#they have slowly overtaken my life

[minniemariex]

KANTHUA

omg

that was amazing

like

no words

that was the softest kiss ever. they were both awake pre tending to sleep.

they needed to have the cover. the barrier that would make it less real. but it made it so much more magical. especially for kan. he got the confirmation that he needed.

like HAVE YOU SEEN HIS SMILE?? it was so full of excitement and love and joy and it just felt like he was free.

free of the burden of expectations and eyes of the others.

this moment was just for them. and it was magnificent.

[earthtooz]

an accidental diluc fic in which you seek refuge at dawn winery in the midst of a storm. pining ensues. 1k words.

the fireplace crackles, a pen scrawls hurriedly on paper, and the rain that hits the windows of dawn winery is slowly beginning to ease, the oppressive downpour turning into something gentle and calming. you glance out the windows, unfocusing your eyes and mind from the novel in your hands to observe the slowing raindrops.

your pot of tea is empty now, your hair and clothes have dried completely now after being near a fireplace for so long, and your limbs are beginning to ache from how long you’ve been sitting around. perhaps it’s time to return home now. 

diluc, from where he works in front of you, doesn’t notice you, hands too tightly wound in his red locks to look anywhere but at his paperwork. he is so concentrated that you feel bad distracting him from his duties, but with the easing of the rain, you’d rather leave now in case the downpour starts again.

oh, but thinking of the trip back home is already an unappealing thought. it is so warm inside diluc’s abode with the fireplace a few feet away from you, his furniture is so comfortable, and you’d hate having to trek through mud and hills, sullying your shoes and attire. 

however, you would hate to disturb the ragnvindr estate more than you already have with your sudden appearance, frantic to find shelter from the downpour. it just so happened you were near dawn winery at the time of the storm, and when the redhead caught sight of you amidst the onslaught of rain, he hurried you inside with no room for argument. 

it wasn’t that the two of you were unfamiliar. you’ve known him properly for two years now, and you admit that during those years, you’ve developed quite the affectionate spot for the young winery owner. sometimes, you think he feels the same for you, but diluc ragnivdr is diluc ragnvidr, as close as you may be, you are reminded of how unreachable he is for someone like you. so although he is the one that ushered you into his home, offering you a warm place to seek refuge in the meantime, you are the one that feels most guilty taking up space in his home. 

in hopes of subtly catching diluc’s attention, you stand, careful to not let the cushions move an inch as you pat down your clothes.

despite your rustling, the red-haired still has not moved, staring at the paperwork before him as if they were the greatest heathen of his life. one of the maids notice you instead, quickly scrambling to your aid and asking whether or not something was disturbing you.

“no, no, nothing of that sort,” you reassure, unsure of how to act with someone so frantically attending do your wants. “i was merely preparing to leave soon since the rain has eased.” 

the scraping of chair against wooden floorboards fill the room and heavy footsteps follow. “leaving? at this time of day?” diluc asks, presence suddenly larger than life and occupying the whole room. you feel small in front of him, overtaken by a courteous guilt. 

the maid has left. 

“yes, at this time of day,” you confirm. “is that so wrong?” 

“it’s dusk, y/n. the monsters will be out and it’ll be unsafe outside by the time you leave.”

“i can handle myself,” you vaguely gesture to the vision and sword that hangs from your hips. still, his expression does not change. “besides, i’ve been in your hair long enough, thank you for your hospitality, but i mustn’t bother you anymore.” 

“you do not need to be so formal with me. while you are under my roof, it would be in my best interest to take care of you,” he crosses his arms over his chest, looking away from your eyes. “your company could never be a burden, either.”

you cannot help but smile at his shy confession, stepping yourself back in his gaze so he can see that warm grin of yours that he’s come to adore- not that he’d ever admit that to you. “oh?” you quip. “why, i’m flattered that you deem me worthy to keep around, master diluc, but i ought to get going now.”

“it’s still cold outside, your attire is far too little for this weather.”

“a little bit of cold never hurt me.”

“you’ll get sick.”

“i’ll refuse.”

“you’ll… refuse?” he snorts.

“i will!” you declare brazenly.

“you are not leaving the manor when it’s cold and dark outside.”

you ignore the fluttering of your heart at the obvious care he is showcasing. “i feel awful taking up space in your home, diluc.”

“my decision is final, you shouldn’t risk your safety because of silly assumptions believing that you’re ‘bothering’ me.”  

as if sensing leftover threads of hesitance in your resolve, he adds, “adelinde was looking forward to having you here tonight as well. if you want to leave at some point, can’t you let it be after dinner? i’d hate to disappoint adelinde by telling her of your departure.”

as if the universe had timed it, it was after his sentence that you began to smell an aromatic scent wafting into the room, one so delicious that it was getting harder for you to resist diluc’s invitations. 

“you’re just guilt-tripping me now!” you accuse, a glimmer of amusement settling in his red eyes.

“and you are stalling. stay for dinner at least, i’ll feel better knowing that you leave with a full stomach.”

“what are you two bickering about?” comes a third voice- adelinde, who peeks around the doorway with an affectionate smile. at her appearance, you straighten your spine and crowd away from the young winery owner.

“nothing,” diluc explains, “apologies if we were too loud.”

“please, save your conversations for dinner. the plates are ready if you wish to eat, master diluc.” 

“thank you, adelinde.” the redhead turns to you. “so, what will it be?” 

home could wait, you decide. “it’d be impolite of me to decline. i’ll stay.” 

he smiles in satisfaction at your surrender, seeming proud of himself for getting you to stay a little longer. you can’t see it, but the head maid can very clearly identify the warm bits of affection settling in the young master’s eyes, rolling off him in waves as you declare that you’ll return his hospitality next time. 

(you stay the night because shortly after dinner, the rain returned. this time, with thunder and lightning.)

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[thebadboyfanclub]

Welcome To Our Family (Daemon x Reader)

Hey everyone, so as I mentioned before I wanted to write a throuple thing with Rhaenyra and Daemon although even on this request there was some drama involved but it was interesting to write nonetheless. Also I don’t know why but this song inspired me the most especially the part “where you go I go, what you see I see” that was the vibe I was trying to pass for our reader with daemon

Most would say that the war in the stepstones had no place for love to blossom, the reeking stench of death had overtaken and most men had no life in their eyes, the majority prayed in gratitude that they were alive while others cursed the gods for keeping them on this forsaken realm when their friend of even their kin had been killed.

That did not even grace Daemon, who was lucky enough to spend every night in the arms of his beloved (y/n), the sister of one of his soldiers that had been wounded, (y/n) had marched in and demanded that her brother will come home.

“I will be damned if I allow you to give more than an arm for this, you are coming with me”

Her brother had obeyed her, she was as fragile as a rose but her thorns stung more than anything, right then and then Daemon had become a mere slave to his emotions, something that had never occurred before.

“I wish I could stay in your arms forever”

“That would be a dream, my love, however, we are counting the days until you depart, your wife probably awaits you”

Daemon was deeply offended by the jab his lover had thrown at him, slowly he rose up and away from her arm reach to look her straight in the eyes, the fireplace burned bright and the light shined against her glistening skin.

“You are questioning my feelings for you”

“I am questioning how strong they are, you are a prince, a husband, your life seems to hold no room for me”

“Is that how you think of this? That I just wanted to bed you?”

“Do you truly wish for me to answer that?”

Silence took over them while the only sound came from the crackles of the fire, Daemon was aware of how badly this could look, she was a commoner, a mere lady, and the realm would never accept her even if Daemon had not wed another.

“You and our daughter mean everything to me”

“But nothing to the king, he will ask for my head once he finds out I am carrying your child”

“I would never put your lives at risk”

“How do you plan on keeping us safe my love?”

“Do not worry about that, I will take care of everything”

(Y/n)s belly was starting to show, it wouldn’t take long for the king and his little whisperers to demand answers, the easy route was to declare his kin a bastard but Daemon was flying on cloud nine when (y/n) announced that she was with child, no he must do right by her.

He flew with her to Pentos, far away from Viserys and people that cared most about titles and crowns than love and compassion.

“Twins, my prince, two sons, praise the mother”

“What about (y/n)”

“The lady is a warrior, she is tired but healthy”

Daemon did not speak another word to the maester, he simply passed by him and into the room to find his beloved laying in bed, a faint smile on her face as she held one of her children while the other was being held by a midwife.

“You owe me 3 dragon coins”

“It is a bet I will happily pay, how are you feeling?”

“Sore and gross but happy, why don’t you hold him?”

“I-“

“Come on love it is merely a babe, like… so”

Slowly (y/n) passed one of her sons to her lover, instructing him to hold it carefully but securely, then she reached for the midwife so she can have her other son in her arms, both of the babes were quiet in their parent's arms.

“What should we name them?”

“I was thinking of Orryn, and mayhaps… Baelon?”

“Baelon and Orryn, the two princes”

Daemon and (y/n) had grown inseparable much to his brother's dislike Daemon had scoffed at his previous marriage and took his place next to his most endearing (y/n) that had blessed him with not just two children, but with passion, and comfort, she created a home for him, without her there was no warmth, no color.

Viserys was only finding out the milestones his brother was achieving with his mistress via ravens that Daemon dared to send, the birth of his sons had scratched a wound in Viserys that was not quite healed yet, so naturally when Rhea had passed due to fever, Daemon had even dared to invite Viserys to his wedding that took place in Pentos.

(Y/n) had just given birth to another set of siblings, Alyssa and Arren, two silver-haired princesses that slept peacefully through the night and would only stay quiet if (y/n) or Daemon held them, (y/n)s parents and brother had traveled to Pentos to finally meet the children and also attend the wedding.

“You look dashing sweetling, I see the prince has taken good care of you”

“How could I not? What is more important than the happiness of my lady wife?”

“We must admit we had conflicting thoughts over you my prince, I am happy that you proved us wrong”

“I do not hold it against you, she is your daughter you want what is best for her, also you were not the only one, (y/n) was also very skeptical over my intentions”

“I had every reason to do so”

“I have made peace with the fact that you will never admit you were wrong my love, you do not have to find excuses for it”

Daemon and (y/n) were wed in Valyrian traditions, something that infuriated Viserys, how dare he wed a commoner with the sacred paths of old Valyria, it was distasteful and utterly disrespectful, Viserys had only sent a one-sentence raven scroll back

“You disgust me, never come back”

Daemon had only rolled his eyes at it and threw it in the fire, he couldn’t care less about Kings Landing, they could eat each other for all he cared, (y/n) and their children were all that mattered ever since he met with the beautiful hues of hers, he treasured everything about her and worshipped the ground she walked on, he would always hold her close and shower her with gifts.

“We received a raven, I have taken the liberty to open it”

“What is it?”

“Laenor Velaryon has passed, and your niece is requesting our presence, well yours to be specific, she said “I need you, uncle”

“You are jealous, I have never seen you get jealous”

“Is this the one you told me about, that “spur of the moment” girl?”

“Indeed, we do not have to go, besides, my brother banished me”

“No, it is the first time our presence is requested”

“My dear, you are with child and the flight is long”

“I will be fine, I know it”

Daemon was certain he could not sway her, once something was on her mind there was nothing that could turn it around, he was also aware that the reason she was so adamant was a side of hers that felt threatened, there was a ghost of his past that was requesting attention and (y/n) was not willing to walk away from this without putting up a fair fight.

At a day (y/n) and her 8 children stood next to her and her husband all dressed in black, everyone rubbed their eyes at the sight of such numerous children, (y/n) always knew she was meant to be a mother and that fact that she had Daemon as her husband made it so much easier.

Until it didn’t, they were summoned by the king after the ceremony, (y/n) felt her stomach drop as soon as she walked in the room, instinctively her one hand went over her growing belly, yet she mastered the strength to place a smile and curtsy before the king.

“What is the meaning of this brother?”

“I was hoping we could agree to some sort”

“Over what?”

“I wish for you to come back, I… will legitimize your children and wife as she has proven worthy, bringing forward 8 children with another on the way is no easy task”

“The gods have been generous to us that is correct, we are grateful for this offer but forgive me to ask, since you mentioned an agreement it seems you want something in return”

“Correct, there is no smooth way to say this but as a parent, I hope you understand that I would do anything to protect my daughter”

“No”

“Daemon”

“If you are asking us to wed Rhaenyra then you have lost your mind, I will not involve my wife and children in your scandals”

“Pardon my husband, I think you can understand the reason behind his outburst”

Daemon was left confused over (y/n)s composure that attempted to cover for his utter refusal to hide his brother's plans, he turned to observe his wife, she was calm, and her hand went to find his as their fingers intertwined (y/n) gave him a slight squeeze of comfort.

“The legitimacy of our children and our marriage is something that we are interested in, however, you can see why we might have some objections over accepting Rhaenyra in our marriage”

“You are trying to negotiate?”

“Yes”

“What else would you like to accept, please speak freely”

“I want my children to be given dragon eggs as well as meet any unclaimed dragons, they are Targaryens, they should have the pick of their dragons as well”

“Done”

“I shall also be considered Rhaenyras wife, if we were to wed I shall have the same rights as my husband”

“You are suggesting the realm accept you as the future queen's consort?”

“As you mentioned I brought forward 8 children and another on the way, the crown shall accept them as future princes and princesses, if not then there is nothing for us here”

Daemon chose to observe his lady wife than speak up, she took initiative and strived for the best option, something he admired in her but he had never really witnessed how far she was willing to go to secure the future of her family, now she was sacrificing a spot in their marriage for a seat at the table, Viserys had been outsmarted by what he used to frown upon.

“Very well, we accept your conditions”

“Well then… welcome to our family Princess Rhaenyra”

-

(Y/n) and Daemon wed Rhaenyra as they had once done while their children and the rest of their family watched, Rhaenyra had underestimated the lady, (y/n) and might not be as assertive or rebellious as Daemon but her wits and calculated movements showed a woman that walked with her head held high and every step was thought after.

The days turned to seasons and then years, everyone was holding their breaths as they took a front-row seat to one of the most important marriages and alliances within the Targaryen Dynasty.

(Y/n) was held in the best light by the small folk, “the realms mother”, and “the Alyssane reborn” as her fertility kept thriving, blessing Daemon with another set of twins soon after Rhaenyra was wed, the two beautiful baby girls were named Megaera and Valera, the first of their family to receive dragon eggs on their cradles a gift by Rhaenyra who picked them herself then came Aegon, Viserys, and Visenya, overall (y/n) had the castle of Dragonstone filled with children, 13 to be precise.

Rhaenyra was painfully aware of how those babies came to fruition, Daemon's thirst for his wife was evident and he did not even consider giving Rhaenyra the courtesy of hiding, Rhaenyra had lost count of the times she had walked in on (y/n), and Daemon lusting after one another at all hours of the day and any room that was close to them, she sometimes wondered if the legends of Rhaenys being the favorite wife of Aegon made Visenya go through what Rhaenyra was also experiencing, is that mayhaps the reason behind Rhaenyra identifying with the warrior queen?

As (y/n) and Daemon stood by Rhaenyra at court, defending her and consulting her on important matters, painting the picture of a happy marriage with two spouses that supported her revolutionary claim, the realm expected Rhaenyra to bare a child as well, (y/n) was producing heirs one after the other, Rhaenyras womb laid empty since Daemon did not spend not even one night in her chambers.

It was the first time in years that the three of them had stepped foot in kings landing, Vaemond had called the court to usurp Lucerys from his claim at the driftwood throne, naturally, all 13 of their children were present along with the three boys from Rhaenyras previous marriage, (y/n) insisted that it would show how United they are and having that strong of a number on their side would scare off any other accusations.

A solid plan, until Ser Vaemond decided to protest against the king affirming young Lucerys as the successor for the driftwood throne.

“You run your house as you see fit, but I would rather die than let that boy take over my family’s name, parading around because you are too blind to see the truth”

“You dare question the decision of a king?”

“Look at them, all thirteen of them hold the characteristics of old Valyrian, true born heirs that I would happily accept as mine even though they came from a womb of a commoner, and you ask me to accept these three boys as Velaryons? It is blasphemy”

“You are certainly bold Ser Vaemond, you have the nerve to call me a commoner when I hold the future queen and the brother of the king as my spouses, my children are not thirteen, but sixteen, and all of them hold their names with pride, it saddens my heart to see that the thirst for recognition has turned you to this low of antics”

“Her children are BASTARDS! and she. Is. A. Whore”

“Pity, you had such great potential”

As (y/n) finished her sentence Daemon had taken the liberty to end Ser Vaemonds life, a clean cut through his head right above his tongue with the great sword dark sister, causing most people to gasp while (y/n) smirked and watched the body fall on the well-polished floor.

“No one disrespects our family”

“Disarm him!”

“No need, my love”

Daemon stretched his hand to his beloved (y/n) who only turned to pinch Lucerys cheek before she took her husband's hand to walk away, only to halt and turn around again, looking back to the rest of her family members.

“Rhaenyra”

Rhaenyra was grateful for (y/n)s graciousness, there was nothing that she could hold against her, she was loving and caring to her three boys, she would listen to Rhaenyra about any concerns for hours and even now she defended and included her in front of everyone.

She should be satisfied with such, still a thorn stuck in her heart and pride making Rhaenyra feel second best when it came to Daemon's heart, it has always been (y/n), (y/n) carried his offspring’s, he gave up everything for her, took her away and gave her a life full of gifts and love, the finest of any kind was reserved for (y/n).

“Pardon my intrusion, the princess is requesting Prince Daemon in her chamber”

“It is late, can it not wait?”

“Sweetling, the poor girl cannot know, go to her, I will be waiting for you”

“Fine, take your nightgown off for me, I want us to get straight to it when I get back”

Daemon whispered deviously before he planted a passionate kiss on the lips he most adored, reluctantly pulled away with an audible gruff and followed the servant girl silently, wondering what was so important that he had to leave his precious bed and his lustful wife right in the heat of the moment.

Rhaenyra paced back and forth with impatience written all over her demeanor and face, Daemon always had an influence over her, making her feel like a little girl again, though this was a different type of anxiety, once Daemon entered the room and the servant gave them their privacy Rhaenyra took a deep inhale through the nose to ease her nerves.

“I hoped to confront you over our marriage”

“What of it?”

“Do you truly think everything is fine or are you just blind?”

“I and my wife have honored our vows”

“That is the problem, you and your wife, it has never been just your vows”

“When you wed us you were to understand your place when it came to me and (y/n), I never used her as a surprise, you called for our aid and we generously offered it”

He was right, Rhaenyra had never been blindsided by them, (y/n) was a staple of their marriage, (y/n)s strive for the legitimacy of her children was the only reason Daemon allowed their wedding to happen, (y/n) had drank for Rhaenyras cup just as daemon had, binding their hands together and swore loyalty and devotion to their future queen.

As a woman Rhaenyra felt cast aside, this marriage was an insult to her pride, and having to bare through a birth of a child one after the other with a smile on her face was a twist of a knife in her wound, while her womb lay empty.

“You refuse to spend time with me, alone, you only show up with your children-“

“Our children, (y/n) and I call your sons our sons”

“At court yes”

“Are you questioning our actions? I did not have you to be as dim-witted as you seem right now, (y/n) called Lucerys her trueborn son in front of everyone, I took a man’s head for insulting you and our house and yet you stand before me and claim it is not enough for your liking?”

“I stand here to remind you that we have yet to produce a child, you can kill as many men as you wish, and (y/n) can scream it at the top of her lungs but that does not change that everyone sees her parading her belly and call her the realms mother while my womb rottenness under this wedlock”

“Rotten? Alright then, let us entertain this and say you bare my child, a silver-haired beauty that the realm will welcome, has it crossed that brilliant mind of yours that this will be more of a scandal for your three boys?”

“My sons are Targaryens”

“No doubt about it, but certainly they do not look like the part, in comparison to their brothers and sisters they look more like (y/n) than you”

“You are not refusing to lay with me to hush the rumors, you simply do not have the urge for it, I remember a time that you did, mayhaps it was the image of a gullible girl that kept you going”

“Listen and listen well, wife, (y/n) is my eternal love, the woman that took me in her arms and showed me life, you are my blood, I protected you, I defended you, I offered you sanctuary just so you can once again have something to complain about, well that is it, if you dare to summon me again for such idiotic matters I will grab my brother by the neck and force him to annul the marriage do you understand?”

Daemon was furious, as he spoke he started taking steps towards her, to the point that her back found the wall and Daemon was inches away from her face, hissing out the threat of annulment like a snake that released poison to its prey.

Rhaenyra had never experienced such hostility from Daemon, to say she was shocked was an understatement as her eyes frantically tried to find focus on his, daemons eyes were filled with fury, Rhaenyra had crossed the line in his mind, (y/n) had been kind and honorable to the princess, doing her duty like a proper lady wife and Rhaenyra scoffed at her, at his (y/n).

“Alright”

“Wonderful, now you must excuse me, I have some urgent matters that need my attention”

Requests are open!

[shdo-xplosion]

HEAT • e. todoroki •°. *࿐

warnings: stepcest, periods, period sex, fingering, infidelity (not really dwelled upon), use of “daddy”, enji is a human heating pad *1.3k words

notes: its about to be that time of the month *sob sob* and i am in a bad brain mood that makes me wanna do nothing except cuddle with my heating pad so here we are! manga cap colored n edited by moi (*꒦ິ³꒦ີ)

Enji hates seeing you like this, his little angel, overtaken by fatigue and pain. You’ve been lounging on the couch for most of the day, moving from one position to another in hopes of finding temporary relief. Enji had been eyeing the calendar in preparation, picking a few things up from the nearby store so that you wouldn’t have to worry your pretty head.

But soft silicon discs and organic chocolate can only do so much. You keep swapping out your heating pad for the full heated blanket, keep curling up only to get up and walk around, and Enji can only take so much whining. It’s not that he’s irritated—never with you—he just hates seeing you in pain.

“Come here, baby,” he sighs, taking a seat on the far end of the couch and patting one of his humongous thighs.

You look at him with a hesitant sort of hope, “are you sure, daddy?” waiting for him to nod before scrambling over and slotting yourself on his lap.

You sit facing him, chest to chest, your head resting on his burly shoulder as Enji allows his hands to heat up. He slips them under your threadbare shirt, placing them on the small of your back just over your kidneys. Your relieved sigh comes out as more of a moan, your body melting against his.

Enji has gotten better about keeping his hands off of you, his precious step-daughter. What started as a curiosity turned into an accident that formed a habit. A very bad habit. It isn’t illegal. You’re in your twenties for Christ’s sake. But, it isn’t right. Enji shouldn’t be touching you like this. But, you want him to, especially on days like this.

“I know you’re the number one hero n’ all,” you hum, nuzzling against his throat, “and your job is to fight villains, but… I think your true calling is period relief.”

Enji laughs deeply, slowly working his thumbs into your back. “I don’t do this for just anyone, you know.”

“I know, I know.” You place a feather light kiss to his neck, and Enji damns himself when he feels his cock twitch under you. “Just saying. If hero work doesn’t pan out…”

He doesn’t respond, trying to stay in his right mind as you shift over him. You get comfortable where you lean against him, legs parted on either side of him, and for a little while Enji just sits and watches the asinine drama you have playing on the TV, rubbing small circles into your muscles.

It isn’t like he’s had these feelings since you were young. You and your mother came into his life when you were nearly 18 already, and his mind didn’t start betraying him until a few years after that. Enji isn’t sure if it’s the slew of worthless boys you keep bringing around to meet him, the constant threats on your life, or his own struggle with mortality, but something has Enji going a little crazy in recent months. Something is giving him an insatiable need to protect and take care of you. To make you his.

He doesn’t look at you the same way he looks at his other children, nor does he see you the same way he saw Rei or how he sees your mother. You're something else entirely. Quirkless but fearless, a force to be reckoned with yet so easy to be brought to your knees when it’s your dear daddy asking.

It was just a one time thing when you came home crying after a break up and Enji helped you forget about that stupid boy. Just a special occasion when you got all dressed up for the gala and Enji took you in your bedroom after everyone else had gone ahead. And, all the nights he saunters into your room while you’re knuckle deep in your pussy, trying so hard to get yourself off—that’s just so you can both get some rest. He doesn’t want you like that because it would be wrong. No way for the Number One hero to behave or think. They’re just little lapses in judgment here and there.

“Daddy?”

Enji grunts in response, toes curling at the sound of your voice cooing such a suggestively innocent title.

“Still hurts,” you whisper.

He warms his hands against your back a bit more, palms probably an uncomfortable temperature to anyone who isn’t seeking heat therapy.

“Any better?”

You shake your head, rubbing your face back and forth into his neck. “Inside. It’s…” He can hear your teeth slide against one another as you clench your jaw tightly. “Just hurts.”

He feels the way you spread your legs further, bearing down on him. It isn’t subtle. You may not be saying it with your mouth, but you’re all but rubbing your covered pussy over his hardening cock, a silent plea.

“You think that’ll help?” Enji questions, well aware of his baritone voice and the effect it has on you.

You shiver in his lap and nod. “S’long as you’re gentle.”

Tilting his head to the side, he guides your chin on his shoulder until you’re eye to eye with one another. “Aren’t I always?” Enji hasn’t always been known to be a soft man. In fact, his reputation has always been about being cruel, harsh, with no room for mercy. Things change over time, though, and even if they hadn’t, you would be the exception.

He helps you off of him so that you can shimmy out of your cloth shorts and panties. You tell him these are special made for periods, to absorb blood, “but if you want me to put a disc in really quick…”

Enji hushes you, fighting not to roll his eyes. “I’m not scared of a little blood, honey.”

To prove his point, he guides you back to his lap, slipping two thick fingers between your folds. Enji doesn’t push them further, just gathers the warm fluid coating your lips, teasing your hole with it. You grip his shoulders, face scrunched up.

“I’m going to give you one now, hm?” he warns, slowly delving his middle finger into the heat of your cunt. You take him easily, aided by your arousal and blood. As promised, Enji is slow and careful as he stretches you, watching for your expression to relax before adding his second finger.

“Alright, turn around, sweet girl,” he softly commands, waiting for you to face outward before guiding your hips down to meet his. Your body tenses when his fat cockhead slips into you, and Enji holds still so that you can adjust to his size. He lets you set the pace from there, delighting in the way that you slowly ease yourself down on his cock. Little by little, inch by inch, your walls spasming around his length until you settle right in his lap.

You let out a shaky breath, legs trembling, but it all goes away when Enji ushers you to his chest, letting you lean back as he places his hot hands over the lower part of your tummy. The angle has his cock pressed against your front wall, spongy tissue swelling around him, and just like that you find your relief.

“Feels so much better,” you say. Your voice isn’t slurred or all pleasure-rich despite Enji being able to feel your body’s reaction to him. No, you are content, at peace after a full day of discomfort.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod and giggle, “need to remember this for next time. Who needs Midol when I can just have this cock?”

Enji groans, shifting his hips to push his tip straight against your cervix.

“You can have it whenever you need, angel,” he mutters, brushing his lips over your shoulder and expertly kneading the tender skin of your hips. “Just say the word and daddy will come to your rescue.”

2023 ©️shidou-x. please do not plagiarize or repost my work in any other platforms.

[joelismiller]

misunderstanding

joel miller x fem!reader

Word Count: 5.0k

Summary: you liked joel and you really thought he liked you back.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap (joel is in his fifties and reader is in her late twenties), angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, fingering, oral (fem!receiving), jealousy, protective!joel, violence if you squint, no use of y/n

A/N: hi everyone my name is ariel and this is my first post ! I have never written for joel before and i have never written smut so please go easy on me and enjoy ! <3 (oh also i completely made up the currency idk how that works😭)

It hurts, you think. 

Having an attachment to a man who has seemed to lose the ability to comprehend on an emotional level how to form one.

An exception of course made for one goofy teenager named Ellie Williams, which you can’t blame him for—she is an easy kid to love. 

You however still can’t help but feel a little envious of the fourteen-year-old even if it is a silly kind of jealousy. You just wish you could be close to him—know him like no one else does or has. 

It started 6 months ago: you had been living in Jackson for a whole year after braving the world overtaken by Cordyceps alone.

Tommy and a group of other people on patrol found you near the edge of town looking right about to just give up and keel over and allow fate to take over and decide if you should live or die from that point.

After making sure you were not infected, Tommy scooped you up and managed to get you back to town where Maria agreed to help nurse you back to health and eventually make you an official resident of Jackson. 

You were given a house close to Tommy and Maria’s and they gave you a job at the local clothing shop of sorts; really just a place to trade or purchase clothing, bootlaces, etc. You began to not just live, but enjoy living—a fate you never thought you would be able to see for yourself after the events of the last twenty years.

It was more or less a life of routine and monotony, but it was more of a life you had before which is what made it special. 

Then Joel Miller came in and ruined all of that.

 Six months ago he rode into town with his little brunette companion for a second time after briefly visiting a while before. He walked up to Tommy and gave him a firm hug while confirming your hope that he indeed would be making himself a permanent member of the Jackson community.

His house with Ellie was only a few blocks away which allowed for you to wake up a little early to see him leave on his way to patrol. 

Now the interaction that started your infatuation with the grumpy old man was nothing too special; at least probably to the man himself. However, to you, it made a very old and foreign feeling form in your gut.

Butterflies erupted just at the sight of Joel Miller’s beautiful brown eyes that, depending on the light, either shined a light honey-brown, or dark and rich, like the coffee beans you used to brew your coffee that morning.

His hair reflected his age—a fluffy mess of brown with graying streaks and a patchy beard to match.

And his broad shoulders and strong looking arms made it so you wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up by him—consumed by him.  

He looked awkward, you think, as he stood inside your shop looking around wordlessly. You decided to step out from behind the counter where you were going over some previous numbers for inventory to help the handsome man get what he came for. 

“Hi there, can I help you look for anything specific?” you asked as you approached him slowly from across the room. 

“Hi, um, I was just lookin' for a thicker coat than the one I already have—‘just got my first pay from patrolling.” He muttered, continuing to search the many tables and walls littered with all sorts of clothing items.

 “Oh okay, for sure! If you just follow me they’re right over here.”

 You began to lead him to a rack near the register which had a small assortment of heavy winter jackets. You were constantly selling out of them since Jackson was always cold no matter the season which is why there wasn’t a lot to choose from. 

He took a look at the jackets and gave you a nod, “Thank you, um…” Joel trailed off as you breathlessly laughed and told him your name.

He repeated your name trying it out on his tongue; making you wish for nothing more than to hear him say it in his Southern drawl over and over and over-

“I’m Joel,” he stated simply and you gave him a smile and nod of your head, pretending like you hadn’t already done a bit of digging to find out the handsome newcomer’s name a couple months ago when he first visited. 

