#How many snakes will be in the grave

[reeve-in-a-suit]

btw I adore Lucy Gray with every fiber of my being and wholly believe that she is among one of the purest people to ever exist and deserves all the world’s happiness to share. I would give so much for her happiness and I love her eternally

[utahimeow]

cw — reader and gojo have a daughter, established marriage, gojo is sad but reader comforts him

satoru gojo is not a man of many fears. heights, spiders, needles, death—fearing these is alien to a man who’s looked death itself in the eye and refused to let it touch him. however the words that his five-almost-six year-old daughter just uttered send shivers down his spine.

he’s frozen, eyes wide, face pale. he thinks his lungs stop working and his heart stops beating.

big, blue eyes round as a bug’s stare up at him, oblivious to the implications of it all.

the sentence echoes in his head like a taunt. he thinks he’ll hear it in his nightmares tonight.

then, her little hand as she tugs on his pant leg yanks him back to reality.

“daddy, i said my tooth fell out!”

satoru gulps, gaze falling to the crumb of bone in her hand, then to the tiny gap that’s now in the front of her mouth.

he didn’t think it would happen so soon.

you’re home from work not long later and the girl rushes to greet you at the door, screeching with delight to announce the loss of her tooth to you.

you’re gasping dramatically, gathering her up in your arms as she gives you a gummy smile so wide her eyes scrunch shut. staring at her is like looking in a mirror, a perpetually perfect reflection of you and your love combined into one small being.

“it didn’t hurt, did it?” you ask her.

“nope! i didn’t even cry,” she tells you, beaming with pride.

“oh, how brave you are,” you tell her, kissing her soft cheeks, grinning as her giggles bubble throughout the entire foyer.

she wriggles out of your grasp and then she’s off again, bounding back upstairs to her room to the pile of plushies upon her bed so she can continue to brew up tales and backstories for each of them. now that both her mother and father have heard her big news, she’s satisfied enough for it to no longer need to be on her mind.

you’re not surprised to find satoru in the kitchen, rummaging through the snack cupboard. you are surprised at the fact that he doesn’t turn to greet you like he always does. with a pout, you stride over to his towering frame and snake your arms around his slender waist, pressing yourself flush to him.

“hi, lover,” you hum.

in your embrace, satoru becomes lighter. the tension in his hard muscles lifts, his shoulders dropping, his back shedding the weight of the world.

“hi, pretty,” he replies, uncharacteristically quiet, yet somehow his voice still drips with affection for you.

“what’s the matter?” you ask him. you’re well aware of your husband’s melodramatic nature, and it’s because of that that you don’t find yourself worrying over his state of despair. still, you’re rather filled with a curiosity—what minuscule nonsensical issue has him down today? did they discontinue his favourite kitkat flavour?

hands migrating up his torso and finding his chest, you squeeze your fingers into the fat of his pectorals. in the blink of an eye, satoru is facing you and his cold hands have grabbed hold of your wrists. he grins down at you softly, amused by your antics as always, but you blink again and his face drops, growing almost grave.

“talk to me,” you urge, prying. his soft grasp leaves your wrists, moving to envelop your hands which drown in his. he brings them to his lips, kissing at your fingertips, making your heart beat in your ears and your face grow hot. it’s strange to think he once shrivelled away from your affection, convinced he was not worthy of it.

“how was work?” he asks.

“fine. good. same as always,” you tell him. “but you’re avoiding my question. and your feelings.”

he shakes his head, a child through and through. “tell me about your day.”

“satoru,” you say, stern, and it feels like you’re scolding your daughter for not listening to you. “i hate it when you’re… off like this.”

his eyes pierce through yours then, filled with unspoken apology. then, he exhales, long and hard, a sigh that’s heavy with weariness. for you, he’s learned to surrender.

“our daughter losing her tooth today made me realise that she’s getting older and i can’t stop it,” he admits.

you sigh along with him, half relieved that your conscience had been right in believing that it wasn’t anything serious. well, in the sense that no one had died. the rest of you knows he’s not being irrational. since becoming a father, and even before that, when having children was just a distant fantasy for him, an anxiety had lived inside of him. an anxiety of fucking up, of being inherently unsuited to fatherhood, of the idea that she may suffer the consequences of him being her father.

and now, a new anxiety sprouts.

“true, but we get to watch her grow, satoru. don’t you think that’s amazing?”

he stays silent, mouth forming an absentminded pout.

“i just keep thinking about when she was a baby… how tiny she was, how she would waddle around, and drool on my chest. soon she won’t be my little girl anymore, you know?”

“satoru,” you say firmly. your hands curl around the back of his neck, scratching at the snowy hairs of his undercut. “she’ll always be your little girl. i know that because she’s your whole world, and you’re hers. she may never be that little baby again, but she’ll never be as little as she is now either, so love and cherish her now instead of moping about the inevitable passage of time.”

satoru smiles a dopey smile at you, the same one his daughter has.

“i’m so glad i married you,” he says. his hands are warm now as they settle on your lower back, dipping down, down, down.

you roll your eyes at him, opening your mouth to reply with something witty, but he beats you to it.

“i’m being serious now, baby. you always know what to say when i’m being stupid.”

“when you’re being overdramatic, you mean,” you say, grinning playfully.

“hey, it just shows that i care, doesn’t it?”

you pull him down to your face by his neck and kiss him, moulding your lips against his, tender and warm and home. it’s not just his thoughts that melt away when he kisses you, it’s his entire head, until all that’s left is a man with nothing but his wife on his mind, heart beating for no reason other than to keep him alive so that he can keep thinking about you.

briefly, you pull away, in spite of how he chases your lips with his, because he could kiss you until the end of time and you could do the very same, but there’s something weighing on your mind suddenly.

“if you want a second baby i can make that happen, by the way,” you tell him, your hips pressing against his.

“oh, now you want another one? but every time i ask for one i get an earful? heh,” he says, quirking a brow, but unfortunately for him he’s hard in his pants in an instant.

“yeah, but now i feel bad for you.”

“babe, i don’t want a kid out of pity!”

[pasukiyo]

TAKE YOU LIKE A DRUG

bodyguard!leon x f!popstar!reader word count; 1,576 warnings; smut, oral (f receiving) summary; he's tried time and time again to push you away, to make you understand that you don't know what it means to want him. but how can he resist the temptation when you come barreling into his hotel room in the late hours of the night?

 Three knocks against Leon’s hotel room door woke him. 

 With a grumble, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his knuckles digging the sleep away from his eyes. He blinked through the blurriness of his vision down at the phone resting on the nightstand, ‘2:30’ in big, bold white letters across the top of the screen. 

 Three more knocks on the door made him rise from the bed and pull a loose t-shirt over his head, muscles aching with each step he took. 

 Frustration laced his weary bones— for fuck’s sake, it was his night off. For just once, he’d like to get some real sleep.  

 The knocking began again and Leon swung open the door before the count could reach three. He blinked, his brow dipping as he took in the figure before him. Her name tumbled from his lips and it was as if his voice was what made her snap, surging forward into him, her lips sealing his in a kiss. 

 Leon nearly stumbled backwards when she threw herself on him, an arm wrapped around his neck and a hand cupping his cheek. He steadied himself with either of his hands on her hips, attempting to pull himself away but the desperation in her kiss dragged him right back in, as if the ocean’s waves had crashed over his head. 

 Leon had kissed her many times before, too many times to count. They’d kissed in secret, in many storage closets, in dressing rooms, behind many backs. They’d kissed in hotel rooms, rental homes, even in each other’s own bedrooms. They’d kissed slowly, they’d kissed hard, they’d taken their time, and they'd kissed until they had to force themselves away to make schedules on time. 

 She kissed him now with a desperation he’d never tasted, never felt from her before. Her kiss was mind-numbing, nearly enough to turn his brain to mush and make his knees feel weak. But the slick, oily voice somewhere in the back of his head reminded him that he couldn’t do this, that he knew this was wrong. The voice’s whispers infected his brain like a parasite and twisted like vines around his ears, its breath hot as it curled around his cheeks. 

 Leon peeled open his eyelids and pushed her away by the grip he had on her hips, either of their chests heaving. She blinked up at him, a furrow in her brow and a look so devastating in her eyes that he had to turn away, wiping her spit from his lips. 

 “I told you we can’t do this anymore,” Leon managed to say over his panting. 

 She shook her head, “I don’t care.”

 Leon, still with his back turned, closed his eyes, willing his heart to ease in his chest. This was the last thing he needed— temptation. Because that was all he saw whenever he looked at her. Temptation. A lust from deep within the pit of his belly for risk, a dark, twisted desire to corrupt her, to ruin her like he already was. There were many secrets he’d kept— from her, from others. Secrets he’d buried long ago and vowed he’d never let resurface— secrets he was too tempted to dig up from the grave he’d abandoned long ago the closer he let himself be drawn to her. 

 There was a whole life’s worth of baggage he knew he shouldn’t burden her with, knew she didn’t deserve to have to deal with. Leon Kennedy was wrong for her in every single sense— why couldn’t it just be simple to get her to understand that?

 Leon sighed her name again, “you should,” he shook his head. “You should also be asleep right now. You just played a two hour show and you have a photoshoot in seven—“

 “I don’t care, Leon.”

 His muscles tensed when her hand slithered around his elbow, casting a glare to the ground beneath their feet as she coiled like a snake around his body until she stood before him. She dipped her chin, leaning down until their eyes could meet. 

 “Why are you always depriving yourself?” She asked, her temper short and rising to the gleam in her eyes. “You always push me away but I know you better than you think, Leon.”

 Leon’s jaw clenched and his gaze sharpened, shaking his head. Her bottom lip quivered at the intensity of his stare but still, she wouldn’t relent, wouldn’t let go. 

 “You don’t know the first thing about me,” he muttered. “And trust me, if you did, you wouldn’t want me.”

 She huffed, pressing her lips together to tame her temper. “You don’t know that,” she shook her head and he scoffed, slipping his arm away from her grip. She followed when he turned to move away, like a leech in his skin he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried. “Will you stop walking away from me for one goddamn second and just listen to me?”

 Leon turned, towering over her very suddenly, eclipsing whatever little light still remained in the room. She nearly stumbled back when he hovered over her, her lips parting in a gasp when her back hit the wall. Even still, Leon leaned closer, sleep a distant memory on his bones. 

 “When will it get through your thick fucking skull that I’m not good for you?” He practically hissed with a venom she felt straight in the chest. She blinked, and he continued, “you don’t know what it means to want me. You don’t know what kind of baggage you’re asking for.”

 There was a lump at the base of her throat that visibly bobbed when she swallowed and what might have been mistaken for fear began to show for what it really was— curiosity, desire, lust. 

 “I think I can discern what’s good or bad for me on my own,” she murmured, “I don’t need you to make decisions for me.”

 Leon blinked— was it even possible to get this girl to realize she was making a mistake?

 She balled the front of his t-shirt in a fist and tugged him into her, their breaths two ghosts in a waltz, the tips of their noses nearly touching. 

 “When will that get through your thick fucking skull?” She asked in a whisper, gaze flickering down to his lips and back. Leon’s heart thundered in his chest, the oily voice growing louder, barking its warnings. But the longer they stared at one another, the fainter the voice seemed to be until it drowned altogether. 

 Leon’s breath shuddered when he sucked it in, “you’re making a mistake.”

 She leaned further in until their lips were a mere wisp away from each other, “I’ll think I’ll live.”

 Their lips became one again and this time, Leon had no intention of pulling away. His hands were on her hips, woven in her hair, hers on his face, on his shoulder. They kissed with a fervor neither had ever felt before, their kiss was electric, and with a simple spark, they were both set aflame. 

 Leon’s hands carried her to bed and caressed the soft stomach beneath her t-shirt, his fingers curling around the hem of her shorts and tugging until they, along with her underwear, were discarded in a pile on the floor. 

 There they were again, making the same mistake they made time and time again. Her hands were in the dark blonde hair atop his head, still messy with sleep and his arms were hooked around her thighs, face burrowed into the sopping cunt between her legs, breathing her in like a vapor. His tongue swirled around her clit at an agonizing pace, one that had her throwing her head back into the pillows, her back arching up off the mattress. 

 “Mmm…” she mewled, squirming where she laid. “Fffuck Leon.”

 Leon hummed against her aching bud, taking her in as if she were a drug, for that’s exactly what she was. 

 A drug— one he couldn’t get enough of. One he always pushed away from but still clawed his way back to over and over again. She was a beautiful vice tied with a ribbon of glamor and fame, the physical embodiment of everything Leon didn’t and would never deserve. She was something too grand, too perfect, too good for him. 

 Leon greedily lapped up everything she had to offer with his tongue to her center, staring up at her through heavy, hooded lids as she writhed and mewled his name. She sang for him like the pretty little songbird she was, his tongue’s ministrations her muse, the ink to the pen she used to write her lyrics. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if this moment would be turned into a song, music thousands of her fans would scream the lyrics to and he’d be the only one to understand it for what it truly meant. 

 “Fuck! More… Leon, please! Feels so… shit! Feels so fucking good!”

 Like the selfish bastard he knew he was deep down, Leon buried his tongue further into the heat of her cunt, stealing her siren’s song straight from her lips. She was like a siren, enchanting him with her song, with each pretty little note he dug from her with every stroke of his tongue. And just like the selfish, undeserving bastard he was, Leon drank everything she had to offer up like an expensive brand of wine. 

a/n; another one in the books for these two! thank you all so much for all the love you gave i can see you, it makes me so happy to see so many of you enjoying this little au! (also to see fellow resident evil fans/swifties 🤭

🎀 if you enjoyed this one, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it means the world to me 🫶

TAGLIST

@corruptcoder

@chaoticevilbakugo

@bxbyyyjocelyn

@luckypurins

[spikedhe4rt]

I need dating Darry hcs. NSFW and SFW

Darry Curtis x Reader Headcanons 🪸🪸

A/N: I hope yall enjoy this, I also have a darry smut coming out soon. My request box is always open!! Love you guys<3

✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

❥ You met eachother while he fixed your roof, which your family helped you pay for.

❥ You kept making excuses to come outside and talk to him.

"Hey, Darry" you yelled out to make sure he could hear you from the roof. He responded with a loud "yea?" I smiled at his voice. "I made you lemonade and homemade pretzels.

❥ You started to invite him inside the house and talk more

❥ You were highly upset when he finished your roof, you knew you would miss him.

❥ He asked you out on his last day because he took so much interest in you.

❥ You both wanting to take it slow, because he had his brothers to look out for.

❥ Meeting Soda and Pony, and them taking a liking to you.

❥ Visiting his parents grave with him for support.

Darry gave a sad chuckle as he finished a story about the time his parents bought him his first bike. "They sound amazing, Dare" you gave him a loving smile before a tears ran down his cheeks. "They were. I just really miss them sometimes."

You nodded and brought him in for a hug. Once the hug ended, his lips found their way to your forehead, kissing it softly. "Thank you for coming with me."

❥ Trying to keep a serious face when he lectures Pony over the silliest things.

"Ponyboy, how many times do I have to tell you...you can't leave your stuff anywhere. You left your book on the floor and Soda slipped on it." You truly tried to hold it in, but once he said Soda fell, you lost it. Wheezes came out as you tried to control yourself. You were met with the eyes of shocked and mildly offended Darry as he stared.

❥ You calming him down with kisses.

❥ Holding hands when you walk together.

❥ He will fix anything for you. He basically refuses to ever let you hire a maintenance man because he claims he can do it.

❥ Thinks about what you like when he buys groceries.

"Since when did any of us like Pringles, Darry?" Pony asked with a face of pure confusion. Darry grabbed the can of salty crisps from his hand "Y/n likes them, tell the rest of the boys not to eat them either" Pony nodded to his older brother, smiling at the fact that he cares enough about you to do that.

❥ Random slow dancing when you guys get bored. It seems cheesy to others but it makes you guys feel like the only people in the room.

❥ Him randomly picking you up just because he can.

❥ You running your hands along his abs under his shirt when you guys sit together.

❥ You two always making sure Johnny is safe and taken care of.

❥ Him promising that he will put a ring on your finger one day.

  ✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

❥ He loves any physical marks on you both. Hickeys, bite marks, bruises, scratches make him go crazy.

❥ He loves how much bigger he is so he can bend and take you how he needs to easily.

❥ Is strong enough to keep/hold your hips down while he eats you out and overstimulates you.

“Im gonna cum!” I panted out for the second time tonight. My hips bucked up into Darrys face again, as continued too suck my throbbing clit through my high. Two hands snaked around my thighs, making he secure as he continued. “Give me a couple more, hon”

❥ Will not cum until you have at-least once because he puts you first.

❥ Takes his stress out in the best ways, the bedroom

❥ Burys his face in your neck and moans when he cums.

❥ Grabs your chin to force eye contact when you can't look at him.

