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burnedbyshoto · 3 years

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indulge me

indulge me: an arrangement

— Being a secret little girl in the modern world is rough, but it becomes much more chaotic when a classmate of yours offers to be your new daddy dom.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, nsfw, ddlg dynamic, college!au, modern!au, daddy!shouto, little girl!reader, I am not well versed in this dynamic please do not use this as an educational source, dom!shouto, sub!reader, biting, marking, mating press, nipple play (both), spanking, oral, gagging, choking, praise, degradation, little space

word count: 13,547

a/n: this is a commission for @bakusbiatch thank you for your endless amount fo patience as it took me 100x longer than ever to write this

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If there was something you knew now that you completely did not understand at the age of eighteen was the entire dynamics of sex. To be fair, after an adolescence of watching porn, reading erotica, and even gossiping between friends, it was, without doubt, that you were entirely clueless about real, healthy dynamics.

First off, the first time you had sex was super uncomfortable.

There was no break or even space for pleasure to build in because you had been so tense, so awkward that you remained rigid and still the entire three minutes the guy fucked into you. You remember his sweat-soaked body collapsing on top of you, his eyes seeing galaxies in the stuffy, now smelly room as he breathed out a ‘Woah.’

You had smiled at him stiffly, letting his softening dick flop out of your dry vagina and curled in on yourself as he snuggled into you, praising the world and everything around it for this moment. It was without saying that you left his cum stained sheets and ran back home.

Sex sucked.

But that was when you were seventeen and made the terrible decision on fucking your friend with whom you had scary sexual tension. You avoided sex to your best ability after that, not so much as caring to allow anyone to touch you because that was disappointing. Why would you go through that when your fingers sufficed much better? Why go through that awkward tension when you didn’t have any moments of awkwardness when reading smut?!

Audios were better.

Words were best.

But, as one does, you fell in love against your will to a boy just a few months older than you. His smile was soft, and his words were kind, but oh, did his touch drive you hot and mad. You weren’t exactly sure how long you had lasted, how much perseverance you had kept when the two of you would fall onto his (thank fucking god) clean sheets, his strong hands and fingers keeping your hips close to his as you kissed him as if you couldn’t live without his touch.

“Are you… are you ready?” he had asked, his shirt thrown into the abyss of his room and the button of your jeans undone, revealing the simple set of panties you had on. “I don’t want to—”

“I’m ready,” you interrupt him, your body practically burning from the inside out with the desperate need and lust for him to fuck you. “I’m ready.”

He stills, his tongue peeking past his lips before a slow, chilling grin spreads against his mouth.

“Okay,” he nods, “can I ask you to do something, though?”

You, in your desperation to get his dick out of his sweats and buried deep into your throbbing cunt, nod.

“I have a daddy kink… I really, really like the daddy little girl dynamics,” he breathes, palms pressing to your knees and dragging down your inner thighs in a teasing, near authoritative way. “Can we… are you interested in trying it?”

Now, although you had largely avoided sex, toys and fingers weren’t nearly enough to replace the overwhelming need to be touched, fucked, and worshipped by another human being. You had fucked plenty of people who had always claimed to have kinks and fetishes. Most of the men you had in bed who said they had a daddy kink only liked being addressed as daddy; that was it. There was no true dynamic, just a play on the power the title brought them.

So, in the naive, childish way you were, you agreed.

You listened to his every command in bed, thrilled and keened under his praise for his princess, for his little girl, and you ate it up, thanking and praising your daddy. The sex ended with you cumming so hard you went blind for a moment, so dizzy from your high. As the both of you drifted off to sleep, you had no clue when you woke up in the morning he would present you with a little girl starter package made by him for you specifically. It was then that you realized that dynamics were an actual thing, and as he presented you a checklist of kinks, toys, and rules he laid out, you realized that nothing you had ever experienced — real or fictional — could have prepared you for this.

The two of you went through the list and rules together, your eyes widening and face blazing with embarrassment as he described his expectations and needs with this dynamic. You nodded, so completely lost in this entire thing that you agreed with most everything he offered and wanted.

The one rule you did have didn’t necessarily surprise him.

The dynamic was to remain a secret, you asserted, unable to budge on this thought. You could be his little girl, but it was to stay in private, never in public. And he tilted his head in thought but ultimately agreed with a smile. He thought you’d one day stop being in the closet over this kink, and you thought the opposite.

And time moves forward; it’s rigid and unforgiving. Two years into a relationship, a year and a half into the dynamic, you and your daddy break up, and you, against all odds, are left scrambling for a daddy you never realized you needed.

What was a girl to do?

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Your head is angled downward, and the hood that sits on your head is not concealing your face as well as you would have liked. It was without saying that you were a woman of pride. You took great care of what you did, how people viewed you, and how you presented yourself to the world. Most days, you always exited your small apartment as an excellent student who was always wearing properly done makeup and stylish outfits.

Your style screamed confident woman (not little girl, you absolutely refused to wear anything cutesy in public), and you walked with your chin raised and eyes on the horizon.

To see that you were in sweats, an oversized hoodie, no makeup on, and perusing the store's area made for young girls and toddlers, was a shock. You had made sure to come nearly thirty minutes before closing; no one would be here to accidentally see you, no one could see you in your embarrassing shame-picking for your dynamic. All because your newest daddy couldn’t afford to buy you new things since your old ones had your ex’s name or brand all over it.

This was for the best; you reminded yourself as you haphazardly threw the items within the basket, face flaming as you ignored the temptation to simply stand in the aisle and flip through the sticker book and coloring book you recently tossed into the cart. You were fine; you already had your plan of action on what to say when purchasing these items.

‘My sister is pregnant again, and she already has a kid,’ you mentally rehearsed, imagining an excited smile on your face because you are excited for this imaginary pregnant sister of yours. ‘It’s a present for the baby and the brat.’

Solid.

Perfect.

Beautiful.

Making sure to quickly take note of what was inside the basket, you spun on your heel and marched your way through the empty store to the deserted register.

You kept your head down as you placed the basket on the conveyor belt, easy peasy, you would be fine!

“Found everything you were looking for?” a voice asks, piercing through your mental rehearsal just in case you got questions.

You blink, head raising up, exposing your face to the person behind the register.

It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal.

Checking things out at the register wasn’t supposed to be all that embarrassing. I mean, what could top having to buy pads and tampons from a creepy, greasy old man during your very first period ever?! But you had to admit seeing a familiar face behind the register as he began to scan the items in your cart kinda made it a big deal.

Todoroki Shouto read his name tag, and ‘TODOROKI SHOUTO?!’ screamed your heart.

Oh, how to describe Todoroki Shouto, well you didn’t even know where to begin.

Shouto was one thousand percent a supermodel that has yet to be recruited. He could probably be a top star athlete, good enough to go overseas if he wanted. He was a genius. Someone who was somehow friends with everyone he came across even though he was a man of few words.

He stood tall behind the register, the tight black high collared shirt sitting beneath a light blue opened dress shirt. His distinctive red and white slightly wavy hair — all-natural, you believe — pushed back in a way that you would bet to hell and back that he had run his fingers through it. For the past three years in university, you had more than a few classes with this stunning man. You two shared the same major, and he often sat at the back of the classroom, but you were nearly hyperaware of everything he did because his voice was liquid honey and sex and everything that was —

“You can let go of the basket,” Shouto cut through your thoughts, and you gasped loudly, suddenly realizing that you had zoned out thinking about him.

Your hand lets go of the basket, and you slap your sweater-covered hands over your mouth; horror strikes through you like a blazing sword. You weren’t wearing makeup, you were in trash clothes, and you were in front of a man you had lusting feelings over!

NO!

“Sorry!” you squeak, your heart and bile rising up your throat at alarming rates as Shouto merely smiles at you in understanding. “This is all stuff for my sister!”

Shouto blinks, his head tilting to the side as he scans a sippy cup.

“Your sister’s quite young,” he remarks easily, trying not to make you feel stupider—probably.

Tell the lie, y/n, you chide yourself as you shift your weight.

“Ah, well, not actually my sister,” you explain, fingers scratching against your scalp. “My sister is pregnant r-right now, and she already has a little one, so I thought that this would be a good… present?”

Nailed it.

Shouto’s eyebrows quirk, a small smile spreading across his face as he scans the plush doll.

“That’s very kind of you; you must have a good relationship with your sister.”

“O-Oh yeah, we’re very close.”

“And would you say that this is something appropriate to give to a pregnant family member and their child?”

You froze and looked down at the items you had hastily thrown into the basket.

It was a pacifier, sippy cup, baby blanket, choker, coloring books, stuffed animal, candy, and stickers.

You choked, feeling heat exploding in your cheeks all over again; absolutely not. This was not something to give to a pregnant woman.

“My sister is pregnant,” Shouto explains, definitely sensing your poorly concealed stress, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m the youngest of my siblings, so I don’t really know what to buy her.”

“Absolutely the fuck not.”

Shouto blinked, and before you could start screaming apologies over your rudeness, he began laughing loudly. Your face continued to burn in your utter humiliation and shame, but Shouto only found amusement in this all as he began to place your items away in a bag.

“What are your recommendations then?” Shouto finally asked, his lips pulled back into an easy, teasing grin. “And that’ll be forty-eight seventy-three.”

You shoved your card into the chip scanner immediately, your gaze everywhere but on him.

“I think you should get whatever your sister wants or still needs,” you quickly say, eyes now focusing on the Approved message on the machine. “Every person is different.”

“I suppose,” Shouto agrees, his arms crossing against his chest, and you have to resist the temptation to ogle at the way his muscles become sinfully pronounced. “Well, I won’t hold you up. See you in lecture tomorrow, y/l/n.”

“Bye!” you squawk, grabbing your bag and racing out.

His eyes burn into your back the entire rush out of the store, but you find that you can’t seem to worry about that. You’re much more elated and somehow horrified at the realization that he knew exactly who you were.

Step zero of who knows how many to get Todoroki Shouto to fall in love with you, complete!

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“So, about the upcoming paper assignment, I’m sure you’re all eager to get started on,” your professor’s voice boomed throughout the lecture hall, his arms folding across his chest as he leans against the podium with an easy grin. “I decided that I would be nice and allow for some partnering up!”

Your eyes widened as excited murmurs exploded through the classroom.

Partners for a ten-page paper? You were going to thank god almighty.

But, at the same time, you frowned. This was a class where you didn’t exactly know anyone. It was a course outside of your own major, and with your usual friends not in this class, you knew that you were going to have to go out of your way to find a partner. You withered a bit in your chair, not entirely on board with that train of thought.

“There are an uneven amount of you guys in the class, though,” your professor continued, still sporting that easy grin on his face. “And I decided that instead of having too many groups of three, and because I was so nice to allow partner work, I decided to make the partners. Look at the pinned paper at the door for your partner or partners for the group of three! No, I will not allow trades, and no, I will not allow complaining! Be grateful!”

Hopeful and exasperated murmurs sounded through the room as the professor dismissed the class and frantic movement followed after. Even as old as they were, everyone was desperate and eager to see who a random generator assigned them to. Packing up swiftly, you threw your bag over your shoulder and began walking towards the list.

You wonder who you were gonna get.

“Y/l/n,” a voice spoke softly, lowly by your ear.

You whipped around — one part startled, a second part curious — and came to see Todoroki Shouto standing slightly behind you. His gaze was at the wall for a moment, dropping only when you were looking up at him. He smiles slowly, and you feel your chest tighten.

Oh boy.

“Todoroki,” you smile, attempting to relax completely in front of him. “Any hopes as to who’s your partner?”

“Well, as long as it isn’t Sero, I think it’ll be okay,” Shouto’s eyes crinkle with his deepened smile. “Last time I did a paper with him, we did it completely high—” you choke, eyes widening at the thought of trying to be eloquent enough to write a paper while high. “—It was terrible.”

“Oh, I bet,” you laugh, arms crossing across your chest as the two of you begin inching forward within the crowd, others leaving with proud laughs, curious frowns, or aggravated groans. “But at least it sounds like it was turned in?”

“It was,” Shouto nods, his teeth flashing as he finally tears his gaze from you. “Oh, would you look at that?”

You hum, eyes squinting as you try to read the list through the many heads before you.

Y/l/n, Todoroki S.

“Would you look at that.”

“Seems like we’re partners,” you laugh, relief and horror flooding your body.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

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So, it was decided that with the two weeks given to write the paper and taking Shouto’s job into account, this paper was to be written as soon as possible. The suggestion of working on it together in the same room and not just through google doc was brought up and agreed upon. So with consensus on that, the matter of where it was going to happen was brought up.

“We can do it at my place,” Shouto offered with a shrug, “my house is pretty big.”

“I don’t have a car,” you interject, a frown on your face — you wanted to see his house. “My apartment is five minutes from campus. Is that alright?”

A smile.

“That’s perfect.”

And so, on a Friday afternoon, you found yourself already apologizing profusely as you walked up the staircase that smelled just a tiny bit of cheese. You warned him about the mess of your apartment. About how not to judge you on any and all messes you might have made on your way out! That you would have cleaned up had you known this was happening!

“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Shouto spoke, attempting to ease your anxiety as you push your key in the doorknob and turn it. “I really don’t mind a messy place.”

“Ha, well, this is it,” you say, your face feeling disgustingly warm as you breach the entrance to your small one bedroom one bathroom place. “Leave your shoes right there, and we can head in!”

Toeing off your own shoes, you scrambled into the apartment, eyes wide as you attempted to make sure that nothing was crazily messy or out of place. There wasn’t any dirty laundry or undergarments anywhere? No, good!

Shouto locks the door behind himself, a chuckle at the back of his throat vibrating in his chest as he watches you skirt about. He looks down at the shoes you were wearing, white sneakers, and smirks at how small they look compared to his. He never really thought he was that tall or big, to be honest. It was a decent size for someone from his family, but it amused him greatly to see his things pushed against yours.

He looked back up, eyes landing on your flustered face as you stood by a table in the kitchen area.

“Ready?” he asked, hands shoving into his pockets.

“I believe so!”

And for some reason, probably the very same reason that had him entranced by you, Shouto laughs and steps foot into your apartment.

The paper itself isn’t that hard.

It’s an argumentative piece mostly on a Green Act proposal that was currently being debated within the government body. A paper that was fifty percent argument was something you were elated to have, but the other fifty percent was using sources and articles to further back your point. It was now two hours into the paper writing, takeout filling the empty spaces between the table as Shouto’s laughter and your ranting filled the open air. It was nice; he was nice to hang out with.

“I’m just saying we are nearing a universal climate disaster, and I do not want to be wondering when I will die because some fat old men with huge wallets want to continue getting richer!” you yelled, your chest heaving with your lack of proper air. “It’s dumb!”

“I bet if you grabbed ahold of their favorite toupees, they’d fold and agree,” Shouto teases, his grin covered by the mug he’s currently drinking tea from. “I’ll bail you out of prison.”

“I wouldn’t go to prison for that,” you argue, arms folding across your chest as you shake your head in solemn understanding. “They’d murder me and make it look like an accident.”

“Dark.”

“You know it.”

“I’ll avenge you.”

“You better, or else I’ll blame you for my murder.”

Shouto’s jaw dropped, ready to retaliate with something else, but he was interrupted by a loud call from your phone. You frowned, head tilting as you pulled your phone out from your jean pocket and stared at the screen.

Incoming call from: dd.

“I have to take this,” you say apologetically, standing up as you answered the call. You waited until you were in your bedroom before placing the phone to your head, your heart hammering with the unknown. “Hello?”

Shouto heard the click of your bedroom door, and he sighed, leaning back into his chair. His eyes looked up at the ceiling, momentarily bored now that he wasn’t with you. He wondered who ‘dd’ was and if you were alright. He hoped it wasn’t anything serious.

