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prettyflyforawhitelie · 3 months

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I love your Husk pieces! He's my favorite =^.^= I wanna hug the shit out of him 😆

If you have time, could you do one where Charlie planned a movie night for "bonding" lol and the reader ends up falling asleep on Husk? Everyone ships them and encourages him to confess to her? So much fluff please! Thanks hon! ^.^

A/N: This is so adorable!! Love this! I hope you enjoy! XD

Pairing: Husk x fem!Reader

“Until I Smile at You” - Husk x Reader

After living at the Hazbin Hotel for a while, Charlie’s “trust exercises” had become less of an annoying nuisance and simply a part of daily life. Actually, they were kind of refreshing and - dare you say - fun! They ranged from trust falls and share circles to your personal favorite - movie night. Movie night happened once a week and every week the person who chose the movie rotated. This week was supposed to be Angel’s turn, but ever since he chose his movie to be the most graphic porn anybody had ever had the displeasure of seeing, he was banned from choosing the movies. Instead of Angel, the group decided to let Alastor choose. He was always a marvel, as his movies ranged from silent films to disgustingly gorey horror movies. Tonight, however, he picked a noir detective film that he enjoyed while he was still alive (not before endlessly complaining about how radio is the superior media form, though).

One thing that nobody could stand about Alastor’s movies was how much he talked during them. I guess it's because he's so used to working in radio that he cannot comprehend that maybe, just maybe, not everybody wants to hear his voice all the time. He would either explain every little detail about the leading actors or talk about a living memory that he associated with the specific scene. This night, though, Alastor seemed so enamored by the movie that he was completely silent. You were sitting on the couch with Alastor, Angel, and Husk, and found your eyes getting slightly heavier with every passing minute. The combination of the dark room, boring movie, and precious silence was just what you needed to drift into a peaceful slumber. Slowly resting your head and body on the irresistibly soft and warm cat demon beside you, your consciousness fades in and out until your mind is finally met with sleep.

The second Husk felt your head meet his shoulder in a gentle embrace, he froze. He had only ever imagined this happening, and was nowhere near prepared for it to actually happen tonight. Despite his hard and tough facade, Husk craved nothing more than soft affection, and knowing that you trusted him enough to not disturb your slumber flattered him. He remained completely still (so as not to wake you) for more than an hour until the movie finished. Charlie, using the remote to find another movie, said,

“Thank you guys for spending tonight with me! This was amazing! I think I’m going to put on another movie, if anybody wants to stay down here, but you’re welcome to go upstairs and go to slee-'' she is cut off when she turns around to see you asleep on Husk, practically beaming with joy. “AWWWWW-” she is cut off by Husk’s “Shh!”, partially because he is embarrassed but also because he doesn’t want you to wake up in embarrassment. This caused everybody’s attention to turn to the two of you, not quite as surprised as Charlie.

“I mean, are we shocked? He’s been fawning over Y/N ever since she moved in. Don’t shame the poor guy…” Angel says in a mocking tone.

Everyone’s eyes slightly divert, not wanting to completely show that Husk’s attraction to Y/N is anything short of obvious.

“Shut the fuck up, man” Husk replies.

“I’m not saying that she’s told me that she likes you back… buuuuut you should definitely just tell her. Trust me.” Charlie says, literally gleaming with excitement.

Hearing this, Husk’s insides flip, his internal monologue running wild.

‘Did she- does she- could Y/N actually like someone like me? She’s just so… perfect. I don’t deserve her. But - let’s just - don’t get your hopes up, man. This could just be Charlie being Charlie, saying shit to make people leave their comfort zones or something.’

“Alright idiots, let’s not wake her up.” he says, sighing and gently picking you up.

“I hear a single word about this tomorrow, and I’ll kill ya.” he says, while quietly walking to your room.

He rolls his eyes while listening to Angel making fun of him and Charlie trying earnestly to defend you guys, saying something along the lines of “But this is how Vaggie and I started to fall in love!”

Opening your door as quietly as possible, he gently places you down on your bed. Covering you with blankets, he turns to leave until he hears your soft voice call to him:

“Was all that stuff they said about you true?”

Shit. You heard? Should he deny it? Pretend he didn’t even hear you?

“What?”

Deny it is.

“The stuff that Charlie and Angel said… about you liking me. Is that true?” you ask.

“I don’t know what kind of dream you were having, but everyone was dead silent during the movie, because, yknow, bonding time or whatever.”

He was avoiding your gaze until now, hoping that you would just accept the lie and go back to sleep. Instead, when he looked at you, he was met with your disbelieving face staring right back at him.

“Mhm.” you say sarcastically.

Moments of awkward silence lead to Husk trying to make a quick escape, muttering goodnight and walking to your door. He’s halfway out of the doorway when he hears your voice again.

“It’s a shame, I was hoping that what they were saying was true.” you say teasingly, just loud enough for him to come back into the room.

“What did you say?” he asks.

“Oh, nothing” you reply, smugly.

“Don’t do that.” he says, clearly intrigued but trying to seem annoyed.

“Do what?” you say, teasingly.

“Satan, just tell me what you said. I don’t like playing games.” he says.

“Oh, but, clearly you do, if you’ve been ‘fawning’ over me since the day I've walked in, yet.. said nothing.”

He looks - embarrassed. Almost hurt.

“Fine, yeah, I like you. No need to rub it in and be an asshole about it, I know you don’t like me.”

You look at his diverting eyes and immediately regret your teasing tone.

“Oh, Husk, I wasn’t making fun of you, I was just being stupid. Come here.” you say, patting the spot next to you on the bed.

He sits next to you, looking confused.

“Here.” you say, while holding his hands in yours.

“Listen. I wasn’t trying to embarrass you. I’m sorry if it came across that way. I mean, obviously I like you too. Was it not clear?” you giggle.

Husk’s eyes widened in shock.

“What- I mea- You like me? Why?” he blurts out.

“Why? Come on, don’t be dumb. You’re the funniest person I know, you’re always willing to listen to me, and you’ve never once turned me away when I needed help. And, you're truly handsome, but that’s just a bonus. You’ve made being trapped in Hell actually enjoyable, which is something that you should be proud of. I wake up everyday excited to see you, to talk to you. I just wish you would've told me that you liked me sooner (and yourself)” you say.

Husk’s eyes are glued on you like you’re the last thing he’ll ever see, like he has to memorize your every feature before he blinks. He has never been more enamored with anybody before.

In lack of a better response, all he can blurt out is, “Thank you!?”

You giggle, a slight blush creeping up your face.

“And you are clearly tired. How about you sleep in here tonight? We can cuddle, or talk, or just sit with each other.” you ask.

“That - That sounds great.” he says, truly letting his guard down for the first time in years. As he lays next to you, finally becoming truly comfortable, he swears that he can see a white, fuzzy hand holding a phone by the slightly-ajar door.

“Angel, if that’s you by that door right now, you’re gonna want to run.”

You can hear the spider’s screams of “I GOT IT GUYS! THE FULL VIDEO!! AHAHAHAHA!” as Husk reluctantly leaves the bed.

“Excuse me,” he says, “I’m gonna go take care of this. I’ll be back.”

As he leaves, you start to realize how you got from the couch to the bed in the first place. Smiling to yourself, you savor the fact that, though you were condemned to eternal damnation, these people that you have found could not have created a better heaven for you.

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 year

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What're friends for?

AN: As a fellow weeb, bringing up Soobin and hentai was only a matter of time. This is just crack tbh. Also, this is just me once again pushing the Boobs enthusiast! Soobin and Sub! Soobin agendas. (Also also, I was tipsy while editing this so, hopefully it's some level of coherent 💀)

Synopsis: A night that was supposed to be spent watching anime with your best friend takes a sharp turn when he accidentally forgets to close his hentai tab.

Heads up: Choi Soobin x Fem! Reader, mostly pwp, friends to friends who fuck, crack, mentions of hentai, Dom! Reader, Sub! Soobin, dirty talk, Reader thinks Soobin is cute and calls him cute a lot, handjob, oral sex (m. receiving), Reader has boobs big enough to give Soobin a titjob, titjob and Soobin cums on Reader's face and tiddies.

Word count: 2353

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

"Hurry up!" you yell, making yourself comfortable on Soobin's bed as you wait for him to return from the kitchen with drinks.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. It's not like My Hero is going to go anywhere," he retorts when he finally returns with two glasses and a bottle of soda, shutting the door behind him.

"Yeah but, we barely get to spend time together in person and I don't want to waste it," you respond, moving over a little so he can comfortably settle beside you.

"True but, you don't need to yell," he says, rolling his eyes at you and grabbing his remote to switch on his TV.

Any response you have dies on your tongue when loud moans assault your ears. You're startled when you turn to see hentai playing on Soobin's screen. A pretty graphic scene of the male protagonist getting a titfuck from a woman with a...generous bust plays out on the screen, obscene sounds emitting from both of them.

Soobin fumbles with the remote, rushing to turn the TV off as quickly as he can. Silence rings out throughout his bedroom.

"Don't," is all he manages to choke out, his face speedrunning its way into scarlet territory.

"Hey, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. A lot of people watch porn," you say sincerely.

Soobin makes a noise that's a combination of embarrassment, frustration and distress. He refuses to look in your direction, choosing instead to stare holes into his bedroom door. Looking for all the world that he hopes the earth underneath him would open and swallow him whole.

"Seems like I was right about you being a boob guy atleast," you say jokingly, trying to ease the tension in the air.

He turns to face you so fast you're half surprised he doesn't snap his neck. "Who- how- why are you talking about what I prefer?" He asks, and his voice cracks halfway through.

"Soobin, relax, none of this is that big of a deal," you shrug, "You're not exactly... subtle when you take peaks at my boobs. Also, I just think you have boob guy energy. Can't really explain it beyond that."

You've never seen Soobin look like he's wished for death more than right now.

"I'm sorry for staring at your- um- it's inappropriate and really disrespectful-"

"Don't worry about it. I'm not offended. I'm pretty flattered, actually," you respond with a wave of your hand.

He looks stunned then, "Wha-what? You're not offended? Wait, you're flattered? Why?"

"Who doesn't feel flattered when someone thinks they're attractive?" You ask with a laugh, "Really, this doesn't have to be a big deal, Soobin."

"You're not the one whose porn habit was just exposed," he fires back but, it's difficult to take him seriously with that cute flush still colouring his cheeks.

"I don't mind sharing if you're really that curious,"

"You're really annoying, you know that?"

"Yet you think I'm attractive so, what does that say about you?"

Soobin looks like he's 5 seconds away from yelling.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," you soothe with minimal laughter this time around. Giving his arm a comforting squeeze. He says nothing after that, and the two of settle into a tense silence. However, you've always been too curious and talkative for your own good.

"Have you ever tried it?"

"Tried what?" He asks with his face scrunched up cutely in confusion.

"What they were doing in the hentai. Have you ever gotten a titjob?" You ask, genuinely curious.

The strangled noise he let's out starts to make you consider that maybe you are taking this a little too far.

"No," he mumbles out, dragging his hand across his face and pointedly looking at anything in his room that isn't you.

"Would you like to?"

"What?" Soobin's wide, startled eyes meeting yours. As though he's not entirely sure he heard you correctly.

"Would you like one? I wouldn't mind," you say sincerely. You've always thought your best friend was attractive and, clearly, he thinks you're attractive too. The circumstances couldn't be more perfect if you tried.

Soobin just stares at you for a long minute. His lips parted, and eyes wide.

"Are you... serious?"

"Yeah. I know I tease and joke a lot but, I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't serious,"

"You don't have to do this out of some misplaced sense of pity or whatever. I'll survive being embarrassed,"

"I'm not. I really want to. You can obviously say no. I'd never hold it against you, but I'm not offering out of pity. Not in the slightest,"

Soobin seems to still not believe this is all real, but he doesn't look quite as skeptical, and he's looking at you now, so that's a start.

"Okay," he says so softly that you almost miss it. Anticipation courses through you when his words do finally register. You shuffle closer to him then. Feeling a bit of pride when his blush darkens and his hands nervously toy with his sheets.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?"

"Yes," the already breathy quality of his voice makes your insides squirm. It's cute how he jumps slightly when your hand rests dangerously high on his thigh. You don't give him much time to think about it, though, because soon your lips are against his.

The moan he let's out goes straight to pussy. A dull ache already settling in as you try your best not to push him down and straddle his lap. You can't help the uptick of your lips when you feel him shudder as your tongue teases his mouth. He's just so fucking cute.

"You can touch me, you know," you tell him when you trail kisses along his jaw. Your hand moving further up his thigh as you shift closer to him.

"I did-didn't want to ma-make you uncomfortable," he stutters out, hands hovering nervously over you. "Soobin, you're going to be fucking my tits. It's completely fine to touch me," and to prove your point, you grab one of his gigantic hands and press it to one of your breasts.

Choosing not to wear a bra today definitely worked out for you. He seems to take initiative from there. Tentatively squeezing and letting a breathless 'fuck' as he takes in how soft you are.

Before you can utter more teasing remarks, his other hands weaves its way into your hair, and he meets your lips in a frenzied kiss. You moan against his pillowy lips when his thumb brushes over your nipple through your shirt. That just seems to egg him on more. Groaning into you when he gives you a particularly harsh squeeze.

For your part, your hands toy with the waistband of his sweats. Smiling when you feel his abdomen tense and jump with ever brush of your fingertips.

"Y/n," he whines, hips jerking towards you. "Yes?" You pull back and ask coyly, the ache between your thighs worsening as you take in how dishevelled he already looks.

"You're playing with me," he says with a pout and god, you want to ruin him. However, you push down the thought. You don't want to scare him off so soon.

"Playing with you? How?" You ask, titling your head in faux confusion.

"You're teas-teasing me. I want you t-to touch me," he rushes out so quickly you nearly miss his words. When you register what he says, your walls clench hard. You're a little surprised he said it so directly. Maybe he's becoming desperate. Cute.

"I am touching you, Soobin," you don't fail to notice the way he shudders when you say his name.

"You know what I mean,"

"I don't. You have to be specific,"

For a brief moment, you think he isn't going to respond. Maybe too embarrassed to tell you what he wants exactly.

"I want you to touch my cock," he whispers and, you pounce.

You don't give him a moment to comprehend what's happening. Kissing him fiercely as your hand snakes its way down his sweats and boxers. You both moan into each other at the contact. Fuck, he's much bigger than you fantasised about. Hot and incredibly hard in your palm.

"You're already so hard," you tease as you dot kisses along his jaw and, barely stroke him. The copious amounts of the pre-cum he's leaked out making for an easy glide nonetheless. Briefly, you wonder if he'd let you sit on it and ride him to your heart's content. Another time maybe.

"Yeah, for you," he moans, eyes fluttering shut and hips jolting against your hand to get as much friction as he can. It's not fair in the slightest how good he looks like this. His words certainly don't help either.

Impatiently, you tug his boxers and sweats down, and the sight of him flushed an appealing red makes you clench hard.

"Is it okay if I suck you off? Going in dry wouldn't be...pleasant," you ask, watching him for any signs of hesitance. However, you're met with the opposite. A throaty groan falling from his plush lips and his cock twitching against his stomach. This man really might just be the death of you.

"Yeah, it's okay," he mumbles, avoiding your gaze as the blush in his cheeks darken.

"You're so fucking cute," you breathe, kissing his neck and stroking him less leisurely this time around. His moans and the jerky, shallow thrusts of his hips into your hand make you grin against his skin and, your insides squirm.

"Shut up," he retorts but, it's severely undercut by how fucked out he already sounds. His hands gripping the sheets harshly.

"Oh?" You ask with faux innocence, stilling your hand around the base of his cock. Biting back a giggle when he whines and tries to fuck your hand for any sort of friction.

"Fu-fuck, fine. I'm so-sorry. I'm sorry, okay?" He grits out.

"Good boy," you say with a grin that's likely a tad too smug. Giving his jaw one more kiss, you ease yourself onto his floor. Honestly, you're impressed you're being so composed about all of this. Your breath stuttering in your lungs when you're eye level with his ridiculously appealing cock.

Soobin feels himself throb when your soft breaths hit him. It's made worse when he sees your tongue lick your lips and the look in your eyes. You look like you want to devour him.

The sharp gasp he let's out when you take your first lick of him goes straight to your clit. Ruined panties sticking to you uncomfortably as you familiarise yourself with the slightly salty taste that is all Soobin. His hips instinctively buck into you when you finally decide to stop toying with the poor man and, see how far you can take him.

"Fuc-fuck, sorry," he groans, eyes shut tightly as he tries his best to reign in his reactions. Such a cutie. You'd tell him so if your mouth wasn't filled with his dick. A mixture of your saliva and his pre-cum slipping past your lips and down your chin. Your hand stroking what you can't fit in your mouth and making sure he's thoroughly coated.

However, as much as you'd happily make him cum down your throat and keep sucking him off until he cries, tonight isn't about that.

His eyes are frantic and glassy when they meet yours. He looks so genuinely offended that you stop sucking him off that it almost makes you laugh. "Why?" Is all his foggy brain can seem to supply and you really want to kiss him.

Instead of answering him with words, you tug off your shirt and Soobin doesn't seem so upset anymore. Fiery eyes take in your breasts and committing them to memory. You don't fail to notice his cock twitching against his stomach, a fresh drop of pre-cum leaking out of him. God, he's just so easy.

"Still complaining?" You can't help but, tease. However, any response he would've given you dies on his tongue when you cup your breasts and envelope his slick cock in them.

The moan that flies from his lips is so wanton and broken that you can practically feel yourself soaking through your shorts. His eyes are shut as he tries his best not to fuck up into your ridiculously soft tits. Such a good boy.

You notice his large hands grip his sheets even more fiercely than before when you start to move. Allowing him to get accustomed to the glide of his cock between the valley of your breasts.

"Fe-Feels so good," he stutters out, weakly bucking into your touch. You've never felt more aroused in your entire life. He's so sensitive and responsive. You're sure you could have him cumming within minutes.

You bite back a grin when he gasps as you lick and suck at the head of his cock that pokes out. Looking up at him through fluttering lashes with his tip in your mouth and the rest of him nestled comfortably between your unfairly soft tits. His pre-cum and your saliva smearing your breasts.

You knew it wouldn't take much but, it still startles you when Soobin cums. He babbles out apologies as his hips jolt against you. His warm, thick cum landing on your tongue, face and breasts before you can even fully comprehend what just happened.

His cum isn't unpleasant. A little salty and you swallow it as he cock begins to soften between your breasts. You give him an apologetic look when he shudders as you slowly remove him from between your breasts. Looking around for anything to clean yourself up with.

"Fuck, again I'm so sorry," he apologises reaching into his bedside table for a few tissues, "here you go. I didn't mean to...make a mess."

Those words really shouldn't affect you as much as they do. At this point, you're sure even your shorts are ruined.

"It's okay. Honestly, it was really hot seeing you fall apart like that,"

The embarrassed, strained groan he gives you makes you smile harder than perhaps strictly necessary. He really is just so easy.

#choi soobin smut #soobin smut #txt smut

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nicoline1998enilocin · 4 months

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When I'm with you, I feel like I'm home

PAIRING ⇒ Girlfriend!Natasha Romanoff x Girlfriend!Florist!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT ⇒ 1.5K

SUMMARY ⇒ Getting married is something Natasha has not even considered until she met you and fell head over heels in love. Now, it's all she can think about; she wants nothing more than to call you her wife.

RATING ⇒ Teen (T)

WARNINGS/TAGS ⇒ Established relationship ~ Girlfriends, use of pet name (Printsessa, Detka), tooth-rotting fluff.

