theyungihven · 2 days ago
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HEAVEN AND BACK ⁕ yunho
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KINKTOBER EVENT
☆ pairing: robber yunho x female reader
⁂ KINKS : free use, somnophilia, shibari
☆ genre: mystery, fantasy, dark romance, smut
☆ warnings: use of bedsheet as a rope, roleplay, fingering, v! penetration, reader is naked under the sheets
☆ word count: idk bruh
☆ synopsis : you've always dreamt of being used as an object of personal use by an attractive thief who broke into your house and one fine day it all comes true.
The winds blows the curtains as the rain patters against the bedroom window. He enters through the window, water dripping off him onto the floor.
You lay peacefully on the mattress, tucked under the comforter. He slowly begins to approach you, his footsteps silent. He stands there for a moment, watching you sleep peacefully on the bed.
You shift around, fixing my position so that now you lay comfortably on your stomach with your leg sprawled across the bed however get the thought that someone's watching you, but brush it off and go back to sleep. He watches as you stir slightly on the bed but go right back to sleep.
He walks over silently, standing over you as he looks down. He reaches out, gently touching your hair, a smile on his face as he looks at your sleeping form. You feel the familiar touch and your smile softens before you jolt awake.
As your eyes suddenly open to find him standing over you, he presses a finger to his lips, signaling you to stay silent. He leans down, whispering in your ear, his voice deep and intense. "Go back to sleep."
"who are you?"
He laughs softly at your question, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.
"I'm the thief that's about to take everything you have, love." His tone is dark and dangerous, yet there's a hint of something else in his voice - something that sends a shiver down your spine.
"please don't do anything to me. you can take anything that you but please don't hurt me." you say, sitting up straight on the bed. He can hear the fear in your voice, and a sly smile creeps across his face.
He stands there for a moment, silently contemplating your words. "Well, since you asked so nicely… I guess I won't hurt you." He walks closer to the bed, standing next to it, his hands on his hips.
"how can i trust you? i don't even know you." you ask him, your voice wavering in and out with fear. He laughs softly again, the sound sending another shiver down your spine.
"You don't have to know me to trust me, love. I promise not to hurt you. Just cooperate and do as I say, and you'll be safe.." He sits down on the edge of the bed, leaning in close to you, his face just inches from yours.
You nod agreeing to his conditions as you draw your comforter up your chest, shielding your naked body underneath it. His eyes scan your body, hidden underneath the comforter, and he can't help but let out a low chuckle.
"Smart move. Don't want me to see too much, hmmm?" He says, his tone laced with a hint of tease. "Now, be a good girl and give me your wrists."
You gulp and drop the comforter as you lay bare your chest at his mercy and place your wrists forward. His eyes roam over your bare chest, taking in every inch of you.
He takes your wrists gently, yanking your towards him and flipping your body over with his hands. He caressing your hips for a moment before he begins to place your wrists into a tight and secure knot with a bedsheet.
He then ties your ankles together connecting the wrist and the ankle knot so that your legs are up in the air and your hands on your back.
You whimper due to his man handling as he ties your wrists and ankles with the bedsheet limiting your movement.
He stands up, admiring his own work. He walks around the bed, looking at you from all angles, his gaze lingering on your bound wrists and ankles. "You look perfect like this, love. Helpless and at my mercy."
You whimper at the way his words make you feel and you can feel your core burning up as it gets wet as you breathing picks up.
He notices your reaction to his words, a sly smile playing on his lips. "You like being helpless, don't you love?" He says, his voice a low growl. He walks back over to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it.
"why are you even doing this? do you hate my boyfriend?" He chuckles at your question, his eyes locking onto yours.
"No, I don't hate your boyfriend. I just want what he has. And right now, I have you all tied up and helpless, just how I like you."
"he's gonna kill you once he gets to know what you are doing to me."
"Aww?" He laughs again, the sound sending another shiver down your spine. "Let him try. I'm the one with the power right now, love. And I'm going to do whatever I want to you."
You hide your face into the pillow scared of what he's about to do next but your bare body grows desperate for his touch in this extremely vulnerable position.
He notices your face burying into the pillow, your body trembling with fear and desire. He laughs softly at your vulnerability, enjoying the sight before him. "Don't be scared, love. You're in good hands… or should I say, you're in my hands. And I know exactly what I'm doing."
"prove it then! fuck me so good that i'll never ever dare to fuck any other dick again to the point of obsession." He grins at your words, your desire for him fueling his lust.
"That's a big claim love," he says darkly. "But I'm confident I can deliver. I'm going to make you addicted to me, sweetheart. You're not going to want anyone else but me after this." His hands caress your hips before they move lower and soon you find yourself moaning at three of his fingers fucking you wet cunt.
"So wet for me love that you're taking me like a whore." he presses his fingers in deep, curling them as you buck your hips to get more friction but he slaps your pussy at the act. "such a dick hungry slut."
He presses your hips down, as his hand lands on your ass check burning the skin underneath it. the slap sting but it brings a weird pleasure your boyfriend yunho knows you love. and everything makes sense when your walls wraps around the ever-so-dick that fucks your brains out everytime.
It was your boyfriend.
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stargirl-writes · 1 day ago
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respite
pairing : f! reader x anakin skywalker
word count : 2.2k
masterlist
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summary
Amid the war, a healer and a soldier find themselves entangled in a delicate dance between love and survival. When exhaustion and unspoken wounds threaten to drive them apart, they must confront the weight of their fears, jealousy, and vulnerability—knowing that healing isn’t always about fixing what’s broken, but learning to hold on through the storm.
tags : angst, angst with a happy ending (!)
warnings : blood, tending to a wound
notes : hello my loves <3, 1 yr writing for a.s. and long story short all my energy was used trying to survive my medical internship. healer! reader is my most self indulgent coping mechanism— here's another angsty catastrophizing passage i'd like to share wit y'all hehe
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Anakin Skywalker was a knife personified.
Sharp, blunt, useful. A touch can draw blood.
But despite the danger, he was made of steel— unrelenting and unyielding. One would make an effort to not stare too much— at what his purpose of being reveals; that in the hands of someone cruel, he becomes something of a weapon.
They say that the healer has the bloodiest hands— a permanent imprint of those you've saved and those you've failed.
You try not to think about it too much— your losses cannot equate to the priviledge of a chance to keep someone alive. That was a gift. Only a God can define salvation—what you're doing is an attempt.
But what did your fingers ever do before they held him?
All of it seemed to pale in comparison.
Maybe the sun has set differently in Coruscant, a place always buzzing with neon and noise— maybe you just stopped noticing it the way you stopped noticing him. You don't know why there remained a part of you that was mistrusting, waiting for him to grow tired with you. Instead, the jagged streaks of electric blue and searing magenta faded into something soft, casting a warm golden light that lingers even after the sun slips behind the horizon, refusing to ever dim.
It's both comforting and heartbreaking that over time you could forget holding onto something so sharp long enough to feel it slip— can leave a trail of blood.
The door to your quarter hisses open— and the weight of Anakin fills the room before he utters a word. His boots are heavy on the floor, dragging with a kind of exhaustion that sinks deeper than muscle and bone. Even his shoulders, which assumes the posture of a Jedi slumps forward. He pauses— gaze wide and apprehending.
His robes are dark with dust and sweat, blood smeared across the cuffs of his bionic arms— not his, someone else's. Always someone else's. He stands there too long, unmoving, as if having already read what's on your mind.
"You're hurt," You speak across the room.
"I'm fine."
His voice is low, flat, like all the life has been scraped out of it. You've seen this before, the wounds he carries aren't the ones stitched into his skin.
He turns on his heel, taking off his clothes. You step closer, noticing the slight wince as he tries to reach for his robes. He held a pose of defiance, unflinching even as you slowly took off the fabric that clung to his flesh. You pressed your palm against the soft skin of his shoulders, coaxing him to sit by the edge of the bed.
He lets out a sigh as the robe slips off. You turn to grab the medkit sitting at your bedside table— its existence a harsh reminder that anytime he comes home— so will the hurt that resides deep within him.
His eyes are hooded and dark as he follows your fingers gently press over a gash lining his chest. He sat still— either too tired to care or too numbed to feel it.
"You can't keep doing this, Anakin,"
He tilts his chin upward, "Doing what?"
You paused, eyes locking in a silent challenge as he kept playing asinine.
"Coming back half-dead and pretending it doesn't matter" You pressed the cloth over his wound, he hisses, flinching away.
He takes your wrist, eyebrows furrowed at your accusation. "I'm still here, aren't I?"
"Barely."
You seal the wound with a sterile band, the scar tissue will build thick and uneven, just like all pain that he refuses to touch buried deep underneath.
It's hard not to get frustrated to watch Anakin undo all the work you've done— that he would resort to passively allowing it to hurt. His skill with a saber is unquestionable, a droid won't be able to even come near him to inflict pain. As the war dragged on— he'd come home late at night appearing more and more injured. Perhaps it's his way to alleviate some guilt. Because he needs it to believe a sort of redemption— that he is not reduced to what was required of him.
A weapon. Unyielding. Unrelenting.
You turn to pack your materials back to the medkit— no longer able to stomach the tensed silences. You can't quite remember when it felt as though you've become one. Someone who deals death and someone who restores life. Where you began and where he ended was the most beautiful thread in the fabric of fate. There had only been one night—just one— where he let himself sleep, slumped against you in a rare moment of peace. You remember the way his breathing evened, slow and steady, as if for a few precious hours, the war has loosened his grip on him. And the room is blanketed with a sort of promise, that he'll be here for you as you were for him. And that also meant working through the difficult days where loving simply won't suffice.
It seems that the difficult days are outnumbering the ones where you both were happy. Thinking back at it makes you feel as if those days had been another lifetime ago.
He slumps down the bed, arms folded holding his head. "I've handed the 501st' command to Ahsoka, the mission in Mandalore is dragging on, I need her with me,"
He's always carried more than he should. Always assumed the weight of a galaxy, even when it would break him. Having your back against him made it easier to deliberately slow down your words to an unassuming casualness. "Without Obi-Wan?"
You go to Obi-Wan to fill the gaps of the chasm forming between you and Anakin, the ones only Obi-Wan seems to understand.
You turn to sit down beside him. You didn't need to access the force to feel the shift in the atmosphere.
"I haven't seen him in a while," His eyes were staring ahead— up at the ceiling. "So… how is Obi-Wan?"
There was an unmistakable edge to his words—tinged with bitterness and accusation.
"What?"
He chuckles hollowly. "I figured you'd know by now. You always run to him."
His sarcasm drips with an underlying insecurity. Obi-Wan, a person he looks up to, being more trustworthy than he was. He's trying not to sound accusatory but it's obvious that he's struggling with jealousy.
You open your mouth to say something. To defend your actions. What else could you have resorted to? When anytime you try to bridge that gap between you, he turns away. Your heart lodges in your throat— any attempt to explain just sounded as if you and Obi-Wan had been conspiring to manage him.
He straightens, balancing his weight against his arms, gaze demanding an answer. "Why do you keep going to him?"
"I'm not—"
He stands to his feet, tension rippling through his body like a coiled spring. "Yes you are! Every time you think something's wrong you look for him like I'm in need of fixing."
You clasp your fingers together— begging them to steady. "I'm only worried about you— you keep coming home changed like…"
"You're disappearing.“ You answered, "How long can you go on like this without breaking?"
There was a beat of silence. He rubs his temples, pacing bad and forth like staying still is the hardest thing he's ever done.
"And so what, you're going to keep patching me up thinking I'll be someone else?" "No," "—Then stop pretending that I am."
“I keep losing everyone, I can't lose you too." You utter as the guilt verbalizes.
His expression softens recognizing the vulnerability of your words. Something in him falters— just for a moment, a breath—and the weight of his exhaustion settles to his shoulders. He kneels down in front of you.
"You're not losing me," He says, quiter this time, as if he's convincing himself as much as you.
"It feels like it…"
He clasps his fingers over your hands, unraveling them. He opens his mouth to say something back—but then he stops. His head dips, the fight draining out of him. In the quietness, you could hear him pace his breaths with yours.
"You're not going to go through this alone anymore," He shifts closer, his bare chest leaving imprints on the skin of your knees. "Ahsoka will be on Mandalore while Obi-Wan takes Utapau, I'll stay here."
Your fingers slip through his hair, brushing it away from his forehead, tracing the uneven skin lining his face. He leans into your touch, and for a little while, the storm settles, just enough to let you both breathe.
He'll always be someone else's arsenal. He is yours. In a way that you wear his touch as a shield, his promises as hope from all the battles left to fight. He plants soft kisses on the palm of your hand, and a light ignites. Something eternal. Something that tells you that there are things worth holding on to—even when it hurts. You're not going to find the resolution tonight. But this was the beginning. That would have to be enough.
"I'm staying," He says as he presses his lips to your palm again, as if sealing the promise neither of you fully understands yet.
You nod, a smallest curve at the corner of your lips, for a fleeting moment, you feel him smile too.
It feels as though love will suffice. You knew he'd weave the fabrics of fate until it only spells your name. That he will tire, and it will not be easy.
"You know for someone who's fine, you're really bad at hiding pain."
Anakin's lips curved to a faint tired smirk— barely there, but real enough to make your heart lighten. He snakes his long fingers against your waist, pulling you closer until his warmth anchors you.
"Guess you must be rubbing off on me." He murmurs, voice rough with exhaustion, but there's a softness in it—like something broken finding a way to heal.
For a moment the weight lifts. It's not gone, not really, but the edges have dulled enough that you can hold him and not wince at the contact of him being pressed against you. Neither of you speaks again, nor moves again. In the dim of night, with senses dulled, the ordinary becomes profound. And— all of the terror slips away, for now. He no longer is someone that breeds horror. He is love. Made solely to be felt by you.
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jetii · 1 day ago
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Too Sweet
Part One | Part Two | Part Four
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Pairing: Fox x fem!Reader / Fox x Doctor!Reader
Words: 6,514/25,758
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, strangers to lovers, grumpy/sunshine, Fox is a little anxious/paranoid, and he needs a hug, this chapter is more dark/intense than the others oopsie, smut in part 4
Summary: Fox has no time for romance. He doesn't even have time for sleep, let alone dates. But when a horrible day at work leads him to you, he suddenly finds himself in danger of reevaluating his priorities.
A/N: Sorry in advance for Thorn and the sads. I'll make it up to you next part. 💙
Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist
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The next few weeks are a blur.
Fox is pulled in so many directions that he can barely keep up. Between the Senate meetings, the riots, the constant flow of paperwork, and the barrage of complaints from his brothers, it's a miracle he's able to sleep at all.
But the time he spends talking to you is a bright spot in an otherwise dreary existence.
It's a welcome relief, and he finds himself looking forward to your messages, eagerly anticipating each new one. You're funny, and thoughtful, and you're able to get him to open up, which is something that hasn't happened in a long time. It's strange, and a little scary, but he can't bring himself to stop, and the longer it goes on, the more he feels like he's starting to slip.
He knows that you're only talking to him because of the grant, and the thought that you could be using him makes his stomach churn. But he doesn't think you would, and the fact that you seem genuinely interested in his well-being is something that he can't ignore. You always ask him how he's doing, if he's getting any sleep, and your concern is obvious, and yet, it still catches him off guard. He's not used to being cared for, and the way you treat him, like he matters, like he's human, is so different than anything he's ever experienced before.
Fox doesn't tell his brothers about you. He's not sure why, but the thought of telling anyone about his friendship with you makes him nervous. There's something special, something fragile, about what you have, and he doesn't want anyone to ruin it.
But, the secret doesn't last long.
One of the guard squadrons is ambushed during a routine patrol, and Thorn is caught in the crossfire. When Fox gets the report, he immediately heads for the med center, and when he gets there, he sees a group of troopers gathered outside the entrance. They're talking quietly amongst themselves, and they all look nervous. One of the men sees him and waves him over, a grim expression on his face.
"What happened?" Fox asks, his heart sinking. "Is he okay?"
"He's stable," Burst replies, and Fox lets out a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. "But they won't let us see him."
"They won't?"
"No, sir," he sighs. "Something about hospital policy."
Fox frowns, a cold fury filling him. The fact that they would deny his brothers, his family, the chance to see their brother is infuriating, and the idea that Thorn was sitting in the medical ward, alone and hurt, makes his blood boil.
"I'll take care of it," Fox says, and Burst nods, looking relieved.
He pushes past the group, his fists clenched, and walks inside, heading straight for the front desk. The nurse looks up at him, his expression blank, and the look on his face must be enough, because his eyes widen, and he sits up.
"How may I—"
"Thorn," he growls. "Where is he?"
"I'm sorry, but we have a strict no visitors policy," the nurse says. His voice is calm, but his fingers are tapping on the desk, and the action betrays his nerves. "I can't—"
"Show me where he is," Fox demands. His voice is low, and the troopers behind him shift uncomfortably.
"Commander," the nurse says, a note of panic in his voice. "Please, calm down. If you'd just—"
"No," he interrupts, leaning over the desk. The nurse recoils, and Fox can see the fear in his eyes. Good. He should be afraid. If he didn't show him where Thorn was, he'd—
“Fox.”
