#debris is flying everywhere

[emometalhead]

I hope my fellow Californians are staying safe. This storm is no joke

[seiwas]

thinking about pro-hero kiri with preschool teacher!reader 🥺

[prolibytherium]

Person in the room directluy next to me appears to be watching every Harry Potter movie with the tv cranked up to full volume. Guy above me keeps making this really weird 'hhhuurrrrr hurrrrrrr' noise that MIGHT be a cough but I'm not sure. This is the true cheap motel experience

[f1newgems]

Does do not look like a good idea

[wishingeel]

Have I posted anything yet about how a tree came down right in front of my car while I was driving home yesterday? Because that was highkey terrifying.

[mockerycrow]

Love your works! May I please get a "don't worry, i'm not going anywhere." with Ghost? Take your time, I love what you write!

400 Follower Celebration

—“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”— With Ghost

Summary: You’re apart of the 141 and Ghost recently had a near-death experience. You’ve been plagued with nightmares about the situation, but you try to hide it from him, feeling selfish about your night terrors. One night, you’re thoroughly convinced Ghost had actually died.

A/N: THANK YOUUU I KEEP BLUSHING ILY AND TYSM FOR 500 FOLLOWERS

[WARNINGS: vomit, detailed nightmares, panic attack, gore, fake-death, angst, hurt/comfort.]

It was always the same nightmare. It was a repeat of that one mission months ago—nearly a year ago by now, where you and your team went to grab some important intel about a new uprising cartel that was showing some dangerous potential. It was a large compound, four floors including the basement, wide rooms with many blind-spots. Using your rifle equipped with a heat signature sensor, you swept room to room, leading your team through the building, putting anyone down who dared fired a bullet at you or your team.

You turn that familiar corner and your heart sinks. You’ve tried many times to change the course of this dream, but no matter how frantically you try to scream about what is waiting on the other side of that door, your mouth refuses to work until Ghost rumbles out, “I’ll take point.” You try to fight every muscle in your body to stop this, but it’s like the dream freezes until you continue down the.. “right path”. Quite literally is a living fucking hell for you, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it except do what it wants you to do.

“Roger.” You mutter, backing up behind Ghost instead of staying in front of him and leading him the others. The others are always blank faced soldiers in this nightmare, but you know who is who. You pat his shoulder, aimming over him as you walk down the hall close together, hugging the wall. You’ve been through this so many times, you know to eye the floor and you watch the moment happen—Ghost steps on a pressure plate and—BOOM.

You’re always forced to watch it in slow motion; the wall being blown open right next to Ghost, watching the debris scatter everywhere, scraping yourself up as well as Ghost. He raises his arm to shield his face from whatever is happening, unable to process in time that a man wielding a sharp combat knife is pulling his arm back and comes down with it.

You watch the way the knife so easily slides into his rib cage, and it’s almost like you could hear it penetrating his lung like it did—but this time, the man rips the knife out and does it again and again and again—this has never happened before—Ghost’s falling to the ground, his blood splattering everywhere, fuck, it’s like the guy is trying to gut him—but you can’t move. You have to sit there and watch this man. plunge a knife in and out of Ghost’s chest until he finally decides to stab him deep and yank downwards, spilling his intestines and stomach—yet, his lifeless eyes keep eye contact the entire time.

Your eyes fly open, dizzy from your heart pounding and unable to focus, you throw the blanket off of you and you make your way out of whatever room you’re in—you’re too freaked out to know. Your chest aches and feels like there’s a hundred tons sitting on your rib cage, restricting your breathing. You keep walking until you bump into something and you manage to focus enough to notice it’s the bathroom door. Your hand shakily grabs the doorknob and opens it, and you already feel the vomit traveling up your throat.

You end up bent over the open toilet, body heaving with every exile of the contents of your stomach, which by this time of night is mostly just bile. Your head is spinning and your hands keep shaking and by this point, you really don’t care how clean this bathroom is. You lean your elbows on the toilet rim and hold your head in your hands, trying your best to stifle a sob, even though all you can smell and feel is his blood on your fingertips. Your tears drip down your cheeks and collect at your chin before dripping off.

You keep one arm on the toilet seat to keep your head propped up and the other goes around your stomach, which is twisting painfully inside of your gut, ripping another sob from you. You gag into the toilet, but you’ve already thrown everything you had inside. Your throat and nose burns from the stomach acid, but it doesn’t compare to the emotional pain of losing Ghost. You just stood there and watched him get gutted—why do you deserve to grieve when you could have prevented it in the first place? Someone killed the Ghost, and you let it fucking happen.

A large hand sprawls across the flat of your back which is accompanied by a low, gritty voice. Whoever it is says something, but you don’t quite hear them. It’s probably Price, trying to comfort you, trying to say there’s one thing you could’ve done to stop it, but you know there was something you could do, anything you could’ve done.

Price calls your name and you go to shove him away, but his hands wrap around your wrists, and the voice is more insistent. You choke on a sob and shake your head, struggling against him until you hear it—his voice. “Fuck, [Name], can you hear me?” Ghost’s voice. It’s his voice.

No. Your mind is playing tricks on you and you won’t fall for it, you won’t let yourself go through this horrendous grief for a second time. You try to curl up into a ball, wanting to grab at your hair or your clothes, just anything but be here. “Look at me.” His hands grab your face and force your face to look at him and..

It’s him. It’s Ghost.

All of your noises stop for a moment as you stare with wide eyes that are full of unfallen tears, eyes full of grief, all for him. Ghost stares back at you with uncharacteristically wide eyes, and you can see the way his hands are slightly trembling—he’s worried about you. Ghost’s eyebrows furrow when he sees your expression of anguish. “Hey—hey, what happened?” Ghost’s voice is so quiet, like he’s afraid you’ll break if he speaks any louder. Your hands come up to his mask and touch it and you burst into a harsh sob again, throwing your arms around him.

Usually, Ghost would hesitate. He would be reluctant to reciprocate such personal touch, such desperation, but he pulls you close into his arms without a second thought. Your hands grab his shirt and you breakdown into his chest, wetting the fabric with your tears. His heart slipped a beat because he’s never seen you like this—has never seen you break down this horribly.

He’d be here when you were ready to talk about it, but for now he’ll stay to hold you until your shoulders stop shaking. Ghost moves to sit on his bottom and you whimper in fear, like he’ll leave. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

[florvaine]

lost comfort and found familiarity.

Escaping the prison was a mess, and Carl is devastated when he can only find his girlfriends red jacket, but not her. (afab! reader)

genre: heavy angst to fluff

warnings: death, blood, gore, panic/anxiety attack, !carls’ SA scene!, kissing.

-— DREAD BEGAN TO FILL THE PIT OF CARL’S STOMACH WHEN THE HEAVY REALISATION SET IN. That realisation was that the prison was overrun, the Governor and his goons having broken down the wired fencing with a tank and brought in dozens upon dozens of brain-deteriorated, famished walkers into the previously safe confines of the prison.

They had killed Hershel in cold blood using Michonne's katana, leaving his severed head to pool a red sheen on the grass. Somewhere in the time of his beheading bullets began to ring out around the borders of the prison.

Cars, trucks and military-grade vehicles began to fill the courtyard, Rick and the Governor are beating each other bloody with their bare hands by the overturned bus.

“Holy shit.” He hears you say, and once he looks to his left to find you, his heart hurts a little more.

You’re typically comforting smile has vanished like the peace had just a few hours ago, instead pulled in an open-mouthed look of pure shock and horror. Your eyes are blown wide, brimming with a small collection of tears. There’s dust and debris flying everywhere, staining your cheeks. A shotgun is tight in your grip, ammo stacked in your pockets and an army knife clinging on your belt.

He’s only ever seen you this devastated when the farm got set up in flames, and when you had been told that your brother had been bit.

Carl gulps, pulling you closer to him via the strong grip he has on your hand. Both of your palms are sweaty, but it was barely even registered as the tank that the Governor had hijacked shot another bomb into the crumbling, brick walls of the prison.

“We gotta go!” He says, running in the opposite direction of the explosion. You follow behind him, still holding his hand as an anchor to keep you aware of reality.

Your eyes drift around the series of events around you. The obliteration of your home, the snapping jaws of the decaying walkers that drooled and reached to take a chunk of flesh from either of your bodies. Bullets rain hell on everything that moves, sparks of orange and yellow shining from all directions, the scent of blood, gunpowder and dust is heavy as it clings to your clothes and hair.

You stumble, tugging on Carl's hand, "We have to get your Dad!" You point to where Michonne is helping him up, and the blue-eyed boy falters.

A loud bang followed by the sound of debris hitting the floor, a flash of heat passed over each of your skins. Between the flash, he sees his dad covered in splatters of blood, bruises and cuts stumbling towards a break in the metal fence.

Every sense in his body is muddled, an annoying, high-pitched ring in his ears makes his clammy hands raise upwards to press against them, sounds muffled as dust coats his tongue like thick, chalky medicine. His eyes flutter as the light passes, debris clinging to his lashes and dirtying his freckled face. Carl sniffs, his head turning around rapidly to see you again.

Except you were gone.

Just like the flash of orange light and thermal blast, you had seemingly dissipated into thin air. His first reaction is panic, in a form that roots his body into the concrete floor at the thought of you being hit by the bomb, therefore disintegrating instantly.

Carl feels sick to his stomach and he removes his hands from his ears, picking up his gun that clattered to the ground and spinning in circles to catch even a glimpse of you.

"Y/n?" He shouts even if his throat was aching from the particles in the muggy air.

There's no response, "Y/n!" He calls out with more urgency, his feet moving quick against the ground as another round of bullets pass beside him.

The shaggy, brown-haired teen dashes through a gap between the cell blocks, keeping as low as he could whilst running, pressing the sheriff's hat his father gave him just a few days prior against him skull.

Then everything stops. It's practically silent if you ignore the echoes of the snarling walkers that invaded the space. His eyes brim with salty tears, scrambling to pick up a too familiar red cloth discarded on the floor.

His heart is put on pause for a few seconds as he kneels down to claw at the jacket. Your favourite jacket. Bright red stained with black smudges and bloody hand smears, an open hole passes cleanly through both sides of the left sleeve, encircled in a deeper scarlet that dripped in a sickening curve of an open wound.

Time passes slowly, as if God himself was providing him time to grieve. You had slipped through the cracks of his callousing hands, the blood trapped under his fingernails suddenly more obvious as he scratched at the drying liquid on the jacket. His heart hurts. So does his head, a throbbing pulse that matched the pants and trembling breaths that exited his chapped lips. His body washes out any adrenaline or happy emotion an refills it with dread and mourning.

He feels like crying. Sobbing, screaming your name until his lungs collapsed and his throat was raw. Vocal cords torn, shattered like his heart that would no longer beat with the same life he had with you. His thoughts turned from joyous hope of a future with you and Judith outside the crackling prison to disbelieving hurt at the realisation you were not near him anymore.

With no body, their could be no funeral. Nobody in the limited black attire they collected throughout their time in the apocalypse. With no grave to bury you under, you could not rest.

But without a funeral or a tattered corpse of your being, Carl refused to believe you were dead.

The sound of bullets restart his heart again like a defibrillator, and he's back in the moment. There's shots in the courtyard, the boy scrambles up, clinging onto your jacket with harsh breathing.

There's two walkers further along the cell block. Carl ties the jacket around his waist. Rage slowly drips into the building acceptance in his mind, and the shotgun that he held previously was snagged up off the floor.

The gun is raised, aimed perfectly for the decaying heads of what used to be morally guided people. His breathing picks up slightly.

One shot rings out, bullet shells hitting the ground. Chunks of skin, bone and rotting organs spills over the floor and the walker hits the ground with a dull thud. He steps over the remains with what could only be described as a bitter mixture of anger and sadness on his face.

The second shot is fired, and the first victim is joined by the other. A mess of liquid ruby changes the grey hue of the floor, the sound of blood spilling like tossed water would usually sicken him.

His gaze drifts towards the bodies, and he is repulsed at the image of you, your hair splayed against the concrete and your eyes wide open yet unseeing, glossed over in grey as your plump lips turn blue, skin cold. Your chest does not rise. You are still, graceful and dead.

He blinks, and yet again you were gone. Carl looks up from the meaningless corpses.

His own dad looks back at him.

"Carl," It doesn't sound like him, there's a hint of liquid that gurgled in his throat as he spoke, and Rick gulps it down. He's breathing heavily. A collection of red patches adorn his beaten face, curls from his hair and stubbly beard pressed against the sweat gathered on his skin.

The two of them limp away from the remains of the prison, trauma and sorrow tossing and churning in their minds and stomachs. They had lost not only you, but Judith as well.

One of the only memories of his mother that he had. And the only hope that Rick had of raising one of his children without any fear even in the apocalypse.

That night the two of them exchanged no words.

-—-

1 month, 27 days and 17 hours.

That's how long it had been since Carl had last heard your voice. Him, Rick and now Michonne occupy a two story house in a leafy road surrounded by woods. They visit the neighbouring homes further down, once he even found a 112 ounces worth of chocolate pudding, and ate it in one sitting. Alone.

The words 'alone' has never been in the forefront of his mind this much before. He wonders if you would've enjoyed the pudding with him, or comforted him on his worst nights as his dad slept on the sofa barricading the front door. Maybe you would've stopped him shouting at his unconscious body.

He was terrified, that night. Because the sleeping body of his dad would sometimes look like you - except there's a bite on your shoulder and a bullet wound punctured between your closed eyes.

Now there was no resting body on the sofa as his dad was awake, alive and moving whilst Michonne helps the two of them work with their slightly tense familial relationship.

Sometimes he'd get bombarded with questions about you. He'd still answer with one phrase.

"She's alive."

The same tone, the same memory starting to form before his ocean eyes whenever he blinked. After a while it went from being a quivering statement of hope to an exclamation of law.

Every time you were brought up negativily, it ended in him storming out of the house and sleeping in a different one for the night, and coming back in the morning to his anxious dad who was very close to vomiting and a worried Michonne.

Carl knew you wouldn't just leave or give in that easily. It wasn't in your blood that stained the jacket he kept folded upstairs in one of the rooms.

He had washed it, any trace of what happened at the prison left in a stream of water; the hole from your bullet wound was sewn together as best as he could. No more smudges of soot and crumbling brick smeared down the hood and arms, no more scarlet hand prints that grabbed and tainted your clothing.

Carl had one mission that he would complete - he had to complete it before anything else.

And you were going to get your jacket back - alive.

-—-

Terminus was a horrible idea. It had been advertised as a safe haven for anyone in need of it, offering sickingly sweet luxuries that no other place had before.

Who knew it was run by cannibals that captured, disarmed and intended to eventually eat them? Not Carl, that's for sure.

They had barely escaped with their lives, and Carl could only wonder how many more times he could dodge death until it inevitably caught up with him.

But in the back of his mind, he knew he would avoid it for as long as he possibly could, because if he kicked the bucket then he wouldn’t see you again.

At least they found everyone else - including Judith. That was one miracle that Carl dreamed of, and it was accepted, so the last one was you.

Many nights and days he had spent wondering where you were, if you were thinking about him too, some other days passed with tears and muffled screams of your name; those days he’d be comforted by the tight arms of his dad or Michonne wrapped around him.

Carl would sometimes have nightmares of that grimey, old man that pinned him against the floor, Michonne and Rick having to see him at his most vulnerable in that moment. That was the one time he was grateful you weren’t there. Not because he didn’t want you to see him so shattered and broken, no.

He knew that whatever was going to happen to him, would happen to you too. And with the predator pinning him down, the company of his equally as vile creatures that held Michonne and Rick as captives. Nobody would be able to save you in time.

Part of his innocence was picked up and snapped that night. He fell asleep with your jacket over his torso, and he let his quivering frame curl into yours.

He wanted to see you again, in real life. Not a part of the fractured, twisted part of his imagination. He wished to hold you close against him, kiss you under the stars like you had done too many days ago. Everything Carl found that he thought you’d like was in a small pouch at the bottom on his bag.

A thin-chained necklace, a gossip magazine, a comic book. A small heart shaped rock that he had found. Most importantly, your jacket.

Carl was intelligent, observant. He could tell everyone had already grieved for you, mentioned your name in speeches of motivation saying ‘do it for her’. He hated it.

Another argument happened whilst they were all moving down the abandoned road, towards a new hope of life.

-—-

His father brought you up again when he saw Carl wearing your jacket. They had stopped for a break, sitting in the middle of the road whilst Daryl went hunting for anything they could eat.

“Carl,” He spoke, voice slow and gentle as if he was a ticking time bomb, “I think it’s time you let go of her jacket.”

Everyone’s eyes moved from his father to his son, eyes slightly widened and mouths clamped shut. The air becomes tense as the blue-eyed teen looks up at his father through the corner of his eyes.

Carl swipes his tongue over his lips, “Why’s that?” He spoke, Judith coo’s in his arms, pulling at the strings that tightened the hood.

Rick adjusts his stance, placing his hands on his hips and thinking of what to say to his son. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he speaks.

“I just think, well we just think that,” The curly-haired dad gestures to everyone with one hand, “It’s time to let go, son.”

Carl lifts his head fully, eyebrows knitted together in scrutising disbelief, “You all think she’s dead?” His tone is harsh, accusing and targeted to pierce their racing hearts.

