#almost NEVER left the castle. they almost never left the bedroom!!

[mildmayfoxe]

i finished that monsterfucker book btw. i was so disappointed because 600 pages for what. for a pathetic ruler and a human being who was written as if wearing crop tops and saying "rad" was a personality? granted the human was from 80s america so that has more to do with the author's limited scope of what people in the 80s were like i'm sure but even given that nothing fucking HAPPENed !

[humanpurposes]

You Want This, You Need This

The only daughter of Rhaneyra Targaryen is firmly devoted to her mother's cause, and yet she finds her way through the passages of the Holdfast, to the bedchamber of a Prince she should hate // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x nameless female character (daughter of Rhaenyra)

Warnings: 18+, smut, enemies with benefits, hate sex, degrading, angst, Targcest (uncle and niece)

Words: 3.7k

A/n: Me making a poll then doing whatever I want 🫶

There’s no use in waiting for sleep to come to her, she’s too restless for sleep.

Her bedroom is full of alcoves and adjacent chambers, good for hiding and keeping the room cool during the summers. In one of the alcoves is a mural. If she presses a particular space on the wall with much force, she can push it to reveal an entrance into the hidden passageways of Maegor’s Holdfast. 

Light is lost beyond the threshold. A gentle but piercing breeze washes over her, through the thin and billowing fabric of her night shift. There’s always this lingering excitement when she opens the doorway. She equates it to the thrill of flying, cutting through the wind on dragonback. Only she’s not in the sky, she’s staring into darkness, daring herself to take a single step.

As children she and her brothers had found many of these hidden doors throughout the castle, the perfect sort of places to hide in when they were in trouble, the perfect place to eavesdrop and move through the keep undetected. When their mother found out she had discouraged them from venturing too far, lest they end up like the piles of bones left by rats and other rodents that had never found their way out. 

The paths within the walls are treacherous, but she knows some of the routes by heart. She knows how to head down to the kitchens, she even knows a way which leads past the dungeons, to a chamber which houses the skull of Blaerion, the Black Dread, out to a beach along the shore of the bay, out of reach by any other means.

There is one particular room she has in mind tonight.

She treads carefully, tracing her fingertips against the wall so that she does not lose her way. When she comes to a series of steps she takes even more caution. She counts twenty steps, then turns another corner and keeps walking until the stone underneath her fingers turns to wood. It is a door, one which appears as part of a panelled wall on the other side. She pushes it open, hoping he has left the latch undone, and he has.

The room’s warmth is a welcome sensation. She makes as little noise as possible as she enters and closes the door behind her. 

He’s sitting by the fire, turned away from where she stands, head lowered slightly and his silver hair spilling down the back of his chair. She almost always finds him like this, practising one of his self righteous rituals. He reads until the hearth and the candles have burned out because it enforces his own belief that he is a more dedicated son than Aegon, more intelligent and more worthy than the Velaryons– than her and her ilk. 

His shoulders stiffen as the soles of her slippers tap delicately against the floor, moving towards his bed. She imagines him frowning, or perhaps smiling to himself as he closes the book in his lap.

She perches at the edge of the mattress, pushing her shoes off and letting them fall to the floor. “That was quite the display in the training yard this morning,” she says in a clear voice.

Everything he does is agonisingly slow. He grips the arms of his chair as he rises, slots the book back onto a shelf, and finally turns to face her. He is dressed in a simple black shirt and the breeches he usually sleeps in. His hair is half tied, his leather patch secured around his head, over the space where his left eye should be, sliced out by her own brother’s hand.

The low light of the hearth casts shadows in the sharp edges of his face, the lines around his mouth, the curve of his lips, proud but restrained. His remaining eye is trained on her, glaring at her like a hunter approaches prey.

“You were there to watch your brother, I thought,” he says in that softly threatening voice of his. He comes close enough to loom over her, though just far enough that their legs do not touch. “Or did you find your eye wandering?”

Jace’s first mistake had been to go down to the yard early. Aemond was always there in the mornings after flying Vhagar, to train with Ser Criston Cole until noon. His next mistake had been to succumb to Aemond’s goading. Their uncle is never one to use violence at first, not like Aegon who would brawl with a gull if he thought it offensive enough. Aemond likes to use his words to tease and probe, to lure an opponent to action, and Jace almost always falls for it. The moment her brother had challenged Aemond to a sparring match she knew what the outcome would be. Jace was a promising fighter, but he simply could not match Aemond’s height, strength, speed or skill.

Her heart sank for her brother, but it couldn’t force her attention away from Aemond. He moved like a dancer, all fluidity and control, like he already had the entire performance planned out in his head. He toyed with Jace, kept his defence up, only to knock his sword from his hands and place his own blade at his throat in a sudden flash of silver and steel.

She’d had to bite the inside of her lip to stop herself from smirking.

“You humiliated him, before spectators,” she says.

Aemond frowns in mock sympathy, taking her chin between his finger and his thumb to tilt her gaze up. “I would do it a hundred times over, for my own pleasure if not for anything else.”

She tilts her head. “And what of my pleasure?”

He hums cryptically. The corners of his mouth flicker upwards. “Your pleasure is only my concern within the confines of this room.”

He’s looking at her like that again, like he wants to devour her.

He traces his fingers down her throat, her collar, the neckline of her shift. His touch is sparse but familiar, exploring the curves of her body through the fabric, patterns she’s felt before, spaces he already knows and seems to have mapped in his head.

He leans in closer, his other hand pressing into the bed, invading her space, infiltrating her senses with the scent of smoke and lavender. She could drown in it, the scent of him.

She shudders as he runs his nose over her neck, following the heat of his breath with a lingering kiss against the sensitive spot of her skin. “What is it you want from me tonight?” 

She has an idea in her mind, one she’s been toying with since she had seen the look of pride in his face in the yard.

“Lie down, on your back.”

He stands straight. Eye still fixed on her, he does as she says, making himself comfortable against the pillows. 

She draws out every movement, just as he likes to do to her. She straddles him, settling her hips against the growing hardness in his breeches. She rests her hands against his chest, runs her fingers over his skin and the patch of silver hair revealed when she pulls on his shirt.

His hands are on her immediately, running up her thighs, gripping at her waist, bringing up the hem of her shift and tutting as though it has caused him some personal insult in hiding her body from him. He pulls it over her head and surges up to kiss her, capturing her lips with the desperation of a man starved. His kisses are always like this, slow and consuming, pulling her in closer and closer like he expects her to try to escape, like the only air he wants exists in her lungs.

It’s fast and overwhelming, and at first she’s content to just let it happen, to let herself be carried away in the currents of his wants and not her own, but once she’s a little more settled, she pushes him back against the bed.

He stares up at her, blood rushing to his cheeks, lips parted and panting. For all the times she’s seen his stoic exterior at court, she thinks he looks best like this.

“I thought you were concerning yourself with my pleasure?” she says, not bothering to contain her smile.

“I thought you liked it when I take what I want,” he retorts.

“I want you to do as you’re told.”

He huffs a laugh, but his gaze softens and his tongue wets his lips, his eye roaming appreciatively over her bare body, until he stops at her small clothes. All it takes is a few gentle rocks of her hips before his jaw tightens and his fingers dig deeper into the flesh of her waist. She swears she feels his hips twitch beneath her, but he makes no move to take what he wants.

She leans back on her haunches as she drags his breeches below his hips. By the sight of him, hard and reddened at the tip, she knows he at least finds something about this arrangement appealing. 

She discards the rest of their clothing, his shirt, her small clothes, the leather eyepatch on his head. She pauses when she reaches for it, waiting for him to protest, but he doesn’t. He gives her a small nod and she slides it up to reveal the true extent of his scar, the twisted red flesh around the sapphire wedged in his socket.

She has seen it countless times before. She needs the reminder of who he is, how much he must hate her.

Now that they are both bare she resumes her position, pleasure like a flame licking up her spine as she traces circles over her centre. Aemond grinds himself against her, breathing with a strain in the back of his throat. The sound only makes the wanting feeling in her gut tighten. She can feel herself clenching over nothing, her body begging for more friction and the release it promises.

She feels she is wet enough to take him now, and her stomach drops in anticipation.

When he whispers her name, she knows she has him exactly where she wants him.

She closes her hand around his cock, giving it a few half-hearted strokes and lining it up to her entrance, only to hesitate. “I hear your mother is intending to invite Borros Baratheon to court,” she says.

Aemond catches his lip between his teeth, staring at the space where their bodies almost meet if she would only lower her hips.

“Might he bring one of his comely daughters? He has four, doesn’t he?”

Aemond huffs and meets her eye. His hands are still on her waist, his thumbs tracing circles over her belly. “Where did you hear this?”

She tries to pretend such a simple touch from him does not excite her or tempt her to relent. 

Daemon has spies in the Queen’s household, not that she knows the specifics. Her mother had discussed the matter with her, expressing concern for the Hightowers’ intentions. It has been decades since a Lord of Storm’s End has stepped foot in the Red Keep, and Daemon believes their rivals are trying to close ranks, amass allies outside of the capital. Perhaps such a deal may be sealed with a marriage pact.

“What,” she breathes, trying to smile, “that his daughters are comely? I can only assume, for I’ve never met them you see–”

In the blink of an eye she’s beneath him.

Aemond brings a single finger to her lips. “I thought we had agreed not to discuss political matters in private,” he says.

“I did not realise the matter was political–”

He cuts her off when he snakes his hand down her body and pushes his thumb against her pearl. She hisses, her hips bucking to meet his touch.

“Are you trying to bait me, niece? Hmm? Is that what you came here for?”

She shakes her head as he circles over her. For such minimal effort on his part, it sparks something frustratingly bright in her, back arching, warmth settling between her legs and beneath her skin.

“Is that really what you want me to be thinking about? Wondering which one of the Baratheon girls is the prettiest?”

His fingertips tease over her entrance, but he doesn’t push them inside, instead they’re replaced by the head of his cock. She presses her lips together, determined not to make any kind of noise he could take for weakness, for wanting, but she feels it all the same.

“Presently, I’m only thinking about what I can see, and what I see is a spoiled little Princess, laid out beneath me. Poor thing, she’s trying to look smug, but I’m not sure I’m convinced, not when I’m about to fuck her tight, little cunt.” 

Her pleading is mindless, falling from her lips as effortlessly as her breath. “Please… please… please…”

She wonders if it is her want or his own he eventually succumbs to. He pushes in slowly, delighted at the slight moan he elicits from her, sharing her air as she gasps at the pleasurable ache of being stretched out around him.

“I’ve heard rumours too, that Rhaenyra has been sending ravens to Highgarden,” he says as he starts to snap his hips against hers. “What business would your mother have with the Tyrells, I wonder?”

Rhaenyra has her own plans for a marriage pact, plans she’s known about for months. “What indeed?” she says, trying to smile as he ruts into her.

Aemond almost growls, burying his face into her neck. As his voice is harsher so are his thrusts. “My sister will sell you to a sickly little boy, is that it? Why would Rhaenyra want an alliance with the Reach?”

Because the King is little more than a breathing corpse and who knows how much life he has left in him. Because eventually, he will die, and they both know what will come next.

She’s always known her part in this, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Her brothers may well fight in battles to defend their mother’s claim, but wars cannot be won without the necessary support. The Reach, The Riverlands, The Vale, The North, they must all be secured one way or another.

With his face hidden from hers she allows herself to admire the way his muscles move and flex under the smooth, pale skin of his arm. Since leaving childhood behind, he seems to have this idea of efficiency, with no tolerance for excess. His arms are slight, but defined where he trains with his sword each day, where he hauls himself onto Vhagar’s saddle and steers her around Blackwater Bay.

“It’s always been expected of me,” she says, tracing her hand over his skin, almost perfect, save for a few marks: a burn after an unfortunate encounter with Vermax when he was just a hatchling, a scar above his elbow where he fell from an apple tree, and crescent shaped indents from their last tryst. “I will do my duty.”

“Duty?” He stops, grabbing her by the neck so her breath hitches in her throat. He leans into her, pressing his forehead against hers, caging her between his body and the bed. She sees nothing but a single eye and a sapphire, nothing but contempt. “You’re the antithesis of it, crawling to your uncle’s bedchamber every night, begging to be fucked.”

Anger flares in her blood. She clamps her hand around his wrist and digs her nails into his skin, hoping it will mark him. “I have never begged for you,” she spits, teeth bared, lips grazing over his, “and I never shall…”

Her words fade on her tongue when he resumes a punishing pace, urging her closer to oblivion with every thrust.

“Oh there you go,” he coos, “that feels good, doesn’t it?” He’s on his knees now, one hand still on her throat, the other on her thigh, forcing her legs further apart, fingertips pressing painfully into her flesh.

She tries to pull away from his grip, pushing herself further into the bed amongst the pillows, but Aemond has always been stubborn and does not relent. She has nowhere to go, no other option but to take it.

“You’ll be sent off to some castle in a miserable corner of the world, live the dull life of a Lady. Your Lord husband will trade swords and shields for you like a brood mare and fuck his children into your belly each night.”

She feels her peak building within her, the weightlessness rising and rising, she can hardly take much more. “Do you believe I will think of you?” she says with a grin, “as he touches me, as he spills inside me…”

Aemond grunts, folding his chest over hers, brushing his lips over her cheek as he hisses, “wanton little whore. I am the one you seek out, and as long as you do, you are mine.”

It tears through her quickly, a spark that turns to flame, a piece of kindling caught alight, pleasure that reduces her simply to feeling, warmth and the absence of his weight on her body. She claws her nails into nothing, empty space where she expects to find his skin.

Aemond has pulled away from her, groaning as he comes, spilling over her stomach and thighs. She watches him, jaw slack, brows angled like he’s in agony. 

She basks in the numbness her peak leaves behind as he drags his shirt over her skin to clean the mess he’s made with a touch that is soft and slow. His eye trails along her body to her face. She sees nothing in him, not amusement or satisfaction, not hatred or remorse, and yet he comes to lay beside her, turning her onto her side, settling against her back and putting his arms around her.

She allows it, too used to the feeling of lying in his bed, too used to the scent of sweat and smoke and lavender. 

Aemond’s chambers are ruled by order, every book has its place on a shelf, he does not leave papers, clothes or used cups of wine lying around. The bedchamber lies on the south side of the castle, with a balcony overlooking the bay where two of them used to watch the ships leaving the harbour. She likes the intricate tapestries, scenes of Valryian mythology, and his fondness for the colour blue. Even if she cannot see most of it in the dark of night, the silence and stillness is comforting.

“Lord Corlys’ ship was attacked,” she mutters, placing her hand over his, where his palm against her stomach. “We cannot be sure if he even survived.”

“So I’ve heard,” Aemond says, “I’ve also heard Vaemond Velaryon intends to challenge the succession of Driftmark, should the unthinkable be true.

“And I assume the Queen and the Hand will support him in this endeavour.”

Aemond’s chest stills. “They will hear the petitions and pass their judgement,” he says, quietly but finally.

“Then the decision has already been made.”

Aemond’s breathing is deep, her hair fluttering against her cheek as he exhales. Her mother has a similar way of scolding her without uttering a single word, as if to say the answer should be obvious.

With a scoff she pushes his hand away and drags herself out of the bed. The cold air stings her skin and she makes short work of finding her night shift, discarded on the floor, and dressing herself.

“Lucerys has no claim to Driftmark,” Aemond says from the bed.

“And why is that?” she says shortly, grabbing her shoes from the foot of the bed.

He won’t say it, but the word is there, in the way he teases Jace, the way his family watch her and her brothers and stare at them across the throne room with nothing but disgust. It’s there in his indifference towards her beyond the walls of his bedchamber, avoiding eye contact, muttering under his breath, insults and backhanded compliments. But the last time he said it, it cost him his eye.

She turns to face him, a defiant glare through the darkness now that some of the candles have started to burn out. 

“Coward,” she whispers.

He does claim to disagree.

With her shoes on, she moves towards the hidden door without sparing him another glance.

But she hears a ruffle of fabric, his feet against the floor as he follows her. His hand closes around her arm, hard enough it feels as though it might leave a bruise. He turns her into him, placing her back and his palm against the panelled wall.

“Stay,” he says.

“Surely you would not want to sully yourself, sharing your bed with a bastard.”

“But it’s different with you.”

“How? How is it different?”

He cups her face in his hands, begging her for something but never saying it. He leans in gradually, kissing her firmly. It’s easy to follow his lead, to let him slip his tongue between her lips, let him pull and tug at her delicate flesh, to feel him and lose herself to him. It makes her weightless all over again.

Once it was easy to love Aemond. They found friendship easily as children, even when they bickered and argued, because they could always forgive each other.

Some time ago she realised that love has always been destined to fade away, like summer changing into autumn, winter snows melting away with the spring. There is no place for it amongst the animosity between their families, causes they were born to, that neither of them will ever forsake.

Aemond pulls away but stays close to her, a hand on her waist, the other on her cheek. “I want you to stay.”

“And what then? What do you think could ever become of us?” The one-eyed Prince and the bastard Princess.

Suddenly she hates the stillness of this room, the weight of his silence in her chest. 

Aemond’s hand slips from her cheek, his expression falling from pleading to indifference. 

She leaves him standing there, bare chested and breathless, with no light to catch in the cut edges of his sapphire. She fades back into the shadows of the passageway, amongst the cold and the dark and the bones.

The rot has set in. The King will die, and both the Blacks and the Greens will seek to claim his throne. The empty space between her and Aemond can only ever grow.

Tags (comment to be added)

General taglist: @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

[kalinysu]

imagine wife demon x muzan but she feels insecure and easily replaceable (maybe bc another demon kept "bullying" her) how would muzan react

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐄? — Muzan x F!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Cursing, Violent behavior.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Cute idea, love this ❤️

Lately, you had been avoiding leaving Muzan’s room in the infinity castle. He didn’t want to question why, but he couldn’t help but wonder. We’re you just being clingy, was something wrong? He didn’t think you’d be hiding or avoiding someone since you were the demon closest to him, and he prioritized you the most. He didn’t think anyone would dare mess with his wife. Every demon was well aware of your status.

“Alright, I’ll see you later darling.” Muzan said, leaning over and placing a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll hopefully be back by tonight.” He said, gently stroking your head before exiting the room. Today you were hoping that demon wouldn’t mess with you again when you went around the infinity castle. When you left, the second you were far enough away from Muzan’s room, you heard a familiar giggle. “Does Master Muzan seriously let you go around looking like that? Honestly, how could someone like you ever end up with someone like him? He must be toying with you.” The female demon said with a snicker. “He.. He’s not toying with me, stop speaking of him in such a manner.” You snapped back. The two of you went back and forth, the female demon practically following you around. You needed to leave the room for a moment, to take a small walk without anyone bothering you, but this woman obviously didn’t want you to.

“You know, the second he deem useless to him, your gone, right? You don’t matter to him. He only makes you feel special because you’ve had connections with that stupid flower and he wants you to get it.” She said, yawning a bit in a sassy way. “Once he knows you can’t do that—“ She giggled and slid her finger across her throat as her way of saying your dead. “Muzan would never do that to me.” You said, now making your way back to his room. “Believe whatever you want, your not even an upper moon. Right now, I bet he’s entertaining other women.” She said, finally leaving you alone when you went into Muzan’s bedroom.

That night, when Muzan returned, you couldn’t help but burst into tears when he asked what was wrong.

Muzan was shocked. He had never seen you crying before. He was lucky he had practice with his fake wives in the past, otherwise he wouldn’t know what to do with you. He sat down on the bed with you and cuddled you until you were calm enough to speak. “T-that—that woman i told you about before..” You stuttered, sniffling and whimpering. “Yes.. What about her dear?” Muzan said, with as soft of a tone possible. You sobbed, explaining everything to him. “I-I just don’t want you to replace me—I-I really am insecure..” You said. “Insecure? Darling, you’ve got nothing to be insecure about. Your the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen in all my years of living. You don’t know the lengths I would go to keep you safe. Forget about that flower, even if you cannot bring it to me, i’ll still love you. No matter what.” He said, wiping away your tears and practically showering you with kisses.

Though you could feel his occasional tremble, he was shaking. You knew his was pissed off and was trying to cover it. “M-muzan… Please.. Don’t do anything harsh..” You said, looking up at him. He looked down at you and smiled, pulling you closer to his chest. “I won’t, dear.” he said. Holding you close and gently rubbing your back until you fell asleep. He kissed your forehead before leaving the room.

He was livid.

“Why is it you think your so privileged, you can go saying such bullshit to my wife when i’m not around?!” Muzan yelled, almost shaking the whole infinity castle when he slammed his hands down on his desk, his head down as he shook with pure anger. “M-master Muzan!! I never said any of that—i promis—“ Before the woman could say another word, she was cut off by his yelling. “Don’t fucking try to lie straight to my god damn face. Do you take me for a fool?!” Muzan yelled even louder, his patience fading quickly.

“Muzan..?” You whispered softly, looking up at his dark figure moving towards the bed. Your vision was blurry, but you knew it was him. He got into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Shh, go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He said softly, smiling when you shifted to face him, wrapping your arms around him. “It’s.. okay..” You said in a sleepy tone, before drifting off in his arms. You couldn’t help but wonder.

Why was he covered in blood the first time he entered the bedroom and went to go shower?

