#did some good work with the sensation descriptions

[theroseempress]

Wrote something for my current WIP and liked it a lot, so here it is! Fair warning, this is in fact quite long. (the only reason I'm not posting this in my website instead is because it's actually a section of another thing I haven't finished writing, and I'm not sure if I want it up there yet)

hey @wackus-bonkus-maximus this has nothing to do with MLB so I dunno if you're interested, but I'm quite pleased with how it came out so if you wanna read this I certainly will not object.

~

The day everything finally fell apart started like any other morning. When thinking back on it, Rani couldn’t help marveling at it. Wake up, eat some of the dreadfully bland bread provided by her landlady, (she had the money to buy better food, in theory at least, but it was free, and if she wasn’t wasting money on how things tasted, there was that much more to send back to her brothers.

And sure, maybe she had eaten less food recently than was entirely healthy, but medical school in a different country was expensive, and so was keeping her other two brothers fed and comfortable. Besides, being small was useful for making unnoticed entrances and exits, so it was fine, really) read the brown envelope that had appeared on her dresser, and leave to find today’s target.

Today’s target was a young man, according to the envelope, he was five foot nine, had strawberry blonde hair, light skin, usually wore a chain earring in his left ear, and was called Bricriu.

(Not much to know about a person, but really, even having the name in there was unusual for a target. The only other information in the envelope was the area he frequented, in the Markets)

Rani both despised and was grateful for the Markets- both because of how crowded and noisy they were- the latter opinion being because it was much easier to tail someone unnoticed when in a crowd, and the former since the same thing made it easier to lose a target.

Either way, Rani’s job wasn’t to gripe, it was to remove her target and then disappear in one way or another, so she shrugged her worn jacket tighter around her shoulders and set off down the street.

It was a cold morning, clouds blanketing the sky as they so often did over the ventral months in Solace. The chainmail Rani wore between her undershirt and thin tunic sucked up the biting air with vigor, the latticed metal icy against her skin even through the layer of cloth. Rani ignored it, instead staring down at her boots (the one piece of clothing she frequently bought new versions of instead of letting them run into the ground) as they carried her across grey cobblestones and around the remaining puddles from last night’s rain. It wasn’t a long walk to the Markets, though as she got closer the amount of mechorses and carriages the young woman had to dodge increased significantly.

Finally reaching one of the unofficial guard posts, Rani halted for a moment to study the seemingly lazy (Rani had to admit, she would have been convinced if she hadn’t seen how fast the guards could move when provoked, there was a reason they were where they were) young man leaning against the wall with his hands tucked into his coat pockets, grey eyes drifting lazily over the people meandering through the bottleneck between two buildings and into a market. Rani, who knew he wouldn’t see her as any threat, but still wasn’t one to take chances, waited until a carriage was blocking his line of sight to her and then slipped into the crowds on the other side of the ‘gate.’

It didn’t take her long to find her target, slipping through the bustling colours and noise of the Market like the shadow she was slowly becoming.

He was stepping out of a building, the sign swinging above his head bearing the same words tucked into Rani’s pocket on a carefully folded piece of paper.

‘The Howling Hound’ proclaimed the sign, creaking back and forth on rusty hooks, and for a moment Rani’s upbringing raised its head and sent a crackle of tension down her spine.

But it was only a moment,and Rani was pushing away her Talin superstitions and darting after the blonde man before she’d even fully processed the words her relatives would have instantly taken as a sign to give up right then and there.

The man strode down the cobbled road like he belonged there, head high and shoulders relaxed, coat unbuttoned despite the wind tugging at his sandy hair, moving with the kind of ease and light Rani had seen on a number of other people (and resented, people like that always got their way, almost as if they really did bring light with them, never trapped in the shadows like her, everyone eager to help them)

Rani slipped after him, ignoring how the wind nipped at her face even through the scarf pulled up around her nose and mouth and silently tailing the tap-tap-tap of his polished boots on the uneven stones below.

Finally, several wind-bitten moments of weaving through the cacophony of noise and colours that was the Markets, Rani’s target turned off into an alley. Rani followed, halting crouched behind a stack of crates and ignoring the frigid slush-water soaking from the cobbles into the right knee of her trousers.

The alley was empty, the only occupants Rani, her target, and a lone dark-feathered bird dozing on a jutting windowsill.

Rani let the cold metal of two of her daggers slip from her sleeves to her palms, slender fingers wrapping around the worn hilts. A pause to steady herself and check they were both hidden from sight, and then she was pouncing forwards with a silence so well-practiced it was almost an afterthought. One, two, three strides across the stones, avoiding a puddle that would have caused a splash, and now she was in range and both hands went up, daggers slicing through the cloudy day.

In the years that followed, Rani went through those moments time and time again, searching for what she’d done wrong, what part of the motion was sloppy, casual, loose.

(did she step too hard, move too slow, did her chainmail rustle, did light glint off the daggers, was she just not good enough)

She still didn’t know.

(she’d moved the same as always, as fast as always, she’d practiced and there was no way her mail would make a noise loud enough to alert him, it was cloudy and there was no light to hit the polished metal and she still wasn’t good enough)

Just before silvered metal met her target’s unprotected throat, the man moved.

He spun, leaning back, bright blue eyes a splash of unexpected colour against the grey skies, grey bricks, grey stones, grey coat, sandy hair dancing just around the edges of his face as if it didn’t dare to get in his way, and then Rani’s daggers were just barely barely one inch too slow touching his throat and grey wasn’t broken by red and-

-And he was smiling, blue eyes now sparkling, and Rani, still caught in the middle of her pounce, realized too late that maybe the kind of light this man carried was instead the kind that tore through shadows like her instead.

He was almost casual, one hand coming up and knocking Rani’s wrists into each-other at just the right angle for a jolt of pain to tear through her numb fingers. The following motion was involuntary, and Rani barely realized she’d let go until her daggers her defense protection safety were on the stones with a sharp ringing and spray of water droplets from the puddle they’d landed in. Rani moved on instinct, still-stinging hands going to the top of her boots and fumbling against icy buckles- damn it why hadn’t she loosened the straps earlier, stupid stupid stupid- for stiff leather, but the man in front of her- not her target now- took the opening before she realized it was there.

Rani’s back slammed up against the alley wall, rough stones digging into her spine and air huffing out of her lungs in a white cloud.

Across the alley, the crow took flight, disappearing with a rustle of feathers and a squawk.

The golden man- Rani’s mind darted back to the paper; Bricriu- didn’t look away from Rani, pale blue eyes studying her face with an almost detached curiosity.

A line of biting cold flared against Rani’s throat, and the realization that Bricriu had a long dagger resting there kicked her awareness into action too late. Both of her wrists were somehow trapped behind her against the wall, Bricriu too close and the blade’s edge too firmly against her skin for her to do anything about it.

A long moment passed, dampness soaking out of the bricks and into Rani’s tunic. Bricriu seemed content to wait, studying her face as if he was watching a particularly spectacular sunrise.

Several more minutes passed, Rani pinned in place both by the dagger at her throat and Bricriu’s piercing gaze, and then her chainmail started to become almost unbearably cold even through her shirt.

Rani shivered, and the motion seemed to break Bricriu out of whatever he’d been thinking about. Smiling, the young man tilted his head.

“Well, I wonder what you’re doing here?”

Rani stayed silent, wrists starting to ache from being pressed into the wall. Bricriu seemed unfazed by her unresponsiveness, continuing to talk as his gaze drifted down her.

“Stabbing people isn’t very polite, you know.” he scolded, almost as if he was talking to a child. “Might get stabbed back as well, I suppose. Lucky for you, I’m curious.”

Pausing, Bricriu leaned over a little and reached into Rani’s pocket, pulling the folded paper out and grinning at her.

“What’s this?”

Rani bit back the urge to lunge at him and tear the paper away. Bricriu seemed to sense her line of thought, cold metal pressing a little harder to her throat. Casually. unfolding the paper despite only having one hand available, Bricriu finally looked away from Rani.

A million thoughts and plans of action rushed through Rani’s head in that moment- he’s distracted rush him move get your daggers attack run away fight hide escape attack- but before she could put any of them into action, the paper was crumpling in Bricriu’s fist and his pale blue gaze was back on Rani.

“An assassin, huh?”

She stayed silent, another wave of shuddering breaking over her as a light drizzle began to soak through her already damp tunic. Bricriu tucked the paper into his coat pocket, eyes staying fixed on Rani’s throughout the motion.

Another long pause followed, Bricriu staring absently at the wall beside Rani’s head, Rani’s shivering escalating to the point that she couldn’t hide it any longer. She’d just determined to try and break away despite the lost feeling in her hands, when Bricriu blinked, straightening.

“Righto, little assassin, you’re coming with me.” he smiled, and maybe this time some of Rani’s shivering wasn’t because of the cold.

~

Fun fact Talin (the nation Rani's from) find dogs unlucky and howling dogs especially unlucky.

Was that sign foreshadowing or not? hmmm

i mean. it is entirely possible that bricriu's gonna give her lots of money and help her with problems!

You never know!

[rainrot4me]

Return The Favor

Summary: Stumbling in on your neighbor’s chopped up body, an unlikely friendship forms between you and Toby. Striking a deal, you agree to help the killer and his friends, buying them necessary prescriptions. But when one visit turns to multiple, Toby becomes curious, finding a not so subtle love note hidden away.

Characters: Ticci Toby x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Mentions of death, explicit description of a dismembered body, decomposition, death, gore, obsession, vomit, throwing up, blood (non-sexual), blood (sexual), vaginal fingering, degradation, biting, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, vaginal, choking, gagging, somnophilia, rough, Toby literally goes insane about you, virginity kink, first time, desperation

Words: 9.4k

A/N: This shit long asl I'm so sorry...

It’s said that when there’s a dead body nearby, your body can sense it before your brain can. 

It’s almost like instinct, a survival nature programmed into your brain. It’ll start with goosebumps and chills running all over your body as if you were being watched, this uncomfortable sensation that you just can’t rationalize. Then the anxiety sets in, body aching and sweating for no apparent reason but it just knows there’s something wrong. 

Finally, when you’ve finally choked it up to just being your imagination, that’s when you’ll smell it. Throat instantly closing and nostrils flaring at the putrid stench of rot and gore. It’s incomparable, no amount of food poisoning or disease compares to the sickness you feel in your stomach at the smell of a human body decomposing. Every instinct in your body pleading and begging you to get out of there, run as far away until you can’t breathe anymore. 

You would know. And it seemed like the boy huddled in front of you did too. 

There was no real reason for you to even be in this house in the first place, but your all-too-good heart guilted you into it. You had just come home from work, mind tired and body sleepy as you unlocked your front door, tossing your bag onto the kitchen table inside. It was well past midnight, the diner you worked at closing way later than normal, but at least you made some good tips. 

Sliding into your bedroom, you changed into more comfortable clothes, tying your hair back before stepping into your kitchen. You gripped the tiny journal lying on the counter, cracking the worn pages open to where you left off, scribbling your thoughts onto the paper. It was your nightly routine, journaling things you saw or did, a coping mechanism suggested by your therapist. It wasn’t for anything intensive, just minor anxiety and self-image problems, always having negative thoughts about yourself. It helped. Glancing up, you looked through the tiny window above your sink, a clear view of your neighbor’s back porch, Mr. Higgs, an older man who made it very difficult to be friendly. He was a hateful guy, always nitpicking your choice of decorations or specific outfits he didn’t find appropriate. A real sweetheart, obviously. 

But compared to his usual eight PM lights out, the living room lamp was still bright, shining directly through his open back porch door. That was odd. As long as you had known this guy, it wasn’t like him to be up this late, let alone be outside. Every instinct told you to just clean up and go to bed, his angry ass probably scooting off a raccoon or something. But you just couldn’t pass up that nagging feeling, your kindheartedness overpowering you. So, sighing, you tossed a hoodie on and slid out your back door, stepping down the porch steps into the cool grass.

You flinched as a flash of brown passed your vision, small and thin against the dark grass. Cooing, you kneeled down, holding your fingers out as Mr. Higg’s old cat, Addy, sniffed the air around you, pressing against your bare legs as she purred. The man was way too protective of his cat. Something was definitely wrong.

Standing again, Addy pranced away, meowing loudly behind you as your bare feet became wet against the midnight dew, grass sticking to your ankles as you walked, arms hugging yourself against the cold. This would probably just end with you getting told to mind your business and stomping back to bed upset, but it was the thought that counted. Gripping onto the porch rail, you stepped up his creaky wooden porch, knocking against the wooden frame of the open door.

“Mr. Higgs? Everything alright?” You called into the room, refusing to go in. There was no response, you knocked again after a couple of seconds. Still nothing. You gulped, rubbing your arms against your sides, nerves wracking you. “Okay. I’m coming in. Don’t get mad 'cause you didn’t answer me.” You called again, pressing past the door and wiping your wet feet on the welcome mat. 

The house was quiet, the only light being the lamp sat on a coffee table adjacent to the old couch. All the furniture had an older look like something out of the eighties, it made you cringe. “Mr. Higgs, are you home?” You shouted down the dark hallway, all the doors shut except for one at the end which you assumed to be his room. Hugging yourself, your legs felt anxious, your mind racing with all the reasons you shouldn’t walk down there. There was no reason for it, this was all just probably some old guy who forgot to shut his door, but you just couldn’t shake the feeling.

Taking a step down the hallway, that’s when it started. Those feelings, like your body can feel shouldn’t be there. The air suddenly grew thick, a nauseating feeling setting in against your chest, pressing down like a conscious weight. But you shook it off, telling yourself it was just you scaring yourself with all of those crime shows, but you should’ve known better.

The door was cracked, moonlight from the open shades pressing against the doorframe, your hand flat against the wood as you pushed the door open. Then came the smell. It was stout, a putrid funk that wafted against the walls, souring the room. The room was dark, pupils blown wide as they fought to see, hand sliding against the wall and searching for a light switch. Your body was tense, senses on high alert against the dark, breathing ragged against the awful stench filling your senses. Your eyes were beginning to water, wondering what in the hell could be stinking this terribly, until you felt the switch, flipping it on.

Your first instinct was to throw up, throat constricting and stomach tightening, but you just couldn’t move. You were petrified by the scene in front of you. Mr. Higgs was there, at least, what you could recognize of him. His head had been cleaved from his body, intensive amounts of blood staining his beige bedsheets. His cheeks were bloated, a gnarly purple color as his veins poked against his forehead, skin wrinkled and soaked in blood as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. They were yellow now, dark veins contrasting against the orbs as puss leaked from every hole on his expressionless face. The rest of his body was scattered, chunks of muscle shredded from his arms and hands like they had been cut off, legs more or less the same. His wide stomach was completely visible, his skin swollen and dark, bloated against the same liquids spilling from his pores. The blood was the worst part. It was just everywhere. Splattered on the sheets, the nightstand, even the walls, specks reaching the roof. You were so lost in your racing thoughts, your heart pounding heavily against your chest as you gripped the door tightly, knuckles white on the frame. You could feel the cold sweat drip down your brow, utter fear chilling your body. 

You wouldn’t have even noticed the tall boy standing in the corner if he hadn’t flinched, eyes wide and locked on you. He was lanky, easily taller than you and pale. No, not pale, more gray. He had curly brown hair that fell in front of his eyes, his freckled cheeks flushed against the bandages across his jaw. A pair of goggles rested amongst his curls, a dark mask covering his nose and mouth. He wore dark wash jeans loose around his hips and a heavier brown hoodie that was stained with dark blood. Oh God. The boy didn’t look much older than you despite his bruise battered skin. But he wasn’t moving, wasn’t talking, he was just watching. 

His hands were behind his back, shoulders scrunched against the corner of the dark walls as you pressed back off the door frame, breathing ragged. “Who the hell are you?” You grimaced, tone coming across a lot more confident than you felt. The boy flinched, not out of fear, more like a bodily reaction. He refused to answer, eyes scanning around quickly until he pressed off the wall, sliding to the shuttered window and pinching the blinds open, scanning the night without explanation. That’s when you heard loud boots stepping up the porch steps, head spinning quickly down the hallway. “Shit.” You heard him, the boy’s voice panicked and rough, his boots stepping quickly across the hardwood and into your vicinity. Panic strained you, head spinning back quickly before your vision was filled with his arms wrapping around you, palm slapping over your mouth as he pressed you to his chest. 

You tried to fight back, mumbled pleas against his hand as you shouldered his arms, your back pressed firmly against him. He was dragging you into the room, your feet dragging as you struggled, clawing his arms away but he never budged, practically unaware of the scratches you were leaving on his hands. “F- Fuckin’ quit-” He growled quietly, pressing open the small closet doors and dragging you both in, quickly shutting the door as you heard the boots grow louder down the hallway. A sliver of light shone through the crack in the door, leaving you just enough room to see the gorey scene as you pressed off of him, his muscled arms refusing to let you go.

“Toby?” A scratchy voice called into the room, the figure stepping through the door frame and into your line of sight. At his appearance, you froze completely, your body tense against the boy behind you. His arms gripped tighter, bandaged fingers digging into your cheek as he kept you quiet. He was horrifying. 

This man was taller than the one in the closet with you, pasty skin a sharp contrast against his dark messy hair. His eyes were wide, pupils dark against his reddened scleras. He wore a white hoodie, dark jeans covered just the same with Mr. Higg’s blood. But the worst part, the part that made your heart pump in your throat, was his smile. It was etched in, flesh torn upwards into a mocked smile, teeth exposed from the side of his cheek. The area was mangled, seemingly unhealed as blood dried against the cut. He almost made Mr. Higgs seem not that bad.

“Twitch, come on,” He called again, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket as he strolled around the room, kicking Mr. Higg’s severed foot out of the way. “I’m gettin’ tired. This guy had some good beers and I’m tryna get back home and drink ‘em.” He snickered, turning back out of the room and back down the hallway, his loud boots stomping against the old floors. Who you presumed to be Toby didn’t let you go, arms just as tight around you as you gripping his hoodie’s sleeves tight. “Fine then! If you’re gonna play fuckin’ hide and seek then I’m leavin’ your ass here!” He called throughout the house, your body only untensing when you heard the back porch door slam shut, loud boots thunking down the porch and out of earshot. 

You both waited a couple of seconds, heart thudding in your ears as arms slowly released you, palm unclasping from your mouth. Panicked, you slammed out of the closet, turning around quickly and facing Toby, back pressed against the nearest wall as you searched for something to defend yourself with. “D- Dumbass.” He grit, pressing out of the cramped closet and facing you, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie. The stench of the room pressed harder than ever, making your head dizzy as you pressed out of the room and down the hallway, Toby quick on your heels. “Whoever the fuck you are, whatever the fuck you want, I’m sure Mr. Higgs didn’t have it. Why in God’s name is he in pieces in his bedroom?” You hissed, gagging as the image replayed in your mind, turning into his kitchen and wracking the cupboards. When you found a small plastic cup, you ran water in through the sink, chugging the stout liquid down as you calmed your breathing. Toby stayed in the doorframe, crossing his arms. You probably shouldn’t have let your guard down, knowing full and well what he had just down to your neighbor, but you figured if he was going to he would have already.

“It’s none of y- your business. I don’t k- kill innocents, so you s- shoulda just stayed home, m- missy.” He growled back, stuttering through the words. You tossed the cup in the sink, the plastic clattering against the metal as you turned to face him, running your hands through your hair. “Hard to when you guys so obviously left his door open. The bastards hounded me for years, you’d think I’d be happy about his death, but not fucking like that.” You hissed, leaning back against the counter and crossing your arms, bare feet cold against the porcelain tiles. “I mean, Jesus. And I mean, thanks and all for the save back there, but how is killing him and saving me any different? It’s just favoring one innocent over another.” Toby shook his head, sliding past you and tugging a drawer open, shovelling through old receipts until he found the stack he was searching for. He passed it to you, paper crinkling as you skimmed through, old pharmacy receipts for prescription medicine. 

“H- Had the old bastard bu- buying our meds. Paid h- him off and everything. Un- Until he started g- giving us coun- counterfeits, sellin’ u- us out. He h- had to pay u- up somehow…” He huffed, shoving his mask down off of his nose and under his chin, his thin lips chapped against the bandages hugging his cheeks. And of course, he was cute. 

“So he gets shredded?” You had to breathe through that sentence, throat tight with nausea. Toby nodded, a small smirk crooking at the corner of his lips. You grimaced, pressing off of the counter and through to the living room, the old furniture seeming a lot less homey now. You were going home, filing a police report, and praying to God these fuckers didn’t come back to get you instead. 

“U- Uh, might wa- wanna clean up, t- too,” Toby chuckled from behind you. You paused, confused as you looked around, stomach twisting as you looked down. Bloody footprints trekked through the kitchen behind you, a trail leading to your bare feet as you lift your knee, gagging at the sight of Mr. Higg’s blood coating your soles. Toby was laughing, the noise muffled against the ringing in your ears as you hunched over, stomach convulsing as you puked on the hardwood floors, your lunch from work coming back up. Head straining, you panted, wiping your lips. “Oh, s- shit, okay.” Toby hissed, sliding to your side and raising you up, hugging you close to his side. He drug you through the door, stomach still churning as you watched your footprints faintly appear beneath you, purposefully dragging them through the grass to get the blood off. You felt disgusting, giving no fight as Toby brought you to your porch steps, helping you up. He was so bipolar, angry and distasteful for one second, then cautious and endearing the next. It really was like you were dealing with a teenager. 

Addy circled your ankles, her dense fur tickling your skin and making you jump, Toby gripping your arms tighter. “Oh, hi kitty.” You cooed, breathing deep as you kneeled down, scooping her up into your arms as Toby helped you up the rest of the steps. Without asking, he slid open your screen door, helping you both inside as Addy purred against your chest, Toby wary as he stared at her. You dropped her on the floor gently, Toby sliding the door shut as you hunched over your sink, cleaning your mouth and grabbing a rag for your feet. Toby still eyed Addy, fidgeting his nails as he followed her. “Ever seen a cat before? She was Mr. Higg’s.” You chuckled, cleaning the soles of your feet off and tossing the rag into the sink, still feeling unclean. Toby nodded, rubbing his arms nervously as he looked back at you, smiling awkwardly. “Yeah. Us- Used to have one. T- They kinda sc- scare me now.” Smiling, you scooped Addy up again, petting her soft fur as you brought her close to the boy, his neck twitching nervously. 

How could this guy shred a man to pieces, but petting a cat was too frightening for him? You couldn’t understand. Digressing, you gripped his wrist, steadying the twitches as you placed his hand on her back, rubbing gently as Toby flinched, breathing quickly. Addy purred, unbothered by the action as he became more comfortable, fingers playing with her fur before he pulled his hand back, breathing deep.

You were too nice for your own good, too easy at giving the benefit of the doubt. Of course, you would find the redeemable traits in a murderer, heart hurting for this boy who was more or less the same as you. Groaning, you dropped Addy, crossing your arms. “Listen. What you did, it’s… For my own conscience, I can’t let it happen again.” You grit, circling your countertop and sitting on a stool, your journal tucked in front of you as you fidgeted with the pages. “If we can agree, I’ll buy your meds. I have a friend who can write me prescriptions, no questions asked. But I need you to understand, under no circumstances, are you allowed to harm me. I’ll call the cops.” Like the cops could stop these lunatics. But, you needed some type of leverage. 

