#and barefoot footsteps

[betweenblackberrybranches]

There are scary noises coming from the kitchen :'((

And i am home alone

[herlovely-footstep]

[herlovelyfootstep-iii]

[scuderiahoney]

Puzzle Piece

Lando Norris x best friend!reader

Masterlist

Summary: You’re always drawn to Lando. He’s always happy to have you near him. Finally, the pieces might just click into place. Based off this request.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication

You turn up on your best friend’s doorstep, heels in hand, one of the straps of your dress falling down your shoulder. It only takes a light knock, and then you hear footsteps, the click of the lock. Lando swings the door open, an amused smile already on his lips.

“Hi, hun,” he says in a teasing tone. “You’ve had a good night, huh?”

You roll your eyes at him. “Can I come in?”

“F’course,” he says, ushering you inside with a hand pressed to your upper back. “Did you walk here?”

You nod. He sighs. It’s a cycle. You can almost predict word for word what he’ll say next. Should’ve just called me-

“- I would’ve picked you up,” he says, as if he’s finishing your train of thought. “And you walked here barefoot? Are you-“

“Crazy?” You say, at the same time as him. “No. Just tired, ‘nd my feet hurt.”

You walk into the living room and collapse onto the couch with a heavy sigh. He does the same, sitting next to you. You shiver when his fingers brush against your shoulder, directing the strap of your dress back into place. He reaches up and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear after that. You lean into the touch.

“Did you have fun?” He asks.

He knows you were out with friends tonight, dinner and drinks and dancing. You nod, lifting your feet off the floor and placing them on the couch. He reaches out and sweeps your legs across his lap, and you sigh happily. Then he tosses a blanket over the two of you.

“Yeah. Sadie found a guy, though, so she left early. And Madi had way too many shots. Had to call her boyfriend to come get her,” you say. “Oh, I ran into your coworker. He bought me a drink.”

Lando wrinkles his nose at that. “Which one?”

You open your mouth to answer, but you fumble for the name. You furrow your brows, sliding farther down into the couch. Lando lets out a squeaky laugh.

“He bought you a drink and you don’t even remember his name?” He asks incredulously.

“I know his name,” you scoff, rubbing your cheek. “I just. I’m drunk, Lan.”

He laughs, reaches out, wraps his arm around your shoulders. He pulls you in, and you go willingly. Happily, even. You rest your head between his jaw and his shoulder, burrowing into the warmth of his skin.

“Pierre,” you tell him.

Lando scoffs. “Pierre has a girlfriend.”

“Never said he bought me a drink and asked me out or anything,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Just that he bought me a drink.”

Lando laughs again and rests his chin atop your head. You melt against him. He rubs your back gently, hand bumping over the low back of your dress and your bare skin.

“You staying the night?” He asks.

You nod sleepily against him. “If it’s alright.”

“Always is,” he says quietly.

On the nights you go out, you end up at Lando’s place more often than you end up at your own. Whether he’s out with you or waiting at home, you head towards him, like a beacon to your drunk mind. How can you help it, really, when he holds you like this, when he’s warm and soft, when he gives you clothes to wear and food and water and tucks you into bed? Of course you want to be with him.

He rubs a thumb over your cheek. “You hungry?”

You nod, biting back a yawn. He laughs again, that light little sound that makes your heart warm. He nudges your shoulder lightly.

“There’s clothes in the guest room for you,” he says, nodding towards the hallway. “Go change and I’ll get you some food, yeah?”

You nod, untangling yourself from him and stretching as you get up off the couch. He squeezes your hip as you do so. You stumble your way towards the guest room on aching feet. The bed is made, one of your favorite blankets laid across the bottom. There’s one of his shirts, a pair of shorts, and a hoodie all laid out for you on the bed, too. There’s even a pair of socks, folded neatly there. He must’ve assumed you’d show up eventually, since he knew you were going out tonight.

Suddenly, your heart is racing. You’re not sure why, can’t pinpoint it in your hazy state. Something to do with the way he takes care of you. You change, leaving the dress laying on the floor, feeling much more comfortable in his clothing. You make your way back to the living room, then towards the kitchen when you hear him there.

He’s at the stove, staring through the glass door. When you peer into it, too, you see a frozen pizza baking. You smile and drape yourself against his back, wrapping your arms around his middle. He sighs happily.

“This is why you’re my favorite,” you murmur.

“Mm. That’s why you come over, huh?” He says. “Not to see me, it’s the food.”

You laugh, squeeze your arms around him. “No. I come over to see you. The rest is an added bonus.”

He turns in your arms and pulls you into his chest, a bright smile on his face. “Okay. I’ll take that.”

You eat dinner with him, or really, a very late snack. Or an early, early breakfast. Then he gets you a glass of water and herds you towards the guest room. He takes the glass back just before you flop backwards onto the mattress with a laugh. He lifts your legs for you by the ankles to get you fully into the bed, peels back the blankets so he can tuck you in. You tug at his hip until he sits down next to you. He sweeps stray hair from your forehead as you blink slowly.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he says softly.

“Love you, Lan,” you mutter, eyes closed.

“Love you too,” he says, barely above a whisper.

Five minutes later, probably when he thinks you’ve fallen asleep, he says, “more than you know. I love you more than anything.”

Then he leaves the room. You open your eyes and stare at the ceiling, wondering if you’ve dreamed it all.

…..

A week later, Lando opens his front door expecting pizza, and instead finds you. He blinks wildly, trying to figure out exactly what’s going on. He hadn’t known you were going out tonight, but here you are at his front door, very obviously drunk. In fact, as he takes in the look on your face, the dullness of your gaze, he thinks you’re beyond drunk. Wasted. Blacked out, maybe. His stomach churns uncomfortably.

“Baby,” he says softly, watching the way your face melts into a soft smile. “You okay? You didn’t tell me you were going out.”

You shrug. “Didn’t.”

You slip past him and into the apartment. He follows closely behind, frowning. He swears he can smell the vodka on your skin- like the nail polish remover his sisters used growing up. He closes the door behind the two of you and reaches for your wrist.

“Hey,” he says, as you stumble into his chest and sigh. “Are you okay?”

You shrug again in response. He fights the urge to groan loudly. He takes your face in his hands and tilts it up towards him. You blink slowly, eyes wide and staring blankly back at him.

“How much did you have to drink?” He asks.

You shrug. Worry sinks into his chest, makes a home there. He runs a thumb across the smooth skin under your eye. He hates to see you like this.

“A lot, huh?” He asks.

Finally, a nod instead of a shrug. He cocks his head at you.

“But you didn’t go out?”

You shake your head.

“Why did you drink a lot, by yourself, at home?” He asks.

You return to your signature shrug. This time he does groan. He lets go of your face, though, and takes you by the shoulders and spins you slowly. He decides it’s best to get you sitting down, so he leads you to the living room, to your spot on the couch. You collapse there, but the usual soft, comfortable smile is missing from your face. He frowns down at you.

You reach out and tug on his shirt. He knows what you’re asking and he goes willingly, happily. He sinks down onto the couch next to you with a soft sigh and pulls you into his chest. You fit there perfectly, like always, like his favorite puzzle piece. He feels so much more at peace when he has you tucked against him. He reaches out and pulls your legs into his lap, curling protectively around you.

“You wanna talk about whatever made you sad enough to get this drunk on a random Tuesday?” He asks, softly.

You shrug and sniffle. His heart clenches in his chest. He hates to see you sad.

“M’fine,” you insist.

He’s not sure what else he expected- you’re blackout drunk, it’s not like you’re going to hold a whole conversation with him. But still, he has to try. He feels a tear drip onto his collarbone and he knows something’s terribly wrong. It’s breaking his heart.

“Baby,” he says, softly. “What’s going on?”

You pull away, blink up at him. “I’m hungry.”

He huffs, knowing that’s not the full story. “Good news. I’ve already got pizza on the way.”

You smile widely, the first smile he’s pulled from you since you showed up at his door. He wipes a stray tear from your cheek, and you smile at him despite it. Then you tuck yourself back into him. He sighs and decides it can wait. He lets you stay there until the doorbell rings- the pizza is here.

He leaves you on the couch while he retrieves the food, and then goes to rejoin you in the living room. He doesn’t bother with plates, knowing you won’t care. Except when he returns, you’re gone, and he frowns. He calls your name and gets no response, but then he hears a noise from the kitchen and goes to investigate.

You’re standing at the fridge, a bottle of vodka in your hand. You stare widely at him, a deer caught in the headlights.

“Baby,” he says softly. “I don’t think you need any more alcohol.”

“The pizza’s gonna sober me up,” you tell him with a frown.

He tries to rub away the ache in his chest, but it doesn’t work. “Yeah, sweetheart. S’kinda the point.”

You frown at him, but when he walks over, you let him take the bottle and put it back in the fridge. He leans in and grabs you a can of soda instead. Then he slips his hand into yours and leads you back to the living room. You follow him reluctantly.

After a couple slices of pizza and a can of soda, you fall asleep against his shoulder. He lets you rest for a bit, until his arm starts to fall asleep and his own eyelids grow heavy. Then he lifts you up carefully and carries you to the guest room, tucking you in with a kiss to your forehead. You stir at the touch.

“I love you, Lan,” you tell him, half asleep, eyes still shut.

“Yeah, honey, love you too.” He answers.

“Not the same,” you say, barely a whisper.

He wants to ask you what you mean, what that could possibly mean, but you’re fast asleep again within seconds. He lays awake in his own bed for hours after, worry gnawing at his gut over the tears in your eyes and the pain on your face. He knows in the morning you’ll tell him you were just drunk, that’s you’re fine. You’ll plaster a smile on your face and try to make him believe you . But he can’t shake the feeling that something is really wrong.

…..

The next time you show up at his door, you’re in a much better mood. He opens the door with a grin, and you lean towards him immediately, trusting that he’ll catch you. He does, of course, letting out a soft oof as your head makes impact on his shoulder.

“Geez, okay, let’s get inside before you start falling over,” he suggests.

He takes hold of your shoulders and drags you inside. You’re giggling as you trip over your own feet and his, too.

“Look, I made it here with my shoes on,” you say, pointing out the sneakers on your feet.

He laughs. “Proud of you, baby.”

You laugh again, leaning heavily on him as you throw your arms around his neck. Your nose drags along his jaw. He smells nice, familiar. You could stay right here forever.

“I like when you call me that,” you admit, the words tumbling off your drunk lips. “Baby.”

Lando sighs, resting his hands gently on your hips. “Okay, baby, let’s get you sitting down, yeah? And maybe some food and water. I think someone’s a bit drunk.”

You whine into his skin, laughing at the way he shivers. You press your nose to his collarbone as he tries to walk you backwards towards the living room. He laughs and does his best to keep you both steady, but when you tug on his arm you both end up tumbling over. Lando, quick reflexes and all, manages to direct both of you into the couch. He lands halfway on top of you, and you sigh happily.

“This is nice,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his middle.

“You’ve had wine tonight, haven’t you?” He asks, voice low.

You nod against his chest. “How’d you know?”

He laughs. “Because you’re a clingy wine drunk. Vodka makes you sad, and seltzers make you bubbly.”

You sigh in response and try to pull him closer. He’s wearing a t-shirt with a worn out neckline- you press your cheek to the sliver of skin on his chest that’s left bare for you. The warmth of him is comforting, his skin is soft against yours. He groans softly, and then the whole world is moving around you- Lando flips the two of you over on the couch, so he’s laying under you, and you rest against his chest.

“D’you want food?” He asks, running his hand over the top of your head.

“Mmm, no, not hungry,” you say.

“Thirsty?” He asks.

“Not for water,” you say. It slips out before you can really even think about it.

“Well, you’re not having more alcohol,” he says.

“S’not what I meant,” you say.

He sputters out a laugh, chokes your name out in the middle of it. You dissolve into giggles, burying your head in his chest. And it’s funny, really, but he’s so warm and soft against you, and you love him, you have for a while, and two times ago when you were drunk he said he loved you more than anything. Now you’re wine drunk and clingy, and you want to kiss him so badly.

You lift your head, fold your hands on his chest, and rest your chin on top of them. “You should kiss me.”

He laughs, presses a silly kiss to your forehead, complete with a cheesy mwah. You roll your eyes.

“A real kiss,” you insist. “Like you love me.”

He blinks softly at you, eyes going wide. You keep the smile on your face- it’s all your drunk mind knows how to do. You know you’ll probably regret this in the morning, but you stare at him anyway. It’s too late now.

“You said you love me more than anything,” you tell him.

He frowns slightly. “I thought you were asleep,” he says.

