#It's her voice that pulled him out of his feral state. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweet-honey-fruit · 8 months

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Going Feral

Their true forms take over, and they’re needy for you.

Pairs — Childe, Itto, Ei, Zhongli x afab!reader

Note: I know Childe’s isn’t exactly what I said would happen, but I liked the idea of being fucked by foul legacy so much that I plan on making that it’s on fanfic.

Warnings — Rough sex, degradation, praise, restraints, public sex (Childe) belly bulge (Itto and Childe), breeding kink (Itto), unfair power dynamic but it’s all consensual, rough fucking, monster fucking (?), inappropriate use of tail (Zhongli)

!Everything is consensual! 18+ MINORS DNI

Childe

The entirety of his massive body engulfed the fragility of yours. His cock was so, so much bigger, stretching you out to your fullest. His pace was relentless, pinning you down to the floor while his dick dragged along your slick walls. His sharpened claws tangled in your hair as he thrust deeper and deeper inside you. All of it was overwhelming in the most delicious way possible. The sound of skin slapping and your squelching noises filled your ears, the sound so erotic that it caused a puddle to drip below you. The grip on your waist from him was almost painful, but you were so far gone that you barely registered any pain at all. You just wanted more. More of him. He was all you needed, and you loved it. In this form, in the Golden House, right here and right now. You didn’t want anything else other than this.

“Please Childe, it’s too much…” Your words came out slurred and muffled with every breath, drunk off the pleasure the fullness provided. A deep rumbling purr vibrated in Foul Legacy’s chest. It sent a delicious chill down your spine, one that was a mix of fear and excitement. He pulled himself out of you and slammed back into you, harder, rougher. “If you’re going to act like a whore for dick you might as well learn to take it,” His voice reverberated through your body as he was flushed against yours. He practically lifted you off the ground with ease, his groans coming out as growls.

Your body was quivering beneath his own. Tears of bliss streamed down your face as you were turned into a blabbering mess. Broken moans of his name are all that are eligible and it filled him up with pride. Knowing that even in another form he was able to turn you into a desired-filled disaster. To turn you into Ana whimpering, helpless mess. His hand pressed down on the bulge in your stomach. The motion makes you feel all of him at once. You arched your back, gripping onto him the best you can. Your walls clenched around him as burning pleasure took over your body, so much so that you swore your vision turned white for a moment.

The sensation of your walls hugging his cock sent him over the edge. He pushes you back onto the ground and fucks into you faster, the overstimulation making you squirm. With one final thrust, his seed shot into you, dripping back down onto the floor. He leaned down, lifting the mask off his head just enough to give you a sweet kiss on your slightly parted lips. He smiled against them, a smile that you could read as mischievous even in your delirious state. Putting his mask back down, he slammed his cock back into you again. This time slower, savoring each movement.

Hot, hot, hot. It felt so overwhelmingly hot despite the cool, crisp air of Euthymia. There was an ungodly amount of hands on your flushed body. Not a single part of you is touching the ground below. There is a pair of hands gripping your wrists and ankles, forcing them apart to leave your bare body open and vulnerable. Hands were fondling your chest, brushing over your nipples that elicit even more erotic moans out of you that echoed throughout the sacred chamber. Her form floated just a few feet away, legs crossed and chin resting on the palm of her hand in mockery. Mockery of how vulnerable you are, completely under her influence.

Hands were gripping your thighs, needing the flesh so harshly that it was sure to leave behind bruises. Hands wrapped around your hips and forced you down onto the fingers that were pumping in and out of your sopping wet hole. All these hands yet not one of them belonged to the woman who appeared before you. Her eyes held a fierce intensity of lust, tempting you to look away from her, to close your eyes and fall into the pleasure that she undoubtedly controls. You made the mistake of looking away once, and that left you with a hand-shaped mark on the side of your face from one of her many hand puppets.

“This sight,” Her luring voice surrounds you, enticing you to bring your attention to her. Her hand drops, ghosting over her chest and down her torso. Your eyes follow her movement. A ragged breath slips past your lips when Ei finally uncrosses her legs, revealing her drenched hole. You can see the slickness on her inner thighs from the dim lighting of the realm. "Is truly something I wish to see for eternity."

Her finger slips between her folds, enticing a soft moan out of her. At this moment the hand puppet that was pumping in and out of you at a brutal pace has stopped completely. You whine in frustration, wanting more. More of the white-hot pleasure it was giving you.

"You'll be my puppet, won't you? Be my little plaything.." She slips in another finger, pumping in and out at a slow pace. The hand-puppet mimics her movements, in and out of your own. You lurch forward, a moan forced out of of you and leaving you breathless. Ei’s satisfied smile is prevalent, the squelching sound of her fucking her pussy sending you into a haze.

She sped up, her head tilting back and letting out a moan so divine you wanted to get on your knees and worship her then and there. You couldn’t stop your legs from quivering from the intensity of the sensations you were feeling. You felt as light as a feather, not able to think of anything other than Ei and what she was indirectly doing to you. Not able to think about anything other than how beautiful she looked when she plunged her fingers inside of her, her thumb circling her clit with such precision that it caused your clit to throb with need. No thought didn’t cross your mind that wasn’t related to how good she was making you feel. Your slick dripped onto the ground, so wet that was gliding down your thighs.

The god of eternity molded you into her puppet, which she can control however she wishes. If it meant leaving you shaking, begging for more with her fingers down your throat, soaked with her juices; then you didn’t mind one bit.

Itto

Itto’s horns were bigger, pointier than usual. His nails were razor-sharp, longer. They dug into the dips of your hips, locking you down tight on his face. Your own hands clung to his horns to maintain your balance. With each tug he receives from your iron grip, the more animalistic growls that are muffled by your pussy. He was lapping at your wetness like a starved dog.

“Stop! Too much- too much Itto-“ Your pleas are cut off by a pornographic moan when his overtly long tongue slips between your folds. He pulls you down closer when you try to back away from the overwhelming amount of white-hot pleasure coursing through your body. The way his tongue slips out of your aching hole to swirl around your clit left your back arching and your nails digging into his horns. Your grip only sent him into overdrive.

With a growl that was muffled by your thighs, he lifted you off of his face. You could only catch a glimpse of the gleam from your slick around his mouth before he turned you around and forced you onto your stomach. Your hands gripped the sheets in surprise, even more so when he lifted your hips.

“Too much, huh? Too much, too much.” He laughs, and it sounds borderline maniacal. A chill is shot down your spine at the sound, yet at the same time, it leaves your hole throbbing and aching for more. Begging to be fucked by this new side of him. “I’ll show you too much. I’ll leave my well-behaved whore feeling so good that you won’t even want to stop.”

You feel the tip of his cock press at your entrance. Your legs shook, not only from pleasure but from the fact of how big he felt. Bigger than usual. Itto leans his body over yours, leaving sloppy kisses up your back, leaving marks along your neck, before finally kissing you on the lips with so much force it knocked your head back a little.

“You’re not a whore- I’m just so-so pent up that I can’t think clearly-“

“Itto,” His name was a quiet whine, making him groan, “Shut up and fuck me already,” It didn’t matter how big he was, his unintentional teasing was leaving your walls to clench around nothing. Begging him to fill you up and make you into his fuck toy.

He places a delicate kiss on your shoulder. A sheering pain coursed through you when his fangs punctured the skin to leave a mark behind. It faded into a pleasure that made your eyes roll back, his tongue gliding over it to soothe the pain. Then, he shoved his cock into your body. It was so overly big that it left a noticeable bulge in your stomach.

He didn’t give you time to adjust. His only focus was on fucking you till you couldn’t walk, till you were screaming his name and so full of his cum that it dripped out of your hole. He slammed into you, and your mind immediately went to the clouds. The way his cock dragged along every inch of you had you drooling, hungry and greedy for more of him. His nails ran up your back, leaving goosebumps of anticipation behind.

“Gonna breed you so good..gonna make you mine. Be good for me and take it,” He slammed his cock into you again. You laid limp, letting him use you as he pleased. In turn, your moans filled his ears, only encouraging him to go harder.

Zhongli

As much as Zhongli hides and compresses the godhood within him, that doesn’t make his instincts go away. The dragon in him is still present, albeit with a dull ache in his chest. But during times like these, where someone is very obviously trying to flirt and take you home, the ache in his chest grows. And it feels piercing. And the only way to cure the painful feeling is to show exactly who you belong to. Who owns you. Who loves you unconditionally. Dragons are possessive, don’t you know that? So why did you test your limits and flirt back with the person right in front of his eyes?

“Please Zhongli, I was just trying to get a free drink-“your explanation is cut off by his hand pushing your head deeper into the sheets. His grip on your hair is strong, and you can feel his overly sharp claws lightly digging into your scalp. It hurt, but it made your pussy ache for more; more of him.

His body leans down, chest pressing against your back. You catch a glimpse of a faint glow of yellow, and a mix of fear and excitement course through your hypersensitive body. It’s been so long since he’s let out his true form. And he’s using it on you.

A growl emits from his throat, and it reverberates from his chest to your back. It was animalistic, and it elicited a whimper from you. His body weighed you down, it was so much bigger than yours, stronger, leaving you to feel vulnerable and at his mercy. He loved seeing you this way, under him where he was in control. It made the spark for you within him burn brighter.

A brush of something firm creeps up your inner thighs. You can’t tell what it was but it certainly couldn’t be his hands. Not when one hand is pressing your head down into the pillows and the other is wrapped around your torso, forcing you to stay still. No, it wasn’t his hand. It was thicker, wider. And it teasingly slid between your soaked folds.

His lips ghosted over your jawline, traveling up to just the shell of your ear. You could hear his needy pants, the hand around your torso needs your flesh teasingly as the claws dig into your stomach deliciously.

“Do you think I care what your motive was?” His voice sent a shiver down your spine. So deep and dark, something so commanding that it made you stiffen up. You glance back, eyes widening when you catch a glimpse of yellow, slitted eyes; and the tail that was teasing your soaked hole.

“Tell me, my qingxin, since you are so desperate for cock, why must I give it to you, hm?” His tail thrusts inside of your hole, and you mewl over. Your moans are muffled by the pillow, yet they increase in pitch the deeper it goes. It hits your cervix, and you swear you saw stars. Drool pools under your head. He’s slow with his movements, pulling out so gradually, making you feel every detail of his tail dragging against your walls.

His hand in your hair lets go. You barely have a moment to let out a sigh of relief before it’s wrapped around your throat, forcing your body to sit up. Your knees press against the soft sheets, slightly damp from just how much you were dripping. His tail thrust in harder and faster. Moans and slick, slapping sounds echoed around the bedroom. His hand adds pressure, cutting off your noises and leaving you to only roll your eyes back when he hits the perfect spot within you.

“That’s it, fall apart,” He kisses down your neck, his fangs digging into the side of your neck, “Just like that…break for me, show me who owns every part of you.”

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meowpupp · 2 months

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if you want, do you have any thoughts on a follow up to the threesome? price watching, holding johnny’s collar to hold him back while simon has a turn with the reader and then they release him to eat the poor reader out 🥺🥺

pup!johnnys whos almost feral at the sight of you getting fucked open by his owner. drinking in the way you're arching your back, swollen cunt greedily sucking in every inch of simons cock.

his eyes are practically hearts as he watches, ears perking as both you and simon moan. he struggles against the grip price has on him, desperate for any sort of attention

two thick, strong fingers hook under johnny's collar, giving it a harsh tug. the mutt is over-eagar, cock straining in his boxers as he yaps and whines. price almost laughs, amused at just how desperate johnny looks.

"settle down." he grunts, inhaling a drag from his cigar, "you'll get your turn."

johnny practically cums alongside you, cock twitching as he hears both you and simon moan, watching as simon fills your swollen cunt for the nth time. finally his owner pulls away, panting as he kisses your forehead. johnny can barely contain himself, trying to lunge forward, the smell of your cum mixing with simons making him drool.

price huffs, forcing johnny back again, pulling so tight the pup yelps. a rough hand grips johnnys jaw, forcing his blue eyes to meet prices. the man is intense, voice a low growl as he speaks, "you're gonna clean her up, and you're gonna be fuckin nice about it." price tightens his grip, "if not, I'll cancel all your little playdates for a month."

with a nod from simon, he releases johnny completely. it takes barely 10 seconds for him to get on the bed, eyes drinking in the state of you. your thighs and cunt are flushed, red and sore from simons mean thrusts. there's little tear streaks down your face, indents on your hips from simons tight grip.

johnny's hands are gentle, grip firm as he spreads your thighs. your pretty cunt is ruined, swollen and flushed. your clit twitches, fucked out hole leaking a mix of simon and prices cum. johnny practically salvates at the sight, almost immediately burying his face between in your cunt.

he eats you out like he's starved, tongue lapping away his owners cum, nose nudging your clit. he's panting and whining, the vibrations making your hips buck.

his cock twitches in his pants, hips grinding down against the bed. he wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you flush against him. he starts to suck on your clit, tongue swirling around the swollen bud as he pumps two fingers inside you.

he licks you clean, sucking on your poor clit. his beard scratches your sensitive thighs, but he holds you too tight for you to squirm away. it's not long till you cum all over his face. the sound of your needy whines and thighs squeezing his head is all too much, his cock twitching as he cums all over the sheets. he groans against you, greedily lapping your cum away, giving your clit one last little kiss before pulling away.

660 notes · View notes

notjustjavierpena · 1 month

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you have returned! hope you’re doing ok! i miss husband!javi like i’m missing a limb!

this got me thinking about a request - husband!javi having to go away for a work trip for a few days - comes back and like cute family time. once the kids are in bed he just goes crazy about reader, she’s tired but she handled the kids no problem and is kind of like no big deal about it. and he’s just feral at that. she’s such a good mum and he’s so turned on and he missed her and just ugh smut

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Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: This is a request from the 17th of October 2023. Anon, I hope you are still with us. I loved writing this for you, and I hope it lives up to your expectations. Thank you to proofreading as always @angelofsmalldeath-codeine !! thank you for hyping me @theywhowriteandknowthings and @pinkypromisepascal 💖❤️

Summary: Javier returns from a business trip after being apart from his family for three whole days.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, domesticity, a happy family, javi having a baby in his arms and spending alone-time with his kids needs its own tag, i love yous, pregnancy, playful and teasing hubby, touch-starved, banter, dirty talk, finger-fucking, talk about female masturbation, pussy eating, loud reader, piv sex, riding, nipple sucking, lactation kink, javi gets off on you being the mother of his children, multiple orgasms, creampie, intense sex, bliss, pillow talk

Word count: 8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54409297

Return

The sound of the door has you sprinting towards it. You throw your arms around Javier’s neck before he even manages to put down his bag, causing him to drop it and make a noise of concern in case its contents may end up spilling out on the floor. If you have to be completely honest, you don’t give a damn right now because you haven’t felt his embrace for nearly three whole days.

“Hola, baby,” he says with a voice that tells you that he is smiling. He holds you close to himself, one hand reaching around your waist and the other one settling on the back of your head. He presses your body into his own, and you try to keep yourself from making a noise that reminds you of a schoolgirl.

Javier has been on a work trip out of state. It happens from time to time that some department of the state gets the not-so-incredible idea of hiring him as a motivational speaker to make their conferences look more interesting than they actually are. Javier hates it but the money is good and his boss always ends up encouraging him in a way that mostly sounds like he has no choice.

You hate it too. The act of sleeping in your bed alone, not feeling his body heat, and not being able to simply reach out for him if you need him, is torturous. Combined with taking care of three children alone, you find yourself slowly becoming a less-than-ideal version of yourself. It’s a stressfully romantic reminder that you can barely function without him.

“Hi,” you grin widely as you pull back to receive a kiss. You splay your palms on his chest, scratching slightly as he pecks your lips repeatedly for a moment. Your whole body feels like it is made up of butterflies fluttering around each other in a romantic dance.

“Thank God that’s over,” he reaches for the suitcase when you finally allow him to step out of your arms. He walks into the kitchen, “They were talking through my whole fucking presentation, and the meetings afterward… I was just daydreaming about coming home to you and the kids the whole time.”

“That bad?” You follow him around like a puppy. If you didn’t know that he would do the same thing had it been you arriving home, you would find yourself slightly pathetic for being such a fool for him.

“I should’ve said no this time,” he says as if it had ever been an option. You nod as he continues, “I do it every year and I feel like an idiot each time.”

“We need the money,” you argue, finally moving away from your husband to go to the living room where Sebastian is lying on a blanket. He squeals in delight at seeing you, and you pick him up with a coo.

“We don’t need the money, we’ve got enough money,” Javier says from the kitchen.

“Come say hi to your son,” you change the subject and hear Javier’s steps come closer.

“Oh, there he is,” Javier says and his voice switches to baby talk as you hand Sebastian to him. He settles him on his hip, bouncing slightly where he stands, “Te he extrañado tanto, mijo (I have missed you so much, my son).”

Sebastian gurgles happily up at his father. His eyes are full of recognition at the sound of the familiar voice. You swear that you can see a little bit of the exhaustion in Javier’s eyes disappear.

“He’s been really patient with his mom these past couple of days,” you say with a chuckle, “No fussing during naps or nothing. Almost like he knew I needed the extra sympathy.”

“Bet your momma handled everything way better than I could, huh? What do you think?” Javier shifts Sebastian to sit on his arm instead so he can blow a raspberry on his face. He smiles softly at you afterward, turning his head towards you so that he and his son are cheek to cheek, “Is that wrong to assume?”

“I still think you’re better with them than me,” you say simply.

He tuts, “Bullshit.”

Sebastian makes another happy noise at hearing both of his favorite voices. He swings his tiny fists, and Javier grabs one of his hands, “If this one wasn’t so fixated on playing peek-a-boo, he’d agree. Suppose we all have our vices.”

You move past him with a roll of your eyes and a smile on your face. You go to check the food on the stove, and from behind you, Javier sniffs the air. He walks to join you by the counter, “What are you making?”

“Tu favorito (your favorite),” you smile at Sebastian instead of looking at him, leaning in to bump your nose with his tiny one. Sebastian grabs at your face.

“No te merezco, mi amor (I don’t deserve you, my love).”

“We eat in twenty minutes,” you inform after lovingly shaking your head at him. He leans in to kiss you again and you know immediately that this is just one of many kisses you will get tonight.

“Where are the rascals?” He asks.

“In the garden,” you reply and open your arms, “Give him here and go say hi. Inés has been going on about you all day, so please save me from hearing more about her super-duper-awesome Daddy.”

Carefully, Javier hands over Sebastian, “I thought you liked her super-duper-awesome Daddy.”

“I think I might actually love him,” you grin and try not to feel silly at your sappiness because you do actually love him so much that it is stupid. Sebastian clings to you as soon as he smells you, resting his head on your shoulder and bunching his fists in your shirt.

Javier kisses you once more before heading to the door to the garden. You hear him leave it open, and watch him go outside and step off the porch with a hello.

“Hey there, gremlins!” He shouts. Inés and Lucas, both engrossed in their own activities, look up at the same time. Their faces light up at the sight of their father, but Inés is the one who makes a noise so loud that you can hear it in the kitchen as if she’s speaking right next to you.

Both of them come charging whilst shouting for him. you smile fondly at the sight of them colliding with their father who lets himself be knocked backward into the grass with a happy laugh. He wraps his arms around them and squeezes them tightly, “How’ve you been? I’ve missed you.”

They both look up at his face, speaking enthusiastically at the same time until he can barely tell what is going on. Their stories of the events of the last three days weave together until it is nonsense, and they don’t seem to notice that he cannot follow along with what they are saying. He ruffles their hair and sits up with them still cradled in the crooks of his arms, “Wow wow wow, uno a la vez (one at a time).”

“I made a tower of blocks that was taller than me!” Inés says proudly and Lucas seems to let her have the spotlight for a moment. He knows that she’ll get distracted and run away soon anyway, giving him his own chance at talking to his father. Inés talks loudly, “Mommy took a picture. She said that you needed the evi— evin— uhh… evindance.”

“Evidence,” Lucas corrects her with a superior smirk.

“That’s what I said,” she huffs.

“Nuh-uh,” her brother protests and ducks out from underneath his father’s arm.

“Ya-huh!” Inés removes herself from the embrace too.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Javier chuckles, “I’ll have to ask mamá for your picture. It sounds really cool.”

“Can we build one together?” She asks with a hopeful voice, “Pleeease.”

“Let’s save it for after dinner, mija (my daughter), okay?” He suggests, “And then I’ll build a tower that’s double the size of you before you gotta sleep.”

“Really? When?” Inés reveals that she still has no real concept of time.

“After dinner, baby,” he says again, winking at Lucas who grins, “Go ask Mommy when we’re eating.”

She is up in no time, running towards you in the kitchen. It leaves Lucas the perfect opportunity to have his moment. He gets up from the ground, his jeans covered in green patches, and starts walking towards the swing set that Javier built a few years ago.

“Dad, you need to see what I’ve learned!” He says.

“Alright, let’s see,” Javier pushes himself to stand with a groan and follows, crossing his arms over his chest and watching his son get onto the seat of the swing. By clutching the chains tightly, Lucas pulls himself to carefully stand up on the swing seat.