Toby thought quietly, eyes narrowed as he flinched uncomfortably against Addy rubbing on his shins, purring loudly. If you could hold your end, there would be no trouble, but he had to know he could rely on you. “Th- The meds aren’t for m- me. My f- friends, they need ‘em to function, m- mentally… You g- gotta realize this is- is serious.” Even stuttering his voice was stern, arms crossed as he thought, contemplating. You nodded, brushing your hair from your face as you groaned, realizing how desperately you needed to learn to set boundaries. “I can get them. But you have to keep your end, too.” You hissed back, pinching your fingers nervously. Toby smiled, crossing his heart, literally. Rolling your eyes, you nodded, rubbing your face as you groaned. What the fuck were you even doing? 

“I’ll have them by the end of the week. Come later at night, cops’ll be swarming for weeks thanks to you.” Toby nodded, sliding over to the counter and gripping your journal, tearing a page out as he wrote the list of prescriptions you would need to get. It was a hefty list, some of that shit intense. “Abou- About that,” He slid his mask up over his nose, sliding the screen door open as he stepped out, chuckling. “Do- Don’t go outside. Gonna ma- make it look like a g- gas leak.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he shut the screen, sliding his hood over his head and peeling down the porch steps. Finally taking a deep breath, you stared at Addy, wondering what in the absolute fuck you were doing. Rest in hell, Mr. Higgs.

-

He made it look like a gas leak alright. The house was on fire in minutes, the bright orange flames lighting your room as you heard sirens in the distance, your other neighbors gathered outside their houses as you climbed into bed, groaning your displeasure. Cops and firefighters swarmed for days afterwards, investigating the area thoroughly, but never finding any remains of Mr. Higgs, his body buried somewhere far away. They eventually grew restless, the city quickly cleaned up the charred remains of the house and a new plan for construction was set in soon. It went over smoothly, no one even suspecting a thing. 

The days passed slowly, nervousness building as the end of the week grew closer, feet shuffling as you stood in line at the pharmacy. You got the doctor’s notes easily, already called in and waiting to be picked up as you were handed a small paper bag, the pharmacist eyeing you closely as you hurried out. Once in your car, you rummaged the sack, eyes wide as you read the dosage instructions on each little pill bottle. You read each bottle carefully, cringing at the names of the contents: Thorazine, Prolixin, Haldol, and even Aripiprazole. They were all high-end antipsychotics, the list of treatments for schizophrenia and mania, along with treatment-resistant depression. The last bottle caught your eye, a quick Google search told you it was for tourette's. So his twitching wasn’t just nervousness, huh. Shoveling the sack into your bag, you sped home, Toby well on his way as the sun set low.

The first week was easy, Toby in and out without so much as a hello, nodding his thanks as he bolted back into the woods, eyes dark and heavy. It was easy for you, moving along with your life despite the one night of the week. You felt easier, the boy quick about his stops with some chat, but never hanging around for too long, eyes always scanning the tree line nervously. 

As weeks passed, he grew more comfortable, you learned that he was quick about stopping due to his friends, their curiosity about you making him nervous about losing his ‘dealer.’ You learned to leave his meds on the counter, sometimes not even present when he would sneak in at the late hours of the night, your job taking precedence over your sleep schedule. But with all of this money being spent weekly on medicine, you had to pick up more time at work, everything being paid for out of pocket not to raise suspicion. You were sleeping more, journaling and your hobbies taking less importance until they were practically nonexistent. It was hard, your serving heart refusing to let you rest, making sure Toby got his medication is the most important thing. You were strained, to say the least. 

However, surprisingly, after a couple of weeks, Toby wasn’t in a hurry to leave. He had slid in like he always did, you sat at the counter eating your dinner as you scribbled through the pages of your notebook, summing up the previous days. You were exhausted, Toby making you jump slightly as he shut the screen door, rummaging through the paper sack. “G- Got any more?” He grinned shyly, sliding his mask and goggles off and tossing them onto the counter. You nodded to the fridge, an extra container of leftovers from the diner quickly opened in front of him as he shoveled it into his mouth. “It’s better heated up,” You laughed, shutting your journal as you slid off the stool, gripping the to-go container from him and popping it into the microwave. You both sat there awkwardly, Toby kneeling down to rub Addy’s back as she appeared beneath him, soft purrs echoing. He was still nervous, never petting her for too long before standing back up, the microwave beeping. The food came out steaming, sliding open a drawer and handing him a fork, Toby continued to shovel the food into his mouth. You hissed, holding his arm as the steaming food sizzled inside his mouth, it had to be burning him. “Oh. Y- Yeah, I don’t fe- feel pain. Th’s good, tho- though.” He grinned, slurping up more of the food. He acted like he hadn’t had warm food in forever, stuffing his face and barely giving himself time to chew. You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he ate.

The stays became longer after that, his excuse being he was hungry, continuously raiding your fridge until you began to have food ready for him, prepping his meals along with your own. Thirty minutes turned to an hour, to two hours, and then eventually through the night. He would crash on your couch, Addy curled in his lap as the television blared some old movie. That was one of the only times you didn’t see him ticcing, the cat acting as an anchor against his restless body. He looked truly comfortable, using your blankets and pillows to his advantage, beginning to invite himself to stay the night after a while. 

You sat at the counter, Toby snoring loudly as he laid face first into the couch pillow, scribbling into your journal. It was the one thing you had time for, having to get up early for work as the soft glow of the kitchen light lit the pages. Toby was practically pushing himself into your life, his lack of manners and curious mannerisms leading him to take initiative. You were grateful for his friendliness, giving great detail of his missions with his friends and explaining that whole situation. Even still, you were wary. 

But against your better judgment, your relationship with the killer was becoming less transactional. He brought you things to make for dinner, talked with you through your mutual sleepiness, and even took care of Addy when you were too delusional after work. For lack of a better word, he was becoming a friend, showing up for more than just his medication, even sometimes forgetting the bag and having to chase him down. He was infesting your life, arriving earlier than he should and leaving later than you cared for. The end of the week was becoming optional, the screen of your porch door sliding open nearly every night of the week Toby didn’t have a mission. It was annoying but in a comforting way, like you both were becoming closer naturally despite your differences. 

As you heard his snores, you groaned, rubbing your tired eyes as you began to write, letting your pencil guide on the page numbly as you wrote your thoughts. It wasn’t directed at Toby on purpose, but the further you got down the page the further your heart sank, hand fisted in your hair as you rested your elbow on the cold marble counter. “Ah, Jesus…” You grit, scribbling the final few words as you lean back, rubbing your head. The words weren’t lies, more of a hard truth you weren’t willing to accept, chalking it up that you were just tired and desperate. The words could have been about Toby, or they could have been about anyone, you didn’t really care. Sighing, you tore the page out, folding it and shoving it into the back of the book, closing the pages quickly. Sleep sounded much easier as you flipped the kitchen light off, turning the volume of the television down as you trudged upstairs to your room, giving one last glance to the snoring boy and his matching cat.

-

Toby knew his mishaps with you, his moral compass long forgotten the more time he spent inside your home. He told himself it was just easier, food and shelter at his disposal whenever, but he knew better. It was so much more than just picking up medicine for Tim and Brian now, it was a solid relationship, a bond that was forming in his eyes. 

It had been almost four months since the unfortunate death of your neighbor, a smile creeping every time he saw the charred flecks of wood buried in the overgrown grass. You had begun to leave the back door unlocked, reasoning that someone breaking and entering would be less of a hassle than him. That was what Toby really hooked onto the most about you, your humor about everything. Despite your hardships and the emotions you had to overcome, you held a caring heart, compassion always lacing every action. He found it admirable, your humor through your busy life. And, likewise, he did feel bad for making you work so much, tired eyes always hurting his heart whenever you were around. But, it wasn’t like he could get a job, so he helped where he could, cleaning and learning to cook for your sake. He needed this medicine, for his friend’s and his own stability, even at your expense.

You were already nestled at your spot on the counter, writing your thoughts in that damn journal. You barely even looked up as he entered, diving for the fridge as he scooped up Addy with one arm, her purs a nice vibration against his shoulder. Popping the container in the microwave, he leaned in over your shoulder, trying to catch a glance at your scribbling before you shoved him off, closing the book quickly. “Ah, ah, mind yours.” You smiled, forking your own food into your mouth. “O- Oh come on, [Y/N], just a pe- peak.” He smiled back, gathering his food as he began to eat, sliding onto his familiar spot on the couch. It was routine now: where you sat, what he watched, what you both talked about. He explained his latest mission with Masky in more detail than you enjoyed, pushing your food away as you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. You both laughed throughout the night before you whisked your food into the fridge, calling your goodnights before heading upstairs. 

Toby continued to watch the television, brushing Addy’s back with his bandaged fingers as he sat his empty container to the side. His curiosity nudging him, he raised up, tossing his trash before he slid to the counter, you all too confidently leaving your journal there. Slipping back onto the couch, he began to flip through the pages, listening closely for your footsteps as he read your entries, smiling as they dated all the way back to your high school years.

It seemed as though everything you thought spilt onto these lines, emotions erratic between every page as he realized just how much of a people pleaser you really were. All through your recent years, it was nothing but service, acting through the goodness of your soul until it felt sickening, fake almost. He cringed, flipping quickly through but finding nothing juicy, no deep dark secrets that he felt were interesting. Sighing, he closed the journal, standing to set it back onto the counter, until a slip of paper fell from between the pages. Smiling, Toby leaned down, arms twitching as he slid the journal back onto the counter, leaning against the marble as he flipped the paper open, reading carefully.

“Sometimes, when I think about it too hard, I get all emotional about myself. I know I put on a front, like everything I do I’m in charge of and can handle, always putting everyone around me first. But what if I wanted to be put first? I do so much for the sake of others but it never seems to be returned, never compensated for the mental strain. Well, maybe I want to. Maybe I want to be loved like I see others, rough and real. I have no clue how I even would, I can barely handle touching myself before I'm overwhelmed. But I just want someone else to take the reins, show me that I don't have to work my brain so hard and can just numb out. That's not too much to ask, right? Just someone who can love me, not some creep or one night thing, someone who cares. If I never ask for anything again, that would be it. Someone who wants me for me.”

He could have died. The brunette’s cheeks dark as he re-read the crumbled page, excitement coursing through him. In his mind, he wanted to storm upstairs and just rattle you then, showing you how good he could treat you. It was like a bomb had gone off, Toby having to pretend like him having a crush on you wasn’t achingly obvious, convincing himself he just didn’t know how to act around women. But now it was clear, his mind racing with a million wants and needs, body spasming under the excitement. 

Convincing himself to leave, he slipped the note into his pocket, body buzzing with excitement as he slid out your door. He would be back, like always. But this time, he would show you what you truly needed, what only he could give you. 

-

Like always, Toby left a note for the medication you needed to pick up, it sometimes changing week to week. Everything looked normal, the usual combination of pills reading off. But as you scanned the bottom, you groaned, shoving the paper into your pocket. Trilafon, Saphris, and… Plan B. As if your desperation for some affection couldn’t have gotten much worse, your heart twisted, a lump growing. Whether it be for some girl he was laying or a girlfriend he already had, you didn’t care, all you wanted was to get the medicine and go. Crawling into your bed sounded like a much more exciting activity than dwelling on the brunette, heart saddened in all the way you knew it shouldn’t. 

To make your night even better, Toby didn’t show. It wasn’t unusual, for him sometimes not to show up for days due to extensive missions. But a part of you longed to see him, especially after today, just to help your mind with the whole morning-after pill situation. So now, instead of imagining him surrounded by his friends on a mission, you imagined him towering over a girl. Strong arms holding her, body contorting to fit against hers… You could’ve been sick, shaking your head as you ate quickly and pressed upstairs, barely petting Addy before you slinked into bed, hauling the covers over your head. 

It was lonely on nights without his presence in your house. But especially tonight, thoughts racing uncontrollably to the point of tears, thick droplets streaking down your face as your chest hurt, longing for a body, any body, to hold close to yours. Maybe you really were just a transactional thing. 

-

Toby smiled as he trekked through the familiar stretch of woods to your house, heart racing in his chest. He had it all planned out, exactly what he wanted to do, his cock already twitching in his jeans. 

He hadn’t shown up tonight on purpose, hanging back at the mansion to take the best shower he could, Ben teasing him about how good he smelled as he was leaving. You had to be well in bed by now, body tired after working all day just for him. He would take care of you, showing just how grateful he was for how much you were giving up just for his friends and him. Pressing past the tree line, he smiled, pulling his hood down as all the lights in your home were out, signaling your retirement. 

Pressing up the steps, he slid the screen door open quietly, careful not to alert you as he clicked it shut. Stripping his hoodie, he tossed it onto the couch, Addy purring light against the cushions. It was warm in your house, black t-shirt hugging his arms as he untucked it from his jeans, climbing up the steps, his mask and goggles quick to come off next. 

He was too excited for his own good, boots stepping quietly against the old hardwood as he slinked to your door, fidgeting with the knob. A rush of your scent blew into his face, your perfume stout in your small bedroom, eyes searching around in the dark space for your bed. It wasn’t hard with your breathing, quiet snores making him smile as he leaned against your mattress, admiring your unawareness. You looked so peaceful, his bandaged fingers tracing your cheeks and brushing your hair from your face, your skin flinching under his touch. “Hi, baby…” He whispered, the pet name sounding right against his tongue as he referred to you, tugging the sheets down. 

Toby always knew how nice of a body you had, you sometimes sauntering around the house with shorts and a t-shirt and making his eyes trail just a little longer than normal. But now, under his cold hands, you were even more gorgeous. You were wearing an oversized shirt, a slight tug at the fabric revealing that you only had panties on underneath, you slightly stirring as his nails brushed your skin. The brunette was excitedly jittering, kicking his boots off as he climbed onto the bed, kneeling at your curled body sound asleep. You shifted, rolling onto your back as you breathed deep, stretching your arms before settling back into yourself. Toby could have died, your legs stretching out to rest around him, his cock twitching with interest against your now visible panties. A quiet sigh breathed through your lips.

That was all the invitation he needed. Running his cold hands under your shirt, he felt your warm skin and goosebumps rising as you squirmed under them. Your brows scrunched but Toby pressed further, running his fingers along your waist and up to your tits, palming the mounds gently as he smiled. It was crazy to him just how soft your skin was, not weathered or bruised from missions or nature, perfectly smooth under his axe-calloused hands. Pushing your shirt up to your chest, he gasped at your round tits, the weight so perfect in his hands as he pinched at your nipples, rubbing the nubs gently. Toby was never very sure of anything, always brushing through life at the command of others. But the one thing he was sure about? His love for boobs, especially yours. 

Nudging closer between your legs, he rested your knees on his thighs, leaning down to your chest as he popped a nipple into your mouth, sucking gently. The nub was hard against his tongue, slowly circling as he massaged the opposite one in his palm, pinching your nipple gently. That’s when you began to stir, hands sliding against the bed and unconsciously searching for the cause of your sensitivity. Lazy hands pushed against his face, soft groans echoing in the boy’s ears as he popped off your nipple and moved to the next one. Your hands fingered through his hair, tugging lightly until your eyes were beginning to flutter, your mind slowly coming alive. Toby let off your tit, kissing along your chest and licking a stripe between your tits, humming as he watched your eyes slowly blink open, confusion rocking you. He kneaded your tits gently, tugging at your nipples as you realized what was happening, eyes slowly widening as you strained to sit up against him. “Toby? Wha-” Your voice was scratchy, ridden with exhaustion as the brunette kissed up your neck to your cheeks, pushing you back down as he slotted himself flush between your legs. Slowly realizing what was happening, your cheeks flushed dark, hands pressing against his chest as you squirmed, nervously babbling as your body was still half asleep. “Lay b- back, baby… You’re so ti- tired, let me take c- care of you…” Toby sighed, running his hands back down along your skin, relishing in the way your body nervously shook under him.

You physically could not believe what was happening. This had to be a dream, some sick trick your mind was playing as you felt cold fingers hook under your panties, sliding them down. Heavy eyes wide, you grabbed his arms, clenching your thighs together against his waist. “No- No, wait- I don’t even, I mean, I’ve never-” Toby was already shushing you, gripping your wrists together and kissing your palms before pushing them back down to your sides, resuming his tug down your thighs. “I’ve go- got you. Don- Don’t gotta worry about a- a thing…” He smiled, raising your legs up to slide your panties down the rest of the way, hooking them off of your raised ankles before pulling you down closer to him, pushing your shirt over your head. “Read y- your journal, you don- don't gotta act protective, ba- baby. I know this is what y- you want…” If you weren’t already panicking, you definitely were now. 

You wanted to hound him for snooping through your journal, mouth opening to tell him off. But as his fingers brushed against the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your folds, you lost all train of thought. He was watching you, eyes excited in the darkness of your room as he swiped his thumb closer again, your thighs flinching shut. “Anyone else e- ever touched here before?” He mumbled, pressing his thumb against your plump lips and tugging them open, getting a nice look at the wetness that was already forming between your folds. Shaking your head, Toby lit up, cock pushing hard against his jeans as he had to adjust his position, using both hands to pull your lips apart, sighing at how pretty your cunt was. Just something about knowing that Toby was claiming his stake on you, imprinting his touch for the first time before anyone else could, made something deep inside of him burn. It wasn’t like the brunette got much play himself, hooking up with a girl here and there, but being your first? That already made this so much better than any other girl could even try. 

Sliding his fingers through your wetness, you gasped, hands clutching the pillow behind your head as he groaned, spreading your arousal across your lower abdomen. You whined, thighs begging to clench together as he purposefully slid your juices over your cunt, pressing his thumb down against your swollen clit and jolting your back off the mattress. You had only ever masturbated here and there, your body getting too overwhelmed after one orgasm and forcing you to stop, but would Toby stop? As he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them into his mouth, you doubted his restraint.

“Please be gentle…” You warned, hands planting on the mattress as you sat up, resting on your elbows as you watched Toby bring his digits back down to your cunt. He rolled his eyes playfully, tugging your folds open with his opposite hand as he pressed the tips of his fingers against your entrance, pressing in slowly. “I’ll try…” He laughed, your fingers gripping the sheets tight as you watched his fingers sink in slow, stretching your cunt uncomfortably. His index and middle fingers screwed into your tight walls gently, twisting his wrist to draw a moan from your lips, digits spreading against your gummy walls and making your entrance ache. “Just i- imagine my dick in here…” He cooed, eyes darting between your nervous face and your pretty cunt fluttering around just his fingers, barely even handling them. 

Pressing his opposite thumb against your clit, he began to rub in small circles, dragging your hips further and further off of the mattress until you were practically rolling your hips against him. His fingers probed in and out of your cunt at a slow pace, just enough to make you comfortable with the unfamiliar intrusion, but his arms ached to go faster, curl his fingers until you spasmed. “Toby…” You sighed, his hands moving in time with other as he screwed his fingers inside of you, angling them just enough so they pressed against your tight walls. His name sounded like heaven against your aroused tongue, so quiet but so desperate, secretly drawling for more. “Tell me w- what you want, ba- baby…” The pet name made your face hot, your stomach fluttering as you pressed back into the pillows, running your hands down to your thighs and squeezing the flesh. “I want… more…” You sighed through your arousal, cunt clenching desperately around Toby’s cold fingers, sucking them back inside every time he drew them out. The brunette laughed, pushing his feet under him to push his hips up against your ass, your hips raising off the bed as he fingered down into you. You could feel his cock straining behind his jeans below your raised ass, twitching needily with every tug of his fingers and moan that whined from your throat. His size was overwhelming, making your heart pound as Toby began to curl his fingers, making your eyes shut quickly. 

His fingers pressed so deep in your cunt, curling against your sensitive walls and making your jaw hang, beginning to press against your walls at a steady rhythm. It was like a new fire had lit under Toby, fingers screwing in at a quicker pace and making your stomach clench, face screwing into an overwhelmed feeling. His fingers pumped in, knuckles sinking in through your wetness and gripped by your gummy walls, curling his fingertips just right as he got deep. It was so intense, so rough, just a mess of slick and your wet cunt sounding through the room with every squelch as he abused your clit, swiping left and right quickly. Your thighs twitched and ached with every curl, trying to close around his hand practically fucking you into sensitivity. Your hands wrapped around his forearm quickly, begging his wrists to stop curling abusively inside of you as you tugged your nails into his skin. Toby wouldn’t, continuing to pump his fingers as he stared at your flushed face, cunt squelching embarrassingly loud. “Just a l- little more… Co- Come on…” He groaned, nudging his hips against your bare ass as his fingers milked moans and whines out of you, his fingers glistening with your arousal every time he tugged them out. He couldn’t feel you clawing at his arms, loud groans begging him to let up as your cunt clenched, molding around his thick fingers. 

You could feel your orgasm rolling through you, Toby huffing as the veins in his arms popped, his shoulder muscles straining against his shirt as he watched your face carefully, picking up as your moans became louder. “Gonna come f- for me? Yeah?” He teased, clothed cock twitching against your ass, pushing your cheeks apart as he rutted against you. He curled his fingers quicker, mumbling his arousal as he watched your cunt swell around him, clit throbbing under his thumb. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, stomach tightening and forcing you to sit up, Toby was quick to let off your clit and wrap his arm around your back, holding you up as he pumped your through your cunt squelching, tightening around his digits. Your eyes rolled, teeth grit tight as he palmed your clit, slowing his pace to a slow thrust as you became undone against him. No orgasm of your own had ever compared to that, head light and chest heavy as you breathed quickly, gripping Toby’s shirt tight. 

Refusing to let you go, Toby leaned in, pressing kisses against your neck and licking at your sweat, relishing in the warmth around his digits. You whined, cunt sensitive as he tugged his fingers out, his skin raw and pruned against the wetness coating his digits. Your folds were absolutely drenched, Toby spreading his fingers through your lips and pushing his sopping fingers over your warm thighs wrapped around him. “God, y- you’re so wet-” He gasped, pressing his fingertips back against your clit as he laid you back, gripping your tit. Your mind panicked, cunt flashing with sensitivity as he began to rub against your clit, swiping left and right against the rub quickly. “Toby- Stop- Toby, please-” You cried, breath catching in your throat as your stomach clenched, his fingers pressing hard as he pinched your nipples, eyes trained on your wet pussy. “You e- ever squirt before?” He smiled, transitioning fast between digging his fingers into your cunt and pulling them back out to swipe against your clit. It was nauseating, cunt crying desperately for relief as he dug nails into your tits. Gasping loudly, you gripped his arms, knees screwing tight against his sides as you cried out, hips bucking up against his hands. 

Every time his fingers slipped into your entrance, they squelched loudly, fluttering around the intrusion before desperately aching as they tugged out and moved onto your clit. “Squirt li- like a whore, m- mkay? Quit fightin’.” He hissed, letting his hand off your tit and scooping under your left knee, pushing it back to open your cunt wider, spreading your legs further apart. Your head was dizzy, heart pounding as you gasped for air, panting at every push of his fingers. You were already quick to cumming, but it felt weird, not that normal clench you felt in your stomach, more of a strain against your cunt itself. You cried out, tears slipping down your cheeks as he forced your pussy against his will, ruining you. 