Everyone knew that the mention of you being dead was something that the boy didn’t agree with. Stubborn as ever, Carl points his gaze towards his dad. His gaze as sharp as daggers and Rick knows hes in for the long run.

“She disappeared, Carl. We can only guess what happened to her.”

Carl hands Judith to Carol next to him and she takes her without looking at the boy, “You can guess, but I’m not guessing. I know she’s alive.”

“She’s got lost, nobody saw where she went. She’s alone.” Rick argued, his voice louder.

“She has a gun and a knife!” Carl replies, shouting over his father. Michonne stands up and removes her gun from her holster, as did Abraham and Tara when a branch snaps behind the wooded trees.

Daryl shows himself, empty handed. Everyone internally groans, but they give him a look to tell him to be quiet and point at the arguing boys.

Rick places his hands on his sons shoulder, looking down on him, “People have still died with a gun, kid.”

Carl pushes his dad away from him, face contorting into pure anger and vemon lacing his features, “Don’t touch me.”

“I’m just tellin’ you the truth, Carl.” Rick points at him, eyebrows raised and his voice returning to the soft, almost patronising tone from before.

“But it’s not the truth!” Carl argues, his anger put into lashing out against his own blood, “She’s alive, I know it! I see her, Dad!”

Michonne places a hand on Rick’s shoulder when she hears him sigh and prepare himself, “Don’t-”

“She’s dead! Trust me. She. Is. Dead. If you’re seeing her like I see your mother, then she is not alive anymore!”

It goes silent, a few birds fly overhead with calls of their scratchy language. Even in the open surrounded by trees it has never felt more claustrophobic than ever for the Grimes family.

Carl stiffens at the mention of his mother, the woman that birthed and nutured him through his pre-teen years. The woman he eventually ended up killing.

Rick takes his silence as an opportunity, “Let her go, Carl. That’s my only advice.”

Tears form in his lashline as he stares back at him dad, and the sheriff’s hat against his head has never felt more heavy than in this moment.

“But everyone saw Mum’s body.”

Rick has never turned around quicker than in that moment. The mention of his lovers lifeless body, deep cut in her lower stomach flashes under the glaze in his eyes and Rick swears he can see a white dress move through the treeline.

Carl continues, “We saw Mum’s body,” His voice trembles and he sniffs, “I knew she was dead more than anyone else here.”

It’s deathly silent. Everyone knows what he’s referring to, and everyone is scared shitless to say anything to either of them. Rick takes a deep breath, but doesn’t speak.

A droplet rolls down Carl’s pale cheek, and he looks down to ensure no one saw him wipe it away, “We haven’t seen hers. Until we see her body, I’m keeping her jacket. But when we find her, she’s gonna have it back.”

Rick only nods lightly, picking up the supplies he agreed to carry.

Nobody makes any objections to continuing to move further up the road - towards Alexandria.

-—-

You have never felt so close before. Yes, they were extremely suspicious and afraid of Aaron and his husband, Eric. Having been tricked into a cannibal house just a week ago does that to a group of people.

But walking up yet another road, littered with lifeless corpses of walkers with bullets making their brains paint the pavement. Carl knows only one thing.

He has never been this sure that he was going to find you.

Aaron is rattling on about what facilities they had. Running water, heating, electricity. Promises of necessaries they haven’t heard of for years now.

His dad is on edge, not particularly fond of the idea, but he knew that everyone was so tired and burnt out that they needed just the idea of a safe place to be just to bring more motivation to themselves.

So far, Aaron’s words of a 15 foot, metal wall that bordered Alexandria and protected the insiders was true, and Carl begins to feel more energetic and hopeful than before.

Carol notices this, and questions the boy, “What’s up, Carl?” She looks at him, and he looks back.

“She’s here, I know it.” He replies and then looks forward again, walking ahead of her.

Carol furrows her brows and decides to take harder and longer looks at the walkers on the floor.

The group arrive at the large, metal gate. The journey felt like hours for each of them, but extra long for Carl. He was antsy, and fully compliant to anything any of them told them to do. If Aaron or Eric told them to stop, he would. If they told him to go find a bird, kill it and bring it back, he would.

The gates finally screech open, Carl feels as if his heart is going to burst open. An alarm sounds in the back of his head but not one of worry, but one of intuition that told him she was here.

He looked into the gated community as the gate opened fully, and felt alienated as soon as he entered with his group. They were dirty, hair knotty and unclean against the pristine and organised residents of Alexandria.

People poke their heads out of houses and stare, smiling or looking upon them with apathy. Every face Carl doesn’t recognise.

They get told to hand over their weapons. Their refusal is argued, and eventually they give in. It’s hesitated and unsettling seeing all their guns and knifes piled onto a trolley.

Carl is the second to last person to place anything on the trolley, his handgun is held in his hands tightly as he walks over to the collection, placing it down and reaching for his knife-

“Carl?”

It’s a voice further along the pathway into Alexandria, and he looks up in slight confusion.

His blue eyes meet hers, they’re as recognisable as ever. Finally.

His body is practically overflowing with emotion - relief, joy, sadness and the most overpowering feeling of love.

The knife clatters to the floor, there are hands reaching for him, tugging on his clothes to hold him back and the leaders that he didn’t care to remember the names of tell him to stay put.

Instead he runs. It’s a run of desperation. He’s afraid that if he doesn’t run fast enough, you’ll disappear again in the aftermath of an explosion. You’re running too, a hand against your mouth to cover sobs.

The two of you meet halfway, arms wrapping around eachother as a form of physical touch to ensure that the other that this is real.

“You’re alive,” Carl whispers, breathing heavily and clutching the back of your head that was pressed against his chest, “I knew it.”

You’re both crying, holding eachother in a tight, cathartic embrace that released any inkling of doubt that the others heart wasn’t beating.

Carl’s hands clamber to hold you face in his hands again. You let him, raising your head to look into his eyes. He runs his thumbs against your soft skin, scanning your face.

His head lowers, yours lifts, and your lips meet in a greeting that was way past it’s due date. Eyes closed, experiencing something that has only been a dream for so long. You didn’t care that his lips were chapped, he didn’t care that yours were slightly cut up from you biting at the dead skin there.

It’s messy, teeth clashing and your noses bump one or two times, but all that you care about is that he’s here, and that he finally found you.

You pull apart, and your eyes fly open to witness his still closed like he was still in shock. His lashes flutter, and you make eye contact once again.

There’s a sense of melancholy realisation that slowly ebbs through him. The fact he hadn’t been there to witness you grow up alongside him during the time you were apart. He admires the change in your facial structure, features from before stronger and more prominent to show that you had grown up.

“You’re just as beautiful as I remembered,” His thumb wipes away a few of your tears and rolls over a small scar that streches up from your jawline to your cheekbone and his eyebrows furrowed in slight worry, “What happened?”

You press yourself further against his palms, relishing in the feeling of him again, “I survived, Carl.”

His name has never sounded so good before. His brain feels funny, his heart floating as he pulls you in for another kiss. It’s less messy this time, not that either of you care.

Carl pulls away again as he’s reminded of his mission, his forehead against yours, “Your jacket,” He gives you peck, and departs again, “I have your jacket.”

His hands leave your face to pull the rucksack of his back, and in panting breaths you gasp softly as he pulls the red fabric out of the bottom of the brown bag, holding it out to you.

“I cleaned it, sewed up the bullet hole,” He holds it up, showing the messy threading, “It’s not the best-”

He’s cut off by you taking it from him with a sniffle, pressing it against your heart and clutching it.

“I love you, Carl.” Your voice trembles, and he smiles, pressing a kiss against your forehead, brushing a few loose strands of your hair from your face.

“I love you too.”

You unzipped the red jacket, struggling to get it on; Carl moves forwards to help you slide it on over your arms again.

Where it rightfully belongs.

-—-

[50shadesofrossi]

Ruining You

Ser Harwin Strong x Female Reader

Summary: You’re Viserys’ eldest daughter, the blood of the dragon running thick. You have a temper, and it seems Harwin is the only one brave enough to tame it despite your mutual loathing

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff, swearing and depictions of violence

A/N: Holy shit. This was originally 13k words but in the last thousand the plot went a bit haywire and the writing was bleh so I deleted that and just fixed a few things to make it where it is now. I sincerely apologise if this isn’t what you thought when I originally posted the idea, it did kind of run away on me but at the same time, I lowkey love it. Enjoy, this 12k fic :)

Rage boils deep within your veins, the bubbles extremely close to spilling over. Your father always said you and your sister Rhaenyra share the blood of the dragon, especially the hot temperament, though he underestimated just how ferocious you can get, even as a child. 

You feel every emotion with such a raw intensity that sometimes you don't know what to do, or how to deal with it and it explodes, consuming you whole and turning you into someone entirely different. Your alter ego, as your uncle Daemon calls it. 

Much like now, wildfire blazing within your eyes, steam simmering out of your ears and blood spilling into your mouth from grinding your teeth so hard. It takes every ounce of strength to not erupt, destroy anything in your path and embarrass your father further. 

"Are you even listening to me?!" Viserys yells from the throne, his voice echoing down the great hall for all to hear. 

No, you're not listening to him, too busy trying to direct your anger elsewhere, direct it at someone else. Pain flares up your arms, wrapping around like a snake as your nails dig into your palms. 

Viserys calls your name and almost stumbles back in response to your attention flickering up to him. "Is that all, your grace?" You grit. 

The small group of occupants cease breathing. Viserys sighs exasperatedly, gesturing for your dismissal. Without hesitation you spin on your heel, marching your way out of the hall and toward the fastest exit out of the Keep, away from prying eyes. 

Servants, lords and ladies all evacuate the premises, steering clear of your path of destruction as you make your way toward the back of the gardens, your secret area you call it. Your dress swishes around your ankles, your heeled boots clipping the ground. 

You barely make it in time, rounding the large tree and searching for your hidden blade. The steel glints under the sunlight, ringing as it slashes through the air and makes contact with the already-exposed bark. Bits fly everywhere with each swing, your bottled-up rage slowly leaking out. 

You don't hear the person approach, nor do you feel the eyes watching you intently, silent and observing. To say the knight is used to your outbursts is an understatement. You never fail to remind him of who you're descendant from, the unyielding anger and raw emotions of a Targaryen. 

A dragon. 

"Fuck!" You scream angrily, tears pricking the corner of your eyes and your knees buckling. You hit the earth harshly, staining your dress, not that you care at this moment. 

The sword falls from your grip, landing amongst the dirt. 

"I half expected you to climb atop your dragon and burn King's Landing to the ground," the knight muses from behind you, making himself known and slowly approaching you like a rabid animal. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing him away and hoping to awaken from this horrible nightmare. You hear the debris snap under his weight with each step closer, reigniting your hatred. 

With precision, despite the dress, you come to your feet and whirl around, your hand having grasped your blade in the process. "And you best believe I'd burn you first, you fucking snitch." You seethe, pointing the end toward him. 

"Princess-" he starts, daring to place his foot down and inch himself closer. 

"Unless you want to be choking on your blood Ser Harwin," you address him. "I'd stand down and leave me be." 

Harwin swallows thickly, an inkling of fear rolling down his spine. "It wasn't me," he starts off carefully, deciding to keep his distance. "I never told anyone, certainly not your father or mine. But to be truthful, I'm glad someone else did." 

"Liar," you approach him with purpose, resting the point of the blade on his knitted tunic. "You have the most to gain by staying on his good side, being rewarded with his favour; Commander of the Gold Cloaks." He holds your eye, his fingers twitching. "My uncle is bound to screw up eventually and when that happens, you'll slide right into his position. All you heirs are the same." 

"Princess," he tries again. 

"Breakbones." 

His jaw flexes. You've struck a nerve, a nerve you love to hit. "Don't," he warns. 

"Go guard your honourable princess, and leave me alone. I'm in no tolerable mood." You indicate your younger sister, Rhaenyra. 

Harwin breathes steadily through his nose, ignoring the fact that you're trying to get under his skin, to piss him off like you are. It's almost routine by now, especially when you're this riled up. 

"And so you plan to torture the tree? With that flimsy sword, which by the way, will shatter the moment it meets real steel." 

You close your eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling harshly. Harwin makes a split-second decision, one that he's sure will land him as food for your dragon. He knocks your sword away, the unexpected force causing you to stumble back and blink up at him. 

"Never take your eyes off your opponent." 

Confusion begins to overlap your previous state, your fingers twisting for a better grip on the handle of your sword that now is by your side. "What are you-" 

"Who taught you to wield a sword?" You don't answer. Harwin speaks your name, a different kind of fire burning within you. "Who taught you?" He presses, his tone firm, as though he talks to a child. 

"Ser Criston Cole." 

"Ser Criston Cole," he drawls, almost in disbelief. "Of fucking course." He mumbles to himself. His own kind of anger sparks, his skin crawling at the thought of the two of you alone. "And let me guess, you begged and pleaded with him to teach you how to defend yourself because you know that going outside the Red Keep is a stupid fucking idea." 

He should slap himself for speaking so indirectly, informally to you, his princess. Yet, he couldn't stop the words from spilling out. 

During your nights, you spend them down in Flea Bottom, or anywhere that's not the Red Keep, spreading your wings and soaring. You hate being holed up, being monitored and being expected to carry out duties you never asked for, never wanted. Even as a child, you wished you of been born to a low-born family, even a lady and lord would be better than King Viserys' firstborn. 

When your mother and brother passed, Viserys was prepared to bake you his heir, but you declined. You could think of nothing worse, having seen the stress and duty your father must endure on a day-to-day basis. You know Rhaenyra will be a better Queen. 

Not to mention, you wish to marry for love. As childish and dreamer-like for you to want, you gave up fighting years ago. 

On most of your escapades, Harwin finds you, and ultimately drags you back to the safety of the Keep. He's the only knight that you know of, that's caught you, leading you to believe he is responsible for reporting it to your father. Hence why you were abruptly dragged from your chambers this morning. 

"And you think you can do better? Ser Criston at least understands that I'll do as I please, not try and reprimand me at every given chance." You lower your voice. "And watch yourself, Ser Harwin, I'm still your princess, no matter how much you hate it." 

Regret flashes in his eyes before it's gone. "Then let's see what you've learnt." 

Harwin draws his sword, knowing damn well he could be executed for doing so. But at this moment, you're both too wound up to differentiate between what's right and wrong. A habit, of the both of you. 

You flinch at the large sword, deep down knowing Harwin would never jeopardise you, never put you in harm's way or risk hurting you. You lift your chin, swallowing the lump in your throat and raising your sword. 

He watches in amusement, allowing you a heartbeat before he attacks, bringing his sword down. You block with ease, unprepared for how light it is. He's pulling all his strength back. You push the sword away, moving around and keeping your footwork light, smirking. 

"Is something funny?" Harwin raises an unimpressed brow, his eyes never leaving you. 

You bite back a smile at his clear agitation. "No." 

He grunts, striking again. Your reflexes move before you think, blocking and attempting to counterattack yourself, refusing to show your frustration. He's still clearly overpowering you and much more experienced. 

You silently pray for those that meet the end of Harwin's fury. 

"Tell me, Princess" he starts, a loud ringing vibrating into the area as your swords clash. "Has Ser Criston taught you hand-to-hand combat, or how to escape someone's grip?" 

The question takes you off guard, your head tilting as you try to remember. Harwin uses the moment to smack your sword out of your hand, his own dropping for your safety and his arms wrapping around you. 

You cease breathing, the constricted in your throat and your heart skipping a beat. An arm gently presses against your throat, Harwin having put you in a controlled headlock, your back flush with his front. 

Your lips part, your fingers instinctively digging into his arm. Heat crawls up your neck, blood pounding in your ear. You know this is a training exercise, but you can't help in feeling so safe in his arms. Your muscles automatically relax, your adrenaline calms and your breath slowly comes back to you with each second. 

You should hate the situation you're in. Granted, if it was any other person you'd be kicking up a shit storm and preparing to have them fed to your dragon but it's not just anyone. It's Harwin, and that makes you hate him more. 

Hate him for having this effect on you, for consuming your thoughts and imprinting himself amongst your dreams. Though you know he's not to blame, it's yourself. 

For falling so profoundly, and irrevocably in love with him. 

"No doubt, you could handle yourself in an armed fight but what if they get the upper hand, like I did just now, and you're left with close combat, or even worse, they grab you like this," Harwin says to you, his voice thickening with an emotion you can't quite place. "How do you get out?" 

You shake with nerves, at the thought of your escape plan. It's stupid, and it might not work and fuck everything up. Though it could work, and once again, fuck it all up. You push the insecurities down, knowing that he's trying to teach you a life lesson, even if you don't want to hear it. 

You twist your head, his grip not being tight in any way, and find his lips with ease, capturing them. Harwin falters, his arms opening and allowing you the opportunity to slip through and distance yourself from him. 

"That's how." You lick your lips, drawing the taste of him into your mouth. 

Harwin studies you with a deep look of something, mixed with unhinged anger and fear. He doesn't say anything, even as he quickly reaches for his sword, sheathing it against his hip and holding your eye for a moment longer. 

"One day," he croaks. "You're going to wake up and find yourself all alone." And with that, he turns his back on you. 

