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punkshort · 3 days

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i know who you are | 9. the end

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel leaves overnight for a scouting mission. When he returns, you finally confess your feelings for him.

Chapter Warnings: language, amnesia, slow burn, dry humping, some dead bodies 'n stuff, fluff, feelings, smut (18+ MDNI), piv unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), soft!joel, guns?

WC: 9.1K

Series Masterlist

A/N: Two things. One: I don't have the slightest clue how memory loss works and if what I am about to detail in this chapter is even plausible but if television has taught me anything, nothing is impossible only extremely rare. Two: this is the final chapter and it makes me very sad. I wish I could have thought of more storylines to drag this out but at the end of the day, I feel good about how it all came together and I can't thank quite literally hundreds of you enough for reading this each week. It's kind of insane. So, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! Also, if anyone wants to toss some one-shot/sequel ideas my way, I am all ears. Much love.

Two Weeks Later

"Joel," you whispered, your head tilted back into the couch cushion while his mouth greedily nipped and sucked at your neck. His hips were grinding lightly against your center and you knew if you didn't stop soon, you would be in trouble. "I think we should slow down."

"Mhmm," he mumbled in agreement, reluctantly pulling his hand from underneath your shirt.

"You're lucky it's still cold enough for me to wear a scarf," you murmured into his hair. He sighed against your neck, finally dragging his mouth away and sat up on the couch while yet another movie went unwatched on the TV.

"Can't seem to get enough of you," he said with a grin, his arm stretching over the back of the sofa. You rolled your eyes dramatically but smiled, pushing yourself up and fixing your shirt before looking at the TV. "Brad Pitt's in this?"

Joel tossed his head back and laughed heartily. "Think he's the main character," he told you, and you scowled at him but he could tell you weren't actually angry.

"Well maybe if you didn't distract me every time we try to watch a damn movie, I would know that."

The past two weeks had been downright perfect. Joel couldn't be any happier. Now that things had changed between you, he craved your touch constantly. Part of him wondered if it was his way of trying to make up for lost time because you weren't wrong: he couldn't keep his hands off you. He had no desire to leave the house or see anybody. All he wanted was to stay holed up with you doing absolutely everything and nothing. He shuddered to think how crazy he would become when you were finally ready to take things further. Tommy will have to drag him by the collar from your bed for his patrol shifts.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked him, leaning into his side and tucking your legs underneath you, only half listening to the movie.

"Patrol," he answered while the tips of his ears burned red from embarrassment, like you caught him doing something he shouldn't be doing. He was perfectly fine waiting as long as it took until you were ready, but it didn't stop him from fantasizing about it. And the fact that he already knew what you felt like, what you sounded like, what made you come undone, worked him up even more.

"How are you feeling about getting back out there?" you asked, tipping your head up to look at him. He didn't seem worried but it was hard to tell sometimes.

"Actually, there was somethin' I wanted to talk to you 'bout," he admitted. "And if you don't want me to do it, I won't. I put you through enough shit as it is-"

"Spit it out, Miller," you said, shifting out from under his arm.

"Now that the snow's melted, I wanna take a couple guys and scout the area for any trace of those raiders," he began, watching your face closely. "I won't go far, but..."

"But?" you pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"But I would be gone overnight. Just one night," he assured you quickly when he saw your face.

"Wouldn't the others have already noticed anything out of the ordinary on patrol?" you asked as anxiety began to squeeze your throat. "I don't understand why you need to go out there."

"'Cause I only trust myself to make sure we're safe," he explained. "If somethin' happened to anyone 'cause I led these assholes to our doorstep, I'd never forgive myself. D'you understand?"

You chewed on your lip and glanced down at your lap as you weighed your options. On one hand, you understood where he was coming from. And if no one else on patrol or guard had yet to see or find anything strange, then Joel would most likely not find anything, either. But on the other hand, just simply leaving Jackson was a risk. And even if Joel didn't find any other raiders, he wouldn't mean he would be safe from whoever or whatever else was out there.

Joel pinched your chin and gently tugged your lip from between your teeth, making you snap out of it.

"Can I go with you?"

Joel's face softened. "No, baby. You don't even remember how to shoot a gun. I can't risk it."

Of course, he was right. "Who would you take?"

He smiled and dropped his hand. "Tommy. Neil. George. Couple others offered, too, but I'm not sure how many we wanna bring. Don't wanna stick out like a sore thumb with ten horses out in the middle of the woods."

You relaxed a bit knowing he would be going with some of Jackson's most seasoned patrolmen.

"Okay," you agreed softly. His face lit up and he leaned forward.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you sighed, looking over at the TV as the credits began to roll. He hooked a finger under your chin and dragged your eyes back onto him.

"Thank you," he whispered before pressing his lips firmly against yours, trying with all his might to pour every ounce of affection and adoration he had for you into the kiss. You giggled against his mouth as he tried to push you onto your back once again, but you playfully shoved his shoulder before breaking the kiss and scooting away.

"We told Ellie we'd meet her and Dina for dinner, remember?"

He groaned as if he were in physical pain and reached out for you but you quickly stood up, wagging a finger at him. He gazed up at you from the couch with his brown eyes all wide and gentle.

"I mean it, thank you. I don't know what I did to deserve you."

You blushed and bit your lip as you slowly walked backwards towards the stairs. "You can make it up to me one day."

Joel's gaze darkened and he dug his fingers into the couch cushion. "Just say the word, baby. Anytime. Anywhere."

You laughed and turned towards the steps. "Come on, we should get ready for dinner."

"In a minute," he said as you disappeared upstairs. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to will his raging hard on away before standing up and following you.

You inhaled deeply, your body heavy with sleep as you struggled to focus on Joel's voice.

"Sweetheart, I'm leavin'."

With a groan, you rolled over and reached out for him blindly, your eyes still not fully adjusted to the beam of light shining in from the hallway.

He smiled and grabbed your hands, wrapping them around his neck. He felt your fingers dig into the back of his neck and shoulders as you feebly attempted to pull him towards you.

You asked him to wake you up before he left for his scouting mission, so he did as you requested but you were so warm and soft and supple under his touch that he was finding it impossible to leave.

Maybe you planned it that way.

"I'll be back late tomorrow. I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss against your temple, taking an extra moment to savor it. When he pulled away, your fingers tightened around his neck and you lifted your chin, kissing him with an urgency he hadn't expected from your half-awake state.

"Come home to me, Joel," you mumbled, your eyes squinting at him through the darkness. He pulled an arm from around his neck and brought your knuckles to his lips.

"Promise."

It was so hard to leave but he kept reminding himself he was doing it to keep you safe. Regardless of what Tommy thought, something in his gut told him they hadn't seen the last of those raiders. He brought them into the mountains, and he was determined to be the one to finish it.

"I'm still surprised she let you do this," Tommy said a few hours into their travels. George was leading the group while he and Tommy brought up the rear. The forest was silent, save for the birds just beginning to wake in the branches above. After a long, painful winter, it was a relief to hear the first signs of spring.

"What'dya mean let me?" Joel scoffed, but when he locked eyes with Tommy, who was giving him a look that said he saw right through his bullshit, Joel grinned. "Yeah, alright, it took a little work but she understood."

Tommy nodded and went back to paying attention to their surroundings. They were officially in unguarded territory, the nearest patrol route now miles behind them. The trees had yet to fully bloom so it was still rather easy to see through the woods.

"I think you really freaked her out when you left," Tommy said, "she came runnin' to the house that mornin' in a panic. Thought she wouldn't let you leave her sight again after that."

Joel hummed and turned his head so his brother wouldn't see his smile. He didn't want to worry you, but every time he heard something like that, it reminded him how much you cared, even if you couldn't say it just yet.

"So, you two back to normal now or what?" Tommy pried. Joel shot him a look and he shrugged. "We got a long journey here. We can't talk to pass the time?"

"Yeah, mostly back to normal," Joel finally answered, shifting his weight in his saddle. He could already feel his lower back beginning to flare up. "Takin' things slow. Givin' her as much time as she needs."

Tommy nodded, reading between the lines. "Didn't look that slow the other night after dinner," he muttered under his breath, but Joel still heard him.

"She had a couple drinks, is all," he replied with a chuckle. He scratched his chin as he thought back to a few nights prior when you had draped your arms around his shoulders and your face buried against his neck for the better part of thirty minutes. It was late, all of the families had cleared out after dinner, leaving behind the adults to kick back and cut loose a bit. It reminded Joel of a time before the world went to hell. When he and Tommy would go to a bar on a Friday night, the smell of stale beer and cigarettes in the air while the patrons had to shout over a mediocre cover band playing Lynyrd Skynyrd. It was the first time in a long time he felt relaxed and at ease. He watched his brother and wife across the bar steal kisses around conversations with neighbors, grateful for a night out as Ellie had offered to babysit. He had you at his side, sipping whiskey and making a face before you switched to something else.

As the night dragged on, you got a little closer. Then your hand found his knee under the table and you tilted your head into his shoulder, quietly listening to him discuss the plan for the trip with George. He wrapped an arm around your waist but his focus was entirely on George, too concerned with the map he had spread out over the wooden table. George's wife finally came to collect him, telling him she was tired and he was too old to be trying to keep up with the younger men, shot for shot. She wasn't wrong by the way he stood up and stumbled a bit, leading him towards the door, leaving just the two of you at your table. Once you were alone, your arms snaked around his neck and you tugged him to your lips, your tongue greedily licking into his mouth, the heavy taste of whiskey and gin on your combined breath.

"You sure it was just the drinks? You don't think it had anythin' to do with Angie sittin' two tables over?"

Joel's face flushed and he cleared his throat. It shouldn't turn him on but he couldn't help it. He liked it when you were possessive over him.

"Didn't think it wise to ask," was all he said. Tommy chuckled.

The group made decent time. They had a grid in mind and they almost reached their desired destination by sundown. When morning came, the plan was they would make their way back towards Jackson and cover the northeast quadrant of the map.

As they set up camp for the night, deciding to forego a fire since the temperature was comfortable and they didn't want to risk giving away their location, Neil commented that they hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary so far.

"Not that I mind coming out here, Joel," he followed up quickly, "always a good idea to take precautions and all that."

Joel nodded and focused on spreading out his sleeping bag. "I appreciate you all comin'. Not sure if I say it enough, but I'm grateful."

Neil and George exchanged surprised looks at the unexpected appreciation.

They got an early start the next morning, and as the sun rose higher in the sky and more ground was covered, Joel began to wonder if maybe they would make it back to Jackson sooner than he thought. He really hoped they would. Even if it was just one day, he missed you. He hated sleeping without you. He hated waking up and not finding you curled up against him with your head resting on his chest or his arms wrapped about your waist, face buried against the back of your neck.

He was glancing around the forest, wondering what you were doing right at that very moment when he spotted something orange in the distance. His heart rate picked up and he whistled, catching the group's attention. He pointed through the trees and they all silently slid down from their horses. Checking their weapons, they fanned out and slowly made their way towards the scrap of fabric. As they got closer, Joel could see it was a knit cap stuck in a bush, fluttering in the wind. None of the men saw any other signs of life, each of them silently communicating with hand signals they were taught years ago.

Tommy heard shuffling and he held up his hand, bringing the group to an immediate stop. From his angle, Joel could see that the bush with the knit cap was right outside the opening of a small cave. The way the trees had grown around the rocks, it was impossible to notice it from a distance.

The perfect hiding spot.

He exchanged worried looks with Tommy before they crept closer, his rifle gripped tightly in both hands, ready for anything. The shuffling got louder and clearer and it became apparent that the noise was coming from right within the mouth of the cave. Catching Tommy's eye, he made sure to show him he was putting his rifle away in favor of his hunting knife. He always preferred a silent takedown over wasting ammunition, but just in case it went sideways, Tommy would be ready to cover him.

Joel situated himself next to the mouth of the cave while the other men, spread out amongst the trees, hid and waited. He reached down and grabbed a rock, throwing it about ten feet away to draw out whoever was hiding.

He didn't even need to see it to know what was waiting for him.

When the rock cracked against a tree trunk and he heard the telltale snarl of infected, he tightened his grip on his knife. The runner stumbled out of the cave with a shriek, jaw snapping angrily in the direction of the noise. Joel had run into his fair share of infected over the years. He knew the noise would have drawn the attention of any infected in the immediate vicinity, and when he only spotted one, he almost breathed a sigh of relief.

He took it down silently with a blade to the back of the head, then inspected the body. It looked fresh, the clothes mostly intact. The rest of the men joined him as they peered inside the cave, listening intently for any movement. When they heard none, they began to advance.

The cave wasn't very big but it was enough to house ten men. At least, that's the number of bodies they found, not a single trace of life left.

"Well, shit," Tommy muttered, kicking one of the mangled bodies with his boot. "Guess that hunch of yours was right."

It didn't exactly please Joel to know he was right, but at least it was the best possible scenario. The men were taken out by infected probably within the past week. He counted the bodies five times. Then recounted the backpacks and sleeping bags. Ten seemed to be the correct number. No one was missing, assuming the runner he had just killed was the only raider who had the misfortune of turning instead of dying right away.

They scavenged what they could from the dead bodies before trekking back to the horses.

"Keep your heads up. Don't mean there ain't anythin' else out here," Joel warned.

"The warmer weather must've thawed out some infected," Tommy mused next to him. Joel nodded.

"Probably should warn the others to keep their guard up the next few weeks," he replied. "Maybe add an extra body to the towers if we can."

Tommy nodded in agreement. The winters in the mountains were harsh but at least they saw a decrease in the undead.

"Now let's get the hell home," George said over his shoulder, the rest of the men mumbling in agreement. Joel ducked his chin to his chest to hide his relieved smile. Home.

To say you were happy to see him return was an understatement. It was closer to ten at night when you finally heard his heavy footsteps on the front porch.

"Told'ya I'd come back," he chuckled when you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tight.

"I know," you mumbled into his shirt. His heart swelled in his chest and he closed his eyes, breathing deep the smell of your shampoo. You both had a lot of work to do, essentially starting over and building a relationship from the ground up, but it was moments like those that made him believe everything was going to work out.

"Are you hungry?"

"Nah, just need a shower," he said, dropping his pack by the door and kicking off his boots.

"So I take it you didn't find anything?" you asked, trailing up the stairs behind him. He walked into your bedroom to grab a fresh set of boxers and sweatpants.

"Actually, we did," he began, and your heart plummeted. He saw the look on your face and quickly shook his head. "They were dead by the time we got there. 'Bout ten of 'em holed up in a cave. Infected got to 'em first."

"Oh, wow," you breathed, slowly sinking down onto the bed. "Well, at least you have peace of mind now, right?"

"Exactly," he said, giving you a quick kiss before heading into the bathroom. "Be out in a minute."

You heard the water turn on and you glanced over at the red flannel of Joel's that you slept in the night before. Even though it was clean, it still smelled like him. You glanced at the closed bathroom door and bit your lip, your heart fluttering in your chest as you thought things over. The morning he left, you wished you had told him but you were too sleepy and you wanted it to be more meaningful. Then, when you woke up and his side of the bed was ice cold, you felt the dread begin to creep up your spine. What if something happened and you never told him how you felt?

Well, nothing happened. He was home now. Safe and sound. There was no reason not to tell him.

You heard the water turn off and you jumped up to grab his flannel and scurried out of the bedroom, across the hall to the other bathroom, shutting the door.

Joel emerged a few minutes later with his wet hair slicked back wearing just a pair of sweatpants, per usual. He tossed his dirty clothes in the laundry basket and looked around. He noticed the closed door across the hall and assumed you were getting ready for bed so he slid between the sheets with a groan. He closed his eyes and took a moment to appreciate the mattress underneath him instead of the unforgiving forest floor before leaning over to grab his glasses and a book.

When you tiptoed back into the bedroom wearing only his flannel, he didn't notice at first. His focus was on the small print in front of him, blinking a few times and wondering if he needed stronger lenses when you cleared your throat. He glanced up and did a double take, his lips parting in shock when he saw his red flannel hugging your curves, the hem falling just below your ass.

You looked up at him and feigned surprise. "Oh, is this okay? I was cold-"

"Yes," he swallowed, immediately cutting you off, "it's okay."

You smiled and made a show of bending over to fix the sheets. Again, he swallowed tightly when he caught a glimpse of your black underwear and he felt his cock twitch. Before you turned around he made sure to be focused back on his book, although he was most definitely not absorbing any of the words on the page.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw you peel back the sheets and with a sigh, you tucked yourself in. You glanced over at him, admiring his strong side profile and the way his glasses perched on the tip of his nose.

"I missed you," you whispered, and he dragged his eyes from his book to look at you.

"I missed you, too."

You caught the way his eyes flicked down to your chest where you purposely left two buttons undone so you exposed a little bit of cleavage.

"What are you reading?" you asked, and he laughed through his nose.

"I've got no fuckin' idea."

In a flash, his book was discarded and you were in his lap, your mouth hungrily devouring his as he carefully removed his glasses and tossed them to the side. He wrapped both arms around you and held you close to his bare chest, his tongue licking past your teeth eagerly.

"You look so fuckin' good in my clothes," he growled, sounding as if it pained him before biting at your jaw.

"I wore your shirts the whole time you were gone," you admitted, rolling your head back and grinding down on his hips. You bit your lip when you felt how hard he was already. "Almost the whole week. I slept in your bed and-"

"Fuck," Joel groaned, grabbing your face with both hands and feverishly plunged his tongue into your mouth. You moaned and grabbed his shoulders, the intensity behind the kiss growing too hot. You could feel yourself tumbling, free-falling into the abyss with the unspoken words sitting heavy on your tongue, hoping Joel would be there to catch you.

"Wait," you gasped, pulling away, but only a little. Your forehead still rested against his as you both panted for air.

"I know, I'm sorry-" he was about to apologize for taking things too far when you cut him off.

"Do you remember all those months ago when I asked how I fell in love with you?"

Joel nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you remember what you said?"

He tilted his head back, lips parted as he gazed up at you, wondering why you were asking him those questions in that moment.

"Yeah," he replied slowly, "I said you're gonna have to wait to find out."

You bit your lip and with a shaky hand, you traced one of the wrinkles next to his eyes. "Well, I found out."

His chest stilled, breath caught in his throat as he processed your words. His eyes roamed over your face, hoping and praying he wasn't misunderstanding. When you saw him nervously swallow, you smiled.

"I love you, Joel."

His eyebrows pinched together and before you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, he pulled you down for another searing kiss. This time, he went slower. He savored every second, he memorized everything he possibly could about that moment because the way you made him feel hearing those words was unlike anything he ever experienced and he didn't want to take a single second for granted.

"I love you, too," he choked. He could feel you smile against his lips when he pressed his mouth against yours again. "Fuck, I love you so much," he mumbled, his hands falling to your hips, "I'd do anythin' for you."

Your mouth latched onto his throat and you dropped your hand between your bodies, your fingers lightly stroking him through his pants. And once again, you felt his muscles stiffen and freeze.

For a moment, the self-doubt crept in. What if he didn't want to? Was he too tired? Was he not ready? Then his hand covered your wrist and you watched as he slowly dragged your hand up and down, showing you what he liked. Encouraging you to continue. So you did.

His head tipped back against the headboard with a sigh and he squeezed his eyes shut, removing his hand and letting you take control. He wanted - no, needed - you to call the shots. You needed to take it as far as you wanted to take it.

When your fingers dipped below his waistband, he tensed.

When he finally felt your soft touch on his cock, he groaned.

It was better than he even remembered. His eyes were still closed as you worked him up and down, the arousal pooling between your legs the longer you spent just feeling him and not seeing him.

"I want you," you whispered in his ear, and his hips jolted as he whined against your shoulder. You wanted him.

When he opened his eyes, he looked absolutely wrecked. You could see that he was trying his best to hold back, trying his best to make sure you were comfortable, that you weren't feeling pressured, that you really wanted it.

But when you sweetly whispered please, Joel, he didn't hesitate. He flipped you onto your back and pulled hastily at the buttons of his flannel while he cemented his mouth against yours. Your hands drifted to his hair and back, pulling and scratching as you went while he finally flung open the shirt. He instantly latched his lips around your nipple, making you moan and arch your back underneath him.

"So beautiful," he mumbled against your chest. "Tell me again."

You smiled and peered down at him. "I love you."

He breathed a sigh of relief, his exhale fanning over your skin, making your nipples tighten. His rough hands slid down your stomach, thick fingers splayed wide, trying to touch as much of you as possible at once.

You could hear your heartbeat thrumming steadily in your ears when he dipped his fingers below the elastic of your underwear, a deafening sound that made it hard to focus but when he slid a finger slowly through your arousal, your senses suddenly sharpened. The house could have been on fire but you never would have known because all you could focus on was him.

He dragged his open mouth across your chest, teeth grazing over your collarbone, tongue flicking out and tasting you as he went. His lips puckered and sucked at your skin as he pet gently at your entrance, making you squirm with need and tug impatiently at his hair. When he pulled his hand out of your underwear, you made a frustrated little noise that made him smile. He popped his finger into his mouth and you watched, struggling to breathe, as his eyes fluttered closed and he moaned like he had just slipped into a warm bath after a hard day.

"God, I missed that," he whispered, and the look on his face made you actually believe him.

"Joel..." you breathed, plucking feebly at the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Lemme just make you come on my mouth first," and before you could respond, he was shimmying down between your legs and tugging off your panties. When you glanced down and saw how good it looked with his head between your legs, you relaxed and leaned back. How could you argue with that view?

"Oh," you sighed when his tongue first slid through your folds. You tipped your head back and closed your eyes, allowing your muscles to melt under his touch. His hands held your thighs open but he didn't need to bother. There was no possible way you would do anything to stop him. Not when he felt so good, taking his time and expertly lavishing your core with his tongue. And perhaps he was an expert. At least when it came to you, he had five years of experience to fall back on. He surely must have figured out what you liked in all that time.

Your breath was growing ragged and you could feel the heat creeping up your chest. He pressed the backs of your thighs, pushing your knees up towards your chest so he could devour every inch of you, eating messily at your cunt. You pulled your knees back and hooked your hands around each one, your thighs becoming too shaky to hold open with your own strength.

It was a combination of his lips wrapping around your clit and the deep groan that rumbled through his chest that made you come undone the first time. Instant relief flashed through your body and you released your knees, letting your legs fall limply onto the quilt while he eagerly cleaned you up with his tongue.

When he sensed it was too much, he began peppering kisses along your inner thighs, murmuring praise into your skin as he went. You opened your eyes and peered down at him, your breath getting caught in your throat at the sight. His mouth and beard were glistening with your slick, his own eyes remained shut as he mindlessly nipped and kissed your skin, but even from your angle you could see him rutting his hips into the mattress, looking for any amount of friction to relieve the ache.

