#but i suppose it isn't the torture i imagined it to be...

[vvelegrin]

me when i see a character poll that features a character from the hit franchise Saw: the hit franchise Saw has characters?

[keeksandgigz]

okay okay, but imagine an older!modern!eddie getting ticked off every time you have your phone on 'do not disturb.'

this was supposed to be a blurb but pls queens turn off your dnd this is loosely based on a true story

eddie munson x fem! reader

word count: 3k

cw: porn with a little plot, spanking with a spoon, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv (pls don't do that), use of nicknames (sweetness, sugar, baby etc), established d/s dynamic (even if there isn't much of it here), no physical description of reader, minors dni, smut below the cut!

Like, it starts off kinda funny like "Honey, c'mon I need you to return my calls if I know you're free. I needa know my girl is safe" he says, voice real sweet. You just apologize and turn it off.

Until it becomes a recurrent thing. He'll call you to ask if you still need to get picked up after class while you're out running errands. You don't see his call until after class and you hurriedly call him to come pick you up.

Or he's at the grocery store to pick up dinner for later and he's texting you to ask what he needs to get for you and you just don't answer him. You don't see his texts.

He tries to call. Voicemail.

He later gets home with whatever he was craving and just starts cooking.

"But I thought we said we were gonna do pasta, Ed? Why're you making chicken?" you ask, literally without a clue as to why dinner plans have changed.

"Well, sweetness, if you don't answer my texts or return my calls how the hell am I supposed to know what kinda pasta you wanted, huh?" he just shrugs, voice a bit hardened. You can tell it's starting to tick him off.

"Oh, shit. Sorry Ed, I don't even know where my phone is, really" you scratch your head, looking around but not really in search for your phone.

"Well, if you didn't have your DnD on you'd know where your phone is once I call or text you. It's starting to get a little frustrating, baby, can you please be a little more mindful and turn off your 'do not disturb' when you don't need it please?" you just nod sheepishly, like you've been scolded for not saying 'thank you' to a gift you didn't like.

And it does end up happening numerous times. Luckily, nothing too insane.

Sometimes he'd ask you if you wanted to call and you just sit there waiting for him to call. After ten minutes, you assume he's gone to sleep (he's a bit old after all), so you turn off your phone and tuck in for the night.

"Why didn't you pick up last night baby? I called you like six times" he asks the morning after.

"Wait, you called? I was waiting for you to call and then you didn't so I just went to bed" you explain, then clocking the issue there. Shit.

"You had your DnD on, didn't you, sweetness?" and he gets close to you. Close enough for you to hold your breath, too entranced by his big presence, filling up every bit of your vision. You feel suffocated by him.

You look down, too much to be looking at him right now, with the aura of calm and cool control that he exudes. It'd be easier for him to swallow you whole than for you to be making eye contact with him right now.

He just takes care of that promptly for you. He gingerly places two fingers under your chin, making you look at him in the eyes.

"You look at me when I talk to you. You know better, don't you baby?" and he puts on this fake pout that makes you blush all over. You imagine the butterflies at the bottom of your stomach tinging a pretty shade of pink with every domineering word that comes out of that man's mouth.

You just nod, he makes a clicking sound with his tongue and teeth, releasing you from the delicious torture of him invading your senses as he takes a step back, letting your chin go before he just goes back to what he was doing.

"Oughta punish you one of these days if you don't turn that damn DnD off" he mutters and then he's back on his computer.

The gruff words make your shaky legs stutter as you decide you cannot be standing anymore and you plop yourself on the couch.

His last straw, however, is when you're out at a club with your friends. You've had one too many drinks and you text Eddie to come pick you up. He has no idea where you are.

Yeah, baby I can pick you up. Where at? 12:34 am

Can't pick you up if you don't tell me where you are, sweetness. 12:42 am

You there? 12:50 am

Turn off your DnD PLEASE 1:00 am

I'm omw 1:03 am

And he pulls up in front of the bar you were helplessly staring out the door of. You're not drunk, just not having fun.

You run into the car, shivering from the biting November breeze.

"Had to call one of your friends to tell me where the fuck you were. Are you drunk?" he asks. Voice stern, laden with what you could only define as barbed wire. Cutting, angry, almost.

"'m not drunk." you mutter "I had, like, a shot, then I decided I wasn't having fun anymore. Didn't wanna go out in the first place" finding the creases and ridges of your hands very interesting all of a sudden.

"Trust me when I tell you you won't be having fun at home either. Fucking sick of that 'do not disturb' thing on. You had me scared to death." he seethes, knuckles tightening around the steering wheel. You notice he's wearing his pyjamas.

Fuck. You made him get out of bed. You shrink in your seat.

"Y'don't wanna be disturbed? I'll fuckin' teach you about being disturbed" and that's the last thing he says before he just speeds home.

There's thick tension between the two of you when he opens the door to his apartment. You sit on his counter, looking at the floor and getting ready for another scolding.

He's leaning on the wall opposite to you, arms crossed.

He breaks the silence "Floor's lookin' clean? You gonna look at me now?" you shiver, then look up to meet his darkened eyes.

He scoffs and takes a few paces towards you, until he's placed between your parted legs.

"What do I gotta do with you, huh? Do I gotta start checkin' your phone to make sure that damn thing is turned off? As far as I'm concerned after your classes you shouldn't have it on at all" he remarks, his hands caressing over the nylon of your tights, toying with the fabric of your dress.

You interject "I just forget, Ed. I'm so busy these days I forget to turn it off" you jut out your bottom lip, trying to coax a bit of sweet sympathy out of him. Something that'll make the punishment a bit lighter.

But he remains unmoved, his lips in a straight line as he moves his hands up, up, up to firmly hold your waist. "So forgetful, aren't you, baby? Maybe you need a reminder, carve some space in that big, busy brain of yours to remember to turn your DnD off, hm?" he chides, playing with the insides of your arm, skin sensitive and waiting as his thick finger moves up and down and you can't help but nod.

Your breath begins to pick up ever so slightly. But he notices, of course he notices. The way your mouth parts and your pupils dilate. The way your chest begins to get closer to him, rising and falling in anticipation.

"So pretty" he teases, his hand moving up to cup your cheek. You lean into the warmth of his palm, letting out a sweet humming sound that makes Eddie's stomach flip despite his hardened facade "Y'wanna play?"

His voice goes to a deep, dark timbre, the question making you shiver. You speak for the first time in what seems like forever.

"Yes, sir" voice thin and quiet as you keep looking at him, not wanting to worsen your precarious position as he undoes the zipper of the short dress you're wearing, helping him out by taking your arms out of the thin sleeves.

"Good girl," he remarks, tapping the sides of your thighs to make you lift your hips, removing the dress off of you completely.

He licks his lips when he finds you're wearing tights. He loves spanking you with the nylon barrier between his hand and the soft skin of your ass. A weird quirk of his.

You feel the hardened pressure of his bulge against the inside of your thigh as his body turns to litter a trail of kisses over your jawline and you keen into his touch, arch towards his chest demanding more, more, more. Even if you're in no position to demand anything.

A whine escapes you as you keep arching your hips towards him. Eddie's quick to stop you with a strong hand pinning you down against the marble of the counter. He tuts.

"Don't be greedy. Hop off and bend over" he commands, and who are you to say no to him as you comply with a meek "Yes, sir," resting your elbows on the cold counter.

His nose skims the length of your spine, taking in the way you smell. Sweet and musky, after a night of dancing among sweaty bodies. The thought intrudes Eddie's head. Did a body press itself against you? Is the scent of a random man now on the skin of your back, the fabric of your dress?

He shakes the thought away as he reaches the waistband of your black nylon tights.

"Pass me that wooden spoon, will you, sugar?" he says sweetly, snaking a hand in your hair. You shiver as you reach for the wooden utensil in the metal bucket next to the stove. You pass it to him, skin pricking up from the anticipation of not knowing what he might do with it.

"Thank you, baby" he kisses your shoulders, as the spoon comes into contact with your ass. Caressing up and down.

"Now, I hate to do this, you know me, but I gotta teach you a lesson, sweetness. Tell me you want this" he says, the utensil snaking its way between your legs, rubbing back and forth. A wicked smile appearing on Eddie's lips when you begin to helplessly whimper, your head lolling on its side against the marble counter.

"I- I want this" you say, loud enough to make him hear you.

And that's all he needs. A green light.

The wooden spoon lands on the meat of your ass. You hiss. The feeling is new, he hadn't spanked you with anything aside of his hand before, but the feeling of the wooden handle cracking on your skin makes your head reel.

"You gonna put your phone on DnD again?" he asks, a question he knows the answer to as he cracks down the spoon again.

"Ah- ow- No, sir. Thank you, sir" you say, sweet and compliant, hoping that it will relieve you of your penance earlier than he'd planned to.

His hand sneaks itself on the seam of your tights, knowing you never wear panties with them, feeling the heat radiating off of your core, a dampness that had been sitting there since you'd climbed in the car.

He chuckles to himself, a dark laugh, a notice that he will not go easy on you tonight.

"You're likin' this?" you can almost hear the wicked smile in his words. "You little slut, you're getting wet from this? Me smacking you with a spoon?" he taunts and your legs quiver as he administers two more cracks to your ass.

You have cotton in your ears. Your skin feels everything and nothing at the same time as you begin slumping against the counter.

"So horny you can't even stand, huh, sweetness?" Eddie smacks you again and then reaches his arm around your waist to pull you up "Little slut didn't want me to disturb her, hat true?" he asks, another smack, this time he expects an answer.

"Fuck- ow- no Eddie that's not-ah" another smack "t-true" you sob, tears beginning to well on the waterline of your eyes.

Your ass feels on fire while Eddie puts the spoon down next to your head. Your legs shaky in your heels as he kneels between your legs.

Two of his fingers hooked on the seam of your tights as he rips a hole in them, exposing you to him. You gasp, more at the suddenness of the motion than at the action itself.

Your tights never had a long enough lifespan when you wore them around Eddie.

"You got so wet, sweetness." He whispers, entranced by the way the skin glistens in the dull kitchen light.

His hands hook around your waist to keep you still as his face narrows into your pussy, and he begins to lick.

Broad stripes of his tongue, slurping and lapping up whatever he missed. Eating like a man starved.

Your back arching to get more, more, greedy in the best way possible as you mewled and cried for him to keep going. As you mewled and cried nonsense, feeling your brain turn fuzzy and your eyes becoming accustomed to going to the back of your head every time his tongue lingered long enough on your clit.

When he begins to suck harshly on it you have no choice but to grab the back of his head and push it further, if there ever was a further, as he is wedged deep between your legs, eating you out like his life depended on it.

He doesn't like it, though, the way you grab and push at his head like you're the one calling the shots.

He unhooks his arms from your waist momentarily to reach for your wrists to pin them behind your back, that's when he stands from his place in between your legs.

"Y'think you're a big girl, huh? Callin' the shots?" he lands a smack on your ass, turning you around to finally face him. Hands still pinned behind you as he pushes you towards him.

"I didn't- I don't-" you try and justify yourself, but he just delivers a smack to your face. Light enough to give you a slight sting.

His chin glistens with your slick, and you can smell it on him.

"Look what you did" he says, taunting you. His free hand comes to squeeze your cheeks, making you look at him.

"Clean me up, since you wanna be so fuckin' messy" and he squeezes harder, your tongue jutting out to lick at the clear wetness on his face, slight stubble scratching your tongue and chin. You lick around his mouth, under his nose, until he pushes you away from him.

"Greedy, greedy" he chants, as he places you on top of the counter, cold marble a relief against your aching ass.

You could clearly see the outline of his cock against his sweats, you bite your lip as he inches closer to you. “Look how hard you made me, baby," he mutters, low and dark "it’s impossible to be in your presence when you look like you want to get fucked all the time." he continues "Goin' out in that tight little dress like you don't want everyone to see your pretty tits" he says, grabbing a handful through the bralette you're wearing.

He moves the cups to the side as he toys with your tits, a hand reaching into your mouth to wet his fingers. You gag and sputter around his digits.

"Theeere you go, sweetness. Y'like having your mouth full?" he asks, Hardened stare urging you to answer. You nod and let out a weak hum in approval as his fingers keep pushing in and out of your mouth.

He removes his fingers from your mouth as he begins circling the sensitive buds of your nipples. You let out a desperate moan.

"So sensitive, aren't you? You wanna cum like that while I fuck you?" he asks, and you can't find the words fast enough to nod your head yes.

"Ask me nicely. You know better" he says sternly as he uses one hand to lower the waistband of his sweats, letting his cock spring free.

"F-fuck, pleasepleaseplease, fuck me, sir" is all you can muster, before he guides his cock to your entrance, sinking in all the way to the hilt. A gasp escapes you. It never gets old.

"That's a good girl. Wasn't so hard, was it?" he teases, both his hands returning to deliver their ministrations on your tits, thumb unforgivingly grazing your nipples. The motion makes you scream as Eddie sets a quick pace.

"That's right, sweetness, keep singin' for me. Lemme hear that pretty voice" he says, his words making you clench around him.

His hands come off your tits to place your legs on your shoulders, making you curl in on yourself as he leaned his body to make your faces touch.

"Kiss me, baby" and you kiss him with such fervor and need. He hadn't kissed you the whole night. You don't know how much you need him to kiss you until you do and it's like fireworks are going off behind your hooded lids.

His tongue slips past your lips as he keeps thrusting, unforgivingly, hitting your g- spot every. single. time. You whine into his mouth, he chuckles at how needy you sound.

"My baby just needed a good fuck to remember to not put her DnD on, didn't you?" he taunts, an especially harsh thrust follows as you feel his breathing become more ragged and his pace begin to stutter.

"Feels good, huh? Shit, baby you're so tight" he begins and you can't help but moan.

"Feels good Eddie- huh- so... so deep" you hiccup, and you feel close. "Hmm so ah big" you groan as your eyes roll to the back of your head when a particularly well- angled thrust deliciously hits your spongy walls.

"You like that, sweetheart? God- fuck- so gorgeous, baby. Look at you" he rambles. He's getting close.

"Oh fuck, Ed, 'mclosesoclose" you cry out and you're seriously teetering on the edge of orgasm. A few more thrusts and you'd be gone.

"Me too, sweetness, c'mon cum for me" he thrusts a couple more times and the coil snaps. You're clenching and whining and screaming his name while he follows after you, finishing inside you.

He stays there even after he's done, laying his head on your sweaty chest while you both try to stabilize your breathing.

"Feel free to disturb me whenever you want" you say, and he chuckles, giving a soft kiss to your shoulder.

taglist: honey-flustered, fracturedarkness, them-cute-boys, ancientcrone-blog, eveybitch, everythingtodayisthoroughly, jennathinker, @vampysstuff, rubyirene, floriscus, mrsmarch64, fairymunson, capricornrisingsstuff, sole-screws, helloweenfiend, flaminggarbagepail, @squigglebottom, @cozmiccass

[wilchur]

Isn't it a bit odd that Gortash is the only one who had no idea where tf Durge disappeared off to? Between him having to be there during the raid to crown the brain with Durge and Ketheric, and Orin showing up right after all like "I'm the Chosen of Bhaal now :)" I find it hard to believe that he not only didn't realise something must've happened to Durge down there, but that he also did not investigate their disappearance at all? It literally takes like 10 minutes to go through the whole thing and Orin did not hide their "body" at all. And yeah "we promised to not meddle in each other's affairs" blah blah, but he spent A Lot of time in the colony after the raid playing with his pickled brain jars so is it really meddling if Durge was literally a 3 minute walk away, being opened and closed like a reusable Ikea ziplock bag over and over again?

So my headcanon is that he had no idea when exactly the attack happened because Orin took Durge's form right after the deed was done and kept the disguise on for as long as she could. By the time Gortash (running on 2h of sleep a day and sheer force of will, making sure everything Goes According To Plan) finally figured out what was going on, it's been too long to pinpoint the exact moment "Durge" began to act off and know where to look for their body at the very least. Plus it's not like he could put the entire scheme on pause just to go chasing ghosts, Durge would not want him to.

And I think it fucked him up a bit, that he took too long to notice and lost his chance at maybe preventing the entire thing from unraveling. I think that "we promised to not meddle in each other's affairs" is either a lie or him trying convince himself he couldn't have done anything anyways.

Now imagine a Durge that is not an idiot, that dug through every nook and cranny of Moonrise and the colony in search of answers and knows a lot more than Gortash assumes they do since they're supposed to be a full on amnesiac. A Durge that talked to the elderbrain, that read the prayer of forgiveness and recognised their own handwriting, and that learned from Balthazar's notes right next to it that this Enver Gortash they so admired spent considerable time there while they were being tortured endlessly just on the other side of the fleshy corridor.

