed to stretch out infinitely as their eyes remained locked on each other.

[nanaminsonyfans]

Can I request a Megumi x reader where reader tries and fails twice, but succeeds the third time to get him under a mistletoe and kiss him?

a/n; Of course! i'd be delighted to do this!!! I would love some more christmas requests!

warnings; this is mostly fluff! reader is gender neutral and it's kinda ooc for megumi? its been awhile so hopefully its good.

Under the Mistletoe

You had a crush on Megumi for awhile now. He was so stoic, mysterious, yet charming. Perhaps it was his bluntness or his passion for being a good sorcerer for his sister. But it didnt really matter. You heard him talk to Todo...he didnt care how his partner looked, he just wanted a good personality.

This year for Christmas, Gojo insisted on decorating campus, much to Yaga's dismay but he relented since there wasnt any stopping THE Gojo Satoru. There was garland, lights, and mistletoe everywhere.

Snow dusted the ground, crunching under your feet. You carefully stepped in the already made footprints by Megumi. You two had been friends, the two only first years before Yuji and Nobara came. You both went inside and passed under some mistletoe, it was always slightly out of sight before you were under it.

"Hey Megs—" You pointed up and he looked at you, scoffing slightly. "I'm not participating in that idiot's little game." He says and rolled his eyes before starting to walk. You stomped off the snow on your shoes feeling defeated. "You like Fushiguro~" Nobara taunted and you blushed looking away. "Is it that obvious? i wish it was for him." You mumbled. "We'll help!" Yuji and Nobara said in unison. "How?" "Trust us." Nobara grinned.

You trusted them, unfortunately. Their grand plan was putting mistletoe everywhere. Every doorway, each hall at least six feet apart. Megumi thought it was just Gojo being obnoxious as usual, nothing new to him. However it was a little odd that you were following him around though, but it wasnt anything new. You two were usually training together. He never stopped to care even though it was you standing next to him. You started to feel slightly discouraged, maybe you read too much into how he treated you? It was different than how he treated everyone else, maybe it was because he knew you longer?

It was inching close to Christmas and everyone seemed somewhat excited, a few people returning home, mainly just Inumaki. You were standing out, watching the snow fall. It was dark but the lanterns around the school were more than enough light. You heard footsteps behind you and recognized them as Megumi's. His footsteps were soft, years of training with Gojo, but also barely detectable, like a shadow of footsteps.

"Do you not like me?" You ask suddenly, unable to contain it, there was a hint of hurt in your voice. "What?" He looked at you confused. "Of course i like you." "Not like that...like romantically." Megumi cleared his throat and stared forward. "I've never...been good with emotions." He says softly, his hands in his pockets. "But i do like you. A lot. I just thought this would be corny to confess feelings in such a...juvenile manner." He said as he turned to look at you.

"I thought i should tell you instead of just, kissing you. We've faced death together, more than once...i thought i should tell you in a meaningful way...i suppose this is it now." You turned and looked at him. "And look at that." He looked up, mistletoe hanging above the two of you.

You looked at him and smiled slightly. "Yeah...look at that." You say softly. "Y/n, i really do like you." "And i like you too Megumi." He stepped closer and held your face in his hands before kissing you gently. His hands were warm against your cold cheeks which warmed you up and sent butterflies to your stomach.

[sinisternymphette]

fade into you - modern au!levi

because...I've been thinking about him recently... this is just a cute little self-indulging fic I made.. this is the first time I've ever written him so I apologize if he's a bit uncharacteristic. (also I wrote this in 2 am) Two pov's are here!! (use of f!reader)

⎯ 1984, huh. Good read, classic. You heard a gruff voice speak to you, making you look up almost immediately. Your gaze was met with a rather short middle-aged man's cold yet beautiful silver-blue eyes, his lips an unamused thin line which held no emotion in them. He was wearing an apron, which meant he was one of the people working in the quaint little teashop you were in. You tilted your head slightly to the side in confusion, blinking slowly as if you were a feline. However, you soon figured out he was talking about the book you were so carefully holding- 1984 by George Orwell. He was one of your favorite authors, so earlier this week, you were giddy to learn that your local library had more of his works. And so, you had to pick the next one on your list.

a faint ''oooh!'' left your mouth, staring at him and giving him a brief nod as a close-mouthed smile started to form on your glossy lips a little awkwardly. You gave a quick side glance at the menu that laid on the old and rounded wooden table before you met his eyes again.

⎯ Umm yeah, you started, voice vibrating slightly in a sheepish response to the unexpected comment. No one had ever come up to you before to mention the book you were reading. In fact, this was the first time you've caught a stranger's attention, no matter the reason. In a flick of a moment, you looked at the man in front of you up and down- he had short and straight, sleek black hair which was styled in an undercut curtain. He had dark circles under his eyes, something that you could relate to- though yours weren't as noticeable as his. His appearance almost reminded you to a sickly victorian child mixed with a history teacher, especially because of his stature and choice of clothing. He was wearing a white long-sleeved shirt under his apron, dark brown trousers with a black leather belt and simple black oxfords.

