#now if only I could stop writing price as being so soft and start writing him as a manipulative gruff authoritarian | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thegnomelord · 4 months

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me very patiently waiting for that mothussy :3

oh and here’s another wittle thing i thought…i tend to hc price as a bear hybrid or other so i think he would go into hibernations,, since hes still on duty he wouldnt go into a long-term one like other bears, but simply sleep a LOT of the day…i would wanna cuddle big bear price so bad awaawaewfgwh 🥺 hes really hairy but instead of it being coarse hair, its more fluffy cause its the winter!! so his facial hair puffs up a bit…and his chest hair…and the happy trail…you get the idea :3 idk i just like bear price i want him to pound me into the mattress and suck my cock until it falls off hug me!!

-❀

Give me like a couple more days lol, I got ghost and soap more or less done in a rough draft format, just need to write out price and gaz then a quick rewrite to clean up the draft. Cause rn all mini drafts are about 1k and very rough so when I clean it up they're probs gonna be bumped up to like 2k? Just knowing me and how my drafts end up doubling in size lol.

Also duuude you are a treasure trove of ideas lol. I want bear price now and now I'm horny so here's a bunch of bear price

Help a Bear Out

CW:NSFW, MDNI, daddy kink, dom/sub, oral, somno, edging, foodplay, cockwarming. Bear Price x Top Male reader Ao3

Imagine Bear Price who is by no means a small man any time of the year, bear genetics + having to be physically fit to take down terrorists leads to him having a very strong and imposing build befitting a Kodiak bear. The fur only adds to the striking image, making him look larger and his arms appear thicker, letting him scare many young boars from trying to tussle with him lest he crack their skulls.

But he turns massive in winter.

He can't help it; There's no escaping the iron clad control nature has over his body as his dark fur thickens and gains a fluffy golden color. No evading the instinct telling him to eat and rest and grow fat for winter until his hard earned muscles disappear beneath the cloak of fat. No ignoring sweet lull of sleep's song when he's yawning every five minutes and the words on the report swim in his blurry eyes.

Imagine Bear Price who, in his younger days, used to be self conscious about the changes his body went through. Growing up surrounded by humans was tough, dread would start building in his heart the moment the first leaf from the trees would fall. He's lost count how many times the kids would laugh at him when he'd show up to school after winter break with a chubby face and barely able to run a lap with how tired he was.

As he grew and started being curious about sex, it only got worse. He'd snatch the porn mags his sisters would buy behind their parents back, spending hours looking in the mirror and comparing his pudgy belly and fat thighs to the chiseled abs and lean muscles of the models. He'd spend hours exercising and trying to loose the weight he'd gain, but it would be all for naught.

And it didn't stop when he graduated and went into the military. His superiors may have tolerated the extra sleep and rations Price needed because he was a monster on the field, but they by no means were happy about it. He'd end up with thrice the amount of work and run ragged in training until he returned to his pre-winter weight.

Imagine Bear Price who doesn't give a shit about how he looks like now. Why would he, when he sees how you look at him? How you touch him? How you worship him?

Your hands wind around his waist and the groan you let out when you realize the space between your fingertips has gotten bigger is hungry. Your face burrows into his chest, his soft fluffy fur tickling your face as you nuzzle his pecks. The way his pudgy belly and love handles jiggle under your wandering hands makes you wish you had more arms so you could feel every part of him.

A content growl rumbles from the bottom of his chest, eyelids open just enough to watch you. "My boy's forgotten his manners." He chuckles, but there's no way to hide the wagging of his little bear tail. The reverent way you touch him makes him feel like a king.

"Sorry sir." There's absolutely no shame in your voice or your actions, not when your mind is held captive by the soft fluffy fur and the warmth of his skin. Without thinking you slide your hands up to grope his chest and you groan — the squishy fat covering his muscles and makes his pecs so large they don't fit in your hands anymore, fat plumping up between your fingers and his flesh jiggling as you press his pecs against your head and motorboat him.

The surprised laugh you earn is like ambrosia to sweeten the heaven you're drowning in.

Imagine Bear Price who gets so sleepy as the nights get longer and colder. While he still gets the work done, and for the most part doesn't mind the 'old man' jokes his boys make, it's obvious how irritated he gets when he's forced to stay awake longer than he needs to; each extra second spent explaining to a muppet how to do his job makes his eyes darker and voice rougher until he's passively growling like a construction engine.

Luckily you're there to calm down the beast.

Groping his ass or scratching the base of his tail to distract him so you can kiss along his jaw and rub your cheek against his beard. "You're doing it again sir." You mutter, voice smooth and low enough to soothe his prickled mind. Kissing him sweet and slow so you can tug his lazy body back into his room, into his den, where you can give him what his mind and body craves the most — sweet sweet sleep. . . and you.

Imagine Bear Price who's chest rumbles with a purr without stopping the second you settle into his den, his clawed fingers sliding over and groping your naked skin with just as much love and adoration as you show him.

Wrapped in so many layers of blankets and furs, engulfed by his bulk and his own fur, you are so so warm that neither one of you need clothes. Price's favorite position is to hug you like a Teddy bear. Despite the irony, it lets him wrap his body around you so you're safe and protected, practically suffocating in his fur. Not that you mind, especially when Price can nuzzle his nose into your hair or skin, to breathe in your scent to his heart's content and purr low praises into your ear: "Good boy,"

And, if you're especially good, he lets you use his ass as a pillow. He'll growl and grumble about not being able to scent you or hold you, but he'll soon be sleeping peacefully with you slumbering on his large ass.

Imagine Bear Price who, between the long stretches of sleep, get's horny. It's a natural reaction from sleeping next to his naked mate, wanting to feel you and hear your moans, but he doesn't have the energy to actually fuck. His lethargy turns the feeling of languid arousal into Hell.

Both of you try to initiate a couple of times; fumbling beneath the sheets, wandering hands roaming and groping as far as they can reach, his teeth nibbling on your neck and your hungry lips laying hickeys on his thick neck. Not wanting to undo the tangle of limbs you two end up grinding against each other, breathing the same air between kisses as sweet pleasure burns in your belies.

Then you stop just long enough to grab the lube, and Price's mind, still half way in lala land, only needs a couple of seconds of inaction to pull him back into deep sleep. By the time you return to him he's already snoring, limbs reaching out to grip you tightly and pull you close, but all thoughts of sex are forgotten.

And Price is so, so, angry with himself when he wakes up and realizes he left you high and dry again, shame eating away at his stomach because what kind of bear leaves his mate unsatisfied? The unworthy kind.

Imagine Bear Price who's mind is blown when you suggest cockwarming. Hibernation is about sleeping and relaxing, not strenuous sex, so the thought of being able to feel you while still fulfilling his body's need to rest? Oh it gets him hard.

It takes a while to figure out the perfect position, Price is too big and heavy to lay on top of you without crushing you, and his fingers earn to grip and hold you close so spooning him viable either.

Finally you end up with him laying on his back, legs spread with you laying on top of him and oh, it's perfect. You can feel him purr as you slide inside his blistering hot hole, his strong arms wrapping around you and claws scrapping along your spine. "That's my boy, perfect f' daddy." He mumbles through the fog of sleep, throwing one heavy leg over yours to keep you close.

You can't help the shudder that races down your spine, his musky earthy scent curling in your nose and making your cock throb inside him. You only stretching him long enough to be able to take you without tearing something, and Price relishes the slight sting of pain nibbling on his nerves when your cock hardens.

You don't try to fuck him, by the time you're fully settled inside him he's already snoozing. A slow roll of your hips and the resulting tightening of his hole is enough to sate your lust when it arises, enough to keep you half hard and stretching him out. His pecs make such a good pillow, thick fluffy fur and chest hair tickling your skin, the slow and calm beating of his heart lulling you to sleep before you know it.

Imagine Bear Price who gets an insatiable sweet tooth. There’s not a single secret stash in his room that doesn’t have his favorite bottle of honey in it. Hell, there’s more honey hidden in his room than cigars.

And his lazy mind decides to combine his hunger with honey with his hunger for you.

"Hold still for daddy, baby boy." Price mumbles against your abdomen, big hand gripping your hip to keep you still so not a drop of the honey he drizzles on your cock goes to waste. "Good." He purrs, wide tongue lolling out of his mouth to lap at your tip, claws massaging the skin beneath them.

He can spend hours laying between your legs, lazily lavishing your cock with attention while satisfying his craving for sweets. Whine and moan as much as you want, uselessly buck your hips as best you can against his unfair strength, nothing will make him rush — with his energy drained he'll spend meticulous minutes following every vein on your cock with his tongue before he even thinks of gently suckling on your tip. "Relax my boy, just enjoy this." He mutters, lips pressed against the sticky flesh of your shaft.

And when he does take you into his mouth, it's just as slow. His mouth hangs open so you can see your tip resting on his tongue before he laps at your slit, drool and honey running down his chin and sticking the strands of his beard together. When all the honey is in his stomach he just drizzles more, nibbling on your thighs or stomach to keep his mouth and mind occupied with you before starting the torturous process all over again.

The slow torturous pleasure is easy to endure just so you can see his eyes light up when you start leaking precum.

Imagine Bear Price absolutely loves loves loves the salty tang your cum adds to the sweet honey, the delicate combination of flavor dancing on tongue and only fueling his gluttonous mind to demand more.

The distinct taste is the only way to cut through the fog of lazy pleasure in his mind, turning him greedy. Price mumbles and growls incoherent words around your cock as he swallows you down to the root, swallowing around you and holding you down when you try to buck up. "My boy tastes so good." He mumbles as he rises up, nuzzling his cheek against your weeping tip, looking up at you with hungry blue eyes. "Just for daddy, yeah?"

"Ye-yes sir." You whimper through your clenched teeth, your head lolling back against the pillows when he swallows you whole again, your tip bumping against the back of his throat. "Just fo- fuck, fuck,- just for you." You don't know how he doesn't choke on you but you don't have the mental faculties to even think about that when your brains are leaking through your cock.

Price smiles around your cock, the purr rattling his chest and making his throat vibrate around you. "Smart boy," He praises after he pulls off, precum and honey swirling on his tongue as he takes the moment to savor the taste. He knows how close you are, he can feel the cum churning your balls when he rolls them in his rough palm. "You can give daddy a bit more, can't you?"

You honestly don't know how long you will last.

Imagine Bear Price who can get so insatiable he growls like a tractor when you try to weakly push him off your cock, so aroused that you think even the slightest gust of wind will make you pop.

Price bites your thigh enough to hurt and only his hand squeezing down on the base of your cock keeps you from cumming. "And where do you think you're going boy?" He demands, claws digging into your skin to pull your hips closer, little kitten licks of his tongue driving you to the brink of madness.

"S-Sir!" You moan before you can stop yourself, your hips twitching uselessly against his hands, thighs shaking. "'m sorry, I'm fuck, I'm so close." You whimper, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Every nerve in your system is on fire, pleasure so strong it's turned to pain along your body.

Price huffs, but his tight hold lessens. "It's alright sweet boy," He hums, placing a sweet kiss on your cock head. "I know how you can make it up to daddy."

Imagine Bear Price who's only placated when you slide your cock back inside him. Your muscles ache from the strength it takes you to hoist his heavy legs over your shoulders and keep them there, but your rewarded with the tightening of his sweet hole, a pleased rumble leaving his throat.

“G-good boy-.” He growls, long claws scratching down your back as you pound into him. Your thrusts are slow but deep, making his toes curl every time you bottom out, tip scraping his prostate and making his cock spurt a dollop of precum with every thrust. “Fucking daddy so deep. I taught you well, yeah?”

"Yes, yes, yes!" You agree to everything he says without hearing any of his words, your body moving automatically to bully your dick into him. Every thrust is heaven and every second spent pulling out from his tight heat is hell, the sensitive veins of your cock scraping against his walls.

He moans when you manage to clip his prostate with your thrusts, one clawed hand sliding down to grip your hip hard enough to bruise. "Harder boy," He demands, rolling his hips to meet you half way, other hand raising up to scruff you. "You can go har-hm!- harder. . . don't you wan- fuck, want to make daddy feel good?"

Clenching your eyes shut you slam into him as hard as you can, feeling the fat widening his frame jiggle with every hard thrust. Without thinking Price pulls your head down to smother you in his pecs, soft fluffy fur tickling your face as the ample flesh suffocates you. The sweet scent of honey mixed with his musk erases any vestiges of sentient thought in your head, leaving your animal brain to pick up the pieces — Pin him down harder and mate him, rut into him until he's roaring with his full chest, his hard cock slapping against your stomach.

Price reacts to the change in your behavior by pressing your face even harder against his chest, his walls clenching around your cock like a vice so you have to try harder to push into him. Price’s lips brush against your ear, voice low and rumbly. “My boy, come in daddy.” He urges you on, both legs now tightly wound around your waist so you can only hump your aching cock into him. “Co-mh!- cum, cum in me son, you want to be good for daddy right?”

That's all it takes to drive you over the edge, mind going black like a piece of paper as your orgasm rocks through you with the intensity of lighting. The sensation of your hot cum spilling into his hole triggers his own orgasm and he cums with a thunderous roar, sticky seed shooting across your abdomen.

You collapse on top of him, his legs keeping your softening cock inside him, not that you have even a single functioning muscle to try to pull out. His big hand cradles your skull, honey flavored lips placing soothing kisses on your temple. "That's my boy." Price murmurs, his chest rumbling with a soft purr. "Did so well for me." He yawns, eyelids fluttering as that fog of lethargy settles over both of you. "Now rest," The order is spoken in the softest voice he's ever used, and it works like a horse tranquilizer on you.

As you drift off to sleep, you feel his hole clench around your soft cock, the cum inside him squelching as his body unconsciously tries to persuade yours into filling him up just a bit more.

It's gonna be a long winter.

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bunnys-kisses · 1 month

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deep touch

capt. john price

cw: smut & fluff, chronic pain, soft dom!price, comfort fic, husband!price, wife!reader, massages, price is a good man, side by side/spooning position, wife kink

bunny says: chronic pain nation rise!!! i've been battling some pretty bad pains in my legs, thank god that writing is a sedentary activity!

you knew you had chronic pain, the thing about it was that you could go days feeling decent but, out of nowhere it would all change and you'd be achy all over. with it largely concentrated in your legs.

the rain only made it worse, it was july in the sleepy seaside town you lived in with your husband and there were very few tourists due to the frequent rain. the rain also brought a new challenge, the sleepiness.

you wanted to be awake to spend as much time with your husband now that he was home from his most recent deployment. but at shreds of sunlight were cast between the gaps in rain clouds, you felt lethargic.

you stirred a little and rolled to your side to get your phone. the bed felt welcoming against the aches in your bones. the joints and the muscles wanted nothing else to do but lie there. but you knew that you couldn't be there all day.

you forced yourself up, and put on your slippers before you headed to the kitchen. before you left the bedroom, you put one of price's sweatshirts on yourself as a form of a comfort blanket.

you hobbled to the kitchen and got yourself a cup of ginger tea. it was a little hot for it, so you often let it sit until the cup grew cold. once it poured, you left it and went to go find your husband.

price looked from the morning news to you, he had a cup of coffee in hand which he quickly put down, "hey there, baby girl." he said, "someone's a little stiff this mornin'?"

you chuckled a little, "yeah, you know how it is. rains for three days and suddenly all my joints are mad at me. i thought after all this time, my body would get used to rainy england." you sat down on the couch next to your husband and he pulled you into his chest. you relaxed a little, feeling the soft strength of your husband's chest. even the old shirt he was wearing felt nice.

