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roseghoul26 · 2 days

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Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x fem!Reader

Tags: Title From A Fall Out Boy, Fame < Infamy by Fall Out Boy, Takes Place Before The Destruction of NCR, Jealousy, Someone Else Flirts With You, Derogatory Language Towards Women, Bisexual The Ghoul, Because Walton Goggins Said So, Arguments, Confessions, First Kiss, Sub Ghoul, Poor Man Is Desperate, Teasing, Edging, Oral Sex, Blowjobs, Cowgirl Position, You Wear His Hat, Light Dom/Sub, Cuddles Synopsis: After two weeks out on the job, you and The Ghoul are spending the night at a bar in Shady Shands relaxing. The Ghoul has always flirted with you, but he never meant anything by it, never did anything more, leaving you frustrated and desperately wanting the man. So when you meet someone who acts on his words, you nearly agree to spend the night with him, hoping to fill your lonely nights with another person instead of thoughts of The Ghoul. But any prospect of enjoying his company is destroyed when The Ghoul beats the man for even looking in your direction. Rightfully angry, an argument between the two of you ensues, leading to things that you only imagined would happen in your thoughts during your lonely nights. Author’s Note: alright so normally i’m like meh about my own smut writing but i will admit i am a bit proud of this one :D Taglist: @ancientbeing10 @alex-does-art-things

The bar you were currently sitting in was dingy, seedy, and smelled like old food and piss. You didn’t even remember the name of it, too excited for the prospect of a cold drink to care, and you let The Ghoul drag you in. You were sourly disappointed when the Mr. Handy behind the counter handed you a lukewarm beer, not even a single drop of condensation on the brown bottle.

So here you were, leaning back against a moth-eaten and weathered couch tucked in the corner, nursing a drink that just made you thirstier. He sat next to you, his legs lounged up on the low table in front of you two like he hadn’t a care in the world. You supposed that being alive for over two hundred years would do that to someone.

The Ghoul had his own drink, a glass of whiskey, more specifically. It used to have ice in it, about ten minutes ago, but it had quickly melted, no doubt watering down the drink. Still, he continued to sip at it, his eyes roaming the crowds in the bar. Your eyes were shut, head resting against the back of the couch, catching up on some much-needed rest.

The Ghoul and you had just come back from a two-week-long excursion of the Wasteland, hunting down a group of escaped convicts from the jail in Shady Sands. Most of the time had been spent walking, searching for clues in the ending sea of sand. It had almost been impossible, but you were able to pick up a trail. It had led you to a long-since abandoned town near the shoreline of California, and after an intense firefight the two of you managed to slay them all; there was no way in hell you were escorting alive prisoners all the way back to Filly. Carrying the heads would be easier.

And it was, except for the plethora of animals and insects it attracted, but you’d take that over the prisoners fighting you the entire time. Eventually, you and The Ghoul had made it back to Shady Sands, sweaty and covered in blood and exhausted, and dumped the heads onto the desk of the deputy. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a man pale so fast.

After The Ghoul received the cap reward, he paid for two rooms for the both of you and some sleazy hotel, and after getting washed up he had dragged you to the bar further down the street. You hadn’t had the energy to fight him, but you almost wish you had now. You were barely staying awake, head bobbing as you forced yourself to concentrate on the chatter of patrons to keep you conscious.

Bringing the drink up to your lips, your muscles cried out in protest, but you just ignored them. The drink itself wasn’t terrible, the flavor was almost citrusy, but it felt like sandpaper as it went down your throat. Wincing, you cleared your throat, garnering the attention of the man beside you. “Surly it ain’t that bad,” he chuckled, and you cracked an eye open at him.

You didn’t respond, just holding out the drink for him to grab. You were sure to hold it by the neck so he had plenty of space to grab it below, but you felt him grab it in a way that made his gloved finger bush over yours. You kept your face neutral, but you certainly felt your heart react, ticking up in rhythm.

After taking a sip, a similar grimace crossed his face. If he had brows, you’re sure they would be furrowed, his lips curled up in disgust. “Even I can tell that tastes like shit,” he shook his head, forcing the drink back into your hands. There was only an inch of liquid left at the bottom, and so choosing to ignore the fact that his lips had just been on the bottle, you finished it off.

Setting it on the table, you wiped the back of your mouth with your hand. “It’s not good, sure, but it’s better than anythin’ else I’ve had in the past weeks. “So, I,” you stood with a slight groan, “am gonna get another one.”

You didn’t get too far attempting to step around the table, his legs blocking the easiest way out. A hand grabbed your wrist, tugging you back down on the couch, very nearly toppling into him. You tried to break free, but his grip was unyielding. Not enough to hurt, no, but you were stuck. “Now, what kinda man would I be if I made a pretty thing like you get their own drink?” His words made you still, and you were grateful for the shitty lighting that hid your blush.

Little did you know that he could see you clearly, an amused smile now on his lips. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, and you were now able to yank your hand away, glaring harshly at him. “Now,” he lightly patted your thigh, making you jump, “stay here, sweetheart. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You were unable to resist the urge to flip him off as he walked towards the bar, before flopping against the couch with a huff. It wasn’t that you hated that he flirted with you. No, it was quite the opposite. You loved the comments and light touches, making your heart race and less-than-decent thoughts pour into your brain. But from the time the two of you had started working together, so roughly a year ago, that’s all it had been. Soft touches, empty promises, saccharine words and petnames that made you melt, but nothing more. He would always stop before it became more, his touch receding like you’d burned him, a witty remark that quelled the fire he stoked, an I’m just teasin’ ya, sweetheart. God, you hated those words specifically.

You wanted more, but it terrified you because you couldn’t tell if he actually meant something by his flirtations, or if he just enjoyed tormenting you. Friends were a rarity in the Wastleland, and you were screwed if you somehow managed to ruin things between you two. You’d be out of income, protection, and a genuine friend who (sometimes) had your best interest in mind.

So you bit your tongue, pretending like his words weren’t making you dizzy, that you wanted nothing more than to feel his body beneath you, to be able to feel his lips against yours. So many late-night fantasies that left you even more lonely in the morning, your knuckles bruised from where you had to bite them to keep quiet. Even though it hurt, you kept your desires close to your heart, treasuring the small things he did give you. Which, you’d come to realize, made it worse, but he had made you addicted to it.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t even detect someone approaching. You expected to see the familiar face of The Ghoul beside you, but you were startled to find someone else. He was a ghoul, and even though it was hard to tell you could see that he was younger, late twenties, or early thirties if you had to guess. He wore a simple blue shirt and some jeans, way too neat and hole-less than what you were used to.

He had a beer in hand, and he used it to gesture to the spot beside you. “This spot taken?” He was the usual rasp of a ghoul, albeit a bit higher pitched than The Ghoul’s. God, you couldn’t stop yourself from comparing him to the other man.

Speaking of him, you were able to subtly glance behind him to the bar, and you found the other man in conversation with some others. It didn’t look to be a confrontation, luckily, and you heard laughter from the group. You focused your attention on the stranger in front of you, smiling warmly at him. “Not at all,” you patted the space beside you, only barely warm still.

As he sat beside you, setting his drink on the table, you let yourself take him in. He wasn’t unattractive, far from it. There was almost a playfulness to his features, his fully black eyes glimmering with mirth. His arm went around the couch, and you could feel the heat from it. Even though he wasn’t the man that had plagued your thoughts, you couldn’t help the way your body reacted to the stranger, breathing growing short, your cheeks darkening slightly. You were only human after all.

“Can’t say I’ve seen you around here before, gorgeous.” He flashed his teeth, and you were pleasantly surprised to find pretty much all of them intact, and still in good condition. Another rarity of the Wastleland.

“I’m just passing through. Just finished up some… work.” You turned yourself to face him more.

“Work, you say? Whattya do?”

“Oh, just some odd jobs here and there. Whatever makes me money.”

He chucked at that. “Can’t blame you for that. I’m Daniel, by the way.” He held a hand out for you, ungloved and bare. You shook it, giving him your name, and he repeated it back to you. It wasn’t the drawl of The Ghoul’s voice, but it was pleasant enough.

You expect him to drop your hand, but something about them must’ve intrigued him, and you watched, quite confused, as he filled it over. His eyes ran over your fingers, especially your forefinger and thumb, before flicking back up to yours. He still didn’t drop your hand. “You use a gun a lot?” He smirked when you nodded, bewildered. “I can tell by the callouses here,” he dragged a finger along them, tickling you slightly.

“Well, look at you,” you laughed. “What’re you, a detective?”

“Nah, nothin’ like that. Just… observant.” He flashed you another smile, completely confident in his actions. “So, you’re a bounty hunter then?”

You didn’t bother to deny his claim, knowing the expression on your face just gave you away. Thank goodness you weren’t a con artist. “Is it gonna be a problem if I say yes?” You asked cautiously, slowly retracting your hand, ready for this interaction to go bad. You let your eyes flick to The Ghoul, locating him in case you need help. He was still at the bar, talking with someone new this time, and you felt a pang of something as the man he was talking to brushed his shoulder, nothing innocent in the touch.

“Not a problem at all,” he answered completely honestly. “Nasty business, though.”

You glanced back at Daniel, relief flooding you. You did not have the energy for a barfight tonight. “You don’t know the half of it,” you groaned. “It’s ruthless, but I enjoy it, weirdly enough. And I’m pretty good at it.”

The hand resting on the back of the couch shifted, and you felt his fingers brush over your shoulders, making you shiver slightly. I like a girl that can handle herself,” he admitted. “Strong,” he gently squeezed the muscles in your biceps. “Confident. Powerful.” His voice turned into a whisper at the end, mouth pressed close to your ear.

You were quite flustered now. “Well, you’re in luck then.”

“It seems I am. So, what say you, bounty hunter? Do you wanna get out of here in a bit, have some fun tonight before you head off?”

It had been a long time since you’d had someone in your bed. Since about when you started working with The Ghoul, to be exact. You’re not sure why you hadn’t in so long; it wasn’t for a lack of options. You just… couldn’t bring yourself to take someone to bed that wasn’t The Ghoul. Still, you hated waking up alone each morning, loneliness clawing at your heart. And when you’d see men and women stumble from his room, it felt like someone shot you, making you irritable with him for days to come. Maybe for once you’d have someone leaving your room, your heart content, if for a moment. Maybe you could imagine that it wasn’t Daniel, picture the other man’s features instead.

Maybe he would feel the same way you felt as he watched Daniel sneak from your room. That idea made you grin, and any hesitance about taking him to bed vanished.

You didn’t get a chance to respond, though, before two familiar gloved hands rested on Daniel’s shoulders, making the man tense. He was forcibly pulled back from you, the force of the pull nearly making him fall off the couch. He caught himself, and you watched as he stood and faced The Ghoul.

The shade from his hat hid most of his face, but even then you could see the hatred in his eyes as he stared down Daniel. The Ghoul was a formidable opponent, but you have to give some credit to Daniel as he squared up against him. “The hell’s your problem, man?” If the way The Ghoul had yanked Daniel hadn’t gotten the attention of the crowd, Daniel’s words surely did. Behind them, you watched a small crowd begin to form, and you wished to just let the shadows consume you.

“She’s… off-limits,” he titled his head to the side. The action would make any sane person falter, and you watched as Daniel’s posture went rigid, fear hitting him.

Still, Daniel didn’t let up, male pride and all that. “Maybe you should let her know, then,” he gestured angrily to you, and you shrank lower into the seat. “By the way she was lettin’ me talk to her, I can imagine the whole town’s probably had their way-”

His words, which had been so sweet moments ago, were cut off when The Ghoul grabbed him by the throat, slamming him onto the table in front of you. You jumped off the couch as splinters of wood and glass sprayed everywhere, narrowly avoiding you. Mortified, you could do nothing but watch as The Ghoul began to beat the man, blood joining in with the debris. If Daniel had a nose left, you were sure it would be pulverized.

The Ghoul’s lips had curled up into a snarl, his eyes blazing as he leered down at the man, stopping his assault. Daniel tried to pry the other man’s hand from his throat, a choked gasp leaving him, yet that seemed to just make his grip tighter. “Gimme one reason why I shouldn’t just kill ya?” He growled, shoving Daniel’s head into the ground. He could barely garble out a reply, the words indistinguishable.

Glass shattered on the floor as The Ghoul tossed the man into another table, another piece of furniture destroyed. As he stalked towards the downed man, he rolled over onto his hands and knees, rubbing at his throat. He was coughing and sputtering, genuine fear in his eyes as he looked up at the bounty hunter. Crouching before him, The Ghoul regarded him slowly, nothing but disgust on his features.

“Fuck… she all yours,” Daniel managed to pant out between coughs. “Just… God, don’t kill me!”

Satisfied with his answer, The Ghoul kicked him one last time for good measure, sending him sprawling back. It was dead silent in the bar, and patrons gawked and shuffled away as The Ghoul walked to where you had been standing, only to find you gone.

You had slipped out when he had thrown him, unable to continue watching. The streets were busy, and you kept your head down as you wove between people, heading to the hotel as quickly as you could. Too many emotions overwhelmed you, and you took a deep breath and began to collect your thoughts.

First, you were embarrassed.

You were embarrassed that they had been fighting over you. When you weren’t on a job, you hated creating conflict, not wanting to be the center of attention. You had plenty of that doing bounty hunting. This was supposed to be a night where you relaxed, to forget all about the horrors of the world you lived in, with or without The Ghoul, but that plan was tossed aside.

Secondly, you were angry.

Fuming would be a better word for it, and if you looked hard enough you could probably see the steam pouring from your ears. You were pissed that he had ruined a possibly enjoyable night with another person, ending your celibate streak. You were pissed that he felt like he could just take control of your choices like that. And you were pissed that you never got that next drink, although that was the least of your concerns at this point.

Finally, you were confused.

Why had he reacted the way he did? It wasn’t like there was anything between you two, as much as it pained you to come to terms with it. Why did he care who you took to bed? He had taken plenty of people to bed during the time you’d worked together, and you’d never made a complaint about it. Why were you weirdly attracted to his display of… jealousy? Was it jealousy? You couldn’t even imagine what that could mean if it was.

The sound of your name being shouted behind you forcefully tore you from your thoughts. You immediately recognized it, and you refrained from looking over at him. Ducking your head, you hoped that you blended in well with the others on the street, and you continued to briskly walk towards the hotel.

You heard your name being called again, this time closer, and so you picked up the pace, nearly jogging at this point. You heard the sound of people crying out in alarm, and you knew that he was getting closer to you, barreling through the crowds without any thought.

You could see the neon sign of the hotel, now lit, and you breathed out a sigh of relief. That feeling was short-lived, panic making your stomach drop when you heard The Ghoul right behind you. “Don’t make me fuckin’ tackle ya,” you heard him threaten. For a moment, you debated just ignoring him, but you knew that he didn’t make empty threats. Besides, the ground was dusty, and you’d rather not spend the rest of the night covered in sand.

Groaning, you finally halted, turning to face him with a scowl. You didn’t respond, just raising a brow and gesturing for him to ‘get on with it’. Your jaw was clenched so hard, and you could feel the headache that threatened to torment you later because of it.

“The fuck was that about?”

God, was he joking with you? “I should be the one asking you that! In what world was that a rational response?”

People stared as they passed, but you both just ignored them. “He was touchin’ ya.”

“And did I look even remotely disinterested? Was there any part of my body language that read that I was even the tiniest bit uncomfortable?” You laughed bitterly at the lack of response from him; you both knew what the answer was. “Why the hell do you even care if he was touching me or not?”

He was silent again, and you just scoffed, taking a few steps back. “Whatever,” you sighed in defeat, before turning and walking the remaining way to the hotel. You were almost disappointed when you didn’t hear him following behind you.

The person behind the desk recognized you, and you were able to quickly make your way up to the second floor where your room was. You made sure to not let your eyes wander to the door where he was staying that night, a few feet down from yours on the other side of the hallway.

When you were finally alone in your room, you resisted the urge to just scream angrily. Instead, you kicked off your shoes, which hit the walls with a loud noise, and you flopped onto your bed. Laying on your back with your arms spread, you stared at the surprisingly intact ceiling, frustrated tears stinging your eyes. Disagreements always upset you, but there was something about this one that made you feel ill, a sense of dread that you’d never felt before filled your body.

You’re not sure how long you just lay there, calming your racing heart and your heightened emotions. It must’ve been a while, because you dozed off, the exhaustion in your body now taking control.

A light knock at the door woke you, and for a second you thought you had just imagined it. When it came again, more forceful, you sighed, knowing exactly who was on the other side of the door. Like before, you debated just ignoring him, but you didn’t want to be charged for the destruction of more property. “What?” You snapped out, still not in the mood to talk to him yet.

“We need to talk.” The Ghoul responded, sounding less irritated than you.

“Yeah, no shit.” I gave you plenty of time to explain yourself downstairs.

You could hear him sigh through the thin wood door. “Sweetheart.” You hated that he knew how to get you to do whatever you wanted. You couldn’t even stop yourself as you sat up and made your way to the door. With no hesitation you opened it, his endearment almost putting you under a spell.

It was dissipated when you saw him, those emotions flooding your mind instead. The door was only open a crack, your body filling it as you glared at the other man. “Yes?

“Let me talk to ya,” he sighed in frustration.

“You are.” You couldn’t care less that you were being stubborn and difficult. He deserved it.

His jaw clenched. “Inside.”

You didn’t respond, mulling over his words as you stared at him, fire never once leaving your eyes. Finally, you relented, against your better judgment. Stepping back, you left the door open, leaning up against one of the dressers with your arms crossed. You watched as he entered, the door clicking shut in finality, looking like he expected to be attacked by you at any second. You were almost proud to instill that level of fear in him.

He kept a respectful distance away from you, loitering near the foot of the bed. “Look, I’m… sorry.” He said the words like they were brand new.

He left it at that, and you scoffed. You knew that you should just accept his apology and move on. You knew that you shouldn’t instigate something, to purposely start an argument with your traveling partner. But you were still too damn angry to care. You needed him to know what you felt.

“‘Sorry’? I get nothing more than that?”

“What’dya want from me then, sweetheart?” He growled, your anger rubbing off on him. “You want me to get down on my fuckin’ knees, plead for your forgiveness? You want me to promise I ain’t ever gonna do it again, even though it’ll be a damn lie? What the fuck do you want from me?” He spat the last sentence out, emphasizing each word.

The image of him on his knees before you flashed in your mind, and you had to admit it did seem appealing. But not now.

He was getting closer to you now. Slow, methodical steps, but he was closer, and continuing. “I want an explanation.”

You might’ve as well just slapped him, the way he halted in his tracks, stunned. Words seemed to evade him, and the anger that had just been rolling off him in waves subsided, still there yet not as strong. It should’ve had the opposite effect, but your rage was growing, threatening to burst. “Oh, so now you can’t talk? It’s a simple request!”

“It’s really fuckin’ not.”

“Why?” Silence. “You’ve got two options here. You either suck it up and tell me, or you get the hell out of here. It’s your choice.”

You could tell that he hated the choice you gave him, but you didn’t care. You expected to watch him turn and storm out the door, leaving your relationship in tatters on the dirty hotel floor. So you were surprised when he took a deep breath and remained where he was. “I hated that he was touchin’ you."

“So you were jealous?” You ignored the way you were elated when he nodded, albeit with some hesitancy. The anger subsided, and you felt pure want take its place. “You wanted to be him,” you whispered, taking a step towards him. Your confidence grew at how hungrily he watched you.

“You wanted to be the one whispering those words, to be running their fingers on my body.” Another step. “You wanted to be the one to take me to bed, to feel me, to fuck me.” You were finally close enough to him that you could touch him if you wish, but you kept your hands by your sides.

The Ghoul groaned at your words, and you couldn’t help the small smirk on your face at his reaction. “Do you want that?” You asked, needed to hear confirmation.

It came almost immediately. “Fuck, yes.” His own hands reached out to touch you, but you swatted them away. That snapped him out of his semi-trance, his eyes flashing with confusion.

“You don’t get to touch me yet.”

Something new flashed in his eyes instead, something you couldn’t quite name. “Sweetheart-”

“Sit down.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you just shot him a look, silencing him instantly. The bed groaned as he sat on the edge of it, eyes never leaving yours. It made him stand a head lower than you now, and he had to look up to continue holding your gaze. “How does it feel? To watch someone else get the things you want?”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond. “It hurts, doesn’t it? It feels like someone’s stabbed you in the heart, no? So,” you moved between his legs, “how do you think I felt? After you flirt with me, then take someone else to bed. After you touch me, toy with me, but then act like my body disgusts you, and you recoil away. After you say those things that leave me shaking and wanting, but then never act of them.”