The sound of your voice cuts through the red haze in his mind, and he pauses, turning towards you. Your eyes are wide, and there's a concerned crease between your brows. The sight of you, the way you're looking at him, brings him back to his senses, and he pulls back, taking a deep breath.
"What's going on?" you ask, frowning.
"I need to see Thorn," Fox says, his tone sharp. He doesn't mean to take his anger out on you, but the frustration is still there, simmering beneath the surface, and he can't seem to let it go. "They won't let me."
"He's not allowed any visitors," you explain softly. You glance at the nurse, and she nods, scurrying off. "He's in intensive care."
"I don't care," Fox snaps. He's tired, and the stress is making his temper short, and the last thing he wants is to get into an argument with you. "I'm not leaving until I see him."
"Fox." You walk over to him, and he feels his resolve weaken. There's a look in your eyes, something pleading, that makes his chest tighten, and he can't ignore it.  You reach out and take his hand, squeezing gently. "I know you're worried, but please, trust me. I'm not keeping you from him. I would never do that."
The anger slowly fades, and the tension drains from his body.
"I know," he mutters.
"He's stable," you say. Your grip on his hand tightens, and the contact is reassuring. "He'll be okay. I promise."
Fox nods, his shoulders slumping. He's not sure what he was expecting, but the truth of your words hits him hard. You're not lying. You would never lie to him, and the fact that he had doubted you, even for a moment, leaves him feeling sick.
"Can I at least check on him?" he asks. "Make sure he's..."
"It's against protocol, but..." You trail off, biting your lip, and then give him a small smile. "Just a few minutes."
"Thank you," he breathes.
"Come on," you say, tugging on his hand. "He's in the surgical ward."
He lets you lead him down the hallway, passing the group of troopers as you do. They watch the two of you go, and Fox knows that the rumor mill is going to be buzzing tomorrow. The thought makes him cringe, but the knowledge that Thorn was alive, and safe, is all he can focus on.
"I'm sorry," Fox mutters as the two of you walk. "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that."
"It's okay," you say, shaking your head. "You were worried."
"Still." He glances down at your joined hands, and he can't help but wonder why you haven't let go. The thought of it being because you enjoy the contact, because you like touching him, is absurd, but the thought lingers.
"You don't have to apologize," you say, squeezing his hand. "I know how you feel."
"Oh, really?" Fox raises an eyebrow. "How many times have you threatened the staff?"
"Well, I haven't had the pleasure, but I can't say that the thought hasn't crossed my mind," you tease.
"You, threatening someone?" he snorts. "I doubt that."
"You'd be surprised."
You come to a stop outside a set of double doors, and you swipe a card through the reader. The doors slide open, and you step inside, pulling him with you. 
The ward is quiet, and the sterile smell of bacta assaults his nose. He wrinkles his nose, and you smile, your fingers twitching around his. The movement is subtle, but he notices, and he gives you a small smile in return.
"This is him," you murmur, stopping in front of a door. 
You press a button on the control panel, and the door slides open, revealing a dimly lit room. A bed is pushed up against the wall, and there's a machine hooked up to a figure laying on it. Fox's breath catches, and he lets go of your hand, stepping inside. The door closes behind him, and he stands there, staring at the form of his brother.
Thorn's armor is gone, and his chest is covered in bandages. His face is pale, and his hair is matted with blood, and the sight is enough to make Fox's throat tighten. He's still alive, but he looks so small, so fragile, that Fox has to resist the urge to reach out and shake him, to wake him from whatever nightmare he's trapped in.
"I'm sorry," you murmur. "I should've warned you."
"It's fine," he whispers, and the words are almost lost in the silence of the room.
He turns to look at you, and the sympathy in your eyes is enough to break him. He lets out a shaky breath, the tension draining out of him and leaving him feeling hollow. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, his vision is blurry, and the tears spill over. He tries to wipe them away, but they keep coming, and he turns away, ashamed.
You don't say anything, but your hand finds his, and you squeeze, your thumb rubbing circles into his skin. It's a simple gesture, but it means so much, and Fox lets himself lean into you, just a little, letting your warmth ground him.
The two of you stand there, silent, listening to the beeping of the machines. The room is quiet, save for the occasional rustle of sheets, and the only light comes from the monitors and the glow from the hallway. It's peaceful, in a way, but Fox knows it's a temporary reprieve, a brief respite from the chaos. As soon as he leaves, he'll be back in the fray, dealing with the riots, the protests, the Senate. And without Thorn, things will be even more difficult.
"It'll be okay," you murmur, your voice soft.
Fox doesn't reply. He can't.
"Fox."
He looks down at you, his expression grim. Your eyes are wide, your brows furrowed, a hint of concern on your face. You squeeze his hand, as if trying to comfort him, but he pulls away, the gesture too intimate, too close.
"He'll be okay," you insist, your tone gentle.
"How can you be so sure?" he asks, his voice breaking. 
He's tired, exhausted, the weight of his duties pulling him down, dragging him into a darkness that he can't escape. He's lost so many brothers already, the loss of one more would be unbearable, and he can't help but wonder if he's cursed, if his luck is finally running out.
"I know," you say, and there's an edge to your voice that surprises him. "Trust me."
Fox swallows thickly and nods. You reach out, your hand cupping his cheek. The touch is light, but the gesture is meaningful, and his heart skips a beat. Your eyes meet his, and your gaze is filled with such conviction, such strength, that he can't look away. "I won't let him."
"Okay," Fox murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.
The two of you lapse into silence again, and Fox can't seem to tear his eyes away from you. There's something different about the way you're looking at him, something that he can't quite name, and it leaves him feeling raw and exposed.
He knows you're not lying, but the thought that you could possibly care so much about him is terrifying. You're so warm, so kind, so sweet, and he doesn't understand how someone like you could ever be interested in him. And yet, the way you're looking at him, the concern written on your face, tells him that it's true.
Fox reaches up and covers your hand with his, pressing it closer. You smile, and the sadness in your eyes melts away, replaced by a warmth that fills him with hope. He takes a step closer, and you close the distance between you, your body pressed against his. His free hand finds its way to your hip, and the two of you stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms. It's comforting, and Fox lets his eyes fall closed, savoring the moment.
"Thank you," he whispers, his voice cracking. He knows he should let go, that it's probably inappropriate for him to be so close to you, but he can't bring himself to move, and you don't seem to mind. Your hand moves from his cheek to his neck, your fingers lightly stroking his skin, and he lets out a shuddering breath.
"Anytime," you murmur. 
The two of you pull back, and the loss of contact makes his heart ache, but the look on your face is enough to soothe him. You smile at him and then step away, walking over to the bed. You check the monitors and smooth out the sheets. “He should be awake in a few days. I'll let you know when."
He clears his throat and nods. "Thanks."
"Do you want me to escort you out?"
"No, no, I can find my way."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Okay." You give him a small smile, and his chest tightens.
"I'll see you around," he says, and the words feel inadequate, but they're the only ones he can think of.
"You will." You hesitate, and then lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Take care of yourself, Commander."
"I'll try," he murmurs. He gives you a small smile, and then heads for the door, his mind racing. When the door closes behind him, he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. The scent of lavender lingers in the air, and the warmth of your lips on his cheek is like a brand. He lifts a hand and brushes his fingers against the spot, his stomach fluttering.
When he turns to leave, the men outside the room are nowhere to be found, and he lets out a sigh.
So much for secrecy.
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"Well, well, well, looks like the commander has a new girlfriend."
Fox looks up, his eyes narrowing. Thire is leaning against the door frame, a grin on his face. Behind him, Stone is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.
"What are you talking about?" Fox asks, his tone flat.
"Word around the barracks is that you're sweet on a nurse," Thire teases, and he winks at him. "A cute one, too, by the sounds of it."
Fox bristles, offended on your behalf. It had been three days since the incident at the medical center, and Thorn was doing better. You'd been true to your word, and you'd kept him updated on his condition, sending him daily messages about his progress. Fox hadn't expected anything, but the fact that you'd kept your promise, and the fact that you seemed to genuinely care about his brother's wellbeing, was touching. He wasn't used to people keeping their word, and the gesture was more meaningful than you probably realized.
“She’s a doctor," Fox mutters, returning his attention to the report in front of him. "And she's not my girlfriend.”
"That's not what Thorn’s men are saying," Stone comments. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his face. "You were awfully cozy with her."
"It was nothing."
"You held hands, Commander."
"We were—" Fox breaks off, his face heating up. You’d held hands, hadn't you? You'd touched him, held him, and he'd let you, had wanted you to. He shakes his head. "She was being nice. She let me see Thorn."
"So, the rumors aren't true?" Thire asks, raising an eyebrow. "You're not sleeping with her?"
"No," Fox scoffs. The idea is ridiculous. Him? Sleeping with someone like you? That would never happen. You were too sweet, too kind, and the thought of you with someone like him, someone cold and harsh and damaged, was ludicrous. "She's a friend."
"Right," Stone mutters, exchanging a knowing look with Thire. "A friend."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," Thire says, smirking. “Just that you've been spending a lot of time with her lately."
"So?"
"So, she must be pretty special."
"She is," Fox snaps. He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, and he quickly turns away, staring intently at the report on his desk. The words blur, and he frowns, his brows knitting together.
Special. Was that what you were? To him? You'd certainly been a bright spot in his life, a ray of sunshine through the storm clouds that were constantly hovering over his head. You were kind, and warm, and gentle, and the thought of you, and the way you made him feel, was something he was starting to crave.
Oh.
Oh, no.
"Shit," Fox murmurs, closing his eyes. 
He'd never felt like this before. He'd never had time for relationships, never had the opportunity, and he'd always assumed that the feelings he'd heard his brothers describe, the butterflies and the warmth and the longing, were exaggerations. But now, faced with the realization that they might be real, he wasn't sure what to do.
He was in trouble. Big trouble.
“Shit."
"Something wrong?" Thire asks, and his voice is filled with amusement.
"No," Fox snaps, glaring at him. "Just go away."
"Sure, boss," Thire chuckles.
Stone smirks and winks at him, and the two of them turn and leave.
Fox sighs, dropping his head into his hands. He'd been trying to avoid this, trying to avoid thinking about the warmth in his chest whenever he talked to you, the way his stomach fluttered whenever you smiled at him, the way his skin tingled when you touched him. Physical attraction was one thing, but this...this was different. And it was a complication he didn't need.
His comm beeps, and he picks it up, his stomach dropping when he sees who it is. He presses a button, and a holo-image of you appears. You're wearing your scrubs, and there's a smile on your face that makes his heart race.
"Hey," you greet, giving him a small wave.
"Hi," he manages.
"I just wanted to let you know that Thorn's going to be discharged tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
"Yeah," you say, and the smile on your face grows. "He's doing great. We think he'll make a full recovery."
“Get me out of here, Fox!” a familiar voice yells. Fox scowls as the projection widens to show Thorn sitting up in his bed beside you, a wide grin on his face. The bandages are gone, and he looks healthy, if not a little tired. "I'm going stir crazy."
"Thorn, you need to rest," you scold, and you push his face away, but not before Fox catches a glimpse of the darkened shade of your cheeks.
Thorn winks at him, and a wave of protectiveness crashes over him. Of course, Thorn had been flirting with you, it was in his nature. His brother has always had a certain...charm, but the last thing he wants is for him to use it on you.
"I've been stuck in this bed for days," Thorn whines. "I'm not made for laying around."
"Well, it's not my fault you were shot," you tease, and Fox bristles, a strange emotion coiling in his chest. Thorn laughs and pokes you in the side. You yelp and bat his hand away, and the sound of your laughter makes his stomach twist.
"Sorry about that," you murmur. Your eyes are sparkling, and there's a faint blush on your cheeks. "He's feeling better, as you can see."
"I'm glad," Fox replies, and it's the truth. If Thorn was feeling good, and joking around, and being an annoyance, that meant that he was fine, and Fox could stop worrying. Well, he could move on to worrying about something else, anyway.
"Anyway, I'll let you go," you say with a sigh. "I know you're busy. I just wanted to let you know."
"Thanks," he says softly. "For everything."
"Don't mention it." You give him a smile, and his breath catches. Even in a hologram, you're beautiful.
"Bye, Fox," Thorn calls out.
"Go to sleep," you groan. You give him a pointed look, and he laughs, waving you off. Fox's stomach twists again, and he grips the comm a little tighter.
"Take care of yourself," you say softly. You hesitate for a moment, and the corners of your mouth lift into a smile. "Comm me later, okay?"
"Are you free for dinner tonight?" he blurts out. He doesn't know what makes him say it. The words just spill out of his mouth, and before he can stop himself, he's committed. "We could talk about the proposal."
"I..." You look surprised, and your eyes widen. He wonders for a moment if he's pushed it, and the longer you stare at him, the more nervous he becomes.
"I'm sorry, I'm on shift until midnight," you sigh. "How about tomorrow night?"
"That's fine," he says quickly.
"Great," you say, beaming at him. The joy on your face is infectious, and the knot in his stomach loosens. "I’ll comm you later.”
"Sounds good."
"See you soon," you say, waving.
"Bye," he manages, and the call ends.
The silence of the room is deafening, and Fox sits there, staring at the spot where your holoprojection had been. His chest aches, and his skin feels too tight, and he can't seem to catch his breath. He stands up and paces, running his hands through his hair, his thoughts racing.
This was bad. This was very bad. The last thing he needed was to start having feelings for you. His life was complicated enough already, and the thought of dealing with this, on top of everything else, was overwhelming.
But the longer he thought about it, the more the reality set in. There was no denying it. He'd developed feelings for you, strong ones, and there was no going back. And he wasn't sure he wanted to.
You were sweet, and funny, and beautiful, and the thought of having a chance with you was thrilling. Sure, it might not be reciprocated, but the possibility, however slim, was enough. If you felt the same way, he could deal with the rest. He could handle it.
Couldn't he?
Fox groans and throws himself back into his chair.
This was going to be a problem.
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The next night, Fox walks into the diner and heads straight for a booth. You're already there, and you stand, smiling. The sight makes his heart skip a beat, and the urge to pull you into his arms is almost overwhelming. Instead, he walks over, stopping in front of you. You smile at him, and the warmth in your eyes is enough to send a shiver down his spine.
"Hey, stranger," you tease, and he blushes, looking away. "Long time no see."
Fox snorts. He’d just seen you that morning. You'd commed him as he was heading to a meeting with the Chancellor, and he'd had to excuse himself to answer you. He'd only talked to you for a minute, but the memory of the sound of your voice had stayed with him the entire day.
"It's been less than twelve hours,” he reminds you, his lips twitching.
"Too long."
"For me, too."
The words are out before he can stop them, and your eyes widen, a light flush coloring your cheeks. He blinks, his stomach dropping. Stars, had he really said that? Out loud? In front of you?
Fox quickly sits down, avoiding your gaze. The waitress droid appears, and the two of you place your orders. When she leaves, the silence between the two of you stretches, and the tension grows. You fidget, your fingers drumming on the table, and Fox stares at the table, his heart hammering.
"So," you murmur. "How was work?"
"Fine," he mutters. He lets out a breath and lifts his gaze. "How was your shift?"
“Fine," you shrug. There's a smile on your face, but it doesn't reach your eyes. You're nervous, and the realization makes him relax. If you're just as anxious as he is, then maybe this will be okay. "Busy."
"You should take a break."
"I will when you will,” you counter, raising an eyebrow.
He can’t help but smirk at the challenge in your tone. You'd always been like this, hadn't you? Teasing him, trying to get a reaction out of him. But now, it seemed more deliberate, and the thought that you might be trying to get his attention sends a thrill through him.
"I could be persuaded," he murmurs. The words are bolder than anything he'd ever said to you before, and the surprise on your face makes him smirk.
"Oh, really?"
"Mhmm."
"Good to know," you grin. You lean forward, resting your chin in the palm of your hand, and there's a mischievous glint in your eye that makes his mouth go dry. "You should give me some ideas."
"Ideas?"
"Yeah," you tease. You wink at him, and his pulse jumps. "I'm open to suggestions."
"Suggestions," he repeats, his voice faint.
"Mm-hmm."
"Well," he says, clearing his throat. He shifts in his seat, the armor suddenly feeling too tight. Your eyes are fixed on his, and the intensity of your gaze makes him squirm. "I suppose we could—"
"Here you go!"
The droid interrupts him, and the plates of food are placed in front of the two of you. You sit up, the moment broken, and Fox takes the opportunity to collect himself. What had he been about to say? What had you wanted him to say?
The conversation moves back to the subject of the proposal, and Fox listens as you explain the details. You're enthusiastic, and passionate, and the more you talk, the more his heart warms.
You were perfect, weren't you? Perfect for him, and the longer he spends with you, the more he realizes it. He watches you eat, your eyes sparkling, and he can't look away. He doesn't want to. He could listen to you talk forever, could spend the rest of his life sitting across from you, watching you, listening to you.
He can't stop himself from imagining what it would be like to have you around all the time, to spend the nights with you instead of alone. It would be nice, he thinks, to have someone to come home to, someone who would make him feel warm, and wanted, and safe. You'd do that, wouldn't you? If he asked. If he said the right things, if he made the right moves.