A/N ⇒ This one-shot is my first attempt at writing for my favorite Russian spy and assassin, Natasha Romanoff! A part of this story is based on this Instagram reel, which is the perfect opportunity to put it to use. I want to thank @ccbsrmsf1 for proofreading this; you're an angel 💜

EVENTS Masterlist ⇒ @fluffbruary ⇒ Engagement Masterlist ⇒ @anyfandomaubingo ⇒ Florist!Reader Masterlist ⇒ @lgbtqbingo ⇒ Free space

Banners: Yours truly ⇒ Divider: @firefly-graphics ⇒ GIF: Source

Main Masterlist ⇒ Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

The day you met Natasha is engraved into your memory as one of the happiest days in your life because even though you didn't know it then, she would become a more significant part of your life than you could have imagined.

It's a slow day in your flower shop, but it's nice to take a break from the rush you always have during summer and early fall - also known as peak wedding season. There are still weddings throughout the rest of the year where you will be providing the flowers, and you have an appointment today for one of those.

A few fresh bouquets are now proudly standing in the front of the store, waiting to be picked up and gifted or put in a vase and be the center of attention in every room they'll be standing in. There's still a little time before your appointment, so you get a binder with different photos ready, sweep the floor, and tidy up the rest of the store.

Not much later, the tiny bell above your door rings, and you turn your head to see a long, broad-shouldered blonde man and a small but equally strong-looking woman next to him. You instantly recognize them as Captain Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, and Natasha Romanoff, aka Black Widow—two of the original six Avengers.

''Hi, and welcome to Blooming Garden!'' you say in a cheery voice as you put the broom to the side, ready to greet them properly for their appointment. As you approach them, you take in Natasha's slender form, and you can't help but feel a warmth coursing through your veins and settling on your cheeks as you shake Natasha's hand and introduce yourself.

Her eyes roam over your body, admiring the dress you're wearing. It is a very flattering dress, perfectly accentuating every curve of your body. When she looks at your face, she can't help but feel like she's looking at an angel, as your soft features instantly make her feel like she came home. Your soft, pink lips give a graceful smile before you lead the way for the appointment, which is over too soon for her liking.

Steve paid the down payment for the flowers they had chosen, and after one last goodbye, they walked out of the store, leaving you behind with a bit of an empty feeling in your chest, like something was missing. It turns out Natasha had the same feeling, too, and not long after, the little bell rang again, and she walked back in, this time with her number written on a small piece of paper.

''If you want to go out for coffee sometime, you can text me on this number,'' she says before quickly running out the door again and on her way to her emergency mission. She couldn't leave without leaving a piece of herself behind, afraid she would never see you again if she didn't go back. Ultimately, she's thrilled she did indeed go back.

That same evening, you sent her a text, and even though it took a few days for her to reply, your heart skipped a beat when you saw her name pop up on your phone screen. You met for coffee and even went on a few more dates after that until you couldn't take it anymore, and you asked her to be your girlfriend.

You're visiting Natasha at the Avengers Compound today, and even though all the Avengers knew you and Natasha were friends, they didn't realize just how close you two were. They accidentally walked in on both of you as you asked her to be your girlfriend.

She's seated on the couch, her back against the plush cushions of the large piece of furniture, and you're straddling her lap with both your knees on either side of her legs. Her fiery red hair hangs loosely around her head, and you can't stop running your hands through the soft locks. Her hands are placed on your waist as she occassionally tickles you, pulling a fit of giggles from your chest that she will never get enough of.

''Nat, stop! I can't ask you to be my girlfriend if you keep tickling me!'' you say between giggles, and when you notice her eyes going wide, you instantly realize what happened.

''A-Are you- I mean, you want to be my girlfriend?'' Natasha asks, a hint of insecurity laced in the way she phrases the question. Your face drops at her words, and you guide your hands to cup her cheeks, looking straight into her eyes as you carefully express your following words.

''Yes, I do want to be your girlfriend, more than I've ever wanted anything in my entire life. Being with you makes me feel like I can be myself, and life is just a little brighter with you around. Whether we're hanging out together in my flower shop or doing silly things anywhere else, there's no one I'd rather want to do that with than you, Nat. So, what do you say? Will you make me the happiest woman in the world and be my girlfriend?''

She looks at you with pure love and adoration in her eyes, and she nods her head before leaning in to capture your lips in a soft, gentle kiss that has both your hearts soaring. At that time, you didn't realize all the other Avengers had an entire show because they were curious about the giggling from the living room not long ago.

They all start clapping and whooping in excitement, and you pull away before burying your face in Natasha's neck, a broad smile adorning your face. From that moment on, you two are practically inseparable, and being away from her during her missions is always a challenge, but the reunion is worth it every single time.

Nearly four years later, Natasha plans to take the next step in your relationship. She never thought about getting married, but you have shifted something inside her that has her wanting to call you her wife. Whereas she previously never cared about anyone that deeply, you have shown her a love she never even thought existed, and she wants to bring your passion to the next level.

And so, after a few long months of planning, the day has finally arrived. The engagement ring is in the pocket of her jeans as you're taking a stroll over the beach in Florida, where you're currently for a weekend getaway together. Your fingers are laced together, and your sundress flows in the soft breeze from the ocean.

''Printsessa, can I talk to you about something?'' Natasha asks as she stops you in your tracks before going to stand in front of you. The sunset casts a beautiful light over both of you, and Natasha's hair has a fiery glow, making her look even more stunning than usual.

''Of course, is something wrong?'' you ask with furrowed brows, but she kisses your lips softly to calm your mind before starting off her story.

''Some souls instantly click. Words can't quite explain whether you're lovers, best friends, soulmates, or something so special. You accept this person for everything they are, and they would never let you be anything other than your beautiful, imperfect self. These are the souls you encounter and know in the first moment that you were supposed to cross paths,'' Natasha starts, and there are already tears welling in your eyes as you realize what's happening.

"Your presence makes me feel safe and calm like I am home whenever I'm with you. You're undoubtedly the most special I've had the privilege to love - no distance, time, or person could come between our bond. Your kindness, softness, sincerity, and unconditional love make me feel better because life is better with you in it. Your soul is my happy place, comfort, sunshine, and everything, and I could not imagine life without you in it. And because of that, I want to ask you something.''

Natasha lets go of your hands before wiping away some of her tears, sinking on one knee after getting the ring out of her pocket. The sunset casting an angelic glow over you makes the moment perfect.

''Y/N Y/L/N, will you make me the happiest soul in the universe and become my wife?''

''Yes, Detka, I will marry you!'' you exclaim, and when the ring is put on your finger, she jumps up and wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a breathtaking kiss that has your heart going a mile a minute from pure excitement.

When she pulls away, the realization sinks in, and the happy tears can't stop flowing down your cheeks. You're going to marry the love of your life, and you can't wait for the entire world to know how much you love each other. Life was great before you met Natasha, but this moment completes it.

You both continue your walk down the beach, walking into the sunset together. Today marks the start of the rest of your lives together, and you can't wait to see what life will bring your way.

#fluffbruary 2024 #anyfandomaubingo #lgbtqbingo #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha #natasha fanfiction #natasha x female reader #natasha x reader #natasha fluff

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neoarchipelago · 1 year

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And they were roommates (Part 10)

A/N : God... part 10 already! i am so so scared to post this chapter i'm torn to be in between this is good and this is trash so... be merciful!

Warnings: VIOLENCE! BLOOD! GRAPHIC !

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The realization kept spinning in your brain. He was darkends. He had been so close to you from the beginning. Fuck he knew you before you started working on the damn mission!

"I… Don't understand… you moved in before I started working on this…" you questioned.

He sent you a look in the rear view mirror.

"Correct. The mission had started before they asked you to join. I was supposed to simply make sure they were failing. Infiltrating the base, keeping undercover, ruining your search and probably send you on a wrong path." He explained.

You watched through the car window, trying to figure out where he was taking you.

While you started thinking about some way to escape, your mind quickly stopped on your connected watch.

"But then I met you. Such a pretty girl."

The praise made you nauseous. He watched the road as you started preparing your move on your watch.

"You started working on the mission and fuck" he chuckled. "You became even more interesting!" He cheered.

You kept clicking on your watch, sending your location to your contacts. All of them because you weren't exactly paying attention.

While you were working on your laptop in the hideout, while you kept passing over and over the events that almost got you killed, you had decided to prepare a little safety net. You hacked your connected watch, creating a locking system that would send your live location to contacts of choice. You thanked your past self.

"You were so bright, so smart, you managed to fully counter my attacks or find every little thing I tried to hide. Your mind… fascinated me." He kept obsessing.

You could have been flattered if this wasn't said by a psychopath stalker trying to kidnap you. You were loosening the strap of your watch taking it off. You let it fall on the floor making sure to hide the small watch in your pocket.

"So you decided to try to kill me ?! That makes no fucking sense Peter! If that's even your real name!" You raged. Fuck your throat right now.

"Oh it is. It's not Hansen though. I didn't try to kill you. You were so sad when I met you… remember?" He spoke in an angrier tone.

You were trying to figure something out, some way to escape even if you had to jump out of the car.

"Because of that dickhead."

"Don't call him that!" You yelled.

"Shut up!" He roared.

You were taken aback. It was the first time he actually yelled at you.

"That fucking asshole left you broken. And then he comes back and you let yourself be manipulated by him! You were meant to be fucking MINE."

You felt your skin crawl. He was turning completely mad. And you were feeling the panic grow.

"You and me…. Can you think about it? How we'd be the most powerful couple ever? We'd be Bonnie and Clyde…"

"They fucking died…" you noted.

"Such a smart mouth. You're lucky I also like that about you." He threatened.

You bit your lip. Now wasn't the moment to be a smart ass.

"So yeah. I got jealous. I thought maybe I could make you realize he wouldn't keep you safe. And then I'd propose to be your bodyguard and you know, make you fall for me… make you realize how good we'd be together." He kept explaining.

You were finally understanding where he was headed. To one of the bases exit. He was trying to take you out of the base.

"You won't be able to take me far. Even if you leave the base." You said.

"Don't worry. I have friends waiting for us." He smirked.

You swallowed hard.

"What are you going to do with me…" that scary question was the only thing in your mind now.

"That'll depend on you."

The way he said it scared you horribly. It was terrifying.

The tension was broken by your phone ringing. Price was calling you.

"Go on birdie. Answer. Put it on speakerphone and give. It."

You obeyed, although unwillingly.

"Sparrow, where are you?!"

He sent a look in the rearview mirror for you to answer.

"I'm in the car with Hansen."

"Are you alright?! We found Soap."

"Is he alright?!" You worried immediately.

"He's ok. He said Hansen injected him with something."

"What?! What the fuck did you do! You said you didn't hurt him!" You yelled, making Price aware of the listener.

"I didn't. I simply tranquilized him. He took a nap." He laughed.

"Hansen. What's going on?!" Laswell roared.

"I'm simply taking what belongs to me." He spoke matter of factly.

"What are you talking about?"

"My birdie."

Silence fell on the call. You knew she had understood. She knew the truth.

"You won't be able to leave this base, I can assure you that." She said.

"Ah don't worry. I'll manage. Where's the other disguised idiot? Hand him over. I want to speak to him."

You closed your eyes. No. This was going to be horrible. You were absolutely shocked to hear Price laugh. You opened your eyes wide, a look of confusion on your face.

"He's already gone. He got in his Jeep and is hunting you down."

You saw Peter visibly pale.

"He doesn't even know who you really are. You hurt his friend. You stole his bunny. You're already fucking dead."

Peter grabbed the phone in a fury, opening his window and throwing it out. You gasped out loud.

"Hey!" You scolded.

"Don't try me!" He threatened again.

You were getting dangerously close to the exit. You couldn't let him bring you out of base. You couldn't. The idea of jumping out of the car finally settled in your mind when a glimpse of a vehicle to the left made your head turn. You had very little time to process what was happening when the impact made your seatbelt block. A military car had driven right into the car you were in at full speed, aiming for the driver's seat.

Both cars were now at a stop, your head ringing. You were hyperventilating, now watching Gaz and Konig stepping out of the car and aiming their guns at Peter. He immediately made the car roar, trying to drive away when a second impact made you shake again. You yelled this time. Peter's car was stuck in between two big ones. You had to get out now, you had to make a run for it.

Your blood ran cold when you saw Peter reach for his own gun. No nononoo.. FUCK.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE CAR!" Soap's voice roared.

Soap… fuck. They were here. They were here.

You pushed the seatbelt, finally freeing yourself and opening the car door.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE BITCH!" Peter Screamed.

Konig appeared in a flash, grabbing Peter's shirt through the window, taking his attention from you. In another flash a black shadow passed over the hood of the car pushing Konig away and throwing the driver's side door open.

"Simon!" You let out in between a yelp and a whine.

He wasn't listening. He had a knife in his hand. He cut through the seatbelt like butter. He grabbed Peter's gun, throwing it somewhere on the ground. He very roughly pulled Peter out.

You were frozen in place. Your mind was trying to process what was happening. Everything was happening so fast… Your car door opened, making you jump.

"Y/N!"

You cried. You let out a broken exhale and you cried.

"Johnny…"

"You're ok! You're ok! We're here!" He smiled, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you out.

You wrapped your arms around his neck. He was ok. He was fine. God, you felt so guilty. He got hurt because of you. If he had been killed-

"I'm ok! I'm ok… breathe. We need to get you out of here!" He soothed.

"It's darkends!" You let out loud in between cries.

He froze. He immediately turned to the rest of the team, catching Gaz's eyes as he wasn't too far.

"HE'S THE HACKER!" Gaz repeated in a yell.

You looked at Ghost who had Peter pinned against the car, arms behind his back. As soon as it clicked in his brain, he threw Peter to the ground and jumped on him. Your eyes widened.

You pushed by Soap, surprising him enough to give you a chance to run around the car to keep the fighting men into view.

"Y/N NO!" You heard him reprimand.

You froze at the sight, Ghost was on top of Peter repeatedly punching him in the face, blood coating his hand.

Soap caught you as Ghost reached for his firearm, pointing it at Peter's head. It took a second. No hesitation.

"DON'T LOO-"

The gunshot made you jump. Soap's voice lost in the sound. Your ears ringing.

It's funny how your brain fixates on the little things during shocking moments. For you it was the little splashes of blood on his mask. You could see them as Simon noticed you, wide eyed.

That's all you could take in before Soap made you forcefully turn around.

"BLOODY HELL Y/N" he screamed worriedly.

You tried to catch your breath. More cars came rushing. You could hear Price and Laswell's voices. It was over. He was gone. Darkends… Peter. He was dead. Your were safe. You were shocked. And what terrified you wasn't the fact that Simon just executed him in front of you. He clearly didn't mean to show you such a horrible thing. You knew it. He had tried to shield you from the sight by pushing Peter to the ground. No. What terrified you was how grateful you were that he did it. That he killed him.

The thought was horrible. But Peter was dead. And you were glad he was. Because that man, who helped human traffickers, drug dealers and other horrible people, had used people to get to you, had tried to kill you and kidnapped you.

"Hey hey hey!"

You blinked, finally falling back into reality. Kate was looking at you, features torn in worry. Her hands on your cheeks. You took a deep breath.

"Are you alright?!"

You nodded.

"I… I'm fine. It's… over" you stumbled over your words.

She held you, her arms now wrapping around your shoulders. Price was behind her, talking to Soap. You could clearly understand Soap explaining how you had witnessed Ghost kill Peter. The shock in Ghost's eyes flashed in your mind. No! Fuck!

You couldn't be sure but he was probably feeling horrible having done that in front of you. He probably thought you hated him, that you thought horribly of him.

You pushed Kate off of you.

"Simon…" you called.

"Y/N-" she tried.

"I want Simon!" Your voice broke as another cry escaped your lips.

You needed him. You fucking needed him. You wanted him to hold you. And never fucking let you go. You felt vulnerable. The whole situation, the whole fallback of emotions made you want to be wrapped into his arms.

"Y/N." Price approached. "Not now. You need to leave this place."

You were going to interrupt him. But he kept trying to reason you.

"He needs to calm down-"

"No!" You screamed, you've never heard this desperation in your voice before.

Soap looked divided. But as he looked at you, the way you were begging him through your gaze, he made up his mind.

"LT!" He called.

Price and Laswell turned to him furious.

Your breath quickened. You weren't leaving without him. Fuck. You'd leave with him.

Price turned back to face you this time looking behind you.

"Simon-" he started.

But too late you had already turned around. Fucking hell. He looked absolutely nightmarish. His full black tactical clothes, his skull mask bloodied. His black hood casting a shadow on it. Even like that you could see pupils blown out.

You must be insane. You must have gone completely mad. Because all you could see was his eyes. All you could notice was how hard he was breathing, how his shoulders were incredibly tense.

Yes. Everyone must have thought you had gone completely insane. Because you ran to him, wrapping your arms around his waist burying your face in his chest. It took him a second before wrapping his arms around you.

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… fuck… I'm sorry…" he chanted repeatedly.

He held you tightly. You could hear Laswell and Price barking orders. But you blocked it out. You needed this. You needed to be in his arms. He saved you again. He rushed to come to you.

"I'm sorry…" he let out again.

"Simon"

He stopped, looking at you directly, awaiting orders. As if your every word was a command.

"Take me away…Please... Take me out of here…" You asked.

He didn't hesitate. He held your hand, pulling you with him towards Price.

"Price!" He roared, capturing the man's attention. "I'm taking her out of here!"

He nodded, throwing him his keys.

"Take her to the hideout!" Price ordered.

You would have preferred to go home but your home had been trashed… it wasn't the best idea.

He held your hand as he pulled you to the passenger seat, making sure to block your view of the mess behind him.

"Close your eyes…" he ordered softly.

"But-"

"Please. Fuck. Bunny, please." He pleaded.

So you did. You closed your eyes. You heard the car door open. You trusted him as led you in, sitting you and buckling you up. You kept your eyes closed as he closed the door and until his opened. Even then and until you were rolling away, you kept them closed.

"You can open them now…" he softly let out.

You batted your eyes, adjusting back to the light. You turned to him. His grip on the steering wheel was rough.

"Simon…" you called.

He flinched but didn't look at you. He was clearly speeding. Very clearly.

"Simon!" You whined.

"We're almost there. Please."

You took a deep breath, Falling silent.

"You did good…"

You almost thought you imagined it.

"I.. did?" You asked.

"Yes. You did so good. Sending me your location. Being brave. You did good."

The praise was oddly comforting.

You had managed to arrive at the hideout in a crazy time frame. You both walked out. You were slightly calmer even if your heart still played drums in your chest. You walked to the front door, two soldiers standing in front of it. You walked in, Ghost behind you. The door closed, leaving you both finally alone to face the inevitable.

After several seconds he spoke.

"I'll tell the men to keep guard. Laswell should be joining you soon."

You looked, appalled, as he turned to leave.

"You're leaving?"

For the second time, you didn't recognize the heartbroken tone in your own voice. He was running away. He didn't want to face you.

He looked at you immediately, worry in his eyes.

"You… Want me to stay?" He asked in dismay.

"Yes.. please… you're the only one I want to stay with…" you admitted.

He looked completely lost. You wanted to make him understand how badly he mattered to you. That you found a peace in his violence that was insane. Unreal.

"I. Just executed someone, in front of you." He started, fully turning to you. "I will never fucking forgive myself for it"

"You don't have to! I ran to you! You tried to hide it!" You knew where this was going. You could feel it.

"You should have been taken away right away! I should have ordered Soap to do it! You didn't deserve it- "

"I RAN TO YOU! " You cried out. Your poor throat reminding you that it was a terrible idea.

You were both out of breath. He was slipping away from you… he was slipping through your fingers every second that passed he was pulling himself away from your embrace. He was trying to break everything, trying to save you from himself. He didn't seem to understand that you needed to drown in him.

"Don't…" you desperately asked.

"Don't what…" he asked in a hopeless tone.