"well, i guess that means i have to take care of my wife today."

you sighed, "you're supposed to be relaxing, john. you were away for almost three months. let me spoil you."

he kissed the top of your head, "no need to, love. you let me take care of everything, you save your strength."

you sighed, "tomorrow, it'll be better. and then i can make those muffins for you that gladys across the road really liked. and i can also make dinner for you, and you can just sit on the couch with a beer and watch football."

he kissed your head once more to keep you down, "love. if it gets better and you better not lie to me about the pain. i'm going to be home for six months, you have more than enough time to make me every recipe from that little cook book of yours."

"i just wanna make being home feel special." you huffed.

he chuckled, "don't worry, love. just bein' able to be here with you is more than enough to make it special. to have a home."

he just held you for a while, letting you be close to him. the pain was a discomfort that lingered in your body. you wish you could like detach parts of your body and like run them through the wash so they'd stop hurting.

"i hate the pain."

"and i hate seein' ya in pain, love. now why don't i get you some breakfast."

you sighed, "can you rub my legs first, you always know how to help it." your voice sounded so small.

"of course." he said, "i'd love nothing more." he gave you that sweet smile of his as he carefully moved you so he could put your legs on his lap. you noticed that he checked for anything swollen or discoloration. he was too good at this sometimes.

he wanted to make sure his woman was in tip-top shape. he then started to gently rub at your calves. his strong fingers worked into the muscles of your legs. you let out a whimpering noise every time he hit just the right spot. he would stop and you'd give him a thumbs up to assure him that you were a-okay.

"it just feels good." you said as he moved up into your thighs. the noises were almost erotic if it weren't for the pain you were in. that was one thing about dating an army man, was that you would never have to pay for a massage ever again!

"good girl." he praised, "you are always so strong. i'm so proud of you."

he worked the limbs and you were thankful for it. by the time he was finished, you were practically asleep on the couch. price chuckled and grabbed the throw blanket

it wasn't easy, but love wasn't meant to be the easiest thing in the world. and price was going nowhere.

the next morning, you were feeling better. and when you turned over, you were greeted to the sight of your husband laid out beside you. he had his glasses on and his phone too close to his face.

you shifted closer to him and kissed him on the cheek, "good morning."

he looked over, he looked like such an old man with those glasses on. he put his phone down and took them off to get closer to you. he wrapped his strong arm around your shoulders and gently pulled you towards him so he could kiss you, "there's the most beautiful woman in the world."

"oh shush."

"how ya feelin'?" he asked.

you looked up at him, "can i be honest?" you felt heat in your cheeks.

price held your face and replied, "i wouldn't want anythin' else." then smiled at you. he was such a comforting presence in your life. your husband was a good few years older than you, but he was as gentle as a lamb with you.

"i'm.. i'm in less pain. the knees are still a little bothersome. but i am actually really horny." you wanted to look away but price had his grasp on you.

"oh really?" he asked, "my little wife is all turned on?"

you replied, "i am. i always get turned on after you dote on me all day. it's like my brain is making up for the hurt it put me through by giving me those feel good chemicals." you laughed a little.

"well, then." he said as he pulled away a little to take off his white t-shirt. you got a good look at his bare toned, hairy chest. he said, "get on your other side, facing away from me. then you don't have to be on your knees."

you face went hotter as you said, "i love you so much."

he chuckled as he pushed the blankets off of the both of you, "my love, i'm never gonna deny my wife what she needs. if that's massages or a good fuckin' then i'm there. because that's what a husband does."

you gave him a quick kiss before you turned over and got your bottom half naked. you felt him get behind you, his cock was stiffening at the feeling of your ass.

his big hands took a hold of you and lifted your right leg so he could have access to your pussy. you could feel his hairy chest through the fabric of your t-shirt.

it was like a comofrting hug, a peaceful feeling of you and your husband making love. you relaxed against the bed and held onto the pillow under your head.

"does it hurt?" he asked softly.

"no, no. none of the pain was in my hips."

he kissed you neck tenderly, "good, good. tell me if it started hurting. i need you to communicate with me."

your other hand held his arm that was draped over your waist. slowly he sank his cock into you, you felt so protected and the pain was minimal. price was such a giving lover, that was the kind of man he was. he wanted to make sure that you felt loved even when he was away.

he rested his chin on your shoulder as bother arms got around you and he started to softly hump against you. his cock felt snug in your cunt. his thrusts were light and quick, but it still built pleasure in both of you.

you held on tightly to your husband as he rutted against you. you could feel the excitement in your chest as your husband made love to you.

"this is how a husband should treat his wife. treat her like the perfect woman she is." he kissed the shell of your ear, "you're perfect. i lucked out, i don't know what god put you in my arms but i hope he is being worshiped till the end of time." he chuckled as he gave you another series of kisses up against the nape of your neck.

"please, john." you moaned, "you're making me hot all over."

he replied softly, "good, i love when you're all hot in the face." his pace was a bit faster now. the pleasure coursed through his veins at the feeling of his beautiful wife's sweet pussy.

the sex was tender. it was soft. it felt good for your aching body and it felt amazing to be loved so tenderly by your husband. you moaned softly against the pillow.

price pressed his forehead against your back as he thrusted into you. his grip on you was firm but light. you weren't getting out of his grasp. he panted against your heated skin.

"i'm close, honey." you whimpered.

he nodded, "me too, love." he picked up the pace a little further, keeping an ear out for your noises so he could make sure he wasn't hurting you.

with a few more thrusts of his hips, you both came at the same time. your heightened sounds paired with the low groan your husband made as the two of you finished.

"my woman." he said as he kissed the center of his back.

he pulled out, but his softening cock rested against your ass as you got comfortable in his burly arms. it was such a protective force all that muscle and fuzz up against your back.

"that's my girl." he mumbled closely into your ear. his facial hair brushed against it.

"i love you, john."

"and i love you, even with all your aches and pains. you know i'm no spring chicken either." he chuckled softly as he laid there close to you, feeling your heated body next to him.

"neither of us are." you chuckled as you turned over a little to kiss him on the lips. <3

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fortheb0ys · 10 months

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BOTTOM DOM JOHN PRICE X TOP SUB MALE READER

☆Daddy, I just wanna be your bitch!☆

I know I like to write characters being absolutely cock drunk and fucked stupid but my biggest kink is being treated like I'm fucking stupid dog♡

CW: dumbification (reader), pet play, pet names (daddy & puppy) USED ALOT, age-gap, crying during sex, face slapping, reader is inexperienced in sex NOT PROOFREAD AND KINDA RUSHED AT THE END

FEM ALIGNED + MINORS DNI

I'm just imaging Price having to bark orders at you all day just to do the same in bed. You're brain goes absolutely empty and Price has to tell you how to do EVERYTHING. He's slightly displeased with himself for failing for such a young and inexperienced man but his love for you outweighs it.

You're clumsy as you try to finger him open. Price gets so frustrated that he offers to do it himself but you're so eager to please that you insist. You take what feels like forever to work him open, overestimating him in the process. Being feed up, Price would take matters into his own hands. He'd sit with all his weight on your chest and his back facing you, taking the breath from your lungs, as he fingers himself open.

His ass is so close to your face but Price orders you to keep your hands away. You grip tightly at his thighs, squeezing and scratching, as you whimper like a kicked puppy.

"Puppy, calm down. Daddy, trying to show you how it's done."

Price would wrap his hand around your dick as he multi-tasks between jerking you and fingering himself open. Much like the rest of your body, your cock is massive. Price's mouth waters at the thought of being stretched full around it but training you to use it was the difficult part. Such a monster of a cock but you were too stupid on how to use it.

Once Price was ready, he sank on your cock. The stretch was deliciously painful. Before he was even remotely close to being ready to move, you began bucking your hips up. He lets out a pained moan and tells to stop. His orders fall on deaf ears as you try to chase your own pleasure, completely forgetting about Price. Unsure of how to stop you, Price lands a hard slap across your left cheek.

Tears prick your eyes as you immediately stop snd bring a hand to your now red cheek. Before Price could apologize he feels you twitch inside him.

"Awww does my sweet boy like it a little rough? Does puppy like it when daddy hurts him?" Price says sweetly, his voice having an undertone of mockery.

All that left you throat was another whimper as you nod. Price felt another twitch inside his tight walls.

"Daddy, please you feel so good." More tears threaten to leave your eyes. Price looks into your eyes, a pathetic look adorns your face. The sight was amusing. You laying there, your hips wiggling ever so slightly and tears in your eyes. Price felt so good around you. His walls velvet soft. He was really teaching you patience.

"Daddy knows but you need to behave and stay still. You feel a lot bigger than you look and you're a big boy, puppy." Price cards his fingers through your hair to calm you down.

You whine as try stay impossibility still to please Price. Small huffs of impatience and both your ragged breathing was the only noise in the room.

Once Price started bouncing, what felt like an electric shock riddled your body. Like taking a hit of drugs, a high over takes washes over you.

His strong legs flex as he works himself on your cock. You lift your hips to meet him halfway with needy thrusts. His moans drive you deeper into madness. His pupils are blown with lust and you know yours are the same. A predator's smile across his face.

"Harder, puppy. I like it just as rough as you."

Without second thought and bruising strength, you grip his hips and slam into him. Price lets outs a small grunt. A slight blush dusts his face. He got want he wanted.

His movements never falter as your pace picks up. A challenging look appears in his eyes. His walls contract around you. You've never felt something as wonderful as being inside your captain, the way your cock dragged through him. He looked so good doing it. Like you were made to be him inside him.

His tits bounced along were him. Price's nipples were just as eye catching as he was. Pink and erect. Standing out from his hairy chest. The need to pinch , suck or just have your hands all over them became too strong. Your hands quickly found themselves groping at them.

Price let's out a grunt and your hands immediately pull away thinking you had done something without his permission.

"Go on, puppy. I'll let ya."

Sitting up, you go to work on his chest. Your lips sucks at one nipples as your fingers pinch at another. This encouraged you to pound harder into him. You loved the way his hair felt against your clean shaven face.

Price tries to keep his composure but finds it hard when your lapping at his chest as well as pounding hard into him. On top of that his his legs were beginning to hurt. He was so close. The knot in his stomach grew with each passing second. It was evident that you were as well. Your whimpers grew louder.

His moans were your favorite part. Breathy yet so deep, they rattled your bones.

"You close, doll?" Price asks while trying to get your attention off his chest by petting your messy hair down.

Your eyes are now on Price's face, but it's clear you didn't understand him. Eyes unfocused, you shake your head. Not to give him an answer but to ckear your sex fogged mind. It takes a prolonged moment for your brain to catch up to your mouth. You didn't trust that if you were to open it, that a moan wouldn't escape your lips.

"Yeah. R-really close." You managed to only whisper out.

A few more thrusts and you finished inside him. Price coming untouched, cum covering his hairy chest. You both lay panting, trying to catch your breath. Your forehead rests against Price's chest. His heartbeat rings loudly in your ears.

Once the high slightly settles, you look up to his face. God, was he so beautiful.

The way Price's mouth was slightly open. His tongue touched the back of his teeth, slipping to past his lips. The rise and off of his chest.

Just thinking how someone so perfect as your captain could love someone like you. A young kid, early into your military career and a decorated solider.

Did he love you? Could he love you the same way you did to him? The way he was your breath in your lungs, unable to live without.

You once again begin to tear up. This time to fall down your cheeks. Why you were such a crybaby after sex and not otherwise was something you could never get the answers for?

"Baby, Y/N? What wrong?" Price stopped moving and settled his weight on your pelvis. He dropped the pet names, was he angry? His voice was still smooth like honey. There was no malicious. Just love.

"Daddy, I'm sorry. I'm so s-sorry. Love you. L-Love so much."

You pull him down till your head is buried into his neck. Sobbing as you try to catch your breath. Price's hand finds it's place on the side of your head, and a thumb rubs gently over your ear.

"It's okay, puppy. You know, daddy loves you?" He knew how emotionally unstable you could be. Doubting every step you took without guidance. He promised that was something he'd never take advantage of.

Your tears stop after a few minutes of crying. Price's gentle touch easing your worries. You look up at him with bright eyes, like tears had never touched them and smile. You give him a sweet peck on the cheek.

"Love you."

"You were such a good boy, but you need more training."

You frantically nod. There was anything you would want more in the entire world than to be your captain's good puppy.

"Daddy's gonna have ta think of a punishment. Do you understand?"

"Yes, daddy."

As your punishment, Price would put you on a leash a parade you around naked, showing off the numerous bite marks, scratches and hickies. Your cock painfully hard and dripping precum, a vibrating cock ring tightens painfully around it. You're turned on by the humiliation and the fact that everyone knows you're Price's bitch. Whimpers escape your throat as you see soliders eye you up and down. A sharp tug on your leash from Price reminded you to keep your mouth shut.

As a reward for accepting your punishment well, Price will ride you in his office will the door wide open letting people see how much of a well-trained dog you are. Numerous people stop. Some for a moment to look at the source of moans and grunts. Others stop and jerk off at such a sinful sight, just hoping to get the chance to be able to get impale on your dick.

#call of duty mwii #call of duty mw3 #john price x reader #john price x male reader #x male reader #x top male reader #top reader #captain john price

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frudoo · 2 months

Note

I'm actually crying a bit as I write this, I went out today and didn't realize that I chub rubbed a hole through the thighs of my jeans... On each fucking side... Realized it while I was in the middle of the store, could I get the 141 boys reactions to being out with their girl and this situation occurs? I'm so utterly mortified and humiliated right now and this is the only thing I could think to cheer me up. Thank you for reading this 💙

Aww sugar :( that's no fun. I hope you're feeling better, and that you treated yourself to a new pair!

Warnings: Slight mention of weight gain (in an affectionate way), fem!reader.

Kyle Garrick:

You’re walking hand-in-hand with Kyle along the mall when you feel the slight sting on the insides of your thighs. When you stop walking, Kyle immediately turns around to see what’s going on, his heart already pounding when he sees the concern on your face. He backs you against the wall and blocks you from everyone else’s prying eyes so you can do whatever it is you’re doing more comfortably.

“Wha’s wrong, dove? Did ya start?” He asks softly as you examine the rips in your jeans.

“No,” you sniffle, chest starting to heave with embarrassment. “No, I- my jeans are ripped.”

“Aw, poor thing. Let’s go get ya a new pair, or four, hm?” Kyle grins, tilting your chin up. “No tears, my baby, s’normal. We’re already at the mall, anyway.”

You nod and sniffle, smiling against his lips when he leans down to kiss you tenderly.

“There’s my girl. C’mon, let me spoil ya.”

John Price:

Grocery day is already stressful enough, so when you feel the hems on the inside of your jeans burst and your skin getting raw, you break out in a fit of anxious, irritated sobs. John hears your voice and comes running over, narrowed eyes scanning your aisle and the areas around it for any reason you might be so upset. Finding nobody, he relaxes a bit, turning you to face him and massaging your shoulders gently.

“What’s got you so down, darlin’?” He asks softly, voice dripping with concern.

“My fucking jeans,” you hiss, lifting one leg onto the bottom of your shopping cart to expose the tears to him.

“You’re all red. Are you in pain?” His brow creases as he examines your thighs, gently running his fingertips along your skin.

When you wince, he nods, instantly withdrawing his hand.

“1-10, how mean is your brain bein’?”