You would, he realizes, his heart racing.
"So, what do you think?" you ask, and the question snaps him back to the present.
“What?”
"Do you think the Chancellor would approve the funding?"
"Oh," he murmurs, blinking. He takes a sip of his drink and clears his throat. "I already talked to him about it, actually."
"You did?" You look surprised, and his chest puffs up a little. The fact that you're impressed by his efforts makes him feel smug. "When?"
"A few days ago," he admits, shrugging. “And again when you called this morning. I told him how important it was to the city, and the refugees, and he agreed to review the proposal."
"Really?"
"Really."
"That's..." You trail off, your expression stunned. You let out a relieved sigh and sit back in your chair. "That's...wow. That's incredible."
"He was intrigued," Fox explains. "Especially after I told him how hard you were working on it. He wanted me to thank you for your efforts, and for your commitment."
That was an understatement. The Chancellor had been delighted to hear about your plan, and his enthusiasm had surprised Fox. The man had seemed genuinely impressed by your initiative, and he'd promised Fox that he'd look into it personally. Fox had thanked him, but he was still a little stunned.
It was rare that the Chancellor showed so much interest in something like this, and he wondered if there was an ulterior motive. But, the man had always been kind to him, and the praise had made him feel proud, so he'd decided not to question it.
He was far too occupied with picturing the look on your face when you heard the news, anyway.
"That's...wow," you murmur. There are tears in your eyes, and the expression on your face is so happy, so hopeful, that he can't help but smile. "That's amazing. You’re amazing."
The compliment makes his cheeks burn. You're looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky, and the adoration in your gaze makes his stomach flutter. He's never had anyone look at him like that before, and the rush of affection that follows is dizzying.
He reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours, and your eyes widen. The look on your face is vulnerable, and sweet, and he wants to kiss you so badly that he has to clench his jaw to keep from leaning forward and taking what he wants.
"It was nothing," he says, his voice low. He squeezes your hand, and you bite your lip, your eyes dropping to his mouth. "You're the one who put in the work."
"I couldn't have done it without you," you murmur, and you squeeze his hand in return. "Thank you."
"Anytime," he promises, and the emotion in your eyes makes his heart skip a beat. You look away, blinking back tears, and the moment passes, leaving the two of you in a comfortable silence.
Fox lets go of your hand and grabs his sandwich. He takes a bite and watches you eat, a fond smile on his face. You're staring out the window, a thoughtful expression on your face, and the glow of the city lights makes you look even more beautiful than usual. The feeling of warmth spreads through him, and the knowledge that he's responsible for the joy on your face fills him with satisfaction.
You turn and meet his gaze, and the look in your eyes is enough to make his heart stop.
"What?" you ask, grinning.
"Nothing," he murmurs, his cheeks heating up. He looks down at his food, but not before catching the way your face falls. "I'm just..." He trails off, trying to find the right words. "I'm glad I met you."
"Oh," you breathe. The softness in your voice makes him look up, and the smile on your face is bright enough to blind him. "I'm glad I met you, too."
He smiles back, and the two of you fall silent, returning to your meals. The noise of the diner surrounds them, and Fox finds himself relaxing, a contentment filling him. He's enjoying the moment, the peace, and he's surprised by how happy he is. For once, his mind isn't racing, his thoughts aren't plagued by the stress of his duties. There's only you, and the sound of your laughter, and the scent of lavender that fills his lungs every time he inhales.
And for a brief moment, a fleeting second, Fox is almost able to believe that everything is going to be alright.
It doesn’t last.
You’re in the middle of telling him a story about one of your coworkers, and he's listening, enraptured by the sound of your voice, when his comm beeps. He ignores it, too caught up in the moment to care, and it goes silent.
But then it beeps again, and then again, and he sighs, giving you an apologetic look.
"Hold on a second," he mutters.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, it's just—"
Fox freezes, his eyes drifting over your shoulder to look out the window. It’s late, and the street outside should be emptying out, but there's a crowd of people moving outside. They’re pointing and backing away, and the murmuring of their voices is filled with panic. His skin prickles, and a sense of unease fills him. Something's wrong. Very, very wrong.
"Fox," you murmur.
He stands abruptly, grabbing his helmet from the booth and jamming it onto his head. People are starting to run past the windows, and the screams outside are getting louder. 
“Stay here,” he orders, and his voice is cold, the tone he uses when he's on duty. You blink, clearly surprised by the sudden change in his demeanor, but you don't protest, and he heads for the door.
Before he can make it far, there’s a rumbling under his feet, and the building shakes. The lights flicker, and the tables rattle, and the patrons let out panicked cries. Fox turns back and sees you standing, looking around in confusion.
"Get down!" he yells, and he crosses the room, reaching you in a few strides. He grabs your arm and drags you under a table, shielding you with his body. He presses your head into his chest, holding you close. Your arms wrap around him, and the two of you huddle there, the sounds of screams and panic filling the air.
"What's happening?" you ask, your voice shaking.
"I don't know."
There's another rumble, and the building shakes again. You tighten your grip on him, and he presses his head against yours, trying to comfort you. The lights flicker once more, and then go out, plunging the diner into darkness. A few people let out panicked cries, and then the building shudders, and a horrible, grating sound fills the air.
The following silence is deafening.
"Are you okay?" Fox asks as his hands move from your back to your face, tilting your head up.
"Yeah, I think so," you murmur. He strokes your cheek with his thumb, his heart pounding, and he keeps his hand there as he activates his comm. "What about you?"
"I'm fine."
The line opens, and a cacophony of voices fills his ears. The noise is chaotic, and it takes a moment for him to understand what's happening.
“—can’t get ahold of him—"
"—need to evacuate the area, there could be more—"
"Thire, Stone," Fox barks. "Report."
"Sir, we've got multiple detonations at Level 5000,” Thire replies, his voice strained. "They knocked out the entire grid."
"Casualties?"
"Unknown, sir."
Fox swears under his breath, and you press closer to him, your grip tightening. A targeted attack on the power grid was no accident, and the implications of that fact send a shiver down his spine. This is exactly what they'd been worried about, what he'd warned the Chancellor about. But he'd never expected it to happen so quickly, or so suddenly.
"Thorn and the others are evacuating the Senate building," Stone informs him. "The Chancellor is sending out an emergency message."
"What about the security teams at the station?" Fox asks.
"We're trying to get ahold of them," Thire says, his tone grim. "There's too much interference."
“I’m on my way. Stay alert, we might have more coming our way."
"Copy that, sir."
"Be careful," Stone warns. “And…sorry for interrupting your date."
Fox rolls his eyes and cuts the connection. He sits up, and the two of you scramble out from under the table. The other patrons are doing the same, and there's a general sense of panic and chaos in the air. Fox reaches down and helps you stand.
"Fox," you breathe, and your voice is trembling.
"It's okay," he assures you, though he's not sure it's true. "I’m gonna get you somewhere safe."
“My apartment is near here," you offer. "If we can make it there."
"We'll make it," Fox promises. "Stay close to me."
"I will," you murmur, and he turns and strides towards the exit, keeping one hand wrapped around yours. The crowd outside has thinned, and the streets are filled with debris and broken glass. You look up at the sky, your eyes widening.
"Fox," you whisper, squeezing his hand.
The clouds are glowing, streaks of red and orange flashing across them. There are fires burning throughout the city, the flames leaping from rooftop to rooftop, and the smoke billows into the air, blanketing the sky. Sirens blare in the distance, and the air is filled with screams and shouts and alarms. It's a scene from his nightmares, a vision of his worst fears realized, and the reality is far worse than he'd ever imagined.
“Come on," Fox orders, pulling you along. "Stay with me."
"Okay," you murmur. Your voice shakes, and he tightens his grip on you, not wanting to lose you. You're his responsibility now, his to protect, and he can't afford to make any mistakes.
The two of you run through the streets, weaving between the groups of people hurrying past. There are civilians everywhere, their eyes wide with fear, their faces smeared with ash and blood. You're moving as fast as you can, but the crowds are thick, and the debris on the ground makes it difficult to navigate.
A group of people runs past, knocking into the two of you, and Fox stumbles, his grip on you slipping.
"Watch it!" he yells, steadying himself. You grab his arm, your hands digging into his armor, and he pulls you close, trying to shield you from the chaos. You're pressed against his chest, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. "I've got you," he breathes. "I've got you."
The next few minutes pass in a blur. Fox does his best to guide you through the crowds, his focus narrowing to the path ahead. His only concern is keeping you safe, and his body reacts without him even thinking. He doesn't hesitate as he guides you down dark alleys, his eyes constantly searching for danger.
Finally, the two of you reach your apartment building. It's quieter here, the streets deserted, and the sight of your building, standing tall and undamaged, is a relief. He lets out a breath and turns to face you.
"This is it," you manage. You're shaking, your face pale, and he cups your cheek, tilting your head up.
"Hey.” He strokes his thumb over your skin, and the look on your face breaks his heart. "It's gonna be okay."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah," he murmurs, and he reaches up and pulls off his helmet so you can see his face. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. You let out a shaky breath, your hands clutching his shoulders, and the intimacy of the gesture sends a rush of affection through him. "I promise."
"Thank you," you whisper.
"Of course," he replies. The two of you stand there for a moment, your breaths mingling, and then Fox pulls back. He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin, and you let out a shaky sigh. "Get inside."
"Okay," you murmur, nodding. "Be careful."
"I will," he promises. He gives you a small smile, and then replaces his helmet, and you blink, as if waking from a dream. 
"Stay inside," he orders, his tone stern. "Lock the doors, and don't open them for anyone but me.”
"Alright."
"Comm me if you need anything," he adds, and the concern in his voice is clear, even through his vocoder. "I'll come back to check on you when I can."
"I'll be waiting," you whisper, and the promise in your voice makes his heart race.
He gives you one last look, his eyes roaming over your face, memorizing every detail. Then, before he can do something stupid, like take his bucket off again and try to kiss you, he turns and walks away.
"Be safe, Fox."
"You too."
And with that, you disappear through the doors, and Fox heads back into the chaos, his heart in his throat.
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Text
Angel of Small Death
A Halloween mini series!
Part 2
Dark Priest! Billy Russo, Dark Priest! Matt Murdock, Dark! Frank Castle
Warnings: Injury, mentions of exorcisms, blasphemy.
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The last time you'd seen Father Russo, you'd both been playing down at the nearby creek.
He was just Billy then, searching for rocks to skip while you dipped your toes into the cold water.
There were much more people living at the monastery, so much that no one missed two teenagers that had simply wandered off to explore.
You'd been listening to him talk about all the places he'd hoped to see on his travels, feeling your heart crack a little at the thought of losing your friend to faith.
You tried to be happy for him, this is what he wanted after all, to make a difference, to bring guidance and support to the wandering souls out there. 
When you watch him leave later that week, it's with red eyes and his lingering scent on your cheeks where he'd squeezed you tight into his chest for just a moment.
The sister caring for you at the time had allowed it, despite the inappropriateness of two teenagers embracing in front of the monastery. She had truly understood what he had meant to you.
Now, you almost don't recognize him.
The crown of his head is wrapped in thick gauzy bandages, his hair is different, cropped short where he'd worn it at his shoulders in his early life.
“Billy?!”
His face has changed too, that pretty cleft chin now hidden beneath stubble. He blinks slowly at you, barely responding when you say his name in surprise.
“You know Father Russo?” The sister besides you asks in surprise.
Right, Father Russo was his name now, not Billy.
“Yes, apologies, he grew up in the monastery alongside me for a few years.”
She nods in understanding.
“We need to get him to the healer inside.” Someone says behind you, and you nod, stepping back to let them through.
“Does anyone know what happened?” You ask, looking around at the small group of people that had arrived with him.
Another priest steps forward, a cane in his hand, and a pair of red tinted spectacles over his eyes. You try not to react to the way your heart quickens its pace at his handsomeness, doing your best to avoid studying his mouth as he speaks.
“He had a fall,” The man answers, “We were- performing an exorcism, and just as the demon was banished, it lashed out, threw us backward, Father Russo hit his head when he fell.”
Your lips part in shock, dread and worry mixing for your longtime friend.
“And you? Are you hurt?” 
He gives you a soft smile, one that makes you feel like a petulant child.
“Just a few cuts and bruises, nothing that time cannot heal.”
You nod.
“Sister Margaret, can you help these men get settled? I'll escort Father-?”
“Murdock.” He supplies.
“-Father Murdock to the infirmary to be checked.”
She nods, introducing herself to the men, before beginning to point out the stables for the horses.
You wait till everyone is far enough away, before you turn to look at Father Murdock.
“Do you require guidance?” You ask.
“Yes, unfortunately I am almost entirely blind.” He answers.
“Very well.” You allow him to hold your arm, and you both begin heading in the direction of the infirmary.
Something doesn't feel right, you can't put your finger on it, but it feels as though you're being observed from the shadows, as if the very walls have suddenly sprouted eyes that follow you.
“How long have you known Father Russo?” You ask, trying to fill the silence, a welcome distraction from the way you feel right now.
A stray wind blows, and you catch the scent of sandalwood, maybe from the man beside you, or maybe it's the incense from the church. Either way, you take another slow breath, delighting in the smell of it, allowing it to relax you.
“I met Billy around five years ago off the coast of Spain, a small island in the Balearic Sea, where a little girl had been taken hostage by an evil spirit. He was good at tracking, and I was better at performing exorcisms, and we began that way.”
You nod, smiling, deep in thought about your childhood friend.
“And, do you perform exorcisms often?” You continue, feeling the warmth of his palm through your sleeve.
“Yes, very, there is an abundance of evil in the world.”
You swallow, dropping your head.
“Oh.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what is your title here? I find it odd that you would be charged with escorting me. Where is the Mother Superior?”
You blink.
“That would be me.” You answer.
He stops in his tracks, and you do as well. You turn your head to look at him.
“You?” He asks with an incredulous tone.
Displeasure bubbles in your throat.
“Is there a problem with that, Father Murdock?” You ask softly, a hint of defiance in your tone.
“How old are you?” He continues rudely.
��I’m old enough.”
“I doubt that. You sound like you’re barely out of leading strings.”
“I find that comment offensive, Father. I am old enough and more than capable.”
“Are you?” he murmurs, stepping in close, “I can feel your heart beating faster the closer I draw to you. You have very limited control on your inner desires.”
“How dare you-” You pause, taking a deep breath, finding your anchor as you feel a surge of emotion. Sure, he might have been right, your heart had been pounding, but you were very much capable of keeping yourself in check.
“Regardless of your opinion, I am Mother Superior here. I am in charge of the dealings of this monastery until an abbott can be appointed. I was selected by vote, and I will do right by the people under my care.”
He pauses, as if realising there was no winning when it came to challenging your capacity to be in charge.
“I understand,” he says, beginning to walk once more and leaving you to catch up with him.
You grit your teeth, noting that he hadn't even apologised for his disrespect.
.
You wring the cold cloth between your hands, water dripping into the bowl for a moment before you press the cloth to his head.
His eyes are closed, but he makes a low humming sound as the cold cloth touches his feverish skin.
“It'll be alright, Billy.” You whisper to him, his eyes moving beneath his eyelids for a moment, responding to your voice.
He'd been like this for a few days now, coming in and out of consciousness, a low grade fever creating a red flush on his skin occasionally.
You pause, looking down at him, his stubble having grown a little longer in the time. He was so beautiful that you found difficulty in looking away.
Your eyes drop to his neck, and you feel something overcome you. You dip your cloth into the frigid bowl of water once more, squeezing half heartedly, before pressing the cloth to his chest.
You want to be thorough, tugging the sheets covering his bare chest lower, so that you can study him. 
He's not the first man you've seen in such a bare state, but he's definitely the first one to make you feel… aware.
You drag the damp cloth over his skin, fingers dragging along his chest, you tilt your head to examine the small speckling of hair.
You bite down on the inside of your cheek, trying not to think…
You breathe out a small laugh.
“You wouldn't believe the thoughts I once had about you, when we were younger, I would sneak off and crawl into the little space in the rafters above the baths in hopes that I would catch you bathing. What a wild one I was, Billy. I had thoughts of begging you to run away with me, the way you might react. I was such a child back then, I'm sorry I hated you for so long after you left. I'm not a child anymore.” You confess to him softly, dabbing at his forehead again.
You stay a little longer than necessary, and when his fever breaks fully, you decide that enough is enough, dropping the damp cloth into the bowl, and standing.
You gasp when he grabs your hand, you turn to look down at him, his eyes blinking in and out of focus.
“Billy?” You say hopeful, cupping his cheek to examine his eyes.
They're unfocused at first, but when they finally settle on you, his lips part in surprise.
“Beautiful.” He murmurs, his fingers rising to push your veil behind your shoulder, his fingers tracing your cheek gently.
“What's your name?” 
.
.
.
