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uhohdad · 1 year

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Another Stalker!Konig x Reader Fic

Summary: Konig has an unhealthy obsession with you. AO3

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Masturbation, Abusive Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, No use of y/n

He had officially lost control over himself.

Konig knew he’d been a little off. Maybe even borderline perverted - but he’s always been good at keeping his darker desires buried with all the other horrific thoughts and traumatic memories that come with his career choices. He was good at that, repressing the difficult things and pushing forward. A soldier has to be.

But you.

You brought it out of him.

It was all your fault, really. You were coaxing the corruption from him, undoing years of rigorous training and discipline.

Not that you were aware. Konig made very sure of that. There were a lot of close calls, too. Decisions he had made out of pure impulse. It’s your fault. He can’t think straight when you’re around, he loses control over himself.

He knows he should quit you. Logically, rationally - he knows this isn’t good for him. It’s not good for you. It’s just not healthy. He should quit you, cold turkey. Forget every little detail he’s learned about you. Stop following you around. Let you free.

He’s tried.

Every time he sees you around base, his gaze is held captive by those beautiful eyes and that silky head of hair, you steal his breath. It’s like he’s lived his entire life in the cruel cold and you were a roaring fire of warmth he’s never known. Your warmth pooled in his chest and spread through his limbs and he could feel you burning beneath his skin. It ignites the complex and dark feelings and he’s convinced that it’s destiny that put you here. That the world was giving you to him on a silver platter.

That you’re his.

Who would be there to watch over you, to protect you? Who will make sure you get back to your quarters safe every night? Who will make sure that the fresh recruits won't get too handsy with you? Who will keep a watchful eye on you in the field - such a small delicate little thing doing such a dangerous job.

But most importantly - who will worship you, like you deserve to be worshiped?

He’s never interacted with you. You probably don't even know he exists. On the surface, he'd say it's because he's nervous. That it’s normal for a guy to avoid a pretty girl. But he knows that it's really because he has to protect you from himself. That he's just an oozing cesspool of unresolved emotional baggage with atrcosious desires. He can't let you too close, no. Doesn't want to hurt you, to dull your light in anyway. He doesn't trust himself with you. Can't control himself around you, throwing caution to wild. He’s afraid of what he's capable of doing to you. What he wants to do to you.

You were his. You just didn't know it yet.

——————————————————————

Friday night was difficult for Konig, as it usually was. It was easy to follow you around base, so convenient that you had both worked together. He was supposed to be there, shielded with plausible deniability and equipped with home field advantage.

A more casual environment was a challenge for him. He didn't exactly blend in among the locals. It's difficult for him - to juggle the harsher risk of getting caught following you around town as opposed to base, while also crippled by his large stature.

At least the team was getting inebriated tonight, it's easier to go unnoticed when everyone’s too drunk to be fully aware of their surroundings.

Watching you have a good time sparks conflicting feelings for Konig. He loves to see that radiant smile. Usually you're so modest, always a polite smile, never letting your face warp. The beer, though, turns your insecurities to ash and your cheeks a rosy blush - you don't seem to hold back as much. Your smile is toothy and face-wrinkling, so genuine, it makes Konig feel like he can't breathe, eyes locked on to you like he's frozen in time. He knows he's not worthy of that smile, but he wants it.

It should be him making you smile like that.

He can hear your laugh from his booth in the dimmest corner of the dingy bar if he tilts his head just right, and listens carefully. Drown out the over-the-top music and incessant pub chatter. He could get intoxicated off your laugh, unrestricted and fueled by the alcohol. It makes him feel so warm to hear your authentic laugh.

It should be him making you laugh like that.

He loves seeing you enjoy yourself, he does. He wants nothing more than to see you happy and he works hard to do so.

And yet you give your joy away to others, - not the polite smiles and fake laugh you dull down for others - the real ones. The ones that come from deep within and give breath to any room you're in. Giving them away freely, and to who? Your co-workers? Your acquaintances?

Over what? A cheap joke?

He bets that it wasn't even funny. Not that you didn't have a good sense of humor, no, he loved your sense of humor.

It’s just... did you really have to rub it in?

You didn't see it, but you really did have the power to make a room so much more livelier. Konig hates not being in the same room as you. And he hates that in most rooms you're in, those hard-headed jocks from 141 followed. You'd been indoctrinated quickly. He can't blame you, you're naive, trusting, still new. You're quick, though, you’ll learn soon enough. You didn't see them for what they really were yet.

Not worthy of you.

Not worthy of your perfect laugh and radiant smile and quick wit and sharp field skills.

He despised that they get a front row seat and he has the wait in the shadows for scraps, working incredibly hard to lap up the leftovers of what you give out to them for free.

Konig gave a long exhale under his breath, closing his eyes and tilting his head back slightly as he tried to will away the vitriol boiling under his skin. He felt himself slipping away to that depraved place and he had to ground himself.

You had that effect on him, making him lose control.

When Soap throws his arm around you, and you don't even seem to notice or care, lost in the story you're telling, your hands waving along with your excited tone, Konig thinks he's about to lose his mind. It feels like you've stabbed him, liebe, why are you letting this happen? Why aren't you shaking his stupid hand off your shoulder and giving him a scowl so powerful he’d never dare to do it twice?

Why are you still laughing and smiling and carrying on when Soap is touching something that belong to him?

When you finish telling a story that Konig is sure was brilliant and wonderful and perfect, Soap leans in inches from your face to whisper something to you. Konig can't read his lips, can't understand what he's whispering in your ear as he half-way embraces you.

Your eyebrows pull as you focus on his hushed voice over the commotion of the bar. Recognition floods you and a cheeky smile creeps across your face.

Konig’s nails are digging into his palms. His mind is racing and that bitter taste in his mouth turns his lips into a scowl.

He watches as you both stand and Soap finally removes his arm from you, finally. It was draped over your delicate shoulders much too long for his liking.

Where are you two headed, though? Off to the bathroom so he can seduce you while you're inibriated? Going to sneak you out of the pub while the rest of the team is distracted, just to push you up against some dingy alleywall, not able to resist another moment without knowing what it's like to kiss your lips?

Or, God help him, what if it wasn't the first time? What if you had already kissed him?

How long has this been going on, right under his nose?!

Konig’s slipping again, his thoughts running from him. Upon realizing he hasn't taken a breath this whole time he forces a few deep inhales, nostrils flared in uncontrollable rage.

This is your fault, you know.

A wave of relief floods him when you two stop at the bar, squeezing between the stools of the counter as you attempt to flag a bartender.

When the bartender notices you both, Soap’s hand finds your shoulder again, holding on for just a little too long as he relays your drink order to the bartender.

That should be him getting you a drink.

That should be him with his hand on your shoulder.

You and Soap are smiling as you chat, he can't hear what about, but Konig is hoping it’s just alcohol that’s to blame for your flushed cheeks.

The bartender returns with your drinks and yet you two linger by the counter, continuing your one-on-one conversation. What’s so great about him, huh? Why aren’t you two returning to the group?

He watched as you press the plastic cup to your lips and take a sip of your drink, eyes trained on Soap as he obnoxiously holds you in conversation. He hates that about the 141 boys. It’s easier for Konig when you’re all in a group, but it always seems like those boys all want their private moment with you.

He knows he can’t blame them, of course they want to talk to you. They can see your light just like Konig can. Liebe, you just don’t understand, they don’t have good intentions with you. They want to control you, dim you, ruin you.

It should be him ruining you.

Breathe. He has to breathe. Through gritted teeth, a snarled lip, and flared nostrils he has to breathe.

He’s suffocating on his own anger and the air in the bar is stuffy. He needs a break, a break from you but he needs to stay and make sure Soap doesn’t try to take advantage of you. Could he even blame him at this point? When you’re looking at him with those doe eyes and giggling like a naive schoolgirl at whatever shtick he’s peddling at you.

You’ve reached the level of intoxication where the alcohol is going down easy, Konig noticed. Not even a grimace as you sip your drink.

You’re shaking your head at Soap, and you give him a point paired with a cheeky expression. You both are finally heading back to the group, and Konig feels safe enough to leave his watch to slip out for some fresh air.

He needs to regroup, find his center.

This is all your fault.

You were acting so irresponsibly tonight. Letting these boys so close to you while you’re inebriated. So vulnerable. Chugging your drinks like you’re trying to make yourself stumble. Being your true, authentic self in their presence. Out in public, for anyone to see. It’s like flashing your expensive jewelry in the shady parts of town. So careless with your light, liebe.

This is why he has to watch you. To protect you. You’re too careless to do it yourself.

He’s got his eyes closed as he rests his back on the brick of the pub, having to remind himself to breathe.

You just make him so angry sometimes.

And then he hears your laugh. That genuine laugh he craved so much to hear. Craved to elicit from you. That beautiful laugh that fills his chest with warmth and makes his stomach flutter.

But it’s too close, way way too close.

He opens his eyes in a panicked jolt and he sees you, pushing open the pub door with your attention turned to the boy following you out.

Konig quickly shuffles backwards, not turning his back away from the action. He slips into the alleyway, body pressed up against the brick to shield himself.

He was always careful to keep his distance from you. He’s so recognizable, easy to pick out in a crowd. A stature you’d remember twice. It’s crucial that he stays on the opposite sides of the room of you, as far as possible.

Thankfully you two aren’t paying very good attention to your surroundings.

Oh, liebe. Always in your own little world. Unaware of the dangers that could be lurking in the shadows. Another reason why he has to watch over you. You’re not watching where you’re stepping, either, liebe. Stumbling as you step to the sidewalk.

What were you doing out here? Coerced from the safety of the herd again by one of them.

Not just any of them - Ghost.

Soap was annoying, sure, but his frat-boy shtick was an easier pill to swallow than Ghost. He was the one he hated more than any of them.

Konig knows you like him.

Simon fucking Riley.

With his perfect accent and tough exterior and mystique that attracted the women like honey attracts flies.

What did Ghost have that he didn’t?

You’re drunkingly humming the song that was playing in the bar. It doesn’t sound so over-the-top when it’s coming from you.

“Rowdy tonight, are we?” Ghost says, never straying from his usual gravely and unimpressed tone.

Konig has to force himself not to mock Ghost. Instead he hopes you can’t hear the sound of him grinding his teeth in rage.

He’s so fucking pretentious, so fucking arrogant. How dare he tease you? And for what, being lovable? What you do best?

Konig can hear you give a long drawn out hum as you think it over, “You have to be, every once in awhile. Good to let it out sometimes.” Konig hears gravel scraping under one of your shoes. “Would you prefer I be extra rowdy once a week? Or a little rowdy everyday?”

You’re so charming. Konig loves the way your mind works, always with your silly little prompts and thought experiments. You were always such a daydreamer, he could tell by the way you get lost in thought. If you totally zone out, and he watches careful enough, he can catch you making slight facial expressions at your own thoughts. He wishes he could pick your brain. Learn you from the inside out, always knowing what you’re thinking.

Ghost lets out a huff and Konig hears the unmistakable sound of a lighter being struck, and his brows pinch. He can’t help but peek around the corner and get a visual on you two.

Ghosts’ lighting himself a cigarette, the flame illuminating his face. Once it’s burning, he holds it between his first two fingers as he exhales the smoke. He passes the lighter to you - since when do you smoke, liebe?

You’re just doing it to impress him, aren’t you?

“Those are my only two options?” Ghosts asks you on an exhale. Even though you’re about to light your own, he still makes an effort to not blow smoke in your beautiful face.

“Well, what else do you suggest I do with my rowdiness? Bottle it up like you?” You say with a cheeky tone. Konig can tell your words are influenced by alcohol. You normally wouldn’t speak to your Lieutenant like this.

You knew you’d get away with it, too. With your devilish smile and teasing eyes.

Konig watches as you put the cigarette to your lips and he feels his cock twitch in his pants.

When the orange flame casts a light on your features it’s like someone took his breath from him. He’s never seen you lit like this before, liebe. The highlights and shadows cast upwards on your features was fit for a painting.

It’s gone in an instant, but you still look so beautiful in the moonlight. You pass Ghost’s lighter back to him. Konig can’t hold back his scowl at the way you brush up against his fingers. He’s hoping it’s just because you’re drunk, uncoordinated.

Ghost holds this cigarette with his mouth as he slides the lighter back into his pocket. He exhales while keeping his gaze forward, “I think the word you’re looking for is discipline, soldier.” His tone is still unchanged, but he gives you a sly glance from the corner of your eyes.

Ghost doesn’t let it show much, but Konig can see from here that even he has a soft spot for you. That’s the light you have, liebe. Able to crack the toughest of exteriors.

“Discipline? Oh, yeah. I remember that one. In the dictionary, it’s the one right next to boring, yeah?” Your whole body is turned toward him, and you’ve still got that cheeky smile on your face, your tone playful.

Could you make it anymore obvious that you want to fuck him, liebe? It’s like you’re slashing Konig with each word, it hurts so much to see you acting so irresponsibly. So intoxicated that you’re flirting with your superior.

Ghost huffs again, and Konig can tell he’s amused with you, even if it came off as annoyed. He takes another draw from his cigarette and flicks away some ash.

“Thesaurus.” He corrects.

“Gesundheit.” You say proudly.

Oh, liebe. You’re practically begging him to fuck you. Pushing your chest out and kicking your feet sweetly and flirting with him like the whore you are.

Breathe. He can’t lose his cool here. He’s trying to soothe his temper, but how can you expect him to do that when you’re acting like this? So fragrantly?

Konig’s teeth are about to crumble under the pressure and his nails are breaking the skin in his palms as he clenches his fists.

This is your fault.

You both take a hit from your cigarette, and Konig can’t believe you’ve allowed him to corrupt you like this so soon. Smoking? What a terrible habit. He’ll have to interfere if you keep it up.

You both still for awhile, basking silently in the nicotine buzz and taking in the evening. The moon was bright tonight, and the street was quiet compared to the overwhelming pub.

Konig watched you close your eyes just a little too long, and he’s wondering how far gone you are. What terrible things will happen if he were to let you out of his sight. Konig’s tired, but he hardly gets rest anymore. It’s difficult managing his career, protecting you, and stay well rested. He can’t forgo the first two, so his sleep suffers.

You’re worth it liebe. You’re all he thinks about from the moment he wakes up to the moment he falls asleep.

But did you really have to keep him out so late?

Don’t you think you’ve put his heart through the chipper enough today?

You extinguish your cigarette on the red brick behind you. You don’t litter, no. How considerate of you to take it in with you to toss. Ghosts is less thoughtful, flicking his butt to the ground and stepping it out with his boot.

You slip back into the pub, and Konig briefly considers pulling Ghost into the alley and ending your fling right now.

He resists his urges, something that’s becomes more difficult the longer he observes you, seething from his alleyway as he watches Ghost follow you in.

He didn’t even get the door for you, liebe. Konig would treat you so much better.

Konig has to let all these feelings out somewhere, and he was far from the battlefield. He opts for the metal bin in the alleyway filled to the brim with empty beer bottles and pub garbage. A firm kick paired with an aggressive grunt imprints the metal with his boot as it knocks over, it’s contents spilling out into the puddles of the alleyway with clinks and rattles.

He takes a few more deep breaths.

He was never like this before. Anxious thoughts were one thing, but this constant feeling of rage and jealousy and obsession boiling underneath his skin has only swelled the more he observes you. He’s never felt like he doesn’t have control over himself, over his actions.

This is your fault.

Konig tries to soothe himself by shutting his eyes and picturing you flirting with him instead of Ghost. That it was Konig who had snuck you away for a drunken cigarette. That it was him you were pushing your chest out for, him you were desperately flirting with.

It does ease the depravity a bit, and he casually slips back into the pub. He was still angry, don’t get him wrong, but his nerves about leaving you alone with them overcame his rage.

So he sits back down in his dingy little corner, keeping an eye on you listening to the story being told and finishing your drink.

He thinks you must be close to calling it quits judging by the way your eyes keep fluttering shut. You’re getting sleepy, holding back a yawn as you stretch your back against the booth.

A few minutes pass, and you say something to the group, probably a goodbye, as you stand and gather your items. You head for he bar and pay your tab, and who other than Simon Riley walks up to the counter as you wait for the bartender to return with change.

He leans against the bar, facing the opposite direction as he turns his head to look at you. Konig’s trying to make out what he’s saying but can’t hear over the noisy pub. You wave your hand at him dismissively.

Good, liebe, shut him down.

Ghost continues, his hands draped casually on the bar behind him. You roll your eyes a bit at him, giving a half-smile.

No. Whatever he’s offering you is bad news. Don’t let him pressure you, liebe.

You thank the bartender oh so sweetly, and turn towards the door as you stuff your change sloppily into your wallet. Ghost slinks from his propped up position and follows you.

Konig’s eyes narrow, watching as Ghost follows you closely behind.

Going to trick you back to his place and then take advantage of you?

What else could it be? Ghost must of saw his opportunity and took it. This is all because you couldn’t act responsibly, liebe.

After a moment passed, Konig follows you two out of the pub and traces your steps. He’s careful, keeping a block and a half between you. Had you not been so inebriated, he might have followed further behind and been a bit more discreet. But you don’t have an eye for detail at the moment and Ghost is too busy guiding you along and keeping an eye on your unsteady strides on the sidewalk to notice.

Konig has to force himself not to jog to catch up in an attempt to decipher the echos of your words as they reverb off the quiet streets.

When you’re back on base, Konig is able to close some distance thanks to the cover of foliage.

The base is mostly empty, the workers and soldiers either home or sleeping in their quarters. Konig’s able to crouch behind some bushes a safe distance from you, able to see flashes of your lower halves through the branches. He's careful to be still as he quiets his breathing.

He’s close enough to hear you both now.

“Thanks for walkin’ me back.” You say, words slurring a bit.

“It’s my job to look out for the team. Especially when they don't know how to hold their liquor.”

Konigs heart pinches in his chest.

It’s his job to look out for you.

“Liquor? I barely even know her!” You say with a proud smile as you fumble your key in your lock.

Ghost gives an unamused sigh.

You finally get your door open, “Night Lt.”

“Goodnight.” He stays stiffly, waiting for you to be safely inside before turning away from your door and heading off. Konig stays in his spot amongst the bushes until he's gone.

He’s glad Ghost left, didn't try to take advantage of you. The interaction still leaves a knot in his stomach. How dare Ghost take care of you, make sure you were safe. That’s what Konig was for.

Once Konig is sure the coast is clear, he sneaks around the side of the building, heading for the small window you had. He’s delightfully surprised when he can see the light pouring from inside your modest quarters.

Usually you had the blinds closed at this hour. Guess you were too drunk to care.

You were too drunk to care about a lot of things, Konig noticed, as he nested into a spot obscured by your window, just the top of his head and eyes showing from your view. You had skipped your shower and forgo most of your normal night routine, your cares dulled by the booze.

This was his favorite part of the day. When he could have you all to himself - he despises having to share you. He enjoys observing you when you think no one’s watching. When you feel safe enough to shed the facet of your persona in charge of social life, and just let yourself be. The real you, liebe.

Of course there was the intoxication - so you weren’t quite yourself - but he still enjoys watching you in your natural environment. You turn off the lights, it takes a moment for Konig’s eyes to readjust, and he watches as you stumble over to your bed, shedding your clothes down to your underwear before collapsing onto your bed.

Konig can’t help the ache that fills the give in his pants as he maps your uncovered features.

It’s like you were sending him a message. A thank you for keeping you out of trouble all day, even though you acting were so difficult.

You’re forgiven.

How can he stay mad at such an engel? When your gorgeous body is on display, just for him. His gaze is tracing the curve of your delicate hips and your perfect ass in those cute little panties. Not for anyone else, not any of those boys on the 141. No, this show was just for him. You even left the blankets off you and the blinds open for him so he could get a perfect view. You’re so considerate, liebe.

Your hands are propped under your head as you drift off and he cant help but imagine himself straddling you, cock grinding against your ass as he kisses along the dip of your back, holding those pretty little wrists down. He’s been able to restrain himself, but the last few weeks the urge is unshakable. He doesn’t know how much longer he can go without sneaking into your room, liebe. He just wanted to know what it was like to be in your space. Where you sleep and decompress and get ready for the day. He wonders how many times you’ve pleasured yourself on that modest little mattress.

His cock is at full attention now, and he can’t help but palm himself through his pants.

He needs to get close you. Close enough to take in all the precious details of your features. Close enough to hear you breathe. Close enough to feel the warmth that radiates from your skin. Close enough to figure out what your shampoo smells like.

You probably wouldn’t even mind.

His gaze flicks over briefly to the lock to your quarters. He wonders if you’re in a deep enough sleep not to stir if he were to pick it.

You’re practically inviting him in. You can’t possibly expect to tease him like this and expect him to control himself? You’re giving yourself to him.

Desperate hands pop the button of his pants, shoving his hand into his waistband in order to find some relief. He can’t stop staring at your beautiful body, liebe. He wants to wake you up with your cunt in his face, already dripping from his tongue making gentle circles around your clit. Too turned on to deny him. He wants you to helplessly come on his face, his grip digging into your plush thighs as he forces you spread and holds you steady though the convulsing of intense orgasm.

He takes a look around, making sure no one was around before pulling his cock out, his grip firm on the base as he pumps himself. He just can’t help it. Not when you’re sprawled on the bed and showing off your body for him.

He’s thinking about how your hands would cling to him, nails clawing to get him off your pulsing clit, but he would hold firm, taking advantage of your sensitively. He wants to you powerless to the pleasure, the only resistance you’d be capable of is desperate and broken pleading as he hungrily commits your taste to memory. It’s the least you could do for him, after everything he‘s done for you.

His other hand presses up against the cool wall, holding him steady as he jerks himself off.

Precum is leaking from him as he pictures you, mumbling sweet nothings and reduced to a trembling mess. You wouldn’t even have it in you fight him as he lines his cock up with your dripping cunt, pushing his tip in and savoring how tight you are as you stretch around him.

He wants to ruin you, liebe. Reduce you to a whining and quivering mess as he pounds into you.

The visual you gifted him had him so excited, he didn’t last long. He spilled come all over the concrete wall beneath your window sill, some dripping to the dirt beneath his feet. His whole body shakes at the intensity of the orgasm, involuntarily hunching forward and choking off any noises begging to escape him. He’s imaging he’s filling you up with his come, staking his claim deep inside you. Claiming his ownership.

He’s still for a moment, taking hitched breaths as he recovers from his orgasm.

Once his thoughts return, the flush on his features transitioned from the warmth of pleasure to the heat of shame, looking to you lying on your bed sleeping, then to his mess scattered outside your window as he crouches outside.

He’s out of control, he can’t help himself, liebe. He wasn’t usually like this. It was just for you - you brought it out of him. It was all your fault, you’ve reduced him to a perverted peeping tom by teasing him like this. Purposefully making him jealous, messing with his emotions, and then luring him back with your beauty. He knew what game you were playing, he was smart enough to understand the power you held over him. He still could not resist you.

You will be punished for how you’ve been treating him, liebe. The tortuous weeks you’ve put him through. He will ruin you. Dig his nails in, train you until you are right where he wants you, never able to hurt him again.

You were his, liebe. You just didn’t know it yet.

Part Two

Original Works Masterlist

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thefrogdalorian · 6 months

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Nowhere Else To Run

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Despite the fact that sharing a cabin with you and Grogu on Nevarro has given him the peaceful life he was searching for, Din cannot escape the nightmares of his past which haunt him most nights.

Although he feels unworthy of your love, the only time things make sense is when you take him in your arms and dutifully put his pieces back together. Even on nights when he feels he does not deserve it.

Word Count: 3.4k ✯ Rating: Teen ✯ Content Warnings: ✯ PTSD, nightmares, descriptions of canon-typical violence, survivor's guilt, Din feeling unworthy of love, Din's violent past, reader's hands described as being smaller than Din's. Author's Note: I created my blog six months ago, so here is a little Din drabble to celebrate. Title is taken from 'All These Things That I've Done' by The Killers (which is so Din coded) and I also listened to 2 Rocking Chairs by Jon Bellion a lot recently, so that might have inspired some of this too! Really hope you enjoyed it and here's to many more months of Din Djarin brainrot ☺︎

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

On the nights he startles awake, haunted by the nightmarish, twisted visions of the worst things he has done, he is certain that he does not deserve you. With all his evil deeds laid bare as his mind plays cruel tricks on him, Din Djarin remains convinced that he could live a thousand lifetimes and never be worthy of your love.

His eyelids fly open as his bare, muscular chest heaves. His golden skin is covered with a sheen of sweat. Din raises a trembling hand to wipe the moisture from his furrowed brow. Disorientated and afraid in the darkness.

His sharpened senses, honed thanks to his previous life as a bounty hunter, begin to function with all the effectiveness which once led to him being deemed the best in the parsec. He cringes as he remembers his narcissism, disgusted by how dishonourable it was to take pride in such an epithet.

First, Din feels your presence at his side. A warm mass of flesh in the dark, coldness of the night. So close that he could reach out and touch you if only he were not petrified that doing so would shatter your beauty. He yearns to draw comfort from you. Yet, he is too afraid to bring you down to his level, to defile your splendour.

Then, Din hears your soft snores. Truthfully, the sweet sounds you make are not quite snores at all. Merely the even, shallow sounds which indicate that you are peacefully resting. He relaxes slightly, relieved that his unwanted awakening has not disturbed you.

Emboldened by your continued slumber, Din sits up and gazes at you. Your stunning features are barely illuminated by the faint moonlight which streams in through an ill-fitting blind, yet even such a simple glimpse leaves him overwhelmed by your beauty.

As he quietly watches you, Din wonders what he could have done to deserve you in a past life. He certainly is not worthy of you in this one.

How could someone as wicked and treacherous as he ever be worthy of the love you envelop him in each day of your lives?

The guilt creeps in, then. It snakes its horrifying tendrils around Din's entire being and suffocates him under the weight of his regret and his pain.

He feels guilty that he has even found himself in a position to receive love like this in the first place. Especially after everything he has done, all the pain he has caused and contributed to.

Din wonders whether it is cruel to keep you around. To have intertwined his life with yours in the way he has. Surely you deserve someone better than him.

Inviting you to move in with him changed so much for Din. It deepened and strengthened his relationship with you while opening him up to experiences he had missed for much of his life. How to share space with someone else, to show affection and receive it in return.

Sharing a bunk with someone for the first time meant Din could not continue outrunning his past. It was a race that had begun decades prior on the day he lost everything on Aq Vetina, a marathon which continued well into adulthood.

The race was almost won when Din took the job that changed his life and led him to Arvala-7 in the hunt for the bounty who eventually became his son.

Yet it wasn’t until Din found you that he had finally crossed the finish line.

He still remembered the horrified look in your eyes when he awoke for the first time in your presence, thrashing and screaming as the night terrors plagued him. Terrified by the haunting visions that made his past as vivid as though it was happening right before him.

The nightmares are indiscriminate when they strike. Extensive in their scope.

In slumber, Din is confronted with the shameful jobs he took from the most reprehensible individuals in the galaxy, reminded of the ego he once possessed.

He relives how readily he hunted people for his gain, collecting bounties without a care for who he hurt. Who was he to be the law? To be judge, jury and, on occasion, executioner? Din is pained at the memory of the life of sin he led.

Din sees the job on Alzoc III in harrowing detail. The unspeakable acts of violence he had a hand in. As much as he tries to downplay his role and blame the atrocities on the disgusting band of crooks he ran with at the time, deep down, Din knows that he was a willing participant in the barbarity.

He replays the moment when, in a cruel, unforgiving tone, the gold-helmeted woman he had always idolised coldly informed him that he was a Mandalorian no more. Din is tormented time and again by the knowledge that he rendered himself an apostate in the eyes of the people who saved him; who taught him how to live. Being a Mandalorian and swearing the Creed were the only things aside from violence Din had truly ever been successful at. Walking The Way of the Mandalore was the only thing which had brought him anywhere close to achieving inner peace.

But most chillingly of all, Din is reminded of the gravest transgression of his life. An act of cruelty he knows that he will never truly forgive himself for committing, for as long as he lives.

Night after night, Din is haunted by how he had given up the child you both adore beyond comparison, who sleeps peacefully next door, to the Empire for the measly sum of a camtono of Beskar.

Was that truly all Grogu’s life was worth?

Of course, Din knows that there is no sum in the entire galaxy which would prove comparable to how Grogu has enriched his life.

Even though Din has seen the error of his ways, as he thinks back across the decades and counts his mistakes, Din Djarin knows that he is not a good man.

Yet, somehow, he has found you.

You are the greatest blessing to happen to him, matched only by his son.

He thinks of the way you still look at him with such love in your eyes, even after knowing the atrocities he committed in a past life; it almost embarrasses him to be loved in such a manner.

Somehow, Din has secured your unconditional love. A fact which proves every now and then, both suns shine on a womp rat’s tail. That even the most undeserving of rodents can occasionally have the greatest of fortunes.

Even when the terrors overcome him, you have never contemplated deserting him. No matter how dark and disgraceful the visions he divulges to you are.

When he wakes up yelling for his parents or screaming for Grogu, whom he is momentarily convinced the Empire have recaptured, you are always there to reassure him and to hold him while he sobs; to kiss his pain away with a touch of your soft lips against his tear-streaked cheeks.

Even knowing all he has done, you still look at him as though he is responsible for hanging all the stars which twinkle in the sky above your cabin on Nevarro.