Grabbing his water cup, Shouto frowned, seeing that it was empty. He looked over at the sink where you had initially filled up the water cups. You wouldn’t mind if he filled it up on his own, right? Shouto pushed back his chair and stood, the cup resting in his fingers as he walked over towards the sink with a light hum.

He filled the cup slowly, not wanting to make too much noise. But as he stared at the drying dishes on your dish holder, he frowned at the sight of the pink sippy cup you had bought from the store last week. It was cleaned, obviously used, and he tilted his head.

Weird.

The cupboard was open, and Shouto couldn’t help but look into the dark wood and startled once again when he took in the neatly folded bib and the nearly innocuous pacifier sitting on top of it. Untouched, undisturbed, but used — definitely used.

Frowning, he took a slow, long drink of his water as he stared out towards the small living room you had. There, sitting on the wood coffee table, was the coloring book you had also purchased. That wasn’t adding up… if they were for your sister’s kids, why were they here? It didn’t exactly seem like the place to be holding them.

Shouto thought, trying to figure out just why you had all these things for… well, children.

Was testing products on your own a thing people did?

Well, yes, he supposed so, but these were already licensed products. The coloring book, well, he guesses that was a pretty normal thing! Drawing and coloring were everyday stress relieves — his mother often used that to help herself. But a pacifier, a bip, and a sippy cup? The only thing he could rationalize with that was—

“You’re being fucking ridiculous, daddy!” your voice harshly whispered (maybe ridiculed and mocked) from your room, just loud enough that Shouto heard, and his eyes widened.

Oh.

Ohh fuck.

“You know what, this isn’t working,” you scoff, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as you roll your eyes to the heavens above. “This was a good trial run, but I’m going to have to end this. This is not what I was looking for.”

“Come on, brat, you know you don’t mean that—”

You hung up, your fingers curled in a fist as you growled lowly at the screen. You wasted no time in blocking the number. What a fucking terrible daddy he was. Didn’t buy you anything, didn’t support you, or help you. There was no dynamic in this relationship. It was just a power-hungry dom with a streak for being called daddy.

A fucking poser at best.

Rolling your eyes, you tossed your phone onto your bed and walked out of your room back to the main area of your place. You looked at Shouto, who was sitting in his chair, his face bored, maybe a bit tired, and his face was concentrated on his phone — he was idly scrolling through it.

“Sorry that took so long,” you apologize, slinking back onto your chair, hands rubbing your face. “I tried to be fast about that.”

Shouto peered past the top of his phone, a comforting smile on his face, “Don’t worry about it; it wasn’t like we were intensely working on the paper anyways.”

You smile, slightly embarrassed.

“That’s true, um—”

“I think it’s time—”

The both of you spoke over each other clumsily, awkwardly — both of you obviously thinking of something that wasn’t quite in front of you. Your smile feels less forced now, “we’re done for the day?”

Shouto shifts in his chair, his head dropping slightly in agreement, “I think that would be best. We did a lot today, though.”

“We did!” you agree with a laugh, standing up and grabbing the items off the table, assisting Shouto with getting ready to leave. “We’ll meet back up in two days?”

Shouto nods, “that sounds like a plan.”

You help him pack up, insisting that you could clean up the kitchen without his help. It takes a few minutes, but finally, you have him walking out of your place, a light wave on your hand before he exits onto the staircase. You close the door with a sigh.

Jesus Christ.

Shouto stands in the stairway, his eyes concentrated on his phone where he has a single question typed into his browser.

ddlg dynamics ↳ Let’s talk DDLG, also known as Daddy Dom Little Girl. It’s a submissive/dominant relationship where the dom is known as a “Daddy,” and the submissive is known as a “Little Girl.”

...Interesting.

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Now, you were a pretty paranoid person; you could admit that.

You didn’t like being paranoid, but you were. Most days, you always triple-checked you weren’t being followed, quadruple-checked you had your school assignments turned in and your things in your bag. With your sex life and part of your social life being introduced to the ddlg dynamic, your paranoia grew even more.

Most people weren’t understanding — they weren’t. They assumed this dynamic was simply calling your dom daddy in bed and getting called princess in return! They always believed that, allowed for that. It was socially acceptable to call your dom daddy in bed, but god fucking forbid any other part of the dynamic come into play.

You remember reading comments in articles about grown women sitting in frilly skirts and diapers as part of her dynamic and watching grown adults tear her apart — skin and bones. That was the reaction you feared, you hated.

There was a reason why you enjoyed sitting in your frilly skirts, in your white and baby pink clothes. You loved having your dom come home, tired and stressed, and ask you, his little girl, to sit on his lap while he distressed. You enjoyed the sippy cups that helped to melt your anxiety, and you enjoyed doing chores under your doms watchful eye.

The praises, the rewards were always so uplifting, and the sex was always on an intensity that made you tremble with explosive satisfaction. If your dom wanted you in diapers, you would negotiate appropriately, and you sure as hell didn’t need a fucking stranger’s opinion on whether or not that was ‘normal.’

But no amount of confidence you had in your dynamic had ever eased the bottomless paranoia and anxiety.

Hence why after Shouto had left your apartment and you realized in horror that you had left out some damning evidence to your dynamic. The coloring book on your coffee table and the sippy cup that was obviously used were on full display. You wondered for a few hours, nearly spirling with anxiety if he had noticed — if that was why he was partially stiff as he left for the day. You had only managed to calm down when he had sent you a text later that night that he had enjoyed being over and was looking forward to working together the next day.

The praise was needed, seeping warm into your bones as you rolled over in your bed and knocked out.

You thought that you were in the clear. That that was as far as things were going to go, but your paranoia came back the next day in full force as you sat in a group with Shouto.

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“Do you want a sticker?”

That was the beginning of it all.

You had accepted the sticker without a second thought. Your typical barriers down because the lack of a dom in your life was throwing you for a bit. God, you were pathetic. You had smiled brightly, eagerly nodding as you thrust your hands out towards Shouto, waiting to receive a sticker.

“Good job,” he had said with an endearing smile, “you deserve it.”

It was only then that the weight of what happened settled on your bones, and you froze.

Fuck.

Smiling stiffly, you pressed the sparkly pink star to your shirt and returned back to your assignment, unable to speak up again for some time.

You had hoped that it was going to end there, but it seemed that nothing about your life was going in your favor right now.

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“Do you have a bedtime?” Shouto idly asked one late night when he was over, and you could not stop yawning to save your life. “I think everyone should go to bed at 10 p.m. on a school night, don’t you agree?”

You had choked on your saliva before disagreeing vehemently.

“I don’t sleep until… like, um, three in the morning?” you make up, teeth tearing into your lip as you avoided eye contact.

“Such a bad girl,” Shouto murmured, much too low for you to pick up.

“What?!”

“That’s bad for your health,” he recovered with a smile.

“Oh… yeah, I suppose so.”

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“Y/l/n is a sub; she’s a brat about that,” Shouto said to the group you both were assigned to in yet another class the two of you shared.

You had been idly drinking from your coffee cup and was utterly zoned out when he said that. So when you had picked up his words, you nearly choked at the sentence, your eyes watering and your throat burning with your drink and humiliation as the entire table turned to look at you.

“Oh shit, are you okay?!” Mina asked, eyes wide.

“I’m a what?!” you splutter instead, eyes focused on Shouto and your cheeks beginning to burn with unsaid fear.

“You’re a substitute babysitter for your sister,” Shouto remarked, his head tilted as he feigned innocence. “You were telling me about that the other day, remember? Sero is trying to get into the babysitting gig too.”

You wanted to believe him, you wanted so desperately to believe that Shouto was just somehow landing a missile into every paranoid corner of your life without meaning to, but this was getting out of control. This was too on the head, too obvious to not say that he somehow saw your little things and pieced together the dynamic you’ve come to love and thrive in. But you couldn’t fess up; you wouldn’t give yourself to the wolves of embarrassment and shame over something you knew wasn’t wrong.

“Oh,” you say stiffly, smiling over at Sero, “I’m on an app that is used a lot by small families; I can text you the name?”

“I’d appreciate that!” Sero laughs, blissfully unaware of the rising tension between you and Shouto. “I didn’t think that high school girls had some type of business turf thing; they’re scary and aggressive!”

“It’s a serious job for high schoolers,” Mina waved him off, “this is the only thing most of them can do!”

The conversation between Sero and Mina began to drift off as you were staring at Shouto, unable to break the eye contact the both of you found yourselves connected by. You didn’t want to pull away, too bitter and anxious to. You were currently two weeks without a daddy dom in your life, and you knew that you should be able to have a better grasp on your life than this — you knew you couldn’t lean on this dynamic at every point in your life. But you were sad to admit that you were struggling to keep your head afloat. You felt like you were almost drowning, struggling to keep your composure as you needed a play or a simple scene.

But the confidence in Shouto’s eyes that were hidden behind the sheer curiosity and wonder was making your skin itch, making you want to grab him by the collar and bring him in close and demand to know exactly what he was thinking.

He would not embarrass you.

He would not.

“Can I talk to you, Todoroki?” you asked, practically demanded of Shouto as the group of you began to stand at the table, readying to leave.

If you noticed Mina’s and Sero’s eyebrows shoot up towards the ceiling, you didn’t say anything as Shouto paused in putting things into his backpack. His head tilted, but he nodded his head, “yeah, about what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile stiffly, tossing your own backpack over your shoulder as you turn on your heel and immediately begin walking. Uncaring if he was following you or not. “Bye, Mina, Sero.”

There’s silence behind you before the heady sound of a chair scraping against the floor is heard and the long, quick strides of Shouto following after you. You exit the cafe you had been in, eyes squinting when the harsh rays of sun fall on your face, but you don’t hesitate or pause even once.

There’s no one outside right now; it’s just you and Shouto.

You feel him at your shoulder, and you keep your gaze straight ahead, unwilling to look at him just yet.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” you finally whisper, your voice low and angry. You nearly spat them out at him, utterly humiliated and horrified that you were probably outing yourself should he just be that dense and annoyingly able to pick at your anxiety. “Stop it.”

“I don’t—” Shouto began, eyes wide and screaming of innocence that could make you cry.

“I know you saw my things, and I know you pieced it together,” you cut him off, your lips pursed tight. You suddenly stop in your tracks, tears burning at the back of your eyes as you turn to face Shouto. “So if you have a problem with that, I suggest that you kindly fuck off!”

Shouto stands next to you, hair hastily swept backward, hand on the strap of his bag, and his face telling you that you had miscalculated something. You prayed it wasn’t about how he knew about you being a little.

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Shouto admits, his hand raising to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t think you’re weird or strange or bad for being into the ddlg dynamic. I’m actually… I take part in it too. I was trying to subtly tell you that I was into it as well, and well, I heard that you and your last dom broke it off… I wanted to tell you that I was interested in becoming your new dom.”

You blink.

“Eh?!”

“I’m interested in forming an agreement with you?” Shouto tilts his head; there’s a sense of seriousness to his face, his eyes innocent. “I need a little, and if you’re looking for a dom…”

He lets the silence fill the rest of his sentence, and your mouth gapes open as blood rushes to your face at the straightforward request.

“I… I barely know you!” you splutter, your heart in your ears as you can barely comprehend what was going on.

Two weeks ago, Todoroki Shouto was practically a stranger. You knew him about as well as a person knew the barista at their favorite coffee shop. Friendly, but not close. Definitely not close enough for you to say that you would allow for him to see you in your little space, for him to give you a list of rewards and punishments — for possible sex?!

“Most caregiver contracts like this are done between people who know even less,” Shouto shrugs, his arms folded across his chest. “You don’t have to say yes now or even agree, but I like you a lot. I want to pursue a relationship with you, and I assumed that this would be a good starting ground especially if you need it.”

Your tongue sweeps across your lips, unable to come up with a single rationale thing to say.

“I don’t need an answer right now; indulge me, though,” Shouto smiles softly, his gaze dropping for a moment. “Take as much time as you need. We can do a single scene to test it out, and if it doesn’t work out, no hard feelings. Let me know when you’re interested in it, though.”

You can’t say anything; you can only numbly nod as Shouto smiles at you once again.

“Let me know.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [received Today 23:44]

Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [seen 7 Days Ago 23:44]

You: ↳ Send your points, we can see if we’re compatible. [seen now]

Todoroki S.: ↳ I enjoyed the scene we did today; I hope you did too. I’m interested in making this a real thing if you are too. [received Today 20:44]

You: ↳ I did, too, actually, lol. Um, thank you, first of all! We can work on the contract now. [received Today 20:48]

Todoroki S.: ↳ Okay. I’ve already made the first draft of one; if you’d like to look it over, let me know what you think, and we can edit some things around. [seen now]

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It has been two months since the contract was signed.

Two months.

Two months of Shouto practically living in your apartment with you, a once stranger seeing you at your most vulnerable. He was a steady hand on your back as you slipped into your desired little space, a constant warmth at your side as you went about your day at home.

It had been weird at first; your anxiety still wouldn’t let up, nearly convincing you many times that this was all but a prank. That Shouto would pull away from you when you least expected it and would expose you to the world. There had been many times where he would hold you on his lap, his arms warm around your back, your favorite stuffed animal sitting on your lap as he promised you that you were wrong.

“Daddy is here to protect you, sunshine,” Shouto murmured in your ear, his warm lips pressing to the small behind your ear. “Daddy would never do that to my baby girl. That wouldn’t make me happy.”

“I-It wouldn’t?” you sniffled, your nose face nuzzling further into his neck as your sobs had finally stopped.

“No, not at all, sunshine,” Shouto smiled against the crown of your head. You felt his lips press a soft kiss there, his warm hands stroking up and down your back. “Do you remember what makes Daddy happy?”

You blink, your wet eyelashes heavy and sticking together as you peer at his jaw as if it could possibly tell you.

“I can’t… I can’t remember, sorry, Daddy,” you sniffle again, suddenly terrified that he would be upset with you. You were such a terrible baby girl.

“What makes Daddy happy is seeing his baby girl smiling, happy, protected, and safe,” Shouto easily relays, pulling you away from his shoulder, his calloused fingers rubbing the tear streaks that still stain down your face. “I promise that I will never do anything to cause you harm, sunshine. I only want you to be happy; you being happy makes me happy like nothing before.”

There’s no stopping the way your bottom lip trembles with the pleasant weight of his words, the way it warms you from your belly and curls to your toes.

“Pinky promise?” you whimper, somehow out of breath.

Shouto looks at your curved pinky that is extended out for him to hold, to seal the other half of a promise he has no intentions of ever breaking.

Smiling softly, Shouto wraps his pinky with yours and twists it gently, locking the promise.

“Pinky promise,” he affirms, placing a kiss to your knuckles.

He was so good to you.

So sweet, gentle, patient, and kind.

He tended to spend the night Mondays through Fridays, giving you the weekend to be on your own. He only ever slept in your bed with your given consent (which was every single time), and there was just something about wearing the silver chained choker on your neck that he bought for you. Dainty and cute, nothing too crazy to draw overwhelming attention.

It had a tiny cherry blossom that was engraved with Shouto on the back.

It was a constant and calming reminder of what you had during the day.

The arrangement was going better than you had assumed it was going to be.

Shouto made for an excellent daddy, but there was one grievance you had. With two months of extreme kinship, so many nights of being curled into his side, getting near-daily cuddles for following his orders perfectly, and a few spanks because you were careless even after he warned you — you had assumed that the sexual part of the dynamic would come out.

You had okayed for him to be able to fuck you, regardless of whether or not you were in little space! You reached your little space more often than not around him because he was so well, but now you were bordering desperation. You wanted your daddy to please you more, to give you the reward you wanted most: his cock.

“I’m home, bunny,” Shouto called out, his voice hinting exhaustion but mostly satisfaction at being home again.

Per your rules and regulations, greeting Shouto with a cheerful ‘welcome home, daddy!’ when he arrived home was a must. It was a clear indicator that not only were you home but that you wished to indulge in the dynamic for the rest of the day.