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luthinks · 3 days ago
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I think a lot of people really need to go back and read all of Rafayel's story if they think he's not fully capable within his own resolve to feel and act that way. I'm not saying he can't be influenced in the segment of the story we see in the trailer by some higher power, but everyone seems to forget be "wants to settle the score" with MC is there are heavy implications all over his story that he believes she did, in fact, betray him. Whether he knows why or how or if she was also influenced by something else is unknown. I just need the fandom to fr stop trying to princess this man who is capable of mass murdering people who have hurt and hunted Lemurians and can both love and resent MC for whatever jumble of memories he holds. The biggest problem this company created was giving Rafayel purely sappy cards to cater to his huge fan base in China. It's made everyone forget he is dark and angry.
Rafayel is definitely fully capable of taking action on his own against the people who have wronged him and his people and he does so many times. But the mass murdering aspect is also kind of exaggerated. The only people he has canonically killed which we as players have seen are, the person in the theater from Siren's song anecdote and possibly Raymond. Other instances we hear are from other characters — like the sea monster murders and stuff — I take that with a grain of salt cuz the people who were murdered, who worked for ever and experimented on lemurians, left ever group before they got murdered. It could also be ever group killing them and landing the blame on Rafayel. We'll never know, it's upto us what to believe. Knowing papergames, it's not going to be this straight forward but we'll just have to see how they expand on it.
And coming to the "he wants to settle score with MC" part, to me, he didn't sound malicious while he was saying that ... The first thing he did after coming back to linkon was to look up information about MC and make sure she's safe. He even confronted one of the raincoats to inquire if MC was on ever's list. In my personal opinion him settling the score with MC here probably refers to her having forgotten him. I don't think he's even going to hold it against her if she ever betrayed him. He has had multiple dialogues that say, even if she's leading him into a trap, he'd willingly walk into it.
He's definitely bitter that she had forgotten him and everything that happened but he doesn't want to harm her. Like in chapter 7 while he was going to fight the big sea monster, he told MC to stay away because he can't ensure her safety otherwise. And when MC invokes the bond and tells him to not go, he's melancholic that she forgot everything but even then she insists.
Tbh I think one of his major fears is MC will come to dislike him when she comes across his changed self (as he mentioned in omnipotent perception).
In my opinion both the extremities, that Rafayel is all sunshine and roses who's just a brat doing his bratty stuff, and that he's a cold blooded killer that despises MC and wouldn't hesitate one bit before killing even her are two ends of a spectrum. How people feel about him lies between that depending on their own interpretations.
While I believe him to be somewhere in the middle, (I'm team "Rafayel is never going to harm MC no matter what it looks like unless he's possessed, but he'll end anyone who tries to harm her or his lemurian subjects no questions asked" 😂) but at the same time I think it's okay for people to have different beliefs on that scale. Some might have liked the innocent care free side of his more which led to a sharp contrast with recent branch PV, so the angst is inevitable... It's okay for them to lament the loss of this sunshine aspect of his character ... While others might be excited about the dark aspects of his character being explored more, that is also fine. It's a game where all of us are playing at a different pace, and also some of the lore locked behind limited cards ends up with different people having different interpretations, even the timeline of how we get all the content is out of order. So it makes sense that, a complex character like Rafayel would generate a spectrum of opinions 😅.
All in all as long as people aren't being rude to other players I think it's fine how they personally interpret Rafayel's character... I personally believe that the sunshine carefree Rafayel and ruthless cold Rafayel are both part of his personality, neither is more real than the other. But my interpretation might not be in line with others, and that's completely fine too.
P.S. I'm very sorry if this came off as preachy or condescending. I'm not very good at expressing myself while writing 😅
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mind-intheclouds342 · 2 days ago
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You'll never change - Jimmy x Reader
Warning: Dark content.
You were simply sitting with the others, listening to them argue and blame Curly for the news he had shared, about how everyone was going to get their pay at the end of the deliver and then they were just going to be fired.
But it was obvious who was playing with fire in this whole situation.
You stood up to walk towards him, grabbing him by the collar of his uniform and slapped him, the sound echoing in the room, making everyone turn to look at them in silence.
"The captain is having the decency to tell us what he knows so that we can prepare when we return. Why do you want to turn everyone against him, Jimmy?"
Jimmy: "He has no problems! He has his life all figured out! He's saying it because he feels sorry for us, he knows very well that we don't have backup plans!"
He started to complain and rub his cheek, which was red from the slap.
You turned to look at Curly while you took the man's neck to bury his face against your body and silence him, wrapping your arms around his head.
"I'm really sorry about the scene Jimmy is making, do I have permission to take him away to calm him down?"
Curly: "...Go ahead..."
He murmured, surprised by your actions, and everyone watched as you dragged him along, your hand pulling a good chunk of his hair to make him walk with you.
Jimmy: "Hey-! Hey, let me go right now! What was all that? Are you trying to make me look bad?!
You slammed him against one of the walls in the hallway and cornered him with your arms, looking him in the eyes with seriousness.
"You're like a little child, did you know that? You cry and throw a tantrum when you don't like something, you start screaming because you want attention, and if someone has a toy you wanted, you try to take it from them by any means possible."
Jimmy: "And what do you know about m-?"
He was interrupted when you pressed your lips against his, even clashing your teeth against his in the desperate kiss you were giving him, hoping that for once and for all he would decide to be quiet.
At first, he tried to resist, but little by little he gave in, his hands starting to roam your body, making you cling to him even more, to the point where he began to squeeze and massage your butt.
In that instant, you pulled away, turning your face when you noticed he tried to kiss you again.
"You are a twsited one, did you know that? There's no way to fix you."
You took his face in your hands, he looked at you with vulnerable eyes, wanting you to give him your full attention, the first time someone had given him something without having to snatch it from his hands.
"Such a bastard, trying to take advantage of our poor nurse. Were you surprised when you went to her room and I was with her? I knew there was something wrong with the drink you had so 'kindly' prepared for her..."
Jimmy: "You say it as if I had tried to kill her... I wasn't going to do anything bad to her."
"Ugh, you're disgusting, you really can't be helped, huh?"
You held his face firmly while he kept trying to kiss you.
You tilted your head and smiled when you had an idea.
"I have a wonderful idea for you, let's go to my bedroom."
You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt again to take him with you.
.
.
.
.
.
Curly: Ah- (Y/n), I need to ask you something. I've heard some strange noises coming from your room... They sound human."
"Oh yes- I'm sorry for not letting you know before, you were so busy that I didn't want to bother you... Jimmy had a little accident and hurt his leg, I'm taking care of him so you don't have to worry."
You smiled at him. 
Curly: "Thats why those sounds are heard from your room? Why isn't he in the nursery?"
"He felt more comfortable with me... Don't worry, he's really fine."
You insisted, but in his gaze, you could tell he wasn't completely convinced by your words; still, he didn't ask any more questions, as he had no reason not to trust what you were saying. 
You kept your smile until you were out of their sight, at that moment your smile faded, and you quickly walked to your room. 
"Hey Jimmy~" 
You sat on your bed, watching the man lying on it. 
Tied to the bed by each of his limbs, without his uniform, only in his underwear, gagged and blindfolded, you could barely hear his ragged breathing when he heard you arrive. 
"Shh shh... I'm here, did you miss me, puppy?"
You mentioned removing the gag to leave a kiss on his lips. 
"Do you know what I've found out? You've been screaming a lot... Why? You have no reason to do that, we're just spending time together."
Jimmy: "Please... Let me go... I want to touch you..."
His hands pulled the straps that held his wrists, making a loud sound against the headboard of the bed. 
"One hand"
You mentioned releasing one of his hands, which immediately moved to your waist to keep you close. 
"You have to behave when I'm not around, you can't cry just because I left, I have work to do. I had to make up that you had hurt your leg..." 
You ran your hand over his thigh, making him shiver, while he tried to pull your uniform aside to touch your chest. 
"I feel bad lying to the captain... So... You're not going to make me look like a liar, are you, Jimmy?"
You leaned over him, while you saw him nod repeatedly.
You searched for some pills in your pocket and brought them to your mouth. 
You took a mirror that was on your nightstand and broke it, causing the man to jump startled upon hearing the sound. 
"Shh... It will only be a second, okay?"
You placed your free hand on his cheek to calm him, while your lips rested on his to drown the scream he let out when you drove the piece of glass into his thigh, sinking it as deep as possible. 
In the kiss, you pushed the pills you had previously taken with your tongue to the back of your throat, forcing him to swallow them. 
"Shh... They are painkillers, okay? I'll bring some things from the nursery and everything will be fine... If you go outside and Curly see you hopping with a bad leg he will believe me complety"
You caressed his hair and removed the bandage, seeing her eyes all tearing up.
"You know I have to do this for the sake of others, you are a danger on this ship... But you've been a good boy, do you want a reward?"
Jimmy: "I want to see you..."
"Of course"
You smiled at him to take off the top part of your uniform, you could hear his breath quicken as he saw your bra and how you unfastened it to let him see. 
You touched his leg, seeing the swelling of the wound and how much he was bleeding, but you were focused on your nudity, and lost in the quick effect of the painkiller. 
"You brought all this on yourself... If you had been quiet... If you weren't such a piece of shit... This is to let you know that there are people worse than you."
He wasn't even paying attention to your words, they didn't matter to him, because anyway, that wouldn't make him change.
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mikeellee · 2 days ago
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You know? I think the whole "All Might is Midoriya father figure" is almost entirely made up by the fandom rather than what the actual story tell us, and that is speaking of the main manga or what Horikoshi writes himself not spinoff and derived canon media.
Because is there a single time in which All Might and Deku show the kind of intimacy and love a father should have for his son and vice versa?
I can't think of something like that outside maybe the dark deku arc when A.M gives him the bento boxes, and even that count as the bare minumum considering most people are obssesed with the idea of A.M being a father figure.
Also they really don't interact that much (or at all) outside anything related to OFA or hero stuff. At least to me they should have some kind of casual interaction as Izuku and Yagi rather than just A.M and Deku.
Combine all this with the fact Midoriya never in the whole series express any feeling about the lack of a father figure in his life and how awkward A.M is for interact with him, it's difficult to take seriously the idea of "Dad Might".
Hi @nyc3
You hit the nail here, have you noticed how regardless of the story the fans will designated characters to be the mom or dad of the group? And it's sad people create this fanon where AM is big dad for Izu when...in canon...if we haven't got his thoughts we wouldn't even believe he likes Izu.
I do think thanks to what canon shows...Izu got the quirk by a mix of AM being too stubborn (and stupid, sorry am fans this man IS stupid) and nighteye's creepiness. There's nothing that justify why give a quirk to Izu...and I say this as someone who likes Izu and hate the bashing he gets.
Izu has no real relationship, none whatsover and we aren't meant to see that nor really care. His pain is a gag.
The whole AM and Gran relationship is a gag and it hurts the characters. "What you mean?" Think this way, am has a big quirk ans gave to this QUIRKLESS boy who has no support and his quirk HURT him majorly ...am knows someone else who can help Izu...his response? Be silent until Izu has no internship offer and then you mentioned your mentor...you mention your mentor as this cruel monster who will torture you for lols.
Gran torino is not like that (not saying he is perfect, but we didn't see anything that would justify AM be afraid of him. "Could have change" possible, but this also make AM look bad, Gran changed and is willing to help Izu...what has AM done?)
We also don't know how Gran trainer AM, keep in mind how the man was also sent to the US.
Am has little relationship, he has one with Naomasa but it's funny as he suggested Izu to be a cop and sort, unitentally, talk trash about the job. Which makes me wonder if AM sees Naomasa's job as less....maybe not intentionally.
Izu knows nothing about the man. He knows his name thanks to Gran....keep in mind he was trained with AM to gain muscles for 10 months! (I have issues with that training montage. I can now say how it represent how Izu will be treated in this story. He cleans a beach, no one gives a fuck- he see fans being all over am and no one cares about the teen cleaning the beach- and gets no reward...the whole "heroes don't do things to get reward IS bull and rich coming from a man that is mega famous and rich as AM)
At times, I get the am bashing (but loathe as they chose to make Aizawa or afo better. Like AM is just an idiot...Aizawa and Afo are malicious)
I find sad bc Izu really has no one. His mother is.....Inko. His father is dead and Mia for all we know, friends? Hahahahajahahahaaha not in canon. shig? Never even attempt to know smth about Izu...
Hori shows to you...Izu is a loser, later makes him saying that. And we aren't meant to conclude Hori hates his own mc ? (Don't worry, hori hates Shig too)
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dazais-guardian-angel · 7 months ago
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kinda wild to me that one of the most compelling aspects of both Chuuya and Kunikida's characters to me, that I never really see talked about, is how they're heavily set on a doomed crash course towards complete and utter destruction, and how I am so, so worried for them both.....
#bungou stray dogs#been thinking a lot about chuuya lately (shocking for me i know (said with no sarcasm truly lmao it is rare for me))#cause of the 15 manga and also playing the fucking jeht quest in genshin impact ugh (where's the one dual genshin bsd fan who Understands)#but like this pressure has been building up for chuuya for so long due to being used and manipulated by all these people#first the sheep then mori then verlaine then still mori now#he was groomed since childhood just like dazai#but unlike dazai he didn't have an oda to help him get out of the mafia........ he's still stuck there#and his personality is different from dazai's. dazai was more self-aware imo (but still a groomed emotionally abused kid don't get me wrong#but chuuya's whole thing is needing to belong and wanting a leader to be loyal to but ending up in positions of leadership himself#which makes him feel pressured but he accepts and stifles any negative feelings just because he wants to belong#and all this crushed him with the events in the light novels and yeah he went through character growth but he's...... Still In The Mafia...#and that fucking scene asagiri added to the cannibalism stage play i don't think hardly anyone even knows about bc IT'S NOT DISCUSSED ANYMO#where mori emotionally manipulates him with the flags!!! and it deeply hurts him!!! and he presumably deals with that shit all the time!!!#it is WORRISOME. it WORRIES ME okay.#chuuya doesn't have anyone who can save him from the mafia (dazai is in no position to okay; it's all he can do just to try to save himself#and it's so so scary. it spells awful things for him.#didn't asagiri say he'd have a rough path or something??? and he added that fucking scene in the play!!! it haunts me!!#i fully expected this shit to hit a turning point in the meursault arc but we can't have nice things i guess#and as for kunikida a;lskdfl (took me this long to get to him oop) literally the ending of Entrance Exam (the novel) is just#One Big Foreshadowing for Kunikida's downfall#he's compared to the azure king for a reason. Sasaki saw the azure king in him for a reason. it's fucking worrying!!!!!#there hasn't really been anything like that since in the manga (just like for chuuya lol ugh) but he's TERRIBLE at coping with his trauma#and it only gets more apparent once shit hit the fan in the doa/hunting dogs/meursault arc#it's not good!!! i'm worried for kunikida too!!!!#even if the manga isn't focusing on this these worries are always in the back of my mind man#both kunikida and chuuya are doomed to hit some kind of breaking point eventually and i await those moments with dread yet anticipation#i want dazai to be able to save kunikida from the despair being too good a person brings the way he couldn't save oda#and chuuya.... if we get a scene with him & mori mirroring the one in dark era where dazai finds out that mori orchestrated the kids' death#oh man i think i'll fucking die (give it to me i need to cry)
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druidonity2 · 1 year ago
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2021 Shadowlands fanart.
#world of warcraft#anduin wrynn#Garrosh follows this with something like 'yeah your not but maybe i am' so i sorta take the quote out of context but#I remember Anduin being very upset about the mere idea hes compaired to Arthas#Its always seemed to me that his similarities with arthas are something that lowkey bothers him because so many only see that in him#Of course people hurt by Arthas will be a bit weary of a human boy with blonde hair who claims to champion the light and justice#Especially one who is a prince of an important human kingdom#So its something hes self-conscious of and is keen to prove people he's not destine to fail#Which is why#even if he didn't become another Arthas entirely#what happens in SLs is so much more traumatic to him#He hurt people he cared about#he hurt innocent souls#((and his situation of mind control is more akin to sylvanas' then arthas but does he see that that way? Or do his fears blind his view?))#And blizz didnt go into detail what this meant but Arthas was used against him literally#My headcanon is that Anduin knew and could feel it and hear arthas in the sword#but in the cinematic anduin is surprised by arthas' soul appearing so canon says anduin didnt know#He dissappers because he is unsure if the bad feelings he felt orignated from him or zovaal or arthas so#prehaps he is afraid that everyone was right to be weary of him#Maybe he didnt end up as arthas at the end of shadowlands but that doesnt mean he can't still go down a dark path#he is afraid he is more capable of becoming an unjust and cruel leader then he thought he could#His people have every right to be upset that he abandoned them#but they dont know that he left because he was afraid he could hurt them and feel joy from it
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powderkegging · 1 year ago
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givens this crowder that. what about the gutterson family.
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vipwinnie · 1 year ago
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Sleeping after an argument
mattheo riddle x reader
Summary : you decided not to sleep with him after an argument
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In the dimness of his room, you sit on the edge of the bed, your heart heavy with frustration. The walls echo with the reverberations of an seemingly endless argument. He stands, a sharp gaze in his eyes, his poisoned words filling the air.
"Why are you always like this?" you ask, trying to contain your own anger. "Your attitude is toxic, Mattheo. It can't go on like this."
He sneers, an ironic smile distorting his face. "Oh, now it's my fault? You're always the victim, aren't you?"