"Look at me, baby." Darrys fingers were thrusting in and out of your pussy. Your head was over his shoulder and tucked into his neck, trying not moan out loudly. "Please-" your words were cut off when you felt his hand on your chin, making you look him. "You look so pretty like this. Keep looking at me, just like that." His words made you whimper, grinding into his thick fingers.

❥ Loves to cum on your ass after taking you from behind.

❥ He will whimper while getting head from you.

❥ Holds your hips and bounces you up-down when you get tired when riding him.

"Fuck, Darry!" you panted out, grinding your hips down on him. "Im tired, Dar" your movements came to a halt as you tried to catch your breath. "I gotchu, hon. I always do." His large hands came to your hips and slowly moved you up and down on his cock. "Faster please" you moaned out as your hands came down to steady yourself. "There you go, baby. Such a good girl for me"

✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

[cod-imagines-fanfiction]

Jealous Alejandro kidnaps Valeria's girlfriend to be interrogated by the 141 (2.9k words, part 3)

Summary: Valeria prepares to take you back at all costs and she thinks back to the days of your happy love. Alejandro's jealous interest turns into something more sinister as he continues to intimidate you. The tables turn as Valeria makes her first move.

TW: threat of (sexual) violence. (Also Google Translated Spanish)

I didn't expect to write Alejandro so darkly, sorry! I'm also working on the next part! I'm aiming to finish this fic before the 10th because that's when I'm flying to my home country for the rest of August, and I won't have the space to be as active or to write with privacy. Also thank you for all the love you've sent my way, I really appreciate all the attention and it makes me very happy. Enjoy part 3!! :D Link to A03 Part 1 and Part 2

Valeria was a well-inked woman, her tattoos were typical for someone who made their living within the hostile environment of a cartel. Her ink was in many ways traditional; a rose on her upper arm, a classic snake circling the blade of a knife, references hidden within elusive Roman numbers, an image of Death looming behind a scorpio on her bicep. Images strategically placed in obvious places, a courtesy call for all who came across her. And then there were the private ones, that only you had ever witnessed; that only you had trailed your finger upon, following the lines down her skin, making her shiver underneath your touch. The matching hearts stamped very low on her back, the quote of your favourite song etched on her skin. And right below her tummy, just underneath her underwear line, this was written:"Love is as strong as death, as deep as the grave." A secret romantic, she got that tattooed after you rubbed her lower tummy to relieve her painful period. You had been together for quite a while by that point, had already exchanged 'i love you's, had already explored each other's bodies to the core, and had been living together. She knew you loved her and you made a point of showing it every day. And yet, it still caught her by surprise sometimes, your tender touch caressing her when she wasn't expecting it; in the sparkles that came alive in your eyes when she walked into the room. But what moved her most of all was how you responded to her weakness. Not the same weakness that men look down on - the open displays of her love, the open hurt in one's eyes when their loved one said something that cut deep. No, what really mattered to her was the physical weakness, how you would respond when her strength failed her and she was bedridden. Valeria had the unpleasant habit of sleeping alone when on her period, saying that it was because she got angry easily and didn't want to bother you. But really, she didn't want you to hear her small whimpers, to see her body curl inwards as she sought relief from the pain. On one of those days, as she was napping in the spare bedroom, and just as she was winning her struggle with sleep and about to enter the land of dreams, the bed gave in to your weight as you crawled behind her and put your body against hers.

"Go away, mi amor. I'm not in the mood." She grumbled in response and tried moving away from your touch. Paying no mind to her protests, you kissed the top of her head as you slid behind her, placing your arm below her neck and bringing your bodies close. You left a trail of tiny kisses along her neck and your other hand roamed beneath her shirt, then moved lower, passing the elastic band of her underwear.

"I said go away, I can't do it today," she protested but stopped because instead of going lower, your hand simply just rested on that spot. You drew circles on her soft lower tummy with your thumb. As your hand warmed up her skin, it brought relief to her pain. "I'm your personal water bottle, baby," you cooed as you placed more small, chaste kisses on her skin. Valeria relaxed into your skin, basking in the warmth as she let out a relieved sigh. Valeria had always known she'd kill for you, but at that very moment, she vowed to die before she let anything harm you. She needed to mark her devoted love for you on her skin permanently, and so got that tattoo in the very spot that you massaged every month.

And now she stared at that tattoo as she buttoned her trousers and tightened her weapons belt, hiding it.

There was a stiffness within Valeria that made her hard to break, but that, nonetheless, would one day surely be broken. She feared that this day had now come. She always knew you'd be part of her undoing, but if that undoing was ever to happen, she anticipated it in the form of betrayal. There were certain wounds that your love would soothe, but not erase, and her fear of losing you was one of them. Although she knew there was always the risk of losing you in her operations - spouses were frequent targets of attack in her profession - she could never fathom that this would ever happen. And now that it finally did, her undoing felt imminent. But before she fell, she would undo the lives of every person involved in your abduction.

Valeria walked down the halls of her estate which was now busy as a bee's colony. Personnel ran up and down the halls, transferring arms and themselves to vehicles and aircraft, putting everyone down to the guard dogs into use. Everything was readied to perfection before they descended upon the headquarters of the Mexcian Army with blood and fire. This was unlike Sin Nombre's usual pattern of behaviour. El Sin Nombre worked in the shadows and did the most to prevent bloodshed. El Sin Nombre brushed shoulders with the Mexican Army frequently, but nonetheless maintained a respectful distance. They kept to their turf, and she kept to hers. She was the blade that shone in the shadows, an elusive blade that had to be looked for, but now she would carry her knife in the open. And she would burn the world to the ground, the whole lot of them be damned. Let it be known that Valeria Garza loves a woman to death. And she will ride the forces of death to the battlefield even if just to reunite with her love. She thought of you right now, kept somewhere cold and grimy, afraid and lost in the world of armies and men, in the world of violence and destruction. A world she tried hard to keep separate from your own.

And yet still, she did not regret ever bringing you to her life; not for a second. Binding your lives may have caused your ruin and hers, but she was still glad to have known happiness with you before the bitterness descended.

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

"Tell me, Y/N. Have you ever been with a man?" Alejandro looked right into your eyes with his dark ones, and you just stared at him, shocked and embarrassed. Your anxiety turned into stone-cold fear. What kind of question was that? This was not where the conversation was going, nor did you ever expect to be asked this - especially by someone like him. You painfully craved Valeria's presence in that moment, so much that it hurt. Ever since she entered your life, no one dared to intimidate or harass you. She became your protector and your guardian. It had been years since you had to defend yourself, verbally or physically, and the realisation almost brought tears to your eyes. You became painfully aware of your predicament as the Colonel stared you down impatiently.

You willed yourself to say something, anything, but your words would not come out no matter how hard you tried. "I asked you a question," he said. "I don't know what to say," your voice trailed off to near silence by the end. You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with your ring. "It's a yes or no answer," he said. "I don't want to talk anymore," you said, louder than you spoke before. "That's not how interrogations work. I ask, you answer." Alejandro stepped forward and leaned down to your level. "So answer the question - ahora." "¿Qué quieres de mí?" You asked. ("What do you want from me?")

He moved uncomfortably close and whispered: "I want her to suffer. I want her to know what betrayal feels like. Quiero arruinarte." ("I want to ruin you.") His eyes trailed below your tearful eyes and to your lips, then lower to your neck. His breath caught at the sight of bruises forming on your soft skin in the shape of his fingers. He wondered what the rest of you would like decorated like that, what it would feel like to grab all the soft parts of you and make them hurt. He gloated at the idea that Valeria would see you like that; destroyed and afraid, marked all over by him. For her to feel what it is like to have what she loves tattered into pieces. To feel the betrayal that he felt when she left him. He, the leader of Los Vaqueros, one of the most promising soldiers of his generation, abandoned for a random girl that nobody had even heard of; a nobody. A girl who did nothing more than help out in her Abuela's kitchen. As Alejandro's eyes leered across your body, he wondered what it was that attracted Valeria to you. Was it your pretty eyes? Large and round puppy eyes that he bet could beg so prettily. Was it your soft and glistening skin? Or was it your inoculated innocence? The innocence of someone who didn't know what it was like to kill, who had never taken a life. The innocence of someone who didn't make their living alongside Death. The innocence of someone you came home to after a long day, who nursed the wounds the world inflicted upon you and sent you out there stronger than before. Or maybe it had to do with the fact that parts of you filled out where his didn't. The parts of your body that were soft where his were hard, that you were delicate where he was strong, that your skin was smooth when his was scarred. That where he yielded, you broke. That you could crumble in love and he wouldn't. That he and Valeria belonged with the destroyers of the world, and you were of the destroyed. That there was an inevitable attraction between these opposites, and resistance when two of the same met, an instinctive aversion to that which was made of the same stuff as you.

"You as much as lay a hand on me, cabrón, and it'll be the last thing you ever fucking do," you spat your words at him, anger burning in your chest. Upon hearing this, a dark grin stretched across his face. He reached out with his gloved hand and grabbed a strand of your hair.

"You're so stupid, you don't even know it," he mused while rubbing his thumb against your hair. You jerked back to release him from you, but he only held on to your hair, preferring to see you rip it from your scalp than let go.

"You don't know what can happen to women in custody, do you?" He said. You stared back in defiance. "You're just trying to scare me. You wouldn't dare." "I guess Valeria never told you how we do things here." He said, looking down at you. "She told me how much she fucking hated it, and how small you all made her feel," you said, emboldened in your anger. "And whatever you do to me won't change the fact that she loved me and not you, and that she will always choose me." You said, staring up at him. His eyes darkened and he released your hair, only to raise his hand high above you, preparing to bring it down with a force that would knock you off your chair.

He was about to do so but was interrupted when the door opened.

An unknown man entered the room, dressed in the typical kit of the Mexican Army. "Colonel," he said and saluted. "You're wanted in the yard." Alejandro looked behind him lazily. "What's this about? Estoy ocupado." (I'm busy) The man blinked back at him. "El fantasmo, sir." Alejandro grunted and returned his hand to his side, not bothering to hide what he was about to do. He started walking towards the door. "You just think about what I just said," he uttered and shut the door behind him. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you took a moment to comprehend what just happened. His threat hung over you like a rope, tightly coiled like the lump in your throat. How long till he returned? You couldn't stand the idea of being left alone with him again. "Senora."

For a moment, you forgot the other man was still with you. You looked up at him, worry written all over your face, weary of his presence. He stepped closer to you and placed a hand in his pocket. To your surprise, he pulled out a strawberry-flavoured breakfast bar; one of your favourite snacks. "Don't you worry. La jefa viene en camino," he said as he passed it to you. ("The boss is on her way") Stunned, you held the bar in your hands and looked at him with tears in your eyes. Many thoughts rushed through your mind - she knew you were here! You thought of what Commander Graves had said about Valeria having friends with many places, and here was one operating right underneath their noses. You wanted to ask the man so many things, but could only speak one word: "When?" He looked at you with a soft, sympathetic smile on his lips. His fingers reached to the earpiece and he pressed it. "Now," he said and an alarm siren started started screaming.

The sound was unlike anything you'd ever heard before. The siren blared over the speakers of the Mexican Army's headquarters in one long, continuous yell. Immediately, you could hear the thundering footsteps of countless men running up and down the grounds, yells of surprise and panicked instructions that were incomprehensible to you from within the box. The man looked at you calmly. "Stay right here, senora. Don't come out for any reason." And with that, he ran out the door, sealing the door shut behind him. You could hear a chain rattling against the entrance as he locked you in. The breakfast bar sat on your lap and you began peeling the wrapping. You took a big bite out of it, tasting the sweetness of the sugar and the sourness of the strawberry pieces. You swallowed your snack as the first bullet was fired.

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

Alejandro was annoyed at the interruption and hurried to the yard where Ghost was expecting him. He wondered what the urgency was. Perhaps Valeria sent a message. That was what he wanted, but he hoped it would take a bit longer. There was a surprising amount of fun to be had with you. Even if he didn't lay a hand on you, his words alone were enough to terrify you, and he loved every second of it. Your eyes widening in fear when you understood what he meant, your embarrassment at what was implied; it excited him more than he wanted to admit. Had that been Valeria on that chair, he would've been chewed out in a second, if not worse. It was uncommon to come across someone so timid as you in his line of work, someone so easy to pick on. And yet, you showed some spite, too. There were many layers to be uncovered here, and he wanted to take his time unravelling all that you had to offer.

He arrived at the yard. The place was littered with army vehicles transporting cargo and people to and from the facility, and further out, the aircraft was in the process of being retired for the day. To his annoyance, Ghost was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he found Rudolpho helping out with the transport of arms.

"Have you seen Ghost, Rudy?" Alejandro asked. Rudolpho paused and turned to his superior, and longtime friend. "Ghost and Soap are in a meeting with General Sherperd, the Captain, and Graves, sir. I'm not sure when they'll be done." Alejandro raised his eyebrows in surprise. "A meeting with Graves? And why weren't we invited?" Rudolpho shook his head, "I'm sorry, sir, I don't know." He partly turned around to continue with his task, but then faced Alejandro again. "Colonel," he said and moved closer to Alejandro so that others couldn't hear. "I'm not doubting your judgement here. But will this help catch El Sin Nombre? We've not heard anything of Valeria since that night." He said.

Alejandro stared back in response. "Of course this will help catch her. I told you this is a necessary evil to weed her out. I know how she works, trust me." He affirmed.

Rudolpho seemed unsure. "I knew her too, Alejandro. And I don't think this was the right move, at all. And I think Commander Graves is having his doubts too." He didn't need to spell it out for Alejandro, he knew the implication behind this. That Graves was doubting Alejandro's judgment. That this meeting they were having could very well be about this operation, calling it a failure. Wanting to change the strategy. Rudy pressed on. "And I really don't think she ought to be left alone in that container. She should be transported to jail, sir."

Alejandro turned to him and spoke slowly, realization hitting him like a wave. "But she's not alone." The alarm in Alejandro's eyes spread to Rudolpho and they both turned to face the building that hosted the container when the emergency alarm was triggered.

Promised tags: @justmare @silas-222 @m0rganit3 @blarba-girl (thank you for all the support!) @sleepiemain @caffeineliker @ashy-kit

[imaslutforwritingshit]

Edward Cullen Imagine (XF!READER)

PART TWO

Warnings- smut, p in v, cunnilingus, faint jealousy (Jacob), passionate (lovey) sex

P.S I’ve actually never made smut where the characters actually loved each other😭 it’s mostly just desire. So this is actually kinda well written , just a foreword to the poetic shit she says.

Read PART ONE here ;)

I didn’t understand what he meant when he said that. I didn’t understand, until his cold fingers snakes down the bones of my hips, and he covered me with his strong body, like the crevices in my pelvic bone were made solely for his hands.

“You,” Edward strained, his voice gravely, unlike the normal smooth charisma he embodied. As he spoke in my ear, he pushed my shorts down with his thumbs, the cheeky underwear I had picked out this morning on a whim now on full display to him.

When Edward let his fingers graze the shape of my ass, his hand wavered on my skin, like every movement was delicate- and yet something he couldn’t contain. “You are making me lose myself. The way you sound, look, smell,” Edward inhaled sharply, grinding his hard cock across the sheer fabric of my underwear. The feeling sent shivers and tingles down the nerves of my stomach.

I wanted more. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I wanted this. His voice was amplifying my desire for him, each rough syllable a new jolt of electricity through my body.

Edward groaned as my panties rose up, his dick deeper in the planes of my ass. I could practically feel the veins of his body sliding on the skin of my ass cheeks.

He finished his sentence in a husky tone, each word getting harder for him to speak. “You make me want to do horrible things, Calypso. I want to be selfish with you. To you.” The lowness of his voice, if I didn’t know him as my boyfriend, would be straight up deadly- and terrifying.

My heart melted at the thought of Edward getting what he wanted, a strange mixture of lustful hormones and admiration for the words. Everything Edward has always been was good, and gentleman-like, and selfless.

So, yeah. I want him to be selfish. I want him to have what he wants, just for this evening.

I arched my back, pressing my entire ass against his erection. “I need you to be selfish, Edward. I want to see you lose control.”

Edward stopped moving for a second, breathing heavily over my body. I could feel his cock twitching on my underwear, and I bucked my hips backwards, urging him to keep going. He stopped my movement with a rough push on my hips, bringing my entire body to the cushion.

“Callie, Callie. I will never lose control.” he felt my body up, each grope electrifying my senses. “I desire ruining you. My body begs to. The amount of times I fantasized of killing you when I met you…You drive me insane, beautiful.” He paused, and I could almost feel a smile on his face. “But I’m not a dog. I wouldn’t eat you alive the first chance I get, for my own filthy benefit.” Edward bit his lip, tilting his head in a dangerously playful motion. “Unless, of course, you would prefer that. Canines?”