Imagine that instead of "Orin betrayed me, and you did nothing to help me then." they would say something more along the lines of "You call me your nearest and dearest, your favourite, but I know you were right there when Baltahzar's necromancer played with me like a doll for weeks and did nothing to help me." and just watch this man disintegrate from the psychic damage in real time.

[blueicequeen19]

Camping Trip

Warnings: Somno, non-con, unprotected sex, creampie, JJ stealing Rafe’s girl, Rafe claiming her anyway 😮‍💨

I didn't want to come on this camping trip but my girlfriend insisted. The idea behind it was appealing; kayaking through the marsh, partying, then camping for the night, then going back to civilization. The cops left us alone as long as we cleaned up our mess before we left. All the way out here, there was no need to worry about disturbing anyone else or getting a noise complaint. I think this was their way of letting us get everything out of our system. The drugs, alcohol, and sex never stopped flowing at these events. Out here we weren't Kooks or Pogues. We were all alike and just trying to forget for a weekend. Everyone was out in the open, naked and fucking. Or drinking. Or smoking. It was the wildest weekend of the year. But it was torture for me now.

I couldn't relax knowing that the one person plaguing my mind was here and she was here with Rafe fucking Cameron. We were supposed to have some sort of truce with Rafe for Sarah. She didn't want the drama and the retaliation that always followed. And sense one of the rules for coming out here was no fighting, my hands were tied. For the most part.

When we'd been loading the kayaks on the water, I'd seen Rafe's tent lying on the sand waiting to be packed so I nonchalantly bent down to grab something and sliced the side with my knife before he came back. He was more pissed off over manual labor than to notice the giant hole. It wasn't until a few hours ago that he finally noticed and threw a fit. Of course he didn't suspect me because I was the one helping them set up camp. Rafe wasn't made for the outdoors like I was so he didn't have a clue. And when I offered to let them share our four person tent, he was hesitant but he agreed. Especially after I mentioned the risk of sand fleas from sleeping outside.

Y/N saw through my bullshit though. I could tell with the way her eyes tracked my every move, narrowing slightly when we'd lock eyes. My girl isn't stupid so why is she hanging out with this moron?

It was getting late by the time Rafe was drunk enough to be tolerable. My girlfriend was currently passed out in the tent, her buzz keeping her that way as I crawled in next to her. Rafe's one stipulation about sharing the tent was that the girls slept in the middle. That was fine but I couldn't bear to wake my girlfriend so I left her on the side, maneuvering myself between her and Y/N. Both girls were in their bikinis since the night air was still pretty hot and humid while I had nothing on but a pair of basketball shorts. Y/N had laid down a while ago but Rafe was passed out by the fire, where he'd stay for now.

I let my eyes descend her body, marking every detail to memory from the scar on her hip to the freckle on her chest. I want to lick every inch of her the cum on her face. She was exquisite and fucking mine.

I moved closer so her side was pressed to my chest, her hand next to the raging hardon in my shorts. I lost myself in watching the way her tits rose and fell with every breath before I finally pulled each scrap of material to the side to reveal her perfect nipples. They were already hard as I gently blew air across them. She didn't stir so I began to circle one with my point finger, willing it to get as hard as possible. I move to the next one, training my eyes on her face while making sure to listen for movements outside. Her thighs clenched together before falling open, welcoming me as I finally flicked her nipple with my tongue.

God, she tasted good.

I was so hard it hurt and her hand was against my dick, the ultimate form of torture. I didn't stop licking and sucking her peaked little bud until her head fell to the side, exposing her throat to me.

I felt like such a fucking creep but I couldn't help it. This girl made me crazy. I needed her in all the worst ways. Everytime I fucked my girlfriend I had to imagine it was this girl just so I could get off. It was wrong but I was only with her to make Y/N jealous.

I leaned into her neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her skin and the shampoo in her hair. I resisted the urge to mark her pretty throat. Rafe would lose his fucking shit and the truce would be over if I left a hickey on her. It was tempting but I pulled back just as she stirred again and her hand brushed against my cock. I sucked in a breath through my nose before reaching down to free myself from my shorts. My cock rested against her hand and I watched as precum wept from the tip, onto her delicate fingers.

I grit my teeth before reaching down to wrap her hand around my cock and slowly use her hand to jerk myself off. I was on the verge of moaning and cumming from this alone so I took her nipple into my mouth again to try and distract myself from the best handsy I'd ever gotten.

Finally, I pulled away and let her hand drop before I moved to the foot of the tent. There was still no movement from outside so I carefully widened her legs further to get a look at her plump, wet pussy, the fabric of her bikini bottoms were damp with her arousal. I positioned myself on my stomach between her thighs and pressed my nose to the fabric, savoring the way she fucking smelled. I needed to get it together or I was going to run out of time.

I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning when I slowly pulled the fabric to the side and found her slick with arousal, just like I knew she would be. She was waxed and so goddamn smooth. I used my hands to open her up and present myself with her clit. The swollen nub was already darkening in color, ready to be sucked.

I stuck my tongue out flat and swiped it from her entrance to her clit, her taste making me almost blow my load right then. I watched her face for signs of movement as I did it again and again. I tried to take my time while I tasted her when really all I wanted to do was feast like a starved man. I needed to die in this pussy.

When I sucked her clit into my mouth and her legs tightened, I stopped, my eyes trained on her unmoving face. I moved lower, teasing her entrance with my tongue and her brows finally pulled together, the first sign of consciousness I'd seen on her.

I thrust my tongue inside her sweet, wet pussy and her toes immediately curled. I couldn't stop fucking her with my tongue. She was so wet that it was running down my chin, onto my chest while it absolutely just poured out of her like a fountain. Finally a soft hum left her lips and I froze for a moment before carefully moving to my knees as I tried to listen for Rafe outside.

"R-Rafe--." She moaned softly, sliding her legs together and turning on her side. Fire blazed through my blood, my hands balling into fists as I grit my teeth so hard, I feared they might shatter. She's dreaming about fucking Rafe.

I didn't think as I rolled her the rest of the way to her stomach and tucked her thong bikini to the side after shoving her legs together. I straddled her body, freeing my cock again and watching it drip all over her nice ass before I guided it through her slick. Pissed off didn't even begin to describe how I was feeling now. It took every ounce of strength I had left to resist the urge to bury my cock in her in one hard thrust but I didn't.

I eased the tip in as I leaned over her back, blood filling my mouth where I've bit my lip. The tight, wet heat of her pussy washed over me, her walls already pulsing as she pulled me in deeper. I leaned down next to her face, moving her hair out of the way as my pelvis became flush with her ass, and kissed the shell of her ear.

"Who's cock is inside you right now?" I can't help but growl, as I start to roll my hips back and forth. Her breathing picks up, her body reacting to mine as I fuck her with short thrusts, attempting to avoid the slapping sound of skin on skin. Her hands fist the sleeping bag next to her head and I grin before looking between our bodies to watch my cock pull out covered in her white, creamy substance before driving back inside her. I lower myself to her back and drag my tongue up her spine, leaving goosebumps all over her skin as I find her ear again.

"Who's fucking you right now?" I growl, her pussy walls quiver hard as she nears her release. Fuck, I'm right there too. I need to pull out. Rafe can't know I was here or I risk throwing away the truce between the Pogues and Kooks but fuck, I don't think the devil himself could stop me right now. A darker part of me wants to mark her insides with my cum just to claim her then watch it drip. Fuck what Rafe thinks.

I cover her hands with my own, her fingers immediately locking with mine in a tight grip. Every inch of her is drawn tight as she approaches her release, her brows pulled together as she fights to maintain the ruse of being asleep. I want to fuck her harder, faster, but I know we’ll get caught if I lose control.

"I should roll you on your back and make you watch as I fuck my cum into you. Sluts like you deserve to be filled up and left." I keep my voice low in her ear and a small gasp leaves her lips, her eyes finally fluttering open to gaze up at me. I'm not sure if she's afraid or pleading. Afraid I'll stop or pleading for me to continue. She looks hot regardless.

"I--." Her whisper is cut off as she cums hard, practically soaking us both as her eyes roll into the back of her head and she trembles beneath me. I growl, driving myself into her harder as cum shoots deep inside her whether I want it to or not. I grab a fistful of her hair, my mouth at her ear as I cum and cum and cum. It's so much that I can't stop.

"Look at me. Look at who's fucking you, who's cum is inside you." I snap in a low voice but she shakes her head, refusing to look at me.

"Look at me or I'll stop. I know you're gonna cum again. Open your fucking eyes and say my name." Her lips tremble just as her eyes snap open and another orgasm washes over her. The fire in her eyes morphs to one of raw desire just as her lips part on a breathless moan and I hear what I've been dying to hear all night.

"J--." Her mouth clamps closed again as she shakes hard beneath me. I fuck her through it until my own body is shaking from overstimulation and I have no choice but slow to a stop.

Her eyes are heavy for a few moments before they narrow on me, that fire back. I lean in to kiss her, wanting to feel her lips just once but she turns her head, jutting out her chin.

“My cum is leaking out of you and you won’t kiss me?” I rasp in her ear, feeling her body tighten and my cock jerks inside her.

“I hate you.” She bites out, watching as I slowly pull out. I can feel we’ve made a mess and for a few seconds I can’t find it in me to give a fuck. I don’t want to pull out. I’m not ready for this to be over. If anything I want to keep going until the sun comes up and we have no choice but to face Rafe.

“You can hate me all you want but you loved every second of it.” I grab Rafe’s towel and clean her up the best I can before she slaps my hand away and does it herself.

“You’re a piece of shit. I thought you were Rafe.” She hisses, grabbing one of Rafe’s shirts and yanking it over her head, her eyes glancing at my sleeping girlfriend that I’d forgotten about.

I open my mouth to argue when I hear steps shuffling in the sand right outside the tent. There’s the distinct sound of vomiting and gagging as we both scramble to right ourselves and appear to be sleeping. I give her my back and quickly throw my arm over my sleeping girlfriend just as the zipper is pulled back.

“Fuck.” I hear Rafe grumble as he drops down on the sleeping bag next to me. There’s shuffling and I hear her gasp. My teeth grind together at the sound of their heavy breathing. He’s so drunk that he’s gonna fuck her with me in here, not even realizing she’s already full of me.

“Rafe..” I hear her whisper then she gasps as he no doubt buries himself inside her.

“God, you’re so wet. Miss me, baby?”

[villainousauthor]

hi! i love your writing!!!! would you like to write about a hero who went undercover at the villain’s base and they fell in love? maybe they’re afraid that the villain will torture them for information after finding out their identity, but in reality the villain is still in love and possessive of them?

Hero's hands twitch at their sides, a sweat starting to bead on their face. They try swallowing, anxiety making their mouth dry. Villain has been quiet for several minutes now, brow pinched together.

Staring at the evidence that exposes Hero's betrayal, the proof of their undercover mission, their face is unreadable. Finally, after what seems an eternity, they speak.

"You've been working against me this whole time." Villain's voice is tight, like a cord ready to snap.

Hero's heart lurches, pulse drumming in their ears and fear making their knees wobble. What would come next, now that their secret was revealed? Torture? Imagining all the ways Villain could inflict pain upon them, making them spill their secrets made Hero shake even more. Death is certainty. Villain would not forgive this.

"I- this isn't- I wasn't..." Hero fails to find the right words, floundering now as they try and steady their voice.

Villain looks them directly on now, and Hero finds the pain in their face, the anger, to be more cutting than they ever imagined.

"Was the...was the way you looked at me fake too? The way you spoke with me, the way you'd let your touch, your gaze linger." Villain speaks with a fire in their voice now, eyes steel, "Was that all fake? Apart of your mission? To make me think you felt something for me."

Flushing hot at the accusation, Hero is quick to defend themselves, throwing their hands up as they try to reason.

"No! Of course not! That...that wasn't part of my mission." Hero speaks now with less fear, emboldened as they speak only the truth.

"I wasn't supposed to develop feelings...but I did." They find Villain's eyes watching them with an indiscernible emotion as they continue. "I won't lie and pretend I wasn't undercover, but how I felt about you wasn't fake."

Hero's cheeks feel warm, as they realize they're admitting their feelings now. To a villain who's likely to torture them any minute now, no less.

Stepping closer now, backing them up against the wall, Villain is silent for several moments. They reach up, grabbing Hero's wrists as they exam their face for any falsehoods.

"You truly have feelings towards me?" Villain finally asks. Hero nods mutely, not breaking eye contact. They feel their heart racing as Villain steps closer.

Villain pulls them by the wrists, reaching for their own belt and quickly binding their arms with a pair of cuffs. Hero has no time to react, and immediately feels their panic rising. Oh no, this must be where the torture starts. The roaring of their own heart is so loud in their ears they almost miss what Villain says next.

"You obviously can't be trusted around secret information anymore, or the weapons room, for that matter. I'll have to keep you in one of my rooms." Villain muses, as they pull Hero along now, not letting them drag their feet.

"...What?" They don't understand what they mean by this. Villain snorts, rolling their eyes.

"Well I'm not letting you go, obviously. Even if wasn't worried about you taking secret info back to the enemy side, I want to keep you here." Villain's voice is lighter now than from when they first discovered their betrayal.

Hero gulps, looking back up at them. "You're not going to torture me?" They ask hesitantly.

Villain barks out a laugh. It's a rough and warm sound, and it makes Hero feel even more weak.

"Of course not. I'm going to keep you here, I'll make sure you're comfortable, but I'll be damned if I'll let you leave me now."

"I don't understand...why?"

Villain pulls them closer by their bound wrists, their chests nearly pressed together now. Hero can feel their breath across their cheek, lips inches away.

"I'll let you in on another secret, my lovely little spy," Villain begins, voice barely above a whisper now. "I've come to love you, too."

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Horror and The Wild [Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] Medieval Fantasy AU (ch.3)

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one.

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| Chapter 3| you're here! AO3 Word count: 3349 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig

The empire has met you with nothing but silence. 

You don’t know what you were expecting – a quiet servant, sheltered just as much as your princess was, you had no idea of what to expect from a place that was supposed to destroy any ounce of drema you still had in your tired, weak body. For all you know, all the people from the empire had beast heads instead of human ones and ran around the cattle like barbarians they are. For all you know, the Empire could have flying carriages and the methods of transporting a message from one person to another immediately – and hoarding that knowledge to themselves, like the egoistic maniacs they are. 

But, the empire is quiet. If anything, it is as normal as your country should be – if only you stepped outside of the castle walls even once to check if that’s true or not. If only you were independent enough to take the Princess by her hand and run away to the wind, searching for adventures. If only you weren’t covered in König’s cloak, sitting heavily on your shaking shoulders, if only your legs weren’t helpless from all the long days of traveling by horse. 

— Not impressed, little princess? The emperor is wild, the emperor is rude, and terrifying. He forced you to sit beside him, pressing you closely against his chest, and you never felt weak in your life. His strong, muscular form is keeping you pinned to him, stopping you from ever attempting to leave. After your last little stunt with jumping from his horse, he held you tighter than ever – by your hand, by your neck, sometimes simply grubbing you by your shoulders and hauling you like a sack of potatoes. He isn’t soft with you, isn't fragile at all – sometimes you wonder if he really thinks that he could treat a princess this way. Makes you think that he already blew off your cover, revealing nothing but endless possibilities of torture. 

— I’m not impressed by architecture that was stolen from other countries, my lord. 

— We didn’t steal anything. They agreed to join the Empire. 

— Like I agreed to marry you, sir? 

— Ja. Something like that. 

He laughs, and you force yourself to look nowhere but forward. He is smiling, and you force yourself to not imagine how his face must look right now – you try to convince yourself that he is ugly, a freaking beast, someone who shall never be called by his name – if he was normal or somewhat handsome, he wouldn’t kidnap you, right? He would just find some other princess and ask for her hand normally. 

 The empire is big, you read about it in books – but the bordering city isn’t as impressive ad you thought it would be. If anything, people here look normal. If anything, the dissonance makes you want to scream. 

König laughs when you frown at his words and pushes you from the horse. This is a small ritual now – constantly having you in his arms, your hands are finding his shoulders in a feeble attempt at steadying yourself. He might be a beast, but you refuse to die a slow and agonizing death from a broken hipbone – you’d much rather find a good knife and…

As a servant, your most important mission is to serve – to help Princess with whatever she may need. And if her illustrious Highness could not make it to the safety of various relatives of the royal family, the only thing you could do for he is to die – so you could proceed to serve her. It would be an honorable death. Much better than screaming in agony under the Emperor. 

Alas, you were here now. The first serious stop on the way to the capital. Your personal road of shame – with your face displayed openly for everyone to see and with your broken, torn dress that was only accented by tear streaks that weren’t drying on your cheeks, you were nothing close to a wife – you were a trophy. Another conquest, another fancy name to the title, and riches that can be extracted from your country. 

Your only mercy is that the Princess isn’t here to witness your shame. Unfortunately, König is. 