"Don't do that to me… Simon please…" you wanted to cry. You wanted him to feel how helpless you were feeling. How much you loved him. How much you needed him.

"Don't walk away from me…" your tear stained face begged.

He closed his eyes.

"I'm a fucking monster."

"No. You're Simon!" You stepped closer to him as he opened his eyes.

"You're lieutenant Simon Ghost Riley!!" You captured his clothed face in your hands.

"You're my Simon ghost Riley…" you whispered. "Please… tell me you're not giving up on me… please… tell me I'm yours too…"

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you incredibly close.

"Are you not scared of me?" He asked in a breath.

"No…" you answered.

"Don't you hate me? Despise me?"

"Never.."

"You're fucking crazy." He concluded.

You giggled bittersweetly.

"You make me crazy…"

"I am a monster."

"Simon-"

"I am. You should find better. You would be happier…"

"I want my monster. I want all of him, I only feel safe and important with him…"

He choked on a breath.

"You wanted an answer." He started.

You frowned a bit in confusion.

"You wanted me to make up my mind. To tell you." He explained.

You finally understood. Yes. You had asked him. You held your breath.

"I want you in my life. Fuck you're all I want in my life. Tell me you want to be mine… I swear I'll never fucking leave you… I'll be as loyal as a dog, I swear I'll do everything to make you happy." He pleaded in a dark tone that contrasted heavily with the vow he was preaching.

"Simon." You called making him look at you in the eyes. "I'm already yours."

His hand left your waist to lift his mask up to his nose. Your breath hitched, time slowing when his lips fell on yours. You felt dizzy. His lips against yours in a desperate kiss to ground you both to each other. His soft tongue pleading access to more, that you willingly admitted, your own craving of more, of him, burning through you. The world disappeared. You had read this many times in books. You had never thought you would ever get to a point where you finally understood it.

He groaned against you, you wrapped your hands around his neck. He lifted you up, sitting you on the table. You spread your legs, trapping him in between and pulling him closer. You were addicted. Absolutely lost. He kissed you like you were the only reason he'd ever inhale and exhale again. Desperately. His taste on your tongue was something you wanted to imprint in your mind forever.

You almost pitied the fact that you had to breathe when you separated to catch your breaths. He remained there. His forehead touching yours. You remained eyes closed.

The atmosphere had entirely changed. It was as if you weren't being kidnapped thirty minutes ago.

"Simon… don't leave…" you begged in a murmur.

"Never."

The night had fallen very quickly. Laswell had indeed passed by. She was relieved you were fine. She also fully understood that you needed time and decided to leave you two alone for a few days. The day had been terribly long. Horribly. You and Simon didn't let go of each other for hours, even dining with you sitting on his lap. Poor man hadn't even changed when it was finally time to go to bed.

"Hey… bunny…" he called softly.

You shook your head, knowing what he wanted to say.

"Bunny come on… I need to change… you're gonna get dirty."

"Don't care…"

He chuckled. He sounded relieved.

"Y/N, I promise .. I hop in the shower and I come to bed with you if you want. It'll take five minutes, I swear." He tried to convince you.

You didn't want to let him go. But you understood he probably wanted to wash away all reminders of what happened. You nodded against his neck. He walked to the bed and softly dropped you. He grabbed Reaper from the ground.

"Here doll, your plushie."

"Reaper…" you corrected him.

He chuckled. Taking out his gloves, he let one of his thumbs run over your cheeks, brushing your hair away.

"I'll be right back."

He was already ripping off his tactical gear as he walked out. You had time to catch a glimpse of his back, various bruises and scars, more or less recent painted it. It made you want to follow him and kiss every single one of them. Maybe it was too much… everything that was happening was confusing but fuck at the moment you couldn't care less.

He had kept his promise, around 5 minutes after, he was back in the room, a towel around his midsection.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You sat in the bed. He was wearing a new balaclava.

"Simon…" you called.

You watched the bruises and cuts on his chest with a worried look. He stepped closer to you, grabbing your chin in one hand softly.

"Hey. Eyes up."

You obeyed.

"It's nothing. It's just a scratch. Alright?"

You whined.

"Shu-huhu…" he soothed.

Fuck… your mind was a fucking blurr. You weren't drunk this time. But the adoration, the heart eyes were back.

"It's nothing, little one…"

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch.

"Fuck…" he cursed under his breath.

You opened them back slowly.

"Turn around love, let me just grab some pants."

You blushed, nodding. You turned around facing the wall. You heard him open his bag that he had brought into your room earlier. A few seconds later you felt the bed dent. You glanced back as he slipped under the covers with you. His arms immediately wrapped around you, pulling you to his chest.

You both sighed at the same time.

"Simon…" you called.

"Yes bunny…"

"Thank you for coming to save me…" you let out in a whisper.

"Darling… I will always come for you." He whispered in your ear.

"I'm so glad it's over"

"I'm glad too…"

You smiled.

"Let's sleep, little bunny… It's late."

You whined a bit.

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. "

You closed your eyes at that. The warmth and the comfort of his arms and body pulled you to sleep.

The two next days felt out of reality. Laswell didn't contact you and the rest of the squad didn't pass by. It was only the two of you. And you couldn't let go of each other. Especially Simon. You didn't fully understand what was happening. You honestly didn't care. A silent agreement stood between you two that nothing mattered. No questions on the relation, no questions on behavior, nothing.

You just basked in each other's presence.

That night, you tried to get up to go to the bathroom. After close negotiations he had unwrapped his arms from you. You went to the bathroom, glanced at his dirty gear on the ground, and tried to put it in the washing machine. Tried. Because he had already crawled out of bed to find you.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"I'm just putting this in the washer for-"

"Forget about that…"

He picked you up bridal style.

"S-simon…" you blushed.

"Fuck that. Come back to bed."

And you did. Not getting out of bed before 11 am the next day.

You had shared brunch. He stood behind you, hands over your stomach and face in your neck while you washed the dishes in his shirt. Then he pulled you to him making you follow him on the couch where you both laid down, a blanket over you, some tv show on screen.

When you went back to bed that night, you made the mistake of stepping inside your bedroom without him.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"Oh.. hum… I thought you might want to rest without having me annoying you…"

He had stepped closer to you, incredibly close.

"One more night… please…" he whispered.

"Anything…" you whispered back, gladly pulling him after you.

It calmed down for a bit the next day. You were able to walk around the house without having Simon attached to you or running to pick you up to immobilize you against him. Though none of this bothered you, you tried to focus a bit on what happened. You also tried to buy a new phone. Even like that, he made you sit on the couch in between his legs, with your laptop on your lap.

He was watching TV, fingertips drawing circles on your naked thighs. You had first cursed yourself for wearing PJ shorts, and then had lost all track of your search for a new device, leaning back against him.

On the third day, things seemed to fall back into your old ways. Playful, kind, sweet. Again a silent contract linked you both, as if the two last days were yours to keep. It was a moment needed for the both of you, after a painful time. You still put off a serious conversation about your new relationship to a later time.

The boys were finally allowed to pass by. Soap and Gaz had immediately hugged you.

"Little Sparrow!" Soap cheered.

You hugged them back.

Konig was also here and even though you didn't know him well, you couldn't stop yourself from hugging him. He saved you too.

"Thank you konig."

He had rubbed the back of his head, giggling.

Price had held you in his arms for a little while before planting a kiss in your hair and stepping back.

You all sat in the small living room space. Simon was still very possessive and made you sit in his lap on the ground, hands wrapped tightly around your waist.

"Thank you everyone. For keeping me safe and saving me. And… I'm so sorry johnny…"

"No no! Don't worry. I've gone through much worse. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I fucked up…"

You shook your head.

"No… we were all under pressure… no one suspected him."

"I did." Interrupted Simon.

You smiled.

"Yeah… you did…"

You could see the boys looking at each other, obviously a question on their mind. The burning question. Soap felt the bravest.

"Soo… what's this?" Soap asked changing subject and pointing repeatedly in between the both of you.

You blushed heavily. Soap's grin growing.

"She's my girlfriend."

You were? Fuck.

"Am I?" You asked, looking at him. "You never asked" You teased.

"I asked you to be mine. You said you were. So, mine." He stated without a worry in the world.

The boys laughed and you nestled closer to him. You spent the rest of the day hanging out together, finally at peace.

In the next few days you met with Laswell. A few things had to be resolved. Your room needed a makeover. You wanted darkends's devices to gather information.

"We'll keep his devices but you can't have them now. You need some time away from all of this."

You had rolled your eyes but deep down you agreed. This had been a close call. Way too close. She had told you she would keep you informed about the apartment so for now you remained in the hideout with Simon. The boys passing by very often.

You had been very happily shopping, the military giving you a huge amount of money as reparation for almost being killed in their care. You had bought new components for a brand new PC, a new phone, clothes and other things. One thing that you seemed to absolutely love doing was asking Simon's opinion on everything.

"Simon, do you like this shirt?"

"You'll look adorable in it." He kissed your forehead.

You even used this new hobby to tease him.

"What do you think of this skirt?" You smiled innocently.

It had entirely backfired.

"If you promise to wear no panties with it, it'll become my favorite piece of clothing." He growled.

You had blushed and thrown him a pillow.

Some moments of serious talk had also been present.

"You know I'm doing something dangerous… it could put you in danger… Are you sure you want to be with me?" He asked.

"Simon I don't need to date you to be in danger. I'm the one who keeps getting attacked and almost killed, you're the one who should be having second thoughts!"

The Best moments were the ones where He would steal kisses from you whenever he could. He'd stare at you from afar, making blush. He'd always stare into your eyes, asking for permission to kiss you. As if you needed to ever say it out loud to him. Sometimes it would heat up very fast, but he would always stop. Much to both of your frustrations.

But you did have this conversation. He had wanted to, and asked to take things slowly. He wanted you to be sure of things before heading to more.

You had wanted to go spend some money at the shopping center, asking him to come with you. He had politely declined, offering to call Soap, Konig and Gaz to go with you. Shopping wasn't particularly his favorite thing to do. He sat on the couch, legs spread, a file in hand, looking down at you. The sight was particularly comical yet extremely exciting. You had dropped to your knees in between his to get his attention, he had immediately tensed. He looked at you like he wanted to devour you. You kept asking for him to come with you, he'd decline, his voice deepening more and more each time.

"Y/N. Get up." He ordered.

"Please… Simon come with me shopping…" you whined again, biting your lip.

It was obvious. So obvious. But he played through, adoring the sight before him.

It had been interrupted by Price and Soap walking in. You remained on the floor, now turning your head to Soap.

"Soap! Ghost won't come with me…"

"Try taking his pants off, it's easier to cu-"

You had blushed heavily. Price tried his best not to laugh. You had never seen a man run so fast in his life. You had gotten up, after ghost had gotten up as well , walking out the door behind Soap. Price had finally laughed, you were heavily embarrassed but you had won, thanks to Soap.

Today Simon was particularly quiet. He walked around, stealing kisses and touches every now and then. You were writing on your laptop, some things about darkends needed to be reported for the full file. Laswell had told you it wasn't urgent, but you wanted to finish it. You were also getting annoyed. The tiny place was starting to get on your nerves. You wanted to go back home.

It was an antagonizing thought as you also were uncomfortable going back in that space. It felt different. Peter had been there. You had opened your door to him and he had broken in and trashed your stuff. You had talked about it with Simon, about your anxiousness. He had understood and tried to comfort you.

So here you were, sitting in the small, now crowded space with everyone. Laswell, price and squad 141 including Konig.

"Sparrow, ghost told me about your thoughts on your apartment."

You sighed. Of course he did. You looked at him as he looked at you with a soft expression.

"So we came up with something and I'd like to ask you if you'd be alright with it."

You were now visibly curious. Price took the lead after Laswell.

"Until we can find a new and better way to keep you safe, we thought about moving you closer to the base. Some place you'd feel safer."

"What are you saying?" You asked.

"There's a house in a residential area, very close to the base that's free. It's a family house so it's quite big." Laswell explained.

"And we're all moving in with you guys!" Soap cheered, interrupting her, Gaz nodding.

"It's temporary, it doesn't have to be permanent. It's an option, after everything that happened." Price added.

You looked at Ghost with a smile on your face, brows rising.

"You accepted this?" You asked, a hint of a laugh in your voice.

"It's safer if we're all there. I can't always be with you… and maybe you'll feel better in a new environment." He explained.

You had mixed feelings. It sounded fun. But you'd have less privacy with Simon. You had started to accept them as a family. And after everything that happened it was perhaps best.

"Alright… let's do that."

2K notes · View notes

candycandy00 · 4 months

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Promotion - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic

You’ll do anything to get Gojo to recommend you for a promotion to grade one!

Written for @kuroov in exchange for making the lovely graphics for my welcome post. I hope you like it!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. (Professional) Power Imbalance. Spit kink. Oral sex. Slight size kink. Divider by @benkeibear!

The cursed spirit in front of you writhes on the ground as it dies, remnants of your technique still glowing from its body. You whirl around to look at the man who accompanied you on today’s mission.

“See? I did good, right?”

Gojo Satoru smiles and nods, his eyes hidden behind his blindfold. “Yeah, you did good. I didn’t have to lift a finger.”

You walk over to stand closer to him, tilting your head up to see his face. With your eyes shining, you ask, “Don’t you think I’m ready to be grade one?”

You’ve been gunning for this promotion for months now, and so far Gojo is still holding out on you. He can easily nominate you anytime he wants, and with a recommendation from someone as influential as him, that promotion would be in the bag.

“Hmmm, I’m not so sure,” he says, his tone somewhat playful. “I need to see you in action a few more times, I think.”

You want to shout that he’s seen you “in action” plenty of times already, but you hold your tongue. You certainly don’t want to offend him at this point. “Okay. Will you come with me tomorrow then?”

“Sure, anything for my cute little kouhai,” he says, patting your head.

You blush and look away. You’ve been trying hard to keep your relationship with Gojo purely professional, but he makes it difficult. He’s incredibly good looking, and he knows it. And he’s so flirty with practically everyone, it’s easy to see why so many of your fellow sorcerers are nursing crushes on him.

In all honesty, you’ve got a bit of a crush yourself.

“Let’s grab something to eat before we head back,” he suggests, casually wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You don’t think anything of it. You’ve seen him do this to plenty of other people and it seems to mean nothing to him. He’s just being friendly.

“Okay,” you say, eager to keep his favor. You’re actually pretty tired and would like to go straight home to your apartment and go to sleep. But you desperately want this promotion, and that involves keeping Gojo happy with you.

The two of you stop at a crepe shop on the way home and he buys treats for both of you, but has them wrapped and boxed. “We’ll eat them at my place,” he says, and you blink up at him in surprise.

“Your place?”

He grins. “You’ve been there before. My little side apartment near the school. It’s close by so we’ll stop there to eat.”

“Oh… okay.”

You have been there before, three months ago. But you went with a few other sorcerers. Gojo was hosting a small welcome party for a new co-worker who transferred in from the Hokkaido branch. You’ve never been there alone with him, and you’re not sure how you feel about doing it now. You feel nervous, uneasy, but you also feel excited and flattered.

Above all, you want to keep him happy.

When you reach his apartment, he unlocks the door and stands back, gesturing for you to go inside first. You step into the darkened room, and he steps in after you, flipping on the light switch and then closing the door behind you. The sound of it nearly makes you jump. You get the strange feeling that you’re caged in here with a predator, but it’s just Gojo, standing there slipping his blindfold off. You don’t think you’d mind being his prey.

Instead of going to the small kitchen table to eat the crepes, he walks over to his sofa in the living room and sits down, then pats the cushion beside him. “Have a seat,” he says, opening the box in his lap and pulling out the two crepes wrapped in colorful paper.

You do as he says, sitting down on the sofa to his left and maintaining what you feel is an appropriate distance from him. But you can’t help being extremely aware of how close the two of you actually are, how alone the two of you are in his apartment.

He reaches you one of the crepes and opens his own. You carefully peel back the paper, not wanting to make a mess in his surprisingly neat living room. You’ve heard this is just a secondary residence he uses to be close to the school, but it appears to be well maintained.

You glance over at Gojo as he takes a bite of his crepe. There’s something oddly sensual about the way his mouth opens, the way his lips encase the sweet treat. Is he doing it on purpose? After that first bite, he notices some cream filling on his fingers, and proceeds to lick them clean as you watch, transfixed. His eyes shift to your face and he asks, “Aren’t you going to eat yours?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” you say, feeling flustered as you take your first bite of your own crepe. You barely taste the thing, your mind so preoccupied with the positively lurid show Gojo is currently putting on beside you. He licks the crepe as if he’s making out with it, and his tongue flicks at the soft crust.

He catches you watching him and smiles at you. “Wanna try mine?”

“Huh?”

He holds his out toward your mouth. “Go ahead.”

You stare at the offered crepe, at the mound of cream filling where Gojo’s tongue has just been buried. Would he be offended if you refused? Do you even want to refuse?

“Okay, thanks,” you say, leaning forward and taking a small bite. You chew it slowly, savoring the taste. Is this what Gojo’s mouth tastes like?

“Like it?”

You nod. “Y-yeah, it’s delicious.”

He grins at you, like he’s amused by something you’re not aware of. You go back to eating your crepe as he finishes his own, at one point getting the cream all over his fingers again. He’s such a messy eater. He puts the two cream covered fingers in his mouth, licking them as he stares at you. He coats them thoroughly in his saliva, then slowly pulls them out. They’re glistening, practically dripping.

And then, he reaches his hand toward you, looking at you expectantly. Your heart races as you realize what he wants you to do. This is highly inappropriate, but you want to make him like you. You want to please him. So you open your mouth obediently, and his wet fingers slide in.

He plays with your tongue as your lips reflexively close around the digits. You can taste him so clearly, you feel a fluttering in your stomach.

“Good girl,” he says as you begin sucking his fingers, the sweet taste of the crepe lingering on his skin. He gently moves them in and out, seemingly enjoying the way your head moves forward to follow them when he pulls them back.

“Such a cute mouth. I bet you’d like to suck something else too, wouldn’t you?” he asks, those gorgeous blue eyes watching you.

This is wrong. You shouldn’t be doing this with your superior. This is not the way you wanted to get that promotion to grade one. But how can you refuse him? He could make or break your career. And besides… you’ve always wondered what his cock tastes like. You’ve thought about sucking him off too many times to count.

You’re tired. You’re horny. And the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in your life is spreading his thighs apart on the couch beside you, unbuckling his belt. So you let him gently tug you off the couch and to your knees in front of him. When you look up, his cock is already out, inches from your face. It’s fucking huge, though you can’t say you’re surprised by that. Sitting here so low before him, his tall frame towers over you even though he’s sitting.

With one hand, you reach up and lightly grip his shaft, then you lean forward and wrap your lips around the tip, your tongue flicking over it. You press your face forward, taking more of him into your mouth, quickly coating it in your spit before it hits the back of your throat. Then your head is bobbing back and forth, your lips and tongue gliding over him as his cock is effectively shoved into your throat and then almost back out, over and over. You gag slightly, but try to suppress it.

Glancing up at his face, you find him staring at you, wearing a pleased expression. His skin is slightly flushed, but otherwise he seems surprisingly calm for a guy getting deep throated. But his cock doesn’t lie, and it’s twitching in your mouth as you continue taking him as deep as you can without choking.

At some point one of his hands moves to rest on your head, fingers softly curling into your hair. His breathing gets a little faster, and you know he’s close. You pull back, letting him pop out of your mouth, then your eyes meet his. “You can cum in my mouth,” you offer, opening your lips and extending your tongue like a good girl.

His grip on your hair tightens just a little, holding your head still, and then his hot cum is shooting directly into your mouth, covering your tongue. You keep your lips parted for a few seconds, letting him watch his cum sliding around before you swallow it all.