You take a deep breath, trying to calm the flames of anger rising within you. "It's not about being a victim. It's about mutual respect. You can't keep acting this way."
Mattheo approaches, his presence oppressive. "Mutual respect? Funny coming from you. You just criticize me, judge me."
"Because you act disrespectfully! You constantly attack me, and I can't take it anymore."
He shrugs, disdainful. "If you can't take it, leave. No one is forcing you to stay."
The tension reaches its peak. You stand up, facing Mattheo with determination. "Maybe that's what I should do."
The words hang in the air, heavy with consequences. The room is filled with the silence that follows an argument, and you wonder if this confrontation marks the end of something, or perhaps the beginning of a new dynamic.
Frustrated by the atmosphere, Mattheo abruptly stands up and heads to the bathroom, using the excuse of needing to prepare in there to escape the confrontation. You remain in the room, Mattheo's dark look still echoing in the air. The decision not to spend the night in this toxic atmosphere takes hold in you, and you head to the bathroom as well.
Reflecting in the bathroom, you decide to leave the unresolved argument behind and choose not to sleep that night. The idea of returning to your shared room with Pansy becomes a tempting refuge. Exiting the bathroom, you silently slip through the hallway, deliberately avoiding Mattheo's room.
Meanwhile, Mattheo, after anxiously waiting in the bathroom for some time, starts to worry about your absence. Concerned, he knocks on the door, softly calling, "My love, are you okay?" Faced with your silence, he eventually opens the door, discovering that you're no longer there. Regret fills him as he realizes the impact of his behavior.
Determined to find you, Mattheo heads towards the girls' dormitory, disregarding any rules of decency. His only thought is to bring you back to him, suddenly realizing how crucial your presence is to him.
Upon opening the door to your room, he notices Pansy's absence, but you're there, asleep in your bed, hugging a pillow that was supposed to replace him for the night. Mattheo gently removes the pillow from your arms, slipping into its place. He embraces you tenderly, whispering an "I love you" in your ear, realizing the foolishness of the argument. He holds you tightly, hoping that you'll find it in yourself to forgive him despite the hurtful words he uttered.
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a-b-riddle · 6 months ago
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Part Four
Can't stop thinking about reader losing her cool.
"So we're closed, John." You said, trying to be cordial.
"Is that all you have to fucking say?" He practically growled before huffing. A humorless chuckle rumbling out of his chest. "I suppose not since you won't respond to any of us."
"Don't do that." You said taking a step back. Trying to create some distance between you and him. John would never physically hurt you. That much you knew.
"What?" He asked. His voice rising as he stepped closer to you. "Be angry that you pulled that shit and then left? Stopped talking to us. Changed your fucking locks. Last thing we even knew about you was that you got on a fucking plane and left. Even your friends wouldn't tell us anything besides that you were okay." "Which considering this came out of bloody nowhere, I find it highly unlikely that you are in any way 'okay'."
You took a deep breath. You wouldn't be intimidated. You wouldn't clam up. You wouldn't cry. You won't go back on your decision. You will be cordial and polite and not unleash everything you want to.
"I understand you might be upset, but it's for the best. It wasn't working out and I wanted to end on somewhat good terms. I would appreciate it if you lowered your voice and stopped speaking to me in that way." You could barely recognize your voice. It sounded so scripted. So robotic. But it was something you had been telling yourself. Excuses you had been telling yourself.
Because if you told yourself the truth. The picture you would paint would tell a different story. It wouldn't highlight the fact that John spoke to you like he was one of your men or that Johnny had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. It wouldn't show what a flake Kyle was or that Simon was well and truly a mean-spirited person.
It would show how you weren't worth it. Four possible men. Four possibilities of happily ever after and none of them chose you. That no one ever did and no one ever would. You weren't worth it. You weren't loveable.
It wasn't right, but it was what the voices had been telling you late in the night. When you would crawl into your cold bed. The silence of the room not filled with John's steady breathing or the sound of Kyle's heartbeat as you laid you head on his chest. The absence of Johnny's occasional snoring or whatever Simon was watching playing in the background of your dreams.
In the void, all your dark thoughts came back at you.
"Upset?" He asked, his voice still louder than you would have liked. "An understatement considering the stunt you pulled."
"You think it was a stunt?"
"So Johnny thought with his dick and didn't plan things out. You should have told him instead of crying to Simon and then pulling this shit." "Christ, I knew you were still young, but I didn't take you for that immature."
"You know what?" "I'm done." "I am so fucking sick of making excuses for you all." "You want to act like I'm the immature one, John?" "You are 35-year-old man who cannot separate his work from his work like. You have continuously talked to and down to me like I am one of your men, only to turn around and always blame your shitty fucking attitude on work. I get that your job is stressful, but I did not sign up to be your verbal fucking punching bag."
"And this come and fucking go incident with Johnny. It has been a consistent issue with him coming over just to fuck. I've asked him for that last six months that 'hey, we've been seeing each other for a year and a half, I would love to meet your family' and suddenly the dates stop. He doesn't ask to see me until after 7 PM. He brings food occasionally, fucks me and leaves. Sometimes before I even wake up."
"And the only reason Kyle is the person I am the least pissed off with is because I haven't even seen him." You took a step closer, not noticing how the anger in John's eyes had softened. "I have not seen Kyle in weeks, to no fault of my own. I stopped reaching out to make dinner plans after the third time he canceled on a date night when I was either on my way or already at the restaurant."
"And Simon?" You scoffed. "Well, it doesn't really matter. After all, as he said I get mine. You all make me cum which is supposed to magically erase how shitty you've all been as partners. It's supposed to erase the nights I've cried myself to sleep debating on whether or not there was something wrong with me. How I'm not good enough to meet anyone else in your lives like some dirty fucking secret. How none of you can even bother to pencil me for a group dinner so I can tell you a publishing house picked up my book. How at some point you all stopped caring or maybe never did."
You took a breath. Blinking quickly to keep the tears at bay.
You wouldn't cry. You wouldn't cry.
"As Simon said it best, I should have known that spreading my legs wouldn’t end with one of you putting a ring on your finger.”
For once, John was silent. Unsure of what to say. An apology starting to form at the tip of his tongue before realizing 'sorry' wouldn't cut it. Not this time.
Had he really been that sharp with you? He knew that there were times he had gotten short, but he almost always apologized immediately after. If not at the very moment he took in your crest-fallen face, then definitely later. But he almost always told you he was sorry. Didn't he?
"So as I said," you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "I'm closed. We're done. Now get out." Your face held no sadness. Even though your eyes were nearly full to the brim with unshed tears, you weren't sad.
You were finally angry.
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youryanderedaddy · 8 months ago
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can you write gentle yandere taking their darling for the first time vs mean sadistic yandere taking them for the first time?
Btw I love ur work 💖💘💗
tw: female reader, non - con, kidnapping, obsessive/possessive behavior, sadism, degradation, slut - shaming
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Gentle ~
You know the type of guy I'm talking about. Big and buff, dark - haired, cries a lot. Watches romance movies in his free time and actually calls his mother even outside of the holiday season. Wears slutty little black fitted shirts after working out and brings you smoothies after work. He smiles and blushes. The man is a massive loser with an undying passion for anything nerdy, be it dragons, board games, collecting marks. Who would really expect this poor soul to hurt even a fly?
But he does.
It doesn't happen until months after he's taken you in. Most of the time he's being the perfect gentleman (aside from literally keeping you captive) - he cooks for you, brings you roses and chocolates (even when you throw them away or tear the petals from the flowers), cleans and doesn't make you lift a finger. He reads you poetry until your ears bleed. He tells you he loves you one hundred times a day and seemingly doesn't care about your snorts or the way you roll your eyes and push him away, already so used to your living situation you can't even find it in yourself to be scared. You think he's harmless - as harmless as a lovesick puppy.
But then one night he comes home, an unusual frown on his otherwise soft face. There is a certain type of madness in his hazel eyes. They are still so very soft and adoring, he still sees you as a Goddess in need of worship... but there is also something dark and muddy. Something possessive.
Your captor kisses you on the cheek and that much is granted - he does it every day, along with shouting "Honey, I'm home" at the door. He hugs you - tight. Tighter than ever before, it feels as if the man is trying to crush you in a suffocating embrace, like he wants to swallow you whole within his arms. For the first time you realise just how muscular he is - how much stronger he is. And then he picks you up like a blushing bride and leaves a quick peck on your forehead before taking you to the bedroom and carefully laying you down.
He doesn't give you time to ask questions - as soon as he steps a foot in your shared room, he's already tearing apart his clothes, revealing his ripped form.
"See anything you like, sweetness?" the man asks you, rubbing his hands together as he towers over you, caging you between two beefy arms. You stay silent for a moment, mouth agape at the suddenness of it all - you have never seen him like this. He starts caressing your cheeks and slowly moves down, and that's when it finally settles in your mind. You need to act quickly.
"Stop." you say authoritatively, just like you have done so many times before, praying it would work like it had in the past. But not now. This time he simply shakes his head, a crazed smile playing on his lips as he lowers his head and kisses your neck softly, lovingly. It's terrifying. You're not used to this. You don't know how to react. "Baby, I can't hold it in anymore." Your captor whispers, head resting against your shoulder, voice low and desperate - almost whiny.
"I really tried." he swallows thickly. "I swear. I tried cold showers a-and thinking about bad things but..." he bites his lip, staring at you. You look so small and helpless and, God, he respects you, he really does, but he can't help the way his crotch twitches and his pants tighten as he watches you squirm and tremble, oh-so-small and panicky, defenceless little hands scratching at his arms, but failing to make him budge.
"But every time I come home all pent up and annoyed after dealing with bastards all day, all I want is to bend you over," he continues after moving a lock of your hair out of the way so he can whisper directly into your naked ear. "And fuck-”, he says as he pins your hands to the bed frame, enjoying seeing you wiggle and pant. "The shit-" he can feel your heart beat faster and faster as your whole body gets warmer. It's awfully intimate. "Out of-" he's so excited now that he grabs your hips rather roughly, and ruts against your core, whimpering as his crotch rubs all over your clothed slit. "you".
He growls, now more akin to a lion or a bear than to a human.
He tries to enter you slowly so he wouldn’t hurt you, but the moment your tight velvety walls wrap around his hard throbbing length, he’s reduced to a feral whimpering mess, shoving at you in short sloppy thrusts, completely pussy - drunk. He lasts less than five minutes before he pulls out and cums all over your stomach, watching in fascination as his seed marks you. He slams his lips against yours, swallowing your hushed protests as he murmurs “Mine” over and over again, gripping your hips closer when he feels you pulling away.
Once his brain has cleared enough to be able to think properly he helps you clean up, touching you so gently you wonder if this wild, brutish side he exhibited was all but a dream. But it’s still very much there, barely contained under the surface - and one single moment of freedom and passion is enough to open Pandora's box. 
After that night he feels a lot more comfortable with touching you, for better or worse. 
Mean ~
He doesn’t wait for you to adjust to your ‘new life’ before he basically pounces on you like a predator. To be completely honest, he’s wanted to fuck you within inches of your life since the time he first saw you - the only thing keeping him at bay for a while were the countless pretty pictures he had of you naked and writhing in your own bed in the comfort of your home that all the secret cameras he had installed managed to capture.
Before he used to treat your home footage like his own personal cam - girl show; sometimes he would wait to leave work, jerking all over your face on his screen the moment he gets home. Other times he wasn’t so patient, and he had to sneak off to the restroom any time a thought about you occurred, stroking himself to completion as he blasted his recordings of your quiet moans on his headphones.
But now you’re here in the flesh - the real thing, tied so tight you can’t move an inch, trembling all over just like a bunny caught in a trap by the hunter. He wants you completely immobilised - he’s waited ages for this moment and he wants absolutely no distractions getting in the way of him finally taking his price.
You sob pitifully, your mouth the only part of your body left uncovered, and you try to plead with him desperately. You promise him money, influence, anything he wants - whatever would be able to get you out of this hellish predicament. You even offer to give him a blowjob - which he simply sneers at, grabbing a fistfull of your hair. 
“Oh, doll, the night is still young. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” He looks possessed, ready to feast on your flesh. You shiver, curling into yourself as much as possible - but he pulls your legs on both sides of his thighs, his hands seeming grand across your rickety ankles. “You’ll get your chance to choke on this cock soon enough.” He grabs his bulge crudely, massaging it through his thick stained grey pants. “Right now all I want is to see this cute little pussy stretched on my meat and those pretty tits bouncing in the air as I slap them red.”
It really doesn’t matter if you’re a virgin or not, you’re getting brutalised either way - although his comments would be different.
If you’re a virgin, he’s making sure you get the whole of his length in one - there is something terribly amusing about the toe - curling scream you let out as his cock tears you apart, something borderline pornographic in the way your brows twist and your nostrils flare, lips shut tight as to not give him the pleasure of hearing your pain out loud. But it’s obvious, and he wants you to know that he enjoys it through and through - licking your tears and the sweat off your neck, pinching at your thighs, your breasts, your stomach; whatever makes you cry the most. 
If you’re not a virgin, he still finds a way to get his fun out of you. 
“I don’t feel you clenching on me, you little slut.” He smacks your cheek with little force behind it - it’s not meant to hurt you, but to humiliate you and drive his point across. “Did you have a fucking train ran on you? I should have known you’d be a filthy whore.” He bites at your lower lip, pulling at it until he hears you whine pitifully - leaving his mark on you. “Should’a known with these cocksucking lips of yours, and ngh-” He sinks into you, voice breaking once the tip of his dick brushes against your cervix. “And t-those slutty hips, shit, keep squeezing me just like that, n-ngh, I am going to ruin you all over again!”
He fucks you for who knows how long - when he’s finally satisfied, the sun is already up and you’re drenched in sweat and cum. There isn’t a single part of your body that doesn’t ache.
He leaves you there, snickering at the sight of your empty stare fixed on the ceiling - only reaching to untie you and cuff your ankle to the bed frame instead. You weakly raise an eyebrow in question.
“Stay here until I come back, okay?” He grins with malice, caressing your wet matted hair. “Hah, not that you can really go anywhere.”
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starry-bi-sky · 2 months ago
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don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au
this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--
his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!
So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.
Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.
Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.
And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.
Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.
Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.
He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?
Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.
Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.
They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.
Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.
He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.
His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.
Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.
It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.
He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.
Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.
He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.
He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.
Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.
It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.
It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.
"I've become my grandfather."
#dpxdc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dpxdc crossover#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#danyal al ghul au#dpxdc au#dp x dc au#dpxdc prompt#ive been playing cult of the lamb recently and you can tell#anyways i thought this was funny to think about. its specifically danyal al ghul bc that makes it even funnier#tfw you accidentally become a cult leader. rip to you danny you have a cult following#not at ALL an accurate depiction of a cult but i still think its funny. innaccurate cult depictions. ur in too deep to change it now danno#sam and tucker: hey dude... this is a cult | danny still learning how to People: what. no. these are all my friends and refugees.#his inner circle are all Insane about him they just show it in different ways. Sirius is as equally zealous as the rest they just don't#show it as much. which has mistakenly convinced danyal that they are the more logical one. no danny. they would kill for you#danny: i am being hospitable | sam: you created a cult | danny: i am being hosPITABLE#i dont like ghost king aus but i love danny being in positions of power it just has to feel earned. 'accidental kingdom acquisition' is my#favorite trope it just has to be done correctly. 🫵 build that bitch up with your bare hands and not realize until its too late you fool#'becoming a world power by accident and im in too deep to back out now'#danyal. a raised assassin (has no threshold for normal behavior): *sees utter devotion towards him* yeah this is fine and normal.#danyal: yk i dont see this ending horribly. *goes and collects more followers* yeah this is totally cool. welcome to the constellation#danyal: *saves a few people and houses them in his lair* (everyone liked that [to a worrying degree actually])#his inner circle: my moon! | danny: my stars :]#danny: ive become my grandfather. | danny: ... | danny: idk how to feel about that honestly.#those poor cultists that kidnapped antares were subjected to a 3hr tangent about 'the radiance of the Moon and his resplendent generosity'#before danyal found him and got him home. who were the cultists summoning? who knows! but they got Objectively the Worst out of the#constellation to summon by accident. actually they're all bad there's no picking who. they're all various amounts of Unhinged Danny just#Never Realizes It because he is also Unhinged and thinks some of this shit is normal.#like yeah thats totally normal behavior he has no questions whatsoever. this seems like Typical People Stuff.
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shadow4-1 · 7 months ago
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I'm just imagining having spent the night with a lover who isn't in the 141, only to wake up the next morning and there's in intervention waiting for you in the rec room.
Like, at first you're just confused. But when Price opens his mouth to ask you about how you slept...you have a bit of a meltdown. Why does it matter? Why is everyone staring at you? What's going on?
Soap grabs the collar of your t-shirt and pulls it down so everyone can get a look at the dark hickies dotting your neck. You slap his hand away, tears in your eyes.
"So all of you can do whatever you want? Sneak bitches on base and fuck around at all the bars we pass through! But I'm not allowed to do anything with someone I actually like?!"
It hurts. It feels like you're being stripped bare in front of them.