Your hands grabbed the lapels of his jacket, and you brought your face close to his. “I’ve seen you take countless lovers to bed during the time we’ve worked together, and I never said a peep. Even though it fucking killed me to see. That man in the bar, the one you beat senseless? That was gonna be the first person that’d occupied my bed in almost a year. And no, I didn’t really want him that badly, but maybe I could finally go to bed for one night and not have my thoughts be entirely of you.”

Shoving his back lightly, you stumbled back a few steps, the confession that had just spilled from your lips making you breathless. “I have to know; did you mean it? All the flirting, the touches, everything. Did you mean it?”

For once, The Ghoul kept any remarks to himself, and sheer honesty was written across his face. There before you, you saw a vulnerable man, gazing up at you like you hung the stars. “I did. I do.”

“Do you want me?” Cautiously, you began to move back towards him.

“Every fuckin’ minute.”

When you were back between his legs, you let your hands rest on the lapels, no longer strangling the poor material. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

A hopeful smile graced his lips, his eyes flicking down to your lips which hovered above him. After nodding lightly, you let yourself move closer until your lips just brushed over his, barely making contact. “A shame, then.” You pulled away before they could fully connect, a victorious smile on your face as you looked down at the confused man.

“Oh, you thought you’d be getting what you wanted tonight? You ran your hands up, resting on the sides of his neck now. You could feel his heart hammering. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not. No, tonight you’re gonna feel as desperate as I’ve felt for the past year. And,” you made sure that he was especially paying attention to your words now, “if you think that at any point tonight you’re gonna have control, you’re wrong. Any objections?”

His eyes had blown out during your little speech, small pants leaving his lips as he stared up at you. He was already so eager, and you’d barely done anything yet. Even still, you saw a flicker of uncertainty, and you realized he’d probably never given up control in the bedroom. You let the facade drop for a moment. “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. Not ever. You just gotta let me know, and we’ll stop immediately.”

Any uncertainty left him, and something warmed in your chest at the fact that he trusted you enough to do something like this. “You ready?”

He nodded, and you shook your head. “I need to hear you say it, baby.”

You watched his throat bob as he swallowed, not expecting the name from you. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” You rewarded him with a soft kiss on the cheek before grabbing his hat off his head. “Go get comfortable on the bed.”

Stepping away from him, you set his hat on the nightstand as he got situated, his now bare head resting on the pillows. Making sure he had returned his attention to you, you heard his gasp when you grabbed the hem of your shirt, turning into an appreciative groan when you tore it off your head. You wore a simple black bra beneath, but you might as well have been wearing the most beautiful piece of lingerie with the way his eyes widened, a smile on his face again. You made quick work of your jeans, and you refrained from shivering as the air hit your now-exposed skin, clad in only your undergarments. But how could you be cold when he was looking at you with such heat in his eyes?

The bed creaked again when you got on it, and you adjusted until you straddled his abdomen. His clothing dug into your skin, but you could hardly feel it. Planting your hands on his chest, you leaned forward until your face was only an inch from his. He watched you with hooded eyes, which fluttered close when your lips pressed against his jaw, moving up until you stopped right below his ear.

Gloved hands rested on your bare waist, and as much as you enjoyed feeling his hands on your body, you couldn’t let up that easily. “Did I say you could touch me yet?” You whispered, and you felt him slowly rescind his touch, now resting on the bedsheets beside him. “Good job,” you praised, and you felt him shudder slightly. Interesting. “If you behave, I might just let you touch me,” you offered, like dangling a piece of food in front of a starving animal.

“Yeah?”

You just smiled against his skin.

Continuing your exploration, you moved inward, barely feeling the ridges of the indents of his skin. Moving up his cheek, to across where his nose would be, then to the other cheek, you littered his face with kisses, purposely avoiding his lips. His eyes continued to flutter open and close, and at this proximity, you were able to see short, brown eyelashes. How… peculiar. And cute.

You didn’t make any comment on them, choosing to move back down again. But you went past his jaw this time, down to his neck, and you felt his head roll back to allow you more room. You felt him jump when you sunk your teeth into the skin before moaning beautifully, and you ran over the hurt with your tongue. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as his hands instinctively went up to touch you, then resting back down on the bed, grabbing at the bedsheets instead.

There wasn’t much exposed skin left when you reached where his neck and shoulders met, his shirt now covering it. Leaning back, you gestured for him to sit up, helping ease the jacket off his shoulders when he did. He pulled his arms out, and it pooled around his waist, still sitting on most of it. You didn’t care, as long as you could get his get his shirt off.

You hesitated a second before beginning to fiddle with the buttons, glancing up into his eyes. “Alright?”

“You don’t gotta keep askin’, sweetheart,” he responded breathlessly. “I’ll let you know if I don’t want somethin’.”

You grinned at him, before quickly getting to work and taking off his button-up shirt. With every inch of his body that was revealed to you, you felt your heart accelerate, excitement bubbling in you. He had just gotten his arms out of the garment and had tossed it to the floor before you were forcing him back down on the bed with hands on his chest, loving how easily he complied.

You let your fingers drag down the front of his chest, nails scratching lightly. Even with the thick scarring covering his body, he was still able to feel it, and he shivered. Your breath caught when you finally looked for yourself, instead of letting your touch see for you. To say he was gorgeous would be an understatement. All lean muscle, you could feel them flex and jump when you touched him, and for a moment you remembered how strong this man was. And here he was, submitting to your every request. You really did try to not let it go to your head.

“You’re so beautiful, Cooper.” You hadn’t even realized you’d let his real name slip until he went deathly still beneath you. Glancing up at him, you couldn’t read the expression on his face, and you thought you went too far. Still, he had yet to say anything, and so you kept your mouth shut. You trusted that he would stop you.

Continuing to touch him, you barely heard the soft plea that he uttered. “Say it again.”

The expression clicked now, and you smiled gently at him. You felt truly happy, knowing there was another thing he trusted you with. “Cooper,” you sighed, and you were startled when you felt his hands grasp at you, desperately trying to pull you towards him. You braced on his chest, stopping him, and you glanced at where his hands now rested until he tore them away. You made a disapproving noise as you leaned back down, teasing him by brushing your lips against his. But with the way you were sitting and the way you pressed down on his chest, he couldn’t meet you, and you heard him make a frustrated noise.

“Do I gotta tie your hands up, Cooper?” You semi-joked, gauging his reaction. When his eyes somehow darkened even more, you knew he was down.

You both knew that he could easily “break free” from the restraints you’d placed on him; he had ghoul strength, and you were just a human. But he continued to play into your game, and you were grateful for it. You were having too much fun.

“If ya keep sayin’ my name like that, then ya might have to.”

“Oh, you’re too good to me, baby,” you praised, hands retracting so you could reach behind you. You smirked at his reaction when you tugged at his belt, being sure to purposely graze over the evident strain in his pants. You gave him the most innocent look you could when he glared at you, returning your touch to his belt. It took a bit of maneuvering, and with some help from him raising his hips, you were able to free it.

The headboard was made from metal bars, so you were easily able to secure his wrists to it. The restraint wasn’t tight, tight enough to keep him in place, but if he severely needed to leave then he could easily escape. When you sat back, you admired the sight before you. Your wildest dreams were playing out right in front of you, and you couldn’t be more excited.t

Starting at the base of his throat, you began to move down his body, pressing your lips against the skin as you descended. When you reached his nipples, you let your tongue flick over it, eliciting a whine from him. Your fingers toyed with the other one, making him squirm. You couldn’t deny that the noises he was making were making you dizzy, a familiar tension building in you. But you kept an amused and unaffected expression on your face, not wanting to break yet.

You didn’t stay there for long, continuing your descent downwards. You scratched lightly over his abs when you reached them, and you figured goosebumps would be covering his body by now.

“I could just leave you like this, you know,” you commented as you moved backward. “Hands bound, aching, wanting.” Your hands trailed down his thighs.

“You wouldn’t,” he groaned, and you just flashed a smile at him.

“Oh, but I could.” You now rested just below his thighs, your own straddling them. “I could just sit here and make you watch as I touch myself, make myself cum, screaming your name.” You heard the belt rattle against the bedframe when you let one of your hands trail down your stomach, a gasp leaving you when you reached the band of your underwear. “Then leave you alone with just your thoughts, imagining all the things you could’ve done to me. Just how I spent every night this past year. Revenge is a bitch, isn’t it?”

“Sweetheart, please.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard something so wonderful, arousal spiking in your body. His eyes bore into you as you reached behind you, unclasping your bra. You let it slide off your body before setting it gently on the floor. Squeezing your breasts in your hands, you let your head roll back, his name tumbling from you. You debated moaning the other man’s name, the one in the bar, but you couldn’t remember it. Besides, you were torturing the man enough, and you assumed that he would tear through his bindings if you did.

Eventually, you took pity on him, and your desire was starting to get in the way of your need to draw this out. He jumped when you rested your hands on his thighs, expecting you to do what you said, and you could feel the relief it brought him.

It didn’t take long for you to unbutton his pants, even less to unzip them. You tugged both them and his boxers down enough to free him. He was already rock hard, almost painfully so, and a strangled groan left him. The noise shot straight to your core, and you sighed in appreciation at him. He was long, not overwhelmingly so, but you knew you’d be feeling him for days to come.

Keeping your eyes on him, you leaned forward and lapped at the tip, licking the bead of moisture there. You watched as he tried to move to touch you, and you grinned at him when the restraint stopped him. You could see the plea in his eyes, and you just shook your head at him. Not yet.

Another run of your tongue made him curse, and you cooed at him. “Want me to take care of this, baby?”

“Please,” he gasped out.

“Well, when you ask that nicely.”

He didn’t get a chance to prepare before you were running your tongue along his entire length, base to tip, before taking as much of him as you could in your mouth. You took what you couldn’t fit in your hand, moving in tandem with your mouth as you sucked him. It was nearly unintelligible, but you heard your name being moaned by him.

Bobbing your head up and down, you were unrelenting in the pleasure you were giving him, and you could feel his hips begin to buck and twist, and you moved your mouth off him before he could hit the back of your throat.

Glancing up at him, he looked absolutely wrecked, and the fact made you smile cruelly. You could tell that he was close, by the way he pulsed and throbbed in your hand as you continued to stroke him. Your name was just streaming from him freely, straining and pressing against the belt. The bedpost made an awful noise, but it was covered by his noises. “You close, Cooper?”

His head had been thrown back against the pillows as pleasure coursed through him, but you watched as he flicked his gaze down to you. “Fuck, sweetheart, yes.” You hadn’t meant to, but you let it slip through in your expression what you were planning, and dread washed over his face. He groaned you name, almost in warning, but you ignored him.

To his very evident displeasure, you let go of him, his incoming release ebbing away as you sat up. A string of curses left him, and a drop of sweat rolled down his face. His eyes were blazing with lust and anger, but they melted a bit when regarding you. At least the anger did. The lust seemed to just flare up, especially when he as you stood to slip off your underwear. “You only get to cum when I do, got it?”

He was able to see the evidence of your arousal on them as you discarded them, and even in the position he was in a cocky smile grew on his face. “Perfectly.” That cocky smile was wiped off when he saw you reach for his hat, putting it on your head as you climbed back onto the bed. As you straddled his lap, realization flashed on his features. “Are you tryin’ to fuckin’ kill me?” He wheezed, a mix of laughter and a groan.

“I’m surprised I haven’t already,” you teased back, your hands bracing on his chest. Just like you thought, his heart pounded against your fingertips. Rocking your hips slowly, you began to rut against him, coating him in your arousal.

You heard the tell-tale clink of his belt rattling against the bedframe. “Can I touch ya now, sweetheart?” He gasped out.

You seriously considered it for a moment, but you decided against it. “When you make me cum, you can. But if you finish before me…” You let the words trail off, the threat evident enough.

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he held his tongue, knowing that it would get him further away from what he wanted. You grinned at his compliance, rewarding him by getting on your knees and lining him up with your entrance. Sinking onto him, a gasp tore from you as he pressed into you. It had been so long since you’d been stretched like this, and it felt even better than you remembered. Or maybe it was because it was with him.

His grip was vice-like against the metal bars as you slowly sank down on his cock, almost painful-sounding grunts and moans leaving him. It was a slow process, but eventually, you felt your hips go flush with his. “Oh, Cooper, baby,” you groaned, and you felt him twitch inside of you.

“You… you can’t say shit like that and then expect me to last,” he whined, and you laughed gently.

“You need a moment?” You refrained from adding ‘baby’ to the end, knowing he was about to snap.

A shaky exhale left him. “Just… just a moment.”

You hummed in response, letting yourself sit there for a moment. It felt like torture, wanting nothing more than to ride him, but you held back. You tried to not move too much, either, and you eventually felt his breathing calm some. It was still sporadic, but not as much as before.

“Go ‘head now.” You didn’t have to be told twice.

Starting with a slow roll of your hips, you began to move up and down. One hand was planted on his chest, the other on his hat to keep in on your head as it rolled back. It only took a few moments for you to fall into a rhythm, the slow movements gradually building to something faster.

“Cooper, fuck, you feel so good,” you moaned, and you heard him make some noise in agreeance. Another roll of your hips made you see stars, and you could feel that familiar tension begin to build, slowly but surely.

“What a sight you are,” he murmured between breaths, and you looked down to see him staring at you, almost mesmerized. “Wearin’ my hat while ya fuck yourself on my cock. Fuck, a man could die happy like this.”

You tried to grin down at him, but the pleasure became too much as you continued to rock, and you felt yourself falter. Instead, you just moaned out fragments of his name. He was all you could feel, pressing into spots that made you cry out, hitting them with each roll. “Baby.”

God, you loved the way he reacted whenever you uttered that name. His hips jumped, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. The hand planted on his chest dug into the toughened skin, nails no doubt leaving indents, but he didn’t seem to mind. Even though your legs were beginning to shake, you didn’t let up, moving up and down, your breathing becoming labored. You could feel yourself getting closer; you just needed a little more.

After angling your body to keep it steady, you let go of his hat, moving your hands to between your legs. It made you groan, feeling the way his cock moved in and out of you as you began to rub at your clit. The extra stimulation made you cry his name out loudly, and you knew there would be complaints from the other patrons of the hotel.

Your walls tightened around him, making him bite down harshly on his bottom lip to keep from cumming right there. His eyes flicked downward, his mouth going slack as he watched you touch yourself. He forced himself to look away, blown-out eyes staring into yours. You could see the tendons in his neck strain as he concentrated on controlling his release.

The extra pleasure was what you needed, and you could feel your impending release inch closer. “You close, sweetheart?” His voice was hoarse, and you nodded furiously. “You gonna cum on my cock? Fuck, yeah you are.”

“Cooper, you can…” Your words were cut off with a whine.

He seemed to get what you were saying, and he groaned in relief. “Can I finish in ya, sweetheart? Fill up that perfect cunt?”

“Please.” For the first time during the night, you pleaded for something. You were on the verge of release, your movements growing frantic as you chased your release.

“C’mon, sweetheart, lemme feel ya.”

As you cried out his name again, you came, your body going slack as pleasure made you boneless. It wasn’t your first orgasm in a year, far from it, but it felt so much better when it came from another person. Your nerves hummed and you felt weightless, soft whines and pants leaving you.

You barely managed to catch yourself before you fell on top of him, and the clench of you around him was all he needed for his own release, having staved it off for a long time now. He was even louder than you were, your name coming out like a sharp bark as he came, and you could feel his release seep into you, coating you.

The room felt awfully quiet now, even though it was filled with the sound of both of you catching your breaths. With unstable legs, you lifted yourself up and off of him, and you watched as his spend dripped out of you and onto his abdomen. Groans both left you at this sight.

You had been so caught up in the sight that it nearly startled you when you heard the clinking noise again. Glancing up at him, he gave you an expectant look, an almost teasing smirk on his face as he rattled the belt again. “You gonna release me? I’ve been good.” You scoffed at the way he pouted at you.

“You have been,” you agreed. “My good boy,” you added as you reached for the belt. His eyes widened, sucking in a gasp, and if could, he would be blushing.

You just smirked down at him as you released him, but that victory was short-lived when you felt his hands immediately shoot to your body. He practically yanked you down to his mouth, desperately claiming your lips in a messy kiss. His hands roamed over every part of your body, the rough skin making you whine in pleasure, and you could feel his responding smile.

As much as you were loving his attention, you had to admit you were incredibly exhausted, especially now. A yawn tore through you, interrupting the kiss, and you pulled back. “Am I borin’ you, sweetheart?” He asked, amused.

“You could never. But I don’t think I can do all that again,” you laughed breathlessly.

“There’s always tomorrow,” he smirked. “And the next day. And the next.”

You slapped lightly at his chest, chuckling. “Eager, are we?”

“Desperately,” he growled lightly before pulling you back to his lips. This kiss was gentler, although no less passionate. He laughed boisterously when you pulled away to yawn again, fingers halting their exploration.

When you tried to pull away, though, he didn’t let go, keeping your body close. “Baby, I need to get us cleaned up,” you laughed, trying and failing to escape his hold. “I’m not going to bed covered in…” You trailed off, too embarrassed to finish the sentence. You tried to wiggle free, and you sighed in defeat when he didn’t let go.

“You’re blushin’,” he teased, making your ears burn more. “You were spewin’ those filthy things earlier without a second thought, but now you’re actin’ all shy?”

“I hate you,” you grumbled.

“Sure ya do, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “How ‘bout this? You finish what you were ‘bout to say, and I’ll let ya go. For a minute or two, that is.”

You sighed again. “I was saying that I’m not going to bed covered in your cum,” you said with major hesitancy, your ears on fire.

“Why not?”

You slapped his chest again. “I did what you asked. Let me go, Cooper.”

He debated it for a moment. “Fine,” you felt his hand let up its hold, “but if you ain’t back in a minute, I’m draggin’ ya back to the bed.”

Now on a timer, you quickly got off his lap, not before pressing one last kiss to his cheek. On shaky legs, you made your way to the bathroom, flipping him off when he laughed at your inability to walk in a straight line. After using the bathroom, you used one of the provided washrags, dampening it before running it between your legs, and cleaning you up. Grabbing a new one, you dampened it as well before heading back to the bathroom.

He was now sitting on the edge of the bed, the rest of his clothing discarded on the floor, and he looked up when he saw you enter. “Thought I was ‘bout to drag you back,” he commented as you approached him, grinning when he saw your unabashed staring. “Like what ya see?”

You wiped that proud expression off when the cold washcloth made contact with his skin, and you quickly wiped him down. He hissed when it ran over his cock, and you muttered a small apology. You tried to move back to the bathroom to discard the cloth, but you felt him wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you back towards him. You felt him kiss the back of your neck, and you felt him yank the cloth from your hand, tossing it vaguely in the direction of the bathroom.

He pulled you back onto the bed, adjusting the covers so that they covered you both, the one arm never leaving your waist, his face burrowed into your neck. Out of all the things you expected him to be, a cuddler was not one of them. But you certainly weren’t complaining.

Because of the heat of him behind you, and the exertion of the day's activities, you felt exhaustion take over you again, and your eyes fluttered close. “You still owe me anther drink,” you heard yourself mutter.

The rumble of his chest from his laughter was the last thing you remembered before you fell asleep.

Author’s Note: i stole the hat thing from one of my other fics, but i love it so much that i needed to use it again. also might write a continuation/pt.2 to this, idk yet.

also thank you @kinatanhi yet again for the comment that helped inspire all this <3

#the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #fallout tv series #fallout prime #fallout show #fallout #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul x you #the ghoul smut #cooper howard x you

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another-random-paradise · 2 days

Note

Hello everything is fine? I just found your account and I'm already in love!!!

I loved your sleepy confession writing post, if it doesn't bother you and only if you want, could you do it for Kalim, Jamil and Ruggie? They are so cute!!! >w<

Oh, and sorry if the English is wrong, it's not my first language...

An even sleepier confession

Thank you for the request and the sweet words!! And don’t worry about your English, it’s great! Plus, it isn’t my first language either, so i get the struggle, haha! :)

——————————————————————————————————

Crush!Reader sleepily telling him, they want to marry him / part one

Characters: Kalim, Jamil, Ruggie

Format: Headcanons

Warnings: None that i can think off

Kalim

-Chances are, you were at one of his party’s, stayed late, and are too tired to go back to ramshackle

-so, Kalim being Kalim, annoys convinces Jamil to let you two have a sleepover. The absolute energy boost Kalim gets after getting permission already makes Jamil regret his decision..

-after a long night of story telling (with how many siblings Kalim has, he definitely always has tea to spill), pillow fights, and movie marathons, you finally decide to go to sleep, much to Jamils relief

-Just before you two fall asleep though, you unconsciously make one last comment “Life is always so fun with you, really makes me wanna marry you one day..”