Din recalls evenings spent on the porch with you outside the unassuming cabin you share by the lava flats of Nevarro. Watching the sun set beneath the horizon as he holds your smaller hand in his, while he admires how your hands fit together as they rest on his lap. He thinks about how smooth your skin is there, how it is so unlike the calloused roughness of his own.

You are softness and humanity in the face of his wickedness.

A wave of nausea overcomes him. Din is stricken by an overwhelming urge to get away from you. To put some distance between himself and you before he corrupts you with his immorality once more.

He ponders that perhaps he will find some relief on the porch in the dead of night. A solitary figure, save for his thoughts and the ghosts that haunt him. Sitting in total silence, apart from the bugs which chirp in the distance, is an appealing prospect.

So Din slowly swings his legs off the edge of the bunk, careful not to disturb you. He cringes at the way the sheets rustle. It is a minor offence compared to the many sins Din has already committed. Still, he does not want to add disturbing your peace to that list.

He sighs in the darkness as he perches on the edge of the bunk, a forceful exhale which causes his shoulders to droop when he realises you are still sleeping soundly. Din is relieved that you are unaware of his distress.

He is tantalisingly close to the door when the moment of solace is cruelly snatched away. His careful steps across the wooden floor were evidently not soft enough.

The gentle sound of your voice cutting through the darkness stops him in his tracks. Din turns to face you.

“Din?” you whisper, voice thick and husky with sleep.

The wave of guilt that washes over him is immediate. It threatens to wash him away, to drown him.

“Go back to sleep, cyare,” Din shakily responds, hoping he sounds convincing to someone so attuned to his every mannerism.

“Did you have another nightmare?” you ask, clearly unconvinced by his display.

Din Djarin may be many things, but he is not a liar.

Even under the merciful cover of darkness, when he would not have to look you in the eye as he skirted around the truth, he cannot bring himself to lie to you.

“Yes,” Din finally responds. His voice cracks as he struggles under the pressure of admitting his weakness.

The light is on before he can protest, and you rise from the bed before he can insist that there is no need. Din blinks rapidly for a few seconds as his retinas adjust to the rude intrusion into the darkness.

When his eyes finally focus, you are standing right before him, already moving to gather him into your arms.

It is strange to him, this notion that he ever needed someone to pick him up and dutifully put his shattered pieces back together. A human needing repairs is an alien concept to Din Djarin. While he has always been adept at finding and fixing faults in his impressive arsenal and starships, he was never able to identify his weaknesses and repair himself. Until he found his Clan.

It wasn't until Din saved the kid that he realised he had been running from something for his entire life. Since that terrible day, when he watched over his father's shoulder as the bodies of his neighbours hit the dusty floor. Crumpled heaps, which used to be people until moments ago, were clad in the same distinctive red robes as him. The terror he felt as his parents ran through the streets, determined to save him, their only son.

On his worst days, Din wonders if their sacrifice was worthwhile. He frets over what they would think if they could see what became of their precious boy. Whether they would be disappointed to see the life he followed. A life of such violence, such mercilessness.

Your warm presence against him, as you take him into your arms, snaps him back to the present. Din willingly melts into your embrace, relishing the human contact.

“Talk to me, Din,” you whisper as you hold him to your chest.

When you run your fingers through his hair, he loses all composure and breaks down into small sobs. Din shudders in your arms as you trail soothing fingers through his hair with one hand and rub your hand in circles on his back with the other.

“I don’t deserve you,” he eventually murmurs, voice quivering.

Din feels the way you shake your head. You gently place your hand underneath his chin and tilt his face up. Din's eyes meet your gaze and he notices how your eyes are full of concern for him. He can hardly look at you, feeling mortified at being studied like this.

Allowing himself to be vulnerable like this is still so fresh to him. To have his soul laid bare like this is uncomfortable and unnatural.

“You are not the worst things you have ever done, Din,” you whisper as you gently wipe the tears he was unable to prevent trailing a hot path down his cheek with your fingertips, “You cannot change the past. I know that you are a good man, Din, and I love you. All of you. You would not be the man that I adore without those parts of you. For better or worse, they shaped you into the man you are today.”

Din trembles under your gaze, under the weight of your words. Unsure whether he can allow himself to accept the unconditional love you offer so readily to him, time and again.

The tears stream steadily down his cheeks, as you continue to soothe his soul:

“In you, I see a caring father. A considerate man who will do anything to protect his Clan. A fearless Mandalorian warrior who has turned his fighting prowess towards a more noble endeavour. To rid the galaxy of any threats, to build a better life for your son. That is an honourable undertaking, Din.”

“I am not an honourable man,” he scoffs, instantly rebutting such a compliment. He is far too undeserving of such praise.

“You are,” you sigh, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. There is such tenderness in your gaze and in how you touch him that he struggles to keep his emotions at bay. His bottom lip trembles at your next words, “Your life is not defined by your most evil deeds. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I adore you, Din. There is so much of you that is loveable.”

Din sighs. In his current mental state, he is unable to believe your words. Unable to let them sink in, to find solace in your reassurances. He looks away from you, shaking his head in a silent response.

When he finally feels able to find your gaze again, he watches as something shifts in your eyes. A tether of patience snaps.

There is a firmness in your tone the next time you address him.

“Do you know how empty our lives would be without you? How much the little boy in the other room adores you?" you plead in an exasperated tone. "He’s asleep right now, surrounded by a mountain of plushies that his father bought for him because even though you intimidate most you come into contact with thanks to your appearance, I have seen firsthand that, beneath your armour, you have a pure heart. And you are wrapped around each one of his little green talons.”

At the mention of his son, Din cannot help the way his lips curve upwards, the ghost of a smile crossing against his features. A welcome respite from the tortured look he has worn since he awoke from his nightmare.

“Grogu adores you, Din. He idolises you. You would do anything to secure his happiness,” you nod, “And mine. How lucky am I to know a love like that?”

“I do love you," Din nods, "And I’m going to spend the rest of my life taking care of both of you,” Din vows, the cracks in his voice replaced with steely determination.

Din notices the way you seem to loosen at his words, knowing that the man you know and love is gradually returning to you. His insecurities and devastation have been replaced by his determination to protect you from anything in the galaxy which could harm you.

“Then, let’s get some more rest, honey,” you whisper as you press a soft kiss onto Din’s stubbly cheek.

Din nods and laces his fingers with yours, allowing you to lead him the few steps back to the bunk you share. He slides underneath the covers, watching you as you round the bunk to join him. Once you have slid beneath the sheets, you turn the light off and plunge the room back into darkness.

Yet, the darkness which permeated every atom of Din Djarin’s being has vanished. He can only see the light now. The way your love illuminates every part of his life. How unrelenting, yet not overbearing, the way you adore him is.

Especially when you gently encourage him to roll over on his side so you can wrap your arms around his tight waist and nuzzle into the centre of his back. Your nose and mouth nestled between his broad shoulders.

Din lets out a sigh of contentment.

In your arms, there is tranquillity. The necessary remedy which soothes his anguished spirit.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Later, when Grogu is finally sleeping soundly after another long day of being doted on by his parents, Din finally makes it to his intended destination. Although he tried to reach the porch in the middle of the night, he would rather be here now. Especially since you are by his side, sitting next to him. It is a moment of rest after a hectic day spent entertaining a hyperactive Force-sensitive toddler with a voracious appetite.

With your presence in his life, Grogu has only continued to flourish. Din’s chest swells with pride as he thinks of his son's progress and all the milestones he has reached. Din knows that being a good father to Grogu is the most important role he will ever fulfil. He treats it with as much seriousness as such a responsibility warrants.

But Grogu is asleep.

Now, it is just Din and you. He smiles as he looks at your hands together, and appreciates how your fingers are intertwined. Din relishes the comfort he draws from your physical presence. He feels soothed by the knowledge that he has hidden nothing from you, that you can still love him regardless of his past transgressions.

Din looks out across the landscape towards the rolling volcanic hills of Nevarro, dusted a pale pink and orange colour in the fading light of dusk. He thinks about how he will grow old with you here in this little cabin. If fate grants him such an honour.

He cannot help but smile as he thinks about how you will sit out here on this very porch, holding hands with each other. When his patchy facial hair is flecked with grey and even when it is entirely white. When the wrinkles on his face are as lined and drawn as the crevices which scar the surface of Nevarro. Perhaps Grogu will be old enough to run around by then. Maybe he will have gained the gift of speech.

Regardless, even many rotations from now, Din knows with absolute certainty that he will still think you are the most beautiful sight in the galaxy. Even after years of adoring each other, he will still wonder how he was ever so lucky to be worthy of your love.

Din is excited to spend the rest of his life proving to you that he is the good man you repeatedly inform him you still see, even amongst all his flaws. It is a heavy task, yet one he relishes. Love had terrified him for so much of his life. When he discovered its beauty, he was determined to make up for lost time.

It is a heavy thought that he may never exhaust his capacity and reach the depths of all the love he has realised he possesses.

For now, though, Din turns his head to look at you, a soft smile lighting up his face as the sunset illuminates his features. The colour has returned to his cheeks. You return the gesture, gently sweeping your thumb across the back of his hand.

In the fading light, your face glows golden, only accentuating your beauty. Din wonders again how he was ever so lucky to know a love like this.

Except now, he does not doubt that he deserves it.

Now, Din Djarin allows his chest to be flooded with the warmth he feels when he embraces your love.

He accepts it, even after all the things that he’s done.

#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fluff #din djarin angst #pedro pascal characters #my fics #cannot believe it has already been 6 months where does time go eh!

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anna-hawk · 6 months

Text

Dexterity

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: You're having some quality time on your own when Frank pays you an unexpected visit.

Explicit 🔞 • WC: 4,1k

Tags and warnings: masturbation, finger fucking, teasing, praise kink, hand & finger kink, dirty talk

Always time for Coffee series

⚠️ If you follow me on AO3, this is NOT a new fic! ⚠️

A/N: This month will mark five years since I posted my very first Frank x Reader fic. I made a small post for the series a few years back, but never a dedicated one for the first ever fic. After the news and pics of getting Frank back today, even if it's only for a small role, I was thinking back to the time I got first inspired to write and actually post something for once. It's been quite the journey since then and this series has now 16 parts, but most importantly, this fic played a big part in me joining the beautiful fandom that I've been a part of these past 4 years and getting me to meet incredible people. So I figured, let's be nostalgic and officially post it on here too.

Ever since meeting Frank Castle, you’ve been obsessed with his hands.

You know they have killed numerous people and could do cruel things to the ones deserving it, but you also know how kind and gentle they can be. When he would come to your shop as Pete, you’d seen how he would talk to one of your employees' kid, the boy having always had a short fuse, and manage to calm the boy down by simply putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The couple of times when he’d handled the fragile elements of your ice cream maker while repairing it with those deft hands had also shown how gentle they could be.

Yeah, you really have a thing for his hands and the guy himself.

The first time you'd met him, you'd met Pete Castiglione the construction worker, who’d been visiting your Café for the first time. You had followed the whole Punisher debacle on TV and had been very intrigued by the man’s story. Yet even though you'd thought that Pete looked familiar, it had taken you a few weeks of him coming in every other day and helping you out with an electrical problem, to realize who had actually been hiding under all this wild hair and beard. That had been the first time you had come into contact with his hands, too. He had taken off his baseball cap, looked at you to ask where the problem was while standing really close to you, and something in his expression had finally made it click inside you. You'd breathed out, “Frank Castle,” in stunned realization a moment later. In the next second, he'd had you by your throat and against the opposite wall, asking who’d sent you. You had been so startled that you’d just started laughing at the absurdity of you being able to hurt him. Okay, so maybe not really laughed as much as choked, since he’d had his fingers squeezing rather hard around your windpipe. But you'd managed to wheeze out your thoughts, and he'd released you enough for you to tell him why and how you had recognized him. He’d deemed you trustworthy enough, apparently, because he'd let go of you and apologized for overreacting.

You had promised him that you would never tell anyone about him that same evening.

As weeks passed, and he’d still come by your Café, you'd managed to build a rather close friendship. After a while, though, you'd noticed that he was coming by less and less until he stopped coming altogether, making you worried. Finally, after the day everyone had found out that Frank Castle was still alive through live TV, he'd come to your shop when you were closing. You had been even more scared for him since the news and beyond relieved to see him unscathed. You had been touched to learn that he’d wanted to make sure that no one had found out that you knew about him and come to hurt you to get to him. He'd also told you that he would have to lie low for a while. You'd suggested that he should come to your place and hide there. He had declined, too worried about what could happen to you. Still, as you'd accepted his concern, you'd told him that he could come to yours whenever he needed to, no matter the time of the day or the night. You had never been more glad about giving him your address because weeks later, he had come to hide for the night and had done so several nights until the whole thing with Billy Russo had been over.

Nowadays, he still shows up every now and again. Mostly nights because he has some business to take care of, or just to say hi. You both grab a drink (mostly coffee) and chat. You enjoy his company a lot. Okay, more than a lot. You’ve had a thing for the Punisher even before meeting Frank, but since knowing the man himself, you couldn’t help being attracted to Frank and his beautiful large hands and agile fingers. Among other things. You don't know where he stands with romantic or even only physical relationships considering his past, but you do kind of flirt with one another. You know that Frank likes you a lot; otherwise he wouldn’t come to see you regularly. But even if you want him, badly, you feel that it’s more like bantering to him and nothing more.

That doesn’t stop you from dreaming or fantasizing about him and the filthy things that you’d love him to do to you or you to him, though. And that's actually exactly what you’re doing right now. You’re lying on your bed, the sheets tangled around your legs, one hand inside your sleeping shorts while your breaths come harder and faster. You’ve been teasing yourself for what feels like an hour, fingers alternating between circling your clit languidly and pushing three deep into you to mimic the size of two of his, getting yourself closer and closer to one spectacular orgasm. You’ve got your eyes closed, face flushed, bottom lip between your teeth, while your middle finger is rubbing faster and faster over your slippery clit. Harsh breaths leave you as you picture Frank spreading you wide with his fingers and whispering dirty nothings into your ear. You’re right there, on the brink, ready to fall, when there’s a resounding knock at your door.

You yelp in surprise and flinch so hard that you nearly hit yourself in the face with how fast you remove your hand from between your legs. You’re trying to get your bearings back, your body still trembling from being strung high for so long and not getting what it wants, when there is another knock. You groan in frustration and get up on wobbly legs to go check on who wants to see you so badly at that time of night. You look through the peephole and gasp when you see Frank’s face. He'd been here only last week, and he usually shows up only once a month at best, so you’re completely thrown when you open your door to the smirking man.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he greets in his signature gruff and deep voice, upper body pressed lazily against the door jamb.

He’s looking calm and carrying no signs of a recent fight. Meaning that this isn’t an emergency call. Good. He’s wearing dark jeans and a charcoal Henley with his usual combat boots, three days worth of stubble on his face. He looks mouthwatering, and you valiantly try not to let anything show on your face.

“Was in the neighborhood visitin' Curtis and thought I could come check on you too. Sorry it’s so late,” he continues, confirming your earlier thoughts on there being no immediate danger.

“You’ve come by way later, Frank,” you remind him with a snort and motion for him to follow you inside.

You notice that your voice came out a bit strained, and hope that he doesn’t see how your knees are still shaking after the near orgasm and the effect his unexpected presence has on you. Well, turns out that you’re out of luck.

“You okay there?” He asks, as he follows you into the kitchen.

You groan inside, of course he noticed. You still try to play it off.

“What? Of course, I’m okay.” You hate how your laugh sounds off. You’re usually better at faking stuff like that.

“Yeah?” he says, coming to stand right before you to give you a once over. “'cause you’re all flushed and breathin' kinda hard.” He even lifts one hand to feel your temperature, but you dodge it and turn to the sink, reaching over it to get two coffee mugs out of a cupboard. Anything to avoid him see you blush even more.

“I’m fine, Frank, don’t worry… Coffee?” You desperately hope that he’s going to let it go. You need to put yourself back together and slow your breathing.

“Can never refuse your coffee.”

You breathe a small sigh of relief when he seems to accept your answer and smile at how fond he sounds of your coffee making skills. You’re about to reach for the coffee beans when he says, “Seriously, though, am I makin' you this nervous or what's goin' on?”

You put your hands back down and groan in defeat, hanging your head.

“Could you just let it go, Frank? Please?”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and you don’t turn around to look at him while you wait.

“Did I interrupt somethin'?” He finally says, amusement clear in his voice. Damn him and his perceptiveness.

You hide your face in your hands and whimper in embarrassment.

“Oh God, just shut up, Frank!” Your voice is muffled by your hands. He barks out a laugh, making you lower your hands again. “You’re such a jerk.”

“Hey, hey, `s okay Sweetheart, there’s nothin' to be embarrassed about,” he tells you gently, though you can tell that he’s still grinning, the bastard.

“Yes well…” You still refuse to turn around, even though you can hear him move closer behind you.

“'could always show me, y'know,” he says, and even though the words hit you to the core because the thought alone sends a new wave of deep arousal through you, you can’t place his tone.

That's why you do the only thing that comes to mind and gasp, turning around to backhand him in the chest and play into the joke.

“Oh, fuck you, asshole.”

You meet his eyes and see that there’s something there, lying just under the teasing glint. You suck in a breath, holding it in, while your heart beats a nervous tattoo against your rib cage.

“Or… I could help 'course,” he finally says, voice low, after what feels like minutes and not seconds, his piercing eyes never leaving yours.

You stare at him, still barely daring to breathe. The idea of him helping you out nearly sends you to your knees. Eventually, you exhale in a snort because come on, he doesn’t mean it, and go back to facing the counter, taking the coffee beans out of the cupboard.

“Yeah, right… Let’s get back to that coffee, yeah?” Bonus points for sounding offhand.

You hear him taking another step and then see his hands coming to rest on the counter, one on each side of you, effectively caging you in. His voice is a rough whisper against your left ear, making you gasp.

“Is that a no?”

Your hands, now inches apart from Frank’s, are gripping the marble beneath them, hard. You close your eyes and swallow.

“Don’t play games with me, Frank.” Your voice goes deeper and colder in warning. You might not expect anything romantic-wise from him, but you won’t be made a fool of.

“‘m not playin', Baby.”

To confirm his words, he glides his nose along your nape and bites you lightly on the juncture between neck and shoulder.

You moan, all need. That nickname. He's never used it before, but it does something to you. Babe you’ve never liked. But Baby? The way Frank says it, just gets to you. You incline your head to the side, a silent surrender, and feel him grin against your skin. Your eyes are closed so that you don’t see his right hand leave the counter, but feel it settle on your hip and slowly glide down your thigh to the hem of your shorts. To your dismay, his mouth leaves your neck.

“Spread your legs for me, Sweetheart,” he rumbles into your ear.

You oblige instantly, parting your legs and leaning slightly forward to accommodate him. Frank hums in approval. You can feel his fingers on your skin now, just beneath the hem of your shorts, slowly making their way under your right butt cheek and to your center, the touch light and measured. How is it that he's barely touching you and making your breathing speed up again? You try to relax your hands because you’re still gripping the hard kitchen surface like crazy; anything to anchor you. But Frank chooses that moment to push the short’s to the side, hooking it between your ass cheeks and the left side of your outer lips, to grant him easier access. One large finger slides through your still wet folds. One lazy pass through your slit and up to your clit, and your hands lock into place again, a harsh gasp leaving your mouth.

“Shit, already so fuckin’ wet, huh? Guess I did interrupt somethin' good.”

You say nothing, you can’t right now.

Frank keeps up his slow and torturous pace, sometimes staying over your clit and circling it with a featherlight touch that has you nearly screaming in frustration. You try to get a bit more pressure by pushing down on his finger every time he does this, but he just goes back to teasing your slit. Your arms are trembling from the strain, and you murmur a nearly silent plea for more. He seems to hear you though because he chuckles kindly and applies enough pressure for you to moan in satisfaction for a few seconds, before he stops again, too soon. When you fantasize about him, you usually picture him as the teasing kind of lover, but your imagination could never have reached this level.

“Tell me… What you been thinkin' about earlier?”

You’re kind of put out to hear that his voice is still steady, so you decide on the truth. In for a penny and all that.

“You,” you breathe softly.

His movements stop, and you’re satisfied with his reaction, when you realize that you might have overshared. His hand is moving again a moment later, and he growls deep in his throat. He presses his chest to your back, left hand coming up from the counter to grab your jaw and pull it to the side to press biting kisses into your neck and shoulder, making you keen.

“Me, huh? Fuck, now I really want ya to show me sometime…,” he pants roughly into your neck, index finger rubbing tighter and harder over you. “And what was I doin’?”

You have to concentrate to answer him, the pressure on your clit so delicious now. Your voice ends up breaking on each word.

“Something… like… that…”

“Something?”

“Finger-fucking… me.”

He inhales sharply, and you feel him adjust his position behind you, his clothed erection brushing against your ass for a second.

“Something like that?”

Two of his large fingers plunge deep into you, filling you to the brim. You cry out in bliss and go up on your tiptoes for a second as your body rises. Your back bows backward, resulting in your head coming to rest on his shoulder, while your eyes close, and you catch your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Fuck, you feel so good for me, Baby,” he groans into your temple. He withdraws slightly before pushing back all the way in, setting a steady rhythm as the way his name keeps falling from your lips keeps him going.

The hand on your jaw slackens after a while and travels down your neck, over your collarbone and a covered nipple. He’s stroking down your belly and to the junction of your thighs before he finally stops directly over your clit. He rolls it between index and thumb with just the right amount of too much and not enough pressure, or flicks quickly over it repeatedly to keep you on your toes and not know what to expect next. The rhythm of his two hands are completely different. Where his left hand is teasing you slowly but mercilessly, his right hand still has two fingers fucking you fast and deep, making you whimper brokenly. His fingers feel absolutely incredible, yet you know that it’s to keep you on the edge of release. You love and hate it at the same time. The dual sensation has you removing your head from his shoulder to take your weight with your hands on the counter again, leaning forward a bit more to push your ass out and give him even better access.

Frank grunts his approval and keeps up the pace. You feel him resting his forehead on the nape of your neck.

“Holy shit, girl, look at ya takin' my fingers so perfectly,” he says gruffly. You squeeze down on said fingers at the praise, resulting in a groan of appreciation from him.

Eventually, no matter how long he’d intended to keep you on the brink, you’ve been strung so high for so long, that your orgasm is building inexorably, your body ready to crash back down again. His continuous praise is speeding it up as well. Your legs start to shake and a light sheen of sweat is covering your skin. Your harsh breaths are intermingled with moans and gasps of please mores and yesyesyes.

“Frank, please,” you beg one last time. “Please!”

“I gotcha, Sweetheart,” Frank answers finally and starts upping his pace on your clit.

“Yes!” you hiss, elated.

But Frank is apparently not completely done with you because he removes his two fingers from inside you, only to push back but with a third one, this time. You can only cry out in surprise and deep pleasure as he gives you half a second to adjust, before he starts an intense rhythm again. You’ve never felt this full with only fingers, and you can now feel as your release starts curling hotter and tighter in your belly.

“F-f-f-frank, I’m so, so close,” you manage to breathe out.

Frank keeps a litany of words spilling out of his mouth against your neck, “So fuckin' perfect for me” and, “Takin' me so beautifully”.

Suddenly, you're right there again, just like before, ready to take the leap. You feel the shivers running through your whole body and centering where Frank is rubbing tighter and tighter circles. Frank lifts his head from yours and growls deeply into your ear. “Now come for me, Baby. Come on my fingers.”

“Oh fuck, Frank!” You mewl, high-pitched, and that’s it. Everything in you snaps at his words. The intensity of this so long to come orgasm hits you like a freight train driven by Frank Castle. Your body curves back against his, your head back on his shoulder, facing his neck. Your hold on the kitchen worktop becomes deadly again after having slackened somewhat, and you cry out in pure, unadulterated bliss. You dimly feel Frank stopping the fingers inside you and taking them out to circle your waist and push you even more back against him. His focus is on his left hand, index finger still stroking your bud with intense precision, prolonging your release.

As you’re slowly coming down, your body begins to tremble and Frank tightens his hold on you to prevent your knees from giving out on you. You finally release the worktop, fingers a bit stiff, and put them over Frank’s arm to hold on to. His finger hasn’t stop working you, though, and while it’s sending you nice aftershocks, which have you jerking and gasping against him, you finally reach down with one hand to grab his wrist to stop his movements and rest it against your waist with the other.

“Too much,” you mumble into his throat.

You stand like that for a while, both not saying anything while you try to get your breathing back under control. As the seconds trickle by, and you process the last fifteen minutes, you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up and escapes your lips.

“What?” Frank asks, and you can hear the amusement in his voice.

“That was so not what I was expecting from your visit… Not that I mind, of course,” you grin, all relaxed limbs and all.

Frank chuckles, “‘m a man full of surprises.”

You reach down to tug at your shorts and make yourself presentable again, and snicker.

“That you are,” you say and turn around in his arms to look at him, your hands coming to rest on his strong chest.

Your heart misses a beat when you see his face. He’s a bit flushed, and he’s still breathing rather deeply, but it’s his eyes that capture your full attention. They are still dark with arousal, the gaze intense and fixed on yours. Frank’s lips break out in a smirk as he catches you staring. You swallow and clear your throat as you finally take in the hard outline of his dick against your body. You’re about to open your mouth to inquire about it, but he beats you to it.

“Don’ worry ‘bout it, Sweetheart.”

“But-”

“‘m good,” he cuts in again, kissing your temple to take the sting out of his rebuttal before letting go of you.

You stay quiet and lean back against the counter as you nod vaguely. Frank takes a few steps backwards away from you, one hand coming up to rake through his hair and down his neck in a nervous gesture. He doesn’t look at you, so you decide to break the silence. You’re still floating on your high a bit and don’t want things to get uncomfortable between you two.

“So… coffee?”

You see him take a small breath and look back at you with a smile. His eyes are kind but unreadable, like they so often are when he’s thinking about something.

“Yeah, I’d like that, thanks.”

You smile and get back to grab the things you need, Frank going to sit on the couch. The silence is only broken by the coffee grinder for a small while. Your apartment is one large space with an open kitchen that gives on a big living area. A comfortable couch and a coffee table, that are framed by two armchairs, face a flat screen TV and huge floor to ceiling windows. Your bedroom with en suite bathroom is on the opposite side from the kitchen. You adore this place. From where you’re preparing the two mugs, you only have to turn your head to the left to see Frank sitting on the couch, arms thrown over the back of it, legs spread wide. He stares unblinkingly at the darkness and buildings outside your windows. You bite your lip and sigh softly. Once you’re done, one mug with strong dark coffee for Frank in one hand and in the other one with decaf because you definitely don’t need any more excitement tonight, you make your way over to him.

You walk around the back of the couch to sit at the opposite end, your back resting against the armrest. You extend your hand with Frank’s mug toward him. He blinks down at it for a second before taking the mug. He turns his upper body to face you, and you relax a little more at the half smile, half smirk that he usually wears and that he gives you now.

“Thanks,” he says gratefully and hums in pleasure when he takes his first sip.

“Anytime,” you chuckle warmly. You had been proud to find out that Frank had initially come to your Café because he had heard people talking about the quality of your coffee.

You sit there without saying anything, but this time it’s a comfortable silence, both savoring your drinks.

“So how’s Curtis?” You inquire after several long minutes.

It’s an honest question, but you also want to show Frank that you can still talk like you used to. You’ve never met Curtis, but you’ve heard a lot about him and how he has always been there for Frank. That alone means a lot in your book. You end up talking for a small amount of time, conversation becoming easier, before Frank decides to bid you goodnight. You walk him back to the door, and he envelops you in a hug that you hadn’t been expecting at this point. He kisses you on a temple like he often does, making you smile into his neck fondly before returning the kiss but on one cheek instead.

“Take care,” he rasps into your ear, before letting go of you and opening the door.

“Be careful,” you counter with raised eyebrows and a meaningful look.

Frank chuckles and nods. “I'll see what I can do.”

He walks off to the elevator, which opens for him immediately when he pushes the call button, and steps inside. He lifts a hand in a wave as the doors slide closed in front of him, and then he’s gone.

You close your door and lean against it, heaving a heavy sigh. You don’t really know what to feel right now. You’ve just had one of the most memorable orgasms of your life, but still don’t know where you stand with Frank. If you go back to how things were before tonight, that’s fine with you. You’re kind of afraid that you might have scared him off, but the way he behaved before leaving makes you feel confident enough that you haven’t. The ball is definitely in Frank’s court now. You would have to wait and see.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle #reader insert #the punisher #mes fics #always time for coffee series #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle smut #the punisher fanfiction

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justporo · 8 months

Text

Evening Rituals

The sun might be lost for Astarion, but what he can hold onto are the sunsets once the sun itself has hidden beyond the horizon. And so he sits and watches - and you hope to help him mend what's broken.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: I wrote this after I thought of that recent headcanon of Astarion liking to catch as much of a sunset as possible - because they're beautiful and we all know he loves beautiful things. Coincidentally the sky this morning - although it was a sunrise - was just as I imagined it for this piece. Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: light mention of past trauma Wordcount: 1k Song: Am I Dreaming - Lil Nas X ft. Miley Cyrus ~~~

The room was dark so the sky could be more vibrant.