“I wasn’t,” you shrug. “Is it true? Cause ‘f it is, you should kiss me.”

Lando stares at you, eyes even wider now. His cheeks are flushed, lips parted. You start to wonder if you’ve made a huge mistake- he’s your best friend, and here you are, showing up at his place drunk, asking him to kiss you.

“Baby,” he says, softly, tenderly, gently. “You’re drunk.”

“But you said-“ you cut yourself off, squeeze your eyes shut. “You said-“

“I know what I said,” he says softly. “And I’m not taking it back or saying it isn’t true. But I’m not going to have this talk while you’re drunk, and I’m definitely not kissing you while you’re drunk.”

You let out a huff. He laughs and runs his thumb against your cheek. You open your eyes to stare at him, then turn your head to press your lips against the heel of his hand. He gives you a wobbly smile.

“Stay the night,” he suggests, voice breathy. “And we’ll have breakfast tomorrow and talk about it all, yeah?”

You nod, eyes growing watery. Lando pouts at you. He leans close and kisses your cheek sweetly, his hand still holding the side of your face.

You follow him to the bedroom shortly afterwards, and he tucks you into the guest bed. You fight to keep your eyes open as he sits on the edge of the bed and rubs his hand over your shoulder.

“We’ll talk tomorrow?” You ask, softly. “Promise you’ll remind me?”

He nods, chewing on his lower lip. “Promise.”

He kisses your forehead just before you fall asleep. You dream about him, like you almost always do.

…..

You wake up in the morning to sunlight streaming through the windows. Anxiety has already made its home in your chest. You remember everything from the night before, every last bit. You wonder if Lando is hoping you don’t. If he wishes you’d never showed up to his place. Maybe he’ll pretend nothing happened, and the two of you can just move past it. That would make all of this easier.

You roll out of bed, brush your teeth, and decide it’s time to face the music. You can hear actual music playing faintly in the kitchen, so you go to find Lando. He’s humming along, bobbing his head to the beat as he cooks something on the stove. You stop in the doorway to watch.

“I know you’re there,” he says without even turning to look. “Come sit. I’m making breakfast.”

You wander over to the kitchen counter, sliding a barstool out and perching yourself on it. You stare at the back of his head, trying to get any sort of information out of his body language. You can read him so well, usually, but this feels more complicated. He hasn’t even looked at you. Your stomach churns with anxiety.

“Lan,” you say, softly, watching the way his shoulders tense. “Did I annoy you last night?”

He finally turns, eyes meeting yours. “What do you remember?”

You shrug. His eyes trace your face, wide and bright. You can’t read his expression, can’t tell what he’s feeling. He promised he’d remind you. But this is his out- maybe you should let him have it. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, that probably means he doesn’t feel the same. And that would be okay, really. You’ll get over it eventually.

He sets the spatula down on the counter. He drums his fingers against the surface before he turns fully towards you. He holds onto the edge and leans forward, tilting in your direction.

“You didn’t annoy me,” he says, softly.

He tilts his head at you. He releases the counter and stumbles a couple steps forward, landing in front of where you’re sitting on the stool. A small smile crosses his lips, the first hint of an emotion that you’ve caught from him all morning. When his hand comes up to hold the side of your face, you hold your breath.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice low.

You swallow and nod. “Please.”

Everything feels brighter when his lips touch yours. The sun shines through the window, and you feel warm all over. He’s soft and warm against you, his hands holding your face, and you wrap your fingers in his t-shirt to pull him closer. He steps between your legs with a muffled laugh, nips at your lower lip, slides his hands down your neck and shoulders until they fall to rest on your waist. You press yourself against him, and he does the same.

He breaks away for just a moment, lips against your cheek as he says, “I don’t know if you remember, but you said you loved me. And I just need you to know I love you, too. Like- as more than a friend, yeah?”

“Yeah, Lan,” you agree, kissing his jaw. He lets out a sharp whine. “I love you more than anything.”

The bacon is burning on the stovetop. Eventually, one of you will have to do something about that. But for now, he kisses you again, and you can’t bring yourself to care.

When he finally does pull away, he turns off the stove, discards the burnt food, and orders takeout breakfast for both of you. Then he turns to you, eyes sparkling.

“From now on,” he says, fingers holding onto your hips, “call me when you go out and get too drunk to make it home, yeah? I’ll pick you up. That’s what boyfriends do.”

You laugh and then nod in agreement. “I guess I could do that. That would be the right thing to do, as your girlfriend.”

He kisses your forehead. You tuck yourself into his chest. The puzzle clicks into place.

a/n: Lando has been on my mind a lot lately, so here we go! First little bit of dialogue updated after his tweet to Charles lolll

Taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan

[thebitchbehindtheslaughter]

Did not just spontaneously decide to do some acting practice (staying in character/improv) and chose R.M. Renfield as the character to stay in the role which ended with me wandering into the dark part of the forest in pants that are too big for me and no shoes, looking for any sign of a chapel, making the decision that “perhaps the Master is still adjusting to London” and wandering back home while saying “I will find a place to hide until he’s ready!” 

Definitely did not do that. 

Not me. 

Nope. 

Never. 

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader

2.6k | fluff, mentions of physical abuse If Simon still had his family (part 2)

Simon Riley just got back to the safe house when he saw it.

Tommy Riley, 2 hours ago, 5 missed calls

It’s mum. Call back.         

His heart thumped as the phone rang. “Mum?” he said as soon as the line connected. ”Are you alright? Did something happen?”

“Oh, Simon…” her voice cracked.

His dad had always been an alcoholic ever since he could remember. He and his younger brother Tommy grew up witnessing his antics: stumbling through the door with slurred shouts in the wee hours of the night, often breaking things in the house, taunting them with the exotic animals he brought on occasions, if he even came home at all.

Mrs. Riley turned the other cheek, making excuses for him. As a child, Simon believed her, that people were short sometimes. Because daddy was tired at work, because mummy didn’t cook dinner right, or forgot to buy his favourite beer… Until he grew up and saw the behaviour as what it was.

But she never left, reassuring him his dad would never lay a hand on her. Simon didn’t trust that bastard of a man, but it was her choice to stay and he could only respect that. It was not his decision to make.

At least if he couldn’t bring her the happiness she deserved, he had to do something to distract himself from the hell at home and divert his aggression. That, and he wanted to help make the world a better place. When he left for the military, he firmly warned Tommy to take care of mum and to be there for her if anything was to happen.

Still, Simon spent his adult life painstakingly watching, waiting for the man’s first misstep so he could eliminate that cancer out of everyone’s life once and for all. The day was finally here. His dad had chased his mum about the house with a knife.

“I- I’ve got nothing but the clothes on my back. I walked barefoot to Tommy’s,” she said between sobs.

“How long has this-“ He stopped himself. It was not the time. He took a deep breath, his hand in a fist, knuckles white. “You’re catching the next train to Hereford,” he growled through gritted teeth. “You’ll stay at my flat until I’m back and we’ll figure things out. Someone from the base will call and help you out.”

“I don’t want to be a bother, Si. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re never a bother,” he said sternly. “I only go back home on the weekends, just stay there. I need you to be safe, mum. Please.”

In Hereford, on a chilly Tuesday night as you made your way down the hall to your flat, there stood a lady fumbling with the key to her own. On the floor laid bags overflowing with fresh produce. She turned as your footsteps approached.

“Hiya, sweetheart. Terribly sorry, but could you give me a hand please? I can’t seem to get the door.” She was middle aged, greying short hair, soft spoken with a Manchester accent.

 “’Course.” You smiled at her as she moved aside. “Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” The key only turned halfway before stopping.

“I just got here some days ago.”

You grunted before turning it all the way. “There you go.” You pushed the door open.

“Oh, you’re an angel, luv.“ She thrusted a bag of apples towards you. “It’s not much, but here. Please have these as a thanks.”

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am. It’s nothing really.”

“Please, I insist.” She put her hand on yours. “And it’s Melanie.”

You smiled. “Welcome to the building, Melanie. I’m at the end of the hall if you need me.”

You spent Saturday morning baking, courtesy of Melanie’s delicious gift. Even that you devoured the apples throughout the days, you didn’t want to risk the rest going bad on you – you could only eat so much. As you let the pie cool, you cleaned up before making your way to her flat.

It didn’t take long for the door to open. Your smile fell as you blinked at the man staring down at you. His stature huge, almost filling the doorframe as he stood unmoving.

You cowered, eyes darting away. “Hi, uh, is Melanie in?”

“Melanie?” he repeated, voice gruff and cautious. He leaned his forearm against the frame, appearing even more intimidating than the situation needed him to be. “What does this concern?”

You took a step back. “Just… wanted to give this to her.” You held out the pie towards him.

“Who is it, Si?” a woman from behind him called.

The man stepped aside to reveal the much shorter Melanie.

Her face lit up. “Oh, hello, luv. What a surprise!”

“Thanks for the apples, Melanie. I made you this.” You trudged the pan towards her, shifting your weight.

“Come in, come in. This is my son, Simon.” She turned to the man, patting his arm. “She’s the bird who helped me with the door the other day.”

Still with the sharp stare, he gave you a curt nod before you followed Melanie in, placing the pie on the dining table.

“Lunch is almost ready. Would you care to stay, luv?” She made her way towards the stove and muttered, “I always cook too much.”

You smiled. “I’d love to, sure. It smells lovely.”

You helped set up the table as she finished up the soup and brought it out. Simon got himself a helping and sat across you with Melanie beside the both of you. The blond was a few years older than you, jaw lined with a light stubble, but those brown eyes. They were icy, calculating as he glared at you.

Even that the soup was tasty, you regretted saying yes to it as you ate under his scrutiny. Instead, you averted your gaze to take in the flat. The layout was similar to yours, but quality pieces furnished it instead. The large, dark couch in the corner of the living room looked particularly comfortable, behind it a tall shelf lined with books. It was sparsely decorated, and too tidy to be recently moved into without boxes about.

“Do you know if they’ve got a farmer’s market nearby, luv?”

“I don’t, sorry. I get by going to Tesco.” You gave her a soft laugh. “But I can help you ask around.”

She beamed. “That’d be very nice.”

“I do know a bakery a few blocks away with wonderful loaves though. I always buy there.”

While the both of you chatted about the area, Simon was wordless. In fact, he almost didn’t make a noise at all, but at least he’d stopped staring which allowed you to finally relax your back you didn’t realise had been tense. You thanked her again for lunch, and she promised to return the pie pan as soon as she could.

Later that evening, the knock on the door took you away from your laptop. You expected Melanie, but were instead greeted by Simon. Standing a respectable distance from the doorway, he didn’t look like he was trying to scare you this time even that his gaze was as stony.

“Thanks for the pie. Was mint.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his flat tone, taking the pan from him. “I’m glad you liked it.”

He grunted, averting his gaze. “I wanted to thank you, for how nice you’ve been to my mum.” He looked back up at you. “She’s having a bit of a hard time adjusting.”

Your shoulders relaxed. “I understand. It’s not always easy going somewhere new.”

“If you ever need anything, feel free to drop by.” He gave you a half smile before turning away.

The blond Mancunian was the last person you expected at your door on Wednesday night. You’d just taken your coat off as you arrived back from work.

“I got greedy and bought too much takeaway. Would you like to join us for dinner?”

You laughed. “Really? Too much food?”

“I’m not fond of leftovers.” He shrugged, inadvertently emphasising his size.

“Well, I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Mon’ then.” He tiled his head towards his flat, his hands now shoved in the pockets of his black hoodie.

“Glad you could join us, luv.” Melanie smiled as she set the table.

“Hard to resist takeaway.” You chuckled as you approached. Takeaway boxes almost covered the entirety of the table. “Wow, this is a whole spread.”

“I said the same thing!”

“What can I say, I’m a hungry man,” he said gruffly behind you.

You turned to him in amusement. He gave you a shrug, but this time his eyes didn’t look as hard. In fact, you thought you saw a whisper of a smile on his lips.

Later that Saturday as you lounged around on the couch, you looked up from your book at the knock on the door. It was once again Simon in his hoodie, his posture impressive as always.

“My mum told me to run to the shops because we’re out of salt. Any chance you’ve got some to spare so I don’t have to?”

“Salt? Of course.” You headed to the kitchen, leaving the door open.

His fingertips brushed against yours as you handed him the ceramic container.

“She’s cooking pasta. Fancy some?” He tilted his head towards his flat.

“I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” He raised an eyebrow.

You gave him an amused smile. “I’m starting to feel like a freeloader.”

“It’s the least we can offer in return of the salt.”

“It’s just salt.”