⎯ I love his books. Animal Farm is one of my favorites- actually. You continued, a slight glimmer in your eyes as you spoke softly in almost a murmur. You placed the book on your lap before bringing one of your hands to brush some strands out of your face, placing them under your ears. ⎯ short, but a masterpiece.

The black-haired man's expression remained the same, though you were also met with a slight scoff. He seemed to be unamused, despite his interest in the beginning. This made you pout faintly, only a little. ⎯ Hm, I can agree with that. he mumbled, cold eyes meeting yours again and crossed his arms in front of his chest. His gaze and tone of voice might have made him seem uninterested and cold, but somehow, he still gave off a somewhat 'welcoming' aura, which was strange- to say the least. You guessed he was one of them closed-off types. ⎯ Did you sit here only to talk about Orwell, or do you actually want to drink some tea as well? he suddenly asked, which caught you completely off-guard. You slowly brought your hands together over the book that was sitting on your lap to fidget your fingers with each other in a nervous manner, a tiny frown forming on your features where once laid a soft expression. Usually, people were easy for you to read- but this man seemed like a puzzle, an enigma. Part of you thought that he was simply an asshole, while the other wanted to believe he didn't mean to come off like that- especially by the immediate reaction he had to his own words, his silver slits of eyes widening by the slightest, a glimmer of regret behind them. Still, you didn't want to assume. ⎯ Oh. That was all what was able to come out for a few moments, disappointment and shock carrying that simple word. You glanced to the side. ⎯ Right. Sorry. I'll be getting an hmm.. Arrowroot tea. Small cup, please. A glass of water with that, too. You were finally able to word something, and despite your attempts at sounding firm like him, you came off more awkward than you wanted to, voice as soft as a feather. Oops, so much for being strong and confident.

His gaze lingered on you for a few moments, silence filling the air around the both of you. ⎯ Mhm. With that, he simply gave you a nod, turned around and walked back behind the counters of the shop where all the brewing equipment and coffee-making machines were, murmuring briefly with the other person working there- A brunette, young woman -who seemed to be some years younger than you- with wide brown eyes and her hair up in a ponytail, wearing an apron like the man's. The woman's gaze landed on yours, though you quickly glanced away, staring right down onto your book. He probably said something rude about you to her, despite the fact that you didn't do anything. You just knew it, you felt it.

Your thoughts, however, were interrupted after a few minutes by the sudden sound of him clearing his throat, standing right next to you. You perked your head up ⎯ Here. He placed the warm cup on the table, not bothering to look at you. ⎯ It's 3 dollars. In a swift motion, you opened the zipper of the bag that was sitting on the chair next to yours and pulled out your purse, taking out the pennies of money you owed. Before you were able to turn your back and hand him the money, he placed a small and pretty little porcelain rounded plate in front of you, 2 scones with strawberry jam on it. Strange.. you didn't order those. ⎯ I think you got my order wrong, I didn't ask fo- you spoke up as you turned, though your words were immediately cut off by his husky voice. ⎯ On the house. his gaze softened to some extent, except it switched back to his former one in a blink of an eye. You looked back to the scones, then looked at him again with clear confusion as you gave him the money- your fingers touching his for only seconds before they didn't anymore. Was this because he felt bad about the rudeness from before, or did the girl he was with talked some sense into him? Maybe your hearing was broken. ⎯ Really? you almost blurted out, which caused him to chuff in response, slightly rolling his eyes. ⎯ Yes. Take it or leave it. Despite the roughness that came off with that sentence and the stoic expression on his face, he seemed to have done it as an attempt to hide the way the thin lines of his lips curled up- however minuscule it was. You honestly found it a bit funny and strange, why he was trying to act like such an angry and grumpy little old man instead of just..being normal. ⎯ Uh..thanks, I guess. You replied, rewarding him with a soft smile as you took the cup and brought it to your lips, taking a small sip while you sniffed, enjoying the tea's smell.

⎯ Enjoy your tea. He replied with a brief nod of his head while his gaze remained on you for a short moment before he eventually let out a scoff, though it didn't really seem to be from annoyance, but from something else. You weren't 100% sure though. He then turned away once again and went back to tidying up some tables, occasionally glancing your way. You didn't pay much attention to him though because as soon as he left; you opened your book, took out the lace page marker you had carefully placed in the last page you've been reading, placed it back on the table and got emerged in the story. You furrowed your eyebrows, a sign you were concentrated and not paying attention to your surroundings while you hummed softly to yourself.