-If you thought you’d get any sleep after a comment like that, you’re wrong! Because Kalim is now wide awake and practically yelling in excitement

-He’d be asking you if you really meant it, before talking about how you’ll have to meet his family first, especially all his siblings! They’ll love you!! Why don’t you come with him over the next Holidays?! All while being all over you, kind of like an exited puppy are those ears and a tail??, meanwhile you’re just sitting there like ‘oh shit, I said that out loud?!’

-It’ll only get worse if you confirm that, yes, you do, in fact, want to be with him and maybe, hopefully, marry him one day

-Jamil storms in, thinking you two were getting assassinated or something, only to see Kalim hugging you, practically shaking in excitement, talking about all the dates he’ll take you on (and about your wedding of course)

-you sheepishly look over at Jamil, who is staring daggers into you, the message clear ‘you couldn’t have waited until morning?’. If looks could kill, Jamil would have cut you into a three course meal just now :D

-Jamil tells him to quiet down, so the rest of the dorm can rest

-Kalim continues to whisper-yell, till eventually you two fall asleep cuddling

-the next day, half the school already knows about your now relationship, partially because the entirety of scarabia could hear him, and partially because Kalim can’t keep his mouth shut-

-He is so hung up on that marriage comment, that he might accidentally introduce you as his fiancée a few times!

Jamil

-you, being the kind soul that you are, probably decided to help him out with his chores around Scarabia

-But unlike him, you aren’t used to so much work, No matter how much Crowley tries to overwork you so eventually you’re just straight up exhausted.

-Jamil brings you to one of the many couches, but he makes sure it’s one away from the business of the dorm, he wouldn’t want you to be disturbed while you sleep he cares to much about you for that

-He picks up the few dirty plates some other students left behind, as you get comfortable, which is a very easy task, considering all those silk blankets and soft pillows! You mumble something a mere second before falling asleep. “You’re so caring, Jamil… makes me want to marry you even more than i already to..”

-Jamil halts in his tracks, he almost drops the plates he was carrying! Partially because he’s flustered, but also because a part of him hoped you wouldn’t like him back and the crush would pass.. not that it ever would have

-He is lost in thought as he makes his way to the kitchen, he almost even runs into another student

-Jamil likes you, he really does, there’s no doubt there, but he’s worried more than anything. He doesn’t have time for love!

-not only would you distract him from keeping Kalim from accidentally getting himself killed, but his work would mean that he’d have little to no time to spend with you.. not to mention if you get married, you and your future children would be forced to work for the Asim family too- Unless..

-If he takes you’re last name, instead of him yours, neither of you would be a part of the Viper name any longer. Instead of him enslaving you into service, you could free him from his life of servitude.

-And you always find ways to hang out, despite how busy he is

-He continues to work, now with a smile on his face.

-Maybe this could work out after all :)

Ruggie

-Another one who you were probably helping with work

-Usually he’d refuse help, he doesn’t want to be indebted to anyone, but hey, it’s an excuse to spend more time with you, so he’ll make an exception

-Afterwards, your beat.. even after book 3 and knowing him for a while, you never could have guessed how much work just one certain Lion could make.

-He lays down next to you, either making a sarcastic or teasing comment as he does.

-As always, you laugh in response, but this time you follow it up with “You’re a great guy, you know that? I hope i get to marry you one day..”

-His usual smug smirk, is gone. Just like that. It’s replaced by absolute shock

-He turns to you, to question you about it, only to see you’re already in the land of dreams

-Ruggie doesn’t know how to feel, He is shocked, flustered, and most of all, confused. Yes, he is happy that you like him back, it just confuses him.

-You’re in a school filled with rich guys and literal Royalty. So, by the seven, why would you like a guy like him? Especially since your first meeting was literally him stealing a sandwich from your son friend!

-But it makes him smile, in a school filled with rich people, someone as amazing as you, still chooses him, so he must be really great, right?

-Now he’s even more determined to get a good job, so that he can give you and your possible children a good life!

-He just hopes his Grandma and the kids will like you.. nah, he’s sure they will, you’re you!

-He won’t immediately make his move to ask you out, but he’s definitely working on it! He would be a bit more hesitant about asking you out (Even after you basically asked to marry him) if you’re a girl, as in nature male hyenas are naturally more submissive towards the female they’re trying to court

This was so much fun to write, thank you so much for the request!!

Feedback is welcomed, just please be nice!! Hope you all have a nice day <3

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atrwriting · 23 hours

Text

future problems (pt. 2) -- coriolanus snow x fem!wife!reader

me, after posting a one-shot: “ok i won't do a part two”

me, a few days later: *posts a part two*

howdy y'all ;) back with everyone's favorite toxic white man of the month

this part is based on this anonymous request -- love you anon :) xox

find part one here

summary: reader finds out she's pregnant and has to tell the scariest man in panem -- her husband, president snow

as always, warnings: smut!, pregnancy sex, coriolanus snow is a fucking warning in himself, he’s a dick here, fem!reader, p in v sex, mommy and daddy kink just trust me ok)

barely edited we die like men

anyways... here is future problems (pt. 2):

......

he was told by a servant a month before you told him.

he couldn't believe it.

you had not bled last month.

it's not that he was mad... but he wanted to be told by you. he wanted you to be the first one to tell him. it was important to him — trust and loyalty, especially from you. he had allowed you to get close to him, physically and emotionally, and he deserved that same respect.

he couldn't believe you had kept it from him.

you. of all people. you.

how fucking could you?

it had been a total of six weeks since he had been told by the servant.

it wracked his brain like it was the fever that debilitated him for weeks. it gnawed at him, it scratched at him, and it fucking demanded every ounce of energy from him that he possessed. that sort of pain, betrayal — it insisted on being felt and dealt with immediately, no matter what needed to be taken care of first. corio coriolanus couldn't believe he had honestly trusted you, or even thought you were worthy of some amount of trust... and he couldn't believe he, for even a second, allowed either of you to live in that facade.

never again, he reasoned. never again.

on the day after the six week marker, there was a knock on his office door.

his lips fell into a grimace before he forced it to remain even — calm. no emotion shown. not anymore.

“come in,” he spoke.

his eyes fell to the papers on his desk, where he continued to write and edit his memorandum. his eyes traced the words he wrote, but he was barely focused on what he was writing. the only thing he could hear was the sound of your footsteps entering his office.

“corio?” you asked quietly, smiling, as you stepped through his door.

inside, he flinched at his nickname. coriolanus, he wanted to correct.

he did not raise his head. “…yes?”

he could not see you — but he knew that you noticed his flat demeanor.

it affected your own.

he couldn’t see that — but he knew. he fucking knew.

it wasn’t the first time he had been cold to you, but enough time had past where he reasoned that this would be the solidifying moment of your opinion of him. he knew that you knew he was upset about something. what else could have changed his demeanor?

“i-i wanted to… tell you something,” you replied, voice wavering.

he could tell you were working hard to ignore the obvious signs that something had shifted between the two of you. he knew, he knew, and he knew — but he didn’t care. he couldn’t care. why should he, when you didn’t?

“yes..?” he replied once more, this time sighing.

his eyes met yours.

your resolve immediately fell. though slight, he could see that whatever confidence you had possessed had faded from your face. it was gone… and coriolanus didn’t have the resolve to replenish it. neither did you have the strength to fake it.

he saw you begin to pick at your fingernails — another nervous habit of yours he had noticed.

however, this was a new one. once the pair of you shared a kiss — you were rarely seen pulling at the skin of your lips and your usage of lip moisturizer had increased. he appreciated it, at the time — but now? now it was a reminder of what once was. with new bad habits came the alert of the passage of time — and the alert of bonds breaking.

he couldn’t deal. he just couldn’t.

“what is it?” coriolanus demanded, eyes blinking.

your lips parted in confusion, and your brows scrunched right with them. there was hurt in your eyes, and splattered across your cheeks in a pink hue. your cheeks were usually flushed with graciousness or from alcohol — but this was embarrassment. hurt. rejection.

he didn’t care anymore, especially not when he admitted to himself that a part of him loved seeing your face and confidence fall. if he was going to fall, you were going straight down with him.

down, down, down.

“i’m with child,” you responded, appearing to struggle to catch your breath.

there it was. the admission.

he clenched his jaw. his eyes focused on your face — and how the tears began to collect in your eyes. the rejection he was sending towards you was even being felt by him — and he almost felt bad. to see a woman he so blindly trusted, who thought she could outsmart him — play the part of a hurt and broken hearted woman so well.

he did not smile. he did not laugh. he did not even get up. he simply stared at her — silently.

“i take it you are not happy at this announcement,” she responded, voice barely wavering. “i-i would’ve thought…”

coriolanus watched as you placed a gentle hand over your stomach — almost in a protective manner.

“how long have you known?” he asked.

“i took the pregnancy test today,” you responded.

coriolanus’ jaw tightened. he was not expecting that, especially not after the news he was given. “…but you’ve known for some time. you must have — given how you chose today to take the test, and don’t seem as surprised as you thought i would be.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “…no, coriolanus. i didn’t. i had hopes, yes, but… i took the test as soon as i thought reasonable. you’re the first person i’ve told.”

confusion and hurt. that was all you felt. it encased your body like it was trying its best to cast you from the room — placing a heavy boundary between you and your husband. husband… if you could even call him that. your lips began to twist in a grimace as emotions began to well up inside you.

“tell me why i have displeased you,” you spoke, voice threatening to break. you took a step towards his desk and kept one hand firmly on your belly. your eyes, red and wet, bore into his and refused to leave him. “i thought you would be overjoyed. i-i thought…”

“you claim i was the first person you told,” he spat, holding your glare. “but i was not the first person to assume.”

you scrunched your eyebrows at him… but then you realized. it hit you like a ton of bricks. you bit the inside of your cheek, drawing blood, before stating, “your spies.”

coriolanus narrowed his eyes. it was not an issue that she knew… but he didn’t understand how she could know, nor for how long. spies were useful when their identity and presence was not apparent, and therefore he considered his current spies failures — to be dealt with later. at the moment… he had other matters.

“you might want to elaborate on that statement if you’re going to act like it’s something profound,” he spat, standing and snapping his journal closed.

coriolanus stood behind his desk and pushed in his chair. you watched him as he struggled to keep everything together, neat and tidy.

your face was red and hot, and you weren’t sure if it was due to the pregnancy or the betrayal. how could he? how could he?! there you stood, trying to remain collected — but it proved useless. through your tears, you spat, “a woman is supposed to wait before telling everyone she’s pregnant — god forbid she loses the baby before it’s viable. i waited the standard amount of time most women are practically born knowing to wait. if your spy is going to make my cycle their business, they should at least understand basic fucking female biology, coriolanus, or your spies and their intel are fucking useless!”

you didn’t wait to hear his response. you left the room.

he stared at the oak door out of entitlement — it should open once more, and reveal his wife.

the mother of his child…

he had never considered… things of that nature. tests. waiting periods. hormones.

incompetence. that of his spies — nor his own.

he didn’t understand any of it.

however, he did understand one thing…

he had to deal with the useless spy.

…and that would happen before he approached you.

that approach occurred approximately an hour and a half later. he would have found you sooner, but the spy had… taken more time than anticipated. afterwards — there he stood, at your door, with a tray of food in his hands for the both of you.

his knuckles wrapped on the door.

there were no footsteps.

they wrapped again.

still, no footsteps.

once more.

…and, still, nothing.

he couldn’t believe this.

he went to knock a fourth time, but before he could — the door swung open.

to reveal you in the doorway.

your eyes were blown wide with anger, but the rest of your face did not show emotion. you glared at the man before you, which unsettled your husband,

he picked you because you were unproblematic — but had gotten lucky with the fact that your company was so pleasant. you were not loud, annoying, mean, bold, disrespectful, disobedient, or anything of the sort — but he did not expect this.

he did not expect you… to hold a grudge against him, much less stand up for yourself.

he stood there silently — dumbstruck.

“i would slam this door in your face if you weren’t the president,” you spat lowly. “please do not make me forget formalities.”

“i brought you dinner,” he spoke, ignoring you. “please… join me.”

you raised an eyebrow, scoffing. “you’ve been ignoring me for weeks, when i tried to convince myself you were just busy. you can handle another night of dining alone.”

you went to shut the door, but he stopped it with his foot. your eyes lowered to where his toe was in the doorway, and traveled up to where his eyes were. as per usual, his facial expressions were flat, save for determined. he always had a goal in mind… and refused to change it until he succeeded.

you sighed. you had had enough.

“i’m not doing this tonight,” you bit. “i show you every ounce of respect that i know you expect of me. i have been patient, kind, gentle — but i can’t meet you halfway right now. not after that. leave. please.”

there coriolanus went. searching your eyes once more, like he had done long ago. his jaw clenched once, twice, three times before it finally settled. he did not remove his foot before he spoke once more.

“why didn’t you tell me immediately?” he imposed.

there was a hint of pleading in his voice. your breath began to quicken with anxiety. out of exhaustion and frustration, completely forgetting your station, you rolled your eyes at your husband before responding.

“what if i was wrong, coriolanus?” you spat, your eyes were narrowed. “why would i tell the most powerful and scary man that runs panem — that i am pregnant with his child, if i am not one hundred percent sure? to get your hopes up for nothing, if, god forbid, i lose it?”

he didn’t respond.

you threw your hands up in exasperation. a silent cry left your lips in the form of a broken inhale. your hormones were running rabid — coursing through your veins and filling you with frustration.

you locked your teary eyes with him once more. trying to keep your voice quiet, you hissed, “your spies aren’t exactly discreet. i’ve known about them since my first day here. your spies — they’ve never reported i’ve done anything wrong because i have never done anything wrong. it’s not like i can hide anything here, either — they’re everywhere. nothing is a secret — even a private moment between husband and wife, like a wife finally being able to tell her husband that she’s sure she’s pregnant with his child. i have given you everything you’ve ever requested of a wife, yet there you sat — throwing silent insults in my face.”

there went the boundary.

up and sturdy.

layer after layer of brick and cement. your trust and love for him crumbled with each new layer, until you couldn’t see the man you once adore beyond the wall. the man before you frustrated you so much that you forgot what it was like to look upon his face and feel nervous excitement at the prospect of seeing him smile. you wanted to slam the door in his face, placing two boundaries up — a real one, and an emotional one.

one that would prevent you from ever being so stupid again — from ever letting him close to you, for ever thinking this could work.

stupid, you thought. stupid, stupid, stupid.

but coriolanus corio would have none of that.

he was a man of formalities and manners, but your husband actually pushed his way through.

you stumbled backwards in surprise. your husband had guards for doing his dirty work — not the shoulder of his new and crisp suit.

he shoved the tray of food on a nearby table, ratting the walls and the contents on each surface. you placed a protective hand over your stomach and watched him — waiting for his next move.

“i said get out, coriolanus!” you spat. your gaze was fiery red, and now there were angry tears in your eyes. corio could see the hormones flowing from every opening in your skin they could find — even smell them. “i refuse to speak to you!”

“the father of your child?” he spoke evenly, walking towards you. “your husband?”

you took a step back for every step he took forward. “you were more concerned with the secret kept than the actual chance of life!”

“i thought you were keeping the chance of being happy about a child from me,” he spoke, bitterness instinctually falling from his perfect lips. “you can’t forget — we barely know each other —“

“and who’s fault is that?!”

he stopped. his jaw tightened. he stared down at you and wondered where all of this fury had come from.

him. it came from him. the realization struck him similar to how other pieces of information had been striking him later. in the chest or face, whichever hurt more — and forcing his breath to catch in his lungs. never to reach his throat, let alone his lips.

he couldn’t keep going on like this — watching and waiting. watching others for their mistakes, and waiting for the correct moment to… correct them. at the very least… he couldn’t with you — not with you.

“i committed a wrong against you,” he spat before he could think about it.

you scrunched your eyebrows in disbelief. apologies were rare in the capital, and admissions of guilt were almost as scarce. you stared at him, still consumed with rage — but now confusion began to creep upon you. and where there is confusion… there is always curiosity.

you didn’t respond. you clenched your jaw at his words, but that was the only response he received.

“i did,” he reaffirmed, stepping closer to you. you drew back a step — not far, but still a step. he continued, “when i had heard what my spy had relayed to me — i should have asked you.”

you had three options. ignore him, yell at him, or hear him out. did he deserve the first two? yes. did you have every right to do either of the two, or both? yes, of course. however… were they worth it in the long run?

that was the question that now ate at you.

you had every right to put up the same emotional barrier you had worked so hard to tear down with coriolanus. his? who knows why he insisted on making his hurt everyone else’s problem. yours? he was an elite asshole, but… you were married to him. he was the president of panem. he was the most ruthless man in all of panem.

and you loved him.

you really, really did.

that was why his distrust for you hurt so bad.

it wasn’t about seeking approval anymore — because you thought you had it, or at least had come to close to it. once given that, you felt safe enough, well… to feel safe. to feel safety, trust, respect, reliability… and love. love.

the fucking bastard made you love him.

with reluctance, you took a step forward. “you should have, coriolanus.”

his jaw tightened as he also took a step forward. “corio — please, my love.”

you scoffed out of reflex and threw your stare to the side. you began to rub at your stomach, hoping to quell your own anxiety. there were a million insults waiting to leap from your tongue and latch onto his face, chest, throat — anything to hurt him or get him to fuck off. however, you swallowed them.

“i would do anything for you,” you stammered, trying to keep emotion out of your voice. “i have proved that time and time again.”

he took a step closer. “i know.”

“i know better than to keep something substantial from you,” you replied. “god forbid it was a fluke…”

another step closer. “i know.”

“i have done everything i can to prove that i am loyal to you, and only you,” you spoke, your voice wavering. “in the future, i ask that you approach me first — yell at me, fuck, i couldn’t care less — just as long as you don’t ignore me. anything, corio — just don’t push me away.

he laughed then, only a foot away from you now. the tears in your eyelids hadn’t hit your cheeks yet, but they threatened to. he reached forward and cupped your face in both of his hands. he leaned down due to your height difference and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“i know,” he repeated. “and i promise — i will try my best to not push you away.”

“okay,” you nodded, sniffling.

“never heard such coarse words from my perfect wife,” corio attempted to break the tension.

you chuckled then, wiping away any moisture from your eyes. “there were more — trust me.”

“i would have deserved them.”

your eyes flickered up to his them, searching his irises for answers like he did to you. you weren’t sure how he did it — but he could find every lie or fact inside someone’s eyes. that trait had not found its way to you.

but maybe it would to your child.

“i want to hear you say it again,” you whispered, now meeting his eyes. “i want to hear you say that you promise you will try your best to never push me away again.”

“i promise,” he spoke, nodding.

you refused to stare into his eyes at his admission. if he wasn’t a good liar, you didn’t want to know — not in that moment.

"am i allowed to kiss the mother of my child now?" he asked with a smirk.

you glared at him. "you would've —"

"shhh," he cooed, before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours.

one of his hands slid to the back of your head and cradled the bottom of your skull. he wrapped his free arm around your back, pulling you into him. the kiss, you couldn't explain it — it — it...

it was like he swallowed you.

there was no place for you to move, but then again — why would you want to? you body was perfectly molded to fit his, in every way he wanted you to bend to him. his warmth, his scent, his taste — it all coaxed your senses into such a feeling of satisfaction that you weren't sure where it started or ended. it held your consciousness in warmth and safety — something rare in the capital. the only thing that mattered to you was that you were in your husband's arms and the kiss did not stop.

"so pleased with you," he mumbled against your mouth. "a child..."

warmth bubbled within the lower half of your body. praise, from a man like corio... any woman's weakness.

you hummed into the kiss, rubbing your hands up and down his chest. "going to be so proud of their father, the president."

the groan that emitted from his chest was deep and guttural — so masculine. it made every hair on the back of your neck stand at attention, waiting for a direction from the man before you. you began to finger his top button, hoping... hinting...

"sweetheart," he spoke, pulling away. "as much as i want to, i am not sure whether —"

"i think i'm fine," you gushed, only realizing after how desperate you might have sounded. "we might as well — especially before i become too big to breathe."

he stiffened as he held you. you immediately grew worried.

"what's wrong?" you softly asked, rubbing his chest.

he shook his head. "nothing —" he stopped for a moment, appearing to contemplate something. "it's just — i was imagining —"

you looked up at him curiously, hoping he would elaborate. his eyes immediately flew to your lips — perfect and plump, a match for his. you smirked.

you had him. “what were you imagining, husband?”

his jaw clenched again as his eyes widened. “my pretty wife has become so much more bold since i met her.”

you smiled up at him, hoping that he found it amusing more than disreepctful. one of his hands found your cheek as his thumb caressed the skin. your eyes were big as they gazed up at your husband, keening into his silent praise.

