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lanadelnegan · 2 days

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Ghost - Part 5 (final)

Negan x Glenn'sSister!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, angst, angry sex, p in v, anal, sex on Negan's bike, slight daddy kink, situationship

Part 4 here // Part 1 here

“Knew I’d find you here, doll.” Negan got off his bike, sighing before he sat next to me on the steps of the cabin. “Wanna tell me why the hell you just up and left?” His leg pressed against mine as I stared ahead at the ground, unable to look at him.

“Just needed time to think.”

“Look at me.” His voice was deep, demanding, and I could hear the pain dripping from it. I refused to look at him.. refused to blink. All I could do was stare at a walker pinned to a tree in the distance like it might save me from this moment.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Negan nod disappointedly before looking away and my heart sank. “We’ve both had enough time to think, y/n.” His voice cracked when he said my name like tears were forming in his throat. “On the drive over here, I had every intention of fighting for you. For us. But then I thought, I don't want to be with someone who isn’t certain they wanna be with me too.”

I nodded acceptingly. “That’s fair.” I refused to cry, not wanting him to see how this was affecting me. I’d be brave now, and feel sorry for myself later like always. “So why are you even here, then?” I asked and the question made Negan scoff. “Because I at least have enough respect for you to tell you goodbye.”

“I guess you don’t remember our first night together.” I scoffed back at him.

“How can I ever fuckin’ forget? … and that? Is the problem. Buuut…” His voice changed suddenly, like he switched into the asshole character I saw at Alexandria the first time. “...If I can survive losing Lucille, I’ll damn sure be okay losing you, darlin’.”

His words felt like a punch to my gut, leaving me numb and speechless. Negan stood after a few moments, whistling as he walked back to his bike but I was behind him before he could reach it. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” I whisper-yelled, not wanting to draw the attention of the dead.

Negan quickly turned to face me, smirking while he towered over me. “It means.. I’ll go back to my wives at the sanctuary. And you? can sit here for the rest of your lonely little life.. wishing you still had me.”

My only response was my hand colliding with his cheek hard enough to sting my skin and draw blood from his lip. Negan grinned wider, showing his white teeth as he wiped a drop of blood away with his thumb. There was a darkness in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before and it made me wonder how I was stupid enough to ever believe there was good in him.

“Fuck you.” My jaw clenched as I spoke and mindfully held back my fists at my sides, desperately wanting to press one into his arrogant skull.

“Yeah?” He asked, tilting his head. “Okay.” He breathed before pulling me forward by my wrist and smashing his lips into mine. I tasted the lingering blood on his mouth and sucked harder at his lip like it was some miracle drug that would heal me from his hurtful words.

He bit me back and I shoved him away, breathing heavily. A low grumble came from his throat before he pulled me back to him and wrapped his fingers around throat. “You want me to stop? Tell me.” His grip tightened around my neck and my lips remained closed. His head fell back as he let out a loud chuckle and returned his heavy gaze to mine. My eyes watered from the pressure building in my neck and his eyes softened along with his grip.

Negan looked away before letting go of my neck completely. For a moment I thought he felt bad about it, until he grabbed my wrist and maneuvered me to bend over his bike. I gasped when my stomach pressed into the seat and knocked the wind out of my lungs. Before I had a chance to stand, Negan yanked my shorts down along with my underwear and lined his already hard and ready cock up to my entrance.

"You ready to stop with the dramatics, darlin'? We both know we can't stay away from each other." He slid into me with one deep push and kept himself there for a moment. "Feel how perfect that is? We were made for each other, baby." He began thrusting and my moans grew louder as heat flooded my core.

His hand found my ponytail and he jerked it harshly, making me yelp and my back arched while his dick reached a deeper level inside me.

"Negan, fuuuuck, feels so good."

"I know baby, I know." He breathed heavily, keeping his pace fast and steady. Letting go of my ponytail, his hand dropped to my ass while the other remained squeezing my hip. I exhaled a pained breath when I felt his thumb force its way into my other hole.

"So pretty and tight." He said, looking down to watch his thumb and cock slide in and out of me simultaneously. Then suddenly he removed both and I whined at the empty feeling.

He circled the head of his dick around my asshole and my eyes went wide with the sudden painful stretch of his tip entering.

"Fuck." Negan grunted before pushing the rest of length inside me until his balls were pressed against my pussy lips. We both moaned in unison as his pace sped up. "Shit, baby, look at you. Taking daddy's cock like a fucking pro. So fucking proud of my girl." He yanked my ponytail again, hitting a spot that made me see stars.

"Negan!" I practically screamed.

His other hand reached in front of me, covering my mouth. His fingers gripped painfully around my face, bringing tears to my eyes while he ripped my insides apart.

"Goddamn it, doll. Gonna fill that little ass with my cum and watch it drip outta you. You want that? Huh?" He pulled you back further towards him, biting your neck after whispering the filthy words in your ear.

The heat continued to build in your core and you felt yourself getting close. "Yes, please Negan. I need it, please!" I begged desperately.

Negan chuckled darkly and pulled back, leaving you empty again. He finished himself off with his hand, grunting as he spilled onto the ground.

I turned around, pulling my shorts back up quickly. "What the hell?" I asked, confused at his sudden change of plans.

"Ahhh." He said relieved, buttoning himself back up and adjusting his clothing. "Something wrong, darlin'?"

I scoffed, staring at him in disbelief. "No, not at all."

"Good. Because I'm done pleasing you, sweetheart." Negan smirked at you, throwing a leg over his bike and starting the engine.

"Just like that, huh? You're just.. giving up that easy? Did I mean anything to you?"

"Of course. Always will. And when you work out your own shit and realize you fucked up, I'll be here. I love you, y/n. Nothing will change that."

I watched him disappear in the distance as he drove off, taking my heart with him.

Three weeks later:

I've settled back into Alexandria, slowly making amends with the group. The Saviors had a falling out the day we attacked the Sanctuary and we haven't seen any of them since. Except Negan.

After our escapade at the cabin, Negan had apparently drove to Alexandria and surrendered. He's been a prisoner here since the day he showed up and my heart hurts for him. I haven't been to see him, and by doing so, I'm only hurting myself. I guess its my punishment to myself for letting him go. But its been three weeks now and I can't wait any longer.

Everyone knows about our past situationship after I felt it necessary to come clean. I figured we would never be able to move on unless I told the truth. At first it didn't go well, but time mends everything and I think they're starting to forgive me.

It was getting dark when I knocked on Rick's door, explained the cause of my desperation, and he reluctantly gave me the keys to Negan's cell. Arriving at the door of the basement, I took a deep breath, and walked down the stairs into darkness. The only light in the cold room was the moonlight shining through one small window by his cell and it reminded me of our moment together in the trailer - the day I took a bullet for him. I knew then I was in love him with him and nothing has changed since.

"Negan.." I whispered, walking closer.

He lied on his back on his cot, looking up at the ceiling with a hand behind his head.

Silence.

"Please talk to me."

Nothing. He wouldn't even look at me.

"Ok, I'll talk then." I leaned against his bars. "I'm sorry it's taken me awhile to come see you. I needed some time to work out my shit - as you put it." I paused, giving him a moment to react but he didn't. "Well.. it's worked out. If you care?" I said teasingly.

His head fell to the side as he looked at me, trying not to smile. I took that as a welcome sign and quickly opened his cell door with the key. He barely had time to stand up before I ran to his arms and kissed him like my life depended on it.

He lifted me before laying me down on the cot and climbing over me. His mouth stayed connected to mine and without words, we made a million promises to each other in that moment.

We'd never leave again.

A/n: This final part was slightly difficult for me to finish. I have so many other one-shots in process that I'm ready to focus on, so I'm sorry if this felt rushed. But this entire story was so fun to write. Thanks so much to whoever requested it! <3

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ratintank · 2 years

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🌈💗✨ i freakin' warned ya 💅✨💗🌈

#Fashion sense #the fuck is that #in this house we s1ap some crap we 1ike together and ca11 it a day #sti11 brainrotting and simping and crying and sobbing #danganronpa 2 goodbye despair #kazuichi souda #souda kazuichi #ask me to draw other characters in some drip #i dare you

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suashii · 1 year

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୨♡୧ YOU TURN ME ON LIKE A LIGHT SWITCH — things you do that unintentionally turn them on.

featuring. itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, michael kaiser.

warnings. f!reader, established relationships, fingering, breast play, oral (m!receiving), a little bit of subby kaiser. all characters written 18+.

₊˚ପ⊹ ITOSHI RIN

waking up without you in bed is a rare occurrence for rin. it's normal for him to rise before you and your absence would have worried him if it weren't for the noise coming from the kitchen. he tosses the comforter aside, swinging his legs over the mattress before pulling a pair of sweats out from his dresser. after the elastic is tied neatly, he starts toward the kitchen where he's sure he'll find you.

sure enough, the refrigerator is open and most of your figure is hidden behind the door. the sound of his approaching footsteps makes your head turn. you greet him with a smile. "good morning, rin."

"morning," he returns.

"want some coffee?" you ask, closing the door of the fridge with your hip. the action warrants rin a good view of you. to his surprise, you're wearing his dress shirt from last night. only a few buttons in are clasped in the middle, leaving your collarbone and the top of your chest on display. the shirt just barely covers your ass and he can see a peek of your pink, lacey panties beneath the garment.

"earth to rin. coffee?" you ask with a laugh, sparing him a glance from your place in front of the counter. you can tell his mind is elsewhere when he still fails to respond and, instead, walks over to stand behind you. your task becomes much more difficult when his arms wrap around you, lithe fingers dropping to toy with the hem of your panties.

the cool feel of his fingers creeping between your legs makes you shiver and causes you to think of the night before when they were buried in your cunt and rubbing sweet circles against your clit. you don't remember how many times he had you come undone on just his fingers before he pulled out his cock. you abruptly clear your throat in a weak attempt to concentrate on the topic at hand. "still waiting for an answer, rin."

he hums against your neck, pressing himself closer to you, effectively trapping you between the counter and his body. it's impossible to ignore the feel of his erection against your ass and any intention you have to focus on breakfast is out the window. "coffee can wait, i want you now."

₊˚ପ⊹ SHIDOU RYUSEI

steam seeps from the bathroom as you open the door, soft hums filling the silence of your shared bedroom while you grab the bottle of lotion from your vanity. a dip at the end of the mattress draws shidou's magenta eyes up from his phone, to your mostly naked figure. other than the short, fluff towel wrapped around your torso, the expanse of your skin is on display.

that much catches his attention but the water dripping down from wet hair is what keeps it. small drops of moisture roll down your neck and over the top of your breasts before soaking into the fabric of the towel. it makes shidou imagine what lies beneath the cloth, makes him wonder if your nipples are hard and what they'd feel like between his fingers. the thoughts make the blood rush down to his dick, a smirk curling the corners of his lips upward.

you're smoothing lotion on your legs when he meets you at the edge of the bed. there's a look in his eyes that screams no good but you try to pay him no mind, rubbing the moisturizer into your skin. though, it's difficult to ignore him when his arms wrap around your waist and his lips latch onto your neck.

you lightheartedly attempt to swat him away but your efforts go unnoticed as your boyfriend continues to leave a trail of kisses up your pulse. a large hand comes up from your midsection to paw at your tits.

"ryusei." his name is meant to come out firmly but your voice is a lot more breathy than it was supposed to be. you clear your throat before continuing. "cut it out, i just showered."

"i'll make it quick," shidou breathes against your skin. it makes the hairs on the back of your neck raise and chips away at your resolve. you can feel his smile against you as he speaks his next words. "and i'll even pull out."

₊˚ପ⊹ NAGI SEISHIRO

it never takes long for nagi to get ready and he's usually able to waste time on his phone while you finish putting yourself together. though, today, his phone sits on the bedside table hooked up to the charger and a cloud boredom lingers over the snowy-haired man's head. with a sigh he turns from his spot on the bed so that he's facing where you're sat at your vanity. quietly watching you should make the time go by faster.

he isn't particularly knowledgeable about makeup, but he silently follows each of your movements, watches you pat what he thinks is blush onto your cheeks and paint your eyelashes with mascara. he doesn't think much of it, that is, until you get to your lips.

his own part as you glide the applicator along the plump of yours, leaving a shiny gloss in its wake. it reminds him of the way your lips look when they're smeared with his precum only moments before you take his aching cock in your mouth.

the thought alone makes his pants feel tighter. it makes him wish the two of you were doing something else right now—that your lips were sticky with something that wasn't lipgloss. he wants to feel the warmth of your mouth around him, feel your tongue trace over each raised vein.

you catch sight of nagi's blank stare in the reflection of your mirror. returning the brush back to its tube, you rub your lips together before asking, "penny for your thoughts?"

"what?" he blinks?

"you're staring, sei," you tell him, meeting his eye in the mirror. "does my makeup look bad? is it too much?"

"no," he clears his throat, "it's pretty."

you hum and nod, eyes falling yo where his hand not-so-discreetly adjusts his pants. the bulge pressing against the cotton is hard to miss. you grin, spinning around on your stool to face him. "want me to handle that before we leave?"

₊˚ପ⊹ MICHAEL KAISER

kaiser isn't so easily distracted, especially not when he's on the field—even if it is merely for practice. though, staying focused has become more difficult since you joined the team as an athletic trainer. your presence on the field has exposed a new side of you, one that michael hasn't had the pleasure of seeing before but can certainly get used to.

he's supposed to be running drills now but his eyes keep drifting back to your figure on the sidelines. he can't hear your conversation well, not unless he happens to be passing by, but from the bits he can gather, you're not happy. gone is the honeyed voice he's grown used to. it's replaced by one that's much more firm and demanding, one that would tell anyone you mean business.

you yelling isn't all that catches his attention—your stance does, too. your arms are crossed against your chest, feet firmly planted in the grass. even though you're looking up at the man, you carry yourself as though it's the other way around. no wonder his teammate on the receiving end of your lecturing looks so uneasy.

the thought of being in his poor teammates shoes make the blood rush to kaiser's cock. he can't put his finger on why, but just imagining being at your mercy is enough to divert his attention from what he's meant to be doing.

the moment you send the man away, kaiser is rushing over to you, hopeful that some of your frustration from the interaction is lingering. he knows how adamant you are about keeping your personal and work life separate, so, in an attempt to be sure that you're still a little annoyed, he approaches you from behind, wrapping you in a loose hug. "damn, you're sexy when you're angry."

"not the time or place, kaiser," you grumble.

something about you giving him the cold shoulder turns him on even more. there's no way he's going to be able to make it through practice in this state, not when the only thing he can think about is being beneath you.

"come on, no one will mind if we step away for a bit." a grin pulls at his lips with his next words. "maybe i can help you blow off some steam."

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: blue lock #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #shidou x reader #nagi x reader #kaiser x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk smut #blue lock smut #bllk imagines #blue lock imagines #bllk scenarios #blue lock scenarios

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vibingandsimping · 7 months

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This is exactly who you think it is. 🦜🦜

Might I request the origin characters (+ Halsin) of your choice caring for a burnt out/sick Tav?