He rubs your head, like you’re a puppy, and grins down at you. “I knew you’d be good at this.”

You’re just catching your breath when you gaze up at him and say, “Thank you.”

He looks at you like he doesn’t know what you’re thanking him for. Honestly, you don’t really know either. Your mind has been a little fuzzy since this all started. But he laughs as if he’s amused before he pulls you up by your arms and starts pulling your clothes off. You let him, having no desire to stop this now. You’ve already sucked his dick, why not go further?

Soon, he has you face down on the couch, his strong hands holding your hips in the air as he fucks into you from behind. His body is heavy as it leans against yours, making you feel totally powerless and trapped, but it’s a feeling that thrills you more than scares you.

Your face is pressed into the cushions, your hands gripping the plush fabric. You can hear his breaths, fast and heavy, and you can feel a satisfying stretch as his cock shoves all the way in with each thrust.

A few minutes in, he slows his pace and bends down until his face is close to your ear. “Hey, you okay?”

You turn your head to the side to look at him. “Yeah…”

“You’re so quiet. Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I don’t… want you to stop,” you breathe out, your voice nearly a whisper. Whatever this is between the two of you, it’s way too late to back out now. So you might as well enjoy it.

He must notice your flushed face, your glazed eyes, because he goes back to fucking you as hard as before, one hand sliding around in front of you to find your clit. You jerk from the sudden pleasure, clamping your mouth shut to keep from moaning. You hear Gojo laugh. “There we go,” he says, his finger stroking you in a rhythm that matches his thrusts.

You bury your face in the cushion to muffle any embarrassing sounds you might make as you climax, shuddering beneath him. Minutes later, he suddenly pulls out, and you feel something warm and wet hit your bare back.

Later, you end up falling asleep on Gojo’s couch. You wake up the next morning with a blanket draped over you. Gojo steps out of the small kitchen and hands you a cup of coffee before sitting down on the other end of the couch.

“Good morning,” he says cheerily. You don’t know where he gets the energy.

You sip the coffee and look at the nearby end table. Your clothes are neatly folded in a stack.

“Do you need to go home and change before the job today?” he asks casually.

“Yeah, I guess,” you say, still trying to get yourself completely woken up.

“I’ll take you home,” he says. “Then we’ll meet up later.”

You look over at him. “You’re coming with me again?”

“Didn’t I say that yesterday? I still have to decide if you’re ready to be promoted.”

You’re wide awake now. “You’re still not sure? But… I thought…”

He looks surprised. “What? You thought I would recommend you for grade one if you slept with me?”

You feel your face burning. “I don’t know what I thought.”

He laughs and sits his cup on a table. “Look, if I was ranking your cock sucking skills, you’d be a special grade! But that has nothing to do with this. Grade ones get sent out alone, on very dangerous missions. I don’t want you to get ripped to shreds because I recommended you without being absolutely sure you’re ready.”

You sigh and stand up to retrieve your clothes. “I understand.”

He had a point. You didn’t want to end up dead either because you were prematurely promoted. But you were surprised he cared so much. Maybe he wasn’t the egotistical asshole everyone said he was.

Maybe you’ll let him treat you to crepes again soon.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo #gojo satoru #Gojo smut #Jjk smut #jjk x reader #x reader #gojo x you

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prettyoatmeal · 1 year

Note

we need a price headcanon while dating😍

John Price Headcanons While You're Dating (and how you got there)

YEAAHSSSS-

I mean- ahem, yes, it seems we do.

Now then,

Genre: Fluff, Smut implications but nothing graphic.

Summary: Just some pre and during dating head cannons. GN reader, no mentions of Y/N.

Content Warnings: Daddy issues mentions.

Masterlist here!

***************

(This is the 'how you got there' part, scroll for actual dating HC's)

Mr Mutton Chops over here gives me massive daddy vibes.

He's giving 'only a few years older than everyone else but is ten-million times more mature'.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't like having little bit of fun here and there.

He's had experience, however, it's been a good while since he's been in the game.

Being deployed for what feels like the longest time ever distracts the mind from any kind of romantic relationships.

However, once you end up joining the Task Force, those thoughts come flooding back to him.

It took a good bit of convincing from Laswell for him to let you join, but once you do, he notices your skills and you've immediately caught his attention. It caught everyone's attention.

He's both shocked and impressed, and with how much attention you've gotten from the boys, especially Gaz since he's the closest to your age, it got him awfully jealous.

You found their flirtatious attitudes flattering, but really, your eyes would always focus on the Captain.

His stern voice, the way he knows exactly what he wants, you never expected it to be arousing in a way.

Price had felt the same, he didn't want to admit it, but he very quickly became fond of you, from the way you laugh at his jokes, to the way you say "Yes, sir!" which he swears you purposefully purr out just to get him riled up.

You took notice of all the special attention you've been getting from the boys, and also noticed how Price would always be seething anytime anyone had mentioned your name.

And so like a pack of wolves wrestling over the fluffy little lamb in front of them, the competition had started.

Soap would always become a massive flirt around your presence, especially when you're around the Captain for laugh himself. He thought it was hilarious seeing him getting so worked up over his comments.

"Well lookie 'ere! Ain't you a sight for sore eyes, little Lass!"

"Ah, Johnny, glad you're here. Bathrooms need a cleaning. Get to it."

"Aye, sir :("

Poor Soap.

Price was one to rarely flirt however, he found it unprofessional, he found HIMSELF unprofessional, catching feelings for some new recruit.

That was his last straw though, soon he'd pull out the old reliable, 'I think I like someone, and you know them very well'.

Thankfully, there was perfect timing. Soap shouted the lot for drinks at the pub and Price knew he had to tell you there.

He had the whole thing planned out, buttering you up over a couple of drinks, becoming more and more forward throughout the night which in return caused you to become very flustered and giggly.

"Soap was right, y'know. You are quite the sight for sore eyes."

"Could say the same to you, Sir."

"Please, call me John while we're not out there, won't ya?"

The way you nodded as you looked up at him drove him wild, eager to follow any order he gave you. It gave him all the confidence he needed to pop the question.

AHEM-

Anyway

Actual Dating HC's

Remember how I said he has massive Daddy vibes?

Yeah, well

He's extremely protective over you.

Any threat he sees, he's already shielding you from it.

Walking along the pavement? He's keeping you on the inside, shielding you from the road. Going out to another bar where drunkens are roaming the place? His arms are already around your waist the moment you two leave the car.

You always tell him that you can protect yourself, you fight among the best of the best, but he doesn't budge one bit.

And thats okay, he loves protecting you and you love it too. It makes you feel safe.

LOOOVES calling you pet names.

Love, Gorgeous, Doll, Sweetheart, its all in his vocabulary to call you.

You ask him to call you something else, he'll call you that as many times as you like.

"Hey, John? From now on, can you start calling me-"

"On it!"

At the beginning of your relationship, he takes everything slow now that the others aren't around as often to take you away from him.

Though as the months pass, he's gotten so used to your touch that it's all he could think about.

Favourite part of you for him to hold? Definitely your hands. The way his hands engulf yours and how soft they feel makes his heart skip a beat.

He's normally a very confident man, he's a captain after all, his job requires him to be tough. It may have taken him a while, but he can really relax when you two are together.

Will purposefully grow his hair out so it's easier for you to grab and run your fingers through it.

Won't admit it, but he loves when you tug on his hair.

Just pull on it a little bit, please, he's begging

If you just HAPPEN to have daddy issues (I'm definitely not projecting) he will very gladly give you that comfort you need.

This is another branch off of where I was going with the 'daddy vibes'.

He's completely devoted to treating you the way you deserve, making up for all the comfort you've never received.

"I'm here and I don't ever plan to leave. You're safe with me, Sweetheart." as he holds you to his chest :(((

Any mention of your father and he's immediately pulling you into his arms and pulling his phone out to watch some funny videos or putting a movie on to distract you knowing how much of a sensitive topic it is.

Loves when you hold onto his arm while you're together, it makes him feel needed.

Definitely fulfils that fatherly role while being your boyfriend at the same time.

He'll cook whatever you're feeling for you whenever you're feeling out of it, give you massages, help you keep tidy, maybe even help you shower or wash your hair if you're particularly feeling awful.

Of course he will, all he ever wants to do is please you.

He knows you'd do the same for him if he wasn't feeling right, why shouldn't he treat you like royalty?

Helps take care of your daily needs, especially the ones in bed.

COUGH.

Whoops.

Speaking of such, hates seeing you cry.

It will absolutely break his heart.

He'd do absolutely anything and everything just to see you happy and never shed a tear out of sadness ever again, he just loves you that much.

Notice how I only specified sadness.

Alright, thats all I can think of, might do a Part 2.

***************

<333 Goodnight, I'll probably add to this if I think of anything else.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #John Price x reader #Captain Price x Reader #John Price Imagines #Captain Price Imagines #John Price Fluff #Captain John Price Fluff #MW2 x reader

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bopbopstyles · 1 year

Text

I JUST WANT A LOVER

RATING: R/smut (graphic sex, alcohol use, cigarettes)

WORD COUNT: 6.8k (i'm getting back in the swing of things, okay!!!! sorry this isn't my normal 20k lmao) (also like 75% smut) (i make no apologies)

CATEGORIES: one night stand!harry

PT. 2 | MASTERLIST | TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK

a/n: i know it's been about twelve billion years, but thank you for bearing with me. i had the urge to write some smutty smut, so i did — not sure how consistent i'll be, but i'm back, baby!!!!!

“You know, it’s not nice to stare.”

You glanced up and realized he was looking at you, having fully caught you investigating him. “Had to see what my shot partner was like.”

“And what do you think?”

“Hmm…” You let your sentence hang while you figured out what to say, your tipsy brain scrambling for something flirty but not too weird. “Decent, but concerned you won’t be able to take it without a chaser.”

He chuckled, leaning his hip against the bar so the two of you were even closer. “What happens if I can’t?”

His arm brushed against your side, and you tried to not pay attention to it too much. It was taking every fiber of your body not to freak out and overthink this, because this was the first man since your ex to flirt with you in a bar—or even come up to you in a bar— and he was hotter than your ex by a landslide. Which was both flattering and also frightening. “I won’t let you follow me to the dance floor,” you answer him, plucking what little courage you had and employing it, praying it didn’t fall flat.

But he smiled. “And if I can?”

The shots arrived, and he picked up them both, handing yours to you, your fingertips brushing. “Then I’ll let you dance as close as you want.”

Y/N is newly single and Harry's really into her

You’d come out at the request of your best friend, but to be honest it didn’t take much to get you out there these days. The breakup with your ex had occurred a month and a half ago and since then you decided you were done being sad, and wanted to have fun. Fun that you hadn’t had in months. Fun with your best friends in the smallest amount of clothing you could get away with, and lips lined in a deep mauve that always made you feel like the baddest bitch in the room.

It was working too. You could feel your confidence and happiness creeping back piece by piece, every time you were dancing in a bar, screaming lyrics to your favorite songs and sweat slipping down your back, you felt one step closer to the person you remembered being. A person you had loved being too—full of life, the person people called when they wanted to have a fun night, the host of many a party, the best dance partner, and the perfect person for a heart to heart over pizza at the end of the night.

“I missed this!” Your friend Abbey said when you’d walked into her apartment with a bottle of gin earlier that night. She swept you into a giant hug and you couldn’t help but smile. “Like, I know I’ve seen you recently, but I missed going out with you—missed being happy with you.”

“I missed it too,” you’d replied, and meant it.

Now you were in your favorite bar in the Lower East Side, waiting impatiently at the bar amidst the many other patrons, tapping your phone on the counter to keep your mind busy. The combination of old Britney Spears songs pounding through the stereo and the rush of alcohol in your bloodstream made you full of joy, and a little more wild than usual.

“Gin and tonic and a fireball shot,” you requested, and he nodded before turning around.

“Fireball, huh?” The voice was deep and smooth, and you couldn’t help but turn around to discover who the owner was. He was tall, at least six foot, with dark brown hair and light green eyes, tattoos littering his arms. There was a ghost of stubble on his jaw, which only made it looked more chiseled.

He was so fucking hot it seemed unnatural. “Yeah,” you replied. “Feel like being a little crazy tonight.”

His lips curled up at the corners at that, and he took a step toward you. “Sounds like fun.” He raised his finger, grabbing the bartender’s attention, and requested a shot as well.

You took his distraction as an opportunity to study his side profile. His hair curled slightly around his ear, and his nose curved up ever so slightly at the end. There was a dash of freckles on his cheeks that you could barely make out in the low lighting. As your eyes traveled down to his clothing, you decided that he was ripped—his arm muscles bulged ever so slightly in a delicious way. He was so attractive it felt illegal to even be looking at him, much less talking to him. And having a drink with him, apparently.

“You know, it’s not nice to stare.”

You glanced up and realized he was looking at you, having fully caught you investigating him. “Had to see what my shot partner was like.”

“And what do you think?”

He chuckled, leaning his hip against the bar so the two of you were even closer. “What happens if I can’t?”

But he smiled. “And if I can?”

The shots arrived, and he picked up them both, handing your to you, your fingertips brushing. “Then I’ll let you dance as close as you want.”

“Deal,” he replied. The two of you bumped glasses, tapped them on the bar, and threw them back, the alcohol burning your throat. You watched as he, much to your excitement, didn’t struggle with the shot in the slightest. He just set the glass back on the bar and found your eyes. “Looks like we’re dancing, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment lit up your spine, and you tried to not smile too widely. The bartender came over and asked if it was on a tab or closed, and the man told him to put it on his tab without a beat—and that’s when you got his last name. Styles. Sexy, frankly.

He turned back to you and nodded toward the back of the bar. “Lead the way.”

The Motto by Drake was blasting through the speakers and this was the tenth song you two had been dancing to. Your gin and tonic was nearly empty, and your right hand was thrown around Harry’s neck—that was his name. Harry. It was said in your ear with his lips far too close to your skin for you to not fantasize about how they would feel on the rest of your body, the melt of his accent curling around you like a fire. His hands were on your hips, fingers curved around you so he could move with you with ease, and the two of your alternated between staring into each other’s eyes with such intensity it made you have to resist the desire to kiss him every time, and the bar around you.

Your back was sweaty from the heat of the dance floor, but the backless shirt you were wearing meant the material wasn’t sticking to your skin. Harry had informed you about a minute ago that the shirt was “one of the hottest things he’d ever seen” and that had made you smile coyly, or at least you’d hoped it was coy. You were enjoying the way his skin felt on yours, the press of his fingers, the warmth of his breath on your cheek.

It had been a while since you’d done this—let yourself flirt with a stranger, bask in the excitement of someone’s desire—and it felt so damn good. You dropped your head back, letting your hair fall backward, singing the lyrics you knew by heart. As you did it, you felt the tightening of Harry’s fingers on your waist, and you smiled to yourself. In return, you wrapped your fingers in the bit of hair at the nape of his neck, scratching ever so slightly. This made Harry’s grip tighten again, and you liked knowing that you were affecting him as much as he was affecting you.

You let your head fall forward, gaze meeting his. It was burning into you, his eyes gliding from your face down your body to the rise of your breasts. The pressure of it, of his interest and desire, felt good, and in that moment, you couldn’t help but feel a deep need to kiss him. The prospect of touching your lips to his, which looked so plush and inviting, a dark pink that looked far too kissable. The need burned at your chest, and you decided there was no reason not to give in. Tonight, you decided, you were saying yes to things that made you a bit nervous, and seeing what happened. So, you pressed your torso flat against his and leaned your head back, tugging at his with your fingers so your mouths met in harmony.

It was like all he waiting for was permission, because the minute your lips touched he moved, wrapping one arm around your waist and pulling you even closer, the other moving upward, his hand cupping your throat gently. His lips were soft and plush, just like you’d hoped. You loved how they moved against yours with obvious desire, begging and pleading with you through the kiss. When he brushed his finger along the column of your neck, you let your tongue dart out, brushing against his lips, which he parted for you, and you swept into his mouth, finding his tongue.

The kiss was messy and needy and exhilarating. From the press of his lips and the way they parted and pulled at yours, to his arm that was locked around your waist, fingers pressing int your skin, or the hand that was splayed at your neck, his fingers curled int your hair and the base of his palm on your throat.

It was, in all honesty, how you’d been wanting to be kissed for months. With desire, to feel needed and craved by another. It set your body on fire, and made you throw any apprehension you had to the wind.

“Air,” you mumbled, pulling your mouth away. “I need air. And a cigarette.”

He just smiled, nodding gently, and then threaded his fingers in yours, tugging you through the crowd. You hadn’t necessarily invited him to follow you outside, but you hoped he would get the hint—and he did, thankfully. There was a door in the back of the bar, a security guard standing next to it. Harry nodded at him, pointing at the door, and the guard pushed it open. It led to an alley, which had some other people down the way, but this section was empty. Perfectly, beautifully empty.

It was quiet outside, the thrum of the bass from the music inside seeping out, and the honk of taxi cabs melding into the perfect sound of New York at nighttime. You leaned against the rough brick of the building, the bare skin of your back cooling against the brick, which felt glorious.

“Cigarette?” You asked, reaching into your purse to pull out your pack and lighter.

“Sure,” he answered. “But I only need half of one.”

“Share one with me then.”

He smiled, and nodded. You placed the cigarette between your lips and lifted the lighter, flicking it so the flame appeared, lighting the end. You took a deep inhale, holding the cigarette in your teeth lightly as you exhaled out the sides of your mouth around it, placing the lighter back in your purse. Then, you took the cigarette from your mouth and offered it to Harry.

There was something so erotic about watching him smoke the same cigarette that had just been in your mouth. You couldn’t help but stare at his mouth curved around it, the smoke leaking from his mouth as he exhaled. You wondered if he thought the same when he watched you smoke.

“So,” you said as you held the cigarette between your fingers after taking a puff. “What’s your story, Harry?”

He stepped forward and pressed his hand to the brick at the side of your head, before leaning in and wrapping his lips around the edge of the cigarette that you still held between your fingers and taking another inhale. “I work in a record store and record some music on the side. Live a couple blocks from here with my friend Michael. Moved here a couple years ago.” He nodded to you. “And you?”

“Live in the village, work in marketing like everyone else,” that made him chuckle. “And have been here for three years.”

“Like it?” He asked, and you nodded.

“I do. I don’t think it’s forever, but I doubt that’s surprising. But I can’t imagine living anywhere else right now.”

He took another inhale of the cigarette before agreeing. “I know what you mean.”

“Are you here with friends?”

He nodded. “My roommate and some other people.”

“Will they miss you?”

That earned you a smile, and a shake of his head. “Why, what do you have in mind?”

The cigarette, shot, and gin and tonic are fueling your confidence because you pressed towards him and whispered in his ear, “your bed, preferably.”

He looked at you for a beat and then pressed his lips to yours, his free hand that isn’t touching the brick wrapping around your waist and tugging you toward him. It was a fight for dominance, this kiss—heated in a way the other one hadn’t been. It was full of desire and need and curiosity, that curiosity of finding someone new and leaning what they like and how they like it. You couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan when he tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth, and that sound made Harry press himself into you, his erection obvious against the material of your skirt. It made you wrap your hand holding the cigarette around his neck, making sure to not singe his beautiful curls, and curl your other hand in the waistband of his jeans.

Your finger brushed against a sliver of skin above his boxers and below the hem of his shirt, and you heard the sharp inhale of air he took in as you did it, pressing firmly against you and deepening the kiss. You wanted him in a way that you’d forgotten how to feel, and it lit up your whole body, making you absolutely uninterested in pretending you weren’t incredibly into him. You tugged his lip between your teeth and sucked gently, before licking across it. He responded by tucking his chin and brushing a series of kisses down your neck, pulling and nipping at the skin in a way that had you digging your fingers into his skin.