“Well Joel, if you need anything I'll be back behind the register.”

You pointed over to the table with a broken old register that worked just well enough to store the currency the town came up with so there was an extra curtain of civilization despite the events that were anything but that.

You thought it was kind of stupid, but it worked and made people happy so who were you to say otherwise? 

He nodded to let you know he heard you as you went back to your previous position: pretending the whole time you weren’t shamelessly ogling the rugged, big, Southern man mindlessly looking through the jackets.

He eventually settled on a nice tan one with flannel material on the inside lining with white fleece on the collar and cuffs.

You quickly looked back down to the inventory papers so you wouldn’t be caught staring when you heard his heavy footsteps approach the counter. 

“I’ll take this one,” he grunted as he began to gather up some coins to give you in exchange for the warm, heavy jacket.

You quickly pushed his hand away to alert him that it wasn’t necessary, “You're new here right Joel?” You asked as he raised an inquisitive eyebrow and shook his head in agreement.

 “Right, then consider it a welcoming gift—free of charge.” 

You gave him a bright smile as he furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head causing you to see the honey sparkle in his brown eyes under the bright store light. 

“Ya sure? Jacket doesn’t look cheap,” Joel muttered, his gaze flickering to his boots. 

“A hundred percent! You’re new and patrolling isn’t an easy job, accept it as a thank you for keeping us safe if anything,” you told him shyly, the smile never leaving your face. 

He chuckled softly and nodded his head. 

“Okay darlin’, well, thank you—much appreciated.” 

You whispered a soft ‘yeah’ as his eyes looked over you, causing a burning feeling to spread throughout your whole body as if you were being branded. He gave you one last nod of his head as he began to turn around and leave the store.

Not to your surprise, an empty feeling immediately filled you in the presence of his absence.

You whispered to yourself to pull yourself together—that you’ve only met him once and that his effect on you should not be this intense.

It didn’t help however as every interaction after that caused your feelings for the large stand-offish man to only grow. 

Whether it was a quick acknowledgement of each other when you happened to eat in the dining hall at the same time, or a wave of a hand when you left your houses at the same time in the morning as he headed to patrol and you headed to the store.

But your favorite interactions were when he would come into the store to maybe get a couple of new shirts for Ellie, or some new socks for himself.

Over time you felt him grow more comfortable around you as you did him. He would tell you about Ellie’s latest antics; swearing that the teen girl was trying to ‘send an old man to an early grave.’

You would giggle and tell him that he wasn’t that old and that Ellie was just a teen girl finally in a safe somewhat normal place where she can go to school and make actual friends. 

“About that, I think I might needa talk with her teacher soon—she’s been missin too much school and heading off god knows where,” Joel confessed to you, a frown overtaking his aged features as his worry about his adopted daughter showed clear all over his face.

You shyly grabbed his hand across the register and gave it a small squeeze.

“Try not to worry about her too much Joel. She’s young and she didn’t get to have a normal childhood—It's only normal that school probably doesn’t matter too much to her after everything,” you explained hoping that your words may ease him a bit. 

He didn’t respond right away, instead looking at where your much softer hand overlapped his bigger, calloused ones. An unreadable look came over his face before he gently took his hand away from yours and looked to the ground. 

“Yeah you’re probably right,” he responded in that low tone of his as he slowly began to back up. 

“I gotta go check and see if she made it home okay. It was nice seein ya.” 

You barely were able to say another word, maybe apologize for touching his hand in such a careless way before his heavy boots were already heading out the door; the little bell ringing a hollow sound in your ears.

After that, you began to see less and less of Joel and it hurt to admit that it slowly felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest.

You hated yourself for thinking that all your interactions meant something to him; that when he started to come to the store, not even leaving with anything but a conversation with you, that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way you felt for him.

Every time you even attempted waving at him in the morning when you both left—he just grunted and looked the other way—pretending like you weren���t even there. 

The store was for some reason busier than usual today and you closed up feeling drained and ready to sleep. The long shift accompanied by the hollow feeling in your heart Joel had left caused you to want nothing more than to curl up and forget all the pain in nicer dreams where things were better between you, things were different.

Joel would hold your hand in your dream and walk you to work, leaving a kiss on your cheek and a whisper of having a good day as you giggled and kissed him right back—whispering the same sentiments. 

You were shaken out of your daydream on your walk home when you spotted the very man at the center of all your thoughts on the porch of someone's house, a woman’s house.

She was gorgeous with long, blonde hair framing her face perfectly, while she looked up at Joel with gorgeous, crystal, blue eyes. She looked older than you too, maybe even closer to Joel’s age.

They laughed about something before she was leading him inside her house as he followed suit; the door shutting in a finality behind them. 

You felt a mix of jealousy and an even greater sadness than before filling your belly as you continued what felt like the longest walk home in your life.

As soon as the door closed you slid down the old wood as tears and sobs that you couldn’t stop wracked your body.

You just didn’t understand; what changed, what did you do to make him start avoiding you?

And you knew how hard it was for Joel to come out of his shell, so why did it seem so easy for him to talk and laugh with that woman? 

After what seemed like hours, you finally picked yourself off of the ground and trudged slowly to your bed where you collapsed immediately upon impact with the old tattered sheets.

Instead of the usual happy dreams about Joel, tonight you were plagued with endless nightmares of him and the mysterious blonde woman; standing in the place you usually would in your dreams about Joel.

You woke up in the morning with a feeling of restlessness as you readied yourself for another long day of work.

After work that night you decided to go to the Tipsy Bison which was Jackson’s bar that you would usually frequent when your nightmares from the time you were on your own came back to haunt you.

Mindless images of a group of clicker’s taking from you the only person you had left in your life since the virus took over: your best friend.

After she was gone it was just you, and that period never seemed to completely leave your mind even after a year in Jackson. 

After last night’s sleep, you definitely needed a drink you thought to yourself as you made your way over. When you entered you saw that it was a pretty busy night for the Tipsy Bison as you did your best to find a seat towards the end of the bar. 

Once you took a seat, you gave the bartender your drink order and surveyed the area to see who else was here as you waited for him to deliver your alcohol of choice. Your breathing stopped and your eyes widened when you noticed a familiar group of people at a table closer to the front of the bar. 

There in all his ruggish, handsome glory was Joel Miller, smiling widely as he talked with Tommy, Maria, and her.

You quickly swung back around to face where your drink was just set in front of you as you begged the burn in the back of your eyes to go away.

Fuck this, you thought as you downed most of the drink in one go, using your hand to wipe away the bit that escaped at the corner of your lips.

You did your best to ignore the person that was at the center of all your sadness; drinking and drinking until you felt a familiar buzz kick in and begin to cloud your thoughts. 

Right when you were about to order another drink, a skinny, tall, blonde boy walked over to where you were seated and said it was on him as he handed over a couple of coins. 

“You didn’t have to do that but thanks, I guess,” you muttered, hoping your disinterest was a sign that you wanted to be left alone.

He smiled wide in a way that caused you to shiver, and not in a pleasurable way like when Joel would grace you with the corner of his lip twitching up, releasing a breathless laugh; but in a bad, unnerving way. 

“Anything for a girl as pretty as you.” 

He winked which caused you to roll your eyes and once again look away from him. “I’m not interested but again, thank you,” you told him with a finality in your voice that the man—no—boy, didn’t take very seriously. 

“Aw come on don’t be like that I just wanna have some fun with you,” he said in a sleazy manner as he reached out to grip your shoulder. 

You quickly shook him off but in your drunken haze, you accidentally fell off your chair onto the ground—single-handedly causing the whole bar’s eyes to turn onto you. 

“Godammit, now you're just causing a fucking scene,” the man snarled at you, causing tears to form behind your eyes as this man's actions as well as having the entire bar watching the now-forming scene. 

And if the night couldn’t get any worse, you hear the familiar sound of boots coming up behind the man and it takes just one glance to confirm your suspicions. 

“What did you just say to her?” 

You heard a deep voice growl out, a look of pure rage overtaking Joel’s features as he stood right in front of the blonde boy’s face. 

“Look man I didn’t know she was taken, I was just tryna have a good time, you know?” 

An animalistic sound leaves Joel’s mouth before he takes the boy’s arm and forcefully grabs it until he's facing the bar counter and his arm is pressed deep into his back. 

“It don’t matter whether she’s taken or not, you never treat a woman like that,” he snarls into the shaking boy’s ear. 

“I never wanna see you come near her again, you hear me?” 

He shakes his head wildly until Joel finally releases him and he scatters out of the bar. The anger on Joel’s face morphs into one of concern as he gently stretches out a hand to help you up. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” He questions softly as you bat his hand away and attempt to stand on your own. 

“M’ fine,” you mutter as you stand on shaky legs—about to fall over when Joel rests his big hands on your shoulders to steady you. He chuckles and curls an arm around your waist as he begins to slowly lead you out the door. 

“You sure darlin’? Cause’ you seem a lil drunk to me,” Joel says amused at your hindered state while you frown up at him. 

“Don’t you have to go back to your girlfriend,” you huff out, avoiding looking at the grumpy man’s features. 

“Girlfriend?” He responds confused, not understanding what you were talking about until he catches your eyes drifting to Veronica’s face—Ellie’s teacher. 

After the day he left abruptly from your store, he sought out Ellie’s teacher Veronica. They have been having weekly meetings about how Ellie was doing in school as well as her continuous efforts to ditch class.

There was absolutely nothing romantic about it, the whole ordeal gave him a headache—a subject he was too old to be stressing about.

Besides, how could he dare think about anyone else when you had him wrapped around your little finger? 

When he first saw you at your clothing store and you gave him his jacket for free, he knew you would be trouble.

And trouble you were as he couldn’t stop himself from continuing to visit you just to see you and hear your comforting voice promise him that all his worries about his adopted daughter were normal.

It was actually your idea that maybe he should at some point meet with Ellie’s teacher. But when your small hand wrapped around his he got scared— scared this could become something real.

Everyone he has ever gotten attached to he’s lost and he already accidentally went and got attached to Ellie, he didn't know if he had it in him to do it to another person. 

And on top of that, he was a bad man, he had done horrible things. You were also so much younger and prettier than him—a sweet, soft thing Joel didn’t feel he deserved.

But looking at your heartbroken face now as you looked back at him and then at Veronica, he knew he messed up. He should have never started avoiding you.

It was never the answer, but Joel had never been good at feelings, this much is evident. 

“Come on sweetheart, let’s get you home.”

The walk back from the Tipsy Bison to your house was a pretty close one, your hose only being about five minutes away.

Once you were at your door with a Joel who did not take “leave me alone” as an answer, you struggled to get the key in the lock in your drunken stupor which the large man beside you thankfully helped with. 

“Let me do that, sweetheart,” he muttered as his big warm hands covered yours and twisted the key, letting the both of you inside. 

“Joel, I don't feel so good…” you said shakily as Joel uttered a “shit” and quickly hurried you to the bathroom which he found pretty quickly—his hands quickly opening the toilet seat and finding purchase in your hair as he held it back, allowing you to empty the contents of your stomach. 

“Joel I’m so sorry,” you groaned as a tear fell down your cheek; your sadness, tiredness, and embarrassment flooded in all at once with help from the lingering alcohol in your system.

He shushed you softly and cradled you to his chest taking a second to rock you until your tears stopped and you felt well enough to stand. 

“How bout’ you brush your teeth and get your pajamas on—I’ll make you some tea then we’ll talk, yeah?” 

You nodded as he gently brushed your cheek with his thumb causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach as he made his way to your kitchen to attempt to find the ingredients and mug he needed.

You cleaned yourself up: showered, brushed your teeth, and put on sleepwear which helped you come back to a clearer state of mind allowing confusion to overtake you. 

Why was Joel here taking care of you, wouldn’t his girlfriend begin to ask questions? 

You weren’t allowed to keep worrying yourself with your thoughts as a knock on your bedroom door brought you back to reality. 

“May I come in? Made ya tea,” Joel’s voice rang out into your room softly as you muttered a quiet, “Sure.” 

Joel stepped into the room and handed you the mug which you took a generous sip of—the honeyed flavor soothing your throat and stomach. 

“Thank you so much, Joel, for walking me home and taking care of me. I’m so sorry-” 

“Don’t go apologizing darlin’ you have done nothin’ to have to apologize for,” Joel interrupted sending you a soft smile as he went to pick up your hand laying on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles into the smooth skin.

In a reversal of roles, it was your turn to pull your hand away as Joel frowned and you looked to the floor; he should have expected that after everything that’s happened. 

“I guess I deserve that,” he chuckles sadly as your turn to raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Well you have a girlfriend and I bet it would make her uncomfortable if she knew you were holding my hand, Joel.” 

Joel couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped him at your words which completely stopped when he saw your features form into one of anger. 

“Why is that so funny? That’s why you stopped visiting and talking to me right? Because you found someone else.” 

You didn’t mean for it to come out as bitterly or as venomously as you said it but you couldn’t help it. You have spent weeks suffering over his actions towards you and now he helps you home, takes care of you, holds your hand like nothing happened? 

“M’ sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to make it seem like I was laughing at you. It’s just that…” He trails off collecting himself. Joel sighs out your name and begins to tell you that Veronica is not his girlfriend and that she was just Ellie’s teacher.

He explains to you all about their meetings and that tonight was just him getting her a drink to thank her for all her help. 

“I promise you darlin’ it wasn’t anythin’ more than that—don’t feel that way about her at all.” 

You process all the information Joel just unloaded on you; and though you do feel relief, you still feel irritation and sadness as his complete throwing away of your friendship—abandoning you without a word. You tell him as much as he releases another sigh and looks down toward the wooden floor. 

“Look, m’ not really good at this…” Joel starts, eyes flickering up to your face as he continues. 

“But coming into the shop and talkin’ to you started becoming the best parts of my day, sweetheart,” he pauses to give you a look of sincerity and to try holding your hand again—and this time— you let him.

“And I was just downright a coward and instead of facing my feelings I shut you out completely and I feel so fucking awful darlin’ I’m so sorry.” He whispers, tightening his grip on your hand.  

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I'm hoping you can forgive me and that maybe we can try to be somethin. I don’t know if I’ll be very good at it and I’m so much older than you, but-” 

You cut Joel’s rambling off by pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. You begin to pull away when you don’t feel him kissing back, but he doesn’t give you a chance as he cups your head in a big hand and begins to kiss back with more fervor. 

“Joel,” you whimper as he begins to lay you back on your bed, his tongue licking the seam of your bottom lip asking for entrance into your soft, warm mouth—which you immediately allow. 

“Shhh, darlin’ will you lemme take care of ya? Wanna make you feel so good baby, make up for how bad I've been actin’.” 

You let out a moan when you feel the rough denim of his jeans buck up into your soft sleep shorts making contact with your clothed cunt. 

“Please Joel, need you so bad,” you whine as he starts to place kisses from your jaw down to your neck—slightly nipping and leaving a trail of small red spots in their wake, which he soothes with his tongue causing a high pitched whimper to leave your lips; beads of frustration beginning to gather at the corner of your lashes. 

“I got you sweetheart, I’m right here, can I take this off?” Joel questions as he lifts the hem of your tank top.

You nodded quickly as he borderline rips it over your head, quickly latching a mouth onto one of your nipples as he massages the neglected one with his hand. 

“Ohmygod-” you cry as he expertly flicks the bud with his tongue, soon moving over to the other nipple to give it the same treatment.

Arousal pools in your gut as Joel groans, beginning to leave kisses from your sternum, down to the soft skin of your belly, and right to the hem of your sleep shorts.

He leaves a soft kiss there and looks up to you to ask for permission to take them off. You nod vigorously but he shakes his head and leans down more to press a kiss to your clothed core, emitting a loud gasp from your mouth. 

“I need words darlin',” he states, glancing back up to you as you vocalize your permission. Joel wastes no time in taking your shorts down in one quick motion once you say yes—leaving you in your white lacy panties.

He runs a finger over the damp spot in your panties and then brings his arched nose close to the spot to breathe you in as well as to lick your folds through the cotton, his nose perfectly bumping your clit in this position causing you to squirm and moan his name. 

“Joel please,” you begged as he pulled away and began to run soothing circles into the soft skin of your thighs. 

“Please what baby, tell me what you need,” he demands as you try to buck your hips up to his mouth, but he won't let you, strong hands keeping you in place. 

“Your tongue Joel I need your tongue,” you whimper but he shakes his head. 

“Where do you need my tongue, baby? Gotta tell me if you wanna cum, sweet girl.” 

You whine in embarrassment and look down to see Joel Miller with the smuggest smirk you have ever seen. 

“I need your tongue on my pussy Joel, please take off my panties and use your tongue,” you beg as he chuckles and gently removes the white lace—quickly stuffing it in his back pocket before you can see. 

“Good girl baby, that s’all I needed,” he murmurs as his tongue comes into contact with the bare skin of your folds causing you to gasp his name and grab his salt and pepper hair to hold him against your cunt.

 “Oh my god Joel that feels so good!” You cry as his tongue moves from licking solid stripes against your folds to suckling gently on your clit, as your legs threaten to squeeze around his head. 

“Fucking Christ sweetheart, you taste so good, can’t get enough of you,” he groans as he continues to lick into you—the coil in your tummy beginning to tighten but you need more to get you to your high. 

“Mmm your fingers Joel, please I need your fingers,” you groan, causing Joel to growl against your pussy, the vibrations only heightening your pleasure. 

“Okay baby, think you can take two, huh?” he murmurs as he presses several small kisses to the inside of your thigh.

You whimper a small “yes” as he gathers your slick on his middle and ring finger—the burn you feel from the sheer girth of his fingers stretching you open fades into a dull bliss. 

“J-Joel I’m close,” you alert him as you buck into his face and fuck yourself on his fingers. 

“Yeah, baby? C’mon then cum for me sweetheart, let go,” Joel coos gently and that’s all it takes for the coil in your stomach to snap—a stream of your slick gushing out all over his face and onto the scruff of his beard. 

He continues to lick you through it until you're shuttering and mewling from the overstimulation. He pulls away with a large grin on his face as he reaches down to kiss you passionately, the sweetness of your fluids on his tongue making the kiss that much sweeter.

He wiped the rest of you off of his beard before giving you small pecks all over your face until you were giggling and he was chuckling. 

“I am sorry y’know,” he whispered in that silky smooth voice of his. You cupped his cheek with your hand, rubbing circles into the scratchy skin. 

“I know.” 

Joel got up to get a wet cloth to clean you up. He then took his time putting your sleepwear back on—leaving gentle kisses and massaging every inch of your body he could see.

He ended up spending the night as you curled into his strong arms as he stroked your hair until he felt your breathing even out as slumber took over you. 

He stayed up and watched you for a while until he soon fell victim to sleep; the thought of him finally being able to be completely happy despite everything was a comfortable thought, and it was all because of you. 

[buckybarnesb-tch]

The Solitary Omega -Klaus M.

This is one of my fav stories from my Wattpad so I thought I would post it on her for everyone

Warning:Daddy Kink, a/b/o dynamics, Alpha and Omega behaviors of my own design in some parts, smut (but that’s why you’re here so enjoy it🤣)

Vampires find their mates by scent like everyone else in the world, however there are no Omega vampires currently in existence, the last one having been 600 years ago and only existing, as far as anyone could tell, for a few weeks.  Vampires aren't attracted to Omega scents, most vampires are Alphas, very rarely scenting their mates in a Beta because very few vampires are submissive in any sense of the word.  Vampires want and need strong mates, craving the attention of another Alpha unlike humans where Alphas rarely mate with other Alphas, Alphas and Betas are the most common, making up about 92% of all mated pairs.  Alphas and Omegas make up about 7.5% of the rest leaving not even one percent to Alphas and Alphas.

As a human Klaus had always been attracted to Omegas, such as Tatia, however after the change they didn't smell appealing to him anymore and he didn't take them as a meal or a bed partner.  1000 years he spent no longer attracted to Omegas and to be honest, he missed them, their soft skin and sweet smell being everything he ever wanted, a mate to marry and bed, fill up with his pups and start a family, a family he could treat better than his had been in his life.  However as the years slowly went on it seemed less and less likely he would ever like ones smell again until after his first 100 years he gave up on the idea all together.  None of the Originals had ever met an Omega vampire, no one ever dumb enough to change one, until Mystic Falls that is.

The family had been undaggered and they were planning a ball, each writing their own invitations to whoever they wanted there for whatever reason.  He recognized all of the names until Elijah wrote a new one on the card, 'Y/Full/N'.  "Who is that brother?"

Elijah looked shocked.  "You've been here all this time and never met the Omega vampire?"  That sentence alone stunned him to silence, along with both Kol and Rebekah.  "Damon's friend, Y/n, well Y/F/n but she prefers Y/n.  I don't know how she was turned but she's lovely and very sweet, can't be more than a few vampire years old.  She undaggered me in the basement of the boarding house because she thought it was 'unfair' what Damon had done to me."  He chuckled.  "She still doesn't smell appealing however I'm not adverse to the scent either.  It's calming in a way, she's a very nice girl and I would like her to join the festivities.  You are all to leave her alone, she's my guest."  They nodded, all intrigued instantly.  "I mean it Kol."  Kol had been known to play with Omegas before but he shrugged, holding his hands up in defense.

"I'll be good."

"I actually find myself excited to meet her.  I'm intrigued."  Klaus admitted to his brother as they pulled up to the apartment complex on the edge of town, walking up to the door he knew was hers when Klaus smelled something mouth watering.  "What is that?"  He asked when Elijah knocked.

"What?"

"What is that sme-"  he was cut off by the door opening and being overtaken by the most amazingly warm, delicious scent he had ever smelled.  A shudder rushed over his body as the hair on his arms stood up and he couldn't help but inhale it for as long as he could.

"Elijah?  To what do I own this pleasure?"  She didn't seem thrilled to see him, but not put off either and Klaus found himself happy at the fact that she wasn't afraid of them.

"I wanted to request your attendance at our families ball, most of the town is invited but I wanted to make sure you knew you were my personal guest."  She seemed stunned, taking the invitation before looking back at them.

"Thank you, that's very sweet but I would have nothing to wear."  Klaus noticed her nostrils flare and she looked at him as they did, her eyes darkening and he felt a swell of pride at the fact that she clearly loved his scent as well.

"I will make sure you have a dress love, if I can make that happen...will you save me a dance?"  Again, shock filled her eyes but she couldn't hide her smile.

"I suppose I could do that, so long as you promise to be well behaved Mr. Mikaelson."  He bowed, holding out his hand and she took it, allowing him to kiss hers.

"I shall be on my best behavior, you have my word."  She smiled, taking her hand back.

"Then I would be happy to save you one dance.  Just one."  He couldn't help his amusement at her warning.

"By the end, you will want to dance the night away in my arms my dear."  She rolled her eyes, retreating back inside.

"Thank you for the invitation.  I guess I'll see you there, by the way, I'm not a conventional Omega.  I don't wear pink."  She smirked, closing the door and leaving him to laugh on his way back to the car.

"What was that about?!"  Elijah demanded as he shut his door, not liking his brother going against what he had said and teasing the girl who he had only ever seen be kind to everyone, including himself which if you're a Mikaelson, you know is rare when someone knows who you are.

"You didn't smell that?"  Elijah shrugged.  "She smells fantastic.  No...outstanding.  No...sensational!  I've never smelled an Omega like that, not even Tatia smelled like that, she's...wow..."  He sank back into his seat as Elijah began driving again.

"I don't think I've ever seen you like this.  Y/n's a sweet girl Niklaus, and she deserves more than your little one night Hump-N-Dumps."  The hybrid nodded his head quickly.

"You're right, she does.  She deserves everything...and I will give it to her!  Starting with the dress!  It has to be perfect...and I think I have just the one in mind."  Elijah rolled his eyes, driving closer to town and making Klaus look around.  "Where are we going?"

"To drop off your invitation for Miss. Forbes."

"No.  There's no time.  Forget Caroline, home!  We have to go home!"  He insisted and the look on Elijah's face was a mix of shock and genuine concern now, the last thing he ever expected was his brother to give up on Caroline for Y/n.

They went home and Klaus was out of the car quickly, running to the attic where much of the old clothes they had were kept, he came back down with a large box 10 minutes later, holding what Elijah assumed was a dress.

"I'll be back!"  He shouted and Elijah looked back to Kol, Finn, and Rebekah. 

"I'm telling you, this is either the moment of his redemption, or the moment of his demise, I'm not sure which.  Let's just hope Miss. Y/L/n doesn't treat him like Miss. Forbes did or were all in trouble."  They all knew Elijah was right.  Klaus had been infatuated with a women only a handful of times in his life but something about the look on his face was different this time and they all noticed it.  Even with Caroline there was a certain level of cockiness to their brother but the way Elijah had explained him looking at Y/n...they were all more than a little concerned.

Y/n's POV

Another knock on the door startled me and I had just jumped out of the shower making me pull on a pair of sweat pants and a tank top with nothing underneath.  "Hold On!"  I shook my wet hair out and yanked the door open to see Klaus again, this time with a large box in his hands.

"Hello Kitten."

"Hi."  It took me a second for the 'Kitten' to register but when it did I couldn't stop the blush that overtook my cheeks.  "I-I thought the ball wasn't until tomorrow-"

"It isn't, I just...I wanted to make sure you had the dress.  I knew I had the perfect one for you."  He handed it to me and I was touched but also skeptical, knowing everything I've been told about him.

"Thank you...if I open this and it's a short skirted, low cut thing that shows everything I have I'm going to slap you."  I informed him and he looked stunned.

"Of course not!  I would never do you the dishonor...not in public at least, I would never want anyone but me to see you in such a way.  I would like that to be for my eyes only."  I giggled at what I thought was his attempt at a joke before I saw he was serious.  "I'm interested in you, I can't believe I haven't met you before now and I intend to make my feelings clear.  I know you probably wouldn't accept being my date to the ball so I won't ask and upset you, but I haven't smelled an Omega who's scent was anywhere near as breathtaking as yours since I was a human and honestly, I believe ever."

I was stunned by his admission.  "That's sweet Klaus.  It would be sweeter if I didn't know you were already trying to get into Caroline's pants-"  he cut me off as I set the box on the table beside me.

"Caroline isn't invited to the ball."  My head snapped up to look at him quickly, shocked, knowing how insistent he had been for her to give him a chance, her having made me listen to several hours of her complaining about his advances.  Honestly it was just annoying to hear a beautiful girl talk non-stop about how a sexy vampire being infatuated with her was somehow an inconvenience.  "She said no to me for the last time so I'm letting Tyler go when I leave here and she's free to enjoy him.  If she's determined to be with a cheating asshole who am I to stand in the way, and before you say it, this isn't me rebounding onto you or whatever humans say now a days.  I would really like to get to know you.  Not just take you to bed (although I admit that will be on my mind as my most prominent fantasy from now on) but get to know you.  I want to know who Y/F/n is, your hopes and dreams, your likes and dislikes, hobbies and favorite foods.  I want to take you to expensive dinners and on fun day trips, spend an ungodly amount of time with you until people are so fed up by how cute we are that they can't stand to be around us anymore...I want to say I want to fall in love with you but I think that ship sailed the moment you looked at me with those gorgeous Y/EC eyes.  I will wait however long I must for you to give me whatever kind of chance you are willing, however I will start with one dance tomorrow night in this dress, with this on."  He handed me a smaller box and I took it, his warm fingers touching mine for the first time and making my skin tingle.  "This is yours now, your personal vervain filled necklace that I hope you never want to take off, it's been mine for a while and I'd really like you to have it...love to see you wearing it...I hope to see you tomorrow night love."  He took my hand and kissed it, before retreating and disappearing just before I shut the door.

I was absolutely floored as I opened the dress box, it was like he knew exactly what I would want to wear and gave it to me.  I then opened the smaller box he gave me and it was the necklace.

It looked old, very old and given his ancestry as well as how serious he seemed about it I assumed this necklace was a big deal to him, the feeling it gave me being enough to tell me that wearing this would be a promise to give him a chance, a real chance as my Alpha.  I set it on my bedside table and relaxed with some Game of Thrones for the rest of the night, looking over at the necklace every few minutes unable to get it out of my head before sighing and taking my time to get it over my head, settling it on my chest and something about it just feeling right.

I took my time getting ready the next evening, calling an Uber and getting a ride to the house about 15 minutes late, not wanting to arrive right on time.  Everyone seemed to already be inside when I got out of the Uber and I took a deep breath, walking in and quickly being handed a glass of champagne.  "Thank you."  The boy nodded and I looked around, walking through the ball room and the bar in aww of the house.  "Damn...how do people afford this shit?"  I mumbled to myself.

"Years of saving money."  I gasped, jumping and turning around as I heard a voice in my ear, seeing Klaus standing behind me.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry.  That was rude, I didn't mean-"

"Not rude at all.  I know I'm more well off than most, though I think it balances out considering I used to live in a one room hut with a dirt floor and 5 siblings." 

"That sounds awful...but also sort of fun.  I never had siblings, always felt like I missed out."

"There's positives and negatives.  Don't tell them but I wouldn't give them up for anything."  I nodded.

"I can tell how much you love your family, I think it's very sweet...misguided in some of the things you've done maybe, but loving.  Thank you for the dress, it's perfect.  I'm in love with it!  I think I took like, 200 pictures of myself tonight."  The smile on his face was well worth it.

"I'm glad, I was worried you wouldn't like it, it would be too dark-"

"Nothing is too dark for me.  I wear black 99% of my life, I just feel the most comfortable in it."  I finished the glass of champagne as I looked him over.  "You clean up nice, really nice, love the hair."  I giggled at seeing it slicked back.

"Are you making fun of me, Kitten?"  I gasped dramatically.

"I would never!"  He took the empty glass from my hand, placing it on a waiters tray before holding out his arm for me to take.

"Let me get you a drink, I'd like to show you something if I may."  I shrugged as he led me to the bar, the bartender dropping everything to serve him first.  "Bourbon and, what would you like sweet girl?"  I blushed at the nickname before looking up at the man.

"Long Island?"  He nodded and Klaus looked down at me as his bourbon was placed on the counter.

"You like fruity drinks?  I don't know why I didn't expect that."  I shrugged.

"My friends dad taught me to drink, he says you can't be an Omega and not know how to hold liquor in this day and age, too dangerous.  I can handle just about anything, though you never have to worry about me stealing your bourbon."  I told him, wrinkling my nose and he chuckled.  "If I was going to drink something it would probably be some kind of whiskey, I like fireball.  I just prefer things that don't taste like paint thinner if I can help it, taste better and get drunk faster, win win on the cocktails.  Though I don't need to be smashed tonight so this will be the last for a while I think."