Hello! I shall call you bird anon…

(Leave me and my family alone)

But ask and you shall receive! Requests/thoughts always make my day.

Origin characters + extra companions taking care of an exhausted reader pt. 1

No forewarnings besides maybe some suggestive mentions and a little angst. Mostly all fluff + comfort… barely proofread

Characters included in this part: Astarion, Gale, Lae’zel and Jaheira

Astarion

Astarion, when you present him with the problem after his insistent pestering, is a little lost. Everyone has their breaking points and their limits. You just held a confident front for so long that he started to believe you truly lacked one. He suggests the pleasures of the flesh at first. “To ease that pretty mind,” he claims with a smirk. You can tell in his gaze it’s his default- he was used for his body for so long it’s clear he’s unsure of what else to say. A bit of frustration with both him and his past bubbles up. It hurts to know he values himself that little and at the same time… it’s frustrating that he thinks it will solve anything. After a curt “No thank you.” he seems to deflate a bit. You stalk off to your tent as he watches from afar.

He sat with himself as he contemplated his abilities. You’d done so much for him over the period of time you’d known each other. Quite frankly, he hates to say it but he’s realized he’s taken you for advantage. He reminisces over the times you’d let him feed and he has had his nose pressed into your skin. How he’d inhale your scent and memorize it with your blood. He broods over it for a little before beginning to test different scents and oils. What he believed would work with your body chemistry and what he knew you liked.

It’s an hour or so later when you hear slow footsteps. Whoever it was made their presence known, so as to not scare you with a sudden intrusion. You’d been laying with your head in silence and the dark due to how it throbbed. Everything seemed so loud and overwhelming. He speaks smoothly and announces his arrival, you just grunt in acknowledgment. It seems to amuse him as he laughs gently and places something on the ground. Which? You’re unsure- and you could care less to check right now. It’s only when you hear the flick of a match and the room illuminates that you peek. He has a couple of wax candles laid out that seem to be dripping in mixtures. He smiles at you in such a way that you push suspicions aside. The room flickers with the light of the candles. “Relax. I made these special for you. Just focus on them and let the world wash away.” You watch him for a minute more as he lights the candles and the scent grows stronger as it burns with the wax. At first, it also overwhelmed you. You decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and focus on taking deep breaths. With each inhale, you draw more of it into your lungs and feel your muscles slack. Whatever he used was working wonders to calm your body and ease your mind. He did miss his calling as a perfumer.

The feeling of cold hands on your neck tenses your so delicately relaxed frame. His voice comes out in a shush, making you shiver from the tone. The way his fingers move so slowly tells you he’s holding a part of him back. It’s likely the reflex to make things more… intimate. A part of you swells knowing that he is trying a more simple intimacy on you. Thumbs dig into the tense muscles until they’re worked from the stiffness. Soft moans of content escape your throat. Though, just the same are the groans of pain when he reaches a more tender spot. “You’re lucky you have such a caring companion.” He muses half-heartedly, an attempt to make you smile. It did, matter of fact. You’re sure he knows because his movements become more confident. You drop your head back into your pillow and breathe out a sigh. He didn’t say anything but you could feel his eyes on your back. It was quite comforting to know he was there if you needed it. You eventually drift into a half-conscious state as he works your tender flesh. By the time he’s left you to rest you were already asleep.

Gale

Gale’s watchful eye concluded your growing burnout long before it settled in. He was a wizard- a man who studied for a living. He understood frustration and burnout. He’s faced it many times before… and it’s never an easy thing. When you settle down at the camp for the night, he can’t seem to get his eye off you. You walk around slowly and seem out of it. The man sits in his thoughts for a moment longer and decides to make his way over to you. You, of all people, deserved to have a moment to relax and truly replenish your mind. His hand makes contact with your arm and you’re snapped from your daze. He gazes down at you with a softness and silently asks you to follow him. You’re too worn down to argue and just nod.

He winds you out of the forest and towards a still lake. A drinking deer turns and shoots out from its spot when you two arrive. You quirk an eyebrow at him and he bashfully smiles. “Water is soothing to the mind and muscle. I’ll take care of you- let me.” The moonlight dappling the water is tempting and he seems harmless enough with his request. You relent and begin to slowly peel the clothing off your body. Turning back around you stride into the water only to find it pleasantly warm. It was almost hot- glancing up at him as he removed his robe, you knew he tampered with magic to heat the water. You’re not complaining though. It’s already doing wonders to work out the aches in your muscles. He slides in behind you and asks you permission to touch you. You hummed approval as you closed your eyes and put your trust in him.

He lathers his hands with soap and begins to work your muscles along your back. Simultaneously massaging gently and washing you clean. His fingers work from your neck to your shoulder blades, down your spine, and to your legs. He slowly turns you around so he can repeat the same process down your front. He’s careful around your more intimate areas, eyeing you cautiously to gauge what’s too much. It feels nice to be doted on and not have to bathe yourself for once. You’re sure he knows it, too. Then, he whispers for permission to do your hair. You barely speak and instead hum once more. He chuckles a little before wrapping an arm around you and one under your head. He dips you into the water until your hair is thoroughly soaked and pulls you back up. Like that, he begins to lather shampoo into your scalp. His fingers work wonders and you moan a little. The moment is gone too soon for your preference and he’s washing it out.

After a minute more of holding you in the water as he rinses you off, he guides you out. You almost protest like a child, wishing to relish the hot water a little longer. He hands you a large linen cloth and you dry yourself off. Squeezing your hair until it no longer drips annoyingly and wrapping it around yourself to conceal your intimates. He follows alongside you back into camp and you head into your tent. He lingers beside you while you settle down and gather some night clothes. Then, as soon as the eyes are noticed, he leaves you to your own devices. You manage to get to sleep surprisingly easily and the night passes mostly peacefully. In the morning, your previous clothes are folded neatly outside your tent. They’re clean and practically spotless. Gale must’ve taken the time to wash them while you slept and hung them to dry overnight.

Lae’zel

Lae’zel’s instinct is to scold you for showing weakness. Githyanki are warriors and have no time to tend to the frail. Yet, you’ve proven anything but frail in the time she’s known you. She’s utterly torn and wears it on her face obviously. You’re unsure why you turned to her for comfort, it was obviously a mistake. You sigh exasperatedly and trail off as she watches. You almost make it to your tent before her hand wraps around your wrist and tugs you to look at her. “Battle me,” she speaks blatantly. “Githyanki soothe their mind and body with battle. It is all I know to do. Battle me.” There’s a desperation in her voice. She cannot stand to see you so exhausted and fed up. You squint at her and almost protest that all the battling you’ve done is what led you to this point. The expression she held deterred you. You complied in the end.

She leads you into a dirt clearing and unsheathes her sword. Her face is like the steel she holds in her grasp and you ready yourself. There’s a moment of silence and anticipation that hangs in the air as you two lock eyes. She makes the first move, launching towards you and missing the side of your face by a few inches. You retaliate and dig your weapon of choice into her side. She grits her teeth as she is sent sprawling a few feet away. The girl gives you little time to react. Her next attack flies at you and you two are a clash of steel and flesh. There’s an adrenaline that elicits your veins and your head clears. The worries of taking care of everyone fade and you focus solely on your sparring partner. It’s like a second wind that envelops your body. It takes you a few hits until you realize she’s purposefully leaving herself open and using weaker moves.

She was allowing you to win. To taste her blood and victory in battle. You’re almost insulted if it weren’t so flattering that she was laying herself openly for you. You lay a final hit on her and she kneels with her head bowed. The two of you pant as wounds seep blood. Nothing is too deep and can easily be fixed by bandage or magic. She pulls herself to her feet and smiles softly at you. “A formidable opponent. You underestimate your power.” It was her form of a compliment, you supposed. She then followed you back into camp and sat you down. She runs a wet rag along your scrapes and cuts. The crimson washes off and leaves the wounds exposed to the fresh air. The githyanki is gentle in her touch as she wraps them with a bandage and secures it in place. The muscles in your body flex as you test the hold before turning your attention to her. You go to tend her wounds but are met with a hand in your face. “I am fine. I am strong enough to take care of myself. You, on the other hand, need to recover to lead us onward.”

You quirk a brow at her before pulling away and allowing the campfire to warm your bones. She works deftly on sealing her wounds and you can’t help but feel a little rejuvenated. It wasn't pampering of sorts- but she cared. She tried her best to show it and that’s truly what mattered. She fought against her nature to shame you and instead attempted to cure your ailments. She was rough around the edges but had a soft heart. The thought made you smile softly as you watched the shadows of fire dance along her olive-green skin. She catches your gaze for a moment and seems flustered. “Go rest.” She commands softly and you laugh breathlessly. It takes you a moment to get to your feet but you manage it. Some sleep would surely help repair the worst of it as long as you took it easy the next day.

Jaheira

Jaheira was an older elf. She could spot the telltale signs of wear. Whether that be mental or physical. She took care of her harpers for just about as long as she could recall at this point. It felt nice to not have to be the one in charge- but maybe she took too much comfort in it. A little guilt weighed in her heart. Too late to dwell, though, you needed assistance. The crackle of the fire was all that could be heard as you sat in front of it. You were still- seemingly lost in thought. She groaned a little as she lowered herself to a seat. Her knees weren’t as they used to be. The sound alerted your mind and you snapped out of it to look at the woman. She smiled softly at you and handed you a goblet. In her other hand was a bottle of wine and her own goblet. “Do not worry, no funny games this time. Just something to unwind.” You scrunch your nose a little before grabbing it.

The bottle uncorks and she pours a glass for you two. It’s not the finest wine but certainly was much better than the gruel served at the tiefling party. You draw your knees to your chest and take a long sip. After she takes a sip of her own she clicks her tongue in thought. Her gaze isn’t on you but on the campfire as she begins to speak. “You are more powerful than you know,” she begins and you look at her from the corner of your eye. “I’ve seen it firsthand. You vanquished the curse of the shadowlands and defeated Ketheric Thorm. I am surprised you didn’t succumb to exhaustion sooner.” You tense, almost expecting it to be an insult. Her softness of tone betrays that thought. “You need to rely on your friends and company more. We are here to help. We care. I care.” She enunciates the last word by looking at you. You can’t help but feel a soft fuzz blooming in your chest. Was it her words or the alcohol?

“I took care of my harpers for a century or more. It is hard work to look after the well-being of everyone else and yourself. I think I became too comfortable in letting you guide me. I apologize for that, truly.” You open your mouth to speak but she shushes you with a point of her goblet. That gesture makes you flush a little and take a sip of your wine once more. “I have seen many people in my life. I have lost many people in my life. You are among some of the most… wonderful I have seen. I will be damned if I lose you to anything beyond yourself.” She smiles at you, the age lines on her face only speaking to how truthful she is being. You can’t help but feel relaxed by both the influence of the alcohol and her words. You realize anything you say would be practically pointless. So, you just shuffle to her side and press against her. She hums in satisfaction and wraps an arm around you. You can hear her swallowing her wine more clearly. There’s a comfortable silence that is punctuated occasionally by the crackling of the fire.

“Another pour?” She offers as she holds the bottle and you cannot help but laugh while gesturing your goblet. Indulging for a night hurt nobody and hell you deserved it. She refills the two glasses and rests her head against yours. There’s a mutual understanding of comfort and connection between you two as you sip and watch the fire. It’s nice to not have to say anything in return. To be able to simply sit and digest the fact that somebody appreciates the fact that you work so tirelessly for them and everyone around you. It’s only til your goblets empty again does she finally pull away and cork the wine. You stand and allow the buzz of the alcohol to warm your veins and loosen your mind. She offers a hand out with a sheepish smile, “Help a gal up?” you tease her for a minute and grab her hand as she hoists herself off the ground. She regards you with a softness and plants a gentle kiss against your forehead. You two part and head to your respective tents to sleep the night away.

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stagegamer · 2 years

Text

Getting caught with op men pt. 2

This was originally a request but that didn't work so I'm going to still try to do it

NSFW 18+

CW: Exhibitionism, nsfw, smut, afab reader, creampie, breeding, riding, forbidden, Corazon is called Cora

Characters: Luffy, Shanks, Koby, Corazon

Luffy

Your back was pinned to the railing on the deck as Luffy rutted into you

The smell of alcohol was prevelent from Luffy's previous rounds of drinking and partying

"You can handle more right?" Luffy looked up at you and as you nodded he bottomed out into you

Luffy loudly moaned before latching his lips onto yours

You could feel him stretch you out as your legs wrapped around him

You had at least wanted to make it inside but Luffy had other plans

"Ah." Your eyes locked with Usopp's who happened to be walking by

"Sorry!" He quickly ran inside

But before you could comprehend what was going on Luffy slammed himself into you, filling you with his cum

"You couldn't have chosen a better place!" You scolded Luffy who didn't know what he had done wrong

Cannon dilf Shanks

Shanks held you against a tree as he started on the third round for that night

"You're still so tight." Shanks grunted, slamming into you once again

His cum was already dripping down your thigh but that wasn't enough

"You're not leaving here until you're carrying my baby." Shanks slammed into you especially hard which caused a sound that echoed around the forest

"Do you mind being quiet some of us are hung over!" Yasopp yelled which caused Shanks to laugh but continue his actions.

Koby

Slowly lowering yourself onto Koby he couldn't help but moan and lean further back in his chair

Not being able to wait anymore Koby gripped onto your hips and buried himself into you

Latching onto his lips you matched his movements perfectly which made him moan into the kiss

Being you caught up in the moment you both neglected to hear the door creak open

"Nice one kid." Garp laughed before closing the door to give you some privacy

Too mortified to continue Koby hid his face against your shoulder

"Next time how about we do it in my bedroom?" He looked up at you with a slight smile as you nodded

Corazon

You leaned over Cora's desk as he couldn't help but slam into you

Not being able to wait any longer for release Cora decided to fuck you then and there

"I'm not using my devil fruit so you have to be quiet" You could feel Cora's breath down your neck as he gripped onto your hands

You couldn't risk getting caught as you weren't exactly permitted to have relations with Cora and you didn't dare even ask your boss about it

"Shit, you're clenching around me." Cora slammed harder into you as you felt your orgasm draw nearer

The blissful moment was ruined as Doflamingo opened the door

In a panic Cora pulled out but fell, still gripping onto your wrists which caused you to fall on him

The impact shoved him inside of you at a deeper than expected angle

Surprised, you let out a louder than necessary moan

"Just don't get her pregnant." Doflamingo left it at that as he walked out of the room

I liked the original version of this better but this one could be worse

#one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #anime headcanons #one piece #luffy x reader #luffy headcanons #luffy smut #shanks #shanks smut #shanks one piece #koby one piece #anime #koby x reader #corazon x reader #donquixote corazon #corazon #corazon one piece #one piece smut

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avastrasposts · 3 months

Text

A Baker's Dozen - Nine

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

Pedro boy number nine is waiting in the wings but I need to add some warnings before anything else. This chapter contains mentions of blood, a small injury and fairly detailed description of cleaning said injury.