“Eight,” your bottom lip wobbles, and he wraps one arm around your waist, maneuvering the cart back to the front of the store with his free hand. “John, we have to-”

“Mm-mm. We’ll have the groceries delivered. Right now, I’m gonna get you home and in bed, and you’re gonna use my card to buy yourself some new jeans online. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Simon Riley:

“M’bout to fuckin’ kick this shelf down,” Simon grumbles, glaring at the miscellaneous car parts that, evidently, are pissing him off.

“Don’t do that, please,” you giggle softly, trying not to alert him as to the pain you’re feeling.

You should know better than to hide something from Simon. He grabs your hand to drag you to the next aisle, cocking an eyebrow when he sees just the slightest tweak in your walk.

“Wha’s wrong?” He asks, looking you up and down as if he’s analyzing the state of your wellbeing.

“My jeans ripped and I’m chafing,” you whisper, looking around to make sure there was nobody around to hear about your situation.

“Thighs’re gettin’ thicker, eh?” His eyes crinkle and you can tell he’s smiling beneath the black medical mask he’s wearing.

“Gee, thanks, Si. Say it louder, why don’t you?” You huff, smacking his bicep hard—as if that’s gonna stop him.

“I jus’ might,” Simon hooks his arm around you and grabs a handful of your plush hip, giving it a firm jiggle. “I happen t’like my girl soft and tasty.”

“Okay, o- Simon! Enough!” You giggle as he starts tickling your sides, making you forget all about your pain and embarrassment.

“Now,” he hums, satisfied. “M’gonna get us home so I can get those delicious fuckin’ thighs wrapped ‘round m’head.”

Johnny MacTavish:

“Bon’? Ye’ve been in there a while,” Johnny’s soft knock sounds on the dressing room door, worry in his tone.

“I’m fine!” You respond, clearing your throat and wiping away your tears, praying that he can’t hear the despair in your voice.

He does. The next thing you know he’s crawling beneath the gap in the door like a damn dog, spinning you around by your shoulders so he can examine your face.

“Ah- for fuck’s sake, Johnny!”

“Och, quit yer whinin’ an’ tell me wha’s wrong,” he barks, one bushy eyebrow raised high.

“My jeans are ripped and my thighs are chafed and it fucking hurts,” you blubber, angrily pointing at the holes in the fabric where your poor skin has been rubbed raw.

“Is tha’ all?” Johnny grins cheekily. “Take ‘em off.”

“Excuse me?” It’s your turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Ye heard me. Take ‘em off.”

Rolling your eyes, you comply, surprised when he does the same. He hands you his own pair and takes yours, and you watch with great amusement as he shimmies into your jeans. His are a little too big for you at the bottom and a little too small at the waist, but your shirt is long enough to cover the fact that you had to leave it unbuttoned. Half of Johnny’s calves are exposed in your jeans and the waist droops around him, but damn that beautiful man and his perfect, muscular thighs, they fit in perfectly.

“Damn, hen. We should trade more of’en, these make me arse look fantastic!”

So, all in all, the rest of your shopping trip went smoothly, despite all the workers staring at the odd pair of you—and hey, he was right. His ass does look fantastic, especially when it’s buying you new jeans.

#sorry it's a little rushed :/#ask me!#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #141 x fem!reader #141 x plus size reader

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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 1 year

Text

Ghost x Reader

NSFW, 18+, Shameless Smut, No Plot, Porn w/out Plot, Sex in the dark, Explicit, Graphic Language, Teasing, Touch-Starved Touching, Embarassing, First Time Together, Fingering, Sloppy Kisses, Somewhat Rough Sex, slightly Intimate, Ghost is a bit of a dom, Reader's a bit snarky, Slightly Proof Read, I'll fix what I miss later :)

First time writing a smut one-shot with zero plot sooooo here's my trial run. I'm a recovering former Catholic schoolgirl, bear with me. Enjoy. （。ˇ ⊖ˇ）♡

Word Count: 2.4k

Also I take requests, or I would like to, or I might just poll who I should write next. ヾ(´▽｀;)ゝ My other one-shot Soap | Price

You step into a dark bedroom, reaching over to flip on the light switch. That's when you feel Ghost's cold, gloved hand stop you halfway. Your hand, which is small in comparison to his own, can't help but be encompassed by his sudden grasp.

The door shuts behind you both, you and Ghost now standing in a nearly pitch-black bedroom. Alone.

"The lights stay off," Ghost orders.

The gravelly-like sound of his voice is deep in this empty room, soothing through your ears and sending a chill down your spine. You can just make out the large silhouette of his body, towering over you like a great, big shadow. Ready to devour you and leave you used.

And you wanted him to use you. To fill you with all he has to give. You've lusted for his touch since you first laid eyes on him. You longed to feel his strong grasp around your throat, his teeth against your skin, his cock buried deep in you. You always wondered what a man who brandishes a skull mask of all things would desire of you.

Your own hand could only suffice for so many nights. It was time for the real thing.

And you knew Ghost had wanted it too. He had wanted you bad. Not being able to have you until now only fueled his growing insatiable craving for you. His skin practically simmers from the rising arousal.

"No lights at all?" You pout.

"What's the matter?" The teasing tone to his voice lowers, as does his hand, as you feel his fingers trail up your arm. It leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake, before he's let it rest at the side of your jaw, taking a soft hold of your face. "You afraid of the dark?"

You feel his deep, olive eyes look you up and down hungrily through the darkness. Exploring every inch of your body. He could picture all the curves to you, his hands hardly able to keep away from reaching out. Envisioning your body shaking by the end of this, the anticipation having his blood rushing just thinking about it.

His thumb lightly trails over your lip, the glove of his thumb gently grazing it, faintly tugging. He parts them for himself, your tongue just slightly brushing against him. It makes a whimper leave your lips, as you start to playfully nip at the fabric of his glove with your teeth, coaxing something dark inside him.

"It's just us now, love," Ghost whispers. "I want these walls crumblin' down once I'm through with you."

You lift both your hands and let them dance delicately over his, your own hands so small it takes the two of them to even hold the entire thing. You tug at the fabric, removing the glove from his skin and revealing his bare knuckles to you. If not for the dark which surrounded them.

Unable to truly see him for youself, you let your touch fill that yearning to look upon him. You let the glove fall to the floor, as your hands take his again, your warmth clashing with the iciness of his own touch.

"Why don't you make that happen then," you taunt him.

You take his index finger and bring it to your lips, letting your tongue slowly swirl around it, as your saliva coats him, your breath making his skin shiver. You gently bob your head forward and suck his finger, taking your time getting it wet for him. Only just faintly being able to make out his mask in the dark.

You hear Ghost let out a heavy breath, before he's got you pressed flush against the door. He uses his large thigh between your legs and his other arm to box you in, his body pressing roughly against you, keeping you pinned against the door.

You were at a point of no return now. If this was what you wanted, then Ghost was prepared to give it to you, as he saw fit.

Ghost brings his free hand down, roughly pulling down the short little skirt you'd had your ass hanging out of all night, until you've felt the fabric hit your ankles below you. The second they hit the floor, Ghost plucks his finger from your lips, deciding to swap for a new pair to play with instead.

His fingers dip beneath your lace panties, letting those fall to your feet next, the chill of his hand making you jolt lightly, as you gasp. That's when he feels how dripping wet you had been this whole time. You coat the man's fingers in a matter of seconds, which he can't help but chuckle at.

"Fuckin' hell," he teases you. "Say less."

"Fuck you," you tease.

Ghost responds by bringing two wet fingers to your clit, massaging smooth circles against it, and sending a jolt of knee-wobbling pleasure through you. He gets the rhythm down damn near instantly, working a magic you should have only known he possessed. You can't help but moan to his touch, your head pressing back against the door as your body chases his fingers.

"You were saying?" Ghost teases you again. Only this time, before you've time to say something else, you feel his fingers make their way towards the entrance of your cunt, ghosting the hole purposefully, letting his hands grow damp with you. It makes the air catch in your throat.

His fingers slowly curve in, the warmth of your walls gripping tightly in retaliation. He pumps them in and out, going just a little deeper, each time they sank back in.

Pretty soon you've felt him go knuckle deep, his palm smacking roughly against your clit at each thrust. Each time left you throbbing with arousal, making you shake. The visceral, wet noises that came from your cunt paled in comparison to the moans you released alongside them.

The sensation was almost so overwhelming that your mind couldn't think straight. Tears welled at the corners of your eyes, as your voice took a mind of its own, letting Ghost know vocally just how much you enjoyed having his fingers roughly play with you like that.

Ghost would never forget these sweet sounds you made for him. They'll live in his mind 'til the day he dies, he's sure. As he'll be forever chasing after them now. Hearing you had been a newfound high

He eventually takes his hands from you, your fluids leaving a web-like trail on its exit out. In that brief moment, having found some composure over yourself, you let your hands raise up, until they've stopped at the edge of Ghost's balaclava.

You pause before attempting to lift it up, letting your fingers rest there, signaling to him what you wanted.

"Can I?" you ask.

Ghost pauses.

One of his hands meets your wrist, though it doesn't attempt to pull you away. Holding you there, instead. Hesitantly even.

Right now, he appeared but a dark figure you could only just make out, hellbent on seeing you at your most vulnerable. Ghost wouldn't let you see him. Not completely. And you would respect that. You could be happy with just the touch of him instead. The taste of him in your mouth could be enough.

Tonight at least.

When you see he won't stop you, you slowly begin to lift up his mask. You feel the fabric glide up the sides of his neck as he holds his breath. You bring it to the bridge of his nose, letting your fingers graze against his cheeks, and tracing the stubble of his defined jawline. Simply trying to feel a picture of him in to your mind.

The whole time, Ghost stands there frozen. Letting you touch him, not having let someone do so in such an intimate matter in quite some time now. Too long of a time. He's forgotten how bare it makes him feel. And yet, he didn't want you to stop.

You mirror his actions from before, letting your thumb brush against his bottom lip. You feel it quiver, and it makes you smile.

"Don't get shy now," you purr.

You flip that switch in him, and like a predator that's just caught its prey, his mouth is on yours, pressing against you so hard that his body nearly smashes you against the door. It releases a gasp out of you, one that Ghost uses to let his tongue take a quick swipe against yours, stealing a taste.

You chase his as it retreats, your lips following him organically. As though your mouths were two puzzle pieces; perfectly fitted for one another.

His kisses quickly turn starved, his tongue exploring every available inch your mouth provided to him, dominating you in every way. Letting you know that from here on out, your mouth belonged to him and him alone. Your lips. Your tongue. Your taste. You.

You belonged to him now.

You nip at his lip suddenly, giggling at the little gasp he lets out afterward. In response, Ghost brings his hands to the hem of your shirt and lifts it over your head, leaving you now bare before him, just as a silhouette in the dark to him as he were to you.

He brings his teeth to the groove between your neck, searing them deep and bringing a light hiss out of you. At the same time, his hands meet your breast, his finger gently rubbing against your nipples, as his palms massaged you gingerly.

His hands feel you as though he planned to sculpt a new woman out of you, and his lips trail down your neck as though they could help him memorize the taste your skin left lingering at every peck.

Your fingers grip at the back of his neck, pulling him in, clawing into what little skin he left bare for you to feel beneath his lifted mask. The sting your nails leave makes him throb almost painfully so.

Ghost pries his lips from you, letting his hands slide roughly down past your ass, before taking hold of your thighs. With one quick movement, he hoists you up, allowing your legs to straddle his waist. He then presses himself against you, grinding hard into you.

The sudden flood of ecstasy it washes over him brings a low, shaky breath out of him. One he wasn't too used to making. He continues grinding against you, keeping your back pressed against the wall and both his large hands gripped firmly beneath your ass, his hands moving you almost like you were his own personal doll.

And you submit.

You submit completely to him, keeping your hands wrapped around his neck, as the grinding of his hardening cock through his uniform re-erupts that lustful flood he'd pulled out of you only minutes ago.

Using the wall to help keep you upright, Ghost brings one of his hands down to the buckle of his pants, undoing them and allowing him to lower his them. Just enough for him to take hold of himself and uncover from his briefs.

It seems he's had enough of the teasing and the foreplay.

"You know we have a bed," you joke.

"I like to work on my feet," Ghost quips back.

You feel the head of his member begin to play at your folds, lightly spreading them apart, and preparing for what felt like would be something slightly larger than what you were used to. It makes the core of your groin quake with anticipation.

Ghost continues to tease himself against you, his breath growing shakier by the second, as precum began to slick between you. His hand on your ass tightens, and he brings himself to the center of your core once more.

You feel his eyes on you.

"Think you can take it?"

You swallow and then nod.

"Give it to me already."

As quickly as the words leave your mouth, Ghost lets himself thrust deeply into you, your walls just barely being able to take in the entire length of him. It sends a sharp sensation up your body, bubbling out into one of the loudest moans you've ever felt yourself let out. You feel it travel all the way up to your throat, making your heart race as though you'd just run a triathlon.

Once he saw you could take him, Ghost pumped deeper into you, pushing further and further in at every thrust, gliding in and out with ease. Soon you've taken him completely, feeling him smack against your cunt hard.

His lips find yours again, not wanting to waste another second away from you, as his fingers dig deep into your skin, forcing you to take all of him, as you willingly let him do what he wants with your body. He clearly knew what it wanted best.

He purposefully pulls back out slowly, allowing you to feel every inch of him leave your pussy, and stopping just before his head can exit. He then comes back in sharply, earning that chilling moan from you every time. He could go all night listening to it.

"That's right, lovey," Ghost pants against your lips. "That's fuckin' beautiful."

Ghost picks up his speed, each pump growing faster. Eventually, the pace had increased so much that you stopped noticing the blood you were drawing at the back of his neck from digging into it so roughly. Just as you didn't notice the forming bruises on your ass from how hard Ghost had been holding you.

All you could feel was him inside you, giving you everything he had to give, and hitting that sweet spot every single time.

"I'm so close!" you gasp out. You slide your hands back over to his face, cradling his cheeks in your palms, letting him know you were looking him in his eyes. Somehow you felt you could see his right now. "Cum with me."

Ghost takes your lips one final time, getting one last good taste of you, as he feels your walls tighten around him, your body vibrating, as you moan into his lips.

The orgasm shakes you so hard that your body moved almost involuntarily. The mixture of warmth and tight compression is enough to finally get it out of him as well, as Ghost cums alongside you, his cock throbbing against the heat of your cunt.

He lets out a breathy moan, his forehead resting against yours, as you both fight to catch your breaths.

As the moments settled, and your heart rates began to rest, you both continued to let faint images of each other dance in your minds, as un-pronounced as when you first walked in.

"Maybe we can have a nightlight on next time," you joke.

Ghost is quiet for a second, still attempting to reassess himself. He clears his throat before speaking again.

"I'm up for that."

♡( •ॢ◡-ॢ)✧˖° ♡

#call of duty #modern warfare ii #mwii #ghost x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #call of duty modern warfare ii #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #mw2022 #smut #Spotify

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scorpioriesling · 4 months

Text

Once Upon A Dream

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairings: Azriel x reader

Warnings: Suspense, angst, light swearing, slight abuse

Summary: As the daughter of a malevolent king on the Continent, you were used to spending time alone. Sure, you had tasks to complete, but not much free-will was given under your father’s harsh rule. This wouldn’t stop your quest for something more; but for every good thing, a price must be paid. Would you allow yourself to be convinced -- by a fae of all beings -- that you're destined for more than a life within the castle?