At least that’s what Astarion always said when he insisted on getting up as soon as the last golden ray of the setting sun had climbed down below the horizon. He’d thrown open the thick brocade curtains covering the tall window in your room, only to do the same with the window and then perch on the window sill: one leg drawn up, the other hanging casually down from the little nook and his head up towards the gradient sky.

His posture seemed casual enough. Inviting you to think that he was merely languidly relaxing. But for you who’d become accustomed to carefully notice even the most minute of details of your lover, you saw the tension in his spine and the way he leaned towards the last moments of daylight. The way his eyes spoke of yearning and a dear one lost.

It had become an evening ritual this. Since evenings were now the start of your days.

It had been merely a couple of days since your final battle for Baldur’s Gate and so for the time being you’d chosen to remain in the relative comfort of the Elfsong tavern. Until things had blown over a bit, the dust settled.

One of those things being how your vampire had been forced back into the night.

And how he hadn’t been ready for it. Although, if you were quite honest with yourself, who could have ever expected him to be ready for something as cruel as that?

Astarion fully hadn’t been prepared for this sort of breakup yet. That’s what he’d said several times. Sometimes half-joking, sometimes with as much earnestness as you’d heard from the man.

And you knew that even his new found, undying and powerful love for you could only take the sharpest edge off the pain all this was causing him.

He was mourning the loss of the sun. The griefing doubled by it being the second time it had been taken from him.

Because a heart already shattered into pieces, already once broken and barely just starting to stick together again was so prone to breaking down even more.

And so Astarion sat and watched how the last remains of sunlight slowly got drawn from the skies every evening. Observed how the colours changed from simmering, liquid gold at the rim and got drowned out by all shades of the colour blue imaginable. Like a curtain dragged down over the city ever so slowly - until glittering stars and a vibrant moon brought some solace with their silver light. As if offering a soft caress as a small apology to the vampire who would have to make do with them instead from now on.

And you sat with him every night, trying to offer additional comfort even though you knew that even you couldn’t substitute all the warmth of golden daylight. At least you wanted to be there for him while he was trying to mend the pieces as best he could.

It might not have been healthy how Astarion clung to shreds of what was left. But could you really blame him? You saw the pain in his crimson eyes every evening once he had settled down to watch, how he practically made himself sit through the pain time and time again. It tortured you.

But you also noticed the spark on his face, at least a silver lining. When he smiled and whispered to himself how beautiful it looked. “Almost as beautiful as you,” he joked sometimes. And then you smiled at him or kissed him. But not for too long as to not to keep him from his moment of serenity.

Mostly the two of you remained silent. You needn’t speak about this, it was an unspoken agreement between you. And a lot of thoughts must be going through Astarion’s mind at any given time. Two centuries were a hefty time span to sort through. And you felt he needed these moments to slowly work through it. To patiently let the major dust storm settle and see how pieces fit together after that. So usually you just stayed with him, observed him as much as the sunset sky, while you hoped you’d be a piece in the puzzle once he would have figured it all out.

Today you had quickly went down to the taproom to get yourself a mug of hot tea while Astarion had already flung open the window to perform his routine.

When you returned he was already there, head leaning against the window frame, one leg up and angled, softly swaying to a melody only the vampire heard.

Kneeling down in front of the window on a pillow you set down your cup on the window sill and then your head on top of your arms right next to it. Vapour curled lazily from the boiling hot beverage you’d brought for yourself, dissipating somewhere towards its way up to the flamboyant sunset.

The sky was different today. Mixed with the usual oranges, yellows and and blues was a breathtaking blend of purples and pinks, stroked over with some soft sheens of clouds that glowed even more vibrantly with the unusual colours.

Astarion was mesmerised, mouth slightly agape, as if he’d never seen something similar. Truly the way he could admire every single instance of the sky darkening slowly had you in awe and broke your heart simultaneously.

The vampire loved beautiful things, loved to look at them, again and again. And if that was what remained, he would hold onto it.

You took him in, took careful note of how his profile outlined darkly against the softer pastels of the early night, eyes shining. The warm light tones painted him softly - in a way that made your heart ache even more.

Astarion noticed you watch him and smiled at you lovingly - and just a little wicked. You hoped you saw a tiny bit less aching in it today. He stretched out his hand to stroke your hair softly while not breaking eye contact. He admired you very similarly to how you had been looking at him. And to how he previously had drank in the dusk sky.

Tonight his eyes didn’t stray from you while the colours slowly gave way to the darkness of the night.

The pain and the beauty of sunsets might be fleeting. Always prone to betray one.

But you were there. And you stayed even beyond darkness.

Taglist (DM if you want to be added please): @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06 @marina-and-the-memes

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion x reader #bg3

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muiitoloko · 5 months

Text

Needs

Summary: You are there to meet all of his needs.

Pairing: Karl Hoffmeister × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut.

Author's Notes: Well, folks, brace yourselves for another rollercoaster ride of a story! I gotta admit, this one had me wrestling with writer's block like nobody's business. Every word felt like it was mocking me from the page! But then, lo and behold, I stumbled upon some Karl gifs on Tumblr and bam! Inspiration struck like lightning! 🌩️ Had to spill some ink on Karl, no question about it. Here's hoping I did justice to the enigma that is Karl in this one-shot! Oh, and can we talk about Charlotte? Let's just say, I'm not exactly her biggest fan... Am I alone in this? 🤔

Also read on Ao3

As Karl stood by the window, his gaze fixed on you, the maid, playing with Otto in the garden, a myriad of conflicting emotions swirled within him. It had been two weeks since Charlotte had left with Friedrich, leaving Karl and Otto behind. Two weeks since Karl had managed to recover from his illness, but the ache of missing his wife lingered like a ghost haunting the halls of his home.

As he watched you, a simple maid with a beauty that had gone unnoticed until now, Karl couldn't help but feel a pang of longing deep within his chest. He missed the warmth of a woman, especially when he lay alone in his bed at night, the cold sheets a constant reminder of his loneliness.

Over time, Karl began to notice things about you that he hadn't paid attention to before. He saw your beauty, simple yet captivating, like someone from his own class. He observed the dedication with which you carried out your duties, the tender care you showed towards Otto, his beloved son.

And then, as if by some cruel twist of fate, Karl's gaze fell upon the neckline of your dress, the delicate curve of your breasts teasingly visible beneath the fabric. His breath caught in his throat at the sight, his pulse quickening with desire as he imagined what it would be like to hold them, to suckle at them with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

Karl closed his eyes, cursing himself as he leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the window. He missed the warmth of a woman, the softness of her skin against his, and there you were, a woman so close and yet so far away.

He wondered if you were still a virgin, if you had ever felt the heat of a man's touch. But it didn't matter, did it? Because Karl would be better than any man you had ever known, much better. He would treat you with the respect and adoration you deserved, fulfilling every desire and whim with a passion that knew no bounds.

But then, with a shake of his head, Karl opened his eyes, the realization of what he was thinking hitting him like a ton of bricks. What the hell was he doing? He was a married man, a father, and you were just a maid, beneath him in every sense of the word.

With a sense of self-disgust, Karl moved away from the window and strode purposefully towards the door, determined to put an end to these foolish thoughts once and for all. He swung the door open, interrupting your play with Otto as he ushered you both inside.

"Enough playing for now, Otto," Karl said, his voice firm as he directed his son towards the bathroom. "It's time to wash up and get ready for dinner."

Otto visibly wilted at the dismissal, his shoulders slumping as he reluctantly obeyed his father's command. You, on the other hand, bowed respectfully, apologizing for the interruption and offering to help with dinner preparations.

But Karl ignored your offer, his gaze distant as he instructed Otto to hurry along. "We will have dinner promptly at seven," he said, his tone clipped. "Make sure everything is ready by then."

You nodded obediently, bowing once again before turning to leave the room. As you passed Karl, he couldn't help but notice the way your dress clung to your curves, the sway of your hips as you walked away sending a shiver of desire down his spine.

But Karl quickly pushed aside his wayward thoughts, his sense of propriety kicking in as he returned to his office at home. Taking a tissue from his pocket, he pressed it against his mouth while coughing, the sound muffled against the fabric as he tried to quell the persistent ache in his chest.

"Damn foolish thoughts," Karl muttered to himself, his voice tinged with self-loathing as he leaned back in his chair, his mind racing with thoughts of you. "I must focus on my work, on providing for my family. That is all that matters."

But even as he tried to push you out of his mind, Karl couldn't shake the feeling of longing that lingered like a shadow in the depths of his soul. And as he sat there, alone in his office, the sound of your laughter echoing in his ears, he couldn't help but wonder what might have been if things had been different.

As Karl sank into the warm water of the bathtub, he closed his eyes, trying to push aside the intrusive thoughts that plagued his mind. The sound of the water lapping gently against the sides of the tub provided a soothing backdrop, but even the comforting embrace of the warm water couldn't chase away the persistent ache of longing that gnawed at his chest.

You, the maid, moved quietly around the bathroom, preparing to assist Karl with his bath as you had done countless times before. But today was different. Today, Karl couldn't help but notice the way your gentle hands moved with practiced ease, the way your touch sent shivers of desire coursing through his veins.

As you approached the tub, Karl tried to suppress the rising tide of arousal that threatened to consume him. He had never given your presence a second thought before, but now, he couldn't even relax in your presence without feeling the stirrings of desire.

Desperate for some relief from his torment, Karl toyed with the idea of visiting some prostitutes, hoping that the physical release would help to banish the thoughts of you from his mind. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he couldn't bring himself to act on it, the image of your face haunting him like a specter in the darkness.

You began to wash Karl's back, your touch gentle and soothing against his skin. But as your hands moved lower, tracing the curve of his spine with feather-light touches, Karl couldn't help but tense up, the warmth of your touch sending shockwaves of desire coursing through his veins.

He tried to ignore the sensation, to focus on anything other than the way your touch made him feel. But when you passed into his arms, your body pressed tantalizingly close to his, Karl couldn't help but look at you, his gaze lingering on your face for a moment too long before he quickly averted his eyes, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

You noticed his gaze and gave him a small smile, your eyes filled with warmth and understanding. "Are you feeling better, Herr Hoffmeister?" you asked respectfully, your voice soft and gentle as you continued to bathe him.

Karl nodded, his voice hoarse with emotion as he admitted, "Yes, I am feeling much better, thank you. Still coughing a lot, but not as bad as before."

You smiled again, genuine happiness shining in your eyes as you said, "I'm glad to hear that, Herr Hoffmeister. You had us all worried there for a while."

The two of you fell silent once again, the only sound in the room the gentle splashing of water as you continued to bathe Karl. And as he lay there, enveloped in the warmth of the water and the comfort of your presence, Karl couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to reach out and take you in his arms, to hold you close and never let go. But he quickly pushed aside those thoughts, burying them deep within his heart as he focused on the task at hand, determined to put an end to these foolish fantasies once and for all.

As the silence stretched between you and Karl, he finally broke it with a question, his voice cutting through the quietude of the bathroom. "How long have you been serving me, uh... what was your name again?" he asked, his tone slightly hesitant as he tried to recall your name.

You smiled softly, accustomed to his occasional forgetfulness. "It's [Your Name], Herr Hoffmeister," you replied respectfully, your voice gentle as you continued to bathe him. "And I've been serving you for ten years now, since I was eighteen."

Karl's eyebrows shot up in surprise at your response. "Ten years?" he repeated, genuine curiosity shining in his gray eyes. "That's quite a long time. I must admit, I hadn't realized it had been so long."

You nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips as you continued to wash his back. "Yes, time flies, doesn't it?" you remarked, your voice tinged with a hint of wistfulness. "It feels like just yesterday that I first started working here."

Karl fell silent for a moment, lost in thought as he processed your words. Then, with a curious glint in his eyes, he asked, "Do you have a husband? Or perhaps a fiancé? Children, maybe?"

You shook your head, a faint blush coloring your cheeks at the mention of marriage and children. "No, Herr Hoffmeister," you replied quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've never had many expectations about marriage or children. My life has always been here, serving you and taking care of Otto."

Karl's curiosity seemed to be piqued by your response, his gaze lingering on your face as he asked, "Do you have any family, then? Siblings, perhaps? Do your parents live nearby?"

You smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in your eyes as you spoke. "I don't know, Herr Hoffmeister," you admitted, your voice tinged with regret. "I was orphaned at a young age, raised by the nuns at the orphanage."

Karl's eyes widened in surprise at your revelation, his expression one of genuine sympathy as he processed the information. "You're an orphan?" he asked softly, his voice filled with compassion. "Do you... do you know who your parents are?"

You nod solemnly in response to Karl's question, the memories of your past flooding back with painful clarity. "Yes, Herr Hoffmeister," you reply quietly, your voice tinged with sadness. "My mother was a prostitute, and my father... well, from what the nuns told me, he was a judge from England named Turpin."

Karl's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at your revelation, his expression one of genuine curiosity as he processes the information. "Turpin?" he repeats, his voice tinged with disbelief. "The judge from England? How did...?"

You nod, cutting him off before he can finish his question. "Yes, Herr Hoffmeister," you confirm, your voice barely above a whisper. "He was traveling through Germany and ended up getting my mother pregnant. But he made it clear to her that he didn't want me, and he returned to England, leaving my mother alone to raise me."

A pang of sadness comes over you as you imagine the struggles your mother faced, the possible loneliness and hardships she must have endured. Only she could not escape the cruel hand that fate imposed on her and ended up dying in childbirth, leaving you alone and an orphan.

Karl's expression softens with sympathy as he listens to your story, his gray eyes filled with compassion. "I'm so sorry, [Your Name]," he murmurs, his voice gentle but filled with genuine regret. "That must have been incredibly difficult for you."

You offer him a small smile, though there is a hint of sadness in your eyes as you continue to speak. "It was," you admit quietly. "But I was fortunate enough to be taken in by the nuns at the orphanage, where I was raised until I turned eighteen."

His curiosity got the best of him, and he asked, "Have you ever tried to contact your father?"

You nodded quietly, a hint of sadness flickering across your features as you recalled the memories of your youth. "Yes, Herr Hoffmeister," you replied softly. "When I was young, I sent a letter to him, hoping to establish some connection. But I heard nothing back. Later, I learned that he had married a peasant girl and started a family of his own."

Karl's expression darkened at the mention of your father's lack of response, a flicker of anger flashing in his gray eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said quietly, his voice tinged with regret. "It must have been difficult for you, reaching out only to be met with silence."

You nodded, a wistful smile playing at the corners of your lips. "It was, Herr Hoffmeister," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I let it go. I lived in the orphanage until I turned eighteen, and then I came here, looking for a job. The old butler spoke to you on my behalf, and you graciously allowed me to become one of the housemaids."

Karl listened intently to your words, his gaze drifting away for a moment as he processed the information. But when he turned back to you, there was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes as he asked, "And you've been serving me ever since?"

You nodded, a sense of pride evident in your voice as you replied, "Yes, Herr Hoffmeister. It has been an honor to serve you and to take care of all your needs."

Karl looked away, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions as he questioned whether your loyalty was truly genuine. "But would you be willing to take care of me, of all my needs?" he asked hesitantly, his baritone voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

You frowned slightly at his question, unsure of what he was getting at. "Yes, of course, Herr Hoffmeister," you replied earnestly, your voice filled with determination. "I am here to serve you in any way that I can."

Karl's gaze softened at your response, and he reached out to take your hand in his, pressing it gently against his chest as he searched your eyes for reassurance. "All my needs?" he pressed, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blushed at the implication of his words, understanding what he was asking. Unable to meet his gaze, you looked away briefly before meeting his eyes once again, your cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "Yes, all your needs," you affirmed, your voice steady despite the embarrassment that coursed through your veins.

Karl's expression softens further, his gray eyes filled with a mixture of longing and vulnerability as he pulls you closer by the wrist he's holding. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he brings his other hand to cup your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek.

His voice falls into a low, husky cadence as he asks you to answer to his need now. "Do you mean that, [Your Name]?" Karl's voice is barely above a whisper, filled with a desperate hopefulness.

You meet his gaze, your heart racing with a mixture of fear and excitement. His vulnerability surprises you, but there's something in his eyes that draws you closer, despite the implications of his request. "Yes, Herr Hoffmeister," you reply softly, your voice trembling slightly. "I am here to serve you."

Karl's grip tightens slightly on your chin, his gaze intense as he leans closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "Then kiss me," he murmurs, his voice a mere whisper against your lips.

You hesitate for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest as you meet his gaze. But then, with a newfound resolve, you lean forward, closing the distance between you as you press your lips against his.

At first, the kiss is tentative, hesitant, as if both of you are unsure of what to expect. But then, as the seconds pass, the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more passionate. Karl's hand moves from your chin to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss even further.

The warmth of his lips against yours sends a shiver of desire coursing through your veins, igniting a fire deep within your soul. You respond eagerly, your hands moving to tangle in his gray hair as you lose yourself in the intensity of the moment.

For a brief, fleeting moment, nothing else exists except the two of you, lost in each other's embrace. And as you pull away, breathless and flushed with desire, you realize that nothing will ever be the same again.

Karl's gray eyes are dark with longing as he admits in a husky voice, "I want to take you to my bed today, [Your Name]."

Your heart races at his words, your cheeks flushing with excitement as you nod eagerly, your desire mirroring his own. Karl's touch is surprisingly gentle as he caresses your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek as he studies your expression.

In a moment of vulnerability, Karl's gaze drifts to your lips before he gathers his courage to ask, "Are you... a virgin, [Your Name]?" His voice is soft, tinged with a hint of uncertainty as he waits for your response.

You blush at the question, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and excitement as you shake your head. "No, Herr Hoffmeister," you admit quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I'm sorry."

But Karl's response surprises you. Instead of expressing disappointment or disapproval, he simply smiles and says, "It's alright, [Your Name]. I don't mind." His words are filled with understanding and acceptance, easing the tension that had been building inside you.

Then, with a note of anticipation in his voice, Karl questions, "Do you... want this? Want to go to bed with me, [Your Name]?" His eyes search yours, longing to hear your answer, to know that you desire him as much as he desires you.

You meet his gaze with unwavering determination, the fire of desire burning brightly in your eyes as you confess, "Yes, Herr Hoffmeister. For a long time, I've thought about it, imagined what it would be like to be taken care of by you, just as you took care of Mrs. Hoffmeister."

Karl's heart swells with a mixture of desire and affection at your words, his hands trembling slightly as he lets go of your face and rises from the bathtub. Moving away from you, he looks momentarily irritated as he says, "Don't mention her, Fräulein. I don't want to think about the fact that she left me for another man."

You nod apologetically, understanding the pain that Karl must be feeling at the mention of his estranged wife. As Karl dries himself off with a towel, he orders you to follow him, and you do so obediently as he leaves the bathroom and heads towards the bedroom.

The anticipation hangs thick in the air as you enter the bedroom together, the tension between you palpable as you both prepare to take the next step in your relationship. His gaze lingers on your simple maid's dress, the fabric clinging to your curves in all the right places, accentuating your beauty in a way that sends a shiver of desire down his spine. He can feel his pulse quicken with each passing moment, his arousal evident as he takes in the sight of you standing before him.

With a husky voice, Karl murmurs, "Fräulein, come closer." His words are a command, filled with a raw intensity that leaves no room for hesitation. You obey without question, stepping closer to him until you're standing just inches apart, the heat of his body radiating against your skin.

Karl's hands move to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. His lips are demanding, hungry, as he claims you with a passion that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

And as Karl's lips claim yours in a passionate kiss, you feel the unmistakable prickle of his mustache against your skin, sending a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins. You relish the sensation, savoring the feeling of his rough facial hair against your soft lips, a tantalizing reminder of his masculinity.

But as the kiss deepens, you break away, holding his shoulders firmly as you gaze into his gray eyes with unwavering determination. His naked form stands before you, still slightly damp from the bath you had given him earlier, his baritone voice filled with desire as he watches you intently.

With deliberate movements, you caress his shoulders, feeling the tension melt away beneath your touch. Your hands glide down to his chest, tracing the contours of his muscular frame before slowly falling to your knees in front of him, maintaining eye contact as you do so.

Karl's breath catches in his throat as he watches you, anticipation evident in his gaze as he waits for you to take the next step. His half-hard cock twitches with desire, but you deliberately ignore it for now, focusing instead on pleasing him in other ways.

As you settle at his feet, your hands trail up his thighs, the fabric of your simple maid's dress brushing against his skin. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his arousal evident as you continue to tease him with your touch.

With a coy smile, you look up at him, your eyes shining with mischief as you ask in a husky voice, "Herr Hoffmeister, may I take care of your needs?" Your words are filled with promise, a hint of anticipation laced with desire as you await his response.

Karl's breath hitches at your question, his gray eyes dark with desire as he nods eagerly, his voice thick with arousal. "Yes, Fräulein," he murmurs, his voice husky with need. "Please, take care of me."

With a wicked grin, you lean forward, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh as you trail kisses along his flesh. You can feel his pulse quicken beneath your touch, his breath coming in shallow gasps as you tease him mercilessly.

But you're not done yet. With a slow, deliberate motion, you run your hands up his thighs, bypassing his aching cock as you reach for his hips. Karl's groan of frustration only spurs you on, your lips curling into a wicked smile as you revel in the power you hold over him.

With practiced ease, you massage his hips, your fingers digging into his flesh as you work to relieve the tension that has built up within him. Karl's grip tightens on your shoulders, his baritone voice filled with desperation as he pleads with you to give him what he craves.

The hunger in Karl's gray eyes grows more intense, his baritone voice thick with desire as he watches you with unabashed longing. The sight of you, dressed in your simple maid's attire, on your knees before him ignites a fire within him, driving him to the brink of madness with need.

But even in this vulnerable position, it's clear to karl that you hold all the power. Your wicked grin, your teasing touch, they all serve to remind him that it's you who dictates the pace, you who decides how far this will go.

And yet, Karl can't help but feel a surge of excitement at the prospect of surrendering control to you. With a low growl of desire, he reaches down to grasp your chin, his thumb brushing lightly against your lips as he murmurs in a husky voice, "You have me completely at your mercy, Fräulein. But I warn you, I'm not easily tamed."

Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you meet his gaze, your lips curling into a wicked smile as you reply, "Oh, I'm well aware of that, Herr Hoffmeister. But don't worry, I like a challenge."

With that, you lean forward, your lips trailing a path of fire along his inner thigh as you inch closer and closer to your ultimate goal. Karl's pulse quickens with each teasing touch, his heart racing with anticipation as he feels your lips inch closer to his aching cock.

And then, finally, your lips closed around him, your mouth hot and wet as you took him deep within your throat. Karl's head fell back in ecstasy, his gray eyes fluttering shut as he surrendered himself to the pleasure of your touch.

With each expert flick of your tongue, each gentle suckle of your lips, Karl felt himself spiraling further and further into a blissful haze of desire. Your mouth was pure heaven, a sinful delight that threatened to consume him whole as you worked your magic on him.

But Karl wasn't content to simply be a passive participant in this dance of pleasure. With a low growl of desire, he reached down to grasp your hair, guiding you with gentle but firm pressure as he set the rhythm of your movements.

The feeling of your lips wrapped around him, your tongue swirling and dancing with wicked intent, was enough to drive Karl to the edge of sanity. His breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving with the effort to contain the overwhelming tide of pleasure that threatened to consume him.

As he felt himself nearing the brink of ecstasy, he abruptly pulled away, leaving you gasping for more as he instructed you to disrobe and recline upon the bed. Eager to feel him within you, you wasted no time in complying with his command, swiftly removing your garments and lying back upon the bed, your body pulsating with anticipation.

Karl watched intently as you shed each piece of clothing, his gray eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of your naked form. He admired the way your curves beckoned to him, the softness of your skin inviting him to explore every inch of your body.

Once you were fully undressed and lying on the bed, Karl moved closer, his hands trembling with need as he reached down to caress his own throbbing cock. His baritone voice was thick with desire as he spoke, his words sending a shiver of excitement down your spine.

"Now, meine liebe, I want to feel you around me," Karl murmured, his voice husky with lust as he positioned himself between your legs. "But first, I need to prepare you for me."

With a wicked grin, Karl leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips before trailing kisses down your neck and chest, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. As he reached your breasts, he took each nipple into his mouth in turn, sucking and nibbling on them with fervent desire.

Your breath hitched at the sensation, your fingers tangling in his gray hair as you arched your back in pleasure. Karl's mustache tickled your skin, adding to the intensity of the sensation as he lavished attention on your sensitive peaks.

But Karl wasn't content to stop there. With a devilish gleam in his eyes, he continued his journey southward, trailing kisses along your stomach and thighs until he reached the apex of your desire. His tongue flicked out to taste your wetness, and you moaned in ecstasy as he teased you with his expert ministrations.

"Oh, Herr Hoffmeister," you gasped, your voice thick with desire as he worshipped you with his mouth. "Please, I need you inside me."

Karl removes his mouth from your pussy, and a soft whimper escapes your lips, craving more of his touch. He doesn't disappoint, his thick fingers soon replacing his tongue as he stretches you open, preparing you for what's to come. With practiced ease, he slides two fingers inside you, his touch sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Karl," you moan softly, obeying his command to call him by his first name. The sound of his name on your lips is like music to his ears, fueling his desire even further. But he reminds you to keep your voice down, not wanting to wake his son with your passionate cries.

You nod eagerly, squirming on the bed as Karl's fingers explore every inch of you, driving you wild with need. His baritone voice washes over you like a wave of heat as he murmurs, "That's it, meine liebe. Moan my name for me, but remember, quietly."

With each thrust of his fingers, you can't help but moan, the pleasure building to an unbearable intensity. "Karl," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper as you ride his fingers, craving more of him with each passing moment.

Karl's gray hair brushes against your skin as he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his mustache tickling your skin as his tongue dances with yours. The sensation sends a jolt of desire straight to your core, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy with each passing second.

As the heat between you reaches its peak, Karl finally withdraws his fingers, his gaze filled with hunger as he positions himself between your legs. With a wicked grin, he whispers, "Are you ready for me, meine liebe? Ready to take all of me?"

You nod eagerly, your body trembling with anticipation as Karl enters you with a single, powerful thrust. The feeling of him filling you completely is overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you in a dizzying whirlwind.

"Karl," you cry out, unable to contain your passion as he moves inside you, each thrust driving you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. But you remember his warning and keep your voice low, your moans muffled against his shoulder as you surrender yourself to the pleasure of his touch.

With each thrust, Karl's baritone voice fills the room, urging you on with whispered words of encouragement. "That's it, meine liebe," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Take all of me. Feel me deep inside you."

You cling to him desperately, your nails digging into his back as you ride the wave of pleasure together. And as you reach the pinnacle of ecstasy, you cry out his name one last time, your voice filled with pure bliss as you finally succumb to the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you both.

As Karl continues thrusting, chasing his own climax, you writhe beneath him, your body aching with pleasure as you cling to him desperately. His baritone voice fills the room with a chorus of moans and groans, the sound of his pleasure mingling with your own as you reach the pinnacle of ecstasy together.

With a hoarse moan, Karl finally pulls out, his seed spilling onto your belly in a hot, sticky mess. For a moment, he stays on top of you, his body trapping you against the mattress as he revels in the aftermath of your passionate encounter. Then, with a contented sigh, he rolls off of you and lies next to you with a satisfied smile on his lips.

You lie side by side, panting and spent, your bodies still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure. But despite the exhaustion that threatens to consume you, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you as you bask in the warmth of Karl's embrace.

Feeling a surge of affection, you crawl towards him, pressing your naked body against his as you lay your head on his chest. Karl's arms wrap around you instinctively, pulling you close as he presses a tender kiss to your head.

With a contented sigh, you ask in a soft voice, "Did I manage to meet your needs, Karl?"

Karl's gray eyes sparkle with affection as he gazes down at you, a fond smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yes, meine liebe," he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth. "You exceeded my every expectation."

Feeling emboldened by his words, you trail a hand down his chest, teasing him with feather-light touches as you whisper in his ear, "Is there anything else you desire, Karl? Anything at all?"

Karl's breath hitches at your touch, his pulse quickening with desire as he meets your gaze with unwavering intensity. "Oh, Fräulein," he murmurs, his voice thick with longing. "I desire nothing more than to lose myself in you, body and soul."

With that, he captures your lips in a searing kiss, his hunger evident as he claims you with a passion that leaves you breathless and wanting more. And as you surrender yourself to the pleasure of his touch once again, you realize that this is only the beginning of your journey together.

Translation:

"meine liebe" - my love

"Herr Hoffmeister" - Mr. Hoffmeister

"Fräulein" - Miss (or young woman, typically used to address an unmarried woman)

#karl hoffmeister #alan rickman x reader #alan rickman #a promise #karl hoffmeister x reader #judge turpin

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formulapookie · 12 days

Text

💛💛

Under the cut to read on Tumblr, here to read on Ao3 ch1; ch2; ch3; ch4

Les fleurs du mal ch.5 rosquez, 2.1k words

It’s nine in the morning of a beautiful Sunday, he finally got all the truth Uccio for God knows what reason had chosen to change, corrupt, modify for him to see a distorted version of reality.

The telemetry, that shit was just made up, by a jealous? angry? Uccio, who chose to ruin the one good relationship in forever like that, like it had just been a flash, instead of the sun in his life.