— Why are you so nervous, little Princess? You should get used to the sight of your husband’s body. 

The steam filling the room wasn’t nearly enough to cover his naked glory or your broken embarrassment. You would wish for the steam to fill the whole place, to cover every last inch of his scarred, somewhat tan skin. You can see the bronze of his sun lines the way he had so much scarring on his chest and stomach that it’s almost fully white. You find yourself wanting to trace the little scarring – you find yourself stopping and nearly hurting yourself over having such silly thoughts on the matter. 

To your surprise – utter, complete shock as you could not believe what you were seeing – he was still wearing a mask. The wet sack on his face was, indeed, uncomfortable – but you couldn’t even concentrate on the sight as you were too charmed while looking at his…

The water was clear, only filled with some transparent aromatic essence that smelled like metal and some healing elixirs, but it wasn’t enough to cover what was happening down his sculpted chest, perfect waist, and large, thick legs. He is built like a tree trunk, larger than any man you knew – which only made you oh so aware that you will not survive the wedding night. There is no way anything that is close to whatever was peeking from his spread legs would fit into you. Not that you know too much about reproduction anyway. 

— It’s… perverted. To see you like this. 

— Ach, meine Liebe. It’s natural for husband and wife.

— We’re not married yet, Your Highness. 

— Might as well be. I’m not letting you go anywhere. 

Despite his antics and confident demeanor, Emperor was…nervous. A little bit, yes, anxiety creeping to his form while he was too distracted by looking at your scared face and trembling hands – he knows that you’re a princess, a being with a fragile mind and weak stature. You can think that he is ugly – that his body, maimed on the battlefield and belonging to the war, not the bedroom, resembles more of a monster than the one of a husband. 

You can faint right now – he can see the trembling of your hands, the way your lips are quivering and shaking. You were crying almost the whole ride, only stopping to eat or argue with him, and while he adores your pouty face and miserable expression, it only made him understand more just how dangerously fragile you are. 

All the battles he fought, and now he is scared of what his bride will think of him. 

— I’d advise against looking at old soldier like this, Liebe. I might get…ideas. 

He laughs, but there is underlying anxiety behind this laugh. You look at him, blink a few times, heat spreading across your cheeks. You used to bathe the princess, so various toiletries and elixirs are nothing new to your sight. Of course, König doesn’t use rose water and fragile colored salts – his bath smells like pinewood, like blood and metal, nothing you were used to. 

You aren’t sure what traditions the empire has, but you never heard that the wife is supposed to bathe her husband – especially if said wife is a princess. Your hands are used to work, you can almost imagine a princess playing in her marble bath as you go around with cleaning cloth and make sure she doesn’t have to even lift a finger – but you suspect that acting like a loyal servant would only break your cover of a spoiled, treasured creature. 

— Ideas? What are those, your royal…

— Call me König. 

— I won’t call the name of the conqueror. 

— But you’re fine with calling me Your Highness. Full of contradiction, princess. 

You call him like that because it helps you to pretend that everything is fine. That princess is here with you, that you are going to bathe her for the evening, then take on her precious jewels to warm them up before they would go on her body – that you could do everything for her, whatever she needs. That your life still has a purpose other than lying and hoping for a quick death. 

But, König is perfect in the bath – you can’t pry your eyes from his muscles. Not a statue worthy, exactly, because they would spend too much marble on a statue of his size – but you beg to allow yourself to trace his scars, blue veins, little tan lines that were going all the way down his…

— I won’t force you to bathe me yet. 

— I appreciate your modesty. May I leave? 

He laughs, turning away from you. Showing you his back – predators would use it as a sign of assigned weakness, but you are mesmerized by even more scars covering him. Just how can a man survive this many stabs in the back? Almost made you want to put a few new ones, just as a little treat. 

König turns away from you and, with a swift motion of his hand, removes the wet hood from his face. You look away immediately, not wanting to look in the face of a monster – putting human features into your nightmares would break you fully. He chuckles softly, tracing his hand to yours – not allowing you to leave, no matter how much you wanted to simply ran away. 

— Wash my hair first, little princess. This is empire tradition, ja? 

— It’s a work for…

You bite your tongue before you can say “servants”. You tried to play the role of a spoiled brat, and not having to work felt nice – but you can only see the long, wavy red hair running from under the hood, free of containment. You want to touch the fiery locks, play with them and put some flowers inside – the urge to care for someone, to do your job as a royal dog, is rooted deeply in your body. 

— A wife must serve her husband, no? Come on, put your royal hands to work. — I believe you have servants for this. 

— I do. And I want you to wash my hair. — It’s really…

— I’d love you to wash some other things, in that case. My hair isn’t the only thing that is long. 

You gulp, trying desperately not to slap him. König is crude, like an old soldier – because he is one, as you are reminded constantly. Not a fragile and attentive prince from your dreams, but a horrible monster who’d love to simply use you like a freaking…a freaking something. His wife, you’d say before, but the princess and royal consort won’t be used like a lowly servant. Nothing in your soul stirs again, washing him whole – and this is why you’re nervous. The desire to serve is going to break your cover. Break you.

God, his hair is beautiful. 

Long and thick, ginger with hints of early silver – you could touch it the whole day, trace every lock, and play with loose strands. Maybe putting them in braids, just about a billion of them – he’d look perfect with touches of gold and bronze, with something to accent the beauty of his hair, something for…

God, you almost started to like him. Or, more naturally, his hair. Same thing – and terrifying at it. 

You gently flush his locks with warm water, feeling the softness under your fingertips. This is a job you’re familiar with – you braid his hair with surprising ease, playing with the softness as much as your heart desires. If you close your eyes, you can almost pretend that you’re with your princess, cheering her up with some silly stories and fairytales you both were reading like a holy book. If you close your eyes, you could almost pretend that the world will end when you open it. 

But, the emperor – your emperor, if nothing would happen to prevent it – wants you to look at him. But, he is securing his face with a second, thinner mask that doesn’t intrude into the process of washing his hair. You don’t ever try to peek at his expression, too terrified of him actually having scales and furr – even though you can see his skin fully, and it doesn’t resemble the one of a monster. 

— Don’t close your eyes, little princess. 

— How could you…

— Good soldier always pays attention to his surroundings. Water is a perfect mirror, meine Dummes Mädchen. 

You don’t know what he just called you – and, quite frankly, you couldn’t care less about the opinion of a person who kidnapped you, who endangered your princess and tried to force her into marrying him, an old bastard of an emperor, the worst person imaginable, the…ah, but he does have great hair. And you are just a sheltered lady in waiting, frail maiden with no prospects of romantic love – even as much as stealing a glance at the stable boys when you were of their age would make Princess incredibly jealous. 

Now you have the full attention of the one whose hand in marriage was the most feared and the most desirable – and you don’t know whether you truly want to dismiss it, or to give it a…ah, no, you’re daydreaming again. Perhaps all this work on his hair made you delirious, made you think he may actually be a decent human being. To hell with him and to hell with his gorgeous, fiery hair. 

Hair that you…already made into a thick braid. You were thinking too much, dwelling on the past like an old lady of the castle – and now, the nostalgia for having to braid princesses’s hair is almost unbearable. You took the aromatic oil – even more pine with a rich, expressive scent that made you wince. 

Emperor laughs, a little rumble coming from his chest. He touches his hair, thick fingers going into even thicker locks. You were expecting to be killed for such frivolity – then you remember that, oh god, you are not a servant anymore. Husbands have their ways of disciplining disobedient wives, as you think from rare romantic books you were able to get from the library, and you don’t even want to imagine what those ways could be. 

— You’re good with your hands. I wonder what else you could play with. 

— I can play lyre and piano. 

— Ach, what about flutes? 

The implication makes your cheeks burn. You can’t tug his hair in fear of the punishment, so you simply huff in frustration and start dropping oil beads into his hair. It’s a surprise for such a manly and strong soldier to have scented oil in collection for his bath – if anything, you thought he would be a murderous beast who never takes a bath and prefers to wash his hair in the blood of his enemies. Alas, he smells of pinewood and clean water – you force yourself not to push his hair up to your nose, inhaling his essence. So different from the rose oils and flower extracts you were using for the Princess, but…perhaps you miss your old life too much. 

König stirs nervously in the bath. He knows that having a scented oil for his hair and body isn’t something that he usually does – his manliness is coming up with little cries of frustration every time he smells the essence on his skin. It’s not something a soldier should not – maintaining his hair in empire fashion, long and wavy, is hard enough, taking too much time to prepare in the morning, and comes as a horrible challenge in battles – but he sees the way your face lit up when you took his hair into your hands and, well…god, he is getting sappy over a little princess. It might just be his downfall. 

He is anxious about your opinion of him – not because he thinks you really have a choice in marrying him, but because he doesn’t want you to hate this marriage. He got quite a few concubines who loved his rank and even more enemies who hated his guts yet were still available for pleasure – but you, his dearest bride, shouldn’t hate him. Not too much, at least. 

— What do you think? 

— About what, Your Highness? 

You speak those words so quickly, it’s a surprise for him. Is the king, your father, so strict that his beloved daughter had to always address him by his title? Do you hate König so much that you force that abyss between you and him with ease at the click of your tongue? 

Your hands are good with washing his hair, your manners are excellent for someone who grew up spoiled and pampered – he thought that he’d have to spank the brattiness out of you and buy your affection with expensive gifts, but so far, you were just a sassy mouth and smart tongue. 

You are…weird, for a princess. Really, really weird. 

— About the essential oil. Not so soldier-like, ja? 

There is nervousness in his voice. It’s absurd – he had fought countless of battles, but he is scared of what this spoiled girl can think of him. He is the ruler of the largest empire on the continent – yet he is as scared as a little boy just stepping into knighthood. You’re making him soft, and he almost wants to drown in your touches, eat from your hand and force you on your knees so he can bury his head between your legs and show you what a real treat feels like. 

— I don’t think there is anything wrong with smelling good, Your Highness. Unless you appoint your fighting abilities with smelling like a wet dog. 

— You like it. 

— I am fine with it. As far as I’m aware, I should not touch your naked body before the wedding. 

— You’re lucky I adore your pouty face too much to whip you. 

— I’m glad that I’m lucky then. 

He can’t take it – not with your adorable expression and shaky hands, not with how tender you were with his hair, like he was made of glass. He is the strongest fighter in his country, the one who managed to capture dozens of terrible supernatural beasts – yet he never had anyone touch him so…softly. Your fingers are delicate, your touches are gentle, and he feels almost fragile. None of the rare concubines ever came as sincerely in their desire to please him – even when mixed with hatred. 

He grabs your hand and pushes you to the bath with him – the expensive nightgown he had gifted you when you came to the bordering Empire city is now heavy with water. You whimper immediately, all the sass escaping your body when he first touches your collarbones, your wrists, traces your burning face, and forces you to look at him. König almost rips his mask from his face, only stopping because he wanted to show himself at the wedding – as to not ruin the surprise. 

You try to run from his hold, wet clothes clinging to your body, revealing way more than you wanted to – every curve and trace of your figure is now open for him to devour. His burning desire is evident in the water – so you don’t look in between his legs, deciding to simply turn away even as he pushes you closer to him. Like a little kid, and you feel…

This is so like the old times, with Princess and her little pranks – and you can’t help but sob into his chest, the overwhelming recognition that nothing will ever feel quite the same as before. He soothes you with a hand on your back, making you hide your face in his chest and cry to all your heart’s content – the smell of pine wood filling your nostrils, further speaking on how utterly alone you are. 

You sob in his chest, allowing your emperor to touch you as he pleases. For some reason, you find comfort in this. 

[blarshwritezz]

Could you write a yandere worshipper with a god darling? The darling isn't a benevolent god and requires bloody sacrifices but they are willing to offer anything and everything to them. I would imagine a scenario where the god descends on earth for the first time and he gets to meet them, what would they do? An obsessive, extremely delusional yandere that believes they are meant to be the darling's spouse.

Gender neutral reader and male yandere possibly!

(Can have NSFW or not, whatever you feel most inspired to do)

-🔴🦊

Oh yes! The motivation has me in a chokehold with this one! Also, I was planning on adding NSFW, but got super caught up in the writing and didn't. I'm sorry

Yandere Worshipper x God Reader

M yan x gn reader

TW - obsessive behavior, delusional behavior, blood, torture, murder, harming animals, masochism, manipulation

Before you, his life was miserable. Nothing was worth living for. Everything absolutely pissed him off. Most nights he'd go into the forest behind his home and kill whatever small animals he could find rather than sleep. There was something relaxing about causing something to bleed and watching the light slowly drain from their eyes.

On one of those such nights, he just so happened to kill a rabbit on an abandoned altar. Your altar. He didn't really notice. It just seemed like another abandoned structure. Just a crumbling rock covered in vines to him. Nothing special whatsoever.

Oh how wrong he was. That "stupid rock" was exactly the thing that would change his life.

As the blood of the rabbit seeped through the vines and onto the stone, lightning struck. Odd, it wasn't supposed to rain that night. Regardless, he didn't want to get all wet, that'd be inconvenient. He went home, rain pouring as soon as he closed his door. Lucky timing.

It was nearly 3am, and he had to be up in 2 hours for work. Maybe he should actually try to get some sleep. Only bothering to take off his shoes, he went to the couch and flopped down. Tomorrow was going to be just the same. He closed his eyes, sleep taking him faster than usual.

It was dark. He never feared the dark, but there was something...eerie about this. It seemed like, other than a small area around him, this place was entirely void of light.

Was this a dream? It had to be. But it felt so...real.

The rabbit he had just killed tonight was suddenly tossed to his feet, coming from the darkness. But something was off. It had no blood left. It was completely dried up.

"My, you certainly are disgusting, aren't you?" A voice rang out all around him. "I adore it."

He tried to speak. To ask what was going on. But nothing. Not a sound came out of his throat.

"Let's make a deal." An ominous hand extended from the darkness. "I will give you all your darkest desires, let you harm whomever you want as horribly as you want. And all I ask of you is that you sacrifice their blood to me. Do we have a deal?"

Well, there's a reasons dreams are called as such. The idea of getting to live out his twisted desires freely absolutely was his dream.

Even if this wasn't real, he agreed anyway. He took the hand and shook it, feeling how cold it was. Your grip was brutal and freezing. If this was real, you might have almost broke his hand.

"That's a good boy~" Your voice faded away, drowned out by the sudden wind.

He awoke with a start. It was still the middle of the night. Checking his phone, he found that he only got about 10 minutes of sleep.

But he also found a large, unnatural bruise on his hand. Right where yours would have held it. Was that...not a dream?

He was hesitant at first. As much as he wanted it to be true, life just wasn't that good to him. But that next night, he went back to your altar. The rabbit and its blood were gone. It was too clean for some other animal to have taken it. So he wanted to try something out. He found three squirrels - it must have been a good night - and brought their carcasses to your altar.

And when he came back the next morning, there wasn't a trace of them.

So it was real...it really was! It started simple. He'd hunt small animals and deliver them to the altar. At some point, he even cleared the vines covering it and made sure the area was nice and clean for you. He's been getting frequent visits from you in his dreams. Even if all he knew was your hand and voice, you were growing more and more enticing...and he even gained your trust enough to allow him to speak!

But the little forest critters quickly learned to avoid the area. Some nights, he couldn't find a single thing for you. And so, during one of your dream visits, he begged and pleaded for an answer.

"My god, my perfect god, I am so sorry! No matter how far I go, I can't seem to find enough blood for you! Please, give me an answer! How shall I please you without enough sacrifices?" He was pathetic, down on his knees in front of you. Or at least, where he thought you were.

Truly, your mortal pet was adorable.

"My one and only follower, let me give you the answer..."

When you said it...it seemed so simple. And truly he was flattered.

He spent his days and nights doing exactly as you said. His home turned into more of a church dedicated entirely to you. A church he would get people to join. It was difficult at first. His people skills were lacking, to put it kindly. But with your perfect guidance, he was able to sweet talk anyone into joining your cult church. It was getting so big that he got to quit his job. After all, your new followers were paying him now.

Preying on the weak and desperate made it easy! But of course, he still had to make sacrifices to you somehow until these people could be used. He needed their trust first. So how did he give you blood? Why, by giving you his of course! Just like you said to!

He loved to make blood spill. But he never realized it would feel so good to spill his own blood. If it was for you, he'd tear out his organs and bones one by one until you were satisfied.

He was enjoying himself too much, and everyone could tell. Well, his followers didn't yet know exactly what was going on, but they knew something was wrong. He was getting paler. He was tired and confused, he could hardly walk straight, and he seemed short of breath from simple tasks.

You couldn't have this. You couldn't let your prophet die of blood loss so soon. There was still much work to do.

"You worry me, my devoted follower. How will you spread my word when you're so weak?" Your cold hand reached from the darkness in his mind, your finger gently stroking his cheek.