You reached your arms out to him and he inched up but stopped at your stomach. He sighed and rested the side of his head against your belly, listening to your breath evening out as he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around your waist. It took you by surprise that he wasn't immediately jumping at the chance to chase his own release when it was clear just a moment before he was dying for it. You glanced down at him and smiled when you saw the look on his face, simply content with just holding and being close to you. Carding your fingers through his curls, you heard him hum before pressing a gentle kiss against your stomach.

It might have been that moment when you realized he was right. What you had was special and rare. You could feel it in your bones, the way a look or touch sent a jolt right through you. The way you felt drawn to him, even from the very first day of your accident, you could sense something in him. You had no idea at the time what it was, but you were beginning to understand now.

"Joel?" you whispered, worried he might have somehow fallen asleep. Then you felt it. The first hot teardrop hit your skin and your heart clenched. "C'mere," you said, tugging at his shoulders. Begrudgingly, he obeyed. And after his arms loosened and he unpeeled his wet face from your belly, you saw the anguish in his eyes. All watery and wide and guilt-ridden.

"I don't deserve you," he said softly, his voice breaking a bit as you cupped his jaw. "Never did and definitely don't now. Not after everything I've done. Don't deserve your forgiveness, let alone your love."

You shushed him and pressed your lips tenderly against his, your thumb wiping away his tears as they fell.

"Don't tell me who I can and cannot love," you said, taking his chin in your hand and giving it a firm shake, like you were punishing him. He chuckled thickly through the tears.

You pulled him down by the back of his neck and kissed him slower, your tongue just barely dipping into his mouth. He groaned when you began to plant wet kisses along his jaw and you noticed with pride that his chest was rising and falling faster than usual while his hips ground into yours.

"Love you s'much," he almost sounded drunk, the feel of your mouth over his skin clouding his mind and mushing his words together.

"Yeah?" you asked before sucking a bruise where his jaw met his throat. "Then show me."

Joel kicked off his sweatpants and boxers with a grunt but when you went to remove his flannel from around your shoulders, he stopped you.

"Leave it on."

Your cheeks flared with heat at the way he looked at you and all you could do was nod and bite your lip.

It felt like time stood still when you first felt him enter you. Like nothing else in the world mattered outside of those four walls. He held your gaze and your fingers dug into his back, each of you savoring the stretch with your mouths hung open, the only sound was the occasional sharp little breath or gasp from one or both of you.

You could see it in his face again and you had a feeling you mirrored his look. It was too intense. Too overwhelming. So much had happened that led up to that moment: all the fear, sadness, laughter, arguments, long talks and shared traumas came crashing down at once. A tear slid down your cheek right when his hips came flush with yours and he leaned down to kiss it away.

"You okay?"

You nodded and wiped another tear away with the back of your hand.

"It's just a lot, y'know?" you sniffled, hoping he understood. And he did.

His eyes glistened and he smiled, his fingers brushing away a few stray pieces of hair from your face. "I know. We've come a long way."

"Yeah," you whispered, blinking back more tears. Your fingertips traced his bottom lip, your eyes flickering around his face, taking in every little crease and dimple. "Kiss me."

He did as you asked, kissing you slow and deep, matching pace with his hips. Your fingers dug into his arms, holding onto him, keeping him close. His hand pushed his flannel back, exposing one of your shoulders while your head tilted back into the pillows, momentarily breaking away for air. You moaned softly when he began to grind his hips against you, providing your clit with some much needed stimulation while he dragged his mouth down the column of your throat and across your collarbone. When he sunk his teeth gently into your shoulder, he felt you clench around him and gasp.

How's that feel?

Do that again.

Tell me you love me.

I love you.

Those sweet, desperate whispers were shared, breathed into each other's mouths, every word dragged out, every touch deliberate and slow. Neither of you in the mood to rush a thing as your fingers tightly laced together next to your head.

His other hand skirted around your back and under his shirt, palm pressing against your spine, pulling you closer to him, if it was even possible. He flexed his hips and you groaned when the tip of his cock hit a spot that had your entire body buzzing.

"Right there," you whimpered into his neck, brows pinched together and stomach tightening as you concentrated on the fire being stoked deep within you. Every one of his powerful thrusts was adding fuel to the flames. Your skin was slick with sweat and you began to regret keeping his flannel on.

"I know, baby. I remember," he whispered, tightening his grip on you. "Fuck, y'feel so good, I can't-"

"Don't stop! Please, Joel, more," you begged, tears welling up and spilling down your cheeks the closer and closer he pushed you to the edge. Your thighs tensed around his waist and his lips kissed the tears away and when you came, crying his name into his skin, he soothed you. He told you how much he loved you, how much he missed being so close to you, reminded you he was right there, that he had you and everything was okay.

Moments later, you felt his body tremble and his hips stutter. In a haze, you loosened your legs from around his waist. His lips captured yours frantically, fast puffs of exhale fanning over your cheek as he got more and more lost in chasing his climax. Your shaking fingers reached up to get tangled in his hair, ensuring his mouth remained firmly planted against your lips, muffling his groans and garbled versions of your name and I love yous, swallowing everything down until he yanked his hips away, spilling himself all over your stomach.

You both broke the kiss and looked down between your bodies, watching as each weak thrust painted your skin with more and more of his release until he finally stilled and shuddered.

After he finally forced himself to stand, he cleaned you up and slipped back into bed, one of his legs sticking out from underneath the covers, still slightly panting for air. You curled into his side, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you snug against him, his nose getting buried in your hair as you listened to each other's breaths even out. You quietly told him about a wound you stitched up at work all by yourself the day before and he told you how proud he was of you. You listened to him tell you a little more about his trip, how relieved he felt now that he confirmed with his own eyes Jackson was safe. At least, for the time being.

The last thing you remembered was him telling you how much he hated sleeping on the ground and how much he missed you while his knuckles soothingly dragged over your stomach but all you could think about was the warm glow that radiated from your skin and the delicious soreness between your legs as you drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, you heard birds singing outside your window. You smiled before you even opened your eyes. Spring was coming. You always loved spring. Something about it made you hopeful and calm, and that morning was no exception.

You awoke still wrapped in his arms and his flannel, your cheek pressed against his bare chest, one of your legs slotted between his, enjoying the peace and quiet the morning brought.

"I thought you died," you admitted quietly once he woke, your fingertips tracing over the scar above his hip. "When you didn't come back that day, I was so worried. So scared my last words to you were something cruel and hurtful."

He hummed and said, "Oh darlin', I'm so sorry," then kissed the top of your head.

"Don't be. In a way, it helped me realize how much I care about you," you replied, lifting your chin from his chest to glance up at him. He always looked way too handsome in the morning. It was hardly fair. "Made me realize I couldn't live without you."

He grinned and rolled his shoulder, stretching out his sore muscles. "Well, if that's all it took, why didn't you say somethin' sooner?"

You giggled and looked back down at his scar, the smile slowly slipping from your face the longer you looked at the pale jagged edges marring his bronzed skin. "God, that day you didn't come back, though," you continued, your brow furrowed as you thought, "I had the worst pit in my stomach. Almost like I knew something was wrong, you know?"

He nodded and closed his eyes, letting you talk, completely at ease listening to your voice.

"It probably didn't help I had woken up that morning from the worst fucking nightmare."

"What nightmare?" he asked sleepily.

You chuckled when you thought about it.

"It's not really funny," you explained, rolling off of him and onto your back, pulling his flannel closed as you moved. "It had started out just like this, actually. It was morning, we were in bed and we were talking... about death?" you said the last part as if it were a question. "I was asking you if you believed in heaven and I told you I was afraid we were going to hell." His eyes snapped open and he quickly rolled his head to look at you, waiting for you to continue. You laughed again and shrugged. "I guess it felt like a premonition or something. Really freaked me out, it felt so real."

"What else?" he asked excitedly, sitting up. You looked up at him and cocked your head to the side.

"What do you mean?"

"What else do you remember? From the nightmare?"

"Oh," you said, pushing yourself up so you were also sitting. You stared at the wall blankly as you thought about it. "You told me we aren't bad people, and even though I told you we had done bad things, I believed you. Then..." you felt your cheeks flush and he sat forward eagerly.

"Then what?" he urged, and when you looked at him again, any trace of playfulness was gone.

"Then... it got a little dirty but I woke up before anything happened. But I do remember you were on top of me and you said-"

"This is heaven right here?" he finished for you, and you looked at him in surprise.

"Yes! How did-"

"That was no nightmare, honey. That happened," he told you, his voice rising. He thought his heart was going to explode, it was racing so fast.

"What?" you whispered, but Joel was already jumping out of bed and tugging on his boxers.

"C'mon, get up! We gotta take you to see Nick!"

"Wait," you said, buttoning up his flannel as he flew around the room, grabbing new clothes for you both. "Joel, this was a month ago, what will going to see Nick do?"

"I-I-I don't know! But we gotta tell him. Maybe there's somethin' we can do if we know you're capable of -"

"Joel, sit down," you said, cutting him off. He froze, having just tugged on a shirt but his jeans were still left unzipped and unbuttoned. You stared at him until he took the few steps towards the bed and sat down on the edge. "I'll talk to Nick next time I'm at work, but I don't want to barge in there and take up his time. You know this is out of his area of expertise."

He looked disappointed but he knew you were right because he finally nodded in agreement and bit the inside of his cheek while he stared at the floor. You put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, drawing his attention back onto you.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," you said softly. "If my memories come back, then they come back. If they don't, they don't. All that matters is this... right?" you asked, inching closer to him and resting a hand on his thigh. He smiled and enveloped your hand in his.

"Yeah, you're right," he said, staring down at your conjoined hands for a moment. "You wanna go get some breakfast? Maybe talk 'bout it a bit more?"

"Sure," you replied, then leaned forward, kissing him tenderly before standing up. "I should probably shower, though. Last night got a little messy," you said, tossing him a wink over your shoulder. He smirked and watched your ass sway back and forth in his fucking clothes as you made your way to the bathroom. You turned around in the doorway, one hand on the knob, the other braced against the frame as you looked at him expectantly from across the room. "Aren't you coming?"

All the blood rushed directly between his legs and just like that, his excitement for you recalling a memory was replaced by a very different kind of excitement.

"Hell, yes," he said, standing up and shucking off his shirt as he followed you into the bathroom. He grabbed your face with both hands and crashed his mouth against yours, kicking the door shut behind him.

Three Months Later

"Can't believe I'm the one teachin' you how to shoot," Joel muttered in disbelief as you walked back from the line of trees where he had hammered a paper target into one of the trunks. "You were always a better shot than me. Almost better than Tommy, and he was in the goddamn Army."

You laughed and shook your head, still finding it difficult to believe that you ever shot a gun before. From what you remember, you were always afraid of guns growing up.

"Maybe I'm a natural, then."

Enough time had passed and the weather had gotten warm enough where you decided it would be beneficial to re-learn how to shoot. You didn't plan on going back to patrol, but in the world you lived in, it was an important skill to have.

You sat down next to Joel on the fallen tree trunk in the middle of a small field about two miles away from Jackson. He picked up each one of his guns and inspected them, making sure they were clean so there wouldn't be much kickback.

"Have any dreams lately?"

You sighed and shook your head. "Just the one about Ellie, and that was over a month ago."

When you woke up one morning from a dream that felt all too real, you shook Joel awake to tell him about it. It was a simple dream, but it felt intense. You had dreamed Ellie sat you and Joel down at the kitchen table, and full of nerves, explained that she was seeing someone. Someone she cared about deeply. You seemed to catch on quicker than Joel because the conversation lead to where Ellie had to point blank explain to him that she was dating another girl. He seemed surprised but not overly shocked, and when he shrugged it off and still maintained that his only concern was her partner treating her right, her face broke out into a huge smile.

After he confirmed it was a memory, you agreed to see Nick. He didn't end up having much insight on what spurred your sudden recollection that day, just as you expected. But much to your surprise, Joel was perfectly calm. In fact, he made a point of thanking Nick and you even saw him smile at the other man.

And it wasn't just Nick you noticed his demeanor changing toward, either. When kids playing in the street bumped into him, he laughed and waved them off. When Jesse proposed to his girlfriend, Joel was one of the first in line to give him a hearty handshake and wished them well.

You weren't sure if his behavior changed because you were so revolted by it in the beginning, or if he was just happier in general, but you didn't complain.

"Alright, so which one d'you think we're gonna use from this distance?" he asked after he showed you his revolver and then his rifle, explaining the difference between each: how they handled, when to use them, when not to use them, and then finally, how to load and unload them.

You gave him a blank look. "The rifle, Joel. I'm not a complete idiot. I've seen movies."

He grinned and holstered his revolver.

"Good girl. Beauty and brains," he said, and you rolled your eyes.

"Don't start."

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Don't start flirting with me. You'll distract me and I want to take this seriously."

"I ain't flirtin' with you."

"Yes, you are!"

He laughed heartily at your frustrated little pout. "Can you blame me? You're so goddamn cute."

"Joel..." you whined, and he held up both hands in defeat before picking up the rifle.

"Alright, alright. Lemme shoot off a few rounds and you watch my form, okay? Watch my shoulders and where my hands go."

"Okay."

You observed him as he took aim at the target, nearly hitting the bullseye but not quite.

"You wanna give it a shot?"

"Pun intended?"

He grinned and held out the rifle, so you grabbed it and sunk down to one knee, resting your elbows on the tree trunk as you tried to imitate his posture.

"Like this?"

"Mhm," he said, "now take a deep breath and squeeze the trigger nice 'n slow."

Doing as you were told, you inhaled and blinked a few times, making sure your vision was clear and your eye was on the prize. Pursing your lips, you slowly exhaled and squeezed the trigger - only to miss hitting the target entirely.

"Shit," you grumbled, sitting back on your heels.

"You got spooked by the kickback," Joel said, "try again, but this time try not to flinch."

You shouldered the rifle and took aim, once again taking a deep breath and focusing on the little yellow circle in the middle of the target. When you fired off your second round, doing your best not to flinch, you clipped the edge of the paper, but you were no where near the center.

"Goddamnit!" you yelled angrily. Joel chuckled and crouched behind you.

"Here. Lemme help you."

He wrapped his arms around yours and pressed his chest against your back, his hands coming to rest on top of yours as he made some minuscule adjustments to your posture.

"Y'gotta be gentle, see?" he whispered in your ear. Your eyelids fluttered but you managed to nod. "Gotta be patient. Don't let her scare you. Think of her as an extension of you. Like another arm."

"Her?" you teased.

He chuckled, his breath puffing against the back of your neck. "Yeah. Her. I'm respectful and careful with all my girls."

"All?" you repeated, leaning into him a bit. "How many are there?"

"Oh, tons," he said, making you giggle. "But if it makes you feel any better, you're my favorite."

"A favorite over a bunch of guns? I'm so flattered."

"Hey, now. Didn't you just say you wanted to take this seriously? C'mon, focus up," and you knew he was right so you straightened up and pressed your eye against the scope once again.

Joel stayed behind you, his hands on your shoulders to help stabilize your upper body as you squeezed off shot after shot. His advice helped a little, you were at least hitting the paper, but you weren't getting anywhere near his shots from earlier. He could see you were growing frustrated so when you ran out of bullets, he took the rifle and told you to take a break while he reloaded.

"It's okay, darlin'. It's gonna take a bit to get used to it."

You sighed and slumped forward on the tree trunk. "Yeah, I guess," you mumbled.

For the next twenty minutes, Joel coached you while you struggled to remember all his advice at once. Keep your shoulders loose. Don't flinch. Follow through. Breathe. When you pulled the last round into the chamber and took aim, you expected it to go like all the others so you stopped worrying about it and just pulled the trigger.

"Holy shit, you did it!" Joel exclaimed excitedly. You hadn't even bothered to look, so you quickly brought the scope back up to your face. When you saw the small little circle burning a hole through the paper, nearly dead center, you squealed and quickly placed the rifle against the tree so you could jump into Joel's arms. He wrapped his arms around your ribs and spun you around while you giggled into his neck.

"Told you," he said with a wide grin after he put you back down. You grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him into you, crashing your lips together, taking him by surprise. He stumbled forward but wrapped a hand around the back of your neck just as you lost your own footing and fell onto the grass, dragging him down with you.

You laughed against his mouth, still peppering kisses all over his face. He braced both arms on either side of you, elbows digging into the warm grass, smile permanently stretching across his cheeks as he soaked up your affection.

When your laughter died down, you pulled away to gaze up at him, your fingers playing with the dark curls at the base of his neck. The sun was shining over the field and onto his tanned skin, making his sparkling brown eyes look like the color of gold. It took your breath away.

"You're so handsome," you whispered in awe, your fingers leaving his hair in favor of stroking the graying stubble dusting his cheeks. He blushed and shook his head, but before he could protest, you spoke again. "I love you so much, Joel. Sometimes it makes me sad to think we probably wouldn't have ever known each other if the world didn't end."

His eyes softened and he gave you a small smile, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "I'll always find you. In every life, in every universe. You've got a piece of me," he tapped your chest lightly, "I don't make the rules."

You laughed and laced your fingers together with his. "Like fate?"

He shrugged. "Call it whatever you want. I already told you, sweetheart. We're meant to be together."

You pulled him down for another kiss, this one more gentle. More loving. More intimate. For the hundredth time, you mentally berated yourself for wasting so much time after your accident when you could have been with him like this, being loved and adored and cherished all along. Instead, you both had been searching endlessly for some version of yourself that you weren't sure you would ever find again. But then you realized if you never did, that was okay. Because you got to fall in love with each other all over again, and how many people get to say that?

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #the last of us game #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #ikwya fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 2 days

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My Body is a Cage

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Heavy angst, death. Word count: ~2.3k

Summary: When Aemond goes to Storm's End to offer a betrothal between his younger brother, Daeron, and one of Lord Borros Baratheon's daughters, he does not anticipate the arrival of his nephew, Lucerys, nor does he anticipate murdering him. He seeks comfort and reassurance in the arms of his betrothed, but soon finds she has neither to offer to a kinslayer... Based on this request.

Author's note: For @doomwhathouwilt Moodboard by the wonderful @flowerandblood. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

Grief is an impregnable fortress, an all consuming void that, once toppled into, feels impossible to escape. When grief turns to rage, there is the false belief that one has found freedom, however, it is merely the act of replacing the bars of a cage with anger instead of sorrow. The emotions vibrate at a differing frequency, yet the imprisonment is fortified with equally devastating consequences.

The air is thick as Aemond dismounts from Vhagar, the sulphurous stench of dragonfire clings to his leather riding coat like a shroud as his boots crunch heavily across the gravel, leading him back towards the imposing ruin of Harrenhal. His skin is hot, he can feel the soot that darkens the ends of his snow white hair also sticking to the flesh of his cheeks. There is no time to pause and wipe it away, not when duty awaits.

The heavy oak doors creak as he pushes them open, revealing the men that sit around the long table in the centre of the room - his war council - dwindled to a paltry number since the war began. They stand as he enters, each of them look ashen faced, none standing quite as proudly as they once had. He swallows thickly, before addressing them.

“Be seated,” he snaps dismissively. “Have the Riverlands been scouted? Do we have the final count of Houses that have fallen?”

How different life is now to what it was a year ago.

Aemond’s betrothal to Lady Fell had been a political arrangement, a bargaining tool utilised by his grandsire to secure loyalty to Aegon’s claim to the throne in the Stormlands. A lady in waiting for Helaena, it had made perfect sense, she was already present within the Keep, so their courtship could be easily managed.

Despite the formality of it, Aemond had grown to love her, and in turn she loved him. She was patient where he was quick to anger, forgiving where he was vengeful, all of the things he knew he did not deserve and yet yearned for just the same.

He basked in the glow of her radiant smile, his heart softening when she did not recoil from his disfigurement. With every stolen kiss in darkened corridors, every eager touch that lingered in places that decency dictated be saved for their wedding night, the burden of the injustice that had been bestowed upon him felt lighter to bear. Despite the hardships that had befallen him, his affection for her came easily, there was nothing simpler in his world.

Then his father, King Viserys, had passed away, and life for Aemond grew infinitely more complicated.

There had always been the unspoken intention that his mother and grandfather planned to challenge his half sister Rhaenyra’s claim to the throne, however, even he was surprised by the swiftness with which they moved to coronate Aegon. Further still, there was the responsibility that fell to him as second son to help assure his brother kept the throne that his family had made bold moves to secure.

Many of the lords that had sworn fealty to Rhaenyra as heir to the Iron Throne had long since passed, and she would surely be sending reminders to their heirs of the vows sworn more than a decade ago. It was up to Aemond to ensure that better offers were made in Aegon’s name.

With Daeron in Oldtown, Aemond was tasked with earning the fealty of The Stormlands. Despite his own impending marriage to Lady Fell, without the support of House Baratheon they would stand little chance of gaining any further support from that part of Westeros. In order to do this, he was to fly to Storm’s End to offer a marriage proposal between his younger brother and one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters.

He had been given a warm reception upon his arrival, and Lord Borros had readily accepted his offer. Aemond has chosen carefully for Daeron, desiring for him to have a match that would make him as happy as he was with Lady Fell. He had selected the youngest of the Four Storms, Floris. Closest in age to his sibling, and the most comely of her sisters, she had seemed the best suited. Aemond had felt satisfied that he could return to King’s Landing proud of what he had accomplished for his family.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the arrival of his nephew, Lucerys Velaryon.

When he saw the dark haired boy enter the hall, he had felt a phantom slash across the left side of his face, a malevolent rage simmered beneath the surface of his skin, barely concealed by the sinister smirk that tugged upwards at the corners of his mouth.

With every word that Lucerys uttered, Aemond’s mood grew darker. Was it not enough that his half sister’s bastard had taken his eye? Now he meant to take his brother’s birthright too.

As he had chased down Lucerys and Arrax on the back of Vhagar, he had only intended to scare him. If his nephew felt only a fraction of the fear that he had endured as a boy, as he had laid bleeding and maimed upon the dusty ground of Driftmark, then he would consider it a triumph, a reminder that there was a debt to be paid.

His heart had lurched when the jaws of his dragon had snapped around the body of the one they had been pursuing, sending both rider and mount toppling into the sea below. He had killed him. Yet the tears he wept as he made the sombre return home to King’s Landing were not for the death of Lucerys, they were for the consequences that his family would face as a result. The debt owed to Aemond had been paid in blood, and it would cost his family everything.

He had immediately sought out Lady Fell’s chambers upon his return to the Red Keep. The rain had dripped off of his riding leathers and onto the flagstone floor in cold rivulets as he had hovered in her doorway, eye wide and imploring.