He wanted to call Marc, hell no drive until Cervera and say he was sorry, that he had been an asshole, a terrible person, but to please forgive him because he had been shielded from the reality and couldn’t see.

That now tho he sees the love Marc always reserved for him, he sees how much Marc is willing to sacrifice for them, for the love they share.

There’s a voice note in his notifications, along with two missed calls, from Marc.

And a text from Lorenzo.

“Vale?”

“Mh?”

They’re laying in bed, at Vale’s house, softly surrounded by pearly colored sheets, the sound of the town filling the outside world.

“Do you ever think about like, the future?”

“In general or us?”

“Both”

“Well of course amore, I think of my racing career and more titles and of the time when I’ll inevitably have to retire.

And I think about us, free from the media attention, in a beautiful house near the see.

No neighbours, just us, and you are sunbathing naked next our pool and then I-“

Marc blushes, hiding his face more in the crook of Vale’s neck

“What amore? It wouldn’t be the first time I see you naked eh. I think I saw you pretty clearly last night”

“Vale! This was supposed to be romantic!”

“Is it not romantic? Making love to you in a house we share?”

“I - yeah it is”

“See? And you? You think about the future?”

“Yeah. I see us in a house in the middle of the countryside tho, with animals.

Dogs, a lot of dogs, and your strange red cat too”

“Rossano is not strange!”

“He looks at me funny whenever I’m here.

But anyway, a cute house in the countryside, just the two of us, it’s peaceful”

“But? I feel like there’s a but”

“But I also think about the sport and the danger and - Vale are you scared of death? I am terrified by it. It’s just - one day you just cease to be and I cannot think the universe is so cruel to do this”

“Amore, of course i’m scared of it, and it. In our sport it can happen. It took me years to get over the fact Marco was gone. But life ends in death no matter what we do, we have to live it at our fullest still”

“Im scared thought, I don’t like the idea of it. It’s cold you think? When you”

“I don’t know. It could be. Or it could be warm like drifting asleep with a blanket on and just - sleep”

For Marc it’s cold when he dies.

Freezing even, and so so lonely.

When Roser finds him, curled beside his bed, clutching in his arms the helmet signed by that man, it’s like being shot in the heart.

She tries to wake him, tries to call him, but he’s cold.

Unmoving.

Still like the moment she finds herself in.

Marc is holding onto that one piece of his heart like he’s still alive, the strong grip seemingly coming from a strong person.

But when she looks at him all she can see is her little boy, her son.

Pale and tired and sad.

He looks like he’s having a bad dream, the unsettling kind of dreams where you don’t precisely know where you are and can’t get out.

There’s petals on the ground.

Yellow.

So much yellow and she just wants to burn it all away.

She cries more, calling for Marc again, trying to get him back.

But Marc can’t hear her, the only sounds in the room are Roser’s sobs and the repetitive buzz of Marc’s phone.

When Marc wakes up in the middle

of the night he’s cold, shivering.

The fever is taking over, he’s hallucinating again.

He reaches out for Vale, why is he not in bed?

Oh right, he’s still not back yet.

But it doesn’t matter.

Because they have time.

The scratch in the back of his throat seems to be less excruciating too, like it’s being kept at bay.

Well this just means Vale is close right?

He’s coming, finally he’s coming home to tell him he still loves him, and - and the roots will go away the same way they arrived.

“Oh I need to set the room up, Vale has to see my collection has improved, yes, he needs to see it”

Marc unpacks the two boxes Roser had stuffed full, carefully taking out the items in them.

The cap and the picture first, he places them on the shelf next to his bed, close, so close the cap covers half the picture, the half where Marc is.

Then it’s the bikes turn.

Slowly, methodically, precisely, Marc takes them out the box one by one, placing them in the same exact order he had bought them.

He sees Alex in his room, he’s not happy.

“Marc come on stop you look ridiculous”

“Ah Alex stop it, you’ve just never been in love, when you’ll be you’ll get it”

He’s standing on his bed, mattress dipping under his rapidly decreasing weight.

“You see, Vale is coming and the room has to be nice for him, I want it to be more beautiful than ever, he deserves the best”

Marc is smiling, like a kid on his birthday, waiting to blow the candles.

“Oh he’ll want the 2004 Yamaha to be the most visible for sure, he loves that bike God how he loves it”

He keeps talking to a non existing Alex, while he feels colder and colder.

“I better put on a hoodie, don’t want to catch a cold before Vale arrives for sure”

He goes pick up the one hoodie Vale left there, in his home.

It still smells like him.

He sits on the bed, legs crossed with his phone beside him, facing the door.

He stays there for minutes, maybe an hour even.

There’s no sudden buzzing of the phone, no sound of a car parking outside, no knocking on the door signaling Vale is there.

Well not yet, maybe he just doesn’t like to travel with the dark.

Yeah it - it must be that.

Because it’s either that or.

Or Vale isn’t coming.

Not now, not in a million years he’s gonna spend tidying up his room to welcome Vale back in it.

When the fever lets go of him and he sees clearly again it hurts.

Physically, mentally, emotionally it all hurts like it’s been crushed by tons and tons of rocks thrown on top of him.

Hot big tears fall from his eyes, follow the now slim outline of his cheekbones, and collect under Marc’s chin.

“He is coming. He is coming. I know he’s coming”

He tries to convince himself of this, even with the hallucination gone, he gets up and sets up the room.

It has to look exactly like it did when Vale came here last time, little bikes in their precise fragile order.

The last thing he takes out the boxes is the helmet.

Signed, a little note left for him by Vale, unmistakable messy handwriting on the clean visor.

He takes his phone, it’s stupid, childish but he can’t do otherwise.

He calls him.

Twenty, twenty five seconds of his phone ringing. No answer.

He tries again. And once again there’s no answer on the other side.

He opens their chat, it’s still on hold since the last text Vale sent.

“Good luck for the race babychamp”

He presses the button to send the voice note, the first few seconds just of silence.

“Vale. It’s me. I - please Vale it hurts so much, I can’t breathe I need you to come here quick I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry for what I did, all of it, I’m sorry I didn’t want you to lose, I didn’t want to do anything against you. I never - I never went to him, I would never cheat on you, I only ever had you please believe me Vale. Vale I love you. I’m home and, and it hurts so much. Please I need to see you. Please. I need to feel your hugs again. I’m cold Vale so cold”

The voice note sends, but there’s no blue ticks to signal it’s been read.

Marc climbs off the bed, his phone beside him, holding the helmet between his arms like it’s the most prized possession of his, he fears it may scratch, or get ruined if he accidentally bumps into the shelf he usually laid it on.

All his words now barely a whisper, he’s trying to stay anchored to reality by clutching at that damn helmet, it’s almost sunrise, almost sunrise and there’s no sign of Vale.

He abandoned him.

Vale abandoned him.

He truly hates him, he truly wants Marc to not represent a menace at all.

That’s fine. Vale will be fine without him too, he was fine before meeting him, there’s no need for Marc to exist in Vale’s life.

Maybe he’s gonna be a weight less, he will just go away, like he came in.

A breeze.

Marc can feel himself getting colder, and the petals in his throat now make it impossible to breathe.

He vomits them rather than coughing, a sea of yellow hollowness making its way out of his body, the everlasting presence of Valentino beside him even right now.

“you promised it was going to be warm like falling asleep with a blanket, but it’s cold, it’s so cold”

He’s still waiting there, looking at the door like a dog waiting for his owner does.

Argo had waited for Ulysses for years before he came back, and had died right in his arms.

But Marc knows his Ulysses won’t arrive, not even to hold him as he leaves behind the ugly and hurt of the mortal world.

He’s an abandoned dog. Even if he was loyal. He’s been abandoned.

He cries on the helmet, the last tears he can still produce, before his life abandons him too, the last breath used to hope, to call Vale’s name.

When Roser finally looks at the ID of the caller on her son’s phone she is angry.

She wants to smash that phone against a wall, make it shut up once and for all.

“Vale💛💙” identifies the person calling, the rage she feels is unexplainable through words.

She doesn’t answer. He doesn’t deserve to know from her what happened to her sweet boy, he will forever live with the guilt of having killed him.

She only manages to call Alex and their father two hours later.

She tells them to come there, that Marc has gone to sleep the night but hasn’t woken up now.

When Alex barges in he’s red in the face, crying and cursing.

He runs to the room they used to share, and sees how Marc has set it up once again, memories of Vale on all the shelves.

He also sees the many yellow petals littering the ground of the bedroom, a dark feeling taking residence in his chest.

“Marc? Marc it’s me, it’s Alex, I know you can hear me, you’re just sleeping, but you have to wake up, mom is getting worried. You need to wake up Marc please, I don’t know what to do without you”

“Alex he’s not-“

“HE’S ALIVE HE’S JUST - he’s just making a joke mom he - he can’t be dead mom he can’t be”

“Alex come here”

“No. No he - it’s not right. It’s not right he shouldn’t be, it shouldn’t end like this, he promised me we would’ve been together on the podium one day, he promised”

Roser has to drag Alex away from Marc, he doesn’t want to let go, he wants to save him.

“Alex. Look at me. You have to think of what Marc wanted ok?”

“Marc wanted to live! He wanted to race and win and - he wanted so many things! He’s scared of death, terrified of being alone! AND HE WAS ALONE!”

“But he wanted you to live too, he wanted you to be there on track, to be here with us. Please don’t - don’t make me lose you too Alex”

“No no i’m not going anywhere mom I promise. I’m not going away, sorry sorry sorry mom I’m staying here”

“Can you? I can’t call anyone to tell”

“Yeah yeah i I’ll uh ill call people”

“Be kind with yourself, as kind as your brother was with you ok?”

“Ok”

They think about removing everything from the room.

Putting it back in boxes.

But Marc’s last wish was probably for the room to be like this, and they couldn’t go against his wish.

#alice writes #my fic <3 #rosquez #angst no comfort #hanahaki #i'll just leave yall to judge this #tw mcd

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rottencherrypie · 6 months

Text

R-18+; Trapped in Silk (Vampire!Thranduil x Human!Fem!Reader)

Summary - After some time alone to stew in your punishment, the elven king returns with two offers…offers you did not quite catch. Now after mindlessly blurting out a number, you must deal with the "punishment" at hand.

Warnings - Smut, language, female reader, afab reader, vampire!Thranduil, brat!Reader (not as apparent), female genitalia (reader), male genitalia (Thranduil & Guard OC), name calling, pet names, praise kink, voyeurism, threesome (not as noticeable), oral (both male & female receiving), choking, implied mind-control, mention of blood, mention of drinking blood, biting, impact play (slapping), sensation play (Thranduil being cold, Guard being warmer), size play (brief), blind-folding, bondage, sex toys (pretend they exist in middle-earth once again), slight dom!Reader, slight sub!Guard OC, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, orgasm control & denial, overstimulation, & a crappy fluff scene. (I hope this is all, I apologize if I missed anything!)

Pronouns & POVs - She/Her (Reader is also called a woman a few times), third-person-ish

Word Count - 8,800+

A/N - Here I thought the warnings for the first chapter were bad…this took ages to write when I first posted due to utter chaos breaking out while I was in the middle of writing. I apologize if there is any grammar or anatomy errors, I use an online checker so it does miss a few things & I am genuinely awful at anatomy! Pure smut under the cut!

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

That familiar heavenly static spread throughout your entire body, starting from the tips of your toes up towards the heated flesh of your cheeks. Your lower body mindlessly rocking against the speeding silicone - the muscles within your stomach clenched and trembled in harmony alongside the muffled hums.

A faint sheen of sweat glistened upon your forehead as you writhed in pleasure against your restraints, beads of sweat trickling down your temples. Your hips rocked in slow, steady circles against the heavenly silicone as the corners of your lips further dampened with salvia.

"Holy shit!" The gasp fell out of your plump lips as you were dragged further down the endless rabbit hole of pleasure, again. Every atom within your being trembled alongside the speeding vibrations that rested between your thighs.

The speed that your chest rose and fell quickened as you began to come back from your last high. Was this number four or five? Was there already a five? You had lost count of the endless times that heavenly release graced your body, and yet, you still desperately yearned for more.

"Having fun, pet?" The sudden warm vibration against your neck made your desperate form tremble further; the beautiful blur of your bobbing head made the familiar pair of thin lips curve upwards into a faint, mischievous grin.

How he wished it was bobbing for another reason- patience, Thranduil. That would come soon enough, and so would he.

"Such a responsive little slut." He purred as the tips of his frozen fingers began to glide up your sprawled out arms; a trail of goosebumps was left behind each inch of flesh he touched upon the steady path towards the restraints.

His hands were quick to loosen the smooth ribbon around your wrists - only enough to ease the tightness and tension it held upon them but not free you from them, never freeing you from his cruel grasp.

A shiver roamed down your spine at the sudden cold glide of his fingers tracing your sides - the cooling sensation against your burning skin was a brief distraction from the unlimited pleasure that rested between your thighs.

His slender hands came to a halt as they hovered above your thighs, his hungry-pale eyes feasting upon your bare flesh for a moment as he attempted to restrain himself.

The bare sight of you was utterly addicting, one that could pull him away from the realities of his cruel job with ease no matter the endless times he had seen you like this before; he had to admire it - he had to feast upon it.

The corners of his lips began to dampen with saliva as he remembered that heavenly taste. Bitter, metallic, and far sweeter than any fruit he had ever tasted before. More addicting than any wine that had graced his lips and far more heavenly than any meal any had prepared for him prior. It was his source of life as much as it was yours.

His hungered thoughts were soon broken at a pathetic whine that slipped through your plump lips, his back teeth sinking into the inner flesh of his right cheek as his freezing hands continued on their steady glide down your burning flesh.

An equally tortuous action for you as you yearned for nothing more than to touch him, truly feel him if not inside of you - then the simple sensation of his frozen flesh upon your fingertips would do as well.

A desire that grew stronger at a familiar soft click, the silicone suddenly falling in all motion as the once addicting view of you morphed into something far more divine, far more otherworldly as pure, unfiltered desperation began to spread throughout your body.

A disappointed groan slipped out of your parted lips as your thighs began to tighten around the silicone as your hips started to sway in slow, circular motions.

Silently praying it would restart as your thighs tightened around it or that any being who was listening would restart it for you, to gift you with an ounce of pleasure that you so desperately craved - so desperately needed.

But, your prayers went unheard. After all, the only being that could grant them within these twisted halls preferred your whining pleads over your joyous cries from answered prayers.

The sudden aching boom of his ice-cold palm coming down upon your throbbing clit echoed throughout the silent halls, a loud yelp flying out of your mouth as you writhed against the smooth restraints. Yearning for more of the bitter pleasure you knew that only he could truly bring you.

"Now, now, pet." He tsked - the sound of his voice reminded you of the rattle from a venomous snake's tail. His chilled hand hovered above your heated, damped flesh for a moment before continuing its steady descent down your legs.

Taking in every curve, indent, and scar they met upon their journey, each feather-like touch a silent reminder of how much he adored you - anger and all.

"I think you've had enough fun," The low snarl of his voice cut through the harsh static that filled your ears, his hands quickly busying themselves with freeing your ankles from the tight silk that restrained them.

The action was a mindless attempt to restrain himself for one last time before caving to his inner demands to corrupt you - to feed his thirst. "however, I believe it is my turn for some fun as well."

Though you could not see him, you swore you could hear that mischievous grin that he had plastered upon his face as the silk dropped onto the bed. Your thighs were quick to squeeze around the silicone even tighter, holding your breath as you attempted to squeeze down upon any button your skin touched while you mindlessly ground against the smooth silicone tip.

The scent of pure, utter desperation danced within his nostrils as he watched the addictive, primal-like sight before him burning into his mind for a later date. The speed at which your hips rolled, the indents and curves your body made to each motion, the quivering of your lower lip as you felt even a mere spark of pleasure, and the scent of pure - utter desperation that filled the room. A memory he would surely be fond of later on, but for now-

"Don't you think so, my starlight?" He hissed, yanking the dampened silicone out from the tight grasp of your inner thighs. He could not let that thing replace him; how funny. The elven king was jealous of a pathetic piece of plastic.

The blurry sight of your head rapidly bobbing eased the burning jealousy within the pit of his stomach slightly. Good, he was still your top priority. The corners of his thin lips rose into another mischievous grin as the soft whoosh of his clothes falling onto the floor danced caught within your ears.

"That's a good little slut." The cold purr against your neck sent a shiver down your spine as your inner thighs began to dampen further; it was as if a switch within you flipped as nothing seemed to matter anymore except earning yet another praise from his majesty.

A familiar soft click danced throughout the heavy room as you felt the heat of his breath sinking into the crook of your neck, part of you knowing all too well what heavenly sight lingered outside of the rouge silk that filled your view.

The way his breath hitched against your neck furthered this image within your mind, how the pattern of his breathing wavered every other second due to the addictive scent of your blood dancing within his nostrils - the things he would do to bury his fangs into you. How his silk-like strands of hair would graze upon your neck and chin as he groaned under his breath, his limbs must have begun to tremble as his grip upon his throbbing cock tightened.

The bed creaked as his weight shifted again as the unsteady heat of his breath grew closer towards your neck, his inner-self screaming at him to sink his fangs into your flesh and claim you again. But - it quickly faded away alongside the soft clicking of his hands gliding upon his cock. No, not yet. It was not time yet.

The tension that danced within the air was tighter than the restraints that prevented you from aiding his majesty in his current endeavors. The things you would do if these damned restraints were on him, hell, the things you would do to that idiotic guard if it meant you would get a moment of pure, unfiltered pleasure again.

"Open." The low command quickly pulled you away from the tight grasp your depraved thoughts had upon you, your back teeth freeing the hold they had upon the inner flesh of your mouth as your lips parted open. How long have you been chewing on your cheek?

A question you would never find an answer for, nor did you desire one the moment the throbbing tip of his cock slid into your mouth - everything else fading into nothingness as the familiar tang of him graced your tongue.

An odd taste, one bitter and salty that made your eyes well with tears and your mouth water, and yet, you could never truly get enough of it.

The corners of your lips further dampened with escaping saliva as he continued to push his cock further inside of your warm, wet mouth. "Fuck." He hissed in pleasure as the damp heat of your mouth fully encased his cold, throbbing flesh. This time, a faint shiver roamed throughout his body.

His slender fingers tangled within the back of your hair as he began to thrust his cock into your mouth at a slow speed, allowing you to adjust to the familiar taste and sensation before the pace of his hips quickened.

The hot tears which once welled in the corners of your eyes began to trickle down your cheeks, dampening the silk which shielded them.

As the speed of his hips began to quicken, you felt the built-up mixture of saliva and precum within your mouth begin to spill over - rolling down onto your chin and slowly trickling down onto your neck.

The sight of your pure, utter corruption left the elven king completely hypnotized as his limbs began to move on their own accord. The once soft grip upon your head tightened as he picked up the speed, tangled fingers bobbing your head back and forth as he continued to ram his cock into your mouth - fucking it as if you were nothing but a toy to him.

Your pathetic gags were completely muffled upon his cock as he watched your plump lips swallow it whole; his moans were quick to mask the noises you were making within your ears alongside the wet slap of his cock thrusting into your mouth.

The pair of hungry pale eyes burned into your skull as he slowly slid his cock out of your mouth, the throbbing tip resting upon your lips as your lungs began to fill with air. Your chest rose and fell in sync with the pulsations of his cock, small gasps expanding within your lungs as he watched you - waiting for a signal that you were okay or needed more time.

One he quickly received as your lips parted and a nod of your head, a brief wave of relief washing throughout his body before he shoved your head back down - towards the base of his enlarged cock.

"Fuck. Good slut." He hissed in pleasure, holding your head in place as he watched your lips swallow him whole - barely hugging the base of his cock before he began to puppet your head again. The knot within his stomach began to twist and strain as you hollow your cheeks, giving him control but with a brief twist.

The warm twitching caress of your tongue curling around his chilled cock with every thrust he made, made his thrusts quickly grow more unhinged. His muscles tensed with each thrust of his hips as he continuously rammed his cock into your mouth, the throbbing tip hitting the back of your throat with each motion making new tears spill out of your eyes with a choked sob and gag.

The strained not within his stomach threatening to snap at the new vibrations against his cock, his eyes darting around the room in an attempt to control himself, an attempt which failed as his gaze fell back upon you -

A string of saliva and precum clung onto your chin and his cock; the once rouge blindfold stained a muddy gray with your tearful makeup. And finally, the rouge-hue that once enhanced your lips had been smeared across your face and the base of his cock; faint impressions from your plump lips decorated the king's lower abdomen amongst the veins and scars.

The divine sight of your corruption was the final push that sent him over the edge of bliss and into a shallow abyss of pleasure. "Shit!" His hips came to a halt as he held your head in place, a muffled gag falling upon your cock as your lips wrapped around the entirety of his base one last time, your nose pressed firmly into the toned, lower flesh of his abdomen as white ropes quickly flooded your mouth.

The familiar salty-bitter taste of it made you gag again as you squirmed within his grip, but he held you still as rope after rope continued to flood your mouth to the very brim - threatening to spill out of the bruised corners of your lips.

"Don't waste a single fucking drop, slut." The pressure upon the back of your head eased ever so slightly as you stopped your squirming, yet, the pressure quickly traveled elsewhere - the sides of your nose. The unsteady flow of air you had came to a halt as the salty liquid swished around your hollowed cheeks, giving your tastebuds no room to escape from the unpleasantly addictive taste.

Your nose scrunched upwards within his grip as you squeezed you swallowed, your face scrunching up in brief disgust as the pressure upon your nose faded away.

"Good whore." The king hummed contently while lightly tapping your cheek before he began to back away, the bed creaking under his shifting weight as his cock slid out of your mouth completely - the string of saliva and cum that was once attached to it had dripped down onto your chin and chest.

An onslaught of coughs and gasps escaped your mouth as you attempted to regain your breath, the bitter sting of cold air filling your lungs amongst the onslaught of coughs. The harsh sound of your ragged breaths appeared to silence everything around you or nearly everything. Beneath the coughs and unsteady gasps, you could have sworn you heard the tap of covered feet entering the room, but it must have been your imagination! Right?

"Easy little dove. I've got you." His loving coo eased away most of your worries as you felt the comforting glide of your lover's hands trailing your trembling body, a pleased sigh escaping your lips as you felt yourself drifting away within the waves of his coolness. Your breath returned to a steady pace as you listened to the sweet nothings your lover whispered as his hand continued to roam your body.

"You have been such a good girl. I think you have earned a reward." He hummed, pressing a kiss on the tip of your nose as his hands began to reverse their trail - now roaming towards your upper body. "What do you think, my dove?" A question quickly answered by the sight of your head bobbing rapidly, finally. You would get what you deserved.

"Good girl." The heat of his words gently caressed your lips as the bed creaked beneath him, his weight shifting forwards, his lips hovering above yours - a mere breath away, as he released your wrists from the cruel silk that encased them.

Freedom that went unknown to you the moment his cold lips encased yours, static ringing within your ears as time around you came to a halt, lips becoming one while everything faded away.

The dizzying scent of pine and tobacco swarmed in your nostrils as his cold tongue slipped into your mouth, the once steady pounding within your chest and veins rising in speed as he breathed you in.

A low satisfied hum vibrated against your lips as your tongues began to tangle with each other, the graceful dance masking the delicate, cold pull of your hands towards him.

The bitter-metallic scent that lingered beneath your skin became even more alluring as a tingling warmth began to flood your veins. Biting back a hungry snarl, the elven king began to lead the once graceful dance into a battle between your tongues - neither side daring to back down as did neither side within himself.

A quickly short-lived battle as the cold pressure that once laid upon your lips had faded into the static of the background, your last moan tingling upon the plump flesh. Every fiber within your being vibrating but, something felt off.

As your hands began to glide upon his toned body, you felt a familiar smooth cling upon your wrists; when had he put these back on you?! Each twisting attempt to free yourself from them fell flat as the silk began to squeeze into your wrists tighter.

A low chuckle broke through the tense static that roamed the air as a faint heat grazed the crook of your neck. "Now, now, pet." The words vibrated into your neck as his hands began to trail down your sides again.

The cooling glide of his fingertips tracing each curve and indent your flesh held sent a shiver down your spine.

"Either you stay still like a good girl, or-" The last word clung to his lips for what felt like an eternity. The coolness of his hands radiated onto your flesh as they now hovered above your hips. The sound of your heavy breaths swarmed the air. Odd, it did not feel like you were breathing that hard.

"I will leave you tied to the bed. Alone." The empty threat made your voice rise in pitch as an endless spew of whining pleads escaped your lips, a crashing wave of promises to be a "good girl" quickly followed. Your mind raced with thoughts of his cold touch back upon you, or better - within you.

"That's what I thought." He hummed into your neck; the sensation of his soft, ice-cold lips gliding down your skin left a trail of goosebumps behind. His cold hands lightly traced small circles upon your hips as his lips glid across your body.

From your upper abdomen down towards your lower navel, the elven king laid a kiss upon every curve and scar - ensuring to paint over each old, drab indent with a fresh, vibrant bruise from his soft lips before making their way upwards.

Though you could not see it, you could feel the smugness of his grin with each kiss that pressed into your soft skin. "Now, about your reward." The heat of his words fell back onto your lips as the tips of his fingers slid up your sides, a swift movement that made you tremble momentarily.

"You have two choices." His hands began to trail up towards your head, fingers roaming through your hair towards the silk strap as the bed creaked under the shift of his weight. "Pick one." The room fell flat as the words bounced around in your skull, had you missed the options he had given you or was this another game?

"I-" Words caught within the back of your throat and formed into a lump as you laid there, motionless. Just pick anything, Y/N! He said two choices, two, so pick one- "I choose the second option." The words wavered once they finally escaped your plump lips - it was now your breath's turn to catch within your throat.

Static began to refill the air as everything fell flat, your words circling in your head as you laid against the silk, wondering if you had made the right choice - or if there was even a choice at all.

"Very well." The simple hum of words allowed the bottled-up breath to escape your throat and replace it with a fresh one; a soft tap echoed throughout the silent room as his hands busied themselves within your hair, finally freeing your eyes and returning your vision. "Sit up. Eyes stay closed."

A simple command that went unquestioned within your lust-drunken mind, the bed creaking softly under your shifting weight while your eyelids remained heavy. "Good girl. I will tell you when to open them." The heat of your breaths ghosted the others' lips, your heart stalling for a beat as you felt the warmth slowly grow closer and closer until it completely encased your lips.

A pleased hum vibrated against his lips as you further surrendered yourself to the cooling meld of his lips against yours. A sensation that lasted upon your lips only as long as the vibrations of your pleased hums against his. "And open."

The simple command bounced around your mind as the heavy lids of your eyes flew open before closing a few times, allowing your blurry vision to focus on the fiery-haired man who stared up at you from in between your legs. Wait, fiery-haired?!

A vocalized squeak slipped out of you as you backed yourself into the silk pillows, your gaze shifting from the emerald pair watching you curiously towards the sapphire ones that watched you hungrily.

"Now," The cold voice began, a mischievous twinkle flashing behind his darkened eyes. An ice-cold hand cradled the side of your burning cheek. "you do not have to do this, however," He paused again as he lowered his hand slightly, his thumb now resting upon your plump lower lip. "he has agreed to serve at your command for the night. Only tonight."

Only tonight. The words bounced around your skull while you tried to wrap your mind around the situation. Or whatever was left of it.

"I..." A knot began to weave within your stomach as you felt both pairs of eyes burning into your form, one that managed to weave itself in-between the strings of pleasure and worry that rested within the pit of your stomach. "Are you sure about this-" "Entirely." The eerily calm tone of his voice further weaved the knot within your belly and stirred the confusion within your head.

"After all, I gave him quite the show earlier. It is only fair he returns the favor." The king stated as if it was a well-known fact you had forgotten. "However," He began, the cold glide of his thumb swaying back and forth upon your lips soothingly. "if you are not comfortable with it, I will send him away and let you rest for the night-" "NO!"

The heat within your cheeks burned hotter than you had felt prior, the corners of your lips curving upwards into a nervous grin as you felt both pairs of gemstone-colored eyes further burn into your flesh - into the darkest depths of your soul and desires.

"I meant, erm, no." The words escaped your lips in a breathy laugh. "I wanted to ensure that you were okay with it because, well, you are a bit-" "Possessive?" His grip upon your face tightened for a moment, the frozen sensation of his palm rubbing into your skin as you attempted to nod your head.

"Why, of course, I am possessive." The corners of his thin lips curved upwards into a smug grin as the bed creaked beneath his shifting weight, the heat of your breath caressing his lips. "I have the prettiest woman in middle-earth; I'd be a fool if I were not." The gentle tone of his words made your lips curve upwards; he always knew what strings to tug at within your heart to make you smile.

"Now, tell him what you want, dove." The breeze of his breath graced your lips again as his cold hand continued to caress your face, a soft hypnotic attempt to reveal your true desires. "He is under your command." "I want him to eat me." You breathed against his lips, your smile transferring onto his at your innocent request.

"Tell him, pet, not me." The hypnotic command sunk into your lust-drunk brain, making a string of nearly incoherent words fly out of your plump lips and vibrate against his cold ones.

Though the elven king would never admit to it, he loved watching you command his subjects, treating them as if they were beneath you only to slip away with their king not far from their posts to have their sensitive ears filled with another form of your screams.