Javier finds himself about to protest, instinctively holding out a hand to be ready for a potential fall. However, Lucas seems to have everything under control as he holds the chains tightly with both hands. He speaks as he starts swaying back and forth, looking hopeful for approval from who he knows to be the bravest man in his world, “I practiced all day yesterday!”

“Eres increíble (you’re incredible)!” Javier cheers but then smiles smugly, “Does mom know you’re doing that?”

“She told me not to,” he admits shyly.

“Well, I haven’t seen anything,” Javier winks.

“Thanks, Dad,” it sounds genuine, happy to keep a secret. Lucas lights up, “Wanna see me jump?”

“Even your old dad has limits,” Javier laughs with a shake of his head, “Get down from there. No jumping.”

“Fine,” his son grumbles.

When he is on the ground, you pop your head out of the door to call them inside, “Dinner time, chicos (guys). Lucas, come in here and wash your hands.”

You smile as they approach, and when Lucas has walked past you, you stop Javier in the doorway and curl your fingers around his tie, “You better wash them too, Peña.”

—

The sun hangs low on the horizon when dinner ends. You start gathering the plates and glasses, and Lucas joins in without hesitation which gives Javier a glimpse of what happens when he isn’t home to take care of you. Maybe his son can sense your exhaustion too. He feels a pang of guilt in his stomach but decides to make up for it by getting his daughter ready for bed.

“Come on, mija (my daughter),” he says, picking Inés up from the floor and throwing her over his shoulder to make her laugh, “Pajamas first and then building blocks.”

He carries her upstairs to the bathroom and helps her into her pajamas, braids her hair the way she likes it, and then gets her toothbrush. She spends the whole time babbling about how she’ll grow taller like her mother and thus they’ll have to build a higher tower each day.

“Open up,” he says, sitting on the lid of the toilet with her standing between his legs. He holds her toothbrush in front of her mouth.

“Do you think I’ll be taller than you someday?” She asks with her childlike eyes, and Javier has to tap her chin to make her remember to open her lips.

“No, because I’ll just wear very big shoes, even if my head bumps against the ceiling,” he tells her with a grin, “C’mon, teeth brushing time.”

Inés grimaces but follows through and he has to shush her several times because she wants to keep talking.She even sports impatience on her face as her father wipes down her mouth with a damp flannel to rid it of leftover toothpaste. She looks ready to bolt out of the door, fidgeting slightly on the spot, “You promised we could build a tower before bed.”

“And we can,” he reassures, turning the flannel over to wipe the tip of her nose playfully. She crinkles it and reaches up to rub it afterward when he moves to hang it on the laundry basket, “But we’re getting ready for bed first. Hair okay?”

She nods, not entirely convinced that she gets to stay up longer after having brushed her teeth but when Javier has put her toothbrush back in its place in the medicine cabinet, she beams as he allows her to run off to her room. He follows behind, arms stretched out in front of himself, “I’m coming to get you, mija (my daughter)!”

“Nooo!” She squeals in delight, trying to barricade the door with her tiny body but he is too fast and manages to reach her before she can even close it. He picks her up by her middle and holds her upside down, shaking her gently while she laughs and laughs.

“Mi monita (my little monkey),” he laughs too.

They spend half an hour as the architects of a tall and colorful skyscraper, Inés too impatient to see the tower reach her own height to care much for aesthetics. Javier tries suggesting a storyline of a castle but his daughter shakes her head.

“Stop, Daddy,” she commands and he holds up his hands in surrender.

“So no princesses live here?” He questions, “Not even a dragon? Or maybe a—”

“No,” she deadpans, steadfast just like Javier’s father has told him he was. He smiles when she isn’t looking, not about to get scolded by a 4-year-old for not taking their playtime seriously. He enjoys the little moments he has like these, seeing the way his daughter imitates his own behavior in a way that would make your teasing never-ending if you saw it. At that moment, he despises himself and his job because he has to leave sometimes and thus misses out on things. He should have been here when Inés built a tower as tall as herself by herself, not see it in a photograph later.

Eventually, the construction gets too tall for her to build it even taller. Javier is put to work immediately after she realizes this, and she oversees his work with important nods and looks of assessment.

“Look, Daddy!” She exclaims with each building block that Javier places on top of another. She stands beside the tower because she needs to compare her height to it, and Javier has to keep a hand on her shoulder to steady her when she gets close to making it tumble down, “Do you think it will reach the ceiling?”

“One day I’m sure it’ll reach the moon,” he replies as if it is a fact, “I for sure am tall enough.”

“No, you’re not,” she furrows her brow, thinking, “But we will just have to get a very big ladder.”

Finally, Javier has built a tower double her size. It stands wobbly on the floor. He nods towards it, “There you go, mi amor (my love), do you want to put the last block on top? The triangular one?”

She nods and he notices the telltale signs of Inés’ tiredness because her eyes have started drooping. She rubs them with a little sigh, and then holds out her arms so he can pick her up and place her on his hip.

She places the block carefully on top after Javier hands it to her. It is like all energy reserves have been used up from one moment to another. However, he doesn’t want to risk the unsteady tower falling over in the middle of the night, so he whispers in his most mischievous voice, “Do you want to knock it down?”

“Can I?” She widens her eyes.

“Sí, pero no se lo digas a tu mamá (yes, but don’t tell your mom),” he confirms, “Perhaps a big angry monkey swung from it whilst roaring like this!”

He imitates King Kong the best he can and is thankful she has no clue what it is, and she repeats after him only to push on the stacked blocks until they tumble to the floor. He kicks the remaining pieces with his foot, and she roars again. They laugh together until she yawns.

“Alright, es hora de dormir (it’s time to sleep),” he announces then, and she doesn’t protest. He shifts her slightly in his arms so she can wrap herself around him with both her arms and legs, burying her face in his shoulder. It’s clear that she has missed him. He rubs her back with both hands before holding her in place, moving towards the bed in the corner of her room.

Gently, he lays her down and crouches down beside her afterward. He pulls the covers up over her head on purpose and earns a giggle, “Oh no, where did Inés go?”

“You’re silly, Papá,” she says.

“Go to sleep, baby,” he tells her after tucking her in properly this time, “You are so tired. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you for playing with me,” Inés says with a yawn, turning on her side to look at him better. She softens a little as her eyes start to flutter closed, her father’s hand running over her head. Another yawn comes, “Te quiero, Papá. No me gusta cuando te vas y no me gusta extrañarte (I love you, Dad. I don’t like it when you leave and I don’t like missing you).”

Javier sucks in a breath. He rubs the spot between her eyebrows, trying to keep his composure, “Lo sé, mi vida (I know, my life). I love you too. Sleep well, okay?”

“Okay,” she slurs, and then her breathing slows. He tucks her in one last time, leaning in to kiss her hair softly before stretching carefully to his full height. He makes sure to turn on her night light before turning off the overhead lights, closing the door ever so gently afterward.

He lets out a deep breath right outside her room and smooths two fingers over his mustache. He hasn’t told you about this yet but he is considering quitting his job, has been considering it very seriously since Christmas when he promised to cut down on work significantly to be home a lot more with you and the kids. That and the fact that you are carrying his fourth child, and leaving you home alone with all four in the future just seems cruel.

However, it’s a comment like the one he has just received from his only daughter that sets it in stone. His search for other jobs is not a mere idea any longer but rather a necessity if he wants to continue being happy with his family.

He has to tell you and he is dying to already, but first, he wants to unpack and then tuck Lucas in too. He has three days of goodnights to catch up on.

—

He enters Lucas’ room half an hour later to the familiar sound of his son’s Game Boy, its rhythmic beeps and pings accompanied by the frantic tapping on its buttons. Lucas is sitting cross-legged in his bed, already wearing his pajamas and with his face illuminated by the screen of his console.

“Hey Dad, can you knock? I’m losing my concentration,” his son says without looking up from the screen, already sounding so grown up that Javier has to tighten his grip around the doorknob. Where did the time go?

“Ay, Lucas,” he tuts and crosses the room to stand by the bed, “Soy tu padre (I’m your father).”

“I just really don’t want to lose,” he explains and starts tapping away on the buttons again, his stare still fixed on the little jumping character. Javier waits for a moment, following his game by looking over his shoulder.

When enough time has passed and Lucas seems to relax a bit more, he interrupts again, “Alright, time for bed, muchacho (young man).”

“One more game!” Lucas finally looks up with pleading eyes. The boy sports the same puppy-look in them that you have said Javier does himself, and it was only when he looked into Lucas’ pleading face the first time that he realized what you meant. The look is damn near impossible to say no to.

“Fine, but I’m taking it afterward unless you promise me not to play all night,” he says firmly, “Even Mario has to sleep at some point.”

“I will!” He reassures quickly, “Only five minutes more, I promise.”

“But I want to talk to you about something first,” he holds out his hand for the gaming console, “Dámelo (Give it to me). It’s important you listen.”

“Am I in trouble?” Lucas reluctantly hands his most precious belonging to his father who places it on the nightstand.

“What? No, mijo (my son),” Javier gets Lucas under the covers, tucks him in, and then sits down on the edge of the bed, “How would you like it if I got to spend more time at home with you all?”

“What do you mean?” Lucas tilts his head in confusion.

“Can you keep a secret from Mom?” He asks with a gentle smile. Lucas nods. He continues, “I’m quitting my job soon.”

“Really?!” Lucas exclaims with pure shock on his face.

“Shh, your sister and your brother are asleep down the hall,” he shushes, holding a finger in front of his mouth.

“Really?” He whispers instead.

“Absolutely, really,” Javier whispers back and Lucas’ eyes sparkle with excitement. He sits up in bed, pushing the covers aside to crawl into his father’s arms. Maybe he isn’t so grown up after all. Javier hugs him back and kisses his hair, “I’ve been thinking that spending more time with you, your brother and your sister is what I’ve been missing. I don’t like leaving you here to be the big boy of the house when I’m not here.”

He continues when Lucas tightens his arms around him. He muses, “And even if I’ll still have a job, there’ll be more time for game nights and football in the garden. Would you like that?”

Lucas nods into his shoulder. Javier chuckles softly, "But remember, es nuestro secreto (it’s our secret) until I talk to Mom about it. We want to make sure she's on board with the plan, yeah?”

Lucas pulls back and nods eagerly, looking like he is already daydreaming of the extra time he'll get to spend with his father. However, there’s a tinge of anxiety in his excitement, and his voice is an unsure whisper when he speaks his concern, "Dad, what if Mom doesn't like the idea? What if she gets upset?"

“She understands how important our family time is. Trust me, te prometo (I promise) everything will be okay," he says with a reassuring smile.

“But what will your new job be?” Lucas continues, “Will it be something cool?”

“I think I might start teaching people how to catch bad guys like I used to do,” he shrugs.

Lucas grimaces, “You’re gonna be a teacher?”

“Alright, that’s enough,” he laughs, “Bedtime.”

“You said one more game!” He protests.

Javier gets up to grab the Game Boy off the nightstand. He holds it out for his son and yanks it away when he tries to take it, “One.”

“I promise,” he says and takes it when he is allowed.

“And your father is actually very cool,” Javier moves to turn off the lights. He can already hear the theme tune of Lucas’ game, “Buenas noches (goodnight).”

“Buenas noches, papá, te quiero,” Lucas beams in the few seconds he looks up.

“Y yo a tí, mijo (I love you too, my son),” he says and flicks the switch.

“They’re asleep,” Javier says as he enters the kitchen a few minutes later. He finds you leaning against the counter with a glass of alcohol-free red wine in your hand. The bottle stands on the counter behind you, its contents half-emptied as if it's been your only way of treating yourself in the evenings after the kids have gone to bed. You look tired from having been alone with all three of them - one of them still an infant - for three days and with a secret baby in your belly to top it off.

Chucho had offered to help you out but you had politely declined so as to not ask for too much of your father-in-law, not be too much of an inconvenience when he has so much to do at the ranch with getting ready for the Spring.

“I’m about to be too,” you say after a sip of your glass.

“When I’ve finally gotten you to myself?” Javier tuts and steps closer to you, stopping when he is right in front of you. He checks the baby monitor on the kitchen counter next to the wine bottle and then he takes the glass off your hand, setting it aside as well.

His hands find your sides afterward, cupping your waist for a moment before they slide around your body so he can pull you in for a long and desperate kiss. You rest your arms on his shoulders, cradling his head as he moves his mouth with yours. It is nothing but pure ecstasy to feel him like this again, so much that you forget to breathe and have to pull away too soon.

You know he is the same when he sucks a breath in at the same time as you. However, instead of kissing you again, he lets you catch your breath and hugs you close to his chest. His body feels warm, an instant smile forming on your face as he squeezes you.

“Hi,” you say, sounding drunk despite the wine having no alcohol. His arms are a harbor, the very definition of the end of unhappiness. They’re strong and enough to make your head swim, holding you with the promise of never being apart except for physically.

You feel his breath against your ear, “Hey, mamá.”

“I’m so glad you’re home with me again,” you close your eyes as you inhale through your nose, letting the scent of him flood your system.

Javier pulls back and stares at you for a moment. He smirks, a mischievous gleam appearing in his eyes. Then he lets go of you to reach up and teasingly pull down your top to look down into it.

“Ay, Javi,” you scold with a roll of your eyes.

“What?” He acts oblivious.

“You’re acting insane, and I’m trying to be genuine.”

“I haven’t seen you in three days, mi amor (my love), you can’t blame me,” he protests your accusation, “Besides, this is me being very genuine.”

“Missed you too,” you sigh.

“And I’ve missed you, Jesus,” he wraps his arms around your waist again, pulls you closer to his body, and uses every opportunity to kiss you after each sentence, “Missed these tits. Missed your gorgeous pussy. You gotta let me have it tonight, mamácita.”

“Take me upstairs then,” you lean your head back when he presses his lips to your throat, “We’re not doing it in the kitchen. Against popular belief.”

Javier snorts, “But we always—“

“I said against popular belief, baby,” you stress.

“Fine, c’mere then,” his arms slide down over your hips, and when they reach your knees, he scoops you up with his strong arms and lifts you over his shoulder. You answer with a yelp that turns into a panicked laugh but he simply smacks your ass and starts walking. In the middle of the chaos, you manage to reach for the baby monitor on the counter.

“You are incorrigible,” you say with a dramatic sigh.

“Yes, wife, yes, wife good, I like wife,” he replies in his best caveman accent and you snicker all the way up the stairs, legs dangling over his shoulder and ready to scold him each time he gropes your ass.

When he throws you down on the bed, you are having a full-on laughing fit and the bubbling in your chest feels so good. Even better, when he looms over you by the end of the bed while unbuttoning his shirt, only to crawl on top of you. He kisses your wine-stained lips, scooping you up into his arms and you return his embrace after throwing the baby monitor on the bed.

“I love your laugh,” he says softly when he needs a breath, bumping your noses together.

“You just kidnapped me from the kitchen, that’s no laughing matter,” you tease. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss your neck while you talk.

“Then why are you giggling like a schoolgirl?” He places a hand on your belly that still keeps a secret between the two of you. No one knows yet.

There is concentration on his face when his hand moves up under your top, smoothing the fabric up until you stretch your arms above your head to help him rid it off of your body.

“Hmm,” you think out loud, “Maybe because I have this terrible schoolgirl crush on you.”

“Really? I thought marriage was just a matter of convenience,” he chuckles and kisses your neck again. You lay your hands on his shoulders, smoothing them over the broadness of his bare skin that’s been missing underneath your fingertips and pushing him down towards your chest.

“This is pretty good too, most convenient,” you note with a grin as he follows your silent order, moving his mouth south on you until he plants kisses between your breasts. You reach underneath your back to undo your bra, and he peels it off of you and sighs with satisfaction as soon as he has your upper body naked.

“Look at you,” he groans, throwing the bra to the side and diving back into you. He kisses the swell of your right breast, “You make me so fucking horny.”

You throw your head back as he lets the flat of his tongue trail wetly from one breast to the other. He sucks a nipple into his mouth and earns his first moan, to which he presses his clothed crotch into your thigh to show you how hard he is already.

“I’ve been wet since I saw you at the door,” you admit, “Been thinking of your cock inside of me each night. So fucking lonely without you.”

“You should have called me,” he mutters, mouth going further down on your body until he reaches the hem of your jeans. He undoes the button and zipper, yanking them over your hips and pulling them off your legs.

“I was too busy screwing myself,” you tell him and he immediately finds your eyes. That clearly hit a spot, “You like that, huh?”

“Tell me about it,” he struggles a little with the jeans as they sit around your ankles, but the desperation has him yanking them off with enough enthusiasm to pull you along.

“If you weren’t trying to drag me onto the floor— oh, shit.”

Javier has dragged your underwear along with the jeans, and he is now sinking two fingers deep inside of your dripping cunt and pressing them upwards. It’s what you get for being snarky, you suppose, staring down at him as he fucks you open on his digits.

“Your mouth— ah, put your mouth on me,” you try to command.

“Quiet down, baby. I literally just put the kids to bed. You want them running in here?” He shushes you with an amused grin, adding a third finger to your squelching cunt to make you groan, “While I’m wearing you like a puppet?”

You rock against his hand with a chuckle that develops into a moan, “Imagine the conversation that’ll start.”

“I’d rather have a conversation about how filthy you’ve been while I was away,” he speeds up his fingers to make you cry out against your hand but he doesn’t make you come, changing his mind halfway there to follow through on your request, “No, actually I’ll have you monologue about it because I’m going to eat your pussy as you do it.”

You tremble as he takes your clit in his mouth, easing his tongue over the hard nub over and over again whilst timing it with the strokes of his fingers. You feel so full of his digits, and it takes you a moment to trust yourself not to cry at the ceiling the second you remove your hand from your mouth.

“Took a long shower the day before yesterday, after the kids had gone to school and Seb was napping,” you begin with shaking breaths. You need to start the sentence three times before you can make your words make sense, “Used the faucet on the bathtub and came so goddamn hard. You should’ve seen me with my legs up against the wall.”

Below you, Javier hums in approval and it vibrates through your throbbing pussy. You continue.

“I imagined you going down on me with your warm tongue, circling my clit— yes, just like that,” just talking about it makes you gush from how horny it makes you, wetness dripping past Javier’s lips and into his mouth. He groans against you and mouths at your pulsing clit. You find yourself much closer from how well your body remembers the orgasm you had in the shower; the warm water pounding rhythmically against your clit, your toes curling, and— and.

You grind into his mouth and fuck yourself on his fingers as you come, the hot and heavy feeling of an orgasm crashing over you and intensifying as it peaks. You have to bite your lip to keep from screaming, still not managing to keep the high-pitched ah! from reverberating through the room. Javier’s fingers feel so much bigger inside of you as your cunt strangles them, and when you look down at him, you see that he is crashing his hips against the bed to feel just a bit of relief.

You have lost all restraint in your noises as you feel the pleasure ebb out, leaving you a whimpering and panting mess on the bed that wants it all. Somehow you are deeply satisfied at the same time as knowing that this is not enough; you need all of him, and you need him inside of your cunt until you can barely move from the spot. The fact that your body still works when he pulls his fingers from you is an indication of not having had enough.

“Need to fuck you,” he says from below you, crawling on top of you. He has left a damp spot on the sheets from where his cock has dragged against them, and he looks like he is in pain at this point if he doesn’t get to feel you around him, “Now, mi amor (my love).”

“No,” you stop him as he tries spreading your legs with a gentle yet hurried hand.

“No?” His brows furrow, a protest on the tip of his tongue.

“Let me ride you,” you beg, already pushing on his shoulders and feeling how he is giving in in an instant, “Please, I want you so deep in me.”

“Yes, yeah, okay,” he breathes, moving to lie on his back with a pillow under his head. You shake as you lift yourself to straddle him, holding out your arms in front of yourself to signal that you want him to be close to you. He reads you without you saying anything and sits up in your bed so you can be chest to chest.

You reach beneath yourself to take hold of the base of his cock, holding him in place so you can sink down on his shaft until he is buried inside of you to the hilt. You are dripping wet. The motion of engulfing him in your heat is smooth and effortless, and the moans the both of you let out are closer to whines because you are so starved.

“It’s so good, you’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles quietly in your ear, nosing along the spot behind it. You arch into him, nodding without any words coming to your mind. Instead, you let out a soft gasp as he fucks up into you.

Nothing describes being this close to him after not even being able to kiss him for three days. Other couples would shake their heads if they knew how desperate you get from merely three days apart. You only feel sorry for them. They don’t get how your days are spent with taking every opportunity to lay eyes on each other, breathe and taste each other or even just being able to put a hand on each other’s shoulder, hip, the small of the back.

“Let me,” you pant as he moves underneath you, sending you into a state where you need to concentrate if you want to get out a proper sentence, “I want to fuck this cock. Please, let me.”

Javier stills his hips underneath you. He seems to be holding his breath as he watches you place your hands on his shoulders and then feel them slide behind his head to tilt his head backward. He looks up at you as you start moving on him, rocking in his lap so he barely pulls out of you.

“Come on, that’s a good girl,” he says when he finally sucks in a breath, eyes gazing up at you with a pussydrunk look in them. When they glaze over like this, you know his words will be ravenous and never-ending, “Fuck, baby. That’s it. There you go. Let me touch you so deep inside.”