But you sat at the coffee table wearing an unapproved, not chosen outfit for home.

You were wearing an off-the-shoulder white cotton shirt that was big and soft, pink lace shorts that barely covered your ass but was hemmed with lace and pretty frill. You had thigh highs on as well that were the same pink as your shorts. There was a pacifier in your mouth, your gaze focused on the Disney coloring book in front of you as you colored in Sleeping Beauty.

You turned your head, eyes looking at your daddy with a vague look of disinterest before turning back to your coloring.

“I said ‘I’m home,’ bunny,” Shouto restated, giving you the benefit of the doubt of whether or not you heard him. Typically you were excited to have him home, going to his side immediately and asking a million questions as to what he had been doing and why he was home so late.

“Hmph,” was your response as you placed a sticker onto the coloring page.

Shouto’s eyebrows furrowed; he toed off his shoes and began walking towards you, assessing what was happening.

“Is my bunny mad that I was a bit later than I had promised?” he asked, sitting on the couch behind you, his fingers brushing across your clothes as if he was trying to remember if he had selected this outfit. But the sudden touch that you were craving in a way like no other made your head spin just so, and you resisted the motion of caving.

You wanted to be a brat! Your daddy should be taking care of all your needs! He promised he would be taking care of you better than you took care of yourself! He should know when you wanted his cock!

“Hmph!” you hrmph again, and you lean out of his touch even though you craved it.

Although you couldn’t see him, you could feel the slow, calculating blink Shouto took at this action. There’s a moment of silence before the couch sounds under his shifting weight. You freeze at the feeling of his warm palm on your spine, a whisper of danger. It feels partially like a threat, a reminder of impending consequences.

“What did daddy say about bunny using her words?” Shouto asks, his voice stern, low, commanding.

It should scare you, but the threat in his voice makes your heart stammer and your cunt wet. So, instead of doing what’s right, you stand up, ignoring him yet again as you stick your nose up to the ceiling and try to walk away.

Well, you try to, that is.

Before you can go too far, Shouto’s fingers are wrapped around your wrist, keeping you in place.

“You know I don’t like it when you don’t speak, right?” Shouto asks, his eyes digging into your cheek as you refuse to look at him. Yet another rule he has in place. You had to look at him when he spoke to you or when you spoke to him. It was to help make sure that you behaved properly in public — to make you the best baby girl ever. “Use your words and look at me, princess.”

The word princess rolled off his tongue, and you bit down on your tongue to keep the breathy moan from expelling from your lips. He typically only used princess when you were on the verge of genuinely displeasing him, when he was warning you one last time before a punishment was given. Your daddy was two months without jacking off, exhausted from work, and now dealing with you, his bratty baby girl. There was no way this wasn’t going to end with him forcing you to suck him off or to use you as an onahole (something you had said was okay unless you used your safeword, of course).

You shook in his hold, teeth biting your lip as you stared at the wall, refusing to heed his command.

“I’ll give you to the count of three to look at me and address me,” Shouto says, his thumb stroking the innard of your wrist. “One.”

There was no way you would cave.

“Two.”

The silence between the two of you was heavy.

“One.”

Excitement shot through you at the thought of him finally fucking you into your mattress.

“No dessert tonight,” is what Shouto said instead, and you froze.

You whipped your head towards Shouto, fury, and humiliation painting your face as your jaw drops, the pacifier falling onto the floor.

“No!”

“No?” Shouto repeats, his eyes narrowed, unhappy with the challenge. “Do you want me to take away your video games too?”

“No!” you shriek, hands clawing at your face because this was not going the way it was going. “I want my dessert and my video games!”

“Too bad, princess,” Shouto states sternly, unaffected by your growing tantrum. “You lost them both for tonight.”

“No! Give them back! I haven’t done anything wrong, daddy!” you scream, throwing your arms in your hysterics as Shouto stands up to his full height, looming over you without a single issue. Tears prick at the back of your eyes because you’ve messed up somehow; your daddy doesn’t want you — doesn’t love you the way you love him.

“You’ve been misbehaving this entire time I’ve come back home,” Shouto retorts, his other hand grabbing your wrist and managing to place them both close to his chest, limiting your thrashing actions. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the new outfit.”

“I don’t want those punishments, daddy! I don’t want t-them,” you wheeze, your eyes locked on your hands that are bound so tightly in his hands, and you whimper loudly. “You’re hurting me, daddy!”

“And you’re trying to hurt me,” Shouto calmly points out. “I can’t have you doing that, so I’ll hold onto you until you calm down enough. I’m doing this because I care for my little brat.”

“You don’t care! You don’t c-care!” you sob finally, unable to keep the hot tears from your eyes. “Daddy doesn’t care about me!”

The effect is evident and instant.

Shouto’s grip on your wrist lessens altogether, and your pounding fists finally connect with his chest as you collapse against him.

“Daddy doesn’t c-care…”

“That’s not true,” Shouto breathes easily, his fingers brushing against your sides before his arms wrap around you. “I care so much for you, baby. What’s wrong? Tell me what I can do to make things better.”

A loud sniffle emits from you, and you fist your hands in his shirt, your head shaking.

“It’s been two months, and daddy won’t let me have his cummies,” you whisper, terrified that he would reject you. “Am I not good enough? Attractive enough that daddy wants to reward me with his dick?”

There’s a shift in the air.

“My little doll wants her daddy’s cock, is that what?” Shouto murmured against the top of your head. “My precious, innocent baby girl wants something filthy like that.”

“Mmn,” was all you could manage, your face burning at the implications, the suggestion in his voice.

“And instead of using her words, as we practice, she decided to act like a little brat to get her way,” Shouto’s voice is low, raspy, and deep. Its tenor is just right that it makes the room instantly hotter, your body brimming with excited energy. “I think… my beautiful doll has broken too many rules for me to just give her a good reward. She deserves to be my little doll as punishment for now. I thought she was grown enough to ask for things she wanted.”

You gasp as Shouto’s warm, calloused hands drop down to the minimally exposed flesh between your booty shorts and your thigh highs. It sends an entire wave of goosebumps down your skin, and you shudder as they rise upwards, slipping under your shirt and resting on the soft skin of your stomach.

“Your punishment will be what daddy wants it to be, doll,” Shouto states, his fingernails brushing over your clothed nipples, and you mewl at the touch. “You’ve given up your right to speak right now, and because daddy can’t trust you to not be a brat, you will suck daddy’s dick until I see it fit. You will stand on your knees like the beautiful doll daddy knows you can be. Silent, obedient, and so beautiful.”

The words are a goldmine you’ve wanted to hear this entire time, but you’re upset — rightfully upset — that it took your daddy so long to figure it out! He needed you to spell it out for him to act on it!

“I don’t like sucking dicks!” you complain, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “That’s yucky!”

Shouto raised an eyebrow at that, his eyes flashing dangerously as he absorbed the implications of your actions. He knew he was going to earn this just as much as you were.

“Excuse me?” Shouto says calmly, a single eyebrow arched. “Do you want to repeat that?”

“You heard m-me,” you stammer, trying to remain steady under his steady stare. “If daddy couldn’t catch that, maybe I should be the one giving out the punishments.”

A hot, predatory smirk pulls across his face as his grip on your wrist tightens, and he yanks you just slightly closer towards him.

“Oh really?” he chuckles so coldly you shiver. “So you think you’re in charge here?”

You nod slowly, your pupils wide and blown. Your eyes were transfixed on his mouth, his pretty plump lips practically calling your name.

His tongue swipes across his front teeth, and you watch him in awe, horror, and damning horny anticipation as he sits back on the couch and takes you down with him. You struggle for a bit, terrified as you feel unbalanced, ready to tumble to the floor. But your stomach is pressed heavily against his knees, pleasurable discomfort spreading through your body as you recognize this easy, beautiful spanking position.

“I’m going to give you ten spanks,” Shouto announces, his hand rubbing smooth circles over your soft shorts. “You will count every one of them and thank me for each one. If you mess up, if you misbehave, you will get more until you do as I demand.”

You struggle against his hold, thrashing and twisting as his fingers push the shorts higher up your ass, exposing your flesh to him. But as he did so, you remember that you’re not wearing panties, and Shouto sees that too.

“Mm, you’re not wearing panties,” Shouto says, his voice trying to keep the undying want and lust from bleeding through his tone. “My precious doll is that desperate she couldn’t fully dress herself?”

“I can d-dress— aahhh!!!!”

Your interjection was interrupted by the sharp, well-practiced spank that Shouto delivered to your round ass. You arched against his lap, your skin tingling and feeling pathetically good.

“I said you were my doll right now, and dolls don’t speak unless given permission to,” Shouto clipped, his hand circling your now tender flesh. “You didn’t count, so let's try again.”

SLAP.

“Oh my god!” you shriek at the contact, your head spinning at the craved touch. It wasn’t like his typical spanks, the ones that came down not to hurt but to remind you, to correct you to be better. These stung with power, reminding you that you were getting what you craved, and you felt your toes curl and your cunt beginning to seep with the knowledge.

Fuck, you wanted this.

THWACK.

“Again.”

THWACK.

“Daddy can spank your pretty little ass all day, doll. Do as you’re told if you want daddy’s cock.”

SPANK.

“O-One, thank you, daddy!”

WHACK!

You threw your head back at the sensation, your eyes crossing and your hips bucking backward as you shriek with pleasure. You don’t count, your head swimming with unfound energy, and Shouto tsks.

“You’re so terrible at following directions, aren’t you?” Shouto asks, his mouth hovering by your ear, and you nearly melt when his teeth tug at your cartilage at the same time he serves another heated spank to your perky ass. “Such a dirty brat, getting off on her punishments. But let me tell you, if you don’t start following what I instruct of you, I’ll fuck your mouth and leave you without any cummies.”

You gasp loudly, sobbing as he delivers yet another solid spank for your undoubtedly bruising ass. And so, with a pathetic, desperate nod, you agree.

You count to ten, thanking him each time with a beautiful sob that makes the bulge in his pants obvious to you. Your lips are swollen, bruised, and sheen with saliva from holding back your louder sobs. Your ass seems to be imprinted with the shape of his hand against your skin, and you tumble off his lap at the final thank you.

There’s slick gathered on your shorts, soaking through the pretty pink fabric turning it dark.

“I forget that my beautiful baby girl is a masochist,” Shouto sighs as he stands up in front of you. You gasp on the floor, your head swimming with the building heat between your legs, and you hear an all too familiar, always exciting, sound of a belt being undone followed quickly by a zipper and rustling fabric.

“God, you’re so wonderful, doll,” Shouto sighs as he pulls out his hardening cock to where you’re already on your knees with wide, curious, hopeful eyes. “Already on your knees, ready to choke on daddy’s cock even though this is a punishment.”

You can barely register his words, your eyes focused and fascinated — scared almost — of the cock Shouto has. It’s fucking huge, and it’s thick, slightly curved upward with a pretty flushed tip and bulging veins. You were sure if you could even manage to take more than a few inches in!

“I think I remember something about how you don’t like deep throating,” Shouto hums contemplatively. You freeze, your heart stopping for just a moment at what he’s implying. “Well, it’s a good thing this is a punishment.”

His fingers press into your mouth, making you choke, and with your lips spread wide, mouth open for taking, Shouto guides his cock into your parted lips with a dangerous moan.

There's an immediate ache in your jaw, the size, and girth of his cock overwhelming you without so much doubt. You gag immediately at the weight of it pressing on your tongue, filling your mouth. Heat hammers in your cunt, and you heave against him.

Shouto sighs as if he was in heaven, his hands grabbing the back of your head and slamming your head as far down his cock. So far that your nose brushed against the skin of his stomach, before pressing against it completely.

Shouto moans louder than your panicked gags and chokes, his hips swirling and twisting as he looks down at you with lovesick eyes. “You’re so good at this,” Shouto praises, his fingers wiping away the tears that prick at your eyes. “So good. Daddy’s so pleased with you, taking my cock so well. So beautiful even when you cry on my dick.”

Your throat spasms around his cock, your lungs burning severely from the lack of oxygen. Not a single part of your body able to relax as you desperately sought to breathe. It hurt, but it felt so good. Saliva began to pool from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin and drooling on your clothed breasts.

Shouto took notice and hummed contently.

“Daddy’s going to count to the number ten,” he informed you, rolling his hips further into your mouth, shoving his cock even further down your throat than you thought possible. “If you can keep your pretty nose pressed to daddy’s stomach the entire time, daddy promises you he will give you the best orgasm you’ve ever received.”

You made a squeaking noise around his cock, your fingers that were buried into his shirt gripping tighter as he suddenly lets go of your head.

“One.”

Resisting the urge to pull off him completely was a near-losing battle.

“Two.”

Your body shook with intensity, the scorching need to properly breathe slamming down on you.

“Three… four…”

Shouto’s hands began to pet your head, soothing the worried lines on your face, brushing away your tears.

“Five… six… fuck, you’re so gorgeous, baby girl.”

You whimper around his cock, and Shouto moans liquid gold in return. He smiles deviously, fingers brushing down your throat.

“Seven… eight…” you choke loudly when his fingers press against your throat, tightening your already spasming throat around his cock, furthering the burning sensation all throughout your body. “Nine…”

You look at him with pleading eyes, wordlessly begging for mercy, for something as he pauses for more than a second between nine and ten. His hips lazily jerk into your mouth, his free hand combing his hair back, messily styling it as he smirks. Your saliva was dripping uncontrollably now, pooling at the back of your throat, on your tongue, past your lips. Shouto sighs, his eyes bright with power, with the knowledge that you were so obedient.

“Ten.”

Immediately, you collapse from his cock. Saliva and pre-cum connecting your coughing mouth to his hard dick still. Your lungs ache, and your breathing is frantic as you try to regain a sense of composure. Your tears meaning nothing so long as the inferno between your thighs is tamed.

“You did so well, baby girl,” Shouto praises, and despite the pain in your lungs, you puff up at the praise. “You did exactly what daddy asked for you, so daddy believes you deserve a reward. Do you agree?”

Unable to speak, your belly tight and warm, and your throat aching slightly, you nod eagerly.

“Use your words, angel,” Shouto coos; he steps out of his pants before squatting before you, his fingers grazing your chin. “Daddy loves it when he hears you speaking.”

“I would love a r-reward, daddy,” you whimper softly.

Your eyes swim with want, with inexplicable needs and desires. Shouto softens when he notices you nosing into his palms; he brushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“Look at how politely you asked that,” Shouto praises, kissing you softly on the corner of your mouth. “Daddy’s so proud of you, sweetheart.”

You keen some more, your wet eyelashes batting in your excitement and undying love for him.

“Now, daddy wants you to go to your room and take off all the clothes you want. Once you’re ready, I want you to call me in, and then daddy will take excellent care of you, okay?” Shouto commands you, his lips pressing softly onto your cheeks, eyelids, and finally softly onto your lips.

You gasp loudly at the touch, your eyes wide but looking incredibly drunk at the touch.

“Okay!” you giggle, pressing forward and taking his lips into another kiss.

He hums before assisting you to your feet, and you breathlessly laugh as you turn around and skip away towards your room.

Your room is neat, as is required of Shouto. Your bed is neatly organized; there’s nothing on the floor or on your chair. Everything is put away correctly and cleanly. Grinning, you take off your shirt followed by your bra, shimming off your shorts, you toss away your clothes into your hamper, leaving only your socks on.

Hopping onto your bed, you grab a stuffed animal before turning to face the door and sing.

“Daddy, I’m ready!!!”

You squeal after saying that, excitedly staring at the closed door, eagerly anticipating the way Shouto would walk in. Your eyelashes flutter when you see the doorknob twist and in comes Shouto, who, unlike you, is completely naked.