You watch him leave, shakily bringing the pads of your fingers to your lips, brushing them tenderly. You feel humiliated, shameful and disgusted. You also feel lighter, having finally answered your own question; his lips are soft and the taste of his breakfast still lingers. 

"I already am." You whisper to yourself, biting your finger to keep the tears at bay, the anger subsided.

The sun begins its descent from the highest point in the sky before you arrive back at your quarters, dismissing your maids in exchange for silence. You sit atop a lounge on the windowsill, breathing the fresher air from the high distance, ignoring the crestfallen ache in your heart. 

You knew something like this would happen, that Harwin would reject you and push you away. It's part of the reason why you hate him because you know you can't have him. Your father would never allow it, as his firstborn. He'd see to it that you marry a beneficial house, to further strengthen your sister's claim to the throne since you turned away from it. 

It doesn't make it any easier, or any less hard. You've spent almost every day in each other's presence, in either passing or company. You've known him since he was a boy. Uncoordinated and lanky, until he grew and filled out into the man he is today. 

"I don't know what you've done, but I'd steer clear from father," Rhaenyra bursts inside, speaking before seeing you. She calls for you when you don't respond, hoping she'll leave. 

She doesn't. 

Rhaenyra perches herself beside you, brushing a strand of your curly hair behind your ear. "What's happened?" 

"Ser Harwin told father of my nightly adventures." 

Rhaenyra frowns, gazing out the window. "It wasn't him, it was Ser Criston," you gape at her, shifting to lean your back against the wall, mirroring your sister. "He said as much when Ser Harwin confronted him about teaching you how to wield a sword, and the two go into it." 

"Shit," you murmur, leaning your head back. 

"I assume he came from seeing you, with how riled up he was. Never seen him so angry." 

She looks at you expectantly. "I kissed him." Her eyes widen. "To prove a point! He asked me how I'd escape from a headlock, and I kissed him, to distract him. It worked because he let go of me." 

"Makes sense," Rhaenyra nods, referring to his destructive path. "What was it like?" 

You glance at her, a small smile ghosting your lips. "It was only brief, but they are smooth, the complete opposite of him." 

You both giggle, dismissing the fact that you dishonoured not only yourself but Harwin. For a few minutes, you sit in silence, relishing in the company of your sister. These moments are rare, as of late, with her newfound responsibilities. 

"Are you going to listen to father?" 

You stare at her, the answer shining in your lilac eyes. "What do you think." 

-

Harwin surrounds himself with his fellow gold cloaks, in an attempt to enjoy his night off. They laugh and joke, spilling their alcohol and losing their hands on woman's bodies. 

He finishes his drink rather frustratedly, slamming it on the counter accidentally. He can't get the stupid fucking kiss out of his head, replaying the scene over and over. 

The way your body moulded to his own, your smaller frame engulfed and your erratic heart pounding against his arm. How he divulged himself and allowed his nose to brush your hair, inhaling your scent and losing his control. 

And fuck, when you leant up and kissed him, he couldn't help but respond. His restraint snapped at that moment, and if it weren't for you slipping out and distancing yourself-he doesn't want to imagine what he would have done.

From your first meeting, he knew he'd grow up to love you, your hot-headed temperament and stubborn wilfulness. Before he arrived in Kings Landing, his father had drilled into him how to act, how the royal family would act, yet there you stood, unaware of his presence as you yelled profanities into the sky. Not to mention, when you caught him gawking, asked him, the fuck are you looking at?

Your first words ever spoken to him. 

He sighs dramatically, rubbing his face and deciding to leave, knowing that drinking his problems away won't solve anything. The cool air nips at him through his woollen clothes, his dark cape swaying behind him as he makes his way back to the Keep. 

Approaching the gates, he hears a rustle, pausing to make sure his senses aren't clouded. "Fucking shit," Harwin immediately reaches for his sword, keeping his hand on the hilt whilst cautiously making his way closer to the whispered profanities. 

He watches you, straightening your clothes and checking to make sure the coast is clear before you walk off toward the city. He raises a brow at the choice of clothes; black pants and a shirt, with a jacket that is a size too big and a cloak to hide your white hair. Though nothing can cover the deep lilac of your eyes. 

He makes the hasty decision to follow you, keeping his distance yet being close enough to protect you should anything happen. Harwin smiles to himself, knowing this is the perfect opportunity to teach you a lesson. 

If it's so easy for him to sneak up behind you, imagine someone else, with impure intentions. 

He follows you for some time, a small part of him enjoying the look of awe and joy at the sights. Each night you leave, you try to explore new parts of the city, learning about your folk. Harwin must admit, not many royals would do so, preferring to stick to the comforts of the Keep.

The moon is high in the sky, shining down and revealing clear paths as you steer left and right, nowhere in particular yet taking note of each turn. You may be reckless, but you're not stupid. 

Harwin chooses this moment to make his move, observing the way you slip steadily down the passageway and pause at the sound of water lapping against the walls. He creeps out, covering your mouth and pulling you to him, stepping out of the light and into the darkness. 

You scream against his gloved hand, thrashing wildly and reaching for your concealed knife when, "and just like that princess, I've killed you. Or worse, knocked you out and used you for my pleasantries. How many times must I tell you until you get it through your thick skull that this isn't safe." 

You stop, your heart thundering and your adrenaline pumping. You close your eyes, subconsciously leaning further into Harwin. He hesitantly removes his hand, waiting for the explosion. 

"I could have killed you," you murmur, the weight of the blade heavy in your hand. You were prepared to stab him in the kidney. The thought of harming him destroys you. "I could have killed you, all because of your stupidity!" You whirl around, still touching him. 

"My stupidity?" He repeats. 

"Yes!" You fire, glaring up at him. "All to teach me a lesson, when I'm not stupid! Have you ever thought that maybe I just don't give a fuck? I know it's not safe, why do you think I sneak around and blend in." You pause, avoiding his gaze and staring at the Strong house crest on his chest. "This is the only time I feel normal, where my existence is insignificant." 

"Princess, no one asks to be born into their roles, to be born rich or poor," he starts, remembering all the times you spoke of wishing to be someone other than a princess, other than Viserys' firstborn. "But it's our duty to push through, to become what we're meant to be; Lord of Harrenhal, and Princess, of the seven kingdoms." 

Your emotions are high and twisted, a single tear slipping down your cheek as you squeeze your eyes shut to keep them at bay. "I didn't want to be a Queen, I sure as hell don't want to be a princess. I just want to be someone's wife, someone's mother. Someone's greatest love. Is that so hard?" 

You can't control the words, the heartfelt words that shatter Harwin. Suddenly, he understands you. He knows you. He says your name, softly, bringing his hand to your chin and tilting it up. Forcing you to look at him. 

Harwin wipes at your cheek with his thumb, tenderly caressing the flesh and relishing in the feel of you in his hand. So small and frail. So exposed. He opens his mouth to say more when the sound of metal armour clanging together draws his attention elsewhere. 

"Shit." He curses. 

He has nowhere to move to. The path spans over a hundred metres, with a wall on one side and the water's edge on the other. He couldn't even go to a corner. Solutions run through his mind, the sound of guards nearing causing him to do the first thing that pops up. 

"Sorry, Princess." He mumbles, pushing you against the concrete wall and covering the majority of your body with his, with no space left between you. Your brows furrow in confusion, question flashing in your eyes. 

Harwin does what he's always wanted to do: press his lips to yours. 

You squeak, given no time to prepare, your eyes wide in surprise. Only twelve hours ago, he was looking at you with utter hatred and disgust for you doing the same thing. The blade clatters against the ground.

The gold cloaks walk past without an issue, chuckling at the two of you but paying no mind. Harwin keeps his lips firmly against you, hating having to put you in this situation. 

When they become a dot in the distance, does he pull away, searching your eyes. "You kissed me back," you refer to earlier. That was your first kiss, this you never realised Harwin had responded. Your eyes harden, your lips pursing as you inhale as much air as possible before being your hand up and slapping him. His head snaps to the side at the sheer force, shock yet understandable written on his face. 

He doesn't respond, the words unable to form in his mouth. He swallows thickly, his jaw taut. He deserved that. He dares look at you again, his chest rising rapidly and the air crackling. 

You push off the wall, shaking your head in disbelief and attempting to round him. Your shoulder clashes with his when he turns to grab your upper arm, halting you. You glare up at him, opening your mouth to hurtle harsh words at him. Harwin moves first, pulling you back to him and claiming your lips. 

You're not even given a chance to respond before he pulls back, his face still close and his breath fanning your cheeks. He looks at you with hunger, lust and want. Realisation dawns on you; he's just as conflicted as you are. 

Your heart tugs you forward, your hands gripping his tunic and meeting him halfway. Harwin's hands cup the sides of your head. 

He devours you, his tongue slipping into your mouth with ease and his hands sliding to the base of your neck and head, titling you up to give more access. You whimper, grappling with his tunic as if he could suddenly move away from you.

He doesn't, shifting to have your back against the wall again, his apparent hard-on pressing into you. Your lungs ache with release, the lack of oxygen making you lightheaded yet desperate for more. 

Slowly and reluctantly, you part, his forehead resting on yours. Your lips are evidently swollen, the taste of him still lingering as he peppers you softly, not quite wanting to stop. 

"Harwin," you whisper, gliding your hands up to his cheeks, running the pads of your fingers over his beard and around his features. 

"I know." 

He could be executed for this, you could be disowned. But gods, does it feel right. Right to be in his hold, to be desired and kissed. You never want to stop. 

"Fuck I know." He repeats, lower. 

You nuzzle each other, refusing to leave the comfort of one another's warmth and touch, despite that nagging thought tugging in the back of your mind. Harwin murmurs that he needs to return you to the Keep, reluctantly standing straighter and removing himself from you.

You follow him in silence, sticking close and for once, not giving him grief. A step up from your usual nights out. 

You soon arrive, pausing before you part and he enters through the main gates whilst you scamper up your hidden passageway. "I know it wasn't you, who told my father." You start. "It was wrong of me to accuse you, and I hope one day you can forgive my insolence, and accept my apology." 

"Of course, Princess. It is known for spoilt children to lash out when they don't receive what they want," he begins to walk back with a teasing smirk. 

You narrow your eyes, watching him for a heartbeat longer and then turning to disappear yourself. The journey back to your quarters is always short, your footsteps light as you work to not attract attention to yourself. 

Heaving the door open, you stop dead in your tracks at the sight of your father standing in your room. "Father-"

"Where have you been?" He says in a low, deadly voice. 

"Taking a walk," 

"Don't lie to me!" Viserys yells. 

The room falls silent. You stare at one another, refusing to break contact. "What will it take for you to listen to me?" 

You think over your choice of words. Is it wise to mention that you wish to marry for love? That you wish he'd allow for you to leave this godforsaken city and be elsewhere, anywhere. Be with Harwin. 

"I wish-" you choke, refusing to look at him as you lay yourself bare. "I wish to marry of my own free will." 

Silence. More silence, his fury-ignited eyes never leaving you, even as you brave the idea to glance up. "No." 

"What-"

"You refused me in naming you heir, you will not refuse me in arranging a marriage for you. That, I can not accept." You gape at him, horror and sickness twisting deep within you. "Take this as your punishment for disobeying me." 

"You can't do this!" You yell at his retreated figure, anger surfacing and exploding. 

"Yes, I can." Viserys ends the argument, storming out of your quarters and forcibly shutting your door. You release a blood-curdling scream, frustration and betrayal gnawing at you. 

You grab the closest object, a cup, and hurtle it across the room. It clangs every time it meets the ground, the metal ringing dying down when it rolls to a stop. Your chest heaves, your jaw clenching and unclenching as you grasp for some control, to leash your emotions. 

You can't. 

You want to hurt your father, hurt him like he's hurt you. There's only one way you know how, leaving you to quickly exit your room through the hidden passageway, navigating down unfamiliar tunnels. 

When you were younger, you explored them all, yet there is only a small handful you use, mainly for your adventures outside the Keep. 

You basically float over the ground, your steps carefully placed despite your fast pace, eager to arrive at your destination. You reach the door, knocking quickly but firmly, making sure you don't arouse the Hand of the King, or his younger son. 

"Princess?" Harwin questions, glancing beyond you. "Is everything alright?" 

You say nothing, surging forward and claiming his lips. Harwin can only raise his brows in surprise, at both your forwardness and boldness, your hands resting on his chest to walk him backward, closing the door swiftly behind you. 

"What was that for?" He presses, distancing himself from you. He doesn't want to think of the penalty if you were found at this very moment. "Hmm?" 

You nibble your lip, holding his gaze even though you'd rather burn for the next words that come out. "I need you." 

The room falls silent, only the crackle of the fire is enough from keeping it dark and noiseless. Harwin studies you, not quite believing you. "You need me?" He approaches, agonisingly slow. "I find that very interesting, since only an hour or so ago, you were quite content." 

He stands before you, his fingers coming under your chin and leaning your head up. He observes you, enjoying watching you squirm. "The truth, now." He knows you're lying, or at the very least, not entirely honest. 

"I am telling the truth-" Harwin changes his grip, pulling you close to him by your chin. You almost collapse. He murmurs your name, the sound rolling down your back on waves. His eyes glint with a challenge, daring you to protest. Your neck heats up. "I could find little sleep, and my," you stop, wishing for the floor to open and swallow you hole. Harwin raises a brow. 

"My fingers were insufficient."

You don't realise, that the previous fire of wrath has simmered down, laying dormant. A different burn ravages your body. 

A wicked smile pulls at the corner of Harwin's mouth, his demeanour shifting. "Was that so hard?" His voice holding a certain husk, that you've never heard. 

His thumb brushes your smooth skin, braving the course of your lips. You release a small breath you didn't realise you were holding and your mouth parts. Harwin drags your bottom lip down, enjoying your compliance. 

"You need me to soothe that ache, Princess?" He tortures you, his mouth ghosting you yet inching up every time you try to close the gap. 

"Please," you're not sure what you're begging for, the words just tumbling out. You close your eyes in frustration, his breath fanning you. 

He finally relents, coming down on your mouth heavily. You barely have a moment to properly respond, his fingers tightening on your chin and his free hand coming to the base of your neck, keeping you steady as he takes your breath. 

"This is all you needed," he pulls a hairsbreadth away, his nose pressing onto the side of yours. "Someone to dominate you, leave you powerless." He realises, looking over your wanton state. 

Your hands fist his shirt, desperation clear on your face. He smiles softly, abruptly pulling back and creating a well-spaced distance from you. You feel as if a cold bucket of water has been poured over you, watching as he takes a seat by the fire. 

"Go to bed, Princess." 

You gape at him, fury bubbling to the surface. "Harwin," you start, taking a tentative step forward. 

"What you are asking for, is treason. The fucking death penalty." 

You flare up. "So is kissing me! What is going a little further?" 

"We are talking about your virtue." He raises his voice, momentarily forgetting about his whereabouts. Gods above, should someone come knocking. "That would be despicable of me, to take something that belongs to your husband." 

You frown, coming to stand before him, the sudden rush of heat inflicting goosebumps. "It should be mine to give away, not his to take." 

He looks up at you, his curls dishevelled and unruly. He wears a worn shirt, the casual appearance causing your stomach to twist. What you would give, to share days where you are laid bare with each other, to see the other side of Harwin, the improper side of him. 

"I trust you, Harwin," you begin, standing between his legs. "I want it to be you. No one else but you, who sees me, and touches me." You hoist a leg over his lap, moving to straddle his lap, your knees digging into the edge of the cushion. 

Instinctively, Harwin's hands come to your waist, keeping you situated. He battles with his morals, his body and heart reacting completely opposite to his mind. If you were a low-born, he'd have fucked you back in the passageway, without a care of onlookers. 

But your status halts him. 

You say his name again, caressing his jaw, your nails scraping through his beard. He doesn't break contact, his palms wandering along your side, moving with a mind of their own. It's plain to see, how much he wants you, how much you want each other. 

Painstakingly obvious. 

You swallow nervously, inching down to press a gentle kiss on the underside of his jaw, allowing time for him to push you off should he really not want to continue. You wouldn't ask that of him. His fingers flex into your flesh, his head angling up slightly. 

A ghost of a smirk plants itself over your lips, a sudden arrogance blooming at his reaction, at his heavier breath intake. You travel to his neck, feeling the urge to nibble lightly, Harwin rolling your hips into him reflexively. 

You gasp into his skin at the sudden pleasure, the seam of your pants pulling tightly over your clit. Harwin groans lowly, both at your mouth finding his sweet spot and your hips rutting into him. A sinister thought crosses his mind. 

Effortlessly he hoists you up, placing you over his thigh. You sit back in confusion, your initial reaction being that he wants to stop, until he speaks. "You say you use your fingers," your slightly wide eyes are enough of a confirmation. "Then use me. Get yourself off using me." 

Your lips part, your eyes searching his. He smiles reassuringly, dragging your hips over his thigh. "Take your pleasure, Princess." 

Your head drops into the crevice of his shoulder, an airy moan escaping you at the new sensation. Naturally, you begin to move on your own, a hand snaking up the other side of his head to thread through his curls, using him as leverage. 