"I want you to eat me." Though your words wavered, the command remained firm. The shimmering emerald eyes adverting from your gemstone ones up towards the pale blue pair, waiting for the nod of his head so he may begin. One he quickly received.

Unlike your beloved king, he started far more gently with you - his warm lips pressing delicate kisses upon your inner thighs as his hands hovered above your hips as if you were a fire ready to burn him.

"You may touch her." His lightly calloused hands rested upon your hips upon the king's approval. The warmth and gentleness of his touch felt rather peculiar compared to the frozen, rough chill you had grown accustomed to from your lover - not that you were complaining.

His hands delicately traced circles upon your hips as he leaned further in between your inner thighs, the flesh of his cheeks quickly matching the fiery hue of his hair the further he went. "Hurry up before I change my mind." The king's cold tone boomed throughout the tense air, the heat of the guard's breath jolted forwards at the sudden outburst.

And with a final look shared between both men, the guard's wet, warm tongue finally found itself against your aching cunt. You could not help but gasp at the new, strange sensation - far too accustomed to the bitter chill of your lover against you - but you could not help but sink further into him the more he lapped against you.

A slew of pathetic whines fell out of your parted lips, the lids of your gemstone-colored eyes growing heavy while the weight of your head tilted back onto the silken pillow as you sunk into the hypnotic sensation of the guard's warm tongue against your core.

The warm tickle of his hands gliding up your thighs sent a shiver down your spine as the speed of his tongue against your throbbing cunt began to slow. His attention shifted from the entirety of your pussy to swirling slow, delicate circles against your aching clit.

"How is he, my dove?" The vibration of your lover's words against your neck distracted you from the smooth warmth slowly inching closer to your core. "So good." Every syllable of the two words hovered upon your lips, barely falling out of them, as your body threatened to tremble again.

"Tell him, not me, pet." The lids of your eyes snapped open at his words, your lips falling open further as his command slipped through your lustful mind unquestioned. "You feel so go-fuck!" The sudden warm stretch of the guard's fingers entering your aching core brought everything to a halt.

Not only was he far warmer than the king, though even the bitter winter air was warmer than him, his fingers were also longer and thicker than the chilled slender ones you had grown so fond of.

Each thrust of his skillful fingers stretched out your inner walls in a way you had only known your lover's cock to do so; you could not help but wonder about the sizes elsewhere.

The weary pair of emerald eyes locked onto yours as he continued the steady pace, his lips and tongue still paying keen attention to your aching clit, blissfully unaware of the loud moans falling out of your parted lips.

"That's it slut." The king purred against your neck, the vibrations making your inner walls clench further around the thick fingers that roamed deep within you. "Sing for us, songbird." And you did.

The weight of your skull sunk further back into the silken pillows as you melted further into the glide of the guard's fingers, a faint twinge of guilt forming within your belly alongside the weaving knot of pleasure as you realized you never quite caught his name. Though, that was the least of your concerns now.

"Ah!" The whining gasp echoed throughout the silent halls as the guard's fingers struck your core repetitively, the suction around your clit growing more intense, your thighs wrapping around his skull while your tied hands began to glide upwards.

"Do not-" A thwack echoed throughout the room as your hands neared your face. "-cover your face." The heat of his breath drifted away from your neck as a familiar coldness encased your wrists. "You will show him how pretty you look when you cum."

The knot within your stomach tensed further as you laid there at the mercy of the two men, forgetting that you were supposed to be in control.

Your hips began to raise and lower in sync with the guard's motions as a familiar static-like heat began spreading throughout your body, thighs trembling against the sides of his fiery skull as the waves of pleasure rose higher. Threatening to whisk you away, the ties within your stomach tightening further, nearing the breaking point until-

"That's it, songbird. Cum for us." With that simple command and a loud whine, you broke. Static roaming throughout your entire body as your toes curled, slipping away into the rabbit hole of endless pleasure as the rest of the world began to fade away.

The pressure of your thighs upon the guard's head tightened as your lover lifted your wrists to his face, the scent of pure lust roaming throughout your veins overwhelming his desires. The last thread of strength he held within himself began to fray the further you fell, and this time, he did not try to fight it.

"Ah!" The sudden sting of the skin upon your left wrist tearing made your body tense as you were brought back to reality for a mere moment; any thoughts you had regarding the pain upon your wrist faded away the moment your lover moaned into it.

The bitter-sweet metallic tang of you flooded into his mouth as his sapphire eyes glazed over; a sense of relief roamed through his stilled veins as he continued to claim you, claiming you in a way that he never could.

The endless, bitter sting of blood flowing into his mouth furthered the electricity that roamed throughout your pounding veins as you laid there - sprawled out for all to see, desperately fighting to come down from the high you once yearned to reach.

His moans stifled into pleased vibrations against your wrists as your life source continued to seep into his mouth, the last drop far tastier - far more lustful - than the previous one as he verged on the edge of draining you dry. Desperate to quench the thirst that roamed deep inside of him if it was not for one thing, the one thing that led to this situation to begin with - his love for you.

And with a final reluctant suction, the bitter pinch of his fangs departed from the sensitive flesh of your wrist. The chilling sensation of your lover's tongue against the open wound sent a brief shiver down your spine, unaware of his desperate attempt to catch the final heavenly droplets that escaped from your bruised wrist before allowing them to rest on your panting chest.

The uneasy speed at which your chest rose and fell gradually subsided as the cold air began to fill your lungs, your previously tense figure sunk into the smoothness beneath you as your thighs loosened around the redhead's skull.

"Good girl." The chilling tap of your lover's fingers against your cheek aided you back down from your high, the corners of your lips curved upwards into a blissful smile as your lustful gaze shifted upwards to meet his.

His pale sapphire eyes burned holes into your skull as he drank up the heavenly sight, wishing he did not stop the physical drinking as his desperate thirst returned the longer he gazed down at you.

The sudden smooth sensation of the guards' hair gliding against your thighs drifted your attention away from the elven king, watching as the fiery head of hair departed from your legs alongside the slender, now glistening, fingers that once roamed inside of you.

The previously worry-filled emerald eyes now blinked up at the pair of you just as mindless, if not more, as you - patiently awaiting his next command.

"Come here." The low command was nearly instantly acted upon as the guard quickly scurried next to his king. Silently hoping his majesty would not notice how tight his trousers had become and how his eyes drank in every ounce of you.

Gazing upon every bare inch that was on display as if he were a parched traveler who had finally come across a waterhole. Desperate to quench his ever-growing thirst, as was the creature who stood beside him.

"Clean them." The king now commanded you, yanking the damped hand to rest not far from your face allowing the slender, glistening fingers to fill your sight.

The corners of your lips curved into a mischievous grin as they parted open, allowing the peculiar, bitter tang to fill your mouth.

Your tongue danced between the crevasses of the warm flesh that rested in your mouth, sucking against them as you had your lover's cock not too long ago while you mindlessly blinked up at the guard.

The flesh of his cheeks still burnt as brightly as his hair, his lower jaw clenched as his molars grasped at the inner flesh of his cheeks from the sensation, and his emerald - once fear-filled - eyes quickly shifted their burning gaze onto the ground.

Once again, silently hoping none would notice how tight his trousers had become as he was far more fearful of the torture your lover would bestow upon him for his enjoyment than what the painful restraints he called pants were doing to his aching cock.

It was a miracle that any blood flow reached his lower body, let alone his cock.

The pressure upon his fingers eased as they left your lips with a pop, your tongue grazing over the tips of his fingers a final time - the mischievous grin never leaving your soft lips.

"That's a good slut." He purred, watching as the slender fingers now dripped with the wetness of your saliva. "Now, get up. On all fours." The command made your lips fall into a disappointing line, yet your gaze stayed glued upon the lustful man before you, pushing yourself upwards into a seated position.

Your gaze never left his as your sweaty palms sunk into the smooth silk beneath you, nearly slipping yet managing to make it appear as graceful as always - or at least that was the tale they spouted to others when discussing their latest conquests.

"I said, now." The boom of his hand coming down against your clit bounced echoed throughout the tense room. A loud yelp flew out of your plump lips as your body jolted backward at the static feeling.

The familiar electric sensation roamed throughout your veins as if the simple flick of his palm against your aching clit had shocked you into feeling every atom that roamed within your veins.

“Now, slut.” He warned lowly, though only two words - they dripped with the same amount of lust as something else dripped within the guard’s pants. “Or do you want to start counting?”

The question made you hesitate for a moment, wondering if the strikes against your aching bundle of nerves would all be worth it to push his buttons a bit further, but you had promised to be good for an ounce of pleasure and - you intended to keep that promise; for now.

The bed creaked as you shifted your weight into your wrists, rising onto your knees and allowing your palms to slide against the silk - inching closer to the guard as your lower half remained up in the air. Your burning gaze never left his even as you felt the familiar cold stretch of your lover's cock entering you.

"Fuck." The heat of his breath graced your neck as his aching, cold cock continued to push further into you, stretching out of your drenched, sensitive inner walls. The bed creaked under his shifting weight as the cold flesh of his hips met the warm flesh of your arse, the faint slap of flesh hitting each other echoing throughout the room.

A small gasp of pleasure escaped your lips as his throbbing cock continued to push further into you, the once steady gaze breaking as your eyes looped upwards into your skull at the ice-cold stretch.

The rhythm of his hips continued to rise in speed with each thrust he made, the thin string of restraint within him already threatening to snap as his cock carved itself deeper into your drenched, sensitive cunt.

A familiar tingle began to arise throughout your body, starting at the very tips of your toes, as the lids of your gemstone-colored eyes began to flutter shut. Becoming lost in the rough motions deep within you, taking in every rough jab of his throbbing, cold cock against the deepest spot within you while your arms began to glide down against the silk. Arse fully on display, up in the thick air.

Yet another heavenly sight that would forever replay in their depraved minds, one seeking it out for his fix of pleasure while the other sought it out for anger. Nonetheless, both could agree the sight had been far too short-lived.

The cooling glide of your lover's hand slipping beneath the silk and your flesh sent a shiver down your spine, his entire weight sinking into you further, allowing for a higher-pitched whine to fall out of your plump lips.

Your lower abdomen sunk into his cold flesh as his thrust grew more rapid and unhinged - if they were hinged to begin with - while another pressure wrapped around your neck, the warmed backings of smooth gems sunk further into your neck.

The melody of skin slapping against each other dancing throughout the less than silent halls, a sound far too familiar for all yet never expected, as he pulled you back into him. Arching backward, the guard became further lost in the trance of flesh bouncing with each sharp thrust of his majesty's cock.

His hand stayed firmly pressed against your lower abdomen, pushing down upon the small bump that would appear as his cock carved itself deeply into your aching cunt.

A knot began to weave within the pit of your stomach as his hand pressed down upon the little bump in your lower abdomen, making you feel every thrust and stretch his cock made far deeper than before.

"Thranduil," His name fell out of your lips in a choked moan, the weight of your head falling back towards him as your body arched into him further. "I can't. Please, I-" Your pleas for pleasure caught in the back of your throat, stuck somewhere between the tightened grasp of his cold palm and the smooth gems that sunk into your skin.

The loud sound of skin slapping against each other echoed loudly throughout the halls, catching within every ear it stumbled upon alongside the pathetic squeaks that managed to fall out of your lips.

A familiar burn began to rise in the king's hips, a burn he paid no mind to as his thrusts grew more and more animalistic.

The knot within your stomach began to strain, the edges threatening to fray and break as each rough, unhinged thrust of his throbbing, cold cock hit that spot deep within you - nudging you closer towards the endless abyss of pleasure.

The overwhelming scent of your sweet, metallic lust filled his nostrils and earned a hungry growl from his thin lips; the remaining strand of restraint within his depraved mind threatened to snap as the movements within his hips began to slow.

The entirety of his length glid out of you slowly, stalling at every inch, until nothing but the swollen head of his tip rested within you. His hot breath caressed the crook of the left side of your neck while the grip upon your neck eased, allowing the tense air to grace your lungs before leaving them with a gasp as the flesh of his hips slammed into your arse.

The lids of your gemstone-colored eyes flew open at the sudden stretch deep within, your body jolting forwards slightly, his grip around your neck tightening to keep you steady as he repeated this action a few more times.

With each cruel thrust of his hips, he added an extra faint amount of pressure upon your neck, ensuring you would remember you were his even when the gems were "missing" before his hips returned to the previous, unhinged pace.

The corners of his thin lips curved upwards into a mischievous grin as his burning sapphire eyes finally met your desperate, pleading gaze. The remaining sparkle of restraining within his pale-colored eyes faded away as quickly as the pace his hips held, dimming into a familiar darkened shade you yearned to see again, knowing what would soon happen.

His name was a choked prayer stuck upon your lips as your toes curled further, the nails from your left hand pierced into the flesh of your right palm as your knuckles began to turn white, desperately grasping at anything to stall the straining knot within you from snapping - even if it meant your flesh.

And with the simple narrowing of his darkened gaze, it snapped.

An unspoken command which threw you over the edge allowing you to sink into the deep abyss of pleasure, hot tears forming in the corners of your eyes as the static that roamed your body grew more intense.

The weight of your body slumped back into his as waves of pleasure rang throughout your overly sensitive body, yet he did not let up.

His mind had been overwhelmed by his thirst, his hips moving on their own accord, far more feral-like than before. Nostrils flared as the heavenly metallic scents of your life source mixed with the wetness that dampened your inner thighs.

Unable to control his thirst any longer, his grip upon your neck tightened further for a final time as the aching tip of his cock crudely hit the deepest spot within you. An act of his affection before his sharpened teeth buried themselves into your shoulder, tearing at the overly sensitive flesh, letting that sweet, hypnotic liquid spill into his hungered mouth.

The static that roamed your body turned into a bitter sting as your inner walls trembled around his stilled cock, being swept away by another drowning wave of pleasure as white ropes flooded deep into your womb. But that was not the only sting you felt.

The pressure of your nails sinking into your palm pulled you back and forth from reality alongside the stinging suction on your shoulder; droplets of crimson trickled down your palm as ounce after ounce of the same liquid flooded his lips.

Hot tears streamed down your cheeks as the dampness between your inner thighs began to trickle down further; a mixture of your wetness and his cold cum dripped onto the bed alongside the familiar rouge of your life source.

A spew of ineligible moans caught within the back of your throat, escaping as a faint whimper as the weight of your head began to grow heavy. The colors surrounding you began to blur as the weight of your body mindlessly swayed against his.

The suction upon your neck came to a halt as the scent of your blood grew weaker as sound attempted to reach your ears but was silenced quickly by an overwhelming ringing.

A sharp pounding bounced around your skull as your limbs grew heavier, visual static formed within your eyes which grew larger and darker until everything faded away.

──────

The hiss of fire caught within your ears as the ringing within them began to die down.

The warming glow caressed your features gently, making you look like the most stunning piece of treasure within the king's eyes even as your nose scrunched upwards in disgust at the light that peaked through your lids.

An annoyed groan fell out of your swollen lips as you rolled onto your opposite side; a pained hiss quickly replaced the displeased sound as you placed pressure upon the fresh wound.

"Careful, songbird." The lids of your eyes fluttered open at the gentle warning, blinking away the familiar pale shades until they melded together into the stunning sight of your beloved. "I do not want you to strain yourself." He hummed as he placed his palm against your cheek, allowing you to melt into the cooling embrace.

The two of you stayed in that position for a few moments, the weight of your skull sinking further into his cold touch as the whispers of sweet nothings danced alongside the soft crackle of fire across the walls.

"I know you are rather comfortable," The words escaped his lips in a breathy whisper, the tip of his thumb gliding back and forth upon the warmed flesh of your cheek. "however," He continued, slowly stopping the soothing motion. "you do need to eat, my dove." He finished, pressing a kiss upon the top of your head before sliding his hand away from your cheek.

The soft tap of his feet against the floor was masked by your disappointed muttering, earning a soft chuckle from the typically stoic man.

"I know, I know. I am horrendous for worrying about you." The corners of his lips plastered upwards into an amused grin as he made his way back to the bed with a plate full of fruits and a glass of water. "I am fine-" "Then prove it. Eat."

His slender fingers inched towards your face, a pale green orb rested between his pointer and his thumb, before stopping a breath away from your lips. "Open." A command you hesitated at, the sound of food was not appalling, but the pounding within your skull made any action appear dreadful.

Your gaze shifted from the small grape to meet his pale sapphire eyes. The soft sparkle revived within them as they observed you patiently, knowing well you would eventually cave to his command but fearful of pushing you any farther than he had already. After all, you had fainted only a few hours prior.

Eventually, your plump lips parted open, allowing his frozen fingers to slip the sweet fruit into your mouth. The action repeated a few more times as he carefully observed you, gently guiding you into a seated position after the first few grapes and ensuring you chewed it thoroughly before offering you another.

"Good girl." He hummed, placing the bunch back onto the silver platter that rested on the bed. "Now drink." Bringing the cold glass onto your soft lips, allowing it to rest against them until you opened them again.

The cooling flow of liquid reaching the back of your throat eased tension you were unaware you had been carrying, a pleased hum vibrating against the glass as you swallowed down every drop.

The pounding within your skull began to ease as he returned the glass to its tray, offering you a few more grapes before placing the silver onto the same nightstand where a familiar piece of silicone rested.

"How are you feeling, my love?" The bed creaked under the new weight as a sturdy arm embraced you, pressing the smooth silk of his robes into your flesh - robes you had not noticed you were wearing until now. "Did I hurt you? How is your head? Should I get a healer? I can go bring one right now if-" His anxious questions silenced as you placed your finger upon his cold lips, softly shushing him as you curled into his side.

"I am fine, my head is a bit sore, and I do not require a healer." The words escaped your lips in a yawn as you rubbed your cheek into his robe, earning a soft chuckle from him. "But there is something I would like." "Oh? And what is that?" A low chuckle vibrated against your finger as he encased your wrist with his hand, lowering your finger down from his lips before pressing a kiss on the back of your hand.

"A bath." The corners of your lips curved upwards into a blissful thought of washing away your tension in the warmed water. "A bath? Is that all you want?" The blur of your head nodding rapidly at his question made another chuckle escape his thin lips as he shook his head softly.

"Well then, if that is all you need," The bed creaked at the missing weight as he rose from the bed before quickly hooking an arm under your legs and another behind your back, lifting you up into his sturdy grasp. "shall we?" He asked, not giving you a chance to answer outside of a small laugh while he carried you to the pool of water.

His graceful strides were far slower than they typically were, giving you some added time within the comfort of his arms before placing you back onto the wooden floor to disrobe you.

The soft swoosh of robes falling onto the floor echoed throughout the peacefully silent room as your tired frame slumped into his, soaking up every ounce of cold he had to offer as your arms wrapped around his waist.

"Oh, my love," He began with a chuckle, watching as you buried your face into his lean but muscular frame. "what am I going to do with you?" His lips were frozen into a permanent smile as he lifted you back up into his arms with ease, your face staying buried into the safety of his toned chest as he slowly entered the water.

Clear blue, warm waves brushed against your lower body as the two of you sunk further into its soothing embrace. “Is this better?” A pleased hum vibrated against his chest the moment the question left his thin lips, lips that softly placed yet another kiss on the top of your head as his cold, slender fingers roamed your hair as you snuggled into him. An arm sliding out from under your legs allowing him to hold you closer against his chest.

These blissful moments like these were far more precious than any jewel or gemstone in his possession. It was something that soothed the jealousy that lingered inside the pit of his stomach because he knew no matter who he allowed to touch you or gaze upon the heavenly sight that was you, none could make you feel as loved and secured as he could nor could any maiden do the same for him.

You were his peace within the cruelties of the world. You were his life, his air, his blood. But most importantly, you were his heart.

A soft yawn brought him back from his loving trance, a hand mindlessly drawing shapes upon your upper back. "You can rest, my heart." He whispered, pressing another upon the top of your head. "I promise to be here when you wake." "You promise?" The question came out as another strained yawn as you leaned your weight further into his, the lids of your eyes growing heavier as each second passed. "I promise."

And you did, the lids of your eyes drooping closed as a long, pleased sigh escaped your lips as the welcoming embrace of sleep finally enveloped you.

Snuggly rested within the chilled, safe embrace of your lover into the deepest sleep of your life, blissfully unaware of what cruelties the elven king had in store for that poor, unsuspecting guard.

But you would make it up to him later .

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

< Previous Part

#thranduil x fem!reader smut #thranduil x reader smut #fem!reader smut #x fem!reader smut #thranduil smut #smut

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darkgodcomplex · 5 months

Text

The Lord’s Child

Wally X Reader

CW: ABUSE, EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, YANDERE, RELIGIOUS GUILT, NON CONSENSUAL TOUCHING

AO3 Link

Here’s the story:

Your hands clasp in prayer as the congregation around you mutters a collective "amen" and starts to shuffle out. Despite the service ending, you don't budge from your pew, continuing to kneel as people pass by until the church is empty.

Well, almost empty.

Still dressed in his priest attire, Wally watches you silently for a moment, wondering what on earth you would want to pray for when you’re already perfect.

He approaches and you’re startled by his voice as he speaks, “Why are you kneeling, child?”

You turn your head, looking up at him. Your sweet, innocent eyes look up at him.

You blink at him, “I-I was just praying, Father.”

He smiles, “You’re the picture of godliness, my child.” He reaches down, index finger hooking under your chin and tugging it up higher as his thumb ghosts over your soft cheek, gently petting you. “I can tell your heart is pure.”

“How can you tell?” You almost demand, voice desperate for his praise. He nearly trembles from the tone. There’s nothing he loves more than the world breaking you down and him picking up all the pieces.

Wally kneels down next to you, clasping your hands in his own. “I can feel you.” He leans in to whisper in your ear. The two of you are so close now that he can feel your hot breath on his neck and hear your heart beat in your chest.

He leans even closer, lips close to brushing your ear, and you flinch away. Wally smiles.

That. That is what made you pure. The way you’re so desperately wanting his affection yet also so afraid of it.

Wally pulls back, keeping his cool. “What did you come to pray for today, my child?”

Your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of red as you look away. “It’s nothing.

“My dear, don’t go lying to a priest.” Wally pushes.

Your cheeks turn even redder as you shrink into yourself. You very clearly don’t want to tell him, which makes him want to know even more.

“Father, it’s just stupid troubles-“

“I want to know.” He puts the pressure on you by waiting in silence.

“It’s just…”

Wally watches you intensely, head tilted to the side as he waits for you to explain.

“I just…” You fidget nervously. “I don’t fit in anywhere.”

Wally can’t help but grin. “Of course you don’t fit in anywhere.” His tone is sweet but his words are cruel. “You’re too pure. The world outside will never accept you.”

Your lower lip begins to tremble and the sweet, guiltless eyes he loves begin to tear up.

“But that’s okay.” Just as he’s cruel, he’s sweet. “You belong with the church. You belong with me.”

Wally runs his hand over your cheek. As tears fall, he doesn’t wipe them away. Instead, he presses his thumb against them, dragging the wetness down your cheek.

“You don’t have to cry.” Wally whispers. “I know you need me. I know you want me. This is all god’s plan.”

This doesn’t stop the gentle flow of tears down your cheeks. That’s okay though. He’ll take you broken.

As he comforts you, Wally slowly gets closer and closer, hand sliding up your thigh to massage circles into the muscle and hot breath trickling over your neck.

You freeze, slowly beginning to realize what’s happening. Took you long enough.

His mouth attaches to your neck, at first sucking and then biting. He can feel you start to tremble beneath him and he pulls away, pressing gentle kisses to where he drew blood and touching you with soft hands.

“Do not be afraid.” He presses another kiss to your wound. “This is what faith is, loving other people. God blessed us with the ability to give and receive love.”

Wally brings his lips up to your ear, wiping blood on it as he kisses it. “I love you, my child.”

“I-I-“ Your terrified voice speaks up, a surprise to him. Your timidness had always been to his advantage.

“I don’t want this!” You shove Wally off of you, scrambling back.

Wally lands back on the pew, nearly hitting his head in your sudden struggle. He blinks at you.

“By rejecting my love you’re rejecting the lord.” Wally spits. “Nobody loves you except me. Nobody could ever love you except me. You’ll go right back to not belonging.” Wally’s breathing is heavy as he finishes.

You start to cry again, “No, I don’t reject the lord.” The years of religious guilt he’s built up in you is paying off.

Wally sighs, “Then let me love you. Stop this nonsense and come here.” He points in front of him.

Slowly, you crawl over to him and he heaves you into his lap. You bury your face in his neck, still sobbing as he rubs your back.

“You belong to god and so you belong to me.” Wally says sternly. “Listen to the lord and you will set yourself free, my dear.”

You nod into his neck and he grasps you tighter.

God is not in this church.

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nyxiswrites1200 · 10 months

Text

𝑨𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒅'𝒔 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒈𝒚

Fem!Reader x Alucard Hellsing

Warnings: Vampires, biting, Mostly SFW, mild mentions of violence, Reader replaces Seras Victoria, Hellsing Spoilers, Non-canon + Canon events, making out, kissing, blood sharing, spit sharing, praise

Preferably Minors DNI

Nobody tell me this isn't canon, I'm aware, I'm delulu and I needed this, love y'all <3

AO3 Link

----

When you find yourself stuck between two evils, a vampire trying to kill you, and a vampire trying to hunt that vampire; you're not sure how you got here.

Alucard's gun fires and you feel the familiar pain in your chest- and then you jolt awake.

These nightmares have been popping up a lot lately. Of the day you met Alucard, your master. You jolt again when you meet a familiar dark presence lurking in the corner of the room.

"Master?" You ask softly, and Alucard's tall and dark figure approaches you.

"I know you haven't been sleeping well, mortal girl", he states the obvious as he reaches the table and sits down. The ice bucket with a single pack of blood still sits there, untouched by you.

You sigh and help yourself off the bed, taking a seat across from Alucard. "And you're not eating" he states the obvious yet again.

"I'm immortal now, remember?" You respond with a bit of an attitude but you forget Alucard is quite sassy himself. "Won't be for long if you don't eat" he snarks as a response.

You knew he was right, but you never wanted to go on admitting that. Another sigh leaves you as you sit back in the chair.

Alucard narrows his eyes at you before removing his tinted glasses and hat. You always forget how hauntingly beautiful this undead man is. Leading to you forgetting the way your face feels warm when he speaks to you like this, in such a personal manner.

"Listen, police girl, you have to consume blood eventually. Whether you like the idea or not, it's not avoidable" he explains, trying to be blunt but also reason with his prodigy. He knows this isn't ideal for you, nor him either. But he has no hard feelings for you, he never wants to see you hurt because of him. He kills horrid vampires, and cruel beings, and maybe sometimes whatever interests him is a good fight. Outside of that, his interests are beyond even your imagination of what he wants.

"I know, Alucard. But it's just... I know what I am, but I feel like a monster. I just can't get past that." You try to explain but find yourself frustrated in trying.

"Police girl, we are monsters. There's no denying any part of that. Do you think me a monster, an awful person, darling?" He asks as a casual smirk plays on his lips, showing his fangs a bit.

"Mm... You are a monster, master. But I do not think you are awful. You help innocent people in your own way and you protect Integra and me..." You respond as you feel the scar on your throat from that damned priest's knife.

Alucard lets out a sound of acceptance as a response before he speaks "Then there's your answer. You watched me drink from that journalist woman, you know my nature as well as you know yours. You just won't commit to yours." He explains before he holds out a gloved hand, motioning to the blood packet in front of him. "Do you need me to feed you for God's sake, darling?" He says in a mocking manner with a laugh. Though you wouldn't mind that, and your silence prompts him to get that memo a little too quickly.

Alucard chuckles, as he picks up the blood packet from the ice.

"Always have to watch after you. Such a clumsy girl you are, darling. Not that I mind, it does add some interest to my immortal torment." He adds a smirk before opening the blood packet. You're unsure of what to say when he gets like this; you just sit there with your face continuing to feel warmer by the second.

Alucard pours a bit of the blood into his mouth, getting a taste for it. It's not quite his style, considering he much prefers something fresh, but he'll manage for his prodigy.

Alucard stands from his seat, stalking over to you. You already had a feeling you knew what he was gonna do, and you weren't against it in the slightest bit.

"Do you want my help, darling?" He asks in one of his gentler tones that you can hardly believe he manages. It doesn't take you long to utter a small yes as a response.

Alucard finishes put the blood packet into his mouth before leaning down and kissing him deeply. His long tongue slips into your mouth as you taste the blood he drank. You swallowed without a second thought for once.

Alucard pulls off one of his gloves and gently holds your chin, making sure you don't spill any. You feel your breath hitch as you finish drinking the blood from Alucard's mouth. But he hasn't pulled away yet.

His tongue is still slipping against yours, making you almost drool. You find yourself tangling a hand into his long, black hair, needing to ground yourself on something.

You swear you hear him groan as he finally pulls away, a string of saliva following his tongue as it leaves your mouth.

He composes himself, you're not even sure how to compose yourself from that.

"Good girl" he praises you, as he pulls his gloves back on.

"Um... Thank you, master" you muttered, still embarrassed and unsure of what to say to that. Alucard smirks and chuckles a little at your flustered response.

"Take care of yourself, police girl" was his only response before he disappeared into a black void.

Leaving you flustered and partially confused, you just made out with a centuries-possibly old vampire...