Levi walked back to his spot after restlessly cleaning the same table for the past 10 minutes. He had a frown on his face, a dark and gloomy expression as he huffed, using his arm to wipe off some of the little sweat that was starting to form on his forehead. He got behind the counter while Gabi took the task of making the tea, and she quickly turned to look at him as she brewed the order she just got. An amused smile played on her lips, snickering softly which made Levi give her a scowl. ⎯ What do you want, brat. he murmured, bringing his hand to pinch his temples. He was way too embarrassed already, having pulled that stupid little stunt back there and acting like a complete ass to that woman. He didn't even mean to say what he did, but for some reason, the woman made his words get caught in his throat- and it made him confused, it was an unusual thing to happen, a new feeling, so he didn't like that. Still, that wasn't an excuse to act the way he did. And internally, he was still cussing at himself. ⎯ Sooo, did she accept the scones? She asked, a playful glint in her eyes as she waited for his response. Levi sighed. ⎯ What do you think? You see them in my hands? Gabi nodded, understanding what he meant and that it was a warning for her to mind her own business. As much as she loved teasing the old man, she didn't like getting on his bad side, especially if he was already having a rough day. Levi stood there, crossing his arms and leaning over the counter next to the cash register as his gaze traveled through the shop, though his eyes always seemed to land on the woman's even if he didn't intend to. Damnit.

He wasn't sure what caused him to be like this. Usually, he was too focused on his work to even notice the clients he was having. He didn't care about socializing with any of them, or making any new friends. After all, he was already happy with the ones he already had- Falco and Gabi, who were his adopted children, his best friends Erwin, Hange, Miche and Onyankopon, and his dumbass almost-siblings Isabel and Furlan. He didn't need anyone else, nor wanted anyone else. So why was his body acting against his mind?

⎯ She's real pretty she whispered, trying to act discreetly as she nodded towards her with her head, leaning against the wall next to Levi. He shrugged, clearly unamused by her comment as he glanced down, acting as if he was tiding the cash inside the cash register. He didn't respond, just glanced towards the woman's way every few moments. Gabi then left to tend a costumer, a tray on one of her hands with a warm cup of tea.

Some times passed, and you finally got out of the trance-like state you were in as your read your book, head perking up as you yawned softly. Drinking tea always made you sleepy, which was a pleasant feeling. It calmed you down, especially while reading. A content sigh escaped your lips, and you slowly stood up to grab your bag and put your things inside before you fixed your now slightly messy hair. ⎯ Done with your tea, huh. you heard the now familiar cold voice speak up behind you, realizing he was probably waiting for you to finish all this time. You nodded his way, turning fully to look at him correctly. ⎯ Yup, tea and scones were very good, thank you. You replied, your voice sounding more kind now. You looked at the now empty cup in your hand before looking at him, making a small chuckle ⎯ Do I leave this here, or is there a trash can where I can drop this? he shook his head, pulling up his hand in a way of saying no. ⎯ Leave it here. he said with usual tone, his silver eyes looking up and down at you, almost as if he was scanning you. He then took a cloth from his pocket and started to wipe the table clean, no longer looking at you and his expression immediately became stoic again. And so, with that, you started to walk away without looking back. You were tired now, and all you wanted was to go home, take a warm bath and loath on your bed. However, as you were about to open the door, the bell chiming softly, you heard his voice again. ⎯ Will you be coming here again? Your eyes widened as you listened, the tone in his voice almost sounding hopeful, even if it was just a little bit. You turned to look at him one last time, nodding. ⎯ I really liked this place. So yeah, I probably will.

You didn't know, but deep down inside of him, with those simple words you just spoke, a warm and fuzzy feeling stirred in his tummy, even if all he did was nod in response and turn to keep doing what he was doing. A tiny, small, minuscular but content smile almost appeared on his lips. He was glad. Glad that he would see you again, and he couldn’t wait for you to return, as much as he tried to convince himself he didn't.

@sinisternymphette 2024

[oneofafew]

@morelikeravenbore inspired me with their Sebastian Fluff Alphabet and I’ve done one for our perfect boy Ominis.

I am currently battling a fever so my brain is slightly more foggy than usual so bear with me if the details aren’t as in depth as I would have liked to go. I may revise!

Disclaimer: purely my own head canons based off my own perceptions and writing

Without further ado

🐍 Ominis Gaunt Fluff Alphabet 🐍

A - Attractive - what do they find attractive about their partner?

Being blind Ominis is going to base his attraction to touch and smell as well as the sound of your voice, there is nothing he finds more adorable than the sounds of his love ones laugh, he’s attracted to someone with similar values as his and finds himself inexplicably drawn to those he feels need taking under wing and providing guidance to.

B - Body - what is their favourite part of their partner’s body?

Their hands without a doubt, it’s his gateway to the world so he is always found holding or kissing them especially in private

C - Cuddle - how do they like to cuddle?