Realization dawned on me. Jacob. He was mocking me about Jacob. Where was this coming from?

“Edward, I don’t care about him. I want you.”

Edward draped his head by mine, the graceful stands of his hair falling on my cheek. “I don’t know why you enjoy that so much, Calypso. The thought of being weak. Under Jacob’s ruthless control.”

The words were true, but still irritating. I could only assume this fire of emotion was coming from his episode of lust, but my body was getting too many mixed emotions to understand how to feel about it.

Edward thumbed my panties now, sliding the strings down in a slow, taunting manner. “I know that animal would love to see you like that. Begging.” He snarled quietly at that, and took a quick breath as my underwear slid off my ass. “To see you asking him, pleading him to take control from you.”

I whimpered, a strange thrill coming from the anger in his voice. He was jealous- because he wanted me.

Maybe I’m sick for that having fueled my desire more.

But then again, maybe I’m sick for loving a vampire.

He kissed my shoulder blade, a soft contrast to the hardness of his words. “I’ve thought about tasting you for a long time.”

My blood.

A strange, unusual spike of fear entered my heart.

This was Edward. But he’s different now- fueled by emotions, unpredictable.

Is he gonna hurt me?

Edward kissed the small of my back, dragging his hands to my waist.

“I’ve thought about tasting you, Calypso. I just never said how.”

Edward grabbed my side, rolling me to be on my back. I stared at his eyes, animalistic and wild, blending in with the dark of the forest behind him.

“Spread your legs, my dove.”

My heart was pounding so fast, I could feel the pulse all over my body. Specifically throbbing in the area between my thighs, which I spread out per his orders.

Edward sucked in a breath in his teeth, the fangs in his mouth sticking out in a predatory manner. Only staring at my naked body, like the very sight was granting him vitality. He didn’t drop his frighteningly focused stare, and instead leaned over me, kissing my thighs. Each touch was tipping me over, teasing me in a painful way.

I remember what Edward had told me a month ago.

“So the lion fell in love with the lamb.”

I was indeed, a stupid lamb.

He grazed the skin below my stomach with his lips, tracing the lines of my hips with a trail of burning kisses. I was practically rocking my hips, a silent beg for more.

Edward pushed his cold, comforting hands on my hips again, forcing me down.

God, I could live in this moment forever.

This is my life now. He is my life now. I can’t see anything farther than this.

This is my past, my present, my future all encapsulated in one small, fleeting moment.

Edward stared at me, with intense, hot eyes, dragging on my breasts, my hips, and the slow trail to my clit. It would embarrass me- the heavy eye contact, with anyone else.

But Edward’s not like anyone else.

So I kept my gaze on him, as he kept his eyes on me, and let his warm tongue heat the area between my folds. I shivered from his godlike touch, unable to tear my eyes from the beautiful scene of his mouth on my body. He grasped my thighs harder, tracing circles with the perfect pressure on my clit.

As if he couldn’t control the quick movement, he snaked his tongue down to my wet opening, rolling movements inside of me. I mewled, gripping the sheets with white knuckles. My toes were already curling from the very idea of him touching me like this.

Edward bite down a little harder on the top of my pussy, licking my body like I was his last meal. Every touch was strategic, but am I surprised? He had 104 years of experience.

Orgasm was rising to my surface too quickly. I grabbed his hair, increasing the screaming thoughts of my mind, hoping he’ll understand. But the desire took over him- and he began flicking his wet tongue more, causing me to jerk my head backwards, clasping my thighs over his head.

“Please, Edward.” My gasps were filling the empty space, all of his movements sickeningly perfect.

He let go of me, the warm tongue exiting my folds, and I clenched my thighs together harder as he kneeled over me, his breath ragged and heavy. His lips were sleek with my fluid, and I felt my ears go red.

He was looking at me like I was the most beautiful thing to exist. He watched me, so intense that I could cower from his breathtaking gaze. Edward pulled his shirt over his head, the pale, shimmering color of his skin mesmerizing me.

The sun was out. Fading over the large pine trees of Forks- as if the universe had some perfectly divine idea of the first connection of our bodies.

His eyes were light brown in the sunlight, the lines of his abs sparkling in the warm orange of the sun.

“I’m crazy about you.” My confession was soft, so soft I wasn’t sure he heard it.

Edward slowly shook his head, but all I could focus on was the color of his eyes. It was the only thing tethering me from heaven.

He was a fallen angel, looking at me like I was the cure to his sin.

“Calypso. You are my destruction.” His breath quickened, his lean chest rising and falling with the pace of my own.

Edward’s mouth met mine one more time, one more soft, passionate time. I grazed my fingers over the muscles of his back, memorizing every part of this moment. Solidifying it in my nimble, mortal mind.

He let the tip of his dick slide on my wet pussy, staring at me with lustful eyes, eyes waiting for confirmation.

I nodded, biting my lip in preparation.

Edward let his thick shaft slide in my cunt, and I yelped, clenching his thick shoulders.

It hurt. His dick was so big, I was hardly prepared for it. But Edward, with the last remaining piece of willpower he had, slowed his movements, his hard body meeting the spongey, untouched area inside of me.

He hissed, dropping his body on mine, and he grazed his fingers through my hair, each thrust getting more powerful.

With that, I realized something.

Edward is a vampire.

A vampire with exceeding amounts of supernatural strength, and… stamina.

He showed no signs of reaching climax as he warmed my body with his cock, each stroke inside of me causing pleasure to shoot to my stomach.

I could faintly hear my reaction- unreal, loud moans that I assume the deers of the forest could hear. I mewled as he slowed down, pushing his forearms into the cushion. Edward let out a soft groan, stroking my face with his thumb. He repositioned his position, pushing his dick back in, and reaching new lengths of pleasure in my insides. I moaned, shamelessly, letting my fingers dig into his back.

The warm ball of nerves were heating at my core, a sign that I was reaching climax. Edward’s mouth dropped to my collarbones, sucking sharp hickeys as he thrusted inside of me, each movement rolling my eyes back.

I whimpered, stammering from the euphoria shaking my legs. “I’m-close…”

Edward moaned, a sound so beautiful I could’ve just watched him now, an artist and a masterpiece. He ground his hips to mine, hissing with the feeling of his body completely in mine. I let my hands fall over my head, closing my eyes to try to preserve the orgasm rising in my gut.

“No.” Edward’s voice was strained, the softness of his movements gone. Each thrust inside of me was hard, rough, matching his untainted desire. “Don’t close your eyes. I need to see you.”

I need to see you.

How could I love someone so much it hurt?

I opened my eyes weakly, meeting the heavy lidded, black pits of Edward’s. His abs clenched as he pushed inside of me, his hips bucking with a renounced speed. I gasped at the feeling of his dick hitting my cervix, trying to focus on his face, overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Please,” I begged one more time, the need for my climax forcing my legs to shake on his.

Edward managed a smile, and dropped his body again, fully covering mine. He rocked into me, and I whimpered in his ear, letting my hands drop over his neck.

Nothing has ever felt this good. Nothing will ever feel this good.

Edward groaned, the thrusts getting so hard it began to hurt again, with a strange, overwhelming pleasure that came with the pain.

“Callie…” His voice was soft for the jerk of his hips, a warm sensation rolling over my body.

“Edward!” I squirmed, peak taking over my nerves.

“I know, love.” Edward’s breaths were fast in my ear, the jerk of his hips creating the sounds of skin slapping throughout the room. He let a heavy groan slip from his lips, and I felt the leak of precum making the inside of my pussy even more liquid.

“I’m going to-” Edward’s voice was nothing more then a raspy groan in my ear.

“Please, please!” I whimpered again, clenching my legs around his abdomen to avoid the painful desire of climax. He had edged me on for so long, I don’t think I could’ve waited anymore.

Edward’s movements turned hard, fast, a ripple of sensation arousing my body again. He growled, our skin smacking together with new volume, and orgasm blinded my vision, making me roll my eyes back, and arch my back until my clit touched the root of his cock. I screamed, scraping my nails on his back until I could’ve been sure there was blood.

Edward didn’t protest; in fact, he thrust harder with that, each movement causing him to heave breaths, the warm air hitting my ear. He moaned, a vibration in the mess of my hair, and quickly pulled his warm, wet body from my own, shooting strings of hot white on the base of my stomach, dripping down my sensitive cunt.

Edward rolled off of me slowly, collapsing on the small couch, both of our bodies reeling the affects of the tiresome fuck. I attempted to catch my breath, feeling my heart beating so fast I couldn’t hear the birds chirping anymore. Hesitantly, I turned my body to meet his, but Edward was already staring at me, the warmth of his expression a relief to me. He bit his lip, his chest rising the similar pattern mine was.

I processed everything, opening my mouth to speak, but not understanding how to phrase it.

“Edward?”

He smiled, the soft, mesmerizing action in my peripheral. “Yes?” The melody of his voice still left me catching my breath.

I couldn’t say the words. They rung in my mind, an untamable message dancing through my heart.

Three words.

I love you.

Edward let his eyes fall on mine, hearing the silent plea of my mind.

“I love you too, Callie.” His mouth was parted, and his lips were red from before, and he read my mind and read those words. I couldn’t help it when I draped over his body, kissing him like it was the first time all over again.

He snaked his arms over my bare body, his smooth knuckles tickling my spine. His lips draped over mine as if we were two puzzle pieces, separated for too long, and now here, and alive, and in love.

I loved Edward Cullen. I had the very first day I met him. And even if I die a mortal, holding the hand of the boy who will exist forever, I know I’ll live until the day he ceases to.

I’ll live in Edward’s heart,

And he’ll live in mine.

Because that’s what love is, right? A taste of forever.

And we were forever.

Okay that’s it byeeee

I am super open to constructive criticism and feedback, as well as recs. Thanks for reading ! :> <333

[sserpente]

A/N: What if you accidentally pickpocket the wrong person? What if that person… is a rogue vampire elf who will demand something in return? Something… red? (Astarion's not ascended in this one)

Words: 1180 Warnings: mentions of prostitution

Your stomach was rumbling. How many days had it been? Three? Four? Truly, it had never been this bad before. Ever since Gortash had become archduke, the city was drowning in chaos and misery. Benevolent and generous people who’d usually slip you a coin or two walked on now, avoiding your quiet pleas to spare some change for a starving woman.

You didn’t want to do it but what other choice did you have but to pickpocket people? In the dead of winter, merchants rarely left their food out for too long and the taverns were not busy enough to slip your hand into a bag or two.

The streets were your best bet now that the sun was retreating and lit torches threw their warm light on the cobblestones, creating eerie shadows wherever you looked. Your victim would have to be someone rich, someone who could afford to part with currency. Someone like… him. Heavens, he was gorgeous.

A noble, for sure. He was elegant. Full white hair, pointy ears indicating he was a high elf, no doubt… clean and sophisticated clothing. Surely his pockets would be full and he wouldn’t miss a couple of gold coins disappearing to fill your belly with food tonight.

You approached, snaking past a passer-by to wait for the right moment. The elf turned… giving you just enough movement to dip your fingers into the small pouch attached to his belt. One, two, three, four… five gold pieces should be enough to buy yourself a warm meal tonight and perhaps some bread to feed you for the days to come.

“Why, you insolent little…” Panic washed over you when he spoke with a start. The elf’s gaze met yours as he flipped around—red orbs boring into your own, anger flickering in his. His hand snatched your wrist in a tight grip before you could yank it back and flee.

“You have picked the wrong target, darling.”

“I’m sorry… s-sorry, don’t… don’t tell the Steel Watch, please! I’ll leave.”

But it was a different kind of hazard this stunningly beautiful elf was radiating. Red-eyed elves were rare in itself but there was something else—something that told you that you had just made a very grave mistake in provoking this particular stranger before you.

“The Steel Watch?” The elf laughed. “I have no interest in reporting you to the Steel Watch. But in all honesty… you could help me out with something else.”

He was charming—more than you would have liked to admit. There was a sweet tone of seduction in his voice that went down like honey, so much so that you almost wanted to agree with him. But if there was one thing you had sworn to yourself, it was that you would never sell your body to ensure your survival.

“I… no. I don’t do… that.”

“What?” Anger appeared on the elf’s face. No, you realised… it was actual appalment. “I didn’t mean… I am talking about your blood, dear. You smell delicious.”

The thought of him being a vicious murderer on the hunt for the next thrill crossed your mind like a slap in the face—but your theory was rapidly disproved when he flashed you a disarming smile. Fangs. He was a vampire.

Your eyes widened, fear now fuelling your body more than the adrenaline ever could. You twisted your wrist, desperate to break free from him. But the relentless hunger had made you weak.

“Now, now, darling, no need to be scared. I am very, very… nice,” he said slowly, purring each and every word.

Dragging you after him before you could utter another word of protest, he slipped into the shadows and a dark side alley. A rat fled as you stumbled against the wall, abandoning the rotten carrot it had been gnawing on.

“I told you, I’m sorry. Please… don’t kill me,” you breathed out.

“Kill you? I’m not going to kill you. I just need a little taste. I was going make do with a drunk tonight but this… this is much better.”

He sighed when you squirmed, resulting in his large body pressing you even further against the brick wall. Your dirty dress scraped against the rough material. You lifted your head, biting your lower lip.

“How about this? You let me have a little nibble and in exchange, I’ll let you have the gold pieces you were going to steal from me. I’m not much for charity but I can work with a little… transaction.”

He would… was he serious? You blinked at him, surprised at yourself for even considering his words. If you accepted, would this truly be any different from selling your body in more intimate ways?

“I promise I’ll be gentle. You won’t feel a thing.”

“You know, most vampires would have ripped my throat out already,” you said. Your voice was a little shaky but you stood your ground. You had no choice, after all.

The stranger smiled. “I’m not most vampires, darling. Besides, I’m only a spawn, so you should consider yourself lucky. So? What do you say to my little proposition?”

“I…” Your stomach growled again, making the decision for you. “F-fine.”

“Excellent. My name is Astarion.”

You told him your name with a stutter following his seductive smile. Each and every muscle in your body tensed when he leaned forward, brushing your hair out of the way to reveal your neck to him.

One moment you could feel his hot breath against your skin, in the next you felt his sharp canines breaking it to draw blood. He’d held his promise. The initial pain subsided so fast that you questioned whether it’d been there to begin with. His mouth closed around the wound he caused, sucking your life essence out of you sip after sip after sip.

It felt… good. You’d expected it to be uncomfortable, to be dancing on the edge of unconsciousness or even death but this… perhaps he’d been just as hungry as you. Perhaps he’d been just as desperate as you. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

Your eyes fell shut as you gave in to the soothing sensation. Astarion moaned against your neck, a wordless sound of approval of your taste. You couldn’t help but feel flattered when he finally pulled away and licked his lips, a small trickle of blood staining the right corner of his mouth.

“Hmm… thank you, darling. That was…”

“Astarion! Astarion! Where the hells did he run off to now? I swear if he’s stealing scrolls from Rolan again, I will…”

The vampire rolled his eyes all the while you kept catching your breath from this unusual and strangely… erotic experience.

“I’m coming, Gale. Gods, the man is a nuisance.” He paused. “I shall hope to see you again, darling. You were delightful.”

Astarion slipped away gracefully, leaving you to sink down against the wall but before he did, he gently placed the entire gold pouch he’d been carrying in your palm with a sly smile.

Against all reason… you were hoping to see him again too.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook’s tattoos cure your winter blues and you paint his life with colors.

> fluff / wc: 2.3k

> warnings: brief mention of mother gothel being an abusive gaslighter lol you’ll seeeee, one (1) nipple pinch

note: reblogged this post with the tattoos mentioned in the drabble so you can check those out for better visualization if you want !! :D

my first post of year being about jungkook’s tattoos only feels right. hehe feedback is always appreciated <3

—

you breathe out another sigh as your peripheral vision catches the view of snow falling from the heavens yet again. you’re lying on the floor with a pillow and a blanket, only a few feet away from the glass door dividing the balcony and the living room.

“a penny for your thoughts?”

you tilt your head to peek through the book you’re reading. “what?”

“you’ve been sighing and pouting.” jungkook points out from the couch, dedicated to the task of folding the fresh laundry. two stacks of clothes, separated by yours and his, are sitting on his right, while the laundry basket is on his left.

“. . . and your octopus is mad.” referring to that famous reversible octopus plushie you bought for fun many months ago. it’s sitting behind your pillow, color blue and stitched with a displeased expression.

you lay down the book over your chest before sighing deeply. “i feel sad. i miss summer.”

your confession makes him quirk a curious eyebrow. “you miss summer? but you hate summer.”

unsure about how to explain yourself, you stick with silence, eyeing him intently with a frown you don’t even realize you’re making.

“what’s that look for?” he chuckles nervously while clutching a pair of your pajama shorts to his chest.