She had rushed to him, grasping his forearms and pulling him inside. Her touch had immediately grounded him, calmed the pounding in his chest. It would all be alright in the end, how could it not be with her at his side?

“You will catch a fever like this,” she said with a soft laugh,”could you really not wait to get changed to see me?”

He raised a hand to stroke through her soft hair, loose and brushed through, ready for sleep. It was only as he did this that he realised he was trembling, and not from the cold.

“Aemond?” She asked, her brow furrowing with concern. “What is it?”

It would be fine. He could tell her this. She loved him. She would understand.

“I killed him,” he told her in a hushed tone, his eye reluctantly meeting hers.

Her lips had parted in shock, before she exhaled shakily. “Killed who?”

“Lucerys,” he told her, “I did not mean to, I only meant to frighten him, but I lost control, and now he is dead.”

He had expected her to embrace him, to tell him Lucerys had gotten what he deserved, that she would stand by him.

Instead, she had pulled away, and at the loss of her touch Aemond had felt as though he was in freefall. The warmth that usually filled her gaze when she looked upon him was filled with an emotion that he had never seen her direct at him before: fear.

His stomach had twisted into knots and his throat had grown dry as he’d taken a step towards her, hoping to bridge the gap between them, and instead she had furthered it by taking one backwards.

“Kinslayer,” she had whispered shakily. “Leave my chambers at once or I shall scream.”

He had turned and walked away without another word, a gaping void opening within his chest at the realisation that her love for him had died alongside Lucerys.

His world had seemed as though it was coming to an end when Lady Fell departed King’s Landing to return to Felwood. She was taking his heart with him, and he grieved the loss of her, alongside the knowledge that he had jeopardised his family’s prospects for an alliance with the Houses of the Stormlands.

Consumed by grief, her absence was never felt more than in the moments when his nephew, Jaehaerys, was murdered and Aegon was grievously injured in battle. He no longer had her to turn to for comfort, and so his sorrow turned to rage, hot as dragon’s fire. If the only person he had ever truly loved saw him as someone to fear, then he would become just that. The loss of her would not be for nothing.

It was this thought that had clouded his thoughts as he had seized Harrenhal, and put every person residing within to the sword. Every person except one: Alys Rivers. She was a witch, and the visions she conjured within fire aided him in his efforts in battle, though his uncle continued to evade him.

He had grown to love Alys, not in the same way he loved Lady Fell, but he felt that Alys was the match that he deserved. Lady Fell possessed a kind heart, a purity that Aemond could never dream of aspiring to. There was a darkness within Alys that paralleled his own, and so when she invited him to her bed, he did not resist.

There was no hushed laughter, or gentle caresses, the pair of them tore at each other like wild beasts, both of them pouring their malice into the other. There was no warmth to be found in her gaze, only a sharpness that served to encourage his bloodlust and desire for vengeance.

She had told him that she was expecting his child, and his thoughts had drifted to what could have been with his betrothed; a soft, happy bundle of joy that would have been all of the best parts of its mother. He wondered what qualities the bastard he had fathered upon Alys would possess, perhaps they had created the second coming of Maegor Targaryen. It would be no less than what he deserved.

When the news had reached him of Rhaenyra’s capture of King’s Landing, he was briefly thankful that Lady Fell no longer resided there, though enraged that he was not able to fly back to the capital to defend his family. If he ended his occupation of Harrenhal, then it would provide his uncle with the opportunity to seize it back.

The fear in Lady Fell’s eyes flashed through his mind once more. Fear. If he could inspire that, do any damage possible to his half sister’s plight, then he would. His losses would not be for nothing.

He was merciless as he mounted Vhagar and flew over the Riverlands, torching everything in his path. Every House that had sworn allegiance to Rhaenyra Targaryen would burn, for her capture of the capital would be meaningless with no supporters left to aid her.

It is in the wake of this that he stands, waiting to hear of the total losses of support to his half sister.

The maester clears his throat, unfurling a parchment upon the tabletop. “The final raven has just arrived, your grace,” he tells Aemond. “House Darry, House Blackwood, House Fell–”

“House Fell?” He interrupts, his blood turning to ice in his veins. “Impossible, they are based in the Northern Stormlands.”

“Yes, your grace. However, there was a betrothal between the youngest daughter of House Fell and the youngest son of House Blackwood. Lord Fell and his family had been guests of Raventree Hall.”

Bile rises in his throat. He had killed her. The only good thing he had ever had in the world had died at his hands. She had been right to be afraid of him, and yet it had not helped to save her. He does not want to live a life where her goodness has been snuffed out. For every atrocity he has committed in the name of his family’s honour, he has known that the gentleness of her soul is a beacon of hope that there is goodness in humanity. Now there is nothing. He is trapped in a prison of his own making.

It has to end.

With the aid of Alys, he tracks Daemon to South of the Trident, West of the Kingsroad in the Southern Riverlands. His uncle is eagerly awaiting him.

As he kisses Alys, his usual ferocity is absent. His lips are soft and tender against hers, filled with unspoken devotion, the goodbye kiss he never got to give to his intended.

He knows this is a battle he will not return from as he chains himself into Vhagar’s saddle. The cage he is trapped in has only one means of escape.

Daemon is a savage opponent, and Aemond fights as though he has nothing to lose. What else could possibly be taken from him, when he has already deprived himself of it? As his uncle leaps from the back of Caraxes towards him, he does not resist, even as the blade of Dark Sister plunges brutally into the socket of his seeing eye.

His final thought as his body tumbles down towards the icy waters of the God’s Eye is that finally he is free, and if he could not reciprocate his true love’s purity in life then perhaps the Seven will see fit to grant him the opportunity to do so in death.

When grief is allowed to mutate into rage, it will become a person’s ruin, and none more so than that of Aemond Targaryen.

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hubbvrd · 1 day

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Lego date | Joe Burrow

summary — Joe and you building some Lego together

pairing — joe burrow x reader

words — 1694

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"Tell me how you’re ever supposed to choose one here." Cocking your head you look up the large shelf that held countless Lego sets.

"If I find the answer, i'll be the first to tell you" replied Joe, who was standing a bit away from you and had taken a step closer to the shelf to get a closer look at the different lego sets.

You two were in a toy store that had a huge selection of lego, so it would be almost impossible to decide on a set that both of you wanted to build together.

You let out a slightly annoyed sigh, while you took your eyes off the many colorful boxes and turn to your boyfriend, who was holding one of the many boxes in his hand and seemed to be studying it carefully.

"What do you have there?" , curious you stepped over to Joe to take a look at the set.

"Chewbacca." Joe turned the box in your direction so you could catch a glimpse of the traced image of Chewbacca.

"Looks really cool, but if you remember we just put something together last week from Star Wars" , you reminded your boyfriend as you stepped towards the shelf again, tilting your head slightly as you began to pattern the colorful boxes once more.

"But Star Wars is cool. Especially Chewbacca. That one has to be in my collection," Joe started to convince you, so however, you shook your head with a smirk and reached for a box.

"I'm more here for."

You held the box with the time machine from Back to the Future in front of Joe's nose.

"This is really cool, too." , Joe replied as he put Chewbacca back on the shelf and you then took the box off to get a better look at the back to the future car.

"So this?" , you tried to get Joe to take this box to the checkout so both of you could make your way back home as quickly as possible, where you would put your comfy clothes back on and you both would then build the set together.

"I don't know..." Joe hesitated, so he put the box back on the shelf and began rubbing his chin.

The little wrinkle under his eye that always formed when Joe was thinking showed you that Joe wasn't really having an easy time deciding on his set.

But with such a large Lego selection, could you blame him?

"Or the house of Home alone," you pointed your finger at the matching set of Joe and your favorite Christmas movie, which you both watched together as a kind of tradition every Christmas.

"There's too much to choose from" , Joe almost whined, running his fingers through his blond hair, which subsequently sat rather tousled on his head.

"I know, but we can take one now and then in the next few weeks we'll get the others" , suggested you, trying to make Joe's decision a little easier, which, however, became anything but easy for Joe.

"Then I'll have to decide which set I'll take home first...", Joe whined almost like a little child, so that you held your hand over your mouth as a soft giggle escaped you.

It was kind of cute to see Joe standing desperately between the two shelves, just unable to decide.

"I guess that's the way it is." , you smirked as you buried your hands in your jacket pockets and slowly walked along the shelf to make the wait a little more exciting.

In the background you could hear Joe muttering softly to himself as you looked at all the different sets.

It was really amazing what Lego had produced in the meantime for sets and especially the prices were sometimes quite a number for themselves.

"Honey?" you heard Joe ask a few minutes later, so you turned around and looked over at your boyfriend.

"Yeah?"

"I think I've decided."

You walked over to Joe and was quite excited to see which set he had decided on and would build them right at home with Joe.

"Which one did it turn out to be?"

Without saying a word, Joe held out the box containing the Chewbacca Lego figure to you.

In fact, you had actually known from the beginning that Joe would choose this figure, as he had been quite blown away when he had pulled it off the shelf.

"Please don't be disappointed" Joe started the sentence almost pouting, while he saw that you was not too enthusiastic.

"I'm not disappointed." , you replied truthfully and pressed a gentle kiss on your boyfriend's cheek to make it clear to him once again.

"But you were probably hoping it would be a different set, since it was already Star Wars last week..."

"It's okay, Joey.Really. You decided on the set and now we're going to build it right at home."

In response, Joe merely nodded, clearly seeming to wrestle with himself over whether he should actually take Chewbacca.

"You know, we'll take Chewbacca with us and you pick out a set for that too, okay? Then we'll both be happy," Joe suggested after a few minutes of deliberation, so you summarily agreed and went off in search of a set to take with you.

It took a few minutes before you found what you were looking for and came over to Joe with the box behind your back.

"Did you find anything?" , he asked as he lifted his eyes from his phone and looked at his girlfriend.

"Yeah, and I already have a really cool idea of how we're going to place this at home," you replied with a grin, holding out an flower set to Joe.

A grin formed on Joe's lips before he rolled his eyes slightly. It had somehow been clear to him that you had chosen the Lego flowers

"Please," you almost pleaded when you realized that Joe wasn't too keen on the idea. You put on your puppy-dog eyes and pulled a slight pout, which you knew Joe couldn't very well say no to.

And sure enough, it worked. Joe sighed softly before putting the phone in his pocket and then a slight grin formed on his lips.

"How could I ever say no to that face?"

"Woohoo!" , you exclaimed joyfully while pressing the box against you.

Joe pressed a feather-light kiss to y/n's forehead before taking her hand, fingers intertwined, and the two made their way to the checkout.

And you couldn't tell which of the two was happier with their Lego sets, because the two were positively beaming.

About twenty minutes later, you had made yourselves comfortable on the soft carpet in front of the living room table on which you now wanted to build your Lego sets.

A soft drink and a few snacks of your choice were also waiting for you.

While Joe was connecting his cell phone to the Bluetooth box, you were already opening the box of Lego flowers and pouring the contents onto the table.

You could hardly wait to assemble the colorful Lego bouquet and then place it in a fancy vase on your living room table where everyone could see it.

"So we're going to start with the flowers?" Joe noted with a grin as he sat down opposite and reached for the assembly instructions.

"Yes, you were allowed to buy Chewbacca, but that doesn't mean we have to build him first." You give your boyfriend a cheeky grin and then tear open the packaging of the components with the large number 1 on them.

"Then the poor thing will probably stay in its packaging for a while longer," Joe sulked almost dramatically, which made you start to laugh.

Sometimes your boyfriend was really childish. But this childlike nature was a special part of Joe that you loved so much.

Because of his childish nature, you would occasionally do things together that you had loved doing as children.

Even the Lego dates that you and Joe used to go on were more or less your joint highlight.

So not only could you build various sets together, but you could also get the Lego sets that your parents used to say no to.

"If you finish my flowers quickly, we can finish Chewbacca today," you try to motivate Joe, who looks down at all the little Lego pieces with his eyebrows drawn together.

"This is going to be a lot of work." The person opposite you grumbled slightly as he picked up a few small pieces and began to assemble the first flower.

"Don't be like that" You smiled as you kept handing Joe a suitable piece, certain that you would make faster progress this way.

A few hours later, you had managed to finish assembling both sets. While Joe's Chewbacca had now found his place on the sideboard under the TV, your flowers had found a special place on the living room table.

"I think I'm getting old. My muscles hurt from sitting on the floor all day" You were almost moaning as you began to massage your neck.

"My poor darling," Joe grinned as he put his arms around you and pulled you closer to him. "Then the next Lego dates will probably have to be canceled."

"Says the guy who last night was still secretly trying to circle countless sets in the Lego catalog that he still wants like a little kid."

In fact, Joe had been sitting on the sofa last night with a Lego catalog and a pen, circling some sets that he wanted to get later.

When you came into the living room, the quarterback had shoved the catalog under the sofa cushion in a panic, hoping you wouldn't discover it.

"You got me," your boyfriend sulked, causing you to grin wryly.

"Of course I did, but I saw that there were some good sets in there."

"So you're going to build them all with me?"

Joe lowered his eyes to you and looked at you almost hopefully.

"I will be. Luckily, we still have an incredible amount of time together in which to build various Lego sets."

#joe burrow x you #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow imagines #joe burrow #nfl imagines #nfl fic #nfl #nfl imagine #cincinnati bengals

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thatacotargirl · 2 days

Text

Shadows and Surprises (4)

Part 4 of Azriel x Reader fanfic! I hope you are all enjoying - please let me know your thoughts! I am going to try and post these chapters on Sundays from now on.

Summary: Azriel meets y/n at Rita's and spends a single night of passion with you before heading your separate ways. Only, the Mother had different ideas.

Warnings: pregnancy.

Tag list - @mirandasidefics @lilah-asteria @nyxbranwenn @nickishadow139 @dee-writes-smut @impossibelle @mybestfriendmademe @minnieoo @hauntedstudentobservationus @st4r-girl-official

Azriel's POV

Azriel had absolutely no idea how this dinner was going to go. Truth be told, he expected you to politely decline and to take your dinner in your bedroom, give yourself some time to adjust to the change of pace your life had taken so suddenly that day. You surprised him once again - but that's what you seemed to do to him. Surprise him. You surprised him by taking an interest in him at Rita's that night, allowing him to tentatively approach you and offer to buy you a drink. You surprised him with a baby, his child. You surprised him by allowing him to not only be part of his child's life so easily, as if you hadn't only known him for a few drunken hours, and in turn, to be part of his life. He wasn't sure that his emotions had really settled down and processed the day - but he felt, deep down, that he quite liked your surprising nature.

Azriel offered you his arm and walked you slowly to the dining room in a comfortable silence; although he felt your body tense as you both approached the door and heard the laughter and chatter behind. He gave you a look - an offer to turn back - but you took a deep breath and nodded towards the door. Azriel opened it, and everyone went silent.

As you walked towards the 2 empty seats on the table, Cassian bounced out of his chair and walked towards y/n, giving her a bear hug.

"How are you feeling, y/n? Are you sure you're not too tired?" he asked, glancing down at your stomach. You chuckled. Y/n had no idea what she was in for living here with him and Cassian - both quickly becoming Mother Hens to y/n and the unborn child.

Y/n laughed in response, giving Cassian a gentle shove on the shoulder. "I'm fine, Cassian, thank you". You had seemed to ease quite a bit with Cassian's presence - perhaps because you felt you had more than one person in your corner. For some reason, Azriel felt a pang of jealousy at how quickly Cassian was able to put you at peace. He pushed the feeling down and guided you by the elbow to your seat.

Mor, however, had other plans - bounding over to y/n and pulling her back up out of her chair and into a hug.

"It is so nice to meet you, y/n! Azriel had a lot to say about you after your little tusk that night post-Rita's", Mor winked. Azriel went bright red, but y/n only laughed.

"Clearly he had a lot more than just things to say", y/n replied, gesturing at her stomach. There was a brief, silent pause; and Azriel held his breath. The pause broke almost immediately,though, as the entire table bursting out into a fit of laughter at your joke. Azriel felt himself relax a bit into his chair, feeling the initial awkward atmosphere dissipating.

Amren didn't stand, instead holding up her glass in gesture to y/n. "Pleasure to meet you", she calls out, taking a long gulp of her drink. Y/n replied kindly, and took her seat at the table. The House produced platters upon platters and everyone dished themselves a plate.

Dinner went forward as uneventful as it could have been. Jokes were passed, at Azriel's expense, and y/n was questioned relentlessly by Mor about her pregnancy and the baby, but there was a comfortable aura in the room and that was all he could have hoped for.

"Is it a boy or a girl?", Mor asked, having dragged her chair around the table after the meal to sit in front of y/n, her hands resting on y/n's swollen stomach.

"I have no idea! Madja said it is impossible to know, but there are some potential indications. I had a rough first trimester, which Madja said is more like a girl - but I also get headaches a lot - which is more like a boy".

"Az, what do you think?", Mor asked, her hands not leaving the small bump.

"I don't mind as long as they are healthy", he replied, watching in awe as Mor placed her head against the bump to try and listen in. Azriel realised that Mor was touching the baby bump before he had and felt that surge of jealousy rear its ugly head once more.

"And that they have wings", Cassian grinned.

"Ah, they do have wings", y/n replied nonchalantly, not realising quite how important that fact would be for the 3 males sat at the table. They all exchanged big smiles, thinking about the day they would be able to take Azriel's son or daughter, their nephew or niece, out to the forest to learn how to fly. Y/n looked up and smiled in response.

"For a 50/50 chance, we got lucky then", Cassian said, raising his own glass upwards in thanks to the Mother. Y/n smiled at him, but Azriel didn't miss the slight glassy-eyed look she had, the way her smile faltered if only for a millisecond and, when she recovered it, the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

Azriel watched as Mor peppered y/n with more questions about pregnancy and the baby, and noticed as y/n's shoulders began to sag slightly with exhaustion. You had also noticed that Rhys was more withdrawn than usual, offering his input into the conversation less than he would normally. Since he had come back from under the mountain, you knew there was something he was holding back, but never wanted to push your brother more than he was comfortable with. You had let him know you were there for him, and would wait.

"I think it's time we head up for the night", he said, standing and offering a hand to y/n. He saw the grateful look in your eye as you accepted.

"Thank you for a wonderful dinner", y/n said, giving Mor, Cassian and Rhys another hug each and Amren a small wave before walking to the door.

"Tomorrow?", Mor called after them. Y/n turned to give Mor a nod, and walked up the stairs ahead of Azriel.

"What's tomorrow?", he asked.

"Mor has asked me to go shopping with her for some maternity clothes and perhaps some bits for the baby. I know we have months to go, but we can't be too prepared I suppose. Plus, she was so excited, I didn't have the heart to turn her down".

Azriel felt the pang again. He hadn't even placed a hand on the swollen bump where his unborn child was growing, and Mor was already taking you shopping for baby items?

"Can I join?", he asked, before he could stop himself. Y/n faltered on the stairs.

"Would you want to?".

"Of course I would, why would you think I wouldn't?".

Y/n looked at the floor, cheeks blushing a deep red. "I just didn't think you'd be interested in going shopping". Azriel could tell that wasn't the real reason, but the deepness of the red your cheeks had gone told him that you weren't comfortable enough to share the reason just yet.

"I'd like to come, if that's ok", he replied, placing a hand on y/n's lower back to gentle guide their direction back towards the stairs and to their bedrooms.

"Yes, I'd like that", y/n replied, face still a deep shade of crimson. "Thank you for tonight, and for everything Az, I really appreciate it".

"You're more than welcome".

When he reached y/n's door, Azriel didn't know the correct way to say goodbye. Does he hug you? Offer you a kiss on the cheek? The hand? High-five you? He opted for a light squeeze on your bicep.

"Shout if you need anything".

Y/n nodded and departed behind the bedroom door, leaving Azriel alone in the hallway.

Y/N POV

"Mor. No", y/n said, watching Mor pull a slinky emerald green dress from the rack.

"What?! It says it's maternity!".

Y/n couldn't even grace Mor with a response. The dress, if it could even be called a dress, was just lines of emerald green velvet ribbon which showed off more than it covered. A beautiful dress, but not an everyday maternity dress.

They had been shopping for hours now, Azriel in tow holding the bags, and y/n had begun to get tired. With a beautiful new wardrobe of maternity clothes courtesy of Rhysand's card, it had been a successful shop. They had looked at baby items and started a list of things you would need, but they hadn't picked up anything to buy today. You were looking for the perfect first item to buy your baby and hadn't quite found it.

"I think I need to call it a day, Mor", you say, struggling to pull yourself up off the store sofa. Azriel and Mor rush to your side, each taking an arm and helping you to your feet. You chuckle.

"If I am this bad at only 4 months, wait until I'm 8". Mor laughs, but Azriel looks at you with a fierce expression on his face.

"Then I will carry you".

You gape at him, but Mor only laughs at how serious Azriel's face was.

"Az, she will be fine".

Azriel didn't look the slightest bit convinced. He picked up all the bags and followed you and Mor out of the shop and towards the House of Wind. Mor winnowed up, taking the bags with her, whilst Azriel flew you - careful to mind your stomach. You had noticed his apprehension about your stomach and it made you uneasy. He almost seemed, apprehensive, of it?

Once upstairs, Mor kissed your cheek and winnowed home, leaving you and Azriel. You left the bags in the living room, too tired to deal with them now, and made your way to your bedroom. You had just taken your makeup off and got yourself into bed when you hear a knock at the door.

"Come in".

Azriel walks in, a tray in hand. He places it next to you on the bed, and you are delighted to see it brimming with delicious food and your indigestion tonic. You pat the space next to you on the bed, inviting Azriel to join, and tuck in. You notice him walk over slowly, almost as if giving you an out to change your mind and send him away, before he sighed and climbed carefully on to the bed next to you. He watched as you finished the food he had prepared and took a dose of your tonic, settling back on the pillows.

"How are you feeling?", he asked.

"Tired, I didn't realise how exhausting it was to grow a baby. Everything hurts all the time".

"What is hurting now?" concern lacing his voice. You sigh.

"My legs, my feet, my lower back, my shoulders. Turns out carrying around another small human does a number on you".

Without a word, Azriel pulls the covers down from your body and moves to sit at the end of the bed. Taking your legs and placing them in his lap. He starts to rub them and you let out a contented grunt. You stay like that, in silence, for a while - Azriel taking the time to release the pressure you felt from a day of walking around the shops.

"Az?", you ask quietly. He looks to you and raises a brow.

"Why haven't you touched the bump?".

He stills.

"I- I didn't want to upset you or offend you".