Despite being relatively reserved he insists on being the big spoon, purely so he can burrow his head in their hair and inhale their intoxicating scent, don’t let him always have his way though that boy needs some comfort even if he won’t admit it he secretly loves being held by his partner.

D - Dates - what does their ideal date look like?

Raised in higher classes his dates may be somewhat old fashioned and stiff to begin with, formally asking you by letter rather than verbally, always the proper gentleman he needs some time to relax and come out of his shell before he’s doing anything spontaneous

E - Equal - are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Ominis absolutely lives by the trope he should take care of his partner, he has strong opinions and this often materialises as dominance

F - Fight - would they find it easy to forgive their partner? how are they fighting?

He is well versed in navigating arguments in a mature and gentlemanly manner, he would never raise his voice and is an excellent communicator though can become quickly frustrated if his partner isn’t seeing his side of things and is prone to giving the cold shoulder now and again, though he quickly melts under their touch and sincere love

G - Gifts - how do they feel about gift giving? what are their habits when it comes to this?

Ominis is a sugar daddy and has no idea that he is, growing up with the Gaunts he has absolutely no concept of the value of money and will buy ridiculously expensive gifts “just because” which may require some gentle talking to, however he becomes very easily flustered when given a gift himself.

H - Holding Hands - when / how do they like to hold hands?

Ominis loves his partners hands so any opportunity to hold hands is always welcome even publicly though he’s mostly subtle about it

I - Injury - how would they act if their partner got hurt?

Given his childhood and family Ominis is fiercely protective of his loved one, if they’re hurt or sick he’s at their side day and night making sure they’re comfortable and they make a quick recovery, he’s always projecting an air of calm (though he’s paddling like mad beneath the surface like a swan)

J - Jealousy - do they get jealous easily? how do they deal with it?

Ominis is fairly self assured and isn’t quick to get jealous, but if he does happen to find himself feeling that twinge he will bottle it up and opt to be extra attentive rather than actually talk about his insecurities, it takes a fair amount of coaxing to get him to speak up.

K - Kisses - how do they like to kiss their partner?

Ominis loves to kiss their hands, given any opportunity his bringing them to his lips, actually kissing though takes a lot of courage for him, it takes him awhile to open up and relax but rest assured once he’s found his confidence he’s not afraid to make a move, though he is always gentle and rarely messy

L - Love Language - what’s their love language?

Acts of service and gift giving are his two go to love languages when he’s smitten, the later can become somewhat problematic if he’s not reigned in fairly quickly given enough patience physical touch becomes another one of his favourites

M - Mornings - how are mornings spent with them?

Ominis is always up early, no matter what the day he rises with the sun only to take little cat naps throughout the day, he finds lie-ins tedious and pointless and will insist his partner rise with him.

N - Nights - how are nights spent with them?

Despite being up early Ominis rarely sleeps at night, whilst he takes pleasure in going to bed early he often finds himself laying awake for hours listening to the strange sounds around him unable to settle he finds comfort in having someone beside him to take care of whilst they sleep and finds it easier to sleep with company

O - Open - when would they start revealing things about themselves? how would they do it?

Ominis would take his time to open up to someone, given his nature he’s not the most forthcoming of people but once he does open up he’s prone to dropping random tidbits of information into every day conversation like it’s nothing, he doesn’t like talking about himself or his past and prefers to focus on his partners needs.

P - PDA - how comfortable are they with pda?

Ominis values his personal space, he doesn’t like being touched without his consent or prior knowledge, he’s very gentlemanly so PDA isn’t really on his radar though he’s very affectionate in private the most you’d get from him out in the open would be hand holding until he’s fully opened up to you

Q - Quirk - what is a random ability that helps the relationship?

His patience and gentle nature, despite his life he’s a very caring soul and enjoys being the caregiver in the relationship, his ability to sit and talk for hours until an issue is resolved helps smooth out any problems the relationship may face

R - Romance - how romantic are they? cliche or creative?

Ominis is very cliche in the romance department, roses and jewellery, having learnt it from books rather than example, he needs a creative partner to balance him out

S - Security - how protective are they?

Immensely protective, without being overbearing, Ominis will follow you into the shadows if it meant keeping you safe despite not wanting to go himself, his protectiveness is a cause for a majority of your arguments especially if as a partner you tend to be quite reckless

T - Talking - what do they like to talk about?

Ominis has the ability to converse on almost every topic known to wizard kind, he has a broad knowledge and is happy to debate and share his beliefs, though his guilty pleasure is gossip that boy cannot resist eves-dropping on his class mates and relaying the juicy details to his partner afterwards

U - Understanding - how well do they know their partner?