SR’s Note: Guys… this idea had me itchingggg to start writing it, but I just get very very very busy and I procrastinate tbh. Seriously, I'm putting my whole ･ﾟ: *pusss･ﾟ: * into this one -- jokes aside, I’m just excited to share this idea and illustrate how I was piecing it together in my brain. I’m so excited for you guys to read it — maybe listen to Once Upon A Dream (this version, specifically) while reading it? We all love a good Lana moment. <3 Enjoy, my darlings. I apoligize in advance for any editing mistakes!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"Good morning Mrs. Julie," you say kindly, voice as soft as the rays of sunlight streaming through the small windows.

"Oh, good morning, child!" The short, aging kitchen attendant clasps one of her worn hands in yours and offers you a warm smile, and you smile broadly back at her. "Always a delight to see you so early in the day," she continues, releasing your hand to turn her attention back to the mound of settling dough on the counter before her that is beginning to rest. "Say, what are you planning for today, hm?" She asks, picking the sticky, yeasty mound from the wooden board and expertly working it between her palms. It's as unbothered by her touch as she is by the hustle and bustle of other attendants working in preparation around her. "I hear the weather is to be kind today." She winks, and you consider.

"Well, I was planning to tend to the garden... again..." she gives you a knowing look, hearing no different any other morning.

"And I assume you will eat your breakfast and brush your hair too?" You narrow your eyes playfully at her, but can't help the grin tugging at your lips as a chuckle escapes her lips.

"Maybe I want to go for a more disheveled look today?" You say sassily, and she bumps her hip with yours. You loose a laugh.

"Go on, dear," She says.

"Well, I heard father was planning a meeting with Graysen of some sort, which means he won't be here..." You allude. Julie's brows raise, but she doesn't take her eyes off of the dough she is kneading.

"Oooooh, so you are thinking of forging plans while your father is away then, hmm?" She coos. You scoff, pushing off the counter you had braced upon to fold your arms across your chest.

"Julie! How could you accuse me of such a thing?" You throw her a playfully incredulous look, which she returns with a mischedious grin.

"Because, my dear," she picks the mass of dough up, tossing it into a nearby bowl with a heavy thwop. "You forget that I've known you for... well, let's see, twenty three years now?" She glances sidelong at you, and you drop your arms, gracing her with another soft smile.

"Which is precisely why you are absolutely right," you say, as she grabs a wet cloth and begins wiping the loose flour from the worktable. You find one on a table nearby, clutching it and working to help her clean up.

"Y/N, no no no, you'll only ruin your dress dear," she tuts. You roll your eyes, and she shakes her head, taking the rag from your hand.

"Just because I am technically a Princess, doesn't mean I can't or don't wan't to help," you say. She continues wiping, smiling gravely at you.

"I know dearie. If you didn't, you wouldn't come down here to say hello each morning." A sad smile takes over your lips, and just then, the clock chimes. Your head turns, and you notice that it is nine on the dot. You had better be getting to the dining room to meet your family.

"You'd better be going dear," Julie seems to echo your thoughts aloud. You nod, making way for the stairwell and muttering polite hellos to the other attendants as they pass.

"I'll see you later on Julie -- have a lovely day!" You call as you begin the climb. It only takes a few minutes to climb the few flights to the main floor of the castle from the service kitchen, but as you swing the heavy door open, your eyes are met with none other than your father's from the end of the long table.

He says nothing, he only seems to stare right through you as you swallow the breath you didn't realize you'd been holding and pull the oak door closed. Graysen lifts his gaze from the table, eyes narrowing on you slightly as he shifts his eyes from you, to the clock handing from the wall, and then back to you again.

"You're late, sister," he says. You huff, squaring your shoulders and walking swiftly to your unassigned-assigned seat at the much-too-large dining table. You father takes a deep breath, and you stare sidelong at him, the cascading sunlight framing his stature like flames around an ember in a firepit.

Graysen continues to stare expectantly at you, and you fold your hands in your lap, tilting your chin as high as you can and let out a soft groan.

"Ughhh okay! I'm sorry I am a couple of minutes late, okay? I apologize. Can we just eat?" You ask, eyes dancing between your brother and father in question. Your father sighs, still not speaking as he reaches for the plate of crepes in the middle of the breakfast spread. You dejectedly look at Greysen, who only shrugs and flicks a few sausages onto his own plate. It isn't until a few moments of eating in silence that your father finally speaks.

"The meeting... today... Gray... we need to ask the Queens about the border and what we need to be doing about the, well, the problem were having. The slippage, rather." He says, eyes still downcast toward his plate. Graysen nods, seeming to know exactly what your father is speaking of.

"Mhm, sounds about right." He says through a mouthful of sausage. You furrow your brows. What are they talking even talking about? It isn't like they ever tell you anything -- to them, you're good for flittering around the palace and adding to the aesthetic of the place. They've never dared say it, but they don't need to; their actions say enough. You fear the woman your brother courts would only end up down the same path you're currently on, seeing how the last few have turned out anyway.

"I need you to take this seriously," Your father says. Graysen swallows, clearing his throat and wipes his mouth with his napkin. His eyes meet yours swiftly before boring into your father.

"Father... when have I ever not taken something like this seriously?" He asks. Your father shrugs, but continues to eat, his plate nearly clean. You glance at your clean plate, contemplating the right time to ask if you can leave the grounds. Your father barely ever allows for your free-will; and you doubt he'd let you go today. After a few more beats of silence, you decide what better time than now to ask?

Clearing your throat, you sit up staight in your chair. "Father, I wanted to-"

"You have flour on your dress, Y/N."

✧･ﾟ: *

The soft pattering of soles on marble sounds beneath your pacing feet for as you angrily step back and forth across your room. You've been in here since breakfast, and though its only been but an hour, you feel as though half the day has gone by. You were so sick and tired of your father never paying you any mind -- he never seemed to care what you thought, or what you had to say. It almost seemed like he believed you to not posess a brain in your head, the way he disreguarded his only daughter.

You're sure you've walked a ring into the floor by now, but when you look down, it looks as pristine as it did when you'd returned from breakfast of course. You huff, almost hoping for some sort of penalty for your father's actions.

Oh, he'd be getting a penalty, all right.

You had a good idea how the rest of this fine day would go; first, you'd trot through the gardens, as you always did to show your father you were keeping busy. Then, when he took your brother for whatever meeting they had, you'd venture as you pleased -- a punishable, hainous crime, truly -- and then, you'd return by sundown, as to not raise suspicion.

Plain and simple.

This plan was perfect enough, you'd decided as you ended your pacing tyrade and instead padded over to your expansive closet to choose a lighter, cleaner dress for... "gardening". Settling on a pale blue sundress that ended just above the knees and fit just right, you fastened your sandals and tied your hair with a bow. A once over in your full-length mirror painted the portrait of a princess, one your father would be proud of.

Or, one he would believe, anyway.

As you decended the grand staircase, you overheard your brother's voice from the foyer, and you halted, pressing your body against the railing. Leaning over ever so slightly, you strained to hear what he could be saying.

"No father, I'm not saying that," he sounded exasperated. "I'm just saying that if we have faeries coming over the wall, we are the closest thing to it, and the first thing we should probably be doing is checking any surrounding areas, rather than sending troops to the wall itself." He argues. You hear a huff, and you know its none other than your father.

"Right, but the Queens are saying that if we guard the wall, we stop this spillage of faeries into our land all together, then we wouldn't have anything to worry about to begin with," your father retorts. You furrow your brow. There he goes, using that word again. Spillage. They're speaking as though faeries are on the continent, on our lands? But, that wouldn't make any sense. What's the point?

"Why even come over the wall in the first place?" Graysen asks. Huh, you think to yourself. I was thinking the same thing. Maybe I am just as smart as your son, maybe it could be me going to these meetings, Father. You hear footsteps, and your breath hitches as you glimpse them striding for the front doors. If they so much as turned around, looked up...

"What do you think this meeting is for today, my boy?" Your father claps Graysen on the shoulder, and you decide to make your entrance. Stepping loudly down the stairs, both of their heads turn to face you, the ghost of a smile falling from your father's face when he sees you. Graysen only cocks an eyebrow.

"Going somewhere?" He asks hautily. You plaster the most sickenly-sweet smile on your face as you step onto the landing, and clasp both hands behind your back.

"Only the gardens," you say, meeting your brother's stare. "The hedges are quite overgrown, and the rosebushes need tending. Lot of work to do today." He only hmmphs, and your father's stone-cold stare doesn't falter.

"The change of attire is... appreciated." He says dryly. You nod, and he blinks. "We have a meeting to be off to. We should return after sundown. You'll do well on your own for the evening?" He asks without an ounce of actual concern.

"Of course, father." You say. He nods, turning to Graysen.

"We should be off then." And with that, he is opening the door and heading out with your brother. Out to some secret meeting that you can't and shouldn't know about for Gods knows why.

Out and away for you to finally enjoy some well-deserved freedom.

You watch as the last horse in the group attending with your father today is far enough from the palace that you cannot make out the shape anymore, and then practically book it to the back of the palace. Throwing open the back doors, prancing down the marble stairs to the gardens, you dance and twirl past every bush and weed and stone bench that you definitely will not be paying any mind to today -- well, honestly, these rose bushes are looking a little rough. You pull dead petals and bulbs off as you go, which only brightens the path as you make your way towards...

Wherever your feet carry you, you suppose.

Not before long, you've passed every rose bush. Every weed. Every overgrown hedge. You slow your steps as you skip past the last stone bench, realizing you truly are at the edge of the grounds, the large iron fence drawing nearer and nearer. It's rusty as you finally get in front of the latch, running your fingers along it. You still try your luck nonetheless, doubting it would be unlocked. You unclip the hook, pushing the heavy metal bars tainted coppery red with age and-

It opens.

You almost can't believe it.

You gasp, stepping through the small opening and looking beyond. All that is really out there is dense forest, and to be honest, you don't have much interest or experience in going out in a place like that. However, when you ponder, you really don't have much experience in anything, so would it really hurt to try something new? What was the worst that could happen -- you could see a bunny?

You take a deep breath, and then begin walking. The sun was high in the sky, and the tendrils of light falling delicately through the trees was... lovely. Peaceful. Out here, it felt so free, like you could do or be whatever you pleased without confinement.

Another twig snapped in the distance, and you whipped your head in the direction. You hated the way your heartbeat sped up, over a simple forrest creature. Shaking your head, you continued on, looking quickly over your shoulder at the palace that was growing smaller with each step you took.

It wasn't much longer before you decided to stop and rest for a bit, the walk tiring you out more than you'd thought. Your half-lidded eyes began to glaze over when they caught on something just across the way. It was... out of place, it, didn't... belong there. You sat up straight, senses heightening when you saw the figure move, the paleness a stark contrast to the lush greenery around you.

That definitely doesn't belong here.

"You need not be afraid," a voice rang out. You were on your feet in an instant, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes darted between the trees. Where did it go?

"Behind you, dear." You jumped, adrenaline spiking as a rush of fear flooded your system. You fell flat on your rear, kicking backward with your hands and feet. You barely registered with stood before you, the smile like a cat staring down at a helpless mouse.

"Allow me to repeat myself; do. Not. Be. Afraid." Your breath came out in small pants, and you stared at the man with pure terror in your eyes. He was a few feet from you, merely standing calmly and looking at you as though waiting for you to stand up. You took just a moment to regain control of your thoughts, remembering you were in fact in a dress, on the ground, and there was a stranger in front of you. You scrambled to your feet, dusting off the back of your dress and glancing sidelong at the man. He smirked at you.

"Very well then. I don't have all day; I did come here with purpose." You look at him incredulously.

"Whatever are you talking about?" You ask. He folds his arms over his chest.

"A proposition, really." He states. "I've been... noticing... you might be interested in something I have to offer." He states. You raise an eyebrow.

"Do tell." You say flatly. You clasps his hands behind his back, beginning a slow circle around you.

"I have the ability to grant you something -- a power, of sorts -- that I cannot posess myself. It's a very special gift, child, one some would," he leans close, and you stiffen. The air around you even seems to drop in temperature. "...kill for." You shudder.

"What makes you think I want it? Why me? How do you have this?" You ask, and then it hits you -- he is a faerie. He is fae, and he came over the wall. You turn, staring at him as he laughs cruelly.

"Ahh, so you've put it together then." You glare at him.

"What is your kind even doing on this side of the wall, huh? Don't you understand people like my father would kill you?" You spat. The man only grins wickedly.

"Precisely, which is why I am offering this gift to you, Princess," you straighten.

"With this new strength, you will weild shadows of emerald; posess strength, at your will; have the ability to forge your own magic, transform your own reality, and manipulate what is real," he explains. Your eyes widen. Was all of this true?

"And... why give it to me?" You ask.

"Lets just say... I have a war, I am heading. I am a King too, after all." He lets out a dark chuckle. You look toward the ground, thinking for a moment. Apparently you think too long, because he starts talking again.

"You'll be a good asset to have when I need it, and I couldn't keep this gift even if I wanted to." He scoffs. "Like calls to like, some joke... by the Cauldron-"

"Okay. I accept."

He grins, all of his decaying teeth exposed and you grimace.

"Excellent."

Thunder cracks overhead, the sky exchanging the sun for an overcasted gray pantone. You look side to side, the leaves and twigs around you rising from the forrest floor in a dance on a phantom wind as the breeze tornadoes around you in waves. It increases speed, and the man cackles, the crown on his head glimmering with the movements.

You squeeze your eyes shut, the motions, the sounds -- its all too much. More thunder whips overhead, the wind picking up and you open your eyes to watch as the man beging to recede into the windstorm.

"Hey!" You call out, reaching out a lame hand in protest. "Wait! How am I supposed to-" Another flash of lightning strikes the ground, inches from your fingertips and you shriek, retracting your hand and shoving your palms into your eyes. You can't help but fall to your knees, the ground biting into your flesh as your dress blows and tugs with the whipping winds around you. Tears threaten to fall, and you curl into the soft Earth, wishing it would drag you under.

You almost confuse your hairbow for the sensation of the cool, silky caress against your cheek. You instinctively reach up to touch it, a tear slipping free as you cry out. Peering up, you see wisps of smoky black amid the everlasting windstorm, threading through your fingers and softly caressing your face. You sob, the lightning overhead only drawing closer. The coolness of the smoke around your cheek, over your shoulder, and through your fingers brings a little comfort to the scariest moment of your life.

It only continues to get scarier as lightning streaks across the sky once more. This time, however, it doesn't span the whole sky. It's aiming right at you. As if you're in slow motion, you don't react quick enough -- the lightning continues to move at, well, lightning speed, as it hits the mark it was aiming for.

✧･ﾟ: *

You awake with a jolt, thrashing against the cool silken sheets wrapped around you. You're back in your bed, the soft hues of the late afternoon sun basking your room in an amber glow. Your eyes dart around the room wildly; how did you end up in here? How much time had passed? The last thing you remembered were the cool caresses of those shadowy figures as the tornado-like winds whipped around you-

You leap from your bed, landing on the floor as soft as a feline and feeling... lighter. You furrow your brow, checking yourself over. Stepping in front of your mirror, you didn't look much different; sure, your hair could use a brush run through it, but not much else was amiss. You let out a sigh of relief, the sunlight catching in the flecks of your irises, highlighting the emerald specks hidden in them.

Oh. That was new.

Then, you remembered that tiny, new little change.

The.. what had he called it? The gift, that fae had given you.

The King, rather. Oh so he said.

You chewed on your bottom lip, beginning to pace around like you'd done this morning. You thought up what you should do about this... predicament, you were now in. You'd learned of the war that was happening, or so this "King", had told you. He also said you would be an asset to him, which you still couldn't understand or come up with any explaination as to why.