This was pure bliss. If only he could never wake up. Your cold hand on his face, heat quickly rising in his cheeks. How kind you were to worry for him. That must mean he truly was meant to be yours!

He worked even harder after that dream. Soon enough, you had hundreds of followers! Enough that no one would notice a few going missing. That was when he could finally make big sacrifices to you.

Those who weren't dedicated enough to you payed the price. The basement of his home turned into a lovely little torture chamber. Those who displeased you in even the smallest ways found themselves down there, and never found their way out. No matter how much they screamed or cried or begged, forgiveness was never earned, and therefore neither was freedom.

Some were so pathetic that they even died. Those ones were fun. Such large sacrifices pleased you anytime he dragged them out to the altar. They made you grow more powerful.

It took so long to get here. So much work. He's become unrecognizable. But finally it was time. He'll never forget this dream. He'd never dare forget any of them! He made sure to write them down after waking up.

"It's nearly time, my faithful follower." Your voice, your absolutely perfect voice surrounded him and rang throughout his head.

"Time for what, my god?" No matter what it was, he was eager. After all, you sounded so pleased right now.

"Bring all our followers to my altar tomorrow night. Do as I say."

The word echoed through his mind. You said "our" followers. As in both of you, together. Ah, he really was meant to be your husband! And you knew it too! Clearly, otherwise you wouldn't have worded it like that. You were a very wise god, after all. You would never misspeak.

Or maybe you were just manipulating him, preying on his mad desire for you. He wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

As with all your commands, he did exactly as you said. He would never dare disobey you. They were confused, whispering and murmuring to each other. He was confused too, but that didn't matter. He did what you told him to! He was such a good follower.

Thunder roared above, the wind slowly picking up until it could nearly blow the frail man away. Lighting cracked up above, and rain began to pour. Some of the followers tried to love, not wanting to be stuck in this storm, only to be stopped by sudden cracks of lightning.

It was storming about as bad as it was the first night he "met" you. He kept his eyes on your altar, his hands clasped in front of his chest. Something was about to happen...

Then lightning struck it. Your one and only altar was...not destroyed? An imposing figure sat atop it, the storm dying down.

His jaw dropped as he fell to his knees. It had to be...those hands. This immaculate presence. The sheer fear that struck through his heart. Yes, this was most certainly his beloved god.

While everyone else had looks of shock and terror on their faces, his expression was one of pure bliss. His cheeks were red, a wide grin on his lips as drool dropped down his chin. Your perfection was beyond his wildest imagination.

"Footrest." Your powerful voice commanded, motioning for him to come closer with two fingers. He gladly crawled to you, on his hands and knees as you rested your feet on his back.

He just couldn't stop staring at you. He had to memorize every last detail in case he never sees it again. His absolutely perfect spouse...

"I ought to introduce myself properly. Yes, I am your god. Kneel before me!" Your voice boomed, becoming the only sound in the dense forest. Some of your followers kneeled more hesitantly than others. Those who hesitated...were quickly killed.

Your worshipper was in awe of your power and authority. The way you took those pieces of filth's lives with just a flick of your wrist was utterly divine. He's never seen something so beautiful.

"Those of you who do not dedicate your very being to me...are to die here tonight." You smirked as the people uproar. Did they truly think you were as benevolent as they'd been told? It was their own fault for trusting the delusional man beneath your feet.

It was a massacre. A bloody, brutal, unstoppable massacre. No one was spared. No one but him. They would now be your slaves in the afterlife thanks to their (lackluster) devotion to you in life.

He was absolutely enamoured. He's never seen so much blood. Such beautiful red, so many dead bodies...you most certainly were a good deserving of his complete worship and devotion. It was he that did not deserve your magnificence.

"Now, my devoted worshipper...join me. Plunge this world into utter despair and chaos with me."

"Yes, my god!" He would do anything you wanted! Anything...this world would know your name, and it would be all because of him.

Alright, that was a good one! Endings are hard- also, sorry if there's any errors. It was a long one this time! (Yay!)

[bau-drabbles]

the night we met, part 3

a/n: hope you enjoy! mentions of torture and guns throughout, kinda long and unrealistic but its fanfic so 🥴

what if haley never died that day? but what if your love for hotchner had to?

part 1, 2

"have you found her yet?!" hotch barked the order out as penelope frantically searched through copious amount of cctv footage all at once. several computer screens were open for the team, trying to find a clue on the location of where you had been taken.

"not yet sir" garcia whispered, her fingers practically flying across the keyboard silently begging for any sign where you could've left. hotch tried to reign his anger back in, this wasn't anyone fault but himself. if only he had caught up to you, just 60 seconds before you wouldn't have been here. if only that stupid kiss hadn't even happened, you wouldn't be god knows where getting tortured.

he takes a breath, knowing deep down it's not the time to react emotionally but it's hard not to, it's hard to even think rationally when he knows the likelihood of you surviving wasn't all that great. his profiler brain knew the possible outcome from this wasn't exactly high and with every second his worst fear could potentially become true.

"have you found her?" haley's voice cuts in and hotch shakes his head, his fingers pinching his temple for any signs that he must've missed. it feels overwhelming around him, flashes of people and the sounds of you seeping through his mind. it's dizzying trying to piece together what's real and what's not, flashes of you and that damned kiss is all that plays on his mind. the softness of your lips, the utter desperation between you both, the sheer passion that radiated in waves, all of it. he needed it again, he craved it.

it's even worse when his wife, the mother of his child, the very woman you almost got shot for, is standing there looking at with concern but he doesn't take any notice. he never would've though haley's voice could be so shrill and irritating, he never could've imagined himself recoiling away from her. so he simply doesn't answer her, sighing as he tries to go over the footage with garcia. he should tell her about the kiss but his lips remain closed, not willing to share anything more about you to her.

"well i can help-" "haley please. go home protect jack, he needs one of us" hotch dismisses her, his heart becoming in control of the situation. he can't stand to look at her, feeling so guilty for kissing another woman but even worse because he didn't regret doing it. his only regret was not kissing you for longer. still, hotch knew he was being overly harsh but the pure fear, the worry of you being alone and he wasn't there was enough to send him tumbling into a pit of pure distress.

but he took a breath, now was not the time to become emotional. he had to get his head in the game. the risk of losing you was too much to bear but the thought of you being out there, chained to a devil was enough to keep him going.

"police have set up roadblocks blocking any main exits in the city. if they've travelled, they can't leave the country" jj and emily come in, but the information isn't enough. who knows what the man could've been doing to you by now, who knows what terrible inflictions could've been upon you.

"we've checked any significant location but they've all come negative, the detectives are checking for any last known locations and the camera footage when they leave...." morgan and spencer are next to enter, their shoulders deflating in disappointment and sadness being unable to find you.

"we'll find her aaron" rossi pats hotch's shoulders and though the sentiment is sweet, any hope is starting to crumble and diminish now. you were just here, how could they not find you yet? the bau was supposed to be one of the safest buildings, how could someone so easily take you away like that?? his resolve was breaking and if he wasn't careful, all the feelings that were locked up tightly would begin to spill before he could've comprehended it. the truth he was too scared to admit would be admitted and he didn't know how long he could hide it for

before anyone could respond, a beeping appeared. and there beheld a sight they wished they would never have had to see.

taking a good glance at you, all seven team members found their hearts shattering piece by piece in their chests. a chorus of horrified gasps and exclaims echoed throughout the room and hotch could barely even breathe, the words dying on his lips

"aaaand here we go" you hear a click, the whirr of a computer and it takes you all your strength to awaken. an overwhelming feeling of tiredness practically envelopes your body, how easily you could fall into the darkness that awaits your presence. and then the unfamiliar feeling of being tied up grabs you attention, fear courses through your veins as your eyes open and adjust to the setting. it felt like a hospital room but this was no place where people were fixed. the sickly smell of blood and bleach is strong in the air, its overpowering and nauseating

but you calm your mind, it wasn't the time to panic. you had to think, you had to fight, you had to survive

your vision was slightly blurred looking at the man who held you captive, trying to ignore the intense throbbing in your head. your hands were cuffed to some chain, holding you upright on your feet. but he loosens something and you fall to the ground with a soft thud, vision spinning from the lack of hydration and the beatings he had given you prior.

"ohmy god.... y/n??" a breathless whisper echoes throughout the room and painfully, you glance at the camera. there, all your team members stood in complete horror. you see hotch and for the first time since you had known him, he's at a loss for words. just looking at you with so much pain, so much anger, so much fear.

you could feel your cheeks burning from shame and embarrassment, at your situation or the kiss you didn't really know. you didn't even want to know.

"y/n?? are you okay??? someone tell me she's okay please-" garcia looks on tearfully while morgan comes behind her, guiding her to the computer. truthfully they didn't have an answer to her question but they needed to focus, to keep you alive. and you didn't need to be disrupted, not when your life was at stake.

"that was to prove she's very much alive so none of you have to worry" and just like that you're brought up to your feet again, groaning when the handcuffs pinch the skin tightly. there's so much pain, you can't even pinpoint where it hurts the most.

"what is she dressed in?" someone seethed and you blink in confusion, craning your neck to see your body. it was a black gown you were in, a slit riding up the thigh. it was beautiful, too pretty to be drenched in blood. a stark contrast to the situation you were in now.

"don't worry i didn't change her, i had someone else to do it for me. my prizes have to look picture perfect" he brushes a piece of your hair and you swing your head out of the way, eliciting a kick from him. you don't even cry out, gasping for air at the momentum he had lunged at you with. your hands grip around the handcuffs but it was useless, you couldn't claw your way out of metal.

"you stupid bitch!" his fingers grip your face, you could see just how much his rage consumed him. it was unnerving to say the least, the slightest thing seemed to tick him off. there was no telling what he could do to you in this state

"enough!" hotch grits out, his fingers clenching into tight fists by his side. piece by piece his facade was cracking underneath the unsub's hammer. he couldn't reign in his control this time, not with your life being threatened

"who are you?" you grit out painfully, trying to stop the wave of nausea hitting you over and over. the man doesn't answer, the head of his gun trailing from your chin to the centre of your neck. you hear the click of the revolver and your breath is hitched, wondering if he was really going to kill you this way. wondering if you'd be shot in front of your team that remained helpless on the other side

"i've always wondered what the price was for killing an fbi agent was-" you see the man's cruel smile hit you can't answer, the fear felt overpowering.

"don't you dare" hotch snarls, surprising everyone with the intensity of his rage. and to your surprise, it had worked. the man eyed hotch and with a soft grin, dropped his gun and you felt your lungs take their first breath. tears pricked your eyes, the tiredness was practically swimming in your body but you couldn't crumble. not in front of the unsub, not in front of your team. and especially not in front of hotch.

"i think we should play a game, no?" the man smiles sadistically, pointing to you again. any strength you once held was shattering minutes by minute. your mind and body fighting over one another, wanting to give in and give up but forcing yourself to stay awake no matter what

"leave her alone! i can have you arrested on multiple accounts of-" hotch's face was unreadable, his hands etched tightly around the monitor but the unsub gestures to his mouth, to silence them all.

"if you want her alive, you'll do what i say. good luck trying to pinpoint our location, right now the cell service is bouncing around several cell towers all across the globe" frustrated, hotch looks towards garcia who was working feverishly and she sadly nods, it wasn't a clear location no matter how times she tried to hack into the system. she was hit waves and waves after a firewall which could take hours, time you didn't have to spare.

"so back to the game, who wants to start? oh and if anyone moves," you feel the pinch of a knife resting dangerously on the pulse in your neck.

"one twist and she's on the ground and i'll be miles away. and this would've been all for nothing" he moves the knife down to the centre of your neck. leaving spots of blood in its wake. all of them look helplessly at each other, the unsub had them right where he wanted them and they knew. any slight movement would guarantee your death, any secret calls would have you beaten before they could hang up.

you were all at his mercy, whether they liked it or not

"derek morgan" the unsub peered around the group and his eyes settle on him eerily. morgan gulps a little, trying to calm his shaking hands. his eyes looks at you helplessly then back to the unsub where his gaze had hardened as puts up his profiler front once more

"we're starting off easy, how many years have you and agent l/n known each other" the question was simple enough and yet it felt like he asked into the lions den, suddenly feeling rather exposed and confused. as if any answer to this simple question would be wrong even if it was the truth

"wha-" derek began but he heard a sound of disapproval and your shocked wince as you were yanked back by your hair

"wrong answer" you weren't even given a warning or a countdown before you feel a surge of hot white pain floods through your body. painful screams rip out through your mouth, your hands desperately clawing at the handcuffs but its to no avail. the team stand there panicking, yelling at the man to stop. the pain was intense, you could've almost passed out from the pure agony crippling you

"waitwait wait stop stop!!! it's three!!! i've known her three years!!!" derek shouts, banging the screen and the pain is low dull one, you gasp and gulp for oxygen that never fully reaches your lungs.

"if you had answered the first time around, none of this would have happened would it?" he scowls, giving you a nudge with the stick. you gasp out for air, your tongue heavy on your lips as your body groans against the ties holding you up

"hurry up garcia" hotch commands under his breath to penelope, her eyes watering as she's trying desperately get some location on you. jj and emily help, trying not to look at the horror that was unfolding and focus their attention on bringing you back safely.

"i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry-" morgan whispers, his hands shaking looking to and back from you and the unsub. hotch can only stare with his mind spinning, breathing coming out in short bursts, his heart feeling like it had plunged to the deepest darkest parts of the earth. he's losing his composure and as much as he's trying to reel it back, it keeps slipping from him. leaving nothing but a vulnerable scared man

"how you doing?" the man prods your head and you could only gasp at the anguish flooding your body. if it weren't for the incredibly tight rope holding you upright, you would've collapsed a long time ago.

"doesn't she look so pretty?" he holds your face mockingly and turns so the rest of them can see. every member of your team feel their hearts shattering and splintering, their hitched gasps of panic at the beating.

"agent hotchner" the unsub asked another question, his dark eyes settling on hotch. a manical grin on his lips as he revels in the alarm he has inflicted on the whole team. as if it gives him satisfaction that your life danced in his hands and your team members could do nothing but watch

"truth or dare?" the unsub smirks and hotch looks at you, his stoic facade crumbling. his heart was falling into a million pieces he's not sure he'll ever recover from

"truth" hotch utters, his voice completely free from the cold tone he usually dons.

"do you love agent l/n??" the chain holding you upright once again loosens, and that sends you tumbling to the floor in a broken beaten pile. your heart was racing, partly because of the pain but mostly due to what he would answer. with a good amount of strength, you raise your head and look at the camera. looking at his face, how his eyes flickers with so many emotions and how you can practically see his resolve breaking away

hotch was a good liar but seeing your broken defeated face, being unable to help you, he had answered the question without even realising.

"yes" the murmur was soft, his voice cracking as he takes in your approach. he had caused this. he had done this to you. the promise of protection was nothing more than jumbled words at his feet. he broke the very thing he swore on you, how could ever look at you the same again?

"aww what a cute lil romantic story this has evolved into" the unsub had cackled and your head shook, glaring at both hotch and the man who had held you captive

"there's nothing... romantic about this" your voice was weak but firm, refusing to even meet hotch's eyes.

"shut up" the man had gripped you, ignoring the protest your team were calling. it felt like too much, he held your chin and you look at him, it was now or never. you had to escape, you had to be free.

you had to survive

with one swift move, all your strength goes in knocking him down. he tumbles to the table, breaking the rotting wood with ease. the instruments clatter and you get up, hissing when your abdomen stretched a little. looking down, you see your body littered with blood and bruises. a huge burn mark plastering your side as the dress ripped apart but you didn't have time to feel sorry for yourself when you hear voices crying out that he was attacking again

"in front, y/n!!" derek commands and you duck, making him fall into the table. you quickly grabbing the keys from the scattered objects on the floor, jamming it into the lock and twiddling until you felt a click. the metal loosens and you feel them slipping off, eternally grateful that for once the universe was on your side.

you didn't get time to react for when you look in front, he's there again. but your leg connects with his groin, remembering the training moves you were taught. the force of the kick was enough to paralyse him for a few minutes as he screamed. you looked around, quickly trying to find some keys to unlock the door. your freedom was close, you could practically taste it as you rushed around.

and then you had made the biggest mistake of looking into the camera for a second.

in that second you catch a glimpse of hotch's face, it completely startles you. as if the world had stilled for a fleeting moment and all you see is hotch, just looking at you with so many emotions it's hard to decipher which is the most dominant. how despite everything, you want to hug him and never let go. your body inbetween his arms and your head against his heart, protected against any and all bad in this world. and then you remember the heartache he's caused you, the moment that had led up to you getting captured and every memory is a dagger to your heart. how could things have gotten so wrong?

but it was that moment that was used to the unsub's advantage

you hear screams echoing in the room but you don't comprehend until you feel a burning sensation completely puncture your abdomen. gasping, you look down to see blood gathering at your feet and dripping down your legs and before you even look back up, the object breaks the skin a second time. as if it was all in slow motion, your teams watched the horrific steps play out like a twisted play.