Ominis takes his time to get to know someone before opening up himself so he knows his partner very well probably better than they know themselves right down to their little mannerisms

V - Vaunt - what are they proud of? do they like to show their partner off? He prides himself on being able to take care of his loved one so will happily let anyone who asks know exactly who their partner is, whilst he believes he’s very subtle about it it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

W - Whole - would they feel incomplete without their partner? Ominis had learnt from an early age to be by himself to rely on no one and take care of himself so he tends to regress into his shell without his partner around becoming withdrawn and quiet if he goes a long period of time without them.

X - XOXO - are they affectionate?

In private Ominis can be very affectionate given time, kissing playing with hands, gentle touches are his go to, he often becomes flustered however if he’s not the one to initiate it.

Y - Yearning - how well do they cope when they’re separated from their partner?

Ominis fares well by himself and would never openly admit he yearns his partner’s presence despite missing them, his protective streak however lends to him feeling anxious without them and he’d often be found pacing until he knew they where safe again.

Z - Zzz - what are some sleeping habits of theirs?

He’s well known for his intermittent cat naps throughout the day, he very rarely sleeps at night but enjoys being close to his partner whilst they sleep and is always the first to suggest they go to bed.

[juuuulez]

📰 | part four: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, enemies to lovers, slow burn, follows slight canon, no use of (y/n), non-graphic violence, morally grey reader.

summary: Carl and Enid are at the Hilltop colony at the same time as the Saviours’ arrival. A fight ensues.

previous | next

Thank you all soooo much for the lovely messages regarding this series!!! It’s managed to motivate me to finally finish this part. I’m on my very last few weeks of school (as in…of my life) so it’s very hectic atm, but coming on here always is a nice escape.

Next chapter will feature Carl’s breaking into the Sanctuary…. sooo a bit of fun there.

After the whole ordeal, in order to hide from Negan and the Saviours, Maggie and Sasha had relocated to the Hilltop colony. It was upsetting at first, being so far from their friends, especially as most was too busy to visit.

But not Enid.

She’d made the effort to get there, plus the company of Carl, and found that it was a rather pleasant trip. After all, who doesn’t like fooling around a little with a boy? It took away from all the pain and suffering in the world, even just for a moment.

That moment sure didn’t last long.

It was her second day at the Hilltop, and Enid was tending to some of the garden near the fences. She found life at Hilltop to be more her pace, less restricting than Alexandria. Carl was nearby, leaning against a wooden pole, keeping up the casual conversation. The two were able to talk about everything and nothing at the same time.

The Saviours were here, they knew that, but it wasn’t their problem. Another bonus of being away from Alexandria. Simon and his men mostly left them alone, likely terrorising some adults, or their leader.

Enid and Carl were mid conversation when her eyes began to drift, like they usually did. Over to that spot near the compound’s back, where two fresh graves sat. She couldn’t tear herself away.

Except this time, alarm bells went off.

You were standing right there. Next to the two plots, looking down at them. Bat in hand. It appeared merely innocent, but she knew something was up. You were evil. One of them.

Little flecks of dirt are caked on her hands from gardening, but Enid doesn’t care to wipe it off. Suddenly she’s standing, storming over there, and Carl is subject to helplessly follow as he realises what was happening.

Though Enid knew very well that you typically meant trouble, it was Carl who had an actual insight into the logic behind your violent tendencies. This was likely a confrontation you would not take lightly, given how hotheaded Enid could be.

“Wait, maybe we shouldn’t—“ Carl attempts to contain the situation, but she’s already approached you, already speaking with such a determined candour that he can only stand back and watch

“What the hell are you doing here?” Enid practically seethes, standing there next to you, on the grass.

You’d heard the footsteps before the pair approached. Therefore, you weren’t at all surprised to turn and spot Enid, basically verging on intruding your personal space. Maybe an intimidation tactic. You appeared slightly amused, metal bat in hand, hanging at your side.

“Paying my respects, obviously,” You point out, giving a nod towards the two muddied graves. That grin doesn’t falter, “Which, by the way, haven’t seen from either of you towards any of my dead. Thanks a lot.”

But then Enid is speaking again, fire on her tongue, venom laced in her words. “Your dead don’t deserve any respect. They deserve to be six feet under, goddamn scum.”

“Enid.” Carl says as somewhat of a warning, not exactly scolding, just a concern for what may come of this. It falls on deaf ears, as you are letting out a low whistle, feigning being impressed.

“My God, girly. You are cold,” It’s said in a taunting manner, stepping away from the graves, approaching Enid slowly. “Is it that time of the month, or what? Because you seemed pretty damn timid in Alexandria last week, so excuse me for being a little shocked at this confidence.”

“We are going to kill you,” Enid says, ignoring your attempts at provoking her, “And your people, and Negan. You can’t get away with this.”

You roll your eyes. This conversation, again?

“Don’t think so,” You chime, stepping closer. At this point, you are right in front of Enid, your noses could be touching if you moved any closer. “Because we already have gotten away with this. You are under our control. When will that get into your thick-as-fuck skull?”