You halted your footsteps. You'd spent many days in this room, in this palace, pacing, doing absolutely nothing but wasting time -- and if the threat of war was real, if that faerie was telling the truth, then you needed to find out more for yourself. Gods be damned if your father would ever clue you in on such matters.

You made way for the stairs, practically taking them two at a time, nearly floating down the staircase it seemed with the pace you were going. You continued to make haste, bolting for your father's study. The sky was streaking with tinges of purple and crimson, sign that dinner would soon be ready and your father would be on his merry way home soon.

You didn't have much time.

Heaving the massive doors of his study, your breath caught when you finally saw the interior. Sure, you'd caught glances inside every now and again -- but you were forbidden in this room, as was any servant, any maiden, even Graysen wasn't allowed in here. You knew, whatever you needed to find had to be locked away in here. You could feel it, although it was calling out to you.

Stepping in, you made way for the rows of books along the far wall. It was only dimly lit inside the room, but you did not have a problem seeing the titles as clearly as if the sun shone from the ceiling of this very room. Was this another condition of the gift given to you?

Scanning the texts, most seemed rather useless. There were a few that pertained to faeries, but you'd already been educated on the history of their kind -- that wasn't what you were in here for. You turned, peering over your shoulder toward the windows. A massive trunk sat, and every nerve ending vibrated with the call of your power drawing you to it.

You rushed over, dropping to your knees and popping the locks. Shoving the lid open, you found a single map inside. You yanked it out, letting the lid slam shut as you unrolled it.

The map had a few areas on it -- ones you'd heard of, but couldn't understand why your father would be keeping under such protection. The scroll featured documentation of the Continent, and above it; Prythian. It was divided into smaller sections, and off to one side there was another small island with the title of Hybern, and you didn't miss a large, red X over the area scribbled in dark ink. You rolled it back up quickly, tucking it under your arm.

You figured would suffice, and you would be able to work off of this and gather more information from the library, but as you made way for the door...

His desk. It was practically screaming at you, begging to be rummaged through. It was clean, pristine, and calling so loudly that you stopped dead in your tracks. Turning slowly toward it, you confusedly stepped closer.

"What am I... looking for over here?" You wondered aloud. You looked all around -- he had no papers on it, no boxes or locks stored near the floor. You ran your hands along the sides of it even, but it wasn't until you sat in his chair that you felt the exhaustion hit you. Wave after wave of intensity coursed through you, as if alerting you to take take take what was needed. You threw your hands in the air.

"There's nothing here!" You shouted, nearing your witts end at the empty desk before you. Your veins flooded with electricity, and you hissed at the pain. Why wouldn't it stop? Why wouldn't it all just... go away?

"THERE IS NOTHING!" You repeat, yelling into the empty air. "I CAN'T FIND IT-" You bring both of your hands down on the desk, bright green flames bursting from your palms as they make contact with the wood. You gasped loudly, the flares dissipating into thin tendrils of emerald smoke, similar to those from the forest earlier in the day. You stared down at the backs of your hands, not sure if you wanted to move them and see the damage you'd done, or keep them there and enjoy your ignorance for a few moments longer.

You shakily remove them from their planted position, only growing more confused when the desk below remained pristine. "What... the... Hell..." you mutter. You glance toward the ground, noticing a small tray laying haphazardly below. A few papers and quills lay scattered about, and you brace the ground, craning your neck to look at the underside of the desk.

It was secured underneath, you see. The force must have knocked the hidden compartment off of its hinges.

You pick up the tray and the supplies, laying them out on your father's desk to examine. Nevermind that there is a keyhole in the front, and no key in sight -- you wouldn't have been able to get inside the compartment anyway. Amid the papers, there are many pertaining to past trips that are no longer relevant; but a few on top of the pile catch your eye. Other than Graysen's birth certificate, a few of the other pages feature words like "Queens", and "securing the Continental borders" and "aligning with Hybern for the war"-

Your pulled from your amazement when you hear the unmistakeable sound of hooves outside the front entrance. Your blood runs cold, and you quickly shove the discarded papers back in the tray and jam it back onto its hinges under your father's desk. It doesn't fit quite right -- but it will have to do for now. You'd be dead if he caught you poking around in here.

You quickly glance around the room as you swipe the rather important documents from his desk as well as the map, and assure the room looks just as you found it. You're pulling the door closed, waiting for the soft sound of the latch when you hear the grand doors opening. Shit. The only way to your room is the grand staircase, and going that way will only ensure that your father and brother see you, contraband in hand. How are you going to get out of this one?

Think think think, what other routes could you take? You rack your brain, but can't think of any. Taking the service stairs would draw attention as dinner is about to be served and the attendants are using those at the moment, oh Gods how you wish you could just be in your room right now...

And just like that, you were.

You look around incredulously, dropping the map and the papers in shock. One minute, you were outside your father's study. And the next...

You were here.

But, how?

You nearly double over, bracing a hand on your dresser as the realization hits you with full force. The wood brashes against the wall loudly, and you hear your name in the distance. You shake your head, slowly as the gravity of the situation sets in. You can't believe this. What you've done. What you have done. What have you done?

"No... no no no," you groan aloud. Heavy footsteps sound outside your room, and you go into panic mode, pushing yourself from the dresser and kicking the papers and map beneath your bed. You're just in time -- within seconds, a quick knock sounds at your door and your brother is inching it open.

"Y/N? Are you... alright? In here?" He asks cautiously.

You clear your throat, smoothing down your hair and taking a seat atop your bed. "Yes." He opens the door wider, peering inside and gives you a bored look.

"Father requests your presence. Dinner is to be served in five minutes." He says flatly. You nod, trying hard as you are willing to mask every emotion swirling inside. His brow furrows, and he gives you one last quizzical look.

"You sure nothing is going on up here?" He asks. You shake your head.

"Nope." You pop the P, smoothing your skirt and he looks you up and down with distaste as he begins shutting the door.

"Don't be late this time."

✧･ﾟ: *

You barely get any sleep, tossing and turning all night as thoughts of your new gifts and new... self plague you. All night, you continue to have haunting dreams, visions of yourself displaced in Prythian among the monsters that lurk the lands from the stories you'd always been told. The faeries that had once kept humans as slaves, faeries who have a thirst for human blood.

But now it was you. You who had been tricked. You who had been a fool, and accepted such a curse from a fae himself only to become what you feared most.

How would you ever be able to tell your family? Your father, aligning with Hybern to take out the fae-kind, preparing for war where he would not bat an eye slaughtering anything other than human. Your brother, who's last courted female left him, taking to Prythian herself instead. You knew where his loyalties lied, and they most certainly weren't with you.

This agony continued for days, not that your father caught on. He never paid you mind anyway, so keeping your inner turmoil from him wasn't very difficult. It was the restless nights, the nights that you'd awake in terror, and constant thoughts of what may happen to you here that plagued you the most.

You needed to find some way out.

A few weeks since being given your gift per se, you were headed down to the kitchen one morning after a particularly harrowing night to greet your favorite person on the Continent, the sweet smell of fresh biscuits bringing a seed of joy to your morning.

"Good morning Mrs. Julie," you stated. Mrs. Julie turned from her work station, greeting you with her signature smile -- only for it to turn into a frown moments later.

"My, dear child! Have you gotten no rest in days?" She asks, taking your cheeks in her hands. She turns your face side to side, and you let out a yawn in confirmation. She tsk tsk tsks, shaking her head and dropping her hands. She turns back to her station.

"What's been keeping you awake, hmm?" She asks. You take a seat on a stool near the end of her table, watching as she works on icing a tray of fruit tarts before her. You breathe deeply -- Julie is your favorite, most trusted person in the world. Since your mother died, she took you in of sorts, always caring for and giving you the love you lacked from your other family members. But this? This kind of secret... it just might be something that is too much for her to handle. Is she knew you were a faerie, she may see you differently. You didn't know if it was something you could stomach.

"Is it... a male, perhaps?" She asks. You scoff, nudging her with your arm. That wakes you right up.

"Oh please, Mrs. Julie -- if I had a lover, you'd be the first to know!" You say playfully. She chuckles, continuing to ice.

"Well, dearie I don't know what you tell me and what you decide to keep is all your business," she offers politely. You don't know how to respond, so you stay quiet. She sighs, setting down the icing bag and taking your hands in hers. Her soft eyes peer into yours and she leans close.

"Y/N, if there is something troubling you, you know you can always talk with me, right?" She says quietly. You nod wordlessly, tears prickling the back of your eyes. Her eyes search yours in silent question, and you loose a breath. You know she is trustworthy, no matter how she might look at you after this, you know you need to talk to someone about your situation.

"Maybe... maybe there is, something." You say. She nods, looking down at the table like she knew you'd say that.

"Well, how about after breakfast when I take my break, we can meet in the garden? Talk about it?" She offers. You nod, and she pulls you into a tight hug. You let a single tear slip free, swiping it away before letting go from her embrace.

"Alright then -- run along, child. You don't want to be late for breakfast, now."

✧･ﾟ: *

As it turns out -- you'd worried over nothing. Mrs. Julie had listened to every word you explained, only offering you her undivided attention and words of sorrow for what you endured. She also offered her promise that she would do whatever was needed to help you, especially when you explained how you'd gone into your father's study.

"Human, faerie, royal -- Hell, you could even be one of those pesky buzzards that ravish the crops in the springtime, and I would still love you just the same, my dear." Her words nearly brought you to tears, and that's when you knew you'd made the right choice in telling her.

That night as you laid down, your head felt clearer -- the grasp and acceptance on who and what you are that much stronger. You hoped that tonight, you would finally be able to enjoy the splendor of peaceful sleep, as your eyelids began to slide shut...

A willowy, chilled breeze slipped past your shoulders, and you instinctively tugged at your duvet, wrapping it around the exposed skin. Moments later, the breeze slid past again, tickling your neck and dragging past your nose. You scrunched it, flipping over on your pillow to face the other side and gripped your blankets tighter in your fist.

Then, the duvet was yanked from your bed altogether.

You shreiked, eyes flying open as you scrambled to a sitting position. You were far from the lamp that stood feet from your bed, but you didn't need it. Through the moonlight pooling in from your window, you were able to make out the immistakable shadow of a body, leaned against the frame. Your heart rate picked up, taking in the sharp-tipped wings draped behind him. You raised a hand on instinct; familiar flames of jade eliciting with the motion.

The man stands to his full height, taking a step toward the bed and you lunge forward, braced on your knees and one hand as the sparks in the other only grow.

"Don't you DARE take one more step!" You hiss, and he puts his hands up in defense, but continues to walk frward slowly.

"Listen, Princess, there's no need to get all-"

"I SAID, STOP." You fire a line of your power towards him, but to your dismay, he easily avoids it, sidestepping. It lands upon one of the paintings handing on your wall instead, cremating it to nothing but ash. He watches, turning to you and whistling lowly as he halts his movements.

"Wowwwww," He purrs. "Were you really going to... incinerate me?" His head turns to you, and you glare at him through the dark.

"I most certainly was." You hop from the bed, landing with lithe precision and slowly approach the intruder. Soft cobalt stones glimmer in the moonlight upon the male's shoulders, one on his chest as your eyes roam over him. It is easier to make out his defining features as you draw nearer, and...

Holy shit.

"Well, if you'd done that, you wouldn't be able to size me up like I'm your last meal; as you're doing now," he responds with a chuckle. You scoff, and fold your arms over your chest. A heat rises to your cheeks as you remember you are in only a nightgown, and this is, again, a stranger. In your home. The flecks of chartruese return to your irises, and the handsome, winged man puts is hands up once more.

"Hey, hey. I'm sorry to have frightened you. But, it's not like I could've walked through your front door, you know, and I had to come during the night-" You shake your head, eyes dulling in color a shade.

"Who are you?" You demand.

"Azriel." He bends dramatically at the waist, and you roll your eyes. "Pleased to finally meet you, Princess Y/N."

"Uh huh. Why are you in my bed chambers?" You ask. He sighs, taking a step forward and beginning to pace. You fold your arms over your chest, sensing a long explaination coming with this one.

"Well, actually I came to talk with you. About... you." He says quietly. You raise an eyebrow, perching on the end of the bed.

"What about me?" You ask, feigning ignorance. You weren't stupid -- you were a human girl, given the powers of fae. Why wouldn't another of their kind come crawling in here to ask questions?

"You're... you've been changed. You've been given this power that you aren't experienced with, and-"

"And what? You came here to take it back?" You defend. Azriel looks at you, brows hung low as he frowns at you, annoyed.

"No, I came to help you navigate it." He states, fingertips pressed together. You sigh, leaning back on your hands. The action causes the thin nightgown to ride up on your thighs, and you don't miss Azriel's line of sight trailing along the hem of your dress.

"What makes you so sure I want your help?" You clip. Azriel clears his throat, looking down at the floor, then to the window he came through.

"You probably don't, and I get that, alright?" He sighs. Something in your heart strains a bit, and you feel a bit bad for being so rude with him. But... then you remember he came in through your window in the middle of the night. Unannounced. "But I am sure you've heard of what is to happen in merely a few days between the humans and fae alike, the war and... and you may very well get caught up in it."

His face softens as he takes a seat next to you on the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight. It causes you to shift closer to him, and you nearly tumble right into him. Not that... you'd mind...

Focus.

"I... I've heard of the war..." You start. His hazel eyes gaze softly at you, and you continue. "When... when I was in the forest, and when I was, well, I don't know, when this "happened" to me," you gesture with your hands. "The male said I would be useful to him. But I don't know what he was on about. Or, why me? I don't understand. He kept saying like calls to like and he couldn't keep it himself -- whatever that means." A small smile graces Azriel's lips, and you realize how close in proximity you've scooted. You scootch back an inch, raising an eyebrow in question.

"What's so funny?" You ask. He turns fully to you, bending a knee to rest on the bed while his other leg remains draped over the side. The iridescent light of the moon is illuminating the planes of his face magnificently; the sharp curve of his jaw, the dark arch of his brow; those full, luscious lips...

"Allow me to show you." He holds out a hand, palm up, and you glance down at it. Dark, inky shadows curl around his arms and run down the tips of his fingers, swirling over his calloused skin. You can't help but lean close, so intrigued by his power so similar to yours.

"I've... I've seen these. Before, they were-"

"In the forest that day?" He finishes. Your eyes meet his, and the shadows extend, dancing up the soft skin of your forearms and twirling through the silky strands of your hair. You let out a small giggle as their featherlight touches retreat, slithering back to Azriel.

"You were there." You say quietly. He nods, a look of regret on his face.

"I'm sorry you have been put through... all of this." He says softly, his hand reaching to lightly cup your knee. Your eyebrows raise slightly at the touch, just a spark of what you felt that day in your father's office shooting through your veins at the contact. His eyes search yours, and you glance down at his hand, the burning inside only deepening when you notice the amount of scars atop it.

It doesn't matter who or what you are -- everyone has a past, you suppose. Your heart tugs on the fact that Azriel seems to have gone through quite a bit.

He notices your stare, and motions to move his hand back. You're quicker, grasping his fingers first, keeping his hand in place. The corner of his mouth tilts upward, and you can't help yourself from doing the same.

Ohh, what your father would do if he caught you like this.

Oh, what your father would. Do.

"Um," you say hastily, rising from the bed. "It is rather late -- and since you seem to be keeping tabs, you know I haven't been sleeping well," you say. Azriel stands, stepping close to you and you suck in a breath.