Now you knew he was fit, even with your mind beginning to sink into your little space, you knew that Shouto was a handsome, fine man. He was built, muscular, and toned. He was tall, his head nearly hitting the top of the door if it wasn’t for the fact he was leaning against the doorframe. There is a slight smile on his face that screams of his pride, his joy of seeing you like this. And his eyes rake like hot coals against your body.

You shudder.

“Aren’t you cute,” Shouto murmurs, pride evident in his tone. He walks towards you, tongue slipping between his lips as he reaches the foot of the bed. “Such a beautiful princess, but now… what does princess need?”

“I need my daddy to take care of me,” you whisper, eyes hooded and mouth turning dry as he begins leaning onto the bed. “I want my daddy.”

“Such a dirty girl,” Shouto says with a chuckle as you begin to lean back onto your bed, your legs spreading for him. “Such a dirty, gorgeous girl.”

Your breathing stutters as the bed moves under his weight, and you’re practically panting as you watch his body slowly crawl over yours. Shouto looks down at you, his eyes deceivingly bright even with the shadows, and your eyes flutter as he leans down.

You’re expecting a kiss, craving the feeling of his smooth, plump lips on yours. But you gasp in shock, betrayal, and in lust when his lips press against your earlobe. He trails his kisses everywhere, kissing every inch, every centimeter of your face, but never once your lips.

“Daddy, stop teasing!!” you whine loudly, feet kicking on the mattress and hands burying into his hair.

“I’m not teasing you,” Shouto objects, but the grin on his face says otherwise. “Why do you think I’m teasing you? What do you want?”

“I want daddy’s kisses! Give me your kisses!” you cry with a pout.

With a burst of cheerful laughter that warms your heart and makes your belly flip, Shouto presses downward, capturing your lips with his. The contact is blissful, everything and more that you need. You eagerly kiss him back, making noises that are both sinful and so blessedly innocent as your arms wrap around his neck.

Shouto kisses you back with matching intensity, one elbow resting by your head, the other resting on your hip as he allows your tongue to press into his mouth. He lets you greedily take what you want, his thumb on your hip drawing nonsensical pictures. But as you shudder against him, completely overwhelmed by this all. Shouto probes his tongue into your mouth, gliding his wet, hot muscle against the roof of your mouth and the back of your teeth until your panting, unable to do anything but absorb him.

“So pretty, so cute when you’re like this. A beautiful doll for her daddy,” Shouto whispers into your mouth, and you can only moan in response.

“I need daddy,” you speak, your glazed eyes unable to even look at Shouto. “I need daddy so bad.”

“Where does my princess need me?” Shouto speaks, his lips trailing down your slick chin and neck. “Right here?” he asks, sinking his teeth onto your neck and sucking softly.

“A-Aahhh~,” you shudder, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues to place hickey after hickey on your neck, your collarbones, and the spot right behind your ear that makes you melt. “Yes, I need you everywhere… I need daddy’s mouth and cummies in me.”

“Your boobs are so cute, baby girl,” Shouto whispers, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you notice that he’s nosing against your breasts. “So pretty, better than anything I could have hoped for.”

You whine loudly, your body arching off the bed as his hot tongue dips out and licks a pebbled nipple. You pant as he licks again, your fingers burying into his hair.

“Such beautiful nipples, you make your daddy so happy,” Shouto praises, and you gasp loudly as his mouth envelopes your nipple. Your cunt throbs with intriguing want, your socked feet traveling up the line of his leg as his teeth graze and move your nipple in his mouth. “You make me the proudest daddy ever.”

His fingers card down your stomach, trailing and lingering around your cunt, and yet never once touching it. It’s tactical, teasing, and mind spinning. Your clit spasms with needed attention, angry with the teasing, desperate for contact — for attention. You make a noise, something not quite human, unable to pull yourself from your growing fuzzy head as Shouto moves from one nipple to the next.

Shouto chuckles, his eyes of blue and grey flashing up at you dangerously, knowingly.

“Don’t tease me, daddy,” you whisper, hips circling, thrusting into the air where you wish his fingers were.

“Okay,” he promises, and as if he could read your thoughts, his teeth gently bit down on your untouched yet demanding nipple. Your head slams against the mattress, your chest once again feeling alive as if you had been electrocuted. He sucks your nipple, teeth tugging on the sensitive flesh, warm tongue, and spit sinking into your nerves. His fingers taking care of your lonesome nipple, keeping it company with gentle, purposeful rolls as he has you sobbing his name. And when you thought the teasing couldn’t get worse, his fingers finally land where you want it most.

On your clit.

“You’re perfect, angel; I love you so much.”

It happens then, like a warm blanket being placed over you — comforting, warm, making the pain in your body hum with only pleasure, and your body trembles with peaking need.

“I wanna… I wanna do more,” you coo, eyes heavy and feigning intoxication as you look up at your daddy. “I wanna please my daddy!”

Your daddy blinks at you, head tilting before a knowing look flashes across his eyes, and he smiles softly, fingers abandoning their spots to press gently against your cheeks. You don’t even mind, so excited and happy that he’s holding you.

“What do you want, sunshine?”

“Can I please suck daddy’s nipples?” you ask with a hopeful face, “He made me feel so good, and I — I wanna make my daddy feel good too!”

“You wanna suck daddy’s nipples? Okay.”

You giggle loudly as the world spins, and you gasp when you’re suddenly sitting straight up, your wet cunt pressing against his hip bone. You laugh lightly, a bell-like giggle, and your hands press to his chest. “That was so fun!”

“Was it—?”

Your daddy can’t finish his sentence because you caught sight of his dusty brown nipples and launched forward, capturing the soft tissue in your mouth.

It tastes like your daddy, the salt and unique taste he has. And your tongue lashes at it, your cheeks hollowing as you suck at it some more. It hardens in your mouth, a sensation that has you breaking away from him with a beautiful gasp.

“Am I doing a good job?!” you ask, looking at the pretty pink flush on your daddy’s face as he heaves slightly, flustered and a bit out of breath. “My nipples do that when you do a job, daddy!”

“You’re doing so well,” your daddy informs you, and you laugh excitedly. “Do you want… do you want daddy’s cock now?”

“Daddy’s cock?” you question, heat rushing to your face at the naughty word. “W-What does that mean?”

“Daddy’s cock is how I can make you feel good,” daddy explains, his fingers trailing up and down your thighs, playing with the hem of your socks.

You giggle as he snaps at it playfully.

“You’ve been doing such a good job, sunshine, and daddy’s cock hurts and wants to be in you.”

“In me?”

“Mmhm, and when it’s in you, you can get daddy’s cummies,” daddy smiles softly. “You want daddy’s cummies, remember?”

You think about it, unsure if you had wanted it, but then you remember that you had said it.

“Will daddy’s cummies help me? My stomach feels funny, a-and I feel wet.”

Daddy nods fast, his body shifting so that he’s in a sitting position and your wet chest presses against him. It’s a sensation you’re unfamiliar with, and you make an embarrassing squeaking noise at the feeling.

“I promise it’ll make you feel better, sunshine.”

You think about it some more, your arms wrapping around his neck as you think. But soon enough, you find yourself giggling and nodding, “I trust my daddy!”

“I’m so glad you do. Daddy’s so glad his baby girl trusts him.”

And the next thing you know, you’re back on your back, and your daddy looms over you, spreading your legs wide apart. You look down at gasp at the sight of daddy’s cock.

“It’s so big!” you shriek, “Where is that going, daddy?!”

“This is going right… there,” daddy emphasizes, pressing two fingers into a part of your body that has you speechless. It’s an intrusion you’re almost unfamiliar with, and yet it makes your head spin and your body hot with need and action from him. “I promise it’ll feel so good; I’ll make you feel so good.”

“O-Okay,” you whimper, watching your daddy pull something against the length of his cock before pressing the swollen head to the entrance that made you feel funny in a good way. “I’m ready, daddy.”

“I’m so glad,” your daddy smiles, and with a gentle kiss to your temple, he presses his cock into you.

“DADDY!” you shriek as his cock pressed into you, filling you out and stretching you out completely. The sensation is overwhelming, piercing pleasure slamming through your body as your arms and legs wrap around him in a vice-like grip.

Daddy’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in close as his hips begin rutting in and out of you. The sensation, the rhythm, is constant and is intoxicating. The creak of the mattress and the loud, grateful cries of your mouth into the crook of his neck fills the room. And then he shifts you just a bit, his hips able to thrust further, more profound, into you, and a wanton, nearly voluptuous noise escapes your mouth.

“Kiss me, daddy!” you cry, head thrusting back into the mattress, pleasure saturating so deep in your brain you can’t think anymore. “Kiss me, please! Kiss me, kiss me, kissmekissmekiss—”

His mouth is over yours, hot pants and wrecked breathing is passed between open parted lips. Your tongue pushes against his teeth, unable to find his tongue as your hips swirl and thrust up into his thrust cock. Every thrust sends daddy’s cock deeper into your pulling, demanding cunt, stretching you out, sending you further out in an unimaginable way. Your walls spasm uncontrollably, clenching and tightening without a single input.

But soon, daddy’s shifting up onto his knees, and you can only wildly cry out for him when his arms shift from keeping you close to pressing behind your knees and shoving your knees into the mattress by your shoulders. The most primal, deranged moan rips from your mouth as the stretch sends his cock to a place in your cunt you never could imagine existing. You shake like a child against him, fingers scraping at his back, tearing his skin as your heels dig into his back. The head of his cock buries and brushes against your cervix, making you cry and see colors you’ve never seen before in your life. Your praises for your daddy are endless, and his powerful pounding sends the headboard of your bed crashing against the wall harder and harder.

“How are you feeling, bunny?” Daddy grunts, his face contorted with pleasure and the need to look at you. “Do you feel my cock in you? Can you feel daddy’s cock hitting your cervix?”

“D-Daddy, I-I — ohhh my god!” you sob, your hips pathetically rutting up and down against his cock, stupidly furthering how deep his cock can go, your cervix melting with pleasure, making you oh so dizzy. You can only blabber. “Daddy’s cock is so big, it’s so good! It’s making my stomach feel so funny! I’m so scared!”

“Don’t be scared,” your daddy pleads against your neck, though his speed and strength doesn’t lessen. “Your stomach feeling funny is a good thing; it’s supposed to happen! I promise you, this is how it's supposed to happen. Okay?”

“Okay, daddy, okay, okay, okay,” your voice lessened to a senseless babble. Your sentences blurring together, and your cheek pressed into the mattress, and drool pooled from your lips.

His pace is completely irreplicable now; every maddening powerful thrust of his hips sends the headboard into the wall. The wet slapping echoing throughout the room when he pierces into you almost drowned out both of your senseless cries.

It almost scared you, the sensation foreign, but his gentle reminder that this was normal, that you would be okay, kept you from spiraling. Slick erupts in your cunt, an overwhelming heat that throbs right in your core, coating your thighs and your stomach, and with every slam of his hips, it grows only more.

Intensifying.

Exhilarating.

The temperature of your body sizzles off you in immense heat. His lips press against yours, a maddening escape of lust and need exchanging between your parted lips. Your saliva is everywhere, covering both of your faces — connecting them even when you part. But that didn’t stop him; it only fueled him to kiss you entirely, wordlessly praising you, engulfing you with his mouth, daring you with his tongue.

You were barely keeping up with his snapping hips, your mouth begging for more when he suckled on your tongue.

“It’s feeling so funny!” you suddenly cry as your daddy’s fingers pinch and rub against something between your legs that sends electric waves throughout every nerve in your body. “I feel like Imma pee, daddy! I can’t stop it! I can’t stop!”

“It’s okay, let it happen,” your daddy grunts into your ear, and with that, the calming steady of his voice, you let the heat, the tightness in your stomach you feel like is piss, slam through you.

A tingling, white noise power sensation slams through your entire body. You arch into your daddy, your scream dying on your tongue as your body thumps with a full-body heartbeat. It sends your toes curling, your fingernails scarring his back, and a pathetic, pleasure-derived sob released into your daddy’s sweaty neck.

His thrusting keeps up for a bit, letting your clenching and relaxing cunt finish him until his thrusts border sloppy, and with a final thrust that has your fingers trembling, he stops, collapsing onto you.

You don’t know what happens next, only that for one moment too long, it’s silent with only heaving breathing and incredibly warm body heat. Your eyes close, and you’re out before you even know it.

You open your eyes to a dark room.

Shouto is next to you, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he holds a wet, warm cloth to your body, gently cleaning you up.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, your voice scratchy and nearly blown. “Did I drop and pass out after cumming?”

Shouto jumped at your voice, looking up at your face with a tired but satisfied grin, “You did.”

You laugh softly, not quite humorlessly, not entirely because you were amused. You sit up, groaning at how your lower body screams in pain; well, it seemed that your drop really did hide any pain.

“That was fun,” you grin, eyes closing as Shouto presses the cloth to your neck, cleaning the sweat and saliva there. “Glad I decided to speak up on that — ow!”

You pouted as Shouto retreated his pinching fingers from your ribcage.

“You didn’t speak up; you acted out and then spoke up,” Shouto chuckled, sighing as he leaned backward, allowing for you to stretch your tired limbs.

“I still managed to say my truth,” you grin, taking the wet cloth from his hands and focusing on his body. Shouto sat there, still and silent, as you gingerly cleaned… everything off him.

“Well, if we’re saying our truths, can I ask something?” Shouto murmurs, so unlike his typical confident demur. You pause for a moment before nodding, continuing to clean the broken skin on his body. “Would you like to be my girlfriend? I-I know this is cheesy and all, but I feel like I want you outside of our arrangement, outside of the dynamic.”

You can’t help but laugh, making Shouto look panicked, even if for a bit.

“I thought I was the only one.”

“Sero, psst, Sero!” Mina whispers loudly, hitting her friend in the back of the head with an eraser.

“Shit, what?” Sero hisses, a slight annoyance in his face from being hit.

“Look!”

Sero follows Mina’s pointed finger over where you and Shouto sat, in the middle of your own world despite it being smack in the middle of the lecture. He scanned your bodies more intensely and froze at the sight of purple and red bruises on both your necks.

“Is that—?!”

“YES!!!”

“HOLY SHIT! WE CALLED IT!”

“Sero!” boomed the voice of Aizawa, their scariest professor ever. “Is there something you would like to share with the class?”

Sero freezes, an awkward smile blooming on his face as he shrugs, “I’m just noticing some hickies today, that’s all!”

There could have been no casualties in this admittance; after all, Aizawa didn’t give two shits about hickies on university students. But the loud, panicked “shit!” coming from you was undoubtedly damning.

Shouto snickered, his fingers tugging at the collar of your shirt as his fingers brushed against the collection of bruises, “I think they look nice.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

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erefics · 3 years

Text

afterglow by erefics

synopsis: reader has had a rough day of first classes, and comes home in tears to a supportive eren. now, his only purpose is to make you feel better in any way he can.

content warnings: female bodied reader, corruption, daddy kink, daddy!eren, major praise kink, breeding, use of the pet name puppy but no pet kink

word count: 1.7k

*all characters are aged up and in college*!

your eyes had been swollen and puffy as your feet shuffled across the hallway back to your shared apartment with boyfriend eren. they dragged across the tile, making it evident you’d been tiresome and overpowered from the harsh and cruel school day.

not only were your classes harder than you expected, but the other students were relentlessly mean all day to you. they hadn’t given you a break the entirety of the day, teasing you and making you run to the bathroom stall in order to dry the tears falling down your perfect pink cheeks.

thankfully, eren had always been there for you when you came home from school. he got out of his last period before you, which was a perfect way to be greeted in the living room by him after dealing with the harsh reality of college.

“what’s wrong, doll?” he immediately noticed the poor little grimace on your face, which you tried so desperately to hide. it wasn’t because you didn’t want to tell him what happened per say, it was just the fact that you struggled opening up about your feelings. you were so sensitive, so easily broken. he knew that. and he knew when something was most definitely wrong with his puppy.