[witchywcmans]

TOO SWEET. | LAIOS TOUDEN

synopsis ━━ after accepting his new title, your moments alone with laios start to become a rarity. it was hard for him to find time, making him long for the days in the dungeon with you. and now, the kisses between you two were quick and desperate, until one night...when a very tired laios just can't seem to ignore you. (laios x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ cunnilingus + fingering, praise, size kink, reader on top, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating, yearning + sexual tension, laios and reader haven't boinked in a bit, monster facts as dirty talk ofc, confession, mentions of dubious consent in 5th paragraph (from when the winged lion switched into laios's body). nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 5.4k

song inspiration ━━ howl, florence + the machine / oil & water, pvris / love story, taylor swift

author's note ━━ THIS ONE-SHOT CONTAINS MANGA SPOILERS FOR THE ENDING OF DUNGEON MESHI! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! okay, part 3 (and final part) of my laios series is here! like the other parts, this could be read as a standalone, if you want. my plan for part 3 was to make it vague in case ppl who haven’t read the manga want to read it, but that kinda went out the window. I highly encourage everyone to read the manga if you want more of the story, it gets so interesting! I'm a SUCKER for a knight x ruler ship, so that's what you're getting in this!! I've enjoyed writing this little connected series so much and it really pushed me to start writing reader one-shots! if it hadn't been for all the ppl in the dungeon meshi fandom who read my work, I probably wouldn't have started this. this anime + manga has become one of my absolute favorites!! I hope you guys enjoy this! ps: don't worry, I will be writing more laios in the future 😉

🪽 part i: PLEASE, EAT. / part ii: FORBIDDEN FRUIT. / part iii: TOO SWEET.

After what felt like years, all was right in the world when the Island’s dungeon was destroyed and the Golden Kingdom finally rose from the sea. You had gotten to know Laios – in more ways than one – throughout your journey inside the dungeon, which had left you terrified at some points, especially when you almost lost him. But it hadn’t surprised you when the people had declared him King of a land that was thought to have been perished 1000 years ago. With everything he sacrificed, Laios – the devour of monsters, the destroyer of demons – was the only right person to rule.

With the help of Marcille, Senshi, Chilchuck, and even more friends met along the way, Laios was advised thoroughly as he undertook the stresses of establishing the Golden Kingdom once again. He had to deal with villager problems, instituting the economy, and keeping an eye on the monsters that took residence in surrounding lands. He watched them from his bedroom window on the farthest tower of the castle, admiring the beasts that warded off any threats to the kingdom. But his passion had become the production and preservation of food throughout his land, specifically in regards to magic and monsters. He made sure not one person in the Golden Kingdom went hungry, even if it killed him someday.

Most days were spent researching with his advisors or sitting in the throne room, listening to villagers' pleas for more building materials, better water, or whatever else they came up with that day. Laios made sure to listen to every ask, but he had to admit – just talking to people was exhausting. He never regretted his decision to become King, but sometimes … he longed for the days in the dungeons, tearing into whatever monster they cooked up that night, fighting alongside you, holding your hand or kissing you … tasting you.

Like your former party members, you had taken up residence in the castle as Laios’s chief knight and sworn protector. It made sense, given the fact that you had saved him with your crossbow on several occasions in the dungeon. You frequented by his side, except when he was in his own chambers. You led him to meetings, walked with him through the streets of the kingdom, protected him if any threats arose. Ever since you took up this mantle, your moments alone together had become rare. There had been one night: after Laios was safe and sound in the walls of the castle … that you shared his bed with him, tears streaming down your face because you had been so worried for him, but it didn’t matter anymore now that he was safe, and healing, and pounding into you so hard that it left you both gasping for air. Besides that, the only encounters you had alone were fleeting, consisting of swift, passionate kisses and rough squeezes in dark corners. You two hadn’t been intimate in any sense of the word since … well, since the Winged Lion was defeated. 

Just the memory of the demon made you shiver. You remembered when the Wing Lion had switched into Laios’s body and granted his true desire to become a monster. Before trying to escape the dungeon, he had tried fooling all the party members that he really was Laios and he almost fooled you. You recalled the way he had tried to kiss you – probably devouring your own desires right from your mouth – and how his hands so eagerly tried to slip underneath your skirt, finding you already aching and ready for your lover, just needing to be touched after being so distraught over Laios’s wellbeing. But you recognized the foreign contact from a mile away, and you had pushed him back, screaming at the Winged Lion to bring back your Laios.

You shook yourself out of the memory as you walked Laios back to his bed chambers that night. His stomach was full from dinner, but he was also worn out from a long day of meeting with his advisors. Marcille had really chewed into him about something today, but you weren’t sure of the reason. Holding open the door to his room for him, you caught his tired, lingering gaze before he disappeared inside. You swallowed hard, stationing yourself outside his door, your fingers on the handle of your sword. Nights like these were hard. They were lonely. It was just you out here, manning the King’s chambers, with nothing but the memory of his mouth between your legs or his groans echoing in your ears. 

His half-lidded eyes tonight had you reeling, squeezing your thighs together as you tried to forget about how much you wanted him. It had been almost two weeks since he last kissed you. And that kiss had been quick, desperate, two people colliding in the small, unlit closet used by the maids.

Your hand enclosed around the hilt of your sword, and you nodded at two other guards walking past. If you kept losing yourself to daydreams like this, there was no way you’d be focused enough to protect Laios from an immediate threat. That’s what mattered after all: the King’s protection … the King’s protection … the King. Surely, it wasn’t wise to be so entranced with the new King of the Golden Kingdom as his sworn sword. And again, you understood why you were picked. But it was nights like this where you really wished you had just been … his lover. Hell, you’d even survive with just being a lady of the court if it meant no more secret meetings in closets.

You could’ve dwelled on this predicament for hours, if the door to the Laios’s chambers wasn’t opening.

You turned immediately, your hand on the hilt of your sword going tight. But it was just Laios, leaning against the open door and rubbing at his tired eyes. He had shed his fancy clothes for a nightshirt and loose-fitting drawers. His hair had grown a bit longer, and he refused to cut it out of spite. The way it was sticking out right now, pushed back slightly by his hand … you swore you could feel your knees buckling.

“Your Grace?” You greeted, remaining professional, until you saw that look in his eyes again. That tired, lingering gaze. Full of want, and care, and desperation for another body against his.

His eyes crinkled, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at your call. “Please, do not feel the need to call me that at this hour.” He then held out his hand, beckoning you closer.

Swallowing hard, your eyes flicker down the barren hallway before taking his hand, letting him lead you inside his bed chambers. This was the moment you’d been waiting for so long. His movements were calculated, deliberate, as he slowly shut the large door. You unhooked your belt and scabbard, setting them by the door. As you turned to him, he was already in front of you, helping you take off your armor. His fingers were slow, not in a hurry, as he fiddled with the metal fasteners. He struggled with some clasps, muttering under his breath, and you laughed softly. Each piece was set delicately on the ground, and then he was lifting off your chainmail as if it weighed nothing. You sometimes wondered how you were able to walk around with such heavy material every day since taking up this mantle.

Finally, you were left in nothing but your clothes beneath the armor: a loose red tunic and suede trousers. The relaxed nature in his eyes vanished, replaced by an intense hunger, mirroring the stance of a wolf. Laios was rushing towards you, pushing you against the wall, and pressing his mouth onto yours. You matched his desire tenfold, winding your hands into his hair as you kissed each other with desperation. His fingers fisted into the sides of your shirt, pulling you against him, while his tongue prodded into your mouth. He groaned immediately. All this time without tasting just a bit of you had him weak in the knees. He’d never go this long without kissing you ever again.

“It’s been weeks,” he muttered between kisses. Gone was the monster-obsessed adventurer who saved you from turning into a sea serpent. He’d been replaced by a King who yearned for your touch the second he saw you every morning.

“Since we last kissed,” you corrected as he pressed your back even further into the cold, stone wall. His lips broke away from yours, leaving a trail of spit connecting you two. You exhaled, “It’s been months since we were alone for longer than two minutes.”

“I know,” he sighed, now nuzzling his cheek against yours, “and I’m sorry. All I want to do is go back to the dungeon … with you. It’s just … there’s no time, and I’m so tired.” His mouth then dragged to the shell of your ear, and you shivered when his hot breath ghosted over the side of your face. “But the way you looked tonight at dinner … I don’t know … it was the way the wine made your face red … no matter how tired I was, I had to have you tonight. I missed you so much.”

You were sure that your cheeks had to be as flushed now as they were at dinner. Just his kiss alone had you wet, already wrapped around his finger. “I missed you too, Laios.”

He hardly gave you a second to continue before he was kneeling in front of you. He couldn’t wait; there was this fierce longing in his eyes that only you could cure. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your trousers as he muttered, “I need to taste you.”

Despite his desperation, he did take a moment to admire how soaked your underwear was, how he had always been the one to cause this. You looked down at him and he looked up at you. With long, expert fingers, Laios tugged your underwear down along with your trousers. Your pussy was absolutely dripping, like a goddamn faucet. A whine escaped his lips, hungry for a taste, and he spread your folds just slightly to see the wetness gather. There were just about a thousand monster dishes he enjoyed, but nothing – absolutely nothing – compared to how delicious you were.

Laios didn’t even give you time to step out of your pants and underwear. He was grasping your hips and burying his face between your legs, pushing you right back against the wall. You choked on a moan, even though you both knew you had to be quiet, but you just couldn’t help yourself. He placed one of your legs on his shoulder to give him better access, and when he finally got the first few drops of you on his tongue, he damn near started crying.

You were exquisite. You were too sweet. Sweet like Dryad fruit.

Grinding your hips against his tongue, you whined out his name and realized how badly you had needed him in this way for weeks. Your hands found purchase in his hair, tugging his face deeper into your pussy. He lapped at you, absolutely ravenous, groaning when more slick entered his mouth. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked harshly. His fingers dug into your hip, surely bruising you, while his other hand wrapped around your leg and pushed them even further apart. 

“Missed the way you tasted,” he muttered before flicking your clit with his tongue. “I could do this for hours.”

You let out a shuddering breath, already hazy from his touch. “Why don’t you then?”

“I want to,” he chuckled, all awkward and blushing. Just the sight of him looking up at you with those pretty eyes while licking a stripe up your pussy had you gasping. “Tomorrow. I promise. I just need to be inside you tonight.”

His promise for tomorrow had your heart fluttering. You both were going to make time again, but he also had more plans for you tonight. This wasn’t going to be just two minutes in a closet. Thinking of him stretching your walls with his girth, pushing into you after all these weeks of yearning for him, of touching yourself whenever you could because you just missed him so much … it all made you start to buck your hips against his tongue again. You knew how much he loved that. You physically felt him smile against you, sucking on your clit once again as he prodded one finger inside your tight warmth.

Your eyes rolled back once he found your g-spot, curling his finger and beginning to pump in and out. “Fuck, Laios, I –”

“Needed this so badly,” he confessed, swirling his tongue around your increasingly swollen clit. His cock was straining against his drawers, precum seeping through the thin fabric, but he wanted you to cum on his tongue first. It’s all he’d been dreaming about. “Needed you.”

“I needed you too,” you whispered, and then felt him add a second finger inside of you. You bit the side of your hand, muffling your moan. “So good – fuck. Doing so good, Laios –”

Your body was starting to shake, your walls clenching around his fingers. Laios was relishing in your taste, teasing your clit in the most delicious way. You were so, so close and he needed this so much and so did you and before you knew it, you were crying out into your hand again. Your pussy went tight as his fingers curled into your g-spot and you came all over his waiting tongue. Laios whimpered when he finally tasted your release, pushing his face as much as he could into your pussy, almost suffocating himself. He licked at you, making sure he got every last drop, and when your hips finally stilled, he pulled his fingers out of you with a wet pop and lapped at the excess.

Sweat ran down your brow as you settled against the wall, trying to calm your breathing. When you opened your eyes, Laios was getting to his feet and towering over you. His hand clasped around your jaw and gave you another bruising kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. It was like he was trying to devour you, to mold both of you into one so you could be together forever.

Carrying you over to the bed, he set you down on top of the blankets and finally tugged your pants and underwear from your ankles. You laughed together when he realized that he had gotten so excited he forgot to rid you of these. "Sorry," he said, setting them down in a pile.

You couldn't help but smile when you noticed the blush on his cheeks. "Missed me that much, huh?"

His face went even more pink. "Stop embarrassing me when I'm trying to seduce you."

He pulled his nightshirt over his head, and before his fingers could grasp the hem of your tunic, you were pinning him with the brute strength he forgot you acquired in the dungeon. "You don't have to do much to seduce me, Laios," you whispered in his ear, making him shudder.

Now underneath you, you straddled Laios's lap, feeling how hard he was in his drawers. He looked up at you in shock, like you were an offering from the Gods, as you lifted your tunic off and dropped it to the floor. His breathing stilled, watching the way your breasts heaved, and his cock was practically begging for release. 

You leaned down, pressing your mouth to his throat, placing sloppy kisses on areas that made his breath hitch. This was the new King of the Golden Kingdom under you, trembling from just your lips on his skin. He was wrapped around your finger just as much as you were wrapped around his. Dragging your lips down, you kissed his chest before finally swirling your tongue around one of his nipples. Laios muttered expletives under his breath as you wrapped your lips around his nipple, pinching his other one. His whole body was becoming tense underneath you, his straining erection poking against your backside, but you kept teasing him.

At the end of the day, you were always there for your King.

Once both his nipples were taut and wet from your expert tongue, you leaned back up to his face and kissed the corner of his mouth. He watched you with half-lidded eyes, cupping your face so tenderly. “Laios, I just want to be extra sure. Do you want to …?” Your question hung heavy between you two, but recognition flashed in Laios’s eyes. You nuzzled the side of his face and added, “I know you’re tired. I don’t want to keep you up if you’re that exhausted.”

“I’ve been thinking about this – about you – for weeks,” he said, his eyes filled with need. “I want this. I want you.”

You stared at him, absolutely melting at the sight of that dopey grin on his face once again, the one you loved so, so much. Now you were blushing, unable to not giggle when you saw that grin. You traced the curve of his mouth with your finger, and he bit down on the top of it unexpectedly, making you both laugh. This is why you loved Laios: everything was so easy with him.

Wait, love. Is that was this was? The burning feeling in your chest whenever he was near. The way you couldn’t help but smile whenever he did, or how you always laughed along with him. The natural disposition to protect him, whether it be from demons or people. The way you could so easily melt under his touch, under his kiss. It had always been there, staring you right in the face … love.

Feeling your heart beat rapidly in your chest, you finally moved so he could push down his drawers, and his hard cock sprang free. Precum leaked from the blushing red tip, dripping down his shaft and onto his stomach. You adored how pretty his cock was, how easily he could stretch you out with his girth. He liked the way you looked at it now, how you praised him. It took a couple of times, but he eventually stopped being embarrassed about his size around you. He still liked to give you monster facts as he fucked you sometimes – as a treat.

Laios’s hands settled on your hips as you lifted yourself, positioning yourself above his cock. You wrapped your hand around his shaft to get the perfect angle, smearing his precum and making him hiss. “Did … did you know,” he said, voice strangled, “the maximum speed of a Red Dragon is approximately – oh, fuck – 60 kilometers per hour?”

“Mhmm …” You hummed, finally lowering yourself with his help, sinking down onto his cock slowly. Once he slipped a few inches inside your warm, wet walls, you both gasped. You placed your free hand on his chest and encouraged, “Tell me more, Laios.”

“Gods …” He breathed out, feeling your body quiver above him. “I … uh – fuck … people have theorized that changelings – shit – use their ability to change living things in order to propagate their species – fuck, almost there –”

You both let out a breath of relief once he was finally seated inside you. Laios sat up, tugging you more against him, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You stayed there for a moment, adjusting to his size once again, clinging to him as he kissed your cheek and murmured how you took him so well. You’d probably never get used to how big he was, but he filled you so nicely, so completely. After making sure you were comfortable, Laios decided to take the reins and began moving you on his cock. You whimpered after the first pass, and he had to grip your hips so tightly just to stop himself from going overboard, wanting to make this last just a little while longer. Each roll of your hips had you mewling as his cock curved inside you, brushing your spongy g-spot. His fingers dug into your skin, rocking you back and forth, grinding your already oversensitive clit against his pelvis. 

Burying your face into his neck, you let him start to bounce you on his cock. He groaned, feeling himself throb inside your tight heat. Everything about you was perfect: from the way you fit him inside of you so nicely to the way you whined against his skin, begging for more. He was thoroughly obsessed with you. It was a miracle that it took him so long to initiate with you after the Golden Kingdom had risen. He found himself thinking about your touch, about your taste, more often than not. And the way you smiled at him, your laughter sounding like wind chimes in a busy street market … he knew how deep his feelings went, farther than he expected. He was the King but you were the one who brought him to his knees every time.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he groaned, biting and sucking on the side of your neck. “You always feel so good … so warm …”

He started thrusting up into you when his arms got a little tired, and you let him simply take control. There was so little control he had in his life now, especially since he was being watched almost all the time, so you’d give him this – you’d give him you. And gods, did it feel good to just melt into him, to not be his sworn sword, just for a little while. Right now, you two were just lovers, desperate to soothe each other’s ache.

The expansive bedroom was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and moans echoing off the ceiling. Your arousal oozed out with each roll of your hips, dripping onto the lavish blankets befit for a King. But neither of you seemed to give a damn as his nails created crescent shapes in your hips, and you squeezed around him so much that he choked on a whimper. With your face nuzzling the crook of his neck, you carded your fingers into his hair, pulling slightly and eliciting another sound from him.

“Did you also know,” he began in a strained tone, “fuck – wargs have no fear of monsters larger than themselves – please, fuck – not even … not even dragons?”

“Are we still doing that?” You snorted, lifting your head from his neck.

He laughed along with you, and now you both were looking into each other’s eyes as he thrust up into you, hitting the best spots. He leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, moaning at the way you squirmed. His tongue moved to lick up the valley between your breasts, almost animalistic, before his mouth was grazing yours and his eyes were burning into you like melted gold. You clung onto him tighter, your chest flush against him, and you knew then that this wasn’t just fucking anymore. Laios was making love to you and you were making love to him and – fuck, he was going to make you cum so hard to make up for the past few weeks.

You were creating an absolute mess on top of him, just a blabbering heap of moans and whines, eyes locked on his as you rode him into oblivion. “I’m gonna cum,” you mewled, unable to keep your voice level. Your fingers tugged on his hair again, and he responded by downright slamming you up and down his thick cock.

“I know. It’s okay. I know.” One of his hands left your hip to reach in between your bodies, where you both were linked, and two fingers began to circle your clit. You hissed, back arching even more into him. Your vow to be quiet long forgotten as he teased your ache. “That’s it … there you go.”

Laios knew his strength, and it was certainly showing it off tonight. He was rocking your hips on his cock – so close to release – while rubbing your clit in tight circles. His sweet nothings in your ear had you crying out his name, and after a few more messy passes, you were cumming around him. You were shaking like fresh mandrake in his arms. Your walls squeezed him so tight that it only took one more thrust up into you before he was emptying himself into you. He came with a lewd groan, his hands falling to his sides and leaving you to bounce yourself on his cock through his release. Eventually, when the wave after wave of pleasure settled between you both, you slumped against him and breathed heavily. And he just held you, burying his face in your neck and licking at the bites he left on your bruised skin.

When you lifted your head to kiss him, he surprised you by rolling you onto your back, his soft cock slipping out and leaving you feeling empty. He kneeled at the end of the bed and spread your legs wide open, letting your combined releases spill out. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, and the anguish in his tone stunned you. “It’s been weeks, and I just … I need you.”

As soon as the word, “Please,” left your lips, he was diving in again, spreading your folds with two fingers. He licked a long stripe through your pussy, gathering your releases on his tongue. He didn’t care that he was tasting his own cum; all he wanted was this – you. He lapped at you, still starving for your taste, and the way he had you cumming again was slow, calculated. Laios edged you, teetering you on the brink of release, before his hunger got the best of him. And when you came again on his tongue, it felt long and relaxing, like a weight had been lifted off you. Warmth seeped from your aching pussy and onto his tongue. He drank his fill, relishing in your sweetness.

Laios rose back on the bed, curling against your side like a tamed dire wolf. His arms slotted against you, pulling your naked front against his once again. His hand lifted to your cheek, pushing strands of hair behind your ear. Your noses brushed against each other, and he finally kissed you, slowly and passionately. There was no desperation left in him. It was replaced by the steady rhythm of his heart next to yours. 

“I love you, Laios,” you blurted in the softest voice you could muster. Once you realized what you said, you didn’t dare open your eyes to see his reaction. You simply felt him, his lips hovering just over yours, and then he hummed.

“I love you too,” he whispered, and your eyes opened to watch him. That dazed grin appeared once again, making your insides twist and your cheeks tinged pink.

Laios practically giggled and pecked your lips just to soothe your nerves. “I’m not sure how to handle you like this,” he joked, finally making you laugh with him. “Usually, you’re the one making me nervous.”

“I just …” You shook your head. “I was afraid you wouldn’t say it back.”

“I thought it was obvious that I’ve been in love with you since we first met,” he said in that straightforward tone of his. His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones and he smiled. “Seems like I’m cooler than I thought.”