Price sighs, his gaze softens. It's obvious he doesn't want to have this conversation but something you've done has given him no choice. Soap just stands a few feet away, chest puffed out, eyeing you with a strange annoyance. You know if you try to leave he'll stop you.
"You are...not in the same position as us." Price tries and winces. He's obviously not putting his thoughts into soft enough words, but he continues. "You are...it is our responsibility to keep you safe."
"Safe? You're trying to keep me safe?" Your voice is raised higher than you've ever raised it at Price. "Safe by what? Fighting off all the guys at the bars? Safe by spreading lies about me to all of the PMCs and the other Task Forces?"
Price just closed his eyes and set his jaw. He had to know about the subterfuge you'd been experiencing for well over a couple years now. Everyone in the room was guilty as charged.
"You're and asset. And you're also a liability." Ghost speaks up, eyes narrowed, stance way too relaxed against the metal folding chair he sits in. "Do you remember what happened to the 7th Division?"
Saliva pools in your mouth, a sudden queasiness filling your stomach. Yeah, of course you remembered. Their beloved medic had been kidnapped by a group of angry drug lords using a mercenary group as their muscle. The 7th Division had gone in guns blazing to get their member back and well...they'd been wiped out. And their star medic they'd sacrificed everything for? She'd been brainwashed and inducted into the very agency that stole her away.
KORTAC
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" You mutter. "Please tell me you're not."
"We can't have you fraternizing with anyone." Price states smoothly. "As our medic, you have a responsibility to us, your team. We can't have you getting caught up in something bigger."
"I understand what you're saying, but can't you see how ridiculous this is?" You try to reason. "I'm human, I have- god this is embarrassing. I h-have wants and...needs, just like you guys."
The silence is loud. You can't meet anyone's gaze. Price steps closer to you, swallowing hard. His next few words are spoken softly, conspiratorially.
"All of your needs will be taken care of. We will never let you suffer by yourself."
Price cocks his head to the men before you both. All of them straighten beneath his gaze. Price places a hand on the small of your back.
"Whatever it takes." He commands them. "I better not hear or see anything. Do I make myself clear?"
A trio of "yessirs" bounce off the white walls. Price just smiles and nods. He pats your back.
"There we go. You'll be fine." He sighs. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to talk to your guest."
Your eyes widen, your throat drops into your stomach.
"Wait!"
"We've got ye, Bonnie. You n' all yer needs."
Six hands are on you from several different angles. Their massive frames block out the fluorescent lights.
"Ah, where are you goin'?" Gaz chuckles, his arm wraps around your belly.
You try to run after Price but the rec room door is slammed shut and locked. You try to push the closest man away, but he just grins down at you.
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monster-disaster · 2 months ago
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I would love if you could write something about a dragon having a girl for a mate and praising/ pleasing her with his tongue with in tune gets him off as well
Request 2: Could I request a dragon story? The reader gets forced by her village as an offering to a dragon to keep him at bay. He takes her as an offering and instead of torturing her as she thought he claims her as his life long mate and wishes to please her and praise her? Mainly by eating her out constantly
dragon!Diman x human!Reader Good to know: size difference, smut, dead animals
You should have seen this coming.
You noticed the glances, the whispers behind your back, and the cold silence that followed you among the villagers. The signs were all there. And most importantly, you rejected one of the elders' sons when he asked for your hand in marriage. That sealed your fate.
Even now, bound and frightened, you don't regret it, though. Not one bit.
Being offered to a dragon, whether as a toy or a snack, you can't be sure, still feels like a brighter future than living under that man's thumb for the rest of your life. The thought of enduring him as a husband, dirty and loud, is more terrifying than anything else you might face now. Cooking for him, bearing his children... No. You'd rather face a thousand monsters than live that kind of life.
"Are you still sure of your decision?" He asks, pulling you from your thoughts. His piggy eyes are fixated on you. The pale color of his irises reflects the silvery light of the moon in the dark sky.
"Yes," you reply, your voice almost drowned out by the noise of the villagers gathered at the foot of the hill. You have to force your expression to remain indifferent, hiding your disgust as you look at him. His double chin obscures the line of his jaw. His round face is covered with stubble and small gashes from his clumsy attempts to shave.
"You'll regret it," he huffs. His grip is bruisingly tight around your arm as he uses you to haul himself up the hill. With every step, you sink back a few inches under his weight.
No, you think, but don't say it out loud. I won't.
No matter what happens when the dragon arrives, it's still better than the image in your head of the man panting and moving above you in bed. Even the thought of it makes your stomach turn with disgust and bile. His stubby fingers would fumble over you, grasping all the wrong places, and you’re not even sure if he could manage to put it in with his large stomach in the way. But, of course, his looks are the least of your concerns. If he had a lovable personality, it might have been bearable. But he’s rotten to the core. He could be more like the son of one of the hunters; a big guy too, with a mess of blonde locks on the top of his head and bright blue eyes that always shine with humor and happiness. His chubbiness only makes him look several years younger, adding to his boyish charm. But you aren't that lucky. He’s in love with your neighbor.
And this, all of this, leaves you for the dragon.
When you reach the top of the hill, your legs are sore, and lungs tight from panting. The man behind you shoves you to the ground. The impact hurts, but it's still better than the feel of his sweaty palm on your bare skin.
"Don't even try to run," he warns. The words leave his lips in heavy puffs. "If you do, we have hunters ready to shoot you."
You don't respond, turning your head away from him and only looking back when he finally turns to leave you there. Oh, how you wish he’d trip and roll all the way down into the crowd of villagers below. He’d knock them down like a huge ball. A sweaty, hairy ball. You are sure he would sound like the pigs too, crying and wailing.
Adjusting yourself on your knees, you straighten your back and scan the view in front of you. You don’t attempt to escape. You have no doubt the hunters would stop you if you tried anything. And where would you even go? Your home is the village, with all your possessions left behind in your small hut. And with your hands tied behind your back, you wouldn’t survive the night in the woods. The villagers would hunt you down like an animal. You would become the pig, dying in the dirt. The thought makes your heart ache with betrayal. It leaves a sour taste in your mouth. You once believed the village and its people were your home, your safe haven. Now, you are nothing more to them than something they can sacrifice.
With a heavy sigh, you gaze over the woods stretching out before you; a tangle of shadows with sharp edges and twisted shapes. Behind them, the tall, looming mountains' jagged silhouettes reach skyward as if trying to pierce the darkness. The familiar view that once gave you a sense of safety now leaves you with a cold, gnawing unease in your stomach as you wait. The villagers, whom you know all too well, are silent now, waiting just like you.
And none of you have to wait for long.
The sight of the dragon in the dark sky takes your breath away. The moon’s silvery light catches its enormous body, revealing the scales in sharp detail. You see its muscles shifting and moving beneath the hard skin. Each powerful stroke of its wide wings sends ripples through the night air. You hear every rhythmic beat growing louder as it gets closer and closer. Its large head, long and sharp, is supported by a thick neck that connects to broad shoulders. Along its spine, sharp ridges jut out prominently, extending all the way to the tip of its swinging tail. It cuts into the darkness with a fluid grace.
Your chest heaves as you try to get air into your burning lungs, but it seems that even the sight of him alone is enough to leave you breathless. His formidable presence commands awe, respect, and fear. Each powerful movement echoes his sheer strength. When he lands not far from you, the ground shakes and trembles beneath his massive weight. The vibrations crawl up through your bones.
"You are my payment," he says. His voice is deep and rumbling.
The word choice makes you flinch, and though it’s not a question, you nod in response anyway. "Yes."
Living so close to a dragon is always a risk, but as far as you know, most places find ways to protect themselves from the wrath of these huge creatures. The villages offer them gold, food, or humans.
For a long, long second, the dragon looks over you with his almond-shaped eyes. The weight of his gaze is heavy on you as well as his next words. "You will do."
For what, you want to ask but decide to stay quiet instead.
"Will you try something silly if I cut your bounds?" He asks with amusement.
You shake your head. "No." What could you do against him? Run? Fight?
"Good," he hums, reaching behind you to slice through the ropes around your wrists with a quick flick of his claw. Your breath catches in your throat at the sudden closeness, and you dare not move, terrified of the damage he could inflict if you were to make a wrong move.
"Do you want to say your goodbye?" He asks, watching you rubbing your wrist where the robes cut into your skin.
You frown. "No." The word escapes your lips as a harsh spat.
He almost laughs. You can feel the deep rumble under your feet. "Good."
A loud, high-pitched squeal escapes your lips as he grabs you with a swift motion. His large hand envelops your entire body, fingers curling around you with ease. He lifts you off the ground effortlessly as his wings start to beat, raising you both into the air. You want to grab onto his fingers automatically, but his hold around you is so tight that you can't move.
"Wait, wait," you gasp hurriedly, and to your surprise, he stops in mid-air.
"For what?" The dragon asks. His golden eyes with black slits in the middle survey you waitingly, but when you open and close your lips several times without saying anything, he turns his attention away from you to continue his journey back to his home.
You want to take one last look at your village, the place that was your home until tonight, but your position in his hand makes it impossible. All you can see is the underside of his thick neck and head, along with the towering mountains in the distance. The late-night wind is cold on your face, yet his large palm around your body keeps you warm and secure in the air. Despite his size, he flies effortlessly, and soon, instead of the familiar hill and clearing, you find the dark wood underneath you.
His lair is nestled in a cove within one of the largest mountains. The air here is colder, and the wind is stronger, too, as he sets you down well away from the rocky edge, and you lose the warmth of his hold around you. After being carried, you feel unsure on your own feet as you look back to see the dark view of the landscape bathed in the moonlight. You can see your village in the distance, small and insignificant.
"Come," he breaks the silence. "It's warmer inside."
Going into a dark cave with a dragon several your size doesn't seem the brightest idea, but looking down the steep mountain beneath, you don't really have any other option.
"Wait," he says, making you stop immediately. "You need some light," he says as if reminding himself. "You humans barely see anything."
Without waiting for your response, he takes a deep breath, and before you can react, the dark hole is suddenly illuminated by the intense flames bursting from his massive jaws. The fire roars to life, casting flickering shadows across the cave's walls. Thick smoke surges into the cold night air, smothering you with its warm, acrid smell that stings your eyes and clings to your skin. When he finally closes his mouth, the flames recede, leaving the cave bathed in the dim, flickering light of burning torches mounted on the rugged walls. With the newfound illumination, you realize the cavern is even bigger than you first thought. Of course, a massive creature like the dragon standing before you requires as much space as he can get to move around freely.
"Come," he says, not even looking at you to check if you follow him.
Both of you know you don't really have any other option.
The dragon's lair is a maze that winds deeper and deeper into the heart of the mountain. Steep slopes and jagged inclines alternate with vast, rocky halls that are filled with rusty weapons, tarnished armor, and forgotten trinkets. The air is thick with the scent of the stone walls and smoke. Each breath you take feels heavy and warm. As you follow the dragon, the torches he lits along the way cast flickering shadows on the walls. By the time he finally halts, you're out of breath, coughing from the smoky air.
"Where are we?" You ask him when you find your voice. It's hoarse and tight.
"Does it matter?" He asks. "You can't leave anyway."
You don't know where you get the courage to scowl at him. "Rude."
The dragon scoffs, amused. "We are in the heart of the mountain," he says.
The place resembles a grand hall with towering walls and thick, imposing columns that stretch up into the shadows above. The ground is littered with various objects, shiny ones, and old ones. Piles of gold gleam under the dim light, scattered carelessly among the mess. Books are strewn about haphazardly, their pages yellowed and edges worn, as if they’ve been forgotten in the chaos. At the center of the hall is a massive nest, sprawling and chaotic, made from a jumble of materials and what-not.
The dragon gives you a moment to take in your surroundings, but the silence only heightens your anxiety. Is this really it? Is this where you’ll meet your end? You can't help but imagine your clothes and bones tossed carelessly into the pile of treasure where the dragon sleeps. The thought that nobody will ever find you, that no one will even search, gnaws at you. You’ll be forgotten, just another insignificant meal for the beast.
"Are you going to faint?" The dragon's voice suddenly rumbles through the cavern, making you jump. The sound echoes off the stone walls and ripples down your spine.
"No," you manage to gulp out. "Why?"
"You look like someone who is ready to faint," he says. His tone is so casual that it’s almost infuriating. You are surprised you can feel anything else besides fear.
"Do you see a lot of humans faint before you?"
His grin is slow, almost mechanical, revealing sharp teeth that glint under the dim light. "You could say that."
"So," you begin, licking your lips nervously, "what do you want to do with me?"
His grin widens, and your heart races. "Let's sleep for now, hm?"
Your eyes widen in surprise. Sleep? That wasn’t the answer you expected.
"What?"
The dragon rolls his large, golden eyes, clearly bored with your reaction. With a graceful, feline-like motion, he climbs into his nest, settling down with a heavy thud that makes the ground shake beneath your feet. His massive body curls in on itself, his tail wrapping around him as his head rests on a pile of treasure. Or trash. You can't decide.
That’s it? You think, bewildered. He just wants to sleep?
When you remain frozen in place, your legs trembling beneath you, the dragon lets out a scoff. In one swift motion, he reaches out, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you off the ground. Your startled squeal echoes through the hall, but he ignores it. He just places you close to his head with a gentle but firm grunt.
"Sleep." His warm breath washes over you, providing a stark contrast to the cold, unyielding walls of the mountain.
You’re too stunned to resist, and the strange warmth of his breath is oddly comforting in the darkness.
_
As you soon find out, the dragon has entirely different plans for you than your village, which was so eager to throw you into the beast's arms. Or mouth.
Two days later, you finally gather the courage to ask. "When do you plan to... kill me?"
The dragon's response is not what you expect. He laughs, a loud, rumbling sound that echoes through the cavern and lingers long enough to make your skin burn with embarrassment.
"Eat you?" He asks, still chuckling. "Why would I do that, little morsel? You're so small... not even enough for a quick snack."
"Well..." you clear your throat, searching for words. "Isn't that what dragons do?"
He hums thoughtfully. "I won't lie," he admits. "The taste of human flesh is not... unfamiliar to me, but no, I don't plan to eat you." His laughter bubbles up again, and you scowl at his obvious amusement.
"Then why are you keeping me?" You press. Confusion and frustration mix in your voice.
He pauses for a moment, considering. "To entertain me."
"Entertain you?" You repeat, incredulous.
"Yes."
"What?" You scoff, disbelief creeping into your tone.
The dragon huffs as he leans closer to you. His massive head is now just inches away. Each exhale ruffles your hair, the warm breath unsettling yet somehow familiar after two days of spending time with him.
"Do you think you're the first human who has been given to me?" He asks, not waiting for your reply. "You’ll stay here with me until I tire of you."
"And after that?" You whisper, your voice barely louder than a whisper.
"I will let you go," he says. He almost sounds bored. "Just as I let the others go when they could no longer amuse me."
"You let them go? Alive?" You ask, hardly daring to believe it. You've never met anyone who was captured by a dragon and got out without a fight.
"Yes," he replies, rolling his eyes at your disbelief.
When you don’t respond, he turns away from you. His tail nearly knocks you off your feet as he heads toward one of the corridors.
"Where are you going?" You call after him, watching his massive form disappear into the shadows.
"I’ll get you some food," he says, laughing again. "Stay there."
"I don't even know your name!" You shout after him. You can hear your voice echo in the distance.
"Diman, little morsel."
Diman.
You're not sure how long he's been away. In the deepest part of the mountain, you can't see the sky, and not knowing whether it's day or night is starting to drive you mad. The dragon is rude and blunt, but you're beginning to think he won't be your biggest problem if you have to stay here with him.
When Diman returns, you feel a pang of disappointment as you see he has come back empty-handed. Your stomach growls with hunger, but before you can voice your frustration, he stops in front of you. With a deep breath, his large mouth opens, and two rabbits tumble onto the ground.
They're covered in his saliva, and they are unmistakably dead.
"You know what to do with them, right?"
"Yeah," you reply, trying to suppress the grimace threatening to spread across your face. "Thanks."
You grab the rabbits by their hind legs, searching the cavern for anything that might help you prepare them.
"You can find knives..." he muses for a moment. "Anywhere, I guess."
You glance at him, surprised by his nonchalant response. He smirks. His eyes gleam with a predatory glint, and the slits of his pupils widen slightly as he takes in your reaction. "You couldn't hurt me even if you wanted to," he adds with obvious amusement.
Without saying a word, you sigh and turn your attention back to the task at hand. You have dragon-saliva-soaked rabbits to prepare.
_
"Can I clean myself somewhere?" You ask.
After several days in the dragon's lair, you've yet to see the outside world, something you'll need to address with him eventually, but you have more important things in your mind. You've grown increasingly uncomfortable in your own skin. Your clothes reek of smoke and sweat.
Diman surprises you by standing up in his nest. "Good. I was starting to think you preferred being... like this."
You frown at him, feeling a mix of frustration and weariness. If this continues, your irritation with the dragon might become more than just a fleeting emotion. "What do you mean?"
"I thought you liked being stinky," he replies with a shrug. His muscular body, covered in thick, scaly skin, moves fluidly as he stretches.