“We wouldn’t be eating without your salt, if I’m honest.”

The smile remained as you shook your head.

“Come, she’s waiting.”

At the stove, Melanie thanked you for the ‘life-saving’ salt when you should be the one thanking her for her hospitality. By now, you knew where the tableware was and started setting the table, but this time Simon trailed, grabbing glasses and closing the cabinet doors after you.

“It’s brilliant, really,” you said after the first bite of the tomato pasta. “You’re feeding me too well.”  

She smiled proudly. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I’m not a culinary prodigy at all, but please let me return the favour and make the meal next time.”

“Don’t wor-“

“When?” Simon piped up.

“Next weekend sounds good?”

“Can’t do.”

You hummed. “Well, I won’t have enough time to cook anything fancy on weekdays.”

Melanie swatted her hand. “Oh, you really don’t have to, luv.”

“But there’s still tomorrow. How does lunch sound? I’ll do the shopping today.”

“I’ll drive. Need to pick up a few things too.”

You smiled at him and turned to Melanie. “You want to come with?”

She shook her head. “You kids have fun.”

Simon cleaned up while you got ready before leaving in his SUV. In the sun, his eyes were gorgeous glimmers of deep caramel framed by long, blond lashes. He’d pushed his hoodie sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his toned forearms – the left one inked.

It flexed as his hand rested atop the steering wheel at the red light. You could see the details from here – skulls and rifles over fire adorned his pale skin. You wondered how far up the monochrome sleeve extended.

He still hadn’t said anything since he picked you up at your door. At this point, you couldn’t tell if he was awkward or simply didn’t like to talk. You tried your luck anyway.

“How do you find the building so far?”

“No complaints. Been there over a year.”

“Really? I don’t think I’d seen you before actually.”

“I don’t really live there. Just on the weekends, if any.”

“Didn’t Melanie say she just got here weeks ago?”

“She’s visiting.” He turned to you. “I meant it when I said she likes your company.”

You smiled. “She’s real sweet. I hope she enjoys her stay.”

When you arrived, he beat you to the basket at the entrance.

“I’ll get it. On you, luv.”

You got called ‘luv’ all the time, but the way he said it made you look away. You couldn’t ignore the tickle that ran down your spine.

On the way to the produce section, the offer sign caught your eye as you passed the biscuit aisle. You reached for the goldfish crackers you hadn’t had in a while.

“Two goldfish are in a tank…” he started behind you.

You turned to him, a brow raised.

“One looks at the other and says ‘You know how to drive this thing?’”

Nothing prepared you for a joke from him, the brooding man in oversized hoodies who barely spoke. You cackled embarrassingly loud in the empty aisle. It was your first time seeing him actually smile. He had pretty teeth, and his eyes finally thawed, crinkles by them.

“That’s a good one,” you said after your laughter died down, chucking a bag into the basket.

The ghost of a smile remained on his lips as he looked ahead. You took it as a cue to move along. He stood behind you as you moved about and picked ingredients, telling you the reason he couldn’t do next weekend was because he was in the military and would be gone on a mission. You didn’t know it, but his gaze lingered on you the whole time.

Before long, you were ready to check out, grabbing a box of English Breakfast tea on your way there. In the queue, Simon stood a touch closer behind you than he needed to, his arm splayed on the railing next to you. You didn’t make a move against it. Instead you tried to make out the rest of his tattoo, but the way his veins budged under the ink from holding the basket distracted you.

It occurred to you people had joined the line when you heard giggles behind the wall of Simon. You couldn’t help tuning into the rather loud conversation. One of the girls was dared to skydive after losing a round of beer pong, and the instructor was “so fucking hot summer came back to Birmingham”. She very much looked forward to their date the following week.

You bit back a smile. You were oddly proud of the stranger. You go, girl.

Simon tapped your shoulder and leaned into your ear. “Why don’t blind guys skydive?”

You only managed to turn a fraction before coming face to face with him. Your breath hitched, not expecting the proximity.

“Because it scares the shit out of their dogs.”

Your laughter boomed before you slapped a hand over your mouth and turning to him fully. His warm eyes returned with his smile, looking absolutely pleased with himself.

The eye contact remained a touch longer, only broken by the cashier calling for the next customer. You whipped towards the lady, gaze cast down as Simon hoisted the basket onto the counter.

He didn’t give you a chance to pay as he already had his phone ready at the receiver, shrugging off your protests. You didn’t mention the fact that he didn’t even pick up anything for himself.

It wasn’t a lot, but Simon carried all the shopping up to your flat. You gathered the bags from him after you opened the door.

You pulled a box of salt from one of them. “Here’s for your mum.”

He quickly took it and looked away.

“Thanks again for the ride. See you tomorrow, yeah?”

He nodded, but stood unmoving. His boots only thudded away when you’ve locked the door.

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats

[lokisgoodgirl]

Husband [Asgard!Loki x Fem.Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: After a lifetime of longing, it's finally time to seal the deal. Follow on to Heirs - but can be read as a one-shot (w/c 1.8k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Asgardian HC. Fluff & Smut.

The silk chiffon of Loki’s robe tingled against his skin, sash loosely bound. There would be no guards in the corridor that stretched to his chambers. Not tonight.

Pacing barefoot across the marble floor, he noted the squeeze of a damp hand intertwined with his. Steam from the palace baths dissipated from the air with every stride. There were no words needed, just the pad of your footsteps following close behind his own.

With a nudge of his head, Loki sent a wave of seidr rolling up your bodies. You giggled quietly, the delicate sound echoing. The god threw a glance over his shoulder, seeing your newly dried hair bounce as your steps quickened. “Hurry,” you chided, stifling another giggle. Loki turned on his heels, feet squeaking on the polished floor to a stop. You collided with his chest. “You do not command me, wife,” he warned, squinting theatrically before breaking into a smile. Loki’s heart leapt at your gasping laugh as he swept you off your feet, the drape of your matching robes scratching together. Your legs hung over one elbow, his hand securely fastened around your midsection. Loki would never forget the way your pupils dilated as you stared into his eyes, the whole world growing out of focus around what was in his grasp. Around you. “I love you-” he breathed, cutting himself off by leaning to catch your lips. The heavy wooden doors to his chambers opened of their own accord, recognising their master's presence. He let his tongue explore deeper with every powerful stride towards the matrimonial bed, slow and purposeful and all-consuming. Loki stopped, breaking the kiss to take in what lay before you both as the door swung shut. Dozens of tall candles adorned the arched windows, throwing an orange glow towards the navy dusk of Asgard sprawled below, just out of sight. White fur pelts draped across his bed, neat emerald sheets replaced with luxurious folds of cream and beige. Loki’s mouth twitched in mild disapproval. “Look,” you said, excitedly patting his shoulder and nodding towards a table by the fireplace. Lit by soft flickering flame, he saw the traditional finger-food of Asgardian gentry laid out on delicate piles. Each plate more tempting than the last. “Yes, very nice,” Loki hummed feebly, giving the scene a cursory glance before his attention was drawn unavoidably back to the pulse of your neck. Furious desire was thudding in him like the drums of war. It was becoming unbearable. His cock, violently hard and swollen and aching against his stomach. It had a heartbeat. Loki tightened his grip on your body in his arms, inhaling against the angle of your jaw. He sucked at the scent of your clean skin like oxygen, drowning. “Husband?” you moaned softly. She’s impatient. Loki felt every hair on his arms erect in unison.

One of your hands moulded to his cheekbone as you pressed your forehead to his, nuzzling his mouth until he relented. Your lips working against his own, Loki made the final steps to the bed before reluctantly lowering you to the pile of furs. He retreated, drinking in every inch of flimsy white chiffon that did nothing to hide the curves beneath. How she taunts me, he thought with a smile; pulling lightly at the sash around his waist, this wife of mine. The two of you were no virgins. But tonight, it felt like it was so. Wisps of half-forgotten memories twisted deep in the god’s mind; uprooted from their slumber. And another, and another. Like they belonged to someone else.

Lovers of every rank and station, known to him in dark hallways and golden bedchambers. The half-remembrances evaporated like smoke. But none like this, he thought with a comforting smile as his chiffon robe pooled around his ankles. He could feel the warmth rising in your cheeks, radiating from the coyness of your smile. None like her. Loki clasped his hands behind his back, raising his chin. He felt your appraising gaze dart up his displayed body, a series of rapid breaths beginning to pepper the air making his heart swell. Your gentle pants fluttered against his obliques, denying yourself the taste of his skin until the hallowed words had been spoken. They caught behind his teeth. The prince felt his abdomen clench, every muscle in his body resisting the urge to fall upon you. A wild tide on rocks.

“Will you accept me as your husband to your bed this night?” he uttered, laden with ceremony. You straightened in front of him, slow hands tugging at the fastening of your robe.

“Yes, my lord,” you answered seductively, looking him dead in the eye. “I will.”

The sheer fabric began to slip from your shoulders. The exchange was a formality. A tradition. But as Loki’s fingers wrapped around his straining cock, feeling fat droplets of pre-cum roll against knuckles; he conceded it was one Asgardian tradition he was glad to keep.

With an arm outstretched, you dropped the delicate robe onto the stone floor by his feet. Loki could feel the growl building in his throat. Low, primal. A shudder rolled over his biceps as you leant back on your elbows, drawing the soles of your feet onto the bed. He let his eyes run over the lines of your body, the flex of your thighs, the plump sweetness of your curves. She will be the death of me, he thought as he inhaled a staggered breath. No, he pondered after a beat, lowering to place his palms on either side of your shoulders. She is the beginning.

His fingers trembled as he placed one hand over your heart, eyes never leaving yours. “Do you trust me?” he murmured, barely audible. You frowned, glancing to where his fingers lay. “Always,” you whispered. The skin beneath his touch glowed green as Loki’s eyes fluttered shut. He opened them tentatively, softening. “The bond of my protection,” he explained bashfully, “now, if ever you need me, I will be with you.”

His heart dropped as your face scrunched, cupping his jaw. “You were always with me,” you said softly, straining upwards to place a gentle kiss on his parted lips. And in that moment, Loki knew. He worked his mouth across the curve of your cheekbone, wordless sounds of adoration soaking every step. “Lie back,” he whispered hot in your ear. His stomach flipped, realising as you reclined against the furs that he hadn’t been this nervous since the very first time. Or perhaps, even then. The god watched your eyes widen with excitement as he nudged your legs further apart with his knees. With aching intensity, he mapped each spark in your eyes as he dragged his cock along your soaking slit from root to tip. It nudged, gently.

“Loki," you gasped quietly, arching your back in frustration. He smiled, trying to remain serious. “What, my love?” he heard himself tease, inhaling against your neck with a shameless moan. Like pollen on a breeze, he felt your words soak through his skin. Through his soul. I need you. And, Loki thought, she means it.

He wondered if anyone else ever truly had.

The god raised his head, cursing the dark curls which fell forward from his braids against your face, obscuring the view. Your fingers combed past his shoulders, pushing the veil back. “There you are,” you whispered with a smile. He felt himself nod once, stare boring into your own. You nodded back, squeezing your knees against his trunk in encouragement.

Gasps filled the space between you as he eased the heavy tip of his manhood inside your channel. Inside the very essence of you that he had longed for. Every inch was a simmering feast of pleasure, the denial of centuries building to a single, strangled gasp of your name. Loki felt his brows slant, the sight of you beneath him almost more than he could bear. Careless lust rose in waves, firing through his bloodstream as he filled you to the hilt. Careful, he chided himself. Slowly. Every inch of your pussy was perfection, as he knew it would be. Every vein and ridge of his cock dragged tight against your flawless heat. A man could lose himself for eternity inside this pleasure if he wasn’t careful, each pull of your tight slippery cunt against his foreskin making him ascend. And not just a man, he thought through the drunken haze, a god. He choked with a rasping groan, letting his head fall into the curve of your neck. Loki began to pant as words of devotion licked the air like flames, your fingers trailing over the weaving curves of his ceremonial braids. “Don’t hold back,” you whispered wet in his ear, “not tonight.” Loki pulled his head back, a strand of saliva dangling from his lip as his brow furrowed. There was a new light in your eyes, something dark and hungry. Something familiar. Something him.

He tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowed. “Wife,” he gasped through breathy pants and shallow thrusts, “are you asking me to-” “-fill me,” you groaned, an impish smile tugging your dimples, "heirs, remember?" Loki’s eyes rolled back as you bucked your hips up, thudding your pelvic bones together. The snug warmth of your pussy was unbearable.