As he swiped his fingertips down hard against your clit, your entrance clenched, mouth opening wide as you cried out, hips bucking up as you felt your cunt squirt, thighs trembling hard. There was literally nothing to compare it to, mind hazy as you sprayed onto his black shirt, his fingers digging into your entrance and pushing more juices out of your swollen folds. Toby was smiling, moaning his approval as he rubbed your clit softly, pushing the last of your orgasm out as you strained against the mattress. “Gunna fu- fuck you dumb, baby…” He growled, tugging the soaked shirt over his head and tossing it as he unzipped his jeans, tugging them down and off his legs as his cock hung heavy against your drenched cunt. You couldn’t even react, head spinning as Toby gripped your hips, pushing you onto your side as he grabbed your ankle, pulling it onto his shoulder and straddling your other. 

Neck craning with excitement, he teased the tip of his swollen cock between your folds, slicking himself up with your ruined juices. “This is wh- what you wanted, is- isn’t it?” He smiled wildly, pressing his cock into your ruined cunt, groaning loudly as you swallowed him in, warmth gripping tight as he gripped your leg, other hand stable on your tit. You groaned, face turned into the pillow as he began to thrust deep, giving you no mercy as he tugged at your nipple, biting at your calf as he fucked into you. You felt so full, your body so exhausted already as stretched you further, your entrance burning against the sting of this new girth. You squeezed him so tight, cock forcing itself deeper with every tug of his hips as you began to cry, tears staining your pillowcase.

“Fuckin’ tal- alk to me, baby. Gunna mak- make me cum al- already.” He sighed, teeth chewing against the meat of your calf as he pressed your cunt wider, sweat dripping from his nose as his curls clung to his forehead. He let off your tit, left hand slinking up to grip your jaw and turn your face back to look at him, your eyes heavy as they blurred with tears. Toby looked so good right now, cheeks dark against his freckles as he towered above you, cock pushing against your gummy walls and making your mouth hang. “So pretty…” He smiled, slinking his hand down to your throat and squeezing, cock pulsing as your face tightened, mouth gasping out as he clamped tighter, refusing you air. There was something so orgasmic about cutting your airway, watching your body react as he fucked your virgin cunt, holding your life in his hands. He had to breathe deep to stop himself from cumming, his violent brain spasming out. 

He pushed your ankle over his head, pulling out roughly as he rolled you onto your stomach, you gasping from the wave of air hitting your lungs. Pushing himself against your ass, Toby swore, pushing his cock back into your cunt as he pushed your back down, making you arch against him. “Just a l- little more, m’kay?” He growled, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and squeezing hard, pressing your face down into the pillow. With a new pace, he fucked down into you wildly, hand kneading your ass hard as digging his nails into your skin, little welts forming across the soft flesh. Your muffled cries sounded against the pillow, head light and static filled as you gasped for air, Toby’s cock ramming down against your g-spot. “Never s- seen a bitch so willing, so des- desperate for my dick you’d gi- give it up so easily.” He teased, growling as he let off your neck, neck sore as he leaned down, pushing your hair off your neck. Toby hadn’t felt like this before, wanting to mark you, fucking you so desperately he wanted to carve his shape deep inside. He couldn’t let you go without knowing exactly who you craved, corrupting you, ruining you, molding you to fit only him. 

He licked against your shoulder, sucking onto the skin before he pressed his teeth, digging both hands into your hips as he sunk them in, groaning at the pop as your blood soaked his teeth. You were crying, screaming into the pillow as your entire body begged for him, craving him, mind going blank as your blood dripped from his chin as he licked at the wound. He pressed on, nibbling into the crook of your neck and sucking revolting hickies into your skin, marking you like an animal. “Wan- Want you to come on m- my cock, baby. I got- gotta fill you full, want y- you ruined for everyone b- but me.” He mumbled quickly, cock begging to spill inside of your warm cunt as you reached around, gripping his hair as he sunk his teeth in again, walls fluttering around him. You pulled his hair, dragging his mouth off of your neck and to your lips, smashing your swollen, tear-stained lips against his as he groaned, kissing you roughly. 

You were cumming again, back arching onto Toby’s cock as you moaned into his mouth, walls holding him tight inside. He tried to move, to continue thrusting, but you were so tight all he could do was rutt his hips, begging for friction as his own seed spilt, his brows screwing tight as he came deep inside of you, warm cum seeping deep into your cunt. Your mind was blank, eyes rolled as you cried into his grasp, his nails digging into your hips until you were nearly bleeding. Your cunt squelched, milking his cock as he finally pulled from your lips, letting the last of your orgasms fizzle out before he pushed off of you, slowly tugging himself out as you whined. Looking back, his cock was soaked, glistening with your arousal and streaks of blood, Toby’s eyes wide. “Ah… Yo- You tore…” He hissed, wiping his soft cock with his shirt before pulling his boxers on, quickly trotting out of your room. You dropped your head back onto the pillow, cunt aching and body ruined as you sat in your sweat and each other’s cum, mind tired as you slowly blinked. 

Toby was back in seconds, a water bottle, a wet rag, and a small bag all in tow as he climbed back onto the bed, flipping your lazy body onto your back. You smiled, sipping the water bottle slowly as he began to clean you up, gently running the warm rag between your folds and against your thighs until he was satisfied, gently rubbing your skin. Finally, he grabbed the bag, your confusion evident as he tugged out the prescription bag, rummaging for the plan b he made you buy and popping one of the pills out, handing it to you as he smiled. Your chest welled, previous anxiety dissipating until you began to tear up, taking the small pill before reaching to wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down next to you. Toby went easily, body cradling against yours as he kissed against the bruised spots on your neck, rubbing your bite mark gently.

As you began to doze, Toby mumbled something about your note, your mind too dizzy to hear the rest. The last thing you saw was a subtle flash behind your eyelids, sleep overtaking you as Toby held you close.

-

Morning came quickly, your body stirring, reaching for Toby but finding the bed empty. Confused, you sat up, eyes heavy and head still pounding but you pressed off the bed anyway, searching for the boy. Downstairs, on the countertop, laid his hoodie neatly folded, with a small piece of paper resting on top. Sauntering over, you reached for the top, sliding it over your head, it falling before your hips as you gripped the paper, reading its contents.

On a mission. Be back later tonight. Meanwhile, enjoy ;)

Flipping the paper over, you gasped, slapping your hand over your mouth. A small picture was taped to the back, a polaroid-type photo of the two of you cradled together, your bare body pressed against his, bruises and sweat on full display. Smiling, you tucked it into his pocket, breathing the scent of his hoodie deep as Addy circled your ankles, begging for breakfast. 

Staring out your back porch door, you made sure it was unlocked, always open for him. Killer or not, that boy was yours now, accepting his every mishap the same way he did yours. For the first time in a long time, you felt wanted. 

Rest in Hell, Mr. Higgs.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

The Lost Condom

Synopsis: You were in the middle of a spicy time with your boyfriend, when something odd happened: the condom disappeared. Inside. Of. You.

The solution? Go to the hospital.

The problem? Your family didn't know about your relationship.

Pairing: Jon Kent X Gn!AFAB!Reader; Platonic!Batfam

Tw: 18+; Only mention and slight description of genitals and sex, but nothing too explicit; All characters are aged up of course; English isn't my 1st language.

Word count: 1,8k.

Requested? Nah.

Extra notes: This isn't an original idea of mine, it's based on a real life story someone told me. Also the family finding out scene was inspired by this fanfic from @dccomicsimagines and this scene from Megamind. Also, eventually I will work on the asks waiting for me I swear 😭

General masterlist

So… You were in the middle of… Having fun… With your boyfriend… When suddenly, he said something that really confused you.

— Hmm… Babe… Where’s the condom? — Your head snapped back to look at him, since you were on all fours.

— Where's the ‘what’? — Your eyes were wide, unconsciously. Jon was blushing intensely, looking from your eyes to your entrance. He didn't know how to explain.

— I-I-I put it inside with the condom on, but now it's… Gone! — You narrowed your eyes. You watched him wrap and then enter you, you didn't feel him pull out at any moment, and even if he did, why would he tell you that he pulled out, took the condom off and then put it inside again secretly while you were still going at it?

You were both silent for a few seconds.

— Search for it! — You practically yelled at him, making him scramble to get off of you. You laid with your back down and legs open, looking at the ceiling, trying to calm down and not feel embarrassed. You felt him entering you with his fingers and searching around for minutes, grumbling and getting frustrated. The sensation was good… But you had bigger priorities at hand!

You huffed and changed positions a few times. A pillow underneath your butt, legs up, on all fours. Nothing worked. You even searched around the room and the bed, just to be sure. At some point, you both defeatedly decided it was best you go to the hospital.

The thing is, your relationship was still new, and no one in your family was aware. Lois and Clark already knew and approved, and you thought Cass suspected you were seeing someone, but you hadn't told them yet.

Especially Damian.

You and Jon knew each other years before Damian was even part of the family, since Bruce raised you since your birth — you were the product of one of his affairs, your biological mother didn't want to raise you, but she also didn't want to abort, so she and Bruce agreed that he would have you as soon as you were born — and he's best friend was Clark. Although, you didn't see each other much back then. It was after the Supersons became a team and besties that he started frequenting the manor more. You always had a childhood crush on each other — Jon thought you were beautiful and nice, and you thought he was cute and sweet, very different from the gross and rude boys from your school. —. Until you were each other's first kiss, then years later, first relationship, and first time. Of course, all in secret from Damian. The older family members only knew about your crush because of your physical language, but since you grew older and learned to hide, they assumed it was just a childish crush from the past.

Lois and Clark knew and approved, but they also always reminded you that you needed to tell Bruce soon, or at least Alfred, especially after you started being sexually active.

Unfortunately, the day came. Yes, you and Jon were old enough to have sex, but too young to be mature and brave enough to go to the hospital by yourselves. Lois was in another country for work, Clark was in the Watchtower in a League meeting, your dad was there too. Leaving the 2nd best option: Alfred — the best would be Lois, then Alfred, Clark, Cass, and then you would have to discuss which one of your other family members would it be.

Since you were in Metropolis — again, no one knew. More privacy wink wink —, Jon flew you back to Gotham, and you both almost cheered when you realized you were completely home alone, except for Alfred, of course.

Poor Alfred knew something was up when you suddenly were back from your “shopping trip”, with messy hair and clothes, red face and Superboy looking almost sick. He released a long sigh.

— Mx/Miss/Master (Y/N). Young Mr. Kent… — You cleared your throat.

— Alfred… We need help…

After you explained everything, Alfred looked ten years older. He didn't comment on anything, but his face showed how unimpressed he was. He just gestured for you to follow him to the garage, took the keys and started driving.

— Let me warn Master Bruce while we are-

— NO! — You yelled, started. He looked at you through the rearview mirror disapprovingly.

— Should I remind you that he will see the hospital bill and go after the truth? — You bit your lip.

— No, I know that. Just… Can't we pay on cash? — You smiled at him hopefully and nervously, but it was more like a grimace. Alfred was silent. You groaned. — I will tell him okay! Tonight! — Jon’s eyes snapped to yours, wide. — Relax! You're not gonna die!

— Yeah, until Damian whips out a kryptonite sword… — He groaned, hiding his burning face in your neck. You huffed, now wasn't time for him to be adorable.

— He doesn't have a kryptonite sword. Dad didn't let him do it. He would have to build it first. That would give him enough time to calm down. — Jon looked at you, indignant. Alfred cleared his throat.

— While we're there, I can't make any promises that if your father asks, I will hide the truth. He will know. — You and your boyfriend groaned, rubbing your faces with your hands.

— Yes, Alfred, I know…

Two hours later, you were finally laid down in position for the doctor to begin the procedure. Since if wasn't anything serious, you were on the emergency and there was only a curtain separating you from the rest of the patients outside. Alfred was sitting just outside, waiting, while Jon was standing by your side, holding your hand, as if you were about to give birth. The doctor was amused by your story, and her jokes helped you calm down.

She searched around you for a few minutes, the instrument she was using inside you being a little uncomfortable. Jon was silently horrified when he saw, you were startled too, but maintained the composure.

— AHA! Found it! It was really deep inside, almost on your cervix! — When she pulled out the condom, you both let out a breath of relief you didn't know you were holding.

You quickly put your clothes on again, you and Jon chatting as everything seemed lighter, and then left.

What you didn't know was that when Bruce got home and you and Alfred weren't there, it made him call, finding out just that you were in the hospital. Alfred refused to say much more than reassure him that it wasn't urgent and that he would soon know, thus he didn't have to crazily drive all the way there. That didn't stop him from alerting all your siblings.

When you got home, your whole family was there.

— Jon?! What're you doing here? — Alfred kept a straight face. Wow, he really wasn't going to help.

— Hmmm... — Jon subtly and subconsciously hid behind you. You shifted from one foot to another. Damian got up with a threatening scowl. You just came from the hospital. With a kryptonian.

— Kent! If you hurt my sibling I will-

— I didn't! — Jon almost yelled, then covered his face with his hands.

— Then, what is happenning here? — Bruce got up with a raised brow, analyzing the situation.

You thought for a moment. You either told them now and made things easier, or you spent all the way to dinner with them bothering you to tell. You could take it, Jon couldn't.

You took a deep breath.

— JonandIwerehavingsexwhenthecondomdisappearedinsideofmewecouldn'tfinditanywheresoweaskedAlfredforhelpandwenttothehospital.

They blinked.

— … What?

You huffed.

— Jon and I were having sex, when the condom disappeared inside of me. We couldn't find it anywhere, so we asked Alfred for help and went to the hospital. — You said, slower this time, although uma lower, more abashed tone.

Silence.

— … But… It was stuck inside? Weren't you wet, though…? — Tim's analysis broke the silence.

— SEX?! — Dick and Jason exclaimed.

— YOU WERE HAVING SEX WITH MY SIBLING?!

— Knew it. — Cass smiled and nodded, proud of herself.

Bruce heaved a sigh and sat down again.

— I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DID THIS! — Damian threw Tim's coffee mug in your direction and Jon zoomed in front of you. The mug broke. Jon had a sheepish expression.

— Tim, go grab kryptonite. — Jason ordered and got up, walking toward the hidden compartment in the shelf where he kept his guns. Dick held him back while Damian threw a flower vase at Jon.

— No! Don't do that, Tim. — Dick ordered back. Tim shook his head.

— I wasn't going to anyway… — He mumbled. Damian threw the center table.

— YOU ACTED BEHIND MY BACK! YOU TRAITOR! YOU- OUCH! PENNYWORTH STOP! — Alfred tutted, pinching his ear.

— I'm sure civilized conversations don't involve breaking the forniture. — Alfred shot a pointed look at Bruce. — Master Bruce! Say something! — Your dad just kept gazing at you and your boyfriend.

Cass sighed, stepping toward Bruce and sitting beside him.

— (Y/N)’s happy. He’s good. They're careful. — Bruce nodded, finally showing some reaction and looking pleased. Jason stopped struggling against Dick and looked at you.

— I don't care. I'm going to kill him. — Damian growled, starting to pace around the room in anger. Jon silently sighed in relief that Damian kept his distance by being on the other side of the room, the couch and the whole family serving as a barrier. You stepped forward.

— It's not casual. We've been together for almost two months now. — Everyone but Alfred and Cass gasped. Damian burned holes in Jon’s head with his eyes and your dad looked at you, masking his mix of emotions.

Cass tsk.

— So clueless. Many signs. — She shook her head.

— (Y/N), why didn't you tell us before? — Dick asked carefully, walking in your direction and stopping in front of you. Jon fiddled behind you. You shrugged.

— Didn't want to deal with you all while we were just starting things. Especially if it didn't work out.

— When were you planning to tell us? — You pouted.

— I don't know… In a month or two? You guys probably would find out by yourselves. — You shrugged.

— You've been sneaking out a lot… — Tim spoke up for the second time, catching everyone’s attention. He was fiddling with his laptop, likely doing his own investigation. The ones closest to Tim looked from the monitor to you again.

— When did you go to Metropolis?! — Jason exclaimed, indignantly.

— Hehe…

Damian growled.

— So that's why you've been ditching me?! — Damian pointed a finger at Jon, who scratched the back of his head.

— Surprise...? — Jon weakly sang the word.

Bruce cleared his throat.

— So that's why Clark’s been acting like he was happy he knew something I didn't… — He got up and pointed at you. — No more sneaking out. Ask permission before going anywhere. — You opened your mouth to protest, but he stopped you. — Either that or you're grounded. — You pursed your lips and nodded in defeat. — Now we will talk about birth control…

Comment, like and reblog 🥰

DC Taglist:

@wandalfnation @vadersassistant @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @hxsun4 @silverklaus @toast-on-dandelioms @bluewillbon

[frankcastleonlyfans]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

pairing: dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader au

summary: your son maegon visits his sick old uncle, viserys, and end up learning the story of how you met your husband.

author's note: look who's back... this story was based off two asks, this one, and another one asking how daemon and mom!reader met. and now mom!reader is officially dornish!!!! i will not be making descriptions of her features in the future, but just know that mom!reader is poc. i hope you guys enjoy this story. it feels good to write again.

warnings: none ig

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

dad!daemon x mom!reader au masterlist

gif by @gameofthronesdaily

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ༓ ༓ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

It is sad when a family member gets sick and you know there's nothing you can do about it. So when your brother-in-law fell ill, it came the time you had to explain to your children that King Viserys wouldn't be the same he once was. The hard part was trying not to scare them with the thought of losing their uncle.

The news brought sadness to Alyssa's and Rhaegon's hearts, but Maegon was the most affected one. He felt the necessity of doing something for his beloved uncle so that even though the King now lay indisposed, he could still feel loved. Your son was old enough to realize that besides Helaena, Viserys' kids did not care for him. That made him sad. Rhaenyra lived in Dragonstone, and for so she couldn't give the attention her father deserved.

The boy had the idea of asking Queen Alicent to let him pay some company for King, during the evenings where he would like someone to talk to. As she needed a break from the sick man herself, she would let Maegon take over her place wherever she felt like it. Which was, almost every evening.

During one of those evenings, Prince Daemon thought it would be nice to see what his brother and son talked about. Mostly, he just wanted to see his brother interacting with anyone, to have the certainty that Viserys would still be alive for a while. The King had little to no hair on his scalp. His body couldn't stand up without the supported of a cane. Daemon didn't know how much time his older brother had left.

When Daemon made entrance to the monarch's solar, he found his son and his brother giggling softly. It felt good to hear the laughing. It meant Viserys was in fact, still alive.

"May I know what is so funny?" The Rogue Prince asked, making his presence known.

Maegon was startled by his father's voice. He has been visiting his uncle for weeks now, but not once his father wanted to come with him.

"Oh, hello Daemon" Viserys grinned at the sight of his sibling, "what a coincidence to see you right now. I was just telling Maegon about that time when we were kids... Do you remember when we tried to find The Cannibal?"

Daemon chuckled, "I do. We searched around all Dragonstone until Father found us before we got inside a Volcano's cave."

"And we never found him!" Viserys laughed.

"Well, thank Gods! You two would probably be eaten or burned alive and I wouldn't be here today to hear the story if you did find him." Maegon reasoned, watching his father pacing around the King's solar.

Daemon's fingers danced around the huge model of Valyria that his brother had exposed in the middle of his room.

"I miss the good old days when I was brave. Once I was sword fighting, I was riding Balerion, I took my little brother to look for a cannibal wild dragon..." Viserys sighed softly.

"You are brave still, uncle" Maegon assures, "It takes bravery to rule. And it takes bravery to be kind. You are a good King."

Viserys nodded to his nephew's words, taking his hands across the table. Daemon felt warmth in his heart. He couldn't quite understand that sensation, but he sees that part of him feels glad that his son expressed words and emotions he could never say or show, because he didn't know how to.

"Did you know that I was the one who introduced your mother to Daemon?" Viserys asked, with fun in his tone, "Have I ever told you the story?"

"Oh, you haven't!" Maegon engaged, grinning excitedly, "Do tell me, uncle, please."

We were all at Driftmark to prestige Corlys and Rhaenys' wedding. Nobles from all across the Seven Kingdoms were there, and your mother was one of them. I remember she was wearing her house colors in her dress. She was a bit older than your sister is now, I think.

My late wife, Aemma, introduced me to her, I didn't know they were friends. I discovered that the lady whom I had just met, was not only a Princess but also played part as a knight at her father's guard. She wore that dress with such grace, that I thought my ears deceived me when I imagined her wearing armor and ringmail.

My thoughts were disturbed by Caraxes' whistling noises, when Daemon, who was very late for the ceremony, came flying upon our heads, rounding Corlys' castle. Everyone was watching the little show your father was giving, mouth-opened, shocked, scared. Y/N wasn't any of those things. She wasn't impressed at all. I remember asking her;

"Have you ever seen a dragon?"

and smirking, she replied, "Where I come from, we have scarier animals."

"Scarier?" Aemma questioned.

"More dangerous." Y/N reasoned.

"I suppose you're right, Princess Y/N," I said, "There are beings more lethal than a dragon, like the very man who rides it can be far more dangerous for his ideals, than the dragon under his command."

It felt like I summoned my brother once I said those words.

"Prince Daemon" Y/N made a short reverence to greet his presence.

"Brother, let me introduce you to Princess Y/N of Sunspear, she is a good friend of Aemma's."

Daemon kept his smugly signature grin on his lips, and took Y/N's hand in his, kissing the soft skin of her knuckles.

"I am deeply sorry for being late for the ceremony. I hope dear cousin Rhaenys can forgive my missing presence." Daemon changed the subject without paying any interest to the lady who made us company.

His rudeness made me uncomfortable, but it was so like my brother to behave like that.

"Y/N, you should come visit us. Viserys and I would love to welcome your family to Dragonstone." Aemma smiled and looked at me for reassurance.

I nodded, "Feel free to visit whenever you want. It is a very lonely place, and unfortunately, the only family we have there is my brother, as Aemma and I are still trying for a child."

Before Y/N could give us an answer, Daemon retorted, "My apologies if living with your younger brother is not what you expected of marriage."

"It certainly is not what I was expecting." Aemma playfully hit Daemon with her elbow.

Y/N giggled softly and the noise took Daemon's attention. He was quite curious why she was still there, in his presence. Most people who didn't know him are likely to feel uncomfortable with his intimidating presence, but not that girl.

"Are you here with your family?" He questioned. That was the first time he spoke directly to her.

Y/N shook her head, "My father sent me here in his name to prestige Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys, and give them our wedding gift."

"Oh. I see Dorne's economy must be great if its ruler has enough gold to spend on such superficial events." Like always, Daemon felt the need to say something directly rude.

Y/N frowned, "I thank the Gods our economy is doing well. It certainly is not because of your King." she replied. Her head remained raised, and her eyes stared at Daemon's on the same height.

Daemon felt strange. That woman wasn't offended by what he said, and even tried to get under his skin. One had to have such courage to talk to him like that.

"Uhm... Viserys, why don't you take Daemon to get that wine Corlys was talking to you about?" Aemma spoke trying to break the tension.

"When I took him away, he couldn't shut his mouth about Y/N. He was amazed a woman had the guts to talk to him like that, and even so about the King." Viserys finished the story, as Maegon quietly listened to every word he said.

"She never really had much filter, your mother." Daemon said, "Still doesn't."