"i told you not to mess with me, you stupid bitch!" he grips and twists the object once more, resulting in a breathless gasp leaving your lips. the pain felt intense, a throbbing sensation overtaking you as you collapse. the horrible sound of your skin being punctures all but echoes in hotch's head, unable to do anything but to scream your name. shocked screams echo in the bau room, penelope's fingers are furiously typing away as she squeezes her eyes, unable to stop the horrible penetrative sound of your skin being stabbed in her mind.

the pain grows worse by the second and your scream dies on your lips, eyes fluttering closed ready to accept and await the darkness that overtakes your consciousness.

"nonono.... no!!!" hotch could barely manage a whisper, banging the screen as if he could magically appear to your aide. but he was simply doomed to watch you as you suffer and collaspe to the ground, breathing quickening. this couldn't be, this couldn't be the end.

you can see him and painfully you turn to watch his face. you don't know what emotions has crossed over his features, he still looks as beautiful as he did the first day you had set eyes upon him. how lucky you were to experience what it was like to be kissed by such a man, to be able to be in the presence of such a wonderful person. your tears had blurred your vision, not out of pain but out of gratitude. even laying on this cold floor, bleeding out, you were purely thankful for him.

he had protected you before and now it was your turn, this way he could focus on his wife and child. you would never be in the way again. there's a hint of the softest smile upon your lips as your eyes close. your fists loosened, limbs becoming limp as you closed your eyes, allowing the darkness to fully encapsulate your mind and body. maybe in a different world, a lighter one, you and hotch could be together against all odds.

the screen fizzles into a black page and hotch barely lets a breath out he didn't think he was holding. his hands have gripped the chairs, he didn't trust himself to stand without the support. he could feel his eyes prickling with the tears as hard as he tried to disguise them, his world was falling apart at the seams and he couldn't do a thing to fix it. all he wants is to be with you but now he didn't even know if you were alive anymore, that thoughts sends him further spiralling in his despair. he wanted nothing more than the ground to completely swallow him whole, the lump in his throat growing bigger as his team members looks at him. partly with concern, fear and pure sadness.

the room was completely silent, everyone's faces covered with a look of pure sorrow and so much anguish.

penelope's tears won't stop trickling down her cheeks. emily and jj look at each other with helplessness, their tears shining underneath the lights. morgan and reid lean against the table their hearts thundering in their chest, completely unable to process what had just taken place while rossi sits by a chair his head in his hands at the pure shock and pain running through him.

"it-it didn't look that terrible, she could still.... be alive" against his better judgement reid offers his support softly. the crushing weight of your absence completely crumbling hotch in a way they've never seen before.

"she was stabbed twice, reid. don't be so naive to think she could've possibly survived that alongside with the beating he had delivered. you above all, should know that much" his voice was harsher than he intended, heavy as the lump in his throat grew bigger. it felt like the air was being cut off, his thoughts ricocheting across from one another as his knees give way and he crashes to the floor in pure defeat and torture. he could faintly feel someone come to his help, his name being called but his mouth refuses to answer. all he can think about, all his mind is replaying is the moment before you closed your eyes. how he wasn't there to help you, how he couldn't rescue you this time.

you could've still been there with them had he been to your aid just 60 seconds earlier. if he had chased you quickly, you wouldn't be beaten and bruised within an inch of your life and now you were... gone. his heart felt like it was being twisted painfully, gripped tight as the thought of never hearing your laugh and seeing your smile became permanent. the dam had broken and the tears spilled down his face, his hands clutching the carpet but to no avail.

what we he supposed to do now, haunting by the memory of you like this? what was he supposed to do haunted with the ghost of you?

[weministertomonsters]

Imagine This #3 - Dragon

You face the huge dragon who clearly isn't intimidated by you and take a deep breath. Bars separate you, but that doesn't mean you're safe. His head rests comfortably on his paws as he stares back. You're in awe of the sheer size of him and the story his body tells; he has a hunch where his back was once broken, tough, leathery skin where scales have been ripped clean off, and pale scars on his haunches from the swords of valiant knights.

He huffs and smoke puffs all around you, stinging your eyes.

"I have been through torture you can't imagine. I have been attacked, starved, beaten, humiliated. What makes you think you will be the one to break me, scrawny thing?"

This is your moment. You drop into a bow and blurt out the words you had been repeating to yourself the entire walk over.

"I am not here to conquer you, mighty dragon! I have come to propose a trade!"

A rumbling laugh of disbelief from the great creature.

"YOU?"

He reaches through the bars and taps the blunt edge of a claw as big as your body ever so gently on the top of your head. You know the dragon is referencing your appearance. You look like you crawled through a ditch to get here. You did and it was the sewers, actually. Breaking into an arena isn't an easy task. Realistically if there's anyone with even the slightest possibility of offering the ancient creature his freedom, it shouldn't be you.

But people constantly underestimate you. You haven't lived this long on sheer luck.

"Yes, me." You straighten to your full height and look the dragon in his golden eyes. "I want revenge with something big and you're the only one who can help me. In return, I can give you your freedom."

The dragon just stares at you. He doesn't buy your offer one bit. You want to press on, but someone is approaching and you have to get out of sight. There's a party going on, which gives you the perfect opportunity to steal the keys to his cage, first of all. Otherwise, neither of you is going anywhere.

However, a mere hour later your plan topples when you get caught. Guess the punishment you get? Death by dragon.

The beast chortles when you are thrown into his cage, looming over you.

"So much for your plan. I suppose I should eat you now."

"Wait! I propose a different temporary trade!" You squeak.

The dragon rolls his eyes and mutters, "Why am I entertaining this?"

You dig around in your satchel and pull out something wrapped in a napkin. Another stolen item you were planning to savor later. Right now, it's your only hope.

"I'll trade this delectable sandwich in exchange for my life," you say with your sweetest, most persuasive grin. "And to sweeten the deal, a set of keys to your cage."

You pull the keys out of your boot. The guards didn't bother searching there, that's how filthy they are.

The dragon tilts his head, considering. He's been locked up for decades.

"You have yourself a deal," he says.

Imagine this duo: a grumpy ancient dragon with a bouncy sunshine sidekick and they end up going on some kind of crazy adventure together. 😫

[criminalamnesia]

Okay okay, now hear me out.

Instead of reader not forgiving them...

They do something that makes the team feel even worse...

They *understand*.

*****

Imagine reader waking up in that hospital bed, squinting at the bright lights above and feeling the cables and tubes and oxygen mask, when they suddenly remember everything.

They squirm against the bed as they hear a deep and soft voice, "Calm down, kid. It's okay."

Price is next to the bed, sitting a distance away in a chair. He looks exhausted, thick circles under his eyes.

(Basically everything that was in the actual fic happens, except when Price begins to apologize, reader instead goes:)

"It's okay Price..." They whisper in a cracked voice.

The room is quiet as Price processes what you said.

They repeat, "It's okay..."

"It's not okay, love," Price says in a quiet demand. "We were wrong... You were framed like you said you were..." he leans back in his chair with a tired and sad sigh. "We didn't believe you and you suffered for it-"

"Captain," they interrupt gently, "I understand why what happened, happened." They drop their head slightly to the side, looking at Price sideways. "It was a tough situation, you couldn't take the risk to trust me. You're the Captain, you have to make tough calls, you have a team to protect. I understand."

Prices brow creases as he frowns deeply, "You were a part of that team. I was supposed to protect you too, why are you not angry-"

"I am angry." They say almost venomously. "You are not an easy man to trick, Price." they state in a slightly louder voice, hoping their voice doesn't fail them. "Neither is... neither is Simon. I know that whatever evidence you were given, was *good*. Believable."

They swallow thickly before continuing, "I *am* angry, but I understand that you needed to remove me from the team, I understand that you had to treat me with caution and suspicion. I'd have done the same..." Their eyes unwillingly starts brimming with tears as they still feel the ache of their injuries. "The torture? Captain, I-" their voice finally cracks and the tears spill.

Price moves to stand up, likely to comfort them, but at their wince at his movement he freezes. He slowly sits back down, clenching his jaw.

Price knows it's not that simple. They were a part of the team, but the boys all turned against them so easily, and instead of doing what they should have, and held them in isolation, let caution take over, they got angry instead. The men let their anger get the best of them to the point of torturing someone they trusted. And Price says this to them, but they shake their head.

"I know it's not that simple sir, I'm the one with the injuries. I know. But you believed it was the right thing to do. It's not fault. You were lied to, and you believed it." they take a breath to calm their tears.

Price looks down at his hands, "We don't deserve this sympathy, kid. You didn't deserve to be tortured for something you didn't do. But you were, we did."

"It's not about deserving, sir. No one deserves anything and I owe no one anything. I get that, but this is a tricky situation-"

"You shouldn't forgive us this easily." Price bites out as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "We don't deserve that."

"Then isn't it a good thing that's my choice to make and not yours?"

Price looks up to meet their eyes as they smile sadly at him.

"And don't call me naive, sir. I can understand that I'm being kinder than I should be. I have the right to be angrier, to scream and curse at you. This kindness isn't naivety. I know that I have the right to be cruel. But just because I *can* be more cruel, doesn't mean I have to be."

*************

(My brain isn't properly letting me write what I'm seeing in my mind, but yesterday I had a very cinematic daydream and the dialog is just not coming to me again, I'm for sure writing it whenever it comes to me again

It just makes me feel like that hurts Price and the team infinitely more, knowing that despite the awful pain the men made reader feel, they're being kind.

The men tortured reader for things they didn't do, refused to give understanding. And here reader is, giving understanding for awful things that *were* done to them

Imagine the psychological impact that'll have on the team, especially Simon, who in this daydream of mine is eavesdropping from just outside the room, because he's too afraid to look you in the eyes.)

oooooo your mind!! it’s so powerful. I could definitely see this as an au scenario in the traitor fic universe!

(also this is what simon wants lol. not necessarily forgiveness, but understanding. understanding that they did what they had to do, what they thought was right (even if it wasn’t)).

[planet-dusk]

i have so many pervy jisung thoughts 😵‍💫 about things he does to his girlfriend while she’s sleeping. the way he touches her, touches himself. a dubcon pervy sungie lives rent free in my mind

feel free to share them with the class, anon. perv!jisung is so so good. honestly one of my favorites. and when he's a bit subby...

🏷️ perversion, dubcon/noncon, panty stealing and sniffing, masturbation, unprotected sex, somnophilia

he'd promised he'd be your good boy. and he tried. he really did. but he'd broken a rule and now he's suffering the consequences: he isn't allowed to touch himself for a week.

it's torture for poor sungie. he's always horny, needs to be inside your pretty cunt as often as he can and on the days you don't have time for him he jerks himself off until his balls are sore.

he steals your panties from the laundry basket sometimes. loves sniffing them while he fists his cock. he likes the lace ones the most; they feel rough against his swollen tip, almost painful when he rubs himself until he cums all over the fabric.

you've noticed your underwear disappearing and when you catch him in the act your punishment is more severe. no more pussy for jisung.

for an entire month.

if he thought not being able to jerk off was bad enough, not being able to get off by himself and not getting to be inside of you is like hell on earth. he'd rather die. but he made a promise. he'll show you he can be good for you.

not even two weeks in and jisung is getting desperate. he isn't allowed to touch you but your body feels so warm lying next to him at night. he can see the outline of your shape in the darkness.

his cock leaks painfully.

your chest rises and falls with every breath, slow and steady. you'll never find out if jisung touches himself a little, so where's the harm in playing with his balls for a bit? he won't cum. he can be strong.

it takes him less than a minute to blow his load.

now the floodgates have opened and things are quickly spinning out of his control. at first it's enough to tug his aching cock while you are laying next to him.

and then it isn't.

so he starts touching you. he slides his slick cock between your thighs and fucks them slowly. he's careful not to wake you even though the friction isn't enough to make him cum. he just needs to feel you.

slipping his cock into your warm, wet hole is only a small step up from the shameful acts he has been indulging in at night. he's lucky you're a heavy sleeper. sometimes he can only get the head in, staying there with his throbbing cock lodged inside your cunt. unmoving. what if you wake up?

he can only imagine what punishment you'd come up with this time.

one afternoon you'd fallen asleep on the couch. your lips were slightly parted, a small puddle of drool forming on the throw pillow underneath your head.

jisung hadn't been able to stop himself. he'd rubbed his cock on your lips, staining them with his precum. he'd nearly blown all over your face when you had suckled on his tip in your sleep. the involuntary reflex made him groan and he'd dashed off before you'd opened your eyes.

one more night left.

he didn't plan on touching you tonight; his punishment would be over tomorrow. he could go one night without. no need to pursue the risk.

but the thrill feels too good.

so here he is again, cock slipping in without resistance. how is he supposed to stay away from you when you're always so wet and warm? even in your sleep.

you're lying on your back while he kneels awkwardly between your legs. adrenaline and arousal runs through his veins as he sinks into you slowly.

just a little deeper.

jisung freezes when your hand suddenly comes up, grabbing him by the throat and squeezing hard enough to have him gasp for air.

"you've been using me as your fucktoy for long enough, baby. now it's my turn."

[spacebarbarianweird]

Mute!Tav Headcanons

This idea has lingered in my thoughts for quite some time. I've come to realize that typical health challenges in the D&D world can often find solutions. Suppose Tav loses their ability to speak, hear, or see due to natural causes. There might be ways to address and overcome those issues in that case. However, what if Tav's affliction stemmed from a curse?

Imagine Tav and Astarion find the cloak of Dragomir. The cloak that allows a vampire to walk in the sun, to cross the running water, and enter houses uninvited? But to get it, there is a price to pay - something equally valuable for the person.

And it's Tav's voice.

No cure, no reverse. You can't return the cloak and get the voice back. Just muteness and the cloak for Astarion to wear

@micropoe10 @glasswatergirl

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion is absolutely heartbroken.

The thing he has wished to obtain appears to be a cruel joke just like any magical object.

It takes you time to adjust to the new condition.

At first, you are happy it isn't something more severe like deafness and blindness.

But soon, you realize how vital speech is.

You can't speak to the people you meet.

You can't talk to the quest givers.

You can't simply say what you want and need, and even writing skills are little help since most people in Faerun are illiterate.

When you realize it, you silently cry, pressing your knees against the chest.

Now, you have the same sorrow Astarion does. Something important is taken away forever, and it can't be compensated.

You cry for hours till Astarion wakes up from his trance and sees you shivering and trembling.

He immediately sits beside you, letting you cry on his shoulder.

Astarion says every affectionate word he can think of.

He says how much he loves you and that he will never abandon you.

But you can see desperation and guilt in his crimson eyes because your condition is his fault.

He could have just accepted his fate as a creature of the night, but no! He wanted to walk in the sunlight!

Astarion misses your voice.

He misses your laughter, bickering, and words of love, which were able to drag him from the darkest void of his tortured mind.

He misses your moanings and whimpers. 

Nights of passion are almost silent.

What is worse, you can't cry for help if something happens, and Astarion becomes overprotective, never letting you out of his sight.

You can't say the incantations anymore.

If you are a warrior or a barbarian, it's not that bad.

But if your life depends on magic, it's as bad as you can imagine.

Astarion isn't always comfortable with you touching him, but well, he has no choice anymore.

The only way to communicate is by touching. Grabbing his hand, patting a shoulder.

He learns how to lip-read, and you master the skill of quick writing.

Plus, you have to work out how to communicate when having sex.

How do you get Astarion's attention if he dissociates again? How do you tell him that he is being too rude to you and you want him to stop?

Sometimes, it turns physical, where you punch him in the stomach to get him to stop for you or his benefit.

You become very affectionate and always stay close to him when traveling.

Eventually, Astarion stops hating the cloak that has caused so much grief and decides to make the most of it.

You travel. A lot. In the sunlight, fearing nothing and no one.

But sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night to Astarion holding you tightly to his undead heart and whispering: "I wish this had never happened to you."

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @aoirohi @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive

[vampcubus]

That post about big men whining makes me think about edging Goku until he’s a sweaty and flustered mess. Just watching him tremble and glare at you for being “So mean!”. Maybe you’ll be nice and let him cum, maybe you’ll make him beg some more. Either way, it’s a win win for you!

YOU GET ME!! 😩 i didn't mean to make a thirst out of this but djhasdkjfsad

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : nsfw, sub!goku, dom!reader (no pronouns or anatomy mentioned), edging, subby saiyans >>>

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 : 0.6k+

Goku isn't the most well-behaved sub by any means, so you almost have to edge him just to get him to take you seriously. There's nothing that makes him whiny quite like being denied pleasure does. Just imagine this beefy Saiyan whimpering into your neck, hot breaths tickling your throat as you tease him with featherlight touches, only sparing him two fingers to stroke the length of him. His cock is flushed so red it's almost purple, leaking heaps of pre and twitching at every scrap of friction you give him.