“you’re wearing a sweater.”

as if on cue, he looks down at the cream-colored sweater embracing his torso. “and? you got this for me.”

“it’s the reason i’m missing summer!” you sit up abruptly, the book stumbling over your lap before it finally lands on the floor. and before you can rethink the words you’ve been whining non-stop inside your head, they break free from the restraints on your tongue. “i miss seeing your tattoos.”

an amused grin paints his face. he throws his head back with his eyes closed and nose scrunched, laughing with no sound as he processes your revelation.

“that’s what this is about?”

“. . . yes.” you answer hesitantly, realizing how you just dug yourself a grave and pushed yourself in it.

he tuts as he tucks his long hair behind his ears, crossing his legs and stretching his tattooed arm on top of the couch’s backrest. you catch the tail of his snake tattoo peeking out of the sweater’s sleeve.

what an evil, sexy, sexy man.

“it’s your fault. you won’t let me turn up the heating so i’m always cold.”

“i woke up sweating yesterday when you turned it up again. this is a house, not a sauna.”

“and you make it too cold!” he interjects with a laugh. “want to meet halfway?”

it seems that the deal he just offered is the only possible solution to your winter blues. the holidays have come and gone. the decorations and lights are already being taken down, and you can’t stand to live a colorless life.

you act defeated, feigning your eagerness, but he doesn’t miss the small smile forming on your face. “fiiine.”

“okay!” he enthusiastically responds with that satisfied grin he makes when he gets his way.

he doesn’t waste any time. he instantly goes to adjust the temperature inside the house, going exactly between the numbers you stubbornly punch in behind each other’s backs. forced to come out of your little cocoon, you rip away the blanket from your body and toss it aside.

“i’ll get rid of the sweater now.” he clicks his tongue and sends a teasing wink your way as he walks to your shared bedroom.

you groan, burying your flustered face in the palm of your hands to hide. “i hate you sometimes.”

his melodic laughter echoes in the hallway.

—

jungkook enters the walk-in closet to replace the sweater with a classic white sleeveless shirt. on sunny days, he often wears this or go shirtless in your home. you’ve been especially happy with that since summer last year— after he got his faded tattoos colored, redesigned, and covered up.

of course, you’ve always shown plenty admiration to his first tattoos and the many more that came after them. he gradually filled up the space on his right arm with the ink and formed a tattoo sleeve. however, his new and improved tattoos seem to bring you a special kind of joy he must admit he doesn’t fully understand.

he’s been planning to get his arm fixed since he noticed the tattoos starting to fade, but he struggled to find the time to finalize his design ideas and get the job done. the truth is you were the one who inspired him to quit overthinking every little detail, and to finally carry on with his long overdue plans.

it all started with his birth flower.

—

“all those days watching from the windows, all those years outside looking in~” you sung along softly to tangled’s most beloved song.

jungkook diverted his attention from the television to observe you, unconsciously smiling to himself as he did so. your legs were draped over his lap, and your back was hunched forward as you entertained yourself with coloring his tiger lily tattoo as if it was a page on a coloring book.

it was seven minutes past midnight, and you like the room as dark as possible when you do movie date nights. that’s why you were practically using the lanterns during rapunzel and flynn rider’s ‘i see the light’ as your own lights of guidance as well.

when you paused the movie just before the song started, he thought you were just going to use the bathroom. but you quickly came back with the box of temporary tattoo markers he forgot that even existed. he bought it years ago and used the black marker to figure out the placements of his hand tattoos because he was scared that he’d end up not liking how they looked together. honestly, he doesn’t even remember packing it when he moved in with you. were you the one who saved it from the discard pile?

and as you held his arm close to you, you innocently asked him. “may i?”

“do whatever you want, baby.” he gave permission not only because your bewitching eyes were sparkling, but also because he knew how you find joy in doing little things like this.

you were most probably inspired by the sundrop flower mother gothel stole, he thought as he watched you bring his birth flower to life. you colored the anthers dark brown, and you were already halfway done with the orange petals.

he noticed that you kept on trying to move your head closer to his arm so you could see the details of his tattoo better, which caused your glasses to often slide down your nose bridge, so he took it upon himself to hang it suspended in the air to make things easier for you.

that was until you slapped his wrist lightly. “put it down. your arm will get sore.”

and he dropped it back down.

“thanks, baby boy.”

the pet name made him blush profusely, the rose tint that adorned the apple of his cheeks concealed by the light from the television screen reflecting on his face. its effect on him, never changing, because you only utter it occasionally and it catches him off guard every damn time.

when she successfully brought rapunzel back to the tower, you brought up how mother gothel is one of scariest disney villains for her realistic portrayal of an abusive gaslighter posing as a loving mother. jungkook didn’t even realize that you were still watching the movie. and then you obstructed his vision with the box of markers to briefly steal his attention away from the screen.

“pick two colors.”

“hmm, red and blue.”

“i’m doing this one next.” you pointed at the ‘WINNERS NEVER QUIT’ tattoo above the crease of his forearm. “should i use the colors interchangeably or like make a gradient?”

“gradient.” he responded, yawning sleepily right after.

“i sound like a real artist, don’t i?” you asked with a toothy grin.

“you are one. this looks pretty, love.” he talked about the tiger lily, stretching his forearm towards the television to shine light over it. “when did you get a glitter pen?”

you waved the gold glitter pen with a giggle. you used it to make the flower look like it was radiating magical star dust. “i brought it with the markers.”

and that’s when he decided to finally contact the tattoo artist he’s been meaning to meet up with since the year prior. you made him see the element of art that his tattoos dangerously lacked. colors.

if there was anyone on earth who would be able to open his eyes to that, it only made sense that it would be you.

—

“you finished showering?” you peeked into the walk-in closet, excitedly skipping your way to jungkook. he was standing infront of his underwear cabinet, fresh from the shower and only wearing a towel wrapped around his waist.

he chuckled straight away when he noticed you holding the tube of ointment. “wait. let me put on my boxers first.”

“okaaay.”

you eagerly waited for him on the bench from the other side of the small room. he swiftly slid on a pair of black boxers and sat next to you, offering his arm for your therapeutic indulgence. ever since jungkook started getting his cover-ups done, you already made it part of your routine to apply the prescribed ointment on his healing tattoos throughout the day.

some people meditate, some people solve puzzles. you? you sit down and take your sweet time admiring the glorious pieces of art inked on your boyfriend’s skin.

“they’re so itchy. i want to scratch.” he spoke through gritted teeth as you applied a thin layer of the ointment on top of the tattoos on the outside of his forearm.

“i’m practically scratching them, you know?”

you cautiously swiped your fingers across his ‘RATHER BE DEAD THAN COOL’ and ‘MAKE HAY WHILE THE SUN SHINES’ tattoos, connected by the letter T like they were the answers to a crossword puzzle. they were enhanced by giving them colored shadows: the former’s is red, and the latter blue. and because the letter T completes both tattoos, they mixed the two colors and gave it a purple shadow. oh god, it scratches your brain just right every time you see them. you love yourself some color theory.

the ones on the inside are almost completely healed, you’ve been through the itchiness and peeling off phase with them already. it never gets easier no matter how many times he has experienced it, always complaining about the itchy phase being worse than the pain of getting poked with the needles.

“no, you’re not. you’re so gentle that i feel like i’m being tickled. it makes it worse.” he cried out in frustration, head falling on your shoulder as he fought the excruciating urge to scratch his skin.

“so you want me to be rough and infect you?”

“. . . no.” his awkward voice came out muffled against your neck. “it actually makes me feel nice. like, inside my heart. thank you.”

—

“are you happy now, baby?”

jungkook’s mellifluous voice steals your focus from the purple sweater you’re folding over the table. he towers over you with his naked muscular arms crossed infront of his chest— the ravishing view you’ve dearly missed makes your lips slowly curve into a shy smile.

gone is the melancholia that visibly weighed you down, replaced by an aura he can only describe as the sunrise, but even the sunrise would hang its head in shame if challenged by your beauty and grace.

dear god, he wants to spend the rest of his waking days making you happy and learning what it means to be alive from the look on your face.

“very much.” you loop your hands around his forearms, and with a playful roll of his eyes, he lets you pull his weight down to the couch.

“you folded the rest of the clothes? how are you so fast?”

you reward his tattooed shoulder with lingering kisses before caging his face in your hands to give his lips a rather chaste one.

“i did. that’s the last one.” you pout at the direction of the sweater.

being your boyfriend’s diligent self, he scoots forward to fold it, excited to tick off the task of folding laundry from his to-do list. you seize this opportunity to trace the blue ‘BulletProof’ under his elbow, still finding the font super cool despite seeing it almost (fuck winter) everyday. knowing this all too well, jungkook smiles at the feeling of your delicate fingers caressing his skin. it’s almost as if you’re scared you could possibly erase the ink needled under it.

after carrying each of your own pile of folded clothes to the closet, jungkook voices out the idea that popped in his mind when he was changing his top. “let’s watch rapunzel. i’m in the mood for a disney movie today.”

you fail to bottle up a giggle, finding his little mistake so heartwarmingly endearing. “sure. but babe, the movie is called tangled.”

his doe eyes widen comically as if he was struck by headlights in the middle of the night. “that’s what i said!”

you lightly pinch his nipple. “you liar!”

“. . . was that supposed to be a punishment?”

you blink. “yes.”

his mischievous smile tells you everything that you need to know. “i said tangled the first time! cross my heart!”

“not gonna work anymore.” you stick your tongue out playfully, picking up the octopus plushie beside you and turning it inside out to reveal its yellow smiling face.

it’s his turn to sigh dramatically today.

as he starts typing ‘tangled’ on the television using the remote control, he mumbles to himself. “it was a nice try.”

—

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[srgntjamesbuckybarnes]

The List (3)

Summary: When a hit list spreads around New York, Bucky’s ex-wife is the only one with any information.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x Ex-Wife Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Not Beta’d. Thank you for all the continuous interest expressed in this mini-series. Your comments influence my writing so I’m just as excited as all of you to see how this series ends. Tumblr only lets me tag 50 accounts at a time. If you are not listed blow, you will be tagged in the comments. If you would like to join the taglist for this series or would like to be removed let me know!

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 3

Tony had been right; every news station had been reporting on the gala for weeks. When they weren’t discussing the night of the gala, they opted to report on Bucky. With her eyes and ears glued to the television and her phone, the days blurred together for Y/N. There was no word from Bucky. She was sure he would use his first call to contact her, but he didn’t. The only update she received was from the reporters who didn’t know Bucky the way she did. They didn’t know the way he would stare at her or bush his thumb over her lips before planting a gentle kiss on her lips. They didn’t know about the sweet nothings he would whisper in her ear as he held her at night. They didn’t know he protected Steve years before Steve worked for him or that Bucky took in Peter to give him a community after the death of his guardian, Aunt May. Instead, the media painted him as a monster, choosing to focus on his involvement with the mob. Loki, however, was never mentioned. He was quick to cover his tracks like a snake shedding its skin.

The number of people sent to assassinate Y/N and Bucky at the gala told her everything she needed to know. Her ex-fiancé knew that she knew it was him. With Bucky’s fate all over the news and Y/N not being one of the bodies recovered at the gala, Loki knew they were still alive. He called her several times over the past three weeks, but she never answered. He wasn’t the one that was supposed to call her. It was supposed to be Bucky. It was always supposed to be Bucky.

Twisting in the bedsheets Y/N ran her hand along the space beside her. The smooth silk that was usually welcomed felt wrong beneath her hand. She longed to reach out and touch Bucky like she had many times before. The soft glow of the tv cast the bedroom in a blue hue. The last time she felt this grief-stricken was when she had been going through her divorce from Bucky. Once again, the man was alive but just out of reach, this time, psychically. Yet, she was sprawled out on his bed like a widow refusing to leave her husband’s grave. He was alive but gone again and she was mourning. The only shade of blue she wanted was Bucky’s eyes staring back at her.

A muffled voice echoed down the hall. Most of Bucky’s men had frequented his house lately. Steve had moved everyone in during Bucky’s absence. Y/N didn’t know how Bucky would feel about that. He had always been a private person, but Steve had assured Y/N that it is what Bucky would do. After all, Bucky had told Y/N to find Steve. He was his right-hand man and Bucky had entrusted Steve to take care of business while he was in prison. That included taking care of Y/N and the rest of Bucky’s men all awaiting their names to become active on the hit list. The voice grew louder, and Y/N knew it was Steve. He was the only one who lingered by Bucky’s bedroom.

“Not good. She breaks down every time he calls.”

Was he talking about her? Y/N pushed herself up, wrapping the sheet around her nude chest. She could hear the dismissal of Steve’s end of the conversation loud and clear followed by a knock. Tightening her grip on the sheet, Y/N forced her focus onto the muted television, pretending to be reading the captions as if she hadn’t been eavesdropping.

“Come in,” she called out, her voice hoarse.

Steve trudged into the room, just as exhausted as he had every other day, he checked in on her. It was a stark contrast to the way Bucky always checked in on her. Bucky was resilient, never letting his work consume him wholly. Steve on the other hand, always gave everything he did 110%. Taking over Bucky’s position was no exception.

“You shouldn’t be watching all of this stuff,” Steve grunted, snatching up the remote and changing the channel.

Y/N didn’t have the energy to fight him. She was desperate for information on Bucky. She had shot him the last time she saw him, and all the news cared about was that a mob leader was captured at the site of the crime. Steve tossed the remote on the bed beside Y/N. She stared up at him, his eyes the wrong shade of blue.

“Steve, was that Bucky on the phone?” Y/N questioned; her voice laced with misery. Steve remained expressionless, not giving her any hints as to who was on the other end of the phone. She didn’t blame him for not saying anything. It was part of his job to keep information confidential. If someone told Steve a secret, he would guard it with his life. She just hoped he would keep her in the loop since she was a part of whatever this was now. Y/N’s lip trembled the longer Steve remained silent.

“Has Loki called again?” Steve crossed his arms.

He had been asking her about Loki every day since the gala. At first, she wanted to help so she cooperated, answering his questions but then they became repetitive. He was trying to give her something to do to feel useful. Steve didn’t need information from her. It was a distraction from one man in her life with another. She was spiraling like the loose thread of a sweater; with each question, she unraveled until she was bare.

No longer willing to entertain Steve’s questions, Y/N dropped her shoulders letting just how exhausted she truly was show. “Why hasn’t he called me?”

Steve ran a hand through his darkening hair. His once golden locks had begun to brown at the roots. With his busy schedule, he didn’t have time to shave his beard or cut his lengthening hair. It reminded her of when she first met Bucky. His dark hair was long, and his beard was slightly overgrown. Over time, he cut his hair for a cleaner, more respected look. He no longer needed his intimidating appearance to get ahead, his name alone was enough to scare his enemies. Y/N supposed it was Loki’s long hair and charming personality that had won her over. He reminded her of Bucky when they had first met. It was her longing to reconnect with Bucky that drove her into Loki’s arms. It also was the reason both of their names were on a hit list, and Bucky was sitting in a prison cell.

“Come on, get dressed.” Steve turned his back walking toward the door.

“Where are we going?” Y/N clutched the sheet tighter, scrambling after him.

The corner of his lips lifted in a half smile. “A little birdy told me you could use some practice.”

“You brought me to a warehouse?” Y/N frowned. She squinted, a hand coming up to shield her eyes from the sun. The swish of cars zipping across the bridge above them pierced her ears. The livelihood above a strikingly different atmosphere beneath the bridge. The water sloshed against the pebbles, seeping into her shoes. Her face twisted into a grimace as water expelled from her socks with each step.

Steve chuckled, untangling a heavy metal chain from the door handles. The chain landed in the pebbles with a heavy thud. “After you,” Steve held the door open ushering her inside.

Her eyes scrunched up as Steve flipped a switch, the light blinding her momentarily. She could feel a slight breeze as Steve moved around her, the door slamming shut behind her seconds later.

“And that, right there is exactly why we’re here.”

Y/N frowned, peeling her eyes open. The blonde’s back was turned to her as he fumbled with something on the table in front of him. Peeking around his shoulder a series of firearms were laid across the table.

“What?”

Steve sighed, turning his whole body to face her. His large cold left hand seized her right. His right shoved a gun into her hand before clasping her left over the gun as well. Y/N stood stock-still, dumbfounded by the gun in her hand. The last time she held a gun she killed a man. She also shot Bucky. “I-I don’t-”

Steve silenced her as his long legs carried him to the other side of the room to set up a paper shooting target. Clipping the paper along a wire Steve began, “You closed your eyes the last time you pulled the trigger.”

Y/N paled at the memory. She didn’t want to shoot anybody; she didn’t even want the gun in the first place.

Steve stalked up to her with a pair of earmuffs in hand. “That is why we’re here.” He slapped the earmuffs over her head, his hands securing them over her ears. He then repeated the process himself.