You stare at him. Upset or offend you? It's just as much his child in there as it is yours! Your face softens as you take in his, his eyes longingly looking at the swelling.

"You can, Az".

Azriel moves slowly to sit next to you again. You see his scarred hands shake as he places them on his legs, as if considering how to do this. You know there is a story there, a traumatic one, but you don't want to push Azriel to tell. You see him reach one hand out and gently place it on the centre of your stomach, his eyes glancing to you to make sure you are ok with it. You nod, encouraging him to continue. He reaches out the other and cups your stomach. He stays there a while, looking both content and unsure all at once, before he looks to you and smiles.

"Thank you".

Your heart almost breaks.

"Az, you don't need to thank me. This is your child. You can do this any time you want". He nods, his stoic Spymaster face back on as he returns to the other end of the bed and picks your legs back up.

"Keep this up, Az, and I'm going to fall asleep".

He grins at you - "that's the aim".

You give him a half-lidded smile as you feel your eyes forcing themselves shut and your body sinking into the bed.

Azriel POV

Azriel keeps up his massage until your breathing becomes slow and steady. He looks up to see you sleeping peacefully, your hair fanned out across the pillows. He smiles, and glances down at your bump, still uncovered by the duvet and peeking out of your pyjama top.

He still hadn't wrapped his head around the fact that you were here, pregnant, with his child. He didn't think it would sink in for quite some time.

Slowly, he moves himself up the bed towards you, careful not to wake you, and places his hands gently on the bump. Resting his head on the bed, he turns to face your stomach.

"Hi baby, I'm your dad".

#a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel #acotar fic #acotar azriel

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elryuse · 3 days

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Smutty Yandere professor Arin who takes Y/N TA under her wing

UNDER HER GUIDANCE

YANDERE PROFESOR ARIN X MALE READER

The cafe lights blurred as Arin leaned in, her voice a seductive whisper. "So, Y/N," she breathed, her lips brushing against his ear, "tell me, how badly do you want to explore the depths of this… devotion?"

His breath caught in his throat. Arin had always been a captivating professor, but tonight, under the dim lights, with the scent of wine swirling around them, she felt impossibly alluring. A dangerous thrill shot through him, a thrill he couldn't quite place.

"I…" he stammered, meeting her gaze. Her emerald eyes seemed to blaze with an unspoken intensity, a hunger that mirrored his own burgeoning desire.

"There's no need for words," Arin purred, her hand trailing down his arm, sending shivers dancing across his skin. Before he could react, her lips were on his, the kiss a delicious mix of forbidden passion and academic desperation.

He tasted wine, cherry lip gloss, and a hint of something wild, a possessiveness that sent a jolt through him. Arin's kiss wasn't tender, it was a claim, a brand seared onto his lips. He found himself responding with a fervor that surprised even him, his hands roaming her back, clutching the soft fabric of her dress.

As quickly as it began, the kiss ended, leaving them both breathless, desire warring with a sliver of unease. Arin's eyes were glazed, her breathing shallow. "See, Y/N," she whispered, her voice husky, "isn't this better than any classroom discussion?"

The thrill of the forbidden intoxicated him, momentarily drowning out the nagging voice in the back of his head. He nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from her. "Yes," he choked out, his voice thick with desire.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of stolen moments and hushed whispers. Arin became bolder, their meetings escalating from heated discussions to passionate encounters hidden in empty classrooms and dimly lit corners of the library. Y/N, once an innocent student, was now a willing participant in their twisted dance.

One evening, huddled in the stacks of the library, Arin traced a possessive circle on his chest. "Tell me, Y/N," she murmured, her voice laced with a dangerous possessiveness, "Do you ever think about anyone else?"

He hesitated, a flicker of Sarah, the bright new student, flashing across his mind. But the thought was quickly squashed by a wave of possessiveness instilled by Arin. "No," he lied, his voice firm.

"Good," she breathed, her grip tightening. "Because you belong to me, Y/N. Just as I belong to you."

The possessiveness chilled him, yet a part of him, warped by Arin's relentless seduction, felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. He was hers, and she was his, a forbidden pact sealed with stolen kisses and whispered promises.

Meanwhile, whispers of their "special relationship" began to spread through the campus. Sarah, ostracized by Arin's subtle manipulations, dropped the course. Other girls who dared to show Y/N any attention received failing grades or found themselves ostracized by their peers, thanks to Arin's behind-the-scenes machinations.

Y/N saw the fear in their eyes, the way they avoided him. A sickening realization dawned on him – he wasn't just drawn to Arin, he was trapped. Her love had morphed into a suffocating obsession, leaving him isolated and dependent on her.

He confronted her one night, his voice shaky. "Professor, this can't go on. We're crossing too many lines…"

Arin's face hardened, her emerald eyes flashing with a frightening intensity. "Lines are meant to be broken, Y/N," she hissed. "We are forging a connection, a beautiful, forbidden love."

He looked away, fear battling with a perverse sense of loyalty. He hated the control she wielded, the fear she instilled, yet the thought of leaving her terrified him. Arin had woven a web of obsession around him, and he was hopelessly entangled.

One rainy night, Arin presented him with a small velvet box. Inside, nestled on black velvet, lay a silver ring engraved with a single rose – the same brand that marred his back, a constant reminder of their twisted love.

Tears welled up in his eyes, a mix of fear and a warped sense of belonging. "Arin, I…"

"Don't say a word," she cut him off, her voice laced with a chilling possessiveness. "This is our forever, Y/N. You and me, bound by love and… devotion."

He slipped the ring on his finger, the metal cold against his skin. Looking into Arin's eyes, blazing with a terrifying love, Y/N knew He'd sealed his fate. The ring, a permanent reminder etched in silver, mirrored the brand on his back, a constant duality of desire and fear. Arin, victorious in her twisted game, reveled in his submission. Their "relationship" became a chilling performance. In public, they were professor and student, maintaining a facade of propriety while stolen glances and lingering touches spoke volumes to those who dared to look.

In private, the passion remained fiery, but a chilling undercurrent had settled in. Arin's possessiveness escalated. Any mention of his past life, his family, even the weather outside their bubble, was met with icy disapproval. He became her prisoner, not in a physical sense, but mentally and emotionally.

His grades remained exceptional, but the thrill of learning had been replaced by a constant need to please her. He began researching Victorian asylums, a morbid fascination sparked by Arin's increasingly erratic behavior. She'd lock herself in her office for days, emerging with wild theories about their connection, a twisted echo of literary themes they dissected in class.

One rainy afternoon, while rummaging through Arin's office for a forgotten book, Y/N stumbled upon a hidden drawer. Inside, nestled amongst student evaluations and research papers, lay a collection of photographs – each one a picture of a young woman, all with a striking resemblance to Sarah.

Panic clawed at his throat. Sarah, the first to fall victim to Arin's wrath, wasn't alone. Each woman, once a potential rival, had been ostracized or worse, ensuring Y/N remained solely hers. The chilling realization hit him – he wasn't her lover, he was her obsession, a twisted trophy in a macabre collection.

A desperate plan started brewing in his mind. He knew escape wouldn't be easy. Arin had him under her thumb, both through his warped affection and her academic authority. He started subtly reaching out, reconnecting with old friends through coded messages and anonymous emails.

One night, after a particularly heated argument fueled by Arin's suspicion of his newfound secretive behavior, Y/N saw his opportunity. Feigning sleep, he waited until Arin's breathing fell into a deep rhythm. Then, with a racing heart, he slipped out of bed, grabbing the incriminating photographs as evidence.

He navigated the silent house, every creak of the floorboards echoing his fear. Reaching the door, he fumbled with the lock, his hands slick with sweat. Just as he clicked it open, a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

Arin stood there, her face a mask of fury. In her hand, she brandished a syringe glinting menacingly in the moonlight. "Leaving so soon, my love?" she hissed, her voice laced with a terrifying calm.

Y/N's heart hammered against his ribs. "Professor," he stammered, "we can talk about this."

"Talk?" she snarled, the syringe inching closer. "There's nothing left to discuss. You're mine, Y/N, and you'll stay mine, even if I have to lock you away with me."

Terror choked Y/N, but a spark of defiance ignited within him. He lunged forward, knocking the syringe from her grasp. A struggle ensued, a desperate dance fueled by fear and obsession. The house echoed with the sounds of their fight until, in a desperate move, Y/N shoved Arin away with all his might.

She crashed against a bookshelf, books tumbling and scattering across the floor. A gasp escaped her lips, and Y/N, adrenaline coursing through his veins, saw his chance. He threw open the door and sprinted into the night, the chilling rain a welcome baptism as he washed away the remnants of Arin's twisted love.

He ran blindly, fueled by a primal desire to escape. The police would be contacted, the evidence presented. Arin would face consequences, hopefully. But the scars, physical and emotional, would forever be a grim reminder of the professor who loved too much, a love that imprisoned and nearly destroyed him.

As dawn painted the sky with streaks of orange and pink, Y/N finally stopped, his lungs burning, his chest heaving. He looked back at the looming silhouette of Arin's house, a dark stain against the lightening horizon. He wasn't sure if he had truly escaped, or if he would ever be free from the chilling melody of Arin's twisted symphony. The final note, though played, still resonated in the deepest corners of his soul.

#arin #oh my girl #oh my girl arin #choi yewon #kpop #yandere roleplay #yandere blog #yandere stories #yandere #kpop yandere #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #sexy content #apreciation post #update

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octuscle · 21 hours

Text

Hotel room: filthy chav tf

It was an imposition. An absolute imposition. Having to spend the night in a youth hostel was unbelievable. But in a triple room? Without your own bathroom? Using a communal shower room? That had to be a joke. Yes, his company had to cut costs. There was a new travel policy that banned five-star hotels and business class flights. All well and good. But a youth hostel?!?!?!?!! He called the travel agency and insulted his colleague in the worst possible way. She just replied dryly that everything else was fully booked because of the trade fair and that she had even written Alexander an e-mail asking if the booking was okay. And he had replied with a curt "yes". Unfortunately, there was nothing more she could do, he was still on the waiting list for two hotels. But if there was no answer by now…

Alexander moved into his room. It smelled like a lad's changing room in a community school on a council estate. Of course, he had no idea what it smelled like. But that's how he imagined the stench. Without greeting or acknowledging the teenager lying on the bed playing with his cell phone, Alexander went to the window and pulled it open. "Oi, did someone crap in yer head, mate? Shut that window, innit?" the chav yelled at him. "I don't understand a word you're saying," Alexander replied and began to unpack his suitcase. I don't know how the chav could live like this, he thought to himself. He needed order. He then changed into his bedding, which he saw as a further humiliation, and lay down on the bed. The chav was listening to music so loud that Alexander could clearly hear the bass. He found it more than annoying. But he tried to ignore it. He put on his headset and called his fiancée. Alexander assumed that the chav lying in the bed above him couldn't hear anything, as loud as he was listening to music. So he complained without a care in the world and blasphemed about the young man with the disturbed relationship to personal hygiene and the impossible haircut. "Honey, I have to stop, I have to get out of here and have lunch somewhere civilized." Alexander ended his phone call. He looked up. And he was looking at a dirty white sock.

"Oi, I'm Callum, but me mates call me Cal. So you call me Callum. Did ya just say my smell's botherin' ya? I thought posh gits like you love the scent of real man's feet." Alexander almost threw up. Without saying anything, he jumped up, grabbed his coat and left the room. He had a lunch date with an old school friend at a trendy steak restaurant. It was supposed to distract him and save the evening as much as possible. As he stood in the subway, he wondered what the devil had possessed him not to take a cab. It smelled almost as bad here as in his hotel room. Suddenly he realized that the smell was coming from his armpits. Damn, had he forgotten the deodorant this morning? The journey seemed like an eternity. People wrinkled their noses. My God, that was embarrassing. In the restaurant, he went to the toilet first, wet a towel, took off his shirt and jacket and wiped his armpits. In the stress, he didn't even notice that instead of a white microfiber undershirt with a V-neck, he was wearing a worn-out, yellowed fine rib undershirt. The waiter eyed him a little disparagingly as he brought him to his table. His friend was already sitting there and stood up to greet him. Alexander gave him a fist bump. His friend looked irritated and returned the greeting. "My best man, what kind of ghetto attitudes are these? At least it goes with your casual footwear." Alexander looked at the floor. He was wearing rather expensive-looking sneakers. And white socks. He stammered something about a suitcase that had gone missing and that he'd been a bit stressed. His friend grinned a little disparagingly and poured Alexander a glass of red wine.

The conversation was somehow wooden. Marcus told stories from their school days. But Alexander couldn't remember any of them. The wine was quite tasty, the steak was too rare for him, but he didn't dare complain. With lots of ketchup, it was fine. When the waiter asked if he should pour more wine, Alexander replied with his mouth full "Oi mate, gimme a big beer, yeah? And some mayo with them chips." The rest of the meal passed in silence. All you could hear was Alexander smacking his lips. And after he had finished, a loud and passionate burp. Marcus looked horrified at first. Then he laughed uproariously and burped at least as loudly. "Blimey, mate! That was a good one. Now off for a fag and a fart outside?" "You can proper bet on it, mate. Got a spare cig for us?".

Marcus and Alexander had to put their last few pounds together to pay. The waiter looked disgustedly at the stale bills. "You got a problem, mate? Our money not good enough for ya? What's it gonna take for a blowie, eh? Would ya prefer that?" Alexander could barely stop Marcus from starting a fight with the waiter. He waved for security. A few minutes later, the two chavs were thrown out the back exit.

The evening was still young. Alex called Cal to see if he would like to have a beer in the pub at the youth hostel and watch the game. Cal replied that he had just taken a punter up to the room and had to fuck him first. Blimey, Cal was always lucky. Mack suggested he stand by the mess hall exit. Maybe you could pick up a customer there too. Alex looked in his wallet. He was broke again. He could do with a few pounds. They had at least managed to scrounge two fags from a passer-by. The evening was off to a good start. And at some point it would end with a hot threesome in their room.

Pics found @maennersneakersockenfuesseskins and @belgiquecuir

#male tf #reality change #chav tf #straight to gay

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bunniesanddeer · 2 days

Text

My Little Light: Part One

This is a request! From @animeloveruwu1234

Alrighty, thank you!:)<3 So, I wanted to ask for a fluff request for Alastor x light! female doe reader meets him because her light shadow(I don’t know what to call it🙂‍↕️) likes his shadow. She meets him and gets so shy around him that it gets to the point that she faints every time he comes around her. Just toothrotting fluff!!:)

So this is actually part one of three! Sorry, I intended it to be two parts, but it was running longer than I was expecting. Part one is from MC's POV, Part two is Alastor, and Part three is smut, with no plot, so no one is going to miss anything if they can't/or don't like to read smut. :)

Pairing: Alastor x Doe!Reader

Warnings: Reader passes out twice, super early set up, next part focuses on fluff!

Word Count: 1,877

You slipped between demons on the busy sidewalk, twisting yourself this way and that way. You watched your little light friend stretch herself across the cracked pavement, flat expression twisting up in joy. With a smile, you followed her whims without much thinking, and found yourself in a calmer section of downtown. The strange being flattened across the wall beside you, and her eyes crinkled.

If anyone had asked you, when you were alive, how you would feel about a two-dimensional figure made of light, that acted like a shadow, following you everywhere in Hell, you would have been quite confused. Even now, after having lived in Hell for a few years, you didn’t completely understand your companion, or how she came to be. She could separate from you, leaving you entirely shadowless, but you still had some control over her. The light-shadow was autonomous, and yet you knew if you told her to do something, she would. You had taken to calling her Lyra in your head.

You leaned against the building, and watched her form flicker about as something caught her attention. Your ear twitched, and you watched hers follow suit. Suddenly, her shape wavered, and her head flipped in the other direction. Her excitement was evident in the way she suddenly stretched her body across the ground, and reached flat claws across the road, pointing at something you couldn’t see. With a small sigh, you push off from the wall, and make your way across the road.

“Whatever could have your attention,” you huff. Your head turns in each direction as you follow her pointing claws. Your ears swivel and twitch. Something in you is suddenly on high alert, and yet Lyra urges you to keep going. “If I get torn apart, I blame you entirely. You’ll get ignored for a week after I reform.”

Lyra ignores you, and crawls up a wall beside the door to a tailor shop. Her sharp grin stretches farther, and she keeps her eyes locked on the door.

“What are you doing? What’s got you so worked up?” You take a look around, and nothing seems out of the ordinary. And then your ears catch it; the subtle sound of static. Your heart starts pounding. You know what that sound means.

He had disappeared shortly before you landed in Hell, but the scary posters and warnings you constantly got from other sinners let you know to be wary. And then he had suddenly reappeared in the company of the princess six months ago. You had heard his voice on the radio, of course. Who hadn’t? His broadcasts were impossible to ignore. He had a charming voice and the kind of charisma that made him hard to forget. And that static. It followed his voice, his very presence like a heavy fog, blanketing everything around him. That thought clicked, and you realized what was going to happen only moments before it did.

The door to the tailor shop opened, a twinkling bell following the motion, and out stepped Alastor, The Radio Demon. You turned a harsh gaze to Lyra, who wasn’t even looking at the demon, but at his feet. You followed her gaze for only a second, and saw a writhing black shape in his shadow. With haste, you whipped your gaze away, and turned around, hoping that if you didn’t look at him, he wouldn’t notice you.

With heaving breaths you tried to focus yourself, and walk away, but Lyra squirmed, frowning at you. She clawed at the ground, and warped her form to gather closer to where you knew Alastor was still standing. Suddenly she tugged harshly, chasing something you couldn’t see, and pulled you with her. You didn’t know she could do that! At the tug, your hooves struggled to make contact with the ground, and you started to tumble backwards.

“Ahh!” You let out a harsh cry, and internally braced for hitting the harsh concrete. Instead, however, you were caught by warm, sturdy arms. You let out a huff, and went to thank the person. You looked up and said, “Ah, thank you-” and finally caught the gaze of your savior. Alastor. Alastor The Radio Demon. Alastor The Radio Demon just caught you. Holy shit. Your eyes widen, and your ears pin back. “Oh,” you mutter, and the world goes black.

Your hearing comes back to you first. Two voices are whispering to each other, and the gruffer voice’s volume picks up just enough for you to hear, “-you have to admit that it’s suspicious. You know he has been acting strange ever since he came back from licking his wounds. Why would he suddenly help some rando-”

The other voice, lighter and with a twinge of something like hope, responds, “I don’t know, Vaggie, but isn’t this a good sign? When was the last time he did something without being prompted? Something that wasn’t obviously for his own gain?”

You hear the other person sigh, and it is then that you decided to try and peel your eyes open. It takes several blinks to get used to the redness of the room. Eventually, your sight clears, and you search the room for the people who were just talking. Across from you, on a couch much like the one you’re lying on, are two women. One has gray hair, and is looking up at who you immediately recognize as Princess Charlie.

“Uh, hello?” You call, trying to gather their attention. Charlie turns her head wickedly fast, and her face is split by a happy smile as she hops up from the couch.

“Oh yay! You’re awake!” You gather yourself, sitting up and removing your legs from the couch as you watch her nearly hop in her excitement. “I have so many questions, but first! Are you okay? Al said you passed out.”

At the mention of Alastor, the blood drains from your face. You are absolutely not okay, but it also seems that he helped you after your embarrassing debacle earlier, so you just whisper, “Uh, I’m okay.”

She squeaks, and then sits next to you. “So, how’d you meet Alastor? He was super vague!”

“Honestly?” You take a glance at the other woman, who has her arms folded, and is watching with a wary gaze. “I was walking down the street, following my companion, and she dragged me over to this tailor. I wasn’t really thinking about much, but then out comes Alastor!” You throw up your arms, disbelief lacing your tone. “And she’s just kicking and clawing her way over towards him, and she trips me! And then he caught me. And I passed out as soon as I made eye contact.”

You rub at your head, shame filling you, rising with the heat in your face. You feel so silly.

Charlie lets out a little giggle, and then asks, “Where’s this companion?”

You purse your lips, then take a glance at the women again. They’re fine, probably. Right? You internally shrug, and then wave your hand; out pops Lyra, her white form shimmering across the carpet.

“What the hell,” the other woman says. She gives you a strange look. “Do all deer demons have these? Alastor has the same damn thing, it just looks like an actual shadow.”

You frown. Someone else had this kind of companion? Alastor had this kind? Confusion floods you, so you give Lyra a curious glance. She responds with a simple toothy grin. “Is that why you were chasing him?”

Lyra’s shape flickers and warbles. She grins wider. Holy shit. She tripped you, trying to hit up another fucking shadow. What the hell. “What the fuck, Lyra.” Her shoulders and grin shake, in a mockery of laughter. You roll your eyes, waving your hand, and she disappears.

With a palm to your head, you mutter to yourself. “What the hell is my life. Please tell me this won’t happen again.” You look up at Charlie, sheepishly. “Please tell Alastor I said thanks. I’m gonna go to my apartment and hide there for forever.” You stand and whip your pants awkwardly. “Thanks again. It was, uh, nice to meet you. Bye.”

You waver on weak legs, and go to leave the strange sitting area, when you hear him.

“Well, dear, why don’t you tell me yourself?” He’s sitting at the bar you failed to notice before. One ankle is propped on the other knee, and he’s holding a newspaper. His gaze finds yours, a sly smile on his face.

In shock, you let out a bleat, and collapse.

Alastor’s smile shrink, just a touch, and he turns his gaze to the two women that are conscious. “As you can see, I had nothing to do with that.”

Later that day, you’re propped up on the couch, and Alastor is leering at you from the accent chair across from you. His smile is wide and smug, and his eyes don’t stray from your form. His shadow companion, the one Lyra might’ve been chasing, is flickering in and out of view behind him. Its smile is just as wide, and it sends shivers down your spine. Every once in a while, the static that surrounds Alastor, something your brain struggles to understand, even in Hell, surges. Your ears prick and swivel every time, and it’s starting to give you a headache.

The two of you spend a time merely staring at each other. Your chest aches at the idea of trying to speak up. There are a lot of factors contributing to this, but you really don’t know what to say to the Overlord, especially Alastor. He’s just so intimidating, and you’re, well, you. Charlie and Vaggie are sitting on the other couch, whispering to each other. You can just barely hear them talking, but it’s drowned out by Alastor’s presence.

You gulp down the spit that is slowly accumulating in your mouth, and then your mouth feels far too dry. The cotton feeling makes you scrunch up your face, and you force your eyes to wander to the strange circus themed patterns on the wallpaper. Alastor’s eyes are too much.