Harwin jolts his leg up, the action bringing a new wave of pleasure through you. You whimper into his shoulder, your mind reminding you how improper this is, how a woman takes no pleasure from laying with a man yet your body ignores every lesson you've ever been taught. 

A low pressure builds, your thighs starting to shake and your movements quickening. Harwin makes the split decision to help, driving your hips down and over, the new motion brings you to your release. 

You pant against him, squeezing your eyes shut as he continues to move you gently, drawing your orgasm out. Slowly he comes to a stop, allowing you a moment to really comprehend what's happening before he shifts in a way that he can plant a kiss on your head.

"Was that good?" 

You nod, a familiar heat rising in your cheeks. Gods that felt fucking magical, and he barely did anything. You can only imagine how his cock will feel. 

He chuckles lightly, coaxing you to sit back and reveal your pretty face. He drags the backs of his fingers down your cheek, memorising each fine detail. Deep down, a small part of him fears this will be the last he'll ever see of it. 

In one movement, Harwin stands and gingerly lowers you onto the fur rug in front of the fire, the flames dancing dangerously close. He knows how much you love the heat. 

You gaze up at him, allowing him the opportunity to worship you. His large hands slip under your shirt, dragging the material as he roams every inch of your side. You arch your back and raise your arms, allowing easier access to glide the shirt off. 

Goosebumps erupt under his hardened callouses, his fingers interlocking with yours once he moves up your arms and allows the shirt to bunch above your head. "Keep them here," he murmurs, capturing your lips. 

You figure he means your hands, nodding against his mouth. His tongue invades your mouth, his breath becoming your own and his fingers flexing at the sheer taste of you. You have no idea how much power you wield over him. 

His hands begin their descent, grazing your flesh and finding solace on your breasts, his mouth following suit. You grab onto the edge of the fur rug, gripping it firmly. 

His tongue flicks your erect nipple, his teeth meeting the tender flesh. He nips and sucks around the area, a hand paying attention to your other breast, careful to administer equally. You gasp and writhe under him, unaware that he could bring you any pleasure from this. 

Eventually, he moves on, stopping at your waistline. He flickers up to you, a silent ask of permission in his eyes. You give an airy yes, anticipation gnawing at you. Harwin pulls your pants and undergarment in one motion, the cool air causing you to jump. 

He laughs softly, grinning at your nakedness, at the way your skin glows under the firelight. Right now, you're all his, his to take, to touch and love. His mind captures this moment, storing it away for a time when he plans on replaying it over and over. 

"How do you feel, Princess, knowing you're about to be my dessert." 

Your eyes brows raise at the comment, unsure of his hidden innuendo. A dark part of Harwin relishes in the fact that it's him, that gets to taint you. That he's the one to open the gates to a whole new world of pleasure. He plans on ruining you for any other man. 

"What are you doing?" You ask more in curiousness than fear. Of all your lessons, the Septas never mentioned a man putting his head between your legs. 

"I'm dining on my Princess, is that alright with you?" A dark glint shines in his eyes from between your thighs, his beard grazing your soft flesh. You whimper, biting your lip and giving him the go-ahead. 

You suck in a deep breath at the first contact of his tongue, your body seizing. Fuck. You throw your head back in a silent moan, Harwin's mouth ravaging you. His tongue explores your folds and clit, emitting all pitches of sounds from you. 

Suddenly his hands snake around your thighs and grip you thoroughly, spreading them further around his head and giving him easier access. You squeal at the feeling of his tongue entering you, pumping in and out. 

"Harwin," your knuckles have since turned white. 

This is a high you never thought you could experience, the intensity hitting you like a wave. The combination of his tongue, his lips and his beard is enough to drive you over. Of course, Harwin intends for you to be fully prepared, momentarily coming up to gauge your reaction as he pushes a finger into you. 

You release a deep groan at the intrusion, the pleasure brewing. He takes his time, moving in and out of you, slowly adding a second finger at the same time his thumb rubs your clit. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, unable to do anything but writhe under his hand. Gods you wish you could put your arms down and grab him, show him how good he's making you feel. Harwin spreads his fingers carefully, intently studying your reaction. He wants you prepped as best as possible, wanting your first-time pain-free. 

With all these motions and pleasantries you fall over the edge, calling out his name. Harwin continues his movements for a second longer before removing his hand, allowing you to come down from your high. 

He skims over you, capturing your lips and emptying your lungs. You instantly wrap your arms around him, eager to keep him close. He grinds himself into you, allowing you a moment to feel how hard he is. 

You lick your lips whilst you watch him undress, tossing his clothes somewhere before diving straight back down to you. You barely get a chance to admire his hard-earned body, instead running your fingers deep into his back muscles. 

"Give me your hand," he guides it down, wrapping it firmly around his cock. You suppress a giggle at his involuntarily deep groan. "This is what you do to me," he says your name. "This, and so much more. You have no idea the kind of control that's in your favour." 

You can't help but smirk. You leave your hand wrapped around him, a little unsure of what to do. "You take the lead, whenever you're ready." Oh. He means for you to put him in. 

You glance down, hesitantly gliding to the tip, drawing it closer. "Can you help?" You have no fucking idea what you're doing. 

His hand envelops your own, guiding it to you and nudging your opening. You suck in a deep breath, flickering up to his own deep blue eyes. He leaves you to your own devices, gritting his teeth at every inch. 

The feeling is unlike anything you've ever experienced. For the time being, it's uncomfortable and unnatural, your body's initial reaction to close your legs and get him out of you. But you don't, removing your hand and granting Harwin the opportunity to ease in. 

"Harwin." You grunt, clawing at his shoulders. 

"You're doing so well, taking me so well." He praises, finally stopping once he's filled you. As time passes, your body begins to relax, climatizing to having his cock stretch you open. 

"Move, please move." You strain, wanting this first part to be over with. 

He does, slowly rocking out and in, the slight pain shifting to pleasure, your deep breaths becoming short. You have no idea what to do besides lay here, wrapped around Harwin as he thrusts into you, restraining himself from fucking you into the rug. 

That will be for later. 

For now, he intends on showing you a softer, gentler side of him, one where he tenderly brings you to release.

He fists the fur beside your head, his other hand on your hip as he steadily moves within you, your back arching slightly when he reaches parts of you, you never thought he'd reach. 

You bring a hand to his face, brushing a part of his curls back and revealing his prominent features, trying desperately to hold contact. 

He uses the hold on your hip as leverage, lifting your hips ever so little when he ruts into you, eliciting all frequencies of sounds from you. Your walls begin to clench around him, alerting him of your impending orgasm. 

Slipping his hand over, Harwin teases your clit, eager to really please you. With this being your first time, your climax quite quickly, Harwin's name falling from your lips. 

You gasp at his sudden eviction, a small part of you wondering if that was it. Harwin soon answers, scooping you up off the ground and planting you beside the fire, your front pressing against the wall. Thankfully the fire leaves it warm. 

"Harwin, what are you-oh fuck!" You cry out at his sudden intrusion, entering from behind. 

Harwin leaves no space between you, your legs spread to give him better access and a hand weaving through your hair and pulling your head to the side. "You wanted this, Princess, and you'll take it." He grunts into your ear, his thrusts hitting sharply. "But don't worry, you'll find yourself soon enjoying it." 

You almost flutter around him, the words sinking in and leaving you in a hot and bothered state. His guttural voice mixed with those cold, demeaning words. 

In a way, he's not wrong, the new position causing all sorts of pleasures to tremble through your body; your nipples grazing the stone, his cock hammering into you and his dominant hands manoeuvring you like a whore. 

You snake an arm around, cupping the back of his head, keeping him close. With your cheek melted into the stone wall, his breath moulds with your own, your lips dangerously near, yet not touching. You close your eyes, enjoying the brutal fucking and not to mention, Harwin's own grunting and groaning. 

It brings you joy to know that he finds great pleasure in you. 

"You have no idea what you've just done, allowing me the honour to be the first to have my way with you. It wasn't a smart move Princess because I intend to ruin you," it's as though his own words spur him on, harshly rutting into you and carving you into the wall. You can do nothing but take it, and endure his treatment. 

You wouldn't have it any other way.

"I intend on breaking you in to my cock, destroying all hope for you to ever enjoy someone else." He lowers his voice almost menacingly. "No one will ever fuck you like I am." 

You attempt a nod, knowing he's correct. As fucked up as it seems, you know that only Harwin can bring you to these highs. He's the only one you'll ever allow to treat you this way. Like an object, a vacant hole. 

You know your close, your legs beginning to shake and your breath quickening. "Harwin, please," you whimper, once again not entirely sure what you're pleading for. 

Whatever it is, you know he can grant it. 

Somehow he hits a deeper angle, leaving you to cry out clenching around him. He falters for a second, close to spilling over himself. He so desperately wants to, but he's holding out. With the new tempo, you crumble, spilling around Harwin as he continues to thrust into you. 

You whine against him, the overwhelming pleasure causing tears to prick in the corners of your eyes. He doesn't stop, only slowing as he whirls you around, picking you up by your thighs and clamping them to his waist. 

"Gods," you moan airily, his cock ramming against your sensitive walls. 

"The seven won't help you here." He muses, observing your expressions. 

Amazingly enough, Harwin increases his tempo, similar to before. You choke, pawing at his chest. "Harwin I can't," 

"Yes you can, hey," he cups your jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. "One more, be a good girl and give me one more, you can do it." 

You bite your lip at the pain beginning to throb, your body exhausted and to be honest, your pussy used. His dark eyes watch you, a hand coming down to press against your clit, helping in relieve that pressure building once again. 

He groans your name, his other hand moving to brace against the skirting around the fireplace. With his strength and subconscious force, he breaks the corner of it. You barely react to the stone crumbling at his feet, more focused on climaxing for a third and final time. 

He swallows your scream, the rush of you around him enough to bring him over, spilling his seed deep. You lean your head back, your chest heaving and no doubt your back scratched. You feel content, Harwin slumping into your shoulder, nuzzling your flesh. 

"I never imagined it would feel like that," you say more to yourself, your fingers threading through his sweaty curls. 

Harwin lifts his head. "It's never like that, Princess." 

-

The wild winds blast through your hair, your dragon's head blocking the majority from hitting you smack bang on your chest. At this height, the force is unimaginable. 

You slowly begin your descent, dreading the moment you land and go back to reality, your cruel reality. In these last few months, you were made to follow your sister during her tour, allowing the lords to put themselves forward for your hand, alongside Rhaenyra. 

You scowled the entire time. A cold, blank sheet was over your face, your eyes narrowed and dark. You could burn your father for the agony he's put you through, refusing your one ask of him. He's strained his relationship with you. 

As more and more days pass, you ponder the thought of running away, denouncing your blood and flying off into the distance, far from this heartache. 

You know it's foolish, that you must uphold your duty, but fuck duty. 

Your dragon lands smoothly, his large frame dwarfing you once you climb down, your hand brushing against his scales and his head. He growls softly, leaning into your palm and hoping to draw this time out. He's missed you, much like the dark-haired knight that only just received word of your arrival. 

You and your sister returned in the night, and since dawn you've been up in the skies, forgetting the situation at hand for a while longer. 

You gesture for the dragon keepers to guide your dragon back into his nest, turning swiftly and making your way up to the Keep. Eyes watch you, studying you with every step. Since your last conversation with your father, you've turned into a cold little bitch. 

It's the only way you know to protect yourself. 

Your steel gaze burns through anyone who makes contact, challenging them to speak their mind. You know of the rumours that spread, how you've turned down every suitor, how your attitude has changed and you are no longer the nice Princess. 

You don't notice the deep blue eyes following your every move through the courtyard, studying your behaviour. A part of you wonders how your first interaction would be, having not spoken a word to him since that night.

After he helped you dress, you snuck back into your room riddled with guilt. Suppose you came to your senses, realising exactly what you'd just done. But somewhere, you didn't care, you still don't. The next day you prepared yourself to send him away, should he come looking, but he never did. 

And then you left, following your sister around Westeros. 

"Have you seen him?" Rhaenyra sidles up to you, accompanying you to your quarters where you must prepare for the large feast. Your father has organised a large gathering where he can personally meet both of your suitors. 

"No." You answer plainly. 

You confessed the incident to Rhaenyra, trusting her to keep it to herself. She has and is more excited for the two of you to speak than you are. 

"We should have you dressed your best tonight, show him what he's had a taste of, and what he's no doubt missing." 

You roll your eyes, looping an arm through hers. She's been your rock through the whole ideal with your father, understanding both sides, yet gravitating towards yours. 

Rhaenyra takes the opportunity to order your ladies as she sees fit, demanding your hair be styled up to accentuate your chest and collarbone, as the dress she picks is an off-the-shoulder. The black and red material falls to the floor, the sleeves being a cape, tying to the bodice only at the shoulder and leaving your arms to be either hidden or shown. 

The dress plunges down your breasts, opting for a revealing look, courtesy of Rhaenyra. She finishes it off with a dragon-like necklace, alluding to the animal protecting your neck. Throughout the design, scales to represent your house has been embroidered, making it one of a kind. 

Your sister's dress is similar, in the revealing sense. The both of you are definitely pushing your father's buttons, and you have no care. 

The hours past by swiftly, and soon it's time to present yourselves. You walk side by side to the great hall, an anxious tug pulling within your stomach. You can't help but wonder how the evening will play out, and just what will happen with Harwin. 

The great doors swing open, Rhaenyra being introduced first as she's the heir, and you second. Your heart rate quickens with each step, hundreds of eyes staring. You debate whether to search for his, your pace faltering as you connect. 

Gods be fucking damned, he looks divine. 

Your mouth dries at his black attire, at his curls being pulled back and revealing his defined features. It seems he's had a similar thought, dressing his best. 

So many words portray through your eyes, so many thoughts and emotions. His jaw flexes as you draw near, his seat being close to the high table. The rest of the room fades, his gaze agonisingly slowly moving down your body, images of your naked figure coming to mind. 

He pauses at your breasts, subconsciously moistening his lips before he flickers up to your face. He inhales sharply. These past months have done you justice, or you've simply become a woman since he had his share of you. 

Your exchange doesn't go unnoticed, by both of your fathers. 

Rounding the high table, you opt to take your seat, unlike Rhaenyra who greets Viserys before joining you. Neither of you bothered for Alicent, who flares daggers at you in particular. She normally leaves you alone, yet since the altercation with your father, she guns for the both of you. 

You keep silent through the speech, given by your father, focusing on the detail of the cloth before you. A burning sensation spreads through you, almost like a sixth sense, sensing a pair of eyes boring into your skull. 

You clench your jaw, preparing to scare them off when you pause. It's Harwin, unable to keep his eyes off you. Your skin heats up, your thighs pressing together. Fuck, the effect he has on you. 

Viserys takes his seat, the people either beginning to eat or taking to the dance floor, music filling the air. You decide to eat, keeping your attention locked on your plate, desperate to finish it before you go looking for Harwin. You want answers, and one way or another you'll get them. 

At some stage a young lordling braves the high table, asking for your hand. You pause your chewing, your eyes venomous. "As you can see, my lord, I have yet to finish my meal," you gesture to the full plate. 

The boy's cheeks redden, and quickly he excuses himself.  You scoff, resuming your meal with your eyes scouring the hall. You watch the people dance, eventually ditching your plate and leaning back in your chair, your eyes narrowing at Harwin's empty place beside his brother.

You find him amongst the crowd, his attention on a young maiden. Or so you thought, until his gaze flickers up to you, before averting again.

He wants to play that game.

Rising, you round the high table and descend the small flight of stairs, accepting the first person to offer a dance and joining everyone else. At first, you attempt to pay attention to your partner, your bodies moving in partial sync across the floor.

It's not until you spin outward, that you notice Harwin, now with a different girl.

With each movement, you glance over at him, a shadow of annoyance covering you as you realise he refuses to acknowledge you.

You inhale deeply, deciding to ignore your heart's biggest ache and try to enjoy your time without him. You switch partners, losing sight of Harwin as the night progresses. You've lost sense of yourself, spinning and moving to the flow of the music, changing partners every so often that you have no idea who each one is. Your cheeks are warm, your eyes alight. You haven't had this much fun in a while, the suitors flocking to you for a chance to dance. 

Your current partner twirls you around, his grip firm and unwavering. For the first time, he matches you, each movement sturdy and confidence clear in his steps. He makes for a great dance partner. You can't help but laugh as he draws you to him, only to raise his arm over your head and redirect you. 

His hand slips from yours, signalling a partner change, and you spin to stop in someone's chest. You instinctively brace yourself on his chest, an apology on your lips as you glance up. "Ser Harwin," you breathe his name. 

"Princess," he curtly acknowledges. 

His chest tightens at your appearance, wide and excited eyes, wisps of hair falling from their place and framing your face. Not to mention, your delicate hands still pressed to him, leaving only a splinter of a gap between you. 

You follow his gaze, realisation dawning. You go to remove yourself from him, when his own hands cover yours, gently plucking them off his chest. You expect him to let go, throw you aside and move on, but he doesn't. 

Harwin grasps your hands, leading you into the next dance. You follow him, lost within the depths of his blue eyes, so many words threatening to tumble out. You move fluently, matching his pace. 

"Harwin," you say lowly, unsure of how to proceed. 

"Don't." Your brows furrow, your chests pressing together as you both move in. "Just don't say anything." 