"Why didn't you say anything before?" You splutter, annoyed and embarrassed at the same time.
"I didn't want to be rude," he says with an air of nonchalance.
You can’t help but scoff at his response, unable to hide your frustration.
"Come on, then."
The dragon leads you through the corridors. His massive strides force you to almost run just to keep up with him, and you have to watch out for his tail, too. It swings left and right in front of you with every step he takes.
For a long while, you wonder if he’s taking you out into the woods to find a river. But when he finally stops, and you step out behind him, you gasp in awe.
Before you is a new cave, even larger than the main hall at the heart of the mountain. Sunlight streams through natural openings in the walls, casting a warm glow on the time-carved columns that support the rough ceiling. The light dances across the surface of several pools of varying sizes scattered throughout the space. The water in them is crystal clear, reflecting the rugged walls with shimmering ripples. The air is thick with warmth and steam, which rises gently from the springs.
"Oh," you gasp, taking in the unexpected sight. "I didn’t know about this."
"Of course, you didn’t," Diman replies, his tone matter-of-fact. You give him a look, but he is not the type to shy away. "Do you want to bathe or not?"
"Yes," you reply, "I do. Do you have a change of clothes for me?"
"I’m sure I’ll find something," he says, and with that, he leaves you alone in the cave.
"Like a maid," he adds under his breath.
With his departure, you waste no time stripping off your clothes and stepping into one of the pools. The water laps gently against your bare skin, and you can feel your muscles and joints relaxing as the warmth envelops you. Leaning against the edge, you face the openings in the wall, allowing the sunlight and fresh air to wash over you.
When your village cast you out, you never imagined you'd end up here. You can’t help but think about how the others must assume you are long dead by now. You had thought so too, that your fate would be sealed and your life cut short. Yet here you are, unexpectedly alive and soaking in comfort. The irony of your situation is not lost on you.
You’re almost asleep when Diman returns, his heavy footsteps echoing softly in the cave. Something soft lands on the ground beside you silently. Opening your eyes, you see what looks like a nightgown spread out on the floor.
"And I brought you towels," he adds, his voice low and gruff.
You sit up, blinking in curiosity. "Why do you have towels?"
He shrugs, the movement causing the thick plates of his muscles to shift. "I have many things I have no idea how I got."
"Yeah. I saw."
Diman catches the subtle change in your tone and tilts his head. "Do you have a problem with it, little morsel?"
"It's... messy," you reply cautiously, watching his reaction. While Diman can be blunt and intimidating, he hasn’t harmed you yet, and you’re careful not to overstep.
"And it should bother me because...?"
"I didn’t say it should bother you," you tell him softly, trying to choose your words carefully. "But it’s not really... homey."
"It’s a cave," he retorts as if that explains everything.
"But it’s still your home," you reason.
Diman considers this, his gaze thoughtful. "Okay then," he agrees with a slow nod. "You’ll be here for a while, you might as well clean up if you want to."
Great, you think sarcastically. Just what you wanted, a never-ending cleaning project.
"Now," you say after a while, breaking the silence with a bit of hesitation, "can you leave?"
Diman frowns. "What?"
"I’m naked!" You exclaim, pointing out the obvious. With nothing else to distract you, you’re acutely aware of the fact that you’re completely bare in front of him, even though the pool and the water offer some privacy.
"So?" His tone is indifferent.
"Out!" You insist, your voice rising a bit in embarrassment.
For a long moment, Diman just stares at you, half-serious, half-amused. When you add a soft, "Please," his expression softens slightly.
He sighs but begins to move anyway. His large frame shifts with a resigned grace. "It is my lair, you know? You can’t just order me around."
It seems you can, but you wisely keep that thought to yourself.
Later, you find yourself nestled in Diman’s nest, a place that was initially intimidating but has become oddly comforting. You didn’t dare say anything about sleeping here at first, but now you don’t mind it. His warmth is a blessing against the cold mountain nights. A cocoon of heat that keeps the chill at bay.
"Read me something," Diman’s voice rumbles, breaking the silence.
"Read you something?" You ask, turning your head to look at him. His massive head rests on a pile of unidentifiable objects, his golden eyes reflecting the flickering firelight.
"Yes," he replies with a hint of impatience in his tone. "There are tons of books all over. Find something."
"Okay," you agree. You are not really sleepy either and glad for something to occupy your mind.
You rise from the nest, your nightgown swishing around your legs as you begin to sift through the scattered piles of belongings.
Diman watches you silently. There’s a quiet contentment in the way he observes you without saying anything. His tail curls slightly around himself some more. The sight of you in the soft, flowing nightgown fills him with a strange sense of peace. It’s almost enough to lull him to sleep, but he’s not quite ready for that yet.
As you pick through the mess, carefully avoiding knocking over anything, you come across a book that catches your eye. The cover is worn, and the title is barely readable, but it feels right in your hands. You bring it back to the nest and settle in beside Diman. Opening the book, you begin to read aloud, and soon, your voice fills the cavern. The dragon listens, his eyes half-lidded, and his breathing is slow and steady.
He spent the last decade mostly asleep, lost in the deep slumber of his kind. But now, with you here, being awake doesn’t feel like a burden anymore.
_
You and the dragon fall into a routine surprisingly quickly. The strange part isn't how easily you've adjusted to your new life, but how little you miss your old one. Yes, you miss your cottage, its cozy walls, and familiar smells, but you don’t miss the villagers. Why would you? They threw you away like garbage. With a few exceptions, they can rot where they are. You were right, though, choosing to be with a dragon is still a better option than staying with that fool of a man.
"What are you doing?" The sudden voice of Diman makes you jump. You almost drop the bundle of clothes in your hands. His large frame looms in the entrance. Shadows play and stretch on his scales in the dim light.
"Cleaning," you reply, steadying yourself after a second. You notice the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. "You're home early."
"There was a storm last night," he explains. His answer rumbles through the walls like a distant thunder. "It means plenty of fish."
Without further ado, he opens his massive jaws and drops a writhing pile of fish onto the stone floor. They flop and gasp, their silver scales glinting as a thin layer of water and dragon saliva spreads beneath them.
"Oh, god," you groan, stepping back in disgust. "They’re still alive!"
Diman tilts his head, watching you with a curious glint in his eyes. "You don't like it?"
"I do," you say, though your gaze remains fixed on the pile of struggling fish. "I just... I hate killing them."
"What?" He asks, genuinely puzzled.
"They're so wiggly!" You groan again, shuddering at the thought of touching their slimy bodies.
The dragon laughs. The deep, resonant sound echoes off the rugged walls. "I see. I’ll take care of them while you finish cleaning then."
You blink in surprise at his offer, but quickly nod anyway. You won't argue about this. "Thank you."
While he effortlessly handles the fish with his massive talons, you return to organizing the books you’ve been gathering from around the lair. You’ve created a neat pile in a corner. Diman could have a full library, though you’re not sure if dragons can even read.
"You’ve been busy today," he comments, his eyes flickering over to you as he lights a fire for cooking. Doing it in the heart of a mountain might not be the best idea, but for now, it’s your only option.
"Yeah," you sigh, placing your hands on your hips as you survey the hall. The place is still a chaos, but it’s better than before. "What do you do with so much gold?" You ask, nodding towards another glittering pile that catches the warm glow of the torches.
Diman shrugs. "They’re pretty."
"And the books? Or the clothes?" You continue, settling down next to him by the fire. Your stomach growls at the sight of the fish, now neatly arranged and ready to cook. "I understand the weapons and shields, but everything else seems so random."
He shrugs again. "I take what I find interesting or pretty. I mean, you’re here too, no?"
His words catch you off guard, a rush of warmth rising to your cheeks. "Well, yeah," you mumble, flustered.
Diman grins, revealing rows of sharp teeth. "You look better when you’re not trying to faint from fear."
You scoff. The moment between you two passes as quickly as it came. "Shut up."
He chuckles but falls silent, allowing a peaceful quiet to settle over you both as you begin cooking dinner. The fish sizzles over the fire, filling the cavern with a mouth-watering aroma.
"You seem to like it," Diman teases, watching you tear into the white flesh with both hands. Your hunger overwhelms your manners.
"Sorry," you mumble, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "I didn’t get to eat fish often back in the village. The river was far, and when people caught something, they sold it too expensive for me."
Diman’s gaze softens slightly. "Did you have problems there?"
"Not really," you reply between two bites. "I didn’t have much, but it was enough, you know?"
He hums in understanding, lowering his massive head to the ground as you continue eating.
"Do you want some?" You ask, holding out a piece of fish on your plate toward him. "It’s delicious."
The moment the words leave your mouth, time seems to stop. Diman stares at you, shock clear on his face. You have no idea what you’ve just offered him. Offering food among dragons is a gesture of profound significance, far beyond the simple act as it is for humans. It’s a symbol of trust, of bonding, of something deeper that you can’t even begin to comprehend.
For a long moment, Diman hesitates, torn between his instincts and the awareness that you don’t understand the weight of your gesture.
"No," he finally says, though his voice is softer, almost tender. He relaxes back onto the ground, his massive form curling slightly around you. "Eat, little morsel."
You continue eating, unaware of the change between you and the dragon and the silent vow Diman has made to himself. He will make sure you never leave him, even if you don’t fully understand the bond you’re forming yet.
_
“When will you get bored of me?” You ask the dragon after two months of living with him. The two of you sit at the entrance of his cave, basking in the last golden rays of the summer sun as it slowly dips behind the horizon. His emerald scales shimmer under the warm light. He sprawls on the ground, seemingly at ease.
At your question, his muscles tense, and he lifts his massive head to look at you. “Do you want to leave, little human?” He asks. The question rumbles with a barely suppressed growl of disapproval.
In truth, you have no desire to leave him. The thought of him sending you away gnaws at you daily. Where would you even go? Your old life was left behind, abandoned along with your cottage. Now, this cave, with its towering stone walls and the dragon who lives in it, is the only home you know.
A long, silent moment stretches between you as he watches you intently. Slowly, you gather your courage and shake your head. “No,” you admit, your voice steady. “That’s why I’m asking.”
His gaze softens slightly. “You don’t want to leave me?” He asks again as if needing to hear it twice to believe it.
You shake your head once more.
Living with Diman has been surprisingly comfortable. Despite his size and the sharpness of his claws, he’s become a constant presence around you, a source of safety. He’s often infuriating, teasing you just for the fun of it, but there’s warmth in his companionship that you’ve come to cherish. The thought of leaving him, of leaving this mountain, fills you with anxiety.
“Would you let me go if I wanted to leave?” You ask suddenly, the question escaping before you can stop it.
Diman sighs, his eyes drifting over the darkening landscape. “That would be the right thing to do, wouldn’t it?” He muses aloud.
“Yeah,” you agree quietly. “I guess.”
He meets your gaze with a guilty smile. The corners of his large mouth curve up. “I say yes, as long as you promise not to test it.”
Diman has always been quick to let go of the men and women offered to him over the years. A lot of them stayed only a few days before he grew bored and sent them on their way. But with you, it’s different. He has no intention of letting you go. It’s not just about the entertainment you provide, though, you do make him laugh more than he has in years. No, it’s more than that. You make his cave feel like a home, and every time he leaves to hunt, he finds himself eager to return. When he sleeps, he looks forward to waking up, knowing you’ll be there. You’ve brought something into his life he didn’t know he was missing.
To his surprise, you laugh, the sound light and genuine. “Okay,” you say with a smile. “I won’t test it.”
And with that, the conversation ends. You lean back against his thick arm, closing your eyes with a contented sigh.
That night, the two of you drift off to sleep with anticipation and some lightness in your hearts.
_
"When will you be back?" You ask Diman, standing under the entrance of the cave as the rain pours down in heavy sheets. The dark clouds above rumble and flash with lightning every few minutes, casting brief, eerie illuminations across the landscape. The forest below is still green, but it looks weary and tired as the autumn approaches.
Diman turns to you, a grin spreading across his massive face, revealing his sharp teeth. "Are you worried about me?" He teases, expecting your usual playful retort, but when you don’t respond with your typical energy, his expression softens, and he answers more seriously. "I’ll be fine," he assures you. "This weather is nothing to me."
You nod, but the sigh that escapes you betrays your concern. "Okay."
"I’ll be back soon," he adds, trying to reassure you. "It shouldn’t be more than a week. Maybe two."
You don’t like the uncertainty in his answer, but you nod again anyway. "Okay."
"Take care of yourself while I’m away," he says, his voice gentle, as if trying to ease your worry.
"I will," you reply, though the words feel hollow.
Diman has to leave to hunt and prepare for the approaching winter. With his large appetite, he needs to be mindful of the animal population and cover more land before he accidentally empties the surrounding forest. And while you understand the necessity, you don't like it. You’ve grown used to his presence, his constant warmth. The thought of him being gone, even for a short while, leaves you feeling strangely vulnerable.
But you know it’s something he must do. So, you watch him as he spreads his enormous wings. The muscles in his body flex in preparation for flight, and with a powerful leap, he takes to the sky.
You watch him until his form is swallowed by the stormy clouds.
As you retreat back into the cave, it feels emptier without him. Colder somehow. You wrap yourself in a blanket, trying to shake off the unease settling in your chest. You tell yourself he’ll be back soon, just as he promised, but until then, the cave, and you, feel just a little lonelier.
While Diman is away, you continue to tidy up the cave, but it becomes increasingly difficult as the days drag on. Without his presence, the mountain walls feel heavy and claustrophobic. They close in on you more and more with each passing day. The silence is deafening, and the nights are too cold without the dragon’s warmth beside you. The cave now feels more like a prison, its stone walls offering little comfort against the loneliness that gnaws at you.
As the end of the first week without him approaches, you find yourself spending more and more time at the entrance of the cave, staring out at the still-raging storm and the dark sky and hoping to catch a glimpse of the returning dragon. Nature seems to be shedding its lush greens at an alarming speed. The forest below transforms into shades of orange and brown as autumn takes hold.
One day, you sit at the entrance of the cave, wrapped tightly in a blanket as the storm continues its relentless assault on the world outside. The sky above is dark, and heavy with clouds. The wind howls, and the rain pounds against the rocks, but you barely notice it anymore. Your thoughts are far away, lost in worry and longing for Diman's return.
The rumble of the ground beneath you is subtle at first, a faint vibration that you almost dismiss as part of the storm. But then it intensifies. The mountain itself groans under the pressure of some unseen force. You stand up, alarmed and with a racing heart as the tremors grow stronger. For several seconds, you stand there, frozen in place until the rocks around you begin to shudder. Dust and small pebbles rain down from the ceiling. A deafening roar echoes through the cave, and the ground lurches violently beneath your feet. The entrance, your only connection to the outside world, begins to crumble too. The rocks above shift and crack, and with a thunderous crash, they fall. The cacophony of stone grinding against stone drowns out everything else.
You barely have time to leap out of the way as the massive boulders come crashing down, sealing off the entrance in a cloud of dust and debris. You hurl yourself to the ground, rolling to the side and curling into a tight ball in the midst of the chaos. Your heart pounds as you squeeze your eyes shut. Your muscles are tense as you pull your knees to your chest. One arm wraps protectively around your head, while the other digs into your legs, anchoring you as the world around you crumbles.
When it finally stops, the silence is absolute, broken only by the muffled sound of the storm outside.
Coughing and gasping for breath, you push yourself up with a groan. Darkness surrounds you, thick and impenetrable. The air is heavy with dust, making it hard to breathe. Your hands scrape against the rough stone floor. You reach out, feeling your way through the pitch-black void, but your fingers meet only cold, solid rock and hard edges. Desperately, you search for any sliver of light, any gap that might offer a way out, but there’s nothing. The cave is sealed tight, and you are alone in the stifling blackness. The once-open space is now filled with a thick wall of stone.
You sink back to the ground with a rising panic in your chest while trying to steady your breathing. Your shoulders feel heavy as you force your mind to think. Diman will come back, you tell yourself. He’ll know something’s wrong. He’ll dig you out. You are safe with no injuries besides a few bruises and cuts here and there, and for now, all you can do is wait, alone in the darkness, hoping that Diman will return sooner rather than later to save you.
Hours pass in suffocating darkness. You sit, knees drawn to your chest, straining to hear anything beyond the silence. Every creak and groan of the mountain around you sends a jolt of hope through your heart, but it’s always nothing. Your dragon is probably far away, having no idea of the situation you are in. Your mind races with worry and fear, but as time drags on with no sign of Diman, a cold, grim resolve begins to take hold of you. You can’t just sit here, waiting. You have to do something.
With a deep breath, you push yourself to your feet. Your hands reach out to the rough, familiar walls of the cave, guiding you as you navigate through the pitch-black corridors. Every torch is blown out, making each step you take slow and careful. It feels like an eternity by the time you reach the grand hall. You can’t see it, but you know the space by heart.
First, you need fire. The torch is hard to find. Your hands are shaking when your fingers finally close around one, but lighting it is even more difficult. You are clumsy, trembling with cold and fear, but after several tries, a spark catches, and a small, flickering flame bursts to life.
The light is weak, barely enough to push back the darkness, but it’s something. It gives you the courage to move forward.