"Oh, I'll let you sleep Princess," he coos. "But we're pulling those documents out tomorrow night. We have to know what Hybern is planning, and if you want to save your father, and your people..." he saunters toward the window.

"How do you know that I..." You peek under the bed. Sure enough, the documents and the map are all there. Azriel chuckles.

"They like to call me a spymaster. A Shadowsinger," he says. You simply shrug.

"Okay. Whatever that means." He shakes his head, propping a boot on the windowsill and peering out.

"So... you'll be back tomorrow?" You ask wearily. Azriel's eyes meet yours once more, and he nods.

"I'll come earlier next time, if I can." You smile.

"Try not to rip my blankets off of me this time." You say with a chuckle. He shakes his head, ducking through the window and extending his enormous, night-black wings. You rush to the window, gazing out as you watch him disappear into the night.

✧･ﾟ: *

You awoke the next morning, practically floating out of bed and skipping from your dressing chambers to your vanity as you prepared for the day. You slept beautifully, you had to admit -- no nightmares, no tossing, or turning. You breathed a sigh of relief as you twirled in the prettiest yellow sundress you had, taking to the stairs for your usual routine.

"Well, someone is in a much better mood today," Mrs. Julie muses. You pluck a ripe raspberry from her fruit basket, popping it in her mouth as you twirl around the kitchen. With all the hustle and bustle from the other attendants before breakfast, your presence is hardly noticed.

"I slept well," you say. She shakes her head, tapping you on the nose.

"Mmm hmm," she humms. You talk for a few more moments, and then head upstairs for breakfast. You only feel a little guilty for not telling her about Azriel, but... it just seems too new. Too fresh. You decide to wait.

"Good morning, everyone!" You announce, approaching the table. Graysen's groggy morning stare meets yours, and your father sets down his mug to give you a once-over. Your brother only groans.

"What's with the Jolly Miss Sunshine, Y/N?" He grunts. You huff, taking a seat at the table as attendants bring out the food.

"Good morning." Your father responds, and you nod to him with a smile. There is not much warmth in those icey, dead eyes of his but... at least he's paying you mind today.

As you finish, Graysen is excusing himself to leave and you are about to do the same, readying to stand leave the room.

"Please, Y/N. Sit. We need to have a discussion." Your father's tone cuts through the silence of the room like a knife, and your hands begin to clam up as you sit back down at the table. He sets his utensils down on his plate, slowly draining the last of his coffee before looking at you, really looking you in the eyes for the first time in what feels like ages.

"Whatever is the-"

"I know you spend a great deal of time in the gardens." He cuts you off. You clamp your mouth shut, nodding at his statement. He nods with you, staring at you with an unreadable expression.

"I know you spend a great deal of time... tending, to these gardens, hmm?" He says. You nod again, growing impatient and wondering what angle he's working.

"I'm just curious." He pauses, eyes fixating on the wall behind you. "I'm actually, rather curious. Why the hedges... are weeks, weeks overgrown, if you are out there... every day... "tending" to them." He says it more like a statement, and honestly, it is. You hadn't actually cut a bush or a hedge in months, truly. You'd been more focused on doing what you wanted, and since talk of the war began and you'd been given fae powers-

"M-my gloves," you stammer. His eyes slice to yours from the spot they'd fixated on, a quizzical look on his face.

"My gloves. They're... ruined." You say. He nods slowly.

"You need new ones." He asks dryly. You nod, and he sighs airily.

"New gloves it is, then."

✧･ﾟ: *

That night, after bidding everyone goodnight, you made sure to keep your dayclothes on. You wouldn't want another duvet-nightgown-midnight situation happening again...

You don't wait long for Azriel to appear, coming through your window with the stealthiness of a trained feline and silence of a snake. Your breath catches from your seat in the middle of your bed -- his outfit similar today, all leather, but his tank top showed off his bulking arms and the long, black tattoos that ran laterally along them.

"Hi," You whispered. He strided over, kicking off his boots and climbing onto your bed. He offered you a whisper of a smile.

"Hi." He said back. You gestured to the items laid before you.

"I... I got everything out that I had," You say. He nods, looking at every piece of parchment.

"Thank you," he mumbles. You smile, and he moves to pick up the map first.

"So," he begins, clearing his throat. "How much do you know about fae?"

✧･ﾟ: *

You hadn't realized how late it had gotten, the only indication was the ache in your back from leaning over the pages. Your mind was blown, but you only wanted to hear more; whether that was to hear Azriel keep talking, or for information. You didn't mind. Both were favorable.

He'd explained more in-depth about the history of Prythian, the Courts, and the politics of it all. His explaination was a little different than the one you'd always been offered; his seemed more fair and just, whereas yours always seemed more geared toward the hatred of the fae. He also explained more about Hybern, and how the King you met was likely using you as a way to get the humans into his hands for the taking.

"So... he gifted me these powers, thinking it would aid him in the war as my father is working with him, to fight against the rest of the courts? Why would the King, or any humans, want to fight the fae who are against keeping humans as slaves -- it was Hybern who were pro-human demise," you say. Azriel shrugs.

"They've got it backwards," he reasons. "And, the King saw an opportunity with you, vulnerable, and alone, and he took it. This ensures if things go sideways with your father, he has collateral. I told you Princess; you're more involved than you know." You sigh, the realization hitting you like a tidal wave. You close your eyes and rub your temples as you feel a gentle hand rub soothing circles over your back.

"The King is going to kill the humans anyway." You conclude. You don't need to look, but you know Azriel nods. "He's just using my father to lure them to Hybern to do it."

"Which is why you need to convince your father to do the right thing first," he says. Your eyes widen, and you look to him, a sarcastic laugh bubbling from your throat. He brings his hand to your mouth, covering it and leaning rather close to you.

"Shhh," he hushes. "Someone will hear you."

Your eyes level with his hand, and then meet his as he slowly retracts. He's inches from your face now, and you can feel your insides buzzing with delight.

"I know it isn't ideal, and it might not be easy, but it's our last option here." His fingers slowly trace along the side of your arm. "Look, if it were up to me," he whispers. His eyes stare intensely at your lips. "I'd get you out of this wretched place; I'd bring you back with me, where you could..." he inches closer, and your heartbeat quickens. "...be who you are... and, not have to hide it from anyone..." You gaze up at him, and he moves closer, quickly pressing a kiss to your cheek. Your face heats, the skin searing with utter delight at the point of contact. More more more your power thrums.

"Go... with you?" You ask quietly. "To... Prythian?" He nods slightly, downcast eyes raking over your form as his pointer finger and thumb catch a strand of your hair, rolling it between them.

"Azriel... I can't just-"

"Why not, Princess?" The way he says it sends virescent flames shooting through your every vein, and you feel rediculous for thinking this way over a male you've just met so soon. His fingers drop the twirl of hair, knuckles grazing over your jaw affectionately instead. You lean into the touch.

"We've... only just met..." You trail off. He tilts your chin to look at him, a small smirk forming on his perfect mouth.

"Allow some time to get to know me, then." He states, voice low and gravelly. Gods, the way you'd lean in and press your mouth to his right now...

"Think about it?" He asks, eyes pleading. You nod, and he smiles, a small glimpse at his perfectly white teeth peeking through. You gasp.

"Aww... Azriel, you have a nice smile, don't you?" You coo. He shakes his head, a small blush creeping up his neck as he slips from your bed, shucking on his boots. You pad over to him, your hand playfully resting on his arm.

"Azzzz... all night, and I didn't even get to see it once?" You whine in humor. He rolls his eyes, grinning at your words.

"I guess you'll just have to say something that would make me really, really happy," he says. You feel a gentle pull in your chest, and you practically leap toward him. You chuckle, shoving the feeling out of the way.

"Mhm, nice try." You say with a wink. He mounts the windowsill, his hand gripping the top as he stares out. Ughhh his arm is the size of your head against the moonlight painted sky-

"Tomorrow then, Princess?" He says.

"Tomorrow, Shadowsinger." He grins, leaping from the opening and flying into the night.

✧･ﾟ: *

Your days continue in the same pattern; your father and brother ignoring you for the most part, you filling Mrs. Julie in on the little that you know about what's going on (and continuing to feel bad about keeping Azriel a secret from her), and sneaking the Spymaster in at night to pore over your fathers documents and study his war plans with Hybern.

Though no moves have been made yet, Azriel keeps telling you to be on your defenses. You know you'll have to talk with your father soon, and time is running out, but with his daily meetings, you find less-than-opportune moments in each day.

Its been about two weeks now since Azriel first came around, and your day had been the same as usual. Your father had no meetings today, but Graysen was preoccupying him, which meant of course, no discussion. Nonetheless, you still found yourself being summoned after dinner.

That's odd. He never called for you.

As you arrived to the main floor, the attendant led you down the hallway, and your footsteps slowed as you approached none other than...

Your father's study. Your heart sank.

"I don't know what else you want me to say, father, I didn't do it!" The hard slam of what sounded like a fist on a table had you jumping, and the attendant left you at the doorway. You leaned in close, straining to hear the conversation inside.

"Well, someone was fucking in here because all of our plans and deals made with the Queens are missing, Graysen." Your father chides. His tone is angry, rising in octave. "I told you how serious this situation is-"

"I know its fucking serious!" Your brother yells. You raise your eyebrows. You've never heard him yell at your father before, and all be damned if you even considered-

A sharp slap of skin on skin cracks through the air, immediate silence following it. Your hand covers your mouth, eyes wide in shock. You try very hard to listen as the conversation continues.

"Don't you ever raise your voice at me like that again, boy." You father says, lethally calm. In an instant, you hear heavy footsteps and dart out of the way, the door being thrown open and Graysen running through it. His eyes meet yours only for an instant, his face the expression of only a trained killer — you shudder. There’s no way you’d ever be able to be honest with him about what you were. He wouldn’t hesitate to take you out, just as he planned to do aligning with that vile King beyond the wall-

“Y/N. In my study. Now.”

You hastily move inside, trying to remain calm as your father rounds his desk, pressing his fingertips to the surface. You’d expect him to sit, but he makes no move. Instead, he peers down at the wood as you stand motionless in the center of the room.

“I’ll get right to the point.” He grunts, and you chew the inside of your cheek nervously. “Did you enter this study at all within the last few days?”

His eyes detach from the desk, meeting yours before you shake your head, and his lips press into a thin line.

“I’ll only repeat myself once. Did. You. Enter-“

“NO, father, would you truly believe I’d deceive you?” You cut in. His eyes blaze with anger, only a flare, and you realize you’ve hit your mark. Definitely no talking him into changing course tonight.

“I believe you’d do what you need to in order to protect someone you love, or so you think.” He spats. You scowl.

“What are you-“

“Oh don’t paint me a fool, Y/N. I’m not so blind to notice my daughter spending more time in her room than out in the fresh air, out in the garden where you’ve spend it your entire life.” He reaches to the shelf behind him, chucking a pair of new gloves at you. You catch them, and flare at him.

“So what? I haven’t been gardening-“

“Because you stay awake at night. Talking to some male who you’ve been sneaking into my home, MY PALACE, THINKING I WOULDN’T NOTICE-“

Rage fills your every vein, and you unlock the tiny vault in the back of your mind that you promised not to; the most precious secret you’d only let out when the time was right.

Oh, Azriel would be so proud of you for this. Finally defending yourself against what you know is wrong.

“IT WON’T BE YOURS FOR MUCH LONGER IF YOU KEEP TREATING ME THIS WAY.” You bellow. Your chest rises and falls, and his eyes pierce your soul the way he’s glaring at you.

A few agonizingly slow beats of silence pass, your father's fury only intensifying in his stare. You brace for the impact of his words, but when he opens his mouth, the only tone that comes out is lethally calm.

"What. The Hell did you just say to me, girl?" He asks. You gulp, fear beginning to creep into your mind.

Stand your ground, you can practically hear Azriel's voice in your mind. A shadow outside your father's window passes, only catching you off-guard for a moment before you meet his eyes again. Your hands ball into fists, and you take a steadying breath.

"This palace... won't be yours. For much longer." You say, hating how unconfident you sound. His anger turns to confusion, and you continue. You choose this moment, right now, to try and convince your father of a new strategy. He's always more malleable when angry, anyway.

"If you align yourself with that King... you're only damning yourself father, damning us all, and you know it-" You start, and he barks out a cruel laugh, shaking his head and looking down at his desk.

"Please -- don't pretend you know anything about this war-"

"I might not," You bite out. "But I do know how to help the humans. And aligning with a fae King who only intends to use you as a slave seems..." You trail off. He cocks an eyebrow.

"Go on, since you're so full of ideas today, go on. Let's hear how you really feel about my choices in protecting our lands." He smirks cruelly. You glare at him.

"It's idiotic father! It's rediculous, it's... it's not well-thought out, I'm trying to explain that I have something that could truly help you-"

"I think I've heard enough of your play-pretend theories for today. This kingdom is mine, and anyone who intends to take it will have to kill me for it." As if on cue, a group of your father's knights from his finest cavalry storms the room, grabbing your arms and halting you to your position. You flail your arms wildly, kicking beneath the thin fabric of your skirts.

"Get the Hell off me! Father what are you-"

"I don't know how you managed to get in here, or what you thought you were going to do with whatever you found," he snarls, drawing closer to you. "But when I find out who you sent to do your dirty work and what exactly you stole; believe me, no debt goes unpaid, little girl." You bare your teeth, pupils flaring in rage against the cruel King before you. He staggers back a step, looking you up and down in slight horror.

"Take her down to the service cellars." He commands, and metal scrapes against its own as the soldiers hoist you up and lead you from the room. Through your thrashing and hollering, you hear one last order from your father before the heavy doors swing shut.

"Do NOT let her out!"

✧･ﾟ: *

You can't help but pace once more, only this time, you're in the dirty, dank cellar. The dirt walls feel suffocating around you -- the only source of light are the torches on the walls and a small, barred window on the wall near the ceiling. Night has fallen, and you continue to walk back and forth, thinking hard about everything that you read, everything your father said to you.

He knew you'd been sneaking someone in. Did he know it was a fae male? Probably not, or else Azriel would surely be dead by now. Although perhaps this was part of a bigger scheme, to continue to draw the Shadowsinger practically to his doorstep every night, while he lay in wait...

Stop. You shook your head, not wanting to think of the possibility of anything happening to Azriel.

Azriel.

Your thoughts are flooded with images of his mossy, hazel eyes peering into yours in the moonlight. The way his tan skin looked, decorated with those swirling tattoos all over his massive biceps. His silky black hair, how it would feel to run your hands through it as he finally pulled you in close for a kiss-

STOP. There are more imoportant matters at hand right now. And... you're in a cell. You had to find some way out.

What was it, that got your father so angry to throw you down here in the first place? To lock you up for Gods know how long? Was it your backtalking? Surely not -- though Graysen had done it, and earned himself a slap to the face. Was it... your "scheming"? He practically called that child's play.

Although he really didn't like when you talked about his crown not being his after the war.

Your mind went back to the other night -- you and Azriel sat on your bed, poring over the pages you'd taken and you had picked up Graysen's birth certificate. When you looked closer at it, really close; it turns out, he's not first in line for your father's crown like everyone believed him to be.

You are.

The revelation had you feeling sick, not that you even wanted to rule such a kingdom on your own, and you couldn't believe you and your brother had not shared the cruel father you were forced to grow up with. Even worse -- that man was your true father, and you hoped to be nothing like him. Did Graysen know? Surely not. Did your father?

He had to. That would explain his outburst from earlier.