You chuckled, hitting his chest and making him fall back onto the bed. You were sitting up slightly, propping your elbow and resting your chin in your hand. Laios was looking up at you like you put the stars in the sky. Both of you knew, instinctively, that a King being intimate with his sworn protector was typically frowned upon. Neither of you truly cared, but the opinions of his people had to matter. He was a new King after all, and every move of his would be scrutinized. Which left him with one option.

Lacing his fingers with yours, he said, “We should get married.”

Your brow furrowed. “That seems a little rash.”

It was your gut instinct to deflect, to push him away, even when you scooted yourself closer to him. But you couldn’t deny that this had been in the back of your mind, shoved in the dark corners when you thought it might be too crazy of an idea. The first time it popped into your brain was when you saw Laios’s monster form lying helpless on the ground. His body was deteriorating, blood seeping out from every crevice of the three-headed creature. The Winged Lion had been defeated, but you couldn’t stop the wail that erupted from your mouth as you took in Laios’s monster body, reeking of death and despair. You remembered running from from the tower, taking one of the heads in your arms, and crying, your tears soaking the fur. 

But then you and Marcille found him amongst the trees of the island, where Falin’s body had been frozen and resting against a boulder. From the moment his eyes met yours, you had no doubt that this was your Laios. And he was okay. He was tired, but he was okay. You didn’t think you could shed any more tears, but then you were running towards him, wrapping your arms around him, and he was burying his face in your neck and – gods, that had to be when you knew. With the relief flooding through you and his arms embracing you … you knew then that you wanted to be with him forever. You didn’t want to see him in harm’s way ever again. You would kill – again and again – for him. You would be by his side as long as he would have you. You loved him. You wanted him. Forever.

Laios snorted, bringing you out of the memory. “Rash? After how long we’ve known each other?” His tone grew serious. “I trust you with my life. That’s why I named you my sword. But I don’t want to go weeks without you ever again. I love you – I’m in love with you – and I know that I don’t want anyone else by my side.” He squeezed your fingers in his own. “I want to marry you. And then, we can be together freely with you as my Queen and sword sword.” He then paused, thinking. “We can do that, right?”

You laughed. “You’re the King. You can make your own rules, but …” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip for a moment as you mulled over his words. “Are you sure you want to marry me?”

“I’ve never been more certain about anything.” He then tapped his chin, feigning curiosity. “Unless you want me to marry Marcille? It would certainly be a loveless marriage, but she can be friendly when she isn’t advising me.”

Shaking you head, you flicked his arm. “Not sure if your sister would appreciate that. Or Marcille, for that matter.” Not even magic could force those two apart. They would love each other until the end of time.

Your eyes narrowed now. “Are you actually proposing to me without a ring, Your Grace?”

The formality made him cringe, but then his face relaxed as he stared up at you, taking in your beauty. You were the most beautiful like this, vulnerable and bare with your hair jutting out at every angle and your lips swollen from kissing him. But he’d reckon you were beautiful in every light. He couldn’t help but also think back to when you found him by Falin’s crystalized form, how it felt to just hold you again after such an egregious fight. Your warmth had seeped into him, reminding him of home. You were home. And that was when he knew, too, that he wanted to be bound to you. 

Laios brought your joined hands to his lips, kissing each of your knuckles. “Once the sun rises, you will get a proper proposal. I’ve always been a man of my word, haven’t I?”

And that he was. Because the moment you stirred awake the next morning, still sleeping in his bed, you opened your eyes to find Laios, King of Golden Kingdom, kneeling at your bedside. He held out a ring to you, eagerly awaiting your response. Once your eyes adjusted to the light and you saw his golden doe eyes, his big grin, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Of course, you said, Yes.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Considering that now Emperor!König can fuck darling whenever he wants, what would happen when little darling starts with pregnancy symptoms? Would he feel proud that be got her finally pregnant or he would have a different reaction?

The first healer who got the news to the emperor got promoted on the spot. The second and the third one got enough money to never heal again - yet, they were immediately advised as the commune of professionals working to ensure that the Regent Empress won't follow the exensixe footsteps of the Dead Royal Mothers, dying in childbirth. Knowing the way Konig swung with Death, no one would be surprised for the Empress to have returned somehow, in some way later - still, no one wanted to be the one to bring possible tragic news. But you were alive, and well - as well as someone who is pregnant from the notorious dictator could have been. The baby is draining all of your powers, the hack of healers has created a collegium trying to suggest the gender of the child by rotating between taking urine and blood samples, and Konig couldn't be happier. Son would be the son of the country, and the daughter could repeat the fate of her mother, locked up in the highest tower so that no one would ever try to capture and force her into marriage. You didn't think that it's possible to be even more pampered - but Konig is forbidding you from ever stepping outside of the castle, even the garden times are strictly limited to the exact minute healers have suggested. Your poison testers are being fired left and right, every food product you had is mostly being coked under the supreme supervision of the emperor himself - or his undead generals, whose lack of taste almost makes you gag. You are forbidden from wearing fashionable strict dresses with corsets and lacings - you are barely wearing anything at all, locked in your bedroom with your husband at your hip. He is so worried about every cramp, every headache or dull pain in your back, you can be the only person in history to ever receive feet massages from the conqueror himself - and he finally stopped dragging you to his meetings, instead opting for staying indoors with you. Konig's anxiety is at all rage now, he is worried sick about you - and, well, as overbearing as he is, you enjoy him actually worrying about you and stopping with his annoying antics and teasing.

[chvoswxtch]

i got you

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: frank tells you the truth about how he lost his wife, and drops a heart-wrenching bombshell along with it.

warnings: swearing, angst, lots of grief, mentions of blood, death, and gun violence

word count: 4.8k

a/n: the jokes about billy and frank came from @thyme-in-a-bubble & I wondering what a sleepover would look like with them and I hope that's enough comedic relief for how heavy this one is. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Delicate kisses of warmth caressed the tops of your cheeks when peaceful rays of sunlight began to peak through the open curtains. Stirring lightly, your hand subconsciously reached out in search of the man that had been occupying your dreams for several months now. But when your fingertips found absent sheets that were cool to the touch instead, your eyes finally began to flutter open, and you soon realized that you were in a large cozy bed alone. Sitting up slowly and holding the soft sheets to your bare chest, your fuzzy brain tried to piece together your surroundings while you let out a quiet yawn, but the only thing you could focus on is what was missing.

Frank.

Rubbing the remnants of sleep out of your eyes gently with the heels of your hands, it finally dawned on you that you were in the master bedroom of the cabin. You remembered falling asleep on Frank’s chest next to the fireplace, and the thought that he must have carried you to bed caused a giddy school girl grin to stretch over your lips and indent into your cheeks. For a moment you just fell back against the plush pillows, letting out a content sigh and stretching out your limbs with a soft hum, relishing in the afterglow that carried over from last night. There was a slight ache between your thighs, and as you traced your own lips with your fingertips tenderly, you could still feel them buzzing from colliding with Frank’s own repeatedly last night. 

For a moment, you wondered if you were still dreaming. You had never felt such raw  exquisite happiness like this before that it truly didn’t feel real. How else could you explain it? Here you were, in an isolated cabin with no one around for miles, alone with Frank, waking up naked in his bed after a fireplace confession and the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. If you didn’t factor in all the hell you went through to get to this exact moment, it would’ve felt too good to be true.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and applewood smoked bacon swiftly pulled you out of your own head, and there was only one thing you wanted right now more than coffee and breakfast.

Frank.

Slipping a shirt over your head, you were making your way down the hall when something caught your eye. It must not have captured your attention yesterday, but there was another door in the hallway, and it was faintly cracked open. Out of pure curiosity, you gently pushed the door open just a smidge, causing the hinges to creak quietly. The sight you were met with caused thick confusion to weave between your brows. Against the wall to the right was a set of wooden bunk beds, complete with a ladder leading from the floor to the top. There wasn’t anything else in the room except for two sets of small wooden dressers, with four drawers each, spaced out against the left wall. 

The bunk beds were made neatly, almost as if they had never been touched. The bottom bed had a navy blue comforter covering it with a hunter green pillow, while the top one had a violet purple comforter and a rose pink pillow. But as you glanced around the room, you noticed there was nothing else in it. No other furniture, no decor of any kind, nothing. 

Why would Frank have bunk beds? The first explanation that popped into your head was perhaps Billy joined Frank at the cabin from time to time, and then that unleashed the image of Frank and Billy having a slumber party in the bunk beds, and then you were uncontrollably giggling to yourself while continuing your path down the hallway towards the kitchen.

As soon as you turned the corner, your breath caught in your throat. Frank was standing in front of the stove, without a shirt, wearing a loose pair of grey sweatpants on his hips that made it very clear he was wearing nothing underneath them. The sight of his muscular back momentarily distracted you from the fact that he was cooking bacon without a shirt on, which further cemented your belief that he may actually be a masochist. But then you caught sight of the tousled dark curls spilling from the top of his head, and you couldn’t help but smile. You had never seen Frank’s hair quite this long, and you wondered how much curlier it got when he actually let it go.

By this point you were practically salivating, but it wasn’t the freshly brewed coffee or the scent of bacon and pancakes that had you ravenous all of a sudden. While you silently observed him from where you stood in the entryway, you noticed there were faint pink lines along his tan skin, cascading down his shoulder blade. Heat quickly flushed into your cheeks when you realized that those lines were from your nails. You hadn’t had a chance to look in the mirror yet, but you were abruptly curious if Frank had left any marks of his own on your skin. God, you hoped he had.

The flex of his bicep caught your eye when he lifted his coffee mug up to his mouth to take a sip, and you couldn’t stand there silently anymore. Trying to clear the lust that had clouded your brain, you were brought back to your former curiosity about the bunk beds, and a faint smirk curled at the edge of your lips as you stepped further into the kitchen.

“So between you and Billy, who’s the top and who’s the bottom?”

Frank immediately started sputtering, nearly dropping the ceramic mug in his large hand onto the floor as he quickly spun around to look at you. His thick brows were bunched up in the center of his forehead, but his warm brown eyes were widened in bewilderment, and he wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand after his coughing fit settled down.

“Do what, now?”

You couldn’t help but bust out laughing at Frank’s hilarious reaction. Walking towards the cabinets, you opened a few of them until you found the mugs and glasses. As you grabbed a tall glass, you looked at Frank over your shoulder with a teasing smirk and arched one of your brows.

“The bunk beds?”

Turning your attention back to the task at hand, you poured some of the freshly brewed coffee into the glass, adding some flavored creamer and milk along with a couple ice cubes. It wasn’t the “iced” coffee you were used to, but it would suffice for this morning.

“I’m assuming you take the bottom. Something tells me Billy would probably be worried about the top bunk collapsing under your weight and ruining his pretty face.”

With your back still turned to Frank, you couldn’t see the way his expression was shifting, and he hadn’t replied to your teasing. Assuming he was probably looking at you with his usual expression of pure exasperation that always covered his sharp features when you annoyed the shit out of him with your antics, you giggled quietly to yourself and kept pushing.

“So, do you guys braid each other’s hair before, or after the face masks?”

A few moments of silence stretched on before you rolled your eyes, turning around finally to face Frank with a grin, prepared to laugh at whatever face he was giving you at the moment in response to your teasing. But the second you saw his face, your smile instantly dropped, and a pit of dread opened up in your stomach.

Frank wasn’t annoyed. He didn’t look angry either. He looked…crestfallen. His brown eyes were softened somewhat, but shining with sorrow. His lips were pressed in a line, but it wasn’t harsh, and it made him look like he was struggling to hold something back. His broad shoulders had visibly deflated, and there was a clear lump in his throat that he forcefully swallowed down. Solemnly turning to the side, he reached out and slowly turned two of the knobs on the stove all the way to the left to shut the burners off.

For a second he just stood there, his gaze locked on the floor, and you watched as he quickly clenched and unclenched his jaw. Whatever you said wrong struck a nerve within him, even harder than you had in the motel when you touched the scar on his temple and questioned its origin. Panic flared within your bloodstream the longer he avoided your gaze and stayed silent, and you desperately wished you knew what you had said wrong so that you could take it back, or at the very least apologize for it.

“They uh…they were for…”

He couldn’t meet your eyes. Frank’s voice was the softest you had ever heard it, and the internal conflict he was wrestling with was painted clearly across his face. Closing his eyes for a moment, he let out a heavy and deep exhale through his large nose, and then lifted his head to look in your direction after what felt like an eternity. The expression in his eyes was muddled. There were strong notes of grief, swirls of melancholy, but there also appeared to be faint traces of something that almost looked…apologetic?

“They were for my kids.”

Every molecule of oxygen was harshly forced out of your lungs with that one sentence. The immediate shock of it shielded your heart from the initial blow, and you blinked in complete dumbfoundment while staring across the kitchen at Frank. Your investigative brain swiftly kicked into overdrive as you tried to make sense of those words. 

They were for my kids.

Frank didn’t have kids. He lived alone in a one bedroom apartment. He had only left your side twice in the past six months. You never heard him talking to anyone on the phone except for Billy or Dinah. And since his wife had passed, that would mean if he did have kids, he would have sole custody of them. If there was one thing you knew about Frank, it was that he was fiercely loyal, and even more relentlessly protective. If he had kids, there was absolutely no way in hell anyone could keep them away from him. A puzzled set of lines creased along your forehead while you stared back at him.

“Wait…that doesn’t…that doesn’t make any sense. You don’t have any kids, Frank. I mean, if you did…they…they would…they would be here, they would be with you. You wouldn’t let someone else-”

The heartbroken look on Frank’s face quickly cut off your rambling of denial. At that moment, you seemed to finally notice that his soft brown eyes were glimmering in the natural light filtering into the kitchen. But it wasn’t the sunlight causing the sheen. There were thick tears welling up in Frank’s eyes.

The band-aid that the initial shock provided was abruptly ripped off by that sight, and a desolate bolt of lightning struck right through your heart, cracking it in half like an unsuspecting tree in a dreadful storm. Your eyes widened in horror when the unspoken truth emerged from the embers of that destruction.

Frank hadn’t just lost his wife; he had lost his kids too.

All at once, the kitchen felt entirely too small. Your iron grip on the counter was the only thing keeping you up right. It felt as if someone had reached directly into your chest and pried your ribcage apart with their bare hands, puncturing your lungs with splinters of bone, leaving your lungs to fill up with your own blood. The stove had been shut off, but there was a heat encircling you that felt suffocating, making it hard for you to breathe. Frank looked absolutely forlorn as he took in your reaction to that painful confession.

“We uh…we were at Central Park. We had this uh…this tradition, ya’know. Every time I came home from a tour, we’d pack a picnic and go, make a whole day of it. The kids they uh…they loved that carousel, ya’know. They’d ride it so many damn times, Maria and I, we…we’d lose count.”

An overwhelming sensation of nausea flipped your stomach completely upside down. Something about the way Frank was talking caused your anxiety to skyrocket. You didn’t like how small and quiet his voice sounded, or how vulnerable it was. You didn’t like that the tears lining his bottom lash line looked like they were seconds away from falling. You didn’t like that you could feel in your gut that he was about to reveal something that would ruin you.

“I don’t uh…I don’t remember when the shootin’ started. I don’t…I can’t remember where Maria was, or my boy…I don’t…I didn’t see ‘em. But my girl…my baby girl, she…she was…I had her, ya’know…in my arms. I was tryin’ to…fix it, ya’know…keep it all in…then everythin’ just…went black.”

His voice was so low, barely a decibel above a whisper, and he faintly mumbled while fighting to get the words out. But in the silence of the kitchen you heard every syllable as clear as day. His eyes kept shifting back and forth over the floor, and you weren’t sure if it was because he couldn’t look you in the eye, or if it was because he was trying to keep himself from falling apart. Frank’s hands were loosely connected in front of him, his index and middle finger twitching repeatedly while he spoke.

In an instant, an icy chill suddenly caressed your spine. Bits of Frank’s words had triggered something in your brain, and you couldn’t figure out why. Something about it sounded…familiar. When the pieces began to align in your memory, you quickly covered your mouth with your hand in horror, and a choked sob caught in your throat.

You knew exactly what Frank was talking about, and it made you sick to your stomach.

“Oh my God.”

The Central Park massacre. 

Ben had covered that story when you first started interning with him three years ago. The details of that case had been…brutal. A gang war had erupted right in the middle of the park. Nine people had been murdered as a result, and several others were injured. But the worst of it was a family of four had been caught right in the middle of the crosshairs of the shootout. The mother and son died instantly due to blood loss from their wounds, but the daughter…the carnage was so bad that she couldn’t even be identified by dental records. The father had been shot in the head and had slipped into a coma on the way to the hospital, but there was never any coverage on what had happened to him after he was admitted. Ben hadn’t even allowed you to look at the crime scene photos, they were so horrific.

But for the past three years, you had always wondered about what had happened to that man. The optimistic part of you imagined he’d woken up from the coma eventually, but then you felt bad for even hoping that he would’ve. Who would want to wake up from that just to find out that their entire family had been murdered? The realistic part of you figured he had most likely died due to his injuries. After all, who survives a bullet to the head?

Never in a million years would you ever have imagined that exact man you had always wondered about for the past three years would be the one standing in front of you right now.

“That was you.”

Given the nature of the brutality, the victims' names were never released, no matter how hard the press begged for them, and the abhorrent details were watered down significantly for the media. 

There was a flash of perplexity in Frank's eyes, as if he was trying to figure out how you seemed to know what he was referring to. But then he almost appeared to be relieved that he didn’t have to go further into the gruesome details.

Everything seemed to fall into place like a torrent row of dominoes. That’s why he had shut down when you asked about the scar that night in the motel. It was a physical reminder of the day his entire family was gunned down right in front of him.

This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. Frank had just come home. He had survived months, years, of real fucking war…and came home just to, what? Have his family slaughtered in front of his face, and nearly die himself? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair. How could that happen? How could that happen to him?

The sound of Frank gently shushing you and the feeling of his rough hands carefully cradling your face made you realize that you had been voicing those thoughts aloud. The calloused pads of his thumbs wiped at the wetness lingering on the tops of your cheeks, and you suddenly noticed that you had started crying at some point. Glancing up at Frank, you watched as a single tear slipped down his cheek, and that devastated you to your core.

“Frank-”

Hearing the way you sobbed his name, Frank immediately pulled you in, cradling your head delicately against his chest, carding his fingers through your hair softly while he quietly shushed you. You felt guilty. You felt so fucking guilty. Here he was opening up about the most traumatic day of his life, and yet he was the one consoling you. But you didn’t have anything to offer him in that moment. All you could manage to do was wrap your arms around him and hug onto him as tight as physically possible. 

You couldn’t even begin to imagine the aftermath of something so awful. To wake up from a coma, just to be told your entire family is gone. You wouldn’t have survived it. You would’ve laid in that bed, begging whatever God was listening to just put you out of your misery. How can you go on after that? Even though you had suffered a great loss of your own, and there had been moments where you wanted nothing more than to quit and give into the grief, you’d found a reason to push through it. But how do you even want to live after losing that much?

What had kept Frank going?

The half-cooked bacon and pancake batter were left abandoned on the stovetop, along with both of your coffees on the counter. The kitchen was eerily quiet and still apart from your quiet sniffling and the occasional chirps from a visiting cardinal outside. Frank held you in his lap while the two of you sat on the floor of the kitchen with his back pressed against one of the cabinets. His thick fingers carded through your hair slowly, and his lips were pressed gently against your forehead while he rocked you ever so slightly. You hadn’t released your tight hold on Frank. Your arms were still firmly wrapped around his neck, and at this point, you weren’t sure if you could ever let go. For the past fifteen minutes, the two of you had been sitting in silence; you processing the trauma of his past, and him reliving the worst day of his life all over again. 

“I shoulda told you before-”

“No. No that…you told me when you were ready.”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried to focus on the steady rhythm of his strong heartbeat and not the ache you felt for him in your own chest. A flurry of questions were swirling around in your head, and you didn’t even know where to start, or if it was the right time to even ask any of them.

“What…did you…I mean how-”

“I was angry. S’pose that kept me goin’ for awhile.”

Frank let out a deep exhale through his large nose. He seemed to know what you were getting at, even if you couldn’t get all the words out. That was one of the things you had grown to love about your relationship with him. The two of you seemed to be able to understand each other in a way that didn’t require a whole lot of words. Pulling back slightly to look at him, you brought one of your hands up to tenderly hold his face, brushing your thumb lightly along his sharp cheekbone slowly.

“And when you stopped being angry?”

Frank met your gaze, his warm chocolate brown eyes meeting your own. 

“I never did.”

There was a finality to those words that hurt you, and he seemed to be able to tell. He gave a gentle shake of his head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I…made peace with it, ya’know…laid it to rest in my own way. But…not a day goes by I don’t think about ‘em.”

The sincerity in Frank’s vulnerability cut right through you. Leaning in, you pressed your forehead against his, closing your eyes for a moment while hugging him close and keeping your hand against the side of his face. There weren’t any words to express the varying emotions you felt for Frank right now. The anger for what had happened to him and his family. The anguish for what had been stolen from him. The grief for what he carried around with him every single day.

“I’m so sorry-”

“Hey hey hey, you ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for, yeah? It ain’t your fault-”

“It wasn’t yours either.”