I want to dedicate this chapter to @leslie-lyman and her wonderful Stranger at my Gate fic which I absolutely love and gave me a new found love for this Pedro character. ❤❤❤

Series Master List

You’re not often scared in the bakery, even though you often work early mornings and late nights. But when you suddenly hear the rattle of the dumpster outside your back door, and a muffled gasp as if someone’s in pain, your heart flies into your throat. It’s been dark for a few hours, evening coming early as the heavy rain refused to let up. You’re clearing up after preparing for next weekend’s wedding cake, and it’s already late when you’re startled by the sound. Grabbing your rolling pin, you carefully nudge the back door open and peer out into the dim light, rain dripping down from the eaves of the building. The glow of the street lamps don’t reach too far and most of the back yard is cast in shadows, made even dimmer by the heavy rain. But you see the source of the disturbance straight away, a man is crouched down by the dumpster, his hand held tight to his chest as he curses in a low voice.

You clear your throat lightly, “Umm, are you ok?” you ask.

The man immediately snaps his eyes to you and straightens up, his hand still cradled against his chest, but his other hand drops to his hip and for a fearful second you think he’s reaching for a gun. But his hand pats his side and when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for he quickly scans the ground around him and curses again, giving an exasperated sigh and briefly glancing up at the sky.

You’re not sure if you should slam the door shut and lock it, but the way he winces when the movement jostles his hand keeps you from retreating.

“Is your hand hurt? Do you need some help?” you ask, still only opening the door a little bit. The man sighs again and nods, looking up at you.

“I think I cut it when I fell,” he replies, looking down at his hand and carefully unfurling his fist.

“Ok…” you say, trying to figure out what to do, let an injured stranger into your kitchen late at night, or just call an ambulance?

“How bad is it?” you ask, “Can I see it?”

The man nods and cautiously holds out his hand, but doesn’t make a move to come closer, and you suddenly realize that he looks a lot more hesitant than you feel, his eyebrows are bunched together, and mistrust is written across his dark features.

“Uhm…could you maybe come over here, the light’s better,” you say gently, opening the door a little more and, in a sudden decision, put the rolling pin on the shelf behind you. The action seems to earn you a bit of trust and the man takes a few tentative steps forward into the light. He holds out his hand and you step down on to the stairs and look at it.

“There’s quite a bit of blood,” you say, carefully nudging his fingers tips back so that he opens his palm a bit more.

“Hands always bleed a lot,” the man says curtly, “It’s not my first injury, and I can move my fingers, I just need to clean it.”

He has an accent that makes you look up at his face as he speaks, his voice low and rough but not unpleasant. The scar that cuts across his left eye draws your attention, and when he catches you looking at his face he meets your eyes, his eyebrows still bunched together as he points with his good hand to the scar.

“Does it scare you?” he asks, scowling, and you pull back from where your fingers were gently touching his injured hand.

“Should I be scared?” you ask in return, challenging him a little with your tone.

“No, not if you don’t intend to steal from me,” he says, and you can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips. He’s a sorry sight, wet to the bone by the looks of it, injured and bleeding, and he’s worried you’ll steal from him?

“I promise I won’t steal from you,” you smile softly, taking a step back and opening your door wider, letting him in, “C’mon in, you look soaked.”

He hesitates for a few moments, glancing around him and then back at you.

“Thank you,” he nods, not smiling, the scowl a permanent fixture on his face, as you lead him through the back room and into the kitchen.

He looks around the space with cautious eyes as you go to the sink, and as you turn, you notice his clothes for the first time. He’s dressed head to toe in faded black, an old fashioned shirt billows half way down his thighs. Underneath you can see dirty trousers and well worn leather boots with an intricate pattern in the leather. He looks very much out of place, especially as he widens his eyes and seems to stare at the water running from the tap into your sink.

“Are you ok?” you ask for the second time of the night, tilting your head and giving him a worried look. Maybe he’s hit his head too, he looks dazed when you motion him over to the sink.

He gives a curt nod, still looking at the streaming water as he takes a few tentative steps forward.

“It might sting a bit but rinse it out and I’ll get my first aid kit,” you tell him, handing him a roll of paper towels, “And I think I have an old hoodie that might fit you, if you want to change out of that wet shirt?”

Confusion flits across his face again as you speak, his guarded eyes moving between the water and you, but eventually he carefully puts his hand under the stream. As you fetch the first aid kit and the hoodie, you hear him wince and mutter low curses in a language you can’t make out.

You put the hoodie on the bench next to the sink and open up the first aid kit, pulling out the disinfectant and motioning the man to sit on the stool you’ve rolled over.

“Do you know what you cut yourself on?” you ask as the stranger watches blood drip from the gash on his palm into the sink.

“Broken glass, I think,” he mutters, “it was too dark to see but the cut looks sharp and clean.”

“It does, it should be fairly easy to patch up as long as we get it clean,” you reply, unscrewing the disinfectant, “Do you want to clean it yourself, or do you want me to do it?”

He looks up at you then, the scowl on his face softening into what you think might be surprise. He hesitates, but then he holds out his hand to you.

“Please.”

“Ok then,” you reply, “this shouldn’t sting too much but let me know if it hurts.”

“I’ve had worse injuries,” he replies and you glance up at the scar across his eye.

“Of course, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, I know,” he interrupts, “but I don't want you to worry you’ll cause me pain.” His tone is low, almost hesitant, as if the sincerity in his voice is unfamiliar to him. Your eyes meet his for a few moments as you both try to find balance with the person looking back, you can feel a shift in the room. Nervously you swallow and look down at the strange man’s hand. You realize you don’t know anything about him yet, not even his name, so to distract him from what you need to do, you start talking again.

“You have an accent I can’t place,” you say as you gently make him open his hand, water still streaming over the cut, “but it’s very beautiful,” you give him a small smile as you glance up and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “It is,” you giggle at his dismay, “I like your accent.”

“Thank you,” he mutters, looking almost ashamed and you change the subject.

“What’s your name?” you ask instead, turning off the water and starting to drizzle disinfectant over his hand.

“Pero Tovar,” he replies, and the way he rolls the r’s in his name sends a little shiver of pleasure down your back.

“Pero Tovar,” you repeat, trying to roll the r the way he does, but you can tell from his small chuckle that you’re not successful.

“Almost,” he says and when you look up, you catch the smallest of smiles on his face.

A sharp hiss from Pero pulls your attention back to his hand. He’s opened the hand flat to let the liquid rinse his injury, but the movement has revealed a small shard of glass still pressed in at the edge of the cut.

You quickly reach into the first aid kit for the tweezers and take hold of his wrist, bending down to grasp at the edge of the shard.

“This might sting, but I’ll try to be quick,” you say and Pero grunts in response as you pull the sliver of glass out of the cut, dropping it in the sink.

“I think that’s all, how does it feel?” you ask him and Pero gingerly moves his fingers as you drizzle more disinfectant over his hand.

“Better,” he nods as you turn to take out what you need to close the cut from the first aid kit.

“You’re lucky you ended up at front of my door, Pero,” you say, “I’m an expert at cutting my fingers, and therefore, an expert at taking care of them too.”

The man only grunts in response, tugging at his shirt and you suddenly hear it rip, as he pulls a strip from the hem.

“Tie this around my hand, it will stop the bleeding and then I’ll leave,” he says, “Thank you for your help.”

“Pero, that’s dirty, you can’t put that around your hand,” you exclaim as he holds out the rag to you.

“It will do,” he scowls, “it’s what I usually do.”

“You’ll get an infection, please, let me put a proper bandage on it,” you point to the sterile compress and Pero’s eyes narrow as if he’s considering a potential risk, before he glances back at the door where the heavy rain can still be heard. Then he nods, looking at you again, dropping the dirty strip from his shirt on the edge of the sink.

It doesn’t take you long to bandage up his hand, wrapping surgical tape around the back to keep the compress in place. As you turn his hand over and press down the tape you can’t help but notice the many faded scars that marr his skin, and you run your finger lightly over a long one.

“A knife,” Pero mutters, and you look up at him. “A thief tried to take my coins and he had a hidden blade. It was a nasty fight.”

“It looks like you’ve been in a lot of fights, Pero,” you say, touching an uneven scar from something slashed across his wrist.

He doesn’t reply to that, just grunts again and pulls his hand back, getting back up from the stool. But he doesn’t get far, on unsteady legs he stumbles across the floor and puts his uninjured hand out to balance himself, briefly closing his eyes.

“Careful,” you say, reaching out to steady him, your hands on his wet shirt, as he suddenly sinks down to the floor, his back against one of the shelves, “you’re very pale, maybe you need a few minutes rest?”

Pero shakes his head with another grunt, “No, I should..” he tries to stand up again but sinks back down, his eyes closing as he tips his head to his chest, breathing hard through his nose.

“At least change your wet shirt, please,” you say, grabbing the dry hoodie from the bench and holding it out to him and Pero opens his eyes, “you’ll feel better if you’re dry.”

He regards the hoodie for a few seconds before giving in, taking it from you. You turn your back to give him some privacy and you hear him tug the shirt over his head, dropping it on the floor with a wet sound.

“Thank you,” comes his rough voice from behind a few seconds later and you glance over your shoulder. The navy hoodie fits him and he’s leaned back against the wall again with his eyes closed, his skin still paler than you suspect that it should be.

You open one of your storage cupboards and pull out a container, bringing it over to Pero together with a bottle of water. Kneeling down in front of him you peel open the lid and hold it out to him.

“Here, your blood sugar is probably low, maybe a bit of shock, have a couple of these,” you offer him and Pero opens his eyes enough to see the cookies that are starting to spread their chocolate scent. They widen further when he sees them clearly, darting up to look at you before he tentatively takes one and flips it over in his hand. He smells it and then takes a careful bite.

His reaction flips a switch in your head, a light bulb moment, as his eyebrows furrow at the flavor. His tongue comes out, almost as if he’s about to spit the cookie out, before he grimaces and swallows, eyeing the rest of the cookie with suspicion.

“Pero…” you ask hesitantly, “where are you from?”

He looks up at you for a beat before he answers, running his tongue over his lips.

“Asturias,” he says, “but I haven’t been back in many years.”

“In Spain?”

“España, sí,” he nods, eyeing the cookie in his hand, “This…this food is very…sweet?” He looks up at you again and almost looks apologetic as he brings it to his mouth again.

“You don’t like it?” you ask, “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it, maybe it’s too sweet for your palate.”

“I’ve never tasted something so sweet before, I’m not sure…” he trails off, taking a small bite again.

The penny drops, impossible as it may seem, but his clothes, his wide eyed reactions to your kitchen, the fear and mistrust, the pieces seem to fit together, and you sink down on the floor in front of Pero, the container of cookies forgotten next to you.

“Pero…” you begin again and he tilts his head as you seem to study the pattern on his well worn leather boots, “A-are you…do you…w-where…- “

“I’m not from your time,” he interrupts your stuttering question, holding your eyes as you meet his gaze, your eyes are the ones that widen this time.

“How?” is all you manage and he shrugs.

“I do not know, a curse, a blessing, just chance?” he shrugs again, “All I remember is darkness and then bright lights, as bright as the sun, but much closer, a terrible noise, and then I ran.”

“Here?”

He shakes his head, “Not first, I think that was yesterday, or maybe two days ago, I found somewhere to hide, a small tunnel, but the rain made the water rise too high so I was forced to leave.”

“You must be hungry, Pero,” you suddenly realize, “how long has it been since you last ate properly?”

“Two days, maybe three,” he says, rubbing his good hand over his belly that rumbles at the mention of proper food.

“I haven’t got anything but hang on, I’ll order something,” you go to stand up when you realize he won’t understand what that means. Your head suddenly reels with the implication of having Pero in your kitchen.

“I mean, I’ll make someone bring food, but don’t worry, I won’t say anything about you,” you hurry to add as you see him shake his head.

“Thank you,” he sighs, looking relieved, “I don’t know what dark forces brought me here, but it doesn’t feel safe.”

“Just wait here, I’ll be right back,” you say to him, leaving him sitting on the floor, “You’re safe here, I promise.”

You hurry out to the shop and pull out your phone to place an order through the delivery app when you’re suddenly stumped, what the hell would Pero be most comfortable eating? A stew maybe? Meat, veggies and bread seems like something people have eaten through the centuries, so you quickly scroll through the options and find a local place that offers Boeuf Bourguignon. A rich, hearty stew must be something Pero will be familiar with even if it’s not exactly something he’s eaten before. You quickly place the order and hurry back to the kitchen to find Pero getting to his feet, holding on to the shelf for support.

“Someone is coming over with a meat stew, how does that sound?” you ask and Pero nods.

“Thank you,” he replies, letting go of the shelf and standing a big steadier this time.

“I have some bread and butter for you while we wait, it’s stale bread, but it might make you feel a bit better.”

“Thank you”, he says again and you go to your big walk-in fridge and pull it open. Pero follows you cautiously and peers into the large space.

“It’s cold?” he says, taking a tentative step into the fridge.

“It’s a special cold storage,” you explain, “it stays cold even though it’s warm outside, the food stays fresh longer in here.”

Pero nods as if he understands exactly what you mean but you can tell by the way his eyes scan the shelves that he’s distracted by the produce that lines them.

“Would you like to try something?” you ask, “Maybe some fruit?”

He looks over at you and nods carefully, as if he’s uncertain if he should say yes and you’re suddenly hit by how much mistrust he holds on to. Even though he’s a little bit more relaxed now than when he first arrived, it’s clear that he’s not a man used to trusting people easily, and just the simple gesture of accepting the apple you hold out to him seems to test his instinctual reaction to say no.

You take the butter from the shelf, fish one of yesterday’s loaves from the bread basket and slice it up on the counter while Pero slowly walks around your kitchen, the apple you notice, is already gone.

“Here, eat this, slowly, it should help you feel better.”

“Thank you,” he replies again, taking the thick piece of bread and carefully smelling it just like he had with the cookie. You cut yourself a slice and spread butter on it before biting in to it and jumping up on the work bench surface.

“It’s not poison, I promise,” you wink at Pero and he scowls back at you, but it’s not intimidating this time, there’s a slight smirk to it as he realizes you’re teasing him.

“I’ve never seen bread this white,” he says, coming over to the bench and heaving himself on to it too, “Bread where I come from is much rougher, this is like something a king would eat I think.”

“It’s just the way the flour is milled and sifted,” you explain, “we make bread the same way now as we’ve always done. Water, flour and salt.”

Pero takes a large bite as you speak and he hums as he chews, “It tastes almost the same,” he says, “I like it.” He takes another big bite and the whole slice disappears within a minute.

“I’m glad you like it,” you smile at him, “I made it, I’m a baker.”

“You’re a baker?” Pero asks, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“We still have bakers in our time,” you laugh but Pero shakes his head.

“I thought it would be your husband who baked, I have never met a woman baker.”

“Oh, yeah, I suppose that would’ve been pretty unusual back in your time,” you say, smiling at Pero’s surprise, “Many of the jobs only men did in your days are now done by women too, a lot has changed that way. And I have no husband.”

Pero seems to consider this for a few moments while he eyes the loaf sitting on the counter across the kitchen.