Maegon frowned, "But... that's it? That's how you met mother? But, when did you start courting her, father?"

"She came to Viserys' coronation ceremony. Aemma was pregnant and couldn't make her company, so I offered myself for my sister-in-law to be the one hosting her friend in King's Landing." Daemon shrugged, "The rest... well, maybe you should ask your mother how it happened. I don't remember very well, but I know she quickly fell in love with me."

[wholoveseggs]

Could you do blood sharing smut with one of the Mikaelsons? or even a headcanons or one shots on how they would each react to you asking them about it?

~✦~ Biting the Mikaelsons ~✦~

Klaus, Kol, Marcel and Elijah ♡♡♡ and hating on finn at the end

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Just some headcanons on what I think bloodsharing would be like with the Mikaelson men.

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon, love doing headcanons like this ♡♡

1.8k words - Warnings: descriptions of sex, bloodsharing & dirty phrases.

Klaus

~Hybrids first!~

❥ Blood sharing is an incredibly intimate act so if you asked Klaus it would feel like a declaration of love to him.

❥ He's overjoyed that you trust him that much to take care of you and give you pleasure in your vulnerable state and will give you anything you need. He always bites you first so that when he pulls away you're already squirming and all worked up for him.

❥ A bit sadistic by nature, but with you he's as slow and deliberate as possible to savor the act and every moment of you in his arms, tasting your blood and giving you yours in return is just pure euphoria.

❥ He would bite you on your neck or maybe your shoulders just to make you shudder, hold you so close to his body that there wasn't a space in between you and while you drink he'll have you close your eyes so the sensations feel heightened.

❥ He likes you pressed tightly against him, close enough for him to taste and feel everything he's feeling through your bond, running his fangs slowly so that your bite lasts for a long time and when you drink his blood he's watching your face, savoring the feeling.

❥ He would have you sitting in his lap with no clothes, all pretty and flushed, he would get you all worked up before letting you have a taste. He wants you to associate the taste of his blood with sex and pleasure so that you'll crave it whenever you're together.

❥ But naturally, it's Klaus, he will get a little rough with you after, the passion and intensity increased because of the blood. He bites your neck hard while thrusting, making sure that you're connected in everyway possible. He still takes care of you but he also wants to savor this more than he already has.

❥ Definitely bites more than once. He will find excuses to do it, all over your body until you're an exhausted and droopy mess, letting out sweet little moans of satisfaction.

~He will say things like~

--- 'Oh darling,' pulling your hair away so he can see the bites on your skin, 'you were hungry for it weren't you?'

--- 'Even better than I thought, did I not have a claim on you enough?'

❥ He's not going to apologize for drawing out the fact that he's now basically making you drunk on pleasure. If anything, he'll tease you for getting so riled up from a simple bite.

--- 'Tsk tsk, and you wanted my blood? Beg for it now.'

--- 'Naughty girl, a little taste of me and you let me taste the parts of you only I get to see.'

--- 'My name tastes so good coming from those lips, doesn't it dear? Say it again.'

--- 'Better?' Nuzzling his face into your shoulder, 'Is that what you needed? Don't ever be afraid to ask me.'

❥ When you are both satisfied he will carry you to the shower, anywhere where you two can clean up, undisturbed. He's a complete softy when it comes to you in these moments, it's such a rare opportunity to see his vulnerable side.

❥ But, once you share this intimate act with him, he will consider you his. Marking you not just with the bite on your skin, but in his mind and in yours. 

Kol

~High risk of death with this one!~

❥ Drunk. This man. Is. DRUNK on pleasure. Sex and blood sharing? Such a godlike combo, you've created a monster (but really Kol's a monster already. You've just unleashed the beast.)

❥ Wants it often, though doesn't pressure you at all about it. The thirst for it is always there, in the back of his mind and during your more intense sex it's all he can think of.

❥ When you asked him about it he rushed you to his bed without a second thought. Kisses and bites at all points, not even sure where he wanted to bite you the most and didn't care at the moment.

❥ He thinks this is the perfect way for you to realize how sexy you are, if the way he stares at you is anything to go by he already knows it. Wants to savor your taste, how beautiful you look, everything.

❥ He likes giving the first bite right at your thighs so it sends sparks everywhere, he goes absolutely feral between your legs. Easily makes you into a trembling mess underneath him while licking you clean and then biting you again at your thigh.

❥ It's very intimate for him, but in a wilder, more passionate way. He's slow in his movements, likes to have both hands on your thighs while tasting your blood, his mouth sucking at the skin, giving you the utmost pleasure as your life essence pours over his tongue.

❥ When you drink his blood he comes fast. You can do whatever you want with him in that moment and he won't complain. But, he always wants the last bite.

~He will say things like~

--- 'Have I made you a bloodthirsty little minx? As much as I encourage your requests, darling, it's a bit of a torture to have those lips on my neck and not on my cock,'

--- 'Fucking delicious, you are,' as he gently nibbles, 'taste even better than I thought...'

--- 'Well, if I get to see this side of you, I'll offer you my blood anytime, love.'

--- Laughing, nuzzling his face into you he'll smile, 'better than I imagined, sweetheart, and all because of my pretty little pet.'

❥ Afterwards, he likes to play with you, knowing you're vulnerable as he laps at your thighs, or even fingering you. He'll let you mark him up in return if he's in the mood for it (which he often is) and enjoys snuggling into you and kissing you, tasting you on his tongue for a while.

❥ When you're both calmed down he will want to hold you close. Run his fingers through your hair and watch you with an awed expression for a bit. He can't believe how lucky he is to have you, on top of being his girlfriend, willing to share such a personal part of you with him, he's not going to take it for granted, swearing to prove to you how much it means to him to have your trust.

Marcel ~Don't let Rebekah catch you!~

~Couldn't find any gifs of him drinking blood :( ~

❥ When you tell him he's eyes widened and you heard his breath hitch before he takes you into his arms and smothers your face with kisses while lifting you up, just excited to be able to be as close to you as possible.

❥ He's playful with you, laughs and bites down gently all over your skin, little pecks before another nip of his teeth, never sinking in to deeply or in the wrong way, he's experienced, so he never has to worry about how deep he's going. His favorite bite spot is your breasts but he will tease and place playful bites over the rest of your body as well.

❥ After a few bites he'll end it by making your orgasm together and he'll moan your name. He's not much for talk but he's super sweet to you after. Let's you do the biting or the drinking as much as you like before cuddling into him and when you finish, he smiles, running his hand through your hair.

~He will say things like~

--- 'You know, you'll never get rid of me now right?'

--- 'Relax baby, I got you'

--- 'Love that sweetness in your voice,' tugging you down, "You want more?'

--- 'That's right sweet girl, don't you know what you've gotten yourself into?'

❥ When he's done, he will lick your body and wounds, healing them with his blood if necessary and lay you down while covering your face and lips in kisses, letting your suck the remaining blood from his lips while slowly fucking you.

Elijah

~Saving the best for last~

❥ When you tell him that you want him to drink your blood during sex it shocks him but before you can even open your mouth and explain he just picks you up and carries you to the bedroom, kissing you gently and asking where you want him to bite you.

❥ Very delicate, pristine, he will have you under him, safe in his bed with him holding you against his chest, biting his own wrist first and then yours. For him, drinking is different, the intimacy increases as he stares into your eyes as he takes your blood for the first time. It's deeply romantic for him, he'll keep you close to his heart while doing so, telling you how good you are and how much he loves you.

❥ He's hesitant, he doesn't want to hurt you in any way so he asks a dozen times to make sure it's okay. He's so gentle when he drinks, he strokes your hair and then your face, watching to see what you're feeling and reacting to it, but then he starts to drink more and when he is tasting the very essence of you he groans against your neck, overwhelmed by the sight of you underneath him and by the taste of your blood on his tongue. He is sure you're too beautiful to actually be his.

❥ His favorite thing is to have you climax the same time he drinks, so he can taste your lust and your blood on his tongue and it has the added effect of you clinging on to him, shaking and squeezing around him, while feeding him, opening yourself up to him.

❥ When you bite him he has a little quirk. He will have a light chuckle that grows a bit as the pleasure courses through him, holding you tight against him as he feels your mouth on him. You're sweet, wonderful and a pleasurable little dove to him and the chuckle melts to a groan.

~He will say things like~

--- 'Are you sure, my love? This is a...intimate act, something I've craved from you, for us to feel connected as one,'

--- 'That's it,' pulling you closer to him, feeling your heartbeat, 'take what you need,'

--- 'I love you,' He takes your hand and kisses your palm tenderly, 'Are you sure this is what you want?'

--- 'Good girl, sweet girl, that's it, yes. Let me feel you give in to it.'

--- 'Can you feel my blood in your veins? How connected we are?'

❥ He will run his tongue all along your neck and the parts he's bitten making sure there's no mess and that you are okay. Has an affectionate way of sitting you up and stroking your back as he does so, kissing your shoulder in-between murmurs of praise, how good you were and how it's important for you to be comfortable during and after.

❥ He will clean you up and heal you afterwards and wrap his arms around your body while whispering adoring words into your ear, kisses trailing over your face and your neck. He will whisper 'Thank you' in the softest voice that causes you to wrap your arms around him, feeling safe and loved as you thank him back.

Finn

~Born a hater, die a hater~

When you ask him to bloodshare, he goes still. Blinking at you once then twice, but stays silent, denying your request.

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[guildofscribes]

Humans are Weird: Indomitable Spirit Addition.

Okay, so I've been following these sort of posts on the internet for a while now, but now I have a Tumblr and the ability to add my two cents! Humans are stubborn. They're obnoxious and juvenile and too curious for their own good. And they break. So. Much. Stuff! "I just wanted to see how it worked, I'll put it back together, promise!" Humans are incorrigible. There is no changing them into something slightly more sane, on the galactic scale.

Humans don't ever know when to quit. Ahn-skletch (well, that's as close as galactic standard characters could get to the approximation of his name) had been assigned to an away party, to go take samples and verify the habitability bracket on some Nowhere moon close enough to the human's Sol system that they picked up one of those capricious creatures for "diversity within the crew". Convenient. Humans were only ever trouble, but oh well. Maybe it would be funny to watch them. Ahn-skletch had the misfortune to be partnered with the gee-awl-uh-gyst human they'd picked up... the kind that studied rocks. Close enough to Ahn-skletch's field of ecology that they got paired up because those two fields of study were the same thing, right? Beings of the Vlistant species were not known for strict logic alongside their high intelligence rating, and the waves of mild irritation that swept over when that erroneous point had been made were truly immense. Rocks and eco systems.

Perhaps the human had been annoyed as well, but they did not show it. The human stepped over and introduced itself as "Gene, nice to meet ya'."

The human Gene did not stick out its hand, as Ahn-skletch had heard humans greet each other with touching of hands or wrapping appendages around each other, but the aborted movement was there. Which was a relief, for the reason that Vlistants did not generally greatly enjoy unnecessary contact. Humans called the phenomenon "electric shock", but that seemed to be the closest description to the sensation they received upon physical contact with other living creatures, having a slightly greater dormant charge to their organic systems. Contact = discomfort. Why bother? But that did nothing for him on the surface of the moon, where the air was breathable, though not for extended periods. That could be treated for specific species easily enough for colonizing. The ground seemed rich enough, though soft and somewhat crumbly, which likely meant the soil would be easy to work and cultivate the native edible flora. Little pools dotted the landscape with regularity, the liquid inside tested positive for consumption for 73.25% of the galaxy's sentient inhabitants, and recent signs of fauna signaled it to be a thriving system. Very encouraging signs. Until the human Gene insisted on getting a closer look at a large cliff face nearby, one with a convenient shelf to look out over the land below. Ahn-skletch followed. Humans shouldn't be left alone, after all. Too many stories circulated the galaxy for that. While the human Gene touched, tapped, made little scrapings into bottles... did they just lick the cliff wall? Well, humans were weird, after all. Ahn-skletch stepped along toward the edge of the shelf, carefully examining the organic life that stretched out and up towards the atmosphere, taking note of the smaller life forms crawling along the ground and in the flora, glancing back to human Gene now and then, taking peace from the calm and quiet. The oddest sensation came up through Ahn-skletch's pods, and then the ground seemed to rise up before their eyes!

Survival reflexes honed by many training courses were all that allowed Ahn-skeltch to close their hands around a large root exposed in the ground as they began to fell with the collapsed shelf. A singular root, sticking out of the same crumbly soil that had just fallen out from underfoot. Almost immediately, as soon as Ahn-skletch looked from the root upward to gauge how far they had fallen, Human Gene's face appeared over the edge, along with an arm that just barely reached far enough to possibly reach. "Sleechh! Grab my hand!" Human Gene, "The electric transfer will shock your system! You must find something to lower down to me!" What terrible fortune to be paired with a human! So delicate a body system, the energy transfer would surely cause the muscles to spasm and drop Ahn-skletch! What terrible odds! "There's nothing in my pack! We didn't get the climbing cord! Grab my hand! I won't drop you! Hurry!" Human Gene scooted further forward on his belly. "The ground might crumble more, and you don't want to go down with that plant, do you?" By all the low gods of the Vlistants... "There is no way! You cannot abide the electric transfer long enough to pull me up!" Desperation for survival won out. Ahn-skletch let the root go with one per and reached up, grabbed that pale human hand, expected to feel the spasm and release and the short fallback to the root... ...but it never came. That human hand clamped like a vice around it, and with a great shout, human Gene pulled upward. Ahn-skletch could not look away from the human's face as they moved up, slowly inching up the face of the outcrop that seemed to be threatening to crumble again with every particle that bounced downward over an eternity that stretched forever. Then the moment came where Ahn-skletch had to let go of the root.

It took much effort to let go, to move that grip to human Gene's arm, which brought another loud, strained noise. But human Gene's grip did not waver, and only ever kept pulling upward. Human Gene groaned, little drops appeared on their skin in the effort to keep pulling upward. Further, further, a little more... Human Gene still did not let go. Particles came loose and tumbled by Ahn-skletch, down into the great distance to the ground far, far below. The energy currant cycling through their bodies became uncomfortable for even Ahn-skletch, who was better developed to handle it. Still, human Gene did not falter, pulled a little further, and a little more...

...Then the top! And they scrambled backward to more sturdy ground. Human Gene had to pry their fingers away from Ahn-skletch's appendage, they had so tightly clenched to keep their grip as their body had spasmed with the extra electric energy.

Human Gene just flexed and rolled the joints and panted, "I guess we'll pack a rope next time, yeah?" in a most underwhelming tone. Ahn-skletch could only stare in shock. But they agreed. Always pack a rope. And privately, Ahn-skletch noted to go with a human whenever possible. Humans would not give up. To their own detriment, they would not give up. Human Gene ("For goodness' sake, call me Gene! I don't call you 'Vlistant Sleechh, do I?") suffered muscular strain and subluxation of four joints through the ordeal to pull up Ahn-scletch. Even when it brought them harm to do so, Humans did not quit. Over many cycle, Ahn-skletch would collect many more stories of humans doing similar things to save crew-mates. So many stories ended telling of much damage to the humans for their determination to keep going. Humans are strange. They are illogical, silly, crass, and troublesome. They cannot control their curiosity or their strangeness. They will adopt tiny, dangerous creatures as "pets", and will spend many hours training harmful behaviors out of their wild creatures. Humans do not know when to quit. Perhaps that is why they have spread so fast through the galaxy. They are delicate, but they are not afraid to be wounded. Either they will heal, or they will not, but the risk is worth it. It is their spirit that makes them so. Humans are not the strongest in the universe, nor will they ever be, but they are indomitable.

[songforeddiemunson]

Into the Woods

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (description vague apart from AFAB)

Summary: Eddie and Reader engage in some camping shenanigans.

Warnings/Tropes: Established relationship, smut, fluff, crimes against tents. Just a silly little smutty cute thing.

WC: 1550

Note: I'm sorry, I know I should be working on my series (and I am! albeit sloooowly), but I just couldn't stop thinking about this scenario. Labor Day is coming up and I've got nature on the brain. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The weather forecast for Labor Day weekend looked wonderful, so you decided you were going to drag your boyfriend to the mountains to go camping. Eddie hadn't gone camping since he was little, so when you suggested it, he looked at you as if you had just turned purple.

“Why would I want to sleep outside on purpose?” he said. “I used to have to do it after I got kicked out of the house and I’d rather not repeat the experience.” He finished with a soft chuckle; his usual deflective technique when referring to his difficult past.

“Yes, but this is different…” you countered. “The sun and fresh air and scent of nature, ah, it’s wonderful. It’s good for the soul and might help your peace of mind.”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Ok look,” you sighed. “If we go, I’ll pick a really secluded spot and we can spend the majority of the time mostly naked.”

“And what time will we be hitting the road?” he replied amenably, and you burst out laughing.

You could feel the stress flowing out of your body the moment you left the city limits, and the long highway flanked by trees beckoned you deeper and deeper into the wilderness.

You were not destined for some family campground full of screaming children with quiet hours after 10pm; you wouldn't dream of it. You wanted true seclusion, and no meddling eyes unless they belonged to some sort of forest fauna.

You drove deep into the preserve down a bumpy dirt road until you reached a secluded lake shore, and the late afternoon sun glinted tantalizingly off the water. You couldn't mask your happiness as you stepped out of the truck. Eddie only looked around, unsure of how to feel about his surroundings.

You chose a flat, shady spot to set up the tent, and twenty minutes later you stepped back to admire your work.  "Not bad,“ you said appraisingly.

“Have you done this before?” Eddie asked.

"Yes, but it’s been ages. I’ve been dying to get back out here.” You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as you inhaled the sweetness of the air.

Eddie nudged your arm and you looked over at him. He waggled his eyebrows at you. “Ready to break it in?”

You laughed. “Seriously dude? Fine, fine, we did have a bargain,” you admitted, and the two of you stumbled into the tent whilst clumsily pulling your clothes off.  

After you finished undressing– which you had to do on your knees because the tent ceiling was so low– you collapsed onto the sleeping bags in a tangled heap.  You began to kiss each other fervently as Eddie hummed softly in a low pitch; obviously he was quite aroused. He trailed his fingertips lightly up the side of your rib cage en route to your bosom, making you giggle. The other hand took a more southerly route.

"I can’t wait any longer,” he murmured into your ear, as he stroked and teased.  

"Then what are you waiting for, Munson?” you replied breathlessly.

Eddie raised himself on his knees and tugged the zipper of the tent door closed, sealing you inside.

"I don't think that was necessary," you laughed.

"I don't want a bear to see my ass bobbing up and down and mistake me for something to eat," Eddie said, making you laugh harder.

"You do have quite the peach," you said. "Very edible."

"Why thank you," he said, as he lowered himself back down between your legs and kissed you deeply. He positioned himself at your entrance, and after a subtle coo of consent from you, he sank inside fully and ground his hips in a circular motion.

You keened at the sensation, and Eddie began to pump; gradually picking up speed and force as he went.  He alternated shallow thrusts with deep ones, using his hips to pull the most delightful sounds out of you. His pelvis slapped against your ass and thighs audibly, and before long you were thankful that you were in a secluded space; the soccer moms at the KOA would not be amused by your cries.

You rode out one intense climax as Eddie fucked you, and your second was rapidly approaching.

When you were in bed back at home, you had a habit of reaching back and grabbing a bar from the headboard during moments of intense pleasure, and you instinctively reached up to do the same as you succumbed to orgasm number two.

Unfortunately, you were in a tent and not a bed, and the headboard was really a bar holding the tent up. When you arched your back, cried out, and reached back to grab it, the entire tent collapsed on top of you. Your cries dissolved to giggles, and Eddie breathlessly cried, "Ah fuck!”  

"Oh my god!" you screeched with shock and hilarity, but Eddie didn’t stop thrusting. You couldn't tell if his grunts now were from frustration or pleasure-- probably a bit of both, but he was determined to finish, despite your current situation. It didn't help that every thrust now swished with the sound of nylon fabric that enveloped you, but it wasn't long before his thrusts faltered, and he moaned as he painted your walls with his completion.

When he was finished, the two of you lay there panting, covered with the collapsed tent in a heap. Eddie started to chuckle, which progressed to full-blown laughter.  The two of you laughed together for several moments before he slid out of you and tried to raise himself to his knees.  "Shit!  Fucking tent,“ he laughed, and the sight of him trying to struggle free of the nylon made you laugh even harder.  "Oh quit your laughing,” he scolded jokingly, “are you going to lay there or help?”

You managed to disentangle yourselves from the tent and stood naked looking at the mess. “Oh for crying out loud, let’s do this again,” you laughed, and the two of you set about the process of putting the tent back up.  Fortunately it was a warm day, and your nakedness didn’t present a problem.

“Fancy a dip in the lake?” Eddie asked when you were finished with your task.

“Eddie, no. You’re crazy. That lake will be cold as shit.”

“But it’s so warm out! C'mon, how bad can it be,” he pleaded. It was true; the day was quite warm for September in the wilderness, and you were a little sweaty from your recent exertions. You knew better though. A warm day in the mountains did not mean the water was a pleasant temperature.

You gestured to the lake. “See for yourself.”

“Very well, I will. You can watch and miss out on the fun.”

You laughed.  "Oh I’ll have fun watching all right. By all means proceed, daring one.“

He did precisely that. In the absence of a dock to jump from, he settled for running toward the water at full-tilt.  He plunged in; feet splashing in the shallow water at first, then slowed as the water reached his torso.  He pushed slowly onward for a couple of steps before stopping. The water had reached his chest, and he slowly revolved to face you.  His face was slack with shock, his eyes bulging.  "Juh-jesus,” he stammered. “Jesus fuck! This water is fuh-fuh-FREEZING!”

“I told you that,” you said calmly.  

Eddie frantically splashed his way back to shore, and he stood before you; naked, dripping, and covered in goosebumps.  "G-g-g-god damn,“ he said, teeth chattering. He wrapped his arms around himself for warmth.  "You weren’t joking!”

“Of course not,” you said resignedly. “The air may be warm, but that water was probably sixty degrees at best.”  You went back to the tent and retrieved a blanket.  "This will do,“ you said, as you wrapped him in the blanket. You threw on a T-shirt and shorts, and began to gather wood and twigs with which to start a fire.

"You’re never going to let me live this down, are you,” Eddie asked as you busied yourself with getting the fire started.  You laughed. He looked like a gnome all huddled up under his blanket by the fire. Adorable.

“Definitely not. You should see yourself. Lucky for you you were only in the water for a minute. Nevertheless, you should sit by the fire for a bit.”

Eddie's shivering began to taper off as warmed himself.  He looked at the lake whimsically.  "But the water is so inviting,“ he pouted.

"I know,” you said. “But much in the way a venus fly trap is irresistible to flies, that shit will kill you.  Camping in the wilderness is fun, but you need to keep your wits about you. These are just the things you learn.”

“Consider myself taught,” Eddie said.

The sun was beginning to sink below the trees by the time Eddie was dry and dressed in dry clothes. The timing couldn’t have been better; as the sun dipped lower, the temperature began to drop as well.  You lit a couple of lanterns and retrieved a bundle of food from your pack.

After finishing your snack, you walked back down to the water.  You watched the spectacular sunset as you sat between Eddie’s legs with your back against his chest.  He wrapped his arms around you, and you sighed contentedly at the perfection of this moment.