“Can we go,” you said, more a statement than a question in the way the words tumbled from your mouth. You couldn’t do this much longer or you’d end up begging him to fuck you in the bathroom of this bar.

“Fuck yes,” he answered, placing a searing kiss on your lips. “Need to say goodbye to my friends and close out the tab. Meet me at the bar?”

You nodded, and the two of you headed inside to say your goodbyes. You found your friends, explaining the situation in excited tones, and kissed them all goodbye on the cheek, promising to text the address you ended up at. And then you went in search of Harry, easily finding his mop of curls poking out amongst the people at the bar. You headed right for him, and when he caught sight of you he reached out for you, tucking you into his side, his arm around your waist.

“Let’s go,” he mumbled into your hair after he signed his name on the receipt, and you followed him out of the bar and into the night.

He kicked his bedroom door shut and walked to you in two paces, tugging you to him. Your lips met messily, all the pent-up tension from the evening and the walk here coming to a head. You decided to not mess around—you wanted to feel his skin desperately. The buttons of his shirt, a soft silk that was sweaty in the best way, came unbuttoned with ease, and you pushed the shirt off his shoulders, exposing his skin. It was tan and scattered with so many tattoos that you wanted to explore, but didn’t feel like you had enough time.

“I love your tattoos,” you said, your voice cutting through the sexual tension and silence in the room. Your fingers brushed across the swallows on his chest, and you saw his muscles tighten at the touch.

He didn’t acknowledge your statement. Instead, he was too busy staring at you. “Y/N,” he said, breathlessly, “can I take this off?” His fingers were playing with the hem of your shirt, and you nodded with ease. The material was pulled over your head in mere seconds, leaving you in just your skirt and boots. His fingers were on your skin immediately, cupping your breasts, lips brushing along the slope of your shoulder as he pulled on your nipples.

Your head fell back, a quiet “fuck” leaving your lips as his fingers moved across your skin, leaving a searing fire in their wake. He took advantage of the space, sucking on the skin at the base of your neck, nipping and pulling and you threaded your fingers in his hair and tugged gently. “Bed,” you exhaled, and he nodded, walking you backward until you fell onto the mattress.

He leaned back and unzipped your boots for you, dropping them to the floor and then removing his own shoes. You pulled on the clasp of his belt, freeing it from his jeans, and then popped the button, pulling down the zipper. The thought crossed your mind that he was the first man you’d undressed since your ex, but you didn’t let the thought linger for too long. Instead, you busied your mind by pushing down his jeans and tugging him on top of you, finding solace in his lips.

The kiss he gave you was deep and full of need, and you drank it in, loving each second that it held you. His fingers tugged on the zipper of your skirt and you wriggled to let him free you from it, leaving you both in just your underwear. You moved up the bed, pulling him with you, and tugged him down on top of you.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him in, your centers meeting and both of you let out a moan. Hooking up with someone new was always an interesting experience, that edge of apprehension and unsuredness, but this was feeling more and more comfortable by the second for you. Maybe it was the way his fingers felt on your skin, the way he didn’t stop touching some inch of you. Or the kisses he placed on your lips and then your skin, or the way his breathing hitched when you rolled your hips.

He was hard against you and you loved how it felt, how the friction felt against you. His tip was nudging at your clit through your underwear and you could feel how wet you were getting, and you wondered if he could tell too. You hadn’t done any of this in a little while, but you wanted him. Craved him in a way you hadn’t lately, and you wanted more. Wanted to feel the weight of him on your tongue and the press of him against you, that glorious feeling of being held by someone and the crash of an orgasm that exhausted your bones in a way nothing else did. How it made the world slip away for a second.

“Can you roll over?” You asked, nosing gently at his jaw.

“Yeah, ‘course,” he answered, flopping onto his back. You were on him in seconds, straddling his waist and swiveling your hips in a slow, tantalizing circle that had his hands reaching the curve of your waist. The pressure made you grind into him deeper and the moan that fell from his lips was intoxicating. You didn’t know how much more of him you could take, the pressure just building and building and building inside of you every time he kissed another inch of your skin.

Harry was fucking obsessed with you. This random girl he’d found at the bar who he couldn’t stop staring at. The curtain of your hair that fell around him as you bent forward and scattered kisses down his torso, making him inhale sharply, the feeling surprising in all the right ways. His fingers were pressed into your waist and he let them drop to your thighs, enjoying the softness of your skin and how he could grip them and pull ever so slightly to make your hips move over his cock, the friction feeling heavenly.

He needed you in every way, and he was simply wondering what you would be willing to give him because at this rate he would take any scrap or morsel of you.

And that’s when you suddenly shuffled backward and hovered over his thighs, lips ghosting downward to the top of his underwear. Fuck, you were going to go down on him. Would he survive? He wasn’t sure.

He lifted his hips and let you tug down his underwear, the sweetness of the kiss you placed on his hip bone catching him off guard. Harry lifted up onto his elbows so he could watch you as your fingers brushed along the length of him.

“You’re pretty,” you said, words dancing across his skin like another one of his tattoos.

“Yeah?” He answered, fingers winding through your hair. “Think I’m pretty, angel?”

You giggled—fucking giggled—and it set him on fire. “Very,” you informed him. Then, you ran your tongue up the length of him and swirled your tongue around his tip, the sight making Harry drop his head back and moan again. It felt so good, the warmth of your mouth and the caress of your tongue, the way you were delicate yet intense.

“More,” he mumbled, “please, Y/N.”

You didn’t hesitate before spitting on the length of him and rubbing your hand up and down, creating a ruthless pace that had him panting, circling your tongue over his tip repeatedly, making every inch of his cock light on fire. Then, you dropped your hand to his balls and gently rolled them as you took him in your mouth, and that’s when Harry looked back at you, not wanting to miss this moment.

Your eyes were on him, watching his response to your actions as you sunk lower and lower on his cock. When his tip bumped the back of your throat he groaned, and it took every inch of his willpower not to buck his hips at the sensation. And then you pulled back a bit, and then back down, creating a rhythm, your lips wrapped around him, tongue gently licking stripes up the underside of him as you worked.

It was heaven, your mouth. He hadn’t been with someone in a while, and you were unexpected but oh so perfect. He couldn’t stop looking at you, at the sight of his cock disappearing into your mouth over and over again, the sight of your eyes watering ever so slightly when you took him particularly deep, the bit of drool at the corner of your mouth. You were fucking drooling over him. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

When you pulled back and swirled your tongue over his tip and then sucked, he couldn’t hold back—he bucked his hips ever so slightly into your mouth. “Fuck, sorry,” he mumbled. But you just nodded, widening your lips and stilling where you hovered.

His eyes about rolled back in his head.

“You want me to fuck your mouth, angel?” You nodded, and Harry didn’t waste another second.

He curled his fingers through your hair and pressed his hips up, using your mouth and you let him. You even moaned at one point when his tip brushed the back of your throat. It was like you loved this, loved the feeling of him using your mouth, and that made him even more intrigued by you. When you started sucking on his tip when he pulled back, he decided he couldn’t take this anymore—he was going to come if he didn’t stop.

“Gotta stop,” he said, pulling your head off him. “Gonna come if I don’t.”

You looked up at him and smiled, before wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. “Liked how you felt,” you mumbled, crawling up his body toward him. He grasped your hips in his hands, and looked up at you, catching your eyes and smiling.

“Liked it too,” he said. “Come ‘ere.” You lowered your mouth and kissed him, lips intertwining perfectly. Then you started grinding back and forth on his cock, and Harry realized how wet you were through your underwear—fucking dripping, in fact. “Roll over for me,” he requested, and you did as he said with ease.

He hovered over you and fingered the waistband of your underwear. “Please,” you mumbled, and he smiled, before pulling the material off with ease. You were, in fact, glistening with arousal and Harry loved the sight. He pressed a kiss to your knee and began to bend down because he wanted desperately to go down on you, but you started shaking your head back and forth. “No,” you said, “Want you to fuck me. Please.”

The please got Harry. “Yeah?” You nodded, and Harry moved closer to you, letting your legs fall to either side of him. “Wanted to go down on you, but I guess that’ll have to wait.”

Your hands swept up his sides, brushing along the tattoos that rested there. Harry pulled away just enough to reach his bedside table, grabbing a condom. Quickly, he ripped open the package and rolled it on himself, pumping gently, eyes glancing over your body spread out in front of him. Your breasts, perfectly large in all the ways he loved, the curve of your waist and the skin he was deeply enjoying holding onto, your gentle but wildly talented hands, the soft waves of your hair that smelled far too delicious to not bury his face in. It was like you were out of a dream.

“Harry,” you said, hand reaching for his thigh and tugging gently. “Please.”

The begging really did it for Harry—he hated to admit it, but he fucking loved it when girls begged for him. Made him feel so wanted, so desired, so needed, which is exactly what he craved from sex. “Coming, I promise, love.” He rose up on his knees and nudged your thighs a little farther apart with his own, creating space for himself. Leaning over you, he caught your eyes as he nudged your entrance gently. He knew he was big, and he didn’t want to assume it wouldn’t hurt, so he was going to watch your expression to see how it felt.

And what he saw made him keen. The way your eyelids drooped ever so slightly, your tongue darting out to lick your lips. Then, he felt your hips brush down a bit, slipping more of his cock inside of you, and a gentle moan slip from your lips. “More,” you requested, hand winding around his bicep and gripping him.

Harry didn’t make you wait a second longer, he pushed forward, watching your eyes to make sure it didn’t hurt, and it never did. You just shut your eyes and your mouth dropped open, no sound coming out. You felt like heaven—wet and warm and snug, and Harry remembered why he absolutely fucking loved sex.

He pulled out slowly, and when you tugged slightly on his arm, as if to say Hurry up, he answered with a swift thrust in, groaning at the way your walls gripped him. You answered with a moan of your own, the words, “Feels so fucking good,” falling from your lips.

That spurred him forward, and he built up a rhythm that was brutal in pace. You liked it hard, that was obvious, and Harry happened to love it too. He had missed sex and this pace was dizzying in all the right ways. The feeling of your thighs wrapped around his waist, keeping his hips close, and the sight of your breasts bouncing as he fucked you was too much for his brain to process. He couldn’t figure out what to watch. The sight of his cock entering you (which he really liked looking at) or your breasts, or your stomach which he for some reason had the desire to bite gently, the skin stretched there tantalizing. Your face was a dream too—the way you looked at him with desire and need and pleasure so obvious, the moans that left your mouth without a filter, not caring in the slightest who heard.

Harry grabbed your thighs, tugging them up so your hips lifted off the bed and thrust in, hitting a deeper spot that made his head spin—and yours.

You were losing your fucking mind at this sex. He was fucking you like, truly, no man had fucked you before. Full of power and need and dominance in all the ways you loved. The feeling of his eyes on your skin had your body on fire, and that mixed with the way his cock was stretching you out just had your brain melting away. You couldn’t decide on what to pay attention to, but currently his tattoos and the ripple of his biceps was enticing you. The black ink made you curious, and you wondered if you asked if he would tell you their stories.

His hands slipped to hold your hips, pulling you in toward him, fucking you onto him and it made your eyes roll back, a heavy groan ripping from your throat. Missionary, you decided, was underrated. Harry knew how to fuck someone in missionary good, and you wanted it again and again and again. With your ex, you always craved the variety of positions as something to keep you engaged, but right now you had no desire to change your position. All you wanted was more intensity, more pressure, just more.

“More,” you begged, squeezing his arm.

Harry responded with a smile, and then he lowered your hips before rotating them to the left, your right leg draping over your left. He shifted behind you ever so slightly, nudging his cock back inside of you, and you gasped at the depth of the position. You could feel him in your fucking stomach it felt like, and it made you scrabble for his skin, gripping the forearm connected to the hand that was holding your hip as he fucked you. “Good?” He asked, hair falling into his eyes as he bent forward slightly, using the leverage to fuck you harder, driving into you at a brutal but delicious pace.

“So…fuck…good,” you answered, words a struggle in this position. You were so wet and your abdomen was tightening, a clear sign that your orgasm was rising inside of you. That wasn’t something that surprised you, though—you’d always been someone who came with ease, especially in intense sex. So you let it build, let your walls tighten and spasm around Harry.

It had Harry’s grip tightening. The feeling of your walls fluttering around him was a clear sign your orgasm was building, and Harry couldn’t wait to feel it. He wanted to watch you come, to know that he was the reason why. He still had plenty of stamina left—he’d always had plenty of energy when it came to sex—so he decided after you came if you still wanted to have sex, he would happily keep going.

“Fuckkk,” you let out, head dropping back and eyes shutting, hair spread all over his duvet. It was a gorgeous sight, and Harry drove into you faster, the sight of your tongue slipping out onto your lip spurring him on. Then he felt it, the way your walls clamped down tightly and the grip you had on his wrist tighten significantly. You were dripping all over him, and it felt so fucking good that he knew he needed to pause for a second, so he pulled out, turning you back onto your back gently.

Your eyes opened and found his with a smile. “Good?” He asked, and you nodded. “Want more?”

“Hell yes,” you answered, and he chuckled.

Then he dropped down, ducking his mouth to your waiting pussy, the sight of your wetness smeared all over your skin and the smell of your come filling his sense. He licked over your exposed skin, picking it all up with his tongue, and you moaned, obviously sensitive. But instead of stopping him, your hands found his hair and pulled him in closer, making his nose nudge against your clit. You were so. fucking. hot.

He went to town on you, licking inside and then over your clit, which he discovered you particularly liked. He worked his tongue in circles that had your head thrashing, mouth dropped open in a moan, hands a death grip on his hair. Thankfully, he’d always had a thing for that. When he pushed a finger inside of you at your request, that made your eyes roll back, and he fucked you with his fingers, first one and then two. He found your g-spot with relative ease, brushing against it and taking joy in the way your thighs tightened around his head.

Going down on you was so fun; like a new mystery he was taking deep joy in discovering all the secrets of.

You didn’t let that go on for too long, though, pulling on his hair with desperation after he’d been fucking you with his fingers particularly fast. “I’m going to come if you don’t stop, and I’d really like you inside of me again,” you said, and that made him stop immediately. He was not going to miss that opportunity.

He dropped your thighs from where he’d been holding them and moved back to his old spot between your thighs. He spit into his hand and ran it up and down his cock, getting ready to be back inside of you. To his joy, he got to watch your fingers slip down to your clit, brushing in a circle that made your hips buck up towards him.

“Ready?” He asked, and when you nodded, he pushed back into you. Somehow, you were even tighter—likely from being close and having adjusted to his fingers. It felt glorious, and he wasted no time finding a brutal rhythm. He tugged at your legs, pulling them up, so your calves draped over his shoulder, which made you scramble for skin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Harry,” you moaned as he thrust into you, hands reaching for his collarbone.

He was close too, the sight of you on the edge and this feeling dizzying him. “I’m close,” he mumbled, and he watched you force your eyes open.

“I think—fuck—I think I might squirt. Is that, shit, is that okay?” The way you stumbled over your words made him smile, and so did what you said. It was a treat, something he’d never expected, but holy hell did he want.

“Fuck yes it is,” he answered, bending forward slightly so your thighs strained. “What do you need?”

“Fingers,” you replied. “On my clit. And a towel below me if you don’t mind your duvet getting wet.”

The prospect of leaving your pussy sounded downright unfathomable, so Harry decided he didn’t give a single shit about the state of his bed. He had plenty of blankets. Who cared about a duvet. “It’s fine,” he told you. Then, he reached between your legs and brushed his fingers over your clit, which made your pussy tighten immediately and your hips buck.

It was like you couldn’t control yourself, the way your hips moved. Harry had to stay incredibly close, so he didn’t slip out, but he didn’t mind. He loved how you felt around him, all consuming and deliciously wet. He wanted to see you squirt more than anything, so he was staving off his orgasm until after you finished, but the effort was torture. The distraction of rubbing your clit was helping, but he didn’t know how much longer he could last.

“Gonna come for me, love?” He mumbled, words tumbling from his fucked out brain. “Wanna see you squirt all over me.”

That, it seemed like, did the trick. Your walls tightened immediately, and Harry felt the rush of your orgasm immediately, coating his lower body in wet. The sight of it, mixed with the load moans spilling from your mouth and the sight of your hand gripping your breast, pulling taut on the skin did it for him. It put him over the edge, and he stuttered, his pace faltering as he came into the condom, gripping your thighs as he rode his finish, the feeling of your squirt making his finish even more intense than usual.

Panting, he gently pulled out of you, letting your thighs fall to the side. “Holy shit,” he said, chest heaving.

You laughed gently, hand dropping to the bed. “Holy shit is right.”

He looked down at your pussy, where a large area around it was wet from you squirting. Harry had only had one girl squirt on him before, and it had been a while ago, so he’d forgotten what it felt like. And how much he fucking loved it. “That was insane.” He looked up at you. “You doing okay?”

You nodded. “Just a little sticky.”

He laughed. “Want to take a shower?”

“Please,” you answered. He reached his hand out for you, and you took it, letting him help you up. When you got to sitting, he pressed a gentle kiss to your nose. The gesture made your heart warm, especially after how vulnerable you’d been with him. You hadn’t done that with every guy you’d been with, and you weren’t fully sure why you trusted him with it, but you were happy you did. Your mind was floaty, drained from most thoughts, and your body felt light in all the right ways.

He led you to the shower, turning on the hot water for you and pointing to where the fresh towels and soap were. “Going to change the sheets,” he said, giving you a kiss on the lips before leaving you to it.

You stood under the shower, letting the warm water fall on your skin. It brought you back into your body. You used the soap and washed up, cleaning all the aftermath of sex from your skin. Then, you stepped out, grabbing a fresh towel, and sat on the toilet to pee, before heading back to his room.

The bed was freshly made, the wet duvet gone from sight. Harry was still naked, tucking a blanket onto the bed when you walked in. “Feel better?”

“Perfect,” you answered. “Thanks for letting me do that.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’m going to take one myself—help yourself to anything you need.”

He patted down the hall, leaving you alone in his room. It was fun to be left alone in a boy’s room, allowing you to snoop just a bit. You explored the framed photos on his dresser and bedside table, finding out he had a sister, and found some photos of him and some friends, boys you thought might be his roommates. His cologne sat on the dresser, and you made a mental note of the brand and scent name, deciding that you’d make the next boyfriend you had wear it because you loved the way Harry smelled.

A book you’d never read before sat on the bedside table and you picked it up, curious. You were reading the inside flap when Harry re-entered the room, causing you to look up. “It’s good,” he said. “The book.”

“Good to know.”

“So.” He pushed the door shut and gestured to the bed. “You’re welcome to stay the night—it’s pretty late. But if you want to head home that’s totally fine too, happy to call you an Uber. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

He was sweet, you decided. That much was clear, from the way his green eyes gleamed with honesty. Sometimes guys would say all that just as a way to pressure you to leave, but this time you truly felt like he didn’t mind either way. “I’ll stay if you’re okay with it.”

Harry smiled at you, and you knew you’d made the right decision. You weren’t quite ready for the night to end, and you didn’t really feel like putting on your clothes and sitting in a stranger’s car right now. “Of course—need something to sleep in?”

“I, uh, usually sleep naked,” you said.

That made Harry split a wide grin. “Knew I liked you for a reason.”