Lyra takes the near silence as an opportunity to pop up. She slithers her form over to Alastor’s shadow, and you watch on in horror. You desperately want to say something, especially as Alastor’s eyebrows raise in surprise. Lyra doesn’t even look back at you as she reaches her hands out to the shadow, and grabs. Alastor’s shadow makes a strange noise, and it makes you shrink in on yourself. Alastor is gonna kill you. You had never expected to get any attention from an Overlord, and now one, (that was so similar to you, something you’d been searching for), was going to kill you.

“Aw. It seems our little companions like each other,” He says, instead. Your eyes widen, and you stare in shock. “Well, my dear, it seems we will just have to spend more time together.”

He looks like that cat that caught the canary, and your mind is on high alert. There has to be more to this, and you aren't sure how to feel. But then his smile softens, and you can’t help but feel excited. Where will The Radio Demon lead you?

Taglist: Current List: @girl-nahh-two @numetalnerd2007 @justchillingandhavingfun @alastor-simp @thonethatflies620 @lemonyboy97 @fairyv-ice @alastorssimp @wen01203

Thank you for reading! I really appreciate it! I will have the next part out soon, and some of my other works to follow, or just before. We had some shenanigans occur today, so I'm a little bummed. I'll try and get it done thugh, no worries!

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #bun's short fics #alastor fanfiction #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #bun answers requests

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dsireland86 · 13 hours

Text

Sunburn

Warnings*** smut, language, a little angst below the cut

TAGS: @shilohrosechicken, @pathion, @philomenie

Sunburn

“Shit baby, that fucking hurts!” Noah yelled at me.

He writhed in pain as I applied the cool aloe to his shoulders that were burning red from days in direct sunlight. I told him to keep the black button-up shirt on the entire set so this wouldn't happen, but he didn’t listen. His ego was too loud and in the end he did what Noah wanted to do. Now he was suffering the consequences. I’ll admit that I did feel a bit sorry for him, especially when seeing the small sun blisters that were visible even through the ink of his tattoos, but now I'd had enough of his whining and piss-poor attitude. “Just shut-up,” I chided, nudging the side of his head with my elbow. “And quit whining. It's just aloe.”

I squeezed more of the sticky clear stuff out of the aloe leaf and lathered Noah’s burnt skin with it.

“God- fucking- bless, woman! Gentle!”

Sighing, I lowered one hand and placed the back of the other one on my forehead, giving him my best death glare.

“You’re making this so freaking impossible, Noah!”

He crossed his arms and threw his head back with closed eyes.

“It fucking hurts, Y/N,” he seethed.

“I know it does, baby, but that’s not my fault. I told you,”

His head flew up, eyes wide. “Don’t you dare say “I told you so”.”

Hiding my grin, I lowered my head, closing my eyes, and taking a deep breath.

“Whatever you say, Noah.”

I was over this already. I was so tired, drained from all the heat, the running around, the back and forth, and the constant bickering between me and Noah in the past three days. I wanted to pass out and sleep until Christmas.

Noah pinched the bridge of his nose then took my hand, and placed a soft kiss on the top of it.

“I’m sorry, okay. Can you please try to be more gentle?”

His big brown eyes pleaded with me.

“That's more like it,” raising an eyebrow as I kissed his forehead. He wrapped his arms around one of my thighs and placed a soft kiss on my belly, making my insides flutter.

“You’re too sweet to him, Y/N. I'd lather that shit up and slap it on him,“ Jolly admitted over my shoulder as he walked by. “He’s being a fucking pussy about it.”

“Fuck you, Jolly,” Noah barked.

“Whatever Noah,” Jolly chuckled, sitting down in the chair across from his best friend, staring heavily at him.

“You should have kept the shirt on like Y/N said. She knows these kinds of things, Noah.”

Matt slipped his opinion in, giving me a wink. I smiled, tucking the loose hair that had fallen behind my ear.

Biting my tongue to keep myself from saying how I was really feeling, I continued to gently apply the aloe to Noah’s skin. But the more I thought about how he was acting and how he'd been making me feel the last few days, I was going to let the truth spill out.

“You know what, it’s fine Matt.” I wiped my hands on my pants, throwing the aloe leaf in the trash.

“We all know how Noah can be a stubborn, hard headed ass sometimes. He deserves what he gets.”

I leaned back against the counter next to the trash can and folded my arms over my chest, staring hard at the floor. I knew I crossed a line with Noah, but I didn't care anymore. I was done feeling hurt. Quickly glancing over at Noah, I found him watching me, eyes glued to my face with a look of shock. His hands, still wrapped in tape, gripped the sides of his chair and he was still as stone.

“What the fuck did you just call me?”

I could tell what I'd said caught him off guard because the tone of his voice was sheer surprise.

“You heard me, I know you did.”

“No, I'm sorry, no, I didn't. I'm a little hard of hearing in this ear,” he lied, pointing to his left ear and rising out of his chair. He started unwrapping his hands, balling up the tape, and tossing it in the trash as he walked over to me. He narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw so hard his cheeks hollowed.

Noah could be very intimidating when he wanted to be, with his 6 '3, monstrously toned body, but I knew he’d never, ever hurt me. He was just in a mood; a picking, fighting mood that I was trying really hard to overlook.

With a deadpan expression, Noah and I had a stare down, waiting to see who would look away first.

“If you don’t tell me what you said, Princess, I might just have to take you somewhere quiet and fuck that pretty mouth of yours until I get it to come out,” Noah threatened, engulfing my entire body in deep arousal that went right between my legs. His lips brushed against my jaw line, sending chills down my spine the moment he leaned over and whispered in my ear.

“And when I fill it with my cum, making you drink every bit of me, maybe you’ll think twice before using it for something else other than me.” His eyes were dark with lust and drinking me shamelessly. Holy fuck. I was so turned on. The smug look on his face made my knees buckle and the ache between my thighs burned like a raging fire, bringing me closer to the edge. All Noah needed to do was take me to that quiet place he spoke of and do whatever he had to do to push me over.

His long tattooed fingers wrapped around my chin forcing me to look at him.

“Is that what you want, Y/N? You want me to make you pay for all the sass that pretty mouth of yours likes to spill? You want me in your mouth?”

His voice was low and deep, the raspiness from all the yelling and screaming on stage still present and I was quivering from his touch alone.

“Answer me,” he demanded. His penetrating gaze was slowly undressing me and I was gladly letting him do it.

I nodded. Slowly.

His fingers gripped my chin tighter and thankfully I had enough leverage to look down and see just how turned on he was by our little exchange. He was so hard for me and just as ready as I was.

“Fuck me,” he breathed as a wide grin spread over his lips.

I was probably going to pay for what I was about to say because it would be the force to drive Noah over the edge, but that’s what I wanted.

“Gladly,” I whispered, watching his fixed stare melt away.

A deep rumbling growl fell from his lips and before I knew what was happening, Noah picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, the pain and discomfort of the sunburn quickly forgotten. I squealed and kicked my feet, demanding he put me down with slaps to his back.

“I swear to God if you don’t put me down Noah, I’ll,”

“You’ll what, Princess?”

“I will pinch you! Everywhere my fingers can reach!”

That got his attention and he lowered me down faster than he’d picked me up.

He was breathless and I was losing my composure over how fucking hot he looked right now. All my defenses were down; he knew that.

“Why are you such an ass?”

“Why are you such a bitch?”

My eyebrows arched.

“You started this!”

He smirked.

“Did I? Are you sure about that,” he questioned, making perfectly good eye contact with me.

My brows furrowed in confusion.

“You know you did!”

“Are you sure?”

The way Noah's body moved closer, barely brushing against mine but making the tender flesh around my nipples and entrance tingle, pleading for him to touch me, was making me lose sight of my frustration and how irritating he'd been.

“You sure it wasn’t you and the way you were standing off to the side of that stage, all fucking hot and sweaty, soaking wet for me between those fucking thighs of yours?” Noah cocked his head to the side, reaching over and running a finger down between my breasts, hooking its tip over the front of my shirt and pulling me closer. “Those thick, warm thighs that hold me so well and let me kiss and bite them until I can taste the sweet juices that start to drip down the second I do this.” Noah slipped his hand down the front of my leggings so fast, placing his fingers between the warmth of my folds and slid his finger inside me as he shoved me up against the wall. “Fuck Noah!” I snapped when the back of my head hit the wall. But I could no longer feel anything other than the erotic way his finger was working me up to that edge I was so desperately wanting. “Look at you panting and needy already. Look what I can do to you just by a few words,” Noah teased, inserting another finger in me, knuckle deep, and moving in and out of me faster. “You're so filthy wet for me, Princess,” pushing my legs further apart with his knee before planting sloppy nibbled kisses on my neck. His word choices made unsubtle moans fall from my lips and I threw my head back, locking eyes with Noah, watching his face as he worked to bring me to that sweet release I'd been hungry for all day. Shamelessly, I grinded on his fingers that pushed further in me each time he pulled them back and back in. And then when he found that spot I couldn't hold back the scream that filled my throat.

“Uh, fuck Noah,” clenching my teeth and hitting him in the shoulder as my one hand clamped down on his arm while the other one covered his hand that had his fingers up in me. “God I fucking hate you sometimes,” I claimed, between a cry and a moan. “No you don't, you just like to think you do, Princess,” grinning and breathing a quick laugh before sinking his lips into mine and shoving his tongue in my mouth. It was wet and sloppy, but I welcomed it. I wanted all of Noah. Every last drop. “I hate you Noah,” I said again, his name coming out more as a moan than anything. His laughter echoed off the walls of the hallway as did my cries of pleasure. “I love you, baby, every fucking part of you.” I took his face in between my hands and frantically kissed him like I was terrified he might just slip away. The muscles in my stomach began to tighten and the all too familiar heat pooling in my back and between my thighs was the only warning I needed. It never failed; Noah knew exactly how to use his fingers to make me forget ever being mad or upset with him. “Right there, baby oh fuck don't stop,” I begged him, grabbing his arms again. Noah worked me faster and harder until my orgasim hit me so hard he had to throw his hand over my mouth to keep my quiet. Noah was laughing. ‘I love how loud you get. It lets me know I'm doing my job correctly.” I was completely out of breath and once my body relaxed, I was able to fully look at Noah. He slid his fingers slowly out of me and brought them to his face, smelling them before slipping them into his mouth sucking. “Mmm, I fucking love how you smell, how you taste.” He pushed his body into me, pinning me between him and the wall. We slowly kissed, tongues slipping and sliding together, and fingers and hands entwined.

“You had me pretty worked up on stage earlier. All I could think about was you and the way you fuck, the way you cum for me.” Noah slipped his hand behind my head and brought our faces closer together nudging our noses together. I ran my hands down his neck and chest, over the ink written stories his body told.

“You really wanna fuck me, don't you,” he chuckled in between our kisses.

“Yes, I do,” mumbling while gripping his shoulders with no regards to the sunburn and if I was hurting him.

“I want to drink you like you threatened me. I want you in my mouth,” admitting fearlessly. I gazed up at him only to find him staring as if he was ready to consume me.

Noah lowered his forehead to mine, placing a soft kiss on my nose.

Suddenly I was being yanked down the hall and tossed to a room at the far end of the hall where Noah was sure we’d be entirely alone. He slammed the door closed and locked it, before turning to look at me. I couldn't wait for him to move. I needed him to know how badly I wanted him. Closing the gap between us, I grabbed Noah by the front of his pants and quickly undid the tie knot. “Slow down, Princess, I'm not going anywhere.” I smiled at him as his pants fell to the floor, revealing his hard cock that was ready and waiting for me to taste. My mouth was watering already from just the thought.

“Are you ready? I have no intention fucking your mouth softly.”

The muscles in my stomach tightened as the coiling tension continued to build up.

“I don't want you too,” I replied. I gave him a smirk as he pulled me into him, kissing me so hard that it took my breath away. My hands found the waistband of his boxer-briefs, yanking them down until his cock sprang free, revealing its beautiful self to me. I groaned the second I saw it and instantly took the long, thick, hard shaft into my hand and began to stimulate it more than it already was.

“Oh God, Baby,” Noah moaned, sucking air through his teeth and throwing his head back. “Fuck, that feels so fucking good,” he whispered under his breath. I gripped him harder, working him up the faster I moved my hand back and forth. “Is this what my boy needed,” I whispered, rubbing my thumb over. his tip. Noah let out a loud moan, throwing his hands on my arms and squeezing them. “Fuck yeah it is,” he breathed try to keep himself together. “You want to cum already, don't you?’

Noah released a slight whine, looking down at me.

“I wanna cum in your mouth,” he stated unapologetically.

I grinned and began to lower myself, feeling the pressure of his hinds pushing me quicker to my knees. Noah’s cock was beautiful and having it in my mouth always made me feel prideful; like I owned him. I did just like he owned me, and didn't want it any other way.

Slowly, I dragged my tongue up his long shaft, feeling the ridges and crevices that were the culprits of my many orgasims and wrapped my mouth around the thickest part of him to satisfy the hunger I'd had for days. I could hear Noah's breathing grow louder and heavier, and when I gathered him in my hands to keep him still, his hands found the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my hair. I sucked him harder, tasting the saltiness of his precum on the tip of my tongue as he pushed my head further into him until the tip hit the back of my throat, making me gag.

Noah, lightly laughed, pulling me back by my hair.

“That's it Princess, gag on it, let me fuck your mouth until your eyes water.”

He moaned loudly, no longer caring who could hear as I swirled my tongue around him, letting my spit spill out all over him.

“That's it, fuck me baby, fuck my cock with that pretty mouth of yours.” His grunts and growls grew louder as he continued to buck his hips into my mouth. It pleased me knowing I could bring this kind of pleasure to Noah. He deserved it; despite how much he whined and pouted and was a pain in my ass. I loved him and would do anything he asked me to do.

“You suck me like a damn dream, Y/N,” he grunted. “So fucking greedy for this dick down your throat, Princess. I'm so fucking gone for you,” he moaned louder, tugging at the roots of my hair.

I let Noah continue to fuck my mouth at an erratic speed. I gripped his thighs with as much strength as I could manage, holding him still so he wouldn't gag me anymore. I was engulfed in the sensual wet heat that was a combination of pleasure and pain, lost in the feeling of him surrounding me.

“That's it, Princess, fuck yes, right there, use your tongue, oh god!”

Noah’s praises fell from his lips like rain, hydrating every part of my body, my mind, even my very soul. “Look how you're fucking taking every inch of my me like a goddess, holy fuck Y/N!” Noah's voice was getting louder and his thrusts were getting sloppier. I couldn't see his expression but I imagined he had his hands up in his own hair, watching me work his cock until he came. “Shit, baby I'm close!”

Noah's breathing increased, his hips were starting to go limp, and with the consistent twitching of his cock against my tongue, I knew he was close.

“God- dammit Y/N you're making it, I fucking can't, shit baby I'm gonna cum, fuck, I'm cum,” and without anymore warning, Noah let go, spilling his warm salty seed in my mouth. It hit the back of my throat like a bullet, forcing me to swallow most of it, while some spilled down my chin.

I collapsed, my jaws sore and I was out of breath, sitting on my knees and letting the taste and feeling of him pass before I could do anything else. Noah sat down next to me, looking just as worn out as I felt. But we weren't finished. In fact we were just getting started.

“I don't know where the hell that came from, but I feel like I should get you mad at me more often.” We looked at each other and chuckled. His sweetness was back, and it made me want to climb up in his lap and wrap my legs around him. I brushed the hair out of his eyes and kissed him slowly.

“When are you going to stop being so mean to me?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he smirked, slipping his hands under my shirt and running them up my back.

“Yeah, I figured.” I lowered my head into his chest and breathed in his scent of what smelled like the ocean and salt.

“I'm sorry. I do get mean when I get stressed out don't I?”

“Mmmmhmmm.”

We sat in a brief silence.

“What can I do to make it up to you?” His fingers had already undone the clasp to my bra, but was waiting for permission to continue.

“You already have. I’m good now.”

He lifted my face.

Noah’s eyes shifted to my lips, making him lean in and take my bottom one between his teeth, sucking it lightly. Then our mouths met and for a few seconds we kissed, relishing in the feeling.

“Sugar, I've developed a taste for you, now,” he began to softly sing.

“Are you seriously singing Sleep Token to me right now?” I laughed, pushing Noah on the chest.”

“My arms keep you in the room, barely let you move, show me what to do.” His voice rang out in my ear as he lifted my shirt and pulled off, then removed his own.

“Do you wanna see how far it goes? Do you wanna test me now my Love?”

Noah’s brown eyes bore into mine, releasing the feral intentions he'd been hiding.

“Well do you,” pulling down the straps to my red laced bra and planting soft kisses on my collar bone, with his warm breath gliding over my skin. His hands ran up my neck, gently pushing my head back and his lips found their target; sucking, biting, and sliding all over.

“I need to cum inside you Y/N. I want to see me spill out of you and down these fucking hot thighs of yours,” gripping my legs and tugging me into him until I felt his swollen cock against my entrance.

“I want you to, too,” I breathed, running my hands through his hair and grabbing it at its end. He seethed as he reached behind me and pulled my leggings and underwear completely off.

“Hang on.” Noah paused, sliding me off him, but staying on his knees. “I just want a taste,” he admitted, grinning up at me before forcing my legs apart and lowering his mouth to my wet core. Out of impulse, I tilted my pelvis up towards him as an invitation and heard a deep, subtle growl escape him. He swiped his finger through my wetness, coating his finger with it, and then dived in, licking and lapping up every drop he’s made me create for him. His warm breath and the feeling of his tongue and lips circling my clit made me shamelessly moan his name louder than before.

“God, you taste so fucking good,” he mumbled, and I almost came for him then, but he pulled away, leaving me empty and whimpering.

“Don’t worry, Princess, I’m not finished yet,” Noah promised, removing his pants entirely this time then sitting back down.

“Come here,” he demanded, pulling me into his lap and lining himself up with my opening. We both looked down and watched him enter me, the feeling of immediate fullness engulfing all my senses. Noah held me as close to his chest as possible as we slowly but savagely fucked eachother, knowing this was out of pure lust and desire.

We went faster, Noah grabbing my hips and pushing my clit down harder on his rigid cock. I could feel his pulsing veins, naked inside me, filling me to the point of making me cum again. I clenched tightly around him, digging my nails into his shoulders and biting him.

“Not yet, Baby. I’m not finished with you yet,” he growled, moments after the noises coming out of him were so intoxicating me that I never wanted him to stop.

He pulled out, flipping me over onto my knees, pushing my face and chest down to the floor, but lifting my ass up closer to his dick.

“You know I love you right, Princess,” he grunted, pressing his large hand to the middle of my back.

“Yes, Noah, I know you love me,” anxiously waiting for what he was about to do next.

“Good, because I’m going to fuck you like I don’t,” and with those words, he slammed into me, grabbing my hips and pulling me and pushing himself deeper and deeper into me with each aggressive thrust.

“God, fucking,” I tried to catch my breath, but it was impossible.

“Noah!” I cried the harder he fucked himself in and out of me digging nails into my hips.

“I want to ruin you, Princess,” Noah barked through gritted teeth, rutting against me at an relentless pace, stretching me with a hint of pain. “I want to damage you until all you know inside you is the shape of my dick inside the walls of your pussy that’s mine.” I didn’t hold back my screams for more or cris of how good it felt. I wanted everyone to know I was Noah’s and how well he could satisfy me and my needs.

I wasn’t going to last much longer; I told Noah that. My knees and elbows were sore, and I was losing all composure.

“Tighten around me then, baby, let me feel you,” Noah said, leaning down and letting his thumb find my clit. He wasn't gentle either as he encircled it, hips still thrusting in and out of me. “Cum for me Y/N. I know you want to. Cum so I can fill you up!” He hit my spot with the perfect rhythm, pulling a string of cures from me.

“Don’t fight me, Baby. Don’t fight how much you fucking want to.” Noah was right. For some reason I was fighting, but with his last words and the pressure of his hand wrapped tightly around the back of my neck, pressing me hard into the floor, I let go and almost instantly, after my legs pressed tighter around him, I came with a sharp cry, my entire body shuddering around him. Noah followed soon after, his cock pulsing inside me until we were both spent and gasping for air.

“Holy fucking shit,” Noah said, breathlessly. I collapsed to the floor, my entire body flat. I was shaking, overstimulated by what I’d just experienced and couldn’t form a functioning thought for anything.

A loud knock on the door startled us both, and I jolted up, running into Noah’s chest. He threw his black tank to me quickly, and I slipped it on right after slipping on my undies.

“Yeah, what is it,” Noah called out, voice raspy and dry.

“Hey, uh if you two are done making your porno, Matt wants us all together for a quick update before we head out.”

Noah and I could hear the amusement in Jolly’s tone and also the other two voices right outside the door. I was instantly embarrassed. Noah caressed my cheek with his finger, ensuring me he wasn’t.

“Yeah, give us a few minutes and we’ll be out,” Noah answered, staring into my eyes before kissing me deeply.

“Alright. Hey, how’s the sunburn now?”

“Fuck you, Jolly,” Noah yelled.”

A roar of laughter filled the outside, shaking my head as I finished dressing.

“You sounded really good too, Y/N. At least Noah knows what he’s doing,” Jolly cackled, knowingly getting under Noah’s skin.

“Oh my, will you all just quit already!” Noah yelled again.

He looked at me and I shrugged, realizing there was no point in denying anything. Noah always knew what he was doing. Especially when it came to me.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian one shot #noah sebastian fanfiction

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schwarzkatje · 16 hours

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abby x chubby!reader - a very self indulgent scenario

warning: just so you know, this contains obviously mentions of descriptions regarding body parts so if this is a trigger i advise you don't read this.

i believe abby to be one of those butches who absolutely go feral for fuller, chubbier women.

this goes hand in hand with my previous headcanon/scenario in which i explored abby's breeding kink. because once you gain weight and your breasts gets bigger, your thighs become plushier and your stomach forms that slightly hanging portion of skin adorned in your frilly and feminine dresses, abby is ashamed to admit to even herself the undeniable effect she experiences.

she doubts if what she is doing is really offensive to you because she wonders whether this can fall into the category of objectification. therefore, abby has to mentally remind herself to not be a creep and to divert her gaze from you.

her thoughts are at constant fight as one part of herself blames a morbid perversion that has to be kept on check, but just as the other part sketches the idea of it being nothing but an harmless preference in her partners.

that being said, the semblance of self control that she had built with such an effort completely shatters when you two actually interact with each other. your inclination for shirts and dresses that showed your soft chest in just the perfect way to make abby's head spin is the cherry on top of this insane obsession she has to continuously push back.

it really doesn't take much for abby to have images flashing in her head displaying her taking one of your breasts in her hand and the other under the torturous treatment of her tongue and teeth, responsible for the purple love bites scattered all over your upper body.

following suit, the scenario alone of you on your back as abby spreads your legs and brings them to yourself, bending you in half and thus highlighting the delicious rolls of your stomach causes a wet patch to form in her underwear and an undetectable twitch of her legs, squeezing to maintain the facade of a normal person who doesn't get turned on as easily as an hormonal teenager would.

one day you two are sitting together and it pains abby to not be able to handle looking at you without the need to shy away and focus on anything that isn't you. and if she manages to avoid the sight of you, your laugh and the touches you give her are daggers piercing through her shield. she is aware of how awkward she actually acts and how impossible it would have been for you to not notice at some point.

when you place your smooth hand above her own – which abby had put on her knee – her breath halts and before she can apply some rationality she turns to you, finding you are closer than her senses had detected.

your eyes are so big and innocent and full of joy and... seducing, she observes.