“Wow, it really did get chilly,” Eddie said, rubbing your arms with his hands.

“Like I’ve said–”

“I know, I know,” he laughed. “Things are different out here.”

You smiled. "Did you have a good day though?“

"Sweetheart, I’ve been taken to the middle of nowhere, had a tent fall on me, nearly froze to death, and I need to hide my food in a tree to prevent bears from coming to eat me.”

“I’m sorry, we don’t have to do it again,” you said, dejected, as you turned your face away.

“Silly girl,” he said, and turned your face upward so he could kiss your lips.  "I’m having the time of my life.“

Thank you so much for reading! As always comments and reblogs are the lifeblood of any fic writer. Please consider showing us some love.

MASTERLIST

[pentechnics]

Can't Get Enough

pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader rating: E | explicit | 18+ only word count: ~1,200 tags: nsfw, hate sex, angry sex, penetrative sex, throat/breath play, rough sex, multiple orgasms, angst, reader and din hate each other yet can't get enough, din makes you sad, no physical descriptions of reader, no y/n

notes: This isn't my usual style, but I just kinda had to get some stuff out. Not really edited or fully flushed out, for that matter. But hopefully posting something new will help me get further in my other work! I have something due for the d20 writing challenge and I am so sorry that one hasn't happened dfghjsfkl

taglist under the cut❤️

He slammed you against the wall with a loud thunk.

Your throat was sore from exertion, your pulse quickening with each groan he released.

His hand found your neck again and held tight, forcing you to look into that visor and see your own lust-blown gaze reflected back at you.

Fuck, he pissed you off. He got to see you like this, but you didn’t. Every time you two wound up like this, it felt like another charge added to an invisible tab. Like he owed you something, because you always gave him everything.

The thought was brief, soon vanquished by another angry thrust, pain and pleasure melding together and turning your brain to mush.

You peered in deeper, willing his eyes to show themselves. You channeled every ounce of mental energy you had left into him – how much he hurt you, how angry he made you. How angry you were at yourself to have given into this again.

And why? Nothing ever changed. He’d come over, both of you would be pissed as all hell, take it out on each other, and then he’d leave. Neither of you walked away feeling any better.

… You never stopped to wonder why he kept coming back. It took two to keep this up, after all. You sucked on his thumb when he stuck it in your mouth, wrapping your legs around him to bring him deeper into you.

You hated this. You hated that it always came down to this for you to feel something. Ever since the two of you broke up you’ve been searching for something, but hell if you knew what it was.

You hated that he was still your answer. You surely didn’t love him anymore, but you hated that you still needed him.

Especially because he doesn’t need you.

He rammed into you, deeper and deeper, sending you into convulsions. You screamed into the humid air, grasping at his shoulders for dear life.

His own cries followed, a loud ‘fuck’ echoing into the darkness. He pried you off the wall and threw you down on the bed, putting the full force of his weight into each delicious stroke.

You couldn’t help the whines that spilled out of you. He had a way of dragging out every single sensation until you were drowning in it all. Drowning in him.

It was infuriating.

You pulled yourself up to his shoulder, kissing and biting at his salty skin. A gorgeous, vindicating sense of pride soared through you when he let out a whimper. 

You liked to think you were the only one who could make him do that.

It made him pound harder into you. Your bite matched, his skin muffling your screams.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you panted.

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Good.”

He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in. Swears piled out of you. Your heart was pounding, your blood on fire. He had the nerve to fucking chuckle.

“You like that, don’t you?”

 “Bastard.”

He did it again. You wailed.

“Shit,” he whispered.

Any wittiness he had was gone. His pace became manic, one goal in mind. Your eyes rolled back as he continued to ram his cock against your g-spot.

“Close your fucking eyes,” he growled, pressing a hand over them.

The sensations grew stronger without the distraction of sight. Especially after hearing the familiar hiss of his helmet and feeling the subsequent mouth on your neck.

Your moan echoed around you both. Your hand came up to press against his head.

“Din-“

Your orgasm erupted without warning. He used his hold on your head to press you into the mattress, fucking you through it without relent.

“Yes, keep coming, baby.”

Wave after wave of pleasure had your legs flailing and your back arching. Stars appeared before you. The onset of tears built up behind your eyes.

“I’m not fucking done,” he mumbled.

His free hand began to swirl your clit. You thought you couldn’t scream any louder, yet he proved you wrong.

Your muscles tensed up all over again, that sweet coil threatening to break with each tiny movement.

“You better fucking come again,” he said through gritted teeth, like he was holding himself back.

The combination of thrusting and tight circles on your clit had you coming undone again with ease. Your second release was stronger, your body’s convulsions all the more erratic.

But he didn’t stop.

His hand left your eyes to grip your hips, and you had to fight with yourself to keep from looking at him.

“One. More.”

He pulled you to the edge of the bed and dragged you onto his cock over and over. The new angle was steeper, hitting something deeper inside that you weren’t aware existed.

“Oh god,” you sighed. “Right there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whined.

He let out a groan and picked up the speed. You threw your arm over your eyes, afraid you wouldn’t be able to control yourself for much longer.

His breath was labored, accentuated with deep heaving. He wasn’t going to last much longer, which meant—

“Runnin’ out of time, baby, you better give me one more.”

You squealed with each pulse of contact with your g-spot, but his words made a bead of annoyance interrupt your trance.

No, you thought. You’re not gonna get what you want this time.

You squeezed your muscles, clenching his cock tighter between your walls.

“FUCK,” he shouted. “Feels so good-”

His grunts were too much to bear, each one scratching that sweet spot in your brain that went straight to your pussy, but you had to hold back. He had to break first. You gripped the sheets with your free hand and clenched your jaw, desperate to keep the impending third orgasm down.

His grip on you tightened.

“Oh, fuck you,” he spat.

“You already are, dumbass.”

You didn't recognize the graininess of your own voice. But what came after told you it worked.

He leaned over you and continued the rapid pace, both of you moaning into the air just before coming in a heap of screams and roars.

He buried his head beside yours as he rode out his pleasure, taking yours with it.

He eventually slowed to a stop, standing back up and taking care to pull out the condom with his spend without spilling, just as he did every time.

You heard the plop of it getting thrown in the trash before he leaned over you once more, caging in your frame with his arms.

“Look at me.”

“I haven’t heard the helmet-”

“Look. At me.”

Even through his labored breathing, his voice was unwavering. He put his hands on either side of your face, forcing your gaze to meet his when you did peek your eyes open.

The tiny amount of air that had replenished in your lungs was gone.

He was a vision: skin glowing with sweat, eyebrows scrunched with a crease in the middle, sharp cheekbones and a hooked nose…

… But those fucking brown eyes. They were just downright unfair.

You put your hands over his wrists to keep his hold in place. A glimmer of hope dared to emerge in your head – is he letting you see him because he actually did care? Was there still something in him that loved you?

But then he let out a deep chuckle. Your heart broke all over again.

Why’d I even bother?

“You’ll never get enough, will you?”

You gulped. It always came down to this. But this time, you’d seen the truth.

Not only was this his last playing card, but you had a winning hand.

A confident grin bloomed across your face, the satisfaction already tasting so sweet now that you got to say this directly to his actual face. You’d get to see that smug expression die.

You’d get to finally be the one to let him down.

“Neither can you.”

****

taglist: @booksarekindaneat @bluemacaron @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @whataenginerd @girlofchaos @christina-loves @literallydontlook @the-little-ewok @salome-c @dear-fifi @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @keldabe-kriff @kurlyfrasier @booksaremyyoga @elegantduckturtle @artsymaddie

[reverie-starlight]

kenma for the soul <3

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. this was in my drafts for so long that I forgot abt it. based off of my own routine when I get a panic attack. I believe I wrote the bulk of this after one, actually.

warnings: depictions of a panic attack, my own personal coping methods (I swear they make sense in my head) and kenma being soft for you. this was edited at like 2 am so if there’s some mistakes… no there’s not.

it’ll pass.

you know that. you’ve known that for years, actually, yet somehow the sentiment doesn’t hold up in the moments you need it to the most.

kenma watches as you switch between sitting on the edge of the bed with him and pacing the length of your bedroom.

he really feels for you. he still gets panic attacks from time to time, after all, so he knows the basics of what you’re going through like the back of his hand.

he’s still trying to learn your specifics, though.

he’s observant and he’s strategic. with those skills, he’s gathered that you do not respond well to sitting still and taking deep breaths.

you continue pacing and wringing your fingers together, clenching and unclenching your fists and shaking your arms out (he recognizes this as literally trying to dispel the panic from your body).

he watches you closely, wanting to figure you out as soon as possible so he can utilize his strategic side and end your suffering. are you trying to tire yourself out? why is it that you don’t find the breathing exercises useful? why doesn’t sitting still and meditating benefit you?

oh… of course, why didn’t he think of that sooner?

you don’t like those coping methods because you see it as another opportunity to focus on your trigger. by trying to stop it, you just end up thinking about it more. they require you to be aware of every sensation in your body, but if you’re moving around a lot instead, it acts as a distraction.

so he’ll need to help you redirect your train of thought some more.

“babe,” he calls out quietly, not having the energy or willingness to be any louder at two in the morning.

you don’t stop pacing, but you look at him and nod to let him know you’re listening.

“let’s go to the kitchen.”

you blink as he gets up and takes your hand, leading you out of your bedroom. he hopes the change of scenery and mystery of what he has planned brings you out of your head a bit.

“kenma-“ you start, voice raw from the crying you did earlier.

“do you want to make cookies?”

you watch as he goes to the fridge and gets some water and ice cubes. (he read once that the ice can shock you out of panic and act as a good redirection strategy.)

you take the glass when he hands it to you and allow the chill of the ice ground you a bit.

your head feels clearer now. the panic had mostly subsided well before you were led out of the bedroom, but you had continued pacing anyway.

in your mind it makes sense- relaxing too soon, when it’s not quite gone, gives it the chance to come back and restart the cycle all over again. tiring yourself out and distracting yourself with the familiar movement patterns that helped stopped it in the first place…

it’s always worked for you.

and now, sitting up on the barstool by the kitchen island with kenma, you definitely feel the exhaustion.

so you shake your head. “no, I’m too tired, babe.”

he nods, successfully getting a read on your energy level. “okay,” he says. “drink your water, I can make toast for us.”

you blink at him. “why?”

he shrugs. “you must’ve worked up an appetite with all that walking, right? I got winded just watching you.”

you snort, surprisingly, and the corner of his mouth lifts up a bit. “I guess so… oh but kenma, I kept you up, you must be tired too.”

he gets the bread ready to put into the toaster and glances at you over his shoulder. “you do realize you’re dating someone who once streamed for twenty-four hours straight, right? one late night is nothing.”

you sip your water and hold an ice cube in your cheek, letting it melt. “still, I’m-“

“and don’t apologize. I know that’s what you were about to do.”

you sheepishly look down into your glass and let the silence linger until he presents you some buttered toast. “remember how I told you I used to get really bad panic attacks in high school? the ones I get now aren’t nearly as intense as those, but I do still know how draining they are,” he rips off a chunk of bread and feeds it to you. “it’s not too much to care for you, okay?“ he knows the feeling of being afraid to be a burden well, too, unfortunately.

you smile and knock your head against his as you chew. “thanks, kenma. I love you.”

there’s still a lot he has to learn for you, but he knows that if this were a video game, it’d be the easiest level he’d ever complete.

“love you too. now let’s finish this and get to bed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@dira333 some kenma :3

[hyperactively-me]

king!ghost x reader -- home (part 1)

continuation from 'taken', there will be a home (part 2) word count: 5k

warnings: descriptions of injuries/blood/bruises, heavy angst, mentions of torture/torture tactics

Your eyes fly open, head lifting up just a bit to see Ghost standing at the entrance of your cell, his figure outlined by the flickering torchlight. His face is covered with his signature skull balaclava, but you could recognize those brown eyes anywhere. You notice Gaz standing watch beside him, a sword at his hip.

You blink once, twice. It’s a hallucination. You’ve lost a lot of blood.

Then, Simon’s muttering to himself, picking at the lock of the door to your cell.  

You squint, convinced that this is some cruel trick your mind is playing on you. But as the door creaks open, and Simon’s concerned eyes meet yours, you realize it’s not a hallucination.

No, he’s real, he’s standing here in front of you, now touching you. 

He’s real.

Simon’s voice breaks through your haze of pain, grounding you through your despair. He moves swiftly, crouching beside you. His strong hands gently reach for your face, cupping it with a mixture of worry and relief.

“Dove, it’s me,” he murmurs, his eyes searching yours for any sign of recognition. He taps your cheeks gently, trying to stir you. 

Taking one good look at him, your fingers reach up to press into his covered cheek, and a shudder ripples through your chest. You start sobbing uncontrollably when you finally register that he’s here, kneeling next to you.

He sees red. 

Sobs wrack through your body as he takes out a lock picker from a stray pouch in his gear. Simon’s heart races as he fumbles with the manacles that bound you, movements deliberate and rushed, desperation clawing at his heart. The metallic clinks of the manacles seem deafening against the sounds of your anguish. He can feel your pain, your fear, echoing through every sob that tears through you. His hands shake as he works to free you. To free you from this disgusting, dirty, cold cell that someone like you never belonged in.

“Easy now,” he murmurs, trying to make his voice sound as soothing as possible. “You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

You’re trying to speak, say anything, but all that comes out are gut wrenching sobs, tears, and mangled words. Your hands shake uncontrollably as you paw at his chest, still making sure that he was there, he was real. 

Simon feels his blood run cold. He has never seen you look so small before. 

It hurt him in ways he’s never felt before. 

He’d failed you. 

He’d let you get taken.

This was his fault.

“‘M gonna get you out of here.”

You manage a weak nod, unable to find the strength to speak. It’s as if the mere presence of your husband has breathed life back into you. He glances around, taking in the grim surroundings, the aftermath of the torment you’ve endured. He clearly sees how exhausted you are, how beat up you are. He takes in every inch of your battered body, the sight fueling his anger by the millisecond. Simon’s jaw ticks, and his gaze narrows at the sight of bruises along your body, fists involuntarily clench at his sides. It takes all his self-control to suppress the rage building within him.

He helps you sit up, hands steadying your shoulders as your head lolls slightly. You shake your head slowly, trying to rid yourself of your spinning vision. 

“Simon?” you whisper, your voice hoarse. Simon glances down to the bruises on your neck. “You’re here.” 

“I’m here, darling. You’re safe now. ‘M gonna take you home.”

Your cries are softer now, tears streaming down your face, a mix of pain and relief. Simon pulls you into a gentle embrace, holding you close, his touch offering a lifeline in the darkness. You sniffle quietly as your hands brush over his balaclava, the soft sensation grounding you further. The sensation of freedom, however fleeting, begins to wash over you. His eyes dart from your bruised face, silently vowing retribution.

“Who did this to you?” 

He already knows exactly who, he just wants confirmation from you. Simon’s voice carries a controlled anger, his eyes narrowing as he surveys the extent of your injuries. He brushes stray tears off your cheeks with the pad of his thumb as gently as he can. You wince at the pain but manage to muster a faint smile through swollen lips. 

“Shepherd, amongst others,” you rasp, your voice barely audible. The mention of your captors sends a shiver down your spine.

Simon’s jaw clenches, his eyes flashing with a mixture of concern and fury. He glances at Gaz, who remains vigilant by the cell entrance. 

“We'll deal with them,” Simon vows, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “But first, let's get you out of here.”

It took a moment for the reality of the situation to sink in.

“How did you...?” you began, your voice barely a whisper. You want to ask him so many questions. How did you get here? Where is everyone? Is the war over? Is Kastron safe? Have you heard from Johnny?

Simon grabs your shoulders tightly. “I had my ways. We don’t have much time. Can you stand?” he asks, his voice low and urgent.

“I– I don’t know,” you sniffle, already feeling unsteady sitting upright. 

“Let’s try, yeah?” Simon encourages softly, wrapping one arm under your own. Your battered limbs protest as you attempt to stand, but Simon supports you, his strong arms providing the stability you desperately need. “Easy now, I’ve got you.” 

Gaz, who had been silently keeping watch outside the cell, speaks up. “We need to move quickly. The guards may notice she’s gone soon,” he advises, his tone stern but concerned.

Simon quickly drapes the cloak he was wearing around your shoulders, providing a modicum of warmth and comfort. Once he’s satisfied, he tries taking a few steps with you. A pained whimper escapes your lips the moment your knees buckle, and immediately he’s sweeping you into his arms.

“Can’t risk you falling. I’ve got you,” Simon assures, his voice soothing your nerves. 

You clutch onto him tightly, willing yourself not to pass out. Gaz takes the lead, guiding the way through the corridors, avoiding any signs of patrols or guards. Leaning your head against his shoulder, your tears stain his shoulder as you try with everything in you to not lose consciousness.

As you all make your way through the dimly lit passages, Simon glances down at you every few seconds. You know him well enough to read his eyes, and the pain they hold with every glance at your form. When you let out a quiet fit of coughs, his arms settle around your figure even more protectively, his presence a shield against the haunting memories that still linger. The pain in your wrist and body persists, but with each step toward freedom, your resilience grows more prominent. 

Finally, you reach a concealed exit that had been hidden in the cobble walls. Simon lowers you gently to the ground, his eyes locked onto yours with a mixture of worry and determination. Gaz, ever vigilant, stands guard as Simon pushes the door open and peeks outside.

“The coast is clear,” Simon whispers, lifting you once again. You all step out into the cool night, and the door to the dungeon closes behind you. 

Gaz sweeps the perimeter once more, motioning that it’s safe to move on towards the forest a few hundred feet away from the bunker you were being held in. 

The forest stands ahead like a sanctuary, the dark shadows offering concealment for your escape. As your small group trudges through the forest, the group’s vigilance is unwavering. Simon scouts ahead, and Gaz constantly checks behind, ensuring there’s no pursuit.

“We should pick up the pace,” Gaz whispers, urging Simon to move faster through the woods.

Simon nods in agreement, his focus solely on getting you to safety. Staring at nothing in particular, you decide to keep your mouth shut, not wanting to have to worry about the escape plan on top of your other rampant emotions. You clutch onto Simon’s tunic, fingers twisting in the fabric as you try again to focus on your breathing. A few missteps from him causes you to groan quietly, every sudden movement shooting pains through your limbs. 

“The horses are just a few meters away.” 

That piques your interest, and you’re immediately met with apprehension arising in your bones. 

“I can’t—” you begin, clutching tighter onto Simon. 

“We need to get you on a horse,” Simon says, his voice low and urgent. Gaz unties one of the horses, a large stallion with a calm demeanor, and leads it toward you two.

“It’s gonna hurt,” you whine, trying your best to fight the tears trickling into your waterline. The bounces from the horse are surely going to not help your already weakened state. 

Simon's expression softens, and he brushes a gentle hand across your cheek. “I know, love. I’m sorry, but it's the only way out of here. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Simon carefully lowers you to the ground, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of distress. He knows you're in pain, but the urgency of the situation demands speed and agility.

God, the mere sight of the blood coating your body, the bruises littered on your skin, makes Simon want to tear every single person who touched you limb from fucking limb. Simon has to take his own calming breaths to calm the rage brewing within him, knowing full well that he’ll be settling that little detail at a later date. Right now, what really mattered, was getting you to safety and medical attention. 

Simon quickly mounts the horse, settling far back into the saddle to accommodate space for you to sit in front. 

With a grunt, Gaz picks you up and carefully positions you on the horse, securing you in front of Simon. Despite the pain that shoots through your body with every movement, Simon’s steady arms hold you up, allowing you to lean your full body weight against his chest. 

“Thank you, Kyle,” you whisper, squeezing his hand gently. 

Gaz looks up at you, flashing you a reassuring smile before mounting his own horse. 

“There’s a rendezvous point a few miles ahead. It’s a safe place, guaranteed,” Gaz tells you, pulling his horse in front of you. 

You nod weakly, grateful for any semblance of safety. Simon adjusts his grip on you, ensuring you’re as comfortable as possible given the circumstances. The horse beneath you shifts, sensing the added weight. Simon leans down, whispering comforting words in your ear as Gaz takes the lead.

“It’s not going to be a short ride, but we’ll make it before sunrise,” Gaz says, starting to pull his horse into a steady trot. 

You whimper at his words, not knowing if your strength would give out on the journey to the rendezvous. 

“Where are we going?” you whisper hoarsely.

“Johnny’s home. Childhood home,” he grunts, his eyes locked on the path ahead.

“Where is he?” you ask, fighting back a cough, knowing it would make your bruised ribs hurt even more than they already do. 

“Took my place, don’t worry. He’s doin’ jus’ fine out there.”

All you can do is nod your head, grateful that Johnny would give up his old home for you, Simon, and Gaz.

The journey through the forest is grueling, each stride of the horse sending jolts of pain through your body. Simon’s arms, though, remain a sturdy anchor, and his whispered assurances and praises in your ear help numb the pain, if only temporarily. Gaz leads the way with a steady determination, navigating the twists and turns of the forest path with practiced ease. Every so often, Simon’s gaze periodically shifted to you, checking for any signs of distress or discomfort. 

The forest starts to thin, and moonlight spills through the branches, illuminating the path ahead. Simon’s grip tightens around you, offering both reassurance and stability. The night air is cool against your face, and for the first time since your captivity, a flicker of relief kindles within you. 

As the forest gives way to an open field, the silhouette of a small village emerges in the distance. It mainly consists of some cabins and shops, a humble town. Gaz turns around, signaling Simon to follow his direction through the streets. You can tell Gaz is cautious, his brows furrowed as he scans the streets and houses. Your body positively aches after the long journey, tremors erupting with each breath you take.

The village seems quiet, shrouded in the peacefulness of the night. Gaz leads the way to a secluded cabin, hidden amidst the trees. Simon carefully dismounts with you in his arms, and you can’t help but groan as you’re jostled around. Simon hisses at your response, swiping stray hairs out of your face. Gaz secures the horses before joining you both, leading you towards the cabin door. 

With a firm succession of staccato knocks from Gaz, an older woman cracks the door open.

“Good evening,” she says, voice calm yet reserved.

“Nightingale,” Gaz shoots back, and you assume it to be a code word. 

Without hesitation, the woman throws open the door, ushering you three inside her cozy cabin.

The softly lit cabin warms you up the moment you cross the threshold. You clutch onto Simon tighter, cuddling into him as he carries you inside. You notice another younger woman in the small kitchen, preparing what seems to be a soup of some sort.

“This is Johnny’s mum and sister,” Gaz says quickly, introducing you to the two women. 

“No time to waste with introductions, set her down in here,” the elder woman says urgently, motioning to a bed in a room off to the side. Simon follows her into the bedroom, gently placing you on the plush mattress.

Soap’s mother is gathering a large assortment of medical supplies after giving you a short once over. Gaz remains vigilant in the main room, occasionally peering out to ensure the cabin remains secure. Soap’s sister quietly brings in fresh bandages and supplies, assisting her mother in her efforts.