Frank looked into your eyes with a softened expression, the faintest of creases forming between his thick brows. The distress in your voice tugged at his heartstrings, and he gently grabbed the back of your head to pull you in so he could press a tender kiss to your forehead. His strange behavior from yesterday when you asked about the cabin now made sense. Tilting your head back a little, you looked at Frank with a soft frown tugging down the corners of your lips.

“This was a surprise project for them.”

The tiniest of melancholic smiles graced the edge of his mouth as Frank gave a slight nod of his head.

“It was. I got it a couple years ago. I meant to work on it when I would come home, I just…never got ‘round to it, ya’know? Didn’t wanna miss a moment with Maria and the kids. The last tour I came home from, I was gonna surprise ‘em though. Tell ‘em I wasn’t goin’ back, and show ‘em the cabin. I wanted to tell ‘em the night I got home, but I was just…tired. I couldn’t stay up with Maria, couldn’t play ball with the boy, or read my girl a bedtime story. Hell, I couldn’t even drink a goddamn beer. But I thought, ya’know…they’d be more excited if I tell ‘em tomorrow while we’re at the park. Make it more special.”

Frank was going to surprise them that day. He was going to surprise them and tell them that he was staying home for good, and also surprise them with the cabin. He’d been home for one day. 

One day. 

Everything was going to change. Frank was going to get to be home with his family. He wouldn’t have had to leave them anymore. But then everything was changed for him in the worst possible way, and now you were in a place that you didn’t belong in. A place that was meant for his wife and kids that they never got to step foot in. A fresh wave of tears poured from your eyes as an insurmountable amount of grief and guilt crashed into your heart like a merciless tidal wave.

“Hey hey…c’mere. S’alright, sweetheart. Everythin’ is, yeah? C’mon, I don’t want you to cry. Breaks my heart every goddamn time seein’ you cry, baby.”

He wiped under your eyes and along the tops of your cheeks gingerly with the pads of his calloused thumbs, cradling your face in his large hands while letting out a heavy sigh.

“Look, I can’t sit here and tell you one day it ain’t gonna hurt like hell, cause it’s always goin’ to. I mean…I ain’t even gotta tell you that. You already know it. You already know how it feels to miss someone you can’t get back.”

Softly wrapping your hands around Frank’s wrists while he held your face, you nodded your head slowly while staring at him with eyes full of sorrow. You did know that feeling. You had felt it every single day since your mom had passed. But you hadn’t lost her the way Frank had lost his family. She was taken from you in a way, but nothing even remotely close to what Frank endured. At least you had gotten to say goodbye.

Frank took in the somber expression haunting your features, and he let out another deep sigh. He tenderly stroked his thumb along your cheek, searching the depths of your eyes for the words he wanted to say that could lift the heaviness that had settled in the space between you.

The most heartbreaking thing about this revelation was knowing that Frank had been alone. You had known from the start that he kept to himself, apart from his friendship with Billy, and…whatever it was he had with Madani. And based on the way he had spoken about his parents, it was clear they had already passed some time ago. But then he lost his entire family. Hell, he had even lost parts of his own identity. For the past three years, Frank hadn’t had anyone but himself.

“You’ve been alone.”

Frank was still gently stroking his thumb along your cheek in an effort to comfort you. His other arm was wrapped firmly around your waist, holding you close to his chest. Hearing the delicate concern in your voice, the edges of Frank’s lips tugged upwards in the most miniscule of smiles.

“I ain’t alone no more. I got you.”

He tilted his head faintly in your direction to get his point across, pressing his thumb lightly against your lips, and warmth suddenly blossomed within your heart. Letting out a soft breath, you closed your eyes for a moment, pressing your forehead against his tenderly once again while a fleeting smile graced your lips as you kissed his thumb gently.

“You have me.”

While he leaned in to press the softest and sweetest of kisses to your lips, Frank ran his large hand through your hair in a comforting way once again, and then looked into your eyes in complete adoration. 

“You’re the first good thing I’ve had in a long time, sweetheart. A long goddamn time. I want you to know that.”

Your heart felt like it was going to burst through your rib cage as you gazed into those warm coffee irises that had captivated you from the very moment you met Frank. Something about him had drawn you in from that first introduction. Even though he had been stoic and closed off, there had been a spark there that lit an ember which had been steadily growing ever since. 

Wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, you hugged onto him and rested your head on his shoulder while closing your eyes, inhaling the comforting scent that was uniquely and wholly Frank.

“So are you.”

Even though your voice was barely above a whisper, you could tell Frank heard you by the way he embraced you even tighter against his chest and pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of your head.

While you sat there in his arms, it began to occur to you that your appreciation for your bodyguard had steadily evolved into something greater than you originally thought. It was something deeper, and far more profound than just simple admiration. Every time Frank was around, your restless tension and incessant anxiety seemed to vanish, because you knew that you were safe with him. You didn’t filter your words, or tone down your personality, or even give into the effort of putting on a mask, because you didn’t have to with Frank. 

There was a subtle seed that had been planted within your heart months ago that had been languidly blossoming into something you had never been able to grasp before. It was something magical and terrifying you had only ever dreamed of discovering, and it was beginning to become clear that it was something you had possessed the entire time.

Every crooked smile, every bellow of laughter, and every lingering stare unleashed a basket of butterflies to flutter around aimlessly in your stomach. You could hear it pounding within your chest and feel the heat of it nipping at your bones. It called to you in the subconscious of your dreams, and the taste of it was still tingling on your lips. It had been under your nose all along.

You were in love with Frank.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[jolapeno]

i'm with you

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader an: can be read as a standalone, but does nicely accompany 'keep you close'. alludes to 18+ content, more angst, feelings, and emotions. usual, jo shit. summary: he knows how he feels, he knows how she feels. yet he fucks it up all the same. word count: 3.7k

simon 'ghost' riley masterlist

It’s a shithole. 

The safe house is barely standing. It’s a teetering, broken mess which is almost blending with trees. 

“It’s a safe shit hole. We’ll get evac to you at sunlight.”

That’s all Price had said before silence met Ghost’s ears. His tone sympathetic, but stern. The reminder of his words when they left base still swirling around some distant space in his mind: Sort it, Simon. Or I will. 

Not that he had a fucking clue how to. 

The damage is seemingly already done. He’s aware it’s his fault. He’s aware he’s a being a fucking cunt and that he’s fucking things up. 

In his defence, he’s not entirely sure how to be anything but. 

He’s stoic and distant. It’s who he is. With or without the mask. 

He’s let few in, few past the many walls and layers he’s built over the years. It frightened him he’d wanted to tear them all down when he realised that she fit perfectly between the crook of his arm and chest. 

“I’ll scope it out,” Mouse says, walking away from him before he can protest. 

His eyes watch her form, running his tongue over the front of his teeth as he reminds himself to unclench his fists. He preferred her talking his ear off. He misses her telling him useless facts about nothing and anything. 

Fuck, he just misses her. 

He misses how it was before he made her sleep in his bed, before he handed her the fuckin’ scrunchie and kissed her. He misses how he didn’t feel conflicted before he’d felt how soft her thighs were, how delicious she tasted and how sinfully poetic her moaning his name was. 

“Sir.”

He’s thankful the mask is covering his fucking face as he smirks instantly. She likely knows it, just from the way she’s stood, all cocky like she’s got the fucking keys to the castle. But, as he reaches the door, he sees that same stern look—the one blended with ice and fire simultaneously, like a flamin’ tequila shot which’ll burn him from the inside out.

He’d suspected the safe house would be worse on the inside. 

As bad as he suspected it to be, he didn’t expect the electricity to be out. He didn’t expect the leak in the cupboard he supposed was a bedroom, and for it to be directly above the moth-infected mattress and poorly-made metal-frame bed.

Not that he’d sleep. 

He highly suspects she isn’t about to either. 

In another moment, he’s sure she’d be making light of the situation. Likely flirting, something she used to do more of before she was taken from him. When her heart was lighter, her fears never realised. 

I’ll let you be the big spoon, Simon. 

He conjures her voice with such ease he has to look around to check she hasn’t actually spoken. No. She’s still ignoring him, in her own personal hell-ish way, where she manages to both acknowledge and ignore him all at once. A skill he thought he was alone in mastering. 

He doesn’t comment when Mouse drags a chair to the door, hooking the back of it under the handle. He wants to comment that the chair will do fuck all to stop us being killed. That one measly push, and it's likely the whole fucking cabin will come down.

But, he doesn’t. 

Quickly suspecting the act makes her feel better. Noticing the slight tremble to her fingers, the way she keeps trying to busy herself, looking from window to window, door to ceiling. He tries not to look, to make things worse—not that he’s sure he can—however, the sound of her helmet unclipping makes his neck snap. Watching her ungloved fingers hook it onto the chair. Those same fingers that stroked his arm when she lay on his chest, the same ones he clutched between his when he knew her dreams had taken her. 

Then, all he saw was her back. 

Her frame looking smaller than she has done since the day in the med bay. 

He studies her a lot. More than he’ll ever admit.  

Whenever his eyes aren’t on what is needed, he allows them to find her. Seeking her out, like he is now. All eyes tracing her back, wondering if he can find the places he’d bruised when he filled her and stole her gasp. When he’d slowly rocked inside of her, gripping her sides as he pressed his forehead against hers. 

Then he sees it: the damn scrunchie. 

He both loathes it and misses it. 

Having wished he’d never returned it, even if it meant he gained the memory of her lips on his. When she’d been full of desperation and need, fingers so soft against his stubbly, rugged skin. 

The trade had been worth it, even if it had changed everything. 

Even if he’d awoken feeling lighter than he had in a long-time, almost content. He’d let his eyes roll over her features, capturing them all to mind until she’d stirred and he’d half-pretended to do the same. Knowing, deep down, the moment had to end—that things wouldn’t, and couldn’t, be the same. 

How could they be? His heart beat too quickly when she was around, his stomach almost bruised from how it fell to his feet whenever he thought she’d been hurt. He couldn’t control himself, barely think, barely functioned when she wasn’t in plain view. 

It would ruin something, a mission, a stakeout. Something.

Because she’d gotten under his skin. 

Mouse had scurried herself into another place she shouldn’t have, even if he’d been the one to let her in. Practically throw open the doors and be damned with the walls.   

When he thought about it, it made no sense. Not the feelings which simmered, bubbled and exploded within him, not the way everything seemed to brighten when her eyes landed on him. Not that fact that he had needed her to sleep, he had needed her to rest—not as her lieutenant, but as something else entirely. 

Now, she’s purposefully keeping her distance. Her hand rubbing her side, her foot kicking open cupboard doors, stepping back in case something which wasn’t welcome comes out. 

“You hurt?” 

Silence. But her body freezes, tenses. Slowly, in time, her head shakes, her eyes unwilling to look over her shoulder to him. Even if he’s pleading internally for her to do so. 

“Words, Mouse.” 

She huffs, shooting him a glare over her shoulder. “No, sir.” 

He expects it—the tone. Almost braced for it. 

Ghost doesn’t expect the pacing which follows, the way she switches from silently moving around the cabin to needing to move more purposefully. 

Three steps forward, three back. 

++

Once he’d been sure no one had followed, he began the fire. 

He found blankets, not bad ones, considering the rest of the place. 

There even more important since the warmth from the flames barely touches all of the corners of the room, his back against the dusty armchair he refuses to sit in as he watches her continue to pace.

She had paused for a brief moment, having searched the decrepit kitchen until she found beans, handing him a can and a half-rusting fork and began pacing once again. Her teeth nip at her bottom lip, her eyes unfocused on anything but where she moves them for a step. 

He’s not sure what it means.

Half-wishing Johnny was here to translate. He understands her, has been let in too. Not in the same way—never in the fucking same way. But, he’d be able to answer, even tell him the reasons she chose shapes over lines.

Occasionally, she stabs her beans with the fork—the only other sound than the cracking of the fire and her boots. 

He won’t admit it, but he likes the sounds of her boots on the safe house floor. How it echoes through the shit wooden walls and across the shit wooden floor. It’s as close to communicating with him as she’s gotten since the team had split up, and she’d no longer felt it necessary to respond through radio. He’d have been content to listen to it for longer, but watching her in the corner of his eyes was beginning to make him dizzy. 

“Mouse. Sit down.” 

Mouse pauses, not lifting her eyes. Seemingly thinking, deciding. Knowing her, she’s weighing up whether it’s worth ignoring his demand or not. Eventually, moving to the fire, sitting down, glaring into her own tin can. 

And it’s tense. 

Her silent treatment is more palpable now she’s sat in front of him, all red-nosed and anger-filled eyes.

“You cold?” 

“No.” 

He lowers his chin, purposefully ensuring his voice isn’t as sharp, as bruttish as it has been. “Mouse. Are you cold?” 

The look she gives him wounds him. It’s all pitiful, pleading and mixed with tight lips. One which screams for him to let it go. 

It’s worsened by the fact he can tell she’s holding back everything inside of her, not wanting a single shiver to show, a whimper or displeased groan at how she couldn’t warm herself. 

“Yes, Simon. I’m fucking cold.” 

Something both curls and unfurls in him at once at the sound of his name. 

The way she spits his name stains the air, making it buzz around him. It punctures and breathes life into the tension, making it double, triple. It’s stifling, mixing with burning wood and damp as he grits his jaw. 

“Come here.” 

“So you can avoid me again?” 

There it is. 

Her words were even accompanied by his least favourite expression: the angered glare.

“I said—“

She groans, loud, purposeful. Slightly edging forward along the dusty floor, shooting him a glare which he supposes should mean “happy, now?”—but he’s not fucking happy, not even close to it. 

He weighs up his options, considering both the fallout and the payoff before he grabs her ankle and pulls. He’s surprised at the lack of resistance, her body sliding with ease across the short distance until she is closer, almost entirely between his legs. 

“Fuck sake…” she whispers, deep under her breath.

Rolling her head on her neck, letting her eyes land on the fire and her grip remain iron-like on the can. 

“You gonna ignore me all night?” 

“Yes.” 

He rolls his eyes, placing the can down on the floor as he stares at the fire too. He watches them dance, the flames. Almost losing himself in it before he hears her can be placed down too. 

Heavier, more filled than his.

A swirl of worry rose in him, wrapping itself around important organs and sensibility as she let her face turn, letting him see her. 

“I hate beans.” 

“Course you do,” he replies, studying her. 

He lets his eyes fall over her, from her bent knees to her face, back down to her boots pressed against the floor. 

If he could, he’d leave this place and find her something. Bring her back greasy food, and a milkshake. Hell, he’d even find her a plate of curry and rice from that place she always talks about near her home. 

Not realising until now his hand is still on her ankle, something she’s too becoming aware of as she wiggles it—attempting to free herself from him.

“Why are you doing this?” Why did you let me in, to freeze me out, Simon. 

The words, both said and unsaid, dance to him, all broken and sad as soon as they leave her lips.

I don’t know. 

That’s the honest answer. He’s not sure why he let her leave that morning without explaining what he was thinking. He’s not sure why he just stared when she asked him a question—a simple, normal fucking question. Ghost isn’t even about a lot right now, other than he misses her.

And she must sense it, the shift. 

She must understand him, and see his thoughts all of a sudden as if they were being painted onto the walls. 

Because truthfully, he feels better when she’s close and feels almost whole. He could almost let himself imagine watching mundane television with her, doing a food shop at a supermarket with too many choices. He can also imagine ruining her over and over again. Desperately needing her fingers to snake through his hair as he takes her apart with just his tongue. Never wanting another mouth to wrap around his cock ever again, finding her the most terrifyingly intoxicating thing he’s ever met in his entire life. 

Her arms push her up, quickly distancing herself from him. 

“Mouse…” 

Shaking her head, taking strides to the pathetic kitchen as his chest tightens, knowing he should move; it feels harder to breathe as he watches her, especially when she leans over the poorly made counter—back to him.

Don’t leave. 

Don’t leave me. 

The same words which he thought of when she’d fallen asleep against him, her ear close to his heart. Not wanting her, and yet wanting every single part of her all at once in some confusing turn of events.

Because he’d never banked on her agreeing to come back with him. 

Not even just to sleep. 

He’d not planned or expected to hand her the scrunchie, and her kiss him. He hadn’t banked on it being the key to unlocking everything he’s been carefully stuffing down inside of him, desperately trying to lock it all away so he doesn’t ruin things, so he doesn’t change things. 

She turns, all so suddenly. 

Again, as though hearing him, and the look she gives him—fuck, it would have floored him if he wasn’t already sat down. It knocks the wind from his sails, the cockiness from his confidence. He almost feels stripped back, no mask, no uniform. 

And, it commands him to stand up. 

An order that he gladly answers as her eyes scream, now or never, Simon. Last fucking chance.

He stands, striding, closing the gap in half the steps it had taken her—stopping just short of her. Allowing her one more moment to glare at him, to inject her eyes into his skin, to feel anger, to feel hate towards him before he makes sure he takes every last bit of it away. 

If she was brave enough to ask, he’d tell her his favourite part of her is her eyes. 

Not the thighs she thinks he adores, not the smile he finds lights a room. 

Right now, he’s got a front-row seat to watching them thaw. Slowly, bit by bit, waiting until the right time before he swallows, hand hovering over her jaw. 

It’s hard not to struggle for breath when he stares into them when he loses himself in the shades that make up her eyes. The thousands of mini-expressions they show, let him in, just enough to read her. 

He half wishes the wind was howling or the house creeks. Because Mouse doesn’t speak, the silence is so thick he’s adamant she can hear how quickly his heart is beating. As though she thinks the entire moment is fragile, and at risk of shattering. 

Ghost knows why that is. He let her think that.

He’d let it be that way. 

He’d acted coldly, filling her mind with thoughts of him regretting it. But he didn’t. If anything, he felt as though he’d been resuscitated, while not knowing he’d been dead. That in one night she’d ruined him, and all she did was count sheep. 

“Lift my mask.” 

His words leave his lips softly, less gruff than he’s used to speaking. He’s sure it’s the reason she holds his stare for a beat, likely focusing on every expression dancing in his eyes. 

Mouse had told him, in her half-lucid, sleep-filled way, he said more with his eyes than he thought. Those words had swirled around his mind all night and ever since. Always wondering if they’re doing it, just like he is right now. 

He hopes they are. Hopes she can see how much he needs her to lift the mask, how much he needs her to do so he knows he can kiss her. Because words are not his strength, but action is. 

How can he make her forgive him if he can’t kiss his apologies into her lips, into her skin? He’d get onto his knees for her, if needed, but he needs her to lift his mask first. Silently commanding her to do so as her hands slightly shake, moving tentatively to the fabric at his neck. 

But she does lift it. 

Fingers lightly pulling it free from his neck, the fabric pulling at the tiny hairs and over his stubble. A cold finger and thumb slide either side, brushing his skin, leaving scorch marks he hopes burn forever as he watches her eyes.

Showing her he’s okay with it, all of it. If he could get the words out, he’d tell her as much. That the first day when she didn’t cower from him, when she stared him straight in the eyes, nodded and called him sir, he’d been fucked. When she was taken, stolen from him, he’d almost lost it—a gnawing inside of him which only stifled when he knew she was back safe. 

He doesn’t think she’ll ever understand the effect on him, likely never believing him.

The cold, six-foot-something soldier who has more hidden and confidential in his file than information has fallen. 

Fallen so far he doesn’t care he’s without any means of being saved, if she decides to not catch him. 

She’d never understand it, the effect she had on him. Likely suspecting he’s not capable of it, just because he’s silent, because he’s practical. But he feels, just not on the surface. And sometimes, that’s a bigger burden to carry. 

Nails drag over his stubble, the fabric lifting, rolling over the hair at the back of his neck. It almost makes him shudder—catching the scent of the sweat on her body mixing with her shampoo. A scent he can’t rid from his pillow, not that he wants to. 

It’s only as the mask clears his nostrils does he realise how much he loathes this place, hates the smell of it and the sight of it. But it’s a small blessing. A quietness in the middle of nothingness where this moment can exist. 

And then her fingers stop, letting the mask sit just above the base of his nose, resting on the bridge. 

“Lift the mask.”

She swallows. Her eyes flicking down before meeting his, sliding it up the last bit—freeing the skin around his eyes and his forehead. The cool air dancing over perspiration. 

It’s intimate, so much so that he’s not sure if Mouse knows she’s holding her breath as he cups her jaw and cheek. He makes his touch feathery, and gentle. Soft and slow as he slowly tilts her head up, watching her eyes focus on him as she allows her arms to fall back to her sides. It’s cautious all of it. Not his or her usual quick, determined, and efficient movements. 

He wonders if Mouse can tell his cheeks are on fire, whether she knows his stomach is doing flips as he strokes her cheek. 

And then she sighs. “It’s because you’re my lieutenant.”

His mind silences.

Empties. 

Her eyebrows rise, waiting before she smirks. “Words, sir.”

“Yes.” 

Because he is her lieutenant. Her superior. 

It’s fraternisation. Prohibited. Even if Price isn’t fucking bothered, even if Soap told him to find her. Some part of him knows it's more than wrong—knows it can put her at risk, from others, from higher-ups… from enemies. 

And then he feels it. 

Her catching him.

Small hands on his waist, holding him tightly. His free hand moving up to the back of her head, fingers sliding over her neck, up her hair, before he pulls, feeling bobbled silk-covered ghosts. 