It doesn’t take long for him to be distracted by your moving chest as you sensually drag your hips over his thick cock. He did tell you that he had missed your breasts but that had been in a slightly playful manner; you never thought that you would actually start to feel beautiful under his hungry eyes. It shouldn’t come as a shock to you because he always knows how to make you feel desirable.

“Attagirl,” he groans, holding your hip tightly with his right hand to help you keep your balance, “God, look at those pretty tits.”

You arch your back as he puts his other hand on your left breast, bending his head down to mouth along the swell until he reaches your nipple. He swirls his tongue once but it is too hard to keep going when you move more frantically on top of him to pleasure yourself, so instead, he wraps his whole mouth around the hardened, spit-slicked peak and sucks until your cunt clamps down in surprise of how good it feels.

“Fuck,” you pant, closing your eyes. The noises of him sucking on your breasts fill your ears and along with how it is making your belly swirl, it makes you impossibly wetter, coating his dick in a milky-white ring. A lewd thought enters your mind. Perhaps, he keeps knocking you up because of this; your cup size has remained the same for a while because you’ve been breastfeeding for months now, and with another baby on its way, you know that the months will keep adding up in the near future.

A drop slips into his mouth and spurs him on to give you a thorough taste. Your brows pull together as a more high-pitched moan leaves your open mouth and he pulls back to shush you gently. Then he sucks greedily again.

You had once asked him why he loved this, and he had replied that the very fact that you were producing milk so sweet to nurture his child went straight to his dick.

“Javi,” you whine to tell him just how you feel. He removes his mouth from your sensitive chest to talk, albeit reluctantly. However, when he notices the change in your sounds and your pitch, he doesn’t want to look away from your face again until he has seen you lose it.

“Oh, you wanna come, huh? Then fuck me,” he says with milk-stained lips. You move desperately in his lap as he spurs you on, feeling the head of his cock dragging back and forth inside of you, laying against your g-spot perfectly if you tilt your hips just a bit. Javier’s eyes burn as they stare up at you but he cannot help himself from occasionally glancing down at your bouncing tits. Your need to come grows, and when you press down slightly harder, you see stars behind your eyelids. A second orgasm tears through you, and one of the hands that has gripped your hip hard enough to bruise comes up to cover your mouth because you start screaming. It’s so intense to have missed him so much.

“There she is,” he growls lowly, watching your face contort with pleasure until tears slide down your face and underneath his palm that’s tightly secured over your whining mouth, “That’s my good girl. You know how to come on this fucking cock, fuck, you feel so good, mi vida (my life), choking my dick. Keep going— no no, don’t stop, ride through it, baby.”

You force yourself to continue moving and keep crying into his hand, wet from drool and tears by now. The oversensitivity is mind-numbing, toe-curling, and somehow still not enough.

“Almost made me come, mi chica sucía y desesperada (my dirty, eager girl),” he says through a breathless chuckle but then raises his brows as your pitch starts climbing once again. You have successfully bypassed your body and started building up another high, “You’re gonna come again? Díos mio (my God), my beautiful wife is insatiable.”

Any chance of talking back at him is lost because you would wake up the whole neighborhood if he dared remove his hand from your mouth. To put his filthy mouth in its place, you start bouncing in his lap to the point where his naked thighs crash harshly into your ass. The sound of skin slapping against skin is dirty but Javier’s desperate groans are obscene. He can barely talk now without his voice wavering, and with the way he repeats himself, you know he is doing everything in his power to let you come one more time before he bursts, “Use my cock, yes like that. K-keep going— you’re gonna make me come. Oh fuck.”

When he notices that you are trying to say something, he removes his hand and allows you a single sentence before clamping the hand down over your mouth again.

“I can’t do it anymore,” you whimper with exhaustion, thighs having started to tremble with the effort you are putting into bouncing in his lap. They hurt at this point, straining despite how much you also use your arms to steer yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Go until you can’t fucking do it anymore and I’ll take over, yeah?” He nods at you when you make a mhm-noise into his hand, eyes encouraging and his breaths less composed.

When you come a second time on his dick, you falter immediately. The sensation of the pleasure that has built up so fast again crashes down and takes you with it in its fall. You are silent when it’s teetering on the edge, and then it makes your voice crack when you feel the first tug behind your throbbing clit.

There is only the feeling of your convulsing cunt making you believe in a higher power - in this case, Javier fucking Peña - and then said higher power wrapping his arm around your sticky back to lift you up and down. He snaps his hips upwards to use your body for his own pleasure, and after a series of frantic movements, he comes with a groan. The feeling of his warm spill inside of you has you whimpering, and you try your best to rock your hips the best your exhausted body can. If it weren’t for all the dopamine in your system, you are sure it would hurt.

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes. Oh, baby, fuck the come out of me, yes, that’s it,” he chants underneath you as he fills you up, moving to meet you halfway until he also has no more to give. When he stills, he grabs your face to smash your lips together in a messy, desperate kiss that is more teeth than anything else. It feels impossible to get close enough to him, even if your chests stick together from sweat.

A moment later, you fall down onto his chest with a chuckle, head swimming from what you have just done. Your arms lie on either side of his head, and your cheek is pressed into his hair. You can feel his nose dig into your shoulder, inhaling you and your post-sex scent, and his arms tighten around your waist as he hugs you close.

“That was fantastic,” you groan with him still inside of you. He gives you one more thrust, pressing his hips upwards, and you half-moan in oversensitivity and half-laugh in surprise, “Stop it, Peña.”

He laughs breathlessly, placing a kiss on your bare skin. Then he slips out of you with a grunt, and you feel his come drip from you already, down onto his cock and thighs. He rubs your sides with his broad hands, “I have missed you as well, you know.”

“I don’t ever want you to go again,” you demand sillily.

“You say that every time.”

“I mean it every time.”

There’s a pause between the two of you. It lasts several minutes where you just lie on top of his chest. 5, 10, 15 minutes pass. Javier says nothing yet you know him well enough to know that he is considering his words.

“I was thinking of something,” he finally says.

You sit up at that, “What?”

“You know how I said something about work during Christmas? That I wanted to be more home with you and the kids, that it would make me happier?” He begins, looking up at you and not hesitating in his eye contact with you.

You suddenly pay a lot more attention, “Yeah?”

“I was thinking that since I will have a bunch of kids to carry around a lot more years from now, I can’t be running around in the force anymore. My back is fucking killing me, and I also want to make love to my wife on the regular,” he tells you and you know instantly that it’s serious even if he says it with a chuckle, “I was thinking of teaching at the local college. They have a criminology course, and with my time in school with my head in the books - I mean, my bachelor’s degree - it shouldn’t be a problem to get a job there.”

“Are you serious?” You gape at him.

“Yes, of course, I am,” he furrows his brow slightly. Only now, he looks unsure but still keeps talking, “It would mean nothing of this sort either; me going away.”

“Babe, that’s amazing,” you fall down into him again, causing an umph-noise from your husband, and then you crash your lips into his. You kiss him as if your life depended on it, sliding your fingers through his dark hair and tugging slightly as if trying to get him even closer to you.

He looks drunk and disheveled when you pull back again, a goofy and satisfied smile on his face. His fingers scratch slightly along your back, “You’d like that, huh?”

“Yes, please,” you beam with happiness.

“Then you shall have it, mi vida (my life),” his hands travel down to your ass which he gropes obscenely, and when you make a noise, he smacks your right cheek. You feel his cock, hard again, poke into your thigh.

You look down between you, “This is a surprise. I thought you’d gotten old…”

“Like I said…” He grabs your waist and pulls you down to lie on your back. A yelp escapes your lips.

He is inside of you mere seconds after, causing you to longingly whine. He thrusts once then twice, and you throw your head back to take it, “…I’ve missed you.”

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mun-in-rain · 3 months

Text

Insatiable

Pairing - Wriothesley x fem! Reader

Summary - Wriothesley loves you like crazy and fucks you hard. That's it. Lol

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“You know, it’s a full time job keeping this greedy cunt satisfied…” Wriothesley rasped in his husky voice close to y/n's ears. She moaned as Wriothesley fingered her, spreading her juices around inside her to relax and prepare her for his big cock. Given his huge size, he'd need to prepare her well. And he was a giver at heart, seeing her in pleasure was his pleasure.

Pumping his thick fingers inside her, he tapped onto a spot which he knew well to make her tremble. Y/n inhaled sharply, hissing as she was so close to the precipice. Wriothesley rubbed the pad of his thumb over and over her clit, driving his fingers, assaulting her G-spot, and y/n was overwhelmed with the barrage of pleasure. A fine sheen of sweat misted her body as her hips bucked to his thrusting wrist; she came with a shrill cry of climax, quivering all over, pleasure radiating in waves from her sex towards her entire being. Her wetness coated his fingers and her thighs as he slowly pulled them out of her squelching hole.

Unable to wait any longer with a raging hard-on, Wriothesley kissed y/n, tongue fucking her smart little mouth. He lifted her hips, placing his large calloused palms over her plump, creamy thighs, urging her knees to her chest. Then he lowered his protruding cock to her entrance, inch by delicious inch. The slippery, bulbous head slipped and disappeared instantly inside her, and he slammed down onto her with a single downward thrust. It was always a tight fit no matter how much the prep. But watching her struggle to take him ignited a flame inside him like no other. It made him

feral, a sense of animalistic possessiveness blooming in his chest along with a sense of pride that only he could ever make her feel so damn full.

“Ah, Fuuuck! You’re so tight!” Wriothesley groaned, his filthy praises making Y/n's walls ripple around his shaft, squeezing him like a tight fist. "Wrio, please slow down!" She pushed onto his broad and unyielding chest in a futile attempt to request for a pause. Y/n moaned and squeezed her insides involuntarily, eliciting a growl from him. He picked up the rhythm, slow and steady, yet so hard and deep while his fingers wove magic on her clit and his other hand busied itself on her bouncing tits, flicking them restlessly. “Grab the pillow, and don’t let go.” Wriothesley demanded possessively.

Then he drove his big cock to the root into her tight wet pussy, working it up like a battering ram, shoving her up the bed. His weighty testicles slapped her ass, a sound so erotic that it turned each other on; he got harder, she got wetter. Squelching sounds of their pumping sex speared the air along with y/n's gasps and Wriothesley's grunts of pleasure. Her nipples, now hard as little pebbles bounced along on their round breasts, teasing and tickling Wriothesley's chest. Sweat shimmied down from his godlike body onto her pert tits, causing her to tingle all over.

“Don’t come. Make it last.” Wriothesley whispered huskily into her ear, sucking on her earlobe, fucking her at a speed which only a man of his divine physique was able to achieve.

“W-what?-mmh, ngh, ah, AHH…” y/n whimpered as he speared his big, rock-hard cock into her hot wet depths. She twisted her fingers and bit her lip, gripping the pillow with white knuckled force in an attempt to stave off her rapidly building climax.

“Oh, Wrio… I’m going to come if you don’t slow down…” y/n begged.

"Oh no baby, you don't get to come until I say so." He whispered into her ears, feeling her shiver with the dominant edge to his command. This is exactly what drove her desires wild. His possession, his control, his ability to hold her body in a state of continuous, deliriou, all consuming arousal. He knew she wanted it just like that. He knew she got off to having her body at his mercy. It took the weight off her shoulders. In his arms she felt so liberated, so loved, so carefree, so helpless, unable to do a thing while he bullied her pussy into submission like the whore that she was for him.

Wriothesley then angled his thrusts, y/n could feel the plush wide crest of his cock rubbing on a sweet, sweet spot deep inside her. Her lips quivered involuntarily in anticipation for orgasm, but she tried her best to stop the dam from bursting, to make it last…

“Please, Wrio…I c-can’t…” she moaned helplessly as her toes curled in tiny tingles of shockwaves.

“Don’t you want to cum, baby?” Wriothesley teased. “Come y/n, just cum on my cock. That's it, just like that, my beautiful little slut-"

He couldn't even finish and y/n was thrown over the edge. With his dirty praises she came, crying out his name, the sheets bunching under her iron grasp. Her back bowed up into Wriothesley's big body, shuddering as the sheer force of the climax wreaked havoc on all her senses. Her arms fumbled around to have him to hold on to and she scratched up his muscular back.

White light burst into dazzling fireworks underneath her closed eyelids. She screamed out garbled versions of Wriothesley's name, unable to form coherent speech as pleasure spiked through her in jolts of electricity. Tears prickled her eyes and flowed down her cheeks. Goosebumps ran up her arms, her toes curled as pleasure unfurled in her womb, her nipples beaded as her skin was so oversensitive. Her hot wet slick coated his pistoning cock and balls and seeped out of her onto the sheets.

Wriothesley was close behind, thrusting through her orgasm. Her climax had her inner walls rippling and clamping down on him, making his climax inevitable. He whispered to her his praises of how she was such a good girl, so obedient, so pliant, so submissive, so beautiful, how much he loved her, how lucky he was to have her, and how blessed he was that his lover craved everything he'd always wanted to give. His thrusts became erratic and then he came with a growl, his back arching, chest pinning her down onto the bed, stilling and emptying himself inside her with thick strings of hot, sticky cum. His Adams apple bobbed as he groaned in release. Y/n could feel him spurt and spill his essence deep in her, and it felt like a million feather-light fingers tickling and teasing her insides. She gasped and panted, fighting for breath and feeling incredibly full.

Resting himself on his arms, with himself still lodged inside her, he gave her one of his sexiest smirks, his rapid breaths slowly coming down to normal. She smiled back breathlessly, love and affection blooming in the depths of her eyes. Wriothesley leaned down to kiss her forehead, her nose, her cheeks and finally her lips. He held her close, wrapping his arms around her, melding her body to his. Then he whispered into her ears "Are you sore, or can you take me again?"

#wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #minors dni #minors do not interact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #wriothesley #mun writes

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avoxrising · 5 months

Text

The Feral One • Chapter 3

Finnick x Reader

Series Masterlist Link

I wrote this on my lunch break to squeeze another chapter out for y’all! Enjoy :)

Content Warnings - panic attacks/breakdowns

When the parade is about to start, the peacekeepers march you over to your chariot. They go to lift you onto it but you shriek, causing them to back up and aim their guns at you.

“Woah there,” Finnick states, slowly stepping between you and them. “What have I told you guys about touching her?”

“The tribute needs to be in the chariot,” one of the peacekeepers says.

“Can you uncuff her so she can pull herself up?” Finnick asks.

“No,” the peacekeeper grunts. By this point you are curled into a ball, doing your best to take deep breaths. Tears threaten to spill over and ruin your makeup.

“Hey hey hey,” Finnick says in a calm voice, crouching down to you. “I need to lift you into the chariot. It will be quick.”

You give him a slight nod as you stand up. He gets into the chariot, ensuring you can clearly see his hands the entire time. He’s probably flashed his prep team with all his moving but there’s not much he can do about it with the lack of clothes he’s wearing.

Tensing up, you let him gently lift you into the chariot. He’s careful not to touch you more than necessary. Despite basically living at your place, he always gives you plenty of personal space. However, sometimes you find yourself wishing he would stand the tiniest bit closer to you. He is your safe person, until your brain convinces you that he isn’t.

You nearly fall off the chariot as the horses lurch forward. Finnick grabs your arm to keep you upright and you go to punch him with your cuffed hands, only to remember that it’s just Finnick. You don’t want to hurt him.

“I’m sorry but you’re too pretty to be falling out of a chariot,” he whispers. You nod and do your best to wipe your tears with your hands.

The crowd booms as you enter their view with Finnick. Declarations of love for him are screamed while people shout vile words at you. Roses are thrown his direction, while you get hit with some small rocks and other hard objects. Finnick does his best to shield you but it’s no use.

You can feel him tense as the urge to protect you flairs up, but he can’t; not in front of sponsors. It’s bad enough that he’ll lose most of the sponsors once he allies with you in the arena. You both talked prior and reluctantly agreed that the best move was for him not to be overprotective in front of sponsors.

Another rock is thrown your way, this time hitting your cheek near your scar. That’s your breaking point. You can feel the heat rush to your head as your nails dig into the chariot. Finnick is panicking at this point. There’s no calming you down and you aren’t even halfway through the parade. If you make it back to the stables, he’ll have to sedate you.

You don’t remember the rest of the parade, or nearly attacking Linessa, or Finnick sedating you. What you do remember is the conversation you overhear between Gloss and Katniss as Finnick carries you to the elevator.

“So girl on fire,” Gloss says. “Though of any allies yet? Or are you and lover boy going to try to kill us alone?”

Katniss doesn’t reply but something must have tipped Gloss off to her potential allies.

“Those two?” he laughs. “Fishy and Feral? You’re dumber than I thought. Those two are sadists. They love killing people slowly, and watching the life drain from them. You’d be dead within two hours. Who knows, she might even eat you if she’s hungry. There wouldn’t even be a body left to bring back to your family.”

Finnick tenses up, having overheard their conversation as well. He carries you to the elevator and you fully pass out.

He’s sitting in your room when you wake up. His arms are covered in scratches and he looks exhausted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to.”

He shakes his head and walks over towards your bed.

“It’s ok,” he sighs. “Everyone is fine.”

“Is Mags fine?” you ask in a panic. “He, he said…”

“What did he say?” Finnick tenses.

“If I do anything crazy he’ll kill her, and you,” you sob. “I’m sorry. I can’t control myself.”

Finnick let’s out a long sigh and rubs his temples.

“Everyone is fine,” he states. “You didn’t break down until we were back in the stables. Barely anyone saw.”

“I don’t think I should go to training,” you state. “I’m not in control.”

“The peacekeepers informed me earlier that you aren’t allowed out of your room, for training or for the interviews. They’ve allowed me in here on the condition that I carry sedative on me in case you need it,” he explains.

“Mags?” you ask and he shakes his head. She isn’t allowed to visit. Finnick goes to get more ice for your bruises and you do your best to enjoy the remaining bit of sanity you have left.

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#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick odair angst #finnick fluff #the feral one

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osamusriceballs · 6 months

Text

Kinktober Day 27 <3

Ushijima x dirtytalk

Warnings: NSFW, fem reader

Words: ~ 2,3 k

Kinktober Masterlist II -> Next day

"Here, Wakatoshi-kun! Look at this!"

A phone gets shoved into his face, the brightness level way too high for comfort, but he squints to take a look at the screen. A small grunt leaves his lips at the lack of greeting from his red-haired friend, but he chooses to focus on the screen instead.

It's an Instagram post with a picture of him, one taken during the Olympics. He looks at the picture, confused, but then Tendou starts scrolling through the comments

"I'd combust if he called me 'baby' with that deep voice."

"Do you think he's vocal in bed?" Reply: "He doesn't talk much in interviews, so I doubt it." Reply: "What a waste. His voice is so hot."

"LOOK AT HIS ABS *drools*"

"The world is going crazy ever since you said 'baby' in that one interview!" Tendou wildly gestures with his phone still in his hand, his grin almost smug when he elbows Ushijima. A frown appears on the spiker's face as he tries to recall the interview. It was one that he wasn't too fond of, due to the number of personal questions that had been asked. Way too personal questions for his liking.

"Ushijima-san, do you have any plans to start a family soon? When can we expect a baby, a little Ushijima junior?" "Baby?" he had echoed, clearly taken aback by this question, something that the interviewer probably failed to notice, but to the people close to him, it was fairly obvious. The silence after this question lead to speculation on the internet about his relationship status, something that he has kept private so far.

"It wasn't in a sexual way." Ushijima states after skimming through more comments, raising his eyebrows when the messages get more explicit and vulgar. "I was surprised when he asked the question."

"Doesn't matter! The world is going feral now, everybody wants to be Wakatoshi's baby! And even I have to admit that I got butterflies when I heard you say that. Y/n is really lucky~" Tendou hums, mischief clear in his eyes, but Ushijima fails to follow his train of thoughts with this.

"Why is she lucky?"

"Because she gets you to say sweet and dirty things to her all day long. You can't fool me, Wakatoshi-kun; I'm not only your best but also your oldest friend." Tendou winks and strolls ahead, oblivious to the way Wakatoshi is left standing there with a frown on his face, still.

xxxxx

"Y/n?"

You rub your arms dry with a fluffy towel when his voice comes from the other side of the door.

"Hmm?" you hum, smiling excitedly because he is finally back home. "I'll be out in a second."

"Yes, please. We need to talk." You hear him lean against the door frame, clearly waiting for you to come out.

You freeze at his words, eyes growing wide when realization settles in and you fully comprehend his words. "Talk? Talk about what?" you know that you sound shrill and loud, but you can't help yourself but to feel nervous at his serious tone- even more serious than normally.

"About us." Your jaw drops, and you quickly reach for your bathrobe, hastily unfolding the fabric to its full length.

"What do you mean about us? Is there a problem with us?" You finally manage to pull your arms through the fabric, quickly wrapping the fabric along your body before you open the door. You're met with Ushijima's broad chest as he quickly straightens to his full posture. His olive eyes roam over your body, lingering for a short moment on your exposed cleavage before they return back to your face. He looks nervous, there is no other way to put it. "I'm not sure. I think there could might be a problem."

"And what would that be?" You cross your arms in front of your chest, your eyes boring into his face as if you could find answers for his unusual behavior there. You've never seen him like this before. His usual warm eyes are clouded with worry, his hands fidgeting with his phone in his hands. "Toshi? What is it? Please, talk to me." You're tempted to take the phone out of his hands, but you refrain from touching him, not when you don't know what's going on.