“Do you want another slice?” you ask him and he nods.

“Yes, it was very good bread.”

“Go on then, but remember there’s meat stew on the way so don’t eat too much or you might be sick,” you say and he slides off the workbench and grabs the knife.

“It’s good that you can be a baker too,” he says as he slices the bread, “I’ve seen women be warriors, generals even, why should women not be able to have the same professions as men?”

“You’re pretty progressive, Pero,” you smile, “not even all men nowadays would agree with that.”

“Fools,” he scowls, buttering the slice and coming back over to you, “I’ve seen many strange things in your time, but nothing that a woman couldn’t do as well as a man. The general I knew would scare the wits out of the men I’ve seen here so far.”

“What year are you from, Pero?” you ask and he shrugs, it seems to be his standard response when he has no answer.

“I do not know, I’m a sell-sword, a mercenary, what year the priest says it is doesn’t matter to someone like me.”

You think back to your high school history lessons, chewing your bread as you try to figure out how to pinpoint what age he might be from.

“Are there any big events you know of that happened in your time?” you ask and Pero furrows his brow for a few seconds before he shakes his head.

“I’m not educated, I can write my name, read a little, but that’s it,” he shrugs again, swallowing the last piece of bread, “I follow whoever pays my wages and don’t ask questions.”

His face softens slightly as he sees the disappointment in your face and he turns towards you, “I apologize, these things are not important to me, but I wish I’d paid more attention to them now, so that I could tell you more about where I’m from.”

“It’s alright, Pero,” you say, giving him a smile, “I’m just curious, just tell me to stop asking so many questions.”

He actually chuckles at that, only the second time you’ve heard him laugh and it makes you feel warm as his face transforms into a beautiful smile.

“Ask as many as you want, you’re feeding me, you patched me up, you’ve shown much more kindness than a broken sell-sword could ever expect. The least I can do is to feed your curious mind.”

Now it’s your turn to shrug, “It was nothing, you were hurt, I couldn’t leave you out in the rain, anyone would’ve done the same.”

Pero tilts his head to the side and regards you with wonder, “Maybe your world is very different, querida…” he says as he tentatively reaches out and carefully wraps the fingers of his good hand around yours, “but in my world, I don’t know anyone who would’ve looked at my scarred face and let me in.”

He gently lifts your hand and brings the back of it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss there, before holding it to his heart.

“Thank you.”

You feel heat rush to your face as he places your hand back on the bench, letting go of it as you fumble for something to say and coming up with nothing, just biting your lip and nodding as he continues to look at you, his face unreadable but gentle.

“What do you bake, apart from bread?” he asks after what feels like an eternity and your brain still hasn’t kicked back into gear, the warm mark of his chapped lips still on the back of your hand.

“Ahh…most things,” you stumble, “cakes for weddings, for feasts, cookies and pastries, anything sweet really, if people want it.” A thought suddenly hits you, “Do you have a favorite, Pero? Maybe something I could make for you here?”

He looks taken back by the question, starting by shaking his head almost on impulse, “No, I never had cake, or sweet things, maybe just a simple fruit pie if I had coin, but it has been rare. Although….” he suddenly looks up, his words lost in thought as he looks at you as if you know the answer to what he's thinking of.

“There was a baker in my hometown, he was not from Asturias. He made sweet bread from Albion, with dried fruit and honey,” Pero licks his lips at the memory and grins, “that was the best bread I ever had, he would give me the scraps if he burnt a loaf and even burnt, it tasted like heaven.”

“Albion,” you hum, thinking out loud, “that’s the old name for Britain, so maybe he made something like barmbrack, or bara brith…” you slide off the workbench and go over to the bookshelf and run your finger along the spines of the books. “But what dried fruit would they have then? Raisins? Maybe…the Romans made wine in Britannia after all, the climate was warmer… maybe apricots? Cherries?” You pull out a well worn copy of The Love of Cooking, and take it back to the work bench as Pero regards you with a curious grin. As you flip the book open his eyes go wide as he sees the colored photographs of food, the fine print in neat rows.

“This is a book?” he asks, carefully sliding his fingertips over the page and you nod.

“They invented a machine that can make copies of what we write very fast, so they’re cheap to buy nowadays,” you explain as you flip back to the index, looking up barmbrack, “I think this recipe might be similar to what you’re familiar with,” you say, finding the right page and pointing to a dark loaf filled with dried fruit.

“Can you make it?” Pero asks, his eyes locked on the image as if he wants to chew on the paper and you smile.

“It’s a pretty fast thing to make, if I make it now it’ll be done by the time we’ve had our dinner.” Pero’s eyes are still glued to the page, a hungry expression on his face.

“I would very much like that,” he says, tearing his gaze away and grinning at you, “Put me to work, what can I do?”

“You want to help?”

“Of course, teach me how to bake, mistress baker,” he winks and again his usually scowling face is transformed, a warm smile lighting up his sharp features as his brown eyes soften. You smile back at him, marveling at how he transforms from a sourly looking soldier to a handsome man when he lets himself smile.

“Ok then, Pero,” you grin, “time to learn a new profession.”

Under your direction Pero pulls out the necessary ingredients and tools, making comments about the flimsy quality of the metal in your kitchen.

“This would not hold up in a kitchen or on a battlefield,” he remarks, holding up one of your stainless steel bowls, “It would melt over a fire and even a child’s arrow would pierces this, I’m sure.”

“It’s stronger than you think,” you laugh, setting a bag of dried cherries down on the workbench and giving one to Pero to try. He sucks on it, smiling at the familiar flavor, and nods in approval as he goes in search of a knife. He finds your custom chef knife, your name stamped along the blade, and this is the only item that gets his commendation.

“This is a good weapon, querida, if any more strange men turn up at your door. You should keep it on you at all times,” he says, effortlessly spinning the knife in his hand, testing its weight and balance.

“I hope no more strange men come tumbling into my backyard,” you laugh, “what would I do with you all?”

“If fate lets me, I’ll stay here and keep you safe, just feed me,” he grins, coming to stand next to you and placing the knife on the workbench.

“That sounds like a good deal for me, Pero,” you smile back at him and his eyes crinkle at the corners as he laughs, a beautiful sound in your kitchen, his rough voice smoothed out by the warm vibrations.

“Querida, even if you only fed me your bread and butter, I would be the winner in that deal; a full belly and a beautiful mistress? What man could ask for more?”

He sees the way your shy smile reaches your eyes before you look down at your hands on the recipe book. Heat creeps up your neck and you have to squeeze your lips together to stop a silly grin from splitting your face open. You can feel Pero’s smiling eyes on you as he waits for your reply, and when he wraps his fingers around your hand on the book, you almost jump, his grip a gentle touch. The fingers on his other hand find your chin, softly bringing your face up to look up at him.

“Beautiful,” he mumbles, the rough pad of his thumb caressing your chin as your heart rate picks up and you part your lips.

“Now put me to work,” he smiles, “So I can have this fruit bread again.”

You draw a deep breath, your heart fluttering in your chest as you pull your eyes away from Pero and down to the recipe.

“S-so…ok, we need tea, I’ll make that if you fill this with flour and put it in the bowl. Then crack an egg in there too.”

“Your wish is my command, mistress,” Pero replies and your cheeks heat up again, but you can’t help the wide smile and it makes Pero grin as you fumble for a saucepan to fill with water.

He completes the tasks you set him, and then comes to stand next to you as you spoon tea leaves into the kettle and pour the boiling water over it.

“I visited China once,” he says, “They drank black tea, it’s strange to see it here too.”

“This tea comes from China, we started importing it a long time ago. I’m going to soak the fruit in the tea, it really should sit overnight but it works like this too, just a bit less flavor.”

What Pero said suddenly hits you, and you turn to look at him as he stirs the dried fruit through the tea, “You went to China? That must’ve been such a long journey?”

Pero nods, his face falling back to his default scowl as he pulls his eyebrows together at the memory.

“It was very long, dusty and dangerous. Both there and going home, I’ll tell you about it someday when you know me better, but you’ll still think I’m a liar, it’s a hard story to believe.”

“Sounds like it was an adventure,” you reply and Pero shrugs, shaking his head a little.

“A storyteller would call it an adventure, I would call it a terrifying nightmare,” he grumbles, taking the fruit back to the workbench and changing the subject, “I can’t read your book, what should I do now?”

You pass him a loaf tin, “Smear this with butter and I’ll mix the rest of the ingredients together.”

Pero nods and takes the butter in his good hand and gets to work while you mix the dough. You leave out some of the spices that would be too foreign to Pero you think, and reduce the sugar a bit. From the corner of your eye you see Pero watching you work, and as you mix the fruit into the dough you glance up at him and give him a small smile. He looks lost in thought for a moment, before he smiles back at you, a much softer looking man as he almost seems to be shy, handing you the prepared tin.

“You look very capable,” he says, taking a few small steps closer to look at the dough, “more capable than any baker I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you, Pero,” you reply, smiling to yourself as you pick up the bowl to tip the dough into the tin.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” you exclaim and put the bowl back on the counter, hurrying over to your small desk while Pero looks surprised. From a box you remove a gold ring and quickly wash it in the sink. Bringing it back to Pero you hold it up.

“It’s tradition to mix items into the barmbrack, some things for bad luck, some for good luck. But I prefer adding only things for good luck so I usually add this ring. It was my grandmother’s wedding ring and she was a baker too,” you flip the ring over and show the date written on the inside of the ring, “June sixth, nineteen forty-one, her wedding day.”

“It will bring luck?” Pero asks and you nod.

“Whoever finds it in the cake will have good luck,” you reply, “Well, as it’s a ring it’s meant to mean that you’re getting married within a year, but I prefer to think of it as good luck.”

“I’ve heard of superstitions like this one before,” Pero says, “I don’t know if I believe in them, but it’s probably not wise to ignore them.”

“My thoughts exactly,” you smile as you toss the ring into the dough and mix it again, “I’m just going to put the dough in the tin and then bake it.”

You’re interrupted by the doorbell on the front door, and you look towards the shop.

“That’s our food I think, take over here and I’ll go pick it up,” you say, handing the bowl to Pero. You hurry to the door and tip the delivery guy, bringing back a bag of food. Peros is carefully patting down the dough with serious concentration and it makes you smile to see him looking so focused on his job.

“It looks great, Pero,” you say and he looks up, giving you a quick smile. You’re struck by the difference a little bit of time with him has made, his distrust has disappeared, replaced by curious looks and grins. You realize again how handsome he is as he stands up and holds out the tin to you, his deep brown eyes warm instead of cautious, and the near permanent downward turn of his mouth has been replaced by the soft smile he gives you as you take the tin from him.

“Thanks,” you say and hand him the bag, “There’s food in there, get us set up while I put this in the oven, then we can eat.”

Pero inhales deeply as the scent reaches his nose and his stomach growls as he hastily grabs the bags and looks for a spot to sit.

The oven is ready to go so you just put the barmbrack in and turn back to Pero, grabbing cutlery as you go. He’s on the floor, leaning against the bookshelf again, and is unpacking the food. Sinking down next to him, you groan at the relief of getting off your feet and sitting down. You tip your head back against the bookshelf and let slip a deep sigh that turns into a yawn. Pero chuckles next to you as he peels the lid off one of the containers.

“You’re yawning but I’m the one who spent a night inside a cramped tunnel,” he says and you clamp your hand over your mouth, giggling.

“Sorry, it’s been a long day, I get up very early to bake every morning,” you say, stifling another yawn as Pero picks up one of the containers with stew, looking at it with hungry eyes.

“It smells incredible,” he says, taking the spoon you hand him.

“Eat, Pero, you look hungry,” you smile and he flashes you a quick grin before digging in.

The stew is good, rich and hearty, with big chunks of meat. Pero demolishes his portion and you get the rest of the loaf of bread, watching him tear chunks out of it to mop up the sauce. You’re sitting close together, his shoulder against yours, the warmth of his body a comfortable presence against your arm as you eat in silence. Pero groans as he does so, a deep moan escaping him when he scrapes up the sauce.

“Feeling better?” you ask as he swallows the last piece of bread and sets the container down on the floor. He nods and tips his head back towards the bookshelf with a contented sigh.

“Yes, much better, it was the best stew I’ve ever had,” he says, tilting his head to look over at you, “A full belly and your company, you’ve cured me.”

“Happy I could help you,” you smile at him, “you seemed a bit lost.”

“I still am,” he says, his eyes slipping down to your lips, almost as if he doesn’t notice he’s done it, until he catches himself and snaps them back up and meets your eyes, “But I feel…safe, I think, here. With you.”

His voice is low, softer than before, a quiet rasp in the silent kitchen. The rain is still rushing down outside and the white noise wraps you in a bubble as he carefully moves closer. You feel his hand, rough and calloused, come up and gently stroke your face, his eyes watching his fingers trail along the edge of your jaw, cupping your cheek and letting his thumb run over your bottom lip.

“So soft,” he whispers, his breath tickling your lips as you close your eyes.

The kiss is gentle, featherlight, but he stays close, pressing his lips against yours again and again, and you relish in the hushed words he whispers in another language, praise you can’t understand. But the way his lips never leave yours for more than a second, his reverent tone in every phrase, makes you feel cherished as his words wrap around you.

When he lingers against your lips, you bring your hand up and touch his cheek, slipping your hand around his neck, holding him close so that he knows he can stay. You hear a rumble in his chest as he pulls you in closer, pulling you over his lap, his arm coming around your waist to keep steady, the other still cupping your cheek. You test his mouth, the slight parting of his lips where his soft bottom lip has a divot, and he groans, pulling you impossibly closer. His hair is still damp when you curl your fingers into it, still dirty from two days of wherever he managed to seek shelter when he first fell into this time. But under it, he’s warm and solid, his mouth hungry as he opens up and lets his tongue taste yours.

Pero grows bolder as you guide him, pulling your leg over his lap so that you straddle him. As your hands caress his hair and explore the firm muscles of his shoulders, he seeks out the edge between your shirt and your trousers. The skin there is soft and smooth and he runs his hands over your waist, mumbling into your mouth between kisses. He pulls back a fraction and lets his hands slide high up on your back, under your shirt, pressing you into his chest.

“Hermosa…” he whispers, “you’re so soft, your skin is like silk under my rough hands, so soft, warm, I’ve never…” he trails off, reaching up to claim your mouth again and you bend down to meet him. You can feel him grow hard under you, he’s holding back from rutting up, panting harder as his fingers dig into your waist. Gently you pull back from him and lean your forehead against his.

“Pero…Pero…Pero…” you whisper, catching your breath as his grip on your loosens, his hands resuming their soft caresses up and down your back.

“Querida,” he smiles, pulling back a little so that he can look at you, his dark eyes warm now, softer than ever, as he brings up a hand to cup your cheek again.

“Come home with me tonight, I can’t send you away to sleep in a tunnel again,” you whisper, closing your eyes as his fingers trace across your lips.

“You would let me?” he asks quietly, “You trust me, a stranger?” His hand goes still on your cheek and you look at him again.