“what—‘m okay, eren,” you lied bashfully, covering your reddened cheeks with your hand, but your palm was too small to conceal the tears.

he clicked his tongue, shaking his head slowly. it didn’t take him long to catch on, and he moved your hand off of your face by force, pinning it down to your side.

“what did i tell you about hiding your feelings from me, princess?” his voice deepened.

you looked up at him rather slowly, it took you a moment to make full eye contact because you’d been stalling from that for so long now. he was quite intimidating when looking at you so directly.

“i…’m not hiding anything,” you continued to lie, surprising even yourself by the amount of perseverance you were showing.

his grip on your wrist only grew tighter, which started to startle you a bit.

“speak up for daddy, dollface. i’m not gonna bite you for talking about your feelings,” eren raised his bushy eyebrows, even puckering his lips into a very tempting pout. that was all you needed to spill out your feelings to him.

“well, my day just wasn’t the best…’started with chemistry, got asked to leave because i hadn’t been prepared, apparently you have to ‘bring your own goggles’. shouldnt that be included in the tuition? and my mathematics professor is a total dick. but don’t get me started on the girls who’d been teasing me all day…calling’ me names and stuff, talking behind my back and already starting rumors. then on the way home from the campus i tripped on an empty soda can and was pretty much out of breath and started crying and—“

“y/n!” eren interrupted your ramble, soothing your pulsing heartbeat with a hand on your chest. his fingers stroked the side of your jaw softly, wiping the excess tears that hadn’t yet dried, or fallen to the floor. “‘s okay, i’m here now,” he brought you into an embrace, finally, ridding you of all sadness. “what kind of assholes would say anything like that about my precious puppy?” he removed his hands from your back, keeping the same eye contact from before.

“dunno. ‘don’t even wanna go back tomorrow,” you sighed, plopping down onto the sofa next to eren, crossing your arms as if throwing a hissy fit.

“well you’re here for now, angel. you’re safe. and in my comfort. i’m here to always make you feel the best you possibly can,” eren followed you, sitting on the sofa and grabbing you by the hips and placing you on his lap, your back facing his stomach. his hand traced lightly down the side of your neck, humming to himself ever so quietly. you could barely even hear, but it was faint enough. “daddy won’t let anybody make you feel like that again,” he hummed, his hand rimming the silhouette of your shoulder, moving its way down your arm softly, giving yourself chills.

you giggled a bit at the soft ticklish feeling of his hand trailing down your clean and untainted skin.

“shhh, puppy. let me make you forget that bad day, yeah?”

you jolted in his lap a bit as his hand made its way across your lap, gripping the fat of your thigh and squeezing it until your aching core felt the effects of it. “y–yes, daddy,” you nodded, starting to let yourself enjoy his strokes of love, eyes even closing through instinct. you simply let go while he took over the controls of your body.

“such a pretty body. do you know that, y/n? that you have such a delicate, fucking untouchable body. it’s too bad i’m gonna touch it, then. gonna touch it real good.” eren nodded to himself, his hand gripping your cunt through your skirt, almost as if he was taking a handful of you. the fact you’d been fully clothed still yet you felt so fucking wonderful as the pressure exceeded against your clit–was magical.

“yes, yes! real good, daddy,” you blurted out, back arching against his lap.

“mhm, i know, i know, shhh.” his fingers uncovered your panties by pushing the pleated skirt above his hand, towards your torso. the fabric was so thin and mesh, you could see everything through the undies. eren had taken one swipe of his finger down your slit, and that was enough to know how wet you’d been. “fuck, fuck. you’re gushing, pup. how fucking pretty is that?” he mumbled, holding up his finger with your juices coated on it, dripping down the digit.

“‘already so wet, ‘m sorry. you know ‘m sensitive, daddy. can’t handle the things you say,” you beg for his sympathy.

“course you can sweetheart. you can, and you will handle me,” eren kissed the gap between your neck and shoulder, simultaneously pushing your panties aside to begin rubbing through your slick cunt. “oh, oh yeah…i love how that feels, princess.”

his fingers moved like light work against your clit, using muscle memory from your previous encounters together because he’d already known the things you liked. soft and slow we’re the two key words. “being so good for me. letting daddy touch you how he pleases, hm? that’s my good girl. such a pretty cunt. feels so good i bet. you have to tell me. tell me how it feels, okay?”

“ ‘feels good!! eren, eren, please. can you go a little faster?” you’d asked him, struggling through your words. eren didn’t even respond before picking up the speed of his fingers on your clit. he’d been waiting for the signal to go faster forever. he’d ached for ages to move from slow to fast and soft to rough. but he only wanted to do the things you were comfortable with. “oh!! fuck, ‘s feeling good eren!”

“just like this? i knew you’d like that, puppy,” he smirked into your shoulder as you squirmed around in his lap, moving your hips with your own mighty power to add extra pressure to your clit, along with his fingers already rocketing inside you.

“‘m so close!!” you cried.

“i thought so, hm. of course i wanna let you cum. but i think it’d be more enjoyable if you did so with this pretty little cunt wrapped around my cock?”

“yes, yes!! yes, ‘m so desperate to feel myself on your cock, daddy. ‘s too much, want more though”

he chuckled, using his other hand to unbuckled himself underneath you, proving to be rather good at doing two things at once. touching you and unbuckling.

within seconds, he aligned himself with your leaking cunt, putting pressure with his tip on your clit first, which matter of fact had been throbbing and pulsating, waiting to be overstimulated to the point of climax.

“eren!! oh!!” you cried out, body bending over forward like jello as his tip just satisfied you a bit too much as it pressed against your cunt. “put it in please!! put it in!”

“so impatient, hm. remember i’m doing this because you had a bad day.” he spoke, and mid sentence, he pushed his length slowly inside your walls. “and this is special treatment,” he finished, pushing himself in all the way to the hilt.

eren kept himself aligned while inside of you, somewhat still aside from your occasional squirming giving stimulation to his length.

he placed soft kisses against the back of your neck, lifting hair out of the way first, letting you adjust to his size for a few moments before finally starting to add movement, going steady enough to just give you relief to breathe out.

“daddy!!” you leaned back against him, hands reaching for anything to grab as you started moving vertically against his cock, that pretty, tiny body rocking up and down to feel good.

“daddy loves you,” he murmured softly into her ear as he added more frequent thrusts into her hole, moving her entire body up a few inches off the sofa which proved how intense his power was. “you know daddy loves you, right, pup?”

“mhm, yes! d-daddy loves me,” you repeated after him.

it only took a few moments more before you’d been too stimulated and you released yourself while he’d been inside you. the noises you made were so pretty and loud once you finished, it had signaled eren to cum with you. there was no warning or hesitation, he simply emptied himself inside your little pretty cunt, his load leaking out of you and onto both of your thighs, causing a rather evident mess.

“feel okay, my dear?” he spoke softly, squeezing your body tight against his chest. you nodded, rocking whatever energy you had left against his cock even after finishing, proving you still had some left in you.

“now i’m gonna need you to tell me every name of every student that hurt your feelings today.”

#eren jaeger #eren smut #eren jaeger x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #aot smut #eren x reader #attack on titan eren #eren x y/n #eren x you #eren jeager headcanons #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut

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fandom-puff · 3 years

Note

Can I please get a Lucius Malfoy smut alphabet?? I’ve been dyyying for one 🥵

Why yes you can, anon ;)

Lucius Malfoy Smut Alphabet

Warnings: smut

Gif creds to owner

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Lucius is very caring after sex. He’ll clean you up (by magic of course- unless you ask nicely, then he’ll use a damp cloth), get you water, hold you close to his chest as you both catch your breath. There is often a rather cocky remark, which always results in a light slap to his chest and the pair of you giggling like loons.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his hair- it’s his pride and joy. You always grab onto it, and he often has to remind you to not mess up his posh pony tail when you have quickies, otherwise everyone will know what you’ve been up to

Regardless of your gender, he adores your back and your neck, often spending ages kissing and trailing his fingers up your spine to make you shiver. He’d definitely drip melted wax on your back just to watch you arch.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

While our Lucius can be a kinky bastard, he’s rather traditional when it comes to coming- inside you is the best place for it. It shows you’re his, and he loves the feeling of you milking his cock dry

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I feel like Lucius would absolutely LOVE picking out little outfits for you to dress up in, spoiling you with expensive lace and velvet and silk and jewels. He’ll tell you to change in the bathroom so he gets a surprise when you come out, and he loves watching you squirm and try to cover up, saying ‘now now, darling, don’t be shy. Come and give daddy a twirl’

Oh yeah he totally has a daddy kink as well sorry not sorry🤪🤪

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Lucius DEFINITELY knows what he’s doing. He was rather popular with the girls when he was younger, and he was married to Narcissa for a considerable amount of time

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

His favourite is when you lay on your tummy and he takes you from behind, his chest against your back. It’s the perfect position for him to lean over you and whisper filth into your ear as he pounds you into the mattress.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Serious all the way.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

His pubic hair is a darker shade of blonde than his silvery blonde locks, and he keeps it well trimmed for both of your comfort

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

When you’re not being particularly kinky, Lucius is excellent at making love. He holds your gaze in his, and just looks at you so intensely as he thrusts, slowly but still hard, kissing you and touching you all over. It’s very intense.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t do it often, occasionally in the shower if it’s been a while since you’ve last got it on. More often than not you’re more than happy to help out.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Daddy kink, Dominance kink, degradation, temperature play, sensory deprivation, spanking, bondage, occasional roleplay, exhibitionism...

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

I mean, you have free reign over Malfoy manor really. His bedroom is the best for intimacy. He absolutely adores a quickie in the library, pounding you hard against the bookshelves as you grip onto the edge of them for support...

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

The bare minimum is needed to turn him on. A frustrating day at work... seeing you in his clothes, when you’re spooning and you wiggle your hips to get comfy...

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Lucius would never do anything that would draw blood (scratches are okay, but he won’t use sharp knives). He saw too much torture under Voldemort, and knows crucio feels like a thousand knives. It just makes him cringe.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

This man is a very cunning linguist, if ya know what I’m saying ;) he loves eating you out/sucking you off and often has to hold your hips down. Will coo and mock you if you get tok wriggly :)

The sight of Lucius Malfoy with a mouth covered in slick, or with a bead of come dribbling down his chin is GODLY

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He has a rather steady pace as a default AMD it can go both ways depending on the mood.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Loves ‘em. Library? Yep. Dining room? Yep. Office? Yep. In his study over his big posh desk? You bet.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Yes. He’s willing to try everything at least once, and encourages you to say if you have something you’d like to try

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He has stamina??? Can last a fair while before coming and is good to go only a little while later. Takes a bit longer to recover after you give him head though

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Yep and he will use them on you. As well as little charms and spells that mimic his hand or a vibrator when you’re in public or trying to do everyday tasks. Likes watching you ride a dildo- ‘come on princess, show me what you can do, and I might just let you try it on me’

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is EVIL!!! I repeat, EVIL!!! Will leave you quivering all day long only to make you grind on his thigh and make you work for your orgasm, telling you what a messy little slut you are, getting his expensive trousers all wet...

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s relatively controlled- to begin with. Small grunts and groans. He’ll whisper in your ear, or speak very lowly, so you can practically hear his deep voice rumbling from his chest...

When he’s close, he goes a little wild, panting, growling, groaning out, and he almost always shouts your name when he comes.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He doesn’t really like to share.

Unless it’s with Severus Snape.

Do with that information what you will.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Ohooooo, he’s about seven inches of thick, pale flesh, with a weeping red tip and a few pulsing veins... idk why but I hc him to be circumcised idk???

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

As mentioned in M, it doesn’t take much to get him going...

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t pass out immediately after orgasm. He’ll stay up and chat with you and make sure you’re okay etc.

Tags: @a-hopeless-fan @lotsoffandomrecs @rai-strangebr @zodiyack @haphazardhufflepuff @dumbfuckinslytherin @severuslovebot @darkthought15 @rabeccablake @sambucky8 @eleven-times-lively @talksoprettyjjx @extra-trash77 @rangerelik @Dracosbbygorl @wonderwoman292 @manicclementinetreea @lilymurphy03 @fredweasleyisntdead @fredswh0re @rogertaylorismycar @meaganjm @fanficwriter5 @shadesofbarryallen @kiwi-sloan @bbeauttyybbx @inglourious-imagines @bonniesgoldengirl @trumpsgorillagrip @blisshemmings @little-bit-of-randomness @vsarzx @eunoia-kth @liliputbahn @thestunningspell @beiahadid @courtnytrash04 @ccosmic-illusion @purpleskymalfoy @marshxx @hogwartslut @thatslovelymoony @winchestergirl333 @sterwild

#hp smut #smut alphabet #lucius malfoy x reader smut #lucius malfoy x reader #lucius x reader #lucius malfoy smut #lucius Malfoy headcanons #lucius malfoy x you #2021

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mxvladdy · 3 years

Text

Sleep HCs

It’s a sleepy day for me and by doggo so here are some sleep head cannons of the brothers bc why not.

Lucifer

Is a stomach or side sleeper. Not because he likes it but out of necessity. His back still irritates him, so when he actually schedules some shut eye he preps meticulously.

He bathes before hand, usually soaking in a mix of muscle relaxers to help release some of the tension from the work day and to help with his nerve damage. His favorite scents are lavender and a blend of spearmint. They make him a little drowsy and soften his perpetual headache.

His bed is very nest-like. Pillows and blankets meticulously placed to help him stay in one place while he rests. Too much tossing and turning irritates him. He likes feeling cocooned and tight. It is a self soothing mechanism he developed over his first few years in the devildom.

But this is all when he actually has time to sleep for more than a few hours.

Most of his sleeping is little naps thrown in over the work week. On average he gets about 14-18 hours a week. It’s enough (so he says but he is a cantankerous bastard regardless so it’s hard to tell for sure)

He sleeps like the dead, hands down corpse like. But don’t let that fool you, he doesn’t sleep like the dead. He is up and moving the moment he hears something that sounds like trouble.

Runs cold. Has fancy silk pajama sets. A gift from Diavolo.

His mattress is extra firm.

Mammon

Back and side sleeper. He has a bed- but he uses it mostly as an extension to his wardrobe. Let's be real. He’s a messy guy. He normally crashes on his couch after a wild weekend bender.

He moves a lot in his sleep, kicking, tossing and turning. An absolute tangle of limbs and clothes. Like Lucifer he has a few scars and old injuries that twinge and hurt when he lays on them. Not that it stops him.

He sleeps like the dead, tossing and turning and all. Short of someone dragging him off his couch or touching goldie he doesn’t wake up.

Snores and drools-will not admit it but when he stumbles out of his room looking like a hot mess, crusty eyes and bedraggled hair you know he had a great sleep.

He doesn’t have a set sleeping schedule. He goes until he crashes- like the energizer bunny.

Sleeps with one body pillow. Likes the feel of having something draping or touching him in his sleep. Reminds him of when he would fall asleep with his brothers after a long day of training and studying in the celestial realm.

Runs hot so he likes to sleep in his boxers and a tank top.

His mattress is medium firm

Leviathan

Does he sleep? The world may never know.

Between the energy drinks he practically IV drips into his veins and he determination to power though another level he doesn’t remember when he sleeps.

He just blacks out. A blink turns into a twelve hour coma.

His tub is comfy as hell and everybody knows it. It cradles him when he sleeps, blankets and pillows are now molded to his shape.

He washes his tub lining often. He really likes the smell of citrus and musk. Whenever the smell begins to dissipate he’ll toss it all in the wash. Minus his novelty pillows. Those get dry cleaned or spot cleaned.

He’s a side sleeper. Once he’s settled he ain’t moving.

Though since he doesn’t plan to sleep 80% of the time he passes out at his desk. But can you blame him? I bet he has a super cozy gaming chair and pillow.