"We'll get you some water later?"  He teased and I shoved him with my shoulder as he handed me my drink and took his own, leading me away from the crowd and through a door, up the back staircase.

"Are you going to murder me?"  I joked and he leaned close, sniffing my neck, growling.

"Maybe I am."  He was teasing me and I couldn't hide the chill that ran up my spine, making him smile.

"I think you have a lovely smile."  His smirk returned as I said this and I shook my head.   "Not smirk, smile.  A real smile, you don't do it a lot but I'm assuming you do it a lot with me compared to other people.  It makes your eyes light up."  I looked up at him as we stopped outside a door and he looked down at me, shocked.  "You have really pretty eyes."  I admitted and I could see a faint blush on his face.

"You do as well, they're a deep, amazing green that I could get lost in for hours if you will let me someday.  I also love this cute little button nose."  He teased, running his finger down the bridge of my nose.  "Perfect cheek bones...lovely red lips that I-Uh...anyway!"  He cut himself off.  "I want to show you a painting I did last night.  I just couldn't sleep until I got it out."  Klaus opened the door, taking my hand this time and pulling me inside, leading me over to the fire place and looking up at the painting over the mantle...it was me...or at least I think it was.  I definitely don't see myself like that, I'm beautiful.  It's so bright and well proportioned, I could never in my wildest dreams do anything like this.

"Klaus...this is...this is amazing!  Wow, I...just...wow!"  I moved to the bed beside us and sat on the edge, looking up at it, sipping the last of my drink and putting the glass on the table.

"I would like to draw you naked next."  He teased, sitting beside me and looking up at the painting.  "I'm not being forward, I promise, I really am interested in you.  I know it's only been a day but...I can't get you out of my head.  I would like you to be my Omega, I'm sure you get that all the time from Asshole Alphas that think they can just decide that you're theirs but I...I want you to choose me.  I want you to want me, want to be with me, want me to touch you and care for you and love you.  I understand though if everyone has scared you off of me too much, I just hope that's not the case."  He was right, people had tried to scare me when talking about Klaus, Damon and Stefan mostly, then Elena, once again pretending that everyone's lives revolve around her when in fact the only reason Klaus needed her was that she is a doppelgänger, not because she's just so amazing!  Lastly Caroline, who, like I said, would rant to anyone who would listen about the struggles of having a sexy, rich, hybrid artist fawn over her and shower her in gifts and wonderful drawings.  I sighed, getting up my nerve and standing, walking passed him and hearing him sigh as I shut the door, locking it.  He seemed to think I had left and I was quiet as possible when I unzipped the dress, watching him gulp the rest of his drink while I dropped the dress to the floor, sliding onto the bed and laying my head on the pillows.  He didn't seem to have noticed me before he stood up and turned to go to the door, seeing my dress on the floor, freezing before turning his head and looking to find me laid out on his pillows in my bra and panties.  "Holy fuck."  He breathed out and I giggled.

"Are you planning to draw me or what?  It's not exactly naked but-"

"You're perfect!"  He cut me off, jumping to grab his sketch book and sitting at the bottom of the bed.

"How do you want me?"  His eyes widened at my phrasing and I saw him try and discreetly adjust himself in his pants as he crept closer, lifting my hand over my head before turning the other one up and just as he was about to adjust my hips he stopped and looked at me, asking permission with his eyes and I found it sweet, making me nod.

"If anyone else ever sees this Klaus I swear to God-"

"I'll gouge their eyes out with a rusty spoon.  No one will ever look at you like this and live to tell the tale again...and this...this means what I hope it does?  That you want to be mine...that you'll let me be your Alpha?  Treat you the way you deserve?"  I smiled, nodding again and he moved his hands to shift my body into a better position for how he wanted to sketch me.

"Don't really know what you mean by the way I deserve but...I would like to call you Alpha."  I answered and it seemed to be enough.

"I want you to only call me Alpha...or Daddy."  He spoke as he began his sketching, causing me to purr at the idea and him to need to adjust himself again.

"Are you going to be able to go back to the party with that?"  I questioned, looking at the bulge in his pants and he chuckled.

"I'll be okay once I go to the bathroom."  I rolled my eyes but stayed still while he worked and I loved the intensity in his eyes as he drew me.

We were in there for about a half hour before he finished and once again I was breathtaking.  "I just work with what you give me."  He helped me back into the dress and led me back down the stairs to the party just as they were giving a toast.  He stopped me at the bottom of the stairs and joined his family as Elijah spoke, taking a champagne glass as I did and drinking.  I walked to the bar while Klaus spoke to Elijah about something before feeling a hand on my arm and turning to see Caroline.

"Where have you been Y/n?"

"Nowhere."  I took my drink and tried to walk around her but she stopped me again.

"Klaus didn't invite me to this himself, I had to come as someone's date, do you know why?"  I shrugged.  "Because he asked you."

"I think technically Elijah asked me, that's who my invitation was from anyway, but yes, he finally decided to let you be happy with Tyler like you wanted.  Go enjoy him. Have fun, be free of the man you called a nuisance."  She glared at me, taking her own drink.

"I wanted to have Tyler and enjoy being chased by a hot hybrid, until you."  I didn't know how to respond to that.

"You always said you hated his annoying advances, and how am I to control who he chases?"

"Turn him down!"

"Cause that worked so well for you?"

"Tell him to leave you alone, you don't like him, he should go back to chasing me, he'll listen.  I'm sure he misses me."  I rolled my eyes, turning to walk away.  "Don't walk away from me!"  She demanded, grabbing my hair and pulling me back, making me growl, grabbing her hand and pulling it away, breaking several fingers in my grasp.

"Don't forget how much older than you I am, I'm not fighting you for Klaus, he's already mine.  He stopped compelling Tyler and he's free to be with you now, be happy and stay away from me."

"Ladies?  Everything alright here?"  I heard my Alphas voice and it calms me like nothing else, even this fast after just accepting being his Omega.

"Yes Alpha, all okay here.  Caroline was just telling me how grateful she is to you for releasing Tyler."  Her glare became even stronger as she heard what I called him and he knew it was a lie but went with it.

"You're welcome Caroline.  I realized you were right, you and I never would have worked.  Is he here with you?"  She shook her head and I knew I had seen Tyler here.

"Is...is he with someone else?"  I couldn't stop myself from asking and her eye twitched slightly.  "Oh god Care, I'm so sorry!"

"If you're sorry you'll do what I asked."  She told me and I laughed.

"I'm sorry you got dumped but that doesn't mean I'm giving you my Alpha just because the option you liked better is gone.  He's a person, not some toy you can put down and pick up whenever you want to play with him, you treated Klaus like shit, I'm not going to make that mistake.  I'll treat my Alpha like the king that he is."  I told her, reaching up and brushing my fingers down his jaw, loving the happiness in his eyes as I did.

"My sweet girl."  He rumbled happily in his chest, kissing my forehead.  The next thing I knew I was covered in what I'm assuming was champagne as Caroline threw her drink on me and I rolled my eyes in exasperation.

"I liked this dress Care, that was a mistake."  She scoffed, about to say something snotty when I reached my hand up and drilled my fist straight into her face.  I got 4 punches in before my Alpha finally stopped me, everyone in the bar area, which thankfully was only about 10 people, were now staring at us in shock, her face now gushing blood all over her dress as I had very clearly broken more than just her nose.  "You know I hit like a man Care, I don't throw bitch punches!  Shouldn't have thrown your drink on me!"  Klaus began carrying me to the back door to get us out of here.  "Stay away from my Alpha!  Next time I'll break every bone you have!"  I shouted before he finally shut the door and hauled me into the kitchen where no one was allowed and back up to the top of the stairwell.

"That was uncalled for Y/n...but thank you."

"I get that you're kind of a dick but that's no reason to treat you like trash, you're not trash. Been nothing but nice to me..." I nuzzled into his neck and he held me tightly to his chest despite the champagne all over me. "I need a shower...I should go home." I admitted and he whined sadly. "I don't want to either but I don't have any clothes with me, just my clutch that I left in your room-"

"Borrow something of mine to sleep in, shower and stay here tonight. We'll abandon the rest of the party, substitute the dance you promised for some cuddling?" I considered it for a moment before sighing, knowing I was going to say yes.

"Okay Alpha, I'll spend the night. Just get me out of this, I'm starting to feel sticky." He lifted me up, blurring to his room and shutting the door behind him, setting me on the bathroom floor. He leaned down to turn on the water and I quickly dropped the dress, bra unhooking along with it and panties coming down as he set the water to a good temperature.

"Alright, that should be good. Leave your clothes and I'll take them when I leave something you can sleep in on the coun-" he cut himself off as he turned to see me now completely naked.

"Or, you could go get me the clothes, throw those into the hamper and join me in the shower, I think you have some champagne on you too, better safe than sorry, don't you think?" I pulled him close to me, hand on the back of his neck as I pulled him to my level, noses brushing, lips so very close and I noticed his breathing quicken. "My Alpha. Mine." I growled and he groaned, prompting me to connect our lips roughly. His hands found my waist and he pulled me close, trailing them down to my ass where he squeezed firmly causing me to moan against his lips. He used that to his advantage, shoving his tongue between my them and exploring my mouth almost obsessively, as if he expected me to stop him any minute, which I did as I shivered with a chill.

"You're cold. Get in the shower, I'll be right there. Is a shirt and boxers enough or do you need more cause I can snatch something from Rebekah-"

"It's fine Alpha, just hurry up." His eyes trailed over my body as he backed out of the room, rushing quickly to his dresser as I stepped into his shower which was an amazing shower that very clearly had heated floors and a marble seat just out of the water. The shower head was rectangular, about 2 feet long in the very large space and directly over head. The glass wall of the shower was charcoal, not completely clear glass which I loved and the walls seemed to be black quartz or something, his bathroom being overall dark but still light enough that it was inviting and I was instantly in love with it, even the water pressure being perfect. "Getting lonely!" I called out as he took too long.

"You're very distracting. Sorry." He admitted and I turned my head to see him shirtless and leaning against the counter, my dress was gone and instead there were 2 sets of clothes on the sinks. I leaned my head back under the water, turning my body around so he could now see the front of me, my nipples hard at the idea of being watched by him for who knows how long and I could feel my pussy was soaked while he just continued watching me.

"How long is my Daddy going to stand there watching?" He growled, eyes shining yellow as I called him that for the first time.

"As long as I want Kitten, can't I just enjoy the sight of my Omega?" The emphasis he put on that was possessive and to anyone but an Omega might be scary but I adored it, loving and craving someone wanting me so terribly.

"Hmm, guess I'm going to have to get myself off, huh?" I trailed my hands from my hair where they were brushing through in the water, over my chest and squeezing my breasts lightly before slowly turning back around and away from him as one hand stayed on my tit and the other tailed down to my pussy.

"Y/n, turn around." He warned and I threw my head back, gasping at the feeling of my fingers on my clit. "Omega! Now! Don't be naughty our first night together, Daddy knows you're a good little girl. I just want to watch you for a moment, why are you denying your Alpha?" I whimpered at the thought, my Omega brain now set on the fact that this man is my Alpha, this man is going to be my mate and even unbonded all I want to do is please him, making me turn back around and him groan as he sees my 2 fingers on my clit, rubbing slowly. "Such a fucking tease Y/n." He growled, palming over his length, now hard under his boxers and suit pants.

"You too. Want you Alpha, please? I'm so wet for you!" My eyes had closed at some point but they snapped open as I heard his belt clatter and he quickly unbuttoned them, letting them and his boxers fall around his ankles, kicking them off and hopping into the shower beside me. I reached my hands out for him and he took them, placing them onto his shoulders, pulling my body flush against his so I felt his cock against my lower belly as he wrapped his arm around my back, the other hand grabbing my chin and turning it to face up at him as he leaned down, pressing our lips together again.

"All mine sweet girl, all mine. I'll never get tired of saying it. Mine!" I whimpered, nails digging into his back as his hips rocked against my body, cock rubbing against my damp skin to gain some friction.

I opened my eyes, looking up at him and grabbing his hips to make him stop, his eyes quickly looking down at me. "Mine." I stated, nothing else, just one word.

"Yours, all yours little wolf-"

"If she comes near you again you tell me and I'll kill her. Don't want her to even look at you, you understand?" I questioned and he smirked.

"I have myself a jealous little thing, don't I-"

"She doesn't care for relationships or mating, she has no respect. She would touch you, no one will ever touch you besides me again." He looked stunned, whether it was by my attitude or the fact that he was only going to be with me for eternity I didn't know. "If that's not what you want, let me go now-" the growl that escaped him was vicious as he grabbed ahold of my hips, pinning me to the wall.

"You think I did all this only to use you once?! You're mine Omega! All fucking mine! No one else will ever touch you again, my hands, my tongue, my cock-"

"No one will ever touch you again either. Can you live with that?" He snorted, smiling and nodding.

"Of course Y/n. I want you to be my mate. If she ever even bats her eyelashes at me suggestively I promise I will tell you. Now, no more talk of Caroline, let me have you. All mine pretty girl, All Fucking Mine!" He grabbed ahold of my waist, lifting me up and I wrapped my legs around his hips, snuggling close and pressing my lips to his as he guided his cock to my entrance, wasting no time in waiting to have and mark me after this incident, needing us both to be sure that no one else would ever come between us again, needing to mark each other so no one could ever steal our mate again.  "Fuck!  So tight Omega, so fucking perfect for me!"  He groaned, needing to take it slowly until he bottomed out so as not to hurt me.

"Alpha!  So big Alpha, stretching me so good!  Never...so big..."  I whimpered at the pain though I was enjoying it as well and he could clearly see that as he pulled back from my neck to look at my face.

"All mine, my tight, little pussy!  Gonna mark you up so good no one will ever even be able to imagine fucking you without seeing my face.  Tell me...tell me I can move?"  I took a deep breath before nodding and he pulled back, easing his cock back into me before doing it once more and slamming home the third time.

"Fuck!  Oh My God Daddy!"  I used the wall behind me as leverage to hump my hips into him, my legs tightly wrapped around his waist.

"Daddy's here sweet girl, all Daddy's."  I honestly don't understand how he hasn't put a hole in the wall behind me yet but I wasn't about to complain, never having been fucked quite like this in my life.

"Daddy!  So good!  Never been so good!"  The rumble that came from his chest was a pleased sound, clearly he was very happy to know he made me feel so good where other Alpha's failed.  He pulled me closer, if at all possible, turning and sitting on the shower seat so that he could thrust up into me, slamming his cock into me even harder and making me cry out in a mixture of mild pain and intense pleasure.  "Da-ddy!  Don't st-op!  Never Stop!  Want you to fuck me forever!"  I felt tears leak from the corners of my eyes as my lower belly tightened, a feeling I had only ever given myself in the past.  "Oh...oh shit...Alpha...I...I need-"

"I know Omega, Daddy knows what you need.  Your Alpha will always give you everything you need, my pretty little Kitten.  Cum for me Y/n, cum all over your Alphas cock, cum for me while I mark this perfect little neck-"

"Daddy!  Oh Daddy!"  I couldn't stop the squeal that came from my throat as my pussy constricted around him, the tension in my tummy finally becoming too much as my fangs dug into his neck.

"There's my girl, so good for me, such a perfect little princess, cumming so good for her Alpha.  Fuck...so tight around me, so close I-"  I scratched my nails up his shoulders and squeezed my pussy as tightly as I could before feeling him finish, heat spreading through me as he came, quite a lot it seemed, stilling inside of me and burying his face into my neck.  His fangs digging into my neck was the next thing I noticed, feeling the burn of his venom spreading through me though it didn't hurt, at least not right away. 

As I felt truly finished with injecting my venom I released his throat, relishing in the feeling of the pleasurable heat inside of me and my mates skin pressed all over mine just a second before the venom in my neck began to burn.  I could tell he was still pumping me full of venom and cum so I stayed still, ignoring the pain for as long as I could, my nails digging into his skin again though this time out of genuine pain as the burning got worse, now spreading through my veins. 

As a vampire, half of his venom is toxic to me, though the vampire in him as well as his werewolf half needed to mark me desperately, and as his Omega it's all I wanted, needing to mark my Alpha as well.  It would be perfectly fine as long as he heals the negative effects the werewolf part of the venom could have on my body though it would be days before I was in any real trouble.  I underestimated how badly the venom spreading would hurt though, just wanting my Alpha to be able to enjoy this moment that he's been waiting for, for over 1000 years.  Unable to hide it any longer I accidentally let out a pain filled whimper and he seemed to snap back to reality, pulling his fangs away and looking down into my eyes.  The pain eased as he released me and I smiled up at him, kissing my Alpha and hearing that happy rumble in his chest, starting to purr for him but not being able to hold it very long, trying again for only a second and making him pull back from the kiss to look at me, concerned.  "Omega?"  I whimpered and he looked over me slightly before seeing the black veins spreading from the mateing mark he had delivered me.  "Oh God, I'm so sorry!"  I shook my head as he bit into his wrist and pushed it between my lips.  "I didn't even think about that!  My venom is toxic to you...I can't even mark you without hurting you..."

"No!"  I whined as I felt the pain disappear.  "Loved it Alpha, didn't start hurting right away.  Just need to drink when you mark me from now on, I didn't think about it either.  Next time I'll take some of your blood and it won't hurt me a bit."  I reached my hands up to his face and pulled him close to kiss me again.

"Promise me?  Don't let me hurt you-"  I shook my head.

"Loved it Daddy, didn't start hurting for almost 10 seconds.  Just gotta drink from now on, please don't stop?  Need you to mark me Alpha!  Need it!"

"No, no, Shh.  Of course I'm going to mark you sweet girl, nothing will stop me!  Daddy will never deny his Omega his mark, I promise.  Don't worry, all mine."  He leaned back in, pressing his lips to his mark and giving me a chill straight down my spine. 

"Snuggle Alpha?"  I questioned, my eyes feeling drowsy as my glands began the job of settling his scent all through my bloodstream and body, adjusting to my new mated status which was a bit of a stressful thing on an Omegas body.  Settling an Alphas scent takes some time which is why most newly mated pairs don't emerge from their nest again for several days.

He seemed to be able to tell right away, nuzzling into my neck and kissing over his mark.  "Of course sweet girl, Alpha will always snuggle you-"

"Always?  Love snuggles Alpha."  He nodded, pressing his lips to mine.

"Always.  My precious girl will never be deprived of her Alphas warm arms wrapped around her."  He shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a black towel around me to keep me warm as he quickly dried himself off and pulled on his boxers, caressing me with the towel quite thoroughly until I was dry enough to put the boxers on as well as the Henley shirt.  He wrapped my hair up in a bun so I could deal with it later and hoisted me back into his arms, blurring us to his bed and snuggling me to his chest.  We spent quite a bit of time just snuggled like that until there was a knock on his door making my Alpha sigh, kissing my head and jumping up.  "What can I help you with brother?"  He questioned as he opened the door to find, I'm assuming, Elijah.

"You left in the middle of the party brother and it smells like sex in here.  Don't you dare tell me you brought someone up here when you're meant to be 'woo'ing Y/n!  I told you, she's a sweet girl and she deserves more than half your attention or a one night Fuck!  I swear to everything that is holy Niklaus, I-"

"It's okay Elijah...I think I'm going to be here for a while."  I spoke up, sitting up in the bed as Nik moved enough for Elijah to see me.

"Oh...that was fast.  Much faster than I anticipated..."  he stopped himself, pushing passed his brother and appearing beside me, tilting my head to bear my throat which made me whimper and Nik snarl quite loudly.  "I'm sorry, that was rude of me, I just-"

"She’s not settled yet brother,she needs to sleep if you don't mind."  He pulled his hands away, stepping back.

"My apologies Y/n, I would never...um...we can talk another time then."  I nodded, scootching away from the suited man.  “Damon snapped Kol’s neck-"

"What?!"  Nik growled and I whined.  He was suddenly by my side again, kissing my head to relax me.

"I don't know much but they seem to have made each other upset.  Everyone has left, mother seemed to have enjoyed herself."  I flinched slightly and Nik looked down at me.

"What was that?"  I shook my head.

"Nothing.  I don't want anything to do with it, just like I told Damon...please leave me out of it?"  I begged, not wanting anything to do with their clearly corrupt mother.

"Do with what Omega?"  I bit my lip to stop from saying anything.  "Omega..."  he warned and I sighed.

"Your mother wanted to talk to Elena tonight about something important.  She thinks your mom still wants to kill you but she wasn't sure exactly what she wanted.  She was supposed to meet her tonight, I don't know anything else.  I don't want to know, I don't Alpha."  He looked at Elijah, seeming to have a silent conversation.

"We can talk tomorrow about it, don't you worry sweet girl, you won't be dragged into anything anymore.  I'll come see you in the morning brother.  My Omega needs to sleep."

"Of course.  Good night little one."  I waved to my suited friend.

"Night night Eli."  He shut the door behind him and Nik snuggled back into me.

"You sleep my love.  We will spend the whole day together tomorrow, and you will feel all better."

"Yes Alpha.  All better."  I mumbled, my eyes drifting shut and my body giving way to sleep.

'Where did you go last night?  Caroline said you are dating Klaus now?!'  The text from Damon was what woke me up, Nik still asleep wrapped around me as I grabbed my phone from the clutch on his bed side table.

'I don't know what she's on about but I went home.  I had enough to drink and she got snappy because Tyler was with another girl.  Why?  Is something going on again?'

I looked back at Nik, brushing my fingers through his hair and kissing his nose as he began moving.  "Good morning."  I whispered and he smiled, opening his eyes to see me.

"Best morning.  The best morning I've ever had in 1000 years of life, waking up with my Omega in my arms for the first time.  I love you."  He pressed his lips to mine just as my phone dinged again.

"I love you too Alpha.  You're going to wake up with me in your arms for the rest of forever.  Enjoy it."  I looked back at my phone, opening the messages and knowing I couldn't not tell Nik about this instantly.

'Esther is using Elena's blood to help bind her children together and kill them.  The usual in this town I think.'

"Daddy?  I need you to promise me that if I show you something you're not going to get angry.  I need you to remember our bond is still settling and I need a calm environment and a loving mate."  He looked startled by this.

"I would never upset you, especially not now, and you're always safe with me.  Why, what's wrong?"  I handed him the phone and let him read the texts.  "Sweet girl, I'm going to borrow this for a moment to show my brother.  You wait right here, nice and calm, nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about." He said all that but rushed from the room rather quickly making me sigh before seeing Kol walk passed the room, glancing in and seeing me.

"Hello...who are you?" His smirk showed all his teeth in a threatening way making me pull the blankets closer.

"Your brothers Omega." Was my answer and he held his hands up as if to show me he was unarmed.

"Congratulations. Niklaus has always wanted an Omega. I'm surprised one was finally stupid enough to give him the time of day." I hissed at that, baring my teeth this time, making him smile. "Where did Nik run off to, leaving his settling Omega?"

"To tell Elijah that your mother is trying to kill you." His face fell at that before sighing.

"I knew it. I knew her loving us was too good to be true, I can't believe I..." he sighed and I could see the hurt on his face, making me take his hand to comfort him. He looked up at me, considering me for a moment before smiling a little. "Thank you. You're a sweet Omega. Nik got himself a good one it seems. I actually thought she might be serious this time, I...I feel stupid." I shook my head quickly.

"No matter how old you are she's your mom. The fact that she's trying to hurt you is unnatural and monstrous, don't feel badly sweetie." I pulled him close and he laid down, head now on my lap as I ran fingers through his hair.

"Can I stay here until Nik comes back?" I considered it and seeing as he wasn't being threatening I nodded, patting the bed beside me, him crawling up and snuggling into me, head on my chest, wrapping the blankets around me but staying on top of them himself which I found kind. I ran my fingers through his hair as he snuggled into me, enjoying whatever kind of comfort he was getting from me right now.

We stayed that way silently for about 20 minutes and just when I was drifting back off to sleep Nik walked back in. "Thank you for being patient my love, I...KOL!" We both jumped, him having startled both of us from a half sleep making me whine loudly. "No, no. Calm down my sweet, it's alright. Kol, what are you doing." He was trying very hard not to snap and growl at him and I very much appreciated his trying.

"Nothing! Your Omega is very comforting, I like her Nik. You picked a good one. She gives me head scratches."

"Kol, I'm trying very hard right now, you see that don't you? Very hard not to kill you."

"No killing. Go Kol, we can hang out sometime I'm not so newly mated, okay?" He looked over at me and nodded, jumping over me out of the bed.

"Thanks Y/n...you're not so bad."

"Thanks?" He shut the door behind him and Klaus took his place as soon as he was gone.

"What was that?"

"I told him about your mom and...it really upset him. I guess he tried to convince himself she was being real this time. It's natural. No matter how old you are there will always be a part of you that just wants your mom, and your mom is kind of a cunt it seems so that really does a number on you I'm sure." He nodded and I kissed his head, holding him to my chest to snuggle and go back to sleep before the door burst open again. "I'm going to have to go home to get some sleep in this fucking house!"

"What is this I hear about you saying our mother wants us dead?!" Rebekah was now in the room, hissing angrily and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm leaving."

"No! No you're not my love, lay down. No one else will come in, I promise. Out Rebekah! Sleep pretty girl, Alpha will be right back." I sighed, laying back down as he forced her out.

"Alpha? Are you kidding me?" He shoved her violently before shutting the door and that's the last I heard for a while until the door opened again and I saw Finn.

"Is the whole Mikaelson family going to pay a visit today?" I was immediately nervous when he closed the door behind him, making me move away.

"I never actually thought an Omega would get into bed with my devil brother. You know it's why he really daggered me don't you? Because I told him such?"

"Well I don't think he's the devil. I mean, he's a Dick, but not the devil, and he's nothing but good and kind to me. Finn...you're scaring me, p-please? Please leave?" I felt tears well up in my eyes as he stepped closer anyway.

"Why does my little brother, the worst of us all, get to be happy when my Sage is dead and I have to live alone? Answer me that little Omega, hmm?" I was instantly confused by that as I finally jumped from the opposite side of the bed.

"Sage? The girl that taught Damon to be a vampire? The red head? She's not dead!" He glared as I said it, appearing in front of me instantly and grabbing my throat tightly, holding me against the wall.

"Don't you lie to me! My mother told me that she was gone-"

"Mother...lie...wants...dead..." I choked as well as I could with his tight grip.

"What?" He released me and I fell to the floor instantly.

"ALPHA!" I screamed as loudly as I could, shoving the bedside table out and hiding behind it.

"Is she really alive? Really?" I nodded, cowering away as he looked at me but stopped coming closer, standing with a shocked look on his face as the door was thrown open violently and suddenly my Alpha was growling at Finn angrily.

"What are you doing?!"

"Nothing I...I'm so sorry little one...thank you..." he was gone instantly and Nik was in front of me looking very sorry.

"I'm so sorry love. My first day as your Alpha and I'm rubbish at it...come, let's get you comfortable. No one else will come in, I will make sure of it. Trust me?" He held his hands out and I paused but took them, allowing him to settle me into bed before he went back to the door. "The Next Person Who Enters This Room Without My Permission Will Get Their Throat Ripped Out! UNDERSTAND?!" I heard a few scattered 'yes'' before he was gone again making me whine, returning 10 seconds later. "I'm having breakfast made for us my love. They will knock and leave it by the door for us so you don't have to see anyone else. I'm so sorry pretty girl. So sorry." I nuzzled back into my Alphas neck and let him hold me, only wanting his comfort after everything that had just happened. "Nap until the food comes, we'll eat and watch a movie, then I'll scent you again. That should help. Relax." He was petting my head as he made that familiar rumbling sound in his chest that calmed me, sending me right off back to sleep in his arms.  I didn't wake back up until there was a light knock on the door and Nik jumped up, getting the tray from the maid who didn't even try to come in.  "Hungry Kitten?"  I nodded and he kissed my head, taking the top off of the tray and revealing 2 omelets, a plate of sausage, a plate of toast, and a plate of bacon.  "Eat baby, you're safe.  I promise, nothing is going to harm you again.  I don't care if it's Elijah himself, if someone comes through that door their neck is getting snapped.  Safe to eat."  He kissed my forehead again and turned on the tv. He wrapped himself around me and I ended up feeding him as he rubbed himself over my skin, scenting me.

"Wanna stay like this forever Alpha." I admitted and he stopped his movements, kissing my head and turning me to see him.

"Then we will, we'll stay in this room, have our meals brought to us on silver platters, do nothing but snuggle, eat, sleep and mate for the rest of our existence." His teasing made me giggle as I leaned against him, laying back down to sleep again and he continued. "No more mother, or Salvatore's, or pesky annoying siblings, just mated bliss forever, all for you my lovely Y/n." He kissed my shoulder as I drifted off again. I knew there would be problems to be dealt with tomorrow and the next day and probably the next day but for now I would relax and just enjoy this contentment, the beginning of a long and happy life with my Alpha.

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

[rahhhbananas]

What if Gwen has an older twin brother who is another spider person who meets the spider league? What would happen? Would something interesting happen?

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘 . . . . ✭ ★ ✭

atsv x male! reader

“Y/n, come on!”

Gwen yelled, she followed closely behind her brother. Y/n picked up his speed, trying to out-walk his sister, “Nuh uh, outta the question, Gwen.” He tried to slam the door, but Gwen, yet again, was too quick “I promise, it’ll be worth it! The society is…a cool place.” Y/n gave his sister a twisted look, “Last time you told me about a ‘cool place’ I ended up in Britain, with one of your friends, where we got chased by the cops…FOR 2 HOURS!”. Gwen groaned, Y/n’s meeting with Hobie wasn’t the best, but that shouldn’t really matter…right?

“Sorry, Gwenny, but i’m not doing that again.” Y/n walked out, leaving Gwen both frustrated and desperate. So desperate, she was willing to lie. “T-theres this cute guy!” That sentence alone made Y/n stop in his tracks, he slowly turned towards his sister, giving her a skeptical look “We talkin, Michael B. Jordan cute…or Ryan Reynolds cute?”Gwen fumbled on her words, trying not to get caught in her own lie “Oscar Issac!”