Simon drops into the chair beside the bed, quickly throwing off his balaclava before his hands tenderly brush hair away from your face. You turn to look at him, now drinking in the sight of his bare face. A face you haven’t seen in five arduous months. In return, he openly stares at the blood on your forehead and arms, shivering at the mere thought of what you’ve endured the past few days. He notices the faint remnants of dried blood from under your nostrils and the faint handprints on your cheeks, heart twisting inside his chest. Soon, he’s trailing down to study each individual bruise blossoming on your skin, his fingers ghosting over the evidence of your suffering. Insurmountable guilt and anger settles in his chest, a burden that he can’t shake off. Every mark on your skin is a reminder of his believed failure, a reminder that he couldn’t protect you from the horrors you faced in the hands of Shepherd.

“We’ll take care of you,” he murmurs. 

He snakes his hand down to hold your own, but you whimper in pain when he squeezes your injured hand. Simon draws his hand back, studying your hand with confusion, afraid that he hurt you.

“I think it’s sprained, or broken,” you manage to say.

Simon inhales sharply, “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” he asks gently, only angry at himself for not noticing sooner. 

You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. You notice a lantern settled on a chest of drawers across the room, and you decide to focus on the flickering flame, trying to tune out the pain radiating from your aching body. 

Soap’s mother moves closer, her eyes narrowing as she examines the injury.

“We’ll need to set that properly,” she declares, her tone steady. “It might hurt a bit, but I’ll make sure it’s done right.”

She eyes the injuries that mar your body, her face reflecting a motherly instinct you haven’t seen in a long time.

“Rest here, dearie,” she says, fluffing the pillows behind you. “I’ll patch you up in no time.” 

Simon sits close, his eyes never leaving you as the woman begins to examine your injuries more in depth. 

“Let’s start with the wrist,” she states matter of factly, pulling out materials to make a splint. 

As she works on setting the bones, you grit your teeth against the pain. Tears pool in the corners of your eyes, and Simon remains by your side, offering words of comfort and gentle touches to distract you from the pain. 

Once she finishes, she secures the splint in place, ensuring your wrist is stabilized. She offers you a reassuring smile. “Take it easy on that hand for a while, dear. It’ll need time to heal.”

You nod, biting your tongue to prevent a pained sob from escaping. Soap’s sister enters the room and sets a bowl of steaming soup in Simon’s hands, offering you a comforting smile. As Soap’s mother tends to the rest of your injuries, the exhaustion of the night catches up with you. Simon starts to hand feed you the soup, blowing on the steam before slipping the spoon into your mouth. The soft light and caring hands patching up your injuries are a welcomed contrast to the harshness you endured.

As Soap’s mother finishes her work, her gaze assesses the overall state of your well-being. “Rest is the best remedy for now,” she advises, her motherly tone making your heart ache. You’re covered nearly head to toe in bandages, gauze, salves, and creams. 

Simon helps you settle into a more comfortable position, adjusting the blankets around you. 

Her gaze shifts to Simon. “You should get some rest too.” 

Simon hesitates, torn between the need to stay awake by your side to make sure you’re okay and the exhaustion that permeates his bones. Her firm gaze leaves no room for argument.

“I’ll keep watch,” Gaz interjects, stepping into the room. “You both need to rest. I’ve got this covered.”

“You’re a saint, Gaz,” you whisper.

He smiles sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. 

“You’ve been through hell. If you need anything, just say the word.”

“Thank you,” you smile genuinely, eyes watery.  

Gaz dips in a shallow bow, then leaves the room alongside Soap’s mother. She shuts the door quietly behind her, leaving you and Simon alone in the tiny bedroom. 

A beat of silence hovers in the room, threatening to swallow you whole. Simon’s eyes remain fixed on you, his knee bouncing in quiet contemplation. You don’t meet his gaze, still fixated on the flame in the lantern. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. He folds his hands awkwardly in his lap, pressing his nails into the back of his hands, creating crescents in his rough skin. 

“I didn’t give in,” you barely whisper.

Simon’s gaze intensifies, his brows twisting into a pained expression. He reaches out, gently lifting your chin to meet his eyes.

“I know.”

“I fought back. Managed to almost escape once.”

“Yeah? Smart girl.”

You manage a faint smile, your eyes searching his. You study the few specks of gold buried in the dark brown of his eyes. 

“Stabbed someone with a fork, too.”

He raises his eyebrows, a mix of surprise and pride flashing in his eyes. 

“That’s my girl.”

A small chuckle escapes you, the sound carrying relief and weariness. Simon’s thumb gently strokes your cheek, careful not to press into your skin. 

“The— bruises. Your neck…” Simon chokes out, his voice catching with emotion.

How could anyone do such a cruel thing to you?

Your eyes flit down to his nose, avoiding his gaze. You don’t really acknowledge what he’s talking about, shutting the thoughts down immediately. It was painful, uncomfortable. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice strained with remorse.

You shake your head gently, your fingers reaching up to trace a comforting pattern on his hand.

He stands up with a sigh, quickly circling around the bed to lay down next to you. He’s extremely agile climbing into the bed, ensuring that you don’t move an inch from your current position. Simon finally settles beside you, his mere presence a source of comfort. How you’ve craved being close to him during the past few months. You relish in the warmth emanating from his body as he carefully wraps an arm around you.

“I thought I lost you,” Simon finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking it out loud would make it come true. 

You reach out, your uninjured hand finding his. “But you found me. I knew you were coming to get me,” you say softly, offering a reassuring squeeze. “And now we’re here. Together.”

“I should’ve never left you in the first place,” Simon says, his words heavy with self-blame. His eyes start to fill with guilt and anger. 

Your heart aches seeing him like this. You bring his hand to your lips, placing a soft kiss on his knuckles. “Si, you did what you had to do. This is not your fault, none of it is.” 

He looks at you, searching your eyes for absolution. “I should’ve protected you.”

You manage a weak smile, your fingers reaching out to gently touch his cheek. “But you’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes briefly. He focuses on your breathing under his touch, a quiet reassurance that you’re alive. 

As he opens his eyes, there’s a vulnerability in them that you’ve only seen a few times. “I need you to know,” he begins, voice raw, “‘M gonna spend the rest of my life making up for not being there when you needed me.”

Your fingers trace the lines of his jaw, noting the stubble that doesn’t really grow around a scar on his chin. “Simon, you’ve done enough by finding me and bringing me back. All I want is for you to hold me.”

Simon’s grip on you tightens, craving the feeling of your soft skin against his, allowing you to settle against him. His anger simmers beneath the surface, a quiet but palpable intensity. You recognize the fire in his eyes, a determination that has fueled him. His jaw clenches, brows narrowing in anger. 

“I swear,” he says, his voice low and filled with a seething resolve, “I’ll find Shepherd, and I'll make him pay for what he did to you.”

You can feel the weight of his vow, the promise of retribution. You understand his constant need for justice, yet you’ve seen how stubborn he is when he’s set on what he wants. You’ve seen it in his eyes before, that unwavering determination to protect those he loves. 

“Kiss me,” you breathe, pulling at him desperately. “Just, kiss me, please.” 

Simon doesn’t hesitate. Leaning down, he presses his lips to yours passionately, a kiss that speaks of relief, of longing, of unwavering commitment. You melt into his touch, tears pricking the corner of your eyes as he swipes his tongue into your mouth, kissing you deeply. His lips move against yours with a tenderness that contradicts the wrath within him. It’s as though he’s trying to drown out any lingering remnants of pain, a gentle urgency laced with each movement against your lips. As his mouth moves against yours, you acutely feel the tenderness in the way he holds you, as if trying to heal every hurt with his touch. His arms tighten around you, an unspoken resolve to shield you from any harm that might try to come after you again, as if trying to bridge the time and distance of the months you were apart.

And oh God, how you’ve missed him. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, a desperate need for closeness, a reassurance that the nightmare is over. Simon responds with a fervor that matches your own, the taste of salt from your tears mingling with the sweetness of the kiss. Simon’s hands move with purpose. They explore the contours of your back, tracing the path of bandages, as if saying “I can take your pain away.”

When the kiss finally breaks, you’re left breathless, bottom lip swollen. Simon rests his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours and his eyes searching yours with an intensity that reflects the depth of his emotions. You notice the pinkness in his cheeks, still charmed by his boyish tendencies. 

“I won’t let anything happen to you again,” Simon vows, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

“I know,” you whisper, your fingers tracing soothing patterns on his back.

“But, how can you believe me? I’ve said it time and time again, and have failed miserably every single time.”

“No, don’t you dare say that, Simon Riley. You’ve never failed me. Never, not once.” 

Simon pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours hesitantly. You meet his gaze with unwavering sincerity.

“You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted and more, tenfold,” you say, your voice filled with gratitude. “You’re my hero, Simon, and nothing will ever say otherwise.”

He swallows hard, a mixture of emotions playing across his features. The weight of the past few months, the fear of losing you, and the guilt for not being there sooner still linger in his eyes.

“I love you,” he breathes, lips brushing against yours softly. He presses a tender kiss on your lips, relishing the way you feel so soft against him. 

“I love you, Simon Riley. I love you so much, it hurts,” you whisper gingerly.

The room falls into a quiet stillness, save for your soft breaths. Simon continues to hold you, and as exhaustion begins to tug at both of you, he arranges the blankets and helps you settle into a more comfortable position.

“You need to rest, dove,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

"You need to rest too," you urge, concern evident in your eyes. Of course you would tell him to rest even though you’ve just been through hell and back. 

"I just need to make sure you're okay," he insists reluctantly.

I’m not okay, is what you want to say, but you bite your tongue. 

“Gaz is keeping watch,” you assure him. 

He hesitates for a moment longer before nodding, conceding to his exhaustion. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“Sleep,” he murmurs tenderly.

In the quiet moments that follow, you feel Simon's fingers tracing soothing patterns on your arm, a silent promise to chase away the nightmares that might try to haunt you. His breath tickles the top of your head as he presses a gentle kiss there, sealing his vow to be your protector.

As you drift into sleep, Simon remains vigilant, his gaze fixed on the door, his thoughts consumed by his promise of retribution against those who hurt you.

You’re woken up when you feel Simon slip out of bed after an indiscernible amount of time, but you keep your eyes closed. He exits the room silent as a mouse, piquing your curiosity. You hear low voices through the thin wooden door, straining slightly to hear better. Simon takes a moment to speak with Gaz, their conversation hushed but intense. You catch phrases like “plan,” “safety,” and “Shepherd” being exchanged. The urgency in their voices makes you tremble. 

You really don’t want to think about that right now.

All you want is for Simon to come back to bed.

You carefully shift onto your side and squeeze your eyes shut, quickly falling back asleep.

Little do you know, Simon is angrily pacing outside the door, conversing with Gaz fiercely. Smoldering rage courses through his veins; he doesn’t think he’s ever been this angry in his whole entire life. His fists clench and unclench, the tension in his shoulders evident as he and Gaz exchange urgent words. 

“Shepherd won’t get away with this,” Simon seethes, his voice low but filled with a burning intensity. “They’ll pay for what they’ve done. Every last one of ‘em.”

Gaz, though equally determined, attempts to inject a note of logic. “I understand, but we need a solid plan. Recklessness won’t help anyone, especially not your wife. It has to be clean cut, y’know.”

Simon pauses, his jaw tight, his gaze piercing through the darkness. “I won’t let them hurt her again, Gaz. I will not let them roam free while she suffers. Did you see her face when we first found her? The marks on her?”

Gaz meets Simon’s gaze with a steady, understanding look. “I saw it. And they will answer for it. But we need to be strategic. We gather intel, infiltrate, and then we bring them down.”

Simon, still pulsating with anger, nods reluctantly. “Fine. But we move fast, Gaz. I can’t stand the thought of them out there.” 

Gaz places a hand on Simon's shoulder, attempting to ground him. “I’m with you, your majesty. We’ll get them, but we need to be smart about it.”

Simon exhales heavily, a visible struggle between his desire for swift justice and the need to protect you. “I can’t lose her, Gaz. I can’t bear it. And I came too damn close.”

The promise he made to you—the vow to be your protector—rushes through his mind. 

“You won’t lose her,” Gaz assures, his tone firm. “We’ll do it right. For her.”

Simon nods, the fire in his eyes undiminished. He glances back at the closed door, the image of your sleeping figure fueling his determination. With a final exchange of determined looks, Simon makes his way back into the bedroom. 

As the door creaks open, Simon enters the room and his expression softens when he sees you still asleep. He moves silently, slipping back into bed slowly and carefully, as if afraid you would shatter into a million pieces if you so much as moved under his added weight on the mattress. 

His fingers resume their soothing patterns on your arm, a stark contrast to the fiery storm still raging within him. His gaze lingers on your face, the tenderness in his eyes disguising the ferocity of his resolve. You stir slightly at his return, the warmth of his body heat comforting. Simon’s touch becomes even more delicate, as if he fears his anger might seep into your dreams. 

All he wants is to shield you from the horrors that have befallen you, to offer you a haven of peace within the storm.

In the morning, you were all going to head back to the castle.

Silently, Simon vows to avenge you in due time. But for now, he’ll stay with you.

(home part 2 coming soon)

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[beomiracles]

hii congrats on 500 !! this is my first request so plss bear with me

i've been thinking a lot about enemies to lovers(?) with ice skater!yeonjun x ice skater!reader..

the two had been paired together by their coaches but they DO NOT get along

but they have such good chemistry when they perform and they feel it too

then on a day before a competition things just snap and they just cannot keep their hands off each other

again congrats on 500!! :33

500 BASH SPECIAL

#serene adds ✎... this was such a good idea!! but idk if I like how I executed it or not (╥﹏╥) so any feedback is super duper appreciated! (I did proofread but I'm almost certain there's a few mistakes, feel free to point them out!)

wc -> 1.9k

pairings ice skater!yeonjun x ice skater!afab!reader warnings semi-public sex, unprotected sex + pullout method, slight descriptions of cum, marking, hate sex?

The feeling of his warm hands on your waist causes an almost burning sensation to ripple through your body, despite the ice rink being well below freezing degrees. Your feet lift off the ground as Yeonjun’s grip on you becomes tighter. — Effortlessly, you land again as the two of you separate. Every moment on both your parts were flawless and you were more than ready for the day ahead. That was until… 

“Ow! Fuck!” You cry out in pain as your knee hits the ice beneath you. Confused, you brace yourself against the cold surface as you glance up to see Yeonjun a few paces away, seemingly equally lost. “What’s going on?” Your coach asks as he stands by the entrance of the rink, a frown plastered across his face. “You were supposed to catch me”, you seethe as you turn to your partner.

“And you were supposed to be on my left not my right”, he retorts as he glides over to reach out a helping hand, one that you push away. “No I wasn’t”, you grit out as you rise to your feet, wincing slightly. “Were too”, Yeonjun presses as he folds his arms across his chest, his lips pressing into a thin line. “No I wasn…” — “That’s enough!” Your coach shouts as he beckons you over. With your heads hanging low in shame, the two of you skate toward him. 

He sighs as he runs a stressed hand through his short hair. “Get it together”, he pleads as he looks between your and Yeonjun’s unblinking expressions. “You guys perform so well together, learn to put your differences aside and work toward the bigger picture. We can’t afford screw ups like these.” 

Screw ups. You glance over at Yeonjun who seems just as disappointed. If anything he was the screw up and not you. He sends you a small glare, seemingly holding similar thoughts of you. “Coach I…” you begin but is quickly silenced by an accusing finger from your trainer. “I don’t want to hear it. Go home, get some rest and come back early tomorrow for a final rehearsal.” He sighs as he gives you one last pleading glance and you nod. “Yes coach.”

“This is all your fault.” 

The sounds of the locker slamming shut fills the joint changing room and you glance toward Yeonjun with a scowl. “My fault?” You scoff, sitting on one of the benches you slowly work on untying your shoes. “You’re not the one who ended up with a bruised knee.” You retort as your attention returns to the strings in your hands. 

Leaning against his locker, Yeonjun folds his arms across his chest. “You’re the one who can’t follow a simple program. How do I know you won’t mess up tomorrow?” He questions as he cocks an eyebrow at you. Frowning, you don’t look up from your skates, “I’ll mess up? You’re the one who failed to catch me.” You state as you tug at the knots, to little avail as they seemed to draw in tighter against your ankles. .

“And I would have, if you had appeared on my left, like you were supposed to.” He barks as he pulls on his sneakers. — “You always blame shit on me”, you sputter as you helplessly pull at your skates; groaning in frustration when they refuse to budge. Kicking your feet against the tiled floor, you wince as your bruised knee makes itself known once more. “Fucking piece of shit”, you mutter as you brace your hands either side of you on the bench.

Letting out a huff of air, Yeonjun runs a hand through his dark hair. “You’re fucking unbelievable you know that?” He mutters as he marches up toward you. Confused, you blink up at him, “what’re you…doing..” Without even sparing you a glance, he crouches down by your feet as he begins untying your shoes. 

“It’s an easy program, I don’t understand what about it is so difficult for you to grasp.” He grunts to himself as his lean fingers work to relieve the pressure the knots on your skates had been putting on your ankles. “Yeonjun what are you…” — “Just shut up will you?” He groans as he pulls one of your skates off before moving on to the next one as he continues his rant. 

“You’re so fucking difficult”, he mumbles as the frown on his forehead deepens. “And the worst part is, you don’t even realize it”, his words come out as a breathy laugh as he shakes his head. “Do you know how hard it is to focus out there?” He complains as he pulls your second shoe off before tilting his head up to look at you, bracing his hands on the bench either side of your own. 

Too stunned to even speak, you watch him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “What?” You whisper, your brows furrowed as you try to make sense of his blunt statements. He chuckles as he runs a hand through his hair in disbelief. “Even outside of the rink you’re fucking oblivious.” 

“Yeonjun, what are you talking ab…” 

He shuts you up with a harsh kiss to your lips and your eyes go wide as you lean back. Quick to chase after you, Yeonjun pushes you up against the locker as he parts your knees to make room for himself in between. His hands move from their spot on the bench to wander along your upper thighs and waist, pulling your hips forward as he deepens the kiss. 

Blinking away the shock, your eyes flutter closed as your hands find their way under his shirt; feeling him up the way you had undeniably wanted to for so long. The fact that you hated Choi Yeonjun was no secret, and neither was it that he hated you too. — However, the thoughts of him you allowed yourself to have late at night when no one else was around; the lingering glances when no one paid attention or the brief spark of electricity that coursed through you whenever his hand brushed against yours, those were all very secret. — You just hadn’t imagined Yeonjun to be carrying the exact same burden. 

“You have no fucking idea what you do to me”, he groans against your lips, his fingers moving to twiddle with the material of your rather short skirt. Lost in the heat of the moment you sigh against his mouth. “Then why don’t you show me?” — Pulling back to look at you, Yeonjun’s chest heaves up and down, “what did you just say?”, he asks, as if making sure he’d actually heard you right. 

You grin as your hands retract from his shirt, pushing his soft hair back, you lean in to whisper against his ear. “I said, why don’t you show me?” You hear him mutter a few curses under his breath as he glances down between your bodies. His tongue prods against the inside of his cheeks as he considers his options. Throwing a quick glance toward the door he then smirks, “your words, not mine.” 

With that he reconnects your lips, teeth clashing together as you gasp into each other’s mouths. His hands wrap under your thighs as Yeonjun hoists you up with little effort, just like he did out on the ice. Without breaking the kiss he walks you over to the nearest wall, groaning as your hands tug impatiently at his shirt. 

“Off”, you breathe and as he lets you pull the fabric from his body; your eyes immediately drop to his toned torso, nails trailing along the outline of his prominent six pack, recalling the many occasions in which you had ogled his chest. “Fuck you’re so sexy”, Yeonjun mumbles as his gaze focuses on the way you bite your lip as you openly check him out. Your eyes snap up to his, “yeah?” Your fingers pull at the hem of his pants and Yeonjun lets out a small sigh as his lips crash against yours. 

“Coach probably thinks we left by now…” you murmur as he moves to trail kisses along your jaw and neck, humming in response. He groans as your hand dips inside his pants to cup his cock through his briefs. “We should hurry, he might come and lock up early…” you urge as Yeonjun sucks harsh marks on your skin; you would have to cover them up for tomorrow. 

Peering over at the clock behind him, your hands push his pants down enough to pull his cock free from the confinements of his boxers; making him moan against your skin as you languidly stroke him. The same fingers that you had fantasized about so many times before slip past the lining of your panties, pushing them to the side as he makes room for himself – letting you guide his tip until it's pressing against your wet folds. 

Your head falls back and a small gasp escapes your lips as he gently slides himself inside of you, groaning at how you clenched around him. “Fuck”, he grunts as he braces one of his hands on the wall next to your head, the other one maintaining a tight grip on your thigh. “You don’t know how, fuck, hard it is to focus whenever you’re around” — “how often I think of you”, he grits out between thrusts as his lips return to your neck. 

“You think about me?” You breathe as your hands grasp his shoulders tightly. Yeonjun huffs out a short breath against your skin, “all the time.” — “God you’re so fucking annoying”, he groans and your cunt clenches at his words. You tug at the strands of his hair, bringing his face level with your own. 

“Do you hate me?” 

The question makes him smirk as he pries your lips open with his own, his tongue slipping inside easily to slide along yours. “I hate you”, he drawls and you moan into his mouth. — “I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone the way I hate you.” He pulls back to watch the way you withered under his touch a menacing look on his disgustingly sexy face. “Yet you’re all I can think about.” 

“F-fuck, Yeonjun I’m gonna…” You whimper, barely able to finish your sentence as you clench vigorously around him, pulling a groan from him when you finish around his twitching cock. It was a hundred times better than all the previous occasions in which your fingers had made you cum to the thought of him. — “Fuck, do that again”, he grunts as he snaps his hips against yours, making you cry out from the overstimulation. 

With a dazed expression you watch as he pulls himself from your dripping cunt, wincing slightly at the loss of him as your gaze drops to the way his fingers wrap around his shaft as he brings himself to his own orgasm. You shudder as the warm liquid coats your stomach, ruining your shirt as it runs down the thin fabric. His hand swipes across your lower abdomen, smearing the mess further along your clothes as he smirks. You glare up at him. “I fucking hate your guts.” — Yeonjun cocks an eyebrow at you as the smirk on his lips widens, “but your pussy loves them.”

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[writingbyshiloh]

Nosebleed

Request: hello! good morning/afternoon/night! I was wondering if I could request something from jordan li x fem!reader (established relationship), something like the reader is very very clingy and shy, she is stuck with them all day and it is very strange not to see them together, and Jordan becomes very soft only with her. Maybe Marie's reaction like she was surprised that someone like Jordan could be so soft. Obviously only if you feel comfortable!

AN: I realized when editing I missed some of the prompt but I did get an established relationship w soft Jordan in front of Marie. Still working in the 3k fic but I wanted to do something short and sweet.

CW: Nose bleeds and descriptions of blood, no beta

WC: 0.7k

The situation may feel claustrophobic but the spaced-out seating makes you feel comfortable. Jordan is sitting your your left, Marie to your right for some fun first-year elective about Voughts CEO - Ashley 101. You and Jordan are taking it as a GPA booster. 

To you, Marie is a bonus. You recognized her on the second day of class and called her over, offering a seat next to you. Seating was a free-for-all, especially with most people blowing off this class, but you like her company. It was nice to sit and talk with her before class started. Jordan didn’t feel the same way but kept their opinion to themselves.