“You’re not a stranger anymore, Pero, I trust you. If you trust me to not steal from you that is,” the last thing you say with a small grin, and Pero laughs, a deep rumble as he wraps his arms around you again.

“You’ve already stolen from me, querida,” he smiles, “you think all these kisses were free?”

“I’m paying in food and more kisses,” you tease him, pressing your lips to the tip of his nose and he wrinkles it, his shoulders jumping as he laughs again.

“Steal all my kisses, hermosa, you can have every single one.”

Somewhere behind you the oven timer goes off and Pero stiffens for a second before he relaxes under you again.

“Only the oven telling us the barmbrack is done,” you smile, pushing yourself off Pero’s lap and standing up. He holds out his hand for you to grab, and you pull him to his feet too.

“Feed me,” he smiles, snaking an arm around your waist as you turn the oven off and open the door.

“It needs to cool a bit first, I’ll put it in the fridge,” you wriggle out of his arms with a giggle as he tries to hold on to your shirt. When you close the fridge door behind you, the barmbrack safely on the shelf, he’s behind you again, bending his head to your shoulder.

“Are you really letting me stay with you tonight?” he asks, his voice betraying that he still can’t quite believe that you’re trusting him.

“Pero,” you reply, turning around and taking his hand, “I was scared when I first saw you outside, you looked frightening. But you also looked scared, like you needed help, and something told me I could trust you. And you’ve done nothing to make me regret that. I trust you.”

He looks at you for a few moments, uncertainty flitting across his face, “Not since I became a man has anyone seen my face and trusted me like that. No one but you.”

“I’m sorry, Pero,” you reply but he shakes his head, suddenly crowding you, making you walk back towards the work bench.

“If you’re the only one to trust me, I think that will be enough,” he smiles, his eyes soft again, the uncertainty gone as he puts his hands on your waist and lifts you up to sit on the counter, stepping in between your thighs. You feel him push his calloused hands under your shirt again, moving over your back, softly kneading at your curves as you pull him closer, making him bend his head to yours.

“I trust you, Pero,” you mumble, tracing your fingers over his face, his short, uneven beard, the sharp curve of his nose, carefully moving up to gently caress the scar across his eye. He closes his eyes as you touch it, mapping the way something sharp has cut across his eyebrow, down onto his cheek.

Pero’s hands have gone still on your waist, warm palms gripping your flesh as you reach up and press your lips to the spot over his eyebrow where the scar begins, moving your mouth further down, a brief whisper against his eyelid and then a firm kiss at the top of his cheek, the jagged point of the old injury.

“I think whatever brought me here was a blessing,” he mumbles and you nod as he opens his eyes again to look at you.

“I’m glad you found your way here, Pero,” you reply, moving your hands up to cradle his face, finding his lips against yours again.

The rain continues outside, flashes of bright light shining in through the window split seconds before rolls of thunder move in. But neither of you notice, lost in the sensation of warm hands and soft lips exploring something new. Pero buries his face against your neck, inhaling deeply as you wrap your fingers around his curls. You can feel his lips leave small, wet kisses all along your neck, rubbing the cool tip of his nose against the soft spot under your ear where your pulse flutters.

“Pero,” you mumble, pressing a kiss against the tip of his ear, and he lifts his head, meeting your eyes with a warm smile, making you kiss his lips again, losing several more minutes as you both savor the moment.

With a giggle you finally pull away a little as he chases your lips with a protest, “Let me cut the barmbrack and then we go home,” you say and he pulls you off the counter.

“I will take it as payment for all the kisses you have stolen,” he mumbles, pressing another one to your mouth as you laugh into it.

The barmbrack still holds some warmth when you cut it, and the rich smell that it emits as the slices fall makes you salivate and Pero groans next to you, his hand shooting out to grab the thickest piece.

“Wait, we need butter on it too,” you laugh, slapping his eager hand away and he repays you by sinking his teeth into your neck instead, playfully biting the soft skin.

“It smells too good, querida,” he grumbles as you spread butter on the slice and hand it to him.

“Impatient,” you smile at him as he takes a first giant bite of the barmbrack, grinning at you around the slice. You butter your own slice and Pero hums, muttering his praise between bites until his teeth clink against the ring.

“Oh, you got the ring in the first slice!” you exclaim, “That’s really lucky!”

Pero carefully spits the gold ring into his palm, “I feel like my night has already been lucky,” he smiles at you, holding out the ring for you to take it.

“No, wash it off and then keep it, until we make a new barmbrack. It’s your lucky charm for now.”

“Are you certain?” he asks, rinsing the crumbs and butter off the heavy gold ring at the sink, and holding out to you again.

“Absolutely, you found it, it’s yours for now,” you say, finishing your own slice as Pero slips the ring into a pouch on his belt and eyes the rest of the loaf, “Do you want another slice, Pero?” you ask with a smile and he grins back at you.

“It reminds me of the one I had as a child, but it tastes much better. This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he says, coming to stand behind you as you prepare a second thick slice for him and wrap the rest of the barmbrack to take home.

“Thank you, I’m glad you like it,” you smile at him and he takes the slice.

“Querida, I love it,” he says, smiling back at you, “it’s almost as good as your kisses…” he quirks his eyebrows and leans in to capture your lips with his again, making you open your mouth to his eager tongue.

“Still the best thing,” he mumbles as he pulls back a little, both you catching your breath.

“Let’s go home,” you whisper back at him, “I’m just going to make sure everything is locked up, we’ll go out the back way."

He nods and you reluctantly disentangle yourself from him and walk out to the main shop, checking the door and the alarm. When you come back, Pero is sucking on his fingers, the second slice disappeared as fast as the first and he grins back at you as he notices your look.

You flick off the main lights, Pero’s eyes widening in surprise as the kitchen is cast into darkness, and lead him to the backdoor and let him out. The rain is only a drizzle now but the thunder is still rumbling through the sky and Pero looks up as he goes down the stairs, waiting for you to set the alarm and lock the door.

A bright flash of lightning cuts across the back yard, followed by a loud clap of thunder that makes you jump and let out a yelp.

“Oh shit, that scared me,” you laugh, locking the door and turning around, pocketing the key, “the thunder must be right above us.”

But the yard in front of you is as empty as every other night. No trace of Pero, only the dim light of the street lamps and the light patter of rain drops.

Your heart clenches in your chest, you can still feel his lips on yours.

It’s not until a week later that you see the article. A patron has left a newspaper behind and as you clear the table, a headline catches your eye.

Modern ring found in 11th century grave

Archeologists at a dig in Sevilla, Spain, were surprised when excavating an 11th century grave. The site is being prepared for a new residential area and the grave is being moved to a nearby churchyard. The remains of an 11th century man was found in the grave, and around his neck was a thin gold chain, also 11th century in design. What surprised the archeologist was the modern gold wedding band hanging on the chain, with the date “June sixth, nineteen forty-one” engraved on the inside.

“The grave was undisturbed, and the chain was intact, clearly placed on the man in the grave either while he was still alive or before he was buried,” said chief archaeologist Maria Ruiz. “It’s impossible, of course, for a man from the 11th century to be in possession of a 20th century ring, but at the moment we have no explanation as to how the ring ended up in the grave with him.”

Part Ten

Some author notes here at the end too; I don't think it's canon that Pero is from Asturias, but Tovar is an Asturian name and I have a personal connection to the region so it felt right.

I have no idea if barmbrack was a thing in 11th century Europe, the earliest sources are from the 18th century. But it's bread with fruit, seems doable in any age really. If you've never had it, give it a try, it's a very easy recipe and it goes amazing with butter and a cup of tea.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #pero tovar #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fic #fluff

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ikranwings · 1 year

Text

Miles quaritch , Lyle Wainfleet and Tsu'tey kinks

Two kinks listed per character

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY

A little present for my friends @tarrynightss @villiansimpqueen @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @nin3kyuu @milknhonies @xandy-toady

this kind of happened lol so i hope you enjoy. This is also a gift to al my followers!and feedback is much appreciated!! i would love to see yall in my ask box. Weather it just be requests or just comments and such in general!

BREEDING KINK

-you can't tell me this man doesn't have a breeding kink, you just can't. This man thoroughly enjoys seeing seeing his so fucked out and breed.

he loves the thought of filling you with his seed, staying seated within you just to ensure none of it leaks out. Pressing kisses to his mates temple while speaking words of praise. Telling them how good they did for him.

Other times he enjoys pushing his cum back into his mates dripping cunt with his fingers. On top of that it means he can try and coax another orgasm out of them. Watching his SO beg for another release by his hands really just builds his ego.

Cock warming is another kink of his however he enjoys using it as another way to try and ensure yet again that nothing is to leak from his lovers body. SCENTING

he will not let his SO leave the room without smelling like him. He wants everyone to know who they belong to, who they were with when they weren't in others presence.

he doesn't want anyone getting any ideas of claiming his SO as there or even just getting to close. If they smell like him others will know not to fuck around.

When his mate where to shower wearing his shirt after would suffice for a little while. It still ensured his smell lingered on them, subtle or not his mate wearing his clothes gets something stirring in him.

in the more dirty side of things not only dose he enjoy the breeding side of sex with his mate but also being able to smear his cum along his mates belly. Anything that’s leaked out the man uses it in order to spread his scent along their stomach. Even when cleaned up that scent lingers for quite some time at least for him and the other recoms.

SIZE KINK

Lyle has a massive size kink, his mate is smaller than him no doubt. He’s protective of them to, refuses to let any harm come to them in any way shape or form.

He loves being able to encompass his mate with his body, caging them in between his arms as he slowly thrusts his hips into their body. Dipping his head into the crook of their neck. The man can't help but groan into their ear. Ensuring they knew just how good they were for him. " Youre doing so good for me baby, taking me so well. " "Look how well you stretch for me, so beautiful.. "

stomach bulge, lyle goes feral being able to see his own dick bulge within his lover. The man might even go so far as to press down on his mates stomach in order to draw out moans form and pleasured whimpers from them. Only he can draw this sort of thing from his mate and it makes him go absolutely nuts.

Lyles hand encompasses his mates there's no doubt about that. Not only dose he enjoy comparing that difference he also enjoys teasing his SO with his fingers. Using it as a means to prepare his mate for him. However not before he draws out an orgasm or two from his lover as he simply enjoys watching them squirm below him. He is such a tease and he knows it, it fills him with pride knowing only he can do this to his SO.

SHOWER SEX/BATHTUB SEX

He loves how intimate these times with his mate can be. How close it brings him and his mate together. For him it not just about the sex. He wants to show his SO just how attentive and caring he can be towards them. He basically just wants to worship them. Outside of the shower he may be a little rough so he makes up for it here.

Lyle loves getting down on his knees before his mate, pleasing them is something he gets off on. What better way to do that than in the shower with them. One of their legs over his shoulder, his mates hands at the back of his head trying to pull him in closer between their legs. Sometimes letting out a soft hum as the water cascades over the both of them. This man loves it when his mate can't control the little bucks of their hips over his tounge.

Lyle for sure has a non-slip shower mat in the bottom of the tub, he wants to ensure that while they're having fun the love of his life is not in danger of slipping and falling on his watch. Despite it being there he's still careful, ensuring that he has some sort of hold on them or at the very least in arm's length so he can keep them from crumpling to the ground. Like when he's entirely over worked their body and their legs become like jelly after a session.

while shower sex is fun sometimes, he likes to fill the tub with water and just thoroughly enjoy a bath with them. That being said it doesn't always last as long as the both of them would like as ninety percent of the time it ends up with his mate straddling his hips as they ride him. Water threatening to tip over the edge of the tub and onto the floor.

OUTDOOR SEX

Hes not one for public sex but there is no stopping him from leading you out into the forest of pandora and having his way with his mate on a bed of moss. Something the two of you(his mate ) have previously discussed and really quite enjoyed the thought of being away from everyone in order to just thoroughly enjoy the company of just his mate with no interruptions.

Tsu'tey loves to pin his mates hands either above their head or on either side of them pressed into the soft plush ground beneath them. Rutting his hips into his mate just thoroughly lost in the throws of pleasure. No one can bother them here, no one can ask him about training or ask that he help the other warriors in something. Its just him and his mate with no distractions. Hes fully able to focus on nothing else but his lover and he quite enjoys that very much.

He also likes the fact that in the forest there really is no limitations of where he can have his mate. Hes practically had sex just about anywhere with them. Up against the tree, in the river where the water isn't running so fast. The sky's the limit really. No really the sky is a limit, he won't put his mate in danger by doing something so foolish as to having sex up in the air or on his Ikran. It's not something he's comfortable with and probably never will be.

He especially likes to go out towards eclipse, when the only light left out there is the bioluminescence of the forest. The low light of the plants around him and his mate is something he enjoys because it brings him into a focus. Its like a tunnel vision, he is at utter peace listening to his mate moan and cry out below him. Its all for him as well and he wouldn't have it any other way. Often times(you ) his mate will hear words of praise as he thrusts into them. Complimenting them on how well they're taking him. How beautiful they look below him. Oh how he wishes moments like these will never end.

ORGASM CONTROL/EDGING

Tsu'tey from time to time enjoys bringing his mate to the very edge of bliss and taking it away right at the last second. Seeing his lover cry out for him in frustration and need just really gets him going he can't help it. To have someone fully reliant on him in order to achieve an orgasm makes him feel wanted, needed even.

He loves to lay his mate over his legs so he can sit up and work his fingers along their body. Pressing his fingers into their wet heat an thrusting slowly at first before increasing his pace in order to start a steady rhythm. Curling his fingers in order to draw out all those pretty moans he loves so much. Stopping and starting over and over and over again, drawing them to the brink of release only for it to fall away from them like a ton of bricks. Only to be met with the sound of this man is fully amused chuckle.

If he's fully sheathed within his mate he preferers to take them from behind when trying to take control of exactly when he wants to allow his mate that state of exstacy. Threading his arm along the front of his lover, sliding slowly down their belly and to their clit. Massaging their clit as he thrusts himself upwards into their body. His other arm hooked around his SOs elbows in order to draw them back perfectly against him.

Once he dose allow his mate that sweet release of their orgasm Tsu'tey enjoys watching them come undone. Watching as their body shakes before him. The entire time he cradles them close, brushing their hair away from their face and carding through the strands as he speaks to them. " Ive got you yawne, you did so well for me" " So perfect, just rest now. Ive got you, im here. Ill never leave."

I plan on possibly doing some of these for Ja, mansk jake and maybe brown..., Let me know if yall would like that to! <3

#navi miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch smut #recom lyle wainfleet #lyle wainfleet x reader #lyle wainfleet smut #tsu'tey smut #tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #avatar #recom squad #recom #navi #ikran

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mias-blogs · 6 months

Note

Can I request a hades/poseidon x reader where it's reader's first time?

Thank you for the request Anon! and since you put “Hades/Poseidon” I'm guessing your refusing to one or the other so I chose Hades if that's okay! very sorry if I got it wrong and you wanted both characters, if you did I can fix it up and add 𝘗𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘯, (𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘺, 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ(s): 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴, 𝘧𝘦𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬, 𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 (𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘧 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺), 𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘏𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘯 (𝘭𝘰𝘭), 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘶𝘮 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦.