A million questions scrambled around Y/N’s brain but the only one she was able to voice was, “How?” Steve said nothing, just nudging her into position across from the target. Remembering the earmuffs, Y/N repeated her question louder this time.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes cast downward. “Bucky.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, flinging her hands in the air in disbelief. “You talked to him?!”

Steve ducked, his hands covering his head. A growl escaped him as he stood up, “Watch where you’re pointing that thing.”

Y/N waved the bulletless gun in his face, “It’s empty.”

He knew that. He had been the one to hand her the gun. He unloaded it. A frown crossed Steve’s face, “Rule number one, always treat a gun as if it’s loaded. Your negligence is the reason we’re here. You could’ve killed Bucky when you pulled that trigger.”

“But I didn’t,” Y/N pressed. “He wanted me to shoot him.”

Steve ignored the edge in her voice, picking up a loaded gun he fired three rounds in the exact spot Y/N had shot Bucky. His accuracy was so precise there was only one hole in the paper; the other two bullets followed the first one. Heaving Steve glared down at Y/N, “Bucky told me to take you here. When you can fire that gun without closing your eyes, I’ll take you to see him. Until then, you better start taking this seriously. Keeping your eyes open could mean the difference between life and death next time. You got lucky last time but I can assure you, luck runs out eventually. It always does.”

As promised, Steve had dropped her off to visit Bucky after a thorough explanation of what would happen. She had been searched leaving her feeling violated but that was the least of her worries when Bucky rounded the corner donned in an orange jumpsuit. Even in a prison jumpsuit, he managed to remain attractive. The orange flattered his chocolate locks that appeared to have been buzzed on the sides, his beard fuller. If it wasn’t for his bent left arm preventing the handcuffs from pulling his right arm out of the sling, she would have thought he was thriving in prison.

As Bucky approached Y/N abruptly stood to greet him. Silence permitted the space, separated by a piece of plexiglass as a guard removed his handcuffs. Tears pricked her eyes at the sight. She murdered a man. She should be behind bars with him.

Bucky’s steel blue eyes held Y/N’s gaze. It was intense. For weeks Y/N had only met with the man in her dreams. Which wasn’t many. Sleepless nights swallowed up any time she would have had with Bucky. Now that she was standing a foot away from him, unable to touch him she didn’t know what was worse.

The guard stepped away, his lingering hand shoving Bucky into the chair. Bucky hissed at the contact but other than that, he didn’t react. His focus remained solely on Y/N standing before him. They only had an hour and he intended to use every second of it.

Y/N’s eyes were wild. She wanted nothing more than to yell at the guard’s rough handling, but Bucky wasn’t causing a scene, so she bit her tongue. She wouldn’t make this any worse for him. Her eyes snapped back to Bucky as she finally sat across from him. Her eyes raked his body for any other injuries, but his jumpsuit made it impossible.

After her third scan, she caught Bucky’s lips moving. The silver cord already stretched across his chest; the phone rested in his left hand. “Pick up the phone, princess,” he mouthed, causing her cheeks to puff as she smiled. Bucky’s eyes crinkled in delight at the sight of her red-manicured nails wrapped around the glossy black phone.

After weeks of being in the dark, Y/N couldn’t help but ask Bucky the questions Steve refused to answer, “Are you okay? Did you tell them-”

“Y/N,” Bucky’s gruff voice interrupted. “Anything you say here can be recorded and used in court.” It was his polite way of telling her to shut up. It wasn’t her fault; he had kept this part of his business away from her. It was all new to her and the court would use it against him. They would use her against him. Noticing the dejected look on her face, Bucky's face softened. “Look, all I can tell you is that a lawyer who represents some big names has kindly taken my case. Don’t worry about me baby, he’s one of the best.”

Reading between the lines, Y/N had gathered that Stark had offered his lawyer. Tony usually got his way, and he didn’t settle for less, so a sense of relief flooded Y/N. Bucky leaned forward, his left elbow on the table.

“Good. I um- I brought you a suit for the trail. The guards took it. Said they would have it sent to you on the day of the trial.”

Bucky hummed, “What color is it?” He didn’t really care about the color of the suit. He would have worn anything she brought. It was the simplicity in their conversation he craved. A moment where he wasn’t giving orders or looking over his shoulder.

A dreamy look crossed her face, “Blue to bring out your eyes.” That and Steve had said blue was associated with innocence and honesty in the courtroom.

With a dramatic eye roll, Bucky joked, “It’s not a fashion show, Y/N, but tell me," he cleared his throat. “How was training with Steve today? Is he taking care of you?”

A storm cloud hovered above Y/N as she suddenly remembered their betrayal. “He was mean. You called Steve instead of me?”

“I had some affairs to get in order. I'm responsible for you. Steve kept me updated. I knew you were safe. If I would have called you, you would have distracted me.”

“Distracted you?” Y/N asked in disbelief.

Bucky shrugged his good shoulder, “It’s kind of lonely in here. I would’ve used all my time thinking with my other head.”

A fire raged behind Y/N’s eyes, her knuckles turning white against the phone. Is that all I am to you, Buck? A distraction? So, what if you knew that I was safe. What about me?! All of my information about you came from the news which is hardly fact.”

The brunette’s jaw clenched, “Of course not, Y/N.” Resting the phone on his shoulder, he ran his good hand down his face. “I talk business with Steve. You get the rest of me. Besides, you were the one who asked me to protect you, not the other way around.”

Y/N scoffed leaning back in her chair, legs crossed. “Yeah, and if I remember correctly, I saved you. I don’t want fragments of you Bucky and I don’t won’t be kept in the dark.”

Bucky ran his tongue along the front of his teeth staring her down. They had been caught in a haze the past few weeks. Their latest interaction left a bitter taste in his mouth, a reminder of their fights leading up to their divorce. If he was stupid, he’d make the same mistake twice, but Bucky was a predator, a hunter. He knew it was time to change tactics and give in.

Mirroring Y/N, Bucky settled back in his chair. “Okay, princess. You want in on all of the secrets, you want to meet the dark side of me, I’ll let you meet ‘em.”

Y/N blinked back in surprise. He was giving in. So easily? “What’s the catch?”

Bucky grinned like the devil. Y/N once again found herself ready to make a deal with the devil, a habit she had yet to break. “No catch, baby doll. You want me and my lifestyle, you want to be treated like a big girl, the whole nine, you'll get it. No more playing house. If you wanna be a big girl, then you have to make big girl sacrifices. You want to be a queen, then you gotta marry a king. Just remember, you asked for this.”

The color drained from Y/N’s face. “Bucky, you can’t be serious.”

“I am dead serious princess.” Bucky pressed his left hand against the plexiglass staring her down from beneath his eyebrows. “Marry me.”

Next Chapter

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[deakyjoe]

Southern Charm

Pairing: Phillip Graves x Reader (afab, she/her, use of “girl”)

Category: smut

Summary: You’re supposed to hate him but you just can’t resist that southern charm.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected p in v sex (one day I’ll get characters to use a condom), creampie, vaginal fingering, biting, grinding/dry humping, thigh riding, pet names (good girl, naughty girl, darlin’), praise & degradation kink, quickie, cum eating, slight choking, Graves is a bit of a dick but we love him, slight dom!Graves, slight sub!Reader, slight slut-shaming, jealousy

Word count: 3k (how did that happen?)

A/N: That’s my pookie. He can do no wrong. He has committed many atrocities. I want him to wreck me.

Consider buying me a coffee :)

You didn't know how you'd ended up here.

Well, you did. But you were in denial.

You knew you were supposed to dislike him, considering the rest of the team did. Slimy. Untrustworthy. Suspicious. Creepy. Dodgy. Sinister. Menacing. Sly. All words that had been used to describe the man. And you agreed with every single one of them but just couldn't find it in yourself to feel the same way they did, and maybe that did make you loathe him a little. How was he so irresistible to you?

He had just waltzed in, all charming smiles and inviting voice, and expected to take over the whole operation. Bastard. But when he looked at you, you couldn't help the heat that would crawl to the surface of your skin and make you yearn for him, crave his touch. And you knew he felt the same.

You’d been exchanging meaningful glances for weeks, full of tension and future promises. Yet neither of you dared to act on it for a while, knowing it was too risky. But sometimes things just have a way of happening.

But when you’d been walking down one of the many hallways on base, him just a few paces behind you, you couldn’t help but slip into the nearest room with a quick glimpse back at him. It had taken him less than ten seconds to burst through the door after you.

So that's how you'd ended up being pushed against a wall with his knee between your legs and his tongue in your mouth. A quickie in a tiny storage room with someone you weren't supposed to like was not your style. But maybe today it was. It had to be because this was all you had.

"Shit." You cursed when one of his warm hands snaked under the hem of your shirt, and curled around your waist, and the other reached up to squeeze your breast through it.

Graves only smiled against your mouth, enjoying the effect he was having on you. It was only further proof of what he already knew.

But your mind kept straying to the door of the room that was very much unlocked, considering there was no way to bolt it from the inside, and the fact that anyone could walk in at any moment if they chose to. What would your team say if they caught you like this with him? The shame was almost too much to bear.

"We should stop." You mumbled against his mouth, making no effort to get away and actually just pulling him tighter against you instead. One of your fists gripped the fabric of his shirt and the other curled around the back of his neck and into his hair. You were insatiable.

He knew you didn't want to stop. Neither did he. "Mhm, sure."

He kissed you harder.

You let him.

"We could get caught." You said, during your next pause for air. Rational thought was escaping you fast and you knew you had to at least pretend that you cared that this was wrong.

"Nobody comes in here. Just girls like you waiting to get fucked."

You pushed on his chest, breaking the kiss. "I didn't think you'd follow me."

You did.

"Bullshit." He laughed. "I've seen the looks you've been giving me, darlin'. I know."

You frowned at him, defiant nature kicking in. He was too cocky for your usual taste no matter how attractive you found him. Perhaps it even made him more attractive to you. "Know what exactly?"

His eyes sparkled. "How much your pussy aches for me."

He wasn't wrong. And you hated that. Hm, maybe you did despise him a little.

He saw the look of embarrassment flash across your face and could only laugh. "It's alright. Do you know how hard you make me?"

It was pressed up against you so, yes, you knew very well. But you bit your bottom lip and shook your head anyway. And he was all too enthusiastic to take one of your hands and guide it down to his crotch so you could palm his hardened length through his clothing.

"Fuck." Graves groaned at your touch, head dropping and eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

You giggled, liking how easy this was even though he'd been the one teasing you a moment ago. "You like that, Commander?"

His head snapped back up again, playful look back on his face as he pushed his whole body up against you further. It got to a point where the only way for the two of you to be any physically closer would be if you were to remove your clothes. And you certainly weren't doing that in an unlocked storage room on base.

"Naughty girl." He mumbled, craning his neck to trace his lips over your jawline. “Calling me by my rank. You like that sort of thing?” He lifted the knee between your legs up higher when you nodded so it pushed against you harder, making you whimper in pleasure. "You do this often?"

"Do what?" Your brain was too fuzzy from what he was doing to you to properly comprehend whatever he was talking about. It probably didn't help that you shifted your hips to start grinding against his thigh.

"Send wicked glances to all your higher ups and then fuck them in closets? You a barracks bunny, hm?" One of his hands slid to the belt on your jeans, undoing the fastening slowly. Too slowly.

"I don't work for you. You're not my higher up." You pulled his face away from your neck and tugged him down to kiss you again, wanting to shut him up. But you couldn't deny that what he was saying was turning you on even more. You weren’t interested in sleeping with your team or anyone else on base but his implication of it was… slightly exciting to say the least.

"Oh, darlin'... you know you'd submit to me easy enough. All I gotta do is ask."

You definitely despised him. Despised the fact that he could read you so well. To be fair, you hadn't really tried to hide your interest in him. You were sure he'd known since the first moment you laid eyes on him. If it were possible, you were sure he would've been able to see your eyes blown wide with immediate lust and the heat that pooled in your lower abdomen. He just really did it for you. Maybe it was the accent, maybe it was the hair, maybe it was the scar, maybe it was the over confident nature. Whatever it was, he just clicked right for you.

"You're such a dick, Graves." You finally replied, breathless and about two seconds away from pushing his hand fully into the front of your jeans if he didn't speed things up.

“Yeah, but you like it.” He chuckled, moving his attention to the finger that had finally reached your clit and was providing the much needed stimulation you’d been thinking about since you’d first met him.

“Shit, fuck.” You gasped, head falling back to hit the wall.

Graves huffed at your groan of pain and used his free hand to hold the back of your head in order to prevent any other injuries. How sweet and out of character for him. But you didn’t question it, just thankful that he didn’t seem to want you to give yourself a concussion.

His hand slipped down further. “Goddamn, you’re wet for me. Huh, darlin’? Didn’t know you were that desperate.”

Your eyes rolled back when he slid a finger into you. It was almost humiliating how easy it happened, how wet you were from so little.

“Oh, my god.” You squeaked, clutching onto his shoulders and moving your hips to grind against his hand.

“I will be your god soon enough, I can promise you that.” Graves’ hand moved with you, knowing exactly what you needed to make you feel good.

“Shut up.” You sighed, not really caring what he had to say anymore. You were about one orgasm away from agreeing with anything he had to say. That was dangerous territory. But you were sure it would pass once you had this, had him, out of your system.

“I mean it. Gonna ruin you for all other men. You’ll only ever think about me after this.” His forehead furrowed as he watched his wrist disappearing in and out of the waistband of your jeans, fully concentrated on that.

You wanted to disagree but you could already feel it happening. It didn’t help that you were already so attracted to him. But if he made you come? Then you were screwed. Literally and metaphorically.

When he added a second finger to the mix, crooking them inside of you to meet that sweet spot and the heel of his hand grinding against your clit at every little movement, you knew every sane thought was lost for the near future.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You babbled, nails digging into his shoulders to drag him down to meet your mouth again. It was all teeth and tongues, technique abandoned in your ecstasy, and you could feel him holding back a smile against you. Always so fucking smug.

“Come on, darlin’. Be a good girl and come for me.” He mumbled against your cheek after the kiss was broken.

The use of good girl did it for you.

Your hips rocked against his hand wildly as your orgasm washed over you, desperately trying to chase the high even further.

Graves guided you through it, trailing kisses up and down the skin of your neck as well as the area of chest and collarbone that was left exposed by the neckline of your shirt. “Good girl, that’s it. Such a good fucking girl for me, hm?”

You whimpered when he pulled his hand out of your jeans, and his fingers out of you, and planted a kiss on your lips as a reward for coming. You didn’t really understand the logic as you thought you should be rewarding him for making you come but you weren’t going to complain if that worked for him because it was certainly working for you.

He licked the essence of you from his fingers, moaning at the taste. “So sweet.”

You could only watch with hooded eyelids, both from exhaustion and arousal.

When he kissed you again, you could taste the remnants of you on his mouth and you just pulled him impossibly closer. You knew he wasn’t done with you yet, his hard cock being pressed against you was evidence enough of that.

When he broke away, his eyes flitted over your face. “Knew you’d be easy. Didn’t know it’d be this easy.”

Your nose scrunched. It was things he said like that that made you know that you should like him a whole lot less. “What made you think I’d be easy?”

He beamed that dazzling grin. “My good looks and outstanding personality.”

"Been using the southern charm on me, huh?"

His eyebrows raised. "It's been working, hasn't it?"

"Confident." You scoffed.

"Only because you came on my fingers less than two minutes ago." He reminded you, smug smile plastered across his face. "Thought that was a telltale sign, darlin'."

You grunted and nodded at him, hands falling to unbuckle his belt.

“Eager?”

“Horny.”

He laughed again and pulled your own jeans and underwear down to the ground, the cold air making you gasp.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You asked, gaze flicking to the door.

“How’d you expect me to fuck you if you got jeans on?” He glanced up at you from where he was crouched down.

“Good angles and a little effort.” You replied but still kicked them off of your ankles.

“Can’t do this if clothes are in the way.” He stated as he stood up straight again, each hand swooping behind your thighs and lifting you in the air so your legs could wrap around him and your back rested against the wall. “This a good angle for you?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“And enough effort?”

You nodded again. “Yes, Commander.”

He shook his head in amusement. “Good.”

And he kissed you again, pushed fully up against you to use his own body to keep yours up. Your hands tangled in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp and fingers tugging on his roots. His hips rutted against yours and you laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Just fuck me already, Graves.” You whispered, trailing one hand down the length of his torso.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Pushing his jeans down a couple of inches was enough to free himself from the confines of his clothes. He pumped himself a few times before pausing, eyes snapping up to meet yours.

“Shit.”

“What?” You asked, confused.

“I haven’t got a condom. Do you?”

You laughed. “Yeah, I just carry them around with me with the rest of my gear.”

“Shit.” He looked disappointed.