“i disagree with you, wife,” he spoke. “too big to bed —“ he scoffed before leaning down to your ear, your words rolling with disgust off his tongue. his lips brushed against the skin of your lobe before he spoke, “i’ll have a hard time keeping my hands to myself when the mother of my children will swell with me inside of her.”

your eyes, still wide, were frozen on corio’s. mischief danced in his irises, like a snake coiling around its prey. air left his nostrils in a small, sudden gush — amusement. the look that played on his face depicted the power imbalance — but, then again, how stupid could you be to ever think you would have control over your husband for a substantial amount of time?

he grasped your chin in his fingers before your lips parted. you were at his mercy — to be bent to his will. his head bent towards you before he spoke.

“you think you’ll repulse me — when my seed takes inside you, and it shows?” he asked. his eyes searched yours — but what yours reveal that he didn’t already know? he had you. he had you, and there was nothing you could do about it. “my naive, little wife… i don’t expect i’ll allow you to leave the bedroom much when that time comes.”

christ, you thought. your breath began to quicken as his words settled upon you. in a soft voice, you replied, “you leave me speechless, husband.”

he wickedly smiled then. “get on the bed, sweetheart. making up for lost time is in order, wouldn’t you agree?”

you couldn’t help yourself. you should’ve listened to him — but how could you, when he smelled so good, spoke so nicely, and was so close? you rolled onto your toes just enough to be able to press a kiss to your husband’s lips, and wrap your arms around his neck.

the angle was annoying for corio, who thought pulling you into his arms would be better use of his strength — especially if you weren’t going to listen. his large hands held your ass, supporting your weight as you leaned into his touch. your breasts, arched into his chest, were the only barrier that kept you two apart. there was nothing like a kiss from corio — heat, lips, teeth, spit. all of it melted into one.

“you missed me… didn’t you, sweetheart?”

“yes,” you spoke, breathlessly. “so much, corio.”

“i was so mean —“ he replied, in between kisses. “wasn’t i? neglecting my perfect wife. a good husband would have to make up for that.”

you hummed in agreement, almost breaking into a whine. “kiss me, corio. missed you so much…“

it was like he swallowed you. body, lips, breath, emotions — all of it. once yours, but now his. all his. your body temperature increased with every fold of his lips against yours. heat pricked at the tips of your cheeks, the back of your neck, and your lower back. your fingertips, tingling, made quick work of his buttons to strip him of his clothing.

he couldn’t deal with how slow and gentle your fingers were. he loved you and how gentle you were — but when his cock was straining against his pants? the head of his cock, so red it was almost purple, leaking at the sight of his redeemed, perfect, pregnant wife? begging for him?

you were fucked. so fucked.

he should've been disgusted at the thought of fucking his wife while the babe sat protected inside your womb. however, nothing could stop corio from rejoicing at the fact that you had never done him wrong when you had actually presented him with a gift, also showing the utmost protection for it.

you fell back against the bed, your back awkwardly landing on the edge. you couldn't stand or lay back perfectly balanced, therefore relying on your husband to hold you upright and your grip of his clothes.

"my perfect wife —" he moaned into your neck, mouthing at your clammy skin. he had shoved his hand into your panties, finding you already soaked. "glowing as a mother —"

it was like you were both succumbing to the heat and haze of all-consuming lust. your hot breaths added to the humidity in the air, making your embrace with corio feel like a sauna. he couldn't rip your lace stockings off fast enough as you struggled to hold your balance.

your husband loomed over you as one large hand cupped the back of your head. his long, talented fingers on his other hand drew rough circles on your sensitive bud and you couldn't contain your cries. it had been so long. so, so long. the feeling of loneliness and lust had dissipated and was replaced by satiation. you need corio's hot, and husky breath groaning against your ear and all of your muscles holding you up and in place, forced to take everything he could give you. tears began to well up in your eyes at the thought of not only having your corio back, but for the lonely need for intimacy to also leave you.

he laughed darkly. "you're so close already, aren't you?"

you whined, struggling to regain your composure as you fought through embarrassment. "it's just been — so long —"

"how would you feel if i took it away, little dove?" he asked, eyes taunting. "how helpless would you feel? — how much of a mess would you make?"

"don't take it away from me, corio, please —" frustration was eating at you as you held onto him. he was so far away, then so close, and he was threatening to pull away as if it was a game. your feelings, your safety, you — all a game to him.

the hand on the back of your head left you to grasp at your chin as tears rolled down your face. your teeth were firmly planted in your bottom lip as you struggled against his touch. the rope in your womb was being wrapped so tightly that you felt the strands would snap at any moment, but you knew he would pull away. his eyes, dark and boring into yours, spoke for him — you were right. it was a game, and he was loving it.

"tell me it was worth it — for this," he rasped, eyes still locked on you. "tell me all of the pain i caused you was worth it — for this."

you were writhing against his hold at this point, grinding your hips down onto his hand as you whined against his lips. you were pulling at the fabric adorning his shoulders, hoping to rip it from him — hoping to make him feel as strung out as you felt.

"it was all worth it," you croaked. "all worth it for how good this feels."

"i'll never leave you again," he promised, his movements now becoming more rough on your core. "tell me you love it. tell me you love me."

"i love you, corio — !" you cried, pressing the sides of your noses together so your lips were barely touching. "i love it so much — please, don't stop —"

"that's it, doll —" he groaned. "cry for me. do it — cry."

something snapped inside of you.

your eyes closed, and your vision went black.

your throat went hoarse from the sob that left your mouth.

your lips were ragged with how your teeth ripped into them.

but you? oh, god — you felt so full.

corio's palm rubbed against your clit as his fingers entered you, pressing into that deep spot only he could find. you rode his hand like satisfaction was the only thing that mattered to you. greed and gluttony — want and need. none of it mattered.

"mommy feels so good now, doesn't she?" corio whispered into your ear. "just needed what only daddy could give her. — s'all right — just keep cumming, darling."

"fuck, corio —" you whined, buzzing with overstimulation.

he clicked his tongue at you. "such a naughty mouth on you. i'll teach you."

and he meant it.

he immediately withdrew from you — letting you fall onto the floor with both hands on the sheets, facing the bed. you almost scrambled to get back up, until you heard corio's pants drop from behind you. he kicked open your knees, and found himself with your perfect round ass pressing into his cock. he pressed the front of you into the bed, and snaked a arm around your throat.

you felt the tip of his cock prod at your wet and swollen lips before he slipped his length inside of you. you tried to lean forward into his thrust, but corio didn't like that. with a hand wrapped around your throat, he pulled you backwards against him.

the angle made your shiver. the tip of his cock began to hit the wall right behind your clit, making your head go dizzy. his finger found the corner of your lips, dipping inside your mouth. he pulled at the corner, forcing you to look up at him.

"so helpless — so perfect —" he groaned, rutting into you. his head held you perfectly in place for his total control. "can't believe i let myself miss out on the chance to breed my perfect wife. so perfect, aren't you?"

you didn't know what to say. your head was swimming. you were barely down from your first orgasm and now corio was forcing another onn you. hormones, emotions, and sensations were running wild inside your body and you weren't sure how to make sense of the fever. coupled with his own frenzy, you were a mess. a rubber band, for him to snap and play with whenever he liked.

"i asked you a question," he snapped. "you're perfect, aren't you?"

you hesitated, working through insecurity as lust overtook your mind. mumbling, due to the finger in your mouth, you spoke, "perfect."

corio stared down at you in awe. your hair was a mess, as was the rest of you. your face was flushed, your lips were swollen, but your eyes... oh, your eyes... corio was a sick bastard. the look of any sight of wetness in your eyes during sex made his cock so hard he could explode. crying with need was a feeling corio would never let himself feel, no matter how much he wanted to let it overtake him. he wouldn't let himself feel it, but he couldn't hide the fact that he loved the vulnerability you showed when you wanted him. needed him. craved him. his thrusts weren't rough because he hated you, but because he knew that need all too well.

"keep crying for me," he rasped, letting his tongue fall past your ragged lips. "so pretty when you're a mess."

there was nothing like it — being held so tightly you couldn't move and being forced to accept the pleasure and satisfaction only corio could give you. draining you of every negative emotion you had ever felt to replace all of it with animalistic give and take. his own throaty groans were being swallowed by you, as his hips snapped relentlessly against yours.

"make me a mommy, corio," you whispered. "wan' it so badly."

his grip tightened around you as he shook with pleasure. with three thrusts and a heavy groan, he let all of his spend leak inside of you and paint your walls. you felt his rough voice against your ear, mouth obscenities as satisfaction overtook him. you hadn't came again, but you didn't care — not when the air still felt so warm and soft.

that was until you felt a hand find your clit with his softening cock still inside you.

you knew how sensitive he was, and you should've care — but you didn't. all you could think about was giving into how good his fingers felt against you, still feeling so full. the thought of him also being so sensitive while you rode his cock pricked at your senses, relishing in the fact that you were giving him a taste of his own medicine as you came around his cock.

"greedy fucking wife — !" he seethed, anger spewing from his lips as he struggled to fuck you back with his oversensitive cock. you knew it was so red that it was purple and swollen, hating you but loving every bit of you at the same time. you should've cared, but you didn't. not when you knew it felt so good for the both of you, his whines in your ear telling you everything. with one final groan against you, he spoke, "you're never leaving this fucking bedroom — i'll tie you to the bed if i have to, do you fucking understand?!"

all you could do was stare up at him with awe and tears in your eyes.

his mouth parted at the sight. with his cock still inside you, you still riding his softening cock as you rode out your orgasm, nothing was prettier. nothing fulfilled your corio more. with one last kiss, he spoke, "just as evil as me, aren't you?"

you giggled. "i love you, too."

---

if you're wondering if i went batshit insane i did HAHA hope you enjoyed

L xox

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sleepyangelkami · 3 days

Note

Hi!! Could I request a fic about Carl and aftercare? Your writing is so good I’m jealous‼️

DESTRUCTION AND REPARATION c.grimes

☆ WORD COUNT - 1.3K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - when everything is said and done, carl wants to make sure you know you still are and always will be his precious girl.

☆ WARNINGS - mentions of sex, illusion to sex, aftercare, sexual themes, aged up characters, dom!carl, sub!reader, hickies, nudity, vulnerability, bathing as a couple, kinda real world!au, praise, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

descruction and reparation.

in carl's terms, the act of destroying you until you were nothing but a toy at his will to do whatever it was he wanted with you. then building you back up and showing you that no matter the hour, you were truly the only girl in the world that mattered.

his breath was heavy as he relaxed himself against the bed. it was like a ritual every time it happened, no matter the position you found yourself screwed up in. he'd lay next to you, long fingers coming to brush the hair away from your face.

"hey, pretty girl." he practically cooed at the sight of you. you were so fucked out, breathing heavy with swollen lips. there were many marks and traces he'd left down your neck, across your stomach and between your thighs. he couldn't help but admire them while he studied you. "you okay? everythin' feel good?" his voice was low, like a soft whisper that could have lulled you to sleep.

when carl was finished with you, after you'd lost count of the rounds and he knew you were done it was hard not to take you into his arms and allow them to swallow you whole. "mhm." was your response, though behind the tiredness there was a type of contentedness. you always felt that when you and carl were finished.

you could have opened your mouth to spill every little detail on how you felt, god knew you liked to talk.

but now, in the afterglow with the only light source in the room being the little fairy lights overhead, you found your mind so tired that you couldn't will yourself to speak even if you'd wanted to.

his fingers traced against your skin, eyes never leaving your pretty face.

carl liked taking his time having his way with you. he liked to do it at his own pace, flipping you in every position, letting out all his stamina and making you both feel as though you were on fire.

he loved hearing your whimpers and whined, watching your back arch against the bed and listening to himself unravel you completely.

but this as your body lay still next to his own, eyes peering up at him with love and adoration, this is all he'd never needed.

his face came down, pressing the gentlest of kisses to your forehead. "c'mon, bath time." you made an effort to groan to which the boy merely moved his kiss to your lips, dragging you up from the bed.

he did what he said he would, drawing a bath for you both.

this was not a new thing he'd begun. it was often that you'd take a bath together after everything was said and done but that didn't mean you'd ever get used to the low energy needing a spike to get to the bathroom, despite the fact carl was practically carrying you, wedging you in the door and making you sit on the porcelain toilet seat while he ran the bath. he even added that scent that you liked, the one he claimed made him smell like a girl. he'd just have to make sure he lathered on his spray afterwords.

not much was said, carl helping you into the bath as he climbed in after you, sitting with your back to his front, holding you close.

during bath's like these, carl paid extra attention to your body. it wasn't so much about cleaning. i mean, sure, you got clean some way or another, he'd lather on the scented soap, doing it to himself too. but that wasn't the point of the baths.

the low "love you." that you mumbled as you pressed yourself close to him or the soft sniffle as you tried to wipe away the tiredness from your eyes.

the soft "i love you too." he'd murmur back, soft hands caressing your body, pressing kisses anywhere his lips could reach. "beautiful girl." he'd mumble before correcting himself. "my beautiful girl."

that was the whole point of this.

no matter the sex, rough, soft, quick and easy, hard, long. whether or not you came out teary eyed or not, he didn't care. at the end of the night, just the two of you relaxing in the porcelain bath tub was all he'd ever need.

"did so good." he'd praise softly in your ear, as if not to disturb the peace you had, as if he'd ever let you fall asleep in the bathtub. he was always gently tapping your face with his fingers, not allowing you to sleep. but it was so hard, the hot water and his voice lulling you ever so gently. "such a good girl."

he'd wash your body for you, taking extra care in the places you need, careful when passing your bruises and your fucked out cunt.

if he could, he'd keep you in the bath even when the water went cold.

but by the time he was helping you out, you couldn't even complain. you were more excited about getting beneath his blue covers than anything before.

"c'mere." holding the towel around your body. "let me." never allowing you to do anything for yourself. he made sure you were well taken care of in any way you could ever possibly need. he dried down your body, leaving you in it while he grabbed the pijamas on the island of the sink, dressing you.

your cotton long pijama bottoms and the t-shirt with short sleeves were over your body within a matter of seconds.

"so good f'me." his lips pressing a line down your exposed neck, pushing your damp hair out of the way so you didn't have to deal with it any longer.

he'd praise you until the night was up. the two of you, clad in fresh cotton pijamas beneath those ugly navy blankets that he owened, cuddled up while the pictures moved against the screen.

at a time like this, you were fragile, that much he was well aware of. this is why he didn't speak many words, turning on the tv to the show he knew you liked or the new one you'd both been watching together. his fingers would twist your hair, curling it around his fingers and letting it drop. or perhaps his fingers were drawing lines up and down your arms? shapes against your back? whatever he was doing to you, it was soothing enough for your eyes to flutter shut.

"know her from somewhere." you'd mumble, all dazed as you tried to make out the familiar face on the screen.

"yeah?" he'd murmur back, gentle kisses against the slope of your neck, so soft against the earlier bruises. "from where baby?"

he'd hear that little mumble back from you, a practical babble. you babbled until your voice ran out. could he understand or make out a word you were saying? ... definitely not the point.

though he wasn't too worried, knowing you were much too tired to remember it by morning.

even as you finally drifted off into a sleep, he'd never stop those gentle kisses, soft murmurs, what a pretty way to drift in and out of consciousness.

he did it not because he knew you loved it or because he felt obliged to. he did it because he loved you, through the dawn and the dusk, no matter the hour of the day or night, no matter the things you were up to.

he'd trade the moon and the stars for moments like these.

though they seemed almost cheap, compared to you.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

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twistedwonderlandshenanigans · 1 day

Text

All My Scars

The stories behind one of the scars each of the twst cast has SOME ARE WAY ANGSTIER THAN OTHERS OKAY please read the tw and the tags, and like the stuff in brackets under characters names that have them for a heads up...what Specifically their section covers

TW: SH, abuse, Bad Parents (specified in the reading), references to alcoholism, implied SA survivor, and some OOC stuff bc I like making Cater cry sorry PROCEED WITH CAUTION FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, apologies for inconsistencies

IF YOU DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. Here's my masterlist to some fluffier stuff if you still want to check out my writing. Thank you!

I'll be doing a fluffier version of this some other time, like dumbest childhood injuries they had or something, so if this ain't for you, please hold! --------------------------------------------------------------------

"How did you get your scar(s)?"

Heartslaybul

Riddle The question caught him off guard. He glanced down at his hand where your thumb ran over the small indentations on the skin between his thumb and pointer finger, a small smile kicking up the corner of his mouth.

"That was Che'nya. When we were kids." You looked at him, your silence prompting him to continue.

He smiled a little more, gently pulling his hand from yours to look at the scars left there, laughing softly, though a bit pained.

"I wasn't prepared to receive very much physical affection, but Che'nya couldn't really help himself. He said if hugs were off the table, he just wanted to nibble." He chuckles softly "Of course he didn't give me much of a warning, though Trey tried to stop him before he bit me. It was a shock at the time, but both of them explained it was an expression of affection...I confirmed it later on in an article on the behaviours of beastmen. Trey was used to getting bites from Che'nya, but usually with less pent up energy. Nonetheless, he helped me take care of it before I had to return home."

His brow furrowed a bit as he sighed.

"Of course, my mother noticed eventually, the divots on my hand. It was the first and only time I ever outright lied to her - lies of omission aside. I know she didn't believe me when I told her it was just me being clumsy with my pencil, but I suppose it was a tender mercy she didn't have time to deal with me that day." He looked at the divots a little longer, a particular softness in his expression.

"They're the only scars I have. I find it rather ironic that the only imperfection I carry in my mother's eyes...is the lasting impression that there is at least one person who cares for me more than she has ever been capable of."

His smile was sad, but he tried to keep things light as he looked at you. "That is not an invitation to try and bite me as well. I know full well you care for me...because you've helped the scars nobody can see, fade."

Trey

"Which ones?" He chuckles softly, pausing his kneading as he held out his arms for you to look over the various marks he had, before he pointed at one, taking matters into his own hand. "My youngest brother likes this one for some reason. He thinks the texture is different and kinda just rubs my arm when he's calming himself down."

He turned his arm so his elbow was pointing out a little bit so he could look at his forearm, pointing to a bigger scar. "This was a burn from bumping against the edge of the oven while trying to take out a tray of cookies in a rush."

He turned his arm yet again, showing off another one. "This one was from me trying to reheat baked potato leftovers. I put butter on it and threw it in the microwave, but I almost dropped the bowl when I took it out and had the bright idea to try and catch it. Splashed hot butter up my arm." He chuckled again, using his shoulder to bump up his glasses. "I have a few from Che'nya as well. Some from my siblings. Some from baking. But they make for good stories should I ever need something to share."

Cater (Heads up for the abusive parent HC's regarding using kids for media Clout) <- you can read by clicking the link

He looks startled, like he's just seen a ghost before trying to laugh it off.

"I uh...oooh sevens don't tell me you saw me eat dirt like two days ago while I was skateboarding! I swear normally I'm better than that, I just- I didn't scar, just a scrape and nothing more, swear! It's sweet you're concerned though."

You gave him a bit of a sad look, before sighing, looking away awkwardly, knowing there was no...delicate way to tell him what you wanted to.

"Look, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but the last time I was babysitting Cheka I...saw what he was watching on his tablet and um...well I unsubscribed him from the channel but there were some videos on there that-"

"Stop."

Cater was hugging himself, balled up as tightly as he could get on the opposite side of the couch, his hair shrouding his face somewhat. He was taking shallow, rapid breaths, and while you wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort him, you didn't think he would respond well to touch at the moment.

"How much did you see?" His voice was as demanding as he could get it from inside of his little shell.

You cleared your throat a bit. "I didn't go digging into any of the videos, won't watch any if you don't want me to...it was just some of the thumbnails that...worried me that you...might have more than emotional scars to work through..."

You moved slowly to kneel on the floor next to Cater, offering your hand should he want to take it. "I'm sorry, there were better ways for me t-"

"You're right." He sobbed softly, looking out at you, nothing but pain on his face as he tried to hold in another sob, taking your hand in his, and moving it to gently run over his outer forearm.

"I c-cover them up um...a-all the time, it's second nature now but.." he takes a few moments to try and catch his breath.

"These ones were all from the same damned prank video...mom..covered the floor in dish soap in the kitchen...I was like...four, I still loved cookies, so when she said there were some, I came running in...slid and crashed into the oven...."

He sniffled and rubbed at his eyes with his free arm. "I remember watching the doctor pluck glass out from me and my mom was outside the room....just...yelling at my dad..."