For once, Goku dares not to buck his hips, lest he'd like you to stop entirely. He was finally beginning to learn, you mused, all too satisfied with his gruff whines so close to your ear. "Y/nnn, c'monnn."

"Hm? Something wrong, baby?" You hum, feigning innocence. Even an airhead like Goku could see through such a farce.

"Wanna cum. Why're ya bein' so mean to me?" The Saiyan huffs, thick fingers clenching in the fabric of your shirt. His bulging thighs tremble with the effort to remain still, to be good like you asked. But your hand is so soft, and feels so good against his cock, he just needs more of it. Your thumb scrubs over the sensitive head, and his whole body jerks.

His tongue licks over his top teeth, eyes rolling back as your hand captures him fully, pumping him from base to tip with a firm grip. He pants against your neck with increasing frequency, thighs squirming inward and shivering. A telltale sign that he was frighteningly close, and just as he approaches the point of no return, you release his cock, letting it slap noisily against his tummy. Goku whines loud and long, a frustrated sigh following as his thick brows pinch.

"Nooo, no please don't stop. Fuck!" His hips thrust into the air, chasing a stimulation that was no longer there. His cock twitches angrily, hips still fucking the air for a few moments longer before he flattens out with an annoyed huff. "I was really close that time."

His dejected tone only makes you giggle and he pulls away from your neck just to give you the stink eye.

"Aww, my poor baby. That was pretty mean of me, huh?" You tease, and he nods despite the lack of sympathy in your tone. The tall Saiyan sits up and then crawls on top of you to straddle your hips, cock twitching against your tummy adorably. Your size difference makes it look a bit funny, but you hardly care, especially when you see just how flushed his face has become.

You rest your hands on his thighs, stroking up and down the toned muscle. His large hand snatches one of yours, guiding it from his thigh back to his cock. You let him wrap your hand around it, pleased by the way his eyes go all glossy at the feeling. You slide a hand down to fondle his heavy balls and your mouth falls open at how big and swollen they've gotten, no doubt a result of your torturous edging. He was ready to burst, you could feel it. He humps into your fist when you make no move to start up again, and you only tut.

"Hmm, well I suppose you've been good enough, haven't you? What do you think, d'you think you deserve to cum?" You hardly get the question out before he's nodding frantically.

"Uh huh, I've been good. So stop teasin' me already... please? please I just wanna cum," Goku begs, mouth falling open when you squeeze his balls and start stroking his cock again, not even scolding him as he fucks into your grasp.

"I'll be good," he babbles and you only coo at him.

"Go on then, show me how good you can be n cum loads for me."

And boy did he. All over your shirt... oh well, you supposed he earned it.

[faith369]

I'll never leave you love

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader (use of love)

Warning: angst, comfort, mentions of death and violence, panic attack (reader), nightmares

Summary: Ghost comes home finding you inpanic and comforts you

Your eyes were trained on the TV, trying not to look at the time and distract yourself from the anxiety that creeped up your spine, but the pounding of your heart inside your chest made it hard to concentrate on the voices coming from the TV. He wasn't home yet. He should be though, you gave in and looked at the clock he should be home for since 6 hours. He's never been late, and he'd write you if he were to be. The anxiety that has been trying to creep up on your body has made its way to your head. Dark, unlogical thoughts start pestering your mind like a house infested by bugs. What if he's lying somewhere in the field, the coldness of death replacing the warmth of his body? What if he's hurt with no one in sight to care for his wound? What if he's being tortured, his screams of pain not reaching ears that care to help? Your heart beat spiked you couldn't imagine losing him, but your head did just that, turning the pestering thoughts into the one clouding thought that he wouldn't come home to you.

Simon watched the numbers of the elevator go up before finally reaching his desired floor. He was supposed to be home a few hours ago, but his flight got delayed, and his phone died on the way back. He thinks about the time when he wasn't keen on going home, but now he often catches himself looking at the time on missions, counting down the hours until he gets to go home and see you again. Trying not to wake you, he carefully turns the keys. The flat is quiet, and all lights are turned off. The adrenaline of the mission is finally washing away, being replaced by tiredness instead. As he slips off his boots and lets the weight of his duffle bag hit the floor, he perks up to hear quiet sobs coming from the living room.

"Love," you turn your head, a wave of relive washing through you when you see Simon, but your mind didn't fully adapt, not even as you get up and grab his shirt, having to feel that he's there. "Hey, what's wrong?" Simon hears your rapid breath and pulls you against him. "It's fine, love". He was worried, and not knowing what happened made it even worse. Violent sobs shake your whole body as you cling to Simon, scared that if you let him go, he will disappear. His hands go to wipe your tears, only now noticing the dark circles under your eyes. "I thought something happened, t..thought you wouldn't come home." Simon knew you were worried sick every time he left for work, even though he often downplayed the dangers of his job. He didn't know just how badly your head makes up scenarios when he's gone or how often you wake up in the middle of the night sweat clamming onto your shirt, waking up from a dream that feels like a glance into the future where he's gone, and you're left with dog tags and a skull mask splattered with blood that for ones isn't from his enemies but rather himself. Simon's' brows furrow. He hates it. He hates the way that he is at fault for worrying you, especially when you almost faint in his arms. "Love, let's go lay you down, and then we'll talk okay".

He doesn't wait for your answer before scooping you up in his arms, carrying you to your shared bedroom, and carefully laying you down on the soft mattress, which bends under his weight as he lays down next to you, immediately pulling you onto his chest. "You don't have to worry about me, love; I'll always come back home to you. You're the only reason I want to go home and stay alive on that field. I think about you when I try to find sleep in safe houses at night, and what pains me more than to be away from you is to think that you suffer under it, so I swear I come home even if that would mean digging myself out a grave.

"Promise" your voice was almost a whisper, the exhaustion of crying and the lack of sleep catching up to you

"promise"

Simon wrote Price that night, after you slept in, taking some time off.

A/N: Follow, like and repost. Requests are open

-Love Faith <3

[noowayybroo]

Snowed In - Yeti!M!Leon x GN!Reader (NSFW)

Merry LATE Chrimmy guys!!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYS!!! (yeah... that went well) guys the fic is very long so I MARKED THE SMUT IN BLUE JUST SCROLL FOR IT

I was brainrotting with my best friend EVER and I came up with a terrible terrible thing (You're welcome) so hear me out, you're camping out in the snow, looking for, idk, self torture, and suddenly you catch the eye of a certain Yeti...

Long story short, he rescues you... eventually, and warms you up inside! I wanted to make this GN because although I am an F who LOVES F fics, I thought it'd be nice for y'all not Fs out there! I'll try keep it short so there's more chance of me finishing it! EDIT: IT's VERY LONG, JUST LIKE HIM!!!

THIS IS INSPIRED BY THE BRAINROTTINGLY NSFW GAME CLOUD MEADOW WHICH I HAVENT PLAYED BUT I WANT TO PLAY!! iN THE GAME THERE'S A CUTE YETI GUY AND HE LOOKS LIKE LEON A BIT, NO?!???!??!!?

guys I tried to edit this like 2000 times and every fucking time tumblr deleted my edit I am going insane but I pulled through for YOU! (eventually)

Honestly guys i'm not happy with this one it by far isn't my best work so read at your own peril. What I really want is for people to love the idea, not the fic, you know?? xx Pls do something with it if you like it! <3

Characters: GN!Reader, Yeti! Monster!Leon Kennedy

Warnings: NSFW, mentions of penetration, kissing, licking, cuddling etc, cumming iinside toooo, Reader is GN for inclusivity, and I've described the sex as P-in-Hole lol. He fucks you and you imagine where ig. !! Leon is kinda monstrous and not too human, and also in the start he kinda wrecks ur camp and scares the shit outta u so if it'll trigger pls dont read. Leon isn't monstrous he;s just big, furry and a bit primal. Kinda switchy / sub leon so at the start he lets you push him around n then he rails u v hard sooo uhhgjjj and also u have no condom dont be so naughty!!! NOT PROOF READ THERE WILL BE ISSUES OK BUT i CANNAE BE ASKED SORRY

Stay safe n happy this Winter!

"Just picture it! The fresh air! All that snow!" A naive relative tells you, patting you firmly on the shoulder. You stare down blankly at the brochure in your hands, all about a family getaway to a ski resort in some snowy, far off mountains. You didn't doubt them when they told you it'd be a good family exercise, but all you wanted to bond with was your warm bed and all the other things you had to do.

Only a week later, there you were. The sigh you let out dispersed into a cloud of white vapour before your eyes, leaving you to gaze upon your surroundings. Before you sat the exact sight from the brochure you held only a week ago, and it was beautiful. Crisp snow crunched beneath each trudging step, snow-tipped pines line each iced hill and valley as far as your eye could see. No longer mere inky blotches on thick paper - the wind howled past, whistling through each tree, and sending shivers up your over-clothed spine.

You learn the hard way that you won't even have a warm cabin and hearth to laze by during your chilly nights as you follow your family to pick up the camping gear they would be renting. You supposed it'd save money, but at what cost? Pneumonia?

And as you're all setting up camp, you can't help recall being at home wrapped up in your warm covers and revelling in the endless wonders of your Tumblr "for you" page. You also can't help feeling as though you're being... watched, and not by fellow campers in their tents.

"There's nothing out here but adorable rodents and birds!" your guide would exclaim for the fourth time now, in a screech which rivalled that of any of the feathered friends he'd referred to. He means to reassure you, and whilst you'd love to trust what he says with his years of experience in mind, you can't help but doubt him.

Eventually, night falls, and after a good few hours around a make-shift campfire sipping hot drinks of your choice, you and your family finally resign to bed. It's freezing, and despite your warmest sleeping-bag and thickest pyjamas, your teeth chatter and your body shakes. But you're convinced to fall asleep. The sooner you do, the sooner the cold fades away. So, eventually, amidst the wind battering your tent, and night-time ambience, you drift off.

You wake with a start, surprisingly warm, but quickly realise you're alone. Oh no. That's terrifying. After trying (and failing) for a good while to get signal (ever the priority (maybe this is too self-insert)), you crawl out of your tent. The sun hangs high in the sky. You were out for a while. Your sigh of relief must be audible once you find a scrawled note pinned to the makeshift seating surrounding your lit campfire.

"Good morning Sleepyhead!" It reads, and you can tell by the writing exactly who wrote it.

"We didn't want to wake you up so we've gone to get some food! Be back soon! xxx"

Well, at least you knew they couldn't be far away. You're not at all ready for the cold winds that begin to gnaw at your skin again so, groggily, you crawl back into your tent. You stretch, get back into your cocoon, and try once more to get signal.

He'd been watching you for a while now. He watched all the humans at the ski resort as they went about their festive holidays, completely unaware of his presence and he wouldn't have it any other way. Once like you, Leon was just like any other man, or government agent. That was until he encountered a strange virus on one of his missions. Years ago now, the virus caused him to significantly grow in size. He became taller and slightly buffer, and began to grow white fur on most of his body. His hair also became white.

Amused, Leon referred to it as the Y-virus (Y for Yeti) to anyone who'd listen, but, afraid of any negative side effects and any testing, hid away in some distant mountains. If you'd see his face, anyone who knew him might recognise him, and he dared not admit it to anyone, but he enjoyed being free, living off of wild animals and things. That, and, any snacks he could pilfer from unattended camps. He enjoyed his tranquil life, but grew to hate the years of loneliness he'd subjected himself to. As time went on, however, Leon slowly forgot what it was like to interact with other humans. And then, he forgot how to speak well too.

He watched as humans had their holidays, and spent time with friends and family. He was content in the knowledge that you were all happy, and, once the people cleared off, he'd investigate the area to see how far humans were developing, and whether he was still in the papers.

He'd been watching your camp too, and he was certain you'd all left. This was his chance to investigate.

You've been laying on your makeshift bed for a few minutes now when suddenly, you make out the soft sound of trudging through snow towards your tent. The footsteps are slow, but you chalk that up to any exhaustion a human would experience after facing the monster of a hill your tent was precariously placed upon. At first, you think it could be family, until you realise there's only one set of steps. It was probably someone on their way to wherever they were going. Nothing concerning you.

The sound approaches though, each footfall sounding loud, heavy and far apart. You'd think they were just walking slowly, if not for the speed at which the volume of each step increases. Before you know it, a large shadow almost eclipses your tent. A male figure. A tall one at that, and he seems to be about to walk straight through your camp.

Bit unnecessary...

Except he doesn't. The man just stops outside your tent. He looks around a bit. Maybe he needs some help, you think. Groaning quietly, you crawl out of bed, and peep through the unzipped door of your tent-

Tall. Really, really tall. At least 6ft. And you're staring right at his ass. And he doesn't... have clothes on.

Before you stands, quite proudly, something you can only describe as a yeti. He's covered from head to toe in thick, soft white fur. He's broad, muscular, and his waist forms a sharp V as it reaches his hips. Even through his glossy, well kept coat, the definition of each muscle and delicious shoulder blade catches your eye. You're terrified, hoping it's just some sort of elaborate cosplay to scare people. There's definitely space for someone to be hiding inside that... realistic suit. Ducking into your tent, you continue to observe with only one eye peeking from the tent, hoping you won't be noticed.

The man begins to look around, two catlike ears upon his head are perked as he scans his surroundings and eventually, he looks in your direction. He's far too tall to even register you while his eyes are at their level, but oh boy do you register him. You drink in his form, and, as he turns, his face. He's chiselled, certainly a sight for the sorest of eyes. His face is simply the cutest, softest almost feline looking one, and his jaw juts out as he analyses his surroundings thoughtfully.

You know how Leon looks, so I don't need to go into detail about the way his piercing blue eyes reflect the sun, shining through his silver fringe. I don't need to describe to you how his fluffy bangs sway dramatically as he looks around, or how he playfully blows a soft puff of breath upwards to clear some stray hair from his eyes.

Fortunately for you, I also don't need to tell you that he doesn't see you. He seems almost in a trance, stepping around carefully, analysing the tents and each miscellaneous object littered around. It seems as though he's checking up on things- the quality of them, the materials they're made of. He seems curious.

And then you see it, a small burst of flame at his right ankle. He's stepped too close to the fire pit. The yeti lets out a startled grunt, jumping into the air like a petrified cat. His hair bristles and stands on end as he tries to stand one legged in the snow, trying to bury his leg to put it out.

Then he loses his balance, the gargantuan man stumbling forward before suffering an untimely meeting with the guy line of a nearby tent. He yelps, trips, and with a loud thud and a few pings, lands face first in the snow right outside your tent. His collision with the strings holding up your tent sends them pinging out of the soft snow, and suddenly, your tent collapses around you, trapping you in.

Even in weak flails, he'd managed to tear his claws through another tent. You were terrified. What if he saw you?

In his clumsy efforts, the man had thrown quite a large amount of snow into your tent, and you gradually become colder, damper and more panicked as the freezing wet fabric of the tent pins you down. Scared to move, you only shiver as you completely hide inside now, not wanting the abomination outside to find you. You'd seen enough now to be certain that wasn't a costume. He was too... real.

You hear frantic fumbling and crunches of snow as the man outside extinguishes the last of his afflictions. His breaths are heavy, and gradually slow to a calming rate. And, after a while of sitting there still, perhaps shocked, he works up the courage to gaze around at the tents he's toppled. When his eyes at last land on your entirely ruined one, his heart sinks straight to his gut. His shoulder slump and he just stares in your direction, guilty being an understatement. Maybe if he just stares at the tent for a little longer, everything will undo itself, he seems to think, ogling your direction as his mouth hangs open.

Instead, it draws his attention to your shivering form beneath the soaked fabric. He swallows thickly, eyes widening and pupils narrowing.

"Fuck..." he groans meekly, muscles tensing in anticipation before stumbling to his feet. He kicks snow as he makes a series of small, unsure steps towards the tent. Then, in a flurry of inevitable motion, he crouches and throws what's left of your tent off of you. And just like that, with a yelp, your prison of a disguise is torn from you, exposing your skin to the cool, dry air. You shiver, duck away and curl further into a ball. Some small part of you prays for this to be just a nightmare, but the rest of you knows it's very real.

As soon as you hit hit his eyes, Leon falters. He leans back in surprise and his brows furrow in pity and regret. He could tear you apart so easily, and he'd just proved it. Sniffing the air a little, eventually he moves in, reaching out to you with large, clawed hands. He's almost pouting at you, eyes narrowed in concentration as he moves in. All you can do is hold your breath. You ball yourself up tighter. You have no idea how you'll survive this - you're past the point of playing dead. All you can do is stare up at him, silently pleading for mercy.