"Are you happy with our sex life?" His eyes don't leave your face, not for even the slightest second to see your reaction, and your jaw drops at the sudden question- you expected a lot, but definitely not this.

"I'm- I mean, yes I am? Shouldn't I be? Are you unhappy?" You take a slight step back, creating distance between the two of you, baffled by the sudden implication that he thinks that you're not satisfied. Or that he might not be. Sex with Wakatoshi is great- hard, rough, and passionate. He knows how to fuck you, that is for sure, but he also knows how to be gentle and sweet, how to take care of you and spoil you, especially during aftercare. You lack nothing in your sex life with him- and you hope that he feels the same.

"I am happy. Very. I enjoy sex with you very much much," he states firmly, but that only confuses you more.

"Why are you asking me then? What made you think that I could be unhappy?" You move closer to him, worry etched in your features when you finally take his phone and put it aside to grab his hands.

"Do you want me to talk more? To be more vocal? I saw a video and people kept on commenting how they want me to call them 'baby' and some more things. Would you like that too?" The way he asks nonchalantly like he was just talking about dinner made this even more embarrassing somehow.

"For you to call me 'baby' during sex?"

"Hmm." He nods and looks expectantly at you, his hands squeezing yours while his gaze seems somewhat calmer now that he is convinced that you're satisfied.

"You... you can call me whatever you want. I'm fine with it." You try to sound unbothered and calm, but the slightly shaking note shows how the thought of him calling you "baby" or "his pretty girl" while he thrusts into you does something to you. He nods, hesitating for a second, but then his hands suddenly drop yours to pull you in by the waist, his other hand coming to your chin while he leans down until his lips are close to your ear.

"My baby. Or would you rather be my babygirl?" His honey-like voice almost puts a spell on you, and you find yourself shivering in his arms, thighs involuntarily clenching together. "S-sounds good, Toshi." You bring your hands up to his chest, feeling the hard muscles under his shirt and his slow and steady heartbeat.

"And what would my babygirl like me to do? Does my babygirl want to be touched?" He lowly mumbles against the shell of your ear, your heart now beating faster when his hands start to roam over your body. "Yes," you breathlessly answer, hands slightly clenching into the fabric of his shirt. Definitely not what you had expected as the outcome of the conversation, but vocal Wakatoshi makes your pussy throb with every single word.

"My babygirl needs me to touch her, huh? I will take care of that pretty little princess cunt." He kisses your cheek, and your legs feel like jelly at this point. You cling to him, hanging on every single one of his words. You feel your arousal growing, feel how you start to get wet the more his hands keep touching you.

"More," you whisper, feeling hot and bothered while he keeps on touching you and pressing kisses to your neck. "More? Is my babygirl needy? That pretty princess cunny needs me to touch her?" He lifts the bathrobe just enough to place one hand on your thigh, and you feel like your body is on fire when he touches you there.

"Yes," you gasp, your hands now finding purchase on his shoulders while you cling onto him like your life depends on it. "What does that little princess cunny want? My fingers?" He grazes his fingertips along your thigh, moving dangerously close to your pussy under the bathrobe- bare, and basically creaming for him the longer he keeps playing with your body.

"Or my tongue?" he licks along the column of your neck, and you gasp at his words, the sensation hot and forbidden god. "I want to taste you, baby. You always taste so sweet. Do you want my tongue between your legs? Licking at your pretty pussy?" His fingers reach your throbbing pussy, slightly parting your folds and dipping in your wetness.

"Do it, do it, Toshi, please," you press your legs together around his hand, effectively caging him right where you need it. "Hmm, but you have to cum on my fingers first." He pecks your cheek and pulls his hand away from your legs, just to place it on your hips to guide you towards the bed. "Lay down for me, baby. Open that bathrobe for me."

His baritone echoes through the room, and you feel yourself doing everything like you're in a haze, full of need for him. "Hmm, that's my good girl." He hums apporvingly when you discard the bathrobe on the floor. Your body is trembling in the cool air of the room, but Ushijima is quick to join you on the bed and to hover above you, radiating so much heat that you instantly feel warm.

"Baby, spread your legs for me. Show me everything." You take a deep breath and slowly part your legs, revealing your glistening folds to him. A shiver runs down his body, and he clears his throat before he speaks again, his voice now lower when he is obviously bothered and turned on by the situation. "Look at how wet you are for me. All for me."

You frantically nod, anticipation rushing through your body while you wait for him to touch you. His fingers finally roam over your thighs, and your head falls back into the pillow at the way he touches you, the way he knows exactly where and how to touch you.

"So impatient. I can't wait to be inside of you, to feel you around me." Your gaze falls to the tent in his pants, the thought of him fucking you making your head spin and your pussy throb with need. His fingers move between your legs, moving along your folds and pressing against your clit. You moan at the sensation, your hands fisting the sheets when his thumb prods on your entrance.

"You look so pretty like this. Just waiting for me to touch you, to fuck you. And you feel so good around my fingers." He pushes his thumb inside of you, and you almost close your legs around him. "I will make you feel so good. I will make you cum on my fingers, on my tongue, on my cock." You clench around the digit at his words, your eyes focused on his handsome face while he keeps on rubbing your clit. "More, please more," you whine your body shaking underneath his. "Shhh, I'll give you more. I'll give you what you need, baby." His eyes roam down your body and you almost protest when he pulls his thumb out, just to quickly replace it with three of his fingers. "Oh, Toshi," you whine, your hips arching into him, and you start to fuck yourself on his fingers. He keeps the fast rhythm, pulling his fingers out, and pushing them back inside, curling them pulling them out again. "You feel so good. You're is creaming for me, look at that." His words only add fuel to your desire, and you grab his shoulders to push him down to you to connect your lips in a needy kiss. He groans into your mouth, his movements slowing down for a few moments before he sets his rhythm again, a fast and punishing pace now.

Your nails rake along his bare shoulders, leaving red marks, and he groans at the sensation. "Come on, baby girl. Let me feel you clench around me. Cream on my fingers, make a mess for me," his voice sends you over the edge, and you moan his name when you cum, your walls pulsing and clenching softly around his fingers. He groans your name, sweet praises of how you're his good girl, how pretty you look under him, how much he loves you, leave his lips and your body arches from the bed into his while your face contorts in pure bliss.

He prolongs your high, making sure to keep his pace and to curl his fingers just the right way, and your body goes limp when he finally slows down. His lips meet yours, pressing chaste and loving kisses to your face. "Was that okay?" The slight frown on his face is back, a clear sign of him being deep in thoughts when he pulls back after a few more kisses.

"More than okay. I think I could cum from your voice alone." You smile up at him and cup his cheek, the afterglow making you feel so good while you lay under him.

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity now sparkling in his eyes at your words, and you are quick to explain further. "I- I didn't mean that literally. Like- I just wanted to say that your voice is hot. And you are hot." Your cheeks heat up when he simply nods and hums, a mild smile on his lips.

"I want to test that out. Let's see if I can make you cum with my voice alone, baby."

#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #ushijima #ushijima smut #ushijima x reader #this got longer than I thought it would #I thought the small bit of backstory would be a nice touch #I hope you enjoy this!#just two more days #T.T #I'll probably post Suna's part on friday #and the finale on Sunday #just to let you know! <3 #I just realized how much I'm missing Tendou T.T #I'll probably write something for him soon! <3 #BTW! I am pretty convinced that Ushijima looked up some phrases online beforehand #and he will use baby for an eternity now #But he'll eventually come along and start to use a variety of names and dirty things to say

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waitimcomingtoo · 1 year

Text

Somewhere In The Haze

Pairing: Peeta Mellark X Reader

Synopsis: Peeta returns from The Capital but he isn’t the same

As soon as you heard the news that the rescue team had returned from The Capital, you ran to the infirmary. You passed Johanna on your way to find Peeta and stopped in your tracks. She barely got two words out of her snarky speech when you pulled her to your chest and kissed the top of her shaved head. You ran before she had time to react and passed Finnick and Annie’s romantic reunion and grew giddy over the thought of you and Peeta reuniting in the same way. Your eyes scanned the room and eventually fell on Gale, who you ran to hug.

“I’m glad you’re safe.” You told him before pulling away. Gale watched the way your eyes darted around the room and he let out a sigh.

“He’s in there.” Gale said without meeting your eyes as he nodded towards a room to the left. You broke into a smile and felt your heart skip a beat.

“Thank you.” You said sincerely before running towards the room. You pushed on the door handle but were suddenly pulled back by Haymitch.

“Hold on, sweetheart. I know you’ve been waiting a long time to see lover boy again but you should prepare yourself for what you’re about to see.” Haymitch warned you. You felt a flash of anger towards Haymitch for trying to stop you from going in there and shook your head.

“I’m fine. I don’t care how he looks. Let me in there.” You said and tried to push the door open.

“You’re not fine. And neither is Peeta.” Haymitch tried to prepare you. The gravity in his voice made you stop trying to push past him.

“Why? What’s going on? Is he okay?”

“There’s something you should know.” Haymitch said after a beat of silence. You couldn’t take the anticipation anymore and pushed the door open. You ran inside and pushed open the second set of glass doors with a giddy smile on your face.

“Peeta? Peeta, I’m here.” You shouted as you burst into the room. You watched Peeta’s head perk up at the sound of your voice and he ever so slowly turned his neck to see you. When you saw the state of his bruised and battered face, looking much worse than you had seen from his Capital interviews, your smile dropped and you felt your heart shatter.

“Peeta.” You breathed out. Your heart ached for him so you slowly reached your hand out to touch his face. Peeta backed away from your hand as if in fear and your face twisted in confusion.

“Peeta, it’s me.” You assured him and reached out again. This time, he aggressively swatted your hand away befriend lunging at your neck with both hands. He slammed you into a glass cabinet behind you before throwing you onto the ground by your neck. You barely had time to gasp for air when he got back on top of you and started to strangle you. You tapped the side of his arms to try to get him to let go of you as you struggled to breath.

“Peeta, stop. It’s me.” You wheezed out.

“I know.” He growled and tightened his grip. You watched the corners of your vision darken as the last of your breath left your lungs. The last thing you saw before passing out was the feral look in Peeta’s eyes as he choked you.

When you woke up, your body felt sore and heavy. You had hoped the interaction with Peeta was just another one of your nightmares, but the brace around your neck told you it was all too real.

“I’m sorry. I tried to warn you. That’s not him.” Haymitch said from your bedside, making you jump. You opened your mouth to speak but only a croak came out. You gulped and braced yourself before trying again.

“You’re right. It’s not.” You croaked out.

“I’ll let you get some rest. We can talk about it when you’re feeling better.” Haymitch said with a pat of your hand. You quickly grabbed his hand and pulled his back.

“I want to talk to him.” You croaked.

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“I’ve waited to see him every day for the past 8 weeks. I need to see him.” You said with painful gasps of air between each word.

“Y/n, that wasn’t just some disorientation from his sedation wearing off. Peeta went through intensive torture while he was in The Capital.” Haymitch told you.

“What kind of torture?”

“It’s a method called Hijacking. They inject him with trackerjack venom and show him altered pictures of his life. It’s a form of fear conditioning. They have programmed his mind to see you as life threatening.”

“Can you reverse it?” You asked.

“We’re trying. But we have little to no experience with this sort of thing.” Haymitch sighed.

“Let me talk to him. He just needs to see my face.” You said and tried to sit up.

“You really want to go back in there after what he did to you?” Haymitch asked as he pushed you back down onto your bed.

“If it’ll help him get his memory back, then yes. He’d do it for me.” You said decidedly.

“You’ve never been one to accept “no” for an answer, have you?” Haymitch sighed, knowing he would never get through to you.

“Nope.”

“Fine. But we’re cuffing him.” He reluctantly agreed.

You were escorted back to Peeta’s room with an entirely new feeling in your chest. Last time you were coming to see him, you were giddy and hopeful. Things had been so good between the two of you on the last night in the arena. As you walked to his room now, you felt pure terror. It was like Peeta was possessed by a malevolent spirit that stripped him of every identifying feature you had grown to love. You pushed that feat to the side and entered his room.

“Peeta?” You asked as you pushed through the door. You could see the way Peeta immediately tensed up at the sight of you, so you stayed by the door as not to scare him.

“What are you doing in here?” He asked in a low voice.

“I came to see you. I’ve missed you.” You said as you immediately forgot to keep your distance and took a step towards him. You instinctively reached out to touch his bruised face, but withdrew it when he gave you a disgusted look. Instead, you folded your hands together and gave him a weak smile.

“You look terrible.” He stated, making your smile drop.

“You’ve definitely looked better.” You replied, making him roll his eyes.

“You’re not even remotely nice enough to say that to me right now.”

“Well I was never the nice one. You were.” You told him. Peeta’s expression changed when he heard this but his guard was still up. He looked away from you to look at the restraints on his wrists.

“I was beaten everyday for weeks.” He said without looking up.

“Peeta.” You whispered and took another step towards him. You reached a hand out again and his head snapped up to glare at you.

“I was shocked, whipped, starved, and isolated. Every single day. All because of you. So I’m sorry if I’m not nice anymore.” He said as his voice shook with rage.

Your mouth opened to say something but you found yourself speechless. You’d seen Peeta so many things, but you’d never seen him show hatred. You didn’t know the boy with the bread was capable of that feeling. You wiped a tear that had fallen before composing yourself.

“I never wanted to leave you behind. You need to know that. I had no idea there was a bigger plan at play. I wanted to go back for you. I swear I did. That was the only thing I wanted. But nothing was up to me.” You finally gave him the explanation you’d been practicing in your head for the moment you got to see him again.

“Me either.” Peeta said with a dry laugh. You nodded your head to show you understand his situation was much worse than yours.

“Because if it were, I would’ve let you get tortured by Snow. Not me.” Peeta continued as he raised his voice at you. You winced at the shouting and took a step back.

“I offered to take your place. Snow didn’t accept.” You explained. “I’m so sorry, Peeta. I’m sorry we didn’t get to you sooner. I’m sorry I had to leave you behind.”

“I’m sorry too.” Peeta said sincerely, peaking your interest.

“I’m sorry I threw you bread that day in the rain. I would’ve saved myself a lot of suffering if I just gave that bread to the pigs.” He shouted at you again and ruined one of your fondest memories of him, the very memory that got you through so much of the first games.

“It was the first my family had eaten in days.” You said with a sad smile, hoping Peeta would hear the kindness he had shown you and remember who he really was.

“I burnt it on purpose so I could give it to you. You know my mother beat me for burning it? Why would I take a beating like that for you?” Peeta asked genuinely. You could tell the Peeta you knew was long gone and the Peeta in front of you had no memory of ever loving you.

“Because you are kind. And generous. And people say you love me.” You answered him while hot tears spilled over your face.

“Do people say you love me?”

“I do. I do love you.” You insisted as you stepped forward again. Peter withdrew his entire body from you as much as he could with his restraints. You saw the way he recoiled and stood still.

“People say that’s why Snow tortured you. To hurt me.” You said once you composed yourself.

“Snow said everything out of your mouth is a lie.” Peeta snapped.

“I could say the same for him.” You said back, starting to grow angry. Not necessarily with Peeta, but at whoever came up with the sick joke of Peeta coming back to you but with an entirely new personality that hated you.

“They told me they would only let you in if they restrained me.” Peeta told you as he looked back down at his restraints.

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t want them to. But they wouldn’t let me come see you without it.”

“You know what I can’t wait to do once these restraints are off?” Peeta asked with a slight smile on his face. You grew hopeful that the Peeta you knew was coming back and stood up straighter.

“What?” You asked with the same soft smile.

“Kill you for the mutt that you are.” He said with an eerie grin. You gasped a little and took a step back from him.

“You don’t mean that. This isn’t you.” You shook your head as more tears fell down your face.

“This is me. If you don’t think I’m good enough anymore to be your little romance puppet, then get the HELL OUT OF HERE AND NEVER COME BACK.” Peeta’s voice went from a whisper to a scream as he raged at you. You blinked in surprise at his screaming before grabbing the door handle.

“I won’t.” You tearfully told him, then ran out of the room.

The next day, you were sent out to The Capital with your troop for the planned invasion. You were glad to have something to take your mind off of the Peeta situation, even if that something was active combat. Your distraction didn’t last long as you watched a large black truck pull up to where your troop was.

Several guards got off the truck, followed by Peeta. He was handcuffed and looking at the ground as he mumbled something to himself over and over. When he got closer, you realized he was reminding himself of who he was.

“My name is Peeta Mellark. My home is District 12.” He mumbled over and over to himself. It reminded you of when you did the same thing after you escaped the Quarter Quell and you felt a pinch of sympathy for him.

“Whats he doing here?” You asked Boggs.

“Coin wants him in the propos to show the districts that he’s free and on our side.” He explained.

“Do you honestly think he’s in any position to be thrown into active combat? He needs to be resting so he can recover.” You raised your voice, feeling misplaced anger over Peeta being thrown right back into a traumatic situation after what he had just gone through.

“I didn’t make the orders. If you have an issue, take it up with Coin.” Boggs shrugged. You gave him a nod and an apologetic smile to show him you understood he wasn’t the right person to get angry at. You hadn’t even noticed that Peeta had come closer while you’d been talking to Boggs.

“Hello.” Peeta said in a quiet voice. You turned around to see who he was talking to and when you saw no one, you looked at him in surprise.

“Me? Oh. Hi.” You replied stiffly and took a step back from him. Peeta noticed this and looked upset over it.

“How’s your throat?” He asked, taking you by surprise once again.

“Still a little swollen. But I’ll survive.” You replied curtly. Peeta looked at you for a minute and you could’ve sworn he had guilt behind his eyes. He looked down at the cuffs on his wrists and shut his eyes as if trying to block out a memory that dared to approach.

“When you first came to see me, I had just gotten back from the Capital.” He began in a weak voice. “The very last thing I had seen before I was rescued was images of you while a whole room of people told me you were life threatening. I thought my life was in danger when I saw you.”

“Do you still think that?” You asked him.

“No.” He said. Then followed up with, “Not all the time.”

“But sometimes?” You frowned in disappointment.

“Sometimes. They really got me, Y/n. The Capital really messed with my brain.” Peeta told you and you could hear the pain in his voice. You instinctively went to give him a hug, something you always used to do to comfort each other, then stepped back when you remembered that he probably wouldn’t want that from you anymore. Peeta realized what you had almost done and looked slightly disappointed that it hadn’t happened.

“I know.” You said after a beat of silence. You looked him in the eyes and nodded to show him you understood who he was being wasn’t really him. Peeta looked almost grateful and nodded his head as well. You gave him a short smile before walking away, feeling overwhelmed from how much you wanted the person he used to be.

It was too hard to be around Peeta now that he was different and no longer loved you, so you kept your distance from him. That didn’t stop you from looking over your shoulder every so often to check on him while your troop ventured into the Capital. You looked over at Peeta at one point while Boggs was checking the area for pods and saw that he was crouched on the ground and banging his head against his gun to make it hit the wall. His eyes were tightly shut and he was rocking back and forth as his face twisted in pain. You knew he must be having some sort of episode and you instinctively started walking towards him. You stopped when you remembered that he would probably just hurt you again so you stood there and watched him rock back and forth. After just a few more seconds, you couldn’t take it anymore and ran to kneel down beside him.

“Peeta?” You asked and pushed his gun down so he could stop hitting his head against. Peeta just kept hitting his head against the wall, so you pulled his head towards you and held his face.

“Peeta? What’s going on?” You asked him.

“I’m a mutt, I’m a mutt, I’m a mutt.” He whispered shakily under his breath.

“Shhh. No you’re not.” You said softly and tried to pull him into a hug. Peeta roughly pushed you off of him, making you fall back.

“Stay away from me.” He shouted at you. You stared at him in stunned silence and his face slowly melted from anger to sadness.

“Please. I’ll just hurt you again.” He said quietly. You nodded your head and got up to go back to where you were originally standing. You looked over at Peeta and saw that he was just sitting now with his head in his hands. You had no time to react to it before a tidal wave of hot oil came rushing towards you and your troop. You all collectively ran from it and went to seek shelter in a nearby building. As you were climbing the steps, you felt yourself being pulled backward and thrown onto the ground. You barely had time to react before Peeta stood over you and raised his gun as if to bash your head in. He was quickly pulled off of you by another troop member, but Peeta just overpowered him and threw him into the oil. You knew you had to keep running, so you got up and ran into the building. Finnick restrained Peeta once everyone was inside and you moved to the building across the street once the oil went down. You all watched from the window as Peacekeepers blew up the building you had been inside just moments ago. A mandatory viewing from The Capital popped up on the TV and everyone turned their attention to that. Cesar Flickerman announced that you, as well as you whole troop, had just been killing the the collapsed building as the footage rolled behind him.

You sat down and watched the footage from just a few moments ago of your troop running from the oil flood. And from a new perspective now, you watched Peter grab you by the waist and throw you to the ground. Even though you had just lived through it, you still gasped when you saw him attempt to bash your skull in with the butt of his gun. You gulped and looked over at Peeta, who was watching the screen with tears running down the haunted expression on his face.

“So now that they think we’re dead, what do we do?” Gale asked the room.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Peeta spoke, catching everyone by surprise.