You scoff. "You expect us to dance in silence?" He says nothing, despite the electricity sparking around you. "I've been gone for months and this is how treat me?" 

"What do you want me to say?" He grits. 

"Anything!" You say a little loudly, breaking contact to stare at his house emblem stitched to his chest. You sigh, closing your eyes. "Why didn't you come to see me?" 

"My apologies, Princess, I didn't realise I was your lap dog." 

You snap up to him. Fire burns within your hard stare. "What is your problem? Why are you like this?" 

He raises an eyebrow, extending you away from his body, only to snap you back to him. You collide with his chest harshly, flashbacks of that night coming to your forefront. Reminders of how easily he dominates you. 

"Are you so dense, Princess, that you can't see your actions have consequences." 

You gape at him, matching his hard levelled glare. "Careful Ser, anyone else and I'd have their head." Normally, Harwin would never dare speak so freely, yet at this moment the mere presence of you sets him alight. He grunts in response to your warning. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling deeply to keep the dragon at bay. The last thing anyone needs is for you to boil over and explode. "What actions are you speaking of?" 

You honestly have no idea what he's referring to. "Ahh, so you're ignorant as well. Tell me again why you came to me that night, why you begged," 

"I did not beg!" You almost growl. Fuck he makes you angry, almost rivalling your father at this moment. Your veins simmer, your stomach twisting in rage. "I told you why-" 

"I don't believe you." Harwin cuts you off. He lowers his face, so close to your own. His breath bares down on you, his lips dangerously near, yet Harwin's movements are calculated. There's no warmth in his eyes. "I think someone got angry at daddy, and decided to get back at him using me." 

You freeze. You never expected him to say that, to call you out. "Harwin," you start, desperation filling you. You need to explain yourself, to make him understand. 

Betrayal flashes across him, his back straightening. "Good evening, princess." He spits out your title, removing himself from you entirely. 

"Harwin," you choke, reaching for him when a figure steps in front of you. You barely give the man a glance before you intend on following the knight. 

"If I may, Princess?" 

You ignore the man offering his hand for a dance, staring off at Harwin as he makes his way through the crowd and exits the hall. Distress floods you, your body shaking as you fight the urge to heave. 

You feel sick. 

"Sister, are you alright?" Rhaenyra notices, immediately coming to your side. You can't say anything, darting between her and where Harwin just left. She nods in understanding. "Go, I'll tell father you're feeling ill."

You squeeze her hand gratefully, before making your way toward a different exit, with a plan of cutting him off. You have vague ideas of where he would go. With everyone in the hall, it leaves the corridors vacant. 

Picking your dress up at the knees, you pick up a run, your shoes hitting the floor lightly as you intend on making minimal noise. Blood roars in your ears, your heart pumping erratically.

You round corners, desperate to slip out of the Keep before anyone realises. Finally, you enter the gardens, stopping when you spot Harwin storming his way toward you, unaware of your presence. 

You step into his view, flinching as he stops dead in his tracks. He goes to speak, but you beat him to it. "I am to speak, and you are going to listen." You raise a finger, keeping him rooted whilst you close the distance. 

You stand dangerously close, your chest heaving and your hair falling to your shoulders. "Yes, I came to you because I was furious because I knew that it'd destroy my father much as he'd done to me. He asked what it would take to contain me, and I voiced a marriage of my own free will. He refused." Harwin stands rigid, his fingers flexing at his sides. "But I came to you-"

"Because you knew I'd do it. You took advantage of my affections for you, you used me!" Harwin raises his voice, his emotions controlling him. You deny it, trying to explain yourself when he talks over you. "You have no idea how I felt the next morning when my own gold cloaks told me that the King was to select your hand. You shattered me," you close your eyes at the sound of your name leaving his lips with such pain, tears building. 

"Yet you have such a fucking hold on me that I stupidly offered my hand." 

Your eyes fly open, meeting his own despite the darkness. The bright moon shines down, lighting the area as best as possible. "You," you drawl, comprehending his words. 

"Yes, and I had to endure your father and his court's laughter." 

"But your his Hands son-first born son! Heir to Harrenhal!" 

He chuckles darkly. "Exactly, all I have to offer you is a half-burnt castle, courtesy of your ancestors." 

You can't fathom that your father didn't even consider Harwin, that he belittled him. He has no idea what he's done. 

"Harwin," he shivers. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that. What my father did is cruel," 

"A trait that runs in the family." 

A tear slides down your cheek, defeat seeping in. It seems no matter what you say, Harwin refuses to hear. After a heartbeat of silence, Harwin moves to round you, pausing at your palm coming into contact with his chest. The feel of him sends a shiver down your spine. 

Harwin slides your hand off as if you've burnt him, continuing on his path. An intense wave of pain surges through you, obliterating every part of you without remorse. Your chin trembles, your mind steaming at you to stop him, to fuck the protocols and policies. 

You open your mouth to call out, to tell him the truth but it falls short in your throat, lodged well. You fear for what happens when you lay yourself bare, what he'll say and do. 

"I'm in love with you." 

Harwin completely seizes, as if he was close to falling off a cliff. 

"I came to you, because deep down I knew my father would never approve, especially of us marrying." With each word Harwin approaches you, his body weightless. "So I decided that before I became caged and forced into a dull marriage, that I'd take control and choose who takes my virtue. That I'd lay with the man that I love, even if it were for a night." 

Harwin stands directly behind you, his front pressing against your back, his breath on your neck. "If you're lying to me," 

You turn to face him. "You think I'd allow anyone to treat me like a whore?" 

A flicker of understanding passes between you. How he manoeuvred you, how he controlled you like a puppet and fucked you against the wall without mercy. 

"What do you know of being a whore?" 

You tilt your head, standing on your toes to brush his cheek. "I know I'd let you do whatever you want, so long as it pleases you." 

Harwin inhales sharply, his body itching for you. He murmurs your name, his voice trembling and his restraint slipping. He allows his fingers to loosely hang off your hips, drawing you closer. 

Your mouth ghosts his, the temptation seeping in. You move your arms to his neck, threading your hands through his hair. Harwin groans, his hooded eyes burning through you, his control snapping. 

He captures your lips, his grip on you tightening and his palms travelling every inch of your back, one of them ending up in your hair, the other on your neck. You whimper softly, Harwin using the opportunity to slip in his tongue and ravage you properly. 

You're powerless against him, the lack of oxygen having its effect on your brain. You feel him move you backward, directing you through the garden until you stand flush to a wall, out of sight. Harwin found this hidden spot behind the bushes when he was a young lad, oft venturing here as he grew older to escape his reality. 

He skims down the skirt of your dress, lifting it to cup your pussy. You whine, pulling apart to lean your head into the brick. Harwin smirks at your state, his palm moving in circular motions. 

"Your drenched Princess. How long have you been like this?" He taunts you. 

"Since I laid eyes on you," you answer airily.

Harwin hums in satisfaction, removing your undergarment and tapping the inside of your thigh to signal you step out of it. A chill shudders down your spine in realisation; Harwin plans on having you against this wall, where anyone could easily happen upon you. 

"Hold this," he refers to your skirts, bunching the front into your stomach. You do as he says, biting your lip as he works to remove himself. 

Harwin pauses, his cock hard and throbbing in his hand. "Tell me you want this," he rasps.

"I want you to fuck me." 

A cold smile tugs at his lips, "as my princess commands." 

He nudges into you, giving you a moment before he slides all the way in. You tense, having only had him months ago and nothing since. It doesn't exactly hurt, it feels uncomfortable, like he should be there but he is. 

You grapple with his shoulders, hissing once he reaches the hilt, filling you with every inch of him that you can take. He shudders at your walls clenching around him. 

Slowly he eases out and in, working you to a steady rhythm as to make sure he won't hurt you, that you've accustomed to him. You have. 

He slams his hand onto the wall beside your head at the same time his hips rut into you. Your mouth opens in a silent groan, your forehead pressing against Harwin's as he intends to watch you. 

Each thrust is intentional, his cock hitting as deep as possible and his slow but hard movements driving you crazy. Your whimpers and small sounds spur him on, a hand on your hip to help leverage him into you. 

Though he's fucked you before, you still have no idea what to do, not wanting to just stand here and take his brutal pace. You remember how it felt to have your legs around his waist, how he was able to hit deep angles and completely fill you. 

Lifting a leg up, you hook your ankle around his waist, Harwin instantly shifting. His hand glides down to your thigh, keeping it locked to him and his hips drive deeper into you. 

You begin to feel that burn within your abdomen, brewing with each thrust, especially as he switches to almost completely vacating you before he hits home. You cry out, Harwin instantly covering your mouth. 

"Quiet Princess, otherwise this ends very quickly." Harwin grunts, referring to someone potentially finding you. 

You attempt to nod. He doesn't exactly trust your control, keeping his palm where it is as he continues to piston out of you, his heavy pants signalling how close he's getting. 

You dig your heel into his lower back, so close to falling over the edge, desperate for him to follow. Harwin glides his hand from your thigh to your clit, paying particular attention to the bundle of nerves and the added sensation being enough for you to climax. 

Your moan is muffled, Harwin's hips faltering at the feeling of you gushing around him. His own restraint slips, his cock ramming into you one last time, his seed spilling. His head falls to your shoulder, his hand slipping from your mouth to rest on the side of your head. 

Your chest heaves, a slight sense of fatigue threatening to wash over you. "I hate you, with every fibre of my being." He whispers into your skin, his lips grazing your exposed collarbone. 

"I know." You reply, your mouth dry as you run a caressing hand over his hair. You don't know what to do from this point onward, whether you and Harwin go your separate ways or you fight for him. 

It ultimately falls on him.

"I would burn this fucking city to the ground for you," you murmur, wanting him to comprehend just how much he plagues you, how much he wields you, how nothing else matters in this lifetime but him. Hesitantly, Harwin lifts his head, unprepared for the serious glint in your eye. "Don't give up on me, not yet."

"Then don't leave me." 

Your lilac eyes shine with fire and determination. "Never. I love you too much," he looks away, releasing a heavy breath as though he doesn't believe you. "Hey," you grab his face, forcing him to meet your stare. "I have loved you, since I was a girl. You, are why I hate my status. If I were a lower-born daughter, we could have wed a long time ago, without the burden of our duties." 

"Show me," his words are barely audible, but you catch them. Show me.

Steadily you lower your leg from his waist, ignoring the slight irritation from your hips and sudden blood flow. His soft cock slips from you, hanging limp. Pushing down the nerves that erupt along your body, you sink to your knees, glancing up at him through your lashes. 

A flicker of surprise passes over Harwin. He didn't exactly mean this. Though he'd be stupid to pass up the opportunity. 

"You're the only man I'll get on my knees for," you quip, tentatively wrapping your fingers around his cock. 

Harwin hisses at the contact, his hand bracing himself against the wall. You allow instinct to take over, cautiously pumping him, studying Harwin's reactions. His lips part, his breath becoming heavy with each glide, his cock hardening under your touch. 

"Am I doing it right?" You ask nervously, unsure of what else you could be doing to him. 

"Princess," he grits, his fingers curling into a fist above you. "You keep that up and I won't be able to last." 

Your cheeks flare at his comment, your thumb brushing over his inflamed head. Harwin grunts under your ministrations, his other hand flexing as he withholds the urge to grip your hair. 

"Can you teach me, how to use my mouth?" 

Harwin's eyes fly open, instantly finding your own. "You don't have to, what your doing is just fine." 

"But I want to," you pause your movements, looking up at him expectantly. "Either teach me or I'll learn myself." 

His eyebrows rise to his hairline. "You are a determined thing, aren't you?" You scowl, gently tightening your grip on him. "Alright alright," he repeats, his body stiffening. "Put it in, and for the love of the seven, don't use your teeth." 

A wicked grin spreads across your face, setting Harwin on edge as you take him into your mouth, inwardly cringing for a moment. Harwin shudders, his hip's reflexively jutting forward. 

"Just," he pants, at the mere feeling of his cock inhabiting your mouth. "Move like you were before, and use your tongue." 

Your brows furrow slightly, hesitantly gliding along his cock and back down, dragging your tongue on his underside. He groans, his hand coming to your hair and threading it. How he so desperately wishes to face fuck you, but he won't. Not until you're his. 

You bob your head, following Harwin's instructions as he guides you to bring him to a climax, his leverage on your head allowing him to gingerly rut his hips into you. "Good girl," he murmurs, his eyes closing in pleasure. 

An idea flickers, your tongue swirling around his swollen head and your hand wrapping around the base of him, a small smirk threatening to spread as Harwin stammers. 

You feel powerful, knowing that your mere mouth can bring Harwin to this state, his moral restraint close to breaking like the chains kept around your dragon. 

Harwin calls your name, his cock twitching in your mouth. He's close, dangerously close and he fears that if you don't stop, he won't pull out in time. You remember how he felt you near your climax the night he disappeared between your thighs, sucking gently on your clit to bring you over. 

You wonder if the same applies to him. 

You move to his tip, gently sucking. Harwin cries out at the unexpected sensation, forcing his hips forward and ultimately thrusting his cock further into your mouth as he shatters. 

You squeak, his seed filling your mouth and slipping down your throat. You can't help but cringe at the taste, pulling off him to wipe your mouth. 

Slowly raising, you observe Harwin's state, as he comes down from his high. He releases a heavy breath, his senses clearing. A sense of pride runs through you, for being able to please him as he did to you. 

Being with a man, is not at all what the Septas told you. 

Harwin grabs the underside of your jaw, pulling you up to him. You fist his jacket, a small moan escaping you when his tongue slips in. He doesn't care that he can taste himself. 

He steals your breath, your lungs aching and that familiar burn searing through your abdomen. He reluctantly pulls back, his forehead leaning on yours, his lips feathering you, refusing to completely stop. 

"Harwin," you whisper, your hands sliding to his neck, playing aimlessly with his loose curls. "What are our next moves?" 

"Hmm?" He hums absentmindedly, too lost in the feeling of your cheek against his. He nuzzles you, an act of intimacy that even fucking you couldn't compare to. 

You chuckle, deciding to leave it and enjoy the moment, as much as the two of you should plan out the next steps. 

"You're mine," he says lowly, his gravelly voice sending chills down your spine. "And I'm yours." 

You nod, a smile gracing your lips. "You've ruined me for anyone else."

Tag List: @iwillboilyourteeth @sageshorrorblog @gibbsgirl7 @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @missusnora @jdm-traash @happynerdtale @westeros-needs-me @killthedarkthoughts @stardustdragon9 @my-watch-begins @ietss @znanaworm @fulla02

[kingkatsuki]

This was based off an ask I received from Kitten, thank you for always giving me the best ideas💕

But imagine you get caught up in a sudden trash storm with Enjin, it's not enough debris to damage the car but it's dangerous enough you can't drive or walk. The two of you are just barely outside the city, stuck in a very confined van with tension that's been mounting since the two of you met. Before Enjin leans over and presses his lips to yours, again and again before he's pulling from the passenger seat to the bench seat in the back. Tongue sliding over yours with a groan as he pins you to the old thread bare upholstery with the hopes of fogging up the windows.

Pairings: Engine / Enjin x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, friends to lovers, car sex, minimal prep, unprotected sex, creampie, spanking, praise, dirty talk.

Word Count: 4.1k.

“Maybe you should take a break,” You glance over the centre console to see Enjin’s eyes fluttering at the wheel, sat forward in his chair as he fights sleep.

The heavy rock playing through the worn car radio does nothing to ease his drowsiness, nor do the potholes almost as large as craters that scatter along the contaminated zone.

Reaching over you run your fingers through the buzzed hairs of his undercut, trying to coax his attention back to the path in front of you. Enjin jolts slightly on contact before heaving a soft sigh, his knuckles turn white from how hard he grips the steering wheel as he narrowly misses a large trash pile.

“M’fine,” Enjin mumbles, reluctantly pulling himself away from your touch, terrified that the soothing sensation will have him falling asleep at the wheel.

“I know you’re tired,” You push, “Just for a bit, yeah? A power nap.”

You wanted to get home just as badly as him, the unspoken feelings between you two made it difficult to breathe and this mission had been exhausting. Not to mention how dangerous it was to settle in a contaminated zone for too long, especially when it was just the pair of you. Humans could be just as dangerous as the monsters that reside in the area.

“We’re like sitting ducks out here,” Enjin continued, and he would know. For some reason the Giver enjoyed taking strolls in the contaminated zone, even though the air was unbreatheable, “It’s not much further, it’ll be fine.”

A washer dryer falls to the left of you, colliding into the ground with an almighty smash. Pieces of debris fly everywhere as you jolt in the van, holding your hand to your heart at the sudden movement as you curse under your breath.

“You good, sweetheart?” Enjin turns to you with a grin, and it does nothing but make your insides feel like jelly.

You should be used to it by now, the so called junk thrown discarded by the sky people like it’s nothing. Most of it salvageable, cookers with broken buttons that just needed a quick replacement, hairdryers with blown fuses.