He waved his hand over his forearm, letting the faded scars come to light beneath his concealer, trusting you to keep this a secret. His eyes still held unshed tears as he looked away from his arms, and from you.

"And the worst part? That video went viral. People thought it was funny. So of course mom went and did more and more prank videos, even if some people made it popular for the wrong reasons, there was still attention and validation there for her efforts, so it didn't matter. If I was crying, it was cute for me to...fuss, because I was- am the youngest, and nothing I felt really mattered. It was- I just-....I like being who I am now...most of the time...because nobody...nobody sees beyond what I want them to see...er...most people now I guess..." He gave you a bit of a bashful smile, clearly upset and conflicted still, before his face fell again and he gently tugged his hand from yours.

"Just give me a few minutes and everything will be okay again. Promise."

Deuce (with the HC he's deaf/HoH)

He kinda just sighed deeply at your question, shooting you a bit of an unimpressed look.

"I mean you could take a guess where I got most of'm and probably hit the nail on the head." He huffed, rubbing the back of his neck a bit, his eyes drifting to the side awkwardly as he wracked his brain for a scar story that wouldn't dredge up memories he'd rather forget.

"I mean the scar story my mom tells her coworkers about..." He cringes a tiny bit at the idea of relaying the story the same way his mother does, but sighed anyways.

"I was young, like really young, maybe two or three. It was before I was used to my hearing aids, so I didn't have them in at the time. She had just turned a little to greet one of our neighbours who had come out to say hello, only to hear ungodly squawking, followed by giggles...I didn't know the bird I'd managed to grab was giving me a heads up it didn't like being grabbed, besides it's struggling...long story short, it bit me pretty good." He blushed a bit and pointed to a relatively small scar on his cheek. "I don't even know what kind of bird it was. I just know what happened because it was something my mom talked about a lot."

Ace (TW for alcoholic father/abuse/manipulation)

"Mmh?" he sounded rather uninterested. It was a fair question, given the amount of time the two of you hung out, it wasn't like you wouldn't notice the jagged scar on his neck to his collarbone.

He shrugged, trying to play off how uncomfortable the memory was. "Just somethin' that happened when I was a kid."

Your unspoken questions bothered him more than he thought they would, rocking to sit up properly and look at you a little pissy.

"Look, I'm over it, so I'll tell you but I don't want a damn reaction or pity, okay? I was nine, my brother had just gotten his admission letter into NRC, and my dad was drunk off his ass. Threatened my brother with the cost of my life if he quit his job and stopped being his beer fund- not that it was much of a threat, it was a glass bottle or some shit he'd shattered and held to my neck. That was the night my brother made arrangements for me to live with his friends families so he could still come here without making me walk on eggshells around my dad. He still won't tell me if he kept paying the bastard's beer money or not, but my dad's in rehab now, and I don't ever gotta go back to him by myself again. I can just visit my brother now he's got his own place, even if he's got a roommate. So now you know." He got up from the couch, shaking out his hands a bit.

"Now, I'm gonna make some breakfast and I'm using your materials. Ain't no way I'm trekking back to Heartslaybul just for breakfast."

Savanaclaw

Leona

"Don't remember" He stretched on his bed, yawning. "Same shit I told Ruggie. It doesn't affect me now, so what's the point in remembering it? Can't hold on to every dusty memory."

"Aren't scars a symbol of nobility to those from Sunset Savannah?"

You could practically feel the discomfort rolling off of Leona in waves as he turned his back to you more.

"....yeah, they can be..." he sighed, feeling the weight of your next question mounting. "Just chalk it up to some stupid royal tradition that should have been abolished years ago. You don't have to believe it, but I'm done talking now."

Ruggie (Hyena Hierarchy shit ig?)

"Eh?" His ears flick playfully as he snickers. "They ain't a big deal. Growin' up some of the girls would play a little rough, 'nd now I mainly take care of the rugrats they like to chew and bite on anything they can get their little teeth into, not limited to ears and tail."

His ear flicks again and he holds his hands out. "And I mean, my hands ain't scarred but I don't have fingerprints cuz my grandma taught me how to do the hot food flip, you know what I mean." He snickers. "But y'know, just cuz they don't hurt anymore, doesn't mean I won't take a little extra cuddles or pets if you're gonna offer."

Jack

He scratched the back of his head a bit. "You noticed it??" He seemed a little awkward, and now that the fact had fully settled that the only scar he had was the small one on his upper lip, you could kind of understand why.

You nod a bit and he sighs, his hand dropping from behind his head and looking off to the side, a little bit embarrassed.

"It was a frog." He cringed a bit at his wording and at the eyes he felt from you, and he knew you were trying to hold back laughter.

"I- my bigger cousin was showing me a frog he caught and it jumped on my face. I didn't have full awareness of ah...my capabilities and...where my claws were in relation to my face... ended up hurting myself in the process of getting it off of me. I don't remember much else after that....just that I don't...love frogs..." He admitted a little shyly, tail tucked slightly, and clearly embarrassed.

Octavinelle

Azul

He looks at you rather unimpressed, then gestures to the tweels.

"They think I'm a chew toy. They would be the reason for any and ALL of my scars, as I've never been in any other danger where scarring would be an issue."

Jade

The question seems to hit him harder than you expected. Jade was normally hard to read, but his discomfort was apparent with your question. He gave you a practiced, but strained smile.

"The story behind my scars are not something I share willingly with anyone. I will be taking my leave." (but you can read the story here >:D)

Floyd (partial nudity?? but it's just Floyd showing off the scars he has all along his legs enthusiastically)

"Aha! I got a whole buncha scars shrimpy, which ones are ya curious 'bout?" He flopped down next to to you, and took his shirt off, showing off scars on his back.

"Oh didya see the ones on my legs durin' basketball practice?" He tried to pull up his school uniform pant leg, to no avail. He huffed and just slid his pants off, leaving him in his boxers as he showed off the scars all along his legs.

He beamed "It's a helluva lot harder t'see em when I'm in my mer form, blend right in with my scales, but my human body?? I look sick!! And there ain't too many humans who can boast 'bout havin' scars from a shark attack or a tussle with a barracuda! I got a whole buncha stories I could tellya if ya think you can stomach'em-" He snickers.

Scarabia

Kalim

"Ahah....I..I've got a scar?? Where?" For some reason he seemed a little panicked, looking over his arms anxiously. "No, no I shouldn't have any scars I um- I- just-"

His behaviour made you a little worried, so you moved to take his hands in yours, trying to steady him, but he pulled away from you, looking at you rather frantically.

"Just tell me where! I....I can- I'm alright, promise, but I don't have any scars!"

I'm realizing I have an obsession, here's another story

Jamil

"I mean I have a few minor scars on my hands from when I first started learning to cook." You watched his practiced movements as he chopped vegetables at a quick pace, sliding them off the cutting board as necessary to make more room for himself.

"Though I suppose with how intently you watch me work it's not a stretch to assume you noticed them." He gives you a bit of a knowing smirk, before pausing for a moment, and flexing his wrist to show a small scar on the back of his hand.

"That one was from taking care of Najma. She was just learning how to walk and wandered out of my fathers sight. My mother was taking care of something inside the palace, so as soon as I noticed she wasn't toddling around us, my father and I began searching for her. She ended up somehow getting herself wedged between....seven, I can't even remember. I remember putting both hands in, and pulling one one out with a cockroach on it, and the other struggling to pull Najma out until my dad was able to assist." He shook his head and sighed. "I cut myself on the wood around her, needed a couple stitches after....but she was all good, save for a mouthful of sand she had stuffed into her mouth." he chuckled softly.

"But if I have any other scars...you'll have to wait longer for those stories."

Pomefiore

Vil (SA Survivor vaguely implied)

"I do not know what you are referring to potato. I don't have so much as single blemish on my skin."

You met his eyes in the mirror, a silent questioning match ensuing between the two of you. You broke eye contact first, leaving him satisfied as he took a deep breath.

"There is nothing inherently wrong with scars. But the ones I have don't deserve any more thought, the person who inflicted them are no longer a part of my life, and never will be again. It's been over seven years, I know that there isn't a cell on me that has not been replaced by a new one."

He met your eyes back in the mirror. "Never bring this topic up again, unless you require assistance with your own scars."

Rook

"Hm? I've taken great care to cover them all up, mon trickster. Since coming to Pomefiore and being under Vil's supervision, most of my scars have faded to a point they are barely identifiable." He smiled softly at you.

"Though if you've noticed one or two, I assure you the story is lackluster." Despite his casual appearance, Rook seemed to be on..even higher alert than usual, as in you could actually pick up on the tension coming off of him. Despite this, your curiousity got the better of you.

"How can they be lackluster? Aren't most of them from archery or animals?"

Rook met your eyes with a rather cold expression, and regardless of stature, made it feel like he was looking down on you.

"No."

His glare lasted a beat longer, before he beamed, "Ah, it's best I get going. I bid you good day."

Epel (got top surgery over the summer)

"WHATCHYA MEAN HOW'D I GET MA SCARS?!" He has a wide grin on his face, hiking his shirt up.

"I AIN'T GOT NO TITS NO MORE!" He sets his shirt back down, a shit-eating smile on his face. "It was about damn time y'know! Lookit how flat ma ches- look at the scars!! Ain't they cool lookin?? Make me look MANLY an' strong, earlier Sebek done asked who I fought nd I just told'm it was my femin-feminini-.....it ain't funny now, but his face sure was!"

Ignihyde

Idia (TW for SH scars)

The ends of his hair went almost clear, and he looked rather deflated. "....cats. Stray cats. Used to pick them up without trying to bribe them first..." he mumbled, pulling at his sleeve a little more to try and cover them up, before trying to flash you a smile, though he was clearly uncomfortable and upset, so it only lasted a moment before he turned completely away from you.

The silence was heavy between the two of you, knowing the truth was more than the consequences of an angry cat.

He hugged himself more, still away from you.

"I don't do it anymore...Ortho is here now..to ah...remind me to do better...even if he doesn't know about it, his presence is enough."

Ortho

"Scar??" He tilted his head and giggled a little bit. "I don't really get those. When I get scratches Idia helps me buff them out. Why, do you see one?"

He ran a diagnostics test, trying to answer his own question, but came up empty, now trying to look over himself manually for any sort of disfiguration, only to look at you more confused and a little amused.

"What are you talking about?"

Diasomnia

Malleus

He had to hide a slight pout at your question. "Fae do not scar, not easily..."

He could see the way your eyes shifted between his face and his ear, before he sighed. "However...when I was much younger, I was prone to fits of anger, often scaring and sometimes harming the guards that were too slow to react around me." A tiny smile started to form as he thought about it more.

"Besides the initial pain when his weapon brushed past me, the guards face of terror was enough to make me giggle, despite the blood that dripped from the tiny incision." His hand came up to gently hold his ear between two of his fingers, rubbing over the small scar along the edge of it.

"I told him if he agreed to play with me I wouldn't tell my grandmother what he'd done. In a way, he was one of my first friends..but the news inevitably made it's way through the chain of command, and he was soon replaced by another heartless, soulless guard...they were all like that you know....so afraid of me, as a Draconia, to even extend the hand of friendship to a child."

Lilia

"Kheeheehee I've not got a single one, not anymore! I've had more than enough time for all the memories of my glory days fade like the scars that would have told the stories. Besides, having any visible scars would put a damper on my absolutely adorable face!" He batted his eyelashes, resting his cheeks on the 'v' shape his hands made.

Silver

"How did I get my scars?" He repeated, then looked thoughtful for a moment. "I don't have many...ah." He pulled his pant leg up gently and revealed a somewhat...suspicious looking scar on his calf.

"When I was younger, Sebek's yelling wasn't always enough to wake me up. He got fed up and bit me. He was successful in waking me up, so I have a few other scars similar to that one from when we were kids, but when he was about ten he had to stop. It was too much and he had poor control over his bite force."

He touched the side of his face pensively. "Though I was outside a lot as a child too. I'm sure I've got more scars and marks than I've cared to count. But Fa- Lilia was always attentive during our sparing sessions, so I've never received a scar from a blade."

Sebek

He huffed, an annoyed sounding bellow leaving him as he crossed his arms and turned his face away from you.

"I have not had the opportunity to receive a scar but-"

"The opportunity?"

His face flushed a bit, and he looked a little grumpy, "SILENCE, do not interrupt me human. Of course you wouldn't understand! My grandfather has battle scars still, they're a symbol of his bravery and valiance in Briar Valley! If I should ever have the OPPORTUNITY to receive a scar by blade, I would like to have one that matches his."

Extra

Che'nya

"Eh?? Well why'dya wanna knyow?" He chuckles, sitting crisscross against nothing, upside down in front of you.

"I was just curious- you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

He just giggles more, wiping one hand over half his face, evidently using magic to get rid of concealer on that side of his face.

"It's nyat a big deal, all I've got are acne scars and the result of me just pickin' at myah skin." He grinned, pouting playfully and making a peace sign. "'m still absolutely adorrrrrrrrrrrrable though, makeup just is more tolerable than putting lotion on and reminds me not to pick at it." He purred through his own compliment, before using his hand to use magic and put the concealer back on.

Jack Hearts-Trappola (same TW as Ace, only it's implied here, not outright)

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Don't ask Ace that question, kay? It'll put'm in a funk for the rest of the day even if he denies it." He moved to pour himself a glass off coffee, aware you were still waiting for an answer. He took a sip before looking back to you, and answering best he could.

"The scars I have were mostly caused by glass. Once I got into the entertainment industry, I took up soldering and welding so I've got a few pretty bad burns myself from slag or poor PPE, but I had fun doin' it. So no harm no foul." He grinned, the same wide, shit-eating grin that matched his younger brother's expression so closely, it was uncanny.

Falena

His laugh filled the room, boisterous and light. "Ah, you noticed them?" He had all sorts of scars along his arms, in sets of two or three, headed in the same direction.

"Thank you. Here, scars are a testament to one's nobility, strength and perseverance. I received many from Leona when we used to spar, he was always quick on his feet and caught me off guard many times." He chuckled again. "I was never the best at fighting, but it was an important skill to develop should I ever need to defend my son...and if my wife isn't around to exact her fury." His wife gave him a light, playful shove, making him laugh in response as well.

Najma

"Okay if I tell you, you can't tell Jamil or my parents okay?? Don't go snitching me out." She pulled you up to her room, and to her window, sliding it open to a palm tree just outside.

She pointed down at a ridge on the tree, and then pulled up the cuff of her pants and pointed to a scar from the middle of her calf up to her knee. "That fucking tree bit me when I was just trying to go meet up with some of my girls. Do you know how quiet I had to be so my mom and dad didn't catch on??"

Neige (HC he uses mobility aids (forearm crutches + wheelchair when necessary) when not in public eye)

He laughed softly, settling back into his wheelchair and pulling his leg up across the other one, pointing to a small scar over the front of his ankle.

"I got it when I was really young. I was trying to run away from someone who was chasing me, I don't remember if it was tag or not, but probably! I ended up getting a deeper cut than I thought I did when I tripped over one of those concrete barriers they use for cars. It was already falling apart, so the I guess it was moreso the mix inside the concrete that got me?? I don't remember. I do remember getting ice cream after though." He giggled. "I think I was on my way to a photoshoot. I'll have to see if Vil remembers."

Rollo (vague religious themes, SH, never ask me to write for this man again)

He had a band around his wrist, as if he had a bracelet that had turned into one massive scar. It wasn't entirely unreasonable for you to ask, and now that you knew of his brother, there was no reason to really keep it to himself now.

He sighed, holding his wrist out to you rather disdainfully.

"It's a reminder. Every time I look at it, I can imagine the pain my dear brother was in as fire and magic consumed him. I burnt myself for weeks in the same place so as to remind myself repeatedly what my failure has caused. It serves as a reminder what hell will feel like should I never repent of my sins, or fail in correcting the path so many have fallen to. Magic is no god of mine. I will not let it dictate when life is lost or gained. Not in my life. Not in anyone's if things were to go my way...but I'll show them the right way eventually."

His eyes slid over to you.

"You agree, don't you? You'll walk down the righteous path with me and preach the truth to everyone until they join us too."

--------------------------------------------------------

Free me from my mental prison dear god why do I do this to myself at the worst times of day/night.

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moonstrider9904 · 3 days

Text

Lose It

Grand Admiral Thrawn x Female Reader

Summary: As Governor Pryce's assistant, you've had to put up with a lot of things and meet a lot of stuck up imperials with flying colors, but when Grand Admiral Thrawn lands on Lothal, you find yourself stuttering upon your words, flustered, and invited to a gala dinner that'll define your career.

Tags/warnings: SMUT. 18+ adults only. Corporate struggles, Pryce being mean, first meetings, alcohol consumption, making out, PiV sex unprotected, fingering. This is my first time in a long while writing Thrawn, so sorry if any of this is ooc.

Word count: 8042

Playlist: Lose it by Oh Wonder - and its Jerry Folk Remix for the smut 👀

Read on AO3 | One-shot masterlist | Main masterlist |

With your eyes glued to the datapad, you felt as if caf would be the only thing to get you through that morning.

Sunrises on Lothal were beautiful, and yet, you were never able to enjoy them. Your desk on the seventh floor, a place relatively close to the much more humane office destined for your boss, was in a tiny reception room that had no windows; you'd have to walk a good kilometer inside the facility for you to get a glimpse of the outside world. You didn't mind the walking - it was always good for your mind whenever you felt saturated - but lately it seemed as if your boss had the uncanny ability to always demand something new from you whenever you resolved to walk out that door to do anything remotely human. Never being one to be superstitious, when it came to Governor Pryce, you wouldn't give her any more leverage.

You scoffed lightly at yourself. With the boss you had, it was a miracle the cup of caf you were drinking was actually for yourself and not for her. You had a little wager going on in your head to see what else that woman could take from you - so far, she'd already claimed your motivation and a good chunk of your faith in the Empire.

You regretted having Pryce on your thoughts when a notification pushed itself to the corner of your datapad. I'm not available, you thought to yourself, as if that had ever kept you from doing anything that was beneath you before, or worse, getting locked in a task that would absorb all your time and sucked the energy out of you like a leech. There never seemed to be an in between. You scanned the subject and, though you didn't hear alarms being set off in your mind, you did find your interest piqued.

URGENT: Imperial High Command Visit, Subject Classified. All imperial personnel directly reporting to levels SC6 and above must report to direct management for instructions.

And sure enough, you'd have no more peace for the remainder of the morning when you read that. You downed the rest of your caf and mentally braced yourself for what was to come. It wasn't uncommon for you to receive messages like that, but something big usually happened when you did, and you were used to finding out who or what it was about until the very last moments. It looked like it would simply be one of those days, so you grabbed your datapad and left your desk, making your way across the little reception room and into Pryce's office.

One thing you figured you could appreciate about Pryce was that there was never any beating around the bush, and it always made things a lot quicker, even in situations when it felt like you were having a band aid ripped from you. More like a piece of duct tape, but it was quick either way. And when you walked into her office, your back straight and gaze placed directly on your boss, donning what she would deem the desirable posture of an Imperial public servant, Pryce was already standing up from behind her desk with her blue eyes piercing into you.

Only she could make such a beautiful eye color look so menacing.

"You're here not two minutes after my comm was sent," Pryce commented. "I want that efficiency from you every day."

You were that efficient every day, but you weren't about to argue with Pryce about her short-sightedness.

"Put everything you were working with on hold for now," Pryce told you.

You didn't question the importance of the current events, but you never liked it when she told you to cast things aside to make room for her new wishes.

"I need you to send this out as a comm to all staff levels SC5 and below," Pryce handed you a drive, "and then I need you to make sure Congregation Room 2 is set to receive a minimum of seven people, but leave three extra chairs and make sure it's well stocked in refreshments. Put all my comms outside of lines 1 and 2 on standby, redirect comms from lines 4 and 6 towards you, I'm sure those are all things you can handle."

Pryce began walking past you outside of her office, leaving you to follow as you made a mental list of what she was asking.

"Do not answer any questions you're asked by anyone," Pryce continued. "At the most, tell anyone who wants to know to refer to the comm I'm asking you to send out. Now, in that hard drive you'll find the comm, two diagrams, a statement, and a final comm different to the first one which must be sent out only to levels SC6 and above - they are all in the order they're meant to be sent out and the time and date is encrypted in their properties. Stick to them like clockwork, and program anything you need ahead of time. We cannot afford mistakes, I hope I'm clear about that. Once you're done with these duties, find me. I'll need you at my side the whole day."

"Yes, Governor Pryce," you answered with your most professional tone.

Pryce stopped in front of your desk in the reception. "One more thing. Tomorrow night there will be a welcoming gala on the higher levels of the facility. I assume you have something to wear?"