“I heard Ashley and the director of the Dwan of the Seven had an affair,” you say, pulling your notebook out of your bag and a few pens. Jordan doesn’t respond past a noncommittal hum, but Marie is wide-eyed in fascination. 

“Emma’s mom told her that Ashley trying to make a documentary about her life,” Marie tells you. You cock your head to the side. 

“Emma’s your roommate right?” you ask. You've heard Merie talk about an Emma but you can’t figure out who she is. You feel Jordan subtly nudge your arm with your elbow, but you ignore them. 

“Yeah. She's in the Crimson Countess school of acting.” Marie says. 

“She’s in Counting.” Jordan pips up. You press your foot against theirs in a silent warning to leave Marie alone. 

Marie shifts in her seat slightly, eyes narrowing in slightly on yours. You can see her thinking, mind racing. What Jordan said is a dick move because no way a first-year would know specific Godolkin slang, it's not horrific. 

“You have a nosebleed.” She tells you, quickly and quietly. You touch your thumb to your nostril to check. Your thumb comes away clean, and you frown slightly. Twisting in your seat, you face Jordan, wanting them to examine your face. 

Hyperaware of your nose you can start to feel the blood slowly trickle down and out. You’re sure your eyes are wide in shock trying to stop the nosebleed by holding your finger up to stench the flow of blood. Your plan is failing, crimson liquid trickling down your finger. 

“Babe! Are you okay?” Jordan asks softly, not wanting to draw attention to you. The pet name and softness probably seem out of place to Marie. 

“I have tissues in the outer pocket of my bag,” you say, twisting your hand so your mouth is free you try to speak. Jordan's eyes flick from your face to behind your shoulder to Marie. 

You feel your bag be tugged by your feet but ignore it. Jordan pulls your arm away slowly, eyes narrowing in on your nose and lips. The bleeding has slowed but you still feel a small swell of blood hit your lips. 

The pack of tissues slides in front of you to Jordan. They take one from the crinkling packet and press it against your nose. With their free hand, they manoeuvre yours to hold the tissue in place. 

Gently, they place their hand on your chin, tilting your face up. You frown at the coppery taste now in the back of your throat and the warm sensation there. 

“You tilt down for a nosebleed.” Marie corrects. Out of the three of you, she would have the most experience you assume. Jordan follows through, hand now on the back of your neck tipping your face forwards, allowing the blood to flow out of your nose easier. You try to wipe the blood of off your lips with a clean tissue. 

“Thanks, Marie.” You say kindly, sneaking a peak at her under Jordan’s hold. She nods and flashes you a tight smile. You worry it's because she thinks you’re weirded out that she told you you’re bleeding. But then you see her eyes dart to Jordan and that makes more sense. You forgot Jordan in public varies from the Jordan you get to see.  

“Thanks, Jord.” You move your head back to Jordan, angle funny as you’re looking up from where they’re holding you. Under the desk, you feel their fingers twisting around yours, squeezing in a silent you’re welcome. 

[lebbys-world]

Reality Check

Todoroki x gn!reader; pro-hero!au, some slightly graphic description of injury/death, angst to comfort, facing the realities of putting yourself in danger everyday

notes: i know this is a comfort blog, but i am a such a sucker for angst + esp in regards to how corrupt the superhuman society of mha is. so no relationship angst here !! just some good 'ol facing reality head-on with the love of your life !!

Your throat was searing with a burning pain, lungs overwhelmed as the cool metal of a knife passed across the skin covering your trachea.

The shock hits you instantly, yet the world feels as if it’s suddenly in slow motion.

One second, you were being held up by a villain, beaten and bruised, convincing yourself you’d make it out of there just fine.

The next moment, there was that burning sensation, and the villain holding you up lets go, forcing your weak body to fall helplessly onto the ground.

It hits you the moment your body slammed against the ground.

You realize what happened in that moment, but somehow your brain can't string together the thought fully.

You can barely move.

You can barely speak.

You’re desperate to talk, to say something, but the only thing that comes out of your mouth is choked noises and blood.

Tears start streaming down your face, the overwhelming emotions only continuing to cut off your scarce breaths.

Your vision starts to become blurry, and you can feel your senses starting to numb.

The once booming screams and explosions now sounded so far away that you could barely register them.

You feel someone run over to you, lifting you slightly off the ground, trying to ask you something that you can't quite make out.

A cold hand is placed on your face.

Why is the hand wet?

Oh.

That’s right.

That’s the same hand that must have picked you up.

That hand must be covered in your own blood.

You’re dying, after all.

You wish you could clearly see the face of the person holding you so dearly, or hear the pleading words of reassurance coming out of their mouth. 

But everything was such a haze.

Your senses nulled.

All you hoped was that Shoto was still okay.

. . .

You jolted upwards, your breaths staggered, sweat dripping off your brow.

Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the dark room, as the adrenaline continued rushing through your veins.

The visions that had just flooded your head suddenly disappeared, but you could still feel the agony of them weighing down on your chest.

From your sudden movement, you had woken up your husband next to you.

“Hey love, take a deep breath. Everything’s alright.”

He slowly sat up next to you, putting his arm comfortingly on your back as he continued to calm you down.

“Nightmare, hm?”

“...Yeah.” You answered, leaning into his touch.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Mmm… not yet.”

“That’s okay.” He pulls you into his embrace, “we can talk about it later.”

You were used to nightmares stemming from work, but you'd never had one that felt quite this realistic.

Even though you were awake, safe in your home, in your own bed, your husband next to you, you just couldn't shake the sinking feeling the dream had left you with.

As Pro-Heroes, this sort of fate could be your reality someday.

That was something you had to face when you took on the job, but only on nights like these did the severity of it ever really hit you.

That fate could befall you someday.

You could die out there someday.

Or even worse, Shoto could.

At that thought, you held him tighter.

“Can we just stay like this for a little longer?” You asked into his chest.

“For however long you need.”

all fictional works are for entertainment purposes only. all rights to characters, media, references, and other third party materials belong to their respective owners. do not repurpose, modify, copy, or repost my work to other sites without permission. © @lebbys-world 2024.

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[the-princess-of-loki]

Loki²

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader x Loki

Warnings: smut, graphic descriptions of smut, if you don't like it DON'T READ IT. There's a paragraph that's MXM (LokixLoki). You could read it without reading that paragraph, but again, if you don't like it, don't read it.

I was tired. So fucking tired I could barely keep my eyes open to see the door in front of me. I jiggled the keys in my hands as I tried to remember which key was the one to open the door of Loki’s and my flat. The work week has burned me down mentally and I wasn’t able to do a simple task like opening a fucking door. At least, I had the whole weekend with Loki ahead of me to look for. Maybe Loki was in a good mood and wanted to give me one of his famous massages. I smiled at the thought. His big hands always felt so good on me…

I finally found the key so I opened the door. I left my keys on the bowl we had next to the door for them and hung my bag on the rack. Our flat was really not that big, so I was surprised when I didn’t see Loki sitting on his usual spot on our two-place sofa reading a book. As I walked towards our small kitchen, I heard laughter and flirting coming from our bedroom. I walked there slowly as if moving by an automatic response more than real will. I felt my heart throbbing against my chest and my ears started to get blocked. I could only hear the fast rhythm of my heart and a piercing whistling.

As I stood in front of the door, the doorknob on my trembling hand, I pondered for a moment if I really wanted to see what was waiting for me on the other side. Was I ready for it? Hell, no. Did I need to see it? My gut was telling me that I should. Just for the sake of not doing a scene and seeming even more pathetic, I took a few deep breaths before daring to move again. As I slowly recovered my hearing, I noticed that everything was silent. Obviously, Loki knew I was there. Why he hadn’t come out of the room to make up some kind of excuse was beyond my comprehension at that moment.

Once I was calm enough given the circumstances, I opened the door slowly. I couldn’t have prepared myself for what I saw in a thousand years. The sight in front of me left me utterly speechless. I think I forgot how to breathe at some moment. I just stood in the doorframe, not able to move or look away. It was impossible.

Loki was there on the bed, kneeling on it, in all his naked glory. But even if that was a sight to be left breathless, it wasn’t all. There were not one but two naked Lokis kneeling on our bed. Did I pass out and hit my head that hard? Was I in heaven? I didn’t know but this felt like a wild version of paradise. The two Lokis smiled at me and both of them extended one of their arms towards me. Only one of them spoke, though.

“Hello, my dear princess,” he said, his smile intact. “Come to bed, my love.” It was more of an invitation than an order but my legs moved on their own accord as if he were the owner. Once I reached the side of the bed, the two Lokis helped me get on it, kneeling right in between them. The Loki behind me started to unbutton my shirt just enough for my collarbone to be exposed. He placed both of his hands on each side of my hips as his lips started a travel from my neck to my collarbone and back. I sighed at the sensation of his warm lips on my exposed skin. “We both know how tired you are, my dear,” the Loki in front of me went on as he caressed my cheek. “So we thought about a little game to wind you down a little.”

“Wh-what kind of game?” I asked, my breathing getting heavier because of the kisses I was receiving from the Loki behind me.

“One that you’ll enjoy, of course,” the Loki in front of me answered, mischief shining in his green eyes.

“Where’s the catch?” I asked before moaning as the Loki behind me started to nibble on my skin. The Loki in front of me laughed.

“You know me so well, my dear,” he chuckled as he kept caressing one of my cheeks. “There’s a little condition or pre-game if you’d like. If you win, we’ll both take care of your pleasure.” That notion itself seemed mind-blowing but there had to be something else.

“And if I lose…?” I asked a little wary, closing my eyes as the Loki behind me tilted my head back to have full access to my throat.

“If you lose, you will take care of our pleasure. Pretty fair, isn’t it?” The Loki in front of me asked after a small chuckle. Still, I wasn’t convinced. Loki’s thinking was too complex for this game to be so simple.

“And what do I have to do?”

“Oh, that’s easy, love. You only have to tell us which one of us is the real one and which one is the magic copy. It should be easy enough for you. As I said before: you know me so well…” he smirked.

And it was easy. I could definitely tell the difference without a second of a doubt. But I was conflicted about my answer. On the one hand, I couldn’t even phantom the kind of pleasure that not one but two Lokis could bring me. After all, only one Loki always drove me crazy with pleasure. However, pleasuring Loki was as much enjoyable to me as his pleasuring me. I loved to be able to drive him completely insane with my actions. Every time he moaned my name in pleasure, he grabbed my hair tightly and lost control of himself was as blissful as when I reached my own climax. So I had to think carefully about my answer.

However, how could I think about anything at all in my current situation? I had two beautifully naked Lokis in bed with me. One of them talking sweet nothings to me; the other slowly unbuttoning my shirt, kissing my neck, throat and collarbone, nibbling them softly and caressing every bit of newly exposed skin. There was no way I could think.

“This one,” I said in a breathy whisper as I grabbed a bunch of the Loki behind me hair. “You’re the real one,” both Lokis chuckled at the same time.

“What makes you say that, my dear?” The Loki in front of me asked with a smirk. The Loki behind me stopped his ministrations on my skin so I could take a moment to at least answer coherently.

“A few things. First, the real Loki would never make it easy for me to guess it. He’d think that I’d think the one doing all the talking was the real one because we know how much he likes being in control. So he would change roles to try to confuse me. Secondly, the copy hasn’t touched me in any private area, while the real one already kissed my neck, my throat, my collarbone and caressed my whole body. But there is one thing that Loki has no control over and that thing is defining to know which one of you is real.”

“May I know which thing is that, princess?” The Loki behind me spoke for the first time since I entered the room. I smiled.

“The way your touch makes me feel, love,” both Lokis looked at me with a surprised expression. They were so cute that I couldn’t help smiling more and caressing one cheek of both of them. “When the real one touched me first, I felt this warm, fuzzy, comfortable and safe feeling that I always feel when you’re around. When the copy caressed my cheek, the same feelings aroused except for the safety. And the real Loki always makes me feel safe, even when he’s angry. It’s always like that,” I shrugged, blushing a little. Loki looked at me still surprised but after some minutes, he smiled sweetly. Although I must admit it was a little weird to see his copy do exactly the same thing as him at exactly the same time.

“You do have me figured out, don’t you, princess?” The real Loki chuckled. “Well, we made a deal and it’s time for us to deliver...”

I shivered involuntarily at the way his sultry voice left that sentence hanging in the air. I felt his smirk on my ear where his lips were and I saw his copy in front of me smirking too. The real Loki put two of his long fingers below my chin and softly moved my head to the side. He joined our lips in a sweet but passionate kiss. I didn’t doubt to return his kiss; our breaths mingled and so did our tongues. I gasped when I felt both my shirt and my bra disappear but I kept kissing Loki all the same. While the real Loki kept kissing me passionately, I felt his copy’s mouth and tongue on my collarbone. The copy’s tongue moved down my torso until he reached one of my nipples. He blew some cold air into it and then surrounded the pink bud with his mouth, lazily stroking it with his tongue. I had to break Loki’s kiss as I moaned and arched my back. The real Loki smirked again as he grabbed my work skirt and tore it to pieces. I was already heaving and this was just starting.

Loki caressed the sides of my body while his copy moved to my other nipple. Loki grabbed the sides of my panties and I could see a smirk on his lips as he tore them into pieces too. His hands caressed my belly, going lower inch by inch. Before he reached my core, he stopped, though. He was, without a doubt, enjoying this as much as I was.

“Are you wet yet, my princess?” Loki asked in a sexy whisper.

One of his hands still wandered around my core while the other caressed its way to my butt. I gasped when he grabbed tightly one of my asscheeks, squeezing it; I moaned a second later when he slapped it at the same exact moment his copy sucked harder on my nipple. My air and lungs weren’t enough to moan out my pleasure. Loki slapped my other asscheek, a little harder this time, making my hips move away from him involuntarily. Right in that instant, he massaged my external walls with two of his long digits. I heard him chuckle through my moan.

“You are always wet and ready for me, my princess,” he praised me still chuckling.

Loki teased my clit for some moments while his copy sucked my nipple and squeezed my asscheeks. The real one rubbed my clit with his thumb and I moved my hips with his movements until the copy grabbed my ass more tightly so I couldn’t move. I whimpered and they both chuckled at the same time. Then, Loki inserted one of his fingers inside me, while he kept rubbing my clit with his thumb. I moaned, tilting my head back so much that it ended up resting on his shoulder. He moved his finger inside and out of me, teasing that fantastic spot with each thrust, all the while he rubbed my clit with his thumb and his copy kept sucking on my nipples, alternating between the two of them.

When Loki felt I was used to his finger, he nodded to his copy. The copy smirked and left my breasts and one of my asscheeks as he inserted the same finger that Loki had inside me. I moaned as both of them moved their fingers at the same time, just teasing me. They kept adding fingers inside me as they felt how I was getting more and more aroused every second that passed by. I got excited as I saw them both taking his fingers out of me completely; that only meant one thing. However, when my lust-clouded mind was able to think, I got worried. They were both preparing to penetrate me. Both.

“Loki…I…both…I won’t be able…” I stuttered, looking back at the real Loki behind me who smiled at me sweetly but with mischief shining on his green eyes.

“My princes, have I ever done something to you that you didn’t enjoy? Have I ever hurt you?” Loki asked as he kissed and nibbled my neck.

“N-no, but…” It was difficult to concentrate on words at that moment. Almost impossible.

“Then, keep trusting me, my love. I will always do what’s best for you and I promised you pleasure, not pain. So relax, my love, and give yourself to me.”

I was still a little hesitant, to be honest. But what Loki had said was true so I decided to do what I always did in these situations: I trusted him and gave myself to him. He always knew, sometimes better than me, what, how and when I needed something. So I just nodded to him, giving him my express consent. I knew that he wouldn’t go on until I had fully and expressly consented. It was one of the things, of many things, that made me fall in love with him. Even for our first kiss, he’d asked for my permission.

Once I’ve consented, both Loki and his copy started to prepare to penetrate me again. They had to move on the bed so they’d be able to do it. I was excited but hesitant at the same time. Loki knew it, of course he did, so he grabbed my neck with one hand to bring me towards his chest as he was still behind me. His lips lingered on mine, his warm breath hitting my face as a hypnotic fragrance.

“Feel me,” he whispered in a low, sultry voice.

Loki crashed his lips on mine and I lost every ability to think. I was only able to feel him, just as he had told me to. After a short while, I had to break the kiss as I felt both Loki and his copy thrust inside me at the same time. I moaned high. I felt a little bit of pain, I wasn’t going to lie. Loki was big enough on his own and now he was doubled in size and completely inside me. Loki, of course, knew it, so both he and his copy stayed still inside me.

“Good girl,” Loki praised me as he breathed heavily. His chest went up and down against my back and the same went for Loki’s copy in front of me. A thought crossed my mind then; a dangerous thought without a doubt. Loki knew about it as soon as it crossed my mind and he chuckled. “Oh, my princess. Who would’ve known you had such dirty thoughts, my good girl? But I’ve promised you pleasure and I’m a god of my word, aren’t I?”

I couldn’t believe it, but was really excited and amazed to see, when Loki grabbed his copy’s neck and brought him forward to him with me still in the middle. They kissed passionately right next to my face. It was an exaggerated kiss so I could see every movement. Loki looked at me the whole time, making sure that I was looking and enjoying the show he was putting up for me. And hell, I was enjoying it more than I thought I would. When I saw their tongues playing together, I couldn’t stop myself and joined their kiss with my own tongue. I moaned as soon as they kissed me back.

Once I was lost in that passionate and wild kiss -really, not even in my wildest fantasies I’d imagined that I’d get to kiss two Lokis at the same time. Loki and his copy started to move slowly, thrusting inside me in a rhythm which made sure that one of them was all the time inside me. I broke the kiss and moaned with each thrust, as they both hit my G-spot all the time stimulating me non-stop. To make matters better in this particular situation, Loki started to rub my clit with his thumb again. I was being over-stimulated and I didn’t know how much time I was going to last. I even started to feel my walls getting tighter around both Loki’s and his copy’s hard members inside me.

“You’re so close, princes…” Loki whispered in my ear in his sensual, breathy voice. “Cum for me, my good girl…cum for both of us.”

Immediately after he finished speaking, I cum hard with a high moan of his name. I trembled as I felt my orgasm in every inch of my body. However, Loki and his copy didn’t stop or slow down his movements. If something, they moved harder and faster. My mind was in no state to think about anything but my body responded automatically to their movements, getting ready for yet another orgasm. I was still trembling from the first one but it seemed that my body wanted to please both Lokis with an orgasm for each. It didn’t take me long until another climax hit me and this time I felt both Lokis cumming too, filling me with their semen so much that it started to fall down my inner thighs before they got out of me. It was, without a doubt, the hottest experience of my life.

Once they both took out their member of me, I fell on the bed, breathing heavily and completely exhausted and satisfied. Loki laid next to me, caressing my back with the tip of his fingers as he too tried to recover his breath. I turned my face to the other side to look at him and we both smiled tiredly to each other, the look of complete satisfaction present in both our faces.

“Would you like my copy to give you that massage you were hoping for, my princess?” Loki asked with half a smirk. I laughed and nodded.

[fictionalslvr]

SYNOPSIS: The eerie figure of a berserker scares you out, but for him, is the opposite. He can only think about you with a single exchange of glances.

PAIRING: Yandere¡Berserker¡König x F¡Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.608k

WARNINGS: Mentions of cannibalism (methopore of it), obsessive thoughts, mentions of death, description of dead bodys and dead animals ect.

NOTES: I finally got something for the dream i had about Viking¡König. Just to clarify:A berserker is those ones vikings who fight and duel. This is probably only the start of this character, since there's a lot more things to explore about him. This probably isn't canon or a real representation of vikings/berserkers, keep that in mind please. (König is finally out of my basement again!)

Drapetomania: (n) an overwhelming urge to ran away.

In a land where the cold is enough to twist your guts and relocate them, you need to have extra care. The cold is not merciful, not with anyone. You could die from hunger firstly, and secondly, from the shivering cold in your limbs, it seems like everything here worked against the humans, to purge them out of the ground mother nature raised. The dangers are so much that only a few people live nearby the forest, it's almost unbearable and no one wants the danger in their doors, no. And by a few people, you only know one, yourself. Of course that, you didn't had another choice, if you did, you would never live where the sun doesn't reach properly, where the cold enters through your windows and shush the candles off, where animals lurk outside your humble home, ready to make you part of they visceral circle of life that they call “natural”. In fact, you could hear everything when the moon is up on the sky, the way some animals grunt and whine in pain, you could hear the fights and the smell of blood wouldn't be unnoticed by your nostrils on the other day, you were getting used to that mix of sensations yet, and you think you won't ever do, things are just too cruel around you to get used, you can just…blind yourself for those things and pretend it's not happening, or else, you could easily turn part of their food as well. Just as the poor rabbit's body lay tainted red in the snow, his eyes now white as he doesn’t move an inch, what a miserable life he must have had, but for now, he’s a good (and only) choice of food for you. It's better to just focus on your own security, praying for any god around to keep you safe as pairs of red eyes prey into your windows in the dark. The sounds are scary, you can't name all of them, the forest can embrace them sometimes. But others, you know, like the cold air that can make the trees swing, their branches slapping against each other making a harsh sound as footsteps move on the snow, you couldn't keep your eyelids closed, they were heavy, but the calm state of sleep won't come if you're scared. Nights like this are usual on this land, and you didn’t had the luck to live in the city as the people with more money did.

Speaking of which, as a person that is not contemplated by god, you didn’t have any skills on hunting as well, you’re way too weak even to fight the small bunnies, or maybe, you just didn’t have the courage to kill such innocent living beings. The only thing that kept you alive, was working for the city citizens as a cleaner, doing the work their glorious hands couldn’t do to gain a pitiful amount of coins that didn’t even guaranteed you enough food for the month, only to maintain you working for those lazy people that are too worried about their own noses to have pity on a poor human that lives close to the dense forest. With your worn fabric cloak, you needed to face the temperature to bring some food at home, the tiny bag of coins in your pocket and a wooden basket, you headed into the trail in the way of the city.

You knew the path as the back of your hands, making sure you wouldn’t get lost to suffer and get dead into the woods due to the freezing cold that the cloak couldn���t protect you forever for. In fact, it wasn’t that long and in a short time, your eyes faced the big brick walls around the town, the sounds of the chipping birds and your footsteps being replaced by chit chats and laughters, kids crying over something, and the horses trots. As you walked in, the atmosphere was a tad hotter, perhaps all for the big quantity of people together, their warm bodies would ease the temperature in this more private space, not to mention the big houses and their chimneys blowing hot smoke into the air. That makes you feel less worried, since the cold is the principal worry for you. Walking into the crowd, you already knew which fair stall to go, one with an old man that sells a good variety of meat, even though you didn’t even dreamt on the taste of the more expensive pieces, but for sure, the texture and their looks were a lot better than the ones you buy it, obviously because they’re not made for deplorable ones as you. The ones you bought were a plenty of almost rotten meat, the pieces that were almost going into the trash, and you wouldn’t doubt if they could be no good for your stomach. But you can’t complain, it’s the only thing available, the rest would be only to make you drool over it while your stomach rumbles for some good real food instead of the shitty ones you’d eat due to your financial problems.