And that right there folks, is how Y/n Stacy was in this particular pickle—

“What do you mean I can’t join!?” He yelled, Y/n pointed an accusing finger at Miguel, who overall looked very frustrated. The leader sighed, “I mean, you can’t join. We already have a Spider-Woman from your dimension, and that’s your sister, we don’t need another. It could disrupt the-“ Y/n sighed, very loudly, obviously not wanting to hear another rant “You don’t understand, i need to join! I need to find my man!” Miguel’s face contorted to confusion, before being overtaken by annoyance “This isn’t some place where you can meet the love of your life. This is business. Millions of lives are in our ha-“

The s/c male yawned, “Yeah- whatever. Gwenny, where is he?” Y/n turned towards his sister, who was now having a coughing fit “He’s um…He’s-“

“Right ‘ere.” A deep voice retorted, Hobie came from the shadows. His arms spread out. Y/n scoffed, looking at Gwen before looking at Hobie again “I’m busy, Hobart. Now, Gwen, where is-“ Gwen pushed forward Hobie, smiling awkwardly “H-here he is!” The blonde did small jazz hands, trying not to look at her brother’s face. Because he was definitely not amused “Hobie Brown. Is the guy that could challenge Oscar Issac in looks..?” Y/n grumbled, before Hobie himself interrupted “Wot now? Oscar Issac’s a golden man. ‘Mm nowhere near that, mate.” Y/n nodded in agreement, “Wanna…you know, explain, Gwendolyn.” Said girl, mumbled a few words, the female hero took cautious steps back, until she burst into a sprint. She could deal with the consequences of her actions later, maybe when Y/n wasn’t so mad.

A long silence struck.

“Mm not Issac Osacr level, but ‘mm surely above Ryan Gosling…mans old.”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

Y/n walked away, ending the conversation at that. He asked Margo to take him back to his dimension, real sweet girl, rather have her as his sister than Gwen, “I can’t believe she lied to me.” Y/n groaned “yes i can.” He rolled his eyes, on the outside he probably looked crazy (he did), but he didn’t care, all be cared about was getting revenge on Gwen for lying to him, and the fact that the lie included Oscar Issac was unforgivable…

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Can I request Demiurge, Sebas, and Albedo (Overlord) with a Supreme Being reader that's fallen asleep on their lap?

Falling Asleep on Their Laps | Yandere Overlord

As the Flower of Nazarick all the power you have, it has no limits as someone who doesn’t need the rules to thrive it also means you don’t have a real gauge for your energy. Considered more of a divine trainee of a Supreme Being all of Nazarick take it upon themselves to help you in whatever way they can. Especially since Ainz himself prioritizes you so does all of Nazarick and everyone in this world that is graced by your presence. So when you begin to drift to sleep they’ll gladly be your pillow after all what better purpose could they serve to you than the Flower of Nazarick:

Demiurge

“You can count on me, (Y/n).”

With a tail dangerously itching to wag 

he watches as your eyes get heavy and your speech slurs dribble into the soft breaths of a sleeping supreme being

Because of Ainz’s trust in him, he has been tasked with helping you hone your power 

Specifically holding back 

But since you’re so unfamiliar with combat and your limits you were bound to tire yourself out

What was supposed to be a break turns into a full-blown nap 

One that Demiurg will protect with his life 

He’s frankly going to behead whoever enters without it being a guardian or Ainz 

Even the Pleiades aren’t safe

Ainz forbid Yuri or Solution come to retrieve you gathering that you are sleepy by now 

They’ll either have to dodge or endure the force of Demiurge’s tail that meticulously strikes for their mere interruption

This is his time with you

Training or not

He resists the urge to caress your face but he’s not Albedo…

He can resist

“I devoted myself to your rest (Y/n)-sama. I couldn’t bear to disrupt your rejuvenation.”

Sebas Tian

“My Flower…please rest.”

Too many times does he see the unhardened heart you have in contrast to Ainz so it seems

So Innocent 

So untainted he sees why the world they’re in adores the very ground you hover over 

You’re perfect

And he honestly considers himself almost unworthy to have you rest on him

His legs may get tired or even be weighed down by the weight of your head but he would have never given this up

“I’m unworthy but I am your tool oh Flower of Nazarick. Rest easy.”

Albedo

‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA~ My supreme being is sleeping!~'

She refuses to disturb your slumber with words she might want to say 

But that doesn’t stop her other bodily functions

Her wings will flap excitedly 

Her face will be overtaken by her smile

And her body’s temperature will rise exponentially 

She’ll naturally try to use as much of her body as possibly 

Slowly sliding her now ungloved hands on your face

Your nose

Your lips 

This is just perfect!!!!

Her Ainz-sama doesn’t sleep so she never gets this opportunity

But with you, she can almost feel everything

If you’re not a light sleeper it's best to assume she’s exploring you and committing your measurements to memory

If she’s feeling particularly confident she might just take you to her bedroom

Or even better in Ainz’s unused room 

sniffing  your head as she imagines Ainz being with you both

“My Flower~! My (Y/n)~! Ah~! Your slumber is an immaculate gift for me to overindulge!”

[motherofdogs1010]

Of Messiahs and Seeds III (Dark!Paul Atreides x Reader)

Summary: The game has begun of one monarch against another, and with the fate of the colonies at play and winter fast approaching, Y/N is forced to think of hard decisions to make just to keep her people safe.

Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW dark!fic, obsessed Paul, yandere! Paul, eventual forced marriage, eventual pregnancy, talks of war, eventual NONCON/DUB CON

Dividers @firefly-graphics Banner @vase-of-lilies

Part I Part II

The Apollo Colony was the first to lose contact and it felt like the beginning of a long game; one where Y/N knew her rule was soon to be tested.

And the dreams had only gotten worse and more frequent; Y/N found that practically any time she closed her eyes, Paul was there to whisper in her ear and it was beginning to be difficult to figure out what was reality.

Y/N looked at the heirloom crystal in her hand as she sat on her balcony; she wondered how her mother would be handling this right now.

The moon hung bright and full as always with her scaly children sleeping below as she stood up, her nightgown clinging to her body as she saw the city around her with the people happily bustling around for the night life.

She sighed as she walked into her bedroom, winter was coming in a few weeks and the winters were always harsh on Terra M above the equator. It looked like a tundra when the winters arrived and felt like the inside of a ice cube, which prompted so many resources to keep everyone afloat.

Paul felt pleased with himself as he sat in his room, the hologram of his future bride in front of him. He had invaded her dreams, filling them with their promised future that he had seen; he could practically feel her hair through his fingers, and hear the newborn cries of their son as he came into the world.

It was all falling into plan, Terra M was about to go into its harsh winters and be left vulnerable if he was correct. They heavily relied on their built-up resources to make it through the three-month-long brutal winter since the population lived above an equator.

Those dragons of his beloved would go into hibernation underground; that would leave one defense gone and away. He wouldn't dare to hurt them, they were an extension of his love and he knew how she cared for the scaled beasts.

"Paul", his mother said as she entered the room.

Her blue eyes bore into his as she said, "It's been taken care of, Irulan will no longer sand in your way."

Yes, everything was falling into place.

There was just one final thing left to do...

The smell of ash made its way into her nose as she felt the harsh winter air against her skin, she breathed out and saw her icy breath as she exhaled. Her skin prickled from the cold as she looked around, seeing the white, virgin piles of snow around her as she tried to get her bearings.

"Hello, my love."

Quickly turning around, Y/N saw him, saw Paul standing there with his cheeks and nose pink from the cold.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, "Terra has done nothing to the Empire."

"It isn't what Terra has done, but rather what you have done, my Queen."

Paul slowly began to circle her, the crunching of snow under his weight as he did. Snowflakes fell at a soft, slow pace as he spoke, "You have overtaken my mind, left me vulnerable to feelings that I thought I was immune to feeling again."

"That is not my fault", she argued.

"Oh, but it is", Paul smirked, "your very existence is your fault and that is something that your people will pay for."

Jolting awake, Y/N found herself alone once more as she scooted up the bed and pushed her hair back. She tried to steady her breathing as she felt as if it she looked out into the darkness, she would be able to see the glimmer of him smirking.

🌎

"We must devise a plan", Sir Lance argued, "they have taken the Apollo Colony. The only logical choice for them to grab next is the Athenian Colony and we must devise a plan of attack."

The Council meeting was buzzing with ideas, and arguments of what to do as Y/N listened to the proposed ideas. It was true, she needed to confront the Empire and its might but it has to be logical, fool-proof.

"Lord York", she finally said, the man looking at her. "Get as much information on the Great Houses and the Empire's armies. There will be a weak spot."

"And once we have the weak spot, your grace?"

"We rip them out like a weed, one by one."

TAGLIST

@ninastyless @james-bucky-barnackle @astarborntowrite @maggiecc @radiantdanvers @croatianprincess @deluxeplanteater @szapizzapanda @khaleesihavilliard @deathsimp @frickyea-guacamole19

[tomhollandisabae]

I've got a request! Ghost and reader on a mission together. They both have definite feelings for each other already. Reader gets shot and from Ghosts pov it looks fatal, but it isn't. Reader has to play dead to escape from the enemy and scares Ghost half to death in the process. THANK YOU

thank u so much for ur request love!!🥰🥰

faking- simon "ghost" riley x reader

masterlist

summary; as the mission goes on, you are forced to fake your death, hurting the man you love most.

warnings; angst, death, mentions of blood, mature language, violence, fluff, english is not my first language, unedited

words; 1.7k

a/n; doesn't follow the events of mw2, but there are some hints here and there

to clear things out MI5 works within the UK (MI6 is the opposite)

“Vox, report.” You heard ghost’s voice.

“I'm going in.” You replied.

“No, no. You stay where you are, you hear me? We didn't agree on that.” He insisted.

“Ghost there is no other way. It has to be done now. Over.”

The situation had as follows; you had organised an ambush on Graves and his team, while your top priority was to capture him and take him hostage to use him against Shepherd. However, your plan wasn't keeping up with theirs as much as you wanted, so you had to improvise. That's why you argued with Ghost and disobeyed his instructions, putting yourself at risk.

As you broke in you started taking down one soldier after the other, but sooner or later found yourself on your knees, putting pressure on the front of your thigh trying to prevent more blood loss as you had apparently been shot.

“Vox, what's going on?” Ghost’s worried voice sounded once again over the comms.

“I'm hit, but I'll survive.” You informed him.

“I'm coming in.”

“Ghost no, I'll be fine.” You insisted, but it had no result as you show him entering the building you were in and approaching you carefully, trying not to compromise himself.

“I told you not to do that. You didn't listen Y/n.” He spoke once he leaned down taking you in his arms and picking you up carefully making you hiss due to the pain.

“I'm sorry…” You responded weakly.

“Hey it's okay, you're going to be okay. Just keep your eyes open, can you do that for me doll?” He asked you, panic written all over his voice.

“Mhhm…” you murmured as you started feeling lightheaded.

“Y/n, Y/n” he shook you “I need a medic immediately! Vox is down!” He shouted over the comm.

“Simon…” you exclaimed his name slowly.

“Everything's going to be okay Y/n, you'll be okay. Please keep your eyes open.” He pleaded as his hands started trembling.

“I'm sorry, i'm so sorry…” a tear rolled down on your cheek.

“Medics are on their way.”

“You hear that darling, they're coming to save you.” He placed you down again, once you were outside the building.

“I'm really sorry…” you kept repeating over and over again.

“You don't have to be sorry about anything sweetheart, everything's fine. Just stay awake.” You could tell that under the mask a sad and hurt expression had overtaken his facial characteristics.

“I'm so…”

“No! No no no! Please no!” He took you in his arms and hugged you tightly as if he could keep you soul in from exiting your cold body.

When the medics finally arrived they found Ghost on his knees holding you as tight as he could, trying to memorise the way you felt for the rest of his miserable life. They tried to take you away from him and after a few tries they succeeded as Soap appeared from behind them, approaching Ghost and kneeling down next to him trying to comfort him, but it was too late.

Ghost had lost his last hope of life. He had lost you…

It took three months for the Task Force 141 to finally give an end to everything. They had accomplished their mission and were now celebrating in a small bar as they waited for Laswell to arrive, so she could congratulate them face to face.

Ghost never spoke to anyone, only when it was needed for the mission. He distanced himself from everyone and everything and promised himself to avenge for you death. As he did.

Now the team were having their time of their lives, when finally Laswell walked in.

“Hello boys.” She greeted them with a smile.

They all said their hellos back, apart from Ghost who just nodded towards her.

However, nobody noticed another figure entering the bar, behind Kate.

“It can't be…” Soap exclaimed shocked and everyone turned to him in question and he pointed towards the person behind Laswell.

“Vox?” Gaz said and Ghost head shot up feeling his heart racing.

“Hi” You finally waved at them appearing now next to Kate.

“How?” Price questioned.

“Sit down boys, we can't talk standing.” Laswell motioned towards the booth where everyone was sitting.

And they did so, as you sat down across from Ghost, not daring to look at him. You didn't know what to expect from him. You had left him, you broke him, making him think he had lost everything once again. You were his war partner, wanting to be his life partner eventually, but you betrayed him.

“So where should I start from?” Kate sighed.

“How's Y/n alive, no offence Y/n, I'm really glad your alive, but.. how?” He turned to you and you just nodded.

“Y/l/n works for the MI5, she's been a secret agent for the British army since the beginning of her career. When she was placed in Task Force 141, she had already agreed that her alliance would always be to MI5, so when she was asked to fake her death she couldn't do otherwise.” She began explaining “Y/n, you wanna continue? You know the situation better than anyone.” She asked you and you nodded.

“Yeah, umm… M asked me to get into the Shadow company swearing my allegiance to them, but to do so I had to make you all believe that I'm dead. I had approached Graves and talked to him about it. I promised him that I would be by his side and I would let him know everything about our team. Of course I had already spoken with M and we had agreed on what I would be giving away to him, most of them were false informations. So when I entered that building I had already a bag with fake blood on my foot and prosthetics above it to make it look real. I stabbed the bag and you know the rest… Once I was in the Shadow company I had found a way to secretly commuting with M and gave them all the information they needed. Graves trusted me with everything and I was beside him all the time. When he was finally killed, I was… well… brought back to life.” You said.

“Wow…” Soap was in awe.

“Badass.” Has smirked.

“That's a hell of sacrifice you did there Y/l/n. If they had found out, you'd be for real dead.” Price told you.

“I know, but I was extremely careful.” You smiled at him.

“So you were out secret informer” Soap raised his eyebrow.

“Don't think so. I was providing some information to the MI5, I guess M was talking with Kate and then passing the info to you.” You bit your lip.

“So badass” Soap agreed with Gaz.

Suddenly, Ghost rose up from his seat and walked out of the bar leaving you speechless.

“You should go talk to him. He went through a lot after what happened.” Soap looked at you.

“Yeah, I remember…” You exhaled as you had flashbacks of when he wouldn't let you go as the paramedics were trying to take you away from him.

You got up and finally went outside to find him leaning against a tree in the far back.

“Simon…” You breathed out his name as you approached him.

He didn't respond, didn't even look at you for a second.

“Simon I'm really sorry…”

“Yeah, you said so. Now it all makes sense, the way you were repeating that you were sorry over and over again, the fact that there was no funeral… it all makes sense now.” He shook his head.

“I had no other choice. You have to believe me.” You tried to reason with him.

“Everyone has a choice Vox.” It took you aback as he used your code name and not the real one. He would never call you that when you weren't in the battlefield.

“Well I didn't.” You raised your voice having enough at this point and he finally looked at you shocked.

“You don't know how it is to work for the secret services Simon. They have no morals. They used my fucking family. They had promised me that they would provide them protection as long as I was away for the mission, but they had captured them and threatening to kill them all in the name of saving thousands of other lives. As much as I love you Simon, I love my family too. I might not be able to have a decent relationship with you anymore, but at least you and my family are alive.” You cried out as words kept spilling out of your mouth.

“You love me?” He interrupted you after a while.

“I… yes Simon, I love you more than anything.” You wiped your tears away as you saw him walking up to you.

“Is your family okay?” He asked once he stood in front of you.

“Yeah” you shook your head positively “they're fine.”

“Good.” He placed his arms around your waist pushing you closer to him, making you gasp at the gesture.

“Simon…” you looked up at him.

“What about the MI5?” He asked you.

“I'm out. I don't work for them anymore.” You bit your lip nervously, but he placed his thumb on top of your lower lip, freeing it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You barely whispered.

“Good.”

What he did next was something that you never expected him to do. He lifted his mask, taking it off completely, revealing his beautiful face to you.

With your hands trembling, you placed them carefully on each side of his face.

“I love you Y/n.” He lowered his head, your lips only centimetres from each other.

“Please…” you pleaded.

“What do you want darling?” His lips brushed the crooner of yours softly.

“Kiss me.” Your eyes looked with his.

And he did so, finally connecting your lips in a so long awaited kiss. His soft once moving slowly on top of yours with so much care and love.

And that was just the beginning of a new chapter of both your lives.

Because you would leave a happy ever after, together and forever!

[orion-nottson]

devil’s in the details | tfp!megatron x reader

A/N: i have tfp megatron brain rot. like i know he’s cray cray and deluded, but literally so am i we’re made for each other he’s mine

also this obvi deviates from canon, bc there is no way on god’s green earth that dreadwing and starscream could coexist semi-peacefully.

also, please be warned that i haven’t written transformers fanfic since i was like 14 💀💀 fought for my LIFE with the terminology (had to check my old WATTPAD stories to find some vocab 💀)

summary: lord megatron propositions you. it’s a rather bold request.

content: SMUT, 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, femme!cybertronian!reader, seeker!reader, sticky sexual interfacing, breeding kink, wee lil bit of choking, technically boss/employee relationship, power dynamic (it gets semi-resolved), implied past relationship/thought unrequited love, average decepticon emotional constipation, business arrangement procreation

word count: 6,367

~ * ~ * ~

The Decepticon warship lingers somewhere over the southern pole of Earth, resulting in a dramatic decrease in temperature, even with the efficiency of Cybertronian technology. You shift your wings for the umpteenth time, armor plates releasing air to alleviate the discomforting chill that’s started to bother you. Of course, it was far from being so cold that you needed to worry about your core temperature, but you are a Seeker from Vos, and Vos was always warm.

The thought makes your wings tremble again, so you hurry yourself to your quarters with a bit more haste.

It wouldn’t suddenly be warm and tropical, but at least you’d be able to curl up and shiver in privacy. Recharge sounds particularly nice too, considering you’ve been up for several cycles trying to appease Lord Megatron’s endless demands. Inwardly, you roll your optics— There seems to be nothing you can do that would satisfy him.

The corridor finally breaks into the wing that houses Decepticon high command, where yours and your fellow officers reside. Your room is down almost the entire expanse of the hall, the turn right before where Megatron’s personal habsuite lies. From where you’re walking, you can spot the sleek, black metal door. A chill runs up your back struts, and your processor convinces you it’s from the icy cold that’s overtaken the Nemesis.

“Curse this inhospitable, organic planet.” Muttering to yourself dissuades you from also blaming your Master, who was no help either, if you were to be honest. He could shove his “not wanting to expend precious Energon on unnecessary heating” decree up his tail pipe.

You resign yourself to some rather cold nights for the foreseeable future. Perhaps... If you played your cards right, as the humans say, you could convince Soundwave to pilot the ship north. Maybe somewhere near Hawaii...

A sharp, gravelly voice from behind you calls your name, and you spin around to see your Lord and Master a ways down the corridor from you. Immediately bringing yourself to attention, you straighten your back struts and bow politely.

“My liege.” You say, thanking Primus you’ve become so accustomed to Megatron’s thunderous shouts that you no longer jump, let alone flinch, when they occur. The silver mech strides up to you easily, displaying all the strength of a warrior in the confidence of his steps.

“Retiring to your quarters?” He asks austerely, as if he’s ever concerned himself with your whereabouts, let alone personal routine. Unease creeps up on you, so you shift on the thrusters of your peds and cross your servos over your chassis. Wings fluttering, you reply slowly, “Well, yes.”

“Allow me to accompany you there.” The silver mech says brightly, and it’s such an absurdly peculiar request for both the mech saying it and the situation at hand. You instinctively snort a laugh.

“I do believe I know the way to my own habsuite, my Lord.” You say before you can stop the words from coming out, and immediately regret them once they do. You meet Megatron’s hard stare sheepishly, wings dropping timorously. Forgetting your place in the grand scheme of things is not wise amongst the Decepticon ranks.

To your utter shock, you’re not met with a vicious reprimand and instead Megatron grins— this wickedly suave thing— and purrs, “Humor me.”

And all you can say is, “Of course.”

Megatron hums appreciatively, brushing past you as he takes the lead, like he always does. You step in time behind him, nearly colliding into his back struts when he suddenly halts, and you stumble backwards a few steps. The looming mech pivots, glancing down at you with a quizzical expression in his glowing optics.

“Seekers are a rare breed, yes?” Lord Megatron asks, and whatever game he’s begun to play with you genuinely stumps any reasoning you attempt. Opening your mouth, your optics dart over his face, trying to decode whatever message your Master is sending and coming up empty. 

“Er... Yes, my liege? Even before the war, Vos was not a populous city-state. There are probably... even less now.” You reply cautiously, becoming very put off as Megatron takes a step towards you. He looks as impassive as ever, though you’re beginning to see a very curious appraising expression overtaking his faceplates. It begins with the upcurve of his mouth, derma pulled into the most wolfish grin you’ve ever seen on the mech.

Utterly bizarre. Your processors want to reset because this Megatron is starting to look like the studly gladiator of Kaon you’d hear be lasciviously giggled about, not the ruthless, merciless tyrant he’s supposed to be.

“I have a rather... avant-garde proposition for you, my most loyal Seeker.” Megatron purrs, his servos clasped easily behind him as you’ve seen him too many times before, often when he schemes. He’s also talking to you as if this is casual, expected business of him; matter-of-fact and cordial, with his usual cool drawl.

Before you can reply, Megatron turns sharply once more and begins walking down the corridor, stopping after a few steps when he realizes you hadn’t started with him. He turns his helm to look back at you, this time there’s this strangely unreadable expression on his faceplates.

“Follow me.” He says simply, and without a second thought, you do.

Even though you’re a Seeker with naturally long legs, his pedsteps are even longer strides, so you have to exert some effort in keeping up with Megatron. It adds to the growing franticness that’s begun to bubble up inside your chassis. 

While not exactly fear, though that’s certainly part of it, you’ve been a Decepticon and aboard the Nemesis under Megatron’s direct command long enough to know that when he becomes cryptic, it means trouble. Or at least a command that you’d rather not be the one to deal with. Bluntly asking what the frag he’s on about wouldn’t be the best course of action, but you know that he likes you enough not to offline you immediately if you did.

So you do.

“My Lord, what exactly are you asking of me?” You inquire, noting with slight abject horror as Megatron approaches the door to your quarters and types in your lock code with ease. Of course, he is the leader after all. Instead of answering your question, he makes you feel even more uneasy by throwing you a mysteriously sultry look and quipping, “Let me have you if only for a breem. Or longer should I entertain you.”

You catch the flash of his ruby optics, their intentions indiscernible, and then he disappears into your habsuite like it’s his own.

There’s something to it, an itch of a thought that’s begun to decipher the puzzle and put together the pieces. Lately, Megatron has been far more... involved with you, more eager at your presence, and it was blatantly obvious that he grew quite miffed when others got too close. It was no secret to anyone— From Soundwave and Starscream to a lowly technician— that Megatron had an optic for you (many did, frankly) and thus he was quite possessive of your wiles and charms as well.

This line of thought leads you to step into your room, slowly and evenly as if it’s unmarked territory and not the quarters that were assigned to you millennia ago.

“Lord Megatron...” You trail off, catching his stare just as he sets your old null ray back on your weapons rack, where most of your old, dismantled, and prized tools are located. Your null ray had been a favorite, until some blasted Autobot blew out the important bits that kept it working. That had stung, and even eons later you still curse that specific Autobot to the Pits.

Megatron flexes his claws, and with a flourish he clasps his servos behind him once again. His red optics scan the entirety of your quarters, lingering on your berth until they come back to rest on you. His gaze is equal parts unnerving and fascinating, as if he’s deconstructing you armor by armor, stripping you down until he’s watched your spark pulse.

His optics, like twin red suns, center you at their universes, and you feel oddly... flattered at their amorous disposition.

“It is no secret that I have watched you for some time.” Megatron starts, tilting his helm as he becomes pensive. You nod dumbly, hardly processing a word he’s saying. Megatron takes a single step towards you, looming like a shadow. In the dim lighting of your room, his silver armor catches all the chiaroscuro, his violet accents hued to black. Only his glowing, fiery optics remain bright. He continues.

“I admit,—” Megatron drawls your name deliciously, “— That I have found myself... captivated by your beauty. Entranced by your prowess, both in battle and mind.”

“I...” Your vents hitch, wings shivering at the praise. Blinking rapidly to ensure this isn’t some monumentally vivid dream, you clear your intake and say, “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, my Lord.”

Megatron laughs, that slight chuckle that sounds halfway between his engines roaring and something genuine that comes from the spark. The silver mech’s rolls his shoulders, armor hissing as it releases air. Wildly, he confesses something you never would have expected from him, “I believe myself bewitched.”

His servos have clasped themselves into fists at his sides, and briefly you wonder if he’s angry with you, then his entire frame relaxes like he’s decompressing after a long spar with Dreadwing.

“Tell me, my little Seeker, why have you denied yourself of me for so long?” Megatron asks it like a tease, like he’s some boon to be revered or a sacred sword to be wielded. Heat rises beneath your armor plating, and your processors race kilometers a nanosecond to find a suitable answer. Or at least one that doesn’t make you sound like some lovesick femmeling.

You couldn’t lie and say you had no... feelings for your Master, who was as handsome and dark as he was powerful and cunning. Megatron was once a gladiator of Kaon, and gladiators on Cybertron were what you had often admired, marveling at their strength, drive, and raw spark. Megatron had been no different, though you also found his commanding presence and impressive intellect to be even more attractive.

That was really why you’d joined the Decepticon cause all those millennia ago; Drawn to your Master’s fight to bring equality to the rigid castes and to seize control of the Energon supply to better disperse it by his charismatic allure.

And somehow, Megatron knew all of this.

“It would have been insubordination if I acted upon my... desires.” You reply, crossing your arms over your ample chassis with a shrug. Megatron matches your collected temperament with a hum, staring down at you with unreadable red optics.

“Indeed. Though I wish you’d had disobeyed, my little Seeker.” Megatron purrs, taking a step towards you that closes the space between your frames and boxes you in. His EM field magnifies the atmosphere around you, tingling at the periphery of yours.

“M-My liege?” You gape, faceplates feeling hot as metal left in direct sunlight. He chuckles, and sinfully the tip of his glossa runs over his pointed denta. Your spark skips a beat, owlishly watching 

“If I had known sooner that you wanted me as direly as I did you, then this song and dance would have concluded vorns ago.” Megatron growls, optics flashing with not anger, but lust. He takes another step, and you’re speechless.

“That being said, I am patient. I have no qualms with how long we have waited, nor will I if you choose to wait longer.” One of the tyrant’s long, clawed digits clicks at the bottom of your chin, tilting your face upwards. His touch is delicate, like you’d break if he pushed too hard. Honestly, you probably would if he did. Part of you wants to see him try.

“What did you want to ask of me?” You whisper, optics fluttering until they stay half-lidded and dewy under the carnal scrutiny of your Lord. Megatron grins, a sliver of sharp denta flashing in the lowlights of your habsuite. He takes a final step towards you, a half-shuffle that does well to close the gap between your frames, the air warming from the work of your combined engines. You hope he feels the way your spark races, hope he feels the heat emanating from your core.

“Give me an heir, carry a sparkling of my code and stand beside me as my queen.” With each word, laden with desire until it shows in his optics that drip with lust, Megatron has you against the wall of your habsuite, one servo tracing the sleek edge of your wing.

It’s entirely intoxicating, and against your better judgment and all remaining reason— and mostly because you haven’t had a good, hard frag in ages— you moan.

It’s a soft, angelic sound that barely catches on the audials, but it makes Megatron grin like a shark. You gasp, affronted, optics flickering, “My liege!”

“Have I offended you?” He breathes, and suddenly his mouth is against your neck cables, each word leaving the softest of kisses on your Energon lines. Your resolve nearly crumbles entirely, each brush of his dermas like a shot of high grade to the systems. You sigh, vents hissing, and place one servo on his chassis. Beneath the broad expanse of silver armor, his engines rumble like thunder on the horizon. It makes you pulse with need.

“No.” You whisper, wanting to sing as Megatron kisses the slope of your jaw, then pecks the side of your mouth, agape with shock. He pulls back, the heat of him evaporating as soon as he’s once again standing at his full height. You tremble, not from the cold, but from his absence. 

It’s not something you’d ever given much thought about, your feelings towards your Lord and Master, but it’s something that’s come rushing back. All the suppressed thoughts, the dashed dreams, the impossible futures... They come back to you and leave you weak in the knee joints, cooling fans whirring from the memories of the fantasies you’d entertained when you’d had long midnights alone.

“What say you then?” Megatron’s stare is hard, unshaking and fully serious. He wants to have a sparkling with you, wants you to bear him an heir— He wants you as his queen and equal, to stand beside him and lead the Decepticon cause. The expression on his face is a cross between a wild animal, wanting to ravage you the nanosecond you say Yes, and the warlord with enough resolve and self-restraint to accept if you say No.

It’s all so much at once. Eons of time made up in just a single question. Details and technicalities will have to be conferred over later, as for now you’re content with the conditions as-is.

“Well... You are a handsome mech, my liege.” You reply, teasing him by placing a chaste kiss directly on the Decepticon insignia on his chassis. He doesn’t say anything, only his engine rumbles more audibly. You look up at him and salaciously imply with a coy smirk, “I do believe we’d make a fine clutch of sparklings.”

And then you find yourself swept up into his arms, back struts and wings pressed against the wall, your Lord’s hips slotted perfectly against yours. The more base urges inside you squeal, your Seeker coding nearly overtaking you and having you present to him like a turbofox in heat.

Not one to be outdone, Megatron quips, “And you are quite the striking femme— Shall I ravage you against the wall or your berth?”

You laugh, cut off only when Megatron captures your dermas in his, drowning you in the roughness of a mech starved of Energon. He kisses like he owns the practice and has made it an artform; Dragging your dermas with his, glossa invading your mouth, denta nipping dangerously close to sensitive nodes and wiring. You moan and gasp, coming to the realization that one of your servos grips his wrist and the other is flat against his chassis.

You shutter your optics, reveling in Megatron’s power and dominance, wanting so desperately for him to devour you. The warmth blossoms, spreading throughout your core until you feel charges pulse at your interface panels that have you whimpering.