Enjin had even gifted you a diamond ring he’d found one evening on one of his regular strolls. The silver band was pristine, and looked as though it had never been worn. A pretty glistening diamond set perfectly inside it, and not a single scratch on it despite the impact from the large drop. You wondered why anyone would ever throw something so perfect away, and then you saw it— A simple black speck that sat in the middle of the carbon. The smallest, most pathetic reason that it had been thrown into the pit in the first place. Because of course, why would anyone up in Heaven want anything less than perfect— But it was perfect to you. The pretty gem sat perfectly on your ring finger, despite the fact that Enjin hadn’t asked you to marry him. And the speck that was supposedly imperfect, reminded you of the friend who had gifted it to you.

You were just friends, after all. A subject of consistent teasing between the other Janitors.

“If you like someone, you should tell them.” Griss would look back from his position in the drivers seat to wink at you, just as Enjin is shouting at him to “Keep your eyes on the road, Bozo!”

“Yeah, it’s not good to keep those feelings bottled up inside.” Tamzy spoke coolly from the backseat.

“Would sure suck if the person you liked didn’t like you back, though.” Riyo chimed.

Exactly, Riyo. You thought to yourself, It would fucking suck.

And aside from a few flirty words from Griss, and one night where he’d seen red when a travelling merchant offered to buy you a drink in the local pub. Immediately appearing at your side to ward him off, the poor man leaving with a black eye and a bruised ego. “You don’t need to solve everything with violence.” Riyo mocked Enjin, who was pink in the cheeks. For the most part it almost felt like an unspoken rule that you were Enjin’s.

And it didn’t matter anyway, because you were content with this— whatever this was. And it wasn’t worth ruining the relationship you had with feelings, you were satisfied. And you could cope with satisfied if it meant keeping Enjin as a friend, certain not to ruin your relationship with the complication of romantic feelings.

Another loud crash had you snapping back to focus, a hail of trash began to pour down on the barren wasteland, things that by themselves would never have proved deadly. But with the acceleration of gravity, items were deadly as they left dents in the strongest of boulders.

“Fucks sake. We’ve gotta take cover,” Enjin’s tattooed hand shifted on the gearstick as he began to reverse the truck, narrowly missing a falling bathtub as it crashed against the ground.

“Shit,” You squealed, holding onto the dash as Enjin expertly manouvered through the trash storm.

“Hold on.” He veered left to avoid another shower of trash as it made the vehicle fall down a sand dune, skidding to the side as you began to panic. Watching more trash tumble down around you like rain.

“Enjin, look out—” You saw the falling car before he did, an old battered Sedan. How did they even manage to get that down here?

“I fuckin’ know, woman. I know—” He spat, yellow eyes catching it just after you as he swerved roughly. Glad you had your seatbelt on as your side banged into the car door, knocking your head against the glass as he took another harsh turn.

Finding refuge beneath an abandoned Eolian cave as the tires screeched to a stop, the roof of the truck dented but nothing Riyo wouldn’t be able to fix with a hammer when you both made it back to the compound.

“Baby, you okay?” Enjin unbuckled his belt to lean over the center console, cupping your face in both palms as he turns you to face him. Tilting your head to check for any injuries as you reached up to place a warm, sweaty palm around his wrist. Leaning into his touch as you finally allowed your heart to lull, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You shook your head, “Wasn’t your fault.”

“We shoulda never been out here this late, it is all my fault.” He shook his head as you both heard the loud crash of trash and debris continue to fall along the wasteland.

“It’s not your fault, Enjin.” You shook your head, squeezing his wrist softly to try and focus his attention back on you, “We’re okay.”

“I’d have never forgiven myself if you got hurt,” He continued, shaking his head. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him this worried, “I never wanna lose you.”

There’s a subtle change in his movement, and if you hadn’t have been so close to him you would’ve missed it. It was the way his eyes flit down to your lips for the faintest of seconds before meeting your gaze again. The movement has your heart rattling against its cages, dragging a metal cup along the bars to be unleashed from its prison as you took a chance. Tilting your head slightly in Enjin’s palms to brush your lips against his in a chaste kiss. They felt chapped against your softer ones, eager to feel them again as you chanced another peck, this time lingering as you stepped over that blurry line of ‘just friends’.

“We shouldn’t.” Enjin grumbles, obviously fighting the voices in his head as he tries to ignore the blood flowing through his veins. The only voice of reason, as always.

You’re in no mood to talk, hungry for another taste of him as you move your hands to his face, fingertips sliding behind the pink tips of his ears as warm palms graze his stubble. The gentle tips of your fingers stroke the base of his neck as Enjin feels all of his resolve start to crumble the moment you bring him in again.

“Enjin,” You whine against his lips as his warm breath fans your face. He smells like cigarettes and cheap cologne, the scent suffocating and intoxicating at the same time as your half-lidded eyes stare back at him.

“Don’t,” Enjin groaned against your mouth, and yet he made no attempt to pull back, “If you do that I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“Who said I’ll want you to stop?” You replied simply, the taste of your chapstick now smeared against his lips as his tongue poked out to taste it. His nostrils flaring as he felt his entire body react to the implication of your words.

“Fuck it,” He grunts, tugging at your thigh as he pulls you over the center console. His grip firm on you as he positions you on his lap, perched on muscular thighs as you settle just before the semi-hard bulge beneath his pants. Slender fingers stroke along your back as he rests his forehead to yours, silently waiting for you to make your move. To push him away and tell him that you’re just friends; that you shouldn’t do this. But you don’t.

It’s carnal, the way you both paw at each other. Desperate to remove every barrier that stands between you both. Enjin’s long arms knock the top of the van as he tugs his shirt up and over his head, impatiently waiting for him to pull it high enough so you can reattach your lips to his. He’s like a drug you’ve become addicted to, desperate for another dose as your mouths clash together in a duel of tongues and teeth.

His fingers tug at the hem of your shirt roughly to remove it, swallowing the pathetic whine you make against his lips as you pull away for him to discard it. Leaning forward with more urgency as you kiss him again, tongue swiping against his top incisors as he palms your breasts through the simple black bra. The nights he’d spent awake fucking his fist to the thought of you would never compare to this, not in any lifetime.

Enjin pulls away from your bruised lips as you follow him forward, trying to reconnect them as he nudges your nose with his gently. Half-lidded eyes watch with amusement as he begins to pepper kisses along your jawline, following the curve down to the column of your throat as he begins to bite and suck at your pulse point. Another pitiful whine vibrates in your throat as you wrap your arms around his neck, caging his head between your forearms as you thread your fingers through his messy hair. Your clothed breasts practically in his face now as he ventures lower, pressing a kiss against your sternum as he nuzzles at your soft mounds gently, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.

Gravity has your tits bouncing into position as he gently pulls the cups away, revealing your chest to his hungry gaze. It’s his turn to sound desperate now as he groans, low and guttural in his chest as he commits the sight to memory. Certain that if all else fails he’ll have this memory carved into his consciousness for the rest of his existence.

“God, you’re perfect.” He rasps, reaching out tentively to cup your warm tits as he thumbs your nipples, watching them pebble in the cool evening air as you throw your head back in pleasure, “What the fuck are you doin’ with a lowly janitor like me?”

You don’t get a second to answer before Enjin is leaning forward to take one of your nipples into his warm, wet mouth. His tongue swirls around your areola as he pinches and toys with the other, growling against your skin as your nails drag against his scalp in response.

“Fuck, Enjin.” You moan, rolling your hips as you feel the tent in his pants beneath you. His hard cock desperate to be released as your cunt throbs at the thought, eager to feel him after all this time.

“Don’t say my name like that, baby.” He groans, resting his cheek against your breast as he blows cool air against your spit-soaked nipple, “You’ll have me creaming my pants.”

“Enjin,” You ignore his plea as you roll your hips against him again, giving your clit more friction as you focus on the sensation.

“Fuck, you brat.” He grunts, gripping your hips in his palms roughly to stop you repeating the motion again. Positive that if you were to roll your heat against him one more time he would come undone.

“Want you so bad, Enjin. Please.” You choke, reaching between your bodies to paw at his belt. Your fingers toy with the worn leather as he takes pity on you enough to help, slender fingers brush yours away as he unbuckles it, tugging them down with his underwear just enough to free his aching cock.

It’s better than you expected, and your belly swirls with anticipation at the sight of him. What he lacks in girth he makes up for in length, the leaky cock head settles against his abdomen. Pre matts the messy blond hairs that follow a trail up to his bellybutton as the tip burns a fiery red. Swollen, angry and desperate for release as you wrap a palm around him. Making his hips buck wildly as you give a tentative stroke, catching the pre beading at the tip against your palm as you roll your wrist. Holding him straight as you look down between your bodies, watching where his length ends in comparison with your torso as you wonder if he’ll be so deep he’ll cum inside your guts.

Enjin becomes more restless now, impatient, as he bunches your skirt up around your hips. Groaning at the very evident wet patch that gleams against your panties as he presses a calloused finger against it, your eyes roll back into your skull as you feel him graze your clit.

“Oh, baby.” He hisses when your hand tightens around his girth, almost forgetting everything as you focus on the sensation of his fingers toying with you through the thin fabric, “Watch the nails.”

“S-ah, sorry,” You pant, loosening your grip as you follow the forking veins along him with the tips of your fingers.

“Gonna eat this sweet little pussy later, I promise.” He grunts, tugging your panties to the side as he watches your slick cling to the fabric, breaking off into silvery lines as he runs two fingers through your messy folds.

“Fuck, oh my god— Enjin,” Your hips rut pitifully at his touch. The sensation foreign but so satisfying as you seek it out again, whining as he circles the calloused pad of his index finger around your tight hole. Feeling the way it flutters around nothing as it tries to coax him in like a vindictive siren singing a final lullaby to a sailor.

Enjin breaches the gap and the sound that leaves your throat is downright debauched, causing his cock to jolt as he hooked his finger against your soft inner walls. It’s all too much, and simply not enough as you find yourself rolling your hips into his touch. Goading him to press his digit deeper as he feels just how wet and tight you are, certain that he’d never be able to replicate the feeling himself no matter how many Jinki he activated.

“You’re so pretty like this,” He murmurs, his thumb swipes your clit as he watches you try to ride his single finger.

“Enjin, don’t tease me,” You sigh breathlessly, wrapping your palm around his cock as it leaks fresh pre down the shaft. Drooling onto your fingers as you hold him upright, “I need you now.”

“I need to stretch you out, sweetheart.” He grunts, “I don’t wanna hurt you—”

“No, please Enjin,” You hover yourself over his length as you feel his leaky cock head graze your slit, “I want it to hurt.”

“Fuck,” His cock jumps at the lewd thought, wetting his lips with his tongue as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.

“I’ve got a rubber,” He continues, wondering whether the one sat neatly inside his wallet is even in date. He neglects you to turn towards the back of the van to seek out his coat, “But I don’t know if it’s in date—”

“Don’t need it,” You tighten your fist around his cock, causing his head to fall back against the headrest, eyes roll back as you brush the tip of his cock through your sloppy folds, “Just pull out, okay?”

And Enjin thinks that’s easier said than done when he finally feels the warmth of your wet cunt engulf him. You’ve barely taken his engorged tip and the heat is already scorching, searing into him as he watches your face contort in pleasure. Trying his hardest not to use his grip on your hips to impale you on his cock in one fell swoop.

You’re slowly sinking down onto him now and you can feel every delicious inch as you take more and more of him inside. Your unprepped walls throb and ache as they adjust to the stretch, feeling every ridge contour to him as you give a few shallow thrusts.

You already feel impossibly full with half, your chest so tight as though you can feel him in your throat. His calloused thumb presses soft figure of eights to your puffy clit to distract you, and honestly to distract him too as it takes every ounce of willpower not to force you down on his throbbing cock.

“Wanna feel every inch of you.” You whine, bending your head to look between your bodies as you take more of him. Feeling the messy hairs at the base of his cock tickle your clit as you know you’re almost fully seated, positioning your hands on broad shoulders for some semblance of reality as Enjin feels your walls shudder around him.

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you into the shape of my cock, sweetheart?” His words have your clit throbbing and your cunt convulsing as he grins. Neglecting your clit to hold onto the swell of your ass as he starts a savage pace, pulling you down onto his cock each time he ruts his hips up. Heavy balls slap against your ass with each movement, and you’re screaming obscenities.

Enjin’s never been more thankful that there’s no one around as he does nothing to quell your pretty sounds, instead he actively encourages them as he goads you on. Landing a harsh smack to your ass as he feels you clench around him.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” He coos, “You get yours—”

You’re practically using his body for your own pleasure as you roll your hips, his pubes tickle your clit with every forward motion as you cry out for him. Your hand splayed against the fogged window as the other buries sharp nails into his bare shoulder. Leaving red crescent-shaped moons in their wake as you grind against him, feeling the pleasure continuing to build in your abdomen.

There’s something sordid about watching you ride him, the subtle bounce of your tits as you roll your hips. Your thighs trembling as you struggle to maintain a steady pace, exerting all of your energy to try and pleasure yourself. A fact that really gets him off. Enjin takes pity on you, not leaving you to do all the work as he uses his grip to him you fuck yourself on his cock.

“God, look at you—“ Enjin sneers, though there’s no malice in it, “So fuckin’ perfect.”

He knows neither of you will last long, the pent up emotion shared between the two of you was unparalleled. So heightened that it was only a matter of time that it would reach boiling point and flood over. The fleeting glances and gentle touches not enough to quench the desire inside you both, as it left you craving more.

But he’s not going to concede to you so easily, slipping a black painted nail between your bodies as he thumbs your clit, pressing the palm of his hand against your pelvis so he can feel himself inside you. Watching the way your lashes flutter as you throw your head back in pleasure, your hand sliding against the fogged glass as your climax surges through you. Enjin keeps his thumb consistent against your clit we you lean back, throbbing around his cock as you ride out your bliss. There’s nothing but white hot pleasure blanketing your vision and making your brain fuzzy as you try to remember to breathe.

“God, you look so pretty when you cum.” He almost sighs, giving your clit a final sloppy circle before pulling away to hold your hips. Fingertips dip into your plush skin as he cherishes the way you pulse around him, giving himself a moment as he almost loses it too early. Terrified of finishing too soon and never having the chance to do this again—

His strengthens his grip on your hips, tilting your body back as he fucks you with renewed vigour. Selfishly seeking out his own climax as your back is pressed against the wheel, the horn blares in the background as you accidentally nudge it but neither of you seem to care. Your breasts bounce from the ferocity of his movements, his skin sticking to the worn leather seat every time his hips cant back but he still doesn’t stop.

“I’m gonna pull out, sweetheart.” He groans, lifting your body to reluctantly slip his cock from your warmth. Enjin knows if he doesn’t do it now, he never will. Perfectly content with fisting himself all over your skin.

“No, please don’t pull out, Enjin,” You clench around him, trying to keep him lodged inside you as your thighs tighten on either side of him, “Wanna feel you.”

“We can’t— I shouldn’t,” He presses, but there’s no real argument there. Not when your warm cunt coaxed him back in so eagerly, “I’m gonna cum, baby.”

“Just cum inside me.” You reply as though it’s the most simple answer in the world.

“Ah, shit.” He grunts, your saccharine tone the final straw as his hips spasm. Unable to control the pleasure burning in his pelvis as his balls seize. His grip on your hips almost painful, certain to leave bruises in their wake as he fucks into you with renewed vigour. Both of you focused on each other as Enjin gives a few more frantic pumps inside your warm, wet cunt before he meets his own end.

“Fuck— gonna cum, shit.” He grunts as he pumps rope after rope of spunk inside your trembling walls, painting them white. His hips jerkily fuck it into you with a few more sloppy thrusts as you feel the warmth of it engulf you, your chest heaves as you try to come down from your high.

You both settle in silence, the only sound is the falling debris just outside the cave as the storm continues to rage. And your steady breath breathing together in tandem as Enjin’s fingers stroke slow absentminded patterns against your exposed skin.

You make the most adorable whine as Enjin pulls you up off his softening cock, wincing at the wet feeling of his release now drooling onto his inner thighs and the floor of the van as he pulls your chest against his. Your arms weave around his shoulders as you bury your face in his neck, breathing in the scent of him as you bask in the afterglow.

“I didn’t think you wanted me like that,” You mumble against his collarbone, voice barely a whisper as you toy with one of his earrings.

“What?” Enjin tilts his head back slightly, turning to the side to try and meet your gaze as you shyly hide away, warm palms stroking your back, “How could I not want you like that?”

“I guess it’s just been so long,” You continue, “I just started to think maybe you just thought I was a friend.”

“I never really thought I had to say it,” Enjin shrugged, “You’ve always just kinda been mine in my head. Even if you weren’t officially mine.”

“So you’ve never wanted anyone else?” You were terrified of his answer, worried about all the women out there that were definitely prettier than you, smarter, funnier.

“Sweetheart, there would only ever be one girl I’d wanna give a diamond ring to.” He grins, pressing a wet sloppy kiss to your cheek.