"abby..." despite your firm gaze, her name comes out of your mouth as a whisper capable of making her hand on the knee grip it forcefully, not minding that this is definitely giving her off.

"i've been wanting to ask you this for quite some time," you unforgivably continue "but why do i feel like we're growing apart?" the content your inquiry is that of an unspeakable sorrow and fear of losing a dear person, but the tone in which it is asked exudes a neediness for something beyond simple reassurance. you bite your lips as abby is speechless before your question and your vicinity – what in the hell is happening? is she imagining things like she always does?

her attempt at assembling a sentence proves to be a failure when all you can hear is something along the lines of "no", "of course not", without any addition of the reason behind that.

"i wouldn't be here with you right now were it the case," is the best she manages to say as she tries to laugh it off with a shy grimace feigning a confidence that is long gone the moment you are in her presence.

"but then why are you always so stiff when i hug you? you don't even come up with ideas for what to do together like we used to," your heartbeat quickens, dwelling in an uncertain place between genuine hurt and sinful arousal for abby's shyness and difficulty in approaching you.

"i- i haven't really noticed anything different, maybe it's just that i've been busy but i'm not avoiding you, i mean–" she is cut short by your voice interrupting her and your face inching closer and closer to the point where she can see the shape of your lips with the corner of her eye.

"do i make you uneasy, abby?" and why do you have to lean forward and have your breasts already tightened by your corset invade her visual field. "and to think i've been wearing this for you," now your knee is touching hers, your dress leaving your thighs exposed the more you draw near, "hoping you would take it off," what on earth— "or, even better, you would have fucked me in it..."

what kind of absurd dream is she in?

#abby x y/n #abby x fem!reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x you #abby x reader #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson

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itsabouttimex2 · 18 hours

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Y’know how reader is stuck as a monkey in the Yan monkiefam posts, what if reader somehow sneaks off the mountain and stumbles upon macaque. Macaque gets a specific vibe from the mysterious monkey, so he takes it as his own. Monkey reader is trying to communicate to macaque on how to transform back, but either due to lack of understanding or macaque not wanting reader to turn back, reader is still a monkey much to their dismay. Meanwhile Monkiefam is panicking and looking everywhere for reader. This could be seen as a part 3 to the Yan monkiefam posts with an added platonic Yan macaque.

How would you write this scenario? Sorry if it’s long, I started rambling a bit lol. I really like your writing and was hoping you would write something similar to this, I love platonic Yan and you stuff really caters to me. Thank you🩷🩷

Monkiefam: Part Three

Sable Savior

(Part Zero) (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

(💜💜Post one-hundred, huh? Feels good to have gotten here! My ask box has been wiped, and is open again! Character x character requests are now allowed! 💜💜)

Monkeys don’t make for good pets. They’re cute, sure. They’re funny and interesting creatures that are worthy of study. But it’s impossible to raise them properly.

And it’s impossible to obtain one ethically.

Either the mothers are shot to death in the wild and the babies are ripped from their still bodies, or they’re kept in horrid conditions and forcibly bred again and again, having their babies torn from them after only a few days or weeks.

All for a cute pet that will be dumped in a few years. Monkeys don’t stay cute, after all. They grow out of the clothes you put them in, grow out of the training you put them through, grow from cute “living dolls” and into wild, fanged animals all their own.

Once they’ve shed their youthful looks and compliant behaviors, the fate of every ‘pet’ monkey is the same- death.

Whether shot or euthanized or dumped far from home and left to starve, monkeys kept in captivity almost always have unhappy endings.

You could be easily mistaken for one of those unfortunate creatures, stuck in a simian form and curled up near the roots of a looming tree.

Even after two full weeks, the transformation you had accidentally locked yourself into remained strong, showing no signs of faltering.

What at first seemed like a potential method of escape had quickly because the thickest chain in your shackle.

Not only was your newfound ‘family’ thrilled to have you as a cuddly little monkey, they seemed even more intent on coddling you.

MK especially adored having a ‘little sibling’ who couldn’t escape his grip. Day in and day out, every minute spent by your side, tending to your needs as a form of stress relief. Whether it was wrestling you into the bathtub or carving up fruit to spoon-feed you, the hero had quickly become a constant smothering presence. He was a fine caretaker, but you would much prefer that he used those skills on anyone else but yourself.

Just barely had he talked himself out of dressing you up, reasoning that you might find fabric uncomfortable over your fluffy white fur.

Not that he allowed you to remove the silk ribbons that his mentor had tied. Those were staying, and MK made sure of it. Every single time you had managed to squirm one free from your body, he just snatched it off the ground and tied it back on.

And, speaking of his mentor-

For all the doting you faced at the hands of MK, Sun Wukong was twice as bad.

Having been the caretaker for thousands of monkeys through the passing of centuries, it seemed that the Great Sage had a knack for pampering the furry darlings- and that translated quite easily to human beings who had accidents trapped themselves in the form of a cub.

Already you had spent hours upon hours upon his lap, feeling Wukong’s deft fingers comb through your fur in search of debris to remove. Given that you weren’t allowed outside, he rarely found anything more than dust. Still, his intention was more to bond than it was to clean.

For him, the best part was when you'd get so bored that you'd start stroking his fur in turn, picking through it just to pass the time. Even though your heart wasn't really in the action, he was absolutely thrilled to have you acting like a real monkey in some small manner.

The Great Sage was so thrilled, in fact, that he'd barely allow you even a minute alone. And though some of this was justified by your inability to properly function in this new form, it went far beyond the realm of understandable when the king started taking you to bed with him- all under the guise of 'keeping you safe'. You'd rest all through the night tucked into his arms, listening to a powerful beating within the Monkey King’s muscular chest.

Against MK, you were lulled to sleep by a slow throb, finding some gentleness in the steady and low thrum.

Against Wukong, you were cascaded by the furious white-hot pounding of a heart blessed by power almost beyond comprehension.

You’d be lying if you said neither was at least a little comforting to hear as you drifted to a deep, dreamless sleep.

But here and now, there wasn’t an ounce of warmth to be found.

You had finally managed to slip from the clutches of your ‘family’, mustering just enough motor control to clamber up the couch and jump to a window left cracked, slipping under the peering pane and crawling to ‘freedom’.

On unfamiliar and furry legs you had fled, away from a gilded cage and into the beckoning wilderness. Maybe a part of you now longed for the forests, driving you to escape and run free. Perhaps some newfound simian instinct craved a life free from unchanging scenery and sturdy walls.

So away you went, chirping and chittering and calling out to the rising moon as the night grew darker and darker.

And as you raced into those darkening woods, throwing caution to the wind, you also drew further and further away from any semblance of safety.

It hadn’t taken you even twenty minutes to find trouble on the supposedly idyllic mountain.

And now you were here, stuck in a simian form and curled up near the roots of a looming tree.

Not alone, of course.

A troop of monkeys surrounds your quivering form, hissing and snarling at such a strange outsider. The count is easily fifteen to twenty, each one bearing sharp fangs and hunched down in aggressive stances.

You hunker away, pressed to the cold bark with eyes pointed downwards. You don’t dare move or make a sound.

It’s not enough to save you.

The largest member of the pack snarls for just a second, rearing back with his teeth bared. Before you can even flinch, the simian lurches towards you with a splitting howl, powerful jaws snagging the skin of your neck.

The scent of blood fills the air.

As it shrieks through a mouthful of your flesh, the monkey violently slings you back and forth. It beats at your face and neck, hammering your diminutive form with all the strength it can muster. When you dare to try and strike back it throws you to the ground, beating ruthlessly down on your stomach.

It hollers.

The rest of the pack jump into the fray, beating and biting and tearing at fur. Where one shoves, another pulls. Any spot left untouched by one is promptly assaulted by another. Not an inch of you is spared the violent assault, nor is mercy given in regards to your youthful form.

And right as darkness swells in the corners of your vision, the troop freezes.

A barbed lash of black strikes the alpha across the face, leaving a deep and stinging cut where it lands. He howls and shrieks and falls back, shooting off into the jungle and disappearing from sight. From only the trail of blood left in his wake, his troop follows, fearful but still loyal.

“Someone’s had a rough go of it,” says a voice that would be insufferably smug if it hadn’t just saved you from probable death.

Two cold hands wrap around your prone form, prying you from the ground.

The white of your fur has almost entirely disappeared behind a mixture of wet soil and stinking blood, filthy and pungent. The ribbon around your neck has been torn free and left on the ground, lying in tatters.

“You‘re still a little too young to be without your mother, fuzzball. She’s the one who’s supposed to teach you ‘the ways of the wild’, yeah? Where’d she get off to?”

Macaque cradles you close in one of his arms, lightly stroking the underside of your chin with a sharp nail. His touch is surprisingly gentle, far more than you’d expect for a demon. His voice takes a turn for the soft.

“Nah, that’s not it. If you’re this close to another pack without her, then she’s… not around anymore. You probably weren’t raised by her at all, actually.”

His thumb presses against your ragged silk ribbon, toying with the red fabric.

“Must’ve been dumped by some mortal who got sick of taking care of you, huh? Bastards.”

You chitter desperately for his help, hoping that this one might understand even a word you say. But he only gives you a pitying smile, untying the ribbon from your tail and letting it flutter slowly to the ground.

“You never even learned to speak, furball? They must’ve taken you young. Humans always do. Keep you for a few years and dress you up like babies, then throw you out once you’re not cute enough for them anymore.”

Your vocalizations grow more desperate and wild, becoming outright hysterical.

“I know, I know. Hungry, right? Never learned to forage for yourself, or pick for bugs. C’mon, let’s find something to eat- bet I can scrounge us up some peaches, at least. After all…”

Macaque pulls free his tattered scarf, then holds one end of it against your stomach. You can’t so much as chitter before he wraps you head to toe, swaddling your fluffy form tightly. It’s warm, at least, if a bit restrictive.

“Shouldn’t we outcasts stick together?”

And off he goes into the night, far from home and far from safety.

It’s not quite freedom, but you’ll take it.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere MK #Yandere Sun Wukong #Yandere Macaque #Monkiefam #All that stuff I said about pet monkeys is 100% real by the way

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bigassmoth · 3 days

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What in Hell is Bad Lucifer x reader 2nd pov r18,

Clit Clinic (roleplay, temperature play, medical kink, bondage, overstimulation, watersports(squirting), slight body modification (non-perm clit ring))

"The demons are quite rough with you." Lucifers voice came from between your legs. It was awkward enough laying down with your knees slightly parted- without him stating the obvious-all you could manage in response was a hum. You were dressed in a thin white hospital gown- much softer and silkier than you were familiar with in the human realm. The fabric pooled at your stomach as Lucifer lifted your legs, fully exposing your bare pussy to the slightly chilly room. You yelped in surprise and reflexively jerked away but Lucifer held firm. He frowns and lets out a short puff of disapproval.

"You will need additional treatment." He releases your legs and stands up. While you frantically pull your gown down to cover your cold lower body, Lucifer begins fiddling with the rigging system that hangs over the bed. You assumed the structure was in place for aiding mobility and keeping medical equipment organized but then Lucifer attached a set of fur-lined leather cuffs. Your eyes go wide and your throat dry.

"What do I need treatment for?" Your voice comes out husky and that alone is enough for Lucifers cock to start swelling. He looks at you and wordlessly holds out his hand. You place your ankle into his palm and settle into a more comfortable position as he raises your leg to the cuff and gently binds it.

"I will get cold. And I want a pillow." You request while offering him your other ankle. Lucifer hums again while he finishes buckling you in, taking a moment to look at your exposed bottom before leaving the room. You squirm once alone, you would be able to unbuckle yourself but it was more fun to pretend helplessness.

Lucifer comes back with a pillow and a hot compress which he slides under your hips to warm your lower back. You take the pillow from him and adjust it behind your neck as Lucifer straps your knees to each side of the rigging. Testing your restraints, your feet are held fast in the air while it becomes impossible to close your legs. Your hips wiggle but the motion is limited.

While you were feeling out your position, Lucifer had grabbed a number of items on a tray. He sat in his chair and rolled to the edge of your bed. You lifted your head but wasnt able to see what was on the tray. Without giving you a warning, something warm and wet touched your mound. A warm towel which was used to clean your pubic region, lips, clit, and the outside of your holes. Lucifers hands helped guide the cloth where is needed to go, he had already coated his gloves with warm lube. You hummed with his ministrations, trying not to tense and wiggle your ass as he rubbed tight circles in your asshole with the towel. Mammon had trained your body well.

Lucifer still wasnt done with cleaning as he peeled back the hood of your clit and used a wet q-tip to circle it. Your legs jerked against the restraints, his touch was firm despite the area being so tender. You cant think if you have ever had someone pay such close attention to the inner-most skin of your clit before- that even the hood felt tingly. As you pant above him, Lucifer finishes. His hands leave your pussy and you let out a breath you hadnt realized you were holding. Your hole throbs as your half-hard clit stands as evidence to the upcoming treat.

"Good, we will start with this." Lucifers voice is a thick whisper of anticipation. A smooth, cool, metal instrument coated in lube begins to caress your clit. You moan and squeeze your hands around your (now useless) gown. The instrument is rounded and gently scooped, perfectly sliding into hood and aroundyour clit again. Your noises escalate in pitch. He moves out from your folds to use the instrument to rub circles on the tip of your clit.

"Lucifer i-its hard." You are of course talking about your poor abused nub. He hums.

"Yes but we need more. I dont want your clit to be able to hide after this. To do that it must become swollen enough for me to see it through your underwear." The most youve ever heard him say at once and its that. Your heart is in your throat and you uselessly squirm.

"Ah- thats so embarrassing!" You play to the fantasy, remembering that angels are kept erect in cages. It was Lucifers remix of his past experience, having you express sexual energy without it being confined to metal.

The sensations on your clit stop. "Dont worry, it will go down by the time you leave." He misinterpreted your tone and casts you a slightly worried look while rubbing a hand over your calf.

You bite your lip and do your best to present a pitiful look. "Ah but Im here for two days...how will you know its still hard? Will you make me show you? Will I have to walk around in only thin underwear?"

Lucifers hot breath begins hitting your pussy as he pants, his face flushed.

"If you behave then you can wear clothes." His hands are rubbing the outside of your thighs, one gloves and smearing lube on your skin and the other sweaty and hot. When you nod your submission, Lucifer groans. This was a fantasy of his from being an angel, forced to contain his own raging sexual desire while cultivating and worshipping his Gods.

He picked up a bullet vibrator next and placed it below your clit so the vibrator just barely grazed the underside. You groaned and couldnt stop your twitching hips.

"Ah-wait I havent gone to the bat-" you start to panic but Lucifer only grinds the vibrator directly against the opening of your urethra. Your pussy clenches against nothing with only the ghost of vibrations to keep it company. The tender roof of your urethral canal directing vibrations into your clit. You cry as you squirt, Lucifer only removing the vibrator after you lost full control of your bladder. You whimper in the aftermath, legs trembling. Lucifer presss the vibrator directly to your clit before you have time to recover, causing you to thrash in the bed.

"Behave," he removes the vibrator while he speaks and pets your inner thigh with his free hand. "Or else."

"O-or else what?" Your body is shivering as you ask. Lucifer sets down the vibrator. You feel a band of cold metal slip over your clit, a loose fit, a jolt of electricity runs up your spine.

"A ring."

Lucifer groans out his threat and you moan in response. You wiggle your hips and whine.

"That wont work on me. its too big."

He is panting against you like a dog, going as far as to lean his cheek against your leg. Lucifers eyes meet your in a daze, both of you in dazed anticipation.

"It will fit." He picks up another tool from the table.

And fit it did. The process took about an hour and a half of rubbing in creams, using vibrators, and pulling out multiple orgasms from you without once touching your pussy or ass. With the ring at the base of your clit under the hood, your organ was forcibly erect. It would have been better to be naked, the crotchless panties you wore scratched at your clit. Lucifer checked on you frequently, lifting your skirt (he required easy access) to view the stickiness between your thighs. Politely he would lap up your arousal- never poking his tongue inside you despite your begging. Once cleaned he would perform "maintainance" on your abused clit, assuring you that it was necessary to keep it hard. He would suck and lick at your clit through the underwear until the fabric would cling to you. Then without providing you real sexual relief he would pull away and you would endure until he graced you with his attention again.

That night you went to his room for your final check. He removed the ring and sat your aching hole on his cock. But his hands held your hips down to his, forcing you to take all of his uncomfortable length. Despite your sweet kisses to his mouth he wouldnt move. Even worse, he came when he entered you so he wasnt in the state of desperation you were.

"Pleasure yourself." He whispered against your lips. You whined but relented.

"Only if you properly fuck me after, ok?"

Lucifer nodded eagerly, his entire body shaking. His eyes watched with rapt attention as you gathered some of his cum which had leaked from your hole. Your fingertips worked your clit and in a matter of seconds you were screaming as an orgasm shot through you. Lucifer groaned and released again, your pussy had been aching for hours and now held him in an authoritative vicegrip.

"Forgive me" Lucifer said to no one in particular as he finally began pumping in and out of you. You clung to his shoulders and sang his praises finally getting relief for the sweet burn he had lit in you. Lucifer came again shortly after, tears pricking his eyes as they roll back into his head. It was a delicious taboo, to break his oath of servitude to pleasure himself alongside you.

#wihib smut #what in hell is bad #whb lucifer

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hanni-bae44 · 1 day

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Title: The Office Feud (Wooyoung)

Pairing- Wooyoung x fem!reader

Genre- office au, coworkers, kinda e2l, fluff

Word Count- 4.2k

Summary- Your office fued with Wooyoung ended in the best way possible. Right under the mistletoe.

A/N- ik it’s not Christmas rn but I started to watch The Office and got inspired so I wrote this baby hehe >:)

Everyone was lively in the office around this time of year. And while it was nice to see that for a change, you didn’t quite feel the same holiday cheer.

Impatient, you brought your favorite work mug up to your lips and sipped on your coffee that barely had time to cool. You basked in the bitterness that felt familiarly like how you felt right now as you watched everyone fall under the joy of Christmas.

It’s been a little over a year since you’ve moved to the city. You moved here on a whim and thankfully landed a good office job soon after, settling as a sales representative. You threw yourself at both your day and side job. When you weren’t at the office, you crocheted for your small etsy shop. Your lack of social life never bothered you that much, but now that it was the holidays, you were starting to feel the loneliness settle in. Times ten.

For today’s Christmas party at work, you wore a tacky yet festive sweater that had Will Ferrell dressed as Buddy the Elf on it. Although you loved the movie, you didn’t quite love this sweater that you’ve owned since you were a teen. But since it was just for one lame work party anyway, you didn't bother to go shopping. Your mood was still sour though.

“What’s with the face? Cheer up girl, it’s Christmas,” Jennie nudged you as she leaned against the counter, joining you in the break room. She was making herself a cup of tea when she noticed how distraught you looked.

If there was anyone you were close with at work, it was Jennie, the receptionist. She was practically your only friend if work friends counted.

Right as you were about to respond, her tall boyfriend showed up and kissed her cheek, now standing beside her all lovey dovey. Yunho was always the PDA type. As immune as you were to them flaunting their relationship at work, today just left you feeling insanely bitter. Even more so than Valentine’s Day. And that was saying something.

“It's just lonely this year,” you sighed, twisting at the charms on your bracelet for comfort. It was the last gift your parents gave you before you left. You missed your family but it was impossible to fly back in the snow this year. You thought escaping the outskirts of your small town would make you more happy but that wasn’t the case. You were unhappy there but at least you had your family there. At least you had your dog— Rose— there. In the city, you had no one to come home to. No one to talk to when you weren’t at work.

“You could spend Christmas with me and Yunho. We're just going to open presents and watch movies all day but still, it’s more fun than spending it in an empty apartment,” Jennie offered, looking back at her boyfriend for approval. “Right babe?”

Yunho's face was blank and it was obvious he didn’t want you there. “You know there’s another person here who is spending the holidays alone. Maybe you could spend it with him,” Yunho said, earning an elbow to the stomach from Jennie. It was obvious who Yunho was talking about. Wooyoung. The only other guy in this office that didn’t have family in the city. The only other guy that was single. The only other guy who made it known that he was spending the holidays alone. The guy you disliked.

Although Wooyoung was a hardworking employee with a tremendously high sales record, he also drove you tremendously insane. His desk was right behind yours and he loved to make snarky comments on everything you did. Working with him wasn’t entirely terrible but it also wasn’t pleasant. Especially when you were just trying to peacefully do your work day to day with little to no conflict.

“It’s fine,” you assured Jennie, then glaring at Yunho who raised a teasing brow. “Thanks for the offer but I’d rather be alone than be a third wheel. I’ll probably just bake some cookies and watch Elf or something. You guys have fun without me.”

“If that’s what you want,” Jennie sighed, clinging onto her boyfriend’s arm. “But if you need anything or just want to talk, call me okay?”

“Okay. So are you guys excited for the gift exchange today?” you asked, attempting to change the subject. Nothing more depressing than talking about spending the holidays alone with a couple in love. You took another sip of your bitter coffee.

“Not really, I wish they’d stop making us do these things. Last year, I got a Bob Ross chia plant. Like what am I supposed to do with that? Watch me get a keychain or something my secret santa found in their junk drawer last night while I actually put effort and went out of my way to buy a new gift,” Jennie tsked.

“Hey, you said you liked Bob Ross!” Yunho nudged her, getting defensive again over last year’s gift exchange.

“Yeah, his paintings! What the hell was I supposed to do with a Chia plant of his head?”

You bit back a smile. Secret santas were never fun and always more stress than it was worth. While last year’s secret santa led to a happy ending for Yunho and Jennie, that wasn’t the case for most people. Your company just loved to torture their employees with this ridiculous tradition.