𝑯𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒔.

The gods body was hovering over your own, you feel embarrassed for some odd reason, being bare in front of him as his fingers inch closer to your wet heat while rubbing the inside of your thighs, as you felt two of his thick fingers against your dripping hole, making you gasp out a soft moan as he gently pushed them in, wetting his fingers tips and later in knuckles as he pushed them deeper, drawing out soft moans and whimpers.

“There we go, my love, your quite tight around my fingers.” he chuckled light heartily as he starts move his fingers in and out repeatedly in a medium pace, going at the pace you ordered him to go in, if his fingers felt so good, you wonder how his cock will be, you slowly feel your orgasm building up, it's slightly embarrassing how fast your cumming at just his fingers and nothing else.

“I'm— I'm clos-..” you get silenced with a soft yet passionate kiss to the lips, “I can tell love.” he smiles into the kiss as he speeds up ever so slightly, as you soon came down from your high on his fingers, he slightly moved his fingers in a scissor motion, stretching you out to get you ready for his cock, he pulled his fingers out and pressed them against his own lips as he gently licked your juices off of his fingers.

“You taste delicious, my dear. ” he mumbled as he soon grabbed both of your legs by under the knees and lifted them up, positioning his cock against your already dripping entrance, he let go of one of your legs to hold your hand as he pushed himself in gently

“Does this hurt darling? would you like me to go slower or more gently?” he asked as he rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb gently, you take a deep breath and sigh as you give him a nod, telling him to go on, as he wasn't even half way in, your walls clenched around him tightly, as your breathing got slightly heavy.

“Shh, it's alright love, relax and lossen up a bit for me dear.” he gently consoles you as he squeezed your hand and pressed his forehead against your own when he leaned down, “It's alright, I'll be gentle.” he reassured as he rubbed your knee with his thumb with the hand that was still on your leg and holding up gently, you sigh again as you try to relax, letting his cock slide into your dripping hole that was still wet from your last orgasm.

“Oh, you feel so good love..doing such a good job for me pretty girl.” he mutters as he's already close to being all the way in, your legs slightly twitch at the session of having something so big in you, when he's already all the way in, tears threaten to spill from your eyes, you feel so full with him in you, your walls desperately suck him in as they clench around his cock tightly, he stays in place as he lets you adjust to his size, not wanting to push your limit since it's your first time.

“ it's alright, take your time.” he mutters at your ear as he gently kisses your cheek, looking you in the eyes as he presses his forehead to yours, waiting for you to get more comfortable and ready to listen to your words, “C- could you please move..?” you ask sheepishly as you look up at him, oh, how he wishes he could ravage your insides and make you a crying mess, but no, it's your first, and he should be gentle, no matter how crazy you drive him with those pretty eyes of yours.

“ Of course.” he moves his hips at a gentle and steady pace, being careful not to hurt you, as moans slip past both of your and his lips, you feel so lewd, having a god take you for your first time, and Hades himself never the less, you try to cover your mouth with your hands but you quickly feel Hades stop, “ No, dear, none of that, I want to hear you and your pleasure.” he moves your hands away from your mouth, holding onto one of your hands with his as he gets back to thrusting into you, as you get tighter around him out of pure embarrassment, he moans as he looks down at you, he wants to put you in a mating press and take you roughly, but no, no, he can't, you won't be able to take it.

“ Dear.. lossen up.” he mutters against your ear as the grip he has on your waist gets tighter, you drive him crazy, you try to relax, sighing out a breath as you hold his hands tighter, allowing him to move inside you, in a slightly noticeable faster pace, “I'm very sorry dear.. but I don't believe I'm able to control myself..” he muttered as he grabs at your hips and starts going faster, being careful not to hurt you throughout it, you whimper desperately as you feel his tip brush up your cervix, bring tears of pleasure to your eyes, as Hades is quick to kiss your tears away and comfort you.

“ Shh, it's alright, it's alright, you can take it.” he holds your hand and kisses your tears away, as his cock keeps stretching your gummy walls out repeatedly, you feel so good, his cock feels so good in you, your hand that he isn't holding, grips the pillow tighter, moans and whimpers leaving your throat as you try to take it all in, your walls sucking him in, you feel yourself getting close again.

“ Hades—.. I- I'm close...” you quickly feel his lips on yours, kissing you deeply, “ me too, love, it's alright.” he mumbles in the kiss, as he immediately goes in again to kiss you deeper, your closer than he is, and he can tell, you glossy eyes look up at him as he pulls away from the kiss, and that definitely helps him at going slightly faster inside of you, your juices covering his cock as he gets closer to his high.

As hes about to pull out and spill on your stomach, you squeeze his hand and look up at him with a desperate gaze, “ can you please cum inside? Please..?” you ask as your lips press, he wanted to do nothing more, as he gets slightly faster, spilling his cum on in your wet pussy without hesitation, moaning as he takes his time to catch up on his breath, his cock still deep inside you, he gently pulls out , pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“ You were amazing, sweetie, you did so good, let's get you cleaned up and get you something to eat and drink, yes?” he looks down at you in a sweet haze, oh, how desperately he loves you.

#ror x reader #snv smut #snv x reader #ror hades #snv hades #hades snv #snv hades x reader

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kayesfanfics · 7 months

Text

The Vampires Handmaiden

Pairing: Hector x Fem! Reader

A/N: The ending is a bit rushed, but I wasn’t about to write out a whole episode lol. But Hector is absolutely my fav character and there isn’t nearly enough fanfic about him. Also AU where Hector DIDNT FALL IN LOVE WITH HIS ABUSER AND FELL FOR SOMEONE WHO ACTUALLY LOVED HIM.

Warnings: Abuse, blood, swearing/vulgar language, some Stockholm syndrome, Carmilla being mommy except in a toxic abusive way

You shivered in the freezing cold, following your mistresses down to greet your other mistress, Carmilla. You stood behind Striga and Lenore, keeping your head down and eyes on the ground, hoping not to draw any attention towards yourself. You listened as the sisters greeted each other and Carmilla complained and complained about the long journey she had, her soldiers marching past her into the castle. You noticed at the very end, a man with silver hair was being dragged along by a chain on his neck, his hands tied in front of him and his boots missing. He looked extremely battered and exhausted, and your stomach churned, knowing the feeling all too well. He made eye contact with you as he passed, until he was tugged harshly to continue following the soldiers down to the dungeons.

“Y/N, go warm some water for my bath. And make it a good one.” Carmilla ordered you. “It better be ready after I have a drink with my sisters.”

“Yes, mistress.” You bowed, before heading to collect frozen water to heat up for her bath. You carried the frozen buckets of water to the fireplace to warm them up, dripping Carmilla’s specific combination of essential oils into her bath. You lit candles as normal, and kept the water warm until she arrived, immediately stripping naked and getting in the tub. You kneeled down and began to scrub her aching feet, as she sighed contently in the warm water.

“Your Kind is so despicable, Y/N. I don’t know HOW you survived all those years without me.” Carmilla grumbled, still agitated from her long march in the freezing tundras.

“Me neither, mistress. Thank you for saving me.” You said without a thought, used to thanking her for kidnapping you and beating you into submission until you complied with her and her sisters’ every order. She often spoke about how lucky you were that she found you, and how you’d be dead in a ditch without her.

“Oh, get out. I need time alone. You’re dismissed for the night.” She waved her hand in your face, before sinking into the water. You bowed to her, before quickly leaving her to relax for the night. Sunrise would thankfully be soon, your time to roam as you wished and do as you pleased.

You thought about the poor man they had dragged in, how pathetic he looked, bags under his pretty blue eyes and cuts scattered across his face and hands. His feet were probably frozen numb, and you knew the guards probably stripped him of his clothing, along with his humanity. You found yourself wandering to the kitchen, grabbing bread and a fresh apple and stuffing them into your pockets. You walked down to the dungeons, giving the guard a few coins for his silence before looking around for the man. You finally spotted him in a cell, huddled in the corner and embracing himself. He was shivering, and you couldn’t tell if he was crying or not, but you wouldn’t blame him if he was. You approached his cell, kneeling down and taking out the food from your pockets.

“I brought you some food.” You spoke, and he slowly looked up at you. His face was strong, but his eyes were soft and filled with fear. He was trying to mask it and remain tough, but you could see right through that facade.

“Why would you do that? Don’t you work for them?” He asked, spatting the word ‘them’.

“I do. But only for fun.” You joked, holding the food out to him, reaching into his cell. He looked at the guard in worry, but eventually crawled towards you, taking the food and immediately digging in. “I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you clothing or a blanket. They would notice. My name is Y/N, what is yours?”

“Hector.” He said simply between bites, scarfing down the food like he hadn’t eaten in days, which, he probably hasn’t.

“Well, Hector, I also brought you this.” You duh into your pocket and grabbed a small bottle. “It’s an ointment, for your wounds. There is much disease in these cells.”

He carefully took the bottle from you, finishing his food quickly and leaning against the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest to hide his nude body from you.

“Why are you helping me?” He asked, looking down at the ground.

“Because I know what it’s like to be treated like this by them. I know how cruel and careless they are.” You admitted, sitting down fully.

“You do?” He looked up at you, gazing into your eyes.

“Yes. I’m a human, like you. They took me a couple of years ago, maybe longer. I’m now their lady-in-waiting.”

“How come they haven’t turned you, then? I thought they hated humans.”

“They do, which is why they don’t turn me. They want me to know I’m below them. Weaker than them.” You explained, fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. “They treated me like they do you. They broke me down years ago. Kept me around for their amusement, and so I could serve them and they don’t lift a finger. Why did they take you, Hector?”

“I’m a forgemaster. Carmilla wants me to make night creatures for her.” He sighed. “I should’ve run away when I had the chance. I can’t believe I trusted her.”

“Don’t blame yourself. They’re expert manipulators.”

“Y/N! WHERE ARE YOU, GIRL?” You jumped when you heard the booming voice of Striga, calling for you.

“I must leave. I will try to bring you more food tomorrow. Rotten meat with maggots isn’t exactly sustaining.”

“I quite like the maggots, actually. They add a nice crunch.” He smiled playfully, despite his situation. It made you smile back, at least until you heard your name being shouted again, and you bolted off so you wouldn’t get in trouble for speaking to the prisoner.

You continued to visit Hector while the vampiresses were asleep, providing him with fresh food and what comfort you brought him. You asked about his occupation as a forgemaster, curious as to why Carmilla needed one so bad. He often had fresh injuries when you visited, and you would reach through the bars of the cell to rub ointment into the ones he couldn’t reach on his back. One day, he wasn’t in his cell, and when you asked the guard (and gave him some coins), he told you he had been moved into the “luxurious cells”. You scoffed at that. A cage was still a cage, no matter how nice it looked. But you made your way to the other cells, ducking behind the wall when you saw Lenore standing at Hector’s cell. You peeked around it, watching her tug on a leash attached to Hector’s neck, forcing him forward, taking it off of him. You felt a pang of both jealousy and disgust when she called him a ‘good boy’, possession and venom dripping from her words. You hid again as she turned to leave, and once she was gone, you rushed over to his cell.

“Are you alright?” You asked, heart sinking when you saw a blush on his cheeks.

“I’m fine.”

“Hector, she’s tricking you. She doesn’t care about you.” You grabbed his cell bars, trying to make him listen. “Lenore is a-“

“Is a what?”

Your blood went cold when you heard her voice, right behind you. You shivered in fear, eyes wide and body frozen in terror as you felt her cold hand harshly grab your shoulder, her claws digging in and drawing blood.

“Lenore, don’t harm her.” Hector warned her.

“Or what? What exactly will you do?” She asked, before throwing you across the room with her superhuman strength, hitting the wall and falling to the floor.

“Lenore! She was helping me! Leave her be!” Hector grabbed the bars this time, now trying to make her listen to him.

“Helping you?” She laughed bitterly as she walked over to you, grabbing your hair to make you look up at her. “Well, Carmilla is not going to be pleased that her pet was playing with mine now, will she?”

“Mistress, please don’t-“

“I am not the one to beg mercy from, Y/N. You should know this by now.”

Hector yelled at Lenore and for you as Lenore dragged you away, up to Carmilla’s grand study, throwing you onto her table.

“Can I help you?” Carmilla asked Lenore, glaring down at you with disgust.

“It appears our pets have been getting friendly with each other. She’s been helping Hector this whole time.”

“Oh really?” Carmilla glowered down at you, grabbing your hair harshly and holding you up by it, lifting you off her table.

“M-Mistress, I’m sorry! Please, mercy!” You begged, clenching your jaw at the pain of being held off the floor by your hair. “I-I just wanted to help!”

“Well, my dear sweet Y/N, you helped the wrong person.” Carmilla bared her teeth. “I gave you free roam of the castle, I saved your life, and this is how you repay me?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please!” You cried, feeling your scalp starting to bleed.

“I’ll leave you to it. I should probably discipline Hector as well.” Lenore said smugly, grinning at you before exiting her sisters study, leaving you alone with the merciless vampire.

Hours later, you stood beside Carmilla in the sister’s meeting room. She held a leash attached to your neck, the collar on too tight and dried blood coating your face and shoulders from the beating you endured from her. Your hands were folded politely in front of you, eyes fixed on the ground below as you didn’t dare move an inch from your mistress. They talked and bickered about their plan, various maps set out on the table with their wine glasses filled with blood. Carmilla had already drank from your neck, pure virgins blood remained her favorite to drain out of you until you went pale, but not enough to kill you. You didn’t move when you heard the door open behind you, but knew Hector was there when Carmilla complained about a man being in their quarters. You looked at him out of the corner of his eye, seeing he was confused and hurt by Lenore in some way you didn’t know yet. He looked at the collar tightened around your neck, guilt flashing in his eyes when he saw all the blood and bruises littering your face.

You listened in horror as Lenore boasted to her sisters about what she did to Hector, binding him to her through deceit and manipulation. You felt sick when she asked for a large bed in his room so she could “train him”, and silenced Hector when he tried to say something.

“Hm. Do you think you could make one for Y/N? She’s been disobedient, so I tethered her to myself to make sure she can’t do things behind my back anymore. But this ring would be so much easier, then I don’t have to keep her around me all the time.” Carmilla asked her sister, ignoring your look of horror you gave her at the idea.

“I’m already a step ahead of you, sister.” Lenore smiled, tossing her two rings for the both of you.

You fell to your knees, hands gripping Carmilla’s thighs, tears streaming down your face.

“Mistress, please! I’ll be good, I promise! Please don’t do this! I beg of you!” You pleaded, glossy eyes looking up at her with desperation.

“Oh, I love it when you do that, Y/N.” She smiled, one hand holding your chin. “But if you hadn’t betrayed me, I wouldn’t have to do this. Now would I? This is your fault, I’m only doing this because I have to, dear.”

You whimpered as she grabbed your wrist, shoving the ring onto your finger.

“Now, be a good girl and pledge your loyalty to me.” She said, running a hand through your hair, scrapping your sore and bloody scalp.