“The next move is to kill me. I’m not in control. I just murdered a member of our squad.” Peeta said in a shaky voice.

“That wasn’t you.” You reminded him.

“It was me. I’m a danger to all of you while I’m alive. You should just kill me now and go on with the mission.” Peeta said in defeat. He was himself enough to know the extent of what he had done and somehow, that was more painful than when he was fully gone.

“If it gets to that point where we have to make that decision, I’ll pull the trigger myself.” Gale offered. Everyone seemed to nod in agreement, sparking your anger once again.

“No.” You said loudly, making everyone look at you.

“No one’s killing Peeta. We didn’t go through all that trouble to get him out of The Capital just to kill him.” You tried to sound strong but your voice shook at the mere thought of never seeing him again.

“But-“ Peeta began.

“No.” You cut him off. “You’ve survived too much to be killed by one of us. Since the beginning, it’s been about keeping you alive. That hasn’t changed for me. So no one’s killing you. I’m not losing you. Not again. Not for real.”

Silence filled the room, along with a palpable tension. You quickly dismissed yourself and went into the kitchen to stock up on food. When your troop started moving again an hour later, you moved in silence. Nobody spoke a word about your little outburst. Instead, you all went into the sewer system to avoid being seen by the Capital cameras. You walked for a few hours before settling down for the night.

“You’re the first watch.” Boggs told you moments after you sat down. You nodded and got up to go sit at the end of the tunnel, coincidentally next to where Peeta was sitting. You gave him a quick smile that he did not return. Throughout the night, your gaze wandered over to Peeta every so often, but he never noticed. He was too busy being lost in thought.

“Your favorite color is green, real or not real?” Peeta asked suddenly, speaking so softly you almost didn’t hear him. You perked up when you heard the correct detail about yourself and nodded your head.

“That’s real. You remember that?” You asked in disbelief.

“My memory is getting better. Some things are still fuzzy but I’m starting to be able to differentiate between what’s real and what The Capital made up.” Peeta admitted. You nodded in understanding and scooted closer to him.

“Do you remember anything else?”

“You used to wear your hair in two braids instead of one.” He recalled, making your lips curve into a small smile.

“Yeah. I did.”

“Why did you change it?”

“So my hair doesn’t get caught on my arrow when I pull it out of the sheath. See?” You explained as you pulled an arrow out of the sheath on your back. He watched curiously and then smiled a little.

“That’s smart.” He told you, making you smile as well.

“My dad taught me that. He said that’s how the women in his family wore it when they hunted.”

“Where is he now?” Peeta wondered, making your smile fall.

“He died a long time ago. In a coalmine back in 12.” You told him. Peeta’s face softened and he looked down at his lap.

“My parents are dead too.”

“Prim told me. I’m sorry.” You said and went to put your hand on top of his. You quickly withdrew it and Peeta’s expression somehow grew even sadder. You wondered how long it had been since the last time he’d been touched with something other than abuse. It must’ve been 8 weeks ago back in the Quarter Quell when you kissed him goodbye. Since then, he only knew pain.

“I don’t have anyone left. I don’t know what the point of keeping me alive is if I can’t keep control of myself. It’s not like there’s anyone waiting for me to come home.” Peeta said, drawing you out of his thoughts. You looked at him like he was crazy and sat up to look at him.

“I’m waiting.” You stated. “I’m waiting for you to come home.”

Peeta stared into your eyes for a while and even in the dark, you saw glimpses of the boy you nursed back to health in the first games. The cheeky, witty, and ever loving boy you’d grown to know was staring back at you for the first time in weeks. You wanted to lean in and kiss him, but you knew he would hate it.

“Your favorite color is Orange.” You blurted instead.

“It is?”

“Yes. Soft orange. Like the sunset.” You told him. Peeta smiled softly and looked at you with gratitude.

“Can you tell me anything else?” He asked in a soft voice.

“You’re a painter. And a baker. You always sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. You always double knot your shoelaces.”

“Thank you.” He smiled as he looked into your eyes.

“You’re welcome.” You replied, getting choked up over speaking of the Peeta you once knew.

“I guess you know me pretty well, huh?”

“You learn a lot about a person when you’ve been through what we’ve been through together.”

“Haymitch told me they used Trackerjack venom on me in The Capital. You were bitten too once, real or not real?” Peeta asked you.

“Real. In the first games. After I dropped a nest on you and the careers.”

“I remember making sure you ran away before they did to you what they did to Glimmer. I had to fight Cato to keep him from going after you. I remember wanting to run and follow you, but I didn’t. My leg was too wounded.” Peeta recalled as he stared off into the distance as if he could see it.

“I remember when I found you by the lake. You had camouflaged yourself to look like the ground. You scared me half to death when you grabbed my ankle.” You thought about for the first time in a while.

“I remember that too.” Peeta looked at you and smiled a little.

“I thought I was about to be killed. But when I realized it was you, I had never felt such relief.” You continued as you stared into his eyes.

“That seems like so like ago.” He said wistfully.

“I know. Can you believe those were the simpler times?”

“Nothing is simple anymore. I’m scared it never will be again.” Peeta admitted and looked down at his cuffed hands.

“Me too.” You whispered without ever taking your eyes off him. He blinked slowly and you realized he must be exhausted.

“You should get some sleep.” You told him.

“I’m okay. I don’t need it.”

“We all need it. Just close your eyes. It’s my turn to keep watch anyway.”

“Okay. Just for a little while.” He reluctantly agreed. You watched Peeta shut his eyes and within minutes, he was out. You watched him sleep for a while because for the first time since he had been rescued, he looked peaceful. You felt a little creepy for staring so you eventually looked away and stared down the tunnel beside you.

You suddenly felt something on your shoulder coupled with the tickling sensation of Peeta’s hair on your skin. You looked down to see his head had fallen onto your shoulder in his sleep and he laid peacefully with his head buried in your neck. You gasped a little at the feeling of his skin on yours once again. There were so many times where you thought you’d never touch him again, so to feel his warmth once more brought a range of emotions. Your eyes filled with tears and you sucked in a sharp breath before resting your cheek on top of his head. Tears slipped down your face so you turned your head inwards to kiss the top of his head. You knew you’d never get the chance to do this when he was awake, so you savored every minute of it in case it was the last time. You listened to the sound of Peeta’s shallow breathing before picking up his hand and slipping your fingers between his. You felt a little selfish, but you needed the memory of holding his hand to replace the memory of his hands around your neck.

The peace and quiet didn’t last long and you were up and moving again at the sound of footsteps in the tunnel. You quickly dropped Peeta’s hand and woke up your team before taking off running through the sewers. You ended up having to fight off some mutts that definitely didn’t kill Finnick because who would possibly write something like that not me.

When you got to the surface again, you all ran for your lives as Peacemakers shot at you from all directions. To make matters worse, the ground was being torn up beneath you as you ran. You looked over your shoulder for just a second to see Peeta fall to his knees.

“No, no, no.” Peeta cried and started to hit himself in the head. He curled into a ball as he shouted something unintelligible about being a mutt.

“Peeta, come on. We have to keep going.” You urged as you tried to pull him up.

“I’m a mutt. Leave me behind. I’m a mutt!” He cried and continued to bang his head into the floor.

“Peeta, come on. Get up.” You commanded and tried with all your strength to pull him off the ground.

“I’m a mutt. I’m a mutt.” He whimpered as you got down on your knees beside him.

“Peeta.” You shouted, making him look up at you. Now that he was caught off guard, you pulled him into a kiss. You probably needed it more than he did, but it worked exactly how you’d hoped. When you pulled away, he was entirely himself again and looked at you with that familiar fondness in his eyes.

“Stay with me.” You breathed out. Peeta gulped and then nodded his head.

“Always.” He replied. You took a minute to feel joy over this before pulling him off the ground and running with his hand in yours.

Cressida lead everyone to a shop in town owned by Tigress, a stylist you recognized from the first games. She agreed to hide everyone in her underground cellar while the chaos outside calmed down. When everyone sat down to catch their breath, you stayed standing.

You looked around and noticed Peeta sitting by himself next to a pole. You went over and sat beside him before wordlessly taking the cuffs off of him.

“You should keep these clean or else they’ll get infected.” You told him as you dabbed them clean with a wipe.

“You should cuff me again. It’s still not safe with me.” Peeta said, sounding miserable. You didn’t want to cuff him again, but you knew in your heart that he was probably right. You picked his hand cuffs up and he held out his wrists. His face looked so miserable that you dropped them back into your lap.

“I’ll cuff you tomorrow.” You decided. “You shouldn’t have to sleep with them on.”

“Are you sure?” He asked you.

“Yes. I trust you.” You replied, making his eyes soften a little.

“Even after everything I’ve done?” He asked quietly.

“I know who you are. And who you’re not. When I see you do the bad things, it’s like I’m watching someone else. The Peeta I know…” You trailed off when you felt yourself getting emotional at the thought of the old Peeta. You had to look away from him or you knew you’d cry.

“The Peeta I love isn’t a bad guy. He’s safe and warm and kind. And I owe him my life. So yes, I trust you.” You answered as you stared at your filthy nails. You desperately wanted to see Peeta’s reaction to that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look up.

“I’m trying really hard to trust you too.” Peeta said after a beat of silence.

“It’s okay. I can’t imagine the war in your head right now. Take your time. Just keep your hands off my throat if you can.” You finally looked up at him with a teasing smile.

“I’ll try.” He returned the smile and you saw a glimpse of the boy you used to know. Peeta looked down at his freed wrists and rubbed them a little.

“Do you not want to cuff me because you want to hold my hand in my sleep again?” He asked without looking at you. Your stomach dropped when you realized you were caught.

“You know about that? I thought you were asleep.”

“I was. But I woke up when I felt you.”

“And you let me hold it?” You asked in disbelief.

“It’s been a long time since someone touched me like that. I wasn’t gonna stop you.” He admitted.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

“I know why.” Peeta said, making you look at him.

“If I die, you didn’t want the last memory of my hands to be painful.” He continued, somehow knowing your exact thought process.

“That’s exactly why.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know why.” Peeta cracked a smile.

“I was lying.” You admitted

“Snow was right about you. Everything out of your mouth is a lie.” Peeta said with a straight face. Your face fell and he immediately looked concerned.

“I’m kidding. That was a joke.” He assured you.

“Oh. Sorry.” You slowly cracked a smile when you realize Peeta had just made a joke. It reminded you of the time back in the first games when he jokingly said he’d take the bow.

“It’s okay.” He replied and an awkward silence fell between you. You wanted so desperately to keep taking to Peeta, especially now that he seemed more like himself, but you had nothing to say. He was already so fragile so you didn’t want to do or say anything that could set him off. As you raked your brain for happy things to talk about, Peeta broke the silence.

“You know, Haymitch told me you only agreed to be the Mockingjay if Coin agreed to make rescuing me and the others a top priority.” He said without looking at you.

“Yeah. I did.” You confessed. “I never wanted to be the face of this rebellion. I just wanted you home.”

“He also said he woke up to the sound of you screaming for me every night.” Peeta said as he looked into your eyes. You stared at him for a while as you remembered all the times you dreamt about him coming home only to wake up alone in your bed. You felt a tear roll down your face and quickly looked away so you could wipe it. Peeta kept his eyes on you as you did this and you could feel it.

“When you kissed me back there, it was the most lucid I’ve felt since I was captured. Everything was crystal clear to me for a second. Nothing The Capital had conditioned me to believe seemed real. Just for that second though. Now everything is fuzzy again.”

“I wish I would’ve kissed you longer.” You half joked as another tear rolled down your face. Peeta stared at you for a minute with a fondness in his eyes before leaning in. You kept perfectly still as Peeta connected his lips to yours. Even before he was high jacked, Peeta normally wasn’t the one to initiate kisses. He always left it up to you because he knew you had boundaries and he never wanted to push you past them. So to have him kiss you now, especially after what he had been through, made emotion swell up in your chest. You relaxed again this lips and kissed him back, feeling the same hunger for him you felt on the beach. When he pulled away all too soon, he stared into your eyes as if he was trying to figure something out.

“Sorry. I just wanted to see if things would be clear again.” He said in a sheepish voice.

“Were they?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes. Things became very clear.” Peeta said matter of factly. You allowed yourself to feel hope for the first time in who knows how long and eagerly waited for him to speak again.

“It’s gonna take a long for me to fully come back. If I even do make a full recovery, I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.” He said with a sadness in his tone but hope in his eyes.

“I’m prepared to love every version of you.” You said simply. Peeta blinked a few times then smiled a little.

“I thought your love was just an act? To win the games?” He asked genuinely.

“It started as that.” You admitted. “I definitely played it up in the first arena to survive. But there were moments, even in the first games, when it was completely and truly real for me. It wasn’t always an act. And I wish, more than anything, that I could go back in time and make sure you knew that. Before all of…this happened to you. I wish I told you what you meant to me. I wish you could’ve known how much I loved you.”

“Well we can’t go back in time. Not even The Capital has figured out how to do that.”

“I know.” You sighed in disappointment and looked away from him. Peeta watched your face carefully before putting his hand on top of yours.

“But I know now. And it made me happy to hear you say that. It made me feel liek myself for a minute. Is that enough for you?” He asked. The inflection in your voice was so true to the old Peeta that you could’ve be sworn he was cured. You looked into his eyes and then reached out and allowed yourself to touch his face after all the times you stopped yourself.

“Yes, Peeta.” You told him. “That’s enough.”

#peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark x you #Peeta mellark fanfiction #Peeta mellark x fanfic #Peeta mellark fluff #Peeta mellark angst #peeta mellark

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shawtuzi · 2 years

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Can you do something where plug!eren is fresh out of jail and is absolutely feral for his gf cause he hasn’t seen her in so long. Love u and ur writing :).

oh my god yes i most definitely can!!!! and thank u sm i love u more *kiss kiss*

this is 18+////cw include: black coded reader, unprotected sex, creampie, some mushy stuff at the end i couldn’t resist///wc: 1.5k+

let’s say eren did get busted and this is no beuno at all because everybody know most states be tripping over a simple weed charge. and unfortunately for this simple weed charge eren got sentenced three. fucking. years. to say it broke you was an understatement and what broke you even more is that eren didn’t expect you to wait on him. but you did of course because that is your man, your life, your cinnamon apple and he is worth waiting for.

eren stayed on his best behavior hoping to get out early for any reason they’d let him if he was the “model prisoner” and it paid off. eight months later a guard came up to eren and told him to get his affairs in order because he’d be leaving the next day. when eren told you the good news you couldn’t help but bust into tears. it was an extremely lonely eight months without him, yes your friends were around and kept you company but after spending months practically joined at the hip with eren it was very hard to adjust without him around :((

you showed up at the prison at exactly twelve sharp like eren instructed and five minutes later you finally saw him in all his glory. “eren!” you squealed running into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. “hi baby,” eren sighed dreamily nuzzling his face into your hair, the familiar smell of your coconut scented shampoo nearly bringing him to tears. “‘missed you so fuckin’ much jesus christ i’ll never leave you like that again i promise y/n,” he muttered squeezing your smaller form closer into his body. you couldn’t even speak afraid your voice will crack due to the happy tears streaming down your face. “missed you too eren it was so lonely without you,” you whimpered burying your face in his chest.

the two of you stayed like that for a good ten minutes, just embracing each other and whispering sweet nothings to calm the other down until you finally pulled away taking in eren’s figure. he’d gotten extremely fit, the white t-shirt he’d worn going in prison now nearly bursting at the seams from how swole his biceps had gotten. “you look good,” you trailed your finger down his arm making him give you his award winning smirk.

“yeah? how good?”

those three words were how you both ended up on the side of the rode, eren dragging you to the backseat so he could finally have his way with you after eight grueling months. “e-eren it’s only about twenty minutes till we’re…home,” your voice trailed off towards the end once you felt his lips on your neck. eren shook his head now yanking down your tank top to expose your breasts, “fuck no i waited eight months for this i’m not waiting a second longer, now lift up a sec so i can take these off” he rasped tugging at the waistband of your shorts. you immediately lifted your hips up bringing a loving smile to eren’s face, “still such a good listener huh? trained you real well didn’t i” he chuckled before pressing sloppy kisses all over your tits while also yanking your shorts off.

“yeah just for you eren all for you,” you whined tangling your fingers in his hair which was now slightly longer. “m’skipping the foreplay jus’ wanna fuck you right now,” he yanked down his sweats letting his dick spring free of its confinements. he was a lot bigger than you remembered. eren pressed a soft kiss to your cheek after seeing the slight fear in your eyes, “it’s okay i’ll be right here to take care of you when we’re done and if it really hurts too much just lemme know okay?” the softness in his tone had you feeling more relaxed already especially after hearing ‘i’ll be right here to take care of you.”

you were so lost in thought that he actually here in front of you you forgot to give him the ‘okay’ to continue. “y/n? you okay baby? do you want to stop?” eren was about to lift you off his lap but you quickly snapped back to reality (oh there goes gravity) shaking your head that you in fact didn’t want to stop. “no! no it’s okay i’m fine i’m just really happy to see you is all,” you smiled giving his lips one, two, three kisses before pulling your panties to the side, “now please fuck me….been waiting eight months for you rennie.” eren mumbled a quick “goddamn y/n” before rubbing his tip between your slicked folds before slowly pushing it in the both of you gasping in unison.

“s-shit okay i’m gonna go slow- fuck i don’t wanna cum too fast,” eren shuddered at the feeling of how warm you are, internally cursing at himself for already being at the brink of cumming. you brought your hands to his cheeks rubbing slow circles on them with your thumbs, “s’okay babe we have all the time in the world now, well kinda what we’re doing is pretty illegal and we should hur- oh shit!” you cried feeling all of eren’s dick enter you at once.

eren dug his fingers into your hips so hard you felt the bruises already forming but you didn’t care—what’s a couple bruises when you have the love of your life back in your arms? “goddamn y/n have you always been so tight?” eren grunted now moving you up and down at a steady pace, “and i don’t give a fuck about none of that that’s what we got tinted windows for,” you wanted to roll your eyes at his words knowing if it wasn’t so deserted where you were now you would’ve made him wait patiently. but it was so you could quite honestly care less about anything besides the man in front of you.

“eren,” you whimpered wrapping your arms around his neck. “i know baby i know i’m here just lemme make you feel good—that’s it there you go take this fucking dick,” he grunted taking one of your nipples into his mouth. eren began to grow impatient taking it upon himself to begin bucking his hips up, the tip of his dick now kissing your cervix in the most delicious way possible. your moans were like music to eren’s ears, each sharp gasp and little whimper you let out only fueling him to go harder and faster. “fuck fuck fuck i’m cumming s-shit,” eren growled slamming you down one last time before spurts of his warm cum began to fill your needy pussy.

you had never felt more comfortable and happy than you were now fucked out and stuffed with eren’s cum, “‘feels good…missed the way your cum feels in me ren” you sighed dreamily burying your face in his neck. “mhm ‘n i missed the way your pussy squeezes me so good, now i want us to cum together this time—think you can do that for me ma?” he ran his fingers gently up and down your back making shivers creep down your spine. you nodded quickly beginning to grind you hips slowly in his lap, the mixture of your wetness and his cum slowly trailing it’s way down his thighs and into the car seat.

“feel so damn good-shit i promise i’ll never leave you like that again y/n i swear. fuck i’ll stop dealing, get a job at the auto body shop connie told me about, get us a bigger ‘n better house and we can start a family yeah? give you a couple of my babies?” eren was completely fucked out babbling whatever came to his mind and he meant every single word. he didn’t care that he wouldn’t be making as much money all that mattered was you and you only. he didn’t care that he was only 23 talking about starting a family because he knew one day he would make you a mother to as many kids as you wanted.

a dopey smile made its way onto your face but you didn’t have time to savor the sweet moment your brain turning to mush when you felt eren’s thumb on your clit. “f-fuck eren yes that’s all i want with you please don’t stop!” eren didn’t plan on stopping either. he planted his feet more firmly before fucking into you with everything he had, “so fuckin’ wet” he muttered to himself, his head lolling back in pleasure. a few more harsh thrusts and soon you and eren were cumming at the same time, eren letting out the most pornographic moan you’ve ever heard. “shit—c’mere lemme hold you for a minute….missed being together like this,” eren wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you close.

you rested your head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart making it hard for you to keep your eyes open. “did you really mean what you said earlier, you know about getting a job at the shop and a new house and the other stuff?” your voice was strained and whisper like but eren caught every word. “and by other stuff you mean starting a family? yeah i did, i meant every damn word too,” eren chuckled pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “you cool with being the mother to my devil spawn?” he giggled giving your ass a playful slap.

“i’d be more than happy to eren <333”

#want him <\3 need him </3 #eren <3 #plug!eren #my writing #eren smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #attack on titan imagine #aot imagines #snk eren

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josnhoes · 9 months

Text

Platonic!Yan batfam with young adult reader. Part 4

[Part 3]

Note: Reader is 18-22 years old. Gn reader

Content warning: being treated like a child, being looked down on, stalking, obsessions, soft yandere but still a yandere, reader has memory issues and it's ambiguous as to why, delusional batfam, batfam as a whole basically view you as a child younger then Damien despite you being older, reader is questioned by police, reader witnessed a crime, reader tried to be a hero, violence, blood, mentions of death, dissociation, abduction

Focus Dick (Nightwing)

------

Life moved on after the incident with Redhood. He'd left early that morning leaving a note saying, 'See you soon Sparky -RH'. You didn't care to think of what the note could mean. So you burried the strange sense of foreboding that clawed in your mind at the note. Maybe the Gotham paranoia had gotten to you?