“Easy, Commander.” You said, brushing a hand through his hair to make him calm down for a second. “I’m on birth control, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He visibly relaxed. “Thank, god.”

“No, thank me.”

The flirtatious smile returned to his face. “And how’d you want me to do that?”

“I think you know.”

With a quick nod of confirmation between the two of you, he placed his tip against your entrance.

You held your breath.

And he exhaled heavily when he pushed into you steadily. “Fucking… fuck.”

“Yeah.” You replied, eyes fluttering shut and head falling forward to meet his shoulder.

“Darlin’, you’re so…” He trailed off but you got the idea.

“You too.” You turned your head to suckle on a spot on his neck.

He liked that.

His hips slammed into yours. “Jesus! You gotta warn me. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Sorry.” You weren’t. In fact, as you said it, you moved to graze your teeth against his jawline.

Graves grabbed you by the side of your neck and forced you back to look at him. “You not gonna be a good girl and listen to me?”

“I’m sorry.” This time you were. But only to hear him call you a good girl again.

The hand on the side of your neck curved to meet your cheek, his thumb running against your lower lip. “I wasn’t joking earlier. Are you the barracks bunny around here?”

Fury burned in your chest, a scowl crossing your features.

Graves laughed. “Oh. Upset you, did I?”

"Fuck you." You hissed, venom in your voice and lust in your blood.

A smirk tipped up the corners of his mouth as he leant in to whisper in your ear. "You already are."

And with that, he pulled out of you before pushing back in again. An embarrassingly loud moan tumbled from your mouth.

Graves chuckled. “How am I not supposed to assume you’re the resident slut when you get off fucking your commander in a closet?”

“Not a slut. Not my commander.” You replied, rolling your hips against his as best as you could.

“Hmm… You fuck your lieutenant then? Or your captain? Tell me, what’s Price like in the sack?”

The loathing you were supposed to feel for him grew more and more by the second. But so did the want. You wondered if he was jealous. Which would explain why he was pressing you about whether you’d slept with the other members of the team.

“Haven’t fucked Price.” You responded, a jolt in your voice as he pounded into you.

“What about the rest of your team, hey? Or anyone else around here?”

You were frustrated. “Fuck! None of them, okay? Just you.”

He loved that answer. “Just me?”

“Yes, just you.”

He kissed you. “Good.”

You whined against his lips, sweat starting to glisten on the surface of your skin and the wet sounds of him pushing in and out of you filling the room. You were sure that if anyone were to walk past the room, too close to the door, that they’d be able to hear the two of you. And they’d certainly be able to smell if they were to come in after the two of you had left. The air smelt distinctly of sex.

The hand on the side of your neck fell to move between you, the thumb that was previously teasing your bottom lip now eagerly circling your clit.

Graves watched your face intently to take in every minor reaction you gave him. And when you crashed into your second orgasm, he swallowed your moans with a firm kiss. Only pulling away again to whisper sweetly in your ear. “Good girl. That’s my good girl.”

The feeling of you clenching around him did it for him as well as he slowed down slightly before he twitched inside of you and pumped you full of him.

“Fuck, darlin’.” He grumbled as he rested his forehead against yours for a few moments before gently lowering you back down to the ground. His arm wrapped around your waist when you stumbled on shaky legs. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You replied, steadying yourself against the wall and sending him a short smile.

He nodded and tucked himself back away in his jeans before helping you to get yours back on. When that was done, and you’d flattened his hair as much as you could after tousling it up as much as you did, you just looked at him awkwardly. You could feel him dripping out of you and making a mess of your underwear.

He didn't strike you as the romantic type so it surprised you when he leaned in and gave you, what could only be described as, a very tender kiss. You figured it was his version of aftercare. It was surprisingly nice. You'd take it.

He pulled away and looked at the wall over your head. “Go take a shower and clean up.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Not going to join me?”

“You wish.” He snickered. “No, I was supposed to meet Price in his office ten minutes ago.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “What?”

Graves shrugged. “Got distracted.”

You could only smile back at him in disbelief as he sent you one last cocky smirk and sauntered out of the room.

Yeah, his southern charm worked. You definitely didn’t hate him.

A/N: hope you enjoyed <3

[barefoothighlander]

Hey hey heyy! First of all your writing is so good! Fr teach me.

Second of all I'd love some Graves smut, something to do with proper hate sex as in enemies to ??, maybe some violence with it. Other than that you can do what you want.

Ily<3

thank u babe, also super random but I just found out the actor for graves is also jeff in yellowjacket’s and now all I picture is graves sitting in his car jamming to papa roach

warnings: mdni (18+), smut, unprotected pinv, slight dub con, choking, fingering, orgasm denial, name calling, description of wounds, mention of blood, dom!graves, slight voyeurism, creampie, mention of alcohol, not proofread

Your skin is freezing, the rain soaking your clothes, mixing with the blood dripping from the wound on your arm as you struggle to stay up. Something about him was always off, it wasn’t often the 141 worked with outsiders but you needed to trust the Shadow company, you needed to trust Graves.

You followed his orders, seeking his protection when hostile got too close, he’d saved your life on more than one account during the mission but you always kept an eye on him.

Unfortunately your suspicions were right, he had betrayed the team on behalf of Shepard, and now you were lost in the streets of Mexico with too much blood lost.

You crept through alleys, calling through your comms to Soap and Ghost, trying to find a way out when the Shadows were lurking around every corner, gunshots ringing through your ears as you slam your body against a wall trying to stay out of sight.

The dark provided decent cover, allowing you to sneak through old shops and houses, trying to find materials to help you but the feeling of your body growing weaker did little to add to your success, having to brace yourself against tables and walls just to catch your breath.

Time was running out, you knew where Ghost was but you didn’t know how to get there, between the labyrinth of streets and the threat of the Shadows, they had you stuck with no where to go.

“You lost little bird?”

His cocky tone pierces your ears, you don’t have to turn around to know who the voice belongs to, your whole world crumbling in front of you as you look for an escape route.

“No where to run”

He moves closer towards you, caging your body between him and the wall as panic sets into your body. You turn your body and brave your arms, ready to fight but he grabs your wrists, pushing your body back against the wall and pinning you there, you wince at the action, the angle of your arm pinching your wound.

“Looks like somebody clipped your wings” He smirks, his tone is deep,

“Fuck off” You spit, writhing under his grip

“We could’ve been a team you know, there would’ve been a place for you in the company”

“And be forced to take orders from you? I’d rather die”

“Tsk, kinda seemed like you enjoyed taking orders from me”

You furrow your brows at his comment, one drunken mistake made weeks ago coming back to haunt you. You had gone out drinking with the team and he tagged along, a few too many shots and you wound up in his bed, panting under his touch.

“Get the fuck off me Graves”

“I love the way you say my name” His hands release yours, moving to your waist to turn your body, pinning your chest against the wall as you whimper in pain.

“Now I wanna hear you scream it” His voice is husky, laced with anger as his lips travel over your exposed skin, tracing your limbs. The warmth of him feels too good, your shivering body moulded against his chest as his fingers trace over the hem of your pants.

His hands snake under your shirt, kneading at your breasts as you let out a small sigh, the goosebumps on your skin depleting with every touch.

“Hate me all you want, I know what you need”

“Let me go”

“Ask nicely” He grins against your neck as his fingers pinch your nipples, a gasp escaping your lips.

“Fuck you”

He grinds his length against your backside, the firm press of him igniting your core as you curse yourself.

“If that’s what you want baby”

He moves a hand down your stomach, pushing back the hem of your pants to cup your sex, his fingers teasing over your panties as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“You’re soaked, knew you needed me, little slut”

His fingers pushed your panties to the side, teasing through your folds as he gathers your slick before pushing two digits inside you. Moaning from the contact he lets out a low chuckle, his warm breath ghosting over your ear as you bit your lip, trying to muffle your moans.

He pumps his fingers into you, his thumb settling on your clit to run circles over the bud, you struggle to brace your arms against the wall, your hips arching into him as you grind down onto his hand, chasing your high.

“That’s it, fuck yourself on my fingers”

Your teeth pierce your lip as you bite down, the taste of iron filling your mouth as the coil inside you burns, your mind a flurry of lust as your orgasm approaches.

He pumps his fingers harder, curving them to swipe across your sweet spot over and over, you throw you head back as the band inside you threatens to snap but as soon as you reach your peak he rips his hand from you. You’re breathless, panting as you stare back at him,

“Wha- no” You plead

“You wanna run? Go now” He steps back a few paces, giving you room to move, your skin is on fire, clenching around nothing as your high fades from your core, he wants you to beg. Your gaze shifts between the door and him, his dark eyes staring back at you, his hand glistening in the light, covered in your slick.

You don’t move, don’t say anything, your fingers toy with your belt buckle, undoing it and he smirks, closing the gap between you.

“Good choice”

His hand is firm on your back as he presses you against the wall again, his arm moving your grip around your waist, holding you up as your limbs become unsteady. He pulls your pants below your ass, giving him enough access to feel your weeping cunt, grinding his clothed length against it and feeling you shudder from the contact, the rough denim swiping against your core, sending shocks up your spine.

“Better stay quiet, unless you want the entire company to take turns”

His threats are empty but they still make your blood run cold, the noise of his own belt clattering as he presses his chest against you, running his tip through your folds. He smears your slick around your cunt, quiet sighs falling from your mouth as you feel how hard he is.

He leans back from you, lining himself up as his free hand finds purchase on the side of your face, pushing it against the cold wall, keeping you pinned. He bottoms out in a single thrust, forcing the air from your lungs as you gasp as the stretch, the arm on your waist moving so he can rest his fingers against your clit, keeping them still against the bud to tease you.

He pounds into you, forcing every inch of himself inside with every thrust as you moan, your mind a blur, the idea of anyone hearing long gone as his tip drags against your walls.

“That’s it, take it, take it all you fucking slut”

He grunts behind you, his balls slapping against your skin with every thrust, the sound of the rain outside the only thing keeping prying ears from knowing what was happening as you unravel under his touch.

The hand on your head moves to snake around your neck, the inside of his elbow settling under your chin as he pulls you against him, your back arching as he presses your spine to his chest. His cock hits deeper from this angle, your body exposed to him as his grunts fill your ears.

You reach for him but he grabs your wrist, a low growl leaving his chest when his thumb presses into the bullet wound in your arm, forcing a cry from you as you clench down on him.

“See what you made me do, didn’t have to run from me” He presses harder into the wound, droplets of blood cascading down your skin, smearing onto him as you sob around his cock.

“Fuck. You” You manage through gritted teeth, your hand finding it’s way to his head, tugging on his hair as he lets out a grunt, thrusting harder into you.

“You bite back, always liked that about you”

You open your mouth to speak but words escape you as he grips your wrist, pulling it towards your sex and forcing your fingers to toy with your clit.

“Show me how much you need to cum, how good my cock feels inside your little pussy”

You trace circles with your weak fingers, quiet whimpers from your lips boost his ego as the feeling of your fingers is nothing compared to his.

“Poor slut, you need me to do it?”

You give a tug to his hair, silent begs as your fingers continue to work lazy circles over the bud.

“Beg for it, beg me to make you cum”

“Eat shit”

“I guess only one of us gets to finish then”

He sobbed your body forward, your hands slow to catch you against the wall, his grips your waist with bruising fingers, digging into the flesh as he thrusts into you. Your knees are weak, your arms heavy against the wall as you struggle to stay up, you need more, more of him.

“Beg for it”

His thirsts push you further into the wall, your aching fingers scraping against the stone,

“Please” You whisper

“What’s that? Didn’t hear you”

Your body admits defeat before your mind does, pushing back against him so his tip prods at your cervix, forcing him deeper into you,

“Please”

“Please what? Use your words”

“Please, let me cum!” Tears prick your eyes, your orgasm building inside of you at an agonizing pace.

“Then soak my cock you fucking slut”

His fingers make contact with your clit, rubbing harsh circles over the bud as you cry out, your hips working in tandem with his thrusts to chase your high.

He leans over your frame, his lips pressed to the shell of your ear as his hand grips around your throat, his fingers squeezing against your pulse point.

“Cum for me, show me how much you need my cock” He whispers in your ears, the words shooting straight to your core, the fire inside your searing your skin as you cum with a sob, clenching down on him as he fucks you, keeping his harsh pace. His fingers stay on your clit, not letting you come down, he forces you to ride out your orgasm at his brutal pace, his skin smacking against yours as his cock stuffs you.

Your vision blurs, a mixture of blood loss and the overstimulation of him has you seeing stars, every sound drowned out except for his moans behind you.

“M’gonna fill this fucking pussy, send you back with a reminder of who you belong to”

Your tears stain your cheeks, your throat dry and unable to respond as his thrusts become sloppy, chasing his own high.

“You want that? Wanna walk around with my cum stuffed inside you, you fucking traitor bitch” He spits, his words ringing in your ears as he bottoms out, pressing his cock deep inside your walls as his spend floods them, filling you with the warm liquid.

Your body goes limp against the wall, his arms the only thing holding you up as he milks himself in your pussy, thrusting his softening cock to make sure it stays deep before pulling out.

He tucks himself back into his pants, his grip on your waist keeping you balanced as he helps you to lean on a table, kneeling to pull your own pants back up.

He scans the room, moving to grab a small cloth before tearing it, wrapping it around your wound to help stop the bleeding. You stare at him with hooded eyes, the toll on your body evident in the way you hunch over, arms braced to keep yourself steady.

“I meant it, there would’ve been a spot for you” His tone is sincere as you gaze at him, his hair sticking to his forehead in a mix of sweat and rain drops, he reaches around his vest, pulling out a small canteen of water and handing it to you, you take it, chugging its contents before gasping for a breath.

“I’d never betray my team”

“You already did”

His words shoot through your heart, it was true in a sense, even if he wasn’t the enemy the first time, it didn’t take away from the fact that you had just fucked him in a dirty old house while he was hunting you and your team.

“Go”

You furrow your brows at him, “What?”

“Leave before I change my mind, if I catch you again it won’t end as well”

You take a moment to scan his face, he’s being sincere, you stand quickly, trying to catch your balance before sparing him a final glance and rushing through the door back into the rain, glancing down streets to try and find a way out.

“Deadeye do you copy” Ghosts voice echoes through your comms, pulling you back to reality.

“I copy”

“Jesus Christ, where are you?” His voice is laced in panic

“Coming LT” The lights of the Church stare back at you through the heavy down pour, lighting your path as you make your way to your team.

[rogueddie]

Steve has always loved his little Christmas town. The snow, the chill, the lights. The little elves are sweet too. Everyone in his town is just... lovely. He can't think of another word for it. They are simple lovely.

But Steve is... curious.

They are all told to stay in the town. They are all told about how bad the woods are. They are all told about those who would wonder in and never come out. Rumors of monsters and man eaters...

But Steve is curious. The stories only make him want to see what's inside even more. And the more he thinks about the woods, the adventure, the curiosity... the more dull his little town seems.

Christmas is lovely, Steve knows that. Steve loves that. But Steve is bored of that.

So, he goes into the woods.

For a while, they're just woods. Steve starts to wonder if the rumors are just that- rumors. He starts to wonder if the stories were made just so people wouldn't go looking for made-up things and get lost.

But, a few moments later, he comes across a clearing. It's just a big, round, empty space. There's twelve other paths, leading in different direction. They all look vaguely the same- though a couple do look bright, just like the path Steve just came down, and one looks dark.

The dark path stands out in stark contrast to the others. It makes Steves curiosity raise it's head once again.

The path is normal, at first. Just a little dark, shadowed. But the longer Steve stays on the path, the more macabre it gets.

The trees start losing their leaves, bare dark branches curling out into the path like clawed hands. The shadows seem to move, dancing around him with what looks like curiosity. The orange leaves on the floor get louder, more frail... more dead.

It feels like a shorter path. He reaches the end faster than he thought he would and when he does...

The town at the end of the path is as opposite of his little home town as he never could have imagined. The first thing he sees is a graveyard and, hiding behind a tree, a ghost dog floating by. There's cobwebs and dead flowers on the graves.

But, given the look of everything else, he suspects those things might be respectful here.

He creeps around the edge of the woods, until he reaches the buildings, which are easier to duck behind. He makes his way deeper into the town, slowly, trying to stay hidden.

He's not exactly surprised to be caught, but the throat being cleared behind him still makes him jump.

The person is about the same height as Steve, but that's where the similarities stop. The person has pale, near white skin. Dark eyes that look almost sunken, circled by black shadows. Their long, dark hair only makes them look more pale in contrast. The fact that it's moving, without any wind, adds to Steves intruige.

He's never seen an outfit like the one this person is wearing either. Almost completely black, only small amounts of blood red, greys and silver chains to contrast. The jeans he's wearing too have so many tears, but there's markings on the skin that peaks through.

"You look a little lost," they say with a smirk.