#my writing #fanfic writer #archive of our own #reader insert #fem reader #alucard #alucard x reader #alucard hellsing #alucard headcanons #hellsing x reader #alucard x you #hellsing #vampires #cw blood

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lovewanxian · 8 months

Text

Greatest treasure

I wanted to write some fluffy dragonji for the Chinese new year, especially considering it's the year of the dragon, so I cooked this up.

The morning after their wedding, Wei Wuxian wakes alone in a bed covered in a random collection of items, including several bunnies. He quickly learns that even the esteemed Hanguang-jun, his beloved Lan Zhan, isn't immune to the dragon instinct to hoard the things he loves.

Read it on Ao3 or below the cut

The morning after their wedding, Wei wuxian woke up sore but happy, nestled up in his many tails and the blankets of the bed. Therefore, it took him several long minutes before he realized that his newly minted husband, the love of his life, Hanguang-jun, Lan Wangji, Lan Zhan, was not in bed with him.

“Ugh, what is it with Lans and not being able to sleep in, not even the morning after their wedding” , he grumbled. He squinted his eyes open against the sunlight filtering into the room and threw his arms out as he stretched. There was a solid thunk as his hand hit something hard and he paused in confusion.

Wei Wuxian opened his eyes completely and turned his head only to see Wangji the guqin lying on the bed where Lan Zhan had slept the night before. Bichen laid just further past it on the bed, right next to Suibian. There were also several books of poetry on the bed, a lot of really lovely robes and blankets, some of the art Wei Wuxian himself had drawn of Lan Zhan, clusters of gentian flowers, a basket of loquats, a steaming teapot, the statue of a turtle Wei Wuxian had given him while they courted and … five bunnies. Several other lumps hidden by the blankets hinted at even more items being hidden in the bed. Wei Wuxian was surrounded by so many items on all sides that he couldn't twitch without knocking into something.

Why the hell were all these things on the bed? And how had Lan Zhan managed to put them there without waking him up? Where was his husband? Nothing made any sense.

It took a lot of effort to sit up, not only because of the many things surrounding him, but also because his body still ached - in a very lovely way, but still, it was criminal that Lan Zhan wasn’t here to cater to his every whim when it was his fault. Absentmindedly, he pulled out one of the bunnies that had buried itself in his tails and petted it. He noticed then that Lan Zhan’s forehead ribbon was still tied to one of his wrists and a smile spread over his face. He let go of the bunny to trace the cloud pattern on it.

It still felt unreal that after everything that had happened - all the death and tragedy and misunderstandings - that not only had Wei Wuxian married Lan Zhan, he had married him in front of the entire Lan sect in an extravagant but tasteful wedding. It was too good to be true, and yet he had the proof of it around his wrist and in the room around him. His home with Lan Zhan. A giddy giggle escaped him.

Right then, his sensitive fox ears caught the sound of multiple people walking up the path to the Jingshi. He assumed it was Lan Zhan with some servants in tow, hopefully for a bath as he still felt sticky, and smiled in excitement.

The door opened and Lan Zhan stepped inside. His face was serene with a tiny smile spreading over his face when he saw that Wei Wuxian was awake. He was dressed in only three layers of robes and his forehead was scandalously bare and he was so beautiful Wei Wuxian could die happy. Wei Wuxian loved him so much.

“Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian called out, beaming at his husband even as he tried to sound scolding. “You were so cruel, leaving me to wake all alone in our marriage bed. And putting so many strange things in …”

He trailed off as Lan Zhan stepped into the Jingshi, pulling two people after him that very much were not servants with a bath. The first one was Lan Sizhui, who cast one look at Wei Wuxian, sitting in bed and only barely covered by a red blanket with his love-bite covered chest out in the open, and blushed so red Wei Wuxian was concerned he would faint. The other person was Lan Xichen, whose smile looked distinctly strained and he wouldn't meet Wei Wuxian’s eyes.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian shrieked and pulled the blanket up to cover himself, not caring for the crash it created as several items fell over. His face matched the red blankets. “What are you doing?”

There was no response. Instead, Lan Zhan continued into the room, pulling his brother and son with him. They struggled a little against his grip, but it was clear they had given up on resisting him some time ago. Lan Zhan walked straight up to the bed and Wei Wuxian shrieked again when he pushed Lan Sizhui and Lan Xichen into the bed. They sat themself down as far from Wei Wuxian as they could and just barely avoided crushing the many other things currently in the bed.

Lan Zhan looked the bed over with a critical eye before nodding in satisfaction. Then he too crawled into the bed and pulled Wei Wuxian into his arms. Wei Wuxian scrambled to pull the blanket with him, lest he give his son and brother-in-law an(other) eyeful. He was pressed close to Lan Zhan’s front and could hear deep rumbles emitting from his chest. Lan Zhan’s dragon tail made a swishing sound as it dragged back and forth across the blankets in satisfaction.

After several seconds of shocked, embarrassed silence, Wei Wuxian pulled back enough to look at Lan Xichen. The man was still not meeting his eyes. “Okay, someone explain what the fuck is happening right now. Not that I’m not happy to see you two, but why did Lan Zhan drag you into our bed? And all these other things! Why are the bunnies in our bed?”

Lan Xichen cleared his throat delicately. There was a red tint to his ears. “As you know, animal hybrids often take on … characteristics of their animal side.”

Boy did Wei Wuxian know that. He knew no one else that looked at worms like it was a delicious meal, and had never met someone who quite liked to dig in the earth as much as he did. Lan Qiren and Madam Yu - while she was still alive - had both yelled at him about mischievous fox spirits more than once. He also had a spot behind his ears that made him melt if scratched.

Wei Wuxian knew that animal traits affected people, but what did that have to do with this? The Lans were dragons and as such were far too refined to display any such traits, unlike all lesser hybrid species. As the kings of the animal kingdom, Lans had long ago conquered such instincts.

Or at least, so he had always presumed.

“Are you telling me that Lan Zhan put a bunch of things in our bed because he’s a dragon?” he asked, skepticism dripping off his words. To his surprise, both Lan Xichen and Lan Sizhiu nodded. They didn’t elaborate.

He turned back to his husband and poked him in the cheek until he opened his eyes and looked at him. His expression was blissed out - not dissimilar to how he had looked the night before and Wei Wuxian determinedly pushed those thoughts down considering the company. “Lan Zhan, why did you put all this in our bed?”

“Hoard”, he answered, humming happily.

“Hoard?” Wei Wuxian asked. “Hoard of what ?”

“All my favorite things.”

It took him a second, looking around in confusion at all the items and the other two people in the bed. Then it hit him and he hid his face against Lan Zhan’s chest as blood rushed into his cheeks. His heart felt ready to burst from love. “Lan Zhaaaaan! You have to warn me first!”

“Mn”, he said, sounding smug and not at all like a person who would warn Wei Wuxian in the future. Wei Wuxian loved him so much.

“But really, Lan Zhan, couldn't you have given me some warning that you would do this? A little shout out that you would be bringing your brother and our son into our room so I could at least have put on one layer before? Like, I love you and I love them, but this is awkward.”

“Oh”, Lan Zhan said, very quietly, and seemed to really see him for the first time since entering the room. In all his naked, love-bitten glory. His ears slowly turned red.

Wei Wuxian gasped, half in delight, half in disbelief. “You forgot I’d be naked? I can’t believe you!”

“Baba … can you please stop talking about it?” Lan Sizhui said, his voice choked with mortification. His face was so red and in any other situation Wei Wuxian would tease him so much about it.

“Sorry, A-Yuan”, he chuckled. “It’s just so ridiculous. Are all Lan dragons like this?”

Lan Xichen smiled kindly, but was still very much not looking at them. “I’m afraid so, though we are usually able to keep it under control once we get older. When we were young, Wangji and I would constantly hoard each other and every time we visited mother, we would bring things with us so we could hoard her too.”

“That is … so cute ”, Wei Wuxian squealed, imagining a chubby cheeked baby Lan Zhan piling toys on his mom and cuddling up to her with an equally chubby cheeked Lan Xichen.

“When A-die’s adoption of me was finally made official, he put me in a hoard and wouldn't let me leave for three days”, Lan Sizhui laughed. Another squeal escaped Wei Wuxian as he thought of the small toddler A-Yuan had once been, bundled up in bed and surrounded by all the other things Lan Zhan loved.

“I had to do my sect work from a pile of bunnies”, Lan Xichen lamented, but his smile was widening. Lan Zhan let out a little put upon sound and there was a barely noticeable pout on his lips.

“Oh?” Wei Wuxian grinned so hard his cheeks hurt. He poked Lan Zhan in the chest. “Lan Zhan, are you going to hoard me for three days too?”

“A week”, Lan Zhan said and though his voice lacked emotion, his arms tightened possessively around Wei Wuxian, making him laugh in delight.

“And what about Xichen-gege and our sweet little radish? Are you going to hoard them too?”

“Hoard”, he agreed, very determinedly.

Wei Wuxian stifled a snicker at the looks on said people’s faces. They looked like they had expected that answer yet dreaded it at the same time. It was very cute how willing they were to indulge Lan Zhan in his dragon tendencies. There was just one little problem.

Shifting until his mouth was right next to Lan Zhan’s ear and whispering as quietly as he could, so the other two people in the room couldn't hear him, he said, “Then what about our everyday?”

Lan Zhan stiffened against him and a little gasp escaped his mouth. His grip turned bruising around Wei Wuxian and he purred in response, happy by the reaction he had enacted. “Sizhui, Xiongzhang, you can leave now.”

The two men startled, clearly surprised that Lan Zhan would let them go so quickly. Wei Wuxian winked at them from Lan Zhan’s arms and the color returned to their faces. They left the bed and hurried out of the Jingshi with none of their usual Lan grace. Wei Wuxian laughed after them and then some more when Lan Zhan pulled him in for a kiss.

True to his word, Lan Zhan didn’t let him leave their bed for a week after that. Luckily, he had gathered quite the hoard of things around them. And the crown of them all was Wei Wuxian himself. He had never been happier being someone's greatest treasure.

#mdzs #the untamed #wangxian #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #lan zhan #mdzs fanfiction #indrel writes #dragonji #foxian

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rennorthernlights · 9 months

Text

The World We Knew

Chapter 1: Radioheart, Chapter 2, Chapter 3,

Trigger warnings; Zombies, mentions of death, very brief mention of suicide in the very beginning.

You can also go to AO3 for RenNorthenLights. I post more on there than here. If you go to my AO3 than PLEASE look at the tags for this fic! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

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October-ish, 2023. Time??? Location???

It’s become almost routine now.

Waking up at the ass crack of dawn, checking her backpack, cleaning her rifle, making sure the ‘room’ she’s in is safe. Over a year ago she wouldn’t be up this early. Over a year ago she wouldn’t even be touching her fathers rifle without permission. But life has a funny way of throwing curve balls. In this sense, life threw a massive curve ball at everyone and everything. The world as she knew it become sick with disease— No, not COVID-19, though many speculated that it was the reason, the beginning of it all. No it was the dead-come-back-to-life-and eat-your-face kinda disease. Normally people bring up that type of disease in conversations with speculations on the “what if” scenarios of what they’d do.

Many of her college friends all had plans and ideas and yet most of them now roam the streets looking for the next person to chomp on. Ironic isn’t it? She never believed she’d live this long hell many times the conversation of “Quick a zombie apocalypse happens! What do you do?!” She’d laugh and says she’d die in the next month or two. To which her friends would moan and groan because surely “You wouldn’t give up so easily?? Come onnnn what would you actually do.” She’d think it over and before putting much thought, she said.

“I’d kill myself.” Her friends went silent before laughing at how serious she sounded and even she laughed. A good banter back and forth as her college friends sipped on cheap booze. “No, no, but in all seriousness. I’d stay with my parents. My dads a police Captain after all. He’s taught me how to shoot before I could write and my ma… well she’ll probably teach me something.” Snorting a chuckle since her moms a teacher. One of her friends asks what she’d do if her parents became zombies.

“Well I guess I’d try to find groups to stay in. What do y’all think? I guess I’d put up with y’all.” Nudging her friend playfully on the shoulder. Laughter in the room as the music starts playing and the cheep booze starts kicking in. As her friends dance and sing to “Only Girl in the World” by Rihanna she sits on the couch in deep thought. Her drink in hand as she thinks bout her life. Thinks about her finals coming up and how she’s gotta take all the tests to become a nurse. Both her parents were exceptionally happy that she didn’t follow in their footsteps.

“I love kids but please… do not become a teacher.” Her mother sounded so exhausted when they spoke early on the phone. “And don’t become a police officer!” Her father yells in the background. The running joke for every phone call even though her parents are well aware that she’s going to be a nurse. She’s been deadset on it since she was a kid. She doesn’t plan on telling her ma that she’s gonna try and apply to be the school nurse where her ma works. Sipping her booze some more as the apple news on her phone pings “Reports of a New Virus, Scientists say… ”

She huffs, reading the first couple of paragraphs before getting bored and exiting out of the article. “Probably another variant of COVID. Great another shot I’m gonna have to take.” Turning her phone off and chugging her drink before she starts dancing with her giggly and much too drunk friends.

————————————————————

Oh how life turned so fast and so quickly the following week. Nearly half of the friends in the room became the first percentages of “Turned” and the other half “Missing, have you seen them?” She barely made it out herself. But that’s life. Cruel and beautiful and so, so lonely in the world she now knows. She stays too long thinking about it and she’ll drown. She doesn’t want to think about her friends, her home, her… family. It’s still too much even after all this time. Even with it being well over a year it still hurts.

Shaking her head of those thoughts as she gets situated. Glad that she triple checked the ‘room’ she’s in. Her anxiety has been through the roof these last couple days and every lil noise is having her jump. At least she can put her mind at ease since she’s checked and barricaded the exit. A couple deads outside that she handled quickly. Who knew that she’s be so proficient with a bat and knife? She’s a good shot but before a to keep her rifle hidden. Not many bullets being made anyways..

She turns her radio on as she waits for it to come to life. For months she been speaking on it. Using it as a dairy of sorts, it helps her when she feels the loneliest. Helps when the days feel colder than what it typically does in Texas. She spoke and spoke until one day it started speaking back. The man on the radio commented how he’s been hearing her speak and at first, he and his group thought it was a hoax since they couldn’t get the radio to work. She didn’t speak on it for days, but the men would still speak back and call out to her.

Finally, she worked up the courage to speak back and from then on, they’ve become a part of her routine. Once a day around noon they’d speak. She has her rules, No names, no locations, no descriptions. She doesn’t want to get attached only to one day not hear them speak back again. She doesn’t need another name added to her list of grief. That, and as much as she wants to trust them, she knows that humans can be just as dangerous if not more so.

“Static, come in Static.” She grins as she sits in the office room that she’s been sleeping in. Stretching her legs as she’s never gotten used to the floors even after all this time. Her legs stiff as her other hand rubs her knee. The radio crinkles and scratches until finally.

“Must you keep calling me that?” The man speaks, the heavy Scottish accent shining through, and she can just tell he’s grinning. “I’ve told ya, mah name is Joh- “

“No,” she cuts him off as she clicks on the button. “No names. I don’t... I don’t want to hear it, please.” She’s told him before that she doesn’t want to hear his name. He’s been understanding but sometimes he’ll still try it... The thought that there is an actual person behind the radio scares her and intrigues her. Hearing someone even through all this mess makes it all bearable even if it’s just by a little bit. “Don’t make me ‘hang up’.” A lighthearted threat. She wouldn’t actually do that. She needs her daily talks with them.

“I know, Bonnie, I know,” the voice speaks with understanding. The man knows all too well on why it’s easier to stay nameless, easier to not be attached incase the voice one day doesn’t speak back. “But one day I would love ta hear my name from your pretty voice.” The voice chuckles, “Where are ya now?” A hopeful tinged to his voice.

“You know I don’t give locations, Static.” Singing back her words with a furrow of her brow. “But… I’m in an office building.”

“Ah, I see that’s become a fan favorite of yours.” A tease in the man’s voice. “Oh, it seems my friend wants to speak to ya.” Her eyes perk up as she knows who is about to speak.

“Electricity!” She smiles big and she just knows Static is rolling his eyes.

“Sunshine haven’t heard from you since, Static,” emphasizing the other man’s nickname and she can practically hear the glare. “has been hogging you.” Electricity, as she’s been calling him even though he’s also tried to get her to call him by his name, has a much softer voice. Calmer and levelheaded compared to Static who's more outgoing and louder. She’s called them the duo 1 and duo 2 before she called them Static and Electricity. Much to their annoyance and amusement, much better than her other idea of calling them Thing 1 and Thing 2.

“Well next time hit him or something.” She smiles as she can hear Static mouthing off something. Probably Static telling him where she’s been in for a bit. “In an office building again? That seems to be your usual, yeah?” The man speaks lowly. His words concerned and yet with the subtleness of memorizing something.

“Am I that predictable, Electricity? She stands up from where she was sitting. “Static said something similar.”

“Not predictable just doing what you always do, Sunshine.”

“That’s… That means I’m being predictable.” She teases as he stammers.

“No, no, I meant that you are more comfortable with what you know to be safe.”

“Soooo predictable with my safety?” She teases as she can hear him muttering “bollocks” like he always does when, she assumes, he is flustered. “I’m pulling your leg, Electricity. Just messing around and being a brat.”

He laughs and sighs in relief. His voice cool like the summer breeze after a rainy day. “So where are you?” His voice sounding slightly insistent.

“No where near you.” Rolling her eyes as they always ask the same questions everytime they talk. “Quit askin, I’m fine on my own. I don’t do groups and you know why.” She’s told them about her run in with the only group she’s been with. Handmaidens Tale meet zombie apocalypse and she barely got out.

“I know, I know, you’ve done well on your own, but a little help goes a long way, Sunny.” Sometimes she wishes she would hate the nicknames that they give her but it does give a warm fuzziness in her stomach whenever they say it. Sighing as she speaks back. “Oh yes because you’re military right?” A bit of sarcasm in her voice as this is one of her questions that she always asks.

“Taskforce 141, Special Operation Forces, you already know this, Lass.” The other man speaks making her jolt. Guess he was listening in when she was speaking to Electricity.

“Yeah, yeah, just making sure you’re not lying and trying to sound more badass than you both already do.” Remarking quickly as a light blush spread on her face. The way he’s speaking sounds deeper. Like she’s in trouble somehow and he’s going to correct her.

“We know, Sunshine, we know you just want to be safe. It’s hard to trust especially with the dead around.” Electricity’s speaks softly, the cool to Static’s heat, “But to say it again; Joh— I mean, Static, is a Sergeant and I am also a Sergeant. Static is an expert in demolitions and trained as a sniper. I myself am an expert with prime target eliminations and covert surveillance.” He says it so sincerely and she has half a mind to believe him.

“And why are you all the way in Texas then?” They’ve told her how they moved up here and she knows the reason, but she wants them to say it again.

“We received word that a base, Fort Sam Houston, was working on a cure for the zombie virus. The BAMC is a hospital within that fort that was conducting research.” Electricity sites off the very thing that they’ve repeated for the last month.

“And?” She makes a go on motion that they can’t see but she knows that they can imagine that’s what she’s doing.

“But when we got there it was already over run and Kyl— I mean Electricity almost got killed in the process.” Static says, he sounds upset. “We’ve been over this, Lass. We tell you about the same things over and over again.” A hushed murmur from Electricity is heard and she starts feels bad.

“I know… I’m sorry, I just...” she starts off as she tries to not sound upset. “I just want to make sure that I can trust you. Last time I did...”

“Handmaidens tale, you’ve told us about it. The leader, Abraham, is a far-right Christian, yes?” Static says the man’s name and she shivers as she gives a tiny yes in reply. “He tried to keep you. To force you to stay with his group and be treated as a... how did you say it?”

“A breading cow.”

“Yes, that,” he sighs deeply on the radio, and she wonders what he and Electricity looks like. Wonders if they are as comforting as their warm voices. Wonders if they have beards or stubbles but her self-imposed rules keep her from asking. “I know it’s a lot, learnin ta trust when it's hard to. We’ve promised since the beginnin ta be honest and if I ever see him.” The threat is laced in his voice but he clears his throat. “Enough of that. We are finally moving to Houston. We acquired a car. A Jeep to be more precise. Any chance we’ll be near ya?”

“You might be…” she says softly as she bites her tongue. The urge to let them come to her gets harder and harder to say no to everyday they speak. “I don’t give locations, Static.”

“I know but can’t blame a man for trying. Oh?” She can hear his eyebrows furrowing as voices in the background speak. They’ve told her that they are a group of 4 in total. She’s never heard the other 2 speak but she can sometimes hear them… they sound funny. “It seems we have to cut this shorter, Bonnie.”

“We’ll speak again tomorrow, Sunshine, we promise.” The other man promises, and she knows they will. They’ve never broken a promise. Never did more than what they couldn’t do from the month that they’ve talked.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow and please,” she stresses the word as she hopes and prays that one day they can meet. That she’ll be brave enough to let them in and find her. “Please be safe. Please don’t get hurt, okay? I’ll metaphorically hit you, I swear I will.”

“Always, Bonnie, we will always be safe. Take care and check corners and windows. Make sure you can quickly get’n and out. Don’t go’n if your gut tells ya not to.” Static says, listing off his advice like he would to a fresh-faced recruit. “Don’t play fair and don’t play kind. Everyone’s an enemy until proven otherwise.” He waits a couple seconds before he passes it to the other man.

“Make sure to pack light and that you can easily grasp your weapon.” Electricity warns. A deep sigh from him before he speaks, “And if you ever… if you ever need help, just... please just tell us. We’ll do whatever we can to come for you, okay?” He waits and waits for her to speak but when she doesn’t, he sighs. He waits another minute and then the radio turns to static signaling the end of their conversation.

“I know,” she says softly as she hears the static of the radio. “Be safe, please be safe.” She murmurs the bits of name that she has overheard them say. Going against her own rules of not saying their names even though she knows it’s half of what their names are. She’s gotten too attached and now… now she’s worried. Worried for men she’s never met and probably never will.

“One can dream,” she rolls her shoulders and bends to stretch. Her stomach growling as she knows it’s about time to eat. Pulling her backpack on the office desk and opening it. A couple cans of food and jerky from gas stations. 2 water bottles and a simple medkit along with an extra shirt and pants. “Okay… raviolis or beans….” Humming as sits and pops open the beans. “I’ll save the raviolis for a special day.”

She’s sat for too long on her ass now it’s time to get a move on. Can’t stay for too long in the same places. Always gotta keep moving to different places. Curse the anxiety that still makes her think that a zombie is around every corner. Guess that’s what she’s been alive for so long.

#simon ghost riley #johnny mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #141 x reader #poly 141 #ZombieAU #The World We Knew #TWWK #If you go to my AO3 please read the tags #It’s a slow build to when the boys finally meet Reader #No physical descriptions of Reader or a name for Reader #Reader uses She/Her pronouns though #Reader is Texan cause I’m Texan and I haven’t been to most other places so I just set it up in Texas

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peachysunrize · 4 months

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Hello, love your blog!

Do you have any fic recommendations on ao3 or here that are green centered and well written? They can be longer, time travelling, slow burn, smut or not.. Everything really. It's so hard to find good fics that are pro green or at least neutral. I can also recommend a few if you're interested. For example, if you like Rhaemond, there is a great fic by daylander1000 "See, what had happened was...". It's an amazing analysis on Aemond and Rhaena as children and later as adults, still unfinished but I'm looking forward to the updates. The characters are so well written, not only the main pairing, but also Alicent and Criston which is always a bonus. There is also Aegon/OC fic called "Burning jasmine" by scaly freaks, then "Witchcraft in your lips" (this one is Aemond/Sansa which might be unusual, but is amazingly written, also not finished yet). Finally, there is a fic called "The dragon and the tower" that I thought at first I wouldn't like because of the pairing (Daemicent) but it turned out to be great. Highly recommend all of these.

Anyway, if you have any other fic recommendations, I would like to check them out. Thanks in advance!

Hello, lovey!! Thank you so much for your kind words and THE FICS OMG I WOULD LOVE TO READ THESE!!! I’ll read them asap<3

As for recommendations, let me give you some of the best fics I’ve ever read! (Numbers are not rankings) you may have read some of them, but these are my always go to fics!

1. Children Of The Empire by glasscandlegrenades on ao3: Aemond x reader, neutral but sides more with greens. The author’s writing skills are god tier. Still ongoing, strong!niece!reader, fluff angst smut and everything! Even dad aemond would I absolutely adore!! Aemond is so canonically written, he’s not massively cruel, and everyone is written just perfectly.

2. So many fics by @inthedayswhenlandswerefew (she’s also on ao3!)

Now I’m Covered In You -> Aemond x reader Wars Of The Roses au, sooooo much angst and fluff. This story was the first thing I read from Maggie, and now I’m obsessed with all of her works. Pro team green, reader is Aegon’s wife👀

Have You No Idea That You’re In Deep? -> Aemond x reader, pro team green, angst angst angst angst mixed with fluff and smut, Aemond is so canon like I can’t tell you how much I love this fic’s Aemond.

When The World Is Crashing Down -> Aegon x reader, pro team green, oh the angst but their relationship is worth every single second you spend reading this fic. This has to be my favorite Aegon fic I’ve ever read. Absolutely amazing, magnificently written, gut wrenching and heartbreaking but I LOVE IT!!!!

3. Midnight Blades by LostinAStory on ao3: Aemond x reader, idk if you’ve read this or not, but this is one of my most favorite fics ever. Pro team green, new settings, reader is from free cities, so much smut!!!! So much fluff with a touch of angst. It’s a bit older probably from late 2022/early 2023, but it’s worth reading!! I think I’ve read it three times!

4. You were always with me[the stolen jewel] by Sillyhero on ao3 & @myfandomprompts on here: Aemond x reader. neutral that progressively turns towards greens. One of my favorites of all times!!! Quick chemistry, so well written, the plot twists are amazing, reader and Aemond’s relationship evolves into something so special and beautiful!!

#rue:rec #inbox open

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dawn-moths · 11 months

Text

"No Use Crying Over A Wolf"

Werewolf!Dabi x Female Reader

part 1 * part 2 * part 3 (COMING OCTOBER 2024!)

word count: 13,000+

(After surviving your first encounter with the notorious werewolf who lured you into the dark depths of the dense forest, you unexpectedly find yourself wanting to meet him again. But things are different now. He’s different now. And although you two come from completely different worlds, you can’t help but secretly wish there was a way you could be together. You’d certainly rather be involved with the dangerous wolfman than the overly persistent hunter who never seems to give up on vying for your attention and, eventually, if he has it his way, also your hand in marriage. Although, you soon might find both Dabi and yourself will be in danger, as the hunter seems to have caught your scent and followed the trail…)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! keigo/hawks plays a pretty big role in this chapter, your relationship with Dabi is more consensual this time, mentions of the church, reader is carried briefly, possessive Dabi, smut at the end, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, some brief aftercare.

*ao3 mirror*

***

Autumn seemed like an eternity ago, the cruel, bitter chill of winter seeping into your skin, your hair, your bones, every time you stepped out the door. But, as your mother always used to tell you when you began to worry about something, things will always change, just as the seasons do, coming and going with time and patience.

Before you knew it, the last of the snow and frost had melted away and the first buds of spring had started to sprout along the thin branches of the bare trees, the promise that change was indeed on its way.

Though, as much as you looked forward to warmer days, to leisure summers spent picking berries by the steady rush of the river, your mind had been unable to evade the crunchy leaves and fog of dawn that the fall had provided.

Because, what always cut through to light your way through those dark winter evenings were the brilliant blue eyes that had shone through the thick forest, the ones that seemed to glow iridescent as they’d tracked you through the mist.

You hadn’t seen the wolfman since that fateful day— the very same day you’d received the gift of your beautiful crimson cloak, which you usually wore on your way through town, drawing many an envious eye at the saturated, fur lined fabric— yet still he always found a way into your dreams, whether caught in a daze during the day or sleeping deeply at night.

You used to fear wolves. Hate them. But now, that had also changed.

Perhaps, you thought, it had been because you’d survived one, were maybe even confident that you could do it again. Or, the more likely explanation, it was because you’d grown rather fond of one wolf in particular, even if he was more man than monster most nights under the moon.

As you trudged up the hill towards your little cottage home atop the cliff, a wicker basket heavy where it was slung over the crook in your elbow, filled with fresh bread and vegetables from the village market, you replayed that night in your head for the hundredth time.

If you really concentrated, you could still feel his rough hands ghosting over you, taste the smoky flavor of his mouth on yours.

You used it to fall asleep most nights, sometimes your own hands wandering to try and replicate what he’d done, yet it never felt quite the same.

So, immersed in your daydream, you almost thought it was merely your imagination as the echoes of a distant howl faded into your serene, early spring soundscape. After a brief pause, you left your basket by the fence and took off running. Though it wasn’t away from the sound, like you’d been meticulously taught to do.

This time, it was towards it.

You felt a laugh bubbling up in your chest as you raced through the rows of pine, the edge of the forest bordering the small patch of valley that composed your backyard, growing giddy as the howl rang out a second time, closer now.

You used to become so afraid when you heard the distant echoes of a howl, knowing how dangerous and vicious the owner of the primal note could be. But this howl, as it rang out a third time, was laced with the smoky, teasing tones of the wolf you’d met before. It was a sound you couldn’t help but be drawn towards. You’d been hearing it in your dreams for weeks now. And Dabi knew you were coming to meet his call, beckoning you further down the winding paths of the dense woods, eager to see you again too.