The prince remembered the way you had come undone beneath his mouth earlier this evening in the palace baths. The way that your fresh cum had flooded his outstretched tongue. He felt his thighs tense. His balls, tight. “My love, I-” he gasped, feeling you tug a clutch of his hair. Loki hissed, his jaw set. “I’m trying to be romantic,” he spat, yanking his head away like a child. He stared down with fiery determination, the flash in his eyes punctuated with a punishing thrust of his hips. You moaned approvingly below him, a teasing grin stretching across your face. Loki’s heart melted. My wife, he thought lovingly; before slamming his cock deeper with a squelch. He felt the scratch of your fingernails over thick shoulder muscle, the tightening of your thighs making him judder. “We have our whole lives for romance, Loki,” you cooed, the syllables staggered between each slap of his hips, “tonight I...uhhh- just want you to f-fuck me, f-finally.”

The god released the growl that had been marinating in his throat, stretching a hand above your head. He gripped a clutch of furs tight in a fist. “I fucking love you,” he rasped, beginning to roll his hips in targeted, deep thrusts. “I- oh g-god, fucking lo-love you, my p-prince” you whined, catching his mouth in a messy kiss.

Loki pulled away from you, shaking his head with a broken sigh. He could feel the most powerful orgasm he had ever experienced building in his belly, your soft moans sending his soul to new planes. It was perfection, the two of you. Nothing would ever compare. Nothing ever should. “Not your prince-” he grunted, knuckles whitening against the furs as he spun out the feeling as long as it could last. Edging himself. “-husband,” -was the last word Loki heard before climax deafened him.

Tags @lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @superficialdomina @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @psychospore @littlespaceyelf @itsybitchylittlewitchy

[iguana-eyanna]

To Have A Home

Pairing: Jack Reacher x Reader

Summary: Reacher never thought the white fence dream could ever happen to him, but you proved him wrong in more ways than possible.

Reacher got out of his pickup truck, taking out a few grocery bags. He stares at the house that he built from the ground up, inhaling the fresh air.

His footsteps could be heard from a mile away, as tiny footsteps were heard at the front of the wooden porch.

"Dad!" Reacher's oldest son, Georgie, screamed as he ran fast towards him.

Reacher smiled as he knelt down, the 7 year old running towards him.

"Hey bud! Oof, you're getting strong kid. You almost knocked out your old man." Reacher replied, carrying him in his free arm.

"Really Dad? I could be just as strong as you?" Georgie asked.

"Unless you eat all of your vegetables, Georgie, you can be just as big and strong as your father." A voice replied.

Reacher looks up sees you holding your four year old son, Mason, as you wore your signature summer dress that curved perfectly around your pregnant 6 month pregnant belly and barefoot.

Jack thought you were beautiful standing there.

He carried both his son and the groceries with ease as he walked towards the porch, giving you a sweet kiss.

"Hi," He said sweetly.

"Hey," You said, smiling.

One thing about Reacher was that he kept you feeling like a school girl falling in love for the first time. He never made you doubt his love for you and would move the sun just cause you asked him to.

You two walked inside as the kids ran to the living room, playing with their toys. You and Reacher went to the kitchen to prepare for dinnerr.

You began washing the vegetables in the sink while Reacher was getting the ingredients. Soon, you felt a pair of arms around your waist as Reacher's palm covered your belly. He kissed the side of your neck as you felt his prickly beard that he was growing out.

"How was work?" He asks as you place a loving hand on his cheek.

"It was good, had some important clients to meet today for the pitch."

"That's great. I'm so proud of you." He says, kissing your cheek.

Before you two started your family, Reacher said that he wanted to be a stay-at-home dad as he truly wanted to leave his scarred past. He would have never asked you to leave your profession, and you two have lived peacefully raising your kids.

"The boys didn't make any trouble? I would have taken them to the store."

"No, they knew not to mess with Mama Bear. I think they just give you a hard time on purpose."

Reacher fake gasps as he twirls you around.

"Are you saying they favor you over me?"

"Well, I did give birth to them and now pregnant with their sister so... Yes."

Jack throws a hearty laugh as he holds you as close as he can.

"and I'll remind you every day for making me a father to these great kids. I love you, Mrs. Reacher."

"and I love you, Mr. Reacher."

You two kissed as you tip-toed to reach his lips.

"Ewwwwwwwwww." Both your sons said in unison. you two look back and chuckle as your boys look at you two.

"Come here so we can give you kisses!" You teased.

"Noooooo!!!!" They screamed, running away as Jack chased them into the house as you followed.

Soon after eating dinner, both of your boys were sleeping in both your arms as all of you were watching a movie on the couch. Jack reached for the remote and turned off the TV.

"Let's take them to bed hon-"

He stops as he sees you snoring lightly as you hold Georgie. Reacher smiles as he slowly gets up picks up Mason and Georgie and tucks them in bed. He returns for you and carries you with ease back in the master bedroom.

He lies next to you as you slowly open your eyes, realizing where you are, and smile at him.

"I thought of a name today, for the baby."

"Oh yeah? What is it?" He asks.

You scoot closer to him, placing your head by his chest as his heartbeat soothed you.

"Sky Reacher. I want her to know that she's able to reach for the sky."

Jack smiles brightly and kisses the top of your head.

"I love that name."

Jack couldn't believe it. In the past several years, all he carried along with him was the clothes on his back and a toothbrush. And now, he's lying in bed with a gorgeous, hard-working woman who mothered his children.

This is what it must feel like to have a home.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Can I request for your Halloween celebration dracula x fem reader with the prompt you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, with loads of fluff and maybe some smut please

.⋆｡A Chance｡⋆.

Count Vlad Dracula x plus size reader

When you are sentenced to death by your village, the monster in the woods gives you a chance at a better life- by his side

Warnings: minor angst (reader is sacrificed by her village), fluff, i kind of followed the Dracula Untold backstory because he is so stupidly hot and I love the angst, love confessions, mentions of blood, Vlad is slightly toxic but what do you expect, biting, sort of implied death? reader is turned

WC: 2.9k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Halloween Celebration

Every town had their own ghost stories, legends that grew from whispers in the night. But the monster that stalked your home was very real and very dangerous. It stalked the shadows between the small homes, picking off the weakest of the population in the dead of night.

Fear was woven into your very existence, taught to you since the moment you could comprehend your parent’s words. Your senses were constantly tuned to the world around you, listening for any extra footsteps, eyes locked on the castle that loomed over your home but it wasn’t enough, not when the elders of the village determined that in order to protect everyone, only one must be sacrificed.

You were the easy choice- young enough to be a valuable meal but not a child anymore, you were pure and soft, unable to protect yourself in the vast wilderness that surrounded you. You screamed and cried and fought them as hard as you could but it did you no good, you still ended up at the steps of the steps of the castle, barefoot and terrified.

Frozen in fear, you trembled as the huge ornate doors opened before you. Candlelight spilled into the night air illuminating your way, but you refused to move. Some baser instinct in your brain told you that if you remained totally still, the monster would leave you alone and once dawn finally broke, you could run to another town.

Alas, it knew you were there. “Come inside before you catch your death of cold.” A voice called to you, urging you into its den. Acting of their own accord, your legs pushed your forwards and into the warmth of the grand hall, even as your mind screamed at you to turn and run. 

As soon as you were inside, the doors slammed shut behind you, sealing you into the place that would become your tomb. “Such a skittish little thing aren’t you.” The voice bounced off the towering walls and you whipped your head around, attempting to pinpoint where it came from.

Your heart pounded in your ears as your stomach twisted in fear. A sigh echoed around you. “You needn’t be frightened little one, I will not hurt you.” The voice was far softer now, the tone more of a man comforting a scared animal rather than a deadly creature taunting its prey.

“Please don’t kill me.” You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as tightly as you could. The smell of copper and ancient books overwhelmed your senses as someone stood before you. 

A soft touch against your full cheek made you flinch but the hand did not move away, in fact the tips of his fingers brushed your skin, travelling slowly downwards until they touched your lips. “How could I destroy something so pure?” He whispered.

Tentatively, you cracked open one eye and your breath caught.

Before you stood the most handsome man you could imagine. Black curls framed a square jaw, dotted with dark stubble. His eyes seemed brown at first but the longer you looked, the more you realised that they were an incredibly deep red. Shallow wrinkles decorated the outside of his eyes and his mouth, making him appear incredibly human. A smile pulled at his thin lips, exposing a pair of deadly fangs. He wore an outfit of delicately embroidered silk, making him appear as a lord or a king.

Your body relaxed, allowing him to cup your jaw with a fondness you couldn’t quite understand. “There you go. See, nothing to be afraid of.” His accent was thick, very much like the way your grandfather used to speak when you were little. “Now, why don’t you tell me why you were outside my home in the dead of night wearing so little?”

It was only then that you looked down at the thin white slip you had been wearing when the men broke into your home and pulled you from your bed. “They brought me here.” You managed to say, your voice thick with tears.

The man’s dark brows lifted, prompting you to continue. You doubted you couldn’t disobey if you tried. “They said it was to stop more deaths.”

His slightly crooked nose twitched as his eyes flashed with anger. “Foolish.” He snarled under his breath, and you gasped as he squeezed your wide hip tightly, you hadn’t even realised that his hand had moved. That seemed to break him from his trance.

“Ah I apologise. To touch a lady like yourself in that way is most inappropriate. Here, let us get you warm and fed.”

Sunset licked at the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of purple and pinks until they bled into the back of night, giving way to the silver of stars. You had slept through the day, too exhausted from the night’s events to even eat once you had bathed. 

Your benefactor had provided you with a truly lavish room and clothes that were slightly outdated but made of incredibly expensive materials. He told you to rest and that he would rejoin you the next night since he had some business to take care of during the day. You were so tired, you didn’t question him but now, you wondered what possible business he could be attending to.

Too frightened to leave your room, you settled on looking through the small collection of books on the shelf next to the bed. Many of the titles were in languages you could not understand but there were a few that you recognised. Love stories and tales of valour, stories you were told when you were young before your parents had died.

Absent-mindedly, you plucked one out and turned to the first page. The words were so achingly familiar- a girl is forced into the servitude of a monster by her family. He is wary of her at first but slowly, they begin to fall for one another until she kisses him after they are attacked by the villagers and he nearly perishes. The beast turns back into a man and they spend the rest of their lives in bliss. 

“I see you are quite fond of that story as well, it has always been a favourite of mine.” His voice startled you but terror did not accompany it. You looked up from the book to see the man, who had not yet told you his name, leaning against the doorway. Unlike the night before, he wore a simple white tunic and dark trousers. 

Heat bloomed across your cheeks as you spotted the way the dark curls on his chest were exposed by the loosely tied shirt. “My mother used to read it to me.” You stammered out, causing his smile to become even softer. 

“She must have been a woman with taste.” You nodded absentmindedly, tracing the spine of the book with your fingertips. Silence settled between you and after a moment, he spoke again.

“You may ask questions, I will not punish you for being curious.” He gently took the book from you, placing it back onto the shelf before he took your hands into his own. His skin was cold, unnaturally so, and it sent a chill down your spine.

“What- who are you?” The words flew from your lips. You expected him to show some offence to your question but he just chuckled and brought your hands to his mouth. He placed a kiss on your knuckles.

“I am Count Vlad Dracula and this is my home, as it has been for centuries.” Your breath hitched, he continued. “As for your other question, I am an ancient creature who must consume blood to live. There are many names for my kind but I prefer the term vampire.” 

“Are you going to feed from me?” Your voice was barely a whisper, merely a soft exhale forced from your lungs.

“No, I would never wish to mar your perfect skin with something so sinful, not unless you beg.” Your heart jumped.

“Why would I beg for that?” But he just shook his head with a cocky smirk, refusing to answer. “Why didn’t you kill me like the others?”

Dracula sighed heavily and released your hands. “There are many monsters in this world and some are not trapped by the night. Killers and rapists, evil men who lie and manipulate for personal gain. Those are who sustain me. Their blood is sour, tainted, but I refuse to kill those who have done nothing to deserve such a death though their blood is undeniably sweeter.”

His face twisted with shame and despair, the face of a man condemned for his sins no matter how much he repented. You tentatively stepped closer to him. “You’re an avenging angel, a noble monster.”

He scoffed but it was not spiteful, in fact, it almost seemed fond. “I am no angel, I am only fulfilling a duty I was bestowed long ago.”

“You saved me, that seems quite the noble deed.” Something in your chest tugged you to him, compelling you to wrap him in your arms and hide away forever. Instead your fingers curled into the soft sieve of his shirt, anchoring you to him once more.