You returned his smile, and as the two of you got into his bed, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next. If this was just a random hookup or maybe turn into a multiple time thing. Because honestly, you wouldn’t mind if it happened again. You were even curious what this boy was like during the daytime, if you were completed truthful with yourself. And as you laid on his pillows and he asked you questions about your life, seeming to be genuinely interested, you couldn’t help wonder if maybe he felt the same way.

fill my inbox with your favorite moments, lines, things you’re having ~feels~ about, or other concepts you’re dreaming up for me!!! missed you all <;3

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corazondebeskar-reads · 3 months

Text

live to rise - chapter four

live to rise series

four: where the light won't find you

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

gladiator!Din Djarin x f!reader

word count: 4.3k

summary: After the Mandalorian is removed from your barrack and you are given a new assignment, you see him fight for the first time.

chapter warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, implied rape/non-con (NOT involving reader or Din), implied physical abuse, near-death encounter, mando fic tropes galore

Please heed the series and chapter warnings.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Reassigned. Not terminated. Reassigned. Your hand rests on your heaving chest as you try to settle from the surprise of it all.

The Mandalorian’s been sponsored.

You hadn’t thought it possible; his price was supposedly astronomical. This person must be obscenely rich.

And then your heart drops further. This is why you shouldn’t have gotten so close. Yes, you’d rather have him leave your barracks alive than dead, but you can’t help the wave of sorrow that crests. You had enjoyed his company immensely, even dismissing the feelings you weren’t acknowledging.

It’s not like you didn’t treat each parting as potentially permanent anyway, but sometimes, with your long-term residents, you got a little too comfortable.

You pack up the bedding hastily and head toward Cresh. You know he won’t still be there, you tell yourself, you’re just going to get the cell turned over as soon as possible.

It hurts a little to find it empty, anyway.

Cresh goes through three more C-5s before you hear about the Mandalorian again.

“How did you deal with him?” Hali asks you one night after the attendants have shared the day’s news.

“With who?” you ask, even though there’s no one else she could mean.

“That Mandalorian. He was so gruff and rude. I’m the fifth attendant he’s rejected, and it’s making everyone on edge. Like there’s something wrong with us .”

You shrug it off. “He’s just guarded. He probably doesn’t want someone in his space.”

“Yeah, well,” she grumbles. “It’s not like we want to be in his space.”

“Has anyone explained that to him?”

“I tried to,” she says. “But it’s like he wouldn’t even listen to me.”

Cold clarity finds you with your lips parted and eyes wide. You can’t tell her. But your stomach sinks. The design of those cells puts him at the back of the chamber. If they’re being quiet, from fear or otherwise, he can’t hear them.

They come for you the next day. Two guards. The fear when they beckon you is almost enough to bring you to your knees.

The only reason you don’t panic completely is because they don’t bind you. They just march you between them to the upper levels.

When you reach the lounge, they shove you through the door, and you stumble a little.

“This is the girl, as requested, Madame, but we really can’t spare her from her duties,” says one of the commanders. You don’t know his name; the officers never come downstairs.

“If she’s the only attendant he’ll accept, you don’t have a choice. Or am I paying these frankly extortionary caretaking fees for nothing?”

You stiffen, all nerves sparking on high alert.

The commander stammers a little, losing his composure when he realizes credits are on the line.

“I can handle both, Commander, I swear," you say, immediately wishing you hadn't.

The Mandalorian's sponsor turns slowly, a thin eyebrow arched. You figure you’re already in for it for speaking out of turn, so you clench your jaw and meet her eyes.

She’s petite, but there’s an undeniable aura of danger pouring from her. Her dark eyes are cold, and her plum lips narrowed. Her clothing is intricate and expensive in the way of the truly wealthy—it’s not dripping with jewels or gold; it’s quality fabric tailored immaculately, with delicate embroidery creating striking and flattering designs. She does wear jewelry, but it’s subtle and almost assuredly custom.

“Why you?” she says.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I was his barrack caretaker.”

She hums and blatantly looks you up and down, circling you like a nexu. You keep your head up and force yourself not to follow her with your eyes. To let her prowl and remain uncowed.

It’s unbecoming of a servant, you know. But you want her to know you can handle him, that you won’t be intimated and manipulated by the infamous Mandalorian.

When she comes back around, she has a pleased, sharp grin. Turning to the commander, she crosses her arms.

“Make it happen, or I’ll withdraw my sponsorship.”

“Yes, Madame,” he says.

You don’t want to leave the barracks. Not Cresh and not the servant’s quarters. It doesn’t really hit you until you hug Eli and realize you’ll barely see him anymore.

“Shut up,” he grumbles when you say as much. “You’re going to come by and report, right?”

You nod, sniffling into his tunic. “I will.”

He puts his hands on your shoulders. “This is a good thing. You’ll have better… everything. And you said you trust him, right?”

“I think so,” you say.

“C’mon, I’ll walk with you,” he says.

You shove his shoulder. “You just want to see what it’s like inside.”

“Well, duh,” he shoves you back.

He only gets to peek in, of course. But he still plays it up to get a smile from you. “This is kriffing wizard,” he teases. “You get your own fresher? Practically Canto Bight.”

But you’re not really seeing it through the same lens. Because your new quarters are in the Mandalorian’s cell. There’s a barred gate between you, but your cot is still behind the solid durasteel door, same as his.

Eli sees the fear on your face. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s not locked for you. Your badge will always open it.”

He sets your bag down on the small cot and hugs you again. “You know where to find me.”

“I will,” you say. You don’t catch the look he gives Mando over your shoulder.

You sit down on the cot when Eli leaves, more unmoored here than you’ve been in years. You let it sit, ugly and misshapen in your chest, before steeling your focus.

“Do you have everything you need?” you say.

“I think so,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, and silence resettles. It’s strange to feel so uncertain around him again. “I’ll go retrieve your dinner.”

“Do you eat here as well?” he asks.

“If you wish,” you say. Your hands are folded together and wrapped up in the top apron layer of your skirts.

“I don’t want to disrupt your routine,” he says.

“I’m here to attend to you,” you remind him, feeling a little frustrated by all the things unsaid.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s—it’s nothing,” you say and sigh. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

He’s almost relieved when you only bring one tray. Everything about this has been chaotic and messy. But it’s a sacrifice that has to be made.

You retrieve his tray when you return from dining with the others, but this time, you come back to him after. The lights are out, and you think he might be asleep already, so you duck into the fresher from your side of the bars and wash up for the night.

You settle onto your cot, almost grateful that it’s not any more comfortable than your old one. It’s strange, without the shuffling and snoring of your peers.

And then it starts. A horribly unmistakable sound from the cell next door. You hope you’re wrong. You pray you’re wrong.

You’re not.

You sit up, fingers digging into your knees, and eyes on the ground.

You can’t see into the cells around you, but you can certainly hear your neighboring attendant’s screams and cries.

They’re begging and pleading, but no one will help them. It’s the champion’s right. The attendants must serve every request unless it goes against arena rules.

Very few things do.

It’s not that you’re afraid of the Mandalorian. It’s more like you’re just afraid. But he’s done nothing to lose your trust, so you try not to flinch when he comes near the bars between his cell and your chamber.

While you manage not to, you do flinch each time the noises intensify or change. The sound of skin against skin is constant, but some are more obviously violent, emphasized by the nauseating responses.

“Hey,” he says. “Come here.”

You’re trembling a little, but you tense and try to hold steady as you stand and approach him. The gate is not locked. It only locks when you access the main door, so that you may come and go without releasing him.

If you’re inside? All he has to do is push.

But he doesn’t. “Don’t listen,” he says. “Cover your ears if you have to.”

“I’m fine,” you say.

He doesn’t quite catch it, but he can wager a solid guess from your expression. He sighs. “You can look at me, you know,” he says. “You’ll see me eventually.”

“I might be able to avoid it,” you say.

“I appreciate it,” he says. “But this is all going to be easier if you don’t have to be trying so hard.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want to take anything from you.”

“I’m asking you to. I don’t want the first time you see my face to be in the arena.”

You bite your lip. It makes sense. “You’re sure?”

“I am.”

And you can’t really argue. Not because you’re supposed to do what he says but because you get it. He’s right; you will see him in the arena. But he can control how it happens this way. It doesn’t have to be another thing they just take.

So you look.

Your eyes scan his face like they always do when you see one of your fighters for the first time. Searing it in so you can find it later in the pigments.

You won’t paint him, though. Not like this.

He holds steady eye contact. You feel like he’s waiting for a reaction, but nothing comes. He’s beautiful, but that’s not yours to say.

“I’m sorry,” you say instead.

“Thank you.” He pauses. “Worked, though, didn’t it?”

You blink at him for a moment.

The smallest shadow of a crooked smile flickers but doesn’t ignite. “Distracted you.”

The hall is quiet. You hadn’t realized, but the horrors next door had wound down. Stars, you hope they’re okay. Sleeping or tending their wounds. Not… well. Not forcibly silenced.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, drawing your eyes back to him. His fingers wrap around a bar near yours. Not touching, but inviting.

“Okay.” You’re not really sure what else to say. You’ve heard it before. Some mean it, some don’t. You think he’s genuine, that he’s safe, but that caution is like a little burn that never heals, leaving you to flinch away.

Your fingers twitch, and he thinks you’re about to touch his.

But you wince when the main door of the neighboring cell opens. His eyes bear a plea he won’t voice, but you only hesitate for a moment before pressing your badge to the scanner. His gate clicks and the door whooshes open.

They’re already ducking into the medbay when you catch up, so you stick your hand in front of the sensor to force the doors back open.

It’s the girl whose name you couldn’t remember on the Mandalorian’s first night. Sessa. She startles and whirls around when she hears you, hand pressed to her chest.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you," you say quietly.

She looks at you for a moment, something hauntingly empty in her eyes before she seems to recognize you. She covers her face with her hands.

“Please,” you whisper. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I—” her voice breaks, and you step closer, offering an embrace she folds into.

You don’t say anything. What could you? That you’re sorry? She knows. That it’ll be okay? It won’t. It’s horrible, she doesn’t deserve it, it’s inhumane, but none of those things will help her. She knows.

She doesn’t even really cry. It aches, but the tears don’t come, just the soft prickle of numbness. She’ll survive this, you think. She shouldn’t have to, but she will.

When the time for softness has faded, you let her pull back, and she lets you assess her. She sits on the counter with an ice pack to her cheek and drinks the tea you press into her hand. Her nose wrinkles at the bitter taste, but the tincture within is worth it. A reassurance. Nothing will come of this that she can’t bear.

When she leaves, she hugs you again, and you stay behind in the dark room, leaning against the counter with your arms folded over your chest.

It wasn’t a secret, what happened here. It didn’t always; a lot of the fighters are honorable people. But sometimes… sometimes this life warps the psyche beyond repair. Sometimes, desperate people do desperate things. Become something terrible to survive.

You just hadn’t been witness to the cruelty before.

When you go back, Mando is still awake. Waiting, you think.

“Is she—” he hesitates. He doesn’t want to ask if she’s okay, because the answer is no. It’s not really what he’s asking, anyway.

You nod, lips pursed tight. She’ll live, your silence says. And it’ll have to be enough.

It’s strange. Waking in his cell but rising to follow your old habits anyway. He gets served first, and then you take breakfast down to Cresh as if nothing has changed. Except you can’t linger, you can’t chat and learn of them as you used to. You have to return to the Mandalorian.

It’s strange for the both of you. Your time is usually spent busy or with the other servants. His time is usually spent alone. He doesn’t have a fight that first day and so you are forced to learn to navigate one another.

The gate between you remains closed.

He does push-ups while you fold laundry, executes a series of jumps that cycle between laying on the floor and springing to his feet that exhaust you just to see from the corner of your eye while you clean, and balances on his hands—one and both—while you flip through the agenda on your datapad and try not to be caught impressed.

It’s quiet, this life, with neither of you inclined to interrupt the other. You let him know when you phase in and out to attend to your duties and his needs. Otherwise, you don’t really speak until nightfall.

“I’m sorry,” he says in the safety of the dark. “I didn’t know it would create more of a burden for you. I just… couldn’t trust anyone else.”

“It’s not a burden, just a change. I understand,” you say softly.

He sighs, an edge of frustration biting. “I disrupted your routine.”

You snort. “So?”

“I separated you from your friends.”

You sigh. “Will it make you feel better if I pretend to be mad?”

“Why aren’t you?”

You sit up on your cot. “Nothing about this life is fair, and it’s all temporary. Everyone leaves, one way or another. Everything shifts. This is just another phase of my time here, and there’s no point in being upset about it.”

He lets it sit for a minute. “How long have you been here?”

“Three years. I have just under two left.”

The weight of the time is not lost on him, and you can see the hint of a grim smile. “You haven’t let it break you.”

You return the smile. “Not yet.”

He reclines against the wall, legs sprawled and dangling over the side of his bed. “For what it’s worth, I truly am sorry. It was a selfish thing for me to ask of you.”

“I’m glad you’re not alone.” You mean it. It may have disrupted what you knew before, but getting moved here did the same for him. And it took away his opportunity to talk to others. “I’m glad you trust me with this.”

He sighs, bittersweet. “Me too.”

Something shifts, then, that you’re grateful for. The guilt and awkwardness dissipate and leave behind that budding comradery you had started to forge together. A sense of peace.

It’s one of the better nights of sleep you’ve had in a long time.

You’ve never been in the stands before, let alone in the box. Though it’s exposed to the open sun, the vents wash it in cool air, unlike the curved benches where the crowds jeer and hiss.

No, up here in the sponsor box, surrounded by the important and the rich, you’re considered fortunate. The Mandalorian’s sponsor is late, but you’re in place. While he waits for battle, your services shift to her.

“You’re still here,” the Madame says as she approaches her seat.

You stand to the side, stiff and silent, until she draws near. “Yes, Madame.”

She gives you an appraising once-over. “Good.” Her voice is as sharp as her eyes, and she settles to watch.

You don’t really know the protocol here. Your days serving in the lounge were passed silently, circling the room with a loaded tray. Here, you’re meant to cater to her alone.

She doesn’t speak to you, though. Doesn’t acknowledge you. She lounges, coiled and elegant, like a tree viper.

You don’t want to watch the fights. You don’t. But you know, now, that you must. You owe it to the barrack caretakers; you can’t leave this responsibility to the other attendants alone. You all bear the burden together.

When the first fight ends in a double loss, both fighters fatally wounded, you know you’re not strong enough for this. The nausea rises until all you smell is blood, a phantom sense as the sand turns red beneath each pair’s feet. You’re shaking and all you can think is how glad you are not to have to hold a tray of glasses.

And then it’s time.

The Madame sits up, focused, and you know. Teeth dig into the soft flesh of your cheek to hold your breath steady and shallow. Quiet as possible, as if you need to strain to hear what’s playing out in front of you.

And you think, he should not be caged, for he is power and beauty and ferociousness. You can see why his people followed him to death. He is death.

His opponent lands exactly one strike, and you almost think the Mandalorian allowed it. Like he was gauging the strength and will. He prowls, teeth bloodied and bared, a snarl natural in the set of his lips. You think it’s laid in beskar steel, a scar you can’t smooth out into the soft curve of a smile.

No, that’s been stolen from him, too.

He asks his opponent’s name, and you think he’s carving it into his ribcage, so each time he breathes, it impresses upon his lungs.

When he moves, it’s calculated. Like the arena is a map he’s plotting, each strike or dodge choreographed and steadfast. There are no weapons today, just fists, and though his opponent has the advantage of razor-sharp teeth, they never even come close to slicing him open.

And then it’s over. The Mandalorian’s broad hands dwarf the other fighter’s jaw as he secures his grip and snaps. The body falls limp and the Mandalorian sneers at the crowd before he looks up.

There’s no way he can see you, but it feels like it. It feels like he sees you there, and doesn’t find what he was afraid of.

He’s not in the room when you get back down, and you pre-set his towels and clean clothes, so you won’t need to go hunting them down if he wants to shower. It’s still mid-afternoon, and you’re buzzing with the leftover cocktail of adrenaline and cortisol when he comes back.

Neither of you speaks at first as he goes into his half of the cell and cracks his knuckles, sighing deeply once the main doors are shut.

“Are you okay?” he says.

You’re surprised until you realize you shouldn’t be. He knows how weak you are. “Yeah,” you say.

“Are you afraid of me now?” he says quietly, not looking at you.

Oh. You get up and come closer to the gate. “No. I’m not.”

He meets your eyes and must find the truth in them, nodding grimly. “So what did you think?”

“Why do they have you fight with a shirt on?”

His eyes widen. “What?”

“Well, it’s just, they usually—um.”

“What?”

“They usually make the more attractive fighters wear as little as possible. You know. To appeal to the crowds.”

Huh. He thought it was a choice made by the few he’d seen showing skin. And then he can’t help it. You won’t look him in the eye, and he can’t resist. “You think I’m one of the more attractive fighters?” he teases.

Your cheeks burn, and you look very seriously at the ground. “I—I mean like, um, objectively—“

He spares you. “It’s because of my tattoos. They don’t want me out there covered in Mandalorian symbology.”

“Oh,” you say, imagination kicking off. “Can I—I’m sorry, that’s so inappropriate of me. I just… like… art.” It sounds so stupid and crude, but you mean it.

“I’ll show you when I’m clean,” he says with a shrug.

He always seems to understand. It’s a comfort you’ve never known before.

When he gets out of the fresher, though, you realize you have severely overestimated yourself. Because your first thought when he steps into his room is fuck. He’s big. You know he’s big. And broad. But without a shirt on? Stars. And he’s still a little wet, his crumpled curls dripping down his shoulders.

You have got to get yourself under control. You’re pretty sure you’ve already been busted, though, because he’s suddenly looking at you, something a little dark in the lines of his face, and you feel flayed under his disapproval.

Your brain reboots in time to recover, though, as you really do take in the way his skin is bathed in black ink. A lot of it is abstract, sharp angles and curving arcs intertwining with constellations and letters in a language you don’t recognize. Some of it almost looks like smears of paint, the ink laid across his body in a manner so akin to brushstrokes that the craftsmanship is breathtaking.

But there are a few pieces that differ, ones that stand out against the intricate patterns. You realize you’ve stepped up to the gate once he does the same.

“These are incredible,” you say. “How long did this take?” You nod at the swirl of ink on his bicep that wouldn’t look out of place in your own work.

“A very long time,” he says.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. What was your first one?”

He turns around, and you’re struck by the mythosaur skull that takes up most of his back. It’s almost shimmering.

“The ink…” you start.

He turns back around. “It’s imbued with beskar.”

Your jaw drops. “It’s what?”

“It’s—I’m going to be honest, I don’t fully understand the process. But we use a small amount of molten beskar in the ink for certain tattoos. These have it, too.” He indicates the two on his front that had stood out from the rest.

“Do you mind if I ask what they are? Why they’re the ones that use beskar?”

“No,” he says casually. “They’re things that I should never be without, parts of my armor that can never be fully taken. This,” he taps the diamond-esque design on his chest, “is a beskar’ta. Every Mandalorian has one. It’s the heart.”

You’re staring, unashamed, as he indicates the other glimmering mark on his shoulder.

“This is a mudhorn, the symbol of my clan. Someday, my son will have the same one. He’s too young. Or, well. He’s…” he pauses like he can’t decide if he wants to get into this. “He’s not ready yet.”

“So… so you always have it with you. Your armor. The beskar.”

“Yes. Not everyone gets them, but many do.”

“That’s beautiful.” You’re a little speechless. Not just from the beauty of the art but the sheer idea. “That’s…”

“You can see why Gideon doesn’t want them to be seen.”

“Yeah,” you say, a small scoff slipping out. “No kidding.”

You step back, and he tugs on his shirt, ruffling his still-damp hair like nothing world-shattering has happened. And yet, the room seems to have tilted and knocked you to the side, the shift undeniable.

You don’t realize why until you remember the look on his face when he caught you staring the first time. It wasn’t discomfort. It was hunger.

It’s not a tension, exactly, that settles between you. It’s more like an acknowledgment. Something is going to change. It’s just a matter of when. And it lingers in the air for weeks.

It happens, like almost all things here, in the wake of fear.

You return to the cell before him, having fled the box as soon as his narrowest victory was called. Not that it gave you much of a head start, but you had time to grab a medpack and fresh clothes before they brought him in.