After what feels like vorns, Megatron parts and your dermas unlock with a metallic pop. Megatron’s mouth ghosts over yours, and he hums as he repeats himself, “Berth or wall, little Seeker?”

“The berth, my liege.” You urge breathlessly, a delighted sound escaping you as Megatron heaves you from the wall and carries you to your desired destination. He isn’t gentle when he deposits you on your berth, doesn’t mind the wings, so you hiss when your back struts connect with the metal beneath you. Megatron manages to keep himself between the smooth metal of your thighs as he hitches one knee up onto the berth.

“I wonder,” Megatron stops to kiss you deeply once more, making your processors spin, “If this is an auspicious position for conception.”

A bite to the dermas stifles your wanton moan. Your Lord may not be fully aware of it yet, but each mention of being sparked, of bearing his heirs, has your more base urges spiraling out of control. While Vos was not populated by many Seekers, the need to breed is more hardwired into the programming than most other frame types. His words act like fuel to the fire.

“O-Oh— I can only hope.” You gasp, your whimpering cries smothered by Megatron’s dermas in yet another bruising, brusque kiss. This time, he lingers, slows down as if he savors the taste of you on his glossa. Your servos grip his shoulders, smoothing along his breadth before your pointed digits grip at the armor panels high on his back. Megatron responds most enjoyably, using one servo to anchor himself above you and the other to caress down your body.

His servo travels from the curve of your waist, talons scratching at your paint, down to the slope of your hip where it rests heavy and warm on the junction of your thigh. He teases the sharp point of his thumb digit on the transformation seam nearest your interface panels, causing you to arch your back struts like a cat. Megatron uses this opportunity to settle a servo on the low of your back struts, where he pinches at the sensitive nodes at the bases of your wings. That makes you cry out, your cooling fans whirring loudly as a charge builds up deep inside you. 

You’ve never been this close to an overload so quickly before, though you’ve had many sleepless nights built up to bring you to this moment. And Megatron proves his expertise in the berth, past rumors and gossip proven to hold more truth than you once thought. 

Your entire frame feels electrified, your lower body feels like it’s on fire, the heat centered gloriously on your interfacing parts. Particularly your valve and anterior node, which feel wet and pulse beneath the panel with each of your sparkbeats.

“You react so gratifyingly.” Megatron purrs, his gravelly drawl like fine high grade on the audials, uncharacteristically sweet and sensual. He glances down at your interface panels, where your glowing transfluid is beginning to seep out along the seams. With a devious grin, Megatron meets your gaze just as he presses his thumb digit to your overheated panel.

“Megatron!” You cry his name, forsaking honorifics, and nearly overloading on the spot. Almost unconsciously, you send a command and your valve panel slides open, revealing your weeping slit and throbbing anterior node. You cry out again when Megatron wastes no time and starts tight, small circles on the sensitive bundle of mesh wire and circuitry.

“Beautiful.” He hums, quickening his pace on your anterior node as he notices sparks fly as your charge builds. You grip his back, claws digging at his silver armor and leaving scratches in his already worn paint. Megatron leans in, steals your dermas in a kiss, keeps circling your wet node, and just as you see warnings for an imminent overload— He stops.

The charge doesn’t die, but it decreases to a staticky tingle, and you part from the kiss, scandalized that he’s prevented your overload. You gape at Megatron, giving him a glare that could rival the World Destroyer’s himself. He only offers you a sly look.

“My liege.” This time you growl the title past grit denta, bucking your hips against your Master’s still servo. He hums, your anger meaning nothing to him, though indulging you by brushing two digits along the transfluid-soaked mesh of your valve. You gasp, optics blowing wide as he pushes them in, mindful of his sharp claws, stretching you wonderfully.

There’s a slight burn at first, pain sensors sending alerts, alleviated as your frame adjusts to accommodate his thick talons. Megatron eases his digits back until they are almost out completely, then sinks them back in. Your knees come up, peds shaking as you hook them behind his back struts.

“Patience, my dear,” Megatron kisses your neck cables, “Is a virtue.”

And like he had your anterior node, he works your valve slowly, steadily building the charge that buzzes all the pleasure centers in your frame. Warnings for an overload screen your vision again, this time your optics flicker as it grows closer. Staccato vents escape your intake, fans skipping cycles and hitching, encouraging Megatron to go faster, digits plunging in and out of your valve with sopping, moist noises. The room smells like interface; the tinny tang of transfluid, the almost-burnt smell of metal-on-metal friction.

You moan, this time a long keen that crackles in your audials, and Megatron responds with the first pleasured sound you’ve heard from him: A low, throaty groan that he practically strangles in his intake like he doesn’t want it to escape.

“M-My liege, plea-please.” You whine, writhing, bucking your hips even as Megatron’s servo relinquishes your wings in order to still them. You sob, systems on the fritz as the charge crackles, your overload closing in due to Megatron’s working servo and digits. He laughs again, the breathy one that you adore, and surprisingly heeds your plea.

“I want you like this when you take my spike.” Megatron hisses, doubling his pace and making you scream. The wet squelch of your mesh grows louder, and with each thrust of his servo, his knuckle joint brushes your throbbing anterior node, whiting out your optics.

“I want you disheveled.” The tyrant presses close to you, tightening the cyclic thrusts of his digits, biting at the base of your neck cables. Your helm lolls to the side, voice crackling in constant whines as you squeeze your optics shut. He growls, sharp denta piercing an Energon line close to your shoulder armor, the pain mixing with pleasure and having you singing.

“I want you desperate.” Megatron snarls like an Earthen beast, the gruffness of his voice matching the hot stretch of your valve. Transfluid soaks the inner seams and mechanisms of your thighs, spilling onto your berth below. Megatron drags his dermas to yours, his glossa hot and heady as he shoves it in your mouth and dominates the kiss. You moan against him, gripping him tight and hearing the sound of metal screech as its torn.

The silver mech groans, low and rough, breaking the kiss and allowing his helm to fall besides yours. To the cables and wires of your neck, he leaves open-mouth kisses, condensation hot from his vents, then pulls himself up to your audials and whispers harshly:

“I want you as mine.”

The last word is punctuated by a hard push of his digits and his thumb squashing your anterior node, and your overload hits you like a system crash. You wail, wings fluttering and hitting the berth with metallic clangs as your body seizes, the charge overtaking your processors. Pleasure like molten lava consumes your frame, transfluid squirting out onto Megatron’s forearm like paint.

The overload lasts eons, like some supernova of a dying star. Your legs lock, armor plating shivering, wings hitched high and scraping against your berth.  Maybe this is what death is, you think illogically, Maybe I’ve joined with the Allspark.

“Beautiful.” Megatron breathes again, his optics glowing in awe, “Positively beautiful.”

It takes a click for your processor to compute what he said, then another for your optics to blink back on. Coolant tears leak out the corners, blurring your vision. Your mouth gapes, dermas damp with condensation, your cooling fans whirring in loud in your audials. The grip you have on Megatron loosens, servos slipping until they fall upon his shoulders.

The charge in your valve mesh and anterior node quivers and bounces, and you realize with a pleasant tremble that Megatron’s digits are still firmly inside you.

“Megatron.” You coo his name, “Megatron.”

He says yours back, like all you’ve done and are doing is exchanging designations in a routine meeting and it reminds you of a time when things were simpler between the two of you. It’s been eons since Megatron’s seen you the way his ruby red optics gaze upon you now, eons more since you’ve felt seen.

War has made you both volatile, too tough and too angry to do anything else but fight, and fight some more. But here, in the privacy of your berth, blanketed by the secrecy of darkness: War can’t touch you. Nothing can.

“How I have yearned for you...” Megatron cups your faceplates, his servo cool against your overheated frame. You smile, still hazy from your overload and the lingering sensation of his other servo very much connected carnally to you, feeling like you’ve overdone yourself on too much high grade. 

A switch flips inside you, the one that reminds you’re no fainting femme, but one that asks and will take regardless. You are a Seeker, after all— It’s in your code to want offspring.

“Give me a sparkling, my Lord.” Even though your voice wavers, it still sounds like an immutable command. The contemplative look on Megatron’s face morphs into the devilish one, and he snarls, removing his digits from your core. A thin line of gooey transfluid stretches between you and his servo, until Megatron brings it to his mouth and his glossa licks along the length of his digits. His optics narrow in as he hums.

“You presume you can command me.” And yet he obeys again, his interface panel unlatching with a hiss. His spike emerges, a long, thick one that fills in sections, ribbed along its length. Glowing transfluid oozes in droplets from its tip, rolling down the underside of his spike. Your jaw drops, both in want and slight alarm— Megatron is a large mech, you should have better anticipated a large spike.

“Know this, dearest: I will take you, ruin you, fill you up until my code takes.” Megatron promises, lining his bobbing spike up with your throbbing valve. He then grabs your hips, propping them up for a better angle. You quiver, writhing on your berth and bracing your servos on his forearms. His armor is hot under your touch, and your claws dig into the smooth of his paint. Then you match his stare, licking your dermas.

“Frag me like you mean it.”

Megatron suddenly thrusts his spike into you and you wail, unforgiving of your smaller stature. The delicate mesh and sensitive wires give and mold around the hot rod of his pulsing length, forming a slick suction around your lover. He groans, easing back then thrusting in with earnest. Your thighs tremble as you take him, each rimmed circlet of his spike passing into you, dragging deliciously on your valve’s walls.

It’s a tight fight, even with being loosened by Megatron’s thick digits. The transformation seams on your hips and thighs stretch, soft whirs and clicks as your frame adjusts to take him. He’s the biggest you’ve ever had, and the strongest too. The power in his hips drives you up the berth, and he pulls you back down.

You can’t meet his thrusts, but you try and buck your hips in time with him, erratic at first. Megatron’s servos are locked on you, guiding you when your movements skip or miss. All the pleasure centers in your frame are alight, charges sparking and fritzing along your circuitry. Another overload builds, a hot, deep bubbling in your core.

With each thrust of his spike, your valve squelches, the mesh slick and hot with transfluid. More drips down your legs, your aft, onto the berth, leaving everything tacky. Megatron hits a particularly sensitive node deep inside you, one you didn’t even know was there, and you keen. Coolant tears prick at your vision again, escaping the corners and rolling off your faceplates. 

“How badly do you want it?” Megatron seethes, and you could mistake his lust for anger. He seizes your neck cables, dangerous talons threatening Energon lines, as he demands, “How badly do you want me?”

“Desperately.” You wheeze, optics whiting out as Megatron squeezes your neck cables just so as he gives you a series of particularly rough thrusts. Your peds tighten on his back, urging him deeper. Your Master vents, harsh and hot, his engine rumbling loud in his chassis.

“You will look...” Megatron chokes on a groan,”... Excellent with a trine at your hip.”

That makes you whine, Seeker coding squealing and preening at the thought. A trine. Three little sparklings just like their carrier. You’d delight in carrying them in your gestation chamber, wanting to see yourself change and swell to accommodate them.

“I want... I want,” Your voice cuts out, broken by a sob, and you can only manage a tight, “I want that!”

“Good.” Megatron pistons his hips like a jackhammer, his rhythm not breaking once. Powerful thrusts meet the wet heat of your core, the tops of his thigh armor clanking loudly against your legs. The overload warnings start appearing once again. Megatron hisses when your valve tightens around his length, and it prompts him to pick up the pace.

“You are so pretty.” He growls, leaning in to recapture your dermas with his. As he kisses, he doubles his speed and the strength behind it. You moan and sob into his mouth, servos gripping him by the back of the helm. His glossa battles with yours, his sharp denta nicking you more than once. Then he switches to kissing you deeply, soulfully, like he’s found salvation in your dermas.

It’s as you’re so viscerally connected to Megatron that the heat in your core reaches a boiling point, the slow-building electricity coming to its peak. Your valve walls spasm, the giving mesh convulsing in the telltale sign of your overload on the horizon.

Somehow accomplishing it, Megatron kisses you deeper, his faceplates flush and hot against yours. A particularly hard grind of his spike on the sensitive nodes of your valve has you gasping into the silver mech’s mouth. Your optics squeeze shut, you feel like your core is about to explode with heat—

Your second overload hits, just as spectacular and wonderful as the first. Electrified charges bounce between the mesh of your valve and Megatron’s throbbing spike, transfluid soaking him and yourself once again. It’s only after your audials tingle that you realize you’ve screamed loudly enough to reset them. Your systems crash, processors overheated and cooling fans hitching and trembling. With a hiss and a long grunt, Megatron follows you over the edge as well.

Warmth blooms in your core, pleasure nodes and receptors picking up the hot liquid feel of Megatron’s transfluid deep inside you. It comes out in spurts, and he rides his overload by continuing to push into you. As your optics come back online, you catch him hunching over you, ceasing his thrusts in favor of pressing as close as he can, spike still weeping transfluid and coating your inside walls.

Megatron hisses and groans, his frame shivering just once as he finishes, lazily bucking his hips thrice to empty himself completely. He doesn’t disengage his spike, leaving it to soften in your overworked valve. You can’t feel your peds, not after the overload you just experienced, and your entire frame shudders when he nips at your neck cables once again.

For a while, he hovers above you, his EM field embracing your frame. Softly, your servos caress his upper back struts, the tips of your digits dancing along his seams. His servos finally release your hips, revealing he’s left shallow dents in your armor. No matter, you’d wear them proudly. 

“Do you have fiber cloths in your refresher?” Megatron asks, breaking the comfortable silence, his vocal processor crackling only slightly. A twitch of the helm is the best “Yes” you can offer, and brutally Megatron parts from you, drawing a soft whimper as his spike and warmth leave you. The thought of sliding your interface panel back on crosses your mind, but your anterior node and valve are still throbbing so tenderly you can’t will yourself to do it.

You hadn’t realized you closed your optics until Megatron’s approaching pedsteps makes you open them again. He stands before your sprawled, ruined frame, a sheer fiber cloth in his servo, reaching to clean you. Silently, he wipes up the glowing transfluid that’s stained your berth, then moves to clean what’s left on your body.

For a long few moments, the sounds of your cooling fans cycling down, wings softly scraping on your berth, and Megatron’s movements fill your habsuite. At some point, you hear the distinct click of Megatron’s interface panel closing and you tilt your helm up to see him putting his spike away. Also distinctly, the slight burn of soreness as Megatron wipes your exposed valve of excess transfluid.

You’d need to wash regardless, but it’s the thought that counts.

“That was...” And you have no words. Your voice sounds distant and far away, like you’re listening to yourself whisper from miles away. Megatron hums to fill your silence, then you hear the muffled sound of the cloth being discarded somewhere in your room.

“May I join you for the night?” Your Lord’s question is far more polite than it needs to be, considering the circumstances, but it’s 

“Of course.” Your answer is quick and sure, marked by the tremendous effort you put in to roll onto your side, even though you still can’t quite feel your legs. You watch Megatron around your berth and sit at your side. He stretches, silver armor plates shifting and whirring back into place, the length of his back struts revealing his hidden Energon lines.

Then he swings his peds up and lays beside you like it’s the most normal action he’s ever done. Though you do have to scoot over until your wings stick out past the edge.

“I would like for this to be a repeated venture,” Megatron teases after he settles himself, “And if you will accept, for this to be continued past a successful newspark creation.”

He glances at you out the corner of his optic, its glow dimmed. You smile.

He’s never been one for grand romantic gestures, never one to speak about softer, kinder things like “love” or “sparkbonding”. It’s unbecoming of him, the Leader of the Decepticons, former gladiator of Kaon, dark Lord and powerful Master. You don’t know if he’d ever pose the actual question, or if it will remain as nebulous, vague riddles and coded phrases for you to decipher and analyze. It isn’t in Lord Megatron’s making to be tender— At least not in the explicit regards.

“I want nothing less for the sire of my offspring.” You reply, your frame curling around the curve of his chassis, servo finding the same spot it always had: Right above his insignia, above his spark. His engine rumbles evenly, the steady drumming could bring you to power down, though you’re kept awake by the pleasant ache between your legs, the chill of the Nemesis, and the pride in bearing your Lord an heir. 

~ * ~ * ~

epilogue

Your berth is too small, much too small, for two Cybertronians attempting to recharge upon it. Megatron keeps an arm wrapped under and around you to prevent you from falling off, your frame halfway atop his. One of your servos rests under your helm, the other lazily traces invisible shapes on his broad chassis. Both of your EM fields mingle, the waves pulsing to each other in rhythm.

Earthen hours have passed since your coupling, and though you’re tired, you find yourself unable to slip into recharge.

“My Lord?” You catch his attention, Megatron optics flickering back as he pulls himself from the onset of recharge. Part of you regrets keeping him awake— Primus only knows how many sleepless nights your leader subjects himself to— and the other part of you quietly marvels at how he was nearly dozing in your arms. What show of trust is as great as that?

“If I am to carry, this means the Decepticon cause loses one of its strongest warriors—” You sigh happily as the warlord shifts so that his servo rubs your wings, tenderly caressing sensitive transformation seams and Energon lines. What more you wanted to say dies on your glossa, too caught up in the tender display of affection your Lord gives you.

“A temporary hindrance.” Megatron rumbles, shuttering his optics once again and stating, “The Decepticons will prevail.”

It falls quiet, fully so for a handful of clicks until you pipe up again.

“... And, we will need protoforms. And transitionary metals and alloys. And start the process of distilling Energon into low-grade, sparkling-safe—”

Megatron silences you with a deep kiss, one that has you purring in delight and cupping his faceplates. He lingers on your dermas for a few beats, his EM field heavy and warm on yours, lulling you closer to recharge. Megatron parts, settling down on his back struts, his frame creaking and hissing air as he relaxes. Then he sighs:

“We will discuss technicalities in the morning.”

[merakiui]

his blueberry eyes (anagapesis in paradise).

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, death/murder of reader, obsession, codependency, emotional manipulation, psychological abuse, mentions of self-harm/suicide attempt, brief mention of pregnancy + loss of baby, vague mentions of binge-eating/disordered eating, angst, characters written as 18+ note - the color blue haunts azul. // loosely based on clingy, codependent bf azul.

the prelude - forever lost in cerulean paradise.

Azul Ashengrotto, a man forever bound in burdensome blue, surfaces from the numbing sweetness of an all-consuming slumber and finds the tops of his hands are littered with deep, dark, desperate scratches. They’re furious and distinct, standing out like pearly teeth on black tile, spotting his pale, paper-thin skin like a child’s poor attempt at proper handwriting. Carefully, he runs a trembling finger over the length of one as it travels from ring finger to the delicate bone of his wrist. A wet laugh bubbles out of him, ink-stained and heartbreakingly pained. He wipes tar-colored saliva from the edge of his mouth, smearing it, and shudders through another laugh. The sound wavers as if caught in his esophagus, pronounced choked and raw.

“Ah… I did it again.”

He sits back on his haunches, small and scared like the squishy thing he once was all those years ago, and inhales a steadying breath. His vision, once narrowed so scarily slim, widens to encapsulate the rest of the sitting room, which is cast in a cool glow from the crystalline cityscape beyond. He spies his haunted reflection in the glass, his hair mussed and matted. From sweat, most likely. It’s unsightly, his unkempt, ugly appearance, but it’s him staring back. 

Looking on with those bewitching blueberry eyes.

Swallowing thickly, he pushes a swoop of silver hair out of his face and whispers, “I fell asleep…again. Right. Again. That makes it—what is it now? Four times in a week? No, not quite… I fell asleep, but then I…”

His gaze slides from the windows to the floor. Lying sprawled and stiff, amidst shattered glass and crumpled, lemon-hued tulips, is the love of his life.

“Ah, I see now.” He runs two fingers over the injuries on his hand. His nose wrinkles once and then twice. His throat is set aflame, constricting like a python coiled around its prey. Blueberry eyes sink in a rising tide, overtaken by tears spotting a weary lash line. “My world… My angelfish…”

He forces himself to stand on rubbery legs. He stumbles once, reaches for the coffee table’s reliable support like a newborn grasping their mother’s outstretched finger, and peers at a shattered portrait splayed on the floor. It’s you on your wedding day, flashing a toothy grin at the camera, while he holds you close, an arm secured around your waist. Clinging to you like you were the only buoy in a rocky sea. Planting parasitic roots by way of attraction, and you were simply too blinded by the charms of shimmering, sparkling cheer to realize. So was he in that regard—struck dumb with a too-large love, unable to handle the full capacity of what it meant to fall into a sugary-sweet romance.

It’s a happy picture, one of many, but then the memories of the many elude him at this moment. He, the brilliant, benevolent actor, struggles to differentiate the real from the fake. What is a smile if not another foggy reflection of something far sadder? What is laughter if not the sounds of a hollowed sweetheart howling joyous tunes to placate?

His fingers curl around the wooden table. It’s too familiar and, as if having touched something hot, he jerks away. Azul turns his hands over, searching for imperfections he’s already found. Slowly, he pivots to confront the body.

“My darling angelfish, please wake up. It’s not… It’s not very nice of you to play pretend. We’ve been over this.” He shakes his head and steps around the overturned vase and puddle of flower-spotted water. He lowers to your height, offering a hand you don’t take. “Please, my love. I’m sorry for scaring you. I won’t do it again. I… I’m getting better, you see. I’m doing it for us. I want to get better. I promised I would, didn’t I? Aren’t I a man of my word?”

You remain there, eyes shut in blissful permanence. Azul sucks in a breath through grit teeth. You’re always so…difficult. Sometimes. Not always. And even when you act like this, he still cherishes you. But fighting is not something he loves, and he wants this feud to end sooner rather than later.

Azul Ashengrotto hates the sharp, bitter sides to his marriage.

“I can be patient,” he says, though it’s more of a consolation than a promise. “I’ll be patient. But, really, being vindictive will get you nowhere, my dear. Haven’t we been over this?”

Still, no matter what he says, you don’t stir.

He allows silence to fill the room to a suffocating degree.

One minute passes. Then two. He drums his fingers along a newly forming bruise on his arm.

Now it’s three.

Four.

Five.

It’s too quiet without your pretty voice filling the empty room, filling the hollow in his heart, filling the gaps in his brain to snuff any other self-destructive thoughts from pushing through.

“I love you,” he whispers, less forceful this time. “And… And I’m sorry. Truly, I mean it. I’ll never put my hands on you again. Never. And I’ll go back to therapy. I won’t skip my sessions. I’ll even take my meds!” A crooked smile stretches across his lips. “I promise. I won’t lie to you. I’ll leave the cooking to you. I won’t touch sharp objects. I’ll stop hiding knives from you. I’ll be honest from now on. So please…” His voice cracks, weak and raspy. “P-Please… Please don’t ignore me…”

Azul reaches out to you, fitting his trembling hand in yours. It’s cold. He brings it to his face, kisses the top of it, and then cradles it close. His shoulders shake, wracked with silent sobs.

It’s cold.

His breath hitches.

You’re cold.

“Angelfish, please…” He sniffles. The tears are already falling in thick, salty rivulets. He’s always been an ugly crier. “Please don’t leave me. Without you I…”

His untrimmed nails dig into your palm, and a great sob shudders through his body when he presses his thumb into your wrist to check your pulse.

It’s stopped.

He scrubs his face with his free hand. A fruitless effort. The tears won’t cease.

Without you, I’m nothing.

He gathers you, stiff, cold you, in his arms and holds you like you’re a treasured childhood plushy who’s lost its stuffing. His reflection blinks back at him, blueberry eyes awash in watery tragedy.

Without you, I’m all alone.

He spies the markings on your neck and his throat closes up. He grabs your face between both hands, searching it for any indication of life. A lie, surely. You’re just pretending. You’ve always done that, putting on acts to keep him and everyone else pleased. You, the best actor, knew him better than he knows himself. Because, in spite of the loose, fraying seams, you took them, poured remnants of your heart into each tear, and stitched them up until they were better again. You’ve sewn him anew when he thought all hope was lost.

So it’s impossible. A lie, definitely.

You’re a pretender, and he’s the captivated audience member. Soon you’ll open your beautiful eyes and shout, “I got you! You should have seen the look on your face!” And the cycle will repeat itself. He’ll pretend to be okay and you’ll follow along with a sweet smile, chopping vegetables with the same knife he used to threaten his own life days prior.

You can’t fool him.

Only you do. And you have.

He peels your eyelids open. Your listless stare pierces something in his brain, wires the circuitry correctly so that Point A and Point B can connect.

With a horrified gasp, Azul drops your limp corpse. Your head smacks against the floorboards, but you don’t groan in pain. Because there isn’t any pain to be felt. Because you’re not going to wake up. Because this is the final act and the curtain has closed on your skillful pretending.

Azul Ashengrotto, a man forever bound in burdensome blue, has lost the very person who once made him feel so whole.

the first vow - to have and to hold.

“We should make a baby.”

In the first month of being newlyweds, you’d told him that. He leaned over to nudge you with his hip while you painted swirling designs on a blank kitchen wall. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not opposed to it.”

You pulled away from your canvas and grinned. “Neither am I.”

“Sooo,” he encouraged, nodding, unable to curb the glee in his curling smile. “What? Should we make one?”

“Can we?”

“This conversation feels rather circular, my dear.”

“You’re circular.” You stuck your tongue out at him and dipped your brush in a bright blue. “I’m gonna paint an entire field of cornflowers on this wall.”

Azul hesitated at the sudden change in subject, considered the meaning of a cornflower, and snorted in amusement. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “If you want a baby, just say so and I’ll give you one.” He nosed your neck, humming into your skin. Sneaky hands slipped under your loose cotton T-shirt to cradle your stomach. “I once read a statistic that claimed marriage improves the outcome of a pregnancy. Shall we see if it’s true?”

You rested your free hand over his. “If you help me paint.”

“You know I’m no good at art.”

“Anyone can be an artist.”

“Angelfish—”

You shifted in his arms and held up a clean paintbrush. “Anyone, Zul. That includes you.”

He stared at the brush, frowning. “I’m nowhere near as good as you.”

“I’ll have none of that talk.” You rested your head against his chest and peered up at him through your lashes. A pleasant smile softened your face. “I don’t want this wall to be my masterpiece. I want it to be ours.”

“Yes… Yes, I’m aware. But even so—”

“The best things come in two, don’t they? Come on. You won’t know if you’ll enjoy something until you’ve tried it.”

“But I have, dear.”

“Not with me you haven’t.”

Azul laugh-scoffed. “Stubborn,” he chided, pinching your side and shaking his head in disbelief. One hand slid out from beneath your shirt to grasp the brush. “I suppose I can try. An entire field of cornflowers won’t paint itself now, will it?” He winked.

“That’s the spirit! I think blue suits this room, don’t you?”

“I’m struggling to see your vision, darling.”

“It’s a nice color. One of my favorites. And…” You turned in his arms to press your lips to his cheek. “Blue is you.”

He was smiling; he could feel it—the tug of toothy jubilance. “Is that right?”

“It is! I thought that the moment we met. If it weren’t for your pretty eyes, I don’t think I’d have approached you.”

“Ah, right. You thought they were rather lovely, didn’t you?” His hold on you tightened as he recalled the memory. “How did you say it? ‘Sir, I just had to come up to you to compliment your eyes! They’re the nicest shade of bewitching blueberry blue I’ve ever seen.’ You said it like that, yes? And it was the first time I’d ever heard such a strangely specific compliment. Normally, most go for the outfit or the hair.”

“But you liked it, didn’t you?” you say, singing the question like a pansophical siren.

“I did. I…really did. I still do, in fact.”

Your body shook with your laughter. “Then it’s not so strange after all.”

“Not in the slightest.”

His fingers brushed your navel, a fleeting touch that turned giggles into shivers. You put your brush to the wall, but no designs bloomed. He did much the same, meeting your brush halfway, bristles dipped in friendly yellow. Only after he’d marred the wall with it did he realize his error.

You always ruin everything, he thought, resenting his clumsy ways. Everything you’ve ever touched, you ruin.

“Ooh, yellow and blue. That’s pretty. Like sunflowers and cornflowers!”

“But I… Your blue—I completely tarnished it.” He couldn’t help it; the words rushed out.

“What? No way! I like it.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, it’s true. It adds something to the blue. Makes it come together, you know?”

Azul stared at the wall, his face scrunched with poorly veiled vitriol. “I fail to see how that logic tracks.”

You gathered both brushes and set them down on the countertop before turning fully in his arms. “Hey, it’s okay. We can paint over it if you want. But… Well, personally, I think we should keep it.”

“Why?” It came out hushed, a broken murmur.

“Because it’s like happiness amidst sadness.” Like the angel you’ve always been, you reached up to cradle his face between your warm, gentle hands. He melted in your hold, weak to the ways in which you often lifted him up. “Too much of anything in abnormal amounts is unhealthy, so we need happiness to balance the sadness. Plus, if this room was solely blue, I might go crazy.”

He wanted to reject your explanation, gripe and groan about how it was much too fluffy and foolish, but you were right. You have always been right with emotions, reading him well enough to pick apart his tells.

It’s your lips on his that brought him back to himself. He blinked when you separated.

“You’re not perfect. No one is. Not even me, and this wall definitely isn’t going to be perfect either. But it’ll be special because we made it. Because it’s a unique combination of us.”

Azul felt himself nodding along.

“So don’t worry. Sometimes mishaps like these are for the best. They help put things into perspective—to show us something we might not have seen before.”

“Like painting a new picture.”

“Exactly!” You squeezed his hand. “So no pity parties, got it? Not unless we’re going to throw one together and have snacks and tea.”

He exhaled shakily, reciprocating your affectionate touch. “Thank you, my love.”

You smiled so beautifully that he was compelled to enshroud you entirely and keep you with him in a cage of limbs. To ensure you’d never leave. To keep you backdropped by a work-in-progress wall forever.

And for the first two years of your new life with him, you remained in that cozy, quaint house, adding details to the wall when you could. The kitchen shaped itself nicely, embroidered in an array of blue hues, accompanied by sunny yellows and frilly whites. Every morning, you’d stand at the counter and cook, ever the early riser, and he’d drag himself in just after the sun had peaked in the sky; and together you would eat in front of that wall, tied together by the bright, beautiful wonders of young love.

Sometimes it was the yummy temptations of good food that brought you together. Other times it was each other, bodies pressed flush. Clothes wrinkling and coming off in heaps. Windows left open in the aftermath to bring in sweet spring breezes. Gathering each other and sitting in the bath, giggling about something silly. More kissing and touching; playful squeezing while washing the other. If Azul’s life had been a tragedy before, then this was certainly something far better. A new chapter in a new book with crisp, unturned pages, each one ripe and ready to receive love in loads.