You gather as much supply as you can carry, stuffing them into a small sack before making your way to the baths. The walls here are punctuated by holes that let in some natural light, even though it's not much now with the storm outside. It's better than nothing, though.
You set your torch in a holder on the wall, letting the warm, flickering light mix with the cool, natural glow filtering in. The bath hall is a large, cavernous room with several pools fed by underground springs.
Okay, you think. It's much better. You have light, clean air, food and water. You will be fine until Diman comes back.
You lay out the blankets, creating a small nest for sleep. The air here is warmer, the water giving off a gentle steam that eases the chill in your bones. You take a deep breath, the first one since forever that doesn’t feel suffocating. The fear and loneliness are still there, gnawing at the back of your mind, but it’s easier to push them aside now that you are safe and out of the dark.
Diman will come back. He has to.
As the second week draws to a close, the storm that has raged on for weeks finally begins to ease. For the first time in days, you feel a small sense of relief. Being able to see the sky helps soothe the anxiety that has been eating at you. The knowledge that the world beyond the mountain still exists and turns is a comfort you didn't know you needed so much.
It's early Friday morning when a deep rumble shakes the cave, jolting you awake. Your stomach tightens with fear. The memory of the last collapse flashes through your mind as you brace yourself for the worst but this time, the ground doesn’t give way, and as the rumbling continues, you realize it’s not the mountain. It’s Diman’s voice, echoing through the labyrinth of stone.
A gasp escapes your lips as you scramble from your makeshift bed, your heart pounding with a mixture of relief and anticipation. You hesitate at the entrance of the cave that opens to the baths, unsure whether to move or stay put. You have to keep your tensing and twitching muscles from running. The maze of tunnels and chambers could make it harder for him to find you if you wander too far.
You call his name, your voice trembling as it bounces off the rugged walls, merging with his deep, booming calls.
“Y/N!” His voice is closer now, filled with urgency and worry.
Tears well up and spill down your cheeks as you see his massive form emerge at the end of the corridor. His eyes are wide and frantic as he spots you. Relief washes over you like a wave as you rush toward him, your arms stretching out instinctively.
“I’m here,” you cry out. Your voice breaks with emotion just as his large head presses into your embrace. You wrap your arms around him as best as you can, feeling the cool, rough texture of his scales under your fingers. Your feet lift off the ground for a moment as you cling to him. His deep, rumbling hum vibrates through your body as he tries to calm himself.
“I saw the entrance,” he says, his voice choked with fear and lingering panic. “I thought- I saw your blanket between the rocks- and- ”
“I’m fine,” you reassure him, caressing the thick scales beneath his eyes. “I was lucky; it didn’t hurt me.”
“Why were you even there?”
“I was waiting for you,” you reply.
“Little morsel,” he sighs, snuggling even closer. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“I promise." His large, gleaming eyes soften as you continue to stroke his scales. “I’m fine now that you’re here,” you whisper. The warmth of his presence chases away the lingering fear and loneliness that had weighed on you for so long.
Diman hums again, a low, soothing sound that vibrates through the air. It wraps you in a cocoon of safety.
“I’ll never leave you like that again,” he promises, his voice firm and unwavering.
You smile, wiping away the last of your tears as you nod. “It's fine by me.”
For a while, both of you bask in each other's embrace while talking quietly about the last two weeks. Diman needs a long time to calm down and believe that you are really okay.
"I will go and take care of the entrance," he says after a while. "And lit some fire."
"Okay," you nod even though you have to force yourself to let him go.
"Stay there until then," he says. "I will come back and get you."
As Diman busies himself, you slip away to take a bath. The warm water washes away the grime and stress of the past weeks, and as you change into clean clothes, a sense of relief settles over you. The knowledge that Diman is back, safe and sound, lifts the heavy burden that had weighed on your heart. Even as you hear the rumble of debris being cleared and feel the tremors beneath your feet, the fear that once accompanied these sensations is replaced by contentment. The mountain, which had felt like a prison in his absence, now feels secure and comforting again.
By the time you finish, Diman has completed his work. The entrance to the cave is clear once again, and as you step into the great hall, the fire’s orange glow flickers warmly on the walls, bringing a sense of normalcy back to your life.
"We need to change a few things around here," Diman says, his mind clearly racing with ideas. "I want you to have an escape route even when I'm not here. You need more light and—"
"It's okay," you interrupt gently, smoothing your palm over his thick arm. The texture of his scales is rough beneath your hand. "We can figure everything out later. Are you hungry?"
He looks at you, surprised. "I just came back from hunting."
You shrug, settling into your usual spot near his nest. The fire crackles, casting dancing shadows on the walls, and while you miss the open view of the outside world, the warmth and light bring a sense of peace. "You worked a lot today."
His smile is gentle, and there’s a new light in his yellow eyes that you’ve never seen before, something soft and tender. "No," he replies after a pause, his voice low and soothing. "I'm not hungry, but let me feed you."
"Oh," you say, surprised by his offer. "Okay," you add, smiling at him as he moves to prepare your meal.
Despite the obvious difference in size between him and the portion you eat, he works with surprising speed and care, and soon, the cave is filled with the mouthwatering aroma of vegetables and fish. Your stomach growls in response, reminding you how long it’s been since you’ve had a proper meal.
"Where did you get fish?" You ask, watching him with curiosity. You had finished all the meat in the last two weeks before it could spoil.
"On my way back," he replies with a nonchalant shrug. "Now, eat."
You take the plate he offers, the food warm and inviting. As you savor each bite, you glance up at Diman. His eyes are fixed on you, watching with a kind of quiet contentment that makes your heart swell. You’ve never seen him look at you like this before, and it fills you with a warmth that has nothing to do with the fire.
"Thank you," you say softly, and Diman responds with a deep, comforting hum that reverberates through the cave. The sound is rich and soothing, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. "Are you sure you don't want some?" You ask, holding up a piece of fish between your fingers. You could use a fork, but Diman doesn’t care about etiquette, and you quickly grew tired of searching for usable cutlery in the vastness of his home.
As the words leave your lips, the air between you shifts. Something unspoken and electric crackles in the silence as your eyes meet, holding each other's gaze a moment longer than usual.
"Do you know what you're offering me, little morsel?" Diman's voice deepens, resonating with a gravity that makes your heart skip a beat. The black slits of his pupils widen, nearly overtaking the molten gold of his eyes.
You hesitate. The answer is on the tip of your tongue. "No?" You say instead.
"Sharing food in my culture is an offer to share everything," he explains, his gaze never wavering. "It’s a bond between family and mates."
"Oh," you manage. Your throat tightens at the realization. "So..." you croak, still holding up your hand with the small offering. "Do you want some?"
A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his lips, revealing the sharp edges of his teeth as he grins down at you. There’s a predatory glint in his eyes as he leans in, his massive head drawing closer. His tongue flicks out, surprisingly gentle, as he licks up the morsel from your hand. It’s likely not even enough for him to taste, but the significance isn’t lost on either of you. You’ve offered something sacred, something profound, and he’s accepted it with a puffed-out chest and a heart swelling with warmth.
As you watch him, a thought strikes you. "Wait," you say, your voice breaking the quiet. "But you..."
Diman watches you with amusement, the corner of his mouth curling up. "Yes, little mate?"
"You prepared my food so many times."
"I have," he agrees, his voice steady and sure.
"Well," you clear your throat, feeling a little foolish but pressing on. Your heart races in your chest at the silent change between you and the dragon. "Do you want some more?"
Diman chuckles. "No," he replies with affection. "Eat now." But even as he speaks, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he stays close, his head rubbing gently against your side and arms, careful not to knock you over with his size and strength.
His gaze never leaves yours as you take a sip of water, trying to calm yourself after your last bite. Your stomach twists into a tight but excited knot. Your hands tremble as you reach out, letting your fingers trace the space between his nostrils, feeling the rough, resilient scales that shield him from nearly everything.
Diman hums softly, a deep, resonant sound that vibrates through the air and ripples down your spine. “Lay down, Y/N,” he murmurs, nudging you gently with his head. “I hunger for something else.”
A quiet “oh” escapes your lips. It's more of a breath than a word, but you obey without trying to say anything else. Your movements are slow and deliberate as you lower yourself to the ground. Your eyes are still locked in his intense gaze. The cold, uneven ground presses against your skin through the thin fabric of your nightgown. It barely offers any protection from the roughness and the cold beneath you. Goosebumps wake on your skin, but you are sure it has more to do with the dragon than anything else. You’re very aware of how exposed you are, both physically and emotionally, as you settle down before him. Diman watches you with a look that’s a mix of hunger and intent. His eyes glow with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His attention is heavy and burning. His massive form shifts closer. His breath is warm against your skin. There’s a powerful, magnetic pull between you two that sparkles under the silence that settled over the hall in the last few minutes. It's primal and impatient. His gaze sweeps over you, taking in every detail and every breath you take, and for a long moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. The cave, the firelight, the very air around you, all of them fade into the background. Your nipples harden into tight peaks under the white fabric you wear. Your arms start to move to hide yourself, but you decide against it at the last moment. Instead, you rest your hands on your stomach and open your legs without Diman having to tell you what to do. The mix of the cold mountain air and his warm breath fans over your center, making your pussy clench around nothing. The sudden feeling takes your breath away for several seconds. The dragon didn't even touch you yet, but you are already damp and eager. The muscles of your thighs are hard, and your insides tremble with anticipation. Your chest rises and falls with each shallow breath, pushing the soft globes of your breasts against the nightgown. The fabric clings to your skin as Diman's golden eyes trace over your form. His gaze is intense as he takes in the sight of you laid out before him. He hasn’t touched you yet, but the promise of what’s to come hangs thick in the air, a palpable tension that has your heart racing. You can feel his warmth and his presence, so close yet not close enough, and it drives your desire even higher.
"Good, mate," Diman rumbles with satisfaction. "Open up for me even more."
With a shaky breath, you obey, forcing your legs further apart. You can feel the stretch of your tendons, the pull of your muscles as you do exactly as he commands. The hem of your nightgown slips down, gathering around the base of your thighs, leaving you bare and utterly vulnerable before him. Your lips are dry as you wait for his reaction, and your cheeks are hot with need and a hint of embarrassment.
His eyes rove over your exposed form once again. His warm breath fans over your center, over your whole body, making you quiver with anticipation.
"Such a beautiful sight," the dragon murmurs. His voice is a low growl that makes your pussy clench with need. He leans in closer, his large head hovering just above your thighs. The approval in his gaze makes you feel both cherished and possessed.
Your heart races, each beat echoing in your ears as you lay there, completely exposed. The rough texture of the ground beneath you only serves to remind you of the dragon's power above. His large form makes the cave look small as you look up at him with anticipation. Your whole body is tense as you wait for him to do something.
And when he does, you forget how to breathe.
Diman's tongue flicks out. The tip barely brushes against your inner thighs, and yet, it sends a jolt of pleasure through your body. Your back arches instinctively, and a soft moan escapes your lips. Maybe if your mind would be clearer, you would be embarrassed because of your reaction, but the haze is already too thick in your head to care. He moves slowly and exploratory. His tongue traces patterns across your skin but never goes further up than the base of your thighs. Each touch and caress is something new you both try to savor.
"You're perfect, little mate," Diman whispers, his voice thick with emotion.
His presence is overwhelming, his scales cool and firm against your skin, while the heat of his breath washes over you in waves when finally, his enormous head settles down between your legs. You feel the sheer magnitude of his closeness in every fiber of your body.
His tongue, wide and powerful, flicks out to tease you. The rough texture sends jolts of pleasure through your core. He starts slowly, almost lazily, trailing his tongue along your inner thighs, leaving a tingling, wet path of warmth in its wake. The contrast between his cool scales and the heat of your arousal is intoxicating.
When you waited for him at the top of the hill, you never imagined it would lead to this, that you would end up breathless and aroused beneath the beast. A wry smile tugs at your lips, thinking of the people you once knew. They have no idea how much of a favor they’ve done for you.
A soft gasp escapes your lips as his tongue finally makes contact with your pussy and cuts the train of your thoughts. The sensation sends a shiver up your spine. His tongue is wet and rough just enough the make you buck your hips against him while he watches your every reaction with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. His molten gold eyes are filled with a hunger that only stokes the fire within you. The black slits of his pupils are almost orbs as he tries to take you in.
He takes his time, exploring you with slow movements that leave you on the edge of madness. The rough texture of his tongue adds a delicious friction that makes you moan with need. Your hips lift again, seeking more of his touch, but Diman holds you in place with a gentle but unyielding pressure, savoring the control he has over your body.
“Diman,” you breathe, his name escaping your lips in a desperate plea. The tension inside you coils tighter with each teasing stroke. Your body aches for release.
“Patience, little mate,” he rumbles, his deep voice vibrating through you like a physical caress. Your back arches at the feeling. The sound alone sends a pulse of arousal straight to your core, making you clench around nothing. His words only heighten the anticipation building inside of you.
He dips lower, circling your entrance with agonizing slowness, making you gasp and writhe beneath him. The tip of his tongue traces your folds, gathering your wetness and savoring your taste with a low, approving hum that resonates through you. He flicks your clit over and over again until your thighs tighten around his large jaw and nose. He teases you restlessly, slipping down across your folds and going straight to your entrance. He prods you there for an endless moment, making you whine and fidget with impatience bubbling in your chest.
The dragon laughs at that, and the rumble of his chuckle echoes in your body. The feeling punches a moan out of your lips, and you barely have time to come back to your senses when his tongue slides inside you with a slow, deliberate push. He fills you up in a way that’s both overwhelming and strange. The wet muscle penetrates you, making you cry out breathlessly. Your back arches off the ground almost painfully, and your walls clench around the thickness of his tongue, only making it rub over your sensitive spots even more. He moves in and out of you as he fucks you with a measured, unhurried pace. He lets his tongue soak in your arousal while he listens to the sweet sounds you make. You are the prettiest thing he has ever seen with your half-closed eyes and trembling muscles. He can feel every flutter of your pussy around his tongue as he pushes deeper, finding every spot that makes your voice go higher with several octaves.
The pleasure is intense, almost too much to bear. Your body is stretched and filled by the sheer size of his tongue. Each of his movements is precise, calculated to drive you to the brink without ever pushing you over the edge. You can feel every inch of him, every ripple and curve of his tongue as it slides in and out of you. The sensation swirls the world around you once, twice, three times.
“Please,” you whisper. “I need-” The end of your sentence is drowned by the ragged breath that bursts out of your lips as you wheeze and pant.
Diman’s response is a low, satisfied growl that reverberates through your entire body. He increases the pace slightly, his tongue fucking you with a slow, steady rhythm that has you gasping for air. The pressure builds inside you, a hot, insistent ache that demands release, and your body tightens with each thrust. You feel like a drawn bow.
And...
and...
He pulls back just enough to flick his tongue over your clit. His touch is electric, sending shockwaves through your entire body, yet you cry out in frustration. Tears gather in your eyes, and your hips buck up against him as you chase the high that’s just got out of reach. Diman seems to relish in your desperation, his tongue alternating between fucking you deep and teasing your clit with a maddening, feather-light touch.
The tension coils tighter and tighter inside you, every muscle in your body straining as you teeter on the edge of release. The dragon's tongue works you with a relentless, skillful precision, drawing out every ounce of pleasure until you’re a quivering, breathless mess beneath him.
“Let go,” he murmurs. His voice is like a deep, soothing rumble that wraps around you like a warm embrace. “I want to feel you come for me, little mate.”
His words are the final push you need as his tongue finds its way inside you with a quick, bullying motion. Your body surrenders to the overwhelming pleasure that crashes over you like a tidal wave. The orgasm tears through you, leaving you breathless and shaking. Your muscles contract and release in a rhythm that matches the waves of ecstasy flooding your veins. You, your body, and your orgasm are in sync with the rapid thrust of his tongue that pounds in and out of you as you fall over the edge.
Diman doesn’t stop. His tongue continues to fuck you through your orgasm, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until you’re left trembling and spent beneath him. Your body is a live wire of sensation, every touch sending aftershocks of pleasure coursing through you. Your climax and his saliva are a mess of mix between your thighs, soaking the floor underneath.
When he pulls back, his eyes glow with a satisfied light as he watches you catch your breath. His chest expands with pride at the sight of you. Your gown clings to your skin, highlighting the hard peaks of your nipples. A thin layer of sweat glistens on your skin under the orange glow of the fire. You are beautiful, and something in him, something primal and demanding, awakens again, but instead of burying himself between your soft thighs again, he just licks his lips to savor your taste while you slowly get back to your senses.
"Diman?" You breathe out his name, searching for him even though your eyes are still closed.
"I'm here, my love," he hums. "I won't go anywhere."
"What about you?" You ask him, and the dragon can't help but chuckle. His own arousal is still hard and leaking between his hind legs, but there is no way you are up to explore the physical possibilities between the two of you.
"I can wait," he says, hauling you up in his hand gently to settle down in his nest with you close to his massive head. "Sleep, my mate."
As the new mate of the dragon living among the clouds and resting in the mountains, your old life becomes a quickly fading memory. And when your love starts to rebuild his cave just to make it more of a home for you, you never look back. Not once.
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