His hands are warm where they touch you. They're large too - large enough to almost encompass each of your upper arms in their soft grip. He just stays there for a while, gently holding your arms as they shiver. His gaze is locked on them as he focuses, gently adjusting the force at which he holds you, rhythmically squeezing you a little, just to get a feel. His tongue darts out in his focus, and after a while, his eyes are back on yours.

You wondered when your family would be back. You wondered if they could even save you. And then it hit you. You wondered if they'd never be back.

Gently, Leon pries your arms away from your face where you'd shielded yourself so desperately. When I say gentle, well, to him it was. He barely had to exert any force to bend you to his will. You were like putty to him. He could easily overpower you, and he didn't dwell on whether it was down to sheer strength or your fear.

Emotionless eyes scan you up and down a few times, ultimately resting on your face once more as a slow hand wipes your clinging hair from your forehead. Then, he reaches out again. Large clawed hands find purchase under each of your arms. They slide in easily as you comply, not wishing to enrage him. He hoists you up with ease, save a small grunt. Next thing you know, he's standing and you're held at arm's distance from him like a cat. He peers up at you, smiling for the first time. He chuffs, hot breath landing on your face; he seems proud of his catch.

Terrified and uncomfortable, you continue to shake in his grip. All you can do is stare at him pleadingly, and even if you had the willpower, you doubted you could escape him. Your clothes are soaked through now, and if you had to thank him for anything, it would be for warming your arms and not killing you... yet. His blues stalk you through his silvery fringe, and after sniffing your air a few times, he sighs and pulls you in.

You're terrified. You can't look. You squeeze your eyes shut. What if he eats you?? You couldn't even begin to picture it, but after a few seconds of being pressed against his warm body, a gentle caress of your thigh coerces you to open your legs a little to allow him space between them. He grunts, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you more supportively now, like a child.

Buried in his chest, you can't see the small awkward smile he gives you, or the look of relief he sends your way as you seem to warm up to him (literally.) Through small rubs and caresses up your back and where he holds you by your thighs, he slowly rubs his warmth into you. Mind so frazzled by fear, all you can really do is let him hold you. You shiver occasionally, afraid of what he may do to you, but otherwise remain still. You don't want to get on his bad side.

After a while of peace, he gently places a finger below your chin, and guides your face up to meet his. He leans in, nuzzles your cheek a little with his nose, and takes a deep breath in. He lingers on you for a while - eyes closing in either bliss or contemplation, before walking once more. He scowls at the firepit as he passes it, beginning to carry you off in the direction he came in.

Where was he taking you? You go a little rigid, now realising you're being abducted. You panic, and it manifests in small squirms, trying to ball yourself up again and push away, levering yourself away from the yeti. You strain against him, and your small noises of fear and exertion perk his ears. He glances down at you tenderly, ceasing his stride to raise a gentle finger to your teary eyes. He swallows thickly and puffs out another deep breath, thinking for a while. He's not at all sure what to do, and doesn't want to risk failing to speak of his own accord, so instead just bounces you softly like a father cradling a child.

You feel warm and cared for, and become distracted wondering if he can actually understand you. However, your surrender was enough compliance for him to continue walking, and he carries on carting you off to goodness knows where. You wouldn't know this, but in truth, Leon was so confused. He hadn't come face to face with a human in years, nevermind one who was so brittle and terrified of him. Somehow, after all these years, he still imagined himself to be the hero, not the monster.

He hadn't intended to face you. He didn't mean to destroy your tent, or to plunge you into the freezing cold... What he'd meant to do was leave you there, before any of that could happen. He'd felt guilty. He wouldn't let his actions affect you and your sweet holiday so negatively. It was decided for him, he was sure he was helping you. He was going to fix things, and warm you up.

The cold and fear had left you weak. You sit in his arms, limp, knowing you couldn't get away even if you'd tried. The gentle rock of his body against yours as he powers through the snow soothes you. His warmth and strong scent clouds your judgement. Before very long, you find yourself snuggling into him somewhat as you watch your camp grow further and further away through tired eyes. He squeezes you gently as he feels you sink into him. One hand rubs up and down your back soothingly. It was ironic, as your captor, how much reassurance Leon was trying to give you.

"C-can you understand me?" You whisper eventually, raising your head to gaze up at the large man's jaw. His ears twitch a little and then he hums. He peers down at you, thoughtfully.

"Hm.. yeah." His voice is gravelly, rough and deep. It's quiet though, like he doesn't use it much.

"You can?!" Your eyes widen and you pull away a little. Leon was becoming quite nervous now. He feared this moment. He didn't want to talk to you at all. He knew he'd fuck up. In response to your question, Leon smiles sheepishly, revealing his sharp teeth. You get straight to the point. "Where are you taking me?"

He frowns and peers down at you. "My... home?"

"Why??" you feel hopeless again. He seemed human enough to appeal to, but then again, you had no idea what he wanted with you.

"...It's warm here" he eventually mumbles as you notice your surroundings suddenly getting a little darker as he carries you into a cave. You'd been so entranced staring up at him, that you hadn't taken in your surroundings for a while. As you do, you notice several random objects lying around. Some looked natural and from the forest like pinecones, sticks and berries. Others seemed very human. Smartphones, newspapers... clothes.

Oh no. You were going to die here.

At least none of the belongings seemed to belong to you or your family... yet. That was still terrifying though. Where was all this stuff from? Some of it was even torn... That's it, you're getting out of here. With a newfound vigour, you begin to claw at his shoulder and back, climbing out of his arms. For a second, it works, until he catches on and wraps his burly hands around your waist, yanking you back down to where he has a good hold on you. He ducks down to look you in the eyes, almost pleading. "Not gonna hurt you." His voice is a soft hum now, claws prodding you as he holds you still.

Somehow, he comes across as quite trustworthy. You couldn't be scared of him just because he's big, not when he's so clumsy and cute. And certainly not when he holds you and watches you as if you were the most precious, sweet individual he'd encountered. It was hard to ignore him, too, with his smooth voice and handsome face, and the careful way he leans over you as he carries you deeper into his cave to shelter you from droplets of condensation.

"Can you please let me go?" you plead.

"I'll take you" he hums, missing the way your eyes widen in shock and confusion. He jostles you up a little to make sure you stay wrapped around his waist and no lower, before eventually laying you down on some soft-makeshift bedding. You're so far into the cave that most of the light from outside is gone. Nobody would find you now, even if they saw the small gas lamp Leon lit beside you. He's about to lay down right beside you when he realises, perhaps, it's not the right thing to do.

Sheepishly, he motions to a spot on his own bed beside you. "Can I?" You have no idea what to say, so, you nod. You were in his home, if you could even call it that, you weren't gonna anger him. You felt as though you needed to make friends with him if you planned on getting out of this alive. And so, as the large man slowly got onto his knees before laying down on his side beside you, it struck you just how "Beauty and the beast" this situation really was. He groaned a little and his joints creaked somewhat as he slowly got down, propping his head up with one hand as he watches you.

Huge was an understatement, and whilst he did have monstrous features and strength, he seemed like the type to at least give you a kind death should he want to eat you-

No, stop. Why are you thinking like that?

You shiver, replacing his amused hum with another thick swallow. His wide eyes scan you.

"Still cold." his lips tug disapprovingly as he watches you lay there, and when you nod, he wraps a blanket around you that he got from goodness knows where. His voice echoed in the small cave, even if he seemed to be whispering now. Leon didn't like causing you fear, but he also didn't like ruining your shelter and warmth, and so, he sought to provide those for you.

You lay there, facing him. Slow and heavy breaths continue to rush over your face, fanning you as he invades your personal space. Yet for some reason, you can't bring yourself to move away. Turning your head momentarily, you eye your camp in the distance. Maybe if you could just get up and run now, you could escape him. Maybe he'd be kind and let you go. You shake again, the cave only rescuing you from the wind, not the biting cold his body provided you shelter from only moments earlier.

Suddenly, his burly arms are back on you. They wrap around you and pull you close, leaving you no space but to open your legs a little for him to get in between. He blankets you in a weighted embrace, head rested in your neck, pressed intimately close. "You're still shivering" He murmurs, silently noticing how your hairs stand on end at his proximity and gravelly tones. You feel his soft fur against your face, between your fingers. You can almost hear his heartbeat.

It's at this point, reluctantly, that you start to allow your attraction to him to manifest. The signs had all been there before as you admired his figure and strength, and basked in his voice. But now, you had no way of escape. You might as well just give in and enjoy the ride. So, you relax against him, wrapping your leg around him again, and letting him give you all of the closeness he can.

Leon knows this is wrong. He, at heart, is still very human, and knows that he should have abandoned you about 20 minutes ago after he destroyed your tent. Heck, he shouldn't have even gone to investigate. But he couldn't fight how good this felt. He couldn't fight the slow boner he was developing as you snuggled up to him so innocently, and he couldn't help wondering what a relationship with a human would be like, after all these years.

He also cant help the small shocked whimper he makes when you move down a little to snuggle up closer to him, and not-so-accidentally press quite firmly against his little issue. His hands seize your waist, threatening to move you, but when you tense in protest, he groans and goes limp, wrapping them around you again. He falls under the impression that if he keeps still, and if he keeps you still, you won't know what's really going on.

It was difficult to keep your morbid curiosity at bay, about fucking a literal Yeti. It was also difficult to not get too attached to the soothing warmth of his shimmery fur and hot skin. His slow breaths and small smile had you in a sleepy trance. You could fall asleep like this and rest. It would be the warmest night you'd get out here, and in all honesty, this was all starting to feel like a nice, cuddly dream.

Too much so.

"What do you want from me?" You lean back to look into his eyes which shoot open. He seems sleepy too. Your presence comforting him more than you could ever know. He stammers a little.

"W.. N- Nothing." he pleads, leaning in to press his forehead to yours. He thinks for a long while, articulating his words. "Just wanna... keep you warm, n safe." he sighs. You're digesting his response when his eyes shoot open in terror as he feels his cock kick against you once. He loosens his grip. This was terrible. He was being selfish. Maybe he should take you home now.

"Are you gonna let me go back?? I have a family out there, please." You whimper, giving him the eyes. He can't say no, he never wanted to hold you hostage. He just wanted to make sure you were ok and-

"Are you warm now?" he huffs, looking down at you to gauge your expression. In all honesty, you were warm, physically and emotionally. He was cute, too cute, and you could tell that he cared. For the first time since you'd met, you almost felt sure that he would actually let you go. And so, you wanted to test him. You pretend to think for a while.

"mmm, no." you smile up at him.

"No??" He seems shocked, running his hands over you to check, nuzzling his nose against your face. "You feel so... warm" he chokes out, eyeing you worriedly. He presses his finger tips to your forehead "you ill?" he grumbles "Where?" His huge hand works its way up and down your body, pressing everywhere he can whilst still being decent, checking for warmth. Then, when he identifies that your leg is a little cool, he wraps his around it.

You stare up at him. The answer is very simple. "Inside." you hum. He short circuits. Leon stares down at you, a faint blush just becoming visible beneath the fur of his cheeks. Inside? What did that mean? How was he meant to warm you up there???

Oh.

Leon stares at you in shock. He swallows thickly, and you decide he's just not sure what you mean, so, you decide to be a little more genuine about it. "Look... I'm... I'm not even sure if this is real. But I've never seen anything like you before and I'm just curious." There's a stunned silence as he eyes you up and down, thinking to himself.

"If you don't want to- it's fine." He wanted to. Oh boy did he want to. He just wasn't sure if it'd be right. He never imagined this day would come. He never thought he'd be able to fuck someone ever again. Leon hums down at you.

"Really shouldn't." those words pop your balloon instantly. You pout at him, but you're willing to take his answer.

"Why not?"

"No condom..." he sighs "Unless you-"

"No."

You both lay there in silence for a while before he crumbles, head falling to reside in the crook of your neck once more. You can tell he's thinking about it- taking you in, soaking into you. He's not felt more content in years. Cuddling up to you, he croons before placing a chaste kiss to your throat.

...Maybe he does want it...

You cover his cheek with small kisses, and sneakily reposition yourself against his throbbing cock. He whines, bucks into you once, and buries his fanged mouth against your skin where he feverishly kisses, trying to hide his sounds. Leon couldn't even admit to himself, let alone you, how pent up he'd been, and now? He wouldn't at all be able to let this opportunity slide.

One of his hands roams your body, sliding down to grip your waist possessively, tugging you hard against him. Then he retreats, realising his mistake. You grab his hand and return it to where it was, earning a playful chuckle and another shy buck of his hips. He runs that hand up your body twice more, watching entranced by the way it glides over your hips and chest, before using it to cup your face. He makes you look up at him.

"You sure?" He's hesitant, a little shaky. You're both very aware that this could end terribly. He could crush you.

"Uhuh.." Just like that, your fate is sealed. He leans in, and pulls you close for a hungry kiss. Expected from a mythical creature, Leon was a walking antithesis: His physical size and strength made him dominant and scary, and yet each of his actions was soft, caring and calculated... and needy. He whines as your lips meet his searing ones. He was so cute, so pliable. You're sure he'd do anything you wanted at this point, and so, testing your luck, you gently grind against him.

He instantly reciprocates, moaning a little as he clutches you tightly. Leon's ears sit flat to his head as he ruts against you, eyes screwed shut, mouth willingly opening enough for you to use some tongue. You've been making out for what, 2 minutes? And the man is already panting, groaning, rock solid against you as he humps desperately. When you slow down on the tongue, he licks eagerly into your mouth too, and moves to pepper kisses and licks all over your cheeks and neck while you catch your breath.

He's so cute, practically begging for you with his mouth but no words come to his aid. Instead, all the gentle giant can do is stare down at you with pleading giant puppy eyes. You want to go further with him. Guiding his hand down towards your sex, you intrust him to ready you. And oh boy does he. He swallows thickly, eyes locking onto you as if you're some mission or target, and he begins to work on you, slowly at first. He groans, cock kicking against you as he licks his lips. Eyes closed tight, kissing you all over, he doesn't even notice you undressing your bottom half until he hears you shimmy the fabric down your legs.

But that's when you feel it too. His hard cock poking out from his coat, slowly drooling copious pearls of precum, smearing his fur. He ruts it against you, the force of his huge hips shoving you so hard that you wrap yourself around him again just to stay put. Suddenly, Leon picks up his pace on you just where it feels best, rubbing with more force and energy than before. Unbeknownst to you, he had a plan. You let out a moan, mouth open wide enough for him to suddenly jam two huge digits in there. It didn't hurt, he wouldn't hurt you, but for a second, you feared for your life.

Even half way in, his fingers had you gagging, choking and drooling. You got them nice and wet for him, and as thanks, they'd be going inside you. Replacing his fingers with his tongue again, he needily whimpers and whines into your mouth.

"Fuck, you're w.. g-great... You're great" he groans, toying with your entrance, eyes shut once more as he grinds into you. He's slow, he understands his fingers are huge, especially by the reaction he didn't mean to elicit from filling your mouth with them, and so, once he breaches you, one finger at a time, makes sure to go slowly. He tries a bit of everything, thrusting, curling them, scissoring you open, all gently until he thinks you can take more.

He fills you so perfectly, so deliciously with just his fingers alone, and he knows what to do even whilst kissing you all over, but you don't dwell on where he got the experience. Leon nibbles a little at your lobe, trapping it gently between his sharp fangs, and moves towards teasing other parts of your throat and shoulder in this way until you begin grinding against his fingers, chasing something more. You snapped out of it a little when you realised just how large his member was. Easily over 7, maybe 8 inches.

And now, he was lining it up with you, holding his breath as he lets it slip, teasing your entrance a few times. It was thick too. The whole thing was just pretty, and due to his strange skin colour, where it would be red and angry it was tinged with a soft purple.

The last thing you see before he stuffs you is his brows furrowed in concentration as he lines himself up. As soon as he slides in, you groan and buck from the stretch of just the first few inches. He shakes, he twitches a little, and he curls up to you, holding you oh-so-dearly. His hips buck shallowly a few times but ultimately he's patient, waiting for the go ahead until he can continue to slowly fill you up. A few shallow thrusts and he works his way deeper, then he gives you a minute or so before repeating.

As bottomed out as he can be, Leon begins a torturously slow pace. He watches closely for you reaction. He's wondering what you like, what you want from him. Eventually, he's groaning with each slow thrust, apparently more edging for him than you. He quickens his pace, leaning over you, propping himself up as he pounds into you a little roughly now. He barely pulls out, each slow roll against of his hips against your sex making you want to cry out.

It's having an affect on him too. Before long, Leon is groaning and growling with each thrust. He's on his knees, body forcing your legs up against your chest as he pile-drives into you. His head hangs by your ear, occasionally nipping and sucking at you, but for the most part, growling like a feral animal. He slows down a little before driving a series of hard, strong thrusts into you with merciless force. Snarling and snapping his jaws, each smack of his hips shifts your body across the bed until he has to grab your ankle to pull you back to him.