“Mouse…” 

She stiffens as if waiting for him to move, but he doesn’t. Not this time. Not now.

Even if he should. Even if it would make sense too. 

Instead, his lips descend until they find hers gently, almost experimentally—fearful she’ll pull away. 

She doesn’t. 

Instead, holding him more firmly, more determined at his waist. He feels her pull, tug at him to move closer, as his tongue presses against her lips before things turn more desperate, hungry, and needy. 

She makes the blood rush through his veins and silences his heartbeat from his ears. That’s when his apologies really begin—when they begin searing themselves against her lips, then her jaw, and then her neck. 

His hand clutches the scrunchie to her lower spine, keeping her flush to him, showing in all the ways he can that this is what he wants. Not distance, not space or avoidance—as much as his behaviour has said otherwise. 

Ghost slides his hand down and around her thighs until he lifts her onto the counter—the one which groans at the intrusion of someone who dares use it for something other than letting it sit there—nudging her thighs apart, sliding as comfortably as he can between them as he grips her waist, feels her skin on his. 

He doesn’t mind that their lips part, her breaths mingling with his. He gets to watch her eyes, all wild and full of something he can’t describe.

He lets her hand brush over his cheek, smudging the black from around his eyes into her nails, and he whispers her name—so careful with it, like it’s something he could break. 

“Do that ever again—” Don’t ever hurt me. 

“Never.” I couldn’t. I’m sorry.

She waits for a beat, before nodding. 

He wants to lift her, move her somewhere more comfortable, although he’s not sure where that’ll be. The floor is their best bet, he could pull her flush against him all night, turn her legs to jelly, and let his palm slide down her stomach until she’s gasping his name and he feels how slick she is on his fingers. 

“No. Not here. I'm worried the walls'll come down.”

Rolling his eyes, he snorts, burying his head into her neck, silently agreeing.

His fingers drawing soft circles on her waist, not sure how to tell her he's happy with this. He's just wanted this. To hold her. Breathe her in and have the chance to explain.

“Simon…”

He pauses, both his hand and his thoughts. Lifting his head, sliding a hand over her cheek, feeling her curl into, just like she did in his bed. 

“...I feel the same…”

Good. That's good.

"So... don't let me fall. don't let this continue, if you're not going to catch me. If you're going to leave. If you'll ignore me—"

"Stop."

It's sharp, leaving his tongue gruffer than he'd hoped.

The words, the ones he wants to say sitting on the tip, sat right at the edge of his lips, unwilling to fall through into the air. So, his lips answer her in the only way he knows how. Not sure how else to show her he'd catch her. He'd catch her every single fucking time.

Always.

[bellarkeselection]

1 - Welcoming the Bridgerton’s

Part 2

The Venus Muse

Here's the first chapter y'all! I am sorry to say that I couldn't tag some of you that asked to be added. If you could give me an update profile tag I will add you that way.

Buckingham Palace was always busy with something going on. The royal castle had many children over the years running around it. I knew this place better than anyone else could imagine. And that truth will help me change my life forever. 

“Your highness, which tiara would you wish for today?” One of my handmaidens named Sunset asked me. 

She was standing by my table vanity that had quite a few tiaras sitting on top of them. Sitting on my bed the fabric of my golden dress swayed when I walked up to her. “The one with three center jewels and the pearl necklace.” 

“Of course, my lady.” She nodded where I lowered my head and she set the tiara in the center. 

The tiara sparkled when the light bounced off the light coming through the window. I stood in front of the tall mirror eyeing my gown that was golden, short sleeves decorated in lace and was long where you couldn’t see the short brown boots I wore unless my dress flew up from the wind. “Sunset, do you think my mother shall begin pressuring me this year?” 

“It is not my place to speak on.”

I reassured her otherwise. “Don’t worry about prying ears. I am asking for your opinion.” 

“I would say she seeks what is best for you, Lady Y/n.” Sunset answered with a shrug of her shoulders. 

Someone knocked on the outside of my door before another lady in waiting peaked her head inside. “Princess, your mother is coming this direction.” I nodded brushing my hands down the front of my dress. 

The door of my bedroom opened for me to see my mother, Lady Danbury and Brimsley all walking up to my room. “I yearn for someone fresh, someone unexpected,  to turn this season on its head. That is what we need. There is no room for indifference.  Apathy is a blight the monarchy simply cannot endure.” 

“Of course, Your Majesty. But remember, a young lady cannot be a diamond until you anoint her as such. So if for any reason you do not find one among the candidates today…” 

My mother cut off her friend. “Do you think she will return?  We have heard nary a peep from Lady Whistledown since last season ended. Perhaps the writer came to her senses. Perhaps she realized taking on her queen was a bad idea, and she will never publish again.”

Lady Danbury responded. “It is a convincing theory, ma'am.”

“Or she simply left for the country, as the rest of us did in the off-season, bored by the lack of any real gossip.”

Lady Danbury made a noise. “Hmm. “

“You do know what that would make her, then?” My mother Queen Charlotte trailed off. 

I finished her sentence being fair too noisy, needing to listen to the conversation of the famous gossiping writer. “One of us.”

“My darling daughter, you look radiant as ever.” My mother turned away from her friend to face me. 

I sent her a smile waving to Lady Danbury to not be rude. “It’s good to see you, Lady Danbury.” 

“Good to see you too, Princess Y/n.” She smiled. 

My mother clasped her hands together in front of her puffy white dress. “I have been needing to speak with you and what this evening needs to entail for you and your happiness.” 

“You wish for me to marry a prince and provide heirs for the crown.” I rolled my eyes already thinking of the answer she would say. 

Yet to my surprise she said almost the opposite. “I wish for you to have happiness and many children. It would help if your husband was royalty, but it is not a requirement.” 

“It isn’t?” Knitting my brows in confusion. 

She takes my hands in hers. “I didn’t get the chance to search for love on my own. My brother arranged my marriage with your father. So I secretly hope that you, my firstborn daughter, can have some fun.” 

“Mother, I…that means so much to me.” I smiled through some happy tears. 

Footsteps came down the long hallway and around the corner before we saw my father’s servant named Reynolds. “My Queen, my princess. I have news.” He bowed with a hand behind his back. 

“What is it, Reynolds?” I asked him. 

He shifted his gaze to mine. “You're father is having an episode, Princess.” 

“Oh…” I made a noise in discomfort. I knew of his illness 

That was the secret my mother and the rest of my siblings and I kept hidden from thr world. They needed to believe that the king was just always busy and so his wide made the appearances out on the town. “Hmm it appears we may have to cancel the ball tonight for the Bridgertons.” My mother sighed in defeat knowing her husband came first. 

“We shall not cancel.” My mother and Reynolds’s both shifted their attention over to me when I had spoken up the opposite of what they assumed would need to be done. “We should not cancel because I can represent the family in your place, mother.” 

She tapped her chin in thought. “I suppose that could solve our problem. I don't wish to cancel the months of preparation that were put into this.” 

“Exactly that would be a tragedy.” 

The queen turned to her husband's helper with instructions. “Inform my husband I will come to his aid. Brimsley?” 

“Yes, your Majesty.” 

She gave him a different set of orders. “Inform the Viscount Bridgerton that my daughter shall be appearing tonight before myself.” He bowed and went in a different direction then Reynolds. 

“Thank you, mother.” I smiled curtseying to her before we parted for the evening. It was quite a few hours before the ball with our castle subjects and the Bridgertons would even begin. By the evening the moon was shining up in the sky and the grand ballroom was lit up like a christmas tree. 

Standing silently outside the currently shut double doors I stopped fiddling with my dress when one of the royal guards gave me a head nod saying it was time. I could hear the announcer's voice before the doors had even begun opening. “May I present to you her royal highness. The daughter of King George and Queen Charlotte, Princess Y.n of England.”

“Thank you, sir.” I whispered to another guard that came to me when I had made my entrance through the doors feeling all eyes on me. Sucking in a tiny breath he escorted me to the small throne before we unlinked arms leaving me on my own. The small crown on my head had never felt so heavy as it did right now. “Greetings my subjects. I am here to announce that my mother got called away tonight for an emergency. But she saw no reason why this event couldn’t go on as planned. So with that in mind let me extend a warm welcome to Violet Bridgerton and her family for traveling here for a few months.”

Everyone began clapping and cheering with an older looking woman who had dark brown hair up in a crown on her head that came up to me and gave a lovely curtsey. “Princess, it is a pleasure to get an invitation.”

“I hope I can get to meet your family greatly over your stay, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Princess Y/n, may I ask you something?” Someone called my name causing me to lift my gaze up noticing someone moving through the crowd. The figure paused beside the Bridgerton woman who seemed to give the man a confused but amused depression on her face. 

I clicked my tongue and answered the stranger's question. “What is your question, my lord?”

“I was wondering if you would accept my offer for a dance together this evening.” The stranger seemed similar to the woman he was standing beside him. I was fairly certain they were related, but which son was he if they were. 

He extended his hand up to me and I smiled, placing my smaller hand in his larger one. “I accept so long as I know which Bridgerton are you?”

“Benedict, Benedict Bridgerton.” He replied leading me out and onto the dance floor with the entire room having theur eyes focused on the two of us.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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[solarissun]

We are never, ever getting back together (pt 2)

afab!reader x Mike Schmidt

pt 1

WC: 3k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, enemies to lover, afab reader, angst, mentions of alcohol, mentions of intoxication, slow burn, mentions of child abuse, no use of y/n, aged up character

A/N: I want to apologize for any confusion the first chapter might have caused! This fic is a Mike Schmidt fic. It's just a slow burn/somewhat(?) of a love triangle and I thought adding Clapton would be funny. (plus I’m in love with him…) Before you read, just as a warning, this chapter gets pretty deep. 

Enjoy!

tags: @h3llo-k1tt @caminterrupted @jhutchismyl0verb0y

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It's been almost a month since you and Clapton's hookup. He's been texting you nonstop. Text after text floods in, and you ignore them all. You feel bad, but you’re too embarrassed to even face him. You sigh, flipping open to Clapton’s contact to read the new heap of texts.

U good?

Miss you. Hope that ur ok.

Wanna hang?

Helloooo?

Okay. Just wanted to let you know I’m thinking of u.

You groan, slamming your phone back down on the bedside table. You enjoyed the night you two had, and it felt great at the time. But now you just feel like shit. Now all you think about is Mike, and how disgusted he was with you. While you’re thinking about Mike, you realize you haven’t seen or heard him in weeks. He’s been out of his apartment way more than usual, and you’re sure he's avoiding you. To be honest, you don’t blame him. If he pulled that on you, you’d up and leave.

You lay back down on the couch, grabbing the remote and turning on a movie, desperate to think of anything else but Mike or Clapton. Suddenly, you hear frantic knocking on your door. You reach for the remote and pause the TV. You sit silently for a minute, wondering if you were hearing things. Not only is it 8 pm on a Saturday, but you also aren’t expecting any guests. Who could possibly be knocking on your door? As you're about to un-pause the TV, more knocks echo and bounce off the walls.

You slowly get up from the couch, and wearily walk over to the door. You shift to the balls of your feet, trying to peer through the peephole. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as all you see is the top of someone's head. You slowly wrap your hand along the cold metal of the knob, slowly turning it open. Your eyes widen as you see Abby on the other side.

Her face lights up, her eyes practically glowing. She squeals, bolting over to you and wrapping her arms around your waist.  “Abby!” You scream, pulling her into you.

“I missed you so much! Mike said you moved away to your castle to be a princess!” You scoff inwardly, Mike’s lie making you despise him even more. "Where is your castle, by the way?" You glance down at her, ready to make up some insane lie. Before you get the chance, you look to your left, seeing Mike skirt around the corner, bee-lining towards you. He’s panting, his face red. “Shit- I’m... Sorry. She’s so fast.” You plaster a sickly sweet smile on your face, ensuring Abby doesn’t notice the hostility between you.

Mike takes Abby’s hands, prying her off you. “Heyy! I want to play with her! Please! Please, Mike!” She whines, giving Mike her best puppy eyes. He looks up at you, a guilty look falling over his features. He shrugs at you, waiting for your response. “Okay, come in!” You say, focusing on the little girl in front of you instead of Mike. The two of them walk into your apartment, Mike clearly not wanting her to be alone with you. You give him a dirty look and he rolls his eyes. Luckily, Abby’s too focused on your decor to notice or even care.

She runs around your apartment, oohing and ahhing at every fuzzy pillow and every cute decoration lining your shelves. She opens your bedroom door, and you think she’s about to explode. She looks back at you, her eyes wide. “You can go in.” You say, giggling as she wastes no time to roll around in all the stuffed animals you still keep on your bed. You quickly follow behind her, flinging yourself in the pile. Mike leans against the door frame, smiling as he watches you both stand up and jump up and down the bed. Abby stops, her eyes catching on something on your bedside table. She jumps down, her feet landing on the plush carpet. She grabs a heart locket off your bedside table, holding it up to the light. “Woah! This is so pretty!”

You immediately freeze, your face almost lighting on fire. You quickly grab it out of her hands, stuffing it in a drawer. “Mhm, so pretty! Why don’t we get out of the bedroom?” You steer her out of the room, sliding around Mike. You loved her with all your being, but her lack of an attention span seemed like it was out to get you.

As Abby sits down on the couch, you look over at Mike. His eyes are wide and his eyebrows are furrowed. He glances back into your room, the locket he got you for your 3rd anniversary haphazardly hanging out of the drawer. You both stare at each other for what feels like forever. 

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Mike opens your front door, not even bothering to announce his arrival. He sits down next to you, a huge smile on his face. “What?” You mirror his smile, confused as to what he might be so excited about. “Okay, I know our anniversary isn't for a few days but I- I just couldn’t wait. I'm sorry it's cheap, I couldn’t afford much.” He says, awkwardly. 

He reaches into his hoodie pocket, taking out a velvet box. You look up at him sweetly, gasping as you open it. You pull out a heart-shaped locket. You feel your eyes well up as you open it, reading the words engraved inside.

“I’ll love you forever and Always, Mike.” 

You fling yourself onto him and you wrap your arms around his waist. He pulls you into him kissing you sweetly. In between kisses you mumble out, “I love you so much.” You feel so loved and so grateful that you met someone like him. You didn’t care about the money, he was worth so much more than gold or diamonds to you. 

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You shake your head, pushing the memories out of your mind. Mike looks away from you, his cheeks growing rosey. You sigh loudly, sitting down next to Abby. Over the next few hours, you and Abby color what feels like a thousand different sheets of paper. 

By 11 pm, you’re both lying down on the floor, markers and papers scattered all across your living room. Mike watches from the couch, telling Abby a story as she draws him. A few times, you both glance at each other, but you both quickly turn your gaze to Abby instead. After Abby finishes her drawing, she holds it up to you and him. “It's so good!” Mike says, taking the paper out of her hand. He starts pointing out small little details Abby included, gushing over each and every one. You’re utterly entranced as you watch him. 

You miss him so much.

Your eyes widen and bite your cheek, wanting to slap yourself across the face for even thinking that. He abandoned you. That’s it. 

But.. He loved you so much. Or at least you thought so. How could he just up and leave without a word? You wanted desperately for there to be any other reason. A part of you was convinced there actually was. You bite down harder, a salty metal taste erupting across your tongue.

Whatever happened, he left. That’s it. There’s no excuse. You clench your jaw, trying to ignore the roller coaster that’s running through your mind. Maybe… Maybe for now you can forget your distaste for him. Just for a few minutes.

You smile softly as he and Abby burst out laughing. 

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They leave. Too soon. As soon as the door shuts behind the both of them, the apartment is filled with deafening silence. You lay down on the hardware floor, the cold wood seeping through your shirt and biting into your back.

You never realized how much you truly missed Mike and Abby until you saw them tonight. Or… Maybe you just missed having someone to wake up to every day. Whatever it is, you shake it off and crawl onto the couch, too sad to walk a few feet to your bed. You pull a soft blanket over you, the edge of it just barely covering your feet.

You slowly drift off to sleep, dreaming of a time when you and Mike weren’t basically sending bombs to each other's front doors.

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You bolt awake, sweaty and shaky. You look around, your heart beating out of your chest. You’re unsure of what woke you up, but it scared the shit out of you. Listening closer, you hear crying, no, wailing. And it’s coming from next door. You quickly bolt up, running to your door. But, you pause as soon as you reach it. You don't want to get involved with Mike and Abby's life more than you have to. Plus, it could just be one of her usual tantrums. It could even just be something as trivial as a burnt breakfast. You pivot, turning back towards the couch. As soon as you hear screaming, you tear up all of your inhibitions and run into the hall. When you reach Mike’s door, it flies open and a woman storms out, dragging an inconsolable Abby out.

The woman, who you recognize as Mike’s aunt, is gripping Abby’s arm so hard that the skin around her fingers turns white. Mike runs out of his apartment pleading with her, “You can see she doesn’t want to go! Please, just-” Abby digs her heels into the ground grabbing Mike's shirt with her free hand. Jane yanks Abby to her side, pulling her away from her brother. “I guess I’ll have to go to the police and tell them you kidnapped my niece! I have sole custody, not you, Michael!” Mike’s eyes go wide, the color draining from his face. He takes a step back, putting as much distance between him and Jane as possible.

You watch in shock, beyond confused about what had gone down during the two years you were broken up. “You truly are a despicable woman.” He says, disgust dripping from his voice. Mike crouches down, getting eye level with Abby. “Abby, I’ll see you soon. I promise, okay?.” His voice cracks as he reaches out, wiping her tears with his thumb. Abby wiggles out of her Aunt’s grip, running forward to wrap her arms around him. He pulls her closer as she sobs into his sweater. Aunt Jane rolls her eyes and then rips Abby away with absolutely no remorse. She drags her down the hall, turning the corner, and disappearing completely.

He sits down, pressing his back against the wall. He exhales, tilting his head back and staring into the fluorescent lights. You cautiously take a step towards him, “Mike…?” He looks over at you, his jaw clenching as he sees you. “Still can’t seem to mind your own business, huh?” He scoffs, his eyes turning away from you. You pause, crouching next to him. You desperately want to comfort him, but you just don't know how. “Can.. Can I do anything?” He looks over at you, his face twisting into a death stare. “For starters, you can leave me alone.” You flinch, feeling a wave of sadness rush over you. You can’t even imagine how he feels. “Mike, please..” You reach out, your hand brushing his.

He slaps your hand away, and screams, “I said leave me the fuck alone!” You stand up, taking a step backward. “I’m sorry for having a fucking heart, Mike!” He laughs, standing up. “Oh, you have a heart? Did you ever tell Clapton why you called him at 2 in the fucking morning?” You look away from him, swallowing. “That's what I thought. Leave me the fuck alone, and stay out of my life!” You feel tears burning your eyes, threatening to spill over. Your lip quivers as you speak, “All... All I wanted to do was help.”

“This is exactly why I left you.” He turns away, storming into his apartment. As soon as the door hits the frame you break down, falling to your knees in the middle of the hall.

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

You’ve been crying for hours straight, the tears seemingly having no end. Your pillow is drenched and tissues are splayed out all over your comforter. As you wallow in despair, the sun slowly sinks further across the sky, the only light illuminating your room being the white glow of the moon.  It’s crazy to you how two entire years after your separation, Mike is still making you feel so extremely worthless. You could never be enough for him, no matter how hard you tried. What you hated most though, is that he had a point. You used Clapton. For your own sick and twisted reasons, you used him. And you hated yourself for it. 

Just as you begin to sob harder, you hear a thud against the wall, coming from the hallway. The sound echoes through the walls again, and it sounds almost like someone ran into it. You hear someone grunt and struggle, cursing. You recognize the voice and you groan, taking everything in you not to get up and check on him.

Suddenly, it feels like someone takes control of your body as you walk to your door, stepping into the hallway. You see Mike fumbling with his keys, missing the keyhole every time. He’s clearly very intoxicated. It’s surreal seeing him in such a way. He never drank when you were with him, he always told you he had to make sure Abby was always looked after and always had someone to turn to. Now that she’s not here, you guess he decided nothing is stopping him from getting shitfaced.

You walk over to him, grabbing the keys out of his hands, and unlocking the door yourself. He looks over at you, and any ounce of disdain he held for you from earlier disappeared. “Thanks..” He says quietly. You invite yourself in, making sure he gets to the couch without hurting himself. You avoid eye contact the whole time, knowing if you glance at him for even a second you’d burst out into tears.

Once he’s settled, you turn to walk away, but you feel his hand grasp your wrist, stopping you. “Please... Please stay.” He pleads. You sigh, removing his hand from you. “I can’t keep doing this Mike…” You say, finally turning towards him. He has a guilty look on his face, and he suddenly can’t seem to look at you. “I... I didn’t mean it..” He slurs, his face tipped towards the ground. 

You sit down next to him, your eyebrows raised. “You didn’t mean what..?” You question. “You know. What I said earlier. I do want you in my life…” He says, his eyes tracing the floorboards. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Mike, you’re drunk.” He shakes his head, finally making eye contact. “I swear. I do. I mean.. just look at you. I treated you like dirt and you’re still helping me? You’re just.. so.. so nice.” You frown, wishing so badly he was sober. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” He reaches out, his warm hand cupping your face. His eyes bore into yours as he speaks. “I’m not ever going to lie to you again. I promise.” You’re not sure exactly what he means by “again” but you brush it off, chalking it up to more alcohol-induced rambles. 