Either way, things in the next few days were normal...as normal as Gotham could be. The bat clan had put most of the heavy rollers back in Arkham at a record speed. No one knew if it was just the rogues being sloppy, or the bats were feeling a tad extra feral. You remembered when you first learned about Batman and his underlings; the idea of the police having feral furry themed vigilantes was funny. You'd thought your new neighbor was joking. But no, it was true, and after your personal run-ins with Robin and Redhood, you could confidently claim the group was feral and would punch God..any God really... given the chance. Which was what Gotham needed to be blunt.

It was nice though that you got out of the heart of Gotham sometimes. So you'd taken a day off to go to Bludhaven. It wasn't better than Gotham, but it was a change of place. The fact that a comic store was having a closing door sale was totally *not* the reason. It was.. but you were hoping to get something cool for cheap! Nerd stuff was expensive, and as a nerd, you knew that well.

The quest for a trinket wasn't supposed to end with you being brought into the local police station for questioning. You weren't part of a crime no, but you were a witness, *the* witness. A mugging gone wrong. Honestly the details were fuzzy, yet at the same time, key parts you couldn't forget. The feeling of the woman's heart fading as you held pressure on the stab wound. The wheeze in her voice as she struggled to breathe and tell you her final words. The way your body trembled as the paramedics arrived and carted her away to a hospital. The sensation of blood on your hands and skin, and the smell...

"You okay?" The police officer's voice pulled you from the spiral of your thoughts.

"I'm sorry what?" You were in a haze, shock most likely.

"I asked if you would be okay answering a few more questions. Detective Grayson just got here and wants to ask a few."

"Oh sure yeah..." the voice, no your voice spoke, but it didn't feel like you.

Dick Grayson walked into the room the officers had put you in. You weren't in trouble. A nearby camera had seen it all go down, but you were a vital witness, one who was clearly not well after what you saw. Dick didn't blame you for your state either. He...he should have been there. When Bruce had called telling him you were in Bludhaven, he was ecstatic to think he could meet you. He'd been planning a nice little meet cute styled thing to bridge a gap from a stranger to you to being besties. He was your eldest brother, the one you'd be able to rely on most. You'd love everyone in the family but you'd come to him first for everything. He could so easily picture it. The two of you staying up late, watching films and you opening up to him and feeling safe in his company. The inside jokes you'd have together, you'd both be thicker than thieves.

So seeing you as you were now was a reminder of just how fragile you were. You were in shock a really bad case of it too. Your eyes were distant as you struggled to answer the basic questions. You were shaking. You still had the victim's blood on your shirt too. He should have been there. Any of them should have, but you were in *his* turf so it should have been him. He should have gotten there before you had to see it. You shouldn't have had to apply pressure to a wound like that.

Your voice was hollow, he'd seen videos of you. Hollow is never something he could have pictured you as. You had so much life to you. Yet here you were in this state because of *his* failures; as Nightwing, a detective, and a big brother. What if it had been you? You would have died on his watch in his turf. He couldn't handle that right now.

He got the answers he could from you, then easily guided you out. He told his fellow workers he was taking you home. No one questioned it, Dick was a good guy and not the type to let a traumatized witness go home alone.

You didn't question him as he ushered you to his car, or where he was taking you when you hadn't told him where you lived. He wasn't sure you could do that right now. He wasn't lying saying he was taking you home... it just wasn't the home you'd have expected if you were more here. The room in the manor wasn't perfect, but you'd be safe there.

He brought you inside, and the family members at home seethed at him. He couldn't blame them, this was his fault. Cass took you with help from Alfred to get you cleaned up and put you to bed. His heart broke seeing how you just went with everything. Like you were aware enough to function on a base level and orders, but mentally? You were gone. Pulled into yourself, protecting yourself from the trauma that he'd caused. He should have been there.

#yandere dc #platonic yandere #yandere x reader #platonic yandere batfam #batfam x reader

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janaispunk · 2 months

Text

to live for the hope of it all

series masterlist • this is part VI

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

word count: ~3k

summary: Your time together slowly comes to an end.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), angst, feelings, fluff, alcohol consumption, infidelity (Dave is cheating on his wife), able-bodied reader, Dave pulls her hair, dom!Dave, sub!reader, sir kink, degradation kink, oral sex (m&f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v (it's never stated in the fic but i headcanon that reader is on birth control), somnophilia, basically free use kink, semi-public sex, dirty talk, orgasm denial, Dave is a menace, praise kink, one (1) ass slap, idiots in love, please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: all my love to @joelscurls who looked this over and assured me that it isn’t trash, you’re the best <3

i can’t believe it myself, but by the looks of it, this is the penultimate chapter. i was a feral and emotional mess while writing this and it shows. i’m not sorry about the ending.

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

find my full masterlist here and follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates <3

You wake up slowly, not ready to let go of the dream that you had been lost in. Dave had been all over you, his hands and mouth touching your skin softly, more softly than you’re used to. Your mind is still holding on to the feeling, desire is throbbing between your legs and you could swear that you can still feel his tongue on you. You feel so warm, so full of bliss, you don’t ever want to leave this state.

Your eyes snap open at the sensation of something entering you, a sensation that feels too real to still be part of your dream. Your gasp resounds loudly in the quiet room and a low chuckle reaches your ears, hot breaths fanning against your wet pussy.

Your eyes fly down to find Dave between your legs, smirking up at you. His chin is drenched in your slick and his gaze burns into yours, before he dives back in, sucking your clit between his plush lips and pumping two fingers into you.

Your head falls back against the pillows, a moan rising in your throat as your hips buck upwards, chasing his touch. You have no idea how long he has been at this, but you feel swollen, heat engulfing you, the tension in your body already close to snapping.

“Dave,” you whimper, your voice still hoarse from sleep.

He grunts in response, sucking harder and speeding up his thrusts. You’re trembling, your hands flying to grasp at his hair, anything to keep you grounded while your mind is still struggling to catch up to the sensations that you’ve just woken up to.

You grind your hips into his face, your grip in his hair tightening and you note somewhere in the back of your mind that usually, you’d get scolded for this. But right now, he just groans against you, the added vibrations driving you closer to the edge until you writhe against him, loud moans of his name leaving your mouth as your whole body tenses up, the heat inside of you reaching a boiling point until you break underneath him, pulsing around his fingers and drenching his face with the wetness that’s gushing out of you.

You slump against the mattress as you gradually come down, your thighs twitching as he places another chaste kiss on your clit, then comes back up until he’s face to face with you. You’re breathless, watching with wide eyes as he wipes his chin, a pleased grin on his face.

“Good morning,” he tells you, as nonchalant as if he hadn’t just melted your brain within five minutes of you waking up.

“Hi,” you mumble, lazily smiling up at him, still basking in the bliss of your slowly subsiding orgasm, “thank you.”

He leans down to kiss you, his tongue slipping into your mouth and letting you taste yourself, almost making you moan again.

“Looked so pretty this morning, I couldn’t help myself.”

You bury your face in his neck, hiding the smile that’s spreading over your face. This is it, you think, this is all you want, forever.

He orders breakfast while you shower and waits for you in the living area when you exit the bathroom, clad in another skimpy dress that you bought just for this trip. He’s sipping a coffee and slowly chewing on a pastry when you enter the room, his eyes following your every move.

He tuts when you pull out a chair next to him, making you pause, your gaze flying up to his face. The dark glint that you’ve come to recognize is back in his eyes and you feel goosebumps erupting on your skin, arousal already beginning to swirl in your belly again.

“Down there,” he tells you, tilting his head down to his feet.

It’s probably embarrassing how fast you sink down to your knees, obediently sitting on the ground beside him, and it’s probably even more embarrassing how wet it gets you, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Your mind is taken up by the want, the need to please him, drowning everything else out.

His hand is at the back of your head, directing your body until you’re sitting between his legs, the bulge in his pants in your direct eyesight. Your mouth is watering and you can’t suppress the whine that escapes you. He chuckles, giving your hair a hard tug.

“Patience, sweetheart. Show me your tits first.”

Your fingers are pushing down the straps of your dress as quickly as you can, revealing your naked chest to him. Your nipples are pebbling in the cool air of the room and you present yourself to him, folding your hands behind your back.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, reaching down to toy with your sensitive flesh, tugging and pinching until you’re squirming, rubbing your thighs together to ease some of the ache that’s burning between your legs again. He gives you a particularly hard pinch that makes you gasp, then leans back in his chair, smirking down at you.

“Now open your mouth.”

You obey eagerly, your eyes wide as you stare up at him, waiting for what comes next. He lets you sit like that for a few moments, watching as your drool slowly collects on your tongue and dribbles out of your mouth.

He chuckles again, eyes trained on your face as he opens his pants and releases his cock. You want to beg for him, want him to know how much you need him, but you remain motionless, mouth wide open like he told you to.

“So good this morning,” he praises you, petting your head before he fists your hair again and pulls you forward. He holds you there while he grabs his cock with his other hand, rubbing the head over your tongue until it’s drenched in your saliva, then smearing it all over your face. You whine louder this time, the degradation turning you on beyond belief, and he slaps his cock against your cheek.

“Did I tell you to make any noise?!” he demands, his voice cold. You give an infinitesimal shake of your head, which is as much movement as you can manage with his grip still tight in your hair.

“Didn’t think so,” he murmurs. Then he thrusts forward, burying himself in your throat. You splutter around him, forcing yourself to keep your hands behind your back as he pulls your head back up and then down his length again.

You let him move you however he wants, making you gag over and over when he holds you down and thrusts into you simultaneously. It’s filthy, your face is drenched in tears and drool, but you wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he grits out, his hold on your hair tightening further, smirking down at you. “Here's your breakfast.”

It shouldn’t turn you on the way it does.

You’re burning and your slick is covering your thighs when his movements finally still and he spills down your throat. You swallow dutifully, cherishing the bitter taste and keeping your eyes trained on his face, just the way he likes.

You squirm under his gaze as he takes in the way you rub your thighs together, hips humping thin air, desperate for friction.

“You wanna come again already?”

You nod helplessly, pouting up at him. “Please, sir.” Your voice is raspy from the way he just assaulted your throat and you can tell that he likes it.

“That’s too bad,” he shrugs, pushing his chair back and standing up.

“You-“

You glare at him from your place on the floor, not trusting your trembling legs to carry you just yet. He leans down and pecks your lips, clearly pleased with himself, before he’s slowly pulling you up until you’re standing in front of him.

“Have some breakfast,” he tells you gently, placing another kiss on your cheek and embracing you in his arms. “You did so good.”

You help yourself to some fruit, ignoring both the incessant throbbing of need between your legs and the flutter in your chest at his sudden gentleness.

You spend the day down at the small bay, lounging on one of the bigger beach beds that has enough room for the both of you.

You’re soaking in the sunshine and the sound of the waves rolling to the shore, with your head resting on Dave’s bare chest. You’ve decided to give your book another try, but it’s getting increasingly harder to focus on the words in front of you. Your gaze keeps trailing up to his face, where you’re more often than not met with his eyes already on you.

His hands are on you constantly, his fingers softly drawing shapes onto your skin. It’s nice, an unhurried kind of intimacy that you rarely experience with him. You wish you could stop time, to keep living in this moment with him, in this sliver of existence where it’s so easy to pretend that he’s yours, that you’ll always be together like this.

Over the course of the afternoon, his touches grow more demanding, hands inching towards your breasts, trailing the seams of your bikini and ghosting over the fabric, a sensation that’s barely there, but enough to make your nipples tighten until they’re pressing against the skimpy piece of clothing and you’re squirming against him, arousal once more hot between your thighs.

You catch his eye, the controlled, almost unimpressed expression on his face that once again makes it clear without doubt how in control of you he is. You want to melt against him.

In the evening, you’re leaning against the balcony’s railing, watching the shades of pink and orange in the sky slowly morphing into darkness and the stars twinkling to life above you.

Dave comes up behind you, his body leaning into yours and pressing you against the rail while his hand skims over your thigh and trails underneath your dress, pushing the hem up as it travels higher. The need that you have tried to suppress the whole day despite his wandering hands flares back up and has you squirming, grinding against him. You feel his cock harden and press against your backside, and a whine escapes you. You’re already drenched, and eager to take everything that he has to give you.

He shushes you, his breath hot against your neck while he’s still pushing the dress up higher until your bare ass is exposed to him. You hadn’t bothered with underwear this evening, excitedly awaiting his reaction.

“Fuck,” he hisses and grabs at your cheeks, his grip digging into the flesh as you push back against him. “All ready and waiting for me, huh?”

His fingers dip between your legs and swirl through your slick folds, barely brushing against your clit, but the short contact is enough to make you moan out loud.

“Thought I told you to be quiet,” he growls and his hand connects with your ass in a harsh slap. You bite your lip hard to stop yourself from crying out again and feel another gush of wetness cover your thighs. You’re positively dripping for him, all rational thoughts wiped from your mind. You don’t care who could see you, who could hear you, you just want him inside of you now.

Dave has a seemingly endless amount of patience when it comes to teasing you, but right now, he appears to be just as desperate as you feel. The clink of his belt buckle has you pressing your thighs together, the need for any kind of friction almost painful at this point, but within seconds, he roughly kicks your legs apart, his fingers curling around your neck and bending you forward.

The feeling of his cock nudging at your pussy makes you gasp and he slowly presses forward, making you feel every inch as your walls stretch around him. You’re pressing your lips together, almost trembling with the effort of keeping quiet.

“Dirty girl,” Dave rasps in your ear, his teeth nipping at your skin, “fucking desperate, letting me fuck you out here for everyone to see.”

You clench around him at his words and he chuckles darkly, slowly pulling back before he thrusts back into you, knocking the air out of your lungs. His grip on your neck tightens and he speeds up, slamming into you again and again until your vision blurs and you’re gasping, holding onto the railing for dear life as he ravages your cunt. A particularly deep thrust forces a loud moan out of you that you can’t hold back and he stills, his hand leaving your neck and moving to cover your mouth instead.

“What’d I tell you, huh? Fucking slut, you want people to see you, don’t you?”

You shake your head, trying to crane your neck to look at him, but his hold on your face is too strong and you give up, a defeated whimper escaping you.

He leans forward, nuzzling against your throat and kissing your sensitive skin surprisingly gently. “Color, sweetheart?”

His hand lifts just enough that you can whisper out “green, sir” against it, before he seals it back over your mouth. He exhales sharply before he pulls back and takes up his rhythm again, his cock pounding into you hard enough to make you see stars behind your eyelids.

“You’re so fucking perfect… Fucking made for me,” he growls and you can’t stop the whines that are falling from your lips and come out muffled against his hand. It’s all too much, his dirty words in your ear, the sensation of his cock hitting so deep inside you over and over.

“Quit it,” he barks, not faltering in his thrusts but pulling your head back further so that you’re arching against him. “One more sound and I’m not gonna let you come, are we clear?”

You nod desperately, your eyes squeezed shut and your whole body trembling with the effort to stay quiet, even though this slightly different angle is bringing you to the edge so fast that you don’t think you could hold your orgasm back if you tried.

He has to feel you tightening around him, because he gasps out, “go ahead baby, come for me,” and you do, your scream muffled against his hand as pure ecstasy flows through your body and your vision blacks out completely. His grip on your hips is bruising as he joins you, spilling his seed deep inside of you and pressing open-mouthed kisses against your neck and shoulders.

Your shaking legs barely keep you upright and he half leads, half carries you into the bedroom, a constant string of praise whispered against your heated skin.

The following days are a rush of sunshine, swimming and fucking at any given opportunity. You want to cherish every second, commit them to memory, but it feels like time is speeding up, the way it so often does when all you want is for it to pass more slowly. But it’s running out, like sand running through an hourglass, much like the sand that you’ve so often curled your toes into during the past week.

You don’t want to go back to your old life, don’t want to go back to having him only for a few days a month, never sure when he’ll come back, always on borrowed time. You want him with you, the little things, want to wake up to him next to you, want to have coffee when it’s still dark out, want to come home to each other, laugh with him, his hand sliding into yours when you walk. You want a life with him and that thought terrifies you. He has that life with someone, and it’s not you.

He hasn’t brought the “I’ll get out” back up and you haven’t asked. You’re not sure if it’s your place, and you like to think that he’ll come to you if he wants to talk about it. When he said it, in the darkness of your room, you had just mumbled an “okay” and pressed a light kiss against the side of his mouth. He had hummed and pulled you closer, both of you drifting off to sleep.

But, even if he gets out - what does it change for you?

It’s the last evening, you’re sated and happy. You can still feel today’s sunshine on your skin as you’re sitting on a couch at the edge of the dinner restaurant’s terrace. You’ve been watching the sunset, sipping on glasses of wine, your head resting on Dave’s shoulder, talking in low voices. Your hands are tangled up, fingers dancing across warm skin, never quite coming to rest.

The memory of the last couple of days is a blur of tangled limbs in white hotel sheets, lips pressed against each other almost constantly, a mix of sunshine and salty ocean air surrounding you, and endearments whispered into your ear in the dark of the night. You’re so happy that it makes you sad, your heart so full that you have no idea how to cope when you’re no longer feeling like this.

When you get back up to the room, he makes love to you in the semi-darkness, the sound of the waves filtering in through the open balcony door. You don’t know what else to call it. Normally, you’d say that he fucks you, but this is not that. His hands are soft on your skin, his lips are everywhere as he murmurs how beautiful you are over and over again.

You bite your lip when he shatters above you, when more kisses are placed on your skin and you’re pulled into his chest. You don’t allow yourself the thought that this feels like goodbye.

The journey back home goes by too quickly. It feels like you’ve barely blinked after waking up, then you’re already on the plane, then in a cab, then Dave is carrying your suitcase up to your flat before he kisses you goodbye. A few hours later, a text on your phone tells you that he has arrived home safely.

After that, you don’t hear from Dave York for three months.

if you liked this (or if you want to scream at me), please consider reblogging or leaving a comment 🫶🏻 i turned 29 two minutes before posting this and hearing your thoughts would be a lovely birthday gift 😇

#janas fics #the dress series #dave york #pedrostories #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york smut #dave york fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #the equalizer 2 #the equalizer 2 fanfiction

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starphasedd · 1 year

Text

A dream. Ghost & his little girl.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!reader one-shot (it's so fluffy I could die).

Simon would be a girl dad. You can't change my mind. Writing fluffy shit isn't my thing--I'm usually a very feral writer. Hope you enjoy this softness, don't get used to it, LOL. This is not proofed.

They have a very sweet moment and I could just DIE.

"Daddy."

Ghost stirs in his sleep. His large body took up a majority of the couch, long legs draped over the sides.

"Daddy!" Comes that tiny voice again.

He's in a state between conscious and completely knocked out. Everything is black, and the small voice echoes through the darkness. He groans when he feels a small weight press down on his chest. His large hand comes up to rub the bridge of his nose. He breathes one sharp breath through his nostrils and huffs, feeling the weight on him shuffle around as his wide body moves under it.

"Momma, can you come get daddy up, please? He won't listen to me again." The small voice calls out into the darkness.

A tiny hand comes forward, balling into a fist and knocking gently on the skull part of his mask. He grunts in response. He's still struggling to open his eyes--but when he hears your voice, the sound of blood pumping through his veins starts to echo in the back of his head.

Slowly, his long lashes lift to reveal light. His brown hues are finding it hard to focus. He turns his head to the side slowly, away from the sunlight to help focus. When he's finally able to open them all the way, he sees you. There you are, leaning up against the doorway. A gentle smile caresses your cheeks as you cross your arms over your chest. Your hair is wet, sticking to your cheeks from a fresh shower. You're wearing one of his hoodies---it's massive on you, coming down past your knees like a dress. You've got no pants on, beautifully sculpted thighs free to dry in the fresh air.

There's something so majestic and beautiful about you when you're not covered head-to-toe in combat gear and weapons. Your gentle beauty reminds him exactly why he fell in love with you.

"Ana, honey. Let Daddy rest. He just got home." You say with sweetness dripping off your tongue. He'd never heard your voice in this tone before.

He watches you in silence as you lean off the wall and let your arms drop to your sides. You approach him slowly, and his head follows you. Your arms reach out above him, and he turns, looking up to see the little girl sitting atop his chest. She has light brown hair, much like his. But her eyes are the same color as yours. She's wearing jean overalls and a baby blue shirt underneath. Your hands come to wrap around her to pull her off him.

You bring her to rest on your side, arm under her butt to hold her steady.

She looks exactly like you.

He's motionless, fingers jerking slightly at his sides as he watches you. You bring a hand up to the girl's face to swipe a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Why don't you go grab him something to eat, hmm? He's probably hungry." You say softly.

The girl nods, and you lean forward to press a gentle kiss to her cheek. Leaning down, you set her little feet on the ground, and the girl immediately takes off through the doorway.

Once she's gone, you turn to look down at him. That same gentle smile crosses your face, and you approach him slowly. His gaze follows your every move as you come to sit next to him on the couch. Your hand lays on his chest, gently rubbing fine circles with your palm.