“Not as noble as one might think. But let us not dwell on that, you must be famished. I think a hot meal will do you some good and then maybe you can read to me by the fire.” He picked up the book once more as he gestured for you to wrap your arm through his own. You dutifully obeyed, ignoring the feeling of his muscular bicep in your hands as he led you away.

“Has this always been your home?” You asked, desperate for an interruption to the silence between you. Dracula’s eyes flicked to you briefly, the red of his irises flickering in the candlelight of the hall.

“No, for much of my human life, I lived in a village not too dissimilar to your own. But that was a very long time ago and I prefer not to think on the past.” Your mouth snapped shut and you nodded in feigned understanding. 

Your combined footsteps echoed behind you, leaving ghosts of yourselves to follow as you journeyed into the heart of the palace you had feared for so long. 

——————

Most days followed this pattern, you would sleep until early evening when Dracula would rouse you with a gentle knock at the door. He would escort you to the dining room, you would eat while he sipped at a goblet of what looked to be wine and then you both would settle in one of his many sitting rooms with a book, a new one each time. Sometimes he would tell you stories of his undead life, painting vivid pictures of far away lands and unique people. On occasion, he would detail his affliction, giving you glimpses of how this all came to be.

Then, as midnight struck, he would leave you then with a gentle kiss to your knuckles. He would return hours later, smelling of the earth and blood. 

In those moments, his eyes were always wild. In those moments, his chest puffed with air though he did not need to breathe. It did something inexplicable to you, a fire would flicker to life in your belly as wetness pooled at the apex of your thighs. He would look at you as his nostrils flared, undoubtedly inhaling your scent. He would tear himself from your presence and retreat to his chambers in the back of the palace where you were forbidden to go.

By the next evening, he would be himself once more.

“Vlad?” The vampire opened a single eye in acknowledgement from where his head lay in your lap. One of your hands was buried in his black curls, while the other held up a book which you quickly discarded to the side so you could rest your palm against his sternum. When you first touched his chest like that, the lack of a heartbeat greatly disturbed you but now, it was strangely comforting. 

“What is it my sunlight?” You tried to smile at him but you knew he could see right through you.

“Do you promise not to get mad at me?” He chuckled, his broad chest shaking beneath your hand.

“I will never get mad at you.” You breathed out a heavy sigh of relief before speaking again.

“Why have you kept me here so long? I would think that you do not need a human around that you will not feed off of. I can’t see myself providing you any real use.” His other eye snapped open and part of you screamed to stop talking, to take it back under the guise of you being too hot but another part was curious about his answer. “I suppose a woman has other uses but you have not touched me outside of moments like this so-“

Faster than you could comprehend, Vlad sat up straight, his face mere inches from yours. “Where did you come up with these ideas?”

“I-“

“If you wanted to leave, you could just leave but I guarantee the village won’t take you back.” He snarled spitefully. He scoffed and stood from the sofa but you quickly followed. Before you could think, you grabbed his hand.

The growl that escaped his lips was that of a vicious beast as he bared his deadly fangs at you, his eyes flashing bright red. A brief spike of fear raced through you and you gasped. Suddenly, he was back to himself. “I frighten you, that’s why you want to leave.”

You quickly shook your head, your grip upon his wrist tightening though you would be no match against his strength. “I am more frightened of the spiders in my room than I am of you. You tell me you are a monster yet you have never hurt me, you have been kinder to me than most humans I have met. I wonder about those things because I feel useless to you. You ask nothing of me in exchange for your home, your protection, your food. And I fear that one day you will desire something of me that I cannot give and I will have to leave you.” 

His broad shoulders sagged as he faced you once more. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” He murmured in reverence. “And I am a selfish, selfish man.”

“To keep you here, in my home, to dress you in clothes of my choosing, to have you read my books- it is selfish, entirely so but I find that I am unable to part from you. Your very existence calls to me, urges me to do terrible things just to keep myself from drinking you down. You have enchanted me, hypnotised me from the moment you stepped foot in my home and I cannot explain it. It feels as if my heart has known you for years.” Every word he spoke resonated through your chest, articulating the feelings that swirled around your mind aimlessly. You stepped closer to him and his arms wrapped around your thick waist.

“You make me feel human again.” He pulled you closer, your breasts brushed against his strong chest. “You remind me what it is to love and to be loved. You have given me a chance to live anew and I wish to give you the same chance, no matter how selfish it may be.” His right hand trailed up your arm, coming to rest at the base of your throat, his thumb pressed against the frantic beating of your pulse.

“I want to taint you, to condemn your soul to hell as long as it means that you can be by my side until eternity. I keep you here because I need you, because I crave you like the tide craves the moon, like flowers crave the sun. You are the purpose of my undead existence, I have lost too much already and I will not lose you too.”

Your eyelashes fluttered against the steel of your cheek as the tip of his nose brushed against your own. “You will never lose me, I am entirely, wholly yours.” His groan echoed through your chest, it made your skin explode in goosebumps.

“Don’t say that my sunshine.”

“Why not?” Your gaze was fixated upon his lips, eager to finally feel them upon your own.

“Because I really will make you mine. I will turn you, make you into a monster like me.” But his tone was eager, filled with desire and longing for just that.

“Then give me a chance for an everlasting life- with you.” There was a moment’s pause and then he ducked his head, his lips barely brushing against yours as they travelled down your jaw and moved along your throat, coming to rest where his thumb had been but he did not bite.

“Please Vlad.” You begged, burying your hands in his hair once more.

“I told you that you would beg for this.” He teased before his jaw hinged open and he sunk his fangs into your warm skin, quickly draining away your mortal life. You clung to the monster who was destined to kill you and all you could think was that maybe the fear you felt for so long was only a restlessness for a new beginning.

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[draemgal]

moon song | azriel

inspired by this prompt list.

azriel in his yearning and self-deprecating era

“she doesn’t love me, she isn’t that stupid.”

a cigarette hung loosely in his scarred fingers, ashes falling down on to the roof of which he sat on. the moonlight poured across his face, illuminating his brown eyes and reflecting off the darkness of his hair.

that’s what he was.

azriel was darkness. he was shadows, he was always lurking in the corner. his hands were bloodied with countless lives he took, bearing scars of trauma and the bags of his eyes held the consequences of torture.

cassian sat beside him, rhysand on his other side. the three brothers bore their wings towards the moon’s softness.

azriel’s eyes focused on the silhouette of you from the lawn, your dress flowing around you as you danced with morrigan. barefoot on the sweet greenery of the grass, softness emanating from your movements as you twirled morrigan around, melodic giggles flowing from the both of you.

“smitten kitten,” rhysand smirked, putting his cigarette out against the shingles. he wiggled his dark eyebrows and brushed azriel’s wings with his own teasingly.

cassian snorted and laid against the roof, folding his arms underneath his head for comfort. “that’s one way of putting it.”

despite his brother’s teasing, his gaze remained. he was so scared, so scared of loving you. of letting you love him, letting you see him.

loving you in silence was the easiest thing azriel had ever done. it was like flying, his body just knew how to do it. it was like he was made to love you. he had gotten accustomed to the weight of your footsteps down the hall, of the drumming of your fingers on the kitchen table during serious conversations, the rhythm from your bouncing knee against his.

if he could be anyone, he’d wish to be worthy of you. to be loved by you, to stand a chance with someone as kind and soft as you.

but that isn’t who he is. azriel is tortured, twisted, and riddled with scars.

blowing a line of smoke from his lips he frowned slightly and picked up his bottle, pressing it to his lips and welcoming the burn down his throat.

“have you told her?” rhysand asked, his violet eyes filled with cautious curiosity. he didn’t need to request access to azriel’s mind to read his thoughts in that moment.

“why would i? it’d just fuck her up.” azriel mumbled, chucking his cigarette butt off the side of the roof before bringing his legs closer to him. he picked at the skin around his cuticles in thought as he considered the aftermath of publicly loving you.

of ruining you with his tainted heart.

“she loves you too, azriel. it isn’t a secret.”

azriel shook his head before running his hands through his hair.

“she doesn’t love me. she isn’t that stupid.”

the two brothers remained silent as azriel looked at you again, your brightness stirring his heart to life before he forced it to stillness. until it pumped only blood; no emotion.

you could never love him if you found out who he truly was. azriel would never put the burden he carries around with him everyday on your shoulders, would never allow you to be aware of the ghosts that haunt him every second.

azriel loved you too much to subject you to his reality. so he kept it all bottled up and watched you dance, watched you smile.

azriel loved you from a distance, unaware that you too, watched him from the corner of your eye waiting for him to confirm what you already knew.

[fyodorloveclub]

TIDAL TEMPTATIONS. - chapter i

༄ pairing: merman!fyodor x afab reader

༄ cw: sfw (for now), non-gory descriptions of and treatment of stab wounds to fyodor, very brief mentions of blood. not intended to be medically accurate, treat ur stab wounds as you wish

༄ notes: hello :) welcome to my first multi-chapter fic! this has been a work in progress for some time, and im quite nervous abt posting this first part so be nice pls <3 just as a note, fyodor is referred to exclusively as he/him until reader names him next chapter (he can't speak human language yet) enjoy!

༄ wc: 4k

Since moving to a beachside village after spending your whole life in a landlocked town, your mother had outlined ample, strict rules regarding the sea.

Rule 1: No venturing out past sundown.

This was the rule you broke on an almost nightly basis. Your mother was quite the early riser, meaning she often was out cold before the fireflies had even begun flashing yellow and green. It was far too easy to slip out the back door with a flashlight, barefoot to keep your footsteps silent as possible. There was no feeling more serene than dawdling down the shore, mushy sand between your toes and waves lapping at your ankles as the salty breeze curled around you. It was pitch black save for the bioluminescent creatures that washed up on the shore and the pale glow emanating from your flashlight, and it was comforting. While many feared darkness, you found solace in its embrace.

Rule 2: No swimming past the sandbar.

Also a frequently broken rule. You found it to be far too restrictive, as the sandbar was only a dozen meters from the shore. No fish could be found that shallow, and it was much easier for crabs to nip at you when you were that close to the sandy floor. Being out deeper, where the gentle waves tousled and hugged you, was where you felt the most at home.

Rule 3: No fraternizing with sea beings.

That’s the name that had been put in place for entities that straddled the line of human and creature. Some believed they were even the missing link. Very little was known about sea beings, mostly due to the universal fear of them. They often had unsettling, bone-chilling appearances and never appeared to be overly friendly to humans, so a firm boundary was set. You must never approach a sea being.

All three of these rules were broken the night you met him.

Well, you assumed it was a “him”. He had a flat chest and sharp, masculine features, but he wasn’t human. His human-esque appearance terminated at his hips, where pale, nearly translucent skin tapered into onyx black scales, flowing into a sleek, obscenely long tail. His fluke, also inky black, was reminiscent of a betta fish’s frail fins, flowy with spindly edges, yet fanned strong against the current.

That was all you were able to see of him, at first. You had swam out well past the sandbar one night, flashlight in hand as you dove past the waves, your beam suddenly illuminating his form. He remained very still, head tilting as you made eye contact, as if he was observing you. And he was – he had heard the unmistakable sound of a human swimming, a somewhat ungraceful, clumsy affair, and followed it. Typically, when he sensed humans in the water, he would jet in the other direction – humans didn’t treat him kindly, and he had the scars to prove it. But there was something… different about you. A sweeter scent and a gentler aura. And he was curious - so instead of making a beeline towards his cove when he sensed your presence in the water, he swam closer.

He was immediately enamored by you. You were much softer and merciful, and he didn’t sense a single bad intention. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t uneasy. The only interactions he’d ever had with humans were traumatic, and other than appearances, he had no way of knowing you were any different. Claws bared, fangs ready, and tail already swishing, he was prepared for fight or flight – though he remained, just watching you. And you the same. It was drilled into your head, the second you spotted a sea being, swim as fast as possible towards the shore and never look back. There were a handful of reports of villagers being attacked by sea beings and barely making it out alive, and one case of a child who didn’t. Their presence was not to be taken lightly.

Yet, for some reason, both of you just… watched.

Watched and waited for the other to make a move - to attack. He thought it was surely any second until you unveiled a spear from behind your back to impale him, and you were just waiting to be torn to shreds by those claws. But nothing ever happened. You held his gaze and he held yours, studying the other.

Just as fascinated as you were by him, he was utterly fascinated by you. He had never gotten this close to a human before, not by his own volition anyway, and he had never truly seen one this plainly. It was easy to tell that you looked similar to him from the top up, but the bottom down was a completely different story. Where he was used to fish tails, scales, and fins, you wore two fleshy, stick-like protrusions that only bent in two places. No wonder humans were so terrible at swimming. He briefly wondered if there was anything between them. 