You stand up, Mike’s hand leaving your face and falling back to his lap. “I’m going to get you a glass of water, okay?” He nods, following your every move and watching you as you walk around his kitchen. 

Your eyes begin dancing around every framed picture he has and every drawing Abby made he has clipped to the fridge. Your eyes settle on a picture of you, him, and Abby at an amusement park, almost exactly a month before he left you. You pick it up, your thumb rubbing over the scratches in the frame. That trip was unforgettable. That was the day you knew he’d be the one you’d spend the rest of your life with. You couldn’t imagine a world without him or Abby. You put it back, wondering why he still has it. 

You fill up a glass, taking it back over to him. He drinks it in one gulp and he hiccups once it’s all gone. You place your hand on his chest, slowly pushing him back to get him to lie down. He takes the hint, lying back down on the couch. Your hand lingers there for a moment too long, but you quickly tear it away when he smiles up at you. The smile is still plastered on his face as he watches you drape a blanket over him. His eyes slip shut as he turns on his side, pulling the blanket to his chin.

You look down at him for a few moments. You just don’t understand how one moment you could hate him more than anything, and the next wish everything could go back to the way it used to be. You were half of yourself without him, and just as you started to feel complete he just had to infiltrate his way back into your life. As you watch his chest rise and fall, you just can’t help but still love him. Sadly, nothing was ever going to change that. 

You slowly creep towards the door, the floorboards creaking under you. He speaks so quietly you almost don’t hear him, “There was never another girl..” You freeze and turn back to look at him. “What?” Is all you can say. He doesn’t give you any explanation for what he just grumbled. You convince yourself you’re crazy and you’re just hearing things.

That night, you don’t sleep at all. You keep replaying that moment in your head, over and over. 

“There was never another girl.”

[laurasimonsdaughter]

The Singing Princess

My take on a fairy tale of type 306: The twelve dancing princesses / The shoes that were danced to pieces (but what if there was only one of them, and what if she was queer). [Also on AO3.]

Once upon a time there was a king who had only one daughter and a plumper, pleasanter, prettier maiden had never been seen wearing a crown. She was the apple of her father’s eye and so anxious he was for her health and well-being that her bed was hung with curtains of the thickest velvet and that every night after she had gone to bed, the doors and windows to her room were all locked and barred. All so that she may sleep soundly and undisturbed.

Of all the princess’s many talents, her beautiful singing delighted the court most of all. No one knew of a sweeter voice than that of their princess when she let her voice ring out merrily in the great hall. So it was a great sadness indeed when it came to pass that one day, after the princess had finally got out of bed to a very late breakfast, it was discovered that she could not sing a single note. Indeed she was so hoarse and tired that she could barely speak, and when she did speak she was yawning all the while, as if she had not slept a wink.

In time, with lazing about in the garden and resting in the parlour she was no longer so sleepy, but her poor voice did not recover until it was time to retire to bed. And the next morning it was the same thing all over again!

So it went for weeks and weeks. The princess never sang anymore, though she smiled often enough. And while she went early to bed and was late to rise, she was forever trying to hide her yawns behind her fan.

The king was worried sick and the whole court lamented, for no one could understand what strange kind of illness had come over their princess.

At last the king could take it no longer and he proclaimed to all the kingdom that whoever could find out how to cure his daughter would be given their weight in gold and then some. Many came, many boasted, many sat at the princess’s bedroom door and tried to find out what ailed her. But none of them could stay awake to watch her. Whatever remedy they suggested, it was all for naught, and the king had them sent away in disgrace.

Now it happened that not very far from the castle lived a young couple with two small children and one more on the way, who often saw the king and the princess ride by in their carriage. And they said to one another that while the princess did not look at all sickly, it was a bad thing to have such a mystery hanging about her. And besides, they would very much like to receive such a kingly sum of gold.

So the following day the young father kissed his wife and children and went to the castle to tell the king that he would like to try his luck at finding out what afflicted the princess. The king agreed and after the princess had withdrawn for the night, the young father was brought to a small antechamber to the princess’s bedroom, after which all the doors and windows were locked. Only the door between the antechamber and the bedroom was left open, so that he might watch over the princess during the night.

The princess very politely wished him goodnight from behind the heavy velvet curtains round her bed. But a few moments later she began a lilting lullaby, as if to sing herself to sleep. The young father lay listening and he did not wonder at everyone who came before him not being able to stay awake. He almost fell asleep himself, but with every lilting trill of her voice he started awake again and looked around wildly for his children, as if he had heard the very beginning of a baby’s cry. He kept quiet though and did not stir, and after a long while the chamber grew silent. After a longer while still, he heard a rustling of bedding in the princess’s bedroom, and when he slyly opened one eye to see what he should see, the princess was quietly getting out of her bed.

She tiptoed across the floor and quietly took out her loveliest clothes and finest jewels and prettiest ornaments and primped and preened until she was a vision of beauty. Then she took hold of the heavy bed curtains, drew them shut, then drew them back once more, and as she pulled them aside there was a stairwell leading down where a moment before her bed had been. With one last glance over her shoulder she gaily lifted up her skirts and ran down the steps into the dark.

The young father was so surprised she had gotten quite a head start on him before he was able to follow her and he did not dare to hurry, for fear of making any noise. So he followed the princess at a distance, climbing all the way down until the stone steps became hard earth and lights began to shimmer in the distance.

The princess hurried on and the young father followed, until they came to a winding path that led into a beautiful grove. All the trees were tall and slender and every single one of them had leaves of shining silver. The princess did not look left or right, but the young father reached out and plucked a silver leaf from one of the trees so that he might be sure he wasn’t dreaming.

The path went on and as they went, the trees around them grew larger and older and all their leaves were glimmering gold. And further still the trees were so many it was no longer possible to stray from the path, and all their leaves were of dazzling diamond. The young father plucked a golden and a diamond leaf too and hid them in his pocket.

At the very heart of that strange forest, old, deep-rooted trees twisted all about, bowing low and spreading their branches to form a shady bower. In its entrance stood a lady of unearthly beauty, proud and tall, with a smile that was as eager as it was sharp and eyes that were as endless as they were wild. She held out her arms, laughing like the wind does, and the princess ran to her.

The lady caught her up in her arms and whisked her off her feet. She carried her into the bower, as the branches closed rustling around them, to a bed spread with shimmering silk. And there the princess sang like a bird, all night long.

Just before dawning, the princess emerged from her hiding place and hurried back along the forest path. She was not so fast as she had been before and often the young father had to halt his step for fear of catching up with her. But at last they were climbing the stone steps back into the royal palace and the princess was so worn out and sleepy that she did not notice him slipping out behind her.

She drew the curtains and threw them back again, restoring her bed to its rightful place. Then she took off all her finery, hid everything neatly away, and collapsed into bed to sleep like a rose.

Now the astonished young father did not sleep a wink. For a while he thought he had dreamed the whole thing, but there in his pocket were the three shimmering leaves, as real as the nose on his face. So he lay there in silence, frowning like anything, wondering what to do. Imagine what might happen if the princess did not make it home before dawn one night? They could not loose their only princess to the fairies, that would never do. But what should be done about it?

So he lay thinking, as long as the princess lay sleeping. And when she finally rose, near the end of the morning, she was just as drowsy and heavy-eyed, exactly as hoarse and voiceless as she had been the day before. The courtiers lamented, but the young father had risen with a smile and immediately asked to speak to the king in private, to discuss what ailed his daughter.

“Your Majesty,” he said solemnly, “your noble daughter is lonesome. She weeps in her sleep and this wears out her sweet voice so by night that she cannot sing by day. If you will take my advice, my liege, you must call to your castle every young woman who is of age and unmarried and willing to leave home, and let your daughter pick from among them whomever she likes best to be her companions and confidantes. Do this and all will be well, I am sure.”

It was done exactly as the young father recommended and to the entire court’s joy and astonishment, it went precisely as he had predicted. From then on the princess appeared at breakfast bright and early, almost every morning, surrounded by her new companions and in high enough spirits to sing all day long.

The king did not know how to praise the young father highly enough. He gave him trice his weight in gold and then some extra because his daughter begged him to, and the young father returned home to his wife and children with as much fanfare as any knight of noble blood.

His wife kissed him and his children hugged him and they were merry all day long. And when the children had been put to bed and his wife had put her feet up, he told her all about what had happened at the palace. Then they both laughed and blushed and laughed again until they were quite out of breath. The three peculiar leaves they hid away for another day, for you never knew. And from that day on they lived comfortably and happily and drank to the health of their princess at every breakfast.

[a-killer-obsession]

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 4 - Toy Mouse

Heat is being greedy, so Kid puts him in his place.

WC: 3.6k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

At first things seemed fine and normal with Heat. He was clingy, definitely, but at first you just chalked it up to him being a little touch starved. It wasn't until he refused to leave when you needed to use the bathroom that you realised something might be off, not even turning away to give you privacy. It was difficult to do your business like that, but something about the dark look in his eyes when he watched you made you aroused and more willing to do what he wanted. He kept you by his side 24/7, with no chance of going off on your own even at night, when he kept his tail coiled around you like a boa constrictor with its prey. He never hurt you, but the lack of privacy was starting to get grading, not to mention your cunt hurt from how many times he'd mounted you. Sometimes you woke up with him already inside you, which you didn't mind so much, except for the fact you were exhausted and he was interrupting your sleep constantly. If you tried to scold him, he'd just give you sad little puppy eyes, and you couldn't help but give in. By day three it seemed like all you did was eat, sleep and fuck. He barely left the bed or let you leave, instead having someone bring meals to the bedroom so he could keep you to himself, and you were beginning to feel like you had no agency in your own life at all. As much as you enjoyed being used like a personal fleshlight, some fresh air would've been nice.

On day four of Heat keeping you captive, the others decided they'd had enough. Heat was slacking off on his chores to play with you, and Kid was sick of his insubordination. He had warned Heat right from the start what would happen if he acted too possessive, knowing full well it was in the wyrm's nature to act like this, and with Sabaody on the horizon he decided to do something about it. Both you and Heat were summoned to Kid's room, where he had his own private dining room he sometimes used for meetings.

As it turned out, the stairs in the stern castle led to the captain's quarters, in other words: Kid's floor. Only the commanders and whoever was responsible for cleaning his chambers were allowed up those stairs unless invited, so you felt highly intimated as Heat led you up. At the top of the stairs was a short hall with two doors, the first of which, Heat explained, went to Kid's workshop, and the other to his living quarters.

The main part of Kid's quarters was made up of two rooms, separated by a large archway. The first chamber held the dining room and bar, a similar setup to the commander's table on the stage downstairs in the galley, while the second chamber held his bedroom. Another door led through from the bedroom, you would learn later that these led through to a walk-in closet, and beyond it a bathroom which also connected to the workshop, making one large loop that took up the entire expanse of this floor.

Kid's main chambers were decorated as you had expected in reds and blacks, with deep scarlet wallpapers decorated with an embossed baroque pattern that was glossier than the base, but the same colour, giving a subtle texture to the walls where the light caught it. The lower third of the walls were shiplapped with a deep ebony wood, almost black, the doors, framing and much of the furniture being made of a matching wood. The floors were a slightly brighter wood, with large black and red ornate rugs with purple accents laid out under the dining set and bed. The bed itself was a gothic styled canopy bed, with an ornate headboard and deep red sheets, set with red velvet blankets and a red fur much like his coat draped over the end. At the end of the bed was a long purple ottoman, and the room also held several dressers that matched the bed; side tables, a purple velvet loveseat and matching armchair, a small glass topped coffee table in front of the sofa, and wrought-iron faux candelabra lighting fixtures scattered around the walls of each chamber. Each chamber also had a grand matching chandelier in the centre of the room, both sections lit in warm orange light. The dining section also held two china cabinets with glass panelled doors, one one either side of the room. The first held a multitude of expensive looking liquors and crystal glasses to enjoy them with, while the other seemed like a collection of antique weapons, a variety of well kept guns and knives of all kinds.

Kid, Killer and Wire already sat at the dining table as you and Heat entered, Kid in a throne-like seat at the end of the table that was taller and more ornate than the other chairs. Heat pulled you into his lap as he sat, wrapping his arms around you protectively. The others rolled their eyes at the overly possessive action.

“Come now,” Kid tutted, “come warm my lap instead, mouse.” He pushed his seat a little away from the table, patting his knee to invite you over. You made to move to him, wanting to be obedient, but Heat made a growl behind you and held you tighter. “Heat, what did I say? Do I need to take your toy away from you permanently? Prove to me this wasn't a mistake to let you take responsibility of her”

Heat grumbled but let you go, knowing that if he didn't give in then Kid would have to send you back down to the brig, and he didn't want to give up having you warm his bed. You spared Heat an apologetic look as you walked to the head of the table, and Kid quickly pulled you into his wide lap, the large, jewel encrusted belt buckle he wore digging into you as you tried to get comfortable. His hand rested on your inner thigh as he held you still, the other against your waist to pin your back to his chest. You could feel the vibrations in his chest from his deep voice whenever he spoke, while Heat watched on with a deep, unhappy scowl on his face. Kid's hand was so high on your thigh that he could swipe his thumb over your slit, making you bite your lip and squirm as he put pressure against your clothed cunt.

“Wipe that fucking look from your face, snake, she offered herself to everyone, quit being selfish,” Kid barked at him.

“Don't call him a snake,” you said quietly, a slight quiver to your voice, “that's not nice. He's a dragon, not a snake”

“Damn, you showed her your full form already?” Kid laughed, “no wonder she fuckin’ stinks of you. I'll just have to put my own scent on her,” he jeered, running his sharp canines over the pulse point of your neck, making you shiver. Heat made a growl, black smoke leaking from his mouth, and Kid openly laughed at him, running his hand further up your thigh to cup your cunt while his other hand grabbed a tit, making you let out a surprised squeak. “Sounds like I'm gonna have to put your boyfriend in his place, mouse. Be a doll and bend over the table for me.”

You moved to do as he asked, apparently not moving fast enough for his liking as he suddenly manhandled you, pushing your front down against the table and yanking down your borrowed sweatpants and oversized briefs. You couldn't help but let out a whine as he ran two fingers between your folds before bullying them inside you, finding you already wet from just his earlier teasing. “Little mouse is already soaked, you want this don't you, whore? Want me to use your greedy cunt? It's sucking my fingers in.”

“Y-yes captain,” you whined, blushing heavily and trying to ignore the other three men in the room who were watching you discerningly, most of all Heat who was growing angry as Kid played with his toy. There was wet squelching and the metallic jingling of gold bracelets as Kid finger fucked you, showing no mercy as he scissored his fingers to stretch you out as quickly as possible, adding a third thick finger and curling them down to press against your g-spot. “Ahh- hnng- Kid-” you moaned, writhing against the table, one of his hands still pressed to your back to keep you from getting up. He forcibly ripped an orgasm from you, not letting up even a little as he felt you clamp down around his fingers, and you heard the soft pattering of fluid hitting the rug as he made you squirt.

“Fuck, now there's a good whore,” Kid praised, pulling his fingers from you and licking them clean, savouring your sweet taste. If he had more time he'd eat you out, but this wasn't about making you feel good, this was about putting Heat in his place. “You didn't say she was a squirter, Heat. Sweet little mouse, making a mess on my rug. I'm gonna make a fucking mess of that pussy. See who you dream of then.”

You heard the unbuckling of his belt behind you, his blue sash thrown to the floor beside you as he yanked down his pants. You turned enough to see his erection, gasping at how impossibly thick he was, somehow even thicker than the base of Heat's dragon form cocks, though not as long. The man was built like a fucking soup can. Kid gave Heat a shit eating grin as he pushed your head to face forward again, lining himself up and pushing his cock into you far too fast, knocking the air from your lungs and making you sting from the stretch. If it wasn't for how regularly Heat had been mounting you, the stretch would have no doubt made you scream in pain, but thankfully Heat had been giving you no time for your cunt to recover fully.

“Fuck, so tight,” Kid growled, grabbing your hips hard enough to bruise and immediately starting a brutal pace, his heavy balls slapping against your thighs with every snap of his hips. He couldn't care less if you came again, his only goal was to cover you in cum so Heat would smell him on you for days and remember you didn't belong to only him. He was enjoying your tight cunt though nonetheless, seriously considering keeping you around for a while just to fuck even if you turned out to be full of shit.

You squirmed and moaned at Kid's rough treatment, moving too much for his liking. He made a frustrated growl and lifted a leg to the table, pressing his boot against your head, threatening to crush it. “Stop fucking squirming bitch,” he barked, “take what I fucking give you.”

You could smell the dirt and dried sea salt on the sole of his boot, as well as the polish he used to shine the leather (or more likely, that another crewmate used). You couldn't help the string of moans that left you at the degrading treatment, your nails digging into the wooden table top as your clothed tits slid back and forth against it. You made the mistake of looking ahead, making eye contact with Wire, who looked highly amused, his eyes dark and hungry as he twirled his trident on its base. You whined at his expression, he was watching you like you were nothing more than a plaything, practically seeing the cogs in his head turning as he considered all the things he would do to you when he got his turn. Killer's face was of course unreadable, but he watched you with crossed arms, sitting in a relaxed looking slouch with his mask pointed right at you. You expected Heat to look upset, but instead his eyes were wide and blown out with lust, finding surprisingly that he actually enjoyed watching Kid fuck you. He could get used to this, he thought. Possessiveness still prickled in the back of his mind, already planning on coating you in cum the second he got a chance, maybe he'd even piss on you for good measure, but for now he was enjoying watching Kid use you, and seeing the way your eyes rolled back at his merciless pounding.

“Oi, you two,” Kid pointed at Killer and Wire, “jerk yourselves off, we're gonna paint this bitch with our cum so Heat knows to share in future.”

The two of them didn't hesitate for a moment, already rock hard from watching as they each unfastened their pants and pulled out their cocks. You couldn't see how big they were from this angle, but just knowing they were fucking themselves while they watched you was enough to make your legs shake, clamping down hard around Kid's cock and near screaming as you came. “Oh you like that huh? You like seeing them jerk off while they watch me fuck you?” Kid laughed, “you were born to be a whore. That's the real reason you ended up on this ship, a perfect little whore, made just for us.”

Heat made a move to touch himself, but Kid growled and snapped a finger at him. “Not you, selfish cunt, you're just gonna sit there and watch. You've had enough turns already.”

Heat whined, putting his hands on the table, his fingers twitching and shifting nervously as he struggled to control his urges, black smoke puffing out of his nose with every strained breath. Kid removed his boot from your head and pulled his cock out of you, flipping you onto your back unceremoniously before he grabbed your thighs and pulled your ass to the edge of the table, reshealthing himself with a grunt. He grabbed your shirt and tore it open easily, exposing your breasts which bounced with every thrust. He tweaked and pinched your nipples, making you whine and your back arch of the table. “Fuck, look at those tits, these natural baby?”

“Y-yes captain,” you whined, thighs squeezing around him involuntarily as he started rubbing your clit hard with a calloused thumb.

“Fucking nice,” he growled, groping your tit hard before his hand moved further up and squeezed around your neck. The restricted air flow made you light headed, adding to the dizziness you were feeling after two hard orgasms. You vaguely registered the creaking of the table behind you and the striped mask hovering over your face, before Kid released your neck, only for Killer to grab your face and tilt your head back, shoving his cock in your mouth and giving you no time to adjust before he was gagging you with it. You had to keep your eyes shut as they watered, trying hard not to gag as Killer's cock choked you, so you didn't see how Wire stood at your side, playing with the tit that Kid wasn't already occupying as he continued to fist himself, rolling your nipple between his fingers and slapping your soft mound. Your hands came up to grab at the lacing on Killer's jeans for support as you slid back and forth on the dining table, unable to concentrate on anything except for breathing through your nose.

You moaned around Killer's cock as Kid pulled at your clit and you came again, your gummy walls squeezing him and pulling him to his own peak. He pulled out just in time to coat your pussy with cum, thick ropes beading between your labia and dripping to the rug below as he panted. The other two took that as their cue, Wire spraying hot ropes over your tits while Killer unloaded over your face, leaving you thankful that your eyes were shut. The three of them left you whining and panting on the table, leaving you cold as the three hot bodies around you suddenly disappeared. You felt used but in the best kind of way, running your hands over your body and playing with the cum, pushing Killer's into your mouth and moaning around your fingers as you sucked the frosting from them.

“What do you say, mouse?” Kid purred, sitting back in his chair, pushing his cock back into his pants.

“Thank you captain,” you whimpered, touching your oversensitive clit with gentle circles. You couldn't help yourself when you felt unbelievably lewd covered in the collective cum of three different men.

“Look at her, can't get enough, she's jerking herself off with my cum,” Kid laughed, “go on then mouse, make yourself cum, show us how much you like being our little cum rag.”

You whined as you touched yourself harder with purpose, knowing it wouldn't take much to get yourself off given how sensitive you were right now. You dipped your fingers inside yourself, curling them the way you knew you liked best, zeroing in on the spot you knew would make you squirt, wanting to impress Kid. You sat up a little to reach better, seeing Kid's shit-eating grin as he watched you, looking pleased and amused as you fingered yourself in front of him. “Good girl mouse,” he purred, “you gonna cum for us sweetheart? Show us how much you love being the ship whore.”