The winters here were usually long, but this past winter had proved to be the longest and bitterest of them all. Not as much from the unrelenting weather and so much time forcibly spent inside, but more so from the intense loneliness that had come from knowing, when the snow piled up as high as the latticed windows, neither of you could trudge through the blizzard’s banks in hopes of meeting even if you’d wanted to.

As Dabi heard your quick little footsteps approaching, he had to force himself to suppress a smile, though you thought you caught a glimpse of those sharp, glinting canines as you broke through into the clearing that the secluded little spot hidden between the thicket provided.

Dabi stood there looking pleased with himself, as if he’d tricked you into crossing his path again, but you both knew it had been deliberate. You were just surprised that he dared venture this far from his territory, or rather, this close to yours— the territory of his enemies. He was practically in your backyard, your tiny cottage house still slightly visible in the distance through the thin, silvered gaps among the many tightly clustered trees.

He remained half concealed by the shadows cast down from the canopy, those cobalt eyes shining through the dark like two glittering sapphires before he stepped out and revealed himself to the light of day. And then, well…

Then you really were surprised.

Because the wolfman had shed the first half of his title, it seemed, the distinct ears and tail of the creature that cursed him seemingly absent this time around. Nothing left to remind you what he really was under the pale, scarred flesh of the human he had once consistently been.

“You— What happened?” you blurted out, the grin dropping from your face for a moment, concern and confusion taking its place only to be replaced by naive elation moments later. “What happened to your—? You look human now!”

But before you could get too excited, perhaps thinking that his curse had somehow been broken, Dabi stepped forward and bitterly informed you that he wasn’t cured.

“Full moon was a few nights ago,” he said, rolling his eyes a bit at your obliviousness. “Cycle starts over after a full transformation…” He reached forward, slow and steady this time, hoping you wouldn’t flinch away, and ran his fingers through the black, speckled fur on your cloak’s hood for a second before flicking his gaze to meet yours, cocking his head a bit, and asking, “Remember?”

You’d been so distracted by his sudden, casual proximity to you that it took a moment for what he’d told you about those afflicted with his condition to register, the realization then spreading across your face with a warm blush before fading into a sad, soft melancholy.

“Oh…” you muttered. “Right… Sorry, I—” Your sentence stopped short when you caught sight of his wrist. As he pulled it away from you, you noticed it was marked with several cuts and bruises. Fresh ones. Ones that looked like they hurt.

“What’s this?” you asked, taking his hand back in your own before he could try and hide the injury. “These are recent…” you noted, trying to examine the gashes closer, worry tugging cutely at your brow. “Did this happen on the last full moon? Did the hunters do this to you?”

Dabi let you handle him for a moment, caught off guard by your authentic concern. How often did he allow people to get close enough to touch him? And how rare it was that they’d be so gentle. But when you looked up at him with those big, troubled doe-eyes of yours, dappled sunlight catching on your long lashes and brightening your irises, he flinched out of your reach, pulling his injured wrist into his other hand.

“‘S nothing…” he lied, averting his gaze, feeling vulnerable under your attempted care. “Don’t worry about it.”

Stubbornly— and rather boldly— you reached forward and tugged his arm towards you again, revealing the wounds once more. Dabi swallowed, a slight scowl twitching on his brow, but he didn’t pull away that time. He didn’t dare, lest you never let him feel your touch again.

“Don’t tell me not to worry about it,” you lightly scolded him, gently turning his wrist to examine how the cuts wrapped all the way around, almost like he’d gotten his hand— or, perhaps, his front paw— caught up in some sharp, barbed razor wires. Traps that hunters had set in hopes of catching rabbits and other small forest creatures, no doubt. “This needs to be disinfected and wrapped. Stay here—” You let go of his wrist and were already turning back towards your house. Dabi fought the urge to reach out and grab onto you, not wanting you to leave so soon, even if it was temporarily and also for his own good. “We have some bandages at home. I’ll be right back!”

Dumbfounded as he watched you weave in and out between the gaps in the pines, Dabi’s protests had come to him a little too late. Not that you would’ve listened to them even if he’d remembered to speak. But he just couldn’t believe how much you seemed to care for him after what he’d done.

Because you didn’t even know his name yet. He didn’t know yours. And the last time you two had been in the same vicinity, he’d intended to do you more harm than good.

But, against his own wishes, he’d reluctantly grown his own fondness for you, the roots of the bittersweet plant entangled throughout every bone within him, the flower’s sating venom clouding his thoughts, oftentimes causing him to pace his territory in hopes of spotting a flash of vibrant red through the bleak streaks of grey and white that winter had painted over the woods. He would sniff the air, wishing he would catch a whiff of freshly baked bread and plump, ripe fruits or that distinct, delicately human smell of your skin.

Through the cold and the snow and the long, dark, lonely nights, Dabi could only dream of you, the feisty girl who traveled alone through the woods with a silver dagger and the fur of a killer frothed around her neck. He never imagined that you’d possibly be thinking of him over these last few months as well. But, as he lost sight of your flickering figure amidst the trees, as much as it tore him apart inside to accept the realization, it would probably be best if you two stopped seeing each other at all.

***

The first aid kit was tucked in between your grandmother’s cookbook and the cutting board. Once you’d procured some basic cloth bandages and a glass bottle half full of what you could only guess by the horrid, eye watering smell was pure alcohol, you doubled back towards the front door.

A thought crossed your mind then that it was a good thing neither of your parents were home. How would you explain taking such precious medical supplies? That you’d found an injured deer and wished to help it? If your father had been around, he would’ve just had you lead him to it so he could finish it off and drag it home where part of it would become dinner, the remains brought into town and sold for as many coins as they could fetch.

Unable to keep a beaming smile from lighting up your face, you supposed that you were feeling pretty lucky today. First you run into your favorite wolf and next you’re actually able to help him and make yourself a little useful so—

The moment you swung open the door to exit your home, you stopped short and froze, submerged in a shadow that stretched over the flat stones leading to the home’s front entrance and finding yourself face to face with someone you’d rather not see right that moment, or ever, for that matter.

“Hello,” Keigo Takami, the village’s most infamously charismatic hunter, greeted you with a charming smile. His blonde, wavy locks caught the afternoon sunlight like spun gold and he was bundled up in a tan jacket lined with fluffy cream colored fur— the result of several successful rabbit hunts in season’s past, no doubt. “I was hoping to find you at home. I thought I saw you in the market earlier…”

Your eyes went wide, and as Keigo undeniably noticed this, his smile dropped and the corner of his mouth pulled down into a slightly concerned frown. “I-I…” you stammered, former glee replaced with a nervous grin that spread crooked across your lips. You forced yourself to swallow down the fear, attempting to hide your alarm, lest you look suspicious and let him onto the type of trouble you’d chosen to associate yourself with. So, concealing the supplies under your cloak, you shakily lied, “I was just on my way out actually. Now isn’t really a good time…”

Keigo’s amber eyes seemed to flare with confusion before narrowing a bit, considering you with a skeptical stare. It was then that you saw him for what he really was, more hunter than human. It took every ounce of courage within you not to look away instantly.

Hawks.

That’s what most people called him.

They said he never missed a shot and always brought in the biggest haul of birds every hunt, providing the village with most of its poultry.

But it wasn’t just birds that he had a habit of hunting. It was people too— those the church deemed witches or demons. He was revered by the bishops and townsfolk alike for protecting the town, preventing monsters from lurking too close to the innocents residing behind the tall brick walls.

But you didn’t view him as a hero.

You saw him more as an executioner, for anyone accused was sentenced to be crucified and burned at the stake. He’d made sure of it, and even though he wasn’t necessarily the one striking the flint, he was still the one who helped drag the victims kicking and screaming all the way to the pyre at the center of town.

Even before encountering the wolfman and finding yourself a little more sympathetic towards those the church declared as evil, you hadn’t liked Keigo much. You hadn’t always been able to describe it, but there was just something about him you couldn’t quite read. It gave you a grave sense of unease and caused you to go out of your way to avoid him every chance you got. But, of course, the hunter had caught a glimpse of that red cloak billowing behind you as you’d weaved between the crowds in town and decided to pursue you.

The other women in town would call you foolish for evading his advances, whether they be a request to escort you home or a gift of fresh meat to take to your family for dinner, but you only saw his offerings as a strategy to get closer to his next target, the bait placed in the center of a trap.

Oftentimes, the words your father had used to warn you about traveling through the woods wearing such a bright color popped into your head.

Easier for hunters to spot, he’d said, and predators too.

You reckoned Keigo counted as both.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, eyes flicking down to where your fidgeting hands gripped the bandages and bottle under your cloak, that misleading grin finding its way back onto his deviously handsome face. “You seem…” he paused, considering you in a calculated, callous kind of way, “bothered by something.”

You cleared your throat, putting your hands behind your back and giving your most convincing sweet and innocent smile, even peppering in a cute little giggle for good measure before assuring him, “Oh, no, everything’s fine. It’s just— I really should get going. There’s plenty of errands to run before the sun goes down and I’ve barely even started.”

When Keigo’s expression softened, eyes flickering from cautious back to kind, you instantly knew that had been the wrong excuse to give. “Allow me to help you then,” he insisted, holding the door further open and moving out the way for you to step outside, gesturing with his free hand in the direction he assumed— and hoped— you would start down.

You passed by him, allowing him to close the front door shut behind you, and internally started to panic. Normally, when he caught you unexpectedly, it was somewhere in town. Similar to now, you tried to be polite, though denied him nonetheless.

The other young women would watch with jealousy and scorn as he perched against the wall and conversed with you, wishing to be in your place, knowing full well that the hunter lived a pretty comfortable life when he wasn’t surviving out in the woods. The moment you’d slip past his looming shadow and meekly apologize that you were running late for something, though never specify exactly what, hurrying out of town without looking back, their envy would turn to confusion, but the disdain would only grow as they watched him try to win you over time and time again despite your endless rejections.

As elusive as you could be, however, Keigo was just as stubborn. And now he practically had you cornered, coming all the way to your little house on the hill where he knew you couldn’t escape. Because where else would you go from here, besides back into town where he could follow you? Surely not into those dark, dangerous woods that bordered your backyard. What business could a sweet girl like you possibly have out there?

“What’cha hiding under there, chickadee?” Keigo teased with a chuckle, craning his neck as he came to walk beside you as you automatically headed around to where your meager livestock was kept, hoping that you’d think of a good enough lie in between now and then.

“Hiding?” you repeated, playing dumb. Luckily for you, you were pretty enough that some people might believe there wasn’t a whole lot going on in your head. You liked to use that to your advantage when the situation called for it. “Nothing. I’m not hiding anything…”

Keigo smirked, coming to a stop in front of you before you could reach the low gate of the goat pen, barring your path. “Show me your hands then,” he challenged, raising his eyebrows as his gaze narrowed, trying to act like he was simply toying with you.

But you knew that those playful sounding words were more order than suggestion.

You glanced behind him where the steepled roofs of the village poked over the jagged, pine-lined horizon. It was quite a trek from the town all the way up the hillside to your home. He must’ve spotted you during your grocery run and followed you home. You hated that he knew where you lived. Hated that he felt like he could come up here whenever he wanted.

“It’s just some medical supplies…” you sighed, holding both your hands out in front of you and showing him the bandages and the bottle, knowing you’d lost this battle. Then, hearing the baby goats beginning to bleat, thinking they were going to be fed again upon seeing you, you conjured up the perfect lie. “One of the goats got cut on a piece of wire that broke off the fence,” you explained. “It’s nothing serious. I just thought I’d see what I could do and—”

“Your fence is broken?” Keigo cut in, looking over his shoulder to try and spot the area in question, but you quickly pulled his attention back to you, not wanting your cover to be completely blown.

“Keigo, now isn’t really a good time,” you began again. “I—”

“Let me fix it for you,” he insisted, wearing that arrogant grin as he added on, “Wouldn’t want you and your family to lose your livestock again.”

It had been Keigo who’d oh so generously gifted your family the goats about three months back. Another desperate attempt to try win you over and prove himself worthy to your parents of earning your hand the day you’d finally agree to let him have it. And as he began to turn on his heel to open the gate, you took a frantic step forward, starting to say that you could handle it on your own, but this time what cut you off mid-sentence was a gasp from your own mouth.

You suddenly found yourself falling forward, tripping over the untied shoelace of your favorite brown boots. Though, it wasn’t the ground that your body found purchase on next, but the solid, warm strength of the persistent hunter, his arms bracing you against his broad chest as he tried to help you find your footing again.

And you were so close to him.

Closer than you ever wanted to be.

If the other young women in town could see you now, you were sure their hatred would flare so bright their eyes would turn red with loathing and anyone who witnessed it would report them as possessed.

“Careful there, dove,” Keigo simpered with another one of those irritatingly patronizing chuckles. And you, feeling even more awkward than before, quickly righted yourself and pulled away from his grasp, kneeling down to tie your pesky shoelace while mumbling something passive-aggressive under your breath.

“What was that?” Keigo asked, leaning over you a little further, his shadow engulfing you again from above.

As you stood, however, you flashed another one of those fake smiles you’d damn near perfected and said with your own brand of condescending coolness, “You know, my parents aren’t home at the moment. Don’t you think it’s a little unseemly for a young lady to be spending so much time alone with a man who’s not even courting her?”

That time, when Keigo’s expression changed from arrogance to embarrassment, you felt a sadistic little victory ignite within your chest.

Try talking your way around that, you thought with petty triumph, still smiling like the innocent little angel you pretended to be in moments like this.

“Y-you’re absolutely right…” stuttered Keigo, cool, calm, and collected facade cracking as he cleared his throat and tried to slide back into that smooth, casually charming air of his. “I apologize if I’ve offended you in any way. Though, if you ever find yourself in need of any assistance,” he adjusted his jacket over his shoulders, beginning to walk past you and towards the steep slope that would lead him back to the village, “please don’t hesitate to seek me out.”

With a final nod and a muttered farewell, you watched until Keigo’s silhouette disappeared down the hill. Once he was gone, you unclasped the gold facet on your cloak and left it hanging on the little wooden bench beside your back door, not wanting anyone to be able to spot you taking off back into the woods.

But as Dabi saw you running his way that time, he retreated.

He’d snuck up to keep an eye on you, feeling his heart twist in his chest as he viewed that haughty hunter strolling towards your front door, watched the two of you migrate around to the goat pen, witnessed the way you’d smiled so sweetly for him.

He’d felt a growl rumbling in his chest as you fell into Keigo’s arms, wishing for perhaps the first time since his turning that it were closer to a full moon so his teeth were a little sharper, that he had claws to rip the blonde’s throat out with.

Because, in his absence, you’d found someone else after all, hadn’t you?

Of course she has, he thought as he swiftly wove his way deeper into the maze of pines.

How could he ever fool himself into thinking a girl like you— a perfect, pretty little human— would ever end up with a wretched creature like him?

***

“Sorry it took so long…” you began to apologize as you reentered the clearing where you’d left Dabi, a little out of breath from your sudden sprint. “Ran into an unexpected visitor… God, he’s always—!” But your complaint was cut short as you looked up and realized the wolfman was gone, the rest of your fiery explanation turning to ash on your tongue.

Straightening your posture and slowly pacing the perimeter that the pine created, you wanted to quietly call out his name, but then it once again occurred to you that you didn’t know it.

You doubted he’d respond well to, “Here, boy,” even if he were still around to hear it.

So, a little puzzled but figuring he’d had a good reason for leaving, you placed the roll of bandages and vial of alcohol down by one of the trees’ exposed, mangled roots and headed back home, all the way cursing Keigo for interrupting you.

You didn’t know how long it would be until you saw the cerulean-eyed stranger again, but the next day when you returned to the clearing to retrieve the supplies you’d left, you found them gone.

***

The tavern was rather lively at this time of night, the sounds of rambunctious laughter and drunken arguments overlapping to score its own melody over the upbeat music being played from one corner where the village bard enthusiastically strummed his mandolin.

Amidst it all, Keigo sat at the bar, his head in one hand, fingers absentmindedly combing through his honey locks as he mulled things over, staring down at his warped reflection in the rippling amber liquid that filled his glass. The look on his face was one of strained concentration, as was to be expected when one could barely even hear themselves think in the tiny, overcrowded pub.

The hunter cradled the stein in his other hand, his drink barely touched, another sign he was caught in his own thoughts, wondering what he’d done that had made you hate him so much.

Then, from the other end of the counter, a fellow hunter called out a teasing, “Oh, cheer up, Hawks! And why don’t you finish your drink, while you’re at it! That is, unless you want me to finish it for you!” before bursting out in a fit of laughter, clearly already way past tipsy from the blatant blushing of his cheeks and slurring of his words.

Even though this bit of unwarranted commentary irked Keigo, he forced himself to snap out of his brooding for a moment and throw some playful banter back at his acquaintance, saying in the same cheerfully teasing manner, “I think you’ve had enough, don’cha think? What’s the missus gonna say when I show up at her door with you slung over my shoulder and barely conscious again, huh?”

His friend shouted something back, but Keigo couldn’t quite hear him that time. So, as he was known to do from time to time, especially after a plentiful hunt, Keigo slapped his hand down on the counter and called out, “Y’know what! Next round is on me!” He pointed to the drunk hunter who howled out with the chorus of cheers, and playfully warned with a quirk of one eyebrow, “But it better be your last one!”

After that, the ruckus only built as the barmaids served out full glasses to everyone in the rickety old establishment and the bard began to play another fast-paced, jolly tune. Keigo took the jovial, drunken distraction as his opportunity to slip out of the tavern in search of a quieter place to sort through his worries and woes.

The streets were nearly empty at this time of night, the cobblestones shimmering under the dim lanterns flickering inside their sconces, ground shiny and wet from the quick storm that had rolled in and passed through the valley earlier that evening.

Keigo’s boots tapped down the empty road, wandering aimlessly towards the old water well where he sometimes went to think before a hunt. But then, as another set of footsteps echoed from the opposite side of the street, the hunter stopped and stared into the adjacent alley, watching as an unfamiliar figure stepped out from the shadows and into the dim lamplight.

He squinted, unable to identify the lanky form through the faint glow cast down from the crescent moon, and when the figure stopped to stare back at him from across the street, Keigo felt dread fill his stomach like a flood.

It was the same feeling he got right before he fired off an arrow he knew wouldn’t bury itself in the hide of an elk or the wing of a duck mid-flight, his intuition turned razor sharp after years of studying patterns between good fortune and bad.

The stranger’s eyes flashed a vibrant blue, the kind of electric cobalt that cut through the night. Keigo shifted his gaze to what appeared to be a bag of some kind in the shadow’s hand, getting a feeling the man— if he was even human— was a thief, at the very least.

“Hey!” Keigo called, taking a step forward as he reached for the hooked, serrated knife used for skinning secured at his belt. The blue-eyed silhouette remained frozen on the other side of the street, staying as still as one of the holy statues standing in reverent prayer by the entrance of the church, both of them waiting for the other’s first move.

And then, Dabi took off running, Keigo giving chase.

They wove in and out of the market stalls, Dabi jumping over the counter of the butcher’s stall, Keigo following suit. They chased each other through the town, sprinting over the uneven cobblestones, past the looming cathedral, and closer to the edge of the high wall that surrounded the village.

Dabi let Keigo gain on him, waited until the last second, then darted into the next side alley.

When Keigo turned that corner, however, breathing hard and ready to strike, adrenaline coursing through his veins, he was horrified to discover the dead end vacant.

Cautiously, he ventured further down the narrow nook, thinking the thief had some kind of trick up his sleeve and was waiting for the right moment to attack and make his real escape, but after a few minutes, the hunter came to the conclusion that he was truly alone once again.

Confused and caught off guard, Keigo backed out of the alley with caution, slid his knife back into its sheath once he was sure the threat was gone, and headed home, forgoing his original plan of visiting the well, glancing over his shoulder here and there as if expecting to see that distinct flash of blue from the corner of his vision.

He may not have been too sure about who the culprit had been, but there was one thing Keigo knew without a doubt…

Whoever it was— whatever it was— they certainly weren’t human.

***

The following week, you found yourself back in town to replenish your pantry, marching reluctantly down the hill that morning, praying that you wouldn’t run into Keigo Takami again after that awkward encounter outside your house.

As you strolled the streets, your wicker basket already half full of loose spices stuffed into linen pouches tied up with twine and a couple of apples marbled red and yellow slightly rolling with every stride, you began to feel uneasy. It was almost like you could feel someone’s gaze tracking you, the growing panic of being followed a familiar and dreadful thing.

After paying the baker and tucking the loaf of fresh, warm bread into your basket, you glanced over your shoulder and scanned the moving crowd across the street, expecting to find a pair of golden eyes staring you down or catch a glimpse of that misleading smile that disguised itself as charm. But, with the hunter nowhere in your line of sight, your imagination began to fill in the blanks with other, more favorable possibilities.

You headed further into town, noticed the traffic of people growing thinner, and when you thought no one was looking, you turned down into a vacant alley.

As your steady pace began to slow, a mischievous smile crept across your lips. Because perhaps this familiar feeling of being followed could begin to carry a little more fondness than fear. Maybe it was your favorite wolf sneaking into town for a visit. He struck you as someone who’d take the risk.

But then, hearing footsteps tapping on the cobblestones behind you, rounding the corner into the alley, you turned. As soon as your gaze met gold, the eager grin dropped from your face.

“Keigo—” you nearly gasped, taking a few steps back as he approached closer. He looked troubled, brows furrowed and the corners of his mouth turning down as if he was about to become the bearer of bad news. “What’s wrong? Why are you following me?”

You tried to hide your nerves under a giggle, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes. The hunter mumbled something, said he needed to talk to you, and guided you further down into the alley where you wouldn’t be overheard.

“It’s not safe here,” Keigo began, his voice low and dangerous as he leaned over you, shadows cast over his face and making you more wary of him than you already were. “You need to get home. Stay out of town for a while.”

“Why…?” you dared to ask, the syllable quivering a bit as it left your mouth.

“Just trust me, alright,” he pressed, avoiding your question. “I’ll take care of it, but until then…” He glanced over his shoulder at the opposite end of the alley as if expecting to see the topic of his concern peering around the corner. He let out a sigh, raking his fingers worriedly through his tousled hair, and then wrangled a reassuring smile onto his tired looking face, even if just for your sake.

“I know you’re not very fond of me,” he stated, unable to suppress the sliver of disappointment that slipped through into his voice. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to protect you. So just go on home and don’t worry about anything, ok? I’m going to take care of it.”

Before you could try and fish for more answers, he was ushering you out of the alley, repetitively telling you to go home any time you attempted to open your mouth to protest.

Eventually, you gave up. Gave in. Headed out of the town and towards the hill that led to your home. You looked back once, seeing Keigo standing at the village’s arched wrought iron gates, watching you. Making sure you continued to obey. When you were at the top of the hill, you looked back again, feeling your stomach sink when he was still there, now merely a pin dot of tan and cream and gold. He could see you even from that far off too, your red cloak serving as a beacon to him.

You clutched your basket tighter in trembling hands and swallowed hard. Pulling the cloak further over your shoulders, you turned away, continuing the rest of the way home.

Even when you disappeared around the bend, the village no longer in sight as you peered over your shoulder, you could still feel it. Keigo was no doubt still standing there. Watching. Waiting. Counting the steps he predicted it would take you to reach your front door and get inside.

***

“Oh, you’re back!” your mother beamed, coming over to take the basket from your hands. It had grown heavier with each step up the hill with all the extra anxiety weighing you down. “How did it go?” she inquired cheerily, raising her eyebrows playfully. “Did you happen to run into that nice Keigo boy again?”

You tried to hide the fact that you were, for many reasons, shaken.

“Not this time,” you lied, a nervous grin tugging crookedly at your lips. As you headed towards your room, you said, “I’m quite tired, actually. I think I’ll lay down for a bit,” before your mother could pry any further.

Her good mood faded into gentle concern, replying with a slightly melancholy, “Oh… Alright then…” before leaving you be and beginning to prepare dinner.

As your door closed behind you, the urge to sneak out your window and go running into the woods suddenly became overwhelming.

Because all you wanted to do right now was find Dabi.

You wanted to warn him, just knowing he was somehow involved in all of this, as if he didn’t already know.

But you knew you couldn’t. Not now, anyway.

The next time you had a delivery to run, however, you’d plan to find him.

Until then, you just hoped he and Keigo didn’t cross paths.

***

Five painfully long days later, your next delivery was packed neatly into that old wicker basket and slung over your arm.

The afternoons were growing warmer lately, the sun hanging in the sky just a little bit longer. The buds on the trees were slowly beginning to bloom in tiny blossoms of pink and white and small patches of green were popping up among the faded landscape leftover from the winter’s frosty kiss.

As you’d headed down the path into the woods, you tried to remember where you’d first veered off through the fog last fall, scouring your surroundings for anything familiar, but it was no use.

All you could seem to recall from that fateful day was the flash of those glowing blue eyes that tracked you through the dark and the eerie, echoed humming of your mother’s melody. After that, it all became a jumble of panic and praying to make it out alive.

So you continued on to your grandmother’s house, greeted her with a grin when she opened the door, gave her the weekly update of your daily activities, and helped her make some delicious pumpkin soup before curling up by the fire and reading one of the old fairy tales she kept on a bookshelf while she worked on her knitting.

That’s about where the calmness of your night ended, your worries worming their way into your sleep and sending you into a restless state of tossing and turning, quick flashes of Keigo standing over the bloody corpse of a black wolf pierced with arrows cutting through your dreams on the few occasions you did manage to slip unconscious.

Needless to say, as the sun shone in through the latticed windows the following morning, you cursed the day, exhaustion weighing over you like a heavy quilt. But you knew you had to get up, redress, and head out by noon in order to make it back home before dark.

The sky overhead was painted with thin, wispy clouds, a nice breeze offering a gentle reprieve from the sun’s warm rays. You strolled the path absentmindedly, head hung a little low as you began to think maybe you wouldn’t discover a way to seek out your wolf on your own after all. But then, as if in reply to your despondent sigh as you lazily kicked a rock with the toe of your boot, you heard a rustling sound from nearby.

Instinctively, you perked up and drew your knife, hoping it was just another rabbit or a deer grazing on the freshly grown grass and not something more dangerous or deadly. The moment you saw that familiar shade of blue though, you relaxed your stance and let out a surprised giggle, your furrowed brow smoothing as an expression of relief spread across your face.

“It’s you!” You declared as Dabi stepped into better view through the thick greenery, trudging over tufts of wild fern.

“Who else would it be?” He flashed a smirk, teeth sharp and glinting, but in a way that was more mischievous charm than ill intention.

He looked the way he had when you’d first met, the ears and tail of a wolf plain as day, another full moon undeniably approaching.

“I was looking for you,” you explained excitedly, sliding your dagger back into its sheath and trotting over to meet him. You then shifted your gaze to his wrist, which had healed quite nicely since the last time you’d seen it. But then your cheer began to ebb as you remembered how he’d left you during your previous encounter, causing your worry to regrow anew, the thorny vines of the carnivorous plant scraping against your heart.

Because perhaps he wasn’t as excited to see you as you were to see him.

If he was, he sure was doing a good job of hiding it.

Inside though, Dabi was using every ounce of his willpower to restrain himself. He’d been hoping to run into you too, finally catching your scent as the breeze carried sweet honeysuckle and fresh bread through the sea of spruce and pine.

“I was worried about you,” you admitted, your tone dropping down to a darker octave. “Did something happen? I mean, did you run into the hunters? Kei— I mean, one of the hunters said he’d spotted something dangerous near the town and I was afraid they might’ve seen you and—”

You were talking a million miles a minute, question after question rolling off your tongue before Dabi could even choose one of them to answer.

“Hey— Hey!” He interrupted your rambling, grabbing you by the shoulders and giving you a slight shake. “Slow down—”

“Why did you go into town?” you blurted out, distressed eyes pleading with him. “Why would you take a risk like that?” You were near tears but tried to contain them, a frustrated scowl pinching on your brow. “He saw you! He saw you and now he—”

As your voice broke, you swallowed what remained of your sentence, knowing even one single syllable more would send you into a fit of sobbing.

Dabi’s pointed ears drooped back, a strained kind of concern lacing itself through his scarred face then. He could feel your shoulders trembling beneath his palms, so he cleared his throat, swallowed, and said, “Yeah, I went into the town. I needed food. My supplies were running low and—”

“Why?” you squeaked, shooting him a look of pressing anger, your tears finally welling enough to spill over, droplets rolling down your cheeks in shimmering pairs, the small patch of dappled afternoon sunlight that shone overhead making them glitter like diamonds. “Why didn’t you just ask me to bring some to you? Why would you risk your life like that?” You were becoming more upset by the second and Dabi didn’t know what to do.

He’d never had anyone show such concern for him before. And, while he’d been the cause of other’s tears before, it had never been like this.

“I could’ve been bringing you food every time I ran a delivery to my grandmother,” you told him, words garbled with your sorrow as you tried to wipe away your tears with the edge of your sleeve. “You could’ve just asked me— I was so worried— Just ask me next time—” Your hiccuping sobs were turning into sporadic little sniffles now, and after Dabi removed his hands from your shaking shoulders, he wondered why…

Why had he chosen to withdraw from you when what you probably needed most right now was his comfort, as unpracticed and awkward as it was?