"Sorry, love. She gets a little too excited when you come home." You say.

He breathes slowly, watching as your eyes search his. You rub his chest slowly, leaning in close to press your forehead to his mask. Ghost watches, still unable to move his body. His fingers twitch anxiously at his sides, desperately wanting to run through the softness of your damp hair.

You lean back up, hand coming to slip under the soft part of his mask. Gingerly, you pull it up to reveal his stubbled jaw and plump lips. His lipe part in anticipation as you lean forward and press your lips to his. You both moan together, relishing in this feeling.

"Simon--" you speak softly. Pulling away, you smile down at him. You speak his name again, and it sounds like heaven slipping from your lips.

"Simon--" you say again. Only this time, it's echoing like the girls voice was before. He watches you start to fade, darkness pulling all around him. His eyes widen as you slip from his point of view. His body is still limp, and he can hear his heartbeat.

"Simon--" he hears again, but it's a lot louder now.

He tries to say your name, but when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out.

"Simon. Wake up." He hears you say again. It's louder this time, and he can feel the cool skin of your hand on his mask. His eyes begin to open slowly, adjusting to the rising sunlight beaming in through the window.

He looks over to see you sitting on the floor next to him. He's lying on a small couch that's full of rips. When he looks around, he recognizes the same run-down shack he saw before he fell asleep last night. He sighs, closing his eyes. He brings his hand up to rub the bridge of his nose like he had in his dream.

"You okay?" You ask softly.

He glances over at you. Your small form is situated on the floor next to the couch. Your arm is resting atop his, and your fingers stroke him softly. Concern covers your features as you seek for his eyes. He looks down at your partially swollen belly and grunts.

"Why are you on the floor?" He asks sternly.

"I woke up about an hour ago. Didn't want to disturb you. You never sleep." You speak softly. A soft blush flushes over your cheeks as you look down, slightly embarrassed. "And...I'm getting sorta heavy. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"You're fuckin' jokin' right?" He says.

You slowly look back up at him and shake your head.

"You're carrying my child--" he says, shifting to sit up on his arms. "--and you think I give a damn about how heavy you are?"

"I also got sick. So, didn't want to get it on you."

He cocks his head to the side, never taking his eyes off you.

"You should have stayed on base." He says, his voice coy and dark.

You watch him for a moment before looking down at your hand. It's resting on top of your small belly.

"I told you, Simon. Having this baby won't stop me from doing my job."

"Yeah, well, now you're not just riskin' your own life. You're risking our daughters life too."

You peer at him through your peripherals, face still blushed a bright pink.

"Daughter?" You ask softly.

He glances away from you towards the corner of the little shack.

"How you so sure it's a girl?" You ask.

He doesn't respond--doesn't even look back at you as he speaks. "I'm not. Just a feeling."

You watch him for a few minutes as he continues to stare into the corner.

"You want a daughter." You proclaim with a devious grin. Ghost grunts in response and turns to you.

"No. I do not. Having a daughter that looks like you would be trouble. I'll be chasing boys away until I'm dead. She'd never be allowed to date."

You laugh softly, hand slowly rubbing circles over your little belly. "I'll take that as a compliment, sir."

He grunts, turning his head to look at you once more. His eyes search yours for something as he contemplates his next words.

"What are we gonna do, kid?" He asks.

"I don't know. We'll have to figure it out as we go along." You say softly, head dipping to look down at your belly again.

Ghost shifts, sitting up on the couch. He leans down, his gloved hand taking the place of yours on that swollen belly. "You're dead set on continuing your career here after you give birth?" He asks softly.

When he found out you were pregnant, the first thing that came to mind for him was a home. For you to retire and take care of the kid. But that wasn't you. He offered to buy a house--a modest little cottage somewhere in America. Somewhere he knew you would both be safe. But you declined. This was your home, with him and the boys of 141.

"Whatever happens. I'm not giving up my post. My place is by your side. Out here." You speak softly.

Ghost watches you intently. "Love, you know you don't need to be by my side to--"

"I know--" you interrupt. "--you guys are my family. And you're the only life I've ever known."

He takes his hand from your belly to grab your chin, lifting you up to look at him.

"I really wish you would reconsider." He says.

"This baby has a family back home that already loves her. My dad--I know he'll step up. And my brothers--they will too. We'll come home as much as we can. Until this is settled. Until the word is a better place. Like we all agreed."

His thumb gently rubs the skin on your chin as he looks in your eyes.

"I already love her more than anything. She'll be cared for, I promise." You say softly, bringing your hand back down to rub your belly.

"Her, huh?" He asks, a hint of humor in his tone.

You smile a little, letting your eyes close. "I love the idea of a mini-me torturing you."

Ghost removes his hand from you, reaching up to lift his mask over his lips. He leans down, capturing your jaw in his grip again. He kisses you, slowly. His tongue grazes your lower lip when he bites down softly. When he pulls away, his nose brushes yours.

"I've thought of a name." He says.

"Yeah?"

"Ana."

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 2 months

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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 91

Part 1 Part 90

Eddie’s not thinking. Observations are floating into his mind too fast for him to categorize them, just snapshots of blinding confusion and color. Click – the explosion of pain when his knuckle impacts strangely against Hargrove’s jaw. Click – pain blooming against his ribs, sending him sprawling atop Hargrove’s chest. Click – he’s on the pavement, Perkins’ crawling atop him, pointy elbow jamming into his throat as she winds back to slap Hargrove hard enough in the face to send his head ricocheting into Eddie’s side. Click – Hargrove’s straddling his screaming ribs as he punches him, once, twice, ramming his head into the concrete hard enough that it bounces, exploding pain on both sides of his skull.

Eddie closes his eyes against the pain, holding his hands above his face in a futile effort to defend his sparking face against more damage.

Nothing else comes. Just for a second, Hagrove’s weight crushes his ribs further. The pressure compresses his lungs, all the air whooshing out in a quiet oomph. And then it’s gone.

Eddie curls into himself, hands around his ribs on instinct, eyes still closed until the screaming starts.

His eye feels swollen, sight fuzzy around the edges as he looks up at his savior.

It's not Perkins, or Mama Byers, or Barb, or even Steve.

Little Red stands over her brother, the nail bat in her hands pointed warningly toward his junk, dirty sneaker close enough that if she kicked forward, there’d never be any little Billy’s running around the world. Her hair’s got dirt in it, the fire in her eyes making her look almost feral.

Her voice is loud enough to ring throughout the neighborhood, but it’s going through his head like it’s underwater, like he’s Charlie Brown, it’s all just muffled, wah wah wah’s.

All he can hear is the ringing in his ears, high pitched and aching through his skull. Hargrove’s hands are raised, and he’s got a mocking sneer on his face, but his eyes tell a different story. They’re wide and afraid, and he’s scooting backward in the driveway, shirt riding up so his skin’s sliding across the pavement in a way that’s got to hurt.

Eddie levers himself to his feet. He wobbles around on sea legs for a second until a hand clamps onto his shoulder, steadying him. It’s Perkins. There’s a bruise already blooming on her cheek, and her hair’s a riot of knots. She slides her hands into his hair, probing around his head until she finds a spot that has him wincing and pulling back.

Her words reach him, muffled but unjumbled. “—need to get you to a hospital,” she says, leaning around him to look at the spot she’d just proved. “You’re bleeding like, a lot.”

Eddie leans into her, eyes closing for just a second. “Steve first,” he replies. The words rumble strangely through his chest.

He opens his eyes just in time to see Perkins eyes roll.

The voices around him unjumble slowly, until he can make out distinct words, unmuffled and blessedly decipherable.

Clearly, his scrambled egg of a brain just needed to catch up with its new inflamed state.

“Everyone inside,” Mama Byers calls, voice strained. It’s only then that Eddie notices the lights turned on in the houses around them, and the way curtains twitch back like the nosy rich people can’t help themselves.

Hargrove’s still in the ground, but Max hefts the bat up anyway, pointing it toward him with a final edict of, “Go home.” She turns around, sauntering toward the Harrington’s front door in a way the Eddie’d die to be able to emulate. “I’ll be home soon.”

Lucas snorts as he runs to catch up to her, Mike and Dustin right behind him.

Eddie and Perkins don’t start forward until Barb and Will lead Steve out of the van. Barb has his head angled down, clearly trying to obscure the blindfold on his face. Will’s smiling up at him and nodding as if they’re holding a conversation no one else can hear. Eddie hopes it’s enough of a show to stop the nosy neighbors from calling the cops. Hop’s indisposed and everyone else will just get in the way.

Perkins has her arm around his waist, but each of his steps bring more surety, like his brain and his legs are reestablishing their link. Still, she doesn’t let go.

They’re all loitering in front of the front door, arguing about how to get inside. Perkins bullies her way past, digging the hide-a-key out of its place buried in the leaves of the bush planted in the pot beside the front door.

She slides it home, turns it in the lock like she’s used to it. Like she belongs here in a way that Eddie, and the rest of the party, and even Steve himself don’t.

She leads them inside. Eddie wriggles out from her grasp so he can flip the lights on.

Something giddy runs through his veins as he hears the heat click on. He turns, smiling brightly at the rest of the group, just as Dustin closes the door behind them.

There’s something manic, and woozy, and hopeful running through him as he looks at all these people gathered in Steve’s childhood home, willing to do anything to save him.

“Let’s get this party started,” Eddie calls, like they’re at some sort of high school rager instead of a grim group of people about to boil their friend alive if it’ll save his life.

When everyone looks at him, bug-eyed and wary, Eddie just laughs.

Part 92

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb @rainwaterapothecary

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my fic #steddie upsidedown au #will byers #i Briefly considered having an awkward interaction between joyce and a neighbor #but I've been to richer neighborhoods #those ppl aren't leaving their house. they're talking shit to each other later or maybe calling the cops

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lockewrites · 6 months

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Durge!Reader being comforted by Halsin

Reader (gender not specified) x Halsin || SFW-ish (slightly violent) || 2390 words AO3

From anon on Tumblr: I feel like theres a real lack of Halsin/durge fics, specifically him helping her after denying to kill, and I think you’d be amazing for this!!

SPOILERS FOR DURGE IN ACT II - wrote the scene Larian denied us with Halsin as our LI :3

You lie on your bedroll, the stars hidden behind the cloth of your tent, the air within suddenly feeling as though it’s not enough to breathe. Sitting up, a wave of nausea roils through you, bile eating away at the back of your throat; each breath in creates a ripple in your gut. You crawl out of your tent, desperate for the open air; your movements are slow as you push to your feet, fearing your stomach will empty itself.

This sensation is certainly not a stranger; you’ve felt it a number of times since waking from the illithid pod.

The campfire has long since died, and with it is the absence of your companions, each lost in a trance or dreams. You’re grateful for the solitude; they’re aware of your… general situation, or at least as much of it as you know yourself, but they needn’t see you in such a state.

Your eyes flicker to Halsin’s tent; the druid had quickly drawn your interest upon joining the party. It began solely as a physical attraction; the sheer size certainly was enticing, and his Wild Shape, that very nature spoke to the feral instincts inside you. But his gentle temperament despite the power he holds, both physical and arcane, is an enigma to you, and him extending that soft touch to you, someone who certainly does not deserve it… the interest had quickly shifted to something deeper.

And for reasons you still couldn’t fathom, it’d been reciprocated.

Without realizing, you find yourself having approached his tent, your hand reaching to open it.

“He believes you’ve relieved the weight of his worries, returning him to himself.”

You spin to find a despicable creature standing behind you; decaying skin stretched taut over sharp bones, beady red eyes looking past you at Halsin’s tent. Sceleritas Fel.

“Such delusions, to think you a savior. As though you aren’t the heaviest burden to wrap around his neck, until he breathes his last, losing himself forever.”

Your mouth pulls into a sneer, and you take a step to block his view.

“You could do so much better, Milady,” the butler says, shaking his head.

“Back off, you rotten gremlin,” you hiss, your fists clenching. “You won’t touch him.”

He holds his hands up, unphased by your words. “I won’t lay so much as a talon on the elf.” His pointed teeth show in his malicious smile. “I wouldn’t rob you of that delight.”

A sharp pain beats through your head as you stare the creature down; the evidence apparent in your expression.

“Your clever mind is penning tragedy as we speak,” he remarks, pointing at you. “Your repressed Urge yearns to kill.” His voice drips with something akin to desire. “And kill you will. Tonight, the moment you close your eyes, your favorite person will be brutalized.”

“But I love him.” Your words are quiet, yet they startle you, spilling from your lips of their accord. Are you surprised by the admission? So early in your journey? Or is it that you don’t know whether you’re truly capable of such a thing?

“We all kill what we love most, in time,” Sceleritas replies. “He is so beneath you; his very presence infects the air with a sickeningly sweet stench. His pure heart would be better served floating in a jar.”

With each utterance, bile crawls further and further up to your throat.

“Halsin believes I’m stronger than this,” you mutter, more to yourself. “He won’t come to harm by my hand. I haven’t even yet told him how I feel.”

“Why not whisper it while you twist a knife?” He smirks. “Or have a love confession be the final words between you.” Sceleritas leans toward you. “It is my duty to ensure you are making the right decisions, Master. There was much disappointment at your reluctance to kill the little Moonmaiden.”

Your glare sharpens, suspicion growing and nearly pulling a snarl from your chest.

“You could kill this one deliberately,” he explains. “I’m sure it will be considered a great show of goodwill. The tithe could still be yours.”

The pain stabs through your head again, forcing your eyes shut as you grimace. Your instinct gnaws at your mind, and your Urge claws and screams beneath your skin.

Forcing your eyes open, you speak through clenched teeth. “Perhaps I sate the Urge by killing you.”

“Oh, my dear Lady.” He shakes his head and smiles. “It’s been many a time I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing your malice personally. But my death means little to your father and the Urge.”

The thought of his death at your hand would be satisfying, but you feel the honesty in his words; it would be far too shallow a victory to quiet the Urge.

“I won’t do it.” Your nails threaten to break the skin of your palms. “I will keep him safe. From you. And from me.”

He tilts his head. “I do not doubt you will act with the decorum befitting one of your rank.” His head dips, giving a bow just as his body glows an eerie red. “Good night, sweet Lady.”

His body disappears in a moment, leaving you alone with your back to Halsin’s tent. With a deep breath, you will your jaw and fists to relax; the lingering pain offering a bit of comfort as you wrack your mind on what to do.

You turn, reaching up to open the flap of Halsin’s tent, leaving a dark spot where your fingers touch. A metallic tinge spills into your nose, and you look down to see your hands streaked with blood, spilling from half-moon wounds in the middle of your palm. Without thinking, you run your tongue across your skin, the taste sending a shiver down your spine as your breath wavers.

Your movements freeze, the Urge rising in your chest, desperate to taste blood spilled from a body you crave.

“No,” you whisper to yourself, as though simply speaking would placate it. “Not Halsin.”

You dare to step through, finding Halsin lying on his bedroll, still deep in his trance, unaware of the looming threat to his life. Kneeling beside him, your bloodied hands hover above his throat; it would be so easy to spill his life with a simple slice of your dagger.

“Stop,” you plead to yourself, to your hands.

They move to his shoulders and give him a shake. “Halsin,” you utter, hoping to not wake the others. He doesn’t react. “Halsin!”

He wakes with a start, sitting up and gripping your arms in concern. “What’s wrong?”

Your lips part, but you struggle to find the words.

Halsin’s hands move to your wrists, turning them to view your still-bleeding hands.

“Speak to me,” he pleads, looking at you with fear and concern, visible even in the dark.

“You’re in danger,” you breathe, not entirely confident your words are loud enough for him to hear.

His brow furrows. “From what?”

“Me.”

His mouth opens, and you half-expect a lighthearted remark, but perhaps your severe gaze makes him hesitate. Halsin’s grasp slides to rest on either side of your face, his warmth filling you and quelling the nausea still tainting your stomach.

“Whatever is going on,” he begins, his thumbs brushing away tears that you hadn’t known spilled, “we will get through it, but I need to know what’s happening.”

You blink, his image going in and out of focus. “I… My… My mind isn’t my own,” you cry.

Each word given steals more and more of your energy, leaving your body on the cusp of failing; your vision grows tunneled and red as a headache splits through your skull, the pain unlike anything you’ve experienced before.

You feel the last of your consciousness slipping, but you must get out what has your heart in a vice grip. You slip from Halsin’s touch, stumbling backward against the tent’s flaps.

“It wants to kill you, and I… I don’t know what to do. I can’t lose you.”

He leans toward you. “You won’t lose me,” Halsin promises. “Our time together has only begun.” He interrupts himself with a heavy sigh. “You’ve shared a touch of your troubles with me, but this is far beyond anything you’ve said. To hold such a burden alone will destroy you. You could have confided in me.”

“I’m…” Even with the absence of any of your strength, you somehow draw further back; your vision becomes nothing more than a blur, the world spinning beneath you, and your throat burns with bile. “I’m sor—” You collapse into the dirt.

Whatever time that’s passed is lost to you, waking near the dead campfire with your hands bound behind your back and any semblance of control over your Urge gone. Your body thrashes, your wrists twisting and pulling against the rope, its flesh tearing into your own.

“Calm yourself,” Halsin orders, his voice sounding authoritative, as if speaking to one of his druids. “My magic cannot penetrate what plagues you. You, your will, will conquer this.”

Your mouth tastes of iron; vile desires gather on your tongue, the Urge itself commanding your body. You try to focus on Halsin, your eyes pleading that he sees you’re trying, even if not successful.

“I know you are still in there.”

His words are soft, sweet… they sicken the Urge.

You lurch forward, your teeth seeking to clamp down on any piece of Halsin, wanting to tear the meat from his bones, devouring him raw.

He doesn’t flinch, but his jaw sets. “I’ve handled the most feral of animals. Your fangs are no threat to me.”

The response sends the Urge over the edge, your limbs pulling with all of your strength, no regard given for any injuries caused by their own actions. The rope breaks through your raw skin, blood soaking the binds.

“Easy, my heart,” Halsin says. “Your strength is greater than this curse, and I will grant you my own alongside. You will not suffer this alone.”

You hold his promise in your chest, hoping it blooms bright enough to allow you to express your gratitude. You try to speak, but all that escapes is a harsh growl that tears through your throat.

“A growl means little from a trapped beast,” he remarks. “But you can escape this. I will see you free of this affliction.”

Tears that feel like acid fill your eyes, and you can’t tell whether it’s frustration and anger from the Urge or fear and dread from you. Your body is beaten inside and out, exhaustion’s hands wrapped around your throat. Still, it fights against your bindings, even as your consciousness slips back into the dark.

“Let your mind rest,” he says. “Your body will soon follow.”

Again, you don’t know how long you’re out, but at some point, you come to. You feel sticky, your clothes clinging to your sweat-slicked skin; your head still pounds, and your stomach still turns, but your mind is once again your own. As your vision clears, you let out a sigh of relief; Halsin remains in front of you, mercifully unharmed.

His gaze holds yours, searching for you. And he finds you.

Rising to his feet, he steps behind you and cuts your binds; your freed arms settle in your lap, the muscles screaming, and your wrists and hands caked in dried blood. Tentative, you flex your fingers, the maroon stain cracking and falling from your skin.

Halsin returns in front of you and sits back down. His expression is relieved, but as the seconds pass, it shifts to something far more serious.

“I am overjoyed to have you back,” he begins, “but we need to discuss what happened.”

Your head drops, shame filling you. With a deep breath, you let everything out: divulging the severity of your Dark Urge, how often it haunts your thoughts and dreams, the little creature that calls himself your butler, your mysterious father you’re supposed to please.

Those hazel eyes are hard, his brows pinched; Halsin is deep in his thoughts, sifting through the heavy truth you’ve just shared. And all you can do is sit and wait, anxiety boiling within as you await his response. Will he claim you too dangerous to live? An unnatural being, something that disrupts the world’s balance? Perhaps simply cast you out, banish you from the camp as he’s unable to bring himself to end you?

Your hands are suddenly gifted his warmth, his own gently caressing yours. He dips a rag in a bowl of water beside him and begins cleaning your wounds, his touch impossibly gentle.

“In all my years, I’ve not come across anything quite like this,” he finally speaks. “But I stand by my words. You will not lose me. And I will not let you lose yourself to this Urge.”

He puts the rag aside and casts a healing spell; the golden glow fills the space between you, and the torn skin pulls back together. Your wrists still ache, still feel some remnant of the deep injuries, but it’s barely more than a pinprick to you.

His hands remain on yours, but you feel disgusted and have to fight the temptation to pull away. You should be left to rot, ended now to protect everyone around, to protect him.

“I’m a monster,” you mutter, unable to meet his gaze. “I’ve taken countless lives. I don’t even know the depth of my crimes. I’m an abomination now, and I know… I just know I was fully embracing this Dark Urge before I lost my memories.” Your throat feels as though it’s being stabbed. “You should end me.”

Your head is guided up, his thumb under your chin and forcing you to look at him.

“The Urge is a monster,” he argues. “You, the person you are now, is utterly incredible. And having learned just how hard a battle you face with this evil, I am in awe.”

The tears fall from your cheeks, and while you still don’t believe you deserve a single utterance he’s given, you’re grateful beyond what words could express.