"Ma'am?" You questioned, inevitably puzzled. You were open to many requests from Pryce, and while nearly nothing surprised you anymore, it really sounded like Pryce was inviting you to a fancy event.

"You won't be dancing and fine dining," Pryce sneered. "You'll be assisting me as well as the logistics staff for the event. And, I cannot repeat this with enough emphasis, we cannot afford mistakes. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," you answered again.

Pryce was about to leave the reception and finally give you room to work, but she stopped and looked at you again.

"Ah, and refill the caf pots for the entire floor, we're all going to need it," Pryce spat before finally leaving without so much as a thank you or goodbye.

Would you like me to refill the fat cats' caf pots before or after I send out a highly important, classified comm to the entire facility? It was all you could do not to roll your eyes. You didn't want any cameras catching you in the act.

Luckily, you'd gotten very good at prioritizing. The high commands could wait for their caf, and if they couldn't, they could very well brew it themselves. The first thing on the list was checking the drive Pryce had given you so that you could write out any comms and either send them or program them, so you plugged the drive into your computer. You found that one of the diagrams Pryce had told you about wasn't meant to be sent out, but rather, it was full of instructions for you. And according to those instructions, you'd have time to be a professional performing tasks worthy of her level before fulfilling a caf quest that was very much beneath you.

But the other diagram caught your eye - it was a command structure you'd never seen before. You knew many of the names on it, and when you read the one at the top, began to grasp the magnitude of what was happening at Lothal. It seemed Pryce wouldn't be the top authority on the planet anymore, she'd now be answering to someone who carried a title far more imposing than hers.

The diagram was meant to be sent out with the first comm, so you read the draft, and you didn't know whether you should panic, be excited, or hide from anyone who already recognized you as assistant to the Governor who would want privileged answers. Words like Command Structure Reformation, High Level Staff Transition, and Low-level Cost Reduction caught your eye. You'd heard whispers of new projects and seen the factories that were being built on Lothal from afar, and it seemed you were the one being tasked with telling the facility about that. But you had the hunch something like this would only leave everyone with more questions than answers. No wonder Pryce had warned you about people asking you things, but you doubted it was out of any effort to protect you. She'd essentially just asked you to keep from saying anything that might spill any secrets.

You sent out the first comm immediately and scheduled anything else for the day, including the comm about the gala—that one got you wondering if you'd at least be paid extra, but you had little faith in that. When you were done with that, you locked the computer and removed the drive, and you took your datapad with you as well for whatever came up. You were now headed towards Congregation Room 2 to oversee its preparations, hoping to swiftly fulfill the second part of your instructions for that morning, but as you were leaving the reception room and entering the main hallway, you were abruptly almost bumped into by Pryce herself, who rushed down the hall followed by three Imperial men in high-ranking uniforms. Despite her urgency, she stopped to glare at you.

"Do not tell me you're only just finishing the comms," Pryce snarled. "Hurry up and fill the pots! Are you trying to make the staff furious?"

Without any other acknowledgement towards you, Pryce and the other imperials continued on their way. You felt heat rushing to your cheeks with the words you couldn't say to her, such as how perhaps she forgot what it was like to do routine comm writing or basically any other task the commoner would have to do any day and how long some of those could take ever since she got a high horse and an assistant. But you also knew if you stood there pondering, you'd get yelled at again—the fact that Pryce had chosen to do that in front of others made your blood boil, but as much as you didn't appreciate being humiliated as "that aloof assistant" in front of anyone, you had things to do, lowly as they were.

Another push notification presented itself on your datapad, which you stopped in your tracks to look at.

From: Governor Pryce

On your desk I left a stack of binders for Congregation Room 2. Do not forget them.

You added that little detail to the list of things to keep track of.

With each pot of caf you filled, a tiny part in your brain wondered if anyone would notice if you spat in it. The thought amused you, but you also feared Pryce far too much to try any stunts like that. Something told you she'd notice you sabotaging a pot of caf even if she was on a different planet. You let your fantasies of getting away with mischief get you through that particularly unpleasant part of the morning and finally headed back to your desk for the binders from Pryce and then towards the congregation room, walking so fast you would run if you went any quicker. It was a miracle you didn't drop the binders in the middle of the hallway, and you were happy fate was apparently smiling at you that day to prevent any more embarrassment in front of Imperial high command.

When you arrived, you were pleased to see that the room wasn't a mess. The large table in the center was perfectly clean, with no traces of dust, and the chairs had already been pushed in and straightened out neatly. The room had that corporate smell to it that you both loved and hated, and it was so quiet that it was oddly peaceful. You liked the way the blueish-gray walls were embellished by the large paintings on the walls, one on each of the longer sides of the room. You wished you had more time to admire them both, one of the landscapes of Lotha, and the other one far more abstract with bright shades of orange, magenta, some yellow, and hints of gold on a cream-colored canvas.

You set a binder down on each spot of the table, and then you tested the light dimmers in the room. You then placed a bottle of water next to each binder, and finally, you brewed a pot of caf for the Congregation Room that you hoped would be your last, at least for that day. Still, you admitted you could use another cup of fully loaded black caf yourself.

For a while, the sound of the caf brewing was the only thing to fill your ears. You watched the rich, dark droplets falling into the pot and filling it, letting your mind get some sort of rest. You had the strange feeling that you'd been worked to the bone and yet you hadn't accomplished anything that day... that was a feeling you got very often in your job.

"Strange to see two very opposing art pieces put together in one room," a deep, male voice inundated your senses, rich and luxurious like the caf filling the pot in front of you.

Despite the voice's velvet qualities, you jumped up on the spot, startled, and you turned to face its source.

"I apologize, I did not mean to startle you," he said. He was a tall Chiss man in a white uniform, his profile frame facing you as he faced the painting of the landscape of Lothal's countryside. His posture was regal, with his hands placed behind his back, resting in lightly formed fists. "It would seem a more traditional choice to have paintings that are similar to one another, enough for them to complement but not cause any redundancy."

When he finished speaking, the man looked at you, his deep crimson gaze both gentle and penetrating on you.

"Would you agree?" He asked you.

You didn't have an idea of what to answer, and even if you did, you were stunned. You'd never crossed paths with someone like him before - his aura was intoxicating, and the fact that he had deemed you worthy of addressing spiraled in your mind. Any other imperial would have looked at you over the nose and deemed their time too important to waste on a mere assistant.

"I-I-" You paused to clear your throat, cursing your sudden inability to speak. "I have indeed seen that tendency in other places, just not here. Personally, I like the other painting a lot more."

Your mind began to race as you worried whether you were supposed to salute him or do anything, but it would depend on his rank. You figured standing up straight and not making a further fool out of yourself would suffice, but you looked over at the plaque over his chest just to be sure.

It wasn't a pattern or a rank you recognized. Had that man smitten you that hard?

He gave you the hint of a smile before turning around and looking at the other painting, the abstract piece, and he took his time to admire it. You wondered if perhaps you should offer him a cup of caf, ask him if he was there for the staff meeting, comment more on the painting... you had no clue.

But the silence was suffocating you, and you knew you wanted to hear more of his luscious voice. You looked at the plaque on his chest and took your best guess at his rank judging by the sequence of colors - you didn't get to be assistant to the Governor without memorizing imperial structure level well before.

"Admiral," you stammered minimally, "is there something I can help you with?"

Slowly, his frame turned towards you, his lips again curved ever so slightly. "It is Grand Admiral, actually."

You felt heat rushing to your cheeks - even your best guess based on your experience didn't save you from messing up in front of the greatest force of nature that facility had seen in a while.

"O-oh, I apogolize--er, apologize," you stuttered.

You wanted to scream, so you resorted to just doing it internally. It then dawned on you who this man really was based on his rank alone. The reason your morning had been so hectic was standing right there in front of you, watching you squirm. This was the man Governor Pryce would answer to from now on. Grand Admiral Thrawn. You straightened your back at the realization and bowed your head shortly before looking him in the eyes again, and much to your surprise, he seemed amused with you. Not in the high-and-mighty way, but rather, it was almost as if something about you was endearing.

"You may be at ease," Thrawn said. "I would like to hear your thoughts on this abstract piece. You said you prefer this over the other one."

You breathed in before speaking and hoped your language skills didn't fail you again, and you took just a couple of paces closer to him, allowing yourself to view the painting better.

"Well, I'm no expert," you warned.

"You do not have to be," Thrawn mused. "Appreciation of the arts can be enhanced by knowledge, but the true purpose of art is to produce sensations in the viewer. Any insight you may have to share is valuable."

You looked at the painting again and found it in yourself to relax. "I like the warmth of the colors. And their livelihood, too. It makes me think of freedom, and the gold flecks seem to speak about the beauty of that freedom, as well as the luxury of having it."

"This desire of freedom speaks to you?" He asked you.

You then realized you were talking about lacking freedom to an Imperial Grand Admiral, and you felt your already racing heart quicken.

"I'm grateful for my work and I have no complaints," you corrected despite your many complaints about your boss that morning, easing yourself back into what the painting produced within you. "It's just that... the bright pinks and oranges are hard not to notice in the middle of these gray walls... they can become confining after too many hours in them."

"Hm," Thrawn hummed. "I always prefer having a view myself. I share your sentiment."

You figured having a Grand Admiral's agreement on an art matter was the biggest compliment you'd get that day.

"Might I ask," you began, "what do you think of it?"

Thrawn side-eyed you, but the attitude with which he did it seemed pleased, as well as intrigued with you. He then looked at the painting again. "This color palette reminds me of a current I've been witnessing in none other but rebellious efforts. There is a certain diversity to it, as well as the clear nature of abstract art mirroring the rebellion itself. Your observations of the contrast of the color with the gray of our facilities and the need for freedom only confirm to me that I was not far off with my own initial interpretation."

You were dazed, and the need to speak more plunged into you like thorns.

"How interesting," you said with an airy voice. "For these sorts of emotions to be manifested to multiple people in a similar way."

"Yes," Thrawn said. "Though current context may have some influence on this... collective perception."

Before the conversation could advance, you heard the sound of Governor Pryce's voice approaching from down the hall, her words quick and frantic, clashing with your and Thrawn's aura like nails scratching smooth stone. Soon enough, Pryce appeared at the door of the room with a large number of Imperials behind her, and though she was relieved to find Thrawn there, you could tell she was displeased at the sight of you standing with him.

"Grand Admiral, please excuse the lack of hospitality," Pryce said as she glared at you.

"Not at all, Governor Pryce, I have been well-received," Thrawn said; you could have sworn you noticed him glance at you as he did.

Regardless of Thrawn trying to ease some of the weight off you, the last thing you wanted was to have Pryce suspect anything less than decent coming from you. But fortunately, you noticed Pryce scanning the room, hopefully noticing everything was set up exactly according to her instruction. And now that she had come to you, it wasn't necessary for you to go out and look for her like she'd told you earlier.

Pryce suppressed a scoff. "Yes, well, it appears this room has been prepared properly for your arrival." She then faced the rest of the Imperials behind her. "Please come in. My assistant will help accommodate you."

You understood the instruction and acknowledged Thrawn one last time before walking over to the doorway and directing multiple people towards their chairs around the table. Before Pryce took her own seat, she approached you and leaned in close to your shoulder - your mind raced with the question of whether she would congratulate or choke you.

"You are not to be left alone with the Grand Admiral again, do you understand?" She whispered, but the aggression of her tone was anything but inconspicuous.

"Yes ma'am," you acknowledged without trying to offer any explanation in return.

"Stay here at the back of the room," Pryce ordered. "Oblige to any request these officers may have. I don't want slip-ups."

"Yes, ma'am," you repeated.

"And this goes without saying, but none of what you are about to hear us discuss leaves this room," Pryce added. "This is of the highest confidentiality."

You nodded. "I understand, ma'am."

You knew Pryce was mad at finding you alone with Thrawn, but if she still kept you at that meeting, you had no reason to fear you'd be unemployed tomorrow. The meeting took hours, all through which you kindly obliged to whatever was needed from you.

And you felt crimson eyes on you all the while.

The morning after, bright and early, you arrived at your office and noticed a surprise on your desk. Pryce was nowhere to be seen, but on top of the stack of folders and datapads waiting for you to check on them, there was a bag over your desk with a delicate parchment on it that had your name written in ink. It looked large enough to hold a gown, and you remembered Pryce had mentioned something about you having an outfit for the welcoming gala you'd attend that night.

Pryce got me a dress? Employer review season must be coming up.

You pushed the jokes aside in your brain and decided to be more appreciative. Besides, it was far more likely Pryce would rather give you what she wanted you to wear before risking letting you make a poor fashion choice, thus surely rendering the welcoming gala a complete, unsaveable failure.

You took the parchment from the bag and noticed the other side of it had more writing on it.

Art deserves to be appreciated.

You felt your heart skip a beat and the oxygen leaving your head. That dress wasn't from Pryce, it was from Thrawn. It made you all the more motivated to unzip the dress bag and look at what was inside, and you felt your breath leaving your body when you saw the exquisite black fabric of the long gown. The outer layer of the dress was primarily lace, with sequins and beads very discreetly forming delicate flower forms every few inches. You knew it was high couture when your fingertips brushed the fabric, the quality evident under your touch—you tried not to think how much it cost.

Were you even supposed to accept a gift like that? You weren’t sure. It might not even fit, and even if it did, maybe you were expected to return it after the gala.

But who were you to refuse a request from a Grand Admiral? It’s not as if Pryce hadn’t told you to oblige to anything those Imperials the day before, and to your knowledge, that included Thrawn.

That day at work didn’t have you running up and down the facility like the day before, constantly required at Pryce’s side, beck, and call, but the workload didn’t stop. Between comms regarding structure changes, further details being given to the public, overseeing preparations for the gala and familiarizing yourself with the guestlist of the event, and the routine work you always did day to day for Pryce, you were hardly able to leave your desk.

But all that made the end of the day much sweeter, and when you were off your shift, you hurried home with the gown in hand. Quickly, you showered, dried your hair and styled it for the night, dolled yourself up with makeup and perfume, and at last, it was time for the dress. You were suddenly nervous about the dress not fitting, but when you tried it on, it slipped on you with ease and hugged your silhouette beautifully. The crop of the dress was perfect for your body type, and it accentuated your curves in all the right places.

Either Thrawn had someone investigate all your measurements to find the perfect fit, or he was able to eye you up and down and determine that for himself. Either way, your heart began to race. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the attention you were getting.

You grabbed a pair of shoes that went well with the dress and added some finishing touches to yourself, and you still had about an hour to spare before the time Pryce had asked you to be at the facility pre-event. You were out your door regardless. You figured, for an event like that, arriving sooner couldn’t hurt if only it meant having a bit more control over it.

As Pryce’s assistant, you’d been to the higher levels of the capitol a few times before for events of the sort, but you’d never seen the place decorated like it was now. The burgundy walls looked even more opulent with the warm golden lighting, and there were several tables laid out around a dance floor, each one decorated with similar burgundy, wine, and gold motifs with extravagant floral centerpieces and delicate glassware for each member that would occupy a spot in them. At the head of the dance floor there was an elongated table whose decoration matched that of the others, with exactly seven seats on it. Your chest fluttered when you glanced at the middle seat. Your day of overseeing preparations for the event had made you all too familiar with who would be occupying that spot.

You still had a job to do. You made sure the logistics team was spot on with last-minute arrangements, verifying there was enough food and wine for everyone who would be there. You went to confirm that every sound, music, and holo-projection worked properly and no one would be embarrassed on behalf of technical difficulties. Because of you, everything was spot-on well before any guests started arriving.

Timely as always, the first one to do so was Pryce. She donned an elegant gown, but as elegant as she looked, she still had that authoritarian air to her, rather than the aura of someone who went to enjoy herself. And she looked around the room not turning up her nose at anything; it seemed she was satisfied with your work for the time being. She walked up to you, and although you’d done a good job, you knew not to expect congratulations from her.

“Perform routine checks every fifteen minutes,” she instructed. “Light, sound, refreshments, staff—we need full stock at all times.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you replied.

It was only then that Pryce stopped and looked at you up and down.

“Where did you get a gown like that?” She questioned. “You look like a guest.” “It just happened to be lying around,” you answered. No way were you about to tell her it was a gift from Thrawn.

“Yes, well, good on you for matching the event’s elegance,” Pryce said. “I shall leave you to your duties. I need to receive the guests at the door, but you’ll need to take them to their places.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear Pryce had just complimented you in some way. Regardless, you obliged to her orders and powered up your datapad to view the seating charts, and soon enough, everyone began to arrive. You were grateful you’d chosen a comfortable pair of shoes for the night, otherwise your feet would have already been killing you from walking up and down the room taking everyone to their places. You were unaware of how much time had gone past, but it seemed like you’d successfully gotten almost everyone to their chairs. The next time you were at the entrance to receive your next guest, you glanced down at your datapad to get a clearer vision of how many seats were still empty.

You then looked up to find crimson eyes staring at you, and you were unable to control the smile that curved your lips. In turn, Thrawn’s gaze traced your entire silhouette, and the intoxicating scent of your perfume didn’t escape him. His faint smile held triumph; he was always pleased when his plans worked out according to his machination.

“May I lead you towards your seat?” You asked him.

He nodded and, to your surprise, Thrawn held out his arm bent at a right angle and offered it to you. You raised your eyebrows and looked at him, puzzled.

“A lady must never cross a ballroom such as this unescorted,” he said to you.

If you hadn’t been working that night, you already would have given out.

You obliged to Thrawn’s offer and linked your arm in his as you led him towards the long table at the top of the dance floor. It was hard to ignore the looks you were getting, and you were privy to the confusion in the eyes of many of the people who were looking your way, no doubt questioning themselves why such a lovely lady at the arm of the Grand Admiral was also clearly an employee. You were certain that if they hadn’t already seen you leading them to their spots with a datapad in your hands, you would have been mistaken for Thrawn’s plus one.

You reached the table and gestured at the middle seat, where Thrawn sat in all his regality. With a final nod of acknowledgement, you smiled at him and made your way back towards the entrance, aware of the fact that you swayed your hips slightly more than usual as you walked away.

Hours wore on. Your management of the event was spotless, and everything was on schedule. The food during dinner was warm, and no one was left waiting obscenely long for a refill of their drink. Speeches were made by the staff, including Pryce and Thrawn himself, talking not only about the supremacy of the Empire but also the great plans they had in mind for Lothal—but you’d already heard enough of that during the meeting the day before.

After dinner and all the formalities, the gathering turned more festive and people took to the dance floor to sway to the elegant string music. From that point on, the night also relaxed for you and the rest of the staff, as everyone was mostly just minding their own business. You stood at the corner of the room watching as everyone danced, and you couldn’t help but search for Thrawn with your gaze. A part of you hoped not to find him dancing with another lucky woman, but you shook the thought away. He wasn’t on the dance floor anyway.

In fact, you couldn’t spot him anywhere.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Pryce rushed to you, seemingly concerned.

“You need to get General Perkins some water, now,” she said.

You nodded and pulled your datapad out. “Getting a waiter on it now—”

“No,” Pryce interrupted. “No, the man is drunk out of his mind. I fear what he’ll do if he’s confronted by a waiter. You at least look the part of a partygoer.”

“O-okay,” you obliged.

“Hurry,” Pryce growled before walking off.

You partly understood the urgency; you didn’t want a drunk imperial on your hands either. You hurried over to the bar and filled two glasses with water and carried both on a tray with your data pad on the other hand. You tried to make your way around the dance floor, but everyone was gathered around the tables at the edges, and from afar, you noticed General Perkins already beginning to swoon in his seat, his eyes threatening to close as he laughed absently.

Yeah, no wonder Pryce had told you to hurry. The dance floor wasn’t as crowded anyway—you figured you had better chances going through it.

You came to regret your decision when, halfway across the dancefloor, another less than graceful Imperial general crashed into you. You managed to keep your balance and not fall, but your datapad was knocked out of your hand and slammed to the floor loudly. The water from both of the glasses splashed all over you, and the glasses shattered on the floor scandalously followed by the clanking of the silver tray after them.

Everyone around you took several steps back, leaving you exposed. The general who’d crashed into you disappeared without acknowledging you, and you were the sole center of embarrassment, feeling as the blood rushed to your face. You wanted to hide, but multiple pairs of eyes pierced into you, judging you, whispering amongst themselves words you didn’t even want to speculate.

Pryce rushed towards you and glanced at the scene before glaring straight into your soul.

“You’re fired,” she spat, and as she left, she gestured at two nearby waiters to clean up the mess.