“I-I…I p-pledge my loyalty to y-you.” You cried out in pain as soon as those words left your mouth, feeling the magic piercing your skin and binding you to Carmilla. She pet your hair and shushed you, letting you cry into her lap as your body trembled pathetically.

“Good girl.” She smiled, before turning to Lenore. “You really are a genius, sister.”

“I know.” Lenore said cockily, before jumping off the table and grabbing Hectors arm, dragging him with her. His gaze lingered onto you, feeling as if it was his fault for this to be done to you as well. But you knew it was inevitable, Carmilla would’ve done this even if you hadn’t helped him, she liked the power over you too much.

“Now, darling, you are not to speak to Hector again. Do you understand me?” Carmilla asked you as you calmed down, sobs slowly dissolving into silent tears.

“Yes, mistress.” You said numbly, but sighed in relief when she took the collar that choked you off.

“Good. Now, off you go. Go clean yourself up, you look dreadful.”

You staggered out of the room, clutching your dress in your hands as you willed yourself to stop crying. Any freedom and humanity you had left was just stripped away, taken from you without a second thought or care in the world. You now felt empty and numb, the hopelessness overtaking your mind as you made your way to gather water for your own bath. You sank into the warm water, letting it comfort you like an embrace would, gently washing the blood out of your hair and off of your body. You wished you could wash the spell away, but no matter how hard you scrubbed, it wouldn’t leave you. You headed to bed soon after, curling into yourself and crying yourself to sleep.

The next few days went about as normal, Carmilla ordering you to do random chores and bring her glasses of blood, sometimes making you drain your own blood for her. You did as you were asked, it wasn’t like you had much of a choice. You were still allowed to roam as you wished in the daytime, but if you went too close to Hector, your ring burned like fire and it felt as if swords were piercing your body. You felt incredibly lonely like you had before he arrived, but even more afraid than before. You constantly worried about what Lenore was doing to Hector behind closed doors, and unbeknownst to you, he too was worried about what Carmilla was doing to you. Lenore treated you more harshly than she ever had, making it known to you that she was not pleased with you befriending Hector. After she saw you watch as Hector walked past the room you were in, she approached you, grabbing your neck and hoisting you up to be level with her face.

“I know exactly what you are thinking. I suggest you cease those impure thoughts about what is mine.” She warned, smile still soft but eyes filled with hatred.

“I-I don’t know what you mean, mistress-“ you stammered, yelping when she slapped you across the face.

“Lie to me again, I dare you.” She hissed. “Hector is mine, do you understand? He will never love you, he doesn’t even look you in the eye anymore. So quit wasting your time filling your pretty little head with such delusions. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You nodded as best you could, coughing when she finally let you go. She turned to leave, looking back at you with a devious grin.

“I understand your desire for him, of course. I know you saw that cock of his. It feels better than it looks.” She cackled at you, before finally leaving you alone. You choked back tears, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing she got to you. You rushed to your room to cry in peace, instead seeing a letter resting on your pillow. You picked it up and opened it, reading the name at the bottom and seeing it was from Hector.

‘Y/N. I know you’re being forced to keep away from me, I am not angry with you, I’ve been avoiding you too so that I don’t get you into anymore trouble because of me. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you about Lenore, I thought she truly cared about me. How wrong I was. But I’ve been alone with my thoughts for awhile now, and I’ve come to conclusion that I want to help you. I care for you as you cared for me when I arrived, and I don’t want you to suffer on my behalf anymore. You don’t deserve this treatment, and neither do I. I have a plan for escape for us both, I will help you gain your complete freedom back. Wait for another letter from me, but in the meantime, avoid me at all costs. They can’t know we’re speaking again.

Burn this so that they don’t know I’ve reached out. -Hector’

You held the letter to your chest, tears dripping onto your bedding. Nobody had ever wanted to help you before, and if they did it was out of their own self interest. It had been so long since someone showed you any compassion or kindness, and him wanting to help you escape this life gave you a new sense of hope. You did as instructed and burned the letter, and checked your bed often for the next letter. You didn’t see much of Hector for the next week, only catching glimpses of him in the library , and you didn’t dare wander near his work place upstairs. You received a letter with the details of his plan later in the week, with detail of what you needed to do to stay out of danger. He told you about how he would trap Lenore, and allow her to be killed by the sunlight in the morning. Due to her manipulation and his messy feelings towards her, he didn’t have the heart to kill her himself. But Hector wasn’t a killer in the first place, he gave beings life and showed them kindness and empathy, something those vampires lacked.

The plan would be carried out that night, before the sun would rise. You did your chores as usual, not showing any unusual behavior or giving them any reason to be suspicious. You served Carmilla her chalice of blood for her study session, before bowing and leaving her to her work. Striga and Morana were away, all you had to worry about now was Lenore, arguably the worst. You wandered the castle with caution, trying to pinpoint where she was, and when you couldn’t find her, you came to the conclusion she was up at Hector’s workshop. You were supposed to meet him up there, but you didn’t want to risk Lenore hurting either one of you.

A shiver ran up your spine when you heard the screech of night creatures, and in your panic, you feet took you straight to safety; to Hector. It took you a few tries to find his workshop, stumbling up stairs as the castle shook from the attacks of the night creatures. When you finally saw him, a blue magic cage was blocking the doorway, holding Lenore inside of it.

“Hector!” You shouted, his eyes immediately finding yours.

“Y/N! You’re okay!” He smiled getting close to the cage as he could. You ignored the pain from the ring, face contouring in pain, but your smile remained.

“What is this?! Hector!” Lenore raged, glaring daggers at you. “How have you two been conspiring? The rings wouldn’t allow you two to speak!”

“We haven’t said a word to each other in weeks.” Hector said, facial expression stiffening into anger. “We didn’t see each other at all. But I have other ways of communication that you missed, along with the devices I’ve put about the castle. There’s a lot you didn’t see.”

You turned around when you heard the screeching and growls of night creatures, coming up the stairs towards you. You backed up against the cage as much as you could as the creatures approached you, and dark man in capes leading them. You looked at them with fear, knowing night creatures to eat and tear apart anything they wished.

“I do not mean you harm.” The man told you, stepping up to you. “But if you would mind moving, that would be appreciated.”

You stepped aside and he opened the cage with his enchanted sword, allowing you through as well. Lenore had half a mind to tackle you right then and there, but with the man between you she didn’t, instead just glaring. Hector stepped back as you entered the room, not wanting to cause you any pain from the ring. You wanted so desperately to touch him and be near him, but he didn’t want to hurt you any more, keeping his distance as he spoke with his colleague. You watched as he suddenly asked for his friends knife, and you tilted your head in confusion until you saw him bring it to his finger, cutting the ring off of him. His severed finger and ring clattered to the floor, blood dripping and sweat beading on his forehead as he allowed his friend to cauterize the wound with the same knife. Hector took the knife back, giving you a look that asked for your permission. You nodded, hissing in pain as he stepped closer, and crying when he took your hand in his, quickly slicing your own finger off. As soon as the ring fell off, it was like taking a breath of fresh air. You didn’t feel that weight on your shoulders or the fear in the back of your mind anymore, and the physical pain melted away immediately.

“Thank you, Isaac.” Hector said as he handed the knife back to him.

“Of course. Now, I’m off to slay Carmilla. See you on the other side, my friend.” Isaac said, taking the amulet Hector made for him and leaving the room. Hector turned back to you, a soft smile adorning his pretty face.

“Let’s wrap that up, sit.” He gestured to a chair, going to his supplies and finding bandages for the both of you. He wrapped your hand up first worrying about his own only after he asked if your bandage was too tight.

“May I hug you?” You asked suddenly. The adrenaline had made your walls come down, too full of a new hope for life that you didn’t even think to be embarrassed. Hector smiled at you, opening his arms for you to embrace him. Your arms immediately wrapped around him, the first time you’d ever been able to truly touch him since you had met all those weeks ago. You savored the feeling of his own arms wrapped around your body, his chin resting on your shoulder and your face buried in his chest.

“This is nice.” Hector grinned, pulling away slightly to look at you. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything you did for me. You were the first person to show me genuine kindness.” He smiled, before looking at Lenore, who simply glared at the both of you.

“I knew I needed to help you as soon as I laid my eyes upon your face.” You said, leaning in slightly towards his face. “You too were the first person to show me kindness in a very long time, Hector. I…I love you.”

His eyes widened slightly at that, a blush creeping up to his cheeks.

“Oh, please!” Lenore shouted from her cage. “The two of you barely know each other! This is ridiculous!”

“Yes, because you know me so well.” Hector rolled his eyes at her. “Let me put her on the balcony so we can have a real conversation, okay?”

You nodded and let go of him, letting him argue with Lenore and move her somewhere else so she didn’t bother you. You gasped when a force exploded somewhere in the castle, shaking the whole structure with such force. But you felt something else as well…freedom. That man Isaac really did it and killed Carmilla, you could feel it. It immediately brought tears to your eyes, and you began weeping. It had been so long being under Carmilla’s hold, the feeling of her hands being pried off your shoulders was overwhelming. You hadn’t felt like this in years, it almost scared you. You never thought you had a future away from this castle, away from your mistresses. You’d assumed you’d be serving them until the day you died, and probably by their own hands. The relief washed over you, overwhelming you.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Hector asked as he reentered the room, kneeling down in front of you.

“Nothing…nothing at all.” You smiled at him through tears, continuing to sob from the feeling. “I just…I really do love you, Hector.”

“I love you too, Y/N.” He wiped your face with his thumbs as he cupped your face, before leaning in and gently pressing his lips to yours in a perfectly sweet, loving kiss.

#castlevania hector #castlevania #castlevania x reader #hector x reader

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maliciousalice · 22 days

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@thresholdbb omg tumblr ate your ask but thankyou for asking!!!!

👕Character whose fashion you like.

Phoar! Startrek really isn't a show I associate with being fashionable. It's very camp isn't it? In theory a lot of the wardrobe is really cool and they wanted to gain that retro-future aesthetic. Did it work? I'm not sure. However it does make a statement. The Startrek aesthetic is really recognizable and that's important! I think that's where modern trek kind of looses the plot. It's not as careful about the unique visual design as a whole anymore and as a result it doesn't settle in our minds. Is it bad artistry? No but it's not as stringent. What I mean by that is older trek cared about nuance. For example every haircut was done the same way on men, or suits were tailored in a way to look sleek but practical (they weren't). Gaudy patterns were important to denote things like status. It looks ugly on the outside but when you're watching the show it envelops you and makes you feel welcomed into the universe.

I digress.

To answer this, the most fashionable character, hands down, is Quark! That mfer always looks good, and has the finest drip in the galaxy. Love that.

🥲 ST moment that makes you cry.

youtube

There are two moments that make me particularly sad. Kate's acting in the climax of Resistance is incredible. I read somewhere she had a special-wink-wink- relationship with the Director in the early seasons and she was being tested by this episode in some regard. I think it paid off. I treasure any time her captain-hood is removed, and the extreme vulnerability of Janeway is on display-MWAH MWAH poignant. This episode is beautifully intimate, particularly this scene. It's overall gorgeous and unique in how she whispers to him, as if there is nothing more important than to secure his peace of mind as he dies, and it's heart rending when it ends with her just crouching there, emotionally alone. I love how Janeway is forced into the father-daughter dynamic between her and Caylem, one that she would ordinarily resist (heh themes) because I think it inherently weakens her status. The back and forth throughout the episode of them taking care of each other's welfare is so it's terribly sad when it's torn down and we discover the truth behind Caylem's family. If you've dug around her character you know that her Admiral-Father has had impact on her life. She's haunted by him in both a figurative way by being a Captain, and literal sense later on in Coda. Much like Caylem, she looses her father in a violent manner that she has to carry around while she forges ahead. It also reflects well on Kate's relationship with her actual father, she recently revealed that she was never able to get him on her page, but in spite that she adore him with all her might. So a scene like this is really revealing-I believe she was able to draw upon those feelings and that's kinda neat to be so raw as an actor. SIGH.

This one just straight up made me cry fr because Prodigy s1 is a really mature, well done piece of (Startrek) media. Holo Janeway has an irony about it where in the end she is program designed to be a teacher, and she didn't expect to develop a strong bond with the crew. Her final moments are of displaying a huge amount of selflessness and courage to help the kids get out of trouble, similarly to how Janeway would approach dire circumstances. The music swelling and the ship activating is just OOOOF!!! I love how it parallels Dal's initiation of the first Protojump in a Moral Star. By that means It suggests how proud she is to get to do this for them. As a character she is really interesting to think about, in a way I can't entirely articulate. A lot of her moments are quite sad in general, she has to keep an active role so she isn't ignored, and help where help is needed, but at the same time she has constraints, one being that she manipulated by the antagonists. And In contrast to that, the kids do their best to help her feel like she is important and more than a command program to be used insincerely. She grew to love the Protostar crew, that's evident in her body language in this scene. She has a lot of depth overall. Equal to the real Janeway she deeply feels love, guilt and pain, but importantly she is transformed by the her time on the Protostar and while active, learns and grows with Dal, Rok-tak, Zero, Jankom and Gwyn. It's REALLY sweet that they care all care about each other.

I love her and I love JANEWAY!!!!

🥹 Favourite behind the scenes picture.

Ooooh I love all behind the scenes stuff. My brother in Christ It's super difficult to just name one thing and I'm very greedy!! I wish we had more BTS content for Voyager but sadly, it's a matter of grab what you can, however you can. Anyway, I have an inherent interest in seeing the cogs behind the wheel. I chose these samples because I think they're charming.

The continuity polaroid's are so fun and a lost technique, I like to think about assistants having to pull the actors aside and asking them to take those. How daunting! Kate's grin in the one where she is offset is SO cute. So she must have been in a good mood, super Cheeky!

Following that is a screenshot from a video of her having her makeup done. A rare catch. I like this because she often sooks about how much time hair and makeup was spent on her to become Captain Janeway. I get it's a huge time-sink, but love or hate it, the full irony is that her early season appearance is really iconic and in it's own right adds to Captain Janeway's sensibility. Silly goose Kate! Besides that, she looks hot checking herself out, haha.

Moreover, I love on-set editorial photos of actors in costume. While we did have heaps of them in the Starfleet uniform, I wish we had a larger collection with clearer releases, it would have given an opportunity to see in things of interest better detail. Particularly the lower half of unique costumes. For whatever reason special outfits weren't often established or framed for us to see the legs in the show, so a nice big photograph would have solved that. Also I love that these style of pictures capture an impression of an episode without giving it away.

Similarly, fly on the wall on-set photos are cool. They're way more intimate and candid than anything else and it makes me feel as though I am spying on the actors, but they're also a good way to document how things might have been on set.

The Timeless one is interesting too because it's of a deleted scene, we never see Chakotay look at a dead Janeway (how deliciously macabre!), but at some point in time it was in the script and they filmed it.

Hmm this bts picture of Janeway in the Cardigan is adorable! I believe it was worn by Kate for a Charity but look how cute she looks? Makes me wish we saw her mess around with things like that more because 7 Years is a long ass time to be in uniform everyday ( coming from someone who went to school in a Uniform and enjoyed it for the most part). Casual Fridays anyone?