There’s a look of anger on Enid’s face, discontent. Offence at your blatantly cocky attitude. “You talk big game, but you aren’t half the survivor you think you are.” She sneers.

It only causes your smile to grow.

“Oh, I’m not a survivor. I’m a winner,” You point out with a sense of pride, “And you, and your friends, are losers. Hence why I’m standing over their graves, and not you to mine.”

Then Enid lunges forward, but you step backwards, just enough to evade being hit. At the same time, Carl is gripping onto Enid’s forearm, pulling her backwards as he’d similarly predicted her intent to strike.

“I would not do that if I were you.” Now it’s your turn to sneer, unimpressed with the downright disobedience and attempt at appearing threatening. Though you do not fear Enid, you’re irritated with the lack of respect.

But Enid can’t stop. Her face is scrunched up, desperate to break from Carl’s hold, ready to take you down with her bare hands. “I’m gonna kill you, and then let you turn. You will live forever as a monster and you will fit right in.”

“Enid!” Carl finally scolds, sensing the rising tension, desperate to avoid letting this spiral any more. After all, he’d been there. He knew how disobedience was handled. It was a death sentence.

They don’t respect you. These people don’t. Or, Enid doesn’t. Nor does Rick. You remember your fathers words: respect is gained through examples. Show them what they have to fear. This world is no place for empty threats.

So, you swing.

There’s a bystander off to your left, you’d taken note earlier. Your metal bat makes contact with the young man’s skull, reverberating through your bones and sending the innocent person to the ground. A silence falls over Hilltop.

“Too goddamn late!” You jest, and it’s disgusting how intoxicating it feels. Their obvious fear fuels your fire, your desire to uphold this commanding persona, to never be spoken down to.

You’ve done it.

It’s evident by the shock on Enid’s face, basically pale as a ghost. By the way everyone stands there, still, waiting.

You grin, swinging the bat at your side, no longer addressing Enid and Carl, but the audience that you’ve gained throughout your squabble.

“Are you gonna help him, or what?” You suggest with a scoff, rolling your eyes. A few diverge from the crowd, kneeling in front of the man. “It’ll just be a minor skull fracture, geez. Talk about a tough crowd.”

Throwing one last look to the pair, you make your departure. Actions, not words, you reminded yourself. A demonstration.

The man is carried away, and Enid’s eyes follow the crowd that slowly dissipates. She’s horrified. She feels sick, actually. Like she may be physically ill.

Seeking validation for this terrible event, she turns to Carl. But he doesn’t appear nearly as fearful as her. He looks furious, actually.

“What was that?” He asks, brows furrowed underneath his hat. It causes Enid to do a double take, mentally checking everything that has happened.

Enid scoffs, “She‘a psycho, that’s what.”

“No, why did you say that?” Carl rephrased his question, and it’s becoming increasingly evident where his anger is directed. “What did you think was going to happen? That was your fault.”

“Bullshit!” Enid practically yells, but is quick to check her temper, not wanting to worsen the situation. “I didn’t hit him! That was all her.”

“You weren’t there, Enid. Okay? You don’t understand.” Carl emphasises, yet doesn’t wait for a reply. He steps to the side, swiftly moving forward, towards the gates of Hilltop.

Enid is left speechless.

And Carl has devised a plan.

[the-dixon-effect]

Sweet Interruptions

A/N: thanks so much @matilda4eve for this request which you can find here 💕image creds @Emotionalady on pinterest | i had so much fun writing this and i really hope you guys enjoy because as usual i was up in the earliest hours of the morning writing this 😭

summary: Y/N and Daryl are both secretly pining for each other, and it takes all manner of 'interruptions' to bring them together.

era: season 3-4, prison era

pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

words: 2.3k

warnings: suggestive, Merle being annoying, basically no warnings ^_^

The Georgian wind was hot against your bare shoulders as you stood in the prison yard. It didn't go unnoticed by the other residents how, like always, you appeared lost in your thoughts as you idly gazed at the archer who was working a considerable distance away. Despite having spoken, maybe, two words to Daryl, you were already in deep. You watched his arms flex, those irresistibly tanned biceps contract and relax as if he were a sculptor shaping a beautiful piece of art, when in reality he was simply tweaking his motorcycle. You admired the way his unkempt chocolate hair framed his pretty face, and, when you caught sight of those gorgeous cerulean eyes that seemed invisible to everyone else, it felt enough to just look at him, without needing any attention from him whatsoever. You adored all of him, not just his appearance, and simply from observation you could tell he was a troubled man. How you dreamt of wiping away those tears you knew Daryl hid away somewhere deep inside, reserved for those cold nights spent alone. You dreamt of holding him tight, feeling his big arms wrap around your waist, kissing him anywhere you could reach and-

You were enraptured. And today, it would take some groundbreaking event to drag you from your wild imagination. Just the sight of him working on his bike had you rubbing your thighs together. You loved the way his brows furrowed in concentration, and you couldn't help but imagine him doing other things with those skilled hands.