Your chest heaved up and down as you processed what had just happened, and just as you were about to run away from the scene, you felt your hand being taken and an arm gripping swiftly at your waist. You gasped when Thrawn came into your view in front of you, holding you up despite what had just happened, and you could almost feel everyone’s soul leaving their body. Before Thrawn met your gaze, he looked over at the band and with a single nod instructed them to begin playing. When the music resumed, Thrawn’s gaze finally met yours, and he led you across the dance floor, spinning you and waltzing with you, becoming one with the music.

Your jaw dropped, and your eyes on him were dreamy. “Why are you doing this?”

He smiled at you, purposefully spinning the two of you more elaborately. “Dance, my darling. Dance.”

Exhaling all the tension in your chest, you smiled up at Thrawn and let him dance you away.

Around you, couples began to swarm to the dance floor once more minding the waiters cleaning up the shattered glass. In the second plane, you could hear the drunken general already making a mess, but that wasn’t your problem anymore now that Pryce had fired you. You simply let Thrawn lead the way, and when you weren’t dancing with him, you were at his side with your arm in his, holding a glass of champagne in your free hand that you never would have gotten as an assistant, and you actually found it in yourself to enjoy the evening.

When it was late, Thrawn led you outside to the courtyard. You both stopped and looked each other in the eyes—he towered over you, and you loved that. You smiled softly at him, eyes seemingly sparkling in the dark.

“Thank you for what you did back there,” you said.

Thrawn’s faint smile widened almost imperceptibly. “My pleasure.”

You looked down, blushing. “Thank you for the gown, too.”

Thrawn gave a low chuckle. “You look exquisite in it.”

A thought formed in the back of your mind at what he’d just said, and suddenly you found blood rushing between your legs at the idea of you being outside of the beautiful gown.

“Shall I take you home?” He asked you.

Your heart sank, but just as you were about to accept, you noticed Thrawn moving himself closer to you, his hand moving up to your cheek to gently brush your skin.

“Or perhaps… you would like to accompany me?” Thrawn suggested.

You knew you could say no, but every fiber of your body wanted to follow him wherever he could take you. Slowly, you nodded, desire already flooding your gaze, and the transition from the courtyard to his private quarters went by in a blur. You felt slightly out of touch when you stood in the opulent living room, unsure of what to do—you’d never done anything of the sort before. The place was absolutely beautiful, though, with a regal blue and silver color palette and a large window overlooking the entire Lothal skyline. The furniture inside was of the highest grade, and there were multiple paintings, crafts, and sculptures decorating the place. Not even in your wildest dreams did you picture yourself standing in a place like that, but regardless, there you were.

Thrawn gestured at the couch in front of an automatic fireplace that ignited when you sat, and he disappeared for a few moments only to return with two glasses of wine. He sat next to you, handing you your glass, setting his cup on the caf table as you took a sip from your cup. That was the best wine you’d ever tasted.

After a few moments in silence, Thrawn took your cup and placed it on the table next to his. His hands went up to cup your face where his fingertips could gently brush the hair growing out of the nape of your neck, and he leaned in to kiss your lips. You sighed into his touch and let him in. your hands brushed up his arms and past his shoulders, and your arms wrapped around his upper back. Part of you expected him to push forward and take you there on that couch, but you felt Thrawn standing and pulling you along with him, pausing his kiss to lead you across the room towards his chamber. The bedroom’s opulent aesthetic matched that of the living room, and when you both entered, you noticed Thrawn pressing a control on the walls that lowered a solid gray curtain over the large window and dimmed the lights.

It was then that your gaze fell on the large bed at the center of the room, causing you to whimper softly in anticipation. You heard Thrawn chuckle softly behind you as he approached you with his fingertips softly tracing up the sides of your arms, landing at your shoulders. He swept your hair away from your neck and you felt his breath fanning over your skin, flooding you with shivers in the best way possible.

“You are gorgeous,” Thrawn whispered before kissing you just below your ear. He trailed his kisses down towards your collarbone, stopping where the fabric of your gown began only to make his way back up. You sighed in pleasure as you relished in every tingling sensation left by his lips, and before long, you felt Thrawn’s fingers beginning to undo the zipper at the side of your gown.

You felt the fabric of your dress becoming loose on your body, and as Thrawn continued to lavish your skin, he carefully slipped the dress down your curves. Your body was now exposed, with the only item of fabric left on you being a delicate pair of panties. You turned around on the spot and faced him, watching as his eyes brushed through every inch of your body with hunger. His hands were now on your waist pulling you closer to him again, and he kissed your lips with a brighter fire than before. Your hands snaked up his chest and landed behind his neck, your fingertips playing with his skin just above the rim of his neckline. Thrawn looked handsome in his white uniform, but you wanted him to be naked too.

You wondered if he could read your mind, because as you continued to kiss, Thrawn undid the buttons of his blazer and he cast it aside, proceeding to remove the shirt that covered his skin. With a light moan, you let your hands roam free towards his trousers and undid the belt, button, and zipper, and soon enough, he’d lost all the clothing on his body. You felt his fingertips curling around your panties, spreading the fabric enough to pull it down and let it fall at your feet. His hands explored your curves before he led you towards the bed, letting you lie on your back and taking his place beside you, his broad frame hovering over you.

He kissed your lips again, and you sank into the mattress below as you felt your body shiver with his touch. Thrawn’s fingertips had found your inner thighs, tracing ever so softly and igniting your senses, prompting you to spread your legs nice and slow as he continued to tease the sensitive skin leading up between your legs. You felt your pulse come alive in your clit, aching for his touch, hoping he wouldn’t keep you waiting for so long. Thrawn had been such a gentleman ever since you’d met… surely he wouldn’t let you down when he’d already been doing so well.

Thrawn’s lips curved into a seductive smile, and finally, he traced a sole fingertip from your entrance and up your cunt, dragging the wetness over your sensitive flesh. You couldn’t help the ecstatic moan that left you, and Thrawn wasted no more time. With precision, he began to rub circles around your clit slowly, letting you feel everything. As your breath deepened, your body started squirming under him, a sight he welcomed with lust. His lips were on yours again, and you kissed him hungrily. Your pants became shorter with every moment that passed, already nearing your release.

But as much as Thrawn wanted you, he wouldn’t be impatient. He would take his time, do it right, the way he approached everything else. His fingers gave your clit a rest, making you whimper in the absence of his touch. Thrawn emerged from your lips and looked into your eyes as he took his fingers down and placed them at your entrance, sliding one slender, long finger inside you and curling it, pressing your sweetest spot. Pleasure instantly flooded your senses, and you felt as if you’d just had a secret revealed to you of the magnitude of the universe itself.

No one had ever made you feel that way.

You grind your hips against his hand, aching for more friction, and Thrawn obliged. The pace with which he fingered you increased just slightly, applying more pressure to set your mind ablaze, and the rest of his hand pressed slightly on your clit, giving you some very welcome sensations on the pearl of nerves. Your tiny whimpers escalated in pitch and in frequency the closer you got, with your hands gripping his hair behind his head, until soon you felt yourself tightening around his finger and your body quivering. Your whimpers became uncontrollable moans, each filled with burning ecstasy. Your head pressed back onto the pillow, and as your body shook, you felt your wetness dripping out between your legs as you rode out your orgasm, never wanting it to stop.

Before you were overstimulated, Thrawn retrieved his hand and pulled you towards him. Now he was lying on his back and you were sitting on the bed, panting to catch your breath. He pulled you closer, prompting you to get on top of him, and you stopped only momentarily to gasp at his erection, long and hard and ready for you. You placed your hands firmly on his muscular chest, steadying yourself, and you opened your legs and shimmied down until you felt his tip at your entrance.

A short moan escaped Thrawn when you slid yourself down on him. You were slow, taking in every moment you could as he stretched you out inside, painful and beautiful all at once. His length was fully inside you, and with a firm grip on your hips, Thrawn thrust up and down, beginning at a slow, luxurious pace. You threw your head back, moaning, then looked down to bask in the sight of his muscular build clenching and relaxing with his movements. You bent over and let your lips kiss whatever spot of Thrawn’s skin was in reach, and the new position gave you a mind-blowing angle for his length to lavish your inner walls, brushing past the spots he’d already left so sensitive from your previous orgasm. Thrawn’s pace quickened, nuzzling your face so that your lips could find his, and locked in a kiss, you continued basking in the bliss.

His hands then firmly grasped your ass and he turned you over on the bed, now on top of you. While Thrawn’s pace had initially been that of a gentleman, slow and at your service, you could tell he’d decided to let go of any bars holding him. His hips hammered into you faster, his teeth baring in a hungry grimace as a single low growl escaped him, and in return, you whimpered delicately as you let him have his way with you. Thrawn was moving faster than you ever could have thought possible for any man, but even that thought would be erased from your mind when you saw white. Your long, ecstatic moans filled the entirety of his quarters when your walls clenched around his girth and your body quaked underneath him, with his name and his rank escaping you loosely before those words became nothing but helpless little whines.

As Thrawn felt himself approaching his release, he lowered himself down on you to kiss your lips. You whimpered into him just as your second orgasm had died down, escalating obscenely quickly into a third one, the sensations peaking when your orgasm blended with his and you felt him release inside you before he relaxed his body on top of you.

After such an endeavor, you had no headspace left for anything but lying there beside him. You heard Thrawn whisper a few words to you, but you couldn’t make sense of any of what he said. The last thing you could register as you curled up on your side was the feeling of a blanket being draped over you and a pair of lips softly pressing a kiss to your forehead, and after that, you were done for the night.

Your sleep was dreamless, and when you woke up the morning after, you didn’t see Thrawn beside you. As you sat up, you felt a beautiful lingering soreness between your legs, and you couldn’t help but giggle to yourself as you remembered the events of the previous night, not just your time alone with Thrawn, but everything that led up to it. The curtain had been lifted from the window, and you saw outside that the sun was well up in the sky, and yet, you didn’t have a worry in the world.

You got out of the bed with the blanket wrapped around your body, and on the nightstand, you noticed a tray with a piece of bread, a glass of juice, and a tiny vase with a single red rose on it. You grinned brightly and felt your cheeks getting hot, and you reached for the little parchment that rested beside the plate of bread, smiling as you read the fine calligraphy.

Have a beautiful day. See you tonight.

You lay on the bed again, smiling with a dreamy sigh and holding the parchment in your hand as you let your mind wonder what you’d do with your newfound time and freedom until the night came and you could see your lover again.

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging to support me ❤️

Back to my masterlist

#moonstrider writes #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #grand admiral thrawn #star wars rebels fanfic #star wars smut #grand admiral thrawn x reader #grand admiral thrawn x you #rebels thrawn #star wars rebels thrawn #swr thrawn #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars rebels smut

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vickyvicarious · 24 hours

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I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air. [...] When we are married I shall be able to be useful to Jonathan, and if I can stenograph well enough I can take down what he wants to say in this way and write it out for him on the typewriter, [...] When I am with you I shall keep a diary in the same way. [...] I will tell you of my little plans when we meet. [...] I am longing to hear all his news. It must be so nice to see strange countries. I wonder if we—I mean Jonathan and I—shall ever see them together.

Look at how forward-facing Mina is! She is chock-full of plans and anticipation for the future in this letter; practically every other line is looking ahead. To her vacation with Lucy, and further ahead still to her marriage with Jonathan, and perhaps even further than that to a future in which they can travel together. She talks about being busy and she certainly is, of course. She's been working hard and is probably tired. But her stress is still pretty minimal here. Instead, she's overflowing with love and eagerness.

It's a perfect introduction to her, in a bunch of ways.

She is a character who is so closely linked to modernity (and contrasted to her enemy Dracula who represents the past), and so having this letter be all about the future is very fitting.

This letter shows just how young and eager she is. We saw it with Jonathan, on his first big job - and here we see Mina as well, full of energy and eager to embark on a new stage of her life.

We see that Mina is the kind of person who works hard for the future, too. She doesn't just sit around and dream, however much she looks forward to doing so with Lucy - instead, she tells us of multiple ways she is currently/is planning to begin preparing for her future. She's studying, practicing, teaching and learning at all times - and happy to do so.

The lighthearted letter is a great contrast to everything going on with Jonathan. Dramatic irony aplenty about his trip - but also about the uncertainty of the very future she anticipates here. It also echoes how his diary began. He and she shared this frame of mind originally, but after meeting Dracula it's been taken from him. Eventually, despite their reunion and marriage, Dracula's return and attack on Mina robs both of them of this eagerness for the future. Mina anticipates her death instead of her life. Jonathan tells us they never speak of the future. It's not until he is gone from their lives that they start to live for the future again in the same way.

It being a letter, and one so full of joy and love for both Jonathan and Lucy at that, is very fitting as well. Mina is the heart of the latter part of the novel, and builds unique bonds with everyone around her in a way no one else does to the same extent. She is motivated by love and care for others, and their love for her prompts them into action as well. Connections are so important with her. So having her first contribution to the book be a letter to someone she loves is perfect.

#dracula daily #dracula daily spoilers #mina murray #dracula meta #my meta

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babsisbakery · 9 hours

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Part of the Aftermath

Lia Walti x fem!reader (part 2 of How far will you take it)

All Lia could do after reading the letter was to cry. She has never been such a big mess. She was full on sobbing her soul out. It didn't take her long to realise her mistakes, all the times she mistreated you. Every memory with you replayed in her mind. If only she had cherished them instead of taking you for granted. Some part of her consciousness told her, it doesn't matter you will stay with her anyways. That you wouldn't be able to live without her. That your life circled around her, and to some extent it was true. That she could toy as much with you as she pleased and you would run along with it. Was this the devil on her shoulder, who didn't have her best interests in mind? Or was this her ego and narcissism speaking? How was she so blind to your suffering? Well there is a simple answer to the last question, you were brilliant in adapting to people and their energy. But you also could hide your emotions and switch from sad to seemingly happy in an instant. You yourself couldn't differentiate between fake and real smiles anymore. When you were alone, it switched back to your real emotion. To the fatigue brewing in your heart and stomach of pretending.

The tragedy of it all, always behaving as someone you aren't. It took a toll on you. Additionally Lia’s game of cat and mouse wore you incredibly out. Late nights up, crying in bed, quietly, while Lia lays next to you. She never noticed, she probably didn't care either. But you would have done anything to make your girlfriend gleeful. It showed. You sacrificed yourself in the process. Lia enjoyed your company, your devotion without giving the same in return. It's how she thought you'd like it. Let's be real, she didn't truly believe that nonsense. But with this mindset she could sleep without a worry at night, to not stay awake as you do. She didn't have to face reality in a way, she took a liking to having an idyllic life, at least for her it portrayed as such. But the colours of the painting began to fade, turning into greyish tones, the livelihood of it seemed to cease.

Lia had sucked the real person out of you. You didn't stop her until your best friend joined the club and talked some sense into you. At first you didn't listen, well until Lia reached the end of your patience. The last argument was a huge deal for you but Lia waved you off. “I don't want to talk anymore. We will talk later.” But later never comes as we know. She disappeared on you for three days. Didn’t return home. Her actions inspired you to write the letter and camp at your bestie's house. Because only fools stick around when the love is all gone. The love appeared to have vanished into thin air. Puff and it was gone. However love can't just vanish out of nowhere, it took its sweet time torturing you. The tortured poets department would have hired you immediately. Making you look like a joke. And Lia was the clown who told it. Forming the joke to her benefit, stretching it out, prolonging the inevitable: finishing the joke and being done with it. But she wasn't done with you per say. Deep in her heart she sensed longing for you, she got a taste of her own medicine when arriving at an empty home. Not seeing you at training spurred questions to arise. She worried about your well being, which was something new or at least so it seemed.

The sorrow of potentially losing you forever overtook her. With each passing moment the wheels in her head kept turning, trying to figure out what to do, she still had a chance to make it alright, to fix her miserable life. Most importantly to fix her relationship. To fix your broken heart, to make amends with you. To ask for your forgiveness and start a new era. An era of commitment and unwavering love. To love you the right way. Simultaneously to be the girlfriend you deserve and the better person she can be because of you. The question is will Lia convince you to stay or will she set you free to be at peace? Which path will she choose?...

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #arsenal women #lia walti x reader #lia walti imagine #lia walti #arsenal wfc #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #awfc

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zimthandmade · 1 day

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I hope you have a good day, friend.

Thank you for your art, you absolute sunshine! Your creative energy is unmatched. Keep doing what you're doing. I want to get lost in this wonderful world of your creation.

You have a talent for making characters come to life and feel real. I aspire to make art with this same level of conceptual realism. (Can I, in theory, ask for art advice if I ever muster up the courage?)

Can we see more art with L, please? 👉👈

( What does his room look like? Do you think he has other interests besides detective work? What's his sexuality? Will his lower back ever not hurt? Is he lonely? Does he have empathy? Does he feel like a horrible person or a failure deep down? What is his favourite food (non-sweet)? Do you think he's autistic? Deontology vs utilitarianism: L's opinion? His thoughts on Mello and Near? What advice would he give to Wammy kids if he was completely honest?)

Sorry for this insane amount of questions about your headcanons, feel free to answer all, some, or none of them in art or text. 🙇‍♂️

Thank you!

- obsessed with your vision, T. R.

[English is my second language, sorry for possible mistakes.]

Okay wow, thank you for taking the time to write this all out! :D Sure, have some Wammy's teen L & Watari concept art!

To your questions:

What does his room look like? You mean his room at Wammy’s? Or where he lives as an adult? I’m gonna answer either way. ROOM 217 L was one of the few exceptions at Wammy’s, being an actual orphan and living there permanently, so he got his own room and didn’t have to share it with a roommate. He got a corner room, so two sides with windows. And it was A. MESS. The floor was so severly littered with all kind of shit, there was a shape on the floor where the door scraped the stuff out of the way upon opening. I can imagine he rarely pulled the curtains open and rarely opened the windows, so the air in there was thick af. L’S RESIDENCE I headcanon Watari offered L a secluded mansion or something similar at some countryside in scotland or something. Watari is rich after all and I’m sure he owns property. L set his space up in the attic and doesn’t really uses any of the rest of the house. He has staff that regularly comes to keep the property clean and neat but the staff never met L and doesn’t really know who they’re working for. Maybe the mansion is even urban legend talk in the surrounding area. They saw a creepy figure staring out of the attic windows and the kids try to break in every now and then because everybody thinks it’s unoccupied. Maybe someone from the staff threw a party there once because “pff come on, nobody lives there, it’s an empty house, nobody will know” and L heard activities downstairs. Maybe he crept downstairs and mingled with the guests pretending to be a friend. The residence has a server room, maybe in the cellar.

Do you think he has other interests besides detective work? Oh yeah definitely. I think there are very little things L is not interested in. That’s one of his big perks. He researches virtually anything and can pretty much get into anything. That's why he can easily seem like he’s an expert in any topic because he probably read into it already. He was wondering one night about “how DO helicopters work though…?” and then he spent the next 7 hours watching helicopter videos, reading wikipedia articles about that stuff and a few years later he can get in a helicopter with Light any fly the thing.

What's his sexuality? I’m hesitant about answering this because everybody seems to have strong opinions about it and I don’t want to step on anyones feet. But since you’re asking for my opinion and not everybody elses: L feels straight to me.

Will his lower back ever not hurt? No.

Is he lonely? Absolutely. But he pretends he’s not. He pretends he doesn’t need anybody and permanently finds excuses for how he doesn’t even like people and he chooses to be alone. He fills the loneliness with hyperfixations and productive distractions.

Do you think he's autistic?I headcanon him having aspergers, so yes.

Thanks again for the ask <3

----- My other socials Commission Info Let's drink some Ko-Fi! 🍵

#I know I know Watari looks like a mix between Hayao Miyazaki and Hannibal #death note #fanart #watari #quillsh wammy #wammys house #wammy boys #wammy kids #wammy's house #l #l lawliet #lawliet #ask #my art #dn au 2.0

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lemotmo · 3 days

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I don’t know what to think regarding buddie. Like one hand we’ve got Tim saying he stopped writing them because he didn’t want to queerbait but now is writing them again because he realized it was harmful to the show to not do so because they are so natural with each other, coupled with Ryan and Oliver having said they want buddie if it happens to be done naturally on one hand and then on the other hand you have Kenny talking about Lou and how great he is and what positive energy he adds to the cast and set and how he can’t wait to see the Buck and Tommy relationship continue on and keep growing.

It’s like what direction are we supposed to be preparing ourselves for them to be going. One second it seems like buddie and then the next it’s right back to feeling like the delusional shipper people had made buddie fans feel like for years now.

Hello Nonny! How are you today? Hope you're having a splendid day.

First order of the day: You are not delusional! We are not delusional! Say it with me! We aren't! It has been confirmed by Oliver and Tim. Buddie was in the works at a certain point in time, but Fox stepped in and prevented it. So no, no delusional people here. We're valid in our convictions.