You fell pregnant just as the changing winds ushered summer in, and suddenly that storybook blossomed considerably, pages stained with all things good. He had pinched himself before just to ensure this wasn’t a delusion or a dream, and finding that it was neither proved that there was indeed tenderness in his world. It was destiny that you two would meet by pure chance, fall for the other’s quirks and charms, and agree to a whirlwind marriage, so swept up in the authenticity of redamancy.

Azul thought his life couldn’t get any sweeter. A perfect wife, a perfect job, a perfect house, a perfect paradise built for two. It was a future he’d only ever fantasized about, an illusion he imagined to be forever out of his reach. But he had attained it, miraculously grasped it with both hands, and from here it would only be days and days of wonder and whimsy.

Thirty-one weeks into a perfect, pretty pregnancy, you fell again. Down the stairs, crumpled in a heap of limbs and broken promises. He stood at the top of the stairs, his chest heaving with the remnants of some animalistic emotion. You shattered like porcelain, a marionette cut free from her strings. The baby fell with you.

Then came the darkness: creeping, encroaching, all-consuming.

Then came the lies.

Then came the obsession with omniscience.

And all throughout it, you’d continue to imprison yourself in his eyes.

the second vow - to love and to cherish.

“You shouldn’t work so much.”

By the fourth year, he had told you that.

You looked up from your plate, which you’d spent most of dinner pushing the food around rather than actually eating. Meals carried out in this fashion, a cyclical routine you dreaded. Ever since he’d purchased a penthouse suite and moved you to the city, abandoning the life you had built in the tiny, two-story house with its friendly neighborhood of faces, your world became the sky: sad and cloudy. Always rainy. It was empty up there, and the luxuries he provided did nothing to fill the holes in your shattering heart.

You couldn’t paint any walls here, for they had already been colored in boring monochromes.

“But I like the coffee shop. Everyone’s really nice to me, and the hours are reasonable. I’m paid well, too.”

“It’s minimum wage, (Name).”

“Still…”

“I make enough to support the both of us.”

And it was true. He’d just opened the first branch of the Mostro franchise, an elegant, high-end eatery stuck right in the heart of the city. Money has never been an issue, not when he was so determined to see each of his dreams through to the very end. You were dragged along through the wild currents of those ambitions. Simple luxuries were no longer sleeping in on weekends or watching the sun rise and set in the garden. Now it was extreme excess and opulence, devouring you with designer brands.

“I’d rather not be home all day. It’s lonely.”

“Jade or Floyd can provide company should you need it.”

You stared at him, your mouth agape. “I don’t need babysitters. I’m an adult, Azul.”

“They wouldn’t babysit—” He sighed, shook his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re welcome to accompany me to the office instead.”

“But I like my job. I like talking to customers and taking orders and making drinks. If I quit, I wouldn’t have anything else.”

“That’s not true. You’d have me.”

“The regulars would miss me. So would my coworkers.”

“Darling… Angelfish, I don’t quite care for them and I don’t think they care for you either. At the end of the day, all of you are working a dead-end job, putting up with nonsense from rude, impatient customers who never bother to tip despite having full pockets. You’re not working.” Azul smiled, his blueberry eyes ripe with a strange sort of light. “You’re surviving, and that’s not a quality of life you should shackle yourself to.”

You pushed food around on your plate, unconvinced. “I just don’t feel right about lazing around and doing nothing. It’s not very fair if you’re the one doing everything while I just sit back and reap the benefits.”

“Why not? I hardly mind. Besides, I enjoy spoiling you. You deserve this and so much more.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “If I could, I’d package the world in a little box and give it to you, my dear.”

“We had that once and you broke it.”

His body stiffened, eyes flicking to your mouth. He couldn’t meet your eyes. He’s never been able to—not since that day. Neither of you can figure out whether it was intentional or an accident, or maybe it was something more: an intentional accident.

“P-Pardon?”

“I had the world and you broke it.” You set your fork and knife on your plate, perfectly vertical in accordance with proper etiquette. “Back at the old house.”

“Darling, you know we couldn’t stay… We were due for a change of scenery.”

Furiously, you opened your mouth, tears springing forth, but no words came. Instead, you clamped your jaw and stood from your chair, turning away from the table in a hurry.

“(Name), sweetheart, please wait!” He stood as well, nearly stumbling over himself as he moved to intercept you. “My love, you know I never meant for that to happen. If I could, I’d go back and I’d fix everything so that we’d never have to experience such sorrow again.”

He reached for your hands, but you slapped them away and took a grand step back. “You knew we were at the top of the stairs. You knew, Azul. You knew it was wrong because you moved me away so no one could question it!”

His face contorted with offense, nose scrunching as if he had just smelled something foul. “I did not.”

“You did! You pushed me down those stairs and you watched me. Watched me cry and groan because it hurt and the baby was hurt. You watched and you waited because you knew.”

“I did not!” he said, louder this time, his face blue with rising frustration. “I was in shock, (Name). You can’t possibly expect me to jump into action when I was frozen stiff and horrified. And it was an accident. We’ve been over this before. I’ve apologized numerous times.”

“Sorry, but words aren’t gonna fix anything. See? I’ve said it and nothing’s changed. It’s not words that fix broken things, Azul. It’s action.”

You stomped out of the room in a huff, blinded with tears and rage. You weren’t sure if you were more frustrated with the circumstances or Azul himself, but it might have been the latter when he pursued, insistent like the worst kind of thorn. One that’s wedged itself so deep you couldn’t possibly pluck it free with your fingertips.

You’re not sure tweezers would work either, for the hold he has on you was and still is a nasty vise.

“I… (Name), love, darling, I’ll do better. I’m trying.”

Though he made these claims, he expressed them rather pathetically—his arms outstretched, palms up, as if to show you he was no longer a threat to your mental and physical well-being. His face was in poor shape; he was blue all over, flushed from the rush of emotions, his eyes much too small. He looked almost deranged in a desperate, animalistic way. As if someone was cutting him into meticulous slivers with a precision so painful it would leave him to bleed out for hours.

You inhaled a deep, shaky breath, freezing the red-hot anger for a moment. I have to be the bigger, better person. Fighting isn’t going to accomplish anything.

“Look, if you want to make a conscious effort to be better I’m all here for it. But you have to actually try, Azul.”

“I am—I… I will!”

“I’m serious.”

“As am I.”

“Then please let me do things for myself. Marriage is about fairness. It’s you and me. We have to work together. And if that’s you supporting us with your business and me working part-time for extra cash, then let it be that way. That’s togetherness, not forcing the twins to babysit me like I’m senile or convincing me to quit a job I enjoy doing. Money shouldn’t matter if we’re both making it and we both trust each other to be responsible about it. So, while I appreciate surprise purchases, I’d much rather we do things together like before. That’s more meaningful and priceless to me than materialistic ploys meant to win me over.”

He swallowed thickly. Blue bled into the rest of his scleras. You watched him gradually inflate with relief. “I… I understand. I’m sorry. Truly, I am…”

“Stop telling me that. Show me. Please. And mean it.” You held your hands out. Hesitating, he fidgeted on his feet before gingerly placing his palms in yours. They were ice-cold. “Every relationship has its faults. Ours is no different. I’m forgiving you for the past, but I’m not going to forget and I’m not giving you a free pass either. I want to trust you, Zul, and I want you to trust me.”

“I do…” he began, only to curb himself. “I… Well, you know I worry. I know you have good friends, but when you’re out so late… O-Or when you don’t text me back… I’m always worrying.”

“Don’t.” You smiled and squeezed his hands. “I can take care of myself.”

His face darkened at that, a slew of stormy emotions brewing behind blue eyes. “Still.”

“I don’t worry about you when you’re at work or flying out for business trips. I trust that you’ll be okay because you know what you’re doing.”

“That’s different… That’s—”

“I’m happy that you care so much, but I promise I’m always safe when I’m out. You know this.”

“Yes. But… Well…” He sighed and shook his head. “At the very least, please let one of the twins drive you to and from your destinations.”

You fixed your lips into a moue. “Azul.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning softly. “Yes, I know how that sounds. I know.”

“I’m not asking you to change overnight. No one can. It takes time. Everything does. I understand that you worry, but I’ve proven to you more than once that I’m plenty capable on my own.”

“All right.” His eyes flicked open at that, and without warning he tugged you into his chest. The embrace was constrictive with an alarming tightness that seemed to mean: I can’t lose you, so I’ll never let go. He buried his face in your hair, clinging to you out of sheer need. “All right. From now on, let’s be together.”

You nodded, slow to reciprocate. “No more gloomy dinners?”

He shook with awkward laughter. “No more gloomy dinners.”

You thought you had it under control. You thought you could reel him in and sculpt him from the shards—take all of the hateful, broken parts he harbored and glue them whole. You thought it’d be safer to organize his medication with encouraging notes each morning in hopes that he wouldn’t neglect it. You thought you’d ease into discussions with a gentle approach, if only to avoid stoking the flames of something monstrous. If only to ensure neither of you would scream at each other until your voices were spent.

You thought you were making progress when he showed you all of the secret spaces in the penthouse, admitting to squirreling things away out of weakness, out of greed, out of some tangle of complicated feelings. The majority of his stash was comfort foods, each one more unhealthy than the last, accompanied with a tiny notebook he’d used to scribble calorie counts. The pages were brittle and stained when you flipped through them; he had been crying each time he documented the amounts. Pieces were beginning to fit themselves together. On days when he surpassed his recommended calorie intake, he hardly indulged in dinner, preferring to pick at his plate. Instead, he would feast on empty conversations with you and those would be enough to sustain him.

Throughout all of this, Azul kept his gaze firmly glued to the floor and tore at the skin near his nails. The tips of his ears were flushed blue with humiliation.

“I hate eating,” he muttered, tapping his foot in quick, anxious rhythms. “I hate it so much.”

“Azul,” you said, soft like linen, “do you really mean that?”

His eyes found yours, glossy and defeated. “I… I…” He shook his head, the truth spilling free like paint dripping from a slain canvas. His arms, trembling and twitching, rose to his face. “No, I don’t,” he wailed into his hands, the sound echoing in the hall. “I really, really don’t.”

You shut the diary. It’s because you love food so much that you hate it, you thought, pitying him and the self-deprecating notes he’d scribbled alongside columns of calculations. Because when you eat, you don’t want to stop. Because if you aren’t thinking about numbers, you enjoy it. It makes you happy. And you restrict yourself and this happiness because it hurts to have any more than the bare minimum. Because the bare minimum also hurts, but it feels better when you have less in your stomach so you can eat the rest in secret.

“Let’s start small,” you offered, placing your hand on his arm. He lowered it to reveal a snotty, teary face, blueberry eyes darting to and fro. “Let’s plan our meals together. If we know what we’re eating in advance, we can avoid falling into bad habits. And meal plans are a good way to budget.”

Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, he sniffled. “I’m…not opposed to the idea.”

You had it under control.

But then the knives would go missing, later turning up when it was most convenient. When he needed a clever way to get you to stay.

You had it under control.

But then you would forsake plans with friends and family in order to help him through another spiral.

You had it under control.

But then it felt like he was breaking himself into pieces nearly every day, at every hour, over the smallest of inconveniences. Working a minute too late. Eating dinner before he could get home to join you at the table. Going out on your own without supervision from Jade or Floyd.

You had it under control.

But then his shadow was stretching too far and too wide, swallowing you in a portrait of possession.

You had it under control.

But then that was at the cost of your sanity.

the third vow - till death do us part.

“Hypothetically speaking, if I were to die tomorrow, would you grieve me forever? Or would you simply get over it and remarry?”

By the sixth year, just a few hours ago, he’d asked you that.

You looked up at him from the notebook in your lap, where you’d been aimlessly scribbling in circles. The lines overlapped, ink blotting together in manic patterns. Originally, you were going to write a grocery list. But now all you had were jagged lines and not-quite-right geometry.

As if you had rehearsed it prior, you answered smoothly, albeit with an edge to your voice, “But you’re not going to die tomorrow.”

“I could.”

“You won’t.”

Azul slumped back against the sofa and pulled his knees into his chest. “Maybe not. I have a clean bill of health.”

Not mentally, you thought, morbidly wry.

“You shouldn’t sound so disappointed. It’s good to be healthy.”

“You won’t care for me as much if I’m healthy,” he mumbled, gazing out the window at the sparkling cityscape with those dull, dreary blueberry eyes of his. “I wish I was sick. Then I could take a week off from work and just…exist.”

You frowned at him from where you sat opposite in a comfortable chair. It was the only piece of furniture he took from the old house. For sentimental reasons, of course. Sometimes you thought it still smelled like home, even if the scent of home was so warped and far-off now.

“You’re the boss, aren’t you? If you need to rest, take some time off and recuperate.”

“I want to, but my schedule can’t afford any interruptions. Not now.”

“Don’t overwork yourself.”

“I’m not.”

The conversation flatlined, only to soon breathe again when he suddenly added, “We should go on a trip.”

“A trip?”

“New scenery would do us a world of good.”

“Oh. Um, okay. Where should we go?”

“Anywhere.”

“Anywhere is too broad. Plus, we’d have to plan it in advance. Make sure everything’s covered. Expenses and whatnot.”

Azul’s expression soured. “Ah. Right.” He hummed his contemplation, drumming his fingers along the sofa’s armrest. “We could go somewhere nearby. Hospital food sounds good.”

You speared him with a sharp, stern look. “Don’t joke about that.”

“I’m not!”

You set your notebook and pen on the coffee table, aware of his powdery hues tracking your every move. “Azul?”

“Mhm?”

Your heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Relentless, the sound skyrocketed into your eardrums and joined in chorus with rushing blood. But you had to tell him. You had to broach this subject. It had been gathering dust and cobwebs, aged by many tiresome years. You couldn’t do this anymore.

“Azul, I think—” You swallowed hard, your fingers curling up into tight fists. “I think we… I think we should get a divorce.”

His head snapped up from where it had previously rested on his knees. He stared at you for a long, silent time.

And then, sucking in a breath, he asked in a fragile, breathless whisper: “What?”

“Um… I… We…” Your chest heaved with your exhalation. “We’re not happy.”

“We are.” He blinked at you, owlish and unwilling to look past the gilded lie. Unable to stop playing pretend. “We’ve always been.”

“No… No, we haven’t. Azul, it’s—really, it’s so exhausting. I’m so tired.”

“Then let’s sleep.” He lowered his feet onto the floor, intending to stand.

“Mentally, Azul. I… Fuck, I’m so tired. I really can’t do this anymore.”

Color seeped from his eyes. His pupils widened and shrunk, and then a wobbly smile overtook his gaunt features. “Angelfish, that’s not a very pleasant joke…”

You could only offer him your most forlorn look, finally defeated after six years. Six years of pushing a stone up a hill, never to advance and never to succeed. This conversation was well overdue.

Azul rose to his feet, his apparent horror dawning. It molded his features into something wrong and fearsome. Something panicked and cornered. “Darling, you’re not serious about this, right? You… We’re just going through a bit of a rough patch, but we’re okay. I’m okay. Yesterday’s session went so well. I’m getting better. I… I’ve done all of this for you—for us! So we don’t need to do anything rash. We don’t need to get divorced. We just need to—”

“You’re not okay. Azul, I’ve tried so hard. I really have. I’ve done everything, but I just can’t keep exhausting the same tricks.” You heaved a dry, tearless sob. “I can’t keep doing this anymore. I want to go back to work, but I can’t because I never know if you’ll be okay on your own. I want to trust you, but I can’t. We’re not communicating. We’re just—we’re playing the same delusional game and it’s getting us nowhere. You and I both know we’re not working. We stopped working the day you pushed me down those stairs.”

He froze, his lip quivering. “Darling, please… Please don’t say that. You don’t mean that.”

“I want you to get better—genuinely get better—but I’m not the help you need.”

“That’s not true. You’re all I need—all I’ve ever needed. With you here, I’m whole. I’m happy. What was it you told me? That marriage is togetherness? That it’s you and me? So as long as we’re together—no matter what may come between us—we’ll always be happy. We have our disagreements, yes, but every relationship is like that. It’s normal, my dear. So please don’t say those things. I am better, and I’ll continue to be better until my final breath.”

“Azul, you’re not listening.” Now you were standing from your chair. “Togetherness is not this. This—” you gestured to yourself, to the way your clothes hung from your body, a size too large, before pointing at him— “isn’t healthy. We’re not healthy. Every day I’m with you is hell. I need a break as much as you do. We can’t keep doing this. Let’s save ourselves the insanity and misery, and let’s be sensible adults. A divorce is the only—”

“You’re wrong.”

The rest of your tirade stuck in your throat. “W-What?”

“Divorce is an expensive, lengthy process.” Azul stepped around the coffee table, his stare blank and haunted. Twin pools of the darkest ocean bored into your skull. “I can easily afford it, but it’s a price I’m not willing to pay.”

Despite what little confidence you had before, it’s all but diminished now. You shrunk away from him. “A-Azul, calm down. You… You’re scaring me.”

“Well, that’s nothing new now, is it?”

“Azul—”

“You want sensible adults? Very well. Let’s have an actual discussion instead of picking each other apart like this.” He peered down at you from where he stood, his head angled in such a way that his acknowledgement of you appeared contemptuous. “So sit back down in your chair and talk like a sensible, mature adult.”

Opening your mouth, you intended to respond. But the words wouldn’t come. They were lodged in your throat, coagulating with raw, rich fear.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

I can’t say anything, you thought, your body petrifying with every passing second. I’m scared…

“If you put just a little more thought into your brainless idea, you’ll find it’s quite…lacking. Divorce ruins our togetherness, splits us apart and condemns us to two different worlds. And if I’m no longer able to cross into your world—if you forbid it and leave my world—I’ll truly die. I refuse to let that happen. So, no, darling, we won’t be getting a divorce. I won’t agree to it.”

Perhaps it was the hopelessness in your heart that forced fresh tears from your ducts, or maybe it was the final straw in your weakening defenses, but the words came bursting out in a hurry.

“I don’t care anymore! I want you to die!”

You slapped your hands over your mouth. Azul stared at you, stupefied.

“I… I want to be rid of you,” you continued, your words muffled and distraught. “I’ve always thought… Always hoped you might just disappear one day and I’d finally know peace… Please, Azul. Let’s end this. I don’t want to be stuck in this cycle. I don’t even love you anymore. I’m just…done.”

“You don’t mean that…” He made a strange sound, a hybrid between a gasp and a laugh. “Y-You’re just saying that. You still love me. You don’t actually want me gone. You love me… R-Right? Please say you do. Please, angelfish. My love… Please…”

“You’re not well, Azul. I think… I think this is for the best.” You turned away from him. “I’m going to stay in a hotel tonight. Please take some time to calm down and then we’ll talk more in the morning. I… I’m sorry. I really do want you to get help, but I can’t be around you any longer than I already have. It’s draining. You’re draining.”

You took one step further and something inside him splintered.

His power was cut, a line between consciousness and reality severed.

You did not love him. You wanted a divorce. You did not love him. You wanted a divorce.

Did not love him. Divorce. Did not love him. Divorce.

Did not love did not love did not love did not love not love not love not love.

Divorce divorce divorce divorce divorce.

Not love not love not love.

All alone.

Alone like before.

Back to the disgusting creature he once was.

You were walking away, your back turned on him.

He was going to lose his world. It was slipping through his fingers, fleeting and frail.

He couldn’t lose his world, for it’s all he’s ever had.

Azul lunged, seizing your wrist and dragging you down.

Your scream was cut short when his hands clung to your throat.

From then on, everything was a blur.

Two blueberry eyes swallowed you whole, entrapping you in cerulean paradise.

the epilogue - there will never be two without you.

“They used to call me all manner of cruel things when I was a child,” Azul admits to the desolate quiet of his penthouse suite. “I was ridiculed every day. I couldn’t even recognize myself in the mirror. Isn’t that just terrible?” He leans against the sofa and exhales slowly, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “But then you told me I was pretty and suddenly the mirrors blinked back at me. Suddenly the world looked just a little wider and…brighter. So bright! The sea swallows so much color, my dear, and so you’ll never know just how vibrant the surface is to us merfolk.”

He deflates with a wet, wheezing laugh. “No one’s ever told me I was pretty. No one’s ever loved me. Not in the way that you did.” Sighing, he runs a hand down his face. Tears track his cheeks; his blueberry eyes exist in a field of splotchy red. “You were such an angel. To love a filthy, hideous thing like me… Only an angel could do that. Only an angel could look beyond every flaw of mine and love so gently.”

Azul lowers his arm and peers at the knife clutched tightly in his other hand. “I never deserved you. I’ve treated you so horribly. I—” He chokes on a rising sob and shakily lifts the blade to his wrist. It presses against his skin for a moment before he’s yanking it away.

“Fuck,” he spits, his voice trembling. “I… I can’t do it.”

You’re a coward, his inner critic berates. A cowardly, clumsy fool of an octopus.

Gritting his teeth, he steels himself and tries again. The blade digs deeper into his flesh, enough to draw the tiniest pinprick of blood. Pain flashes through his nerves, prey instincts firing off commands. He attempts to push past the curtain veiling his thoughts—Stop before you hurt yourself! Stop before you kill yourself!—but then he spies the blue rising to the surface, pooling under the blade, and he retreats immediately. Horrified, he discards the knife at once. It soars across the room in an imperfect arc before settling on the floor with a clatter, just inches from your body.

“Fuck,” he whispers, closing his hand around his wrist to halt the bleeding. “Fuck. Fuck!”

I really can’t bring myself to do it…

He throws his head back against the cushions, eyeing the ceiling. “I’ve done such an unforgivable thing to you and yet I… I can’t do it to myself. I just can’t.” He shuts his eyes, inhales deeply, and opens them again. “I so selfishly took your life, but I’m clinging to mine like a spineless loser.”

Azul lowers himself onto the floor, curling into a fetal position. He grips his wrist in a tighter hold. His glasses are somewhere in the room, likely cracked or worse. He can’t be bothered to seek them out.

“Did you ever believe in soulmates? Ah, what am I saying? Stupid… But I truly think we were soulmates. Perhaps not in this lifetime. But somewhere on a distant horizon…” He smiles dreamily, pressing his cheek against the cool floorboards. “I wonder if we’ll ever meet again. It’s a matter of luck and fate. Sea Witch below, I hate those odds.” Another noisy sob bubbles up in his throat. He shakes with the force of it, his throat raw and ruined. Another onslaught of tears pours from his eyes. “I was r-really happy that day you approached me. I was so happy… More… More happy than you’ll ever know. Thank you for looking at me and seeing me and opening your heart to me. I’m sorry I couldn’t cherish you more than this.”

He forces himself up onto his arms and then, as if just learning how to walk again, rises to his feet on wobbling legs to cross the slim distance to arrive at your body. Like a sinner on trial, he drops to his knees and gathers you in his arms as if you are his Madonna della Pietà.

“Without you, there is no world,” he murmurs, holding you close for a moment longer before lowering you to the floor. His tears dot your cheeks like somber rainfall. He reaches for the knife next, his mind made up. “Thank you for loving me. Sincerely. Truly. You’re the only one I’ll ever love. For that, I’m grateful. Because of you, I was able to know the taste of romance. And…” He hiccups through his bawling. “And it’s so very sweet.”

Blue blood spatters the floor, spilling from a messy gash in his abdomen. The knife is sharper than he thought.

Azul flops onto his stomach beside you, reaching out to run his fingers over your cheek. He inhales a weary breath and agony fills his lungs.

The world is dyed a brilliant, burdensome blue.

Azul Ashengrotto wakes in captivity. Bandaged, dressed in a plain gown, and cuffed to the bed, he is alive.

He moves his wrist, each of his senses filtering in at once. His other arm is turned over and pierced with an IV. Groggily, he lifts his gaze to the machines humming around him. Blue blood sits heavy in a bag, and he watches the liquid travel down, down, down through the tube. He blinks. His eyes are crusty. Has he been crying?

Assessing the handcuff once more, he turns up empty.

Why is he here?

Why does it hurt to move?

Why are there so many bandages around his stomach?

Most of all, where is his world?

What is this place?

It’s a hospital, yes, but why is he here? He has a clean bill of health.

Where is his world?

It’s when he starts actively struggling against the restraint, his breath coming in terrified huffs, that the nurses file in to tend to him. They check his vitals, run some harmless tests, ask him a few questions—it’s a lot all at once. He goes through the process as if stuck in sludge.

“My… My wife,” he croaks, unable to think of anything else. His heart tightens in his chest. “Where is she? What happened? Is she okay?”

Nervously, the nurses skirt around his questions until, eventually, he loses patience and tries to tear himself free from the bed that confines him.

“Where is she?!” he’s screaming, thrashing on the bed like he’s Frankenstein’s monster—a haunted reanimation shocked with electricity. “Answer me! Where is she?! She has to be here. Please… Please tell me she’s safe. I need to see her—need her here right now.”

They hurry out just as he curses at them.

“You can’t keep her away from me! She’s my wife—mine! If you lay a hand on her—”

A new face appears in the doorway; it’s a man dressed in striking attire. A police officer. Azul stares at him, his nostrils flaring wildly. For a short beat, they simply watch one another. Eventually, the officer nods towards a chair.

“May I?”

“What do you want?” He narrows his blueberry eyes, immediately suspicious.

“I’m here to have a chat with you. It’s about your wife. Is that okay?”

At the mention of you, Azul’s thoughts stall out. “Do you know where she is? Is… Is everything okay?”

The officer lowers into the chair and casually crosses one leg over the other. Casual in the friendly sense, Azul realizes. He really doesn’t like this man. Any longer here and he’ll start trying to build rapport.

“We’ll get there in a second. First, I’d like to introduce myself.” He goes through the motions; Azul is only half-listening, replying when it’s beneficial.

(Name). She’s safe, right? She must be. She has to be. Everything’s okay.

(Name). (Name). (Name). (Name). (Name). (Name). (Name).

Where are you? Do you realize how worried I am? Oh, this must be my fault. I did something foolish again.

I must have tried to hurt myself. Angelfish, please wait for me. I’ll be okay. You’re safe and so am I.

Safe. Yes. Right. Safe. Safe. Safe.

Safe… Right?

Right.

Right?

“Had your friends not called in, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

That brings Azul back to the world. He blinks at the officer, one eye at a time. “What?”

“You were on the verge of bleeding out.”

“Friends?” He’s slow on the uptake. “Jade and Floyd?”

The officer nods. Silence fills the space. Azul wonders when he’s going to open his mouth again.

“What about them?” he asks instead.

The officer frowns. “Do you not recall anything?”

Azul thinks long and hard about this. “I… I was having a discussion with my wife. It was something about a trip. No, not that. Um… Something…important. Something else, perhaps?” He shakes his head, unable to turn up anything useful. “I haven’t a clue. Why? Is something the matter? Where’s my wife?”

Silence is his only reply.

Somehow that tells him everything and nothing all at once.

Somehow he suspects it. His body knows. His fingers twitch with phantom spasms, curling inwards to cut off airflow. The puzzle is scrambled and the image is fuzzy, but he knows.

He knows because he’s already crying, and there’s only ever been one thing that can bring out the inner crybaby he despises so.

It’s always been you.

Azul Ashengrotto is the sole speck of blue in this white hospital room.

And he certainly feels it.

He’s right back where he began: alone and clumsy, an octopus out of water, viewing the cramped, compact, colorless world with his bewitching blueberry hues.

[granolawriting]

"Do you have a boyfriend?" •°. *࿐

pairing: no breakout! Cowboy costume!Joel x fem reader

Summary: Your best friend holds a halloween party at her house, where the often brooding Joel you often disregard adorns a new attire that sparks something in you. And he makes it clear he feels the same.

Content warning: 18+ NSFW, age gap (college senior and 50 year old), grey hairs so hes about that old, picture part 2 joel cause he’s the sexiest, porn with lots of plot, p in v, creampie, HEAVY praise, you guys are wearing matching costumes on accident, he fucks you IN costume if you're wondering, nice aftercare, pet names (darling, sweetheart, doll), southern hospitality misconstrued for shyness, sarah is your best friend

word count: 7.4k (holy shit)

masterlist

A/N: christ almighty. This took me all day. it has clouded my mind, overtaken my senses. finishing the final lines of this fic made me feel raw, completly finished. I have never written a fic this long in my entire life I'll be so honest. Anyways, I've been delving so deep into pedro stuff recently that reignighting the Joel adgenda made me quiver at night thinking about it. ANYWAYS. THANK YOU FOR 200 FOLLOWERS!!!! confetti thrown everywehere.

and in other news, I hope u enjoy the 4th installment of my kinktober list, I'll see you all again on the 20th with some bondage!Joel.... Make sure if you like my work to check out my requests/comissions or my ko-fi!!!

P.S. The title was made with scream in mind but since I changed up him from wearing a mask to a cowboy because christ how could I not I decided to just keep it as is.

Monotonous noise of worn out wheels against tired linoleum floors squeak softly at the turns of your cart against the rows of aisles that comprised the small store. Dimly lit bulbs illuminated the rows of supplies— plates upon masks upon streamers of different colors and themes overtake your senses as the whole display seems ostentatious and unflattering to you. 

“How's this for a Halloween costume?” 

A wolf mask hides the face of an otherwise non-furry Sarah Miller. Who seemed to not share the same sentiment as you regarding distaste for the design. 

“I don't know, how are you going to drink if you have a mask on your face?” 

“Straws exist.” 

“I'm not convinced” 

She takes it off with melodrama, sullen disdain for your lack of halloween spirit as you push the cart further down the aisle. 

A soft squeak of tires indicates a stop in your steps as you stand before a wall of costumes— what you needed more than anything to hold an answer for you. 

Eyes tracing up and down the rows floor to ceiling coated with cheaply made, scantily clad costumes makes your vision blur. Until it lands on a single item; one that stood out to you above all else. 

“A cowgirl?” 

Sarah sounds unimpressed. Eyeing the plastic wrapped costume labeled “ride my rodeo” with a model on the front wearing small red and white plaid tied to her front, small jean shorts cut at most with an inch’s inseam, and a cowboy hat— sold separately. 

“It's the best I've got. It's either this, or I repeat last year’s costume.” 

“You are not dressing up as Adam Sandler to my party.” 

You put the bag in the cart. 

Ever since moving to college, your career as a party-goer has been less than prolific, as a freshman assuming that time away from home was means to let yourself go, slowly turned into a reluctant senior year where parties were oftentimes the last thing you wanted to do on a given day. However, as Sarah lived in the area, she at the very least dragged you to her neighborhood functions. Which, was marginally better than what any Greek life could pull together. And as your car pulls into the empty spot within the miller’s lot, you become privy as to why; because you always had to help put it together. 