It wasn’t long before you ran out of air and had to break the surface, but when you dove back down, he was gone. You felt a slight sense of relief that he hadn’t been staking you out as prey, but also a pang of sorrow as you realized you’d likely never see him again. What you didn’t know is that he hadn’t gone far, just hid behind a formation of rocks as he watched you dejectedly swim back to the shore. It was a foreign experience – he’d never seen a human… disappointed about escaping from him.

As you snuck back into bed and drifted off that night, you found yourself gilled and fanged, finding home amongst the waves.

~~

You didn’t see him for a while after that. Despite you returning to the same spot from that fateful night every day, marked by an especially large horseshoe crab shell, he was never there. It became part of your daily routine to venture to that spot, a backpack full of books, snacks, and water, and lay out on a towel as the sun drifted through the sky.

It was never quite clear to you what you were waiting for, though. What would you even do if he reappeared? You couldn’t converse, neither of you could go to the other’s homes, what was to be gained from seeing him again? You never quite answered that question – all you knew was that you just had to see him again. At least one more time.

Things started to look bleak as days turned into weeks. Your mother wasn’t happy with you spending nearly every waking second on the beach. She could never find out why either, as she’d likely ban you from stepping foot on the sand ever again. And you even had started to think that maybe you had dreamt it – no way you just happened to run into a breathtakingly beautiful merman-type sea being who didn’t try to attack you. That just didn’t happen.

This… creature, you just couldn’t get him out of your head. He had found his way onto almost every page of your sketchbook, finding new life in graphite, pastels, and watercolors. The inky black tail swirled long and curled on itself on the page, as you occasionally took creative liberties on his appearance. 

Stories of him and your sure-to-happen future rendezvouses began popping up in your diary too - and not just him as a sea creature. You waxed poetic about what he might look like as a full-fledged human, with legs and without fangs. He’d surely be kind and gentlemanly, charming and funny with a deep voice and proper human language. He’d be well spoken and smart, and everything you’d ever dreamed of. 

If he ever showed up again. And it wasn’t looking like he would. Until he did.

On a night where you hadn’t even been on the lookout for him, were just dragging your feet through wet sand and shells when you spotted a dark form curled up on the shore. The moon was but a sliver barely cutting through dense clouds, compromising your vision, but something convinced you to jog that way anyway.

And it was him. The tide that lapped at the sand jostled his barely conscious body, threatening to pull him back out towards the darkness. You gasped as you ran and fell to your knees next to him, immediately recognizing the onyx tail with the delicate fins and opalescent skin. Except this time his back was riddled with what appeared to be stab wounds – they were likely a few hours old, no longer gushing blood, but still deep, unhealed gashes that needed to be treated.

“Are- are you okay?” you stupidly asked – as if he was conscious or human enough to answer that question.

When he didn’t respond, you shifted to sit with your legs crossed and pulled his head into your lap, brushing his salt-crusted hair out of his eyes. His large eyes fluttered open at the stimulus, a glowing violet gaze shifting to meet yours.

“Hi,” you whispered, laughing lightly. “I had wanted us to meet again, but not like this.” You had assumed he didn’t understand human language, but the way he only stared at you blankly confirmed this belief.

Anxiety and panic started to bubble up inside you as you absorbed the situation but did your best to ignore it. Swift, calm action needed to be taken if he was to be saved. You shifted your gaze to better assess his injuries and counted five different gashes where he had clearly been stabbed with some sort of weapon – it certainly wasn’t something that had happened naturally. The shape of the wounds was reminiscent of those a fishing harpoon would create, and your face fell as you pieced together what likely happened. Existing in his own territory, he probably swam too close to a fishing boat and spooked the fishermen, prompting them to overreact and attack the harmless creature.

You brought a careful finger to trace along the edges of the wounds, making him jump and hiss, thrashing in your hold as he groaned.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” you gasped, your hands immediately flying away. “I’m gonna, um…” you thought for a second. You knew you had medicine and gauze back home, but he was just going to have to go right back in the water, right? It surely was better than nothing…

You slowly started to wiggle out of his grip. “I’m gonna be right back, okay? I need to get supplies to make you better,” you explained slowly, gesturing towards his wounds. He only cocked his head and furrowed his brows. Fuck. He wasn’t going to understand a word you said.

With a grimace, you gently held his head in your hands as you scooted away, slowly laying it back down on the sand. You stood to head back to your house, but the creature suddenly began groaning and crying out, reaching a shaky arm towards you. He was clearly distressed over you abandoning him.

“Hey, hey! I’ll be right back, I swear,” you soothed, crouching down next to him, and gripping his hand. It killed you to have to leave him like this, terrified you might return to either find him dead or washed back out to sea, but you couldn’t just do nothing at all.

You wracked your brain trying to think of a way to communicate to him that you’d be back when words weren’t an option. Grabbing your backpack, you anxiously rummaged through it for some semblance of an idea, all the while he moaned and groaned in pain. Some sort of keepsake you could somehow communicate had value, almost like collateral. Something to say, this is special, proof I’ll be back. As fate would have it, you had decided to do a deep clean of your bag that morning, so you were coming up pretty dry.

The only thing you could think of was an old copy of your favorite book you always carried on you, Crime and Punishment. Mother always teased you for a depressing, old Russian novel being your comfort book, but you never let it phase you. Pulling it out of your backpack, you stared at the old, tattered cover with the faded title, and hoped to god he could make sense of it – that you were trusting him with something that meant a lot to you. There wasn’t much else you could do.

You tucked it under his arm splayed out on the sand, making sure he noticed what you were doing. Petting his hair, you looked him deep in the eyes as you enunciated one more time: I’ll be right back.

Panic coursed through your veins as you clambered to your feet and ran back to your house. The light of your flashlight was nearly useless as you trembled with fear, tripping over shells and driftwood to the point where your feet were probably going to need some treatment too.

The next hurdle in your way as you reached your house was remaining quiet enough so as not to wake your mother – there was no way to explain your way out of frantically searching for medical supplies to run back out with in the middle of the night. When you weren’t even supposed to be out in the first place.

To minimize the amount of time you even had to be away, you just threw anything you could find in the cabinets into your bag, hoping it would be sufficient enough. Though you stopped in front of the mirror as you passed it, staring at your sweaty and distressed appearance, and took a second to wonder what the hell you were doing. Going out of your way to save a potentially homicidal sea being? Those stabbings may have been damn well deserved. He could somehow be manipulating your kindness for… something. You couldn’t even think of what.

You decided it wasn’t even worth fretting about – you had to get your book back anyway.

The trip back to your anxiously awaiting patient felt a million times longer than the trip home, with every step of your bloody feet reminding you that there may be no one – nothing – to come back to. The sea was a place of peace, but cruel and unforgiving. Your prayers were answered as your flashlight once again illuminated his crumpled body, barely conscious but still clinging on to your (soaking wet and likely ruined) book.

A relieved smile illuminated your face as you fell to his side once again, partially burying the flashlight into the sand so it stood upright to act as a lamp.

“You’re – still here,” you smiled, taking a deep breath. You almost said you’re okay, but that wasn’t quite true, yet.

His clawed hand trembled as it reached out for you, the stretch of his fingers revealing the black webbing in between them. You grasped it back tightly and intertwined your fingers together, squeezing. “I’m here, okay?” He offered you the tiniest smile, but immediately dropped it, the miniscule energy it required taking a toll on his wasting body.

The first thing you did was unfurl a massive, striped beach towel you found shoved in the back of a linen closet onto the sand before hooking your elbows under his underarms and dragging him onto it. It was nearly impossible, his entire body essentially dead weight at that point, but you wanted to get him off the dirty sand – and this was the closest thing you could get to a sterile field.

Dumping the contents of your bag onto the towel next to him, you parsed through it trying to figure out some sort of plan of action. You tried to keep the panic at bay as the thought that none of this was sufficient for anything worse than a superficial cut nagged at you. It was this or nothing.

The first thing mother always told you to do for wounds: clean it. A wave of dread washed over you as you pulled out the bottle of rubbing alcohol, your eyes flitting from it to the gaping wounds in his back. The way he looked at you with terrified, leaky eyes, aware that his entire life was in your hands right then, shattered your heart. You almost wished he was unconscious.

Grabbing a washcloth, he watched as you soaked it with rubbing alcohol, his nose scrunching at the offensive smell. Touching his cheek, you tried to smile as he met your eyes. “This is gonna hurt really – really – bad,” you grimaced. He just stared at you, emotionless, until the rag touched the first wound.

As soon as the liquid came into contact with the broken skin, he let out a horrific, inhuman screech that had you dropping the washcloth to cover your ears. His claws tore ragged holes in the towel as he gripped it, panting and writhing in pain. You couldn’t help but cry too. “I’m so, so sorry,” you continually repeated, abandoning the cloth to lay down next to him. Tears streamed down his face and soaked the towel underneath him, barely even acknowledging the way you wiped them away with trembling fingers.

Despite how much you preferred to just lie with him under the glow of the moon and the melody of the waves, you knew what had to be done. Death was worse than temporary pain – there had to be part of him somewhere that understood that. You hoped it would be better now that he was expecting it.

Slowly sitting back up, you grabbed the rag once more and wrung it out to reduce it to only the minimum amount of antiseptic required, and tried to ignore the way he quivered and shook his head. I’m sorry felt like a shitty spell as you chanted it over and over again, though the screeches became easier to tune out as they rang on. You were surprised his vocal cords didn’t fry.

After what felt like an eternity for both of you, you had finally managed to clean out the wounds and remove some of the dried blood that clung to his skin. The towel was torn to shreds and the veins in his eyes were blown with how much he had been thrashing and sobbing. But the worst of it was over now.

“We’re almost done,” you soothed as you gently applied the triple-antibiotic cream you knew was only meant for minor cuts to the gaping stab wounds. Once they were packed with gauze, you sat back with a huff to survey your handiwork. Sloppy and a bit haphazard but… better than nothing. And having the wounds covered seemed to have helped him calm down a little bit. One last thing crossed your mind though – how could you potentially make the dressings waterproof?

Your eyes flitted over to a slew of seaweed on the shore that reflected the moonlight and figured you might as well try. With some gentle and minorly excruciating maneuvering, you managed to wrap a few thick strands of seaweed around his torso to maybe keep the dressings in place, and protect them from water immediately seeping in.

Falling back onto the towel that was mostly just threads at that point, you sighed. Thoughts of what the fuck am I doing? carved their way into every square inch of your skull. Why am I playing doctor for… whatever he- it is? Why do I care?

The sun began to peak up over the horizon, signaling that it was likely around 5 AM at that point. A groan left your lips as you realized you were going to have to leave soon if you wanted to make it home before Mother awoke, but then remembered you had company. Turning your head, you inspected his body. This was your first time seeing him on land in the approaching daylight.

He only watched you as you observed him. He was… mesmerizing. Flowing from the nape of his neck to both of his wrists, swirls of smoky black pigmentation decorated his skin, while both of his hands and claws were solid black. His – admittedly stunning – face was mostly human-like, save for his slightly larger, glowing violet eyes with slits for pupils. And you had found out he had fangs when he kept hissing in pain. His hair was jet black and flowed just past his shoulders, flecked with salt and sand, that obscured the dark gills on either side of his neck. With only the pitiful light of dawn, you couldn’t make out much of his inky tail, only that it was quite long, and lined with multiple flowing side fins that resembled the fluke.

The waterproof digital watch on your wrist began to beep erratically, making the poor creature jump in fear. Shit. The morning alarm your mother had punched into it.

“I have to leave, I’m so sorry.”

Seemingly starting to recognize the sounds of leave and sorry, his already sad expression wilted even more.

“I’ll be back, okay?” you nodded, enunciating each word clearly. “And you probably need to get back in the water, so you don’t dry out.”

The elongated amount of time outside of the water seemed to have made his tail shrivel slightly, the pointed scales more prominent than they were before. Or maybe that was just the sun rising. Either way, you were at least somewhat certain he needed to be rehydrated.

Standing up on your feet, you dusted off some of the sand that now clung to every inch of you and crossed your arms. The tip of your tongue poked out of your lips slightly as you tried to conjure up a plan of how to get him back in the water. Considering the fact that he wasn’t just pure dead weight anymore, it couldn’t be too bad. But the fresh stab wounds were the main barrier here.

“Alright. We’re getting you back in,” you announced, as if you had some position of authority. He just cocked his head and flared his gills.

With time running out, you decided the best bet was just to use the towel to drag his body the couple of meters back towards the water, and rely on the tide to hopefully aid in easing him back in. It was a deliberate choice to ignore his snarls and light thrashing, clearly not thrilled with the idea.