After a while of watching Yunho and Jennie bicker, you decided to cut the tension. “So who did you guys get for your secret santa?”

“I got Hongjoong. That man is tough to get a gift for but I got him a tie,” Yunho said.

“I got Jongho,” Jennie seethed, which made Yunho snicker. “That fucker gets on my nerves but unlike him, I’m a decent person so I got him a karaoke machine since he likes to sing. Hopefully he’ll stop breaking out into songs at work once he receives it. I’ve had enough of his singing. Anyway, how about you, girl? Who did you get?”

You sighed at the reminder of the one guy you couldn’t stand. “I got Wooyoung.”

Jennie gasped while Yunho’s hand dramatically flew to his mouth. The irony, you knew. But before they could say anything, you saw Wooyoung in the corner of your eye and they did too. Speak of the devil. And you didn’t even have to say his name three times before he popped up.

“What is that? Your fourth cup? It’s not even noon yet,” Wooyoung taunted as he walked near you to get to the coffee machine. He began to brew himself a coffee too, then leaning back against the counter to reel in your scowl. “So what were we talking about?”

Your eye drifted down to Wooyoung’s tacky Christmas sweater with a Santa Claus graphic in the middle, with the words “I do it for my Ho’s” embellished in rhinestones around the face. You’d admit, the sweater was quite funny and made you laugh this morning, but now that your sleepiness wore off, all you saw was an annoying sweater worn by an annoying man.

“I should get back to work,” Jennie apologetically smiled, waving at you as she dragged her boyfriend out of the break room. Even though the office was having a Christmas party today, there was still work to be done so she had a valid excuse. But still, you just knew that even your coworkers were tired of seeing you bicker with Wooyoung.

“Look at that, just your presence alone drove my favorite people away,” you glared at Wooyoung.

He shrugged. “Maybe they just got tired of talking to you. You are quite a Grinch in the mornings. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t you lighten up a bit?”

“I’ll lighten up once you stop commenting on everything I do. And for the record, it’s my second cup of coffee! Not fourth, second!” You didn’t know what argument you were trying to win or what point you were trying to make but you just wanted to rub it in his face that he was factually wrong.

“Okay sweetheart. My bad, your second cup of coffee. Is there a reason why you’re so angry today? Did one of Santa’s elves spit in your coffee?”

“No,” you huffed. “But I want to spit in your face.” You wanted to smack your head against the wall the moment you said it. What a lame comeback, come on Y/N, you could do better.

He chortled. “So any plans for the holidays?” He ripped open 5 packets of sugar at once into the coffee. He didn’t even stir it around and just began sipping on drink. What a maniac, you thought. You didn’t comment on how he liked his coffee but something about all that sugar chilling at the bottom of the cup made your skin itch.

“Not really,” you settled on. “You?”

“Same,” he sighed. He was quieter now and looked at you like he had something important to say but instead he remained quiet as he stared down into his coffee mug.

You waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you okay there?”

“Yeah, we should get back to work.” It was as if your words knocked him out of his daze. He took a couple steps to leave but then stopped again, turning back to face you. “And Y/N, you should be more responsible. You were the last to use the printer. Refill the ink if you see it low,” he ordered as if he were in a higher position than you. He was just another sales representative and yet he always did stuff like this. He always acted as if he were better than you.

You heaved a sigh as you watched him walk away. And to think for a second you were actually worried. What a jerk.

Near the end of the day, your coworkers began to huddle around in the conference room for the annual gift exchange and Christmas party.

As it began, you watched as all your coworkers exchanged their gifts to one another and pretended to like them. Jennie received a self care kit, Yunho received a teapot, Jongho received a flannel, and etc. Some people switched their gifts, some didn’t. You didn’t really pay much attention after that until it got to your secret santa’s turn.

Your present for Wooyoung sat wrapped in a box with a red bow on top in the middle of the room. You took great pride in your wrapping and gift giving ever since you were a kid. Even now as you were forced to get Wooyoung a gift, you tried your best to make it look presentable. After all, his gift was the only gift you would be wrapping this year anyway.

You bit back a genuine smile as you watched Wooyoung rip open the wrapping paper. Even though he got on your nerves sometimes, you still respected him as a coworker. He sat across from you right now and although you’d never admit it, the dim office lighting made him look decent today. Perhaps it was just the jollyness of the holiday air but he looked okay in his tacky Christmas sweater.

“AirPods,” he stated the obvious, glancing up at you slowly. “This is way over the budget.” He looked surprised and for once, there was no smug look on his face. Could he not even bother to smile? Was he even happy to have received such a gift? You couldn’t tell with that blank look on his face.

“I know, but I heard you lost yours so I figured you could use some new ones.”

You could hear your coworkers’ side comments around you being both surprised and jealous. It wasn’t a secret that you and Wooyoung bickered a lot in the office. In fact, everyone knew of that which made it even more shocking that you went out of your way to get him a gift four times the budget.

“Yeah, I did need them. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” you smiled genuinely.

A couple more people went by before it was your turn to open your gift. It was the last one left and placed in a medium sized gift bag. “It’s from me,” Wooyoung said with his brows raised. “Surprise, I’m your secret santa too. Open it.”

You didn’t say anything and just took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the worst. Wooyoung was a menace around the holidays. It was his favorite time of the year which meant he also pulled a lot of pranks. Just last week, he wrapped Mingi’s whole desk and belongings in colorful wrapping paper. Why? Because he was bored. And just yesterday? He filled the creamer container with salt. Why? Because he knew how much Jongho liked creamer in his coffee but mostly because Jongho took his stapler.

You’ve also heard stories of the gifts Wooyoung liked to give and the last thing you wanted was to receive a bag full of coal in front of all your colleagues when you went out of your way to give him a thoughtful gift. Reluctantly, you stuck your hand into the gift bag only to pull out a toilet mug. Of all things, a toilet mug. A gag gift. Maybe it would be funny if you guys were actually friends but with how shitty he was to you, you’ve never been more insulted.

As if you didn’t hate the holidays enough, you then heard some colleagues around you giggling. You kept your composure as you stared at the toilet mug. You were already holding in your tears all day from the loneliness you felt and now that you were met with this shitty ass gift, you just wanted to cry. You weren't going to, but you wanted to.

“What do you think?” Wooyoung beamed.

Oh, so now he smiled. He wasn’t happy when he received Airpods but he was happy to make a joke out of you in front of your colleagues, how rich. “I figured since you like to drink coffee so much, a toiled mug would be up your alley. And you know since coffee kind of looks like-"

“Gross. Don’t finish that sentence,” Jennie warned with a stern look on her face. And thankfully, Wooyoung listened to her as he leaned back in his chair, waiting for you to say something. Except you didn’t. You were speechless.

“I’ll trade you,” Mingi offered, his voice piercing through the silence.

You glanced over at Mingi who sat beside you. In his lap was a coffee table book he received earlier. Without another thought, you gave him the toilet mug, switching gifts. For some odd reason, Mingi was insanely happy to receive such a mug. At least someone could make it useful.

You didn’t even spare Wooyoung another glance before Jongho clapped, signaling the end of the gift exchange.

For the next hour, everyone just hung in the office and ate food while Christmas music played in the background. Jongho even broke out the karaoke machine Jennie gave him at one point, making the party all the more fun and loud.

You did good at avoiding Wooyoung for the most part. He tried to talk with you when you were at your desk but you went off on him and told him to leave you alone. Thankfully, he wasn’t persistent for once and did as you asked. You managed to ignore Wooyoung for the rest of the night after that as you escaped to the break room where it was more quiet. And a while later, Jennie and Yunho joined you too.

When it was getting late, you parted ways with your coworkers before clocking out. You put on your winter coat and headed to the elevators with Mingi’s coffee table book in your arm. At least you now had a decoration piece for your empty home. You’ve been living in your apartment for over a year now and you still haven’t gone decoration shopping. This was sad, you now realized.

You pressed the button to floor one, then took a deep breath. “Please don’t be so cold,” you said to no one in particular. The last thing you needed right now was for your face to freeze from the snow.

Right as the elevators were about to close, you saw a familiar hand hold the door open. Please, no. Not him. Not right now.

“Hey,” Wooyoung said as he stepped in.

Just great.

“Hi,” you reluctantly said.

Silence.

“So. Thanks again for the AirPods. I’ll use them well.”

“Yeah. Don’t lose them again.”

“Yeah.”

“Also,” he began, turning to face you. “Jennie told me how insensitive my gift was. I didn’t think about how it could’ve come across that way. I’m sorry, I just thought it was funny since you like coffee and all.”

“It’s okay. Really.” It wasn’t, but it wasn’t like you expected him to read your mind. You were already having a shitty week and that damn toilet mug just sent you off.

“No it's not,” he insisted. “You went out of your way to get me AirPods and I got you a damn toilet mug… To tell you the truth, I originally got you this.” He pulled out a small jewelry box from the pocket of his pants. It was the charm of a rose. “I was going to give you this but then I don’t know, I thought it’d make me look too serious so I backed out and gave you a toilet mug instead. I know how much you miss your dog Rose at home, so here, a rose charm to add to your charm bracelet.”

He remembered. You’ve only ever mentioned your dog once to him but that was ages ago. Yet he remembered. You were so touched. “I love it, thank you.” You chewed on your bottom lip as he closed the box again. And since your hands were full, you asked him to put the box in your purse which he did.

You really couldn’t help the tear that rolled down your eyes the moment the elevator door opened. You tried to wipe the tear but you had so much in your hands that you couldn’t. Right as you got out of the elevator, Wooyoung stepped in front of you and the next thing you knew, his hands were at your cheek and his thumb was gently wiping away the tear.

“Wooyoung,” you mumbled, your heartbeat quickening by the second. It felt so foreign to stand so close to him like this. “What are you doing?” His hand was still at your cheek, and it felt so soft and warm. You’ve never felt more vulnerable in front of him right now and yet you can’t even find it within yourself to care or push him away.

“I’m sorry.” His hand fell back down to his side as he took a step back. “For everything. I know how hard it's been for you the past year and all I’ve done is make it hard for you. I only ever just wanted to befriend you. I guess I just didn’t know how to do it.”

While you were confused at where this was all coming from, you didn’t press on it. “It’s fine,” you assured him. “You get on my nerves sometimes but at the end of the day, you only ever push me to be my best self at work so it all checks out.”

“You mean that?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “It’s all good. Just be a little nicer to me from now on, yeah?”

He softened at that. “Sure. And I’m sorry for making you mad today at your desk.”

“Honestly I was more mad at myself than at you. I was already having a bad week so that dumb toilet mug just made me take it out on you. You didn’t do anything entirely shitty.” You began to walk towards the exit of the building and he followed, even opening the door for you. “Anyway, thanks for the toilet mug earlier but also no thanks. Hopefully Mingi will like it better,” you teased. “I really do appreciate the rose charm though, I miss her alot. So thank you for that.”

“I figured. You always look at her framed picture when your eyes strain at the desk,” he casually said. He then blew air into his hands in an attempt to warm them up.

You raised a brow. “What, do you watch me when I work or something?”

“Not in a creepy way. Just sometimes I look at you to see what you’re up to. Sometimes I consider writing you up for not working,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes. “How nice of you to not write me up then.”

He smiled, feeling more at peace now as the tension between you and him melted away unlike the snow that surrounded you both. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas, Wooyoung.” As you looked at him, you couldn’t help but notice how pretty his eyes twinkled under the moonlight. How pretty the mole under his eye sat. Right as you were about to say goodnight, you felt a snowflake fall on the book that was in your arms. You looked up at the sky to see more snow fall and then you saw it. A dangling mistletoe. And you were standing under it. With Wooyoung.

Since when did your company put up a mistletoe in front of the entrance? It wasn’t there this morning…

You glanced back at Wooyoung hoping he didn’t realize what you just saw but to your dismay, he did. Your heart began to race at the thought of kissing Wooyoung. Even with your squabbles, it was always hard to completely hate him. Because as annoying as he could be, you've always found him insanely attractive. Even if he was wearing his tacky “I do it for my Ho’s” Christmas sweater right now.

“A mistletoe.” Wooyoung spoke first to fill the silence. He was always one for speaking the obvious.

“Yeah.” You didn’t know what else to say.

Wooyoung looked at you with an unreadable expression, biting on his bottom lip. “Are you okay with a truce to mark this day?” He spoke slowly to watch the way your face reacted with each word. “To end this dumb feud once and for all? In light of the holidays.”

You inhaled sharply then searched his eyes for a sign that he wasn’t playing around. And for the second time today, Wooyoung’s words seemed to hold sincerity.

You really didn’t know where your confidence came from next as you dropped your things to take a step towards him, leaving only a couple inches of space in between your face and his. “If you’re asking if you can kiss me then yes,” you breathed.

His face was so close to yours and before you knew it, his hands were at your jaw and his lips were pressed against yours.

It was addicting how soft his lips were. You couldn’t believe that you were actually kissing Wooyoung outside your workplace right now. And under the mistletoe no less. It was intoxicating how his scent made you. Even though it was night by now, his cologne from the A.M. still lingered and it engulfed your senses fully. The kiss wasn’t passionate nor hot but it also wasn’t chaste. It was an in-between, a mix of the I’ve been waiting to do this for ages now, and the you taste better than I could ever imagine kiss.

You couldn’t believe you were actually kissing your not-so-arch-nemesis right now.

You were the first to pull away. The kiss was great. But what now? There was a stretch of silence where the both of you just looked into each other’s eyes, sharing tender smiles.

Until he cleared his throat. “Truce?”

“Yeah, truce,” you muttered. “I should probably go now though, it’s getting late.” You gestured towards the right where your apartment was. You didn’t want the night to end but you also knew you had to part ways before you said something dumb the future you would regret. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Wooyoung gave you a soft smile before walking the opposite direction down the street. As you watched his figure get smaller and smaller, you couldn’t help but get reminded of how he was spending the holidays alone too.

Fuck it, you thought. It was now or never.

“Wait!” You ran up to Wooyoung with one last proposition. You were aware of how desperate you looked right now yet couldn’t even care. If someone were to tell you that you were going to ask out Wooyoung this morning, you would’ve laughed in their face. But things were different now and you didn’t dislike him quite as much anymore. “Since we’re both going to be alone this Christmas, do you want to spend it with me? We can watch overrated Christmas movies together and shit on them. Maybe even have a cooking battle or something too since you like to cook. The loser does the dishes?”

He was quiet for a moment with no expression but then his smile grew wide. “I’d never turn down a good competition.”

You bit down on your lip, not wanting to appear so excited. “Cool. Text me whenever then.”

“Sure.” Wooyoung didn’t even bother to conceal his smile. “It’s a date,” he said confidently.

“It’s a date," you repeated. And this time, you didn't bother to conceal your smile either.

Perhaps the holidays wouldn't be so bad after all.

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whiskygoldwings · 1 day

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Anecdotes of a Guard Life - Operation Snooze

This one I blame on @icnamiro! Hope you enjoy!

CW - Absolutely none. Unless you don't like Corrie fluff!

It’s a rare day that Fox manages to sneak a nap without some emergency or another cutting it abruptly short. An even rarer day that he gets to sleep more than a couple of hours. In fact, CMO Bones has started threatening forced sedation, and that’s how Thorn knows it’s really become a problem.

Bones is vocal about the need for proper, natural sleep, instead of that aided by medication. He’s sung that song loud and clear frequently, thanks to the repeated enquiries of various vode. Including Thorn, to be fair. After Fox’s first 48 hour shift, they’d thought it prudent to at least check if drugging the Marshal Commander was possible. The glare Thorn had received from Bones had made it very, very clear exactly what the medic thought of that.

So when Bones started muttering about restraints and sedative amounts, Thorn had decided it was time to take drastic measures.

Only, perhaps not Bones level drastic measures. Prime knew if Fox would even survive that.

So. Thorn has implemented Operation Snooze. The OpSec has been robust, and every single Guard (except, of course, for Fox himself) is aware of the requirements and duties of this operation.

Today, all the planning and work Thorn, along with their compatriots (there’s no way they’re going down alone for this) Stone, Thire and Hound, have slaved away on has come to fruition.

Yarn’s the one who finds him. Unsurprisingly really. The Shiny has a knack for finding the cozy, warm spots hidden away from other’s eyes. So when he excitedly, but very quietly comms Thorn to explain he’s found Fox curled up in Rec room 3, the one that smells vaguely of musty socks and damp underwear, driving most Vode away, Thorn isn’t quite as surprised as they should be.

The 1010 alert goes out immediately. Stone and Thire acknowledge within seconds, while Hound comms Thorn shortly afterwards.

“I have twenty-seven troops ready to deploy,” Hound’s voice is professional and curt.

“Dispatch to the location I’m sending you now. I’ll meet you there.” Thorn’s just as terse, and they both sign off without any further word, already moving swiftly towards the rendezvous point.

When Thorn arrives, Hound’s not there, but Yarn is dedicatedly keeping watch as instructed. He’s practically vibrating as he salutes at Thorn, and Thorn struggles not to grab the kid and bundle him into a hug.

“Subject still in situ, sir!” Yarn whispers, voice breaking slightly with excitement. Thorn’s still furious General Ti sent them an eight year-old, but she’ll have to pry Yarn from their cold, dead hands before they’ll give him back.

“Good work trooper,” Thorn praises, and Yarn’s spine goes impossibly straighter with pride. “We’re waiting on Hound and his platoon and then we’ll begin the next phase.”

It doesn’t take long. Yarn’s back doesn’t ease from it’s rigid posture at any point, and if Thorn wasn’t already ready to take on the entire Senate for him, the commitment to this task would have been the tipping point. Thorn’s a sucker for anyone who looks after Fox.

Thire and Stone check in to confirm they've placed themselves to pick up any datawork or queries that land in the Marshal Commander's office. Thorn sends them back a brief "acknowledged", and tries not to feel too smug as the plan falls into place.

When Hound arrives a few minutes later, Thorn’s very pleased to see Riser and Alice leading the platoons behind him. Both solid, well-worn Guard veterans who’d give their all for Fox. Also, very likely in need of sleep themselves. Two clankers, one blaster and all that.

Thorn flashes a signal for silence, quickly acknowledged by Hound and the two captains, before moving around Yarn and poking their head into the room. Their nose wrinkles as the musty smell hits them, but it’s quickly forgotten at the dark shape lodged into the corner of one of the cushion piles on the opposite side of the room.

Fox is tucked against one of the large body-pillows Rhys had scrounged out of a skip, head down and arms folded across his chest, still defending himself even in sleep. His face is soft, the constant furrow in his brow smoothed out, and lips slightly parted as he breathes. He’s clearly absolutely exhausted; dark bags under his eyes and not even twitching as Thorn paces quietly into the room and starts directing troops into place.

It takes a few minutes, but everyone gets settled into place without a hitch, and Thorn smugly snuggles against Hound’s back, pulling Alice’s arm around them and tangling their legs with Riser’s.

----

Fox is warm, and strangely content when he wakes up. It’s strangely hard to clamber out of the clutches of sleep. He feels enclosed and protected and safe.

Abruptly, he realises why, and he snaps awake with a jerk.

Hound’s plastered across his chest, arm flung over his side and nose pressed into the bottom of his neck. There’s someone tucked into Fox’s other side, head laying on his stomach, and an arm tight around his hips. He’s pretty sure there’s at least two people curled against his legs, and Thorn’s behind Hound, one hand flopped over his back and trailing over Fox’s shoulder.

Fox is… Confused. Yes. That’s a very good word for it. He’s completely certain he fell asleep alone, alarm set for one hour and the other Commanders safely far away with their own duties. Rec room 3 had proven an excellent place to hide himself away when the exhaustion had gotten a little too much and he found himself unable to focus on the datapads for a moment longer. He’d found himself stumbling there today after what his comm informed him was 62 hours awake with only a few ration bars and several metric tonnes of caff to keep him functional.

Clearly, his secret sleeping spot wasn’t quite so secret anymore.

Fox manages to lift his head just enough to catch the sight of several other Vode bodies piled in various arrangements across the room, effectively blocking any escape he might try to make. Not that he had much hope of that, with Hound so thoroughly wound around him, blithely snoring away without a care in the world.

His movement does alert someone else that he’s awake. Thorn twitches, and the hand against his shoulder rises up to form a hand signal.

“Safe”.

Fox twists his neck slightly to look over at Thorn, who’s blearily blinking back with an ever-so-slightly smug grin. Thorn brings their hand down enough to be back in Fox’s line of sight, and forms the gesture for safe again.

Fox glares, and Thorn rolls their eyes, before closing them and snuggling further into Hound’s back.

“Thorn!” Fox hisses.

No response.

“Thorn!” Fox hisses louder, and suddenly, another head pops up further across the room.

The new vod has wide, pleading, tired eyes, and a pout Fox swears must be bio-engineered. He can already feel his resolve crumbling, as the Shiny lifts their own hand to signal “orders” at him.

Fox should tell them to help him out, to assist him in removing himself from the pile of sleeping Vode around him.

But the Shiny, and Fox is fairly certain their name’s Yarn, from the distinctive tattoo on their neck, widens their eyes further, somehow making them look damp and tearful. And Fox is abruptly, completely certain that the cadet’s never met a single vod who could say no to them.

With a great, heaving sigh, Fox sinks back, closing his eyes and moving one hand to curl around Hound’s back. The man snuffles softly, before going back to snoring lightly against Fox’s neck, and Fox will never admit to the way it makes the tightness in his chest ease.

Fine. He’s absolutely, completely certain this is all Thorn’s fault. But just this once, he’ll go along with it.

… Not that he’s got much choice in the matter.

#commander fox #Marshal commander Fox #Corries #Coruscant Guard #Coruscant guard as family #Vode piles #Snuggle piles #Fox gets hugs #And a nap #Fluff galore #Commander Thorn #Sergeant Hound #My fanfiction

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strangesthirdeye · 2 days

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Grumpy Star (Ineffable hubbys x toddler fem! Reader)

Summary: Little Star is not feeling well, what can the two celestial dads do for little Star to return to normal?.

Warning: Ineffable hubbys is everything. No episode 6 allow, sick reader, chicken porridge, cuddle, fluff, love, Aziraphale can cook better than Crowley, sweet, Aziraphale is Papa, Crowley is Daddy, miracle there, miracle here,

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Rise and shine, my star. wake up, Papa make your favorite breakfast" Aziraphale chimed as he opened the curtains of your room, letting the sun come in to brighten your room.

You groaned uncomfortably at the interruption of your sleep before pulling the blanket over your face. Hiding your face from the light shining on your warm face. Sweat covering your body as your body seemed to shiver under the blanket. Aziraphale smiled before he took a seat on your bed.