I love this gif. It's from the first shoots of Caretaker and Kate looks so radiant! Her smile is is breathtaking! Whenever I see this gif I get a sense of delight. Poor thing had no idea what she was getting herself into, haha. Really though, check out the original Caretaker photos, they're super-cool. The history behind it is fascinating; I'd love to see more footage from that version of the pilot episode. Unfortunately, it's probably not preserved well, much like lots of Paramount's historical material.

On a similar trend, it's fun to see this set of pictures too. It's for the First Contact film / maybe the Universal studios ride, when she reprised her role as Vice AdmiralJaneway. Kate was genuinely delighted to do this cameo and it shows. As per her operandum she put her whole self into this small segment and that's so darling. It makes me wish we had more of this Janeway at that point in time. I love post Endgame chubby-Janeway. In a fictional sense it denotes that she is comfortable or stressed to be an Admiral (sadly it's the latter in real life) or whatever and I love that for her.

These kind of pictures are fun because it's been said that at times it was the most playful set to be on. There are tales that the cast were not that serious all the time. You get that impression here, and it's probably why the majority of them are still good friends to this day. They're like a family bros!!! Having worked in media I know that wrapping up after working on something for a long time is really rewarding and I bet they had a good time at parties.

Apropos previous, the opposite can be said. While they had fun, the hours were long and the scripts intensive. Kate was around for all of the episodes of Voyager in one way or another, and still managed to bring her A-game each time. She is truly admirable! Seeing her so exhausted is charming. She had a lot of weight to carry for the franchise and did an exemplary job performing her way through 7 years of weird and wonderful material. I wonder how often they fell asleep on set? I know I would. Get some rest queen!

Finally, I've been following Prodigy bts as best I can, and because of my career in animation I get pretty interested in Production art. I love seeing the fast metamorphosis of a visual style. It's really impressive how much attention they applied to the designs, maintaining the older stuff, while adapting a new frontier. One of the lead artists made some pretty neat observations to get Kate's appearance right. It's so cool that they documented that journey, because from my dabbling I know she has a very beautiful, distinct face that isn't easy to capture.

ANYWAY Thankyou for reading my fat thesis fellas. tl;dr i love this stinky Startrek Voyager and by extension the franchise.

#I AM SO SORRY FOR THIS WALL OF TEXT I HAVE A LOT TO SAY AND I THINK ABOUT THIS DARN SHOW A LOT #also my bad it's mostly voyager but it's my true love #hope you can make sense of this I'm fairly illiterate and writing is so hard for me lol that's why i write more than is probably necessary #i like the other trek shows but this one is something special if you know what i mean #appreciate you if you read all this MWAH MWAH #thankyou for the ask thresholdbb ily!!!#Thresholdbb #Kathryn Janeway #janeway #star trek voyager #star trek prodigy #st:voy #kate mulgrew #no sources for this you just gotta trust im a big fat expert :^)#i really need an editor my dyslexic-a jumbles up and forgets words when i write its so embarassing #i have a pretty large collection of pictures now but i could always use more #i also should probably save videos where i can because they get buried / removed from the internet

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

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Same as it ever was 10

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: need a little time to figure out don't speak so here ya are.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your dreams are muddied with the dregs of your reality. You wade through the swamp of waking horrors mutated by the nonsensical hues of your subconscious. Your escape is less than happy as you open your eyes to stare at the basement ceiling. The water stain there is just another latent trouble waiting to implode.

The most potent reminder of the utter disarray if your life isn't the heaps of laundry waiting by the machine or the steady drip from the old wash sink. It's the violent pang radiating from your tailbone, another tenderly throbbing by your shoulder blade. The mortifying scene plays in your mind; Pete's obtuse come on and your own bitter and insecure rejection.

Your morning routine is made more tedious by your condition. Every move is tinged in torment and the kids seem unexpectedly rambunctious. Or maybe you just can't keep up with them.

You get them packed up and in the car. You were so swept up, you didn't even get your morning coffee. It's not as if you'd expected this day to go any smoother than the last. Thankfully, you don’t run into your husband.

School drop off is just as hectic, ominous if anything. You tell Simone to take Malik inside for you as you stay behind the wheel.

“Are you okay?” She asks, ever observative. Why does she have to be so smart? Hopefully, she stays that way.

“Good, just had a late night,” you assure her, “I’ve got a big… meeting this morning.”

“Yeah, dad said something about a promotion,” she unbuckles her seat belt and sidles over to unclasp Malik from his seat.

“Do you need help, honey?” You ask, steeling yourself at the idea of getting out of the car.

“I got it,” she insists. “Are you going to work late again?”

“I… don’t think so,” you answer tenuously.

“Oh,” is all she can utter. She gets Malik out and grabs both their bookbags. “Come on,” she tugs on his hand as he opens her door.

“Love you guys,” you say.

“Love you, mommy!” Malik sings.

“Yeah, love ya too,” Simone mutters then huffs at Malik, “hurry up. I wanna read before class.”

She shuts the door, a bit heavier than you expect, and you watch them until they get to the front doors, meeting the other clusters of students and parents. You inhale and turn forward, flicking your lashes as your eyes burn. Your back is on fire with pain, but worse, your heart is a pit of agony. You feel your family crumbling all around you.

A pair of headlights flash in your rear view and you shift into gear and slowly roll away from the pick up area. You grip the wheel tight and wiggle your nose, resisting the hot wall of tears trembling in your head. You don’t know what to do, there’s nothing to do but keep going. Things will change, they always do.

You watch the time as you drive to work. You pull into the lot and click the button on your seat belt, letting it repel as you lean back. Oh god, the hardest part, getting out. With each second, you feel worse. So what? Some bruises? You’ve dealt with worse.

You open the door and snatch your bag from the other seat. You turn sideways, bag on your elbow, as you grip the side of the car and the steering wheel and push yourself to your feet. You smother a yelp to a whimper. Your legs shake with the pain hammering in your tailbone.

You lean on the door as you close it. You take another deep breath, this one racks you torturously. You set your feet and limp along the side of the building in your beat up Keds. No heels or flats, you need support.

You nearly fall into the elevator, relieved to be alone for the ride up. You lean on the wall and watch the floor light up one at a time. You hobble off, holding your lower back. It’s not an unusual sight. Your hips have been fucked up since your second pregnancy.

You limp past your desk as you keep your morning task in mind. You just want it done and over with. Then you can sit in the ungodly office chair and try not to break.

You’ve never been so thankful for the apathy of your coworkers. Hansen trained them well. They know to only worry about themselves and their work. The exemplar of capitalistic character.

You approach Hansen’s office door. To your surprise, it’s unlocked. You let yourself in, not bothering to make sure you’re unseen. Who gives a fuck anymore? He is hardly the beacon of discretion.

You drop your bag on the long console table with the vase of fake lilies and keep moving. You can’t stop. You undress without hesitation. You treat it like business. No point in wasting time.

You pile your clothes in the uncomfortable acrylic chair across from the immense leather throne on its swivel. You round the desk and stumble. You catch yourself as you brace your back and whine. Oh god, shit.

You give in to the tremble in your legs and fall to your knees. You drag yourself under the desk and sit on your knees. That’s not a good idea. You grit your teeth and gulp. You’ve never felt pain like this. Well you have, but you know you’re not going into labour.

Your legs are tingly despite the hot pain coursing around your hips. You do your best to breathe through it as you wait. What are you even doing? How did it come to this? For christ sakes, your forty-fucking-four years old. Waiting like some bimbo in your boss’ office.

Before you can sink into your self-loathing, you hear the door. He clicks his tongue as you listen to his deliberate gait. He’s making a show of it. He’s drawing it out. You bite back your irritation. As much as he plays around, he’s easy. Just like Pete. He’s entirely ruled by that dangling worm between his legs.

He sighs and struts around. You can picture the smug smirk under his dumb mustache. But you don’t. You’re already tensed up.

There’s a clink on the desk as he sets down his coffee and he hums as he rolls the chair out. He sits and spreads his knees wide. There’s a twitch in his pants. His finely tailored pants that probably cost more than your mortgage.

“Good morning,” he grips the arms of the chair as he leans back.

You don’t say a word as you reach for him. He wheels closer as you pop the top button of his pants. His gaze is stolid on you. You feel yourself sweating under it. It’s more humiliating to know he’s watching you so intently.

You tug down his fly. No underwear. You’re hardly surprised. The man who doesn’t wear socks with his tacky loafers likely doesn’t have a very full top drawer. You pull him through the vee of fabric and stroke his half-hard length.

“I didn’t even play with myself in the shower,” he taunts, “I saved it all for you.”

He snorts as you stay silent. You just keep going. He takes a breath and lets it out through his nose.

“Who pissed in your coffee?” He asks.

You once more have no answer. He flinches as you squeeze around his tip and roll your palm over it. He hisses as he squeezes the leather armrests.

“Fucking balls,” he puffs as he tilts his head back, “those hands–”

You bring your other hand up to cup him from below. You remember when you used to enjoy this. When you wanted it. How Pete’s groans used to spark a thrill in you but this, this just makes you feel grimy.

“Shit, shit,” he gulps, “slow down, baby face.”

You ignore him and he spasms. He sits forward and grabs your wrists, stopping you. You clench your jaw and look up at him.

“Hey, slow the fuck down,” he warns you, “the fuck’s your problem?”

You shrug and your cheek strains as even just that gesture tweaks in your hips. You stare at him dully. He tilts his head as he juts his jaw out. His lip curls as he rolls himself away in the chair. He snaps his fingers.

“Get out of there,” he demands.

You blink to keep from rolling your eyes. You put your hands on the floor but can’t move. You try to crawl forward but just can’t. Your tailbone is throbbing.

“I said get up,” he snaps.

“I can’t,” you rasp.

“What?” He leans forward.

“I fucking can’t–”

“Jesus fuck,” he stands and bends over you, angling around to hook his arms around you.

He hauls you up and you squeal as the fire shoots around your hips. He holds you under your arms as he turns you and lets you fall against his desk. You land on the flat keyboard and very pointy paperweight.

“Damn,” he smacks your ass, the flesh jiggling on impact, “look at that.”

You cry out, louder than you mean too. You whimper and hit the desk with your fist. He peels his hand away and you sense him raise it again. You stretch your arm behind you and wave at him desperately.

“No, no, please–” Your hand falls to your tailbone and you whine, “stop.”

You squeeze your thighs tight, overly aware of the dimples in the flesh and the lines rippled into the skin. Worse than the agony is the exposure. Both overwhelm you to the point of defeat.

“What?” He snips.

“I think– I think something’s wrong with me,” you choke out, feeling along your back. There’s a tender bump right along the base of your spine.

“What’s wrong?” He growls.

“Look…” you try to push yourself off the desk and your legs wobble. Before you can crumple to the floor, he catches you. Thankfully, surprisingly. “I fell in the shower last night,” your throat tightens at the admission of your own mortality, “I’m old, alright? And I fucking hurt myself.”

He sighs. His demeanour changes, not so rough, not so impatient as he angles you into the leather chair. It hurts just as much but you don’t care. It’s better than the floor.

“Fuck,” he puts his hands on his hips, his dick still standing above his pants. No shame. “Fine, you finish the job and I’ll let you off for the day. Go see a fucking doctor.”

You furrow your brow at him. Really?

“Well, you’re halfway there, sweet cheeks,” he turns a palm out, “so, get on it.”

Disbelief? Hardly. You could predict this. But you're exasperated and exhausted and you could rip that damn thing off his body.

You clamp your lips tight and sit up as best you can. You reach for him, gripping him tightly so he yipes. He slaps your wrist.

“Hey, lay off,” he warns.

You sniff but listen. You ease up and stroke him. He falls back into his groans, hands on his hips as he pushes his pelvis towards you. You just stare at the hem of his shirt as you keep a steady rhythm. How can men be so simple but make things so difficult?

You flinch as he bends his knees, just a bit, and reaches for your chest. You try to bat him away but he throws your hand back. He cups your tit and kneads, rolling his thumb over your nipple. You shudder and look away, crossing your arm around your stomach. You hope he can’t see everything from up there.

“Can I come on your tits?” He snarls, “don’t know why I’m asking…”

He steps closer and you feel him getting closer. His body tenses as his other hand goes to your shoulder and he rocks his hips, as good as fucking your hand. You direct his tip down and turn your chin up, disgusted as he quakes in your grip.

He grunts as he cums, his voice trailing off in thick moans as he unleashes on you. Cords of his cum string over your chest and up your neck. You swallow down your disgust as you see him through his climax, finishing with another pinch on your nipple.

He lets you go and backs up, “whew,” he blows out and gives an emphatic shiver.

You puff and gather what’s left of your strength. It’s done. You’re free. For a few hours at least. You let the pain roll out in a guttural grunt as you stand and stagger to grab a tissue from the sleek metal box on his desk. You do your best to clean yourself up. Hopefully you can do a better job at the clinic in case they need to do any tests.

“That was fucking… spectacular,” he nears and grabs a tissue of his own, brushing against your back, “even dragging your tail around like a beat dog, you just get the job done, don’t you?”

You need a coffee. You’re going to punch him. You take another tissue and continue to sop up the slimy mess.

You wince as his hand settles on your ass. It isn’t as bad as the slap but it still makes you yelp. He tuts and retracted his touch.

“Goddamn,” he mutters. “You go get yourself figured the fuck out.” His frustration cracks in his voice, “I was looking forward to this…”

“Life doesn’t always go as we planned,” you shake your head and toss out the tissues. You go to the chair and grab your underwear, letting them unfurl.

“Wouldn’t you fucking know?” He barks, “give me those.” He yanks the underwear from your grasp, “I told you, forget the fucking parachute.” He throws them and shakes his head, “you know, that’s the problem with you old ones, you don’t fucking listen.”

You grab your pants as he simmers. You lean on the chair as you lift each foot and pull the belt to your waist. He looms, pacing, huffing and puffing.

“...hurt your fucking back....”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” you murmur.

“You’re lucky you have good hands,” he carries on, “very fucking lucky. I could bankrupt you. You and your little brats would be out on the street–”

“Mr. Hansen,” you hook your bra behind your back with a torturous effort, “please–”

“You just keep them in mind, huh?” He sneers, “you better not be fucking lying.”

“I wish I was,” you grab your blouse and hook it over your head, poking your arms into the sleeves.

“Wait, wait,” he waves his hand and blocks you from the door, “you think… if you laid down… I could just slide in?”

You give a look. The look. The one you give Pete when he forgets something at the grocery store. Or the kids when they won’t stop fighting. He blanches as his eyes meet yours.

“Alright, alright, go see a doctor,” he relents, his frustration still sharp. “The sooner, the fucking better.”

He wags his finger in your face before he backs up. You limp to the door and grab your bag before you let yourself out. As you shut the door, you hear a thump. You see more tantrums from grown men than you do your own children.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #same as it ever was #pete brenner #dark pete brenner #dark!pete brenner #pete brenner x reader #series #the gray man #pain hustlers #au

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