As smooth concrete lays beneath your car while you park, the truck parked beside you was none other than Joel Millers— Sarah's bachelor dad. 

Bachelor was an overstatement, a compliment that wasn't quite applicable to him. He wasn't looking for love, a bachelor without a cause, he was purposefully distant. A brood coated his face from eyes to lips that only ever contorted to something positive in the sight of his daughter. A contractor seemingly married to his work he had no means to find love. A part of you wonders when the last time he even had anyone was, romantically or sexually. Or even how he got ahold of one to make Sarah happen in the first place. You could never picture Joel as someone sexually active, if Sarah told you she was immaculately conceived you would have believed her. 

The click of boots against concrete greets the Millers doorstep as your cowgirl boots are adorned, the rest of your uncomfortable costume shoved in a bag across your shoulder as means to at least dress the house in comfort before having to walk around in costume for hours on end. 

Walking directly in you’re faced with a Mr. Miller, with a similar idea. He wore nothing at all, costume-wise. Something that you wish you could have done, as every year he seems to escape the wrath of Sarah’s demands regarding spirit, to be met with the regular weathered jeans and loose long sleeves. Standing tall upon a stepladder was he already being put to work however, thick fingers pushing small thumbtacks into the open space of his home, orange and black streamers littering the front room as he works. 

His head turns to you at the sound of his door being opened and shut, 

“Well, what’re you supposed ta’ be?” 

His eyes size you up and down, southern drawl brings sound to the quiet of the room, only otherwise broken by soft halloween music traveling its way downstairs from Sarah’s bedroom. If there was one attractive thing about him, it was his accent. The way he would slur his words together, the charming yet teasing air to everything he says. Having moved to Austin 4 years ago you would’ve thought you’d have grown used to it by now, and you have, besides Joel. The age that honeyed his voice like old whisky was unprecedented, and never paralleled by any other man you’d yet to mean in your time there. 

“Haven’t put it on yet Mr. Miller. But I can see that your costume is quite the classic.” 

“Oh quit it. Now, Sarah asks that you go upstairs when ya’ came in. Bosses orders.” 

You give a stern look to him and nod as though you were to be sent on the front lines, and he only gives a small chuckle before returning to his work. 

“Oh my god you’re finally here. Look—” 

She opens the door in hurried fashion, and quickly centers herself in the middle of the room to do a spin for you. A small gust of wind as she twirled letting her skirt float as she moved to reveal her outfit. Bells and jingles fill the room at the movement of her body. 

“Does it look too corny? Can you tell who I am?” 

Looking her up and down, large bundles of curly hair hiding a stuffed serpent around her neck as a green top wraps around the back of it, paired with loose bells and metal pieces adorning a small blue skirt with layers of tulle, it was quite obvious who she was meant to be if you were born prior to 2006. 

“Britney spears. And you look perfect, but don't you think it’s a little early to try on your costume?” 

Her eyes pierce you with only the gaze of a woman who thought you clearly misunderstood what was going on. 

“The party is in 2 hours. I've yet to even do my makeup, or take photos before I get wasted. Time is of the essence. Here, put your costume on and help get ready with me.” 

Sarah, despite being in the same grade as you, was marginally less mature. Mostly driven by her intelligence boosting her into higher grades when she was younger, she was around 2 years younger than you despite graduating the same year as you. And despite her efforts sometimes her stress levels were purely driven by the fact she was barely 21. Still obsessed and enamored with arguably, menial things. Though through her age, you always attempted to discern her fathers. With grey growing into the roots of his head, speckling his beard as it traced the lines of his jaw, you had ventured to guess he was around 50. 

…

Ding Dong 

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh—” 

“It's okay Sarah, I'll get it.”

Feet scrambling up and out of her bedroom, you quickly find your way to the front door as the clock shone at 7:30, cursing the people who find joy in showing up so early to what is not a dinner party. Dressed in your cowgirl costume do you answer the door, expecting either trick or treaters or an older neighbor, does someone entirely different greet you as it opens. 

Joel towers before you within the doorway. He no longer wore the loose fitting shirts and jeans omnipresent on his person, moreover it was swapped for a much more form fitting attire. A cowboy hat for starters, sat upon his head of hair, usually messy and combed back did it now fall in front of his face, sculpting his jaw as it fell to the sides of chocolate eyes. Strands peppered his face as you took him in, a worn cowboy hat that complimented the tan of his skin, equally as sun bleached did it seem almost natural for him to adorn it. Followed by a small toothpick sticking from his lips, did it draw focus to the pink of them, shaped and contrasted by the peppered beard freshly trimmed, longer pieces of hair falling over his top lip to establish a thicker mustache that became the centerpiece of his look. As your eyes trailed down the rest of his body, you’re met with a form fitting tan tuscan button up as his underlayer, slightly unbuttoned at the top to reveal his chest lines do you notice fabric rolled to his elbows to reveal thick hairy forearms that held muscle visible unflexed. Trailing up to see the definition of bicep within the confines of cotton fabric almost bursting at the muscle he carried, only to be met with an overlayer of a dark brown vest seemingly made of corduroy or something similar, tightly buttoned around his waist to accentuate it's contrast to the broadness of his shoulders. The pants worn in tandem with the outfit were a chocolate brown, thick leather-like material clung to his quads as they tapered at the ends of his calves, square toed cowboy boots finding home beneath the heavy fabric of his pants. Around his waist was there a detailed belt, a worn leather belt held up the tie of his pants, and to his hip was a holster, housing a small toy gun that fell to his side as his hip stayed slightly cocked at the entrance. His thumb looped in the side of his pocket as he stood waiting at the front door. The scent of cologne fills your senses as it breeds with his natural scent to produce what was to you somewhat of an aphrodisiac. This was no longer the grumpy old man that wore clothes a size too large because he was too lazy to check the charts, no longer the father of your best friend— in this moment he was nothing but insatiably attractive. 

“Oh, Mr. Miller I— don't you have a key?” 

Only now do you notice the look he gave you. The equal look of awe as his eyes unabashedly trailed your body and it's curved. Much more revealing than him though equally as hidden from what he wanted. You watched as lips became slightly pursed, taking in the fit of your jeans and the curve of your hips, eyes falling for far too long upon your top and how it complimented you. 

He skips a beat. 

“Oh— uh, sorry kid. Though Sarah’d be comin’ down. Wanted to show her my outfit. S’ the last halloween we’re gonna have fer a while.” 

You feel yourself heat up, his eyes connecting with yours have a whole new meaning to it now. He seemed embarrassed, even, as his eyes darted from side to side, unable to connect with yours for more than a few seconds as he asked for his daughter. 

“She's still upstairs getting ready. Do you, do you want me to call her down?” 

“No, no that won’t be necessary. ‘Supose I’ll wait fer her inside.” 

It takes you a moment to register that as means for entry into his own house as you stood there agape in the center of the doorframe. Though quickly do you move your body to make room for him, as he dips his head to you in thanks before heavy boots hit the wooden floors of the downstairs in his entry. 

The tension that builds within the room is deafening as you both stand there in silence. Unable to remove yourself from his proximity does the air fill with feelings foreign and impure. 

“That’s a um, nice costume ya’ got there.” 

Joel breaks the silence with soft spoken words as he begins to pour a drink in the kitchen. Though not looking at you, the image of you within his mind pierced the darkest parts of his consciousness with glaring extremity as he felt himself grow hot in so many layers. 

“This? Oh, Sarah, she made me do it. But uh, I really like yours as well. It, it suits you well. And we’re matching, that's funny.” 

This was your poor attempt at flirting with a mind so foggy with memories completely turned on their head as your perception of Joel did that same. 

“WHO IS ITTTT!!!!!!!!!”

Sarah screams from the closed door of her upstairs bedroom. Clearly your time downstairs was limited before she began even more antics from the confines of her unkempt bedroom. 

He hands you a glass, amber liquid sloshes upon crackling ice fills up a quarter of the cylindrical glass. 

“Hope ya’ have fun t’night sweetheart. Make sure Sarah’s doin’ alright.” 

You flash him a shy smile as you take your drink to go, climbing the hardwood stairs leading to her bedroom as quickly as you can without spilling it. 

“Who was it? What took you so long! Is that whisky?” 

“Can you ask one question at a time?” 

“Well I already asked all of em so what's the point?”

“Just for future reference.” 

“Maybe. Well?” 

“your dad forgot his key, I helped him inside, he gave me a drink. Tis the story.” 

She looks you up and down as the recollection of her father instills newfound meekness at the mention of him. 

“Ok weirdo. Here, take candids.” 

…

Halloween music blares from speakers as the party comes to a head, the myriad of costumes all still holding creases from the cheap packaging they were purchased in become clustered together as the drinks you have begin to get to you. The smell of alcohol and pumpkin fill the room as a cacophony of laughter takes you out of a spell of staring thankfully focused on the floor and not upon unsuspecting persons. 

The only person who seemed to stand out amongst the crowds of duplicate costume and cheesy innuendos was a certain Mr. Miller— a prolific wallflower that only hosted these things as a means to keep Sarah close in situations like this. For if not here, she’d be somewhere else doing the same thing. 

Eyes scoured the home every few minutes, looking to catch a glimpse of Joel within his costume, politely smiling at guests through small talk or taking slow drinks of his flask. 

“Hey you!!!” 

You’re startled by the sound of Sarah's boom from across the room as she calls for you, a caramel hand stuck high in the air to signal you to her, drawing you out of the trance of Joel’s small movements. 

You walk to her with careful steps, trying not to step on capes or trailing costumes in the process. 

“What’s up with you! I’ve barely seen you at all tonight! I know you’re not a party girl anymore but please, try and live it up for me!” 

Something catches her eye as she speaks to you, her smiling face turning into an O with excitement; 

“And—” 

She points behind you. 

“I think that guy over there is checking you out. Go have fun! Let me hear all about it later!” 

Later. You forgot you’d promised to sleep over at her place too, rehashing the night's events as soon as they came to a close as you always did over the years. Though the first thing that comes to your mind is not the man behind you eyeing you, tacky tie-dye making up for a lackluster hippie costume, but Joel. the man who in fact owned the home you would be sleeping in, the man who kept eyeing you from the side of the room with a gaze you accepted much greater than the mans behind you, and above all, the man that had caught your heart in a way that led to it's seeping out between your thighs. 

God, what the fuck is wrong with me? This isn't right it's, it’s Sarah's dad. She’d be heartbroken to even know I think like this. 

You decide to throw away all the Clint Eastwood movies you stole from your dad and uninstall red dead redemption 2 when you got home, and blame your attraction solely on your overconsumption of cowboy media. You need a breather. 

There's a balcony, facing the back of the property that was off limits to the party guests. Entered only through Joel’s bedroom, anyone would be stupid to test their luck if getting caught within his personal dwellings. However, you were Sarah’s best friend. And was even shown this entryway by Sarah herself— of course when her father was not home. And so you decide with cautious steps to ascend the stairs of his home, the liquor giving way to uncertainty in every step as your eyes are glued to the placement of each foot upon the step one by one. Though as you reach the top with great pride, you venture into Joel’s room, to the left of the stairs as Sarah’s is farther to the right. 

You had never been in his room by yourself before, only for a brief moment with Sarah as she showed you one of her favorite spots in the house. It was secluded, of course looking over the backyard she lamented years past as a girl playing within the pool below. She was at the age where she wanted to be independent, but in no way could be yet; and for her that was about 10. And as means to give her her freedom but keep her close, he would watch from the confines of a balcony she paid no note to as the splashing of waves kept her occupied. And he doted on her from a distance. 

As you walk through his bedroom, walls covered in guitars and desk littered with wooden sculptures while a record shows to be finished upon his player. Sheets properly made upon his bed, and a sense of intimacy looking around at the things littered upon his shelves and tables. The framed photo of him and his daughter, his old watch he took off specifically for the occasion of dress. The distinct smell of him that enveloped your senses. 

Opening the door to the balcony does the feeling of cool air hitting a flustered face sober you everso slightly. Bracing yourself on the edges of the platform, you drift into a calm. The first time you’d felt that since the moment you opened the door for a cowboy Mr. Miller—  as you force yourself to call him in your mind. 

“Now what do you suppose yer doin’ in my room?” 

Your heart sinks. You knew you’d be fine, if caught, but the thing that sinks your heart is the uptick of your heartbeat and the twist in your stomach at the sight of familiar drawl sounding behind you. 

You hear heavy boots break the threshold of the doorway into where you stood as the sound of wood upon his feet changed to a scratch of concrete. 

He stands next to you, forearms pressed against the railing as his back curves along casual footing aside of you. The moonlight illuminates his face, the curve of his nose complimenting the side profile that gifted you sight at the tufts of hair poking out from the ends of his hat, and the proximity to him gave you the insight to the smell of whisky on his breath as he spoke.  

“Needed ta’ take a breather' myself. ‘Spose we had the same idea.” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

“Ya’ having a good time t’night kid?” 

“Oh yeah, I haven't seen all that much of Sarah though did you—” 

You stop as he shifts his body to turn to you. 

“Now, can I be honest with ya’?” 

As you turn to look at him, mirroring his stance he dwarfs you in the process, standing at around 6ft the broad of his shoulders shadowing your whole figure. 

You nod your head meekly. 

“I just— now, I don't know how ta’ say all this quite right. But, don't get me wrong darlin’, I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ fer me all night. I don't know if ya’ think i'm blind or somethin, but i’ve seen ya’ all night, watchin me.” 

He pauses for a moment and within that silence does your heart shatter. The whole time you thought that he was eyeing you, looking you up and down, it was just a one sided coincidence that led you to this awkward conversation with a man twice your age. You start; 

“Oh listen I'm, I'm so sorry Mr. Miller I must have given the wrong impression or something I don't know i'm just so—” 

“Please, call me Joel. And don't hafta’ be so sorry sweetheart. Just callin’ it how I see it.” 

He pauses once more as he considers what he’s going to say next, a tinge of uncertainty covering his face as he decides how to follow up. 

“And I don't quite mind it, if that's what you’re worried ‘bout.” 

The tense of your muscles releases as he continues. 

“Just, wanted ta’ tell you you looked quite well yourself that’s all.” 

He’s holding back, you can tell by the sway of his legs as he goes on and the grip of his fingers upon the pocket of his pants. The way his gaze averted yours and his glancing upon the floor; for any look at you from your eyes to your body seemed to be hard for him to swallow with proper manners.

Your eyes lock in silence, the pale moonlight illuminating you two as the distance from Joel grows unconsciously closer as you take in his face, his body looming over yours and the prospect of their being more within his mind that he’s willing to give you. The southern hospitality still overshadows his true means. 

Rough fingers graze your face, tucking hair behind your ear as it falls in front of your face. And as he leans forward to do so, you lean in as well. Blinded by desire and complicated by liquor and closing the gap between the two of you. Tasting his lips reminiscent of whisky and the frosting of halloween cupcakes you feel him kiss you back for only a moment before shooting himself backwards. 

He almost trips over his own feet in adverse reaction, stumbling to the other side of the balcony as you watch him. 

“I'm—” 

“No darlin’ ya’ don't have to say anything. But I've probably got to get back down to company. Feel free to stay up here ‘s long as you want.” 

You watch as he rushes out of the room and the urge to chase after him grows weak as the taste lingers on your lips. The sense of defeat wells in your chest but not entirely, because for a moment he kissed back. A moment you felt him push forward on your lips and savor the flavor of them as you did for him. 

Later.

Now, a sleepover with Sarah is what you needed most. A sleepover with her, is a sleepover with Joel right across the way. And the mere feeling of that made your knees weaken with rushing dreams of him. 

The party seemed to drag on after that, only satiated by more drinks were you able to bear a night where you could feel him from across the room, sense his body and the heat that came with it. You felt naked for him, utterly exposed at the sight of his eyes trailing you— ones you could only hope followed you the way yours did for him whenever you noticed him with back turned. Drinking in every part of his body as he was none the wiser, finding joy and security within the turn from you as means to make him in for as long as you pleased. 

…

“Alright ma’am, seems ya’ need to be goin’ home, me ‘n Sarah got a lot of cleanin to do in the morning.” 

An outstretched arm grabs the bicep of a polite Joel, ushering out the final guest that had an affinity for his touch so it seemed. 

“Ohhh but darlin when will I see you in such a getup again? Oh i'd never want to leave.” 

“‘S a shame I’m about to take it off though ma’am. Now go walk home alright?” 

Her eyes hooded everstill she demands even more of him;

“Oh but will you take me? Don't think I trust myself in these conditions.” 

He closes his eyes and a heavy sigh leaves his nose. 

“‘Spose so ma’am— Sarah, I’ll be right back.” 

Her arm loops around his bicep as he leads her out of the house, jealousy overtaking you purely at the close proximity she had to him, for much longer than he ever had with you. 

Sarah turns to look at you as you stand a few feet back from the scene, a bemused look painted on your face unconsciously demanding explanation. 

“Oh- that was miss carey she uh, she’s had a thing for my dad for years now. It’s kind of funny if I'm being honest, given I didn't see her drink all night.” 

You let out a halfhearted laugh for a response, trying to deny the yearning within your stomach to feel Joel’s arm as she did, to touch him, fall over him. Just be close enough to smell him again, feel his warmth. It had felt like decades since the last feeling of him close to you. your body remembering calloused fingers grazing your heated cheek; contrasting with the cold tips that crept upon his hands as the air finally showed hints of the coming winter season. 

“Sorry to be a bother, but doya think you could start cleaning up? I’ve gotta get this costume off and shower before I vomit. Thanks!” 

As Sarah zips up the stairs all that’s left is you alone, standing within the living room of Joel Miller’s home. One where he could return any second. 

You decide to busy yourself with chores, cleaning up stray glasses and bottles littered across the house, fallen decorations and dessert trays now only holding wrappers and trash. It’s a hefty job, one that helps for a short while as the weight of hours prior looms over you with darring intent to seep deep within your mind, allowing visions of the taste of his tongue, the feel of his body pressed against you to consume you. What you would give to feel his nose clash against yours through sloppy kisses, lips puffy with desire as small nips and clashing of teeth is all that can fester in your mind as candy wrappers stuck to the floor fail to give enough distraction anymore to keep Joel off your mind. 

“Fuckin’ christ man I— oh.” 

You didn't even hear the door open, or the creak of boots as they settled into their first steps within the home. Only the sound of his voice did you perk up with your mind unable to shake your thoughts as you stand before him. Feet away with a small trash bag in your hand.

He continues. 

“Didn't know you’d still be here, my apologies.” 

“Oh yeah uh, Sarah didn't tell you I was spending the night?” 

“Spendin’ the night?” 

He repeats you, barely able to hide his shock. Clearly, she hadn't. And as you stand there, beginning to hear the water running for a shower she’s yet to even get into, the tension of the two of you grows immanent as he realizes just how alone he currently is with you. 

He didn't know what to do, feeling palms grow sweaty as his desire clashed with his sense of respect and responsibility as a father and his yearning grew too prominent to hide behind the unforgiving stretch of tightly fitted pants he busied himself once more. 

“Oh, right then. Well I ‘spose i’ll be in the kitchen if ya’ need me.” 

Walking past you with a heavy stride does the scent of him once more draw you to him— something primal, wanton is elicited from him when in close proximity. One that with a room now void of people to maneuver through, you refused to ignore any longer. You followed his quick steps into the kitchen, separating yourself even further from Sarah as the stairs fell into your purview as you ventured deeper into the home. 

You greet Joel at the counter of the kitchen where he stood, pouring another drink for himself does the hand gripping his drink suspend mid air at the sight of your trail behind him. 

“Ya’ need somethin’?” 

You don't know if it’s the liquor talking, or the suspense and tease of a night full of dreaming for a moment like this to arise but you don't allow yourself to beat around the bush anymore. If this old man failed to make a move, you would. 

“I do Joel, really— I think we both do.” 

He sets the glass down on the counter with a light chink filling the air. His demeanor changes; you watch as both hands lean forward on the counter to inch closer to you, arms outstretched flex his forearms to reveal muscles only garnered by heavy and hard working. His hip cocked to his left as he made unwavering eye contact with you, a smile forming slightly upon his face. 

“And what would that be darlin’?” 

He made you nervous. This was a first. The mild mannered gentleman that often stood before you, speaking only when necessary and smiling only when compelled to. You always shook him off, an old man not worth anything but a gracious thank you as he catered to you and his daughter when times came. But as you looked upon that man now, face shadowed by a cowboy hat perfectly curved at its edges lining his head, hairs falling in just the right places over the sides of his face, and the hooded eyes coated with lust you found yourself hard to speak. Hard to even think. 

“Well? Cmon’ now I ain't got all day.” 

He's taunting you. Watching you grow nervous under his gaze as you become the one that can't hold it anymore. 

“You, and me I mean. The way you look at me— I want you Joel. And so do you, right?” 

Without skipping a beat, Joel retorts

“So come closer then sweetheart. Can't do anything with ya’ so far away.” 

your heartbeat picks up again. Shaking steps inch around the bend of the countertop, until you’re no more than an inch away from him. Watching, as he looks down upon you. 

“Good girl— now, what’s this about wanting me hm?” 

“What?” 

“Oh don't play coy darlin’, I love hearin’ you tell me all about how much you need me. The look in those pretty little eyes.” 

A coarse finger falls upon your cheek once more, this time lingering there before toying with stray hairs. His fingers trail to your chin and jaw, gripping onto your face to lift it higher to lock dark eyes with his.

“Such a doll. I wanna hear ya’ beg for it.” 

You feel a pool of slick well between your thighs, heating and dampening already ruined underwear at the sight of him as the night went on. Though as you listened to the sink in his voice, demanding you to beg for him. You don't even know what you were so needy for, his kiss? That was too little. You wanted all of him, and as knees felt weak at the thought of it— him, and you completely at his disposal. He dwarfed you from this closeness, you realized this as you approached him. He overpowered you in every way, and that made it even harder to say what you wanted. Every semblance of confidence leaves your body as all you want to do now is whatever he demands, whatever he says. 

“Please Joel I— I need you. Every part of you. I can't take my eyes off of you. Every part of you looks so perfect no matter the angle or the lighting. Id, i’d never noticed it before but now I…” 

The gust of articulation you had quickly dwindled as his face lit up from such compliment, such desperation. You were desperate, needy for him. That much was true. And he knew that. 

“Mmm that's all ya’ had to say sweetheart.” 

Now he is the one that closes the gap between you, the yearning for his taste finally satiated as your lips collided once more, the fantasies of clashing of teeth against one another with impassioned touch as his hand falls from your face to trail bare stomach. Feeling the large of his hands take in every inch of you with precision, like he had memorized exactly where he wished to be. Feeling as his hands trace down to your hips, and slowly maneuvering up to the wire of your bra. 

“Take it off. Please.” 

You beg through breathy moans as you stay inside his mouth, taking into him as you refuse to open any gap of distance between the two of you. 

“Since ya’ asked so nicely.” 

His fingers trace the center of your chest where a simple tie kept together thin fabric that complimented your chest. Unraveling it's knot does he guide it off your arms and onto the floor, a free hand snaking to your back to unhook your bra, leaving you with nothing but the shorts you wore and the hat upon your head to constitute a costume. 

His mouth lets up from you to look down on your chest, his palms engulfing them as he kneeds them within his hands, letting the weight of them move with his fingers as he massages them. Fingers slowly trailed down to the mountain of your nipple, toying with them with two fingers as his eye flitted back up to you to watch your reaction. Sighing in relief, your eyes fluttering at the feeling of his cool touch against a body so overwhelmed with heat for him. 

He leans in to you, his lips pressing softly against your ear his voice no matter a whisper is still laced with lust creating deep tones otherwise foreign to you to emit from him as he speaks to you;

“God you don't know what you do to me darlin’.”  

“Then show me.” 

His hands make quick way to the back of your thighs, lifting you up to his hips where you can feel his bulge pressing into you, the thin material of your shorts leaving little room for imagination. 

Walking to the dining room adjacent to the kitchen, he sets you on a table that meets him at about hip level, lowering your back onto the wooden finish that often held dinners with the three of you now making way for just the two of you as you watch the buckle of his pants become the main spot of his attention. 

“Bet ya’ could feel what you’re doin’ to me sweetheart, you like that hm? Feelin’ my cock against you even for a fuckin second?” 

He talks down to you as he undresses his lower half, relieving himself to only his boxers as he now knelt down to face your heat, legs dangling off the edge of the table to uses that as means to slide your shorts off with ease, revealing the soaked underwear that gave you constant reminder of the eyes you held the whole night. 

“All this for me hm? Ain’t I lucky.” 

He lifts a finger to massage the outside of your heat, slowly pressing on the wet spots as he toys with you, making your breath hitch at the feeling of his touch, the sensitivity only growing overtime as you were denied for so long. 

Slowly he peels off your underwear, allowing your slick to trail down the side of your thigh as it leaves a trace when it hits the floor. The cool air hitting your clit makes you jolt, but Joel wasting no time allows himself to dig straight into you. Feeling his tongue explore every crevice of you, every place where you have leaked for him he wants to take in every drop of it. Tasting you was like heaven to him. As his lips were pressed against your heat as his tongue began to make a repeated circular motion along your clit.

your fingers beg for his hair, grasping it in desperate fingers do you confine him within the bars of your thighs as they squeeze against his head. 

“Mmng— god Joel it feels so nice please I-” 

He waited for you to speak before sticking a finger inside of you. Thick callused fingers grabbed at your core and pushed its way into your center, hooking at sponge from inside you right at the spot that felt best. No longer could you ever think he didn't know what he was doing, it’s as if he knew your own body in and out, and with the whines you have to bite back out of fear of it drowning out the shower's thud of water upon a clueless Sarah. 

“You like that sweetheart?” 

Joel groans into your pussy, he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. Hearing your stifled yelps and desperate moans over his tongue, his finger inside of you. 

“Y..yes please Joel I need more.” 

He slides in with a second finger, though lets up from your clit. Slick drips to his chin as he rises to face you, leaning over you as fingers still pump inside of you. 

“Never fuckin’ satisfied, is that it? Whaddya need darlin’ hm? How about ya’ use those words for me.” 

He made it hard for you to speak or even think as the steady grind of his fingers inside of you overtook your senses. But you obliged, trying through breathed heaves to try and relay what you desperately needed from him. 

“Fuck me. Please fuckme Joel I cant— ngh I cant fucking take it anymore.” 

“Good girl. Guess you’re in luck ‘cause I aint ever wanted to fuck someone this bad in my entire life. And I’m not gonna be gentle on ya’ alright? I know you can take it.” 

Slowly removing his fingers from you, he lifts them up to his own mouth to let him taste you one last time, slowly licking clean what was just knuckle deep within you. You watch as he slithers his boxers off, revealing what seemed to be impossible to fit inside of you. His cock was pulsating, almost red as it yearned to be touched, it yearned to be inside of you. You watch as beads of precum already coat its tip, and veins throb against the slight curve of him that twitches at the feeling of release. 

Inching towards you you feel his tip graze your core before pushing into your folds, covering himself with your slick does he push himself flush against you as you see how far his cock rides up onto your body. You see him smile at the sight of it lying on your stomach, predicting how deep it’ll push inside of you before he centers it once more at your entrance, slowly spreading you open as you feel a fire burn within your stomach at the initial pain of it. It felt as though he was ripping you apart slowly, legs instinctively closing did his hand grab onto your thighs to push them open.

His body flushes against yours with a deep groan, letting your walls warm his cock for a moment as he looks down on you. 

“You’ve got a pretty fuckin’ body ya’ know that? All done up fer me, feel so lucky finally gettin’ to do this.” 

He begins inching in and out of you with slow pace, your body moving with every stroke of his cock around you as you fell hopelessly obsessed with the feeling of him inside of you. 

“Been wantin’ to do this all night— imagining what ya’ looked like under that pretty little costume of yours. Fuck, woulda fucked you right on that balcony if I could’ve. Nngh—” 

His thrusts in you grow faster as he speaks to you, talking you through the whole thing makes you only look at him with wide eyes, desperately needing his cock and drinking in the southern drawl that detailed how he felt the exact same. 

“Body’s fuckin’ perfect. Pretty little pussy all fer me, yaknow that? Right now you’re all fuckin’ mine hm? Ain't that right doll?” 

“Yes, yes Joel— all for you nngh. My body is all yours please, please don't stop.” 

His finger trails down from your thigh to your clit, throbbing with pain at the need to be touched does he satiate it with a thumb beginning to circle where his tongue did moments prior. 

“Fuckkk please oh my god” 

your breath grows irregular as the fire burning in your stomach grows white hot, unable to utter anything coherent as babbling of desperate please escape your mouth as your body becomes addicted to his every touch. The push of his cock directly against your cervix, the circle of his thumb perfectly against your heat, you felt it bubble inside you. Nearing on toppling over all you can think of, unconsciously chanting as he fucks into you Joel Joel Joel Joel 

“Ya’ gonna fuckin’ come for me? Cmon, I wanna feel it darlin’ I want it to swallow me I want you to cum on my fuckin’ cock hm? Can ya’ do that for me?” 

He groans over you, thrusts growing irregular at the desperation of his own climax reaching a head at the same time yours does. Only letting a few more thrusts greet you before you feel it toppling over, every inch of your body becoming utterly ruined below him. Feeling his cock inside of you pistoning into you through your orgasm, legs lock around his clothed waist as your hips buck up, shaking as your back arches against the table with legs raised, most of your body not even on the table anymore as he holds your legs stable to fuck through his own orgasm. 

“Fuck fuck darlin’ you’re so fuckin’ tight— shit you feel so good.” 

“Inside of me” 

You manage to breathe through a fogged mind and blurry vision as the sensitivity of your body makes his use of you mind numbing. 

“Please. Please Joel please cum inside of me please—” 

You feel heavy liquid fill you as he slows his pace, heavy groan being the only thing that fills the room now as he pumps in and out of you, softening inside of you as his seed leaks from you. He slowly removes himself from you, a collection of your own fluid and his trails down the side of your thigh as you both stay there breathless. Watching as he slowly shifts on his boxers, and loosely does pants that are soon to come off later. 

Before you’re able to right yourself or even get up, you watch as Joel slides your clothes back on you, latching your bra softly as he raises your back up to do so. Slipping your top on and tying a proper knot is the only thing missing from your wardrobe, the underwear he took off of you, that of which becomes missing as he slips your shorts onto you. 

“I think you forgot something.” 

“Think I deserve a little trophy don't you darlin’?” 

You flush at the implication, Joel keeping them as a sort of token of remembrance of you, of this night. 