Halsin wipes them away, and his hands remain along your jaw.

“We will free you from this abomination,” he swears, “and your mind, your heart, your soul, will be entirely yours. And you will see just how extraordinary you are.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #baldur's gate iii #durge #halsin x reader #reader x halsin #durge x halsin #halsin x durge #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate #fic: treasures the night bestows

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huramuna · 2 months

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banshee's lament - chapter 4.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

a/n: this chapter might be a bit slower. it's building some things up and i wanted to brush up on my combat writing. it's a bit scuffed but i hope you enjoy! aemond is kind of feral in this chapter.

wordcount: 4.2k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, my terrible, terrible combat writing

story playlist

‘Little wolf spider’ Helaena had called her. She remembered Helaena’s incessant facts about them specifically– why, of all things, did she remember that? She remembered Helaena citing that they were excellent hunters with superb eyesight. They did not spin webs, most being wanderers without permanent homes.

It almost made her want to laugh. It truly described her well, didn’t it? Besides the eyesight part… and the hunting part– she was indeed, a little wolf spider– doomed to be alone and not able to make her own home, a rolling stone amongst the waves that threatened to drown her.

After the betrothal announcement dinner and subsequent breakdown of Shera, she stayed in her chambers for a few days, not feeling well enough to socialize, nor see the faces of people that would’ve heard her crying. Cregan visited a few times, bringing her a meal or two and forcing her to bathe– it was agitating her to be forced to do something she loved, something she wished to do alone.

He, thankfully, had maids do the actual washing part– but this still annoyed Shera to bits. She hated being touched, being fretted over by them as they looked upon her like she was lesser, like she wasn’t capable of doing things herself. She felt suffocated in a place that usually brought her peace, simpering tiny whines as they pulled at her hair.

I can do it, I can do it– just let me do it!

She wanted to scream and claw their wandering eyes out, then go and kick Cregan in the balls– this was his fault, his fault–

Finally, the maids left and she felt like a freshly plucked duck, ready to be roasted over the fire. Her skin was red and pink, emanating heat that she could almost see, steam roiling over her overwrought skin.

Moongeist whined at the closed washroom door– they had locked him out, the absolute fiends. She wrapped in a robe, pinning her hair up with a whale bone pin and opened the door.

“Come here, lovey,” she cooed, voice broken and hoarse still. “They locked you out– my poor bubby.” Shera pat his head, descending onto her knees. She was still weak from the emotional turmoil she’d gone through, bleeding into her physical state, but she would need to be bed bound before she would ever forsake Moongeist proper scratches. Her hands glided through his black fur and she pressed her face to him, taking in his familiar scent.

Everyone said he smelled like a dog, but that was simply untrue. He smelled… clean, he smelled like wolf– which was much different than smelling like dog. It was primal and heady, deep and warm like fir trees and pine nettles and all the things that were so synonymous with him. She scratched behind his ears and his leg thumped on the ground.

Cregan returned to her chamber, a plate of something sweet smelling in his hand. He put it down on the dining table. “Are you feeling better today?”

Shera’s mouth pursed into a thin line as she got back to her feet— with Moongeist’s assistance— and meandered to the table. “Define better.” she murmured, inspecting the plate. It was piled high with her favorite treat; sticky honey walnut cakes. Her mouth filled with saliva instantly and her brow raised to Cregan. Perhaps her brother was more considerate than she thought.

“Better as in you’d be able to walk the Keep— Jacaerys and I are going to be skirmishing in the training yard at noon.”

She all but scowled as she pilfered one of the pastries, biting into it without much decorum. It was a messy dessert, designed to be eaten with a fork and knife— but damn that, she would be sticky faced like a honey drunk bear if she pleased! She melded into the flavors, the nostalgia of it tampering her mood. “… I suppose I could watch.”

“He asked for you, you know.”

Shera’s brow raised. ‘He’ could mean a lot of people. “Who?”

“Jacaerys. He asked if you were alright and wished his condolences for your… illness.”

“Is that what we are saying it is now? An illness?” she muttered, taking another bite of the cake. Yes, how diminishing it felt to pass off her fragility of mind as an illness. Of course— how else could it be put? She was surprised that it wasn’t being spread as a ‘malady of woman’, or some other pompous innocuous name for whatever was really wrong with her.

“What would you call it then?”

She made a noncommittal noise and continued eating. After finishing, she let out a sigh. “Thank you for the cakes, Cregan.”

“I didn’t bring them— they were at your chamber door when I came back.”

She tilted her head. “They were just… there?”

“I didn’t even know you liked honey walnut cakes, Shera.”

She clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “I’ll be at the yard at noon. I need to get ready, if you please.” she said, the nicest way of putting it. Leave, brother. You’re annoying.

–

Dressed in a lighter garment than usual, she descended the steps carefully. A light blue tulle train flowed behind her, rippling and waving in the breeze like the white capped crests upon the Blackwater. It was different from her normal style of muted, monotone colors— mayhaps it was a way to uplift herself.

It was a lovely blue and green hue, embroidered with filigree patterns. The sleeves were long, accompanied by a sweeping circular decolletage, exposing her soft collarbone and the faintest swell of breast. She had felt so confident leaving her chambers— she even went with a shorter veil than usual, the lace falling just past her jaw.

Walking down the hall, Moongeist nosed her hand to his head, as if to remind her of something. She felt… exposed. A bit too much for her liking. Her fingers glided over her wolf’s soft fur… and she remembered, swiftly turning around to grab her fur stole from her room. “Thank you for reminding me, sweet boy,” she hummed, snuggling into the comforting, familiar fur.

Descending down to the training yard, she fanned herself with an errant hand. Even with less layers than usual and lighter colors, she was still broiling under the sun. Moongeist panted near her, tongue lolled out in silent agreement.

“A parasol might do you well, my lady,” a bored voice drawled. “Your pale complexion does you wonders, but I wonder if you still flay in the sun like as a child.”

“Aegon,” Shera recognized the lazy, tired voice of the eldest child of Alicent. He had been one of her companions back in the day, but also one of her greatest foes– before the incident of course. “I’m surprised to see you outside. I’ve heard you’re solely a creature of the dark now.”

“I am full of surprises, dear Shera,” he caught up to her, looping their arms together all too readily. He had a dopey smile on his face, but it didn’t match the pure exhaustion in his eyes. Dark bags fell under those violet orbs like a dreary storm. “I happen to be coming back from… such nightly activities.”

Moongeist let out a growl as he touched her, but Shera silenced him. She didn’t believe that she had any reason to fear Aegon and thought him almost as pathetic as she. “Very well.”

“I heard about… the dinner. I’m glad I slipped out when I did, I knew it’d be a shit show,” he was fiddling with his rings on his free arm, all while stringing her along to the training yard. “Curious how Aemond said you were a bashed up mess under that veil of yours, and yet– he is challenging your betrothed and your brother to a duel?”

“How do you know that?”

“I have my ways– eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Helaena told you, didn’t she?”

“... mm. Maybe– even so, I don’t think it’s wholly terrible under there, is it?” he peered at her, a single hand lifting her veil to peek underneath.

She promptly slapped his hand away and wrenched herself from his grasp, followed by Moongeist giving a warning snap to the air. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Sleeping off your night, mayhaps?”

“Well– yes,” Aegon backed up, putting his hands in the air in surrender. “I just wanted to catch up. Is that so terrible?”

“Yes.”

He patted down imaginary dust from his doublet, twisting his rings again as they reached the landing to the training yard observation deck. He leaned his head to look out and survey it for a moment before a devilish smirk perked at his mouth once more. “You are going to wish that it was me talking to you soon enough, Shera. Have fun, zokla.” Wolf.

Shera watched him jaunt off with an air of confusion, turning to walk onto the rampart. She saw Jacaerys there already with Cregan, talking and laughing with… Rhaena and Baela. Daemon was there, too, stalking in the background.

Fuck.

She took a deep breath, glancing to the dirt grounds where Aemond was sparring with Criston.

Cregan’s voice echoed in her mind. They’re not your friends, not anymore. She pulled her stole closer to herself, walking forward. I don’t have any friends here. Except for Helaena, it seemed. Steeling her nerves, she made her way to the small congregation. “Brother, Jacaerys,” she greeted first, dipping her head. Cregan seemed jovial and in good spirits– he always was around Jacaerys and vice versa. “Lady Baela, Lady Rhaena.” she spoke then, trying to keep her quivering voice even. They hadn’t spoken since Baela had slashed her eye and attempted to kill her. Shera took in her appearance best she could– she had grown up, as they all had, but especially resembled her mother, Laena. Shera remembers seeing Laena’s portraits in Driftmark– and her statuesque coffin depiction before she was pushed into the sea.

“Shera,” Jacaerys grinned, taking her hand– which she did not offer him– and kissed it. So gallant, so princely. It made her want to vomit. “It’s a lovely day today, isn’t it?”

Yes, it’s a lovely day, stifling hot in the hells. “... it could do with a breeze, mayhaps. But yes, quite nice.” she responded coolly.

“‘Tis my turn to spar Aemond next– apparently he has been here since the crack of dawn with Criston. Do you think he’s getting exhausted yet, my lady?” Jace asked, guiding Shera to her seat and handing her a fan. At least he noticed that she was positively broiling.

She leaned and looked over the rampart to the skirmishing ring, where Aemond kept up his pace. “Since dawn, you say?” she asked, raising a brow as she fanned herself.

Aemond was using a shortsword, which seemed to be his weapon of choice against all others. Ser Criston was wielding a morningstar with spiked barbs around it. Her lone eye was entranced on the prince’s movements as he danced around his teacher, footwork impeccable as if he were simply floating across the dirt, whipping up hardly any dust in his wake. Shera wished she was a bit closer so she could see it better, but his movements didn’t seem to be exhausted in the slightest– he was like grebe skimming over the water, in his element.

Criston raised his morningstar, twirling it before making his advance to the prince, to which Aemond did not move. Move, Aemond. Move! What are you doing? Shera clenched her fist in her lap and leaned forward even farther to try and parse exactly what Aemond’s plan was– certainly not to face a morningstar head on with a simple shortsword? She held her breath as he was within bludgeoning range of the flail, the chains clinking as Criston didn’t waiver– it was like they were in a real fight. Was he about to kill Aemond?

She rose to her feet quickly, startled by what she thought was about to be a murder– only to watch Aemond roll deftly out of the way as the kingsguard’s weapon stuck into the dirt, lodged a few inches in by the heft of his lunge. This was a clear opportunity for Aemond, one he calculated so carefully. He stuck the tip of his shortsword through the links of the flail, keeping it pinned to the ground and hovered a dagger at Ser Cole’s neck with his other hand.

“I yield, my prince.” Criston huffed, bowing his head.

“Very good,” Aemond grinned– but it wasn’t a grin of joy, this seemed to be a recurring theme with Aemond– he smiled but it was nothing of mirth. It was simply a reflex, like a snake opening its jaws to stretch its fangs, one might think it was laughing. “Who’s next?”

Shera realized the kerfuffle she’d made, her hand white knuckled against her chest as she stared at Aemond in abject horror, still not getting past the fact that she had been deathly worried about Aemond– even after the horrible things he had said. If Ser Cole’s flail had met the prince’s head, she would’ve jumped the rampart with Moongeist and mauled that sordid Kingsguard without a second thought.

She blinked, letting out a breath. Where did that come from? She was usually so well versed in her moods, as tumultuous as they could be. But this rage had snuck up on her, her blood boiling slightly. She glanced to her side, Moongeist was up and raring to go, as if sharing her sentiment.

Aemond wiped sweat from his forehead, finally looking to the ramparts. Their eyes met once again and he smirked. Smirked. It wasn’t a reflexive, mirthless smirk either. It was taunting, pompous. “Lady Shera,” he drawled, dislodging his sword from the ground and twirled it with ease, like it was an attachment of his own body. “You are dressed… brightly today.” he walked to the edge of the ring, looking directly up at her.

Shera looked behind her for a moment– the rest of the party was occupied with talking with one another. She pressed her arms on the wall and leaned down. “I am. You are not.”

“When have I ever been?”

“You used to like green.”

“Hm,” he snorted, wiping some errant dirt from his face. “If I were in a tourney, would you cast down your favor to me?”

“I thought you didn’t care for tournaments, my prince.”

“I don’t.” he responded coolly, his eye trained on her so intensely. He was looking at something– did she have something on her face?

She realized quickly the air coming up from under her veil, the shorter one she wore today, and her angle. She was looking… down at him, and the veil stayed in place. He could see her face. He was looking at her, studying her like a book. Shera let out a soft sheepish noise, pushing back from the rampart and sitting back at her seat.

She heard him laugh as he walked away to stow his weapon on the rack and pick another. He was laughing at her– surely because he thought her ugly. Wilting into herself, she adjusted her veil so that she might not have any more mishaps.

“Jacaerys, I believe it’s your turn,” she murmured, fanning herself again, then fanning Moongeist.

“Ah, very good. Wish me luck, my lady.”

“Good luck, Jacaerys.” she hummed. I do wish you don’t get your brains splattered in the pit by Aemond. I am not getting up again.

Cregan clasped Jace on the shoulder with such ferocity he almost knocked the prince over, walking down to the pit with him. Shera rolled her eyes and leaned back in her seat.

“So, Lady Stark,” Baela hummed, pulling her seat up next to Shera. Uncomfortably close. “Cregan is your brother, yes?”

“Yes, my lady.” she responded, trying not to sound annoyed.

“Forgive me– you two don’t look much alike, so I was just making sure.”

You cannot even see my face, how do you know we do not look alike? The last time you saw my face, you mauled it. “Cregan takes after our father more than I. I am more like our mother– or so I’ve been told. I’ve not met her.” she fiddled with her fur stole to ease her growing irritation. Add mother issues to the list of things I have wrong with me. Shera’s mother died shortly after her birth– all she knew is that she had copper hair. Their father had put away portraits and any semblance of her existence after– and never remarried.

Baela carefully sidestepped the issue of Shera’s mother, keeping her pressed about Cregan. “My stepmother says that mayhaps after you and Jacaerys are wed, she will propose a betrothal between Cregan and I.”

Oh, of course. Let’s have Winterfell all but indebted to dragons. “I hadn’t heard. Have you been North, my lady?”

“No– but I imagine it cannot be any harsher than the roiling tides of Driftmark.”

Fuck you. “Having been both places– they are very different, Lady Baela,” Shera knew she was being short and not doing well in containing her agitation at this whole situation, being in proximity to her would-be murderer. “The North is harsher than any tide and is not the best climate for everyone. I do not think dragons fair well in the North,” she paused to breathe, her pace of speaking beginning to burn her throat. She was fueled by disconcertment and barely contained anger alone. “... that is what I have heard. Vermax loathes the snow.”

“Well,” Baela kept a smile on her face. “Cregan is handsome, don’t you think?”

“I cannot say, my lady. I don’t really see him in such a manner— I am not a Targaryen, after all.” Shera said back, finally regaining some control in her voice.

She heard Daemon laugh behind her. She fought the urge to turn around and sneer, focusing on the melee happening in the pit. It was well on its way and Jacaerys was… faring. She didn’t know how he was faring, but he wasn’t knocked out yet.

Aemond was circling him like a wolf upon prey– a totally different technique than what he had done with Criston. He had let Criston come to him, rather than facing him head on. It was almost sickly how he was playing with him before the slaughter. There was a dangerous glint in Aemond’s eye that only Shera seemed to catch– did he mean to kill Jace? She remembered a similar glint in his eye when he raised the rock to Jacaerys’ head in the tunnels under Driftmark–

Aemond surged forward and steel met steel, their swords clashing together. Jace had chosen a shortsword as well, parrying his opponent’s thrust– barely. He knocked the white-haired prince back slightly, catching his breath.

Once again, that sickly smile spread across Aemond’s face. “Tired already, Jacaerys? We’ve barely begun!” he continued his walk around his nephew, twirling his sword.

“Hardly, uncle. All you’ve done is dance around me. How about an actual fight, ey?” Jace quipped back.

Shera had to give him credit where it was due. Jace was brazen. Taunting an already unhinged Aemond and being mayhaps a bit stupid– but brazen nonetheless.

“A swordsman knows how to pick his fights and when to wait, doesn’t he?” Aemond’s eye flicked to the ramparts where Daemon was still looming. “Has your stepfather not taught you that?”

“You’re both talking a bit too much for my liking,” Cregan grunted, his hand itching on his own sword, which he had already unsheathed. It was the Stark’s ancestral weapon, a huge greatsword aptly called Ice. Cregan handled it with ease– Shera wouldn’t even be able to lift it. “Go on, Jacaerys.”

“Go on, Jacaerys,” Aemond taunted in a similar tone, his hackles raised. He looked slightly manic in the moment. “Let's see what your stepfather has taught you– if anything. I thought you were supposed to be strong.”

Jacaerys raged forward, spurred by his rising anger. Their swords clashed again with such force that sparks flew from the metal. Aemond thwarted him off, pushing him backwards into the dirt, shrugging his shoulders.

Despite being pushed down, Jace still got up, coming at Aemond again and again, each slash more sloppy than the last, but fueled with spite. His uncle continued to parry him, to push him, to sweep him aside with ease– it was a game to him.

“Keep your attacks focused, Jacaerys,” Cregan commanded. “He’s getting tired, I can see it.”

“I can go all day, Stark!” Aemond barked, his violet eye pierced solely on Cregan now as he thwarted Jacaerys’ heavy-handed blows without even looking at him. “Let’s make a wager, shall we? If your… pup here wins, I’ll personally pay for you and your troops to have a trip to the Silk Street– the best brothel. If I win– I get to take your sister for a ride on my dragon.”

Ah, fuck. Cregan’s hackles rose and he shoved off his fur cape. “Don’t talk about my sister, you beast,” the vein in Cregan’s neck throbbed and Shera knew it would come to blows between the Warden of the North and the One-Eyed prince. “You wouldn’t know a real fight if it hit you in the face.”

“Oh, please– now give me a moment so I can pummel your little pup into the ground and show your sister a real dra–” Aemond’s voice was cut off as Cregan punched him squarely in the face, right in his nose. Blood dripped from his nostrils and he then raised his sword to Cregan. “Fine.”

Their bodies tensed and Jacaerys saw the opportunity to walk away, thoroughly exhausted and not wanting to get in between the two of them.

They were about to clash swords once more in a very real manner and Shera stood up from her chair hastily, opening her mouth to say something– but she was cut off.

“Aemond!” an authoritative voice called from the rampart. It was Otto Hightower, hand of the King– and Aemond’s grandsire. “Forgo your petty spar and meet me in the Tower of the Hand. Promptly.”

The mania in Aemond’s eyes and aura faded, snuffing it out once more– just like his rage at the dinner. “Of course. Good fight, Jacaerys,” he nodded his head to his nephew, then looked to Cregan. “Stark.” he uttered before spitting blood onto the dirt, wiping his bleeding nose with the back of his hand. He didn’t even look at Shera as he ascended the steps and followed his grandsire.

“I notice you did not greet me, Lady Stark,” Daemon hummed as he loomed behind her. “Am I not worthy of your respect?”

“... you were quite far away, Prince Daemon. I simply cannot project my voice that far, forgive me.” she droned, blinking profusely at the turn of events.

“My nephew said he would’ve taken you on a ride upon his dragon– care to enlighten me what that might mean?” he continued, tapping ringed fingers on the stone barrier.

“I presume he would take me on a ride on Vhagar,” she muttered, edging away from Daemon. “He would find it hard to get me upon his beast, even if he won the bet.”

“I’m sure he would. Your brother has a temper when it comes to you, it seems?”

“All men have tempers when it comes to women in their lives, do they not?”

“That’s true.”

“I don’t imagine you would wish your daughter,” she cleared her throat, eyes looking to Baela, who was speaking to Jacaerys off to the side. “To be absconded to the North. Nor do I imagine you’re entirely pleased at the prospect of more Andal blood tainting your line.”

“An apt observation, wolf. Though, I am not sure the North is meant for northerners, either. Some people just do not belong anywhere, it seems.”

Fuck off, old man. “I wish you a good day, prince Daemon.” Shera whispered, bowing her head, careful of her veil placement. She could feel his gaze on her, leering at her, trying to figure out what was beneath.

“Cregan– I am going to lunch with Helaena,” Shera tried to call down, but her voice didn’t project. He was caught up talking very animatedly to Jacaerys and Baela– Rhaena was off to the side, not saying much.

Shera let out an errant puff of agitation and left the training yard. She stopped at her chambers before going to Helaena’s– she took off the errant piece of flowing fabric from her outfit and put it on the desk.

–

Aemond returned to his chambers hours later after being thoroughly chewed out by his grandsire for ‘behavior unbecoming of a prince’. Is this how it felt to be Aegon?

His nose ached and he was sure that northern beast had broken it. It mattered not, it will mend. Most things do in time.

He began to unlace his jerkin as he noticed a piece of cerulean fabric on his desk, pinned with a note.

My favor, for you.

There was no signature to whom had written it, only a crude drawing of a wolf. He rolled his eye, picking up the fabric. It was soft between his calloused fingers and smelled heavily of lavender and rosemary. It smelled of her– he could absorb it even with his broken nose.

A tiny smile perked at his lips for a moment. ‘Twas a real one.

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