"Oh, uh, sort of? I'm not... from here."

"Obviously," they snort, eyeing him.

Steve looks down at himself and... yeah. A white polo with pastel stripes and pale blue jeans? "Right, yeah, sorry. It is pretty obvious."

"How did you get here, lamb?"

"The woods."

"You went into the woods?" Their eyes widen, leaning forward.

There's a quiet hiss, drawing Steves attention to the ends of his hair- to the snakes starting to raise their heads, turning their eyes to Steve.

"You- you have snakes for hair?"

"Yeah! They're lovely, you don't need to fear them."

Steve looks them over for a moment. Before raising a hand a little. "Could I... touch them?"

"Of course."

"Are they ok with that?"

They make a noise- a sort of low grumble. And, for a moment, Steve worries that he's said something to upset them. But they step forward, closer, the snakes curling forward into his raised hand. They curl around his hand, seeming to rub against him like a cat would.

The person is smiling.

"Thanks," Steve says, clearing his throat when his voice cracks, face flushing. "They're... very nice."

"You're scared of them," they say, but they're grinning, excited. "I'm Eddie, by the way. Local weird guy, even in this place."

"Steve," he gestures to himself. "I'm just, uh, the usual in my place."

"But you're... well. Anyway. You probably shouldn't stay too long. If little ol' me made you jump, this place might give you a heart attack."

"You're not that scary," Steve straightens up, defensive, frowning.

Eddie snorts, fingers brushing Steves cheek. "Anyone else around here would take that as an insult, Stevie."

"Oh... uh, sorry, I just-"

"No, don't worry. It's sweet." Eddie clears his throat, gently coaxing the snakes into letting go of Steves hand. "Come on, let's get you home."

It's easier to sneak back to the woods with Eddie. He often presses up behind Steve, blocking him from sight with his own body. It means they don't need to keep ducking behind cover every time.

But, by the time they reach the woods, Steve is... he's not sure how he's feeling. But he doesn't want to leave. Not yet.

Eddie gently pushes him into the woods, along the overgrown path, keeping a gentle hand on his lower back. He walks alongside him, probably making sure Steve does actually go back home.

"What if it's not safe?" Steve stops. He hopes he doesn't look as desperate as he feels. "Maybe... maybe it'd better if I stay here for a little bit. Until we're sure. Or something."

"Steve-"

"Just one night! Like... it's better to be safe than sorry, right?"

"Steve. You don't need to worry. I'm gonna stay with you, ok?"

"But when-"

"I'm gonna stay with you."

Steve stares at him for a moment. "The whole way?"

"The whole way."

"Ok," Steve says quietly, continuing to walk, ducking his head to hide his smile when Eddie puts his hand on his back again.

Steve struggles to start making small talk but, thanks to Eddies unusual responses, he's easy to talk to. And it's not the same boring, repetitive stuff those in his home town would fall back on. Although, Eddie seems just as curious to hear Steves response to those, turning his questions back on him.

It feels like no time at all until they reach the clearing.

"Have you gone down any of the others?" Eddie asks, turning as he eyes all the different paths.

"Just yours." Steve glances at some of the others. "We could come back... check out the others?"

"Fuck yeah. You wanna try and check them all out? One a day? Wait, which is yours?"

Steve looks back to Eddies path, counting back. "This one."

"How much am I gonna stand out?"

"A lot... you don't have to come the whole way, you know?"

Eddie scoffs, bumping their shoulders. "Nah, I'm committed now. Plus... in all honesty? I kinda like the soft shit. Like, that's why I'm the weird one. Spooky and scary and dark is great! Don't get me wrong, I love creepy stuff. I love my snakes. But... sometimes a warm sweater or something clean, or light, or... soft... that's nice too."

"Yeah... yeah, I know what you mean."

"What, you like spooky and soft stuff?"

"Why do you think I went into the darkest path there is?"

"You just get more and more interesting..."

Steve is sure that the path home is shorter on the way back. He's not sure how, but he's sure that it is. He doesn't say so to Eddie, just makes a mental note of it.

Eddie is frozen at the edge of the woods, eyes wide and mouth open, looking around at everything.

"Uh," Steve clears his throat, bringing Eddies attention back to him. "Merry Christmas?"

"Is it like this all the time?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Oh, Stevie, it's so pretty." Eddie laughs, a little breathless. "I was so fucking right, holy shit."

"Right about what?"

"You are far too lovely to be the usual, even here."

part 2

[sapphickocho]

Thinking about how Uzui had to watch everyone he cared about die before him. First 3 of his siblings die during there fathers harsh shinobi training, then six he killed himself during a deathmatch where all of them were masked. Then Kyojuro died next, and the rest of the hashira except Sanemi and Giyuu during a battle he couldn't participate and help them in. Then of course Sanemi and Giyuu do die on the same year and four years later Tanjiro, someone he grew closer with also succumbs to death way too young.

Thats why Tengen's line of "Just how many lives do you think ive let slip through my fingers?" hits so hard because his life is just death. Everyone he loves is bound to die and he cant do anything about it.

So I made a little list of hcs on how he copes;

What uzui does at each of his friends graves;

Rengoku; He often has a picnic beside his grave, bringing along his wives and having a feast with all of kyojuros favorite foods, like sweet potatoes and bento boxes. He is the hashiras grave he visits the most and often talks to it and updates him on how life is going.

Shinobu: He brings the flashiest flowers he finds and brings them to her every year because it reminds him of both her and Kanae.

Muichiro: It is hard for him to visits his grave, especially when he sees it adorned with a picture of him and his twin brother when he was younger. But he makes sure to see it every year, and gives him a little gift, like a folded paper crane since he knew he like origami. He feels guilty that he didn't fight in the battle when muichiro, the youngest pillar, did.

Mitsuri: Like everyone else still alive, they visits her grave annually on her birthday and bring mochis to celebrate because it was her favorite food. However when everyone else dies, he makes sure to keep up the tradition with Nezuko.

Iguro Obanai: When he visits his grave he always teases him about how he's doing with Mitsuri in the afterlife. After that he sits down and talks about his snake Kaburamaru and updates him about his daily life.

Gyomei: He prays at his grave. Not that he particularly agrees with it or is religious, he just knows that Gyomei would appreciate it.

Sanemi: He visits both of the Shinazugawa brothers on the same day, since they are both buried next to each other. He tells him that he misses him because he knows Sanemi will be pissed by the sappiness and also because in truth, he does.

Giyuu: He usually sits down and talks for hours to him about how everyone is doing, whats going on and other mindless useless things. he knows that Giyuu doesn't like to talk so just like when he was alive, he can just sit and listen and enjoy the company.

Tanjiro: He always bows to Tanjiro's grave and thanks him, for saving his wives and being a friend for all those years. he tells him about Nezuko and Kanao and tells them that they all miss him very much.

Makio, Suma, Hinatsuru: When they all die before he does, he curses the gods for keeping him alive. He makes sure to have there graves next to his estate and sits next to there graves for hours until sundown. Sometime he even sleeps next to them.

I am not sure his wives dying before him is canon but Ive heard it from multiple people so I will assume so. Either way, Uzui's life is too tragic and I just cant get over it. He can never protect the people he loves the most. That man deserves a break from all the death and hug from all of his wives (+rengoku.) But it seems like Gotouge had different plans.

[rottingpirate]

How they react when you die (pt. 1?)

Ft. Soap, Ghost and Alejandro

Ghost

Ghost isn’t a man that shows his emotions much but damn does he care deeply

Wouldn’t cry right away

His eyes would be the same, cold, no emotions

Nothing

He would not know what to do

He just stood there

But he had to move, had to do something

Would touch your cold cheek as you softly smiled back at him

He would hunt the man that did this to you down

No matter how much this affected him or how much he changed mentally or how pathetic he felt, he would continue fighting for you

He wouldn’t be able to love anyone the same way again

He would be affected the most when you died

Would blame himself for it all

After the funeral he would go back to work like nothing ever happened

Everyone knew he was always scary, but now it felt like he wasn’t even human

Sometimes he would get nostalgic about things that never even happened but should have

Would think back at your smile and how much you affected him as a person

Would sometimes drop by your grave and talk about his day

Would tell you how he avenged you and killed whoever did this

Would proudly wear your id disks for the rest of his life

Soap

You both knew how dangerous your job was

But no matter how many times he was told that nothing could’ve prepared him

He cared about you, you cared about him

Would be in denial

He would run to you and drop to his knees

He would hold you and beg you to wake up

Would bury his face in the crook of your neck no matter how bloody or how badly everything smelled

Ghost and Gaz had to physically drag him away from your body

Was ready to beat them then and there, but didn’t want to cause more trouble

He just couldn’t let you go

When he realized you were gone he cried so much

High-key lost the ability to love again

He would 100% withdraw himself and drown his emotions by drinking

Would never get over your death

Would get angry anytime someone mentioned your name

If you had a favorite animal like a dog or a cat or a snake he would get one after your funeral

Would sometimes think that you were incarnated as the animal, because of the smiliar personality traits or habits

He knew it’s stupid but he needed a better way to cope

He would have nightly breakdowns and nightmares for years to come

Would visit your grave and tell you stupid jokes and laugh so he wouldn’t cry

Alejandro

Alejandro always had a lot of enemies, which sometimes made it hard to protect you

No matter how many times you told him not to worry or that you’d be fine

During missions he always asked how things were going like every 10 minutes

When one time you didn’t answer he grew worried

He tried to play it off and hope that your walkie talkie broke or you accidentally turned it off

He prayed to every god he ever heard off that you’d be safe

Like Ghost he didn’t cry right away

Maybe after a day or even a week it all hit him like a damn truck

It hit him that that was it

That you were…dead

He would never be able to hug you again, kiss you again, tease you again, wake up next to you, spice up your food for shits and giggles (if you hate spicy food)

He would never hear your voice again

Never showed up for your funeral

He couldn’t, he knew it would break him even more

Would soon loose all motivation and go into a bad state of sadness

Would cry and get angry more often

As much as he hated it after a while he started forgetting how your voice sounded

Your death killed him

Killed the Alejandro that you loved so much

Killed the Alejandro that everyone knew and appreciated

[author-morgan]

Title: Ānogar Hūra  Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!Reader Rating: M Summary: When the war is over and done, and the blood has yet to dry on his hands, Daemon seeks you out. Warnings: Injury, post-battle filth (minor blood kink?)

TWO YEARS SLIP away in this War for the Stepstones. An ill-contrived attempt for Daemon Targaryen to prove his worth to his brother and the realm —to carve his path in the world by fire and blood. His madness is spurred by the early whispers of Corlys Velaryon, still bitter by Viserys choice to wed Alicent Hightower over Laena. Between the rejected proposal to secure his house’s power and the king’s disregard for the Triarchy threat, warring over the Stepstones was inevitable. But that was the early days of the war. Now it is hard to say which side is winning or losing, having turned into a bloody stalemate. 

The Crabfeeder sends his men to an early grave. Corlys and Daemon do the same. Only injury has spared you from meeting the same fate —wounds from which it feels you will never fully recover. The blade cut deep, and when Daemon found you in the sands after the Triarchy retreated for the day, he was certain of your fate. Then you coughed up blood and bile and spake his name in fading breath. He took you to Dragonstone for the maesters to tend to, unwilling to entertain the thought of fighting in this war without you at his side, whether it be on the battlefield or at the war council. 

But now —having rejoined the forces and after hearing of the happenings at Court— you want this farce to be over and done with. The sooner, the better. Too many have died already. Too many highborn lords laugh at the Sea Snake and Rogue Prince and their struggle against the Triarchy and pirates. And you know well enough that if Viserys has not yet sent aid to his brother and House Velaryon, there will be none to come in the future —it would be unseemly.

Caraxes casts a dark shadow on the encampment as Daemon returns. He’s been absent for nigh a week roaming the Stepstones and the waters beyond. The maester looks at you then gives a terse nod —you’ve helped enough for the day, and it is likely you’ll need to soothe the restless dragon within Daemon Targaryen. You fall into stride at his side and look him over. He’s unharmed. Daemon reaches for your hand, his fingers curling around yours. Your hands are coated with the blood of those fighting to survive their injuries, his with the blood of those already dead. 

Daemon unbuckles his sword belt and places Dark Sister on the table before reaching for the ties and buckles of his dark steel armor. He sits, silent, and leans back —face twisted in frustration as he glimpses the spread-out maps and markers, a reminder of what little progress they’ve made over the last months. His gaze flits up —watching as you dip your hands into a wash basin, scrubbing away the drying blood, before sitting on the edge of a shared cot. 

You stare at the trodden ground, suffocating under the weight of the war. “How much longer must this go on, Daemon?” It’s almost a whisper, weary and strained. Since trading a sword for a healer’s smock, you’ve seen too many die —some no more than boys, too young to even know a woman’s love. Daemon does not answer. He has no answer. This war could drag on for years, or it could end in a day. Daemon doesn’t know which it will be, for not even Caraxes flames can smoke them from the caves. “Corlys’s men are nigh spent.” Three more ships were lost today, and nearly all the men crewing them. “We are outnumbered” —Daemon’s lips twitch, he does not need to be lectured by you to know they are losing the war— “our supplies grow thin without the Crown's support.” But Viserys is too busy with his new queen to care about the war being fought in the Narrow Sea. 

He stands and braces his weight on the table —silver-white hair falling in front of his face. It’s only when Daemon looks up that you can see the malice and anger in his eyes. “Flush Craghas Drahar and his men from those caves, and I’ll end this war tonight,” he bites. But so long as the Crabfeeder and his men remained in the caves and the Triarchy can supply new ships and men, this war will creep on, and the wheel of time will turn.

Shoulders sagging, you look down and drag a hand over your face. “I” —you shake your head and heave a great sigh— “I’m tired, Daemon,” you admit. You’ve only ever known peace with King Jaehaerys and Viserys until now. It is not like the bards sing, nor like the great tales told to children before bed.  

Daemon rises from his chair and rounds the table, regretting his harsh tone as he stops in front of you. Rough fingertips trace along your cheek, pushing back into your sweat-matted hair —like this, he can see the scar cutting across your shoulder and neck, a line of puckered silver flesh. He sighs, curling his fingers below your chin, his thumb running along your bottom lip. “Look at me.” His voice is soft again, and you do as he says. “Where do you want to be?” He’ll take you anywhere —back to Dragonstone, the capital, or the Reach. Daemon sees you as an equal, free to come and go, not a soldier to be commanded, and he’ll think no less of you for seeking a place of solace instead of war. 

Right here, you want to say, but the thought of rolling hills and a mild breeze makes you long for the Reach, for home. But you gave Daemon your heart when you were both children, running around the Red Keep —hitting each other with wooden swords. You don’t want to be amidst a war, but you don’t wish to leave him either. “I won’t leave you.” Daemon’s lips quirk upward upon hearing it, then he bends at the waist, and you tilt your chin up instinctively. His lips are wind-chapped, rough against your own, yet his kiss is soft, and he moves slowly, but it’s still fleeting —over too soon when he parts, resting his forehead against yours. You grip the front of his dark tunic and sigh, then he stands and steps back, retreating from the canvas pavilion to speak with Corlys and Vaemond.

He wakes you from restlessness. “Come,” Daemon says, offering his hand. You go without question and without hesitation. The encampment falls silent in the night; most are asleep or keeping watch along the shore. You crest a hill to the east, below Caraxes lays, slumbering —whiffs of pale smoke rising from his nostrils. The full moon hangs low on the horizon, half-swallowed by the dark waves and painted a pale shade of red. A blood moon. You’re unsure whether to take it as a good or ill omen. 

THE WHEEL OF time still spins and what was two years turns to three. Three long years of fighting in the Stepstones with little progress to show for it. The only island to remain solely under Daemon and Corlys’s control is Bloodstone, and its meager keep is surrounded by breaking waves and scattered remains of ships run aground and tossed onto the rocks —inhospitable. You look over the whitecapped sea from a high balcony, watching and waiting, whiling away another day and fighting off the ache of an old wound.

Caraxes’s bellowing cry warns you of his arrival. The Blood Wyrm circles the keep thrice over before descending, stilling sand and ash with his wings. Daemon dismounts the red dragon below —soaked in blood— and stumbles on his feet, but there’s a look of victory about him when he glances up at you on the balcony, lips twisting into something between a smile and a smirk. There’s a new purpose in his stride too. It is over then, you think, alas. 

He pushes open the door to your shared rooms, then unbuckles his sword belt and places it on the table as he prowls toward you, ready to claim the spoil of his victory —not giving you a chance to look him over for injury. Daemon surges forward, hands cradling your face as his lips seek out yours. You sigh into his mouth, letting him sear your senses. He tastes of salt and iron —of blood and sweat. His kiss makes you feel alive, even as it sucks the life from your lungs —but you keep coming back to it, again and again, back to him.