He never uses the arena freshers anymore, not even just to wash away the sticky, fresh blood. No, he’s still quite coated in it when the door snicks shut behind him, his face gaunt and haunted.

You think, at first, that he was afraid to die.

Who moves first is irrelevant. Your only focal point in the galaxy is the way he feels pressed right against you, fingers digging into your soft flesh like he’s trying to pull you into his ribcage as you embrace.

You’re not being much gentler, clinging on as you shake with unshed tears.

He lets go of your waist to clutch your face in his bloody hands. “Promise me you won’t watch.”

“What?” you say, rearing your head back to look at his furrowed brows and pouted lips.

“Don’t watch. When it happens. I don’t want you to have to see.”

Oh. “Stop,” you whisper, but he’s shaking his head.

“It’s all I could think about. Look away, and don’t find out what they do with my body. Promise me, kar’talyc.”

All that comes out is a sob when you try to argue.

His hand cups the back of your head, and he pulls you against his still-soaked chest.

Once you’ve settled a little, he pulls back but leaves his hands on your shoulders. “Promise.”

“Mando—“

“Din.”

You blink at him for a moment. “What?”

“My name is Din.”

next chapter

*Din calls her kar'talyc, which basically means "bleeding heart" (from kar'ta, meaning "heart," and talyc, meaning "bloody.") He's been calling her that in his head since the last chapter.

*tattooed Din and his mythosaur were inspired by this art by @xxlumos

*title from "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" by Tears for Fears, but I listened to the Lorde version while writing this and highly recommend it for the vibes. The original is quite a different mood lol.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #mando x you #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian fic #gladiator!din djarin #fic: live to rise

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mandu-17 · 1 year

Text

Sad puppy | Kim Yoohyeon x fem! reader

Requested by: Anonymous

Request: hey hey!!! i love ur writings :) will you be willing to write yoohyeon x reader where yoohyeon wants reader's attention so she starts kissing readers neck and teasing her? tysm <3

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

Wordcount: ~ 1,676

A/N: always a pleasure writing for my fiancée, enjoy this little cutie

The stinging in your eyes was slowly making its' way to your acknowledgement. You blinked a couple of times in hope of wetting them before readjusting your position on the couch. You turned around so that now you were laying on your stomach. Sudden movement made Pie look up at you curiously before she also changed her position and settled down on the small of your back.

With the shower running in the background and a new source of heat pleasantly warming up your sore back, you were perfectly able to focus on the phone in your hands. This new game that Yoohyeon showed you three days earlier turned your whole world upside down. You truly admired the graphics and the plot while totally enjoying every moment of playing. This game was addicting, an excellent way to make the time pass faster.

It was easy to just get lost in that fictional world and spend long minutes, if not sometimes hours, on improving your character's skills. The fact that the game was connected to the series of your favorite movies did not help.

It was actually the reason Yoohyeon showed you that game. She was aware of how much you might like it and the thought of you two playing it together or maybe even getting matching characters immediately made her heart swell. Your girlfriend felt flattered that thanks to her you discovered something you could enjoy. Perhaps, she outdid herself and instead gave you a whole new hobby.

Shower stopped, you paid no mind to it really. The only thing you could hear now was soft humming coming out of the bathroom and the sound of Yoohyeon shuffling around, probably doing her skin care routine. After some more time, she opened the door since it was getting harder to deal with all that hot steamed air in the room. Yoohyeon began brushing her hair carefully, the damage after having it dyed for so long was still something she had to take good care of.

Pie’s head shot up. Her shiny eyes were turned to the sudden streak of light entering the hall. Then, she decided that it was way too long since she’d last seen Yoohyeon and that she’d missed her already.

“Betrayer.” You pouted when Pie jumped off the couch and ran to see her owner, her tail wiggling behind.

“Pie-ya, hi!” Not even three seconds passed, “No, don’t eat the sponge!

How adorable.

With an amused smile, you glanced up at the slightly opened door - unfortunately you weren’t able to see the scene properly. So you focused on the game again.

It was only a matter of few more minutes for your favorite girls to join you in the living room. Yoohyeon let out an exaggeratedly loud sigh before sitting legs crossed on the ground right next to the couch. Pie immediately climbed to her lap, greedy for some cuddles.

“Showering is way too tiring.” Your girlfriend complained, while caressing her pet’s belly. Pie laid down fully on Yoohyeon’s lap, but her head was falling off, almost on the floor. Yooheon giggled lovingly, she poked your side to get you to look at Pie as well, “Just look at her! She’s such a dork.”

You chuckled at the heartwarming view, nevertheless the vibration of your phone made you quickly look away. A new notification came up, claiming that you were now able to start another mission. Eagerly, you pressed play. You’d had to wait two long hours to have it unlocked for free.

At first, it was peaceful like that. Yoohyeon kept herself busy while playing with Pie, she scrolled through her phone for a bit too. The yellow light of one of the night lamps illuminated the room cozily. Rush hour was slowly coming to an end. One glance outside the window and Yoohyeon realized how lucky she was to find herself in such a warm room, with the love of her life by her side and- well, you.

Just kidding, as much as she loved Pie, her furry friend couldn’t talk to her or hug her the way you did. Truly, you had her wrapped around your finger. Just a little peek at you had the corners of her lips turning up irritatingly fast. Way too fast for her own liking, but there was nothing she could do about it. Her heart was beating for you.

Yoohyeon sighed, locking her phone. Pie left her lap with a new mission on her mind - finding her favorite toy. There was no one keeping Yoohyeon warm now, this simply had to change. She had a mission of her own - to get your attention.

“Baby.” Almost shyly, she poked your rib again.

She got no reaction except for a quiet hum. It certainly was not satisfying.

“You know, you’ve been playing for so long.” Yoohyeon turned her body, while getting on her knees so she was facing the couch properly. She tilted her head slightly, hoping that her soft voice would at least make you look at her.

“Yes, this game you showed me is incredible.” You were so obvious, with your eyes still glued to the screen.

Yoohyeon rolled her eyes in a fondly manner, you could be very stubborn at times. Even if you called it ‘passion’, this feature of yours often made Yoohyeoon want to laugh.

“And I can show you something even more incredible.” She raised a bit on her knees, her fingers gently pulling your hair over your shoulder. The scent of Yoohyeon’s shampoo embraced you, bringing a pleasant, fresh vibe.

Next thing you knew was her lips on your neck. It was a light peck, followed by your girlfriend nuzzling her nose into your skin. With her eyes closed, she felt the happiest while being this close to you.

You also smiled at her sudden approach, nevertheless remained focused on the game. Few more clicks and you’d get bonus stars!

“I’m almost done, I promise.”

“But I want you now.” Even with a simple sentence, you could feel your cheeks heating up. Yoohyeon pouted against your neck, her fingertips started drawing lazy circles on your back. After a moment of comfortable silence, she rested her head higher, against yours and rubbed you like a cat few times. Giggling, you tilted your head and reciprocated the gesture. Her eyes caught a glint of the screen, Yoohyeon’s eyebrows raised as she deadpanned, “Wow, you suck at this.”

“No, I don’t. I’m already on a higher level than you!” You huffed, acknowledging your girlfriend’s attempt at teasing you.

“Yah! I’m leaving for tour soon and all you want to do is play phone games?” She whined loudly, but you knew it was her way to hide the laughter.

Your heart skipped a beat when you turned to meet her eyes. Dressed in a baby blue sweatpants and hoodie set that was way too big, hair still slightly wet and no make up on. She had these cute crinkles by her eyes - you appreciated the sight of them because whenever they’d pop up, it’d mean that your favorite person was smiling. You felt like the happiest girl in the world, convinced that there was an actual masterpiece in front of you. Who else would look so attractive while totally bare faced, in simple and cozy clothes?

“Okay, what would you like to do?” You rolled your eyes playfully, before asking. Your tone laced with innocence, as you watched her expectantly.

“I’ve got few things in mind.” Yoohyeon smirked.

On the inside she was jumping out of joy. Although, on the outside, she hurriedly joined you on the couch seeing you lock your phone and put it aside. You backed up against the couch as much as possible, your arms opened wide, as Yoohyeon tried to squeeze herself besides you. One of her legs ended up across your hip so she wouldn’t fall off the edge.

“This will do.” Yooh hummed contently, burying her face in your shoulder. “For now.”

“For now?” You giggled, surprised, automatically, you started caressing her hair, as well as massaging her scalp. Yoohyeon angled her head from time to time to get you to scratch her favorite places.

“You know, the night is still young. We can have a lot of fun in our bedroom later.” Eyes shut, your girlfriend cherished your touch.

“What about Pie?” As if on cue, Pie peeked at you - her front paws resting on the couch. She watched you interested, sensing that you were talking about her.

“She’ll understand.” Yoohyeon turned slightly in order to see the pet, as well. Pie and her shared a quick staring contest. “You get it, right? Y/N and I need some time alone. Mom will be gone soon, working hard to buy you a lot of delicious food, Pie-ya.”

It was impossible to watch their interaction with a straight face. With a foolish grin, you patted Yoohyeon’s thigh showing Pie to jump in between you. She squealed excitedly and climbed up. With her tail wiggling, she licked both of your faces.

“Of course she’ll understand. Our baby girl is so smart.” You toyed with Pie’s ear using your left hand. “What will you buy for me, though?”

“Anything you desire, darling.” Yoohyeon watched you and Pie fondly, her head resting on her elbow.

You looked up at her and leaned in to kiss her. Whenever she gave you that look, you could physically feel your insides melting. Gladly, Yooh moved her lips against yours. Her whole body was burning with love for you. You were like a lighter, igniting the endless fire and passion in her. She didn’t even know she could feel this way until she met you. The moment would last way longer if it weren’t for the soft smile forming on her face.

“Good thing I only desire you.” You whispered, your lips ghosting over hers. Yoohyeon gripped the hem of your shirt firmly and closed the distance again.

“Prove it.” Her smile was long gone now, as her eyes darkened with lust.

There was nothing else you’d rather do.

197 notes · View notes

iztea · 5 months

Note

Maybe you have some drawing tips for beginners?

Your style is incredibly beautiful and it just inspires this thing inside me to grab my iPad and start drawing but unfortunately I have no idea where to even begin

Or maybe you have some recs where to look to learn how to draw stuff?

But I understand completely that it’s your thing and artists should never feel pressured to share all their techniques and secrets, you worked hard on it!

I just really really love your art to the point where I just look at it for 30 minutes straight with this big feeling in my chest

ah it was never about being secretive, i'm pretty open about my drawing process since gatekeeping knowledge is a big pet peeve of mine. It was more like,, laziness because writing a cohesive and helpful drawing tutorial is pretty difficult and i wouldn't even know where to start; i'm afraid i'll get maybe too technical and what have you.

As for tips for beginners, i've shared plenty on my couriouscat so you can scroll through the answers there, i also have some drawing timelapses on my twitter account as well (albeit you'll have to scroll a little)

I'm very flattered you feel that way about my art, it really means a lot to me and i'm glad to have inspired you to draw as well that's awesome and i wish you best of luck!

I actually don't know how different drawing on an iPad is compared to a graphic tablet+desktop, so I am actually pretty clueless in that regard. I think Procreate is the most used digital art app for iPad so you can start by getting it and familiarizing yourself with the UI. I think this step is often overlooked. The brushes and the chosen program can make or break the drawing experience. If you simply find yourself not enjoying Procreate, experiment with other apps or maybe try switching to a graphic tablet, maybe that feels better and is more suited to your tastes.

To be completely honest, one "bad" piece of advice that i should probably keep to myself is to draw something you actually enjoy: fanart, Pretty Girl Portrait(tm), your cat, landscapes etc even if it's above your skill level (becoming obsessed/ fixated on some character from a piece of media also works wonders i'm just gonna throw that out there). The main point is to actually care about your chosen subject in order to get inspired and to have that inner desire of "doing them justice" aka drawing them well. The traditional art learning route probably involves studying the fundamentals, shading spheres and cones and simple 3D forms blablbablah which. Yeah ! sure that's probably better advice but i'm telling you what will make you want to keep going and not get discouraged after a few failed attempts.

As for the drawing subject, I highly recommend having photo references to guide you.. you always need refs it's a recurring thing. My fastest artworks are the ones where I have the right references. the less references the more difficult it is to draw something

As a beginner it is also a good practice to draw OVER your photo reference to get the proportions right ( i'm not talking about literally tracing the contour of a face or limb ( just an example ), but moreso identifying the Main shape which makes up that body part and observe how long is it in respect to the other components, how does it connect to the other parts etc - big difference. Tracing won't help you in the long run).

Another thing you can do is to study your favourite artists and see how They tackle whatever it is that you like in their work. how do they simplify facial features? what about anatomy? color/ light etc and kinda reverse engineer your way through their process. ( but i highly recommend to just keep these practice sketches to yourself, and to not share them on social media- unless you get the artist's permission)

This is how i got into drawing and what i did back then, again, for more technical hands-on information i did answer similar CCs before so with a little bit of stalking you'll find them in no time

I wanna finish this with some resources that helped me:

>youtube guys - sinix, ahmed aldoori, marco bucci, and also just speedpaints in general i highly recommend watching those

>for simplified anatomy i found @/ taco1704 's ref sheets to be very helpful but ........... I'm pretty dry here i just look up refs on Pinterest tbvh

speaking of, here's my pinterest i have a bunch of art related boards board cool stuff overall maybe they can help guide you towards some direction or inspire you in some way idk

ok i kinda suck in the resource department listeN. im starving too just.................. watch youtube speedpaints ok

SORRY IT'S SO LONGGGBGGG i hope it was at least a bit helpful? this was all over the place... I'll try to come up with a tutorial as well but i really gotta be careful with how i go about it. I'll leave you with this for the time being. Again, thank you a lot for the kind words, I really am very grateful and touched esp by that last part about staring with the big feeling stuff eeeeeeeeeeeeee really wow T T that's so lovely and a big compliment thanks ty ly

#long post #this is so messy...... sorry anon #i don't have a very. linear thought process as the kids would call it #you should see my lit essays back in the day lmfao #anyways #if there are typos i'll fix them later #ASK IZTEA #they call me the tutor the way rial my way through the .....#ok nevermind

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sotwk · 9 months

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Behind the Scenes: SotWK's Writing Process

Welcome to a little "behind the scenes" of my attempts to keep my growing list of WIPS and story requests/ideas organized!

My Fic and HC Requests are (for the most part), always open, and open to Anons. Occasionally, I also invite requests in relation to writing events or games. Needless to say, I get quite a lot of requests, and I am both flattered and thrilled by that.

However, I also work full-time (albeit always in front of a computer), and I have two little kids (who attend preschool, whew), so I have much less time to focus on writing than most creators here.

But I love writing, and I love using it to make people happy even more. My rule is, I will accept any requests (that reasonably fall within my guidelines, but I can be flexible!) as long as you can wait patiently for me to deliver on them. I always give my best effort to make it worth your while, and I will never ignore your request or give up on it without checking with you first (yes, this includes Anons).

I have no wait list. I do not work on requests "in the order they were received". I work on whatever story speaks to and cooperates with me that day, and that means shuffling amongst up to five WIPs at a time. That's simply how my brain works, unfortunately.

All my fanfics / your requests are always, and forever will be, FREE. They're gifts I am honored to give.

I am constantly saying, "I'm working on it" or "It's on my list", and I would like to offer just a bit of proof of that. So, especially for those who have been waiting a long time (and those who might have to wait even longer), I present my Google Drive's Organized Chaos to show how I keep all those WIPs in check:

Drafts in Progress: Stories that are closest to completion, and the ones I am currently trying to focus on.

Drafts on Hold: Drafts that I have started, but have stalled, so they're on the back burner for now.

Headcanons: I usually draft my headcanon requests straight on Tumblr, but sometimes they go on here.

Ask Screenshots: Where I save Asks that I responded to/deleted, but I needed to save the text for the sake of notes. Also lovely Asks that I save for posterity.

Valentine Event: I received so many Asks for this event that it required its own folder.

Gifted Graphics: Always hoping for new contributions to this one! (not subtle enough?)

And now, for my Fic Tracker Spreadsheet, which tracks ALL Tolkien fics I write, both requests and my personal projects:

I redacted the "Requestor" column to preserve some surprises. I track the estimated "Status" aka percentage of completion as a way to motivate myself, because getting to that blessed 100% is the Holy Grail for me!

WIP: Every fic that's on the "front burner" and I'm actively fighting to complete.

Requests/Concepts: Contains details of all requests and ideas I have which will eventually jump into the WIP tab.

Valentine: Remember how I said I received so many responses to this event? Yeah. I'm still determined to finish them all, though!

To Read: Yup, I track all the fics of friends that I intent to read here, too. That's how important those are to me.

I truly hope all this info doesn't scare anyone off from sending in more requests! I hope this gives Readers/Followers a little more faith in me and show that I take all requests I receive very seriously. They are the most important part of what I do as a fanfic writer.

I may be slow, but I'm committed and determined!

If you have any questions about the above, or about your requests, I'm open! Please keep sending in requests! Thank you for your support and patience!

Link to my FANFIC REQUEST GUIDELINES

Tagging some of those folks who are currently waiting on requests: @quickslvxrr @laneynoir @ladyweaslette @scyllas-revenge @lathalea @g-m-kaye @absentmindeduniverse @aduialel @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @jordie-your-local-halfling @ladyk8tie @blueberryrock @the-phantom-of-arda @tamurilofrivendell @achromaticerebus @klytemnestra13 @glassgulls @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady @guardianofrivendell @a-burr-a-hobbit @literary-eclair

#sotwk announcement #sotwk fanfiction #fanfiction requests #lotr #lotr fanfiction #the hobbit #tolkien #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfiction writing #writer things #writer stuff

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rubelsalamarffxiv · 1 month

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First impression graphics not bad, Rubel is still looking quite like himself minus losing something in his eyes. I think they look a lot more dead now. My usual hair isnt in the base cc so I just picked one that shows his full face and I'll be noting more under the cut!

I think the shading on his nose here is also a little off? He actually has a thin and pointy nose, but I dont think the shadows portray it properly, it does a little better with different light though:

It also looks decent in the benchmark, so I'll let the nose go, its probably just a "in certain lighting" thing.

I was totally right about the eyes though. On one hand, his frowning and smirking kind of expressions absolutely SLAP

Whereas his surprised and small smile are a little lacking, and are far less expressive than what Im used to.

and to be fair, I could say the same about his frowny expressions too, because this is what Im currently working with

in general I think losing the shine in his eyes has made his expressions a lot flatter. I know he's seen some shit but gdamn he hasnt died on the inside YET It seems to be with face 4, because the others dont have the same problem, and if I tilt his face up the shines ARE there, but they did something with these eyes that covers them completely. maybe they buffed the eyelashes, which Im 100% down for but they need to sort out the shine too!

Im able to pretty quickly edit it to how I'd like it to look though, pulling his eyelids up is practically all it takes.

The only other major gripe I have is the teeth. It looks like theyve remodelled the teeth, which Im fine with, but when doing so theyve also changed the way keeper teeth look. From this:

to this:

and it makes me very sad. Have you ever seen that snaggletooth dental trend where people get a procedure done that makes their canine teeth stick out? (its apparently called Yaeba) These teeth look like that. In a bad way. (and yes I have seen the female teeth and theyre even worse)

Im totally fine with them being remodelled for the update, but Id prefer them more like this! Quick edit for a side by side

If there is a point where my characters mouth is WIDE OPEN and I cant see that he has fangs, youre just doing keeper wrong smh

I really hope these get fixed before the update! please :skull:

#ffxiv #benchmark #rubel #rubel salamar #screenshot #nonspoiler #thoughts

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5eraphim · 1 year

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The vampire Demo Engie, Heavy, and Medic with a vampire hunter s/o was so good! You wrote it so well and like I imagined 🥰🥰🥰 could I politely ask u to finish with vampire Sniper, Spy, and Scout? Thank you so much ur work literally rots my brain 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Im so glad you enjoyed- it was so fun to write🌻🥺 for the sake of consistency, i decided to keep the reader gender neutral, also i apologize that Scout and Sniper's sections are kinda short, Sniper's always been weirdly hard for me to write tbh, but i really hope he feels "in character" enough, and I could only come up with a few ideas for vampire Scout- but that aside, thank you for the request!