With blown-out pupils and parted lips, you had lost all sense of where you were and what you might look like gawking at the archer. A forceful hand on your shoulder made you practically jump out of your skin as you took in your surroundings in an instant. You turned your body sharply to face whoever had, somewhat rudely, in your opinion, interrupted your typical daydreams. You recognized the woman and thank God it was a friend, not someone with too many questions about what you were doing, you thought, now considering that your staring might have been a little excessive. It was Maggie, and that familiar Southern drawl reached your ears before you could register the mischievous look she was giving you.

"Aren't ya 'sposed to be workin' out here?" she said, with a very obvious smirk painting the subtle lines on her face. When you realised that she could see straight through you, you decided it was no use denying your little crush any longer. Rubbing your hand on the back of your clammy neck, you spoke quietly, smirking a little yourself.

"It's not like I got something better to do," you said, blushing.

"Well," she began, stringing out the syllable in a playful tone, "you could be helpin' me insteada' standin' out here like a deer in headlights."

You hummed, "Or, I could stay right here." you said with a giggle.

Sure, everybody knew about your infatuation, and sure, Daryl had noticed too. Unbeknownst to you, he had caught himself stealing glances at you too. He noticed the little things, the kind of things any other lust-filled guy wouldn't see. The silkiness of your hair, the precious flare in your cheeks after spending a day in the sun, your beautiful wide smile, the way your cheeks crease when you smile, the gleam in those bewitching eyes when you're looking at him. You were so... sweet. That's it, sweet. If he could define your being in one word, that would be it. Sweet. So sickeningly sweet, Daryl concluded that he'd never met anyone so soft and pure in his life before.

Sometimes, he hated it. What was a girl like you doing in a world like this? Surely, he thought, it would catch up to you soon enough and you'd die at the hands of-

Daryl could hear his brother's voice ringing in his ears.

Ya gon' protect her, lil' bro? She sure needs it, pretty thing won't survive long on her own.

A part of him feared that the memory of Merle's cynicism was right. Except, unlike other times, he wanted to protect you. For the first time, the idea of making a girl feel safe didn't come as a burden. The desire to keep you from harm came unfamiliar to him. It was a strange feeling that, despite the barriers he built that were supposed to guard him from these superficial affections, began to pierce his thoughts and corrupt his selfish notions. It started in the daytime, when he found himself glimpsing at you from a distance, then thinking about you, what you might feel like under his hands, so deliciously forbidden. Then thoughts of you entered his mind at night, and waves of guilt didn't cease to wash over him every time he buried his calloused hands beneath the rough denim of his jeans.

Your presence was angelic, he couldn't bring himself to deny that. If only he could work up the courage just to talk to you.

She don't wantchu, baby brother! What's a cute girl like her gon' wanna do with ya?

Nah, this time, Merle was wrong. Daryl had seen the way you looked at him, the way the corners of your mouth tugged up in a slightly mischievous grin when the two of you locked eyes across the room, right? Yes. This time, his anxiety and self-consciousness were not going to get the better of him.

The next day, Daryl's fingers tightly gripped the metal hand railing of the prison staircase, threatening to turn white if he didn't loosen his grasp. He was staring you down, having lost a little bit of the sudden confidence he found himself equipped with yesterday. Maybe he should talk to Rick, or Glenn? They were good with girls, right? Perhaps they'd offer the right advice for Daryl's foreign predicament.

Before Daryl could consider what he might say to the more 'experienced' men of the group, he was approached by Glenn, who adorned a beige button-up, black jeans, and a grin from ear to ear.

"Hey, man, why don't you just talk to her?" without really registering Glenn's words, Daryl was more focused on the sight of you in the corner of the dining area. Perched on a rusty metal seat, he couldn't shake the notion that you appeared so... out of place. Surrounded by those sporting worn clothes and sullen dispositions, you maintained a distinct luminescence that Daryl could only pine-

Shit. She's lookin' at me. An' I'm lookin' at her. An' what the fuck is Glenn saying?

"Uh- uhh, yeah," Daryl drawled. He turned sharply, and hoped it actually was a question to which he answered appropriately. The last thing he wanted was for everyone to think that the stoic hunter was crumbling under the gaze of a dead-girl-walking. It seemed, however, that he was too late.

"Look man, she obviously likes you and- and this world's too unpredictable not to tell her the truth about how you feel. I mean, look at what me and Maggie have." Daryl nodded. He somehow couldn't meet the other man's eyes. He agreed, though, that Glenn was right. In a world where love seemed like the most unattainable possibility, one look around this new residency revealed that love, however frivolous (and, dangerous), was blossoming all around. Glenn and Maggie, Judith, Tyreese and Karen, and ever-observant Daryl hadn't failed to notice the stolen glances between Rick and the newcomer Michonne. Maybe, despite the world outside the walls, Daryl could let himself love you. And let himself be loved by you.