“Stop fighting me, dumbass,” you grunted. Finally, the tide rose high enough to envelop him, allowing him to indignantly flick his tail at you before swimming away.

The trip back to your house was spent fuming as you wondered why the stupid creature was being so damn ungrateful. As if you hadn’t spent hours saving his life. Whatever. Maybe you could give him a piece of your mind when you went to check up on him later that day. What you didn’t understand was that his unwillingness to allow you to leave stemmed from the fact that he couldn’t quite grasp why you were leaving him. What you were leaving him for. And it hurt. He had always been a loner, even amongst his own kind, and you were the only being to ever show him pure kindness. Why would you leave? And would you ever be back?

[herlovely-footstep]

[herlovelyfootstep-iii]

[ghouljams]

I DONT KNOW WHY, but bewitched by laufey awfully reminds me of knight ghost with princess reader

except the song would be ghost's pov

abso-fucking-lutely you're right on all of that. Here's the bewitching:

If you'd told Ghost that he'd be called on to be the crown princess's personal guard, he would've laughed. He would've told you he was hardly interested in such an "honor" and that he's sure her most royal brattiness must have better prospects to scare off. Surely you must have been such a petty handful that the other knights offered the position had declined, leaving him next in the long line.

Although, it was flattering to hear he was even in consideration. He'd sure worked his ass off to be the best of the best. Making something out of nothing but a failing title thanks to his father's- Well, the man was a better father 6ft underground than he'd ever been in life, and that's all he really needed to say on it. Ghost didn't think much of the summons. He couldn't ignore it, of course, but that didn't mean he had to take it seriously. He could run a little late.

Ghost's pace is slow as he walks through the castle. Admiring the architecture, he told his escort, who looked far less than pleased with that answer. He did his best to stall, hopefully the princess would be fuming by the time he arrived and he could be dismissed easily. No muss, no fuss.

Uneven footsteps race down the hall behind him as he and his escort turn the corner. He pays it no mind, likely a maid, no reason to pay them mind. Until they slam into his back and bounce off. He turns, wide eyed, in time to see you fall on the floor, landing hard on your ass with a pained expression. It doesn't fit such a pretty face. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, and Ghost has to shake himself out of staring at you. His escort has already scurried ahead to see about buying him some time.

"You alright?" Ghost asks, helping you to your feet. You wobble a little, he keeps hold of your hand to keep you steady. "You broken?" He tries, brow furrowing at your changing height as you shift on your feet. He doesn't know you, he certainly wouldn't be here if he did.

"No," You lift your foot, and Ghost glances down, one of your feet already in just a sock, "but, I'm afraid I'm running terribly late." You tell him, glancing behind you and pushing your hair out of your face as you unlace your remaining shoe.

"Maybe I can help you, where-" Ghost watches as you tug your shoe off and shove it against chest.

"Hold that please," He blinks, and takes the heel from you, judging by your clothes you must be of high status. He's never seen a lady running around barefoot before. "Now if you'll excuse me, Sir Knight, I really am in a rush, and I have a baron hot on my tail attempting to hold me hostage another hour still."

Another glance behind you, one Ghost leans to check for as well. You must be quick to have outrun a man he can't even see the sweat of. He wonders if you lost your other shoe somewhere along the way or if you, perhaps, threw it at the baron to buy yourself some time. That look in your eyes is wickedly clever when it meets his again. You nod to him once and slip around him to take off running again.

"Wait, I'm-" Ghost stops, and sighs watching you slide around another corner. "The fuck am I supposed to do with this?" He grumbles to himself, tossing your shoe to his other hand as he walks. He'll pass it off to his escort once he meets up with him again. He's pretty sure he went the same way you did.

The escort looks rather harried when he spots him in front of the reception chamber's doors. Big fancy things that have guards waiting to open them on either side. His escort enters to tell the King and Queen that the newest guard candidate has arrived. Ghost tries not to eavesdrop.

"I haven't needed an escort since I was a little girl I'm-"

"A flight risk," The Queen says firmly

"I'd hardly call running from a daft old man a flight risk," The King grumbles. Ghost chuckles a little to himself. His escort slips back out of the throne room to tell him they're not quite ready for him. Which seems strange considering how much time they've had to prepare.

A maid exits one of the nearby rooms with a pair of slippers and something clicks in Ghost's head. Despite his escort's best attempts at stopping him, Ghost enters the throne room with the maid, and watches your sweet face fall as silence covers the royal family. The maid too, it seems, doesn't know what to do.

"Sir Simon Riley," Ghost announces himself, "I was called about being her highness's personal guard."

"It seems you've already run into each other," The Queen's lips purse, eyes on the heeled shoe in Ghost's hands. He offers the offending shoe to the maid, and takes the slippers.

"This is really-" You whisper to him, Ghost hums, slips the silk slipper onto your foot. You swallow, try again, "I'm sorry to have troubled you, I can't imagine how you must think of me."

"Briefly," He tells her. You're still standing at the bottom of the steps to the throne; apparently having had time only to argue with your parents, not take your seat, in the time between bumping into him and getting here.

"Sir Riley," you start.

"Ghost," he corrects you, "if I'm going to be your guard, I'd like you to call me Ghost."

"Ghost," you start again, not even a hint of annoyance in your voice. Actually, you sound a little embarrassed. It's cute. He likes how easily you give in to him. "I'm sure you'd find this position terribly boring, and a waste of your many talents."

Ghost drops to one knee, and pats his thigh, you quickly raise your foot to settle on him.

"I mean, I'm really not the flight risk my mother thinks I am, and I hardly think you want to accompany me on diplomatic excursions-" he holds your ankle to slip the new house shoe on "-or trips into town. Wouldn't you rather be off, I don't know, fighting marauders and dragons?"

"What do you think knights do, princess?" He smiles, setting your foot on the floor and prompting you for the other one. "It's my privilege to serve you, one I'm enjoying so far."

You feel heat brust over your cheeks, finally taking in the man in front of you. This man is a trained combatant and yet here he is helping you put your shoes on. Christ, you'd literally run into him, and now he was. Why was he treating you so nicely, he should be laughing at the idea of serving you.

"No," He murmurs back, "You can't imagine what I think of you." He stands as you settle your foot back on the ground, and takes your hand, bowing his head to kiss the back of it. "But, rest assured those thoughts are good, my lady."

[lilacevans]

𝐠𝐨𝐭'𝐜𝐡𝐚: 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞.

✧.*ೃ⁀➷ pete's place | the intro | opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚

✧.* : ̗̀➛ lloyd hansen x female!reader (non-descriptive) ✧.* : ̗̀➛ word count: 353. ✧.* : ̗̀➛ warnings: chase kink, taunting, dub-con/non-con (however you'd like to interpret it), dacryphilia (crying kink), lloyd being lloyd ✧.* : ̗̀➛ requested by: @chxrryhansen ✧.* : ̗̀➛ notes: the longest one yet!! i wanted them to stay under 200 but i really enjoy writing lloyd and i would've kept going but decided to post so i didn't spend 5 days writing a 5k smutfest. anywaysssss; enjoy my lloyd lovin' besties!! pls lemme know what u think & check out the main masterlist if this is the first your seeing anything of this series!! 𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑦𝑑'𝑠 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡. ༊*·˚

*this is an 18+ space. minors are not welcome here.

*this is a dark au. there are no happy endings here.

Lloyd’s laughter mocked you as you bound barefoot down the never ending hallway. As you stumbled with a heaving chest, manically trying every door as Lloyd’s heavy footsteps inched closer and closer.

Every shake of the seemingly thousands of doorknobs knocked your heart that little bit closer to breaking. The daunting reality of never being able to outrun him settled in quickly and your hope was diminishing with every useless step. Until one door swung open and you flung yourself inside, slamming it shut. Your eye’s scattered around the room, looking for a hiding spot before they zeroed in on a small cupboard, just big enough for you to fit inside of.

As you rushed forward you were snatched from behind, Lloyd’s cologne filled your nose; dark and carnal as your eyes widened. His arm snaked around your neck, constricting the stale manor air from reaching your lungs.

‘’Got’cha,’’ Lloyd gleamed in your ear, black gloved fingers squeezing either side of your chin as you were dragged back out of the room kicking and screaming.

Lloyd’s hand moved from your chin to clamp harshly over your mouth before you were spun and pinned with his arm across your chest to the wall. His eyes searched your face as your eye’s squeezed shut; tears pouring down your cheeks. You heard his demented, throaty chuckle before feeling the wetness of his tongue glide up your cheek. Your body tried to contort away from his warm breath, useless in its attempt to escape the unescapable. 

Suddenly his tongue was gone and Lloyd tutted, ‘’You’re not crying enough, Pup. Nothin’ but fuckin’ crocodile tears.’’

You let out a pitiful whimper as Lloyd mocked you with faux sympathy, pressing soft kisses across your face.

‘’Open those pretty eye’s up, wanna see ‘em all wet with those shiny fake tears,’’ Lloyd ordered.

Your eyes fluttered open, willing them not to close again at the sight of his twisted grin. 

‘’There they are,’’ Lloyd cooed in awe. ‘’Now… What the fuck do I have to do to you to get some real fuckin’ tears, hmm? Shall we go find out?’’

[getosbigballsack]

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝑵𝒆𝒘 𝑻𝒐𝒚

𝑮𝒆𝒕𝒐 𝑺𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖 𝒙 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒙 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒖

𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: 𝑨 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒃𝒐𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔, 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒋𝒐𝒃, 𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒏𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏���� 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒙

𝑨/𝑵: 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒚. 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅. 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒊𝒎 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕𝒎. 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒕𝒐 @noroi1000 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆. 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖♥︎❥︎❤︎❣︎

𝑾𝑪: 3.2𝒌

𝑮𝒆𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐'𝒔 𝑾𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆✯

𝑬𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚❤︎

You should've accepted your best friend's offer to ride home with you when she inquired if you needed a ride. You should've answered yes instead of being arrogant and choosing to walk home alone in the middle of the night. 

Your hand wrapped tightly around your frame as you hugged the fur coat that did little to keep you warm, the heels you wore digging into the back of your heel, it hurt so much that you just wanted to kick the shoes off your feet and walk barefooted along the dirty, gravelled stone pavement. 

You were unhappy as it was, and to make matters worse, you occurred to step into a muddy puddle of water. "Fuck my life," you hissed as you brushed off your heels and walked back home. You didn't live too far away from the club; it was only a fifteen-minute walk to your flat. 

That’s why you chose to walk, but it would have been wiser to accept your best friend's offer instead of going home in 7-inch heels and stumbling in puddles. 

You murmured again, raising your head to the heavens, and asking, "Why do I have to live such a difficult life? Stripping isn't working for me. I can't afford to pay my bills or rent, and I have no idea what I'm going to eat tomorrow." 

Yes, life is difficult, and as much as you disliked complaining, you had no choice but to do so. You're constantly stuck trying to figure out what you were going to do, and tonight was no exception since, for one thing, you didn't make a single dollar. Not only that, but you also got into an intense argument with your boss. 

“Fuck…” you screamed. Your life just sucked. 

You were so preoccupied with your thoughts that you didn't notice the sound of heavy footsteps approaching you. When you realised someone was following you, it was too late because they already had you against their chest and a knife at your throat. 

“Now, now small thing, if you play nice, I promise I won’t kill you,” they whispered as they pressed the knife even more against your neck. 

You swallow thickly, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you thought - How can my day get any worse than this - before opening up your lips to ask the person that held you, “What do you want?” 

“Well, my boss would like to have you in his bed,” they said to you. 

“Oh,” you said. You weren’t expecting that to be the answer. You were hoping that he’d ask for sex, a blowjob, money that you didn’t have, or something else. But this was unexpected. “Well, tell your boss…that… that I’m not interested.” 

“I can’t do that small thing,” they said back to you. 

“Why?” you asked them. 

“Following orders ma’am,” they responded.

“Well, how about I suck your cock and you fuck me for free and after you're done, just let me go,” you offered. “You can just tell him that I got run over by a car or better, yet I jumped off a building.”

You were hoping that they’d accept your offer and fuck you, but instead they laughed. “As tempting as those sounds. I can’t do that ma’am my boss or better bosses don't like when their toy is being played with.”

Toy? Now that word is a triggering word for you because for starters you weren’t a damn object, and you most certainly will never be. So, you sighed yet again. “Sir could you please just let me go… I’ll” 

“Don’t even try to make an offer, just play nice and come with me. My bosses are expecting you to arrive soon. No, to make this easier on us,” he said as he removed the knife from your neck. “Let’s put you to sleep.”