LINK TO PART 1 🦇🗡️⚰️

Characters: Scout 🐇, Sniper 🦘, and Spy 🐍

Rating: M (MINORS DNI, THIS ISN'T FOR YOU)

Content Warnings: yandere, smut, exophilia, mind break, toxic relationship, hypnosis, primal kink, kidnapping/captivity, possessive behavior, stalking, bad ending, graphic depiction of gore (all of them really- but Spy's is probably the worst RIP)

Word Count: 4.4k

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

(Song Inspo- Hunter's Moon, Ghost)

Scout, the Lost Boy

If there were any of the vampire mercenaries who would outright try to antagonize vampire hunters for the thrill of it, Scout would be the prime suspect. As a vampire, Scout would likely live much like the Lost Boys. Sleep all day, party all night; as far as he cares, the immortality granted to him is nothing but endless time to party and enjoy his eternal youth. So what if some hunters wanted to join the party? It's not like Scout was afraid they could really put an end to his fun.

Trying to poach Scout would be a more laborious challenge than you initially thought. On the outside, he might not look like he could put up much of a fight compared to the older vampires, the other mercs. While this may be true, Scout is far from helpless, and even if he's content to spend eternity partying and having a good time, he can be merciless like any creature of the night.

Scout has a territory he's claimed, a little spot his family once lived he holds onto. It's not much to outsiders, but it's sentimental to him, and Scout fights hard to maintain it. Though that doesn't mean he wants to stay in the same place forever and sees this more as a "home base" rather than a permanent estate. He likes to keep active and is also frequently on the move, endlessly looking for his next high, the next part, or his next meal; because of this, Scout's hard to predict, and trying to track him down and get a hit on him won't be easy.

While he's the youngest of the vampires, he's pretty social and likely heard about you butchering other vampires he knew before you decided to start hunting him. He might even begin to stay on the lookout for you to see if he can spot you before you catch him first. There's a decent chance he's never actually killed a vampire hunter, and he can't help but hope you'll be his first. Strangely the idea of being the one to end your life gives him just as much grief as exhilaration.

Vampires and hunters come and go quickly, given the bloody and violent nature of their lives, but even without really meeting you, Scout can't help but feel attached, and he can't stop wondering why he's so scared to think about you leaving without a trace like so many other hunters before. When you eventually decide to start pursuing him, Scout's more than excited to finally meet you in person, much to your confusion. A little nervous, but in a good way, like the feeling of reaching the top of a roller coaster before the rapid descent.

His excitement to meet you goes without saying, but maybe he also feels flattered to think you consider him dangerous enough to try and hunt down. Feeling like he's finally one of the "big bad" vampires now that hunters are going after him. Before the encounter, he'd been extra savage in the night, leaving bloody carcasses within the perimeter of his dwelling, hoping they would help lead you closer to him.

You knew he was arrogant and a show off from what you'd heard from other hunters. So when he came bounding over to you, effortlessly dodging your projectiles and bullets, telling you how excited he was to finally meet you after all this time, you were speechless. You saw him as nothing but a little easy target practice, a lightweight; you had no idea he'd become obsessed with you like this. Before now, you never thought of yourself as a professional-tier hunter, and the idea other vampires could pass your information along amongst themselves made you want to take out Scout all the more.

But as mentioned before, he's not so easy to take out, and the more time you spend fighting, you can't help but wonder if it's all worth it after all. The relationship after this would be a bizarre hunter-and-prey role reversal; the hunter, you, now forced to try and hide and escape from the vampire. However, with Scout's now supernaturally boosted speed and enhanced senses, you're further out of your depths than expected. The depth of the situation only really sinks in when you try to abort your hunt and flee his territory. Scout learned your hunting schedule quickly, immediately noticing when you didn't show up to your usual spot near his turf to hunt.

It wouldn't take long for Scout to begin to assume the worst here, thinking he was no longer good enough for you, thinking you'd run off to replace him with some other vampire. He couldn't bear the thought of it.

Once he managed to find you, Scout made himself known. You knew better than to let him get any closer. Scout's attacks were most effective when he could get right up in your face, so you cleared the area as fast as possible, thinking you narrowly managed to escape. Only to discover your home's shattered windows and a raw human heart on your doorstep, topped with a messily scrawled note letting you know exactly who your "surprise" visitor was. As well as warning you against going after any other vampires.

From then on, you were forced to constantly watch your back when stepping out of the house, afraid he could be hiding around the corner at any time, waiting to rush you by surprise. He might not be able to get in without being invited, but Scout would force you to live in endless paranoia. He was drawing closer only moments away from striking you again. And you both knew you couldn't hide forever.

Sniper, the Apex Predator

If Scout was a tricky vampire to hunt down because of his unpredictable nature and evasiveness, Sniper was even harder to hunt, though for entirely different reasons. Unlike the loudmouthed speedster, Sniper was an altogether different breed. He managed to elude hunters and stay on the prowl for his next kill by hunting from the shadows. Able to disappear without a trace on command, invisible to any other human or vampire. Sniper only went out in the dead of night and remained out of sight until the second he was ready to pounce, attacking with a predator's decisiveness ending the life of another in a matter of seconds.

To call him territorial would be an understatement. Sniper's land was his alone, and he didn't allow any to trespass. His dwelling held such a reputation for death most thought the ground itself was simply cursed; the idea of an individual, supernatural or not, was inconceivable.

Sniper genuinely was one of those once-in-a-lifetime apex predators. Able to extinguish the life of another with one bite, an attack so silent and sudden none of his prey lived to tell the tale. He was nothing less than the stuff of legends. A kind of beast with a legendary legacy of bloodshed, a traceless reputation, and a propensity for leaving behind no living witnesses. The idea of such a mythic vampire continuing to walk the face of the Earth on this day was too much for most to believe. No one knew how old Sniper was as a vampire, but no one knew much of anything about him, and he liked it that way. You must have been looking for a lot of trouble the day you decided to try and hunt him down.

Sniper might have been just an urban legend to some, but even if he wasn't precisely "believed in" by modern humans, people knew to stay away from his hunting grounds because of the superstition, the supposed "bad luck" striking all who stepped foot there. He was so used to having the hunting ground all to himself that the idea of another hunter out that night stalking him from behind never even crossed his mind. He couldn't remember the last time anyone managed to go undetected by him; if you were to handle such a feat, he'd never seen anything like that before. Sniper might have sensed something was a bit off that night but wouldn't investigate the area. His intuition didn't warn him of a human, and he reasoned if something did manage to get close, he would know by now. So when he caught you out of the corner of his eye, he froze for just a second. But just long enough for you to flee, disappearing from his land in the blink of an eye without a trace.

The following night, he'd be on high alert, wondering if you would return. He felt restless, Sniper was addicted to the isolation in a way, but you changed that, and he no longer felt at rest. Like you altered his home in a way he couldn't quite understand. Sniper couldn't tell if he never wanted you to step foot on his land again or if he needed you back right away to fix what you disrupted. He would wonder why you didn't return because you had your own land to protect and were a recluse like himself. Odd behavior for a human, but you evidently weren't quite a "regular human" yourself.

Surprisingly, Sniper would be more unnerved, almost curious rather than angry or hostile with you. Despite the brevity of the encounter, you still managed to get closer than any other living thing, and you seemed to awaken his need for companionship, his desire which lay dormant for so long and memories of life with family-other living intelligent creatures he thought he'd forgotten.

He could tell you were something like himself, something he'd felt for no prey before. A hunter, a slaughterer, yet He couldn't understand why you didn't rush him for the kill that night? The idea that you somehow were taken by him and spared him because of some illogical attraction made him blush for a moment before he forced himself to be realistic. You must've heard stories of how he could end the life of another in seconds, and he couldn't ignore the irritating disappointment as he realized you were likely only interested in saving yourself.

An eternity of looking over his shoulder, protecting his homeland, awaiting the moment other hunters would foolishly come along and try to sink their claws or teeth into him was all he knew for so long. Could he be blamed for hoping it didn't have to be like this forever? The only positive memories Sniper managed to hold on to despite how long ago it had been of the family he once knew a lifetime ago; it couldn't be a coincidence you awakened these memories. He needed you back, and he needed it before some other predator, someone below his caliber, came along and took you from him.

Unlike all the other vampires, he wouldn't be captivated by your humanity or the life within you; Sniper sees you as something different entirely. Something so like himself, you weren't suited to being human; if he could turn you into a vampire, he could give you the life you deserved, life as his companion. He would protect you forever if only you would let him.

While you weren't technically a monster like he was, you were still a murderer, an animal, and it was fate that brought the two of you together. His destiny is to turn you into a creature of the night, and yours to remain by his side until the end of time. He didn't usually step foot on his land, but he did so with a clear mission in mind the night he set out to track you down.

A sniper would stalk you, observing from afar, remaining invisible, undetectable while watching, doing everything in his power to keep his emotions from revealing himself. Sniper attached this image of a better future to you, becoming fixated, thinking you were meant to be his mate. What was the point of being the king of the land without someone to rule over and protect? Vampires didn't go through the circle of life like humans as they didn't age, Sniper would believe his time as a lone wolf was ending, and you were meant to become his mate, metamorphosing his lonely life into something better than before.

Spy, the Mastermind

It wasn't often a hunter would make the mistake of trying to hunt down and kill a vampire as powerful as Spy. While he might not have a reputation for lethality like Sniper, Spy was endowed with different abilities upon becoming a creature of the night, yet certainly not abilities any less powerful. Spy's gifts were almost all psychologically fueled as a vampire, and while his physical skills weren't too humble either, he hardly needed to use physical brawn when killing. Spy could make you see things, take control of your mind, and force himself inside your consciousness until you were nothing but a backseat passenger in your own body. Depending on the target, he could get a peak into their memories and use them to show the victim their greatest fear; nothing made a meal more appetizing to Spy than adrenaline and fear in the blood before he feasted.

Sometimes, victims weren't even fortunate enough to hold onto any self-awareness when he manipulated their minds. When he's really feeling spiteful, he will pick on the unlucky souls of those who happen to cross his path, getting inside of their minds and compelling them to carry out his will, manipulating their bodies like a puppet on strings. No one knows what happens to the victim's mind after Spy takes complete control, but the morbid carcasses on the sidewalks discovered the following day covered in gore keep most from wanting to know more.

If he wanted to, Spy could kill off his prey in seconds, keep his hands clean and remain undetectable. And when it came to no menial everyday feeding, this would sometimes be his method of execution; he might be on the thinner side, but given his immense power, he required a great deal of blood to sustain himself and couldn't go long without human's blood before weakness began to set in. But he was too proud and merciless a killer to deny himself a bloody spectacle every now and then.

Spy resented humans and any vampire he deemed weaker than himself, as in virtually all of them. He saw them as the kind of beings which clung to the coattails of stronger predators to stay alive, nothing but leeches and parasites before lions such as himself. He was relentlessly diligent and efficient when killing off hunters and wanted their deaths to be a mortifying ordeal.

Spy would leave his victims not only horrifically gored and splattered to stain the streets for days to come, but he would cruelly torment his prey by leaving their corpses in such a fashion the cause of death often appeared to be suicide or accident. As though they and their blood weren't even edible to him, good to mix with the dirt in the streets and nothing more. Only the most skilled hunters could parse through the carnage and viscera to identify his handiwork, a task far too grim for most. But not for you, though you had a greater motive to study and track Spy than most.

You were exactly the type of prey Spy found to be the least appetizing. You weren't a highborn socialite; you didn't have any kind of generational wealth or inheritance, possessing little more than the clothes on your back. Even to other humans, your type wasn't paid much attention, and neither were their corpses left in the streets in pools of their own blood, flies, and maggots already riddling the bodies. But even though you lacked money or culture, you made up for it with loyalty and grit, and you weren't about to sit by and let this monster get away with taking the lives of those you loved.

Even if Spy didn't know who you were or that it was your friend's blood he painted the streets with, you were patient, and your vendetta gave you all the focus you needed to study him like a hawk. To remain vigilant until you're ready to go in for the kill and fight to avenge all the lives of the "scum of the streets" taken by the vile monster.

Knowing his attacks were psychologically centered, you honed your defenses the best you could, making your mind impenetrable. Snatching up every protective item you could use to get any possible advantage in the fight. By now, you were motivated by your hatred for Spy, he was a petty coward, fighting from a distance, lurking in the night, finding it more rewarding to watch his victims hurt themselves than shed their blood with his own hands, but you didn't dare underestimate him.

When you confronted him for the first time, he was taken back to discover he couldn't actually manage to get inside your head as he often could. You trained with humans you knew to be psychically adept, and though you were technically powerless, your training was about to pay off, giving you a shield from his prime mode of offense. Because of this strategy, the fight was painfully prolonged, you were better defended than any other, but your attack was far from as potent. As a result, neither your nor Spy's offensive attacks did much good against the other and were forced to exchange blows, waiting to see whose stamina would give out first.

Likely the looming threat of the rising sun would cause Spy to force himself to retreat, using the last of his strength to escape and recoup his stamina until he was ready to take you on again. While your vendetta gave you the power to fight, Spy fought back primarily because of his bruised ego. Who were you to come and challenge him like this? Some low-born nobody is trying to make a mockery of him! Someone needed to put you in your place, and Spy knew he needed to be the one to do it. If you thought you were so tough to put up a fight against a real vampire, he would need to make your fear overtake your hatred. While Spy couldn't get inside your head as he could with most prey, he could still easily detect your loathing, and for a patient such as yourself, he couldn't help but find it quite enticing. Perhaps he could work up an appetite for a street rat like you after all.

The next time the two of you met, you couldn't ignore how he clung to the shadows far tighter than before. Spy sulked just out of sight and maneuvered silently rather than facing your head, you forced yourself to ignore the sound of his voice inside your head, but now that you couldn't hear it, you felt far less prepared. Moments when you could listen to his voice, it sounded nothing like before; his gruff, confident voice softened into an almost gentle purr, sounding almost lullaby-like rather than hypnotically attractive.

He would croon to you, "I can fight you like this forever; you know your defeat is guaranteed; why don't you be a good little human and sit still while I slit your throat? I can give you such a painless, swift death. Doesn't that sound good?"

Hearing him uncharacteristically faking compassion felt like a calculated attack you couldn't decipher. Nevertheless, you reminded yourself not to listen but to keep your face up, hand close to the level of your eye, ready to strike. Though at moments like this, when you could feel all your muscles almost painfully strained, prepared to attack, the silence felt all the worse. The silence was harder to deal with, but you knew it was a thousand times better than letting him get inside your head.

But Spy was ready to up the ante. Earlier, he remained out of sight, silent and like a ghost, but he grew bolder, making fleeting contact with you while your back was turned. Not enough to actually hurt you, but enough to send your paranoia through the roof.

His fingers brushed up against the back of your knee; you whipped around but saw nothing there, only to feel your heart sink and skin crawl as you felt his hands draw higher, no matter how you tried to wriggle free and turn to see behind you, he was faster.

A palm to the side of your thigh, his knuckle skimming the curve of your waist, you could even swear you felt breath against the back of your neck, altogether invasively close yet still out of sight. The juxtaposition made you whimper in fear. Your despair was rising considerably as you caught your reflection through the glass of a window only to see no one behind and a fear you hardly recognized etched across your own face.

You felt so small, alone, and terrified, like nothing more than a child wandering out at night, afraid the boogeyman was about to get you. But his attacks were relentless; while you were stable enough to keep him from controlling your mind, he tortured you, showing you all the dead bodies of your friends slaughtered before now, their final screams echoing through the silent streets. The sound of his wicked laughter around seemingly every corner as you ran in circles. No matter how hard you mentally screamed, none of it was real; the fear took control all the same.

Out of the corner of your eye, you passed a corpse, identical to yourself, under a street light, Spy standing motionless over the carnage. You couldn't help but freeze up, unable to look away from the sight before you, retching at the view. Your body was twisted grotesquely, blood leaking from deep gashes, hunks of skin separated from the rest of you, some detached entirely, yet some clung to your mangled corpse stubbornly. Your clothes were mostly torn off, hanging off your body in ribbons, dampened by your blood, and unable to conceal the entrails which peaked through the holes in your flesh and clothes. All the while, Spy merely stared back at you, smiling, bearing his fearsomely sharp teeth, his hands, and the bottom of his face coated in your blood which caught the light of the streetlamp.

He extended a land in your direction, as cordially as a dancer inviting his partner to a pas de deux, bowing slightly as he beckoned you closer, arm still outstretched, but the sight of him drawing closer, no matter how subtly, was precisely what you needed to force your legs to work again and tear yourself away from the view before you.

Before, you were so blinded by hatred having every confidence it was enough to carry you through the fight, but as you tore through the dark alleyways, you felt utterly helpless. You didn't even consider falling victim to your own fear, but after a few more agonizing hours of this cat-and-mouse game, you could fight no longer and were about to flee. Exactly as Spy planned.

There was nothing in your mind but fear, and it was all too easy for Spy to corner you, pinning you to a wall, your wrists in his, forced with crushing strength to remain fixed in place to the wall behind. Spy regarded the sight before him with malicious pride, the once fearsome, resilient vampire hunter shaking as you wept, "Don't hurt me, I don't want to die! Please don't kill me!" Tears rolled down your cheeks through your squeezed-shut eyes, your breath choppy, broken up by coughs and messy sobs. Yet, despite everything, Spy felt his heart throb slightly as he looked at you, so helpless and powerless, your fear more delectable than anything he'd encountered before tonight.

Spy released your wrists, and you instantly hugged yourself tightly, not daring to try and run, and for just a moment, he allowed you to catch your breath, enjoying your cute whimpers and struggling to regulate your frantic breathing. Then, he took your face in his palms, forcing you to look into the depths of his eyes, thumbs wiping away a few tears as he worked his hypnotic charm against your mind.

"You're all right now, don't cry. No one will hurt you, not while I'm here. You're safe, so long as you obey me, understand? You've been out all alone all night. Are you ready to come home, pet?"

At some point, your eyes drifted from his eyes to his lips as he spoke, your anxieties lifting as you could think of nothing but the sound of his voice, nodding in agreement as you listened intently to everything he said. Allowing your mind to go blank, unable to think of anything but the man before you. All you needed to do was obey. Obedience would keep you safe, or rather he would keep you safe. Nothing in the world mattered other than following Spy home.

Spy knew he couldn't let you go after you managed to get away once before, and even if he did kill you upon the second encounter, it was still too risky. For all he knew, you were out telling all your little low-born friends how you managed to escape, how to keep his mind games at bay, and strategizing to fight as a pack the next time around, and he couldn't risk others gathering the courage to rise up against him like that. Still, he knew death was no fitting end for someone like you; he had something more intimate in mind for your demise.

From that night on, you were kept in his estate, a possession forbidden from leaving the castle grounds. You wore a collar around your neck, and your mind kept in a totally broken state. Forced to demean yourself and live out the rest of your eternity as an immortal servant to the undead demon you once hated more than anything in life. You were kept like his own little lap dog to amuse himself as well as his guests. Spy felt so proud of you; now there was finally something to show all of the lowly human hunters who tried to fight off vampires how to find a way to be useful after all. All while you smiled and fed from the palm of his hand.

91 notes · View notes