He knows you're close, but he wants this moment to last and he's sure you do too. His breath tickles your ear between breathless chuckles, his voice deep and sultry, "H..heh... you ever... ridden a yeti?" As soon as you shake your head no, he purrs. "You want to?"

You nod. He picks you up with ease, temporarily leaving you empty and collapses onto his back. He's quick to fill you to the brim once more as soon as he's comfortable. He groans and throws his head back as you slide down him. And then, lets you work your magic. He groans under you, arms folded behind his head to cushion himself. His eyes follow you, watching you almost predatorily as you bounce on him, and occasionally, his hips snap up to meet yours.

"Fuck, you know, you're so... gnnn... good at this" he whines, trying to force his eyes to stay open so he can watch you.

He bites his lip, bucking up to meet you as his hands reach out for you. They're huge. One feels your body, supporting you, the other holds your ass, guiding you up and down. He smirks, clearly about to make another comment, when you reach down caress his chest, digging your nails into his pecs as best you can. His head falls back and he lets out an almost roar. "Fucckkk" he hums, staring up at you.

You're close again, but you're getting tired. Luckily for you, he understands. Leon sits up, wrapping his huge arms around you. He snuggles into your neck, littering it with growls and kisses as his hips go wild, pistoning into you with a force somehow he hadn't used yet. You were amazed, for such a large man, how hard and fast he could rabbit into your hole. His breaths deep, laboured and lustful as he lost himself in you.

It wasn't long before you were cumming on his cock, gripping his fat length like a vice. He groans, plugging his mouth with your shoulder, but not biting hard. You know exactly what's coming as he adjusts his legs, thrusting hard, almost throwing you up into the air if it weren't for his arms pinning you down to him. His growls and groans shake your core, rutting up in a similar fashion a few times as he pumps you full of his seed. And then he collapses, falling back against his bed. He pants and blushes furiously.

A small grin litters his face, he looks like he's about to pass out as he lays there, eyes narrow and chest heaving. It takes him a while to come down, cock still throbbing and kicking inside you. With how tight you are around him, there's no chance you'll spill a drop before he pulls out.

"Mmmm, fuck" he hums contentedly, hips jostling you upwards a few more times as he carefully reaches up to hold your face. His hand dwarfs your head easily, and he smiles. He's hesitant as he strokes your face. He knows what he did was probably wrong, but it felt so good. It delights him when, as he gently pulls you towards him, you come readily, leaning down to meet his lips.

This kiss isn't hungry or greedy. It's needy and loving. It's an apology, and a thank you, all at once. And when you pull away, his eyes flutter open to gaze lovingly at you.

He sighs, realising his time is up. "Alright, Take you back now, as promised." You're not having it. Playfully, you roll your hips against his and sigh down at him. His cock is half soft inside you now, and still feels great. He stares up at you, confused, ears perked. "What's wrong? Why not?"

"I'm cold outside again..." you pout. He chuckles, leaning up to grab you in a tight hug before laying down once more, this time with you as his captive.

"Well then, allow me to warm you up again."

And that he did.

Eventually you returned to your camp. With Leon carrying you, that is. If he'd given you anything, it was a severe case of jelly-leg.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

guys I just awnna have a little rant at u rn I'm sorry this fic is late and not christmas and Im sorry but I tried to write n edit this like 3 times and each time tumblr deleted my fucking edit im so fucking mad I had internet and I saved it as a draft the works but tumblr was a penis grrrr also, also, the times I edited it like and wrote some I had such good ideas for jokes and puns and things and good writing and now because iM fed up all my good ideas have left me so sorry that this fic is shitty bye thanks for existing ily.

the fic is so long im sorryy i hope you like him

[shinybearnerd]

"Heart to Heart"

Hey, y'all! I'm back! I'm a little late since the DLC got out, but here we are! Hope you like it, you beautiful souls. <3

Pair: Kratos x GN!reader Words: 2,92k Genre: Angst, fluff (in the end)

Story: You're a sorcerer/witch and, with your daughter, the ruler of one of the realms. You met Kratos after the death of your best friend, Faye. And since then, the two of you got closer. On the last night of a mission something happened, and the two of you avoided each other for months; till the day that the elders of your realm forced you to find suitors and to get married. You decide to pull a trick with three boxes made with three different materials: Gold, Silver and Lead. Each had a riddle on the lid. Whoever took the box with your painting in it would win. And someone did win. Someone that you didn't expect.

-Engish is not my first language. So I'm sorry if there are any mistakes-

When did all of this start? Was there a moment, a place, a trigger that generated all of this? Since when did the elders of your realm care about your private life? About who and when you're supposed to love? You don't know. Nobody knows or tries even to explain it to you. And all of this angers you deeply.

That's why you walked up and down the enormous salon for hours now. You are restless. Incredibly restless. Everything, from how you're standing and your torturing your hands together, could tell it. You didn't even eat something from the day before, too tensed to do so. You know that it isn't the wisest decision, but you have too many thoughts inside your head to care about feeding your body. 

You keep walking up and down the salon, not listening to what Frode, your best friend, tells you. << You didn't eat anything. >> noticed Frode. You mumble something, still walking up and down the big coloured stained glass window that looks into your realm.  << You should eat something. It's been a day since the last time. >> << You're making it easy. >> You mumble without stopping yourself. << Minutes from now, someone I'm forced to marry will walk into that door, and I should eat... Minutes from now, a man who surely will expect and claim my daughter to call him "dad" will walk through that door, and I should eat! >>

Frode doesn't say anything. He's so used to your complaints and your outbursts of anger that it's almost indifferent to him. In this case, tho, he knows. He could feel you're upset. That you're scared. Scared of living the same lives as all the other regals: a sorrowful life in an abusive and/or unhappy marriage.

He walks closer to you and stands in front of you, able to stop your frantic pacing. << Take two big breaths, all right? Inhale... Good. Exhale... Good job. >> He says, caressing your arms softly. << Listen to me... I know that you don't like where this is going. And I could not even imagine how you must feel right now. But I'm sure that whoever will get the correct box- >>

You look at him, sceptical. You sigh. The only thing you think you're capable of doing and that will make you feel, even if insignificantly, a bit better. You collapse into an armchair behind you, your face covered by your hand.

<< We both know that no one will figure out the riddle and take the painting! You can be sure that whoever takes the right box will be a worthy, good person- >> << Or a sly bastard. >> << Did you see the first suitors, right? You don't have any problem. >> You scoff, amused and tired.

Frode kneels and caresses your legs, trying to comfort you. You start talking to him. Confiding in him all your worries and your thoughts about the situation.

You, that you always repudiated the idea of marriage and that you almost did get married for love. You, that you fell in love with another man and are now obliged to get married to a stranger. To someone that you don't know and possibly despise. The same person that maybe will get you mad to control and reign your realm.

<< What about Kratos? >> Your back straightens immediately, looking directly at his eyes. << What about him? What does he have to do with anything? >> You ask quickly. << Did you tell him about this? He's a god. He can be a suitor without a problem, too. >> << No, I... We haven't talked or seen each other since the mission. >> Frode frowns, looking at you. << What? Why not? I thought that you felt something for him... What happened? >>

Svartalheim, three months ago The moon of Svartalfheim was brighter than ever. You and Kratos were still sitting on the tree trunks you used as benches. The fire crackled in front of you, invigorated by the logs that the Greek god had given it. The tents behind you were lit by the flames and little red sparks that emanated from the fire, spreading their long shadows across the entire valley where you were camped.

Kratos had just sat on the tree trunk next to you as he watched you look at the stars. The previous evening, you spent all night talking about the constellations, exchanging all the different stories and forms your cultures acknowledged.

He didn't notice he hinted a smile, snorting weakly, amused. He began to observe you better. The way the cold light of the moon and the warm light of the fire wrapped around your face, making it (impossibly) even more beautiful, made his breath catch in his throat.

<< How's the spell on the axe going? >> You ask him, nose still turned up. Kratos is surprised by your speaking. But he decides not to show it by grunting slightly. <<It's better. It returns to my hand faster. >> he replies, starting to look at the stars too. << Thank you. >> he murmurs shortly after.

You chuckle softly, your cheeks blushing as you turn towards the god. His face is illuminated by the flames in front of you, marking further his face marked by wrinkles and marks left by countless battles. The same one who now, at that moment, seemed relaxed and calmer than ever. You had just finished the mission and were on your way back. So maybe that was the reason.

You didn't realize it, but you widened your smile, relaxing your shoulders. A strange, warm sensation formed on your chest.

Kratos turned, too. Only now noticing that you were watching him. Your smile softened more, widening. The Spartan also felt that strange sensation in his chest when his body approached yours...

You open your mouth when suddenly you two hear footsteps outside the door approaching you. You look at each other, both white as a ghost. << At the end, one of the brutes of Vanaheim won... >> you whisper, your hand already on the knife pocket you held inside your travelling boots. << Well, if this is my destiny..>>

You take your knife from its case and hide it inside your sleeve, waiting for the man who will come in, wanting to take his "prize". But, even if you wanted to fight him, you can't stand turning around and face him. Frode is the only one brave enough to front the door. You grip his hand tight, trying to have some comfort from your best friend.

The heavy wooden door opens suddenly. The one that opens it does it with such force that the door's leaves slam against the wall with a loud noise. Frode stands up immediately, a surprised look on his face. You tight your hold on the knife, ready to strike at any given sentence or act that you don't like.

<< In the end, we met. I don't know what your intentions are. But I'll let you know that I'll not stay quiet and put as I watch my rights get stepped on! >> << There is no need to fight. >> A calm, deep voice behind your shoulders replies.

You immediately turn around. You would have remembered that voice even after decades, with miles of distance. And you'll get enchanted just like the first time you heard it. 

<< Kratos... >> you whisper, joy and shame stained your lips. The Greek god doesn't get unperturbed. In his hand, the miniature detailed painting previously hidden inside the lead box. His face there is a curved frown. Full of anger and... pain? << You wanted your freedom, and I'll give it back to you, your Highness. >> His voice is full of disgust and betrayal as he puts the painting on the table next to the armchair.

You get up immediately, calling his name and trying to take his arms, stopping him from turning around and going back. But he is obviously more powerful, and he keeps freeing himself from your grasp, grunting in anger and with annoyance.  As he frees himself from the last time, walking with decision towards the door, you get angry and annoyed too; with a single snap of your finger, the door in front of him closes and locks itself again.

Kratos stops, looking at the door and feeling trapped with all those unspoken feelings stuck inside him. 

<< If you have something to say, say it, Spartan! >> 

The warrior turns around, walking slowly but with decision and anger. As Frode feels scared and intimidated by the spartan threatening expression, you are not even slightly bothered by it... you are somewhat turned on by it.

The god speaks once your faces are (almost) a breath away from the other. <;< What were you thinking? >> asks in Greek. This could be seen as a good or a bad thing. In both cases, Kratos is trying to communicate his feelings in the best way. He knows that you speak his language. You told him during the last mission together. The rest of the night you spent it talking in Greek as you watched the night sky. It was one of the best nights of his existence. << Why didn't you tell me anything about this nonsense? >>

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing seems to come out. What are you supposed to do in this case? No regal etiquette tells you what to do. What to say in this case. They have always told you to listen to your elders and to do what they please. But what about this case? What about when you're in front of the person that you love most in the world? Should you talk? Do the first step? Or should you keep restraining your emotions, what you feel about that incredible man in front of you?

You don't know what to do. A part of you wants to tell him everything. To kiss those lips once and again and forget about everything else. But your other part thought about Faye; at your childhood together. At how the two of you were inserable and mistaken by the other when you were younger. And the thought of Kratos kissing you only because you are reminded of his dead wife is crushing to you. There wasn't a day since your lips touched that you didn't think about the kiss. You keep tormenting yourself. You can't sleep. You can't eat. But all of this, Kratos doesn't know anything. And how could he? You keep avoiding him since the end of the mission.

<;< Didn't we promise each other to always be honest with one another? >> You murmur. &lt;< Yes. >> << Then why didn't you tell me anything about this? When were you going to tell me that you are forced to marry someone? On your wedding day? >> You could see anger, sadness and betrayal in his eyes. All mixed together. << Why are you avoiding me? >>

You aren't able to reply to those questions. You can see his gaze slowly softening a bit. The pain is more evident in his little amber eyes.  <&lt; ...It's because of the kiss? >> murmurs. << Of course not, Kratos- >> &lt;< Then what? >> asks, exasperated. << What is it that you're not telling me? >>

Still not a reply. 

The spartan straightened his back, scoffing as he clenched his jaw.

<< I-It's better- I have to go. >> Frode talks, trying to get away from that situation. << Stay. >> The god replies with an authoritative tone. His eyes are still fixed on yours. << We're done here. I'm going. >> Sighs, shaking your head. << Kratos, please... >> Frode is already towards the other door, exing. << No, really. >> he chuckled, nervous. << I'm going. >> He disappears behind the door, locking that too.

You sigh and turn towards the spartan again. You both look at each other before the god turns his face away from yours, speaking. <;< I tried to walk this path with you. I tried to be your friend, but evidently, this is getting too much for you. These past months... they've been torture! Even if I was angry and offended by your action, I came here today with the only hope of seeing you again. I fought against my best judgment, and you still won against it! >> << Kratos... >> Your voice is broken with emotions, your eyes teary. The Greek god turns around, walking towards the door. << Break the spell, Y/n. Let me go. >> << Seriously? You still didn't get it? You want me to tell you? >>

He keeps walking.

<< I love you, you big piece of idiot! >> You explain, exasperated. 

That made him turn around.

<< I love you... Happy now? I said it. >>

Kratos change his route and walks towards her again. More threatening and distressed than before. <;< If you feel the same way, why didn't you tell me about this charade? You know that I could be a part of that. That I could win your hand! You saw it yourself before, as I gave you that painting. Would you have preferred someone else to be with you? Is that disgusting the fact that you have feelings for me? >> << By the gods, you didn't understand a fuck! >> Kratos takes a half step back, surprised by your cursing. << I did it to protect you! I know what it means to live a life where you have to always be on your toes. Always on alert. And I didn't want the same things for you! >>

Kratos' shoulder relaxed as his expression softened more.

<< Is so difficult to keep my daughter away from this toxic cycle... And-and after all you have been through, the man that you're becoming and you'll be, I don't want the elders to fuck it all up.  << For the gods' sake, Kratos! >> You continue, chuckling bitterly. Tears form in the corner of your eyes. << I can't sleep! I can't eat! Not only since we kissed, but since I understood that I love you! That I want a family with you! That I want to stick to those lips and never let go! I stay awake all night thinking about you. At the way you smile softly and so rarely. The way you walk, talk, your attitude... The way you speak to Atreus, how you act with my daughter... << I have never told you anything for Faye and your sake. I didn't want to ruin the friendship we built. Because I know what it means to be valued just because someone wants to take you to bed. And I didn't want that for you, especially because it's not what I think when I see you- >>

Kratos looks at you. You are both exhausted from this fight. Your voice is starting to tremble with emotion. <;< You really think I'm doing all this because you vaguely resemble Faye? >> Asked, frowning surprised and severe. You nod, tears silently covering your face. <<  Then you're too a fool that didn't understand anything. >> Sighs, walking closer. << I have never seen all those similarities that people say you two share. Faye was the calmest woman in the world when I met her. But you... you're different. You're stubborn, arrogant... you think that everything you do or say is right- >> << I get the idea! Okay. >>

The spartan scoffs, annoyed, before continuing. <;< But you're also generous, kind, good, but especially honest. You're able to make me reason like no one else. Since the moment I met you, the fact that you were so open to me with your past... destabilized me. And you have no idea how I felt when you asked me to always be honest with each other. I was so used to knowing very little about Faye that when you arrived... you upset me. I know so many things about you that even if I don't want to, I think of you constantly! I see a particular flower? I think about what you told me and in what potion it can be used. Every time that I sketch, I think about you. I also draw you secretly, sometimes. So I can look at you with all the calm and the time of the world without someone noticing... >>

You look at him, tears streaming down uncontrollably.

<;< Every time I open a book, I think of you. Every time I see a bear, I hunt, I go fish... I can't live like this anymore, woman! And you avoiding me, not telling me what's going on, is only destroying me more! >>

They look into each other's eyes. Both are heartbroken, breathless and angry towards the other. Yet it took a few fractions of a second before their mouths connected again. The kiss is deep, hungry, and needy. They try to grasp what they can as the kiss deepens even more.

You break the kiss, your forehead touching as you both catch your breath. <;< You're an idiot. >> You murmur. Kratos scoffs, hiding his soft smile. << I was going to say the same thing about you. >> You both chuckle softly, hugging each other tightly.

The idea about your new husband wasn't now so bad with Kratos in your arms.