Gods, how you wished Azriel were here. The longer your feet create a path in the dirt, the more and more you think about his offer to bring you with him to his own home -- how lovely it would be to escape this Hellhole, this life of nothing in general; to see him whenever you like, and never live in fear of being with him.

You're pulled from your thoughts when you hear a commotion from down the hallway, a clammoring of what sounded like heavy metals and rustling from down the corridor. You jump toward the bars of your enclosure, sticking a hand through and calling out.

"Please! Someone please!" You call. Tendrils of green seep from beneath your palms, and you place them against the bars; only to fly back a moment later in pain. The planes of your hands feel as though they've been burnt off as red-hot searing spikes shoot through your skin. You shakily stare at them, the red skin prickling with the injury. Tears line your waterline, and you fight to reign them in. Through your pain-induced haze, you hear the commotion continue -- shouting and metal colliding down the corridor.

Until it all goes quiet. You make to stand, noticing thte burning in your palms already beginning to lessen with each passing minute. Approaching the barred entrance wearily, you look out, but see nothing except empty, black, nothingness. You let out a sigh of defeat, and turn to make way back into your prison.

The soft jangling of keys turns your attention back to the gate, and your eyes widen as the door swings open.

"Miss Julie?" You whisper shout. She holds a finger to her lips, motioning you forward.

"Come child -- be hushed, there are guards still lingering," she says. You stare at her incredulously as she pulls you in for an embrace, and when she releases you, her eyes are lined with tears.

"I can't believe he'd truly lock you away," She mutters, and you shake your head.

"Miss Julie, I can't thank you enough for coming to get me out." You whisper, as she takes your hand and begins leading you toward the service stairs.

"Oh, don't thank me dear; you can thank that handsome male of yours, do tell me his name?" She asks, smirking sidelong at you. You shoot her an incredulous look.

"What are you talking abou-"

"Pshhh, please," She tutts. "You could've just told me you had a lover, Y/N. A handsome one, at that." She giggles. Your cheeks burn red.

"Miss Julie, I don't know who you're-"

"Y/N," Azriel pants breathlessly, and you whip around to watch as he appears on the other side of the kitchen. You gasp, quickly sidestepping the soldiers on the floor of the room to get to him. You paw at his chest, his jacket, even caressing his face.

"Azriel its-" He chuckles, still fighting to catch his breath.

"Yes, its really me, Princess." He says. You can't help the tears that begin to spill over, his hands braced on his knees as he works to stand up straight. You don't hesitate to jump into his arms once he's at his full height; and he lets out a sigh of relief as he holds you tight against him.

"Y/N, are you alright?" He asks, setting you down gently. When your feet hit the dirt, you turn your gaze to his, nodding slightly as tears continue to fall. You can't help but notice the blood staining his left ear and trailing down his jaw; splatters covering the leathers he's wearing. You pull back to give him a once-over, but he takes your hands in his and pulls you flush against him once more, his right hand cradling the back of your head to his chest as the other wraps around your waist.

"I'm so sorry... I came as soon as I could." You look up at him, and he looks down to you with sorrow in his eyes. You can't help but smile at him, thanking the Gods for sending the one person you needed right now. You notice his eyes looking beyond you, and you pull back to turn to Miss Julie once more.

"So... you've... met, huh?" Miss Julie giggles, and Azriel nods.

"Unfortunate circumstances, but... I'm glad he appeared when he did, or those fools would've been on me in an instant." She gestures to the countless soldiers on the floor. You can only look between the two of them.

"Azriel, how did you -- nevermind." You say, shaking your head. He raises an eyebrow, dipping low so his face is closer to yours. You grin wildly at the closeness, never feeling happier or more relieved in your life. Miss Julie makes a point to silently walk toward the stairs and out of sight of the two of you.

"Of course you'd know, Spymaster." He grins, and you let out a small laugh. His grin widens into a full on smile, and his arm around your waist tightens as he pulls you onto your tippy-toes to finally press his lips to yours. You seem to melt into him, feeling like jelly in his hands. His other hand caresses your jaw, and that lovely, familiar feeling inside of your chest burns brighter and brighter-

"Agh-" You pull back, putting your hand over your heart as you feel the tightness of a golden lasso clenching around it. You stare wildly at Azriel, and his eyes widen.

"Y/N you're... do you feel it?" He asks, his hand over yours tenderly. You look down, and warmth floods your veins at the realization of what is happening. You mentally give the rope a pull, and Azriel's eyes flick back up towards yours. He smiles again, and you slide your hand along his jaw, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

"I'm just glad to finally see you smile, Shadowsinger." He kisses you with all the passion he has, hands roaming over your waist and playfully dipping lower to cup your ass in your large hands. You let out an involuntary groan, and he releases you, only to peer down at you with pure love and adoration.

The moment ends all too short, as a sharp cry rings out from your left. Moments later, you spot a crumpled mass on the floor at the bottom of the staircase.

"Miss Julie!" You shout, thundering over to her, eyes wide in horror as she clutches her side in agony. Two metal-clad knights descend the stairs, swords drawn as Azriel is at your side in an instant.

"Get behind me-" His arm his protectively in front of you, blue siphon ablaze as he yanks a blade from its sheath. All you want to do is fall to your knees and fix this; fix it all, save Miss Julie.

But you can't. Rage takes over your mind, more explosive than you've ever felt. More explosive than in the study. More explosive than when your father locked you in a cage. More explosive-

"NOT A CHANCE." Azriel has the good intention to get out of your way as you rear back, unleashing your pure, unfiltered power upon the soldier nearest you. It slamas into him in an instant, throwing him to the ground and paralyzing him all too quickly. Azriel takes his time, fighting with the other armed guard before plowing him to the floor, wings expertly tucked behind him to avoid taking any of the force.

Green flares erupt around you, growing in size with each passing minute. You look around, blinking and trying to clear your thoughts. You wanted to kill. Your father. His armies. That fae King for doing this to you. All of them should pay-

"Y/N." Azriel's sharp voice cuts through your thoughts like a knife, and you turn your attention to him. Miss Julie coughs, and you both rush to her.

"Y/N, we don't have a lot of time..."

"Can you fix this?" You ask, another tear streaming down your face as Miss Julie's eyes begin to darken. Azriel shakes his head gravely, and you heave before letting out a scream, shaking the walls and causing pans to hit the floor with the force. Miss Julie only takes your cheek in her hand softly.

"My sweet child," she whispers. You sob, tears falling onto her smock and staining it. "Don't cry-"

"Miss Julie you can't leave me!" You rasp, coughing as smoke begins to filter through the air. She gives you a small smile as her breathing begins to slow.

"I'll never leave you, my dear." She says. "But... you shouldn't leave him." Her eyes only widen an inch, and you glance to Azriel. You cry harder when you notice a tear falling from his face as well. He slips a hand over her heart, and she grasps it, smiling fondly.

"He is good, Y/N. He is a good... a good male..." she drifts off. You grit yoru teeth, grabbing her shoulders and throwing yourself onto her in a tight embrace. You continue to cry, and you feel Azriel's hand stroking your back comfortingly as he did those nights ago. You stay there for a few more minutes, the smoke burning your eyes as he tries his best to fan it away with his wings.

"Y/N... we have to go..." he says. You sniffle, allowing him to help you up as you press one last kiss to her cheek. He pulls you out the side door, flames nearing the spot you were just sitting. He continues to pull, hand in hand, through the chilly night air toward the thick forest at the back of your estate.

After a few long minutes of silence, he speaks first.

"Listen Princess... I know you have a kingdom here that you could have, but,"

"Take me with you." He stops, wide eyes blinking at you in shock.

"Are you sure?" He asks quietly. You look to him, nodding in confirmation and squeezing his hand tighter.

"Everything she said was right Azriel; I can't be who I am here, and I know you're a good male. You're..." you choke back another sob, and he slows his pace to wipe away a stray tear on your cheek. "You're a good male. I want to be somewhere I know I'll be safe. I know if I'm with you, I'm in good hands." He looks like he could fall to his knees at your words, and the corner of your lips tilts upward in a sad smile, shadows of smoke and emerald curling around the two of you.

Like calls to like, that's what they always say, right?

"Then allow me to show you the way to your new palace, Princess."

✧･ﾟ: *

77 notes · View notes

lunarw0rks · 8 months

Note

professor!price 🫦…you gotta write something about this now that you’ve mentioned it omg I’m a sucker for prof!price gosh

anyway I love your work/writings !! they’re freaking amazing💆🏻‍♀️

a/n: this was supposed to be a full fic, but i physically could not finish it for months. but rather than deleting all this work entirely, i decided i would release what i had! just to give you guys something. i hope these mere crumbs are sufficient as a kind of soft launch back into this blog...

─── ꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ PRICE MASTERLIST ꒦꒷

PROFESSOR!PRICE

synopsis: you catch the eye of your supportive, but firm literature professor. warning(s): SFW, BUT 18+ MDNI, professor/student dynamics, hint of dom!price, fem!reader, no use of y/n, not edited

Just your luck, being late on the first day of the semester.

It truly wasn't your fault. Your schedule was in shambles, and you had the administration to thank for that. Not to mention, your literature course was in an entirely different building; one you had yet to step foot in earlier in the year.

It was like starting kindergarten; eyes wide with nerves, knees trembling, searching for the correct classroom with a crumbled schedule in your hands.

Only today, those hands were grown and holding your phone screen, examining the digital schedule you'd been sent after the ordeal at the scheduling office. Still, that same troubled look in your eyes, no matter how far you'd advanced into adulthood.

But it wasn't a colorful large print displaying the three-digit class number like it had been when you were small.

It was a bland monospace font displaying your next stop;

┃ Classic Literature - Prof. John Price, Rm 1026

You were late by a few minutes, not an entirely catastrophic start to your first day, was it?

Internally, you were crossing your fingers that this professor wouldn’t be a complete hardass. That would be the taunting cherry on top of an already stressful mid-morning.

From behind the door, you could hear the gentle drone of what you assumed to be the professor's voice.

Gruff and sophisticated — that much you could tell before walking in.

"The syllabus is available—" his introductory speech interrupted when you opened the door slowly, causing an echo through the classroom when the hinges ground. His eyes met yours, staying on you as you shuffled along, for too long.

He broke himself out quickly, continuing on, "—available online or on the table beside the door. Paper or digital, it's your decision. Study it, learn it, and follow it."

Your new professor is intensely intimidating, despite not being outwardly threatening. Perhaps it was his aplomb when he spoke to the class, or maybe it was the gaze bordering on a glare he gave you.

Following, you made even more of an effort to blend in with the rest of the class. To sink lower into your seat, keep any and all attention on him, as if to undo the unfortunate first impression.

It was hard to focus, and not because of his teaching.

The following week, you made your best attempts to keep up. He wasn't assigning too much work or especially rude to the students. His gentle intimidation made it troublesome, despite not speaking one word to you yet.

There you were again.

Watching intently as he spoke in that soothing voice. White button down, or sometimes gray, exposing just a bit of his chest. Wispy dirty blonde hairs, just barely poking through, more so when he'd lean down to change his presentation slides.

Shit. He'd announced a test you had spaced completely, when you were too occupied with your other courses.

He reaches into a folder and holds it up. "This assessment is on paper. I want you all to do your very best; think back to the material we read in Chapter twenty-three."

23? What material? You were completely fucked, with not even a half-chance at earning a grade passing on this. You hear the rustling of paper, and then see all your seatmates passing the packets. With a widened expression, you shuffle the stack to the next person over, finally taking a gander at the paper below you.

Minutes passed, spent either chewing on your pencil or doing your best at bullshitting answer; analyzing a literature piece you hadn’t read a word of. He knew it, too. A sharp gaze whenever you’d happen to look up, jolting you back into fake focus.

This was bad, and you were running out of ways to define the feeling.

You weren’t even sure fucked would suffice.

Twenty-three percent — etched on the top of the exam. Surely, the only reason there was any sum at all was because you spelled your name correctly and scribbled the date.

It might as well have been a zero.

Beside the humiliating score, SEE ME was bolded in red ink, as if he’d murdered a sharpie to emphasize his disappointment. Fortunately, you snagged the graded paper exams from a box outside the room, saving you the heat of looking into his eyes.

Now, the real nail-bitter was going in to see him after hours. By no means was he an intimidator, nor callous, but he had power. The authority to tarnish your transcript forever. Whether he would or wouldn’t isn’t important — that scenario is still startling.

At least you had yourself to thank for not being careless in class; those students that huff or mutter curses when addressed directly. He always noticed their snide attitudes, whether they knew it or not.

But you weren’t them; you were attentive and reserved during his lectures, no matter how under stimulating their contents were. Though, the professor had a way of making anything feel profound or educative.

That’s what you told yourself when you knocked on the door. After hours, nothing but a dim light through the frosted glass next to the door. “Come in.” His gruff voice muffled back.

The cold metal fo the doorknob did little to soothe your nerves. Neither did the sight of him — and only him. No other students here to sort out a grade? Not a slacker begging for extra credit? A fellow teacher making boring small talk?

None of the above.

It's only you shuffling inside awkwardly and him at his desk. A small reading lamp illuminated only his workspace and not much more, leaving the rest of the lecture hall pitch black. He's writing fast with a fancy pen, one that's surely worth a pretty penny. When you've failed to make the first move, he glances up with a scowl.

Price curls his finger into a 'come here' motion, earning a gulp from you. You'd swear that bricks were tied to your ankles, and it was any wonder you didn't stumble the closer you got.

As if failing an exam wasn't humiliating enough; now you were alone with the stern professor behind the mark.

You trekked closer to the large desk, peering at the copy of your failed exam he brought forward. As if you needed another reminder. He brought out a felt tip pen as red as blood.

“Want you to be honest with me, save us the grief. Did you study for this exam?” Price asked, followed by an stone expression.

For a moment, you thought about lying. Muttering some pathetic yes and hoping for the best. Until you kept looking at him, how his stillness made you gulp and rethink.

“No, sir.” You sigh, suddenly having a parched throat.

For a moment, he went still — as firm as the glances he always through your way. When you were tempted to wave a hand in his face, he composed himself again, straightening and adjusting himself in his desk chair.

As if ignoring you, he resumed grading the assignments neatly stacked in front of him. Every glide of the crimson tip against the milky paper struck a nerve in you. You leaned on a hip in impatience, clearing your throat softly to regain his attention. After all — he was the one who called you here, wasn’t he? And now he’s treating you like you’ve faded out of existence.

You balled your fists, digging your nails into your palms to gather courage.

“Is there something I can do about this score? Or have you called me in here for no reason? Sir?” You’ll be the first to admit that the words came out brattier than intended.

But, to you, they were justified. And you most definitely didn’t want to spend the rest of the semester despising one of your professors.

His head raised slowly, placing the pen down at a slow speed. Leaning back with his legs spread, his hand dropped to his inner thigh. “Adding Sir won’t make this any easier on me you, darling.”

You got the attention you wanted. But not in the way you expected. At all.

As if breaking a record for speed, you were flush and shifting around awkwardly, unable to spit out a rebuttal. Who could? Especially when your opponent had the power to frame an expulsion, or flunk you purposefully. However, Professor Price wasn’t the malicious type — and that made this so much worse.

It was all genuine. Those glances, the stern tone, his want — no, need — to want better for you. Even if the methods were the definition of questionable.

“Don’t act meek around me. What is it you’re trying to say?” He inquired nonchalantly, blinking as he waited patiently for you to catch your breath. But you never did; you remained utterly stunned.

After what seemed like forever, but was really only a few seconds, John realized that this meet was going nowhere. Clearly, being direct was the only way to get through to someone as clueless as you.