Fumbling, you grip his shoulders and let him part your lips with his tongue. The waves crash below the keep, but it feels as though they’re crashing over you too, pulling you under —drowning. But Daemon Targaryen makes drowning feel like the loveliest thing. 

Your hand slips from his shoulder and finds the first of the broken arrow shafts, and you break from his kiss, frowning, knowing the bright red blood staining your fingertips is his own. And your frown deepens when you see the second rising from his middle. “You’re hurt.” It’s little more than a breathless whisper. Daemon does not answer, but he does not deny it this time either. The pain hasn’t set in yet. Arrows be damned, he won the war, and now he wants you. 

Daemon’s hands fall to your waist, keeping you in front of him when you try to step back and survey the damage. Instead, your hands go the buckles and clasps of his armor —all slick with blood. He grimaces as you carefully pull the front of his breastplate forward and over the splinted ends of the arrow shafts. You rise onto your toes, and Daemon dips his head down, letting you lift the dark steel-and-leather armor overhead and set it aside —it will need to be cleaned and repaired— then you make quick work of his tunic, ridding him of the stained shirt.

His thumb traces a line below your bottom lip, wiping away the blood, but it only smears it. “Daemon,” you chide, knowing he means to distract you. Your prince is wounded, and you will tend to him as he once tended you, but you fear this is beyond your meager skillset. “I’ll get the maester.”

But Daemon shakes his head and grips your wrist before you can turn to leave. “No,” he tells you, knowing your hands are far gentler than any of the men trained in the Citadel. You nod and glance behind him toward the bed, he takes the cue and goes there, sitting on the settee at the foot of the bed and watching as you skirt around the room, gathering rags and the washbasin, but his impatience wins over. His fingers curl around the splintered shaft rising from his abdomen, and he draws the bodkin point out and tosses it aside.

You return to his side, frowning as you press a damp cloth to the bloody puncture. Daemon reaches for your hips, but you scold him with only a look and continue holding the cloth to stay the bleeding. “Ñuha jorrāelagon.” He grabs your hips again, voice husky as you relent, straddling his thighs.

Skirts hiked up around your waist, you can feel the outline of his hard cock pressed against your center —his lips part in a silent moan when you shift, and you won’t deny the effect seeing him like this —a true Targaryen— has on you. “Need you,” Daemon says, his voice a heady rasp with his palm pressed against your clit, two fingers exploring the slick gathering between your folds. He knows you won’t turn him away, especially now, having been separated from each other for weeks, and the hitch in your breathing and the soft moan that leaves your lips when two of his fingers press into your cunt is enough to spur him on. “Now.”

It’s a quick rustle of clothes —you rid yourself of your dress, and he fumbles with the ties of his britches, pushing them over his hips and down his thighs, then he lines himself up to enter you. Without a second thought, he’s pulling you down onto his cock —a low groan in his throat as you sink down to take him. Your cunt is wet and offers no resistance as he bottoms out inside you in one firm thrust. You’re tighter than he remembers, and it draws a wrecked groan from his lips.

Daemon presses his hips up into yours, feeling your walls tighten and flutter around his cock. “Greedy,” he taunts. And a choked little gasp escapes you. He pauses, fingertips tracing a random pattern along your thighs. You bite down on your lip, then offer a little smile of your own as you adjust to the fit and the soothing touch of his hand, stopping to grip firmly at your hips.

He holds you close —so your breasts are pressed flush against his bloodied chest— and ruts up inside you slowly enough to make you reacquainted with every inch of his cock sliding in and out of you. You’ve been parted for too long —unable to partake in the pleasures of flesh as you had before the war. It’s unexpectedly intimate, and you find yourself focusing on his face, where he’s still giving you that same pleased smirk until he pulls you down by the neck to meet his lips.

Another roll of his hips has you breaking away to let out a shaky whimper as his cock presses against that spot deep within you —it makes your toes curl. “Daemon,” you pant, struggling to speed up against the steady hold on your hips, keeping you in place. There’s a spark of something unfamiliar in his eyes that makes your stomach flip. He squeezes your hips down just a bit more to thrust deeper into your cunt.

Daemon keeps one hand firmly in place to control your movements but lets the other one roam over your body. You’re hyper-aware of the path of his rough fingers while he circles your navel, tickling over your stomach and ribs and up to your breasts. It stirs something more than a carnal desire in him to see you marked with blood like this —his blood. He pinches at your nipple without warning, and you cry out despite yourself and instinctively tighten around his cock in response. “Fuck,” he huffs out, voice rougher than normal. 

Your head tilts back, staring upward at the vaulted dark stone ceiling, and Daemon sees it as an opening. He nuzzles his nose against the base of your neck, nipping and kissing before dipping lower and licking a long stripe along your breastbone —he can taste the metallic tinge of blood.  

Daemon shows no sign of giving up, even with the fresh blood trickling from the open wound at his side. He continues to fuck you at a brutally slow pace —relishing in how well you fit him and how easily your bodies slide against one another. He’s only spurred on by the squeezing of your cunt that you can’t control. He pulls you closer, nips at your ear, and his tongue follows a bead of sweat running down your throat. His lips find your nipple again —suddenly, it’s hard to breathe, and your eyes snap open— sucking it into the heat of his mouth. You can’t stop the way you clench tight around him. He lets go of your nipple with a wet pop and moves to lave the other one with the same attention.

You’re so distracted by his attack on your breasts that you don’t even notice him finally releasing your other hip to rub his calloused thumb over your clit, and your resolve snaps like a frayed rope stretched too taut. “Daemon–” your words devolve into a needy moan, and his attention to your clit speeds up, but you need more —he knows it.

His unoccupied hand reaches to squeeze hard at your backside, and he picks up speed, your body following along with his movements. Daemon’s faint smile is taunting, but you love it —you love him— and your greedy cunt milks him for anything he’ll give you. You cry out for him, and his grip tightens to pull you up and down faster on him; you wonder if he’s getting as close as you are, but it’s hard to tell if the twisted expression on his countenance is from pleasure or pain —likely both. You lean your forehead against his.

You revel in every second he’s got you bouncing on his cock. His hand continues to make quick work on your throbbing clit, and you can feel yourself starting to come undone. “Fuck. Daemon, I–” you manage to pant out in his ear, unsure if you feel lightheaded from the sex or the heat and friction of your blood-slick bodies sliding against one another. He redoubles his efforts, thrusting up inside you with even harder, faster strokes, and his touch against your clit becomes nigh painfully intense. The waves of euphoria wash over you with his lips sucking a red mark into your neck, your hands buried in his filth-caked matted hair, and your ragged voice sighing and moaning his name over and over. The sweetest of songs —almost sweeter than victory. 

He doesn’t last much longer once your own needs are taken care of —it’s been too long, and exhaustion begins to set in with the first twinges of pain. But he fucks you at that same frantic pace for a few more minutes, enjoying the sight of your breasts bouncing with every rapid motion of his body as you do your best to keep up —hips rolling and twisting to meet his own.

The muscles of his thighs tighten beneath you, and Daemon’s cock twitches —his head falling backward as he pants and groans your name. You wrap your fingers around the broken arrow shaft at his shoulder, and as he pulls his cock out at the last moment to paint your shaky thighs and stomach with his seed, you wrench the arrow free —it gives way with little resistance. He bares his teeth and hisses, eyes flaring with danger and a delicate mix of true pleasure and pain.

Daemon presses his hand against where the arrow was, and his fingertips come away painted with bright red blood. It still seems odd to see his own blood —and before you can stand from his lap, he grips your jaw and paints a red line over your chin with his thumb. Then his lips are on yours again —possessive and haughty— always reminding you that you’re his, and when you part to breathe and rise, he nips at your bottom lip. You glance down at yourself after standing on shaky legs —torso smeared with blood and streaked with pale ropes of Daemon’s seed. He’s marked you this eve in more ways than one. “Gevie,” he breathes, smiling in earnest. 

By the time you both bathe and Daemon’s silver-white hair shines again, the sun has long sunk beneath the dark waves of the Narrow Sea. The bloodlust is gone, the day's aches settle into his bones, and the years of restlessness finally catch up. He lays back on the bed, wounds bound with linen and a great weight lifted from his shoulders. Daemon is nigh asleep by the time his head hits the feather pillow. You join him soon after and turn on your side, watching his chest's slow rise and fall, eyes tracing the new scar on his neck. It is over, you remind yourself, finding it difficult to believe after the past three years. Sighing, you press your lips to his temple, quick and soft so as not to wake him with the light of a blood moon painting the room in a pale-red glow.  

High Valyrian Translation: Ānogar Hūra - Blood Moon Ñuha jorrāelagon - My love Gevie - Beautiful

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[rpreaperperson]

Chapter 10: Anger

Masterlist

“There’s more of them?” asked Price from his desk

“As I told you before we’ve been looking for their existence and found many evidence of them, but we got no luck..find the living one” explained Professor while wiping her glasses with her napkins

“until you found her...” Price lean back at his chair crossing his strong arms

“Indeed...” answer Professor, Price pursing his lips a lil' bit

“So..her parents..”

“Unknown but most likely they’re dead, I have found her unconscious in an abounded village none single life lives there, except for some animals there..and what I find it fascinating is..” she paused as she halted wiping her glasses, her dim eyes spark in interest remembering the days she met her dearest subject

“They seem to be protective of her... when I tried to approach her, they stare at me like I'm kind of threat..the deer, snake, birds, all of the kind animals there...by the way they all normal animals Captain”

“how do you manage to take her..?”

“with a little bit of persuasion of course..” Professor smirks emotionless at him putting back her glasses, Price stares at her indifferent

“You sure to share this information? Without asking her first?” he raised his eyebrow at her

“She’ll understand Captain..besides she is under your care now...and I think you deserve to know..but remember this Captain...”slowly she walk closer to his desk

“I’ll not hesitate to murder anyone who harms her.... physically or mentally.. that includes you and all of your team”

“You know in this line of of work she’ll got be-”

SLAM

“then I will now...Captain..I have eyes everywhere...even here in this very secure base..”Professor stared at Price intimidated, but Price calmly smiled and nodded mockingly

“Of course madam” she just huffing and throw a flashdisk on his desk

“Heed my word Captain...you dont want to anger me...nor her”

Then she walked out from his office after she out Price smiled slowly gone furrowing as he took the flash disk and silently inspected it

.

.

 “Bonnie!” Soap tried to reach Claw but he got shot by one of Shadows instead and fell, then Ghost threw a knife at Shadow who holding Claw

“Master!” she cried to Soap dashing to his fallen form, placing her finger to his neck and feeling his pulse sigh in relief when found one, Soap groan then he sat upright

“Both of you! Get out of here!” Ghost growls

“But Maste –“ Claw whimper to Ghost her eyes filled with concern, and fear

“JUST GO!” Ghost yelled in desperation and anger, Claw flinched and with haste, she grabbed Soap’s vest dragged him to the concrete barrier, slid down to the slope covering his body with her small one to protect Soap

“Fuck!” Soap manages to get on his feet, and both of them flee to nearby town

Saw both Soap and Claw flee from them Graves halting the Shadows shooting at Soap

“Stop!” command Graves staring down the slope, silently cursing

“Should’ve used those catnip...” he mutter, pursing his lips

.

Dragging Soap bulk body with her slim one, her feet wobbly and shaking because of the weight she carried and the graze when she slid down the slope

“Stop a little bit Lass..” ask Soap when they reach in alleyway

“B-but..” she whimper

“Shh..it’s okay lass..”

 Claw gently put Soap down in an alleyway, as she checked her gear for medication while Soap tried to connect his comms to Ghost

Unfortunally he got no answer, he glance at Claw when she whimper at him

“I got a bandage in my gear, Master..” a tear fell from her eyes, her hands shaking to offer him a bandage, as much Soap wanted to console her warp his arm around her and whisper ‘it gonna be okay’ , but worried that Shadows would catch up to them any time

“Save it for later Bonnie..we gotta move now” he grunts as he stands up with Claw's assistance she holding his uninjured arm, as they limp their way to somewhere safe her nose smells so much blood two dead bodies lay in front of them

Claw accidentally trips and falls on the ground along with Soap, her wet ears slumping on her head

“ugh..you okay Lass?” grunted Soap

“m sorry!..Im sorry...” she whimpered sniffing, her wet shoes making a squelching sound tried to endure her pain

“Soap, This is Ghost how copy?” ask Ghost that finally answer his comms

“Johnny?” he assisted Claw in getting into her feet, Claw exhaled deeply when she heard Ghost's voice

“Johnny how copy?”

“Solid” answer Soap limping his way to the car in front of him

“Thought we lost you, Claw?” ask Ghost hopping for his little hybrid answer

“H-here..hiks” answer Claw still sniffing, wiping her face with her arms

“you injured?”

“M-master Soap got shot in the shoulder..” she inspect Soap injury

“What about you Claw?”

“...Im good” both Soap and Ghost know that it was a lie, but they don't have much time to get her to spit out the truth

As they sneak around from Shadows and Graves, they can also hear the Shadow's conversation and Graves's order to get information from civilian

“where are you Master?, are you hurt?” whisper Claw as she passes many of civilian dead body, clenching her into a fist

“Good, There’s a cruch. Im heading to it, let’s RV there”

.

When they found an empty house, Claw quickly bandaged Soap's shoulder she’ll get the bullet out of Soap's shoulder when they get into the safest place right now they were being hunted

“forgive me...” whisper Claw to Soap, her ears slumped against her head

“what for Bonnie?” Soap huffed

“..I couldn’t protect you, even Master Ale..is..captured...I should’ve done more”

“hey...Im still alive yeah? And I dont doubt Alejandro still fighting right now”

“still...” Claw leaned into his neck nuzzling and comforting herself with his scent, a sweaty , rainy, and bloody scent but still...she found it comforting unconsciously she licked his neck, Soap tried not to flinch at her intimate gesture his heart beating fast biting his lips Soap raised his arm to embrace her in his chest but he halt his arms when Claw growled

“I promise...I will protect you..” Claw growled, clenching her fist becoming territorial, her round pupils became slit

Soap gulped down his spit as he stared up at her for some reason something awakened inside him when he saw her anger for the first time, and so did Ghost the first time he heard Claw growl it was a pity that he couldn't see her

.

“You sure about this?”

“What?”

“Hunting 141?”

“What chicken out already?”

“Hell no!, this is 141 we’re talking especially that skull mask guy”

“take ‘em out, before they take you out, and don't forget to catch the kitty Boss wants her alive, sedate her immediately she’s sneaky and slippery as fuck”

“Well cats hate water no?, she must be hiding inside the houses”  then  they split up one went into the alleyway and one into the house, unknown to them they became prey to the cat hybrid her eyes glowed in the dark She snatched a knife from her pocket without hesitation ambushed the Shadow, and dug her knife into his neck before he could react

“Forgive me....but it is for my Dear Master..” she whispers into his ear, putting the body gently to the floor she stares at his dead eyes emotionless

“the house clear master...” she talk to the comms

“Good, done ‘ere as well, theres a problem though”

“What is it?”

“gotta find somethin’ to clear the path to the church ,those fuckers hoarding it”

“...I’ll clear it”

“You sure Lass?”

“Dont make a ruckus Claw, they after you”

“Im sure..” without a moment of hesitation Claw rushed into the place where three Shadows guarding it, gripping her knife tightly in both of her hands she threw it at two shadows, one remaining Shadow couldn't even react because Cla rushed into his back and swiftly snapped his head

“Stemin’ Jesus...” Soap softly curses at Claw action

“Enjoying the show Johnny?”quip Ghost

“Very much LT” Claw took her knife out from the body, and she cleaned it with the rain slowly watching the water wipe out the blood then flicked it putting the knife back on her vest and taking a gun from the Shadows

“All clear” confirm Claw as she give Soap a gun

“Nice..Lets go before LT got tantrum” Soap smirk at her and ruffles her hair

“I heard you there Johnny” snide Ghost at the comms

.

They arrived at the church and met Ghost there, He climbed out the church gate while both Soap and Claw shooting at Shadows, as much as Ghost wanted to wipe all out the Shadows they had to flee and find a safe house

Ghost alerted them that he found a pickup for them to escape, Claw closely followed behind Soap shooting as many Shadows as she can

“C’mon Bonnie!” command Soap ripping the door open then Claw steps into the vehicle first crammed by Soap and Ghost who threw himself to the driver's seat

“Get back!” yell Soap while he slamming Claws face into his chest, he shot at one Shadow who sneak beside the vehicle

“Omphff!” Claw muffled on Soap vest

“Thanks” nod Ghost in graditude

“Drive I’ll cover us” Soap lets go of Claw from his chest as she shakes her head wiping her face off, then hanging on the dashboard when Ghost slams the pickup through a vendor

Taglist : @lilpothoscuttings @unicorngirly1 @kaoyamamegami