As for your ask. Well, I don't work for the show, so I don't have any insider information. But I do have common sense, so let's break everything down in smaller parts.

Tim not writing for Buddie anymore out of fear of queerbaiting is something from earlier seasons when Fox was in charge. It's obvious he has changed his mind about it with ABC in charge, seeing as how every single episode has some great and meaningful Buddie scenes. Not just that, there was also a great Buddie and Christopher scene, once again cementing the Buckley-Diaz family as a unit. It's true what he says, they have this natural unforced chemistry.

I didn't know that Kenny said those things about Lou, but I get it. For Kenny Lou is a great co-worker. He has worked with him before in previous seasons and he obviously likes the guy, which... you know, valid. That being said though, Kenny doesn't know where the showrunners are taking all the storylines. Tommy is involved in Buck's storyline and so far only Buck's storyline. (Well, and Eddie's as well I suppose, since Eddie is almost always there when bucktommy are together, which... choices!) Sure, Tommy was at the wedding, but that was only a very brief scene. Also, whether we like it or not, Buck is currently involved with Tommy. So of course Kenny is going to talk about them. What is he going to say? 'Oh hey guys, LOL don't get too attached to Tommy, he won't stick around LOL!' He might have some idea about the oncoming Buddie train, but he can't just talk about that.

Let's take in account all the things we have so far: Buckley-Diaz family in full force, Oliver and Ryan can't shut up about Buddie, Oliver hardly ever mentions bucktommy and when he does it's always in the same way -> Tommy as a guide, gay Yoda to help Buck out. That doesn't sound very romantic to me. Next, Tim likes writing for Buddie (confirmed), magazines are all over Buddie and bucktommy is hardly ever mentioned. The last episode they juxtaposed Tommy and Eddie and showed Eddie consistently by Buck's side, willing to step into his world. Tommy didn't. Lou himself revealed that he isn't allowed to use 'Buck' to address Buck, but he has to use Evan. Evan is a name that Buck heavily associates with his parents and his upbringing. I'm sure there is more, but I can't think of it right now.

The difference in chemistry. I myself don't see it at all, but a lot of people seem to like the bucktommy chemistry in their kisses. But outside of those kisses there is a lot of wooden interactions that don't ring true. I'm not sure if it's intentional or not, but if you place those interactions next to Buck and Eddie's scenes the difference in chemistry is palpable. Buddie oozes natural chemistry. Something bucktommy lack. Again, I really think this might be part of the narrative, to show the eventual incompatibility of both characters.

The list just goes on and on. So, I don't know about you, but I'm not willing to bury the battle axe quite yet. To be honest, I'll probably never bury it. As long as Eddie and Buck are on my TV-screen, I'll ship them, because they are literally made for each other. 6 years of history, friendship, family, hope and love. That is not something to waste and the show knows it all too well.

So yeah Nonny, I said it before and I'll say it again:

I'm securely riding the Buddie train, destination endgame. I won't be satisfied with anything less.

#nonnies galore #buddie #not tagging other ships for obvious reasons #these are only my observations #ship and let ship is still my motto

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harrystylesfan2686 · 3 days

Text

Mad

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're obbessed with him. Literally.

Warnings: Blood. Manipulation?

A/N: ohhhk. Been a long time and now I'm coming back with a banger(hopefully). Crazy one. But like... also hot.

Masterlist

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You're crazy.

That's the only thing that is running through Azriels mind when he walks into your room and sees you repeating his name in a book over and over again.

At first, he didn't think much of it, having seen you scribbling in that dairy of yours a lot of times. What shocked him was how this time there was a strong smell of blood in your room, specifically coming from the diary in your hands.

Then he noticed the gaint cut on your wrist, blood pooling out of it and smearing on the pages, on which the pen was moving constantly, writing over the blood and moving through it to scrawl all over the page, as if using the blood as ink.

He was terrified when you finally noticed his presence. His gasp loud enough to break through your thoughts, he was just about to come over to check on you when you smiled wide.

"Az!" Your giggle echoing over the non stop sound of pen against paper.

It was the wild expression on your face that made the alarms in his mind go loud, the crazy smile and panting, and the never stopping pen writing over and over-

His name.

You were writing his name. Over and over and over again. In your blood.

Oh gods.

His terror clear on his face as it gets difficult for his to inhale properly. He tries to call out your name but he can't. You frown at him, smile slowly melting into that cute srunch he always loved.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Your head tilts slightly, hair falling from behind your ear, into the blood.

His body is seemed to be frozen. He can't do anything but look at you in absolute horror. His fingers clenched at his sides. Eyes wide as he tries to breath.

You click your tounge and get up from where you were sitting on your bed. You walk upto him, a pout on your lips and innocent eyes looking up to him.

"Azriel? What happened?"

You wait for him to reply but he doesn't do anything except look at you. You sigh and lift your clean hand up to cup his face in your hands.

"Don't worry, Az, I'm alright! I ran out of ink so I had to use my blood, it's alright, it doesn't even hurt anymore. Look!"

You lift the wounded wrist, holding it in between of you. He looks at the angry cut, deep and uneven, then notices the only bloody nail in your other hand.

His heart lunches as he realizes you hurt yourself with your own nail.

Your comforting smile feels foreign to him. Your lips twitch but maintain the smile when he still stays quite. Your wounded wrist falls down and the other tightens on his cheek. Your gaze turning faral for a moment as you say, "Remember when you confessed your love to me yesterday?"

Your head tilts up and eyes sharpen, throwing daggers at him that might actually feel real on his face. Your grip hardens enough to leave marks. "I'm alright. I'm still the Y/N you love, aren't I? Don't forgot your love for me, Azriel."

"You love me so much, don't you?" Your grip forcing him to nod in a yes. When he tries to move his mouth to speak, your bloodied hand closes around his lips in a flash. Sudden movement from your body forces him to slam back into the wall, the energy almost hurting him.

"Shhh." You coo. "Don't worry. You still love me. I do too." You smile so softly, exactly opposite to your mad behavior.

"I'm not gonna hurt you or anything! I'm just a little in love with you, is all." You remove your hands from his body and step back, falling back into your innocent illusion. Your voice turning back to as it had always been with him, as sweet as honey, smiling brightly at him with hands behind your back.

"I love you, Azriel."

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#acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel x yn #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel angst #acotar fandom

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bambi-kinos · 3 days

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I wonder what you think of if think they ever saw themselves together as (secret) gay couple, like marrige,boyfriends or was it more like "we are friends and song writing partners" that happend to do more "drunk things together" and that's what messed it up in the end, or do you think it was a pulling-pushing type of relationship? like did they break it up more than one time, all the time and the final drop was India?

Sorry for bad English!

John and Paul have a few things going for them and against them with regards to their perception of their relationship:

Pretty much any sexual activity between men was permitted without it being "gay" or "queer" or anything like that so long as the men involved didn't admit that they were gay. I guess kissing and penetration is what makes sex acts gay or queer to the early 20th century guy who was jerking off with his mate in the back of a car or whatever. Since this was just "getting off" and it was kept far away from their wives and families, it didn't count as gay. This means John and Paul grew up at a time where it wasn't considered particularly bad to get off with your mate, do frotting and handjobs/blowjobs, whatever. It definitely wasn't something that you talked about openly (that's indecent) but it didn't make you a gay guy either. Even now in TYOOL 2024 men are weird about this and insist that getting aroused and climaxing with other men is not sexual at all and definitely not gay. That means that John and Paul had a large, large gamut to run without ever having to call themselves gay. My opinion is that they did not call themselves gay or queer, or acknowledge that side of themselves for the beginning stages of their friendship. I think Paul has always had some inkling or self knowledge but honestly, from 15-18 years old that doesn't mean much lmao. I don't think John figured himself out for a longer period of time because he already had so much stress heaped on his plate, there was no need for him to add concerns about his sexuality onto them. If John and Paul were doing anything "extra" in addition to the group wanks at this early stage then they just tossed it all under the "boys will be boys" column. And if everything stayed that way then nothing else would have happened.

Then they go to Hamburg. It's a brand new continent and a brand new world. This is where they see crazy ass sex stuff and more importantly, they encounter men and women who don't wrap delusions around their sexual activity. This is where they met gay men, lesbians, transgender people, cross dressers, etc. We can't know what it was really like but the point is that Hamburg was a huge turning point for them and it turned John and Paul from simple provincials into much more sophisticated sex havers. John got off with crossdressers and kissed other men on the mouth; Paul found a boytoy and comforted himself with his presence when John-and-Stu became too difficult to bear. I doubt they considered themselves gay at this stage but their minds were broadened in a big way. They were exposed to different lifestyles and mindsets. And they had to learn fast and get used to it because their livelihoods depended on that.

After this, things become more slippery slidey. They could very well have gone on this way forever, doing gay sex stuff and refusing to call themselves gay. Except then Paris happened and neither of them forgot it. It never left their heads. Something happened there that we don't know about that, memories that they cherish. Who did John give a pearl necklace to considering there's no mention of him and Paul hooking up with ladies on this trip? Why did John hold on to the memory of couples tenderly kissing each other for so long? Why did John and Paul come back exploding with life and energy? It's almost as if something happened where they convinced each other that they were a sure thing, that they could depend on the other one no matter what. That there was something else for them that wasn't just being mates or being part of a band. And the rest, as they say, is history.

They didn't understand what they were to each other for a long time but that's because they were teenagers. It was a genuine friendship that they built in the beginning which honestly? I'm really glad that they had that. I also think that it's exactly this which lead to their relationship lasting for so long.

Like, John's problem was that he jumped into relationships and intimacy too quickly and it inevitably blew up in his face somehow. Paul's problem is that he's too cautious and he holds everyone at arms length. But by having a concrete friendship to build off of that they grew over time and through ups and downs, they ended up becoming each other's steady. It gave them stability and a deeper relationship that they never really managed with other people. That means that, for a long time, John and Paul would call themselves "mates" and it would be completely accurate. It wasn't until much later that the sex stuff started and then when it did, they still had the strength of that initial friendship to rely on.

When it comes to the "push/pull" dynamic you mentioned, they did have their ups and downs where they got used to "crisis moments" to pull them back together after being emotionally distant from each other (and I do have thoughts about that). But I don't think they went through a series of break ups and "we're back together" moments. I think that their relationship simply strained and strained and strained until it finally snapped under the weight of everything they couldn't bring themselves to say. I don't think they suffered any serious moments of breaking up once they put 1960 Hamburg behind them.

There are lots of people who think that John and Paul never figured out their mutual attraction due to their upbringing and while this is a possibility I do not think this is true at all. John Lennon and Paul McCartney are the most revolutionary minds of the 20th century, I don't believe for a second that they were just sitting there and didn't understand what was happening to them. I absolutely think that they figured out that they were queer and in love with each other. Maybe it was in 1961, maybe it was in 1967, but they did eventually figure it out.

The problem for John and Paul is that this revelation did not make their lives better and freer. It arguably made their lives much worse. I don't know if they could even consider the possibility of being together in some capacity because of the sheer virulence against homosexuality in the 1960s and that they were both raised to think that it was moral depravity. We can see that this provided roadblocks for both of them: John and Paul had to get wasted in Key West to simply say the words "I love you."

On the third hand, they did have examples of homosexual men like Victor Spinetti, who was apparently in a committed relationship with another man, to look at. Once they got to know Brian, they were introduced to the world of gay men, not all of whom were married to women. This once again broadened their minds and they had the revelation that you could just go off with another man and be his steady.

John and Paul would probably have liked it very much if they could be a couple together with their version of fidelity in the works. I doubt they would have made a legal commitment to each other in the form of marriage (their business relationship was certainly much closer than trivial marriage documents) but they would have liked being romantic partners. The roadblocks to this were 1) John's son Julian 2) their status as public figures 3) their upbringing telling them that this was wrong.

I have no doubt that John revealed something to Paul in India, more than his 🎤. As one of those revolutionary minds of the 20th century, John may have offered something similar to the above paragraph to Paul, hoping that if he presented it all of a piece then Paul would have to answer sincerely, from the heart. After all, John could be sure that Paul loved him, right?

Well. We know what happened after that.

#mclennon #john lennon #paul mccartney #took me years to answer this i'm sorry #don't worry about your english #i understood everything #talktalktalk

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yanderederee · 1 day

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OnStage

a/n: replacing y/n with yan/yannchan; I think it’s a cute alternative ~ please love kuran with me with this idea I’ve had in mind to write since day ONE♡

I was told reader has the same energy as Maxine from X(2022) … do with that as you will lol

part 2 in progress (?)~

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Blinking a few times to properly adjust the contact lenses you’d just put in, you watched the blurry vision of yourself in the mirror slowly turn into a clear image. Beautifully dolled up with lash extensions and not a strand of hair out of place. You’d had to admit, you looked immaculate.

Adjusting the last final touches of your lip liner and the thin straps of your outfit, you gave the duel image of yourself a wink and a mocking kiss before skipping toward the exit of the dressing room.

It was difficult to recall exactly how long you’d been working under the Yotsurugi, but due to your late father leaving behind such a massive debt, it fell to you to pay off the rest.

It wasn’t as heartbreaking as it sounded; adulthood wasn’t exactly as glamorous as you had imagined it would be, after graduating school. Finding work was hard— hard enough that even your own father with an already established career had to even lean upon the Yotsurugi family for financial support to help get by.

When he’d finally kicked the bucket, an accident that was surely his fault anyway, loan sharks from Ikebukuro became adamant on receiving their fair compensation. Obviously having nothing else to give them, you meekly offered to pay the debt off fairly, with good-old-fashion labor.

Luckily, the boss of the Yotsurugi’s Ikebukuro branch had been lurking behind, in case there had been any fall out. Having taken a good long look at you, he agreed to your offer with a weak wave to follow them.

It became clear you weren’t the only one who had been caught in this type of situation. While it was obvious the Yotsurugi were a big deal in the crime syndicate, they were evidently merciful. You heard from a few other girls working along side you that Kongo Yotsurugi had advocating for fair debt repayment with no interest. You were lucky it was them, and not some other shady loan-sharks who would kill you to settle the score.

And just as mercifully, you’d been offered a few different occupational options on how you could work yourself to freedom; dishwashing, waitressing, stage cleaner… but nothing payed quite as good as stripping.

It was your own choice to take the job. And even though you knew in the back of your mind it wasn’t really your choice, you were happy.

There was a joy; a rush of excitement and endorphins that made you absolutely shine on stage. The roaring cheers, the glittering lights and dancing rain of money every night truly made you feel alive.

You weren’t sure how much longer it would take to pay off your debt, but you couldn’t help wishing it would never end.

Having lost yourself in the pleasure of dancing once again, your chest heaved with deep breaths, heart beating a million times per minute. You smiled so wide, giggling to yourself when finally meeting eyes with some of your regular visitors. They were so happy to see you. And the feeling made you soar.

Waving a cutesy goodbye and a final shake of your ass to the roaring crowd, you skipped back behind the stage and accepted the water handed to you by another girl.

“You were amazing again today yanchan ~”

“I know right, she’s like a fairy with the way she spins around the pole! I’m so jealous~” another girl squealed, hugging you tightly and spinning you around.

“Aww thanks babes! Good luck out there Aya!”

You kissed the girl on her cheek before sending her off.

Over the course of your stay, you had made many close friends with the girls you worked with. Some came and went, but you always got along well with them all, and all the new girls came to view you as a big sister of sorts.

No matter how you got into this line of work, or how disgusting others may call you and your friends, you were living a life where you were finally happy. You felt fulfilled in the work you did, the people you worked with, the bed you slept in, and the food you ate. You never wanted for anything more.

Life was actually good.

Robing yourself in a cute short skirt and a puffy jacket, you came out to the VIP floor to order a quick drink before your next dance.

“Leeeeo~ drink pleeasse!~” you sang upon your arrival. The bar keeper looked your way, your cute display earning you a side smirk and a chuckle. “Even’in Yan. Good show just now, looking as brilliant as ever.” He complimented before picking through the liquor in front of him to conquer up your favorite weekday drink.

“I’d say,” added in a chuckling older gentleman sitting just a few seats over from where you sat. “Haven’t gotten this worked up by a dance like that before.”

You smiled at his sideways compliment, and lifted your newly gifted glass to the man. “Im happy you enjoyed it sir~ I hope to see you for my next dance.” You winked, and began scooting off the stool. Before your feet met the ground, the man had successfully grabbed your hand to stop you.

“Don’t bother, I know what you’ve got girl. And I like it. I’ll be sure to compensate you for all the money you’ll lose out on by skipping your next stage show. Come dance for me in a private room, won’t ya?” He looked down at you with a suggestive gaze. It wasn’t like he was bad looking, older men had their charm, especially the ones who frequented this night club.

But you weren’t interested in private dances. The glory of the job was the high you got from being on stage, not the money you got from it.

You smiled politely, confidently snaking your hand to play with his fingers, before sliding them out of his grasp. “Thanks for the offer baby, but I’m booked~ throw me a band on stage and I might indulge you in a drink and conversation once I’m done, ‘kay?~”

The gentleman narrowed his eyes, and toed down the stool, grabbing onto your forearm this time. “Not interested in seeing the same thing over and over again. Only way you’re getting my money is in a private room, catch me girly?” He grew closer, despite your trying to pull away. “I got lots of it. Enough to buy you out, if you please me well. Promise.~” he slurred in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Behind the bar, your bartender had already pressed the bouncer alert, acting cool. Clubs like these had rules—strict ones, after all.

You glared at the persistent man, loosing your gleeful attitude. “Not interested. I recommend taking that hand off me, ‘nless you wanna lose it, baby.” You spat sweetly back in his ear. The closeness sent shivers down his spine, but not with fear. He smirked at the excitement, thinking it was some kind of game. “I’ll take my chances.”

He tried pulling you with him, but before he has the chance to move a foot, a man with white hair and vibrant tattoos blocked the way. You immediately felt safe, heart pounding at the sight of your boss; Kuran Yotsurugi.

“Kuran!~” you sang happily, yanking yourself free from the older man, and hopped to hide behind your shirtless boss. “Sir didn’t wanna take no for an answer~” you pouted, but seemingly unphased, otherwise.

“And what was he asking?” He asked in monotone. “Wanted a ‘private dance’. Was giving me fuck-me eyes too… Made me feel grosss.” You answered, watching as the expression of the older man sink into fear.

“It wasn’t like that! She’s lying!” He groaned, trying to play it off as a misunderstanding. “Dancers these days are so full of themselv—-“ he began to ramble, before Kuran landed a solid right hook to the guest’s jaw. “Fact of the matter is you made one of my girls uncomfortable. That’s reason enough for me to kick you out.” Kuran squatted down to meet the man eye to eye.

“My girl said she said no, so the answer’s no. Simple. Understand?” He asked slowly, coming in close to make sure he was heard.

The man gulped, holding his face before nodding hurriedly. “I’ll be more careful in the future.” He accepted.

Kuran nodded back, and slapped the man on the back of the head before standing up. “You’re out. Don’t come back for a week. Make sure you learn your lesson, ‘n maybe then I’ll let you back in.”

Once all was said and gone, you giggled, clinging onto Karan’s arm. “Boss always comes to save the day~” you acknowledged, nuzzling your cheek against his shoulder before he sighs. He patted your head roughly, and pushed you off with barely any force. “Just maintaining the order ‘round here. Would’a done it for any of the other girls too.” He huffed. You nodded, perching into a bar stool again.

“I know~ that’s what makes me love my boss sooo much after all. He’s always so considerate and protective of us~ A hero, a man among men!” You rambled in praise, making a few of the other girls who came upon witnessing the scuffle giggle. “We all appreciate your hard work in keeping this club a safe place for us to work.” You sealed your long winded praise, and finished off the drink you ordered just minutes ago.

The other girls began to fawn in a similar fashion, thanking Kuran for his ruthless display of protection.

He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes at your rallied attention, and began walking away. “Shut up and get back to work.”

Despite his standoffish demeanor, you and everyone else knew just how good of a guy Kuran was, and aimed to please him however you could.

Your smile softened as you watched him walk off, yearning for the chance to truly express your gratitude, or the developing feelings of love you’d felt for him ever since he gave you this beautiful new life.

Blowing a kiss to him behind his back, you hopped off the stool, and skipped back behind stage to ready yourself for the final dance of the night.

#I couldn’t wait any longer #I had to post this now #negai no astro #negai no astro x reader #astro royale #astro royale x reader #Yotsurugi kuran #kuran yotsurugi #kuran #yotsurugi #yotsurugi x reader #kuran x reader #kuran Yotsurugi x reader

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