"come on, love. You don't want your dad to finish your favorite pancakes, do you?" Aziraphale said.

You were just silent and still in that position without even looking at Aziraphale. Your body shivered with chill and warmth in your body. Aziraphale frowned at the lack of reaction from you. Usually you would wake up excited as soon as he mentioned your favorite breakfast but now you seemed like you didn't normally do it.

You seem wrong. Aziraphale started holding out his hand to pull your blanket. As soon as his fingers touched and pulled the blanket that covered you, he was shocked when he discovered your condition.

Your face is pale, your body is shaking and full of sweat. You still closed your eyes as your breathing seemed to be panting. Aziraphale's face began to change. He started to touch your head but when his skin touched your dampened skin, he pulled his hand back. Your skin is hot and cold at the same time, that's why you're shivering. Aziraphale began to be concerned with your conditions.

"my dear, you... You are sick" Aziraphale said with great concern.

It is normal for humans if they have a fever but for you who was born with a miracle by two celestial being not to mentioned that you are half demon and half angel, it is quite impossible for you to feel sick.

"just- just hold on, papa will come back to you later, okay?" Aziraphale assured before he rushed out of the door.

Crowley who is sleeping sprawled on the sofa did not notice his husband rushing to the kitchen to retrieve a cloth and a basin filled with water. Aziraphale stopped his walk when he noticed that Crowley was still sleeping after being woken by him a thousand times that morning.

He grumbled and ignored his sleeping demon to go to your room. He opened the door again but this time slowly and with any noise as he knows that you are not in the mood for that. He put the basin filled with water on the table next to your bed before he dipped the cloth into the basin and squeezed it to leave it wet and folded it before placing it on your forehead.

You flinched at the sudden coldness before relaxing and letting the cold seep into your warm skin. You sighed heavily. Even your breath is warm.

Aziraphale rubbed your hair gently. "don't move too much, dear. You must rest to be healthy. I'll tell daddy to bring you medicine while I cook chicken porridge for you"

You grumbled with approval before snuggling into your thick blanket for comfort. Aziraphale sends you a sympathetic look before he gets up and walks downstairs to the kitchen. Before he went to the kitchen, he managed to wake up Crowley, who was still sleeping and didn't think about the world, finally woke up from his slumber. Maybe him being a snake requires a good enough sleep.

"Crowley, I need you to bring medicine to Y/n's room, now while I prepare chicken porridge for her." Aziraphale ordered.

Crowley grunted sleepily. "Ugh.. why would I bring medicine to Star's room? Why do you want to cook chicken porridge? Didn't you make pancakes?"

"the pancakes can wait but Y/n can't. She's sick.. And it's quite rare for an angel or demon to get sick. Let alone half angel and half demon. She's still on the bed and doesn't have the energy to wake up so you go bring medicine for her to eat before I bring chicken porridge to her" Aziraphale strode past Crowley who was still sitting sprawled on the sofa.

Crowley straightened himself from his hunched position. "Star is sick? But that's impossible. Celestial beings never get sick. They are immune to all kinds of diseases and viruses"

"That's what I said earlier, it's quite rare for celestial beings to get sick. I don't know how sick she is but all I know is her body temperature is up. Now go get the medicine and give it to Y/n" Aziraphale ordered as he reached for a medium-sized pot and a soup spatula.

Crowley made a sound as if he was just agreeing to what his husband told him. He stood up and took medicine from the medicine cabinet hanging on the wall next to the kitchen before he moved to your room.

"and don't use miracle! we don't know how sick she got plus I don't want the upstairs to know that we used a miracle to cure her.. I don't want them to know about her.. they will take away my baby" Aziraphale said to Crowley but the last sentence Aziraphale muttered to himself.

Crowley waved his hand as if dismissing what Aziraphale warned him. As soon as he arrived in front of your door, he slowly opened the door of your room and peeking his head to see how you were.

You were snuggling into your thick blanket with folded damp cloth on your forehead. Your eyes are closed so that means you are sleeping but Crowley noticed that your chest is rising up and down very rapidly which makes Crowley worried. He never saw you like this. His Star is always happy and energetic all the time but this time his Star looks very weak and not energetic.

Crowley strode towards you slowly with medicine in his right hand. He didn't want to disturbed your sleep. You need enough rest. He noticed your forehead was wet with sweat. He put the medicine on the table next to your bed and then slowly sat down on the bed next to you. He reached out his hand on your warm cheek.

"Star? hey.. wake up.." Crowley called softly.

You groan tiredly but your eyes still don't open.

"come on, you should take your medicine before anything else happens" Crowley patted your cheeks gently.

"no medicine.. Medicine doesn't taste good" you mumbled tiredly.

Crowley huffed a laugh. "Oh, Y/n..Come on, you should take medicine" he poked your cheek several times trying to wake you up.

You whined in protest then waved your hand to block your dad's hand from your face before opening your eyes. Your eyes are very tired showing that you really have no energy.

Crowley grinned. "there you go"

you started to sit and lean your back on the headboard. You glanced at your dad with extra tiredness and dissatisfaction.

Crowley frowned. "don't make such a face at me, it's your Papa fault who told me to take the medicine. Besides, you have to get up to eat later" Crowley reached for the medicine on the table and opened the lid of the medicine and poured the liquid into the spoon.

You face away from the strong smell of medicine. "nooo"

"just one spoon of medicine and then you can rest" Crowley put the spoon in your mouth.

"noo.. it doesn't taste good" You protested.

"what kind of medicine tastes good? It just tastes bitter and it won't last long.. come on, Star" Crowley said, bringing the spoon closer to your mouth.

You grunted grumpily before opening your mouth and letting Crowley spoon the medicine into your mouth. Immediately a bitter taste was felt in your throat making you grimaced with disgust.

"there, isn't it nice?" Crowley joked.

You whine grumpily before laying back down and facing away from your dad, sulking.

Crowley sighed. "just don't sleep yet, your papa will come up and bring food. You must eat."

You hummed before closing your eyes tiredly. Crowley rubbed your back soothingly. A knock was heard before the door was opened by Aziraphale with a tray of chicken porridge and water in both hands.

He glanced at his husband and daughter with concern. "how is she?"

"just the same" Crowley muttered.

Aziraphale nodded his head then moved to the other side of the bed, facing Crowley. He looked at you worriedly.

"Y/n, dear. Get up and eat.. You have to eat if you want to be well" Aziraphale said while placing the tray of chicken porridge on his lap.

"I don't feel like eating.. " you mumbled.

"Well, you need to eat also to get your energy.. Please" Aziraphale urged you.

"My head hurts" You said.

"i know, my dear.. come on, wake up and eat" Aziraphale said.

Finally, you got up and sat down, leaning heavily on the headboard to support your weak body. Crowley rubbed your hand with comfort.

Aziraphale started to feed you with the chicken porridge from time to time even though you were a bit hesitant to eat because you could feel your body as if it was rejected to eat and would vomit later which thankfully it would not happen.

After just eating and drinking, Aziraphale gave the food tray to Crowley to place on the bedside table where the medicine was placed. You lie back down and close your eyes which leads you to sleep. Aziraphale held your tiny hand and rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand while Crowley held your other hand.

"What do you think, angel? She's being sick?" Crowley glanced at his husband expecting some explanations from him.

"I don't know, Crowley.. it's a bit sudden. She shouldn't be sick. She's literally immune to everything" Aziraphale replied as he looked at you with concern.

Crowley sighed. "whatever it is, she will be okay and not sick anymore"

Aziraphale nodded. "yes.."

The two partners start to be quiet as they don't want to disturb you anymore, their eyes still on you in case you suddenly feel uncomfortable and need them, they will be by your side. But eventually, Aziraphale needs to go downstairs and wash the bowl of porridge and the glass he brought earlier. He told Crowley to pass the tray of food placed on the table next to him which Crowley obeyed but then stopped suddenly.

Aziraphale looked at Crowley confused. "Crowley?"

"Angel.. " Crowley called, eyes still on the food tray.

"yes? what's wrong?" Aziraphale began to worry.

"I think I know why Star is sick" Crowley began to lift the food tray and show it to her husband.

Aziraphale gaped at the sight of a clean bowl and glass that had absolutely no leftover food. Everything is clean as if it had just been washed. clean and shiny bowls, spoons and glass.

"that's.. she-" Aziraphale tried to make an assumption. "You don't use miracle right?"

"no.. you?" Crowley asked

Aziraphale shook his head. "no"

"I think, Star is sick because she finally got her first miracle" Crowley said then looked at you impressed.

"That's why she suddenly got sick" Aziraphale beamed excitedly.

"ahh, this is great.. Star finally got her first miracle" Crowley cheered lowly as he didn't want to disturb your sleep.

"i know.. ohh, I'm so proud of her, Crowley.. Our baby has grown up" Aziraphale beamed.

"does that mean I can take her in the Bentley with me?" Crowley suddenly asked.

"No" Aziraphale replied.

"wha- why? you said before that not until she got her first miracle.. Now she has got her first miracle! Don't let me start that her age is not enough because she is three years old now." Crowley protested.

"But the way you drive the Bentley is dangerous" Aziraphale said.

"I'm not that crazy to drive a Bentley at high speed with a toddler in the Bentley" Crowley argued.

"Fine you can take her" Aziraphale gave in.

Crowley smirked with victory

"well, I love you, Angel"

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "I love you too, Crowley"

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ikeromantic · 14 hours

Text

Ikesen Boys React to a Tattooed MC pt 4

Thank you again to @otomedad for this fantastic idea ^_^ This one has Mitsuhide, Keiji, and Ieyasu! Approx. 2600 words of tattoo and MC appreciation!

Mitsuhide

Mitsuhide’s smile was infuriating. You wipe the sweat from your forehead and stretch your aching muscles. After five hours of practice, you were tired, your hair was a tangled mess, and your clothes looked even worse. And Akechi was just standing there, grinning, not a single hair out of place.

“That was much better, little mouse. Almost passable.” His grin widens. “In another week or two, you might be able to fend off, say, a small rabbit? Perhaps a squirrel?”

You throw a sweat-damp rag at him, which he dodges easily.

Mitsuhide’s eyebrows arch. “What’s this? Another match? I could never deny my little one.”

“W-wai-ahhhh!” You hold up a hand to stop him, only for him to grab your hand and send you up and over his shoulder. He holds you there, your head flopping against his upper back, legs kicking uselessly in the air.

“Hmm. I think you’ve lost this round. You don’t seem to be able to get down.”

You seriously consider biting him, but there’s no easy spot to clamp down on. Besides, he’d probably just -

“If you bite me, I will return the favor.” You hear the laughter in his voice, and feel his breath on your leg.

“Put me down!”

Mitsuhide does laugh then, a low, wicked chuckle that sends feelings skittering through your frayed nerve endings. “I don’t think I want to, though. You’ll have to convince me.”

You struggle some more, trying to grab hold of him so you can leverage your grip to wriggle out of his. It’s impossible not to be aware of the flex of his muscle, covered by thin linen. The way he holds you, gentle, but implacable. Your pulse is racing and your face is red from more than exertion. I’m just embarrassed, you think, knowing that’s not quite true.

With some effort, you manage to grasp his clothes firmly enough to pull yourself down, but you feel the loose folds of your hakama slide away from your hips as you do. You freeze, held by the terrible image of Mitsuhide carrying a pantless you, your rear in the air, legs kicking.

“It seems my little mouse has only further ensnared herself.”

The low, smooth tone of his voice sends a little shiver over the newly bare skin of your hip, and you fancy that you can feel his hair tickling that sensitive spot. “You - I - this - this is your fault!” It’s hard to think, and you wonder if he’s distracting you on purpose. Teasing, as always.

Mitsuhide chuckles, the laugh more something you can feel than hear. “But however will you escape? Perhaps you could persuade -” He pauses, holding very still.

“Ummm. Pretty please? Put me down?” You stop squirming, hopeful this means he’s done with his current game.

Instead, he shifts his grip on you, and you feel a cool, calloused finger drag against your hip.

The unexpected touch, featherlight, sends a jolt of heat through you, and you bite back a pleased sigh. There is no way you’re letting Akechi get to you. Nope. No. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing his taunting touch got to you this time. “Mitsuhide -”

“You have been marked. What is this, my naughty little mouse?”

For a moment, you have no idea what he means and then you realize. He must have glimpsed your tattoo. Your face, already hot, grows hotter still. This was something you hoped to keep to yourself. Especially given . . .

You feel his fingers catch the waist of your hakama and pull it a little further down. “Wait! Stop!”

Mitsuhide pauses, though now you can feel the cool air and his warm breath teasing your low hip. “This is no irezumi kei.” His voice has changed, the teasing replaced by strained curiosity.

“I told you I’m from the future. People have all kinds of tattoos there.” You hope he hasn’t realized what the design is. Please, please, you think, if there is any goodness in the world, he won’t see enough to -

“Little one. This is a -” His voice is so low you don’t catch the end of his sentence.

You let out a breath, realizing there’s no escaping it now. “Look. I got that a long time ago. It was supposed to be the first part of a full leg sleeve.”

He sets you down gently, his hands lingering at your sides. His eyes are molten gold, and you find it hard to look away. “May I see it?”

It is tempting to tell him no. To return some of the frustration you feel with his obtuse answers, his hot and cold behavior. But you find that you want to show him. Afterall, who else would appreciate this particular design more? You carefully tug your hakama down to display your hip and upper thigh. There, etched in bright colors is a nine-tail fox. The kitsune leaps from cloud a cloud toward a flower that looks like a cloud - or perhaps it’s a cloud that looks like a flower - and below that, the first hint of a river that was meant to tie the leg sleeve together.

Mitsuhide’s smile widens and he kneels to get a closer look.

“Go ahead,” you sigh. “Say what you’re going to say.”

His breath is warm against your skin as he leans close, his hand not quite touching. He stares into the soulful eyes of the inked kitsune, one fox to another, as if it might hold answers for him. When he looks up at you, your heart stutters in your chest. “You somehow manage to surprise me still, little one.”

You aren’t sure what to say, and honestly, you feel as if you can barely breathe much less speak. It’s not just Mitsuhide’s closeness, or even your vulnerability in this position. It is the expression that haunts his eyes, a flicker of something hopeful, something raw beneath his usual smiling mask.

“Why did you choose this? This . . . unworthy trickster?” His voice is almost inaudible, as if he too is having trouble breathing.

“Unworthy?” Your eyes go wide. “Kitsune are wise. Tricksters, yeah, but that just means they didn’t lose their sense of humor. They are noble and cunning and they pursue knowledge, even when it’s forbidden, and - and I wanted to be all those things too.” You fall silent, wondering why his comment upset you so much.

Mitsuhide stares at you, his brows arched high, his lips parted. Then he laughs, a paper thin, breathy sound that rises to a low chuckle. “Truly you are something . . . else.” He stands gracefully, his gaze still on your face.

“You too,” you mutter and turn away, busying your hands with fixing your clothes. It isn’t fair how he always tangles your feelings, you think. Looking at you like that, his voice, his eyes, his touch.

“Your tattoo is lovely. As lovely as you are.” He brushes a hand down your arm, a tender gesture.

You freeze, butterflies filling your chest. His compliment means so much to you, but you don’t know what to say in return. Your throat feels parched and tight. After a shaky breath, you look up, determined to ask him why he teases you so, but he is already moving away, his back to you, the moment gone.

Keiji

“Sometimes I don’t know why I bother,” you murmur to yourself. The subject and cause of your annoyance crouches a few steps away, all but ignoring you, his gaze turned toward the street just beyond the mouth of this narrow alley. You think you might prefer his silence to his commentary.

He turns his head slightly to regard you, and you have the uncanny sense that he heard your whispered complaint. Chagrined, you offer him an apologetic smile, which earns you an eyeroll and a smirk.

You do your best to ignore his reaction, but you can’t help the flush of embarrassment in your cheeks, or the way his regard makes your pulse pound.

A few short minutes later, he gestures you forward as he steps out into the clear street ahead. You follow, a nervous energy in your steps. In fact, you are so nervous that your feet tangle mid-step.

Keiji catches you before you hit the ground, his warm arms pulling you up in an unexpected embrace. “Careful,” he admonishes you sharply, but you see the genuine concern in his gaze.

“Thanks.” You pull away, self conscious and even more embarrassed now. At this rate, Keiji will never ask you along to anymore of his clandestine missions. You try not to meet his gaze again as you straighten your clothes.

He reaches out, grabbing your hand before you manage to tug your sleeve back into place. “Is that - are you - princess . . .” The sharpness in his tone melts into surprise as he pulls your sleeve back up.

“Ehehe, umm . . . it’s a tattoo?” The inked lines of three noh masks stare back at the two of you. “I did costuming for theater and I, I liked these designs.” You end on a defiant note, practically daring Keiji to say something snarky.

Surprisingly, he says nothing, just strokes your marked skin with the rough pad of his thumb. The touch sends a pleasant shiver through you, which you hope he doesn’t notice.

“So . . . can I have my arm back,” you venture after a few awkward moments.

Keiji nods, but doesn’t let go of you. “Do you know what these mean?” His voice sounds distant, soft and surprisingly tender.

You nod. “I . . . yes.” Your gaze follows his thumb to the three faces. I got Zō because I feel like she represents the best in women. Divinity and beauty. Wisdom. And then, Namanari because hell hath no fury, right? Holding onto anger makes me a demon. So she’s kind of a warning for me to let it go, but also, like, a reminder that it’s ok to be angry too.”

“And Rōjo?” He looks up, his warm amber eyes meeting yours.

“To remind me that getting older is ok too.” You shrug uncomfortably, feeling oddly exposed by the confession.

Keiji studies you, tension in his shoulders and jaw. “It’s nice. Your tattoo.”

Your eyes widen a little at the compliment. “You know you don’t have to fake things around me,” you tell him, half hoping he means it and half sure he doesn’t.

“I said I like it, ok? It’s pretty.” He frowns, a little crease forming between his eyebrows.

For some reason, the all too familiar expression of disapproval combined with the kind words sends little butterflies spinning through your tummy, and makes your heart do a funny little flip in your chest. He has no right to look so cute, you think. Or to say such nice things while his thumb makes little circles on the inner side of your arm. “Th-thanks.”

One eyebrow lifts slightly along with the corners of his lips. “You’re blushing.”

You jerk your arm away, trying to get ahold of your galloping heart. “I am not!”

He laughs, a sound free of nega-Keiji’s bitterness, one full of a sudden, intoxicating joy.

This does nothing to help you rein in your reaction, but you find yourself joining in the laughter with him. “Come on, let’s just go meet your contacts,” you say through your giggles.

“Yeah. That’s right.” He smiles and you feel another flush of heat in your cheeks. One that only grows as he reaches for your hand.

Ieyasu

“Hold still.” Ieyasu’s crisp tone brooks no disobedience.

You stop squirming and take a deep breath. “Sorry,” you mumble. “It just hurts.”

A faint smile curls the edges of his mouth. “Yes, well, tumbling down a gravel path usually does. You should be more careful. At this rate, I’ll have to accompany you everywhere just to ensure you don’t hurt yourself.”

You feel a goofy happiness at the gentle expression on his face as he says it, though his tone stays sharp. “I’m not that clumsy,” you argue. “I don’t need babysitting.”

“The evidence leaves that very much in doubt.” Ieyasu tugs your kimono aside, revealing your hip and thigh. There is an angry red patch of skin where the gravel scraped you badly, and his eyes flick over the wound with concern. Then his gaze travels up and you notice his brows rise.

“What? What is it?” You start to move again and stop as he rests a hand on you.

Ieyasu frowns, his fingertip tapping just above your injury. “You have a mark. Like a painting but -” He drags his finger over the ink of your tattoo.

“Oh, that.” You laugh self-consciously. You hadn’t been thinking about the tattoo at all - especially not after your spectacularly embarrassing accident that morning. Tripping over a rock and sliding halfway down a gravel and sand path while out walking with Hideyoshi. And to make matters worse, he’d insisted on carrying you to see Ieyasu for treatment. Thankfully, he hadn’t stayed. You could easily imagine his disapproving expression. Probably more so than the face Ieyasu was making now.

“Yes. That.” He leaned closer to your leg, studying the colorful image there. “It looks like an octopus. Holding a flower?” Ieyasu’s voice has lost some it’s usual coldness, thawing to an unexpected warmth with curiosity.

You feel another little flutter in your chest and tell yourself to calm down. “It’s supposed to be Akkorokamui holding an anemone. I got it after my parents passed away.” The memory of your intense grief is enough to make you pause. It’s been so many years since you lost them, but it still hurts. A dull, distant ache you don’t notice most of the time. Only on those lonely, long nights when there is nothing to distract you.

Ieyasu looks up, concern in his wide green eyes. “You don’t need to tell me if it’s too much.”

“No, it’s ok. I can talk about it. That was several years ago and I - I’m alright now.” You give him what you hope is a reassuring smile. “I read that the octopus was a symbol for adaptability. And that Akkorokamui meant healing and wisdom. So . . . I got it as a tattoo, so I would never forget I can handle everything life throws my way. That I will always heal, in time.”

His warm palm strokes your thigh, a gentle touch meant to be calming. The effect on you is less than, sending your pulse skyrocketing. “I see.” He continues the tender caress, though his brows furrow. “But why is it holding a flower?”

“Fragility and strength. Because I’m fragile but I want to be strong.” You take a breath, trying to calm your heart and settle the ache in your soul. Surprisingly, your grief already feels less, as if Ieyasu’s closeness has chased it away.

He nods, looking back down with his thoughtful expression. “I think it’s nice.”

You can’t miss the flush of red in his cheeks, or his sudden shyness as he pulls his hand away.

“Too bad such a pretty picture can’t stop you from being a danger to yourself. But I don’t think this will leave a scar on your lov- er, your skin.” Ieyasu’s coldness returns in full force, his eyes as hard as jade.

“Do you really think it’s pretty? I like it but -”

“Of course it is,” he snaps back, already pulling out a tincture to clean your wound.

You bite your lip at the sting, eyes watering a little.

Ieyasu sighs, his shoulders losing some of their tension. “Sorry. I should have warned you. This will hurt a little.”

“It’s fine. I’m just glad you like me - ah - my tattoo.”

His eyes widen at your slip in speech, his mouth open. The red in his cheeks spreads to his ears, and something in his gaze wavers. “Well. Even I can admit when someone-thing- is pretty. I’m not blind.”

You feel a giggle rising up and clamp down. Laughing now would not be a good thing. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” he mutters, turning away. You can still see the red tips of his ears.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen keiji #ikesen ieyasu #mitsuhide #keiji #ieyasu #fanfiction #otome #fanfic #otome guys #fluff

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