[mgnemesi]

Hi, I'm Neme, and sometimes I exaggerate (lll￢ω￢) POTENTIAL SPOILERS IN THE ART AND THE DESCRIPTION BELOW!! Adding a separate post with a video :D

THIS, this was born from a vague idea I had, of drawing Inosuke falling. For some reason, I wanted to draw him from the back - shoulders bare, hair flying everywhere, his face not visible; body straining, bowing, arm outstretched towards... something, way, way up above him, too far away and unreachable. And I did that. Then I told myself, "let's add Kotoha!"... Then I said "Why not add baby Inosuke?". Then I said "let's make the falling section something inspired by his death scene in the Entertainment District Arc!". Hence the trail of blood. Then, since Baby Inosuke already had bubbles around him, to represent the river he falls into, I added debris, flowers and grass falling from the cliff where Kotoha dies. Between Baby Inosuke and Teen Inosuke there are leaves and acorns, to symbolise the Mountain and the woods he grows up in. Since I'd decided the third scene is the scene where Gyutaro stabbed Inosuke in the heart, I added pieces of roof tiles, broken vases, fabric, splinters of wood... stuff that I guessed could be seen falling as Yoshiwara was destroyed. Then, since this was already a summary of Ino's (tragic) life, I HAD to add a ray of light at the end/the bottom... The Kamaboko Squad in all its glory. Between Inosuke and his friends, I added - mainly - feathers. Crow feathers around Tanjiro, Sparrow feathers around Zenitsu and... well, honestly I put sharp, demonic teeth around Nezuko. It felt like the feathers had no direct connection to her, so I had to improvise.

[soshirohoshinasimp]

"Are ya alright...!?"

Synopsis: Savior!Hoshina x Civilian!Reader

Author's note: Thanks @hoshinaideas4all for the list of ideas, and for curing my writer's block. 

This was really fun to write, mainly because I was trying to patch up on writing falling in love scenes,  describing things and poetry. (Mainly destruction, sadness, depression and just describing things in general.) So this was very fun writing. I hope you all really enjoyed this one, and especially enjoy the poetry at the top! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wc: 1500 (whoopsie doo) 

To love something means you feel an endless wave of excitement. It’s like when you’re glued to a romance movie and can’t wait for the main couple to finally be together. Every scene has your heart racing and your emotions bubbling over.

To love someone feels like you’re living in that movie. It’s like you’re the main character, and everything around them feels magical and special. Even the smallest gestures become epic moments.

But these two kinds of feelings, while both thrilling, are different from each other.

One day, you were managing your new restaurant. It was a busy, exciting time for you, as you were sending out orders, crafting drinks, and handing out menus to customers. You had just opened the place a few weeks ago, so it was still just you working there. There were no employees yet, just you, living your dream of owning a restaurant. You’d worked hard to get this far, and it felt amazing to finally call it your own.

But then, Once a dream turned into a nightmare.

It was a regular afternoon when the chaos began. You were in the middle of preparing an order when you heard a loud crash. Your heart skipped a beat as you looked up to see a group of yojus —huge, monstrous creatures— not a lot though, around five to ten -- bursting through the restaurant’s front window. The once-glass window shattered into a million pieces, sending glass flying everywhere.

The kaiju were terrifying. They were massive, shaped like mushrooms with crimson red spots on their heads, They thrashed around, causing destruction with every movement. The walls of your restaurant, which you had carefully decorated and maintained, started to crack and splinter. You could hear the ominous creaking of wood and the groaning of metal as the restaurant’s structure began to give way, as more yojus came rushing through. 

You ran to the back, trying to stay out of their path, but the kaiju were cornering you. Some were even coming in and out into the ceiling, and a huge chunk of the ceiling fell right where you had been standing just moments before. Your heart pounded in your chest, and your breathing became shallow and erratic. You could feel the panic rising, squeezing the air out of your lungs.

In the midst of the destruction, you tried to call for help, but the noise of the kaiju and the crumbling building drowned out your voice. You stumbled, almost falling as the floor shook beneath you. The restaurant, which had been a symbol of your hard work and dreams, was now a chaotic, dangerous mess. The walls were closing in, and pieces of the roof were falling in different spots, creating a maze of debris.

Fear gripped you tightly, making it hard to think clearly. You saw more parts of the ceiling start to buckle, and you knew you had to get out, but your legs felt like you had weights in your pockets. Every time you tried to move, the ground shook violently, making you lose your balance. The sense of impending doom was overwhelming. It felt like everything you had worked for was crumbling in front of you, and you couldn’t do anything to stop it.

The last straw came when a massive piece of debris fell dangerously close to you, and you saw the entire section of the roof beginning to collapse. It was like a scene from a disaster movie, and you were trapped in the middle of it. Despair and resignation took over, and you felt as if your whole world was falling apart. With your heart racing and tears streaming down your face, you just sank to the floor. You sat down on your bum, closing your eyes tightly and bracing for the worst.

In that moment of absolute terror, you felt completely helpless. You could hear the kaiju’s roars and the sound of the building breaking apart. It felt like time was stretching out, and every second was a mix of fear and anticipation. You were sure you were going to die, and you prepared yourself for the end. But what you weren’t expecting, silence. No more sounds of the kaiju. Or was your mind playing tricks on you?

Then, through the chaos, a heavy accent pierced through the din.

“Are ya alright..!?” 

Loud and Commanding

You opened your eyes to see a man with striking crimson eyes and a bowl cut of midnight purple. He was wearing a JAKDF suit, and  held a sword in each hand. He moved with incredible speed and precision, slicing through the kaiju with expert skill, cutting through the monstrous creatures effortlessly into bits. 

His eyes werefilled with concern as he looked at you. The contrast between his calm demeanor and the chaos around him was striking. His presence was like a beacon of hope in the midst of the disaster.

You watched in awe as he fought off the remaining kaiju, his movements fluid and graceful. It was like he was dancing through the chaos, and you felt a strange sense of calm as you saw him taking control of the situation. His confidence and strength were reassuring, and you couldn’t believe someone like him was there to help you.

With the last kaiju defeated, he sheathed his swords and extended a hand towards you. You took his hand hesitantly, and he helped you to your feet with surprising gentleness. His touch was firm but careful, as if you would break on any sort of impact, and it grounded you in a way you hadn’t felt since the attack started.

“Yer not injured are ya..?” he asked, his voice gentle but full of curiosity.

You nodded, still feeling a bit dazed and flustered. You could hardly believe what had just happened.

“Thank…thank you,” you managed to say softly, your voice trembling with relief.

“Anytime, ma’am! Comes with the job,” he said with a smile that made you feel all warm inside. His smile was like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. Even though the conversation lasted less than a minute, it felt like it was in slow motion. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a wave of emotions washing over you. It was like the world had paused just for that brief moment. 

It felt like roses were blooming when he spoke. 

As quickly as he had come, he was gone. He walked out of the restaurant, leaving you standing there with your heart racing and your mind spinning. You gathered all your remaining courage and called out to him, “Uh! When you stop by, your first few orders are free of charge!!”

He turned back and looked at you with a playful grin. “Aren’t ya sweet? Guess I’ll be expectin’ to see ya real soon.”

With that, he left, and you watched him go, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and something else—something you couldn’t quite put into words. His departure left a significant mark on your heart and mind. 

In less than a bit, the ambulance arrived and was taking some of your customers into the vehicles, and just like that the “eventful” day was finished. When you arrived home to your little apartment. You couldn’t stop thinking about him, and his voice seemed to echo in your ears every day. With the restaurant being repaired, you spent the rest of the night in your tiny apartment researching who this hero was. You pulled out your computer and began searching for information about him.

You figured he was part of the defense force, but you weren’t sure which division. After two hours of digging through profiles, you finally found him. In a group photo with the division’s captain and the entire division, there he was.

Soshiro Hoshina — Vice Captain of the JAKDF Third Division.

You dove into his social media pages, learning everything you could about him. You replayed the scene where he saved you over and over in your mind. You found yourself doodling pictures of him and daydreaming about him with a smile on your face.

Was this just a crush?

Probably not. You fell for Soshiro Hoshina so quickly and so deeply that it felt like you deserved a medal for the fastest in record time to fall deeply in love.  You eagerly awaited the day when the cleaning and remodeling would be finished so you could see him again and hear his voice.

Man, getting over him is going to be really tough.

[herstoryheaven]

Lando Norris x Reader: Racing Through Fear

Prompt: Y/n stands in the pouring rain among a crowd of Formula 1 fans. When Lando Norris' car crashes violently, Y/n doesn't hesitate to jump onto the track to save him. This act of bravery leads to the confession of hidden feelings.

Reader: Gender Neutral

Word count: 1840

Average reading time: 6 min 40 sec

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: This story contains intense scenes involving a race accident, resulting in injury and emotional distress. If you are sensitive to these topics, please read with care.

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

Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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

The rain was pouring down, drenching everything in sight. Y/n stood among the crowds of Formula 1 fans, her excitement mingled with an underlying layer of anxiety as the weather showed no signs of letting up. She pulled her raincoat tighter, shivering as the cold seeped through. The circuit was a mess, puddles forming everywhere, and the whispers of concern grew louder amongst the crowd.

"Is it even safe to race in this?" someone muttered nearby.

Despite the worried murmurs, the race went to a start. Engines roared to life, and the cars zoomed down the track, spraying water in their wake. Y/n's eyes were fixed on one car in particular, Lando Norris'. Her heart raced along with the cars, a mixture of pride and fear surging through her for her friend.

Several laps into the race, disaster struck. Lando's car hit a particularly treacherous patch of water, hydroplaning uncontrollably. Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she watched the car veer off course, crashing violently into the barrier. The collective gasp from the crowd was deafening.

Red flags waved, and the race paused. Panic surged through Y/n as she realized there was no communication from Lando’s car. The team's radio was down, and there were no marshals nearby to assist. Her gaze fixed on the small fire beginning to form at the back of the car.

Without thinking, she bolted from her spot, jumping over the barriers and sprinting onto the track. Rain floods her face, blurring her vision, but she is determent. The only thing that mattered was reaching Lando.

"Lando!" she shouted, skidding to a stop beside the wrecked car. "Can you move?"

Lando groaned, clutching his wrist. "I... I can't, my wrist..."

Y/n's hands trembled as she removed the steering wheel, her heart pounding wildly. "You have to get out, now! There's oil leaking and a fire starting. The car might explode!"

Lando's eyes widened in realization, and with Y/n's help, he managed to climb out of the car. Together, they ran, the adrenaline giving them a burst of speed. They barely made it over the barrier when the car exploded, the force of the blast knocking them to the ground.

Lando instinctively covered Y/n with his body, shielding her from the flying debris. They lay there for a moment, panting and shaking. When the danger passed, Lando helped her to her feet, his eyes scanning her for injuries.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice shaky, his eyes searching hers with intensity.

Y/n nodded, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Just a few scratches. What about you?"

"Just a sprained wrist, I think," he replied, wincing slightly.

Marshals finally arrived, ushering them both to the paddock for medical exams. Lando was checked first, and surprisingly, his injuries were minor. Meanwhile, Y/n tried to slip away, feeling out of place amongst the drivers and team members.

"Hey, where are you going?" Oscar called out, stopping her in her tracks. He jogged over, concern written all over his face.

Charles, Carlos, Max, and George quickly joined them, their expressions mirroring Oscar's worry. "Is Lando okay?" Charles asked, his voice tinged with urgency.

Y/n nodded, her voice steady despite the tremble in her hands. "He's fine, just a sprained wrist I heard."

"And what about you?" Max asked gently, his gaze lingering on her face with genuine concern. His normally sharp, competitive demeanor softened due to the day’s events.

"I'm fine, really," Y/n insisted, though her voice wavered slightly. She tried to smile, but the adrenaline was still coursing through her, making her feel unsteady.

George placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his touch grounding. "Thank you for what you did. That was incredibly brave," he said, his voice filled with admiration.

Carlos stepped closer, his eyes warm and sincere. "You didn't hesitate for a second. That takes a lot of courage."

Y/n shrugged, feeling overwhelmed by their praise. "I just did what anyone would do. I couldn't just stand there and do nothing."

Oscar shook his head, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Not everyone would have had the guts to do what you did. You were amazing out there."

Charles nodded in agreement, a hint of a smile softening his features. "We all saw what happened. You saved Lando’s life."

Y/n felt a blush creep up her cheeks, the intensity of their gratitude and concern almost too much to bear. She had always admired these drivers from a distance, and now, here they were, complementing her for what she did.

Max took a step closer, his eyes searching hers. "You might not realize it, but you’re a hero today."

Before Y/n could respond, Lando emerged from the medical area, spotting her surrounded by the other drivers. His face lit up with relief and gratitude. He walked up to her, his eyes locking onto hers with a look of intense emotion. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity.

Y/n shrugged again, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I couldn't just sit there and watch you possibly die."

Lando pulled her into a gentle hug, his warmth seeping into her cold, damp skin. "I owe you my life," he whispered into her ear, his breath hot against her neck. He pulled back slightly, noticing her soaked clothes and trembling hands. "Come on, let's get you into something dry."

The other drivers nodded, stepping back to give them space. "We'll catch up with you both later," George said with a reassuring smile.

He led her to the McLaren hospitality area, handing her his hoodie and a pair of women’s sweatpants he found. She changed quickly, feeling a warmth spread through her from the dry clothes and Lando's kindness.

The race was canceled due to the severe weather, and Y/n found herself sitting with Lando, talking quietly. She explained her actions, her voice trembling at the thought of what could have happened. Lando reached out, taking her hand in his, their fingers intertwining.

"Thank you for saving me," he said again, his thumb stroking her hand gently. "But promise me you'll never do something so reckless again."

Y/n managed a small smile, her heart fluttering at his touch. "Only if you promise not to be so reckless on the track."

He chuckled softly, squeezing her hand. "Deal."

As they sat together in the quiet of the McLaren hospitality area, the events of today but a distant memory. The adrenaline that had once coursed through their veins had settled into a serene calm. Lando's thumb traced gentle patterns on the back of Y/n's hand, anchoring them both in the moment.

"Y/n," Lando began softly, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart flutter, "I don't know how to thank you properly. What you did was beyond brave. You risked everything for me."

A blush crept up her cheeks as she glanced down at their intertwined hands. "I couldn't just stand by and do nothing. If your car had exploded and I just sat there and didn’t even try anything I would have never forgiven myself. I care too much about you to not have done anything."

Lando's heart swelled at her words, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with his dry clothes. He gently lifted her chin with his free hand, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I care about you too, more than I realized until today."

A shy smile played at Y/n's lips. "I guess it took a bit of chaos for us to see it."

Lando chuckled, the sound light and genuine. "A bit of chaos and a very brave heart." He leaned in closer, their foreheads nearly touching. "You know, when I was in that car, all I could think about was you. I didn't want to leave things unsaid."

Her breath hitched, and she whispered, "What do you mean?"

He paused, his eyes searching hers with a depth that made her heart skip a beat. "I mean that I've been falling for you for a while now, and today just made it crystal clear. I don't want to waste another moment not telling you how I feel."

Y/n's eyes glistened with tears, but this time they were tears of joy. "Lando, I feel the same way. Seeing you crash... it was the scariest moment of my life. I realized how much you mean to me."

Lando's smile was radiant, his face inching closer until their lips met in a tender, heartfelt kiss. The world outside seemed to disappear as they lost themselves in each other, the kiss deepening with every passing second. It was a kiss filled with unspoken promises and the relief of two longtime friends finally coming together.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their smiles wide and hearts full. Lando pressed his forehead against hers, his voice barely above a whisper. "I promise I'll be more careful out there. For you."

Y/n nodded, her fingers gently caressing his cheek. "And I promise I'll always be there for you, no matter what."

He hugged her tightly, as if afraid to let go. "You're incredible, you know that?"

She laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. "I think we're both pretty incredible."

The rest of the drivers, who had been watching the tender moment from a respectful distance, approached them with wide grins and teasing remarks. Oscar clapped Lando on the back, chuckling. "Took you long enough, mate."

Charles nodded in agreement, a playful glint in his eyes. "We were starting to think we'd have to lock you two in a room together to get you to admit your feelings."

Max smirked, adding, "Looks like a bit of danger was just the push you both needed."

Y/n blushed again, but Lando just laughed, his arm securely around her waist. "Yeah, well, sometimes it takes nearly losing something to realize how much it means to you."

George grinned, giving Y/n a gentle pat on the shoulder. "We're glad you're okay. Both of you."

Carlos stepped forward, his expression sincere. "You both showed incredible bravery today. It's a story we'll be telling for years."

As the group shared in their relief and happiness, the bond between Y/n and Lando only grew stronger. They spent the rest of the day together, surrounded by friends who had become family. The rain outside eventually subsided, giving way to a clear, starry night.

Lando and Y/n found themselves alone again, sitting on a quiet balcony overlooking the now peaceful circuit. The air was cool, and Lando draped his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

"You know," he began, his voice soft, "this is just the beginning for us."

Y/n smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. "I know. And I can't wait to see where it takes us."

He kissed the top of her head, his heart full. "Neither can I."

Under the starlit sky, they sat in comfortable silence, knowing that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

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

Copyright: All stories contained herein are the intellectual property of the author. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, or distribution of these stories, in whole or in part, without explicit written permission from the author, is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action. Respect the creator's rights and creativity. For permissions or inquiries, please contact: herstoryheaven@gmail.com.

Request Guidelines: When submitting a request, please ensure that your request does not contain any explicit sexual content or graphic depictions, and avoid any form of extreme violence or graphic descriptions of violent acts. I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in maintaining a respectful and inclusive environment for all readers. If you're unsure about your request or want to request about someone I haven't written about yet, feel free to ask me anytime.