Straightening yourself up as he finishes clothing you do you stand there, as you watch his back once more fill up glasses of water for you and him. Taking in all he is, form fitting cowboy attire still decorating his body, do you outstretched a hand to feel his bicep, a desire you’d had the moment that woman did. As he turns to face you, feeling your hand brush against his body once more he smiles slightly, teasing; 

“Ya’ like what ya see sweetheart?” 

“I just wanted to feel you.” 

“Already did a lotta that don't ya’ think? But be my guest.” 

He hands you a small glass of water as he drinks out of his own, and as silence engulfs the two of you you hear the dreaded creak of a shower turning off sound from the upstairs as reality sets in for the two of you once more.

“Think ya’ best go check on Sarah now.” 

“Yeah that’d be smart.” 

You avert his eyes as you’d done once prior, engulfed by embarrassment as you remember Sarah after the intimate moment you shared. 

“Well, I’ll be down here for a bit longer, then headed ta’ bed. You just uh, let me know if ya need anythin’ right? You know where my room is.” 

A small smile across his face implies a very different definition of ‘needing’ something, depending on how you view it. But as you ascend the stairs to help deal with Sarah once more, part of you knows that you’ll be asking him for some more help, cleaning, before night's end. 

[idesofrevolution]

My Best Friend, the Ghost

It was the best feeling in the world. Picture this: a simple spread of the legs in the summer heat, sweat dripping from your forehead. You feel a cool, slick touch slide down your inner thigh. It feels almost slimy, though it leaves no residue as it inches toward your taint and ever closer to your rear. You gasp as it circles the tight hole, as if an expert were rimming you with their cold, wet tongue. Then, quickly, a gentle thrust. You feel it enter you, slithering slowly, intentionally. It begins to fill you, that frosty ooze spreading all throughout your body. Your breath is laboured, as you begin to contort and expand as it is overtaken, washed and inundated with this foreign substance bubbling beneath your skin. It pushes up your throat, choking you, taking the last of your breath away before it presses at the top palate of your mouth. It would feel almost like drowning, though your sensations only fire endorphin after endorphin of euphoria. Pressure builds as it presses harder and harder, until... pop. The hard palate gives way as it rushes and balloons into your head. Thoughts and stresses fade away, and you're left in a state of total ecstasy as your body begins to move on its own.

Fuckin' amazing, am I right? Well, guess what? I get that incomprehensible experience whenever the hell I want. Perks of living in a haunted apartment! Confused? Let me explain.

I moved to New Orleans a year ago, give or take a couple of months. I graduated college, and after testing out a couple of places that didn't really pan out for me, I landed in the cement swamp in the height of the summer. I'd just left Salt Lake City, so coming from the tepid air of Utah to the brick wall humidity of Louisiana was a lot. Yet, I was determined to make the best of this one. I'd secured a low-level office gig at a non-profit, and rented out a cheap two bedroom just outside the French Quarter. The house was one of those old shotgun-style places. It wasn't well maintained, frankly incomprehensibly so to be up to purpose for a tenant, though I was still paying an arm and a leg.

The first few nights, I didn't sleep super well. It was hot, I was sleeping on a hard air mattress, and the tall ceilings and old wooden floors made every little creak and groan of the house sound like some demonic entity moaning in the darkness just out of sight. At the time, I was resolved to believe such a rational theory. After all, ghosts aren't real. That recent college graduate sensibility: anything can be rationalized. Looking back, I scoff at what I thought I knew compared to what I know now. But that skeptic within me was what I relied on. It got me through my courses, it got me my job, it is what guided me through the insanity of life. So, as more peculiar occurrences began to happen, that is precisely the lens with which I saw the world.

When things started to go missing: my trusty running shoes, a pair of underwear, my gold chain, my laptop, even my keys, it was just me being forgetful. I took my Adderall and just ordered new things. I hunkered down and just focused on my work. When I heard scratching in the walls at night, footsteps down my hallway, quiet breaths echoing in the shadows... I was just sleep deprived, I took my Xanax and zonked myself out. Those dark shadows that crept around the corners just on the edge of my peripherals? Eye floaters, nothing more. Though, after about two weeks of just a miserable living experience, I finally experienced something I couldn't rationalize.

It was after a soul sucking day at the office, having spent all day sifting through piles of meaningless paperwork to the grating click clack of my coworkers silently typing on their keyboards like mindless drones. I'd gone into overtime that day, and after five or six cups of coffee, I can't say I was even remotely physically tired that evening. My mind, of course, was entirely devoid of functionality. Walking through my front door, tossing my keys in the little dish by the door, I collapsed onto my couch and just scrolled through Netflix, looking for nothing in particular. That's when I saw it. I'd turned to grab my vape pen from the side table, and my glance had grazed past the mirror which hung above my mantle. Floating behind me, clear as day in the mirror, was a figure. It was larger than I, big broad shoulders and pecs, tapering down to a narrow waist, flanked on either side by two muscled arms. It's face was chiseled and sharp, brows furrowed, golden eyes narrowed and full lips twisted in a mischievous smirk. It had no legs; rather, its body was condensed into a long whippy tail. Most notably, I would argue, was the... well... rather sizeable phallus which stood erect above it's navel, with two grapefruit sized balls hanging beneath it.

I sat frozen, unable to look away from it sizing me up in the mirror's reflection. All the other things I could make sense of in my head were obliterated at the sight of what was merely inches behind me, and inches above the floor. I finally found the strength to merely exhale, letting a soft billowing cloud of breath out of my mouth. It was the middle of June, and perhaps 91 Fahrenheit outside. It was impossible. Everything about what my eyes were seeing was impossible. As it began to creep toward me, I fully expected to spin around and like every haunted house movie of all time, there would be nothing there. Though as I whipped my head to look behind, no such luck. I was face to face with it. It was grinning as we were nose to nose. Bringing it's cool, ghostly hand to my cheek, it caressed it with the back of its fingers and winked at me.

"Hey there." It's voice boomed like a timpani, yet it's timbre was gravelly and suave. I couldn't help myself. In a primal state of panic, I shrieked a terrified scream. It didn't last long. The spirit seized the opportunity I was entirely unaware I had given it- quickly shoving it's head into my open mouth. The force by which it had taken me was overwhelming, though I suppose with it's sheer size, in retrospect it makes perfect sense. I was flung down into the cushions of the couch, as it pushed itself into me. I grasped at my throat, which was bulging from the thing which was now flooding down my gaping maw. I could hear it laugh from within me as it squeezed itself in, it's massive upper body condensing in on itself and slowly pushing deep into my gut. My stomach ballooned out, stretching as if it were rubber while it's tail whipped aimlessly against my face before it slipped between my lips.

This was the first time I felt the sensation. The euphoria. The cascading waterfall of endorphins as my body was contorting and stretching as the ghost slipped me on like a suit. I could feel it thrusting it's hands into my arms which expanded and stretched to accommodate the spirit's size. I could feel my chest burst through my shirt, with two jiggling pecs now engorged with it's essence. I could feel my thighs and calves swell with thick muscle, and my feet lengthen and explode through my socks. It was as if someone had taken a water hose and filled me like a balloon, and as I felt it's head rising up my throat one last time and slither into my head, I can't say I wasn't in the throws of intense and indescribable bliss. My eyes opened, I was no longer in the driver's seat.

"Ahhh fuck." It's voice boomed out of my mouth as I found my body moving of it's own accord. No, rather moving of his accord. I stood up, feeling my jiggling muscles slowly firm up and tighten as I walked to the mirror. The thing which wore me as a suit was checking itself out! It had my skin, my face, but otherwise I was unrecognizable. I was indeed approaching 6' 4", my jawline was square and chiseled, my arms as large as my head, my feet probably a size 16, and my... appendage? Let's just say he was now an anaconda snaking down my thigh, his hood restored and flanked on either side by an impressive bulbous sac. "Shit, that feels nice." My voice was soft like velvet, but frayed with a coarseness which tickled the mind like sandpaper. It stretched my muscles and cracked my neck and knuckles before finally bothering to introduce itself. "Name's Antoine, nice to meet ya." My hand slinked down to my member giving it a playful tug. "Actually, tonight, your name is Antoine too, baby." He smiled with my pearly white teeth, and it would be an outright lie to deny I was not eager to see what this Antoine would be using me to do that night. We sauntered over to my bedroom, tossing shirts and pants out of my drawers before he found some shorts and a tank top that fit my new musculature whatsoever. I had but only one pair of sandals that he could force my massive feet into, but neither he nor I could care less. As walked to the front door, and stepped out into the humid New Orleans air, he took a deep breath with my borrowed lungs, sighing in satisfaction. "Aight, my man. Let's see what kind of trouble we can get in tonight."

Thus began our mutual understanding. Our partnership. Frankly, our friendship. That night was one filled with club hopping across town, hitting dancefloors right and left, drinking outrageous amounts of liquor, grinding on sexy men with our tongue down their throats... None of which I would have ever experienced on my own. It was an entire world I knew nothing about, nothing I could have ever imagined myself doing, but with Antoine it seemed like second nature. After a night of debauchery and a tryst in some leather daddy's hotel room, he returned near the crack of dawn, collapsing onto my bed in a sweaty, swampy heap. He closed my eyes and almost immediately afterward I reopened them. The sun had risen, and peering at my phone, it was then 9 AM.

For a moment, I sat there and stared at the ceiling. I waited for my body to move on his command, though when it didn't, I whipped my sheets off to see that I had returned mostly to my former stature. I did note that I had grown ever so slightly. Perhaps his presence within me had left some residual effects on my body, a pleasant fact of which I did not mind whatsoever. I sat up, stretching my arms above my head, a wet warm musk wafting from my sweaty pits and steamy feet from the night before. For the first time, I found myself rather enjoying the scent... Where it once used to make me grimace with disgust, it now made me nearly salivate at the slightest tickle on my nose. I peered to the corner of the room, where now even in broad daylight I could see Antoine's spectral self floating above the floorboards, his arms crossed and his bright smile greeting me in the morning light.

We stared at eachother for a mere moment, before I smiled back at him. It didn't take words for us to understand what was to soon come to pass. Frankly, from then on, it was an unspoken pact. An inseparable bond, bound by an awakened hedonism and carnal desire. Starting that morning, our boys night out became a regular occurrence. I'd get home from work, exhausted and tired from a thankless day of grinding in the soulless office, and we would come up with a plan for the evening. He'd take his time slipping into me, knowing full well just how much I enjoyed each breathtaking second of it. In fact, we took a Saturday to go shopping for "night clothes" which would actually fit us when he was inside me.

Antoine was a bit of a casanova, able to make any person he met swoon with a single glance. The parade of men strutting the walk of shame out of my home every morning did not go unnoticed by my neighbors, not that they particularly seemed to care. It was the spirit of New Orleans, live every day like it's your last. That sentiment was instilled in me, along with a new attitude. I began to care less and less about this dead end job which had only gotten more and more unbearable as our relationship grew. My boss began to notice this as well. He noticed that my productivity had slipped, that I'd begun to come into work with more and more tattoos (which were admittedly against company policy), that my musky scent was becoming stronger and more apparent, that I'd become more casual and laid back, that I was trying to force myself into work clothes that were increasingly more and more revealing as my body grew toned and large. This, to him at least, was unacceptable. I don't entirely recall what it was that finally set him off, though I think it may have had something to do with me having my feet up on my desk as I took calls and the delicious pheromones to which my coworkers had taken a liking to. Something to do with my cubicle mate Daniel lapping up the pungent sweat from my socks beneath my desk as I worked. Couldn't say. Either way, it was the last straw for me.

It wasn't much of a loss, as my frequent appearances at the clubs, or rather my appearance altogether, which the bar owners had taken notice of. I had a line of bartending and gogo boy offers to take up in it's stead. Though, it wouldn't be enough to cover the rent on my own. Thus, we hatched a plan. A solution to both our issues: my financial one, and a more permanent solution for Antoine.

It was an average night in the French Quarter, we were behind the bar, and there before us appeared our solution sitting on a stool near the drink well. He was a tourist, a particularly needy and rude one at that. No friends, failing every attempt to snag the attention of our regular hustlers with his more than lacklustre personality. He was perfect. It wasn't difficult to play into his inflated ego, all it took was playing into his cringeworthy advances and unwelcomed touches before he was licking our pits and nipples, ready to head to our place. A lack of a tip was the final nail in the coffin, we were ready. The 'three' of us stumbled back to our apartment, and it took merely five minutes of making out before the drunken asshole had passed out in our bed.

Walking back into the living room, Antoine regurgitated himself out of me. Feeling him exit was always a bittersweet experience, euphoric in sensation but longing in sentiment. He floated in front of me, winking as he compressed himself under the door of our bedroom, slipping in with a quiet pop. Wiping the sweat from my brow, and taking a deep whiff of my dank sneaker like degenerate scent pig I'd become, I popped open a bottle of our nicer tequila to celebrate. As the yellow liquor began to pour into the glass, I heard the delightful sounds of possession begin to loudly bellow out from behind the closed door. A shriek, followed by squeaks and rubbery creaks atop elated moaning and gasping. Taking the two glasses, I meandered over to the couch, kicking my wafting, wet feet up onto the coffee table and grabbing the bong to pack a nice bowl.

The sounds of inflation and gargling, stretching skin and growing muscle were like candy to my ears, as I wondered what Antoine would look like. The guy was less than ideal before, though as a host, the sky was the limit to how gorgeous he was going to be. I lit the bowl, taking a deep drag before blowing an adequate cloud. Antoine's moans got louder and louder, his voice all the more recognizable as it progressed. One more puff from the bong and the sound of that final pop soared through the air. The house was silent apart from the heavy panting quietly emanating from the bedroom.

I sat there for a solid moment. He always was the master of the tease, knowing full well that I awaited his reveal. I could hear his chuckling before I heard the click of the lock on the door. Slowly, I stood up and walked to the bedroom door, pressing my ear against the wood. Nothing. I grabbed ahold of the doorknob with bated breath, slowly turning it and pushing the door open. The lights were on in the bedroom, and there in front of the mirror taking a selfie with his host's phone was my Antoine.

He was better than I ever could have imagined. That lanky, sad excuse for a man was long gone and in his stead stood the dreamiest hunk I'd ever set my eyes on. Our bodies were nearly identical in stature, as over the past several months he'd completely stretched me out to his own measurements. Though, his delicious golden eyes on that gorgeous, masculine face sent me over the edge. He was stacked, he was tall, he was caramel, he was packing down there, and he wafted that buttery, salty musk that made me drool. All he needed to do was to turn to me and wink in his new body and I felt myself harden.

"What's up, baby boy?" He flexed his massive arms, seductively licking his sweaty bicep for me. Let's just say that tequila and that bowl were still there the next day. We were rather preoccupied throughout the dawn, the morning, the afternoon, the evening... Endless hours of carnal pleasures and sensual overload. Simply washing the bedsheets of our intertwined cum imbued into the very threads of the fabric took longer than expected. I imagine you get the picture, so needless to say, such days were and continue to be frequent.

I suppose that brings us to today. As I sit here and write out how we got to this very moment, waiting for an Uber to take us to our honeymoon, I'll go ahead and mention that my former boss just walked by us, feigning pleasantries as if we were old buddies. Asking if now that I had a partner, I was finally ready to knuckle down and come back to work in a 'real job.' I turned to Antoine, he turned to me, and as we found our hands sliding toward eachother's growing bulges, basking in eachother's beguiling musk while my frump of an old boss indignantly watched, I flipped him the bird.

He stomped off, I doubt I'll ever see him again. Why should I need to? I have my man, I have our future, we have all the delicious men of this raunchy city to enjoy... What else can a guy ask for?

[britany1997]

Ties That Bind

Part Two

Hope y’all enjoy part two of this series!!! @6lostgirl6 and I put equal work into this so please interact with both her post and mine equally! I couldn’t have done this without her!!! I loved working with my bestie on this it’s such a fun time for me:) Sixx is an awesome writing partner! (Don’t worry there will be a part 3)

Yandere Anakin Skywalker x Fem! Jedi Reader

Warnings: general yandere behavior, kidnapping/imprisonment, mentions of deaths

Part One dividers by @6lostgirl6

When you regained consciousness, your eyes began to flutter open. The momentary confusion was evident in your gaze, and the surroundings around you felt hazy. However, the darkness was something you easily recognized. Your brows furrowed in slight pain, and you felt a severe headache pounding against your skull. Your Jedi senses appeared dull, leaving you feeling a touch jaded. While your mind was trying to catch up, you laid there for a brief period of time, letting your fingertips feel the silk sheets of a strange bed.

Slowly, you sat up in bed, wincing slightly as the movement worsened the ache in your head. Your eyes finally began to adjust as you took in your surroundings. Your brows furrowed as you tried to make sense of your surroundings, scanning the room with a mixture of curiosity and bewilderment. The fog of unconsciousness slowly lifted, allowing you to regain a basic awareness of your immediate environment. It was dark; the walls and floor were painted black, which matched the furniture within, and the blinds of the window shielded the outside world. The room looked extravagant yet simple, which reminded you of your home back in the temple-

The temple. 

There was a subtle shift in your facial expression—a flicker of recognition—as your mind grappled with a dark realization. Your eyes widened as you proceeded to throw off the sheets, trying to hastily spring from the strange bed. You yelped when you almost stumbled, and your legs were tangled in the sheets due to haste. Your mind was in shambles as you continued your way to the window, blocking out any source of light. Despite your headache and the panic surging through you, you pressed the button on the wall to remove the blinds. You couldn't help but gasp at the sight, wishing that you had stayed unconscious. 

You were surrounded by land that had been burned by fire, molten from lava, and much more. This gave you the impression that you were in an inferno or inside a volcano that destroyed everything around it. There are many tales of a planet like this that you have heard over the years.

Mustafar. 

Your heart began to race as your mind whirled. ‘No, no, no,’ you repeated to yourself over and over again. You begged to be awoken from your slumber, surely this could be nothing but a bad dream.

But as much as you pleaded, you would never wake. Your nightmares had turned to reality.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you fought a losing battle to stay calm. You fell against the door, pounding it with your fists and sobbing as you called for Anakin. 

When no one answered your pleas, and the door remained firmly shut, you pressed your back against it and slid down. With your knees to your chest and your head in your hands, you wept.

You wept for all the lives lost in the temple massacre as every face you would never see again passed through your memory. You wept for Anakin and whatever sickness had overtaken him to act with such carelessness for life. But most of all, you wept for yourself.

What had you done wrong? What atrocity had you committed to be deserving of such a harsh fate? 

You were a prisoner who’d committed no crime, and you fought to resign yourself to an unknown future. You were at the mercy of a man you’d once thought more virtuous than any other. He’d taken everything from you.

After a few hours of weeping, you began to hear the distinct sounds of approaching footsteps from the hallway, heading towards your room. Your mind switched into defensive mode, quickly bringing yourself to your feet and facing the closed metal door. Your heart pounded against your chest, with anxiety and adrenaline rushing through your veins. You feared not what you would see on the other side.

But rather who. 

It was at this point that the footsteps halted in front of the metal door, after which it automatically opened. The sliding of the door revealed the last person you had ever wanted to see, as your heart would no longer be able to withstand it. You couldn't bear to see him.

Anakin stood in the doorway, dressed in his previous robes. Your eyes darted over the fabric, looking for any hints of blood, that horrific shade of red that used to appear across the floor of the temple and in the cauterized wounds of your fellow Jedi. However, those hints were nonexistent, and you felt sick to realize that there was a glimmer of relief you possessed within. Perhaps he didn’t want to upset you more. 

He moved towards you, kneeling to your level, his hand outstretched to cup your cheek. You recoiled out of instinct, turning your head to avoid the caress of your captor.

A look of pain crossed Anakin’s face before he quickly masked it. This was what he’d been afraid of. He’d let the whole galaxy think he was cruel, but not you. He’d never hurt you. He loved you. Why couldn’t you understand that?

“My love…” Anakin began, but you cut him off with a humorless laugh.

“Love?” you scoffed, “is that what this is to you?”

You turned to meet his gaze and your heart clenched inside your chest. His eyes looked into yours with longing and desperation. But their yellow tone confirmed your fears and reminded you of what he was. He was not your Anakin, not anymore.

“This is not love,” you whispered, “love should never come at such a high and terrible price.”

Though he hid it well, frustration ran through Anakin. He had to make you see.

He caught your wrist in his hand and brought it to his chest, holding your palm over his heart. You gasped and tried to pull back, but he would never let you go.

“Please listen,” he begged.

You sighed, if only to understand why he had done what he’d done, you would listen.

“I’ve spent my whole life loving you,” he confessed, “I couldn’t let some code keep us apart my love. You are my world, my whole universe, without you there is no reason to breathe. I could not stand another night pretending that I don’t want you, that I don’t need you. I’d sooner destroy every planet than live only loving you from a distance. I couldn’t keep denying what was true in my heart.” His grip tightened gently on your hand that was still pressed to his chest. 

“I would do anything for you baby,” he leaned forward until his lips were pressed to the shell of your ear, “I already have.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears once more; the sick affection lacing his words made your heart skip a beat, and if the situation had been different, you would have returned his passion. However, the haunting images of those people who’d once walked among you, now dead in the hallways, couldn’t leave your thoughts. 

“Anakin…” You began, your tears threatening to fall down your face once more as your body became rigid from the way his forehead pressed against your temple, his lips brushing against your skin. “You killed innocent people, our people; I would have never agreed to this!” 

You pulled away from him slightly, making Anakin reluctantly follow suit as your eyes met once more, his yellow irises seeming to pierce your entire being. His grip on your hand pressed against his chest was strong, refusing the notion of losing your sacred touch. 

“I know you wouldn’t, my love,” He replied, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “You’re so sweet and innocent, but that’s why I had to take you baby, don’t you understand?” Anakin brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, “every night I’d be plagued by visions of your corpse my love, I needed to protect you but the high council never would have let us be together. I did this for you. I refuse to lose you over some code; I’ll destroy the entire galaxy if it means making you mine and safe.” 

His golden gaze darkened for a moment, which you almost didn’t catch. The idea of his visions coming true caused a sick feeling that threatened to overtake him. 

“You’ll understand that one day.” He concluded. 

Your jaw dropped. You were sure Anakin had had his fair share of girls falling at his feet, and maybe one of them would have envied your position.

But you were a Jedi Knight. You were once a youngling, chosen to be a Padawan, eventually advancing to your station now. You’d earned your place alongside Anakin and all those who had fought to maintain order and justice for the peace and freedom of the galaxy.

You may be sweet, but you were not innocent, and you certainly didn’t need anyone else’s protection.

The fear that had crept into your heart was replaced by a burning anger. It wasn’t up to anyone but yourself to decide what was best for you. Anakin wasn’t the master of your fate, you were.

“Anakin,” you began, maintaining your calm demeanor so as not to upset your captor, “you have to let me go. Nothing will hurt me Ani, I’m going to be fine, but you must atone for your crimes.”

You gathered your courage, “what you did was wrong, no matter if you think you did it for the right reasons. You have to turn yourself in, and you have to let me go.”

Anakin’s eyes widened, his heart racing from the words he was hearing fall from your precious lips. This wasn’t what he was expecting at all. In his mind, he thought you would have been happy for what he did—fall into his arms and return his feelings. He didn’t expect you to retaliate and say such horrible things. You’ve never spoken against him before, ever. 

“Turn myself in?” He repeated as his eye gave a subtle twitch, his yellow eyes darkening as he tried to swallow his anger. “Don’t you turn against me now; nothing is going to harm you because I’m here, without the code getting in my way. You're safe because of me. You would do well to remember that, my love.” 

"No Anakin..." You whispered, pulling yourself out of his grasp once more, the storm in your eyes growing stronger yet the breaking of your heart was undeniable. "I'm imprisoned by a monster and I would rather die than return your feelings." 

"W-What?" He whispered, feeling like his heart was being ripped from his chest. It was like he could barely breathe. as panic began to course through him for the first time in a long while.  "Don't you ever say that to me."

"I love you, my sweet girl..." Anakin continued, trying to step closer to you but you continued backing away. He felt like he could die at this moment, being refused your affection and love. "I know you feel the same way..." 

"I did once..." You answered, sitting on the edge of the bed and crossing your arms, ignoring the tears threatening to escape you once more. "But I will never love a monster, the Anakin I loved is gone."

Anakin fought to keep tears from rolling down his cheeks, your words cut deeper than any swipe of a lightsaber he’d ever received. You were his everything, yet here you were, treating him as if he were nothing.

“Then the Anakin you loved was a lie,” he whispered, “I am who I’ve always been.”

He grasped your wrist firmly, careful not to hurt you but desperate to remind you that he was a powerful man. “All I want,” he ran a hand down your cheek causing you to flinch away, making his heart clench, “all I’ve ever wanted…was you.”

You pulled your wrist from his grasp. He sighed as he let you. “Now that I have you, I’m not letting you go, not ever.” 

You lip quivered as you fought back tears of your own. 

“I’ll be back when you’ve learned to accept that,” he told you, his voice breaking. The door closed behind him, sealing you into your room that might as well have been a cell.

“No! Wait!” you rushed to pound on the door but to no avail.

“Let me go Anakin,” you sobbed, “you have to let me go. Please, please let me go.” Your body shook and you choked as your tears flowed, forming a puddle on the ground.

Anakin leaned on the other side of the sealed door, head in his hands as his own tears fell. He hated to hear you so upset. He longed to pull you into his lap and wrap his arms around your cute, tiny frame. He imagined how he’d hum to you and dry your tears as he rocked you back and forth. 

Yet he knew that you’d only reject his comforting embrace. He wept, your desperate cries too much for him to bear. He’d do anything for your love. 

Anything but let you go.

Taglist❤️:

@misslavenderlady @ghoulgeousimmaculate @pixielostboy @anna1306 @kurt-nightcrawler @arenpath @bloodywickedvamp @vampirefilmlover @dwaynesluscioushair @dwaynedelight @arbesa-mind @johnnyringodarlin @flower-crowned-lady @lostboys1987girl @rynsfandomsfun @ria-coolgirl @walmartfairy69 @bitchyexpertprincess @warrior-616 @f4iryfxies

[13keithxpidge13]

AU where Miguel ends up destroying the universe wherein he reunites with his daughter, destroying everything and everyone in that known world yes but, all except for one person.

Hobie Brown. The Scarlet Witch of Earth 99934, the Earth Miguel destroyed.

Hobie Brown watched as his world slowly began to dissipate, glitches and holes in his world unraveled everything around him. He could do nothing as those he love withered away into tiny glitching pixels. His family, his friends, his-

His /love/. 

Miles was calling him frantically, terrified as his parents disappeared and his apartment crumbled underneath him. Hobie teleported to him immediately, racing to his side as Miles screamed and sobbed for him to /do something, Hobie! Save my parents! They’re gone! Bring them BACK!/

Hobie tried, using his magic he /tried/ to stabilize his realm. He used all his energy into attempting to bridge his world back together, to stitch it together again but-it was already too late.

Miles disappeared in his arms, the two of them huddled on the floor as Hobie tried using his magic to keep him attached to their realm but, how could he keep him here when his world was withering right before their /eyes/? If he couldn't save his world, how could he save Miles?

He watched as the last bits of Miles slipped through his fingers, turning to glitching particles as they fell past him hands and Hobie lost /everything/. Everything he knew was gone and he had been spit out into some unknown dimension, a universe caked in darkness.

For the longest time, he hadn't the slightest clue why he was the only one to survive. His universe was gone, why hadn't he disappeared with /him/? With the one person he’d give everything for?

He had tried killing himself multiple times. Had used his magic to suffocate himself, had tried jumping, burning, overdosing, anything to get it all to /stop/.

Nothing had ever worked.

Nexus beings aren’t meant for death, they cannot die unless a being with greater powers than their own will it so. But, Hobie was stuck in a universe all alone, one overtaken by complete and udder darkness. Nothing could kill him, not in this dimension.

But...perhaps the universe left him a gift. 

With his abilities, he could bend reality. Before his universe was destroyed, he had just been on the cusp of learning all he could about his newborn abilities. He soon found out he could travel to other dimensions, open up rifts between new realities different from his own.

Hobie Brown soon got his hands on an ancient artifact called; The Darkhold and used it’s powers along with his own to create a new world where he and Miles were together again, where everything was perfect, and they were /happy/.

He couldn’t save Miles then but, he brought him back and saved him now, wasn't that all that mattered?

They lived happily for months and Hobie almost forgot about his grief, all his pain.

But, of course, happiness wasn’t meant to last long for beings like himself.

An army of Spider-men from alternate universes had come to stop him, to set the multiverse back in order. They claimed he was corrupting and destroying the “canon”, whatever that meant. In the end, Hobie lost control of the world he had created whilst fighting off all the spider variants and their supposed leader eventually had him cornered.

“You can’t just disrupt the canon as you please,” Miguel O’Hara told him. “Believe me, I’ve tried to live the life I wanted. But, sometimes, we can’t have it all.”

“Oh, yeah?” Hobie growled. “And, who decides that? My world was /destroyed/! Everyone I knew, gone. All my friends, all of my family, they all disappeared and I was left with /nothing/! Do ya’ have any idea what that’s like?”

Miguel sighed and nodded mournfully. “I do,” He told him. “Because I /caused/ the death of a universe when I tried to live the life I wanted and it cost everything.”

A hologram shows up and shows Miguel desperately trying to save a little girl while the universe collapses around them. Hobie’s eyes widen and he watches, ever so slowly going cold, going numb as he realizes-

That was /his/ universe/. That was /his/ world.

And Miguel...Miguel had been the one to destroy it.

Everything he had gone through, all the grief, all the pain, all the destruction, all the painpainpainpain-

It had been because of /this/ man.

“You...” Hobie breathed and glanced up at him, his magic already cracking at the edge of his fingertips and Miguel tenses. “It was /YOU/!”

He nearly explodes everything and everyone in his fit of rage. An anger and /wrath/ like never before overtaking him and he could no longer control himself. He let his magic go wild, attempting to destroy everything in his path to get to the person that /took/ his world from him-

The person that took /Miles from him/.

He doesn’t know what happens next. Perhaps he died. Perhaps he blacked out but, he remembered nothing more after it all. It was as if he was asleep for the longest time before reawakening-years later he comes to find not long after he wakes up again.

Miguel and those Spiders had created a vault to hold him in so he couldn’t escape, a place to keep him /monitored/ and another anomaly had destroyed that vault while attempting to stop an inter dimensional super being such as Hobie himself.

Well, no matter. He was out. No one could keep him caged any longer.

And, he could finally get his revenge. For himself. For his world.

For /Miles/.

And nothing, /no one/, would get in his way again.