“Ahhh- Kid~” you whined, your torso falling back to the table as your back arched, pumping your fingers fast in and out of your overused and gaping cunt as you felt the coil in your abdomen pull tight, your free hand running over your breasts and spreading Wire's spend over them. “Gonna- gonna cum- can I cum captain?”

“Good mouse, you can cum,” he purred, impressed by your naturally submissive behaviour. You did so immediately, squirting hard with a scream the whole Grandline would hear. With nothing for your release to catch against you almost got Kid with it, which pleased him greatly to watch as your release sprayed out over the rug and tabletop. You collapsed against the table with your legs draped over the side, shaking and twitching with aftershocks, entirely spent. Kid pulled your fingers from your cunt and licked them clean, making you whine as he gave your pussy a playful slap. “Good girl, mouse, you did good. You can go back to Heat now sweetheart.”

Heat helped you off the table, pulling you into his lap where you could feel his raging erection straining in his pants under your ass. He buried his face in your shoulder with a needy whine, and as exhausted as you were you couldn't do much to comfort him, so you just pressed your face against his. Killer and Wire had already returned to their seats, acting like nothing had happened, like there wasn't a puddle of fluids on the table or a stain on the rug, and like you weren't still covered in cum, not that Heat or yourself minded. He hated smelling the others on you, but he was too turned on to complain.

“Right,” Kid cleared his throat, “now that we've gotten that out of the way, Sabaody is a few days away.” You did your best to show him you were paying attention, but it was difficult given your half asleep state. “So you better have a plan for how you're gonna prove you're not full of shit. As tight as that pussy is, you ain't stayin’ on the ship if you can't prove your story.”

“Mmm, I have a plan, Captain,” you replied with a half-lidded gaze, “I can write down everything that'll happen, give it to one of you so you know I'm not changing it. Then afterwards you'll see everything I wrote down happened. I don't think you should read it till you're back though, I don't know yet if telling you will change things, so while I'm proving myself it would be best to play it safe.”

“Hmm,” Kid hummed, “alright then. But Heat is coming with us, so you're gonna have to come too. I don't trust anyone else to babysit you when we have no proof right now that you don't have powers.”

“Ah, I'd rather you lock me in the brig, to be honest,” you replied anxiously, “not to spoil things but Sabaody will not be… uneventful… and I have no way of defending myself. I'm a decent shot with a rifle from a stationary position but I have no experience with fighting. I only know how to shoot because my dad used to take me hunting, I'd be no good in a real fight. I'll just be a burden out there.”

“Fine, but if you turn out to be full of shit, don't think we won't drag you straight to the closest human auction house,” Kid threatened.

“Noted,” you shivered, hoping like hell that you just being in this world hadn't already fucked up the series of events due to play out. You weren't keen on getting branded and sold off to some Celestial cunt. Being used like a sex doll was only fun if it was with your favourite boys.

“Heat, get her cleaned up,” Kid barked before standing, “you're dismissed.”

Heat quickly picked you up bridal style and carried you out of the room without another word before Kid could change his mind, eager to have you to himself again. He'd clean you up, for sure, but not before he put his own mark on you.

[Next Chapter]

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[neverchecking]

More Sage Hc's

Because I miss him :(

And this is a wonderful half-collab with @angry-trashcan. I love you so very much and thank you for letting me yell ideas at you.

CW: Mentions of child abuse, child soldiers, Zelda slander, Sage

・❥・Welcome back. :)

・❥・So, we've established Sage as his own character at this point. I think it's safe to say he is not Wild. They are similar but two very distinct characters. That is something I'd like to clarify.

・❥・But we'll step into that later.

・❥・For now, let's talk about his entire timeline from start to finish.

・❥・So, Bailey and I talked about his parents and this is the conclusion we came to:

・❥・As everyone knows, Link in the AoC/BotW/TotK timeline was in the knights by a staggeringly young age. Either four or twelve or fourteen. I've seen them all, but I'm not sure if there's a canon age.

・❥・For Sage, we're going with four.

・❥・Now, let's start with his father. Sage's father was in the knights as a commanding officer, which is why he was okay with Link joining the knights. However, because of this a lot more expectations were placed on a very young Sage. And if he failed the punishments were much harsher and much less justified.

・❥・There were nights when Sage/Link was left on the ground outside because his father didn't deem him worth the effort and forbade people from helping him.

・❥・He'd walk past and spit on this terrified child because he didn't live up to expectations. "Your mother would've been so disappointed."

・❥・(shout out to Bailey for ripping out all of our hears with that line.

・❥・Because of this Sage finds much more comfort sleeping outside. Even a a century later, he prefers the comfort of a constant rather than a bedroom he was never allowed the privilege of knowing.

・❥・When he gets his house in Tarrey Town, he builds the stable extension first and slips outside with Epona.

・❥・We also agreed that his mother most likely died during the birth of his sister, which is probably why they had to move out of the Hateno house and closer to the castle, if not on the castle grounds.

・❥・If I had to make an assumption on his mother, she was probably a timid woman that never stood against his father.

・❥・This is really just my lil tidbit but because of that headcanon it's why I made Aaliyah such an abrasive character because I feel Sage would feel too much like his father with someone who reminded him of his mother. Or the little bits he remembers of her.

・❥・Anyway, his mother was probably a seen rather than heard woman,

・❥・Now, you're probably asking about his sister. We decided that she would've ended up as a maid/servant in the castle.

・❥・This is for two reasons:

・❥・One) It adds to hatred Sage has for the Royal Family. As a knight he would've had no choice but to watch this happen and would feel that burning guilt as a bystander, ignoring the fact that he has no choice in the matter. Maybe that's why he fought so hard pre-Calamity. Of course, he still fought because it was his duty, but I also like to imagine he was trying his best to protect his sister before it could ever hit her. Even if it was a fruitless endeavor.

・❥・Two) When Sage remembers this fact, it's probably before Tears of the Kingdom. The bridge between TotK and BotW probably is Link/Sage unravelling a lot of the trauma he tried to ignore regarding the royal family. So this is almost a catharsis to the entire feat. Moreso with Zelda/Natura's reaction.

・❥・She'd be flippant and almost ignorant to the entire ordeal.

・❥・Before anyone comes for my throat, let me explain Natura's character okay?

・❥・So, as far as I'm concerned, Natura hasn't learned anything. She's very much still the same character she was in AoC which is a spoiled individual with little regards to the woes others are facing. She had a tough time, yes I understand that and she was young, but she had no reason to act the way she did with Link. I don't care, argue with the wall.

・❥・She went digging around in the remains of what was left of her people post BotW trying to figure out how the guardians worked. She puts more emphasis on her studies and research rather than her people. Remember this is Natura. Not Zelda. This is my characterization in the same way that Sage is my characterization of Link.

・❥・Anyway, she didn't go looking for a way to solve the Gloom issue, she went looking for a way to capitalize on it. Like the pharmaceutical industry.

・❥・So you can imagine her reaction knowing that.

・❥・"We kept her off the streets like a worthless rat. You should be thanking me."

・❥・Yeah, it's not great.

・❥・So then TotK happens, yadda yada.

・❥・Sage loves animals. Let me get this straight. He's not heartless, he's angry and he's vengeful. Animals never wronged him. He finds comfort with animals as they can't lie to him. He can earn their trust and they'll remain loyal.

・❥・Because Sage is a dangerously loyal man. He still carries the loyalty of the hero's spirit, but it's amplified. Once you're his, you're his forever. Nothing can drag him away from you as he won't let it.

・❥・He's so loyal it turns from a positive attribute to a flaw. :)

・❥・He's possessive and protective and doesn't see an issue with it. Everything else has been torn from his hands but his fingers will be broken and bloody before he lets what's his go.

・❥・I bring up the animal thing just to say Sage gets a dog. You know that stable that closes down in the desert? And how all the stables have stable dogs? Well, this one follows Sage all over Hyrule. And if he goes in the depths thinking he's lost it, the second he's out the dog is sniffing his ass out.

・❥・Yes, he keeps the dog and feeds it the nicest cuts of meat, don't worry.

・❥・It's name is Droolius Caesar.

・❥・Timeline wise, let's talk about that.

・❥・So again, Bailey, and they're gorgeous fucking brain, brought up the idea of him being on a different timeline then Wild. I ran with it.

・❥・I don't see TotK falling on the timeline nicely no matter what we do. Not with the Zonai and not with the other game.

・❥・So what if it doesn't fall on the same timeline as BotW? The same events happen but now it's different.

・❥・Here's how it goes:

・❥・So when Time splits the timeline we get the normal one where, yay! he saves the day! and the other one where he doesn't. Call it the downfall timeline, the fallen timeline, the failure timeline, I don't care. For the sake of argument it's the Fallen Timeline here.

・❥・So there's an idea that the timelines merge somewhere between Wars timeline and Wild's. But let's say they don't. Because the Fallen timeline goes to Legend, then Hyrule. Then what if it doesn't fix itself and just continues. which is where it then leads to Sage's era.

・❥・Only this timeline is on hard mode at all times. Legend's adventures were difficult, Hyrule's era is absolutely brutal, so it makes sense that Sage's is just as hard.

・❥・We toyed with the idea that because this timeline is so hard, the heroes that reign from it are just that much more advanced. It's shown through Legend and then Hyrule, both of whom have wielded the full triforce at one point or another (I think). Somewhere between Hyrule's world however and Legend's, the goddess' didn't like this idea. They didn't like the idea of the hero having this sense of power, so they stripped it away entirely. They knew that somewhere the hero's spirit would be tainted and took away the power that could be used to dethrone them before it could manifest with Sage.

・❥・In turn, the hero's spirit carried on and grew stronger to overcome this. Sage still has the hero's spirit, but it's not like an actual spirit. No, it's more like the fallen hero carrying on and trying to amend for his sins.

・❥・Which Sage hates. He hates it so much, but it propels him before he can stop it. In the beginning of TotK? It's what propels him to jump in after Zelda. After however? The gloom is what finally kills that spirit. Rauru can save him, but fails to save the spirit.

・❥・And from there Sage evolves and arises into the rat we all know and love.

・❥・All of this to give my own lil headcanons on Epona.

・❥・So there's a theory that Malanya (Horse god) Is actually Malon and I like that. (Because she gave Link Epona OG and they sound similar) So in Sage's Era? Guess what?

・❥・Anyway, I imagine Malanya and Sage had a better connection because of this. Malanya goes out of their way to care for Sage and his horse because they feel they failed their Link.

・❥・So Sage gets an Epona in a way to apologize for their first failure.

・❥・Epona is a very good horse <3

・❥・So in the wise words of bailey to end this off,

The hero's spirit is dead. Long live whatever the fuck Sage is.

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Hyacinth + lemon ice :)

Mihawk is so dreamy I'd forgive him too tbh. Reader gets mad at her mysterious boyfriend for leaving and he *somehow* convinces her to forgive him... wink wonk

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x Female Reader

WC: 2000

Prompt: “You know I’m sorry…” 

— —

You push through the doors to the lavish dining room wearing a ruby colored dressing gown and dramatically fling yourself into a chair at the end of the massively long dining table. You groan. Head in your hands, you were distraught. 

Your lover had left you almost 2 weeks ago. Not permanently of course… or so you assumed. Nearly 2 weeks ago Mihawk left the safety of your remote castle on some sort of business he promised would only take a day or two. And yet? Here you were. Alone. 

You were want for nothing, the castle was always filled with any amenities or food you might need, but you couldn’t help but long for a warm body next to you in bed and the firm touch of your warlord lover. Although you tried to push it aside, but you also worried for his safety. There was always an aspect of danger when he left even though he was beyond competent in both combat and negotiations, but you always tried to ignore it. 

He would always tell you, “There’s no use in worrying my dear. I’d slaughter every being on the seas if it was stopping me from coming home to you. Now get that thought out of your head.” 

And although he would tell you time and time again not to worry, you couldn’t help it. Why would he still be gone? You ran through hundreds of make-believe scenarios where Mihawk suffered a horrific death or is still enduring immeasurable horrors at the hands of some monster or maybe even-

“HELLOOO! You look like you need a drink bitch.” 

Suddenly, your biggest headache and current housemate materialized through the wall and laid out on the table in front of you. She mimics your position with her head in her hands and taunts you. 

“So your weird sword daddy hasn’t come back yet. He always shows up eventually, and you always forgive him like you weren’t wailing around these halls like a victorian widow for days beforehand. He’ll turn up and he’ll rip your clothes off faster than you can even tell him you’re mad. Come on, lighten up you old broad! Have a drink with me!” 

Perona suddenly has two ghosts bringing a bottle of whiskey and two glasses up from behind her and on to the table in between the two of you. You pick up your head and make a face. 

“I wish you’d stop calling me that, I’m only 5 years older than you.” You huff out. You roll your eyes but you grab the glass in front of you and gesture to one of Perona’s summoned ghosts for it to pour you a glass of whiskey. 

“Yeah but you’re the one stalking around a castle alone with your cats in floor length robes. You’re like, mentally, ancient.” 

“I take offense to that. So what? I like gothic architecture and solitude, is that a crime?” You take a heavy gulp of alcohol and grimace. 

“Okay, whatever. You’re the one fucking a vampire.” Perona takes her drink and chuckles. 

You motion for another drink. 

“He isn’t a vampire, Perona.” You take your drink and lean back in your chair. “He just likes hats.” 

You both make eye contact, Perona furrows her brow at you. You burst out in laughter, with Perona quickly to follow. 

— —

You wake up the next morning to the sunlight streaming through the lace curtains of your luxurious master bedroom. Your eyelids flutter open and you stretch and turn over to face the opposite side of the bed. Undisturbed. He still wasn’t home. You shoot up in bed. The whiskey Perona insisted you drink had helped you drift off to sleep without the worries about the fate of your lover. But now it was morning and he still wasn’t home. You groan and fall back into your bed. 

Where the hell was he? He had never been this late before… Was this finally the time he never comes back?

*whooooosh* *thump*

You hear the massive stone double doors to the castle open and close. You practically jump out of bed.

You toss the covers off your naked form and you go to your dressing curtain to put on a long emerald green robe with dyed feathers on the edges of the sleeves and the bottom. You didn’t even bother putting on slippers as you tear your way out of the master bedroom and down the hallways to the main staircase. You halt yourself at the top of the staircase and look down at the entrance to the castle. 

There stood your lover, Mihawk, looking a bit worse for wear, but all together fine. Once your brain registered that he was alive and well, the anger returned. 

“DRACULE MIHAWK…” 

You bellow from the top of the stairs. You swiftly begin to descend the staircase, your bare feet gliding across the stone. “Fourteen days? Not a call? Nothing?” Your robe flies behind you as you slink down the stairs towards Mihawk, not giving him a moment to reply. “I was convinced your smart mouth had finally done you in! You say you’ll be gone for a night and you show up at my door 2 weeks later? You could have called me you-“ Tears are streaming down your face. You finally reach Mihawk and throw your fists up to try to hit his shoulders.

Mihawk grabs your wrists before you could strike. He was tired, but you were distraught, you were no match for him. 

“My love… I am so sorry… Oh, how I’ve missed you…” Mihawk brings your wrists back down to your sides and embraces you fully. You pull back. “No! You can’t keep doing this!” You take several steps backwards once he releases you. “All I do is worry! You leave me here alone and don’t tell me where you are! I’m tired of this! I won’t do it! I love you, Mihawk!” You cry out and drop to your knees, overcome with emotion. 

Mihawk immediately drops to his knees in front of you, trying to stay on your level. He grabs the sides of your face with his hands. 

“I know, my love, I know. Something came up and I couldn’t find a way to tell you. Please forgive me, darling.” Mihawk tilts your face up to meet his above you. “You know I’m sorry…” 

As Perona predicted, you folded. 

He leaned in and captured your lips in a deep kiss. 

Mihawk swiftly swoops you up under your ass and carries you all the way to your shared bedroom, away from any unwanted voyeurs. He throws you back onto the bed with a gentle thud. 

“You may not believe me now, love, but I promise I won’t leave you worrying again…” Mihawk whispered into your calf as he kissed up your leg towards your aching center. He had already discarded his hat and jacket, making quick work of his pants with the other hand. Once shed of his clothing, he pulls your robe apart and settles his body between your legs and spreads them forcefully with his rough palms. 

“Mihawk I just got up, I haven’t bathed or-“ You grab his hair to pull him back, he shakes your grip off. 

“Let me enjoy you, my precious girl, you know I like it better this way anyway.” He smirks and begins kissing and biting your inner things. You sigh and relax into the sensation of finally having his touch on you again. After teasing for a few minutes, Mihawk finally reaches your now soaking center and dives in with his skilled tongue. You moan loudly as he sucks and slurps at your clit lewdly, driving you mad. He pulls away to watch your face as he slips two fingers into your clenching hole. 

“You taste so sweet, love, as always.” You whimper at his praises and the feeling of his fingers working your insides. He returns to your clit with his mouth and you feel yourself quickly being brought to the precipice of pleasure. You arch your back and bring your hands to your breasts to pinch your nipples, pushing you into the throws of a powerful orgasm. You cry out loudly in pure bliss. 

Your handsome lover pulls his face from between your legs and peppers your stomach and the valley of your breasts with wet kisses as he moves up your body. Your chest heaves as you are truly at Mihawk’s mercy. You were soft and pliant under his addictive touch. He whispers into your neck as he begins pushing his hardened member into your tight entrance. 

“Let me show you how much I missed you, let me make love to you.” You moan as he bottoms out inside of you and throw up your hands to tangle them in his dark hair. He pulls back and presses his mouth onto yours in a passionate kiss as he deeply grinds his hips into yours. He uses his hands to push your knees further back and spread towards your shoulders and you gasp into his mouth at the new angle at which he was able to penetrate you. 

“Shit, there!” You cry out. You felt your muscles start to tighten and that familiar warmth was building in your abdomen again. You slam your eyes shut and turn your head to try to bury your face in the pillow, but failing since you were on your back. 

“Already darling? I’m not done yet, you’re going to have to hold it.” Mihawk pulls back to get a better look at your fucked out expression. 

“I-I-, shit! I can’t!” You moan as he continues to deeply thrust into you. 

“No cumming. Not until I say.” Mihawk uses one of his hands to grip your cheeks and force you to look up at him. You were so caught up in trying to hold back your orgasm you couldn’t form words anymore, only whimpers and grunts. 

“Hold it a bit longer, my love, I know you can do it. You’re going to cum when I fill you. I promise it will feel so good.” Your lover picks up his pace and you could tell he was getting closer to his own peak by his ragged breathing. 

“Mi-hawwwkk! Please! Need to cum! Can’t hold it!” Tears started spilling from your lash line and down your cheeks. 

“Cum now.” He says sternly as he applies firm pressure on your clit with his hand. 

“Ah!” You scream out loudly as your sticky release spurts out around Mihawk’s cock that was deep inside of you. Your twitching walls trigger Mihawk’s orgasm and he lurches forward and spills his hot seed, coating your walls that were milking his cock so deliciously. 

Your lover pulls out of you and lays next to you on the silk sheets. He pulls you into his broad chest and you cuddle into him with a heavy exhale. 

“So, are you still upset with me?” Mihawk finally asks, stroking the back of your head. 

“Yes, but significantly less so.” You nuzzle your nose into his skin. 

“I promise I’ll call next time, alright love? I hate having you worry.” 

“You better, or next time I won’t forgive you as easily.” You retort. 

Mihawk smiles. 

“I’m not so certain about that.”

— — 

xx Mo

[bean-bean2000]

The Maid - Part 3

Pairing: Loki x reader (on going series)

Warnings: Angst, abuse, mental health (depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts). Eventual loki x reader pairing. Reader is a maid.

Please read at your own risk. Your own media consumption is not my responsibility. Please read and review the warnings before proceeding.

Thank you and enjoy!

Part 2 Series masterlist Main Masterlist

You return to the maid's quarters, shaking in disbelief at your interaction with the king.

I just lied to his face. I'm such an idiot. Will he change his mind and punish me? Why was he so nice to me if he sends his guards to beat me almost daily? Why did he look concerned when he saw my injuries? Is this some cruel manipulative twisted joke so he can trap me into trusting him, just so he can rip my trust for him into pieces? To finally break me like the guards say they will?

Your mind is racing; confused, angry, hurt. You say nothing to the other maids when you return to your cot. If they are to know you spoke to the king, rumours will spread.

You decide you can't risk it, you have to request a change of duties.

You rush to the man in charge of separating the help's duties amongst the castle.

You bow your head and curtsy when you approach him "Good evening, sir. I am here to place a request, if possible." you say quietly, staring at the floor.

He says nothing so you decide to continue "I would like to change duties. I believe the king is no longer fond of my work, nor my presence and think a change would be best to appease his anger."

"Very well. I doubt he will notice the change anyway. You are quiet and forgettable. You will be placed on the rotation team. You will work multiple different duties at my discretion. You may leave now." he says to you coldly.

You thank him quckly and return to your chambers.

He's right. He won't even notice I'm gone. This is for the best, I must avoid him at all costs to stay alive. Stay quiet, do as they say and stay small. It's the only way I'll survive.