Runs cold. Cocoons himself in mounds of blankets. Snake burrito.

He doesn’t have a mattress but the mound of pillows and blankets is the equivalent of a medium soft mattress

Satan

Probably has the most normal sleep schedule. He has a set wind down time and lights out time too.

Does he keep to it? I mean- it’s the thought that counts. If he is wrapped up in a good book or research time just gets the better of him.

He has his bed nestled up against the one window of his room that isn’t covered in books or shelves

Uses the eternal moonlight to read. Drifts off most evenings with a book slipping down his chest.

Sleeps propped up on a poof or reading pillow. Doesn’t like things covering him. He runs hot so his pajamas are enough for him.

Needs the least amount of sleep out of all the brothers. He loves that. Means he can read and do more without it hampering his mood.

Very light sleeper any shift he does in his sleep wakes him up. But he normally falls right back to sleep.

His mattress is firm

Asmodeus

Scheduled down to the minute. If he doesn’t get his nine hours of sleep be prepared for a scene.

Starts getting ready for bed about two hours before he actually falls asleep. Hot bath, oils, new face mask to try, the works. School can be stressful you know? And six brothers? It’s a miracle he doesn’t have wrinkles yet.

He keeps his bedroom tidy and always smelling good. Needless clutter messes with him and makes it hard for him to fall asleep.

Has a noise machine and an oil diffuser on when he sleeps. Even if he's in bed he knows his brothers aren't so it helps mute them so he can sleep.

Sleeps in the nude. He doesn't run hot or cold but he likes to sleep in a cooler room. Helps shrink the pores or something like that.

His bed is large but sparse. He really only needs his silk sheets and a thin cover. He has a few bolster pillows and poofs on the bed but really he doesn't sleep with pillows.

Is a back sleeper and- no one will tell him this on fear of death but he is an ugly sleeper.

Mouth open, limbs akimbo, soft little snores and snorts. It’s cute, whether or not he thinks so.

His mattress is soft

Beelzebub

Tries to have a good sleep schedule. It’s imperative to keeping up a healthy body after all.

But he gets so hungry. He gorges himself when he starts to feel tired in hopes that he can sleep a few hours before getting up for a midnight (or anytime snack)

He drinks a lot of tea actually right before bed. It makes him sleepy and fills up his stomach.

He sleeps on his stomach with his arms wrapped around his pillow. Another one that sleeps in the buff too. He is a night sweater too.

He only started covering himself for bed when you started living with them. It’s only polite.

Gets about 2 to 3 hours at a time with a snack break in between.

He doesn’t have a lot of pillows mostly because he has eaten them while dreaming. Constantly buying new pillows adds up ya know?

He doesn’t toss and turn but he does roll over once or twice in the night.

Dead silent when he sleeps. He just emits a deep rumble when he snoozes. From his chest or his stomach. It’s a 50/50 split.

His mattress is medium firm

Belphegor

Ha.

The king of sleep. The lord of stealth sleeping. It’s become a sport to him now. How many sleeping nooks can he find around R.A.D so Lucifer’s blood pressure spikes looking for him. His highest score is 37.

If he could sleep with his eyes open he would. But he can’t and he hates it.

He likes to sleep during the school day. It’s a mix of protesting this dumb idea and so that he can stay up at night when everything is nice and quiet.

It doesn’t matter to him where or how he sleeps. As long as he can curl up around something soft he is happy.

Likes it dark and very snug when he’s sleeping. A very still sleeper. Once he’s comfy he locks in place.

Murmurs in his sleep. Little disjointed things. You can have a full fledged conversation with him. He’ll give you little grunts and sighs in response.

If he does get to his room before falling asleep he buries himself in blankets to the point where you can't figure out if he is in there or not. (Kinda like those lizards that bury themselves in sand, same motion and everything.)

Again doesn’t care where he sleeps but his mattress is soft.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #Obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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lostandalonetogether · 3 years

Text

Movement {MandoxFem!reader}

Word Count: 1.8k words

Warnings: Shameless use of “Sweet girl” and yearning, still throwing cannon out the window, Mild NSFW thoughts and lingering touches, but no smut…. Yet

Comments: So, it turns out I’ll be writing a group of one-shots about the reader and din, mostly domestic, slice of life, very little plot, just smut, fluff, and the occasional angst. And they’re all going to be set to and named to the lovely tune of Hozier’s Wasteland, Baby! Album because it is, in a word, perfect. I highly recommend listening to the song that’s featured as the title for each fic. No beta we die like men

MASTERLIST

Mando was lucky you liked working on the Crest. He had parked you in a shuttle bay on Tatooine, leaving you to run repairs with Peli while he hunted some easy bounties. You’d spent the last two days fixing up the ship; you repaired the hyperdrive and increased its capabilities by winning parts off Peli in games of sabacc. You found some old rags she didn’t need anymore and you added it to Mando’s sad excuse for a mattress as some extra padding. You fixed the programming on the nav and you even started making a vambrace of your own, out of some of the spare parts Peli didn’t need anymore. You thought it might be good to have one of your own to control the pram in case you and Mando ever got caught in another firefight. I wonder if he’d help me put a flame thrower on mine. You chuckled to yourself at the thought of the chaos that would inevitably occur if you had access to flames on a regular basis.

You hear the child’s squeal behind you. You turn to see him reaching out to his dad--his dad, who is unceremoniously dragging a body behind him. He seems to be all in one piece, if not a little tired. You secretly hope he notices the padding you added when you finally convince him to lay down. You scoop the kid up to keep him out of his dad’s way.

“You excited your dad’s home?” you ask with a grin. He coos in response, and you laugh at his clear happiness at the sight of Mando. He reached out for the hunter as he passed by. ”Let your dad work. He’ll play with you as soon as he’s cleaned up, okay kiddo?”

You set him down and he waddles over to Peli, where he knows he’ll get the attention he craves. You watch Peli pick him and start showing him all the fun toys and gadgets that’ll get him into trouble before turning back to the Crest. You needed to make sure Mando got some rest. Knowing him, he’d freeze the bounty and head straight back to the cantina to hunt down the next bounty if you let him.

He pushes the bounty into the carbonite freezer and turns it on. Sometimes you forget how strong he is, but watching him hoist the limp body as if it weighed nothing makes a shiver run down your spine despite the dry heat. It takes everything you have not to image the solid body under the beskar, beautiful and strong while he worked to provide for his kid. His helmet tilts towards you and you can tell he’s watching you. You pray to the Maker he didn’t notice your ogling.

“Go take a shower. Leave the beskar outside and I’ll get the sand off,” you order, prepared for him to try and convince you he was fine. With a step forward, he touches you arm gently.

“I’m fine, mesh'la. you don’t need to worry about me,” he murmurs, his touch gentle.

“I always worry. Don’t try and argue. Go shower and then go play with the kid. He misses you and you deserve at least one night of rest,” you say firmly. If you let him keep talking you know you’ll cave. You could never really deny him anything he asks. His shoulders sag in defeat.

“Were there any issues?” he asked, gentle and quiet. Shaking your head, you place a hand on his chest and gently push him towards the fresher.

“It was quiet. Peli’s spoiling the kriff out of him. I don’t look forward to the amount of attention he’ll be expecting when we leave,” you answer, glancing down the ramp towards where they were playing and smile softly. “Now go, you’ve more than earned it.”

…

Maker, did he hate leaving the two of you. You, holding the child-his child-on your hip while he reaches for him. Your quiet promise to protect the kid, and making him promise you to come back, to come home to you.

He watches you climb up to the cockpit to wait until he leaves his beskar outside the fresher. He never asked you to clean it, and he’d given up telling you not to. You had taken it upon yourself to clean it after he came home from a particularly messy bounty. When he came out of the fresher, you had him sit on his cot so you could clean his helmet without him being uncomfortable. If only you knew. He had sat impossibly still, controlled his breathing. Thank kriff for the beskar separating him from you, so you couldn’t feel how fast his heart was beating. He would have done anything to feel your hands caress his face the gentle way you were wiping his helmet. Your hands were so soft, every part of you was. Even the parts he had yet to touch. His thoughts wandered without permission.

So he shook them away and tried to focus on the task ahead, unhooking his armor and placing it gently on the floor outside the fresher. Closing the door and turning on the water, he let the streams of water wash away the sand that had inevitably worked its way under his duralayer. He runs a hand over his face and tries to block out thoughts of the girl cleaning his armor and protecting his child. He shouldn’t think of you in the ways he does; he shouldn’t think about the way you look playing with the child, or flying the crest, or the way you curl up and sleep in the co-pilot chair when you don’t think he should be alone. He shouldn’t think about the way you must look in the fresher, and the way you look when you try to keep quiet as you touch yourself after you think he’s gone to sleep. Kriff, what he wouldn’t give to be the one who makes you make those sounds.

He shut off the water and put his helmet back on, secretly happy he wasn’t heading out to catch another bounty. As he opened the door, he found his armor, cleaned of sand and blood, and a tray of food, warm and waiting for him. Sweet girl, you’re too good to me. He gulped down the meal and headed out to see his kid. And his girl.

…

“MANDO,” you grunted, “get this hunk of junk off of me.” you could hear the modulator crackle, it was a sound somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. You try to push yourself out from the hunk of metal one of the droids had mistakenly lowered on you. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s too heavy to get out from under on your own. You can see Mando’s helmet tilt towards you and the modulator crackle again. “I swear to the Maker if you’re laughing at me-”

“Oh sweet girl,” he sighed, “hold on a second.” He finally set down the kid and rose to his feet. You could practically hear the smile in his voice. I bet his smile is lovely. I wonder if he had dimples. I wonder what color his eyes are. I wonder if they crinkle around the corners when he smiles. Alright, maybe this metal was starting to cut off circulation. He walks over to you and crouches beside you, assessing the damage. He lifts the metal like it was nothing and you crawl out from under it. You sit up and start to try and stand, but a firm hand keeps you in place. Mando kneels in front of you and looks you over to try and make sure you weren’t actually hurt. I wonder if his helmet has X-Ray vision. I wonder if it can see through clothes; wouldn’t that be a skill to have. I wish I could see through his cl-

You found your runaway train of thoughts interrupted by a hand on your thigh. Logically, you know he’s just checking for bruising or damage, but the weight of his hand on your leg makes your heart run far faster than it should. It’s just his hand and he’s wearing kriffing gloves. Maker, I wish he would touch me without the gloves. You realize he’s close enough to feel your heartbeat and your breathing.

“You alright?” His voice is low and he’s close enough you could almost hear the voice beneath the helmet. You nodded, your own voice too caught in your throat to come out properly. “We have bacta. If you’re hurt, I want you to use it.”

“I’m fine, buckethead.” You use his shoulder to help you stand up, disbelieving he’d use what little bacta you have to treat something as small as a few bruises. “Besides, we need to save it in case a bounty goes wrong, or more importantly, if you get hurt.” You look down at where he’s still crouched, helmet tilted up towards you.

“I’d rather use it on you, cyar'ika.”

You shoot him an incredulous look before turning to pick up the child who had waddled towards you. “While I appreciate your preference, mine is more practical, especially since I have nothing worse than a few bruises.” He stands, putting his arm around you and the child and pulling you close. The beskar is cold against your shoulder despite the Tatooine heat. “You’re more important, after all. I’m just the nanny.”

He huffs at that. “You’re not just the nanny. You’ve never been just the nanny.” His voice is gentle, almost unsure as he speaks. His words feel like they don’t fit where you are, under the late light of the second sun. They belong somewhere dark, private, like the Crest in hyperspace or hidden away in his cot when he’s resting. Your own voice is unsteady.

“If I’m not just the nanny, then what am I?” you ask tentatively, feeling him tense at your words.

“I could never define all that you are to me,” he pauses, trying to find the right words, “having you with me- it’s like- it’s like I can recall something that’s gone from me.” You look at him, at yourself in the reflection of his helmet. He takes a breath and says, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

You smile softly. ”I don’t know what that means, Mando.”

“I know.” His modulator rumbles, “Maybe one day I’ll teach you.” You don’t know it, but these are the closest words he knows, the only words he knows to express what he feels. You trust him and that’s enough for you. After a moment, you push him towards the ramp up the Crest.

“Come on, I think someone needs a nap.”

“I’m sure he’s had a busy day,” Mando chuckled at the sight of the child’s big eyes slowly shutting out of tiredness.

“Who? Him?” You laugh, “I was talking about you, tincan. Come on. You need some rest, and I want to keep working on my vambrace.” You can hear him quietly laugh at your teasing as he closes the ramp door. It’s a sound you want to hear forever. He sits on the cot and you can almost see the gears turning beneath his helmet as he tries to figure out what’s different. You rock the child and place him in the pram for a nap.

“Cyar'ika.”

“Yes?” you respond lightly, pleased he had noticed your work.

“Did you add padding to this?”

“Maybe.” You turn to look at him fully, still trying not to grin. He lets out a groan and grabs your wrist, pulling you between his legs at the edge of the cot.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing gently against your skin. The worn leather is rough, but his touch is soothing.

“I could never be too good to you,” your voice comes out as a whisper as you bring your other hand to his, “now rest, you need it.”

“You need rest too. Stay here. Stay with me.” His helmet is expressionless, but you can feel his steady presence pulling you to him. Maker, he can’t serious. You search for some sign that he’s only being polite, but upon finding none, you nod and let him pull you into the bunk with him. He lays with his back pressed against the cold metal wall and pulls you against his chest. You play with his gloves until you feel him laugh softly behind you. He lets you pull them off and toss them aside, intertwining your hands in his. “Sleep, cyar'ika. I’ll be here when you wake.”

References:

cyar'ika- darling, beloved, sweetheart

darasuum - eternity

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum: "I love you." (lit: "I know you forever.")

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando #mando x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #the mandalorian x f!reader #baby yoda #song fic #star wars #star wars fanfiction

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scxrsgxrd · 3 years

Text

Car Troubles // Axel Cluney

18+, just general Axel filth.

This has definitely been talked about before but it has been on my mind allll day. Axel and the infamous car bonnet.

Maybe it starts because your dad’s car is having trouble, so he sends it into the town’s renowned mechanic: Axel Cluney. Axel of course finds the source of the problem and fixes it, but on the day of the pickup your dad can’t make it, so the responsibility falls to you. This would be highly inconvenient if the mechanic wasn’t Axel. See, there was a unique air about him; he was cocky, but not overwhelmingly. In fact it was his arrogance that in part made him so attractive, and you despised him for it.

Axel knew you had been staring at him, so he was extra sure to make a spectacle of himself. Just as you were wandering into the garage he was in the process of moving his steel toolbox from his work bench to the floor beside whatever car he was working on today. You stood at the entrance to the garage, a lump forming in your throat as you could see the muscles in his biceps and shoulders flex as he let out a small grunt, a spanner clanging onto the floor as his grip faltered for a second.

“Let me help.” You had no idea where this sudden surge of confidence had come from, but you were committed to it now. Bending over in a skirt perhaps wasn’t the smartest idea, as you were sure you saw Axel’s head crane around to your backside as you retrieved the rusting spanner and handed it to him. His hand lingered over yours for a few seconds as he took hold of it, his eyes glaring into yours as he cocked his left eyebrow.

You weren’t *quite* sure what had happened, but you were now currently seated on the bonnet of your father’s Toyota Corolla with your skirt hitched up as far as was possible with Axel stood between your legs, his thumb massaging circles over your panties as he whispered nothing short of filth in your ear.

“Are you a daddy’s girl, huh? Yeah, I bet you are.” His teeth grazed over your earlobe as his thumb applied more pressure to your clit, making you whine.

“Mmmm, that’s right. Make your pretty little noises for me.”

Axel loved teasing. For him it was an artform, working a girl up until she was seconds away from orgasm with just his fingertip. Today was no different as his middle finger ran its way over your still-clothed slit, chuckling as he felt the prominent wet patch beneath his oil stained fingers.