His tone is firmer whilst assuming a lower volume — as if afraid someone would hear. But he wasn't. If there was the slightest chance of getting caught, he would've directed you to an extra credit sheet and sent you on your way.

Price curled his fingers. "C'mere."

⊹。°˖➴ SECOND NOTE: should i release more of my forgotten WIPs? | divider cred. - cafekitsune ༉‧₊˚.

#mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #mw2 fanfic #task force 141 x reader #141 headcanons #captain john price #john price #john price headcanons #price headcanons #captain price headcanons #captain price x you #captain price x reader #captain price #price mw2 #price x reader #price cod

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helaelaemond · 1 year

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Billy Washington idea: Soft-ish Billy being upset after getting himself into trouble again. Like, he just can't stop being a flop even when he tries to. Reader comforts him in the best and smuttiest way she can. Maybe he shows up unexpectedly at her place because he needs someone, even though he won't admit it? Idk, delinquent flop men get me going sometimes.

Title: Only worth living if somebody is loving you - part of the It's All For You series but can be read as standalone

Pairing: Billy Washington x female reader

Summary: Billy has been fired and feels worthless. But you love him; he's everything to you. So you show him how much worth he has. Established relationship, handjob, fingering, pet names, mild daddy kink, mild dirty talk.

Word count: 3.1k

Rating: E

Notes: thank you so much for the prompt! This was a lot of fun to write when I am supposed to be working!

You're not meant to have your phone on at work, but you get away with it where you can. You're in the basement kitchen today, anyway, so no customers will see. Behind the shoddy table set up as a makeshift barista bar, you fill tray after tray of tea and coffee - Blue Lady, Darjeeling, Sumatran, Colombian, jasmine, they all roll into one in the end. So feeling your phone vibrate in your apron pocket is a delightful distraction.

You ignore the tickets coming through behind you, and get one of the dish boys to cover you. "What? I need a fag," you reply over your shoulder when he protests. You smile giddily at your phone and swipe to answer. "Hey, Billy."

He doesn't sound happy on the other end. "Hey."

You slink into the alley and crouch close to the floor, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "What's up?"

"You got a sec?"

There's something in his voice that worries you. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. Tell me."

He sighs. You hear him blare his horn as he drives, followed by a string of profanities. "Fucking wanker! Twat!"

You take a long drag. "You on a run?" He's been a delivery driver for a delivery service for a few months now. It's shitty money and shitty conditions, but it's all he could get after being fired from his last job. Hitting a customer. The customer swung for him first, but it was Billy who landed the first successful punch.

"No. Driving home."

"Oh?"

"Don't fucking start."

You force yourself to smile against your phone. Your voice is soft. "Hey. I'm not starting anything. You called me."

He sighs again. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I can't... I can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?"

"They sacked me."

"Why?" you ask, closing your eyes and wincing.

Billy's voice is clipped. "Didn't meet their targets."

"Those targets are bullshit," you snap defensively. Everything he's told you about his job has you seeing red - they take advantage and bleed him dry. "You don't need that place."

"I need the pay check."

"We'll figure it out. Where you going now?"

He pauses. You hear his indicator, and the rev of his ancient car engine as he moves between gears. "Your parent still away?"

You watch as the smoke you blow out rises up the alley and into the sky. "Yeah. Key's in the plant pot. I finish in an hour. Make yourself at home."

Billy's car is parked lazily on your street, and you feel butterflies in your stomach. It's been a few years since you got together, but adrenaline still runs through you at the mere thought of being near him. He's got you addicted, flaws and all. It made you want to run all the way home after your shift ended, but you don't think you quite have the stamina for a three-mile sprint.

"Hey, Billy," you call as you let yourself into the home you still share with your parents. London prices are impossible - you'll probably live with them until they die

He grunts in response, and you follow the noise into the living room. He's sat on the sofa facing away from you, head bent, and you go to him. You drop your bag and kick off your shoes and wrap your arms around him from behind. "Hey, daddy."

He winces. "Don't call me that."

"Why not?" you whisper against his ear. "You usually like it."

Billy pulls out of your arms and shifts on the sofa. "Yeah, well, I don't right now."

"Sorry." You go to the kitchen and make two cups of tea - milk and sugar for you, no sugar for him. None of the loose-leaf shit you serve at work, just proper Yorkshire bags. He follows you quietly, and thanks you when you hand him his. "How are you feeling?"

He shrugs, still avoiding your gaze.

"Billy." Your voice is soft. The hard pain in his face hurts to see.

He licks his lips and takes a sip. It's scalding, and he hisses quietly. You put your cup down to cool, and go to him. Your hands find their place on his narrow hips, and you look up at him. He's so tall; it makes you feel so safe. His hair is getting long, and it falls over his eyes.

After a long moment, he finally meets your gaze. "I really tried with this one."

You nod. "I know."

"I promise."

"I know."

"Why are you with me?" he asks softly. When he tries to pull away, you hold him close. "I'm not... God, you deserve better than this."

"No, Billy, no." One hand runs to the small of his back and the other finds his cheek to guide his gaze back to you. "You're worth so much more than a shitty job."

"I'm a failure."

"No, you're not," you soothe. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Don't let some stupid job define you."

"You deserve so much more than me."

You reach up on your toes and kiss his lips firmly. He meets your kiss with a quiet sigh. "You're all I've ever wanted and needed. Don't worry about the job."

"I'm not worthy of you."

Taking his hand, you lead him back to the living room. You both bring your cups with you and set them on the coffee table. You push him to sit on the sofa, and when you straddle him, it's satisfying how naturally his grasp finds your backside. But still, he drops his head to your shoulder in defeat. You stroke his hair and gently massage his scalp, just as he likes.

"You want me to tell you how much I love you?" you murmur.

He swallows thickly. He shakes his head.

"You want me to show you? You want me to help you forget everything else?"

He doesn't react, except to pull you tighter. You smile slightly, and kiss his hair. Sex is something that brings you closer than anything else. It's the place where Billy feels most in control, where he can take care of you and call the shots and do everything to make you feel good. You accidentally called him daddy once when he was fucking you, and that was the day your dynamic changed. He leaned into the nickname proudly, and he wears it like a secret badge of honour. He does everything to earn it, too. He takes care of you, dominates you like you need. It's the only time when he feels like a real man. He loves you so much, he forgets what hating himself feels like.

The world is cruel to him, but you never are. You're just obsessed with him.

"You want me to take care of you?" you whisper against his ear. Billy buries his face against your chest, and gently bites through your shirt. It smells of coffee and tea and kitchen grease. He nods again.

"Alright. I can do that." You tilt up his chin and kiss him. This time, it's deeper. When you part your lips, he mirrors you and welcomes your tongue into his mouth. Pulling back for a moment, you look into his piercing blue eyes. "Can you do something for me?"

He nods.

You smile softly. "Can you undo my shirt for me, please?"

Billy's eyes are wide, and he nods again. Long fingers complete the task, and your white work shirt falls open. Underneath is a practical bra, white and cotton and far from sexy. Still, just the sensation of him opening your shirt makes your nipples hard, and that's enough for him. "Thank you," you say, affection in your voice. "Can you touch me?"

He's putty in your hands for once. This is new territory for you, being so in control. Usually, he's the one gently telling you what to do, his voice sugar and honey as his requests and commands turn from this kind of sweetness into depravity. You're trying to emulate him now, to give him what he might need.

He runs his knuckles over your breasts through the fabric, up and down he goes, catching your hard nipples each time. Half the time you're with him, it feels like the first time. Not in a bad way, just the excitement and anticipation, and how much you fucking need him. Just this touch has you feeling your heartbeat in your cunt.

"Lean back, baby," you tell him. You haven't called him that before. It's the pet name he calls you when he's fucking you to the point of tears, and so you're unsure. He shakes his head slightly. "Lean back, Billy." That, he obeys, and that makes you smile. "Good. Can you take off your shirt for me, too?"

Keeping his eyes on you, he takes off his black tshirt and tosses it aside. You grab it, though, and press it against your nose to catch his scent. "Mmph. I love your smell."

"Yeah?" His expression is softening slowly over time. The tension in his eyebrows is smoothing out.

"Yeah, I do." You shrug out of your open shirt. As you unclasp your bra, you shift to straddle one of his thighs instead of both, and grind slightly. The friction feels so good. When you're good for him, daddy sometimes lets you ride his leg until you come. The thought makes you shiver. "I love everything about you."

"I..." As you throw aside your bra, Billy runs his hands up your sides and back down to your hips. His eyes dart between your face and your breasts. "I don't deserve you."

In his grey joggers, you see his familiar swell. It's impossible to resist reaching for it and pressing the flat of your hand to him. "You deserve me every single day, Billy. You make me feel... oh, God. You make me feel divine."

His hands go back to your breasts, and elegant fingers gently tease your nipples in perfect tandem. Under your hand, you feel his cock twitch. He loves your breasts. Then, he mirrors your action, except his hand tugs down your zipper and he presses his fingers against you over your underwear. A slight lift of your hips, and his hand is trapped between you and his thigh.

"No," you murmur with a smile. "I want to focus on taking care of you."

"You are," he replies. "It makes me feel good to take care of you, too."

He's rewarded with a kiss to his pretty lips, and this time his tongue finds yours first. The pressure of it makes you shiver again. You grind harder against his hand, whilst your own hand palms him through the soft material.

"God." He drops against the back of the sofa again and looks up at you. "Promise you love me."

You take the hand between your legs to your mouth. As you suck his fingers, you look into his eyes. You swirl your tongue between them, over them, and your other hand reaches into his trousers. You fumble with the band of his boxers, and trap his cock under it. You touch the red tip and moan around his digits.

"I fucking love your cock," you moan as you pull his fingers from your mouth.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I can't get enough of it, not ever."

"What do you do when we're apart?" he asks, encouraging you. Suddenly, he grabs you and pulls you to sit next to him on the sofa. His confidence is returning.

"I... I watch that video you made for me a few months ago."

Billy watches your face and bites his lip. "Take off your clothes," he murmurs softly. You obey. "What video?"

With his gentle dominance coming back, your heart is racing. He lifts his hips to help you push down his trousers and underwear, and you begin a steady rhythm with your hand on his cock. "The one where you're alone on your bed."

"Spread your legs for me, baby."

Your breath catches in your throat. Again, you obey. He runs his palm up and down the inside of your thigh, and he pulls it over his leg. The intimacy of feeling your legs rest together makes your chest flush. Billy's hand slides up the soft skin of your inner thigh, and he watches your face. He has more control over his expression as you stroke him than you do when his fingers run up and down the outside of your pussy.

"What was I doing in the video?" he asks softly.

Moaning. Writhing. Begging. "Touching yourself."

"You never sent me a video back."

You laugh quietly. It turns swiftly to a moan when Billy's middle and ring fingers glide between your folds lazily. "I... I tried."

"Did you?"

As two digits press at your entrance, your hand on his cock stills. The pressure is delicious, a little demanding, a little possessive. He touches you like he owns you. He does own you. "Yeah. But... oh, shit, that's nice. But when I watched it back, I... mmph, Billy- it wasn't quite right."

"Impossible," he whispers. He leans over to kiss your neck just as his fingers slip inside. "Everything about you is perfect."

"You're blind."

He bites your ear and then blows into it. "I'm a man in love, that's all."

"Love," you breathe. Finally, you find the strength to stroke him again, although his fingers moving inside of you are driving you to distraction. "There aren't enough words to tell you how I feel about you."

"Mmm?"

"I'm fucking obsessed." He rewards you with his thumb pressing against the side of your clit. He gently rubs up and down, careful not to overstimulate you. "Shit, just like that, please-"

"I don't deserve you." But he's smiling this time. "My pretty girl."

When he says things like that, you utterly melt. And then, it's you who's putty again, and Billy who's in control. "Kiss me?"

"Come here, baby."

You whimper needily when he pulls out his hand. But he grabs your hand, and you climb back into his lap. His trousers and underwear are still on his thighs. Perhaps if he fucks you good enough, you'll leave your smell on them.

"You want me inside you?"

You nod and clutch his shoulders. "Please."

"Please, what?"

It's not even a question. It's am automatic response now. "Please, daddy."

"Oh, that's my good girl."

As you cling onto him, Billy runs his cock through your folds, pressing the head against your clit. When you feel his bluntness against your entrance, you whine softly. "Please. I need you so bad. Please."

"You love me?"

You nod, and press a feverish kiss to his forehead. "I love you so much."

As he presses inside you, your mouth drops open in a silent moan. He's perfect for you, not big enough to hurt, not small enough to frustrate. He doesn't stretch, he fills. He's everything to you. You grind against him and feel the delicious slip of him inside and out. When you rock against his hard pubic bone, he praises you. "Good girl, taking what you need. I'm so proud of you."

It makes you bite your lip. You rock in a familiar rhythm that suits you both. His kisses are on your chest and your shoulders, hot and wet. Over the pulse in your neck, he sucks gently. He'd never leave a mark on you that would embarrass you for other people to see. But when his lips find your breasts again, he gives you flowers of purple and red.

"Fuck!" you whine. "You're perfect, you're so perfect."

He crushes his mouth against yours. Strong arms wrap around your back and then all of a sudden he flips you onto the sofa and shoves your legs up. They press together and you feel the ache down the back of them, but it's nothing compared to the ache in your cunt now he's left you empty. It's only for a moment, though. He slams back inside you, and the change in angle threatens to overwhelm you. Like this, his every pound has the tension between your legs stimulated.

"Daddy!" you moan. "Please, let me see you, please, please-!"

The hand that grips your ankles loosens enough to let one leg drop down. Now you can see him, his slight grin, the fire in his eyes. He looks at you like a man obsessed, like you're the only thing in the world that matters.

"That's it, baby," he pants. His hair sticks to his sweaty forehead. His tight balls slap against you with every thust, making you whimper. "You're taking me so beautifully. Well done, my sweet girl."

"I'm so close!"

"Tell me what you need." He holds your elevated leg up by his shoulder, and turns his head to kiss your ankle. But his eyes never leave yours.

"Your h- Jesus! Hand! Please! Please!"

"Well done," he says again between laboured breaths. "You're so good at telling me what you need. Like this?"

While his hand presses firmly against your pelvis, his thumb finds its way back to your clit. The circles he runs are harder and faster now.

"Can I come?" you beg.

"Of course, baby. Whenever you need."

'Thank you, daddy!"

He's so good to you. He makes sure you orgasm first. Billy pounds you through your explosive completion that makes your whole body jerk, and only when your guttural screams have subsided does he let himself go. You got the coil so he can have you properly. He clings to the thigh against his chest as he comes, spending deep inside you. The cry of your name is deep and ragged. It sends aftershocks rushing through you.

He collapses on you, and you both pant. Only when his cock begins to soften does he pull out of you, but beyond that, neither of you move much. His face is buried in your neck, and your hand is buried in his hair.

After a while, you feel lips press softly against your throat.

"You okay?" you whisper.

"Mmm."

"I wanted to be the one to take care of you." You laugh softly.

He kisses your skin again. "You always take care of me." His voice is nothing more than a mumble.

The laughter fades on your lips. "I always will. I love you so much."

"You make life worth living."

Your arms tighten around him. "Your life is so precious, Billy. We'll find a way to make it better. I promise."

"I love you."

#billy washington x reader #billy washington x you #ewan mitchell #billy washington x oc #billy washington #billy multi #ask #anon #sorry if hes not pathetic enough for you!!!!!!!!! my vision of him has evolved a lot #hes still in a flop era though #mine

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