Over the next two weeks you successfully avoid all contact with the king. You're continuously rotating duties from maid, to kitchen staff, to laundry and you're body is aching from the physical exertion. The abuse from the guards subdued but did not stop from the Snake. He would search for you exclusively and insist it was at kings personal request. He did everything he could to try to break you, but you repeated the same words "Never". Sometimes you would fight back and other times you would simply take it so it could be over with faster, but one thing you made sure of is that he never touched you. You would go feral at the mention of it.

Yesterday, the Snake went too far and tried holding you down to 'teach you a lesson', you screamed and swung your hands as you scratched his face from his eyebrow to his lip so deeply he was bleeding profusely all over his bedroom floor. You took your upper hand to your advantage and threatened him " I can take your abuse, you will not break me and I will die before I let you touch me. Next time, I will scratch your eyes out." you hissed at him. He screamed for the other guards as he swung at you but you side stepped and tried running out but was caught by the other guards.

"Now, you will see what the king truly thinks of you once he discovers what you've done, witch. He will not be as merciful as I was. Bring her to the dungeons." he spits at you as you're dragged away.

You're thrown to the damp stone floor covered in hay, scratching your palms and knees as you roll on the floor.

"This is where you belong, witch." One of them says as the door locks behind you.

You hear their laughter fade as they walk away. The cell is disgustingly dirty, there is only a small space with bars that acts as a window. Besides the moonlight, you're left in complete darkness, the only sound to occupy your mind is the squeaks of the mice running around. You bring your knees to your chest and begin crying "What have I done? Why didn't I just let him do what he wanted? I wouldn't be here... At least I would have a chance at life... now I'm as good as dead" you cry to yourself.

The next day you're woken abruptly and dragged outside. Your hand are tied to a post and they rip open the back of your shirt.

Your heart races as you realize what is happening. You hear the Snake laugh and then the searing pain of the whip across your back.

You scream out in pain and dig your nails into the post to ground yourself.

"So the whore can scream afterall. Let's see how loud she can be. You've been holding out on me." the Snake mocks you.

This continued 10 times. For everyday the nurse said he would need to heal from the wound you created in his eye.

They drag you away and throw you back onto the dungeon floor. Bleeding profusely from your back, unable to move from the pain, you curly yourself into a ball and beg for death to take you.

You awake to a nurse tending to your back. You both stay quiet as she puts the familiar balm to your back and wraps your wounds to prevent infection.

Two days pass, no guards have come to bring you food or water. You're famished and parched. Your back is in continuous searing pain, your breathing has become more shallow every day. You're in such pain, you try to force yourself to sleep to avoid the pain. Eventually, you pass out. You're awakened by the sound of a crow squawking and the sun shining on you.

You look up and see the bird standing at the makeshift window, in between the bars. It crows a few times before turning around and flying away.

Even the birds don't want to be near me.

You hear heavy footsteps approach your cell when the Snake opens the door "Learned you lesson yet, witch? Get up, you reek. Bathe and get ready for work tomorrow. Maybe this will make you think twice before fighting me." he sneers at you.

You struggle to get up so he grabs you by the arm and yanks you to your feet making you shriek in pain from the deep cuts in your back.

"Shut up, harlot. Get out of my face." he spits at you.

You slowly walk out of the dungeons and back to the maids quarters. You're so weak, you collapse on your cot and pass out when you arrive.

🧹🧹🧹

You awoke before dawn, bathing to ease the pain. The nurse helps apply the balm to your back and wrap the wounds once more. You look at yourself in the mirror. Your left eye is severely bruised, you look exhausted and in pain.

Today you're placed on kitchen duty. You're slowly walking to the kitchen, when you see a crow fly overhead and land nearby on a statue.

A crow, again? ... Is it staring at me?

You shake your head in dismissal and you near the kitchen. You were to prep everything for the breakfast run before the cooks arrived.

You were deep in thought and humming to yourself while cutting vegetables and boiling some water to make yourself a coffee that you didn't notice somebody walk in behind you.

"Where have you been?" a familiar voice cuts through the silence. You yelp in surprise and cut your finger with the knife. You hiss in pain and rush to place a towel over it to stop the bleeding.

"Sorry darling, l keep frightening you." He approaches you but you back up in fear, your back hitting the kitchen counter. You groan out loud at the pain from your back hitting the counter. He stops and looks at you with hurt and confusion.

You keep your down "It's okay your highness. I'm fine." you say quietly.

He sighs "I've been looking for you."

Your eyes widen at that statement. Oh my god, he's going to kill me, just like the Snake said he would.

"Why were you replaced as my maid? I made no such request. I was very content with your work. Are you avoiding your king?" he presses on.

"Your highness, please. I will do as he says. I will not fight him next time. I beg you to please forgive me and spare my life. I was stupid, it was done in fear. I will never do it again!" you beg, your eyes brimming with tears. You're shaking, straining to breathe properly with the pain coursing through your entire body.

"What none sense do you speak of? Where were you?." he asks again, more urgently. It sounded more like a command than a question.

You bite your lip hard, making it bleed.

"My king...I don't... you ordered the guards..." you're unable to form a sentence through the fear shaking through you.

His eyes narrow and he inspects you and tries to make sense of the words you're hiccuping out.

"Who did I order to do what?" he asks you, his voice rising with anger.

I can't tell him. This is a trick. It was his orders. He knows, he wants to see if I will question his orders.

You take in a deep breath and steady yourself, stopping the tears from falling down your face.

If I avoid his question about the guards, I won't be lying to him.

"I requested a change of duties, your highness." you blurt out.

He looks taken aback "Why? Did I make you uncomfortable? Do you fear me?"

You're confused by his line of questions "No, your highness... I -"

"You're lying. I will give you one last chance." he says sternly.

You swallow thickly, your anger and frustration from the past months of mistreatment bubbles up inside. A sudden burst of confidence, you look up at stare at him. You notice his shock when he sees the damage to your face.

"No, your highness you did not make me uncomfortable. I have received your messages daily from the guards, and the whipping you ordered I received. I have heard the rumours and they ring true. You cannot blame me for fearing you."

"Whipping? Rumours? What -" Loki begins but is interrupted by the cooks entering the kitchen to start the day. His eyes fall to the bandages he can see at the bottom of your shirt, wrapping up and around your back. You see his eyes darken and his fists clench at his sides.

They freeze when they see the king speaking to you.

"Sorry your highness, we will -" one of the cooks begins.

"No. I will be taking my leave. There is something I must tend to."

He quickly exits the kitchen and the cooks stare at you in confusion. You dismiss their looks and return to your duties.

🧹🧹🧹

Part 4

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Feedback is always welcome. Feel free to send me suggestions for scenes/drabbles that I could add into the stroy :)

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[littlenahsstuff]

Can you do alcina dimitrescu having to teach down her wife (the reader) because she got lost in the castle? Thank youu

Learning Curve

Yes, I can! I hope this is similar to what you were looking for. Sorry this took too long I was struggling with it and writers block for quite awhile.

Overview: you were previously Donna’s maid. You and Alcina get married after a very official courting. You only ever had been to castle Dimitrescu’s dining hall, tea room, and the gardens. After the wedding, you feel the need to prove yourself and what better way to start than to know the ins and outs of your new home.

Warnings: maybe like the tiniest bit of anxiety and frustration, you hurt your ankle, 2nd person POV, kinda-incorrect layout of the castle. So much fluff at the end.

You were the happiest you’d ever be. After a lovely ceremony at the Church, headed by Mother Miranda, and an incredible party at the vineyard, you felt as if your future will be amazing with your wife. There was the slight issue of her being nobility, but it didn’t bother you almost at all. You were, however, far less educated; you planned to utilise the newfound resources at your fingertips to help that.

You decided that you would start small, then learn the family and business’ history, and then become more worldly from there. You now didn’t really have a job. Donna was considered a friend, so you could visit her and spend time with the girls, though you would need something to fill up your alone time.

Alcina was completely honest with you about what goes on at the castle, so you knew the cellar wasn’t safe. You do think that you’ll try working from the ground floor up and see where it takes you though.

You decided you would start with the main floor first, it was least confusing, especially with the semi-open theme. You got most of the main floor covered easily, the main hall, the hall of four, kitchen, and the quart yard. That area was more dilapidated than you remember so maybe a little later in your marriage you mention renovations.

The rest of the first floor led you to two new areas, a room connected to the hall of four with an adorable and very intricate replica of the castle. It was incredible to see it all at once. The other area was another bedchamber also connected to the hall of four.

The second floor was far less easy but you did know a few rooms. You knew Alcina’s… well your bedroom, the bathroom and a few other bedrooms.

You found a hallway you’ve never been down and went through all of the doors. There was a room with a statue. You didn’t mean to but you tripped on the carpet and almost knocked the statue over, or you would have if it wasn’t bolted in place. It turned with a click, leaving you confused. A painting of a boat swung open.

You were amazed to find the secret passage and with wonder and bedazzlement you stepped through. There were a few cobwebs that made you shiver as well at some dust making you sneeze. It was narrow but just large enough you could stand straight. It led you to the fork in the road with three new directions. You wondered how big the castle was and you had no idea where would lead back to a place you knew so you just went left.

The farther you went and you ended up somehow finding another secret passage fork in the road, this time you decided to go right. You walked until the passage narrowed. The rest of the way was filled with cobwebs and you were chilled to the bone. At one point you felt something small bight you and you let out a yelp. Your lantern broke as it hit the floor. That was the last straw, you needed to get out of there.

You turned around the best you could and started to head back, the cobweb part was dreaded. You shivered once again.

You realized you were unsure which way to go back. You thought you guessed correctly until you tripped over a rock that had definitely been large enough that you would have seen it on the way there. Your ankle throbbed in red hot pain. You let out a pained wail and sat there unsure of what to do. You were embarrassed. You felt so naive for taking the passage when you should’ve stayed on your normal route. Your ears rung at one point but you knew you needed to do. You were exhausted but you called out for Alcina.

Alcina swore she heard something behind her office walls. It wasn’t the loudest though, as if muffled. She ran to make sure it wasn’t you.

“Y/n, darling?” She called out, she knew you were hurt when she heard the groan and she also figured out that you were in a passage behind the wall. Thankfully she remembered how to access them from all those times the girls made her play hide and go seek. She pulled the torche on the wall and a bookshelf slid open. She saw you sitting there clutching your ankle with a wince.

“Oh no, whatever were you doing in there sweetie? Those areas can get dangerous.” She questions you with such concern that the dam breaks free. You explain how you wanted to be more knowledgeable for her and you wanted to start with learning the castle so you wouldn’t need help.

“I love helping you, and I don’t need you to be any smarter,” she says “I would love to show you around what is now our home.” You stop sobbing but the teary eyed persist. You now she’s happy tears and give as you are given, a look of poor adoration. She picks you up to your surprise and sets you in a lounge chair by her desk. She rings a maid to come in.

“Now just relax her for a bit, I’ll be right here with you.” She says.

“Thank you” you make out, smiling.

“Anything my love.” She turns her attention to the maid that appeared.

“I need ice, a pillow and some pain medication. Call the merchant as well for something better as well as a brace.” She looks so attractive when ordering someone around for you and it causes you to night your lip.

She mistakes it as sorry and gives you a questioning look.

“I just appreciate how much you show you card,” you relent with a soft tone.

“In every sense, I will give you anything.” She hums and rubs your arm as she waits.

The made comes back surprisingly haste. She takes the ice pouch and holds it delicately to your ankle. You flinch at first contact but soon come to appreciate the numb feeling it causes.

You hum in approval.

“Now, my dear, once you are healed up I can give you the tour. For now let’s enjoy each other’s company. She sits next to you and moves you onto her lap and adjusts in such a way she can keep the ice sitting on your a clé while propped up with a pillow. She leans down to kiss you on the lips.

“I would love to spend time with you” you finally respond after the kiss. You cuddle the best you can until the ice melts and even manage to fall asleep for a little after you take medicine and the pain starts to go away. All while in the love of your life’s comfy lap and arms.

[louellaby]

FORGET-ME-NOT

REPLACED!MC AU

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W A R N I N G

May contain bad grammar, limited vocabulary, and OOC characters. Please mind that English is not my first language, and it takes a lot of courage for me to post due to my anxiety and paranoia.

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taglist: @books-and-catears @owl778 @yourlocalgrass @kaiserkisser @hhurric4ne

PROLOGUE | CHAPTER I | CHAPTER II | CHAPTER III | LOUE'S LETTER | CHAPTER IV | CHAPTER V | LOUE'S LETTER | CHAPTER VI | CHAPTER VII | CHAPTER VIII | CHAPTER IX | CHAPTER X | LOUE'S LETTER | EPILOGUE

C H A P T E R V I I

「 To My Dear Family 」

"MC, we're leaving now. Take good care of the house with Soley until we get back. Make sure nothing bad happens or there will be consequences. Am I clear?"

The demon brothers were summoned to the castle by Diavolo. It seemed something so important, having the need to summon them so early in the morning. Lucifer said to make sure nothing bad happened while he was going on and on about minding the mansion, but you knew he wasn't talking about the building. He wanted you to make sure nothing bad happens to Soley. Otherwise, it's him you'll answer to.

"Yes, Lucifer. I heard you loud and clear. I hope you have a safe trip."

As soon as the seven of them departed without saying much to you, you headed towards your bedroom in hopes of studying the material Solomon gave you as homework. When you passed by Soley's room, you noticed how quiet it was. As if you were infected with the brothers' care for her, worry filled you, and you immediately knocked on the door. There was no answer, so you knocked once more. Just as you were about to knock again, you received a message on your D.D.D. from the girl herself.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

S O L E Y

Hello, MC. I went out today with a few of my demon friends.

Lucifer already knows this.

Don't worry about me though, I'll be fine on my own.

Do you want anything from the village?

I'll bring it back home for you.

Y O U

To which village are you heading?

You should have told me that first before you left. Lucifer never said anything about you leaving today.

S O L E Y

Well, maybe he forgot to tell you.

Although, I did tell him last night when we were in his office.

Maybe it slipped his mind because his paperwork's been piling up again.

Y O U

That's weird...

Lucifer usually never forgets anything, nor does he let anything slide right by him.

Are you sure you told him?

S O L E Y

Whether you believe me or not is up to you. It won't change the fact that I'm already outside, and I'm not telling you where I am since you'll just drag me back to the house.

I'm not a little girl anymore, MC, I can take care of myself. Tell Lucifer and his brothers that, too, because they tend to worry so much about me.

Too much even.

Y O U

You really should be more careful, Soley. Those boys are worried for good reason.

I know you think you can handle yourself, but just remember that you're in the Devildom.

This place is dangerous for humans like us. So please tell me where you are so I can at least come and protect you in any case something happens.

... Soley?

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You didn't receive a reply, which made you anxious. Taking your coat with you, you dashed out of the house and headed towards Purgatory Hall. You had a feeling that Soley might have just ignored your message and didn't want to say anymore, but you couldn't risk it. You didn't want to risk anything at that moment.

As you were catching your breath from running a long way, you knocked at the door of Purgatory Hall. It opened shortly after your last knock and revealed a certain angel that displayed worry on his face the moment he laid his eyes on you.

"MC? What are you doing here? Did you run all the way here from the House of Lamentation?" Cassiel was there by your side when you almost fell to the ground. Not only were your legs trembling, but also your hands, and just your whole body. The angel first assumed that you were frightened, but a glint of a certain look in your eyes told him something different.

"M-MC!" The two of you heard a voice from down the hall of the entrance. A young angel came running towards you as soon as he saw you from the window of his bedroom. You tried to look as well as you could, but you couldn't fool him. Letting the older angel carry you inside, Luke followed the two of you shortly after closing the front door. Simeon and Solomon entered the living room where Cassiel placed you on the couch, and Luke handed you a cup of warm tea he brewed before you arrived.

But you knew you had no time for all of that. You told them what was troubling you. At first, they, too, were worried until a few seconds passed, and the thought came to them. Was it really a bad thing for Soley to disappear?

"Please help me find Soley and bring her back home! I... I need to make sure she's safe. Otherwise, my p—...p— I just.. —p-please....!" You bowed your head towards them after speaking as fast— or even faster than Leviathan whenever he's in one of his moods. They barely understood your words, so they missed the slip-up in your stuttering. You looked at all of them with your adorable puppy eye look. It was something you knew they could never resist, and something you very much needed.

Seeing a lot of ripples from the cup of tea in your hand due to your shaking, Luke grew more worried about you. You knew the young angel wouldn't allow anything bad happening to Soley, even when he wasn't fond of her as well. He was a proper angel in the making, after all.

"We have to find her quickly!" Luke exclaimed as he looked at Simeon and Solomon for help. Simeon nodded in agreement. Solomon hesitated. He looked at you, wondering if that's what you really wanted. When you nodded at him, he sighed deeply and agreed to help. He really couldn't say no to you.

Before the sorcerer could leave the room to prepare a way to locate Soley, he received a message from one of his pact demons. Barbatos himself. He then informed the rest of what the butler told him.

"Apparently, we don't have to worry about Soley anymore. Barbatos said that she's secretly being monitored, so if something happens to her, he'll be alerted right away."

Barbatos, huh? A wave of relief washed your troubles away, making you melt onto the sofa. Luke dropped himself on the spot next to you, and he rested his body against yours. He looked happy to see you again... It hurt. Why couldn't they look at you like that anymore?

After a few hours of catching up with them and getting to eat Luke's delicious cookies again, you headed back out. You agreed to let Cassiel walk you home, knowing he had something he wanted to talk to you about, and it was making you wonder. As if he could read your thoughts, he answered that question.

"Did you make up your mind yet, MC?"

"... Yes, actually.... I'm going to leave."

"I see... Back to the Human Realm, then?"

You smiled sadly in response. You looked around you and watched as the lights shone upon every demon in the streets. You passed by the stores filled with memories of you and the brothers. Memories that seemed to be too far away from your reach.

When you reached for the gates of the house, Cassiel grabbed your hand and squeezed it for a tiny moment. You quietly questioned his intentions before he spoke up, "When you ever need something, please don't hesitate to tell me. You may not think I'm as reliable as the brothers, but I'm sure I can help you in a way they can't.... So when that happens..."

The way the angel was acting made you wonder something about him. Was he always like that? Now that you thought about it, you've never had the chance to judge his character properly. You've never really seen him at the moments when he's most happy, sad, excited, or flustered. So, in the end, you ended up taking his offer. When you did, he smiled with content and waited for you to head inside the house before turning on his heels and heading back home.

You returned to your room, mind filled with thoughts. Disturbing, blurry yet clear, pretty little thoughts. Those were all you needed to pick up your pen and start writing on a piece of paper.

There, Soley sat on your bed as she fidgeted with a sealed envelope containing the letter you had just written. She recalled the sight of you when she had just returned home; you were walking down the stairs of the entrance hall, heading towards the front door with your packed luggage in hand.

"MC? Are you going somewhere?"

"Soley...! You're... home... Much, much earlier than I expected."

"Yeah, well... something happened... Never mind that— Where are you going?"

"I'm... I'm heading back to the human world."

Soley squealed with excitement, letting herself fall backwards onto your bed, hovering the letter she had already ripped open above her face.

"I left a letter for the brothers in my room... It's just on my pillow. So, if they don't see it tonight, can you give it to them tomorrow? I want you to make sure they read it after I'm already gone."

After she finished reading the contents of your message, she pushed herself up and ran out of your room. She rushed towards the common room, somewhere she knew the brothers wouldn't be around for long after just getting home. She made her way towards the fireplace and squatted down, carefully watching the flame dance before reaching the letter out to it. It didn't take long for the fire to engulf the whole thing, and the girl was smiling during the whole procedure.

The flame danced and danced and danced some more until there was nothing left of the papers but soot and ash. Soley jumped in surprise and got up on her feet when she heard the common room doors slowly creak open. She immediately dusted herself off and made sure she looked proper before facing the eldest born who had just entered the room.

"Soley, what are you doing so close to the fireplace?"

"Calm down, Lucifer. I didn't get hurt, I promise, so don't worry about me! I was just a bit cold, but I'm better now! Much, much better!"

"... Alright. We brought dinner from Hell's Kitchen, so head to the dining room. Everyone's already waiting."

"Okaayyy~!"

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

To my dear family,

I just wanted to say that I still love you no matter what happens, and I want the best for all of you. I've never thought that things would go this way. Not since you accepted me as part of your family all those years ago. I really wished it didn't come to this, but it's too late for that now.

I want you all to know that I'm happy for you. You're all cheerful and content with how everything is, and... that makes me really happy...

I'm writing this letter as a goodbye. A goodbye to all of our precious memories together and to what could have been. I'm really sorry that I went with this instead of personally saying goodbye, but even if I did get the chance to speak with you, I knew I wouldn't be able to bear it. I can't part with you while I look at your faces, so this is the best way. And, if there was any chance at all, I wouldn't want you to stop me.

By the time you're reading this, I've already left for the human realm. If you ever want to see me again, I added my home address and contact information on here. Please find me whenever you want to because I know for a fact that I would want to see you again and be part of your family once more. But for now, it's goodbye.

I'll be leaving my D.D.D. with Diavolo and Barbatos, so please don't contact me there anymore. It would be useless as I won't be able to see your messages.

Well... this letter has gone off long enough, so I'll stop here. Just remember that I love each and every one of you. I'm looking forward to you reaching out to me.

With all the love and wishes,

MC

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「 CHAPTER VI | CHAPTER VIII 」