When you got in front of the tent, the same man with the bitter expression would ‘greet’ you — That means he would only look deeply into your eyes, already judging you by your looks every time you were there, making that slightly disgusted expression scrunch his nose to you. The butcher was a hypocrite, after all, he’s the one covered in animal blood, he’s the one getting hands dirty, not you. So, you were in that criterion, more hygienic than him, and you bet on any other ones too.

The judgmental pair of hollow eyes suddenly turn behind you, the corners of his mouth turning upwards into a smile you’re seeing for the first time. A high pitched voice rings from behind, and you turn into your heels to understand why the crowd is getting closer into a specific place as the man announces.

—”Rejoy, everyone! Our heroes are back, the ones that are always protecting our town from afar, our berserkers!”

Berserkers? You heard about them. A scary group of big bulky men, that would protect the city on the orders of the king, keeping everyone there safe as they trail around with their big ships, that somehow made a deal with the old king to keep everyone safe and not rob everyone. Despite not living in the city, you would still be skeptical about those men around, that at any possible moment could turn sides and attack everyone, decimating the whole town with their bare hands. As your hood falls down, the hidden sun now hits you in the face, giving you some better light to see how they truly were, and if the tales of them being nerve-racking were real. They were, in fact, more tall than average, more stronger with their pairs of muscles and eerie aura, but one specific of them, were responsible for making you petrified. He was the taller of them, the most larger on side and length, but alongside with that, he used a threadbare mask over his face, that looked more like a shirt with badly cutted holes for the eyes that kept him the only one anonymous. To worse things even more, that strange man was behind all of them, just watching as his partners were happy with the citizens, he was on the back, a bear skin from the top of his masked head to his ankles, the biggest of them, protecting him efficiently from the cold they must had challenged as he locked eyes with you.

The heavy blue eyes faced yours. You must be hallucinating in the worst way possible, he’s sure going to come over and break you into two pieces with those big hands. You saw his eyes squinting together, that creepy man must be laughing underneath his mask, laughing at how visibly uncomfortable you got with a single eye contact. As the others berserkers joined the crowd, laughing and telling the stories from the sea and their adventures, that specific one didn’t. He actually started to come to your way, and you were sure you’re going to be killed at daylight and no one would care, they could even celebrate with the man, show your dead body to everyone as a prize, you would have the same fate as the tiny rabbit, and indeed, you were tiny in comparison with him. This might be wrong, but you saw the berserk as the definition of barbarian, men that only wanted to watch blood drop and act like not a thoughtful human.

You decided to disguise the fear creeping from the bottom of your spine, turning on your heels back to face the butcher, pretending that that tower of a man isn’t coming in your direction, maybe you’re just going crazy or he’s playing tricks with your mind that is so easy to put fears into. Your hands fumbled on your pockets, taking the bag of coins messily and letting it fall on the way, mumbling some curses for yourself as you bent down to collect the coins before someone could steal months of hard work and make you stay with no food available. Hopefully, the creepy man would lose you into the crowd and forget about you as you walked like a rat in between people. As your hands groped the gold circles on the floor, you counted them mentally as you kept messing up your own actions due to that strange man frightening you for no apparent reason. When you made sure you had all of them, you lifted your body quickly, before stumbling over something stiff, already whispering apologies because town people are not so receptive to mistakes. There was him when you opened your eyes, that giant man hovering over you and closer than you expected, making you gasp audibly. Your chest hit his pectoral, those blue eyes smudged by his dilated pupils as he kept breathing heavily, you felt like facing an hungry animal, his orbs not leaving your figure for a single moment during that awkward silence that remained, until he finally did something. He searched for something under his cloak, taking out a bag full of something that tinkled on it, a big mouthful bag that he handed to the butcher as if it meant nothing.

—”Let the lady buy what she wants.” His voice wasn't as deep or tough as you imagined. In fact, he had a nasal one that made him look less scary now, and yet, he had a strong accent and his tone was a tad rude, or you thought it was.

The butcher took the bag with no hesitation, his eyes glistening with joy as he cherished the berserker.

—”Oh, yes, yes! Go ahead, madam.” You’re sure this man never was that kind towards you as now, he was even smiling. As you thought, the town is moved by money, and if you were the dirty one, they were the pigs rolling up on the mud, humiliating themselves for something temporary.

It was your turn to let your eyes shine, the big masked man beside you watching as your lips trembled for an answer. The first thing you could say was:

—”I can’t accept this, sir.” You tried your best to keep your voice gentle, still scared for your life. His dense eyes followed yours, he saw how much you wanted that, but was being polite.

—”Take it. It won’t make any difference for me.”

His tone was severe, he wouldn’t listen to any of your complaints. And honestly, it was kinda cute how you hesitated to take his money so easily, König was actually enchanted by how humble you were, your appearance and kind soul slowly creeping into his heart. On the other side, his weird accent and harsh tone was scaring you, not a single thing about him was enchanting like a prince (he was not even close to that), the man covered in blood was trying to bargain you with his money, show you how much he could provide, only to buff up his chest and be a man with high ego like he is, showing himself off to a mysterious pretty lady that probably has half his age. He assumes that, sometimes, he can be a very weird old man, and this must be what got your legs shaking that much.

The visions were distinct from each other. Your poor thing was looking at him like a deer at the headlights, and he was already planning to lift you up, put you on his broad shoulders and carry you out of there like a prize he took without asking before. König would gladly treat you like his, but he still has a little bit of humanity on his mind, and won’t do that…yet. Of course that killing everything alive was munching his brain, slowly turning the carnage he did into something normal, after all, he was “doing for the city's honor” and that would make him a hero anyways, so there's nothing to lose. He was already addicted to that feeling, the dopamine that would fill his mind as a kid yet after killing the most insignificant things like an unlucky little bird he managed to trap and end with his life so easily in his hands, grown into something more. Slowly, that kid with prominent plump and red tinted cheeks transformed into that monster of a man, the one his mother really was scared he could turn into. But that is something of the past, right now, his mean mind could only think of you, the thought of ruining that innocence that still sparkled in your eyes was a delight for his soul. And he would take that in any circumstances, no matter what he will need to do, the atrocities he can commit for you, the bondages limits he would cross to see your cute face, he cannot feel guilty for anything he will do next, everything will be due to you and your abnormal gorgeous features. König is a very, very bad man for doing that and putting the fault on you, that’s for sure.

—”Aren’t you going to choose, madam?” The voice of the butcher takes you two out of the trance, long minutes staring at each other in silence abruptly ended, the sting of fear is visible in your big eyes, but the masked man eyes just squint as if he’s smiling devilishly.

The variety of meat in front of you is mainly unknown, and you don’t even know what they taste like. But little did you know, that you could be the meat of the big man beside you. Eating you in a literal meaning seems weird, but he would love to feed himself on that purity only you have. Luckily, you would not give him any trouble, and let him use your body to fed up himself, that crimson blood dripping into the floor as he slowly sinks his teeths into your flesh, the last vision of your tired of fighting body would be his lower half in the dark, still barely covered as his hands run through you a last time before your heavy eyelids flutter for never more. He would love to have that vision, your soul vanishing into his bare eyes, due to his hands, there’s nothing else that excites him so much as that. And that, by only exchanging a few words with you. Your fate is already crossed into his calloused and dirty hands, you're going to be his in any way.

[dtrghost]

closeness and proximity part.2

pairing: ghost x f!reader

synopsis: callsign is sunshine, because you're anything but. team 141 thought ghost was bad? at least they could crack a smile out of the guy from time to time, you? you were stone faced, all day, every day. until one day you're not, not with a certain someone anyway.

warnings: inaccurate military language and sequences, violence, angst, descriptions of interrogation and torture, INTENSE gore (imo), cursing, allusions to mental illness (reader has sociopathic tendencies) you get the gist. If you have a weak stomach or faint heart, please do not read this, like please.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT:

word count: 3.5k

The heat choked her body as she threw the covers off, sweat causing her clothes to cling to her body in a way she hated. Her nightmares haunted her dreams at night, reminders of her wrongdoings, failures, moments in life where she had no one. She was reminded of every feeling she felt up until now, and it confused and hurt her at the same time. She stood up, unable to lay in bed any longer and threw on some black cargo pants with a black long sleeve top.

She walked out of her room, making her way to the range where dummies stood to practice on. Personally she thought they were partially useless, they were good to practice hitting targets standing still, but in the field it was quite the opposite. They were running, jumping, moving in every possible direction. They were hitting back, so she always preferred to train with a partner, however, she didn't have one at the given moment, so she had to make do.

She spent hours practicing, taking shots with the blanks provided, ensuring each one landed in the center of their fake forehead, and if they didn't she'd do everything again, and again until her training sequence had been completed perfectly. She had a watcher, and she knew that, ignoring their presence until she finished. Ghost watched as her final shot rang out, hitting the dummy in the same spot she had hit so many times before, announcing the finality of her session.

"You're up early Sunshine." His gruff voice bounced off the stone structure behind the dummies, coming back to her ears in a way she quite liked. The sensation of hearing his voice twice over even though he spoke once was soothing to her in a way, even though he sounded like he swallowed nails and it fucked up his vocal chords for life.

"How old are you?" She questioned suddenly, laying her gun down on the table and unloading the blanks, tossing them off to the side. His eyebrows jumped in surprise at the question, walking over to her and peeking over her shoulder as she cleaned the weapon off, black spots of gunpowder appearing on the cloth she used.

"I assume you already know since you dug through my file." His voice held a bit of contempt and hostility, but her reaction remained even and calm, chuckling, though to her it felt hollow as it always did. The sound followed that feeling, and Ghost noticed it.

"I forget unimportant things." He rolled his eyes and sighed, his hands gripping the top of his vest as he watched her work.

"I'm 28 as of last month." She hummed, glancing over to him. The conversation wasn't inherently interesting, she found no pleasure in the topic, but did find a hint of entertainment in the conversation being with him specifically. She didn't understand why, but she'd indulge for a while, at least while she was still on the team.

"What's on the agenda today?" She moved along, leaning on the table as his wide, tall frame towered over hers. She couldn't help looking over him again, even in his gear he was so... hot. Her mind wandered, the word putting her mind on a track as she yet again shamelessly checked him out.

"Hey." He snapped his finger in front of her eyes, snapping her out of it. "Have some damned respect yeah? I'm you're superior officer." He would be lying to say he hated it, he loved it actually, that the girl he was once so intimidated by still had some human qualities, like attraction and want. But she could tell he misconstrued her intentions, she didn't understand the want aspect of it, she just saw something she liked and looked at it, not because she wanted to have it, but because it was nice to admire.

"I'm not looking to sleep with you. You have a nice frame. That's all." His cheeks involuntarily burned, starting from his covered next and moving up. How could she say that so calmly? He watched her shrug and move on, looking back at her weapons as he sighed.

"Today's an off day. We don't get many so get your arse out the range." He muttered, turning around and walking out with heavy steps and a sway to his walk that she found addicting to watch.

She...

not liked... enjoyed? No, was fond of, close enough.

She was fond of the way he moved, she found it satisfying, how even he was, symmetrical in shape and incredibly fit. She thought long and hard at night about random things, and the male physique was one of the topics that crossed her mind. How much they had going on, as least the ones she'd met in her times of service, all muscular and built to take any blow sent their way. She wished there were more women working in her career, get the best of both worlds, but she found herself understanding why there wasn't.

"Sunshine! Get your arse out of there! That's an order!" Price yelled from the entrance, noticing she hadn't moved from her spot since Simon left. She followed his instructions, deciding to go back to her room and relax in there until she was needed. That's how these types of things normally went.

Her skill and forte for doing what she's technically not supposed to was something that kept headquarters bouncing her around. She'd be on team 141 for maybe a year before being moved, so she chose to not make connections with anyone. Most were happy to let her go for two reasons. One, how persistent she was about not sleeping with them, and two, the nasty scars left behind for even asking the question.

Most of the times she was the one requesting a team change, and they obliged because they wanted to keep her on their good sides for what it was worth. She knew she was being used, but isn't this what she signed up for? What they all signed up for?

She groaned at the knock on her door, loudly expressing her distaste for whoever was behind her, not caring who it was.

"It's time to eat breakfast. You have 2 minutes to sit your arse with us or I'll drag you out myself." Ghost called through the wood, his voice getting raspier as his volume raised. She snickered at the empty threat, getting up and opening the door to see him standing there, irritated that he had to come get her as if she were incapable of coming herself.

"You seem to really like my ass with how much you order it around." His mouth went dry as she pushed past him with a thud, walking over to the table, not looking back at him.

"Fucking hell." He murmured, annoyed by the fact that he was heating up again, mentally cursing himself for being flustered by something so immature. But he couldn't help glancing at it as she walked, how well shaped it was, the weight it had, how it-

Bloody fuckin' perv.

His eyes shut for a moment in shame at the fact he just checked her ass out before making his way back to the table and sitting down next to Soap who left him a seat. The table was tense and quiet, the team glancing around at each other as she ate as if they weren't there.

"So Sunshine. You heading to the pub with us later?" Mctavish questioned, shoving some of his MRE into his mouth.

"No." Everyone stopped eating at her blatant denial. She didn't care for team bonding, she hated it. She found it pointless when they had a higher chance of dying than being a friend to her.

"You should go. It'll be good to get out." Price pushed, looking at her expectingly.

"What do I get out of it?" If she was going to go, it better be for a damn good reason. They looked at each other, sighing as Price instigated the negotiation process. They discussed terms, agreements, benefits, etc, all for one night with her at the pub. This is what she liked about men, how easy they were to persuade, especially as a woman that peaked their interest. It was almost disheartening. She noticed how Simon didn't participate and ate his food in silence.

He didn't want to feed her ego, he didn't care whether she went or not, and he wouldn't waste his time with unnecessary terms for a single night. If she didn't want to go, she shouldn't have to. That's what he thought, and she knew that, she liked that. She liked that he wasn't easy, that he was a challenge to her, to crack, to break. She wanted him to hate her, to loathe her, to feel small compared to her, she wanted the satisfaction of being powerful no matter who she was with.

The terms were settled, they'd buy whatever she ordered and she was required to stay for two hours until she could leave and one of them had to buy her food by then for dinner. The day went by quickly, her having avoided interaction with them all together until she was forced to see them again. For the pub she wore a black crop top, a white button up over top, and some black trousers with some white shoes.

She slipped on a mask that covered half her face, straightened her curly hair, not wanting anyone but herself to see that part of her. Her natural hair was the only genuine part of her that she liked, it was true to who she was, where she came from, and she didn't intend to let people she didn't know or trust see it. She left it up in a ponytail and walked out to see Soap exiting his room.

"Ready lass?" He questioned with a genuine smile, one she couldn't return because she didn't want to go. So she replied with another curt nod, leaving him in silence and following him to the car.

"Sunshine. With me." Ghost commanded, getting into the driver's seat of the car he was going to drive. She found the way her callsign sounded from him to be odd because of the duality of it. A beefy, gruff, cold man calling her sunshine. She sat in the passenger's seat, the car lurching from the force of his foot hitting the gas, moving forward to follow Soap in front of him.

She turned on the radio, only for Simon to turn it off.

"I need to concentrate." He voiced, and when she tried again, he did the same thing, shutting it off.

"I don't care. If you can't think with noise than maybe you should quit before i end up having to drag your rotting corpse out of the field." She snapped, clearly pissed off about not being able to turn on the radio. He looked at her with a blank expression, realizing she was genuinely upset, with all the things she could be putting her emotion towards, she put it towards the fact she couldn't listen to music.

"Careful. Or I'll write you up for insubordination and have you dishonorable discharged." He threatened making her snort and look out the window.

"Do me the favor then will you." His eyes narrowed at her, his grip on the stick shift tightening in irritation. Part of him loathed her, how impulsive and arrogant she was, but then he was reminded that she didn't know any better, which made him angry too. Everything about her and associated with her made him angry, so he huffed and turned on the damn radio.

"This once. That's it." She snickered to herself, the anger slowly dissipating as they drove on in silence, filled by throwbacks from the early 2000s that she liked. They reached the pub and he parked next to Soap, walking inside. The smell of alcohol and sweat intensified the closer they got to the bar, maneuvering through people who were drunk and dancing to the music.

"What is it you're having then?" McTavish asked her.

"I don't drink. I'll take a coke, can preferred, thanks. His tab." He rolled his eyes, nodding to the bartender who later slid her a can of the drink of her choice, everyone watching her crack it open and take a sip, turning away to pull her mask down.

"So you really don't drink?" Gaz questioned her.

"Pretty sure I said that already. Fuck it's hot." She shrugged off her button up, leaving it draped over her chair. Eyes widened at her. She was ripped, her arms were toned, faded scars here and there with some tattoos not only there, but on her waist and sternum, though they weren't as visible due to her shirt.

That's when Ghost noticed it from his side.

"The fuck is that?" He asked, peering to get a better look. Y/N turned her head to him, eyes following his to her brand.

"Got it when I was kidnapped." She explained simply, shrugging off his shocked look until he grabbed her arm for a closer look. He recognized that brand anywhere, soldiers' bodies that came back from Verdansk after failing their initiation program to work under General Voroskoy, an ex-KGB wet agent who commanded the Russian forces in the region.

This changed, everything. This means she survived, she managed to endure the agony they put soldiers into and come out alive. Ghost had seen the autopsy reports, burns, cuts, electric jolts, mutilated bodies from head to toe, some had to be identified using dental records, if they had any teeth left.

"Had they came a week later they would've put me through my second round of ECT. Didn't get drugged up for it either. Then you'd be fighting me." She informed them, Gaz, Price, and Soap having came to look as well.

"What'd they do to you?" She didn't respond, her head turned to face the other direction, her eyes glazed over and distant. She couldn't think, she couldn't answer. Ghost knew that look, and he never liked it. He pushed past his team and stood in front of her, her eyes unwavering on the center of his stomach as he towered over her once more.

"Snap out of it sunshine, that's an order." She couldn't. She wanted to, she wanted to move her eyes, her body, her mind to any other subject, but she couldn't. It was as if she was frozen in time, in this moment, she wasn't even blinking, feeling her eyes beginning to burn.

Was she here? Was she real? It didn't feel like it.

It felt like the world stopped moving, and everything went quiet. Her heart hurt for reasons she didn't understand before various images of what happened rushed through her, and she felt trapped, trapped in her mind for good. Nobody could pull her out, she couldn't see anyone. Not in front of her, not in her peripheral. She was alone. Alone in a concrete box with a singular flickering lamp as her blood coated the floor, she had never left, she had made it all up, all the missions she went on, all the people she met, it was all in her head.

How foolish could she have been. Rescued? On foreign soil? It was a fairytale, and now she was back. She was going to betray her country by force, because she didn't know who she was, that part of her was ripped away. She couldn't stop it, she wasn't in control, she was weak for letting this happen to her, to truly believe for a moment that she was out at a pub with people that wanted to help her.

Nobody, was going to help her. This is it, this is where her life ends.

Ghost's fingers came up to her face, pressing her lids shut.

The blindfold was on.

"1." ...what?

"2." The room began to fade. Were they putting her under again?

"3." Noises flooded her ears, her straining to understand what was being said.

"4." That was... Ghost's voice, the gruffness of it was all too familiar. Years of inhaling dirt and gunpowder left his voice rugged and raspy, but it was recognizable.

"5." It was as if a wire was cut, and she was suddenly overwhelmed by the stimulation of the pub around her. The cold can in her hands, the sounds of music and voices pounding in her ears.

This was a technique he used on soldiers who dissociated and derealized, whose minds traveled back to the root of their ptsd. His hand dropped slowly, her eyes snapping open in alert. Her body jerked forward and he caught her shoulders. He gave them a reassuring squeeze as he watched her panic.

"Calm down love. You were gone for a moment, give yourself some time to adjust." The rest of the team watched in concern and curiosity as she scanned the area, her breath quick and uneven. Her heart pounded in her chest, unable to comprehend what was occurring as she place her can down on the counter and quickly walked outside, not caring who she shoved past to get there.

Ghost was quick to follow her, calling out her callsign over and over when she didn't respond. She felt his big hand grip her wrist, pulling her into a nearby alley. Anger and fear overtaking her as she quickly swiveled on her left foot. Before he could understand what was happening she jumped up, her legs wrapped around his neck before pulling him down to the floor with all her weight.

He grunted in surprise as his back hit the concrete. She was quick to get up, the need to survive pumping through her veins until arms wrapped around her waist, one hand covering her mouth.

"Get a hold of yourself soldier-" Her head came thrusting back, knocking whoever held her in the nose causing them the groan and drop her. Two strong arms pinned her to the wall, another two keeping her legs still as she struggled.

"Hey! Y/N!" Her eyes blew open, meeting the piercing blue of Price's as they bored into hers. The name call caused her to mentally stutter, since nobody called her that, not in the last 6 years.

"You need to calm down. You're a member of Task Force 141, you escaped Russian capture 6 years ago and have been working for the U.N. since." Her mind stopped racing, looking around at the damage she did as Ghost helped Soap with his nose, blood dripping from his hand to the floor as he cradled it. Gaz held her legs down, but made sure that she couldn't hit him in the face with her knee.

"Don't look at them. Look at me." Ghost looked at her, and she didn't like the look in his eyes. She expected some sort of hatred, mistrust, a need to kill her, but all she saw was pity. The word was like a knife to her gut. He felt bad for her, and she hated that. She wasn't weak, she didn't need his sympathy.

"Look at me Sunshine. That's an order." It dawned on her, her eyes snapping to his in frantic panic.

"They know my name." Why would he do that to her? Why would he reveal something she kept so close to her chest?

"I'm Johnny. Johnny McTavish." Soap called out, waving a hand to her as he held a tissue to his nose.

"I'm Kyle Garrick." The man kneeling in front of her said with a small smile. They watched her eyes flicker with confusion, not understanding why. Why were they dumb enough to give that away, to not realize the danger they were putting themselves into. Yes she already knew their names and almost everything about them, but to give that away willing was a principle she couldn't comprehend.

"Simon. Simon Riley." Ghost finished.

"Why. Do you not realize how important that is? Why're you telling me this?" Her gaze was intense, flickering between each of them analytically until she found an answer to her question.

"Because we're a team. We trust each other with our lives." Price answered for them. She searched his gaze, finding no hint of uncertainty or falsehood. They let her go and stood in front of her, not tense, not ready to grab her if she pounced. She took a step forward, and they didn't step back, remaining still and assured.

"Y/N." Her name sounded foreign coming from him, her look directing towards him. Simon's gaze wasn't soft, it wasn't gentle, but it wasn't demeaning either, it wasn't angry or mistrusting. She felt strange, but in a good way, the same way she felt when he called her love. How her chest tightened and her eyes watered, she hated it, but she loved it at the same time.

"Only way we can help you is if you tell us what happened. We've all experienced something, even if it doesn't quite amount up to you, it's enough. So quit being a pain in our arses and bloody say something." He quipped, his closer making the team chuckle, but she didn't understand why it was funny.

"I didn't think I was being a pain." They looked at her oddly, until it dawned on them as she stared back, utterly confused as to why SHE was the pain and not someone else who was less capable than her.

"We've got some fuckin' work to do."

This is part 2! I don't know how many parts this is gonna be, probably not many, but there it is! Thank you so much for reading! Lmk if you have any requests and I promise a relationship between ghost and the reader will occur but I don't wanna rush it so yeah!!