“Axel, please.” You squeaked, already growing restless from the lack of skin on skin contact that he was starving you of.

“Ain’t you ever heard of the phrase, now, what is it?” He feigned deep thought as his lips attached to your neck, sucking at the spot just below your ear which only made your whines increase in frequency.

“Oh, yeah. Good things come to those who wait.” He mumbled against your skin, biting at your shoulder as his other hand reached up and grabbed your right breast over your t shirt.

“Axel.” You hissed as his middle finger placed even more pressure over your entrance, the material barrier of your underwear just about stopping him from entering you.

“God, you’re fucking soaked.”

He couldn’t wait any longer. He moved his hand to the side of your cotton panties and gave them a hard tug, the tearing sound echoing around you as they hung limply in his hand. You watched as he gave you a quick wink and stuffed them into the back pocket of his jeans.

Now you were the impatient one. You leant forward and took hold of the silver chain dangling around Axel’s neck, tugging on it so he had no choice but to press himself against you. Once he was stood firmly between your legs you pulled on the chain again, this time angling your head upwards so his lips became attached to yours. Axel let out another growl, but this one was lower, more primal.

“Look at you. Getting that sweet pussy juice all over daddy’s car bonnet.” Axel smirked as your cheeks flushed, you’d completely forgotten which car you happened to be sat upon.

“Don’t worry, baby. I won’t tell.” He pressed his forefinger to his lips as he unzipped his jeans, shimmying them down to his ankles. His boxers were tightly constraining his cock, and you knew that however impressive his size seemed now, it’d be more so once he rid himself of them. Axel seemed to read your mind, and he pressed his middle finger against your entrance and allowed his fingertip to enter you.

“Hmmm, I sure am gonna enjoy stretching this tight little cunt out.”

With that, Axel pushed the waistband of his boxer shorts down, exposing himself to you. You felt your lips part slightly, not just because of his sheer size, but because of the Prince Albert piercing that immediately caught your attention. The metal glimmered under the harsh lighting of the garage, and your expression made him chuckle for a second.

He didn’t have time for an in depth explanation about the piercing lodged into his tip, his erection was getting more and more painful, throbbing against his stomach as he was beginning to leak a hefty amount of pre-cum.

Axel grabbed a hold of your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze as he pressed his cock against you.

“You’re gonna take it, and you’re gonna take it good.” He squeezed a little harder but placed a soft kiss on your forehead, his eyes remaining on yours as he began to edge himself inside you.

He gave you a few seconds to adjust, the feeling of the cold metal piercing scraping against your walls made you shudder, but Axel coaxed himself into you gently, softly praising you as he grinded his hips against yours. You felt your eyes roll slightly, the stretch was a little painful at first, but after a few minutes you felt a shiver run down your spine as your walls began to clench around him.

“Shit.” Axel muttered, one hand gripping onto your thigh to prise your legs further apart as he began to roll his hips, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he glanced down to watch you take his full size.

Your eyes were screwed shut, your mind not able to comprehend the sheer amount of ecstasy you were in as Axel began to hit the spot inside you that made your toes curl, so when he began to slow his pace you let out a small mewl, your eyelids fluttering open.

Axel’s fist bunched in your hair, yanking it until your head was tipped as far backwards as you could manage.

“Open.” He commanded, tapping underneath your chin with his other hand as you watched his cheeks hollow slightly and his lips curl upwards.

You obeyed, opening up your mouth and gazing up at him with doe-eyes. Axel lowered his head down, his lips inches away from yours as they parted slightly, his tongue pushing a hefty amount of saliva out of his mouth. You couldn’t help but let out a moan when you felt the warmth drip onto your own tongue, and you swallowed, catching the corner of your bottom lip between your teeth as you studied the tall, tattooed man who had been fucking you within an inch of your life. He tutted as he watched some of the excess liquid dribble down your chin, so he began to lick across it, collecting up the remainder of the saliva and quickening his thrusts once more.

You could feel your arousal began to escape you as Axel fucked you at an alarmingly fast pace, dripping onto the bonnet beneath you as he smirked and shook his head.

“Such a naughty little girl, huh? Coming here and getting your tight little pussy fucked right on daddy’s car.” His hand snaked up to your throat once more, gripping onto it as he felt your walls clench tighter, indicating to him that you were getting closer to your release.

“What’re you waiting for, honey? I want you to come all over my cock, and I want you to be loud about it.”

You couldn’t stave off your orgasm any longer. Axel’s words combined with his relentless pounding drew you to the edge, and you leaned your head back and released moan after moan, you were sure the whole block would be able to hear you as your orgasm gripped you. Your legs tightened around Axel’s waist and your vision became momentarily blurred, but you could tell that Axel wasn’t far off his own release.

His rhythm had become sloppier and his own eyes were now closed, his hands tightly gripping onto the flesh of your thighs as his jaw clenched. Seconds later he pulled himself out of you, and you felt the hot spurts of his cum land over your thighs and stomach as Axel let out a loud grunt.

After you had both had a few minutes to recover he handed you a cloth, gesturing to the drying spots of cum that had littered your lower half. You hopped off the car and cleaned yourself up, making sure to thoroughly wipe over the bonnet where you had been sat.

When you were about to climb into the car Axel took hold of your arm, pulling you towards him so you were pressed against his chest.

“If you ever run into more.. car troubles, well, you know where I am.”

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård #axel cluney #axel cluney smut

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amive2567 · 3 years

Text

See you again

Summary: Soulmates are the people that truly belong to us, but sometimes life is not grateful and we have to wait for a life where we can meet them again.

AUs: SoulmateAU ReincarnationAU ProHeroAU

Warnings: fluffier than the others, blood, medical talk, harassment at work, swearing, protective Todoroki

Disclaimer: My Hero Academia and the characters belong to Kohei Horikoshi.

Words: about 2.180

Quirk: Cell regeneration ~ This quirk allows healing somebody. The host can regenerate and strengthen the cells. Therefore the host needs to touch the person they want to heal. The quirk replaces the damaged cells with the healthy ones of the host. The new cells multiply on their own and heal the injury.

Malfunctions are that through extended usage, the host gets dizzy, receives nosebleeds, and their skin can get dry.

A/N : We are slowly getting towards the end of the story, although I separated the last part into two. It would have been way too long for one part. So here is Part 1. I hope you like it. Oh, I will also correct the parts after I have finished the series.

A/N 2: In Japanese, last names come before first names. So I wrote the names like this.

previous part: Third life: 1970 next part: ~ coming soon

Series masterlist

Grand masterlist

Annoyed, you pressed the alarm until it finally stopped ringing. "And another day that has to pass," you whined. Just like every morning, you got up and cleaned your bed. You opened the window and let the fresh air in. After you brushed your teeth, you headed straight to your desired breakfast stop.

You opened the door of your favorite café. When you moved here, it became a routine to eat in the small, cozy coffee shop near your workplace, also known as the hospital. Even with a high amount of customers, it was always quiet and welcoming. But this morning, it seemed like no one was there.

"Good morning, L/N-sama. What would you like to have for breakfast today?" greeted you, Watayama Tomomi, the owner of the comfortable café. "Good morning. The usual, please." You ordered. With a wide grin, she disappeared into the kitchen.

In less than five minutes, she came back with your beloved breakfast. "I already thought that you would order the same as always, so I prepared it for you. Luckily, as always, you were punctual. So it's still warm." She explained in response to your questioning look. "That's very generous of you. Thank you Watayama-San." "Oh, I was happy to do that for you." She waved it aside and went back to work.

As always, while breakfast, you took out your phone and read the news.

Bank robbery in Musutafu city center.

A bank robbery took place in Musutafu city center. Several million yen were stolen in the process. Some civilians got hurt. The pro heroes one and two were gladly in the area and arrested the villains immediately. Shouto and Deku have once again shown a magnificent performance in which they soon caught the bank robbers and handed them over to the police.

....

If you want to read on, please sign up for a subscription.

You put your phone aside and focused on your miso soup. You took a sip of the broth and felt the soup warming your stomach from the inside. No matter how hot it could be, miso soup for breakfast promised an excellent start for the day.

Your gaze went back to the news article and stooped at the hero name Shouto. It was oddly familiar, but you didn't know why. It was just a name like everyone else's. Why did it felt like home reading these five letters? Why did it felt so familiar? You didn't even know him, neither did you ever saw him. You never dealt with this whole hero thing. It was just a regular career like every other. Of course, you were thankful that they risked their lives for the safety of the people. But that created a lot of work for others.

Your pager went off, and you groaned. Emergency room, it said. "Watayama-San, I have to go. Could you pack my breakfast so I can take it with me tonight?" you yelled through the empty café to the kitchen. “I like to do it L/N-sama. Have a successful day at work." she wished. You grabbed your stuff and headed straight to the hospital.

After you changed your clothes, you went to the E.R. In there, hell was going on. Nurses ran around, doctors stormed in and healed patients like on an assembly line. "L/N-san. We need your help." screamed a voice inside your head. You couldn't see anyone who might have called you, so it could only be one person, your colleague Sera Keiko. Her quirk allowed her to speak non-verbally to people far away. It was very efficient to gossip about various colleagues during the breaks.

You opened the door to the trauma room. A carnage greeted you with a Sera dripping in blood. "What happened?" you asked as you put on some gloves. "The bank robbery this morning did not take place without victims. This week we don't have so many staff to be able to cope with the size," She explained and pressed more effectively on the unconscious patient's wound. "Alright. We need more blood. Can someone get it, please?" you ordered. An assistant nodded and ran to the blood bank.

You took over the patient by pressing your hands on his wound and activating your quirk. "Why does he pass out every now and then? Did he hid his head?" you asked curiously. "I think so. We couldn't ask him, and there is no visible wound," reported Sera. "Did you ordered a C.T?" She inclined her head, embarrassed. "Then do it now," you demanded, and she called the tomography department. You focused on your quirk, so it healed the wound as concisely as possible. Blue sparks swirled around the bloodied skin. You felt how the effects started to work on your body. It felt like the world started spinning, but you wouldn't stop until you were sure that the cells would connect. "At the moment, they have no opportunity to take new patients," informed Sera. "Alright, then we need our wonderful neurosurgeon, doctor Tanabe," you said sarcastically. Sera nodded and dialed the pager number.

How you haded this arrogant, good-looking surgeon. Some people called him Mc. Hottie. Gross, you thought. As like your thoughts had summoned him, the door swung open, and he entered the room. "What do we have here?" Tanabe asked. "The patient passes out every now and then. We couldn't get a C.T, so we need your opinion," you told him professionally. "Of course you can have my opinion, babe." he winked at you. You rolled your eyes. He was a good doctor, but nothing more.

You felt how the bloody wound under your hand started to heal itself, so you could remove your hands. "L/N-san, your nose is bleeding. Here you are." Sera handed you a handkerchief. You cleaned your nose and thanked her with a smile. "When you're done here. I would take over," said doctor Tanabe. "You can have him," you said bluntly. With a last wink, he left the room with his new patient.

"Oh, he is such a douchebag," you complained loudly. "We need to inform someone related to him. Could you hand me his medical record?" you asked. Sera nodded and gave you the documents. "Thanks," you mumbled. "Do you want to grab a drink tomorrow?" asked Sera. "I would love to," you responded with a beaming smile. Sera started to smile simultaneously.

The door opened, and two men entered the room. "Excuse us..." started an unknown voice. "Sir, you can't enter this room. It's staff only..." your voice dropped as you looked into a pair of grey and turquoise eyes. A wave of memories hit you.

“It’s unfair.” you sniffed. The young prince pulled you into a closer hug and stroked your h/c hair. “I know, but we will meet in another life. That’s how it is with soulmates or not?"

“I hope so.” Your lips meet, the tears from both of you make the soulful kiss taste salty.

Even if I don’t come home, I will always remain a part of your heart, and we will meet again in the next life, just as we always have promised. We will be able to hug each other again and won’t have to let go. My love for you will never die, even if my body does not survive this war, my soul will always be with you.

“It’s fine, Shouto, we will meet in the next life. We will have a family and live until death will do us apart.” You wiggled your hand free from underneath the stone. With your bloody hand, you stroked his cheek. His eyes were filled with fear.

"You can’t leave me. I need you. We wanted to live a happy and long life together.“ he cried.

You felt how hot tears streamed down your cheeks. "Shou..." you mumbled, overwhelmed. "Y/N." he answered, as surprised as you were. You were attracted to each other like magnets. The world around you faded as you hugged each other. "I missed you," you mumbled, your voice choked with happy tears. "I missed you too, darling." His lips met yours, and you returned the loving kiss. The lonely feeling you felt your whole life disappeared at this moment. "Err, Todoroki, we still need to know what happened to your sidekick." stuttered a voice behind the two of you. You broke away from each other, and your cheeks turned a light red tone.

"Your right Midoryia, I am sorry. I just found my soulmate again," he said bluntly. "Oh, I don't want to be rude, but we really have to get going." said the green-haired man. "Do you happen to know where Mayeda Nobuo is?" asked Todoroki. "Oh yes, he was my patient. I bet we can ask doctor Tanabe if you can visit him. He had a severe wound and has probably a head injury. I healed the wound as best as I could, but the head injury still remains. Doctor Tanabe is the best neurosurgeon in Musutafu, so your sidekick is in good hands." you explained to them. "See you, Miyako-san." You let the two pro-heroes know that they should follow you.

As you reached the reception of neurology, you asked for doctor Tanabe. "He is at the tomography department." the receptionist explained. "Dang this idiot...," you mumbled under your breath. "Thank you." She nodded and went back to her work. I bet he was flirting with Oshiro Tomiko, head of the C.T. department, for an appointment, you thought.

You walked to the tomography department with the other two. There was a long queue in front of the C.T. And as it couldn't be otherwise, your object of desire was first in line. "Doctor Tanabe," you called him out. "What's up, sweety?" he asked flirtatiously. You rolled with your eyes. "Those two men would like to know how your patient is doing," you said professionally. "Oh I don't know it yet, but after the C.T we will recognize what's wrong," he said and stood close to you.

"Is he your boyfriend?" growled Todoroki. His eyes were gleaming furiously. You didn't even get the chance to answer. "I wish they were, but unfortunately, they always reject me. I need to say their sweet but has something," confessed Tanabe. His arm laid on your lower back. You pushed him away. "What did you just say?" asked Todoroki with a snarl. He looked down at doctor Tanabe with an expression that gave you goosebumps. Never had you seen him that angry. "I said that their but is cute," repeated Tanabe fearlessly. Todoroki grabbed him by the collar. "Don't you ever say that to my love again, understood asshole? And don't you ever make them uncomfortable again." He let go of him and took your hand. "Thanks for your help doctor," Todoroki spat contemptuously.

"Let's go." He dragged you away with Midoryia. You were surprised by his behavior. He was always this calm, collected guy, and now he was jealous? "Todoroki-Kun, don't you think you took it a bit too far," Midoriya asked carefully. "No, he molested my soulmate. This guy should get behind bars." Todoroki snarled.

He stopped in the entry hall and turned to you. "I apologize for my harsh behavior, darling, but I've lost too much in this life, and I can't lose you again." "You won't lose me. Especially not to an arse like Tanabe. I will always love you. No matter what will happen." you assured him.

The three of you talked for a while, and you go to know that Midoryia soulmate was the girl in the pink and black dress. Her name is Uraraka Ochako. Fortunately, they met in high school and trained together to become heroes. "Wasn't she your wife the last time we met?" you asked confusedly. The memories were still a bit blurry. "Exactly."

"We have to go back to work. Unfortunately, due to this incident, we have to sign some documents." noticed Todoroki. "Then I won't hold you back any longer. Good luck at work." you wished the two pro-heroes.