Then suddenly a rag was held against your nose, and the hand that wrapped around your waist tightened. “No… No,” you screamed, your fright and flight finally kicked in. You began thrashing around in his arms. "Please don't do this."

"Be quiet!" The man whispered in your ear. "NO amount of struggling will help. It'll be over faster if you just breathe." 

You shook your head not as you tried to fight your way out of his arms. But his grip only got tighter, and the rag that was pressed against your nose was now covering your mouth. "Please! Don't do this to me," you begged hoping that he'd have a bit of sympathy for you and just let you walk free. 

But this man, he valued his life more than yours. If he messed up his mission to take you to his bosses, then he knew that his head would be used as an example of what would happen if anyone failed a mission again. 

"Breathe!" A single tear dropped from your eye when you took a deep breath and breathed in the scent of the drug that was on the rag. Your eyes felt a bit heavy, your body getting slightly weak when the substance began to take over your body. 

It wasn't long though, before your body turned limp into his arms as you continued to breathe in the most unforgiving drug. "That's it, just breathe." And that's the last thing you heard before your eyes closed and everything around you went completely dark. 

… 

"Ugh, Sugu please… wh- when is my t- toy getting here," the white-haired man stuttered through his moans as he clung to his partner for dear life. 

"Mhm… be patient Satoru," Geto Suguru, his partner in crime whispered, his lips against Gojo Satoru's ear just sucking at his lobe as his hand gently pumped his cock. 

"But… but I wanna play with her now…" Gojo whined. 

"Brat!" Geto hissed. "Remember what I told you. I went through so much trouble finding a suitable toy just for you." Gojo grunted, his head rolling against Geto's shoulder, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip trying his hardest to hold back the moan that was fighting to spill from his lips. "You better take good care of this one." 

"But what… ugh fuck… what if she's like the rest of them? I don't want a useless… toy," Gojo whined. 

"Just shut the fuck up and cum for me," Geto hissed before kissing Gojo's lips while his hand sped up a bit. "Gonna cum for me, pretty boy!"

"Yes! I'm going to cum,"

Amid their intimacy, the door to their chambers slowly opened revealing their trusted employee (or so they thought) walking inside with you lying unconscious in their arms. 

“Oh, my fucking God, I was just about to fucking CUM,” Gojo shouted, his hand reaching for the gun tucked away in the back of Geto’s pants and fired it at the man who stood before them. Luckily for him, Geto was quick enough to tap the gun downwards just before the shot fired and the bullet ended up landing at the man’s feet. “Don’t you know when too… Ugh!” 

“That’s right pretty boy cum for me,” Geto cooed as he gently pulled the gun from his lover’s grip, his hand that was firmly wrapped around his cock moving just a bit faster as he brought Gojo closer and closer to the brink of his ecstasy. 

“Yes… yes… yes,” Gojo screamed, both his hands wrapping themselves around Geto’s neck, face buried into his chest, lip biting and toes curling as a rope of cum shot from the blush pink tip of Gojo’s veiny cock into the calloused palm of Geto’s hands. 

“That’s a lot of cum Satoru,” Geto said, chuckling as he lifted his hand and showed it to Gojo. 

“Not my fault,” Gojo mumbled. 

“Of course not.” Gojo hummed while Geto grabbed a few napkins that were surprisingly on the bed and wiped the cum away from his hand. “Toji, you have the goods I see.”

“Yup!” he answered nonchalantly, not even phased by the fact that he almost got shot by Gojo Satoru just a few minutes ago. Well, that was nothing new to him anyway, Gojo had pointed a gun to his head, the first day he began working for them. 

“Put her on the bed.” Toji hummed as he walked towards the bed and placed on the soft duvet sheets. “It wasn't too much of a hassle to get her now, was it?” 

“Nah, she just talked too much,” Toji replied. “I’ll be taking my leave then. Have a good night Geto.” With that Toji spun around on his heels and left the room and closed the doors behind him. 

“Satoru… look there she is,” Geto said while smiling and pointing at your body on the bed. Though his legs were trembling a bit, Gojo managed to ease himself from Geto’s lap and crawled out to where his body was. “Be careful now.”

“Mhm… whatever,” Gojo groaned, still his hand lifted to stroke the apples of your cheeks. Oh yes, he’s already thinking of all the nasty things he could do with such a pretty face like yours. The hickeys he’ll leave on your jaw and neck, the bite marks and nails scraping against your cheek… oh all the things he could do to you. “Gonna have so much fun with you. Pretty baby.” 

… 

The sound of a man whining and groaning against your ear had you immediately jumping out of whatever deep slumber you were in. “Fuck…” you hissed as your foggy eyes tried to make out your surrendering. 

“Finally awake I see…” an unfamiliar voice whispered against your ear before a warm pair of lips were planted against your cheek. Your head quickly snapped into the mysterious voice direction, your hand resting against the jaw that was previously kissed. 

“Who… who are you?” you asked, your eyes still a bit foggy but you could still see a head of white hair, and crystalline blue eyes staring right at you. “Who are you and what do you want with me?”

“Sex! Hugs! Kisses! And more SEX! But Sugu said that I’m not supposed to touch you. Sad but the longer the wait the sweeter the reward, pretty girl,” he said smiling from ear to ear. You tried to move away from him only to be pushed back against the duvets and the man now hovering over you. “Now, now don’t be like that. I was kind enough to not fuck you in your sleep. Don’t let me regret my decision and just fuck you right here.” 

“Satoru… Be nice. Poor girl must be terrified. Get up and let me chat with her,” Another man spoke as he appeared behind whose name you now know to be Satoru. “Hi there princess, you look a little scared.” 

“Where am I?” you asked, as tears began streaming from your eyes. “Why am I here? I wanna go home.”

“See, you’re scaring her, move!” With that said, the man pushed Satoru away from you. “It’s ok now princess, no need to be scared. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he calmly stated as he pulled you towards him.

“I wanna go home, please…” you cried. 

“Hm? I don’t understand, you’re already home,” he answered while using his thumb and wiping your tears from your cheek. You looked at him in shock, your eyes now finally clearing up and now staring deeply into the man’s small golden eyes while he stared back at you. “You wanna leave the comfort of your home to go live inside a shabby apartment pretty girl? You break my heart.” 

“But… but…”

“Now… now… no buts. I suggest you go along with the flow and don’t ask any unnecessary questions princess unless you wanna be punished on the first day. You don't want that to happen now do we?" You quickly shook your head not as soon as the words punishment fell from his lips. “Good girl. Now stop the foolish crying and let us introduce ourselves. My name is Geto Suguru and that is my partner and lover Gojo Satoru. What is your name?” 

You sniffed and swallowed deeply, your fist balling into your lap as you opened up your lips and answered, “Y/N.” 

He smiled, a charming smile at that as he lifted his hand to stroke your tear-stained cheek, “Such a pretty name for a pretty girl, right Satoru?” 

“Mhm…” Satoru answered while smiling at you too. 

“Come here,” Geto called as he held his hand out for you to take. You stared at it for a bit, wondering if holding his hand was the right thing to do. But given the situation that you’re currently in, it seems as if it was the only thing you were allowed to do. So, you took hold of his hand. Your sweaty palms slid over his hot calloused hands, fingers slotted between his before folding your fingers over his knuckles and holding tightly onto your hand. 

“Let’s have a look around your new home, shall we? Satoru led the way for us,” and with that said, Geto pulled you closer to him before sliding his arm under your thighs and gently lifted you from the bed. You were a bit frightened, but you remained calm hoping that if you stayed still in his arms, he wouldn't drop you. 

“As you can see, this is our bedroom,” Gojo said as he began walking around the room. “You’ll be here for most of the time. Sugu and I have to work so you’ll have to stay here and wait like a good little wife. Plus, we'll have plenty of sex in here also.”

“Toru…” Geto called out to him in a slight warning tone. 

“Mhmm… whatever,” Gojo grumbled. During that time of them bickering for a bit, you took the time to look around the all-white room. The walls were white, and the carpets on the floor were white. The king-size bed in the middle of the room was elegantly dressed in soft white duvet sheets with white and seashell-coloured pillows. 

To the left of the room was what you assumed to be a closet, based on the design and the shapes of the double doors. “That's our closet dear. And inside the closet in a bathroom, Satoru will show it to you when it’s time for you to take a bath.”

You only nodded as you looked to the right of the room to see a Jacuzzi. What’s a Jacuzzi doing inside of a bedroom? A look of confusion crossed your face and Geto realised this. “What is it, princess?” 

Princess!? You thought. What a nice name to be calling a girl who he just kidnapped. “Uhm… what’s a jacuzzi doing inside of the bedroom?” 

“Ah… it’s there so that you don’t have to leave the room. You have a big bed to sleep on while you wait for us. A nice huge closet to play dress up in while you wait for us, a small little living room area that you’re soon about to see, and a jacuzzi to keep you from getting bored,” Geto answered. 

“You wanna keep me locked up?” 

“Yes,” Gojo answered with no hesitation. “Why should my precious toy leave their playroom? You should be in here waiting until I am ready to play with you. Don’t worry Sugu will play with you too.” 

You looked at both of them in disbelief. What was going on right now? You were drugged, kidnapped, and now being told that you were going to be locked up inside of a house like a toy? And what can we call this reaction of yours? Shouldn’t you be freaking out? Crying and screaming hysterically until they both got fed up with your bullshit and threw you out? 

Why are you so calm? Well, I guess you can say you’ve been through so much bullshit in your life, nothing ever really phased you for too long. Sigh. 

“The only way for you to leave this room is to be on your best behaviour. All you have to do is follow our rules, do as we say, and you’ll get a free pass to do anything that you want for a day, do you understand?” Geto asked and you shook your head yes. “Good princess. Now Toru is gonna take you to the bathroom. You need to take a bath and get changed out of these dirty clothes.” 

Gojo took you from Geto’s arms and then slowly made his way towards the bathroom. “When you get back, we’ll talk about the rules and punishments.” 

…

Once Gojo showed you to the bathroom. It didn’t take much time for you to shower and get changed. Oh, you had to say that you thought that Gojo was going to be the one to shower you, but surprisingly he left right after he showed you what products you’re supposed to use. 

Anyways, after showering you got changed into white lingerie that featured a flattering and full asymmetrical hem to highlight your legs' line, adjustable spaghetti straps for a great fit, and true beauty are revealed via the bicolour flowery lace cups. Lace chemise lingerie has front closure styling to show off your cute bump and will not bind your tummy, making it a fantastic choice for pregnant ladies. "METAL front hook closure" details help to produce a stunning bust line. The dress is made of delicate lace and mesh, is stretchy and breathable, and has distinctive embroidery that precisely shows your body line. 

It’s beautiful. 

You then move on to drying your hair, brushing your teeth, and moisturising your skin before stepping out of the bathroom to see Gojo straddling Geto’s lap, with his head resting against Geto’s shoulder and Geto’s arms gently patting his back. “There she is.” 

“Took you long enough,” Gojo said as he removed himself from Geto’s lap. He sat on the bed beside Geto then patted his lap while he beckoned you to come closer to him. “Sit,” he ordered, and you quickly walked over to him and sat yourself in his lap. 

“You look beautiful princess,” Geto complimented, and you shook your head yes. “Nuh huh, say thank you.”

“Th- Thank you.” 

“Good girl, now remember what I said about rules and punishment earlier?” Geto asked and you shook your head yes. “Well, Satoru and I only have two rules. Rule number one: Don’t leave the room without either of us. Rule number two: Just do as you’re told without question. If you’re able to follow those simple rules, then you won’t get punished.” 

“What happens if I break a rule?” you asked. 

“Well, it depends. Say for instance you break rule number one, if we catch then that is 30 spanks. Break rule number 2, then the punishment varies, from spanks to ass fucking, to overstimulation or even worst humiliation, meaning we’ll take you on a walk outside,” Geto said while smiling from ear to ear. 

“Not just any walk, pretty girl,” Gojo chimed in. 

“What do you mean?” you asked while raising your brow at them. 

“Hm… Break the rule and you’ll find out. Now let's get to bed, hm, you must be tired.” 

“No, I want a kiss first,” Gojo demanded. 

“You heard him pretty girl, give him a kiss,” and with that, you pressed your lips against his, and not even a moment later he began to devour them. “There you go getting comfortable with Satoru.” 

It’s not like you had a choice anyway, it’s either do as they say or suffer the consequences. 

And that is not something you want after all your life was already hard enough.

𝐴𝑛𝑦𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘. 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔. 𝐼𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒.

@getosbigballsack 2023

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