He didn’t want to leave you to cry on your own. What he wanted was to reach out and pull you against his chest, run his long fingers through your soft hair and soothe you— in his own rough around the edges kind of way— as he promised he would never make you worry like that again.

“I’m sorry…” was all he could manage at the moment, averting his gaze from you and glaring down at the ground, frustrated with himself. “I just thought…”

As you drew in a sharp breath, pulling his attention back to your face, Dabi saw you looked more angry now than you did sad. Gravely serious, you warned, “You don’t understand. If Keigo decides he wants to hunt you, he’ll find you. Keigo will kill you. God, I— I thought maybe he already…”

That time, when your emotions overtook you and sent you into a new fit of tears, Dabi didn’t waste the chance. Moving towards you slowly, as if afraid he might spook you like a rabbit that went off running upon the first sign of a threat, Dabi put his arms around you and pulled you into an embrace. It was surprisingly gentle, at first, as if he was afraid you were far more delicate than he already thought you to be and if he held you too tightly you might break. But then, when you returned the gesture, clasping your trembling arms around him, he took that as permission to hug you a little tighter, your ear pressed to his warm chest to listen to his beating heart.

“It’s ok,” he muttered, the words vibrating faintly against the side of your head. His fluffy black tail curled around your back as if to shield you, cradle you, and then he said, “I’ve gone this long without getting caught. You don’t have to worry about me so much…”

Looking up at him, so much earnest concern woven within your gaze, bottom lip still quivering a little as you attempted to hold back another hiccuped sob, you eventually were able to clear your throat and clarify, “You don’t understand how persistent Keigo can be. Once he marks you as a target, he won’t stop until he has your head. He’ll hunt you down and kill you if it’s the last thing he does. That’s just who he is. Please… I just— I don’t want that to happen… Not to you, I—”

“Wait,” Dabi cut in, one brow quirked up in befuddlement, holding you at arms length now, big, rough hands still resting carefully on your shoulders. “So you mean you two aren’t…?” When you stared back at him equally confused, Dabi couldn’t help but crack a crooked, embarrassed grin. He wouldn’t admit he’d been wrong, at least not out loud, but right about now he was starting to feel a little guilty for brushing you off for so long under his own false pretenses.

Once you realized what his unfinished question had been alluding to, you quickly assured him, “Me and Kei— Oh, no. No, no, no, no. I mean, he looks out for me and helps my family sometimes but…” You could feel Dabi withdrawing more and more with every frantic word that left your mouth. Then you said, “He might have feelings for me but I— I don’t want to be with him. I want…” To be with you.

If only you could say those words out loud and truly mean them. But, the fact of the matter was, right now, you didn’t know what you wanted.

In a perfect world, one where you wouldn’t be crucified for having relations with a creature of the night, you probably would pursue whatever had been growing between the two of you without hesitation. But you knew what would become of you, and what would become of him, and maybe even your family too, if anyone, no matter how much you thought you could trust or confide in them, ever found out you and the wolfman had even met.

Dabi seemed to recognize this too— had recognized this a long time ago and had fought against it, then fell into acceptance of it, then gone back and forth between the two until he couldn’t tell one emotion or decision from the other. Even so, he began to remind you, “You know why we can’t…”

You shook your head, feeling the ever looming threat of tears prickling in the back of your nose once more. “I know…” you muttered, burying your face back into his chest. “I know but…” But you still couldn’t help but want it all the same.

“But, y’know…” he raised, some of that unbothered nonchalance bleeding back into his voice, the normalcy of that tone putting you a little more at ease. “At least until you find another human to be with,” he rolled his eyes upon the word as if it were a casual insult, “I’ll be here for you.”

You just wanted to stay like this with him forever, swaddled in his warmth and the scent of pine and campfire smoke. You wanted to live in his world of trees and moonlight rather than your own of cobblestone streets and the deep clanging of distant church bells. You wanted him to take you back to his cabin so you could study all his knick-knacks properly this time, so you could learn about each one and its significance to him.

You wanted to learn his name.

You wanted him to hold you again.

“I can tell my parents I stayed an extra night at my grandmother’s…” you shyly suggested, sounding half-apologetic as if feeling ashamed for suddenly imposing yourself on him. “We can go back to your place and…”

And he could put his hands on your body in all the ways you’d imagined and tried to replicate over all these long, bitter months you’d missed him. You could give yourself over to him completely willingly, forget that he was a wolf and pretend that he was an ordinary human just like you.

For a second, Dabi wasn’t sure what you were alluding to, not used to you being so bold. But, again, it had been a while since you two had last really seen each other. Who knows what ways you could’ve changed, ideas you could’ve come around to, in all that time apart.

And those deceivingly innocent doe-eyes of yours were already starting to drive him crazy, making his mind go to all kinds of dirty, shameless places about his fantasies, the ones he’d concocted during his own sleepless nights, having purposely stayed as far away from you as possible during the seasonal mating urges that accompanied his condition for only the most obvious of reasons.

“Yeah?” he asked, sounding deviously confident now, trying to keep his tail from wagging in excitement about what this opportunity meant. “Alright,” he nodded, keeping an arm slung possessively around you.

You were his special little human, after all. And if that golden haired hunter wanted to try and take you from him, well…

He’d just have to become the monster your kind was so keen on believing him to be.

***

The cabin was almost exactly as you remembered it, only now, without the haze of trepidation clouding your view, you noticed a lot more details than before. Like the small collection of smooth stones lined up in order from biggest to smallest on one of the shelves, the rocks probably worn from a life spent lounging in a riverbed. You could imagine Dabi pacing the edge of the flowing path, gazing down through the layers of ridges and ripples until he spotted the little piece of condensed earth and reached down into the icy waters to claim it.

There was also an array of what appeared to be little handmade dolls, six of them braided and woven from pieces of long, dry grass in varying sizes— a whole family. It reminded you of the curses that the church warned of witches leaving behind, only, seeing them here, all you could think of was a place, a people, that Dabi could’ve come from before he’d been forced to leave his old life behind.

But, above all else, what really stuck out to you as you scanned your gaze about the place was that it was a lot neater than your first visit. Dare you consider it actually organized. It made you wonder if he’d put a little extra effort into his house chores lately in preparations for a very special guest.

He’d never admit it to you, but Dabi had been preparing to convince you to come back here for a long time now. Nearly six entire months. Making his den nicer for your return had been deliberate, intentional, yet when you made a comment about it to compliment him he just gave a lazy half shrug and an unaffected, “Yeah, it’s whatever I guess…”

He stoked a small fire in the hearth, directing you to the warmest seat nearest to the flames, while he curled up on the beat up old sofa where you blushed to recall he’d taken your virginity, the place where the shared addiction the two of you had secretly harbored for each other all this time had began.

“I can’t believe no one’s found this place yet…” you absentmindedly muttered, leaning in closer to the crackling fire while you continued to look around, even taking the time to study the ceiling, tracing the hairline cracks that zig-zagged through the old foundation like fault lines.

Then, as if forgetting Dabi was even there, you nearly flinched when he chimed in to comment, “Who says they haven’t?”

The look in his eyes was pure, white hot malice. That one expression alone was enough to answer any unasked questions, like what happened to anyone who crossed paths with the cabin? Full moon or not, Dabi was more than capable of getting rid of any witnesses. But you didn’t want to think about that. Not now. Not when you were actually trying to forget your fear and enjoy your experience here this time around.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” you announced, standing from your chair and going to retrieve something from your basket. When you returned, you were hiding it from his view within cupped hands, wearing a smile as if barely able to contain your joy. “These are my favorite! My grandmother makes them this time of year and she sent me home with a ton of extra this time!”

In your hands you held out to him some type of small cinnamon cookies, their sugary swirl sparkling when near the firelight. Once Dabi had a couple in his palm, popping one into his mouth, and you’d retaken your seat to enjoy your share, you sighed to yourself and said, “I’m really gonna miss these some day…”

Your grandmother’s health had slowly been declining over the last few months, her heart and lungs and bones not as strong as they used to be. This past winter especially had done quite a number on her. It was an unavoidable fate you tried not to dwell on but…

“Guess you’ll just have to learn to make them,” Dabi commented, thoroughly enjoying the bite sized morsels but trying not to show just how much. When was the last time he indulged in real sugar? Even during his human years, it had been a rare commodity, his family having too many mouths to feed just for the sake of staying alive to worry about unnecessary expenses like sugar and sweets.

“Yeah, I guess…” you shrugged, not seeming too thrilled with the notion. Then you sighed, “It just wouldn’t be the same…”

When Dabi noticed your melancholy smile, he paused before finishing his final cookie, realizing he must’ve said something wrong. He leaned forward, reaching out one hand to place on your knee in hopes of it offering you some kind of apology, then retracted a bit to himself when he realized he couldn’t conjure any words of comfort.

God, he sucked at this. Even when he was trying to do the right thing, as few and far between as those occasions were, he just couldn’t seem to get it right. He cleared his throat softly, trying to swallow down the lingering insecurities, then said, “We all die someday. But not everyone gets to go as the person they started as…”

Not everyone gets to go surrounded by those they love, either.

And, when Dabi’s final day came to pass, who would be there to bury him? According to the church, demons weren’t buried, they were burned, reduced to blackened ash and then scattered around the village’s perimeter to ward off any other evil creatures that lurked nearby.

But they’d tried to tie Dabi to that pyre and ignite him once and failed. You doubted he’d ever give them the chance to do it again.

“I’m sorry they did this to you…” You nearly whispered, voice airy and broken as you cupped a soft palm to his scarred cheek, gently brushing your thumb over the remnants of the burns and feeling the warped skin glide unevenly beneath your touch. “I’m sorry you have to live out here all alone. That even by going into town they might…” You felt your sympathy for his circumstances swell, threatening to bring tears to your eyes again, so you cut your last sentence short and let the remainder of it linger.

“Stop that,” Dabi said, but there was a guilty kind of smile twitching at his lips. Taking your face in both his hands, he stared you in the eyes for a moment before pulling you close into his chest. He couldn’t hold your gaze for too long when you looked at him like that— like you liked him, like you might’ve actually loved him— with such a fragile tenderness filling your eyes, and for him of all people.

After pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, he kept his lips against your hair and murmured, voice raspy and raw, “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

And even though that was true, whether you’d known him back then or not, it still hurt. It hurt knowing no one had done anything for him back then, that no one had even tried.

“I just wish they could’ve known you like I do. Like this,” you replied, words feather soft yet still splintered with small shards of resentment for the village you came from, the people who preached love and acceptance only to turn around and torch the first thing that they thought didn’t fit in. “If they did, maybe they’d change their minds about—”

“Just stop.” He was more direct that time, a barb of harshness spiking through his words. But when you looked up at him then, you saw the loneliness he tried so hard to hide shining through all that entrancing blue, shimmering like the dewdrops that blanketed the valleys like a veil of glittering lace upon the first light of dawn.

You began to protest, “But it’s not fair—”

“Fair, unfair…” Dabi cut in, his grip on you tightening a fraction. He shook his head, a minute little motion that barely shuddered through you. “What happened is long past any of that. They’ll always see me as a monster,” and so a monster he became. “I can’t control what happens under a full moon,” so killing a couple civilians would only be expected. “The next one’s only a few days away now…” So you should probably hide from him before he ended up convincing you he was a monster too.

But, no matter what he said, no matter what excuses or reasons he or anyone else gave as to why you should keep as much distance between him and yourself as possible, you’d never see him that way. As a monster. As evil. As what could very likely become your untimely end, either by his razor sharp claws and gnashing, pointed teeth, or by the church and their ominous, sacrificial pyre settled at the center of town, just waiting for the next witch to be tied to the cross and burned all in the name of something holy.

It was like this, when you were closest to him, that you feared you’d lose him forever. You realized you had no say whether he stayed or disappeared from your life. Someone like him did as he pleased. But, as hard as it would be to feel his absence again, you thought you might be able to live a little easier with the loss if only you knew just one thing about him.

It was the question that had haunted you ever since you two had first met.

“What’s your name?” you asked, hoping he’d actually oblige you this time. Things had gotten a little more personal as of late. Plus, you didn’t want to be wolfman and little rabbit to each other forever.

He looked at you as if seeing you for the first time, as if he’d finally found the answer to whatever unasked question always seemed to be lying in wait behind his eyes. He said, “You can call me Dabi.”

He had a real name, one from before he was turned, but he’d let that boy burn to ash in the fire along with his humanity. Having to leave his old life behind, he just thought it easier to abandon his old name too.

When he explained this to you, he expected you to press him on it. But you didn’t. You just assured him that, as long as that was the name he wanted you to call him by, it was good enough for you.

“Dabi…” You rolled the syllables around in your mouth, repeating his name a few times until the acquired taste became something sweet and you were beaming that bright, carefree smile at him again.

He cracked a small grin as well. He liked hearing you say his name and he wished he’d told you sooner. And then it occurred to him…

He didn’t know yours either.

So, after you told him and he practiced saying it with his own mouth a few times, the sound of it not as angelic and tender when spoken with his rough, raspy voice as you had the ability to make his name sound with yours, you both realized there was no going back. You were no longer strangers, no longer a stray girl wandering through the foggy woods and the devil come to tempt her.

It was the most intimate moment you two had ever shared. It felt like fresh air on an autumn day, like sinking into a hot bath after walking home in the cold. It felt like home. It felt like never letting go. It felt terrifying and elating all at once.

Eventually, you two even began to laugh together, just repeating each other’s names back and forth until a giggle rose up in your throat and Dabi caught the chuckle like it was contagious. There wasn’t a moment his touch broke from you, and once the frivolity of it all had died down, his hands began to roam, slowly wandering across your soft, warm skin until he had you straddling his lap, head lolled back as he left spit-shined bruises along the column of your throat, intoxicated by the stuttering rise and fall of your chest while you gasped and whined, now able to shape your lilting little mewls into the letters of his name.

“Dabi…” you whimpered, only spurring him on more, causing him to nip you a few times just to hear another one of those adorably delectable little sounds. He could’ve listened to you moan his name all night and never gotten tired of it. And, as your hands began to explore the untraversed plane of his pale, scarred skin, feeling his stomach flinch when your fingertips lightly ghosted over that part of him, little hands eager to reach lower, Dabi felt impatience swell from within him, something dark and hungry rearing its head from deep inside his chest.

“Off,” he growled, the long skirt of your dress bunching up in his rough hands, already attempting to strip you of the garment lest he rip it to shreds. He nearly forgot he had to unlace your corset before he could pull the flowing fabric, today a pale seafoam green with embroideries of white and gold at the hems, over your head and expose your fragile human body to him.

His mouth was already watering, the desire to devour you down to your core quickly becoming overwhelming as his hands made frantic and slightly rough work at pulling the laces of the hickory brown corset sinched in at your waist loose, both of you eager to have you rid of the confining thing.

The moment you became bare to him, he dove back in, his mouth seeking out yours while his hands kneaded at your breasts, your butt, your thighs, and as he continued to leave a trail of fervent kisses across your skin, down you cheek and neck to your collarbones and shoulder, you were wrapping your hands in the fabric of his shirt and trying to pull it over his head.

When you struggled with this particular task, Dabi let out another low, impatient growl, yanking it over his inky spikes and pointed ears and tossing it aside as if disgusted with it. When he looked down at you next, the carnality of the beast inside of him seemed to settle for a moment, his fleeting humanity flickering back to life behind his dilated cerulean gaze to something more tender.

Because you were giving him one of those sinfully sweet smiles, both hands reaching for him, openly beckoning him closer. His movements then slowed, lowering his lips to meet yours for a languid kiss rather than an urgent one that time. Because there was no need to rush now. You weren’t going anywhere. He could finally take his time with you.

Your little fingers were soon clumsily fumbling with the buckle of his belt, trying to undo it but unable to get a good enough grasp whenever he shifted on top of you.

“Off…” you whined, repeating his earlier wishes back to him, only yours came out as a pathetic little plea accompanied by an adorable pout.

Dabi chuckled, going to do as you asked but only getting halfway, the belt unbuckled but still threaded through the loops in his trousers when you sat back upright to place a trail of your own gentle kisses across his bare chest, following the line of his scars like they were a path to guide you. The sensation there wasn’t as heightened as the unharmed parts of his body, but still…

The fact that you weren’t scared of them, weren’t repulsed by the marred flesh, didn’t find the injuries ugly— quite the opposite, in fact, you found that those patches of his skin probably were in the most dire need of loving attention— made his heart stutter behind the cage of his ribs.

He was starting to accept that he wanted more of you than just your body— might have developed actual feelings for you— and that terrified him more than the hunters and the church and being alone for the rest of his life combined. Before he could become too anxious over it, he went back to the distraction of your flesh, one of his hands slipping between your legs and brushing up against where you were most sensitive and aching for him.

“Wait…” you hesitated, pulling back from him just far enough to look into his eyes, the electric blues glowing through the dim darkness that flooded the cabin now, as bright and alluring as the crackling fire beside you. For a moment, Dabi was afraid you’d changed your mind. But then you requested, “Can we go to your room this time? I-I want…”

Well, honestly, you just wanted to continue this on a bed.

Dabi seemed to understand, cracking a crooked smirk and running his palms slowly up and down the dip of your waist, an affirmative hum that sounded closer to a growl rumbling through his chest as he hoisted you up, pulling a slightly started gasp from you, before beginning to carry you up the creaky staircase to where he slept.

In the short time it took to go from the couch to the mess of blankets atop the old mattress that served as the wolf’s nest, you tucked your face into the crook of his neck and tried to memorize the scent of him. He smelled unlike anyone or anything else, and part of you wondered if that indescribable, otherworldly aroma had something to do with his curse. It was addicting, intoxicating, something about it making you feel safe and turned on with just a single whiff. It was more than just the undertones of the pines and that smoky campfire scent. There was something woven throughout the entire smell that could only be described as purely and uniquely him.

Lowering you onto the edge of the bed, after wrapping one of the patchwork quilts around your shoulders as a light shiver skittered across your skin, Dabi slowly let his cock spring free from the waistband of his trousers, letting out a muffled groan through clenched teeth at just how painfully hard he’d become. He then finished kicking off the rest of the garment before climbing atop the sunken mattress to rejoin you. He made sure you were comfortable, surrounded by enough blankets to keep you warm, and pulled the quilt over his back to create a cocoon around you, shrouding you in further darkness and warmth.

Up here, there was only the illuminated glow of a nearly full moon slipping through the gaps in the curtains to see by, the rustling of the newly budding leaves brushing together as the wind swept through the treetops, the distant hooting of an owl echoing beyond the dusty glass of the window panes.

Even in the dark, Dabi could see you just fine. It was, perhaps, one of the only perks of his curse, being able to view things clearly through the cover of night, his cobalt eyes blazing through the shadows.

Until your eyes took their time to adjust to the dark, all you could perceive was the gentle huffs of his breathing and the feeling of his hands gliding over your skin, stopping to knead at the softest parts of you he loved to touch the most.

When he reached your thighs, admiring their velvety plushness between his calloused fingers and palms, you felt your little hole flutter in anticipation, tummy flinching as more arousal pooled thick and warm in the pit of your stomach and began to leak out of you.

Dabi pressed a tender, open mouthed kiss to the underside of one breast, his mouth repeating the sentiment down your abdomen, to the soft raise of your lower belly, working his way down your thighs, your skin pebbled with gooseflesh as a sudden chill skittered up your spine despite the enveloping warmth.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he asked, hot breath fanning over your pussy, leaving a coolness in its wake that told you just how wet you’d truly become for him. “Hm?” he propositioned, the hum playfully lilting in his throat. You could tell he was smiling even without being able to see him clearly just yet, could hear the cruel amusement in his voice when he said, “Or are you gonna make me use force again?”

You tried to swallow down the whimper that was rising in your throat but ultimately lost that battle, your voice breaking on his name as if pleading for him to say it again, to say all the dirty things he wanted to do to you, whisper them in your ear until you were begging him to follow through and prove he wasn’t all talk.

You knew he wasn’t. He’d verified that much the first time around. But still. You wouldn’t mind if he gave you a little preview of what he had planned for you tonight. Although, as you already knew, his words could never compare to the act itself.

As his long tongue lolled out to tease at your swollen little clit, your back arched instantly, overly sensitive to the foreign sensation. And, god, it felt so fucking good. He ate you out like a man starved, not missing a single crease or fold of you, his obscene slurping sounds causing a new wave of heat to surge through your blood.

With his tongue spearing into your tight, fluttering little hole, moaning against you as he felt your cunt clench around the slick muscle, Dabi wrestled your thighs still when they desperately writhed beneath his hold. Every time his nose nudged against your tender bud, you felt yourself already teetering on that dangerous edge. Threading your fingers through his tousled hair, you grabbed a fistful of course ebony and gave a sharp tug, causing another groan to simmer in his chest, Dabi’s eyes rolling slightly as the sound vibrated against your pussy, sending another shockwave of pleasure shooting through you like electricity.

When he pressed his tongue flat and ran it roughly up the length of your soaked slit, you felt yourself tip over that edge.

“Dabi—!” you cried, legs trembling and your head thrown back, mouth hanging open with a silent scream.

Your first orgasm of the night came crashing over you like a wave colliding with a cliffside, unstoppable and almost violent until Dabi helped ease you through it, his face shining with his saliva and your slick when he pulled away, murmuring words of praise to you while his thumbs massaged gentle circles into your hips, tracing the dip of your waist back and forth with nonsensical patterns until your shuddering gasps smoothed over and your quivering figure came to rest.

Your eyes were closed but you were urging him towards you again, lightly grasping his arm to make sure he didn’t stray too far. Dabi used the back of one hand to wipe his mouth, though there was still a mess left surrounding it. He didn’t care. He kept absentmindedly darting his tongue out to catch another taste of you.

“That’s it…” he sighed, planting both hands firmly on your thighs again. “Knew you were my good girl… God… Just look at you…”

You only caught about half of what he’d said, your heart beat pounding in your ears as that saccharine, post-orgasm haze clouded your mind. You were too weak to resist when he spread your legs back apart, exhaling a shuddering breath in knowing that this night was still far from over. You’d just barely recovered from round one before Dabi’s fingers were already dipping back between your soaked folds, spreading around your lingering arousal, some of it already turned sticky on your skin, to stimulate your tender little bundle of nerves all over again.

“That’s it, baby…” Dabi cooed, taking his sweet time to stretch you open in preparation, first inserting one finger to test your tightness, then a second to begin gently scissoring inside of your pulsing pussy. Then, as if only to himself, he sighed, “God… You have no idea what you do to me…”

Because the first time, as good as it had been, had been conditional. It had been selfish. It had been a hunter luring in its prey. Now, the rabbit had willingly returned to the wolf’s den, running towards the sharp teeth and gleaming eyes and ignoring every instinct that told it to run away.

His cock was aching to be inside of you, velvety head blushed a deep pink as a bead of precum glistened like a pearl at the tip. Dabi guided it in his hand to glide between your silky folds, pulling a tiny, adorably started gasp from you when it caught on your drooling little hole.

“Please…” you were eventually begging him, tortured by his teasing ministrations, a thin veil of tears misting your lashline. “Please, Dabi, I need—” A short, broken cry clawed its way up your throat when he unexpectedly inserted a few inches inside of you with a quick, sharp thrust, the sweet sting of the stretch his cock carved out in you flooding you with adrenaline and arousal.

Dabi meant to shoot back with something sarcastic, being a little mean to you a habit he couldn’t seem to entirely abandon, but what came out was a strangled, “You— fuck— Y-you really want it that badly, huh? Greedy little— hng!— Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

You both winced as he pushed in a little further, the way your cunt constricted so tightly around him nearly knocking the next breath from his lungs. You were so tight it almost hurt him to sink in deeper, both of you trying to catch your breath and adjust to the intensity of each other’s bodies.

Dabi shuddered, pointed wolf’s ears twitching amongst all his inky tufts of hair, ribs expanding and deflating with short, rapid, panting breaths. You were gripping his biceps for dear life, nails biting little crescent moons into his thin flesh when you felt him quivering from inside of you, letting out little sounds of pain that blurred into pleasure as he finally began to move again.

“Good… Good girl…” Dabi praised you once you’d relaxed enough to allow him to sink all the way in, wincing when you felt him brush against your sensitive cervix. It hurt less than the first time, but it was still uncomfortable. However, when Dabi began to massage little circles on your puffy clit, still a bit overstimulated from the first round, it helped to take your mind off the soreness growing inside of you.

As he worked you back up, his hips moved in tandem with the pressure he applied to your little hooded nub. “Mine—” he growled, biting down on his bottom lip hard in order to resist the urge to sink his teeth into the tender flesh between your neck and shoulder. “All— All mine—”

When he sensed you were getting close again, his thrusts became more erratic, losing all rhythm until his hips stuttered and stilled, letting out a strangled moan as he filled you to the brim with sticky ropes of his hot, thick cum. You were completely spent, feeling as if your consciousness was slowly drifting away from your body, mind lulling itself into a peaceful, sated state.

You both were caught in a bout of panting in the midst of the come down, bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat and no longer needing all the quilts that encapsulated you. Dabi pulled out and rolled over to lay beside you, wrapping his arms around your shuddering body and pulling you closer into the heat that always seemed to be emanating from his being no matter the situation or the season. He kissed you on the temple and listened to your breathing slow as you began to doze off to sleep.

As he stared at the ceiling, he was incredulous as to how he’d gotten you back beneath him, in his own bed, willingly. Especially after so much time apart. Especially after how he’d treated you the first time you’d met.

Maybe being around you caused him to recall some of his humanity. The notion half comforted, half petrified him, and as he carefully rose from the mattress to retrieve something to clean you with, part of him resented the softness you brought out in him. It wouldn’t last. The moment you were gone from his territory he’d start shifting back into the monster he’d accepted himself to be and you’d go back to being his secret little fantasy, always feeling like a world away despite the fact he could find his way to your cottage home by scent alone.

“I just wish they could’ve known you like I do…”

He pulled the quilt back over your body once he was done tending to you, sitting up to watch you sleep for a few minutes as a thousand different realities flashed through his mind. Ones where he’d never been changed. Ones where he’d become a hunter who could get down on one knee and ask for your hand. Ones where your roles were reversed and ones where he turned you so you’d have no choice but to stay by his side like he’d once done before his maker had been reduced to the decoration around the collar of your cloak.

What the hell am I thinking, he sneered to himself, shaking his head with a quick twitch as if to throw the thought from his brain. He could never damn you to the kind of life he had, burden you with this curse that would never end.

He thought about taking you and going somewhere far away, just fleeing from these woods and going to a place where no one knew you, hiding away in a village that didn’t have a pyre looming at its center, if such a haven even existed.

No, he begrudgingly countered that option, surely that troublesome hunter would follow if you went missing, based on what you’d cautioned about his relentless determination.

However, if he were able to eliminate that threat, perhaps there could be a chance you two would be able to cover your tracks. The full moon was coming. It would be the perfect opportunity to get rid of Hawks. Dabi could already imagine the way his golden curls would look soaked in his own dark blood, turning his hair black under the cover of night as Dabi watched the light leave the hunter’s eyes.

For now though, that would have to wait.

In the meantime, as Dabi lay back beside you and tried to quiet his runaway mind, he began considering what he could scavenge up for your breakfast tomorrow morning.

***

Keigo was swift and soundless as he followed the tracks through the woods. Even in the dark, the brightness cast down by the moon blotted out under the thick canopy of pine, he could make out the pair of curious and distinct footprints that seemed to travel side by side.

One set of prints were heavy and dragged a little, gait appearing lazy at times. The other, however, was much more familiar. They were boots. Women’s boots, based on the size and stride pattern they followed. They strikingly reminded him of the ones you wore— your favorite ones— with the laces that always came untied without you noticing.

Which only meant one thing.

The notorious wolfman must’ve kidnapped you, stolen you in the night like a greedy thief swiping ripe fruit from a kiosk in the market.

Keigo remembered the flashing blue eyes of the silhouette he’d seen in town that night, the man who disappeared into the shadows like he’d been a part of them.

He’d counted his arrows and cleaned his favorite hunting knife that afternoon, intending to bring you back a portion of his most recent catch in hopes of further convincing you that he could provide for you, if only you’d accept the proposal he’d been ruminating on for who knows how long now. But, when he’d made the journey up to your cottage upon the cliff to drop by, planning on earning some favor with your parents so maybe they’d pester you about “that nice Keigo boy who’s always coming to check on you” again, only to be told you hadn’t returned home on time from running your most recent delivery to your grandmother’s house, your poor mother already starting to fear the worst, well…

How could he help himself? Of course Keigo went out looking for you.

And, Keigo figured, even if you weren’t his yet, there was still time to win you over. Perhaps saving your life from a vicious monster would finally be what it took to open your eyes to just how far he was willing to go to care for you.

So, as he continued his strategic trek through the winding woods, almost scoffing at how easy it was to follow the tracks, the perpetrator clearly not paying much attention to the damp weather that had given him away, Keigo made a vow.

He’d rid the village of its oldest myth, its most dangerous legend.

And he’d do whatever it took— kill whoever it took— to get you back alive.

***

(Sorry it took me an entire year to get part two out but here it is! I hope you enjoyed it! Perhaps there will be a part 3 to wrap it all up by next halloween lol. Anyway, until then, I hope you all have a wonderful day and take care of yourselves <3)

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