With a pat on the shoulder and a nod goodbye, Daryl was left alone on the staircase with a grip on the rail a little looser than it was previously. At least, if he couldn't man up and straight up talk to you, he could find a way to show his love.

Show, don't tell, he decided.

ONE WEEK LATER Daryl stood in the prison yard, one leg swung over the seat of his bike, lost in the fond memory of a conversation you engaged him in the other day. He struggled even to remember what you spoke about. His thoughts were clouded with visions of you, the way your mouth looked when you smiled and talked at the same time, the way your eyes widened a little and your pupils expanded. Was that... just for him? Oh yes, that was it. He was going on a run and... you needed a new jacket, since you lost the old one during the transition from the farm to the prison, and now winter was approaching. Daryl was uncharacteristically nervous about whether you would like it, whether it would fit. Your sweet voice immediately snapped him out of his anxiety (which he had no idea how to handle) when you held up his gift and thanked him graciously.

"Hey, Daryl, I was... uhh- since you're visiting that old mall, I was just wondering if you could maybe pick up a jacket for me from a clothing store... or something? I lost mine and it's getting kinda cold... Don't bother if it's too much trouble!"

"Yeah, yeah, of course,"

You tried suppressing a little bit of shock after he agreed without a snarky remark, or without an irritated huff leaving his thin lips. As you stood rocking on your heels, you couldn't help but blush at the fact that his reaction was different for you than for everyone else.

Before Daryl could register the presence of a woman beside him and cease his musing for another day, he felt a brush of distinctly soft skin on the hand that rested on the seat of his bike. He turned to face whoever had just interrupted his romantic daze, preparing to brush them off as fast as he could, but- It was you. And were wearing that jacket. The one that he'd given to you. He almost melted at the sight and he had to compose himself before attempting to address you. He couldn't avoid, however, furrowing his brows and softening his eyes in the way you adored so.

"Uh, hey," he drawled, as his eyes wandered the lengths of your body and took in the sight of you, standing so close to him.

"Hey Daryl, I just... wanted to say thanks so much! I really appreciate you going out to get this for me," you said, softly and dreamily. You paused for a moment, averting your gaze down at your feet, contemplating how Daryl's eyes hadn't ceased studying your image since you approached him.

"I just wonder if there's anything I could do to return the favour?" Your wide eyes seemed to be speaking a different language, and Daryl could interpret only this;

I see the way you look at me,

I know you want me too,

Come inside.

"Nah, dun' worry 'bout it. Glad you like it."

"Alright, well, thanks anyway!" In that moment, you searched every cell of your body for the courage you needed to do what you were about to do. Rising up to your tiptoes, you swiftly but softly pecked a kiss on his cheek and began to quickly stride back to the prison entrance, before he had a chance to berate you.

"Hey, Y/N," he called out. You hummed in response, realising that you hadn't managed to make it as far as you wanted. A wave of guilt rushed through you, suddenly. It's not a big deal, it's just a kiss on the cheek, right?

"Rick said something about wanting us to talk later, you and me,"

"Rick did? Why later, why not now?"

Daryl was lost. He hadn't planned what to say next in this conversation. In truth, he just wanted you to stay, and if that meant succumbing to stuttering in front of you, then so be it.

"I, uhh- I dunno', I guess he thinks there's... things we oughta' discuss?"

One corner of your mouth tugged up when you realised just how utterly clueless Daryl really was. "Yeah, like what?" Let's see how he plays this one out, you thought.

"I dunno', unspoken stuff, I guess?" It was clear Daryl didn't know how to operate when attempting to vocalize his feelings. His glossy hair was falling over his eyes and framing his pretty face so perfectly, in a way that caught the last of the sunlight and lingered before it disappeared behind the trees.

You couldn't help yourself.

Approaching the archer, you removed your hands from the back pockets of your jeans and held eye contact for a moment. When his thin lips pressed together in what you recognised as a smile, you leaned in, pressing one hand to the side of his face and feeling the warmth of his flushed cheeks. Rising to your tiptoes once more, you closed the small distance between the two of you and waited for him to return the sweet kiss. It must have taken him a couple seconds to register what was happening because, when he did, you relaxed into the beautiful embrace of your tongues.

He tasted like pinewood, cinnamon, and stormy weather. It was delicious, and you couldn't get enough. When he allowed himself to place his hands on your hips, you felt the need for air rise up from the pit of your stomach to your throat. Placing your other hand on the back of Daryl's neck, you moved away slowly, not yet withdrawing from the closeness, and spoke,

"You can tell Rick that you're gonna come find me later."