[crevicedwelling]

Don't know if this was asked before, but do you have any general tips on finding insects?

step 1: find a plant. I’ll use this tree trunk

step 2: look everywhere on the plant. there will be a bug.

baby Leptoglossus, a eupelmid wasp, a leafhopper, and that clump of debris is a lacewing larva (it was slowly scooting around)

fences and railings are often a good spot to find bugs, as well as glass windows where bugs got attached to lights the previous night.

don’t disregard tiny bugs or things you might find boring. look at every fly, every ant. some flies are beautiful. some ants aren’t ants. even common insects do interesting things if you observe them long enough.

[louebel]

— [ 𝐑𝐄𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄 .ᐟ ]

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: g5 luffy × gn!reader 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 1717 wc, spoilers for wano... kinda? sfw, fluff, all fluff. a lil' goofy, plot is kinda w a c k y, kaido almost kills you but not in the way you think — and i can't he just looks so silly 'n lovely. i wanna hug him so bad 'n swing him around like a whip. look at him, LOOK. and dripping divider by @ benkeibear !! 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: as the fight continues, you can't help but worry for luffy. you decide to reach him... and you realize it was stupid of you to think he'd be in trouble.

"Luffy!"

Specks of dust littered everywhere. Debris replaced what were once massive boulders, crumbling beneath the force of one of the Emperors of the Sea and the man who would one day become the King of Pirates; your captain.

Your eyes widened at just how battered the top of Onigashima was. You shouldn't expect any less from them, but it still baffled you. They were so unbelievably strong. So strong you couldn't help but be worried.

You believed in Luffy, of course, you did. But when fighting such monsters... even he could have a hard time. So you made it your job to reach the top floor and get to him, the same medicine Zoro was infused with resting in your hands (you stole it) — it was no easy task and probably the dumbest thing you could ever think of, but somehow, you managed to do it. Surprise overtook you before as guards were taken out by a surge of haki coming from above; one that managed to shake you too. It was tremendous. You felt a little light-headed from it, but thankfully you handled it well.

As tremendous as it was, you could tell who it was from. It wasn't from Kaido, no. Some of the shockwaves you felt before had violence, brutality, and bloodthirsty intent oozing from them. This one, however, was very different; almost... warm.

Then, you reached the top. And here you are.

Other than the landscape, the air around you was rather chilly. Distinct from inside, another dimension altogether. Too cold, somehow refreshing. A shudder traveled down your spine, goosebumps all over your skin. The moon above was lustrous, the sky limpid and not as bleak as before. You felt at peace.

Which was weird considering...

"OOOOH!"

There was a dragon coming right towards you.

"... H—huh?"

Jaw slackened, eyes widening — your expression morphed from concerned to straight-up comical in less than a second. There was Kaido, in all of his glory, flying in your direction at probably a thousand kilometres per second and you remained still, not even running because whether you did sprint away from him or not the outcome was still the same. Death.

That one time you do something dumb you regret it. How could you possibly dodge that gargantuan lizard? You were an ant compared to him — wait, were you dreaming or he looked as shocked as you? — you were done for.

"AAAAAAAH!!"

Screams tore from both of your lungs in unison. Then, the ground beneath you turned... malleable, making you lose your balance and fall — the long blue dragon right above you crashing in a nearby pillar, pebbles and rocks scattering like fireworks. You, on the other hand, were sent in the air thanks to the elastic pavement.

Boing, boing, boing.

Perhaps luck was on your side... strangely enough. The floor felt oddly comfortable; soft yet stiff, the texture not at all feeling like dirt and rocks. Groaning, you pushed yourself up, shaking your pulsing head, the ache faintly going away.

"Heeeeey!"

Then, a call; one that made you snap your neck with how swiftly you looked up. Not just a sound. It's him.

Your pupils dilated at the sight — he was so... different. And yet, it was still him.

"Oh? Oooh? Is that you? It's you! It's you!"

How sweet his voice,

"It's youu~ it, is, you!"

how warm his presence,

"Look at me, look at me! Heeeey! Look at me!"

how lovely he himself.

"Ah..."

"Shishishi! You're looking!"

Your heart might've stopped at that moment. Did he know? He seemed to know. Grinning, laughing, ah, he's coming closer and closer. Luffy, Luffy...

The little mantra in your head replayed in your mouth, his name slipping out unconsciously — the corners of his lips curving up; broad, glowing, and so so familiar, so comforting. His hair seemed velvetlike to the touch... Perhaps it resembled rubber? No, marshmallows. He was a big marshmallow right now. Was he even real?

"Yeah! That's me! It's me!" twirling, bouncing, flailing around; he did not stop at all. Oh, no, he didn't — not until he saw you laugh. Not until he heard that precious sound. He had to do it now that you were here. You were worried, weren't you? He could tell. That slight inclination of your brows — He had to ease you!

There was nothing to worry about.

... If only he knew you were just analysing him with extreme concentration.

"See? See?"

He spread wider and wider, his arms suddenly changing course and going straight towards you — at the speed of light. He's so, so energetic for no reason. But he always was, wasn't he? And you've always loved it.

"Luffy..."

You wanted to ask what happened to him. How he felt, how he was, what he was, what was going on. But nothing left your lips, other than a breathless, inaudible mumble of his name. It made him laugh, and with that same buoyant tone, he shouted yours. You could not help but melt further.

"Yeah! It's me, it's me!"

It's him. Luffy. The tottery wobble of your knees quickly became a full-on quake, you couldn't move, you just couldn't. He seemed to — no, he knew. Your brief struggle, your sudden hypnosis.

At that moment, something, in the back of his mind, called to him,

"Come to me. Please come to me."

And it oddly resembled your voice. It came from his heart. Instinct, perhaps — plain as that. Who was he to not follow it, he who always did? It was alright. You didn't have to move at all. He'll come to you.

"I'm coming there! I'm right there!"

His hands finally grasped your shoulders after he yelled. So precious, so... silly. Yes, it's him. He hurled himself like a rocket, just to briskly stop right before you, his face now smashed against yours. His appearance was so different... so adorable. He will always, and inevitably, be him,

"Luffy."

"Shishishi! Hey! Hello!"

Not even Heaven could compare to him. Nothing could compare to him.

The biggest grin on the planet — his cheeks, faintly pink and so warm under your palms, were crinkled as he showed all the rows of his teeth. Dazzling, rotund vermilion eyes met yours, twinkling moreso at the sight of you. You looked so pretty right now. Did you know? He always thought you looked pretty. But you had something different now, something he couldn't describe with words. Though his tongue wouldn't collaborate, he could tell it was positive. You... you're—

"You look weird!" ironic how he spurted out those words when he's the one that metamorphosed. Even his clothes... once a vibrant red, now a blinding white.

"Ah... it's just — you're..."

"Me?"

Luffy tilted his head, his grin remaining. "You're wonderful, lovely, ethereal," is what you wanted to say if only your voice hadn't failed you, stuck in your throat, struggling to be liberated. A few moments passed, your mouth agape and your captain happily waiting. Then,

"You're..." something came out, "so, so...  beautiful, Luffy. I can't... you know?"

Ah, there it is.

See, he knew! And so, he laughed. And laughed, and laughed, and laughed; boisterous, contagious laughter that never, ever ends, the one you could hear every time you were down, for he would always bolt there where you sat, no matter what. A constant reminder that you were never alone. He will always be with you.

"Hehehe. I do!" chuckles and giggles seeped from his sentences, rending them clipped and broken. So warm, so warm — your chest mimicked his soon enough, sweet laughter bubbling from your throat too, lighting him up. If a fire was in his heart, now there was a whole festival. Your voice was so, so..! You know?

"You, pff, you do?"

"Yeah! Hahaha, I do! I do!"

If anyone were to see you both, they'd probably think you were out of your minds. You could picture it, your friends scolding you both, just to laugh after too. It was, so normal, so simple, yet it made you smile even more, and that caused him to do so too.

And then, then, he couldn't help himself; please forgive him, okay? He really couldn't help it! Those limbs that stretched so far to grab you, were now enveloping you both like a cute little present — hehe, a cute little present! — getting tighter and tighter, but not too much, just perfectly. Torso heaving up and down, his curious, rough yet tender hands coming to rest on your cheeks, his chortles fortissimo as he poked, pressed, squished them; nimble fingers pinching and pulling the skin, making you giggle even more. It did nothing to ease the heat within you, oh no it didn't. There was only more. More, more and more.

Was he greedy? (He was,) Look at you — you were so happy! You're enjoying it! You're laughing! He wanted to see you happy, always. The crew, his friends, you, you...

Maybe he was a little greedy (so greedy.) But for you, he'd gladly be.

"Oh, Lulu... Luffy!"

"Yeah!! Yes! Heheeheh!"

You both managed to pepper each other with some kisses — his giggles so cute and mellow — before the reality of the situation struck you both. The enemy's sluggish roar rang in both of your ears,

"Oi, Strawhat! What the hell are you doing, getting all kissy-kissy with your partner? I thought we were fighting!"

Right. Your captain was supposed to free this country. You both forgot.

"Oh, right! Kaido!" he perked up, untangling himself from you and shifting his attention to the enormous blue reptile, "Sorry, I got distracted. It'll take no time, just watch!" he tenaciously said, though a noticeable pout was on your lover's face.

"Y—yes, Lu... Go kick his ass." you muttered dreamily, a dumb dopey grin on your face, as you watched your boyfriend building a weird-looking cage with the floor to "protect" you before goofily walking up to Kaido, bouncing around in a frenzy like a spring.

All that was left was the show. And boy... did you have fun watching him beat that overgrown reptile up — your cackles fuelling the Warrior of Liberation. Soon, he'll hear the others, too. Soon, everyone's laughter will echo in this land, free from torment. He'll have a big, delicious banquet with you...

And all will certainly rejoice.

[callsignavalon]

love is a battlefield

bakugou x reader who gets injured

tw: blood, slight description of readers injury

please excuse me while i title this after a pat benatar song because this takes place on a battlefield and .. they are in love (and also because it’s in 13 going on 30) anyways, please enjoy! it’s not my best work but i’m just trying to get some writing out.

The agency had received an emergency call about a major villain attack in the heart of the city. It was chaos as heroes rushed to the scene, and you were no exception. Your healing quirk was desperately needed, and you were determined to help as many people as possible.

You were in the middle of the battlefield, tending to wounded civilians and heroes alike, your hands glowing softly as you mended injuries. Bakugou was in the thick of the fight, his explosions lighting up the night as he battled the villains with ferocity.

Suddenly, a powerful blast from a villain sent debris flying everywhere. You barely had time to react as a large piece of concrete hurtled toward you. You managed to push a young child out of the way, but the concrete hit you full force, knocking you to the ground. Pain radiated through your body, and you felt a sharp agony in your leg and ribs. Blood pooled around you, and your vision dimmed as you struggled to stay conscious.

Bakugou saw it all happen. His heart stopped when he saw you go down, and a rage he had never felt before surged through him. He blasted through the villains in his path, his explosions more powerful and precise than ever. He reached your side in a matter of seconds, his eyes wide with fear and anger.

He shouted your name, dropping to his knees beside you. His hands trembled as he gently cradled your face, his eyes scanning your injuries. "What the hell were you thinking?”

You tried to smile through the pain, your vision blurring. "I'm okay, Katsuki. Just...a little hurt."

"No, you're not," he growled, his voice breaking. "You're not okay. Damn it, why did you have to be so reckless?"

You reached up, your hand trembling, and cupped his cheek. "I had to help them."

His jaw clenched, and he pressed a fierce kiss to your forehead. "You're going to be okay. I'm going to get you out of here."

With one arm around your waist and the other supporting your injured leg, he lifted you gently, his strength making the task look effortless despite the chaos around him. He carried you to a safer area, his movements careful and deliberate, his mind focused solely on getting you to safety.

As he laid you down, memories flooded his mind. He remembered the first time you met, the way you had nervously approached him at the agency, offering to heal his wounds after a particularly brutal training session. You had been so shy, yet so determined to help. And he had been annoyed at first, but then he saw the sincerity in your eyes, the kindness that radiated from you, and he had let you tend to him.

Another memory surfaced, a late-night patrol where you had both ended up on a rooftop, watching the city lights. You had shared stories, dreams, and fears. He had confided in you, something he rarely did with anyone. And you had listened, offering comfort and understanding. That was the night he realized he was falling in love with you.

Now, as he watched the medics work frantically to stabilize you, he felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness. He had always been able to protect you, to keep you safe. But now, all he could do was watch and hope. He clenched his fists, his anger and fear threatening to consume him.

Bakugou knew he couldn't stay by your side, no matter how much he wanted to. The city needed him, and he had a job to do. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his voice low and fierce. "I'll be back. I promise. Just hang on."

He stood up, his gaze hardening as he turned back to the battlefield. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, but he forced himself to focus. Every explosion, every punch was fueled by his love for you, each one a promise that he would protect you at all costs.

As he fought, more memories flashed through his mind. The way you had laughed during a training session, your smile lighting up his world. The quiet moments you had shared, the way you always seemed to know when he needed someone to talk to. The first time he had kissed you, his heart pounding in his chest as he pulled you close, feeling like he had found something precious.

He fought with a ferocity that terrified the villains, his explosions sending shockwaves through the air. He couldn't afford to lose you. He wouldn't. He had to protect you, to save you, just as you had saved him countless times with your healing touch and your unwavering love.

When the battle finally ended, Bakugou rushed back to your side. You were being treated by other medics, but his presence was a comfort you needed. He knelt beside you, his hand gripping yours tightly. "You scared the hell out of me.”

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice weak. "I didn't mean to."

He shook his head, his eyes softening. "I know. Just...don't ever do that again. Alright, nerd?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you squeezed his hand. "I love you, Katsuki."

"I love you too. More than anything."

As time passed you began to heal, your injuries taking a little longer to fully recover from the blow. Bakugou became even more vigilant, always watching, taking care of you like you had him many times. In that moment, when you had been surrounded by the aftermath of the battle, Bakugou showed you the depth of his love. His fierce protectiveness, his unwavering support, and even vulnerability were laid out in front of you.

Despite his rough exterior and fiery temper, he showed you a side of himself that few others ever saw. His love for you was fierce and unwavering, even in the mundane things such as giving you your medicine, or making sure you did the workouts required for you to recover. He was determined to see you succeed, and you knew you would with him fighting for you.

[i-starcreamed]

Y/N: FIGHT ME!

Scrouge: How foolhearty... and facinating

Y/N: I- I don't- MIRAGE HELP I THINK HE'S FLIRTING WITH ME

Love it when villains find at least one (1) human cute and flirt worthy

🦂

ROTB SCOURGE X READER

Omg thank you 🦂 anon, im just like you and you’re just like me. MORE SCOURGE CONTENT!! While this wasn’t a request it gave me ideas :3

Unedited and also written on mobile…also look at this gif they scourge hot and wet on purpose

[ human!gn reader

Summary: As the request states, Scourge flirts with you. Big bad robot villain likes littol human

You might’ve secretly followed Mirage when he went over to distract Scourge while the others went on and save the world, no way in hell you were allowing an alien to destroy your planet. No way you were letting Mirage, you’re new friend, fight him alone. You started to rethink your decision when you were running across the platform, no weapon in hand to fight 20+ feet robot aliens and explosions going off everywhere. Then again, you were determined to fight along side your new robot alien friend to defeat the other…robot alien fiend. Aliens really need to find another planet to make a pit stop at, dont they?

You grunt as you pick up a piece of debris from the ground, it’s about the size of your head and could do as much damage as a splinter to Scourge. Who cares, you’d rather it be annoying than harmless

Scourge knocks Mirage back and you take this as an opportunity.

“Y/N stay back!” He reaches out but its too late, you’re already yelling and sprinting towards Scrourge, your piece of metal in your hand and waving it around like a crazy person.

“FIGHT MEE!” The piece of debris goes flying towards Scourge, only for it to hit his leg with a clank and deflect back into the floor. You freeze in your tracks, fuck. You’re out of breath and your little plan didnt work.

Scourge doesn’t squish you, he barely retains a laugh. Evil guys dont laugh, they cackle menacingly when revealing their evil plan to you. But this? This was…amusing to him.

“Did you really think that would work? How foolhardy, how stupid, how…fascinating”

He towers above you even as he leans down to..examine you? The proximity of his frame to your face is so close, your face was burning. You didn’t know if it was the fire and lava around you or just pure embarrassment.

“Uh, i don’t-“ Was he…flirting with you? You stood frozen even as his metal hand rose up, inching towards you. Do you run, freeze, or attack with your bare fists? Realistically your fists would be useless against his frame, you would be more in pain than he would. Even if you wanted to run, those eyes of his kept you in place. Such an intense orange gaze, who could look away from that? Scourge was getting distracted, he could easily snatch you up and complete his mission, but he couldn’t help but revel in your gaze of extreme awe and fear. He was rudely interrupted when Mirage started shooting again

You too snapped out of your thoughts and took a few steps back before sprinting back behind Mirage. “Mirage, was he fucking flirting with me?!” You yell over the sound of their blasters. You hid behind a small structure as the fight continued, not without noticing the way he occasionally glanced at you before attacking Mirage. You couldn’t tell if he was showing off or not

…was he seriously showing off for you?