"Oh, and that I won't forget. Shoto, we still have to exchange numbers." His face lit up, and he handed you a piece of paper. You smiled at the note and saw that the numbers were neatly written down. "You still write your number on a piece of paper?" asked Midoryia confusedly. "Strangely enough, many women want my phone number, so I write it down on paper for faster inquiries," he answered bluntly. Jealousy grew in your stomach, but you knew he was attractive, and many women took advantage of his social awkwardness. "They find you attractive, which is true, but they want to um... " You whispered the rest of the sentence in his ear. His cheeks turned beet red. "Er, well, I don't want that they do that. I need to tell them." he stuttered. "I think so too. So then, I will see you two around." The two of you shared a kiss before the two pro-heroes went back to work, and so did you.

#shoto x reader #see you again #kinda fluffy #mha x reader #mha #bnha #bnha x reader #pro hero au #pro hero shouto #pro hero izuku #soulmate au #Reincarnation AU

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thgfanficinspo · 4 years

Text

Fear of the Water - Ch. 7

AO3 LINK

Annie + Finnick Origin Story set during/after 70th Hunger Games

masterlist

(ANNIE)

It’s almost impossible to sleep. Not that I normally sleep well anyway. Still.

I have one of those dreams that’s only two minutes long but actually lasts for an hour or two in real life. Finnick’s in it. He doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t even look at me. He’s just there. And it’s nice in the dream but it’s sad when I wake up.

I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do now. Keep moving? Stay put? I unpack my things and lay them out again. I get one deep sip of water cause I have to be careful about saving it until I find a source (maybe that’s what I’ll do today) and I eat one slice of dried apple. And then I notice the dirt and the blood under my fingernails and my hands start shaking.

My mother, she butchered me . . .

Shut my eyes. Don’t want to see the blood, see the boy exploding, feel hot drops of blood splatter against my face. Take deep breaths through my mouth to keep from gagging.

It’s a long time before I feel okay again. I’m just opening my eyes when a cannon goes off. I clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.

I count the bricks in my little cave to calm down again but I keep losing my place and have to start over.

I don’t think I’ll finish counting before the sun goes down. I’ll have to wait to look for food and water tomorrow.

(FINNICK)

My patron last night bought me and Cashmere as a set; I think it’s easier to deal with when there’s another victor with you. Misery loves company, as they say. But it’s also fucking awkward. Plus, it’s ridiculously expensive to buy a night with one victor, so buying two on the same night practically never happens.

We stay in the lady’s apartment long enough to see our tributes onscreen and make sure they’re still alive before making our way back toward the training center. Shine, Cash, and Piers are sorting out supplies and making a plan of attack. Annie is nibbling at some dried fruit.

We stop off at a coffee place on the way.

“That lady was disgusting,” Cashmere says as we wait for our orders. She pulls two blackberry-flavored cigarettes and some matches out of a pocket I didn’t know she had and lights them.

“Mm,” I hum in acknowledgement. She really was gross but I don’t waste my time thinking about her and what she wanted. I never do. When it’s over, it’s over, and there’s no point in reflecting on the experience.

Cashmere hands me one of the cigarettes. “Thanks,” I say. We smoke silently for a little while, watching all the Capitol citizens walk by. Girls giggle when they see me; men wink at Cashmere. It’s nothing new. “Who’s your favorite to win?”

She taps the excess ash from her cigarette on the ground. “I like my girl’s chances. But that pretty one from District Nine is one to watch. You?”

I shrug. “Don’t know.”

This is what conversations are like the day after you see a patron together. You’re too embarrassed about everything we did to look each other in the eye but we can’t ignore each other without being crushed by the silence. Plus, we have to look fun and flirty for the people that walk by.

My awful attempt at small talk is interrupted when a female tribute gets stuck under falling bricks from a decrepit building nearby. Her lower leg breaks with a loud snap as a particularly jagged stone lands on her shin. She barely has a chance to scream before a larger rock rolls onto her stomach and starts to crush her. It takes about a minute for her to die.

“That’s thirteen gone,” Cashmere says absently. “Eleven to go.”

The Avoxes are the only ones in the common area when I get back to the training center. They’re cleaning puke up off the rug; I assume it’s Broadsea’s.

“Did I miss anything important?” I ask, nodding at the television. There’s nothing interesting going on right now, so Caesar Flickerman is interviewing a Gamemaker named Seneca Crane about the inspiration behind the arena’s design.

It’s more elaborate than usual this year: it looks like an abandoned city that nature has reclaimed. It rains perpetually, and no place is completely dry. There are a handful of high dams, but in heavy rain they overflow somewhat. There’s nowhere to swim, so Annie and Piers don’t have any advantage there.

Somes points at the chalkboard; Girl 10 has been crossed off the list. Greer makes a few gestures to let me know that both Annie and Piers are still alive.

“Thanks.”

I sit down on the shower floor like I always do and lean my head back against the wall.

My arena was a heavy forest dotted with swamps.

There was this endless chorus of crickets and cicadas – it never stopped. Not to mention all the other damn bugs that would fly right into my eye or buzz around in my ear. All the bugs bit, but some of them carried diseases. Tributes bitten by the disease-bugs got sick and a few of them died.

There were these mutts in some of the swamps – gators, I think they’re called – that would come out of the water at night and attack. One of them killed Tethys, my district partner. It took her foot first. I couldn’t get to her in time to stop the bleeding or distract the mutt before it circled back for her. It took a while for the gator to kill her, but I doubt she could feel anything except the cold, dry sensation of losing blood.

Most of the water was unsafe to drink, and a good amount of the tributes died from dehydration or infections they got from drinking the bad water. The Careers and I were sure to boil our water to kill any germs. We didn’t have to worry about whether or not someone would see our fire – no one in their right mind would attack the Career pack.

And then one day at breakfast this enormous parachute came floating down from the sky and landed in front of me. A trident.

I knew in that moment that I would survive. I could use spears and knives as well as anybody, but I grew up with a trident in my hand. I knew I had lots of sponsors – they sent medicine when I was injured, fresh bread when I was hungry, even a sliver of soap to wash myself off – but this told me just how many there really were. But a trident?! Weapons of any kind were unheard of, but this?

It took two days for my allies to turn on me. They didn’t consider me much of a threat at first, since I was only fourteen and no one under sixteen, no matter how skilled or sponsored, had ever won. I defeated them allies fairly easily; I’d been expecting an attack and I knew what their fighting styles were. It only took another two days to find the remaining tributes and kill them.

I had it easy compared to some of the others. Most of the others, actually. I considered myself lucky for the first few days after I won. Thank God I didn’t have to deal with some of the shit the others had to. It evened out in the end, more or less.

Caesar Flickerman is talking as I exit the bathroom. Something menial. “Is she counting?”

“It looks like it,” Claudius Templesmith replies. “But I’m not sure why.”

I start rifling through the clothes in my closet.

“She’s most likely in shock,” Caesar says. “It happens from time to time.”

I don’t really pay attention – why should I? – until I catch a glimpse of Annie Cresta from the corner of my eye. It’s only for a millisecond; the feed switches to more entertaining footage of the boy from District 6 climbing to the top of a massive barebones building at least eight stories high.

“Shit,” I hiss under my breath.

Tributes go into shock pretty regularly; someone cracks up at least once every other year. I’m not surprised that it happened. But it bothers me that it happened to Annie. She was a bit weird to begin with, so I shouldn’t be shocked, but it’s still unpleasant.

Shit.

Piers probably should have killed her at the bloodbath – or at the very least, let the boy from 3 finish the job. The Games have barely started and I’m already so tired; I don’t know if I have it in me to watch Annie get herself killed in some awful way.

I avoid Mags for most of the day because I just don’t want to face her right now.

I eat dinner with Blight and Gloss at a popular restaurant, which we pretty much shut down for the night because so many of my adoring fans would otherwise flood the place. They cluster outside instead; Peacekeepers have to come in to keep them all in line. I’d really rather eat alone in my room but the president likes for his victors to be seen enjoying all the pleasures that the Capitol has to offer. And I hate to admit it but the food is actually good.

Blight brings the new kid with him. Timothy Something-or-other of District 6, victor of the 69th Hunger Games. I feel obligated to make a lot of sex jokes because it’s 69 and I’m the Finnick Odair.

Timothy doesn’t talk very much, nor does he make much eye contact. Blight and Gloss start filling him in on things he doesn’t ask about – the annoying victors, the protocols for being out in public, the politicians and socialites who get handsy when they drink.

“Brutus sucks, Gaius sucks,” Blight says as he pours us each a fresh glass of wine. “They’re both from Two. Actually most of those guys are awful.”

“Broadsea and Eefa fucking suck,” I add.

“And Leetha. Leetha is the goddamn worst,” Gloss says, shaking his head.

Timothy’s voice is scratchy. “Which one is she?”

“The redheaded lady from District Five,” I answer. “Thinks she’s the smartest person in the world. Don’t ever have a conversation alone with her. You’ll try to pull your ears off.”

Timothy swallows hard. He looks twitchy and hungry and tired. Bet he’s already addicted to something – alcohol maybe, or more likely morphling, since that’s the drug of choice for his fellow victors from 6.

The rest of dinner passes without anybody saying anything interesting. I trudge back to the training center and pray Mags has gone to bed already. I just don’t want to see her.

No such luck. She’s sitting on the couch facing the television when I come in. She smiles. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy,” I mutter. She pats the seat beside her, silently asking me to sit with her. But I don’t want to I stand by the couch with my arms crossed over my chest and my eyes pointed straight ahead.

Then she asks the question I’ve been dreading all afternoon. “Have you seen Annie?”

“Yeah.

We watch the Games in silence for a long time. There’s nothing going on this late; most of the tributes have gone to sleep. But I keep watching.

“What do you think?” Mags finally asks.

“I don’t think anything.” I try not to be snappy but it still comes out with some aggression. She must know I don’t want to talk about this. “I’m going to bed.” I give her a kiss on the cheek as I leave to show her that I’m not really mad at her. But she knows that already.

“Good night, Finnick.”

“Good night, Mags.”

I don’t have any dreams tonight.

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dontshootmespence · 4 years

Text

An Artist In His Own Mind

Summary: Every artist is a genius in his own mind.

Words: 2,900

Warnings: Talk of murder.

A/N: My next entry for @cmbingo 2020! This fulfills my unsub square.

“Painting is self-discovery. Every good artist paints what he is.” – Jackson Pollock

He needed silence to work.

Finally, the pleas that rang through the air subsided, leaving him with peace and quiet to think. Moving quickly was essential - before the bodies became too stiff to work with. They were the perfect specimens for his first piece.

After propping her up onto the chair with her palms upward, he wiped the blood off her neck: a clean canvas. White cloth draped around her neck and body, though it took longer than he expected to get the material to sit just right. Thankfully, he at least partly situated the boy into the position he needed. If he hadn’t there would’ve been much more damage getting him situated into the woman’s arms. It left him more time to clean the boy off and ensure a perfect finished work of art.

They lived alone and had little contact with others in the neighborhood. No one would come looking for a while. Due to the boy’s slightly contorted position it took a while to get his clothes off, but once they’d been removed, he draped the excess cloth hanging from the woman’s body over his lap.

Stepping back, he admired his work. Like any good artist, he could see areas he’d like to improve, but unfortunately he didn’t have all the time in the world. There was just one final touch. He grabbed a screwdriver from the woman’s basement and pried open the can of paint – SW 7588, Show Stopper. With every jostle of the screwdriver against the lid of the paint can, he grew more and more angry, impatience boiling inside him, the desire to perfect his piece growing exponentially.

Stirring the paint ensured it was smooth and ready for the canvas. The crimson stared back at him. Carefully, he lifted the can above his work, steadily pouring the medium out until it was gone.

With a satisfied sigh, he stepped back and pulled out the Polaroid, capturing his first completed work.

---

Morgan walked into the bullpen with sand still scratching at the corners of his eyes. Every heartbeat said coffee. Apparently, Spencer already beat him there. “Late night, kid?” He laughed. He was pouring so much sugar into his coffee, he would swear a little mountain peak was going to breakthrough the top of the steaming liquid.

Grumbling, Spencer nodded. “So late.”

“Alright, Pretty Boy.”

Spencer smirked, glancing toward Morgan quickly before looking away. God, he wanted to go home.

“Woah, woah,” he said, stepping in front of the nearly comatose doctor. “That kinda late night?”

Spencer began walking back toward his desk, whispering, “I’ll never tell.”

“You haven’t dated anyone since Y/N,” Morgan stated, catching up to his evasive friend. “I always thought it was a mistake breaking up with her. You back together?”

“I’ll never tell,” he repeated on a laugh.

Before they could return to their desks and Morgan could pester Spencer just a little bit more, Hotch stepped out of his office and began marching toward the round table room. “Guys, we’ve got a case.”

“It didn’t come through me?” JJ mentioned.

Hotch shook his head. “No, it came directly to me. A friend from New York got out of the city and began working in Cazenovia upstate. He’s got a weird one.”

“How weird?” Rossi asked.

“Even we’ve never seen anything like it.”

Emily sighed heavily. “When does it end?”

It doesn’t, she thought.

---

“Where’s Garcia?” Hotch asked.

Emily motioned toward the elevator. “She’s just on her way up. I’ll catch her up once we’re all briefed.”

Nodding, Hotch clicked the button on the remote. “In Cazenovia, there have been three people murdered via a single stab wound to the neck.”

“And they’re connected?” Morgan queried. “How do we know?”

When Hotch clicked the remote, their mouths collectively dropped, eyes alight with a confusion that was hard to come by given their line of work.

“What the hell?” Emily leaned forward in her chair trying to make some sense of the pictures in front of them. “They’ve been posed.”

“And have paint splattered on them.”

“Even though the victims aren’t connected in any way that the local PD can find, they were all killed with a knife. The unique signature is why we were called in.” Hotch passed copies of the files out to each member of the team. “With a signature unique as this and these kills only a week apart, there’s no doubt this unsub is going to strike again soon. We’ll go over victimology on the plane. Wheels up in 30.”

---

Despite the sun shining, the jet always felt solemn, like it knew it was a harbinger of bad things to come. “Alright, so what do we know about the victims?” Hotch asked Garcia, her bright and shining face the only light they’d see for at least the next few days.

“The first victims were a mother and son, Linda and Brian Tucker, 40 and 15 years old, found a week ago like this.” She brought up the pictures from the crime scene and flinched. No matter how many crime scenes she saw, she’d never get used to it. “The second victim, found yesterday, was 33-year old Matthew Feldman.”

He was posed in a chair and redressed in a green pea coat and long black pants that were slightly too baggy for his slight frame. His face was bandaged, a white covering wrapped around his ears and tied on the top of his head. And he was doused in orange paint. Garcia’s fingers glided across the keyboard like a seagull over the waves. “I’m checking everything they could’ve possibly had in common. Churches, schools, work places, dry cleaners, nothing. These three aren’t connected. At least as far as I can see.”

“Alright, let’s move away from victimology for the time being,” Hotch said. “What do the crime scene photos tell us about the killer?”

Emily noted the cleanliness of the bodies apart from the paint. “With stab wounds to the neck, they should be drenched in blood, but they aren’t. The area around them is, but they aren’t, like they were wiped off.”

“So they’re clean,” Rossi replied, “But the paint is messy. It could’ve been painted on for more control, but it seems like it was poured.”

Spencer stared at the screen, eyes scanning over the poses on display. “The bodies are intricately posed and cleaned. They’re what matter to him. The bodies are the compulsion, the paint is the signature.”

“What are you thinking, Reid?” Morgan asked.

“They’re works of art,” he said. “See the mother and son? She’s sitting with the boy in her lap, her hands palm up. What does that remind you of?”

An art lover himself, Rossi silently chastised himself for not realizing what the crime scene resembled sooner. “The Pieta. The sculpture of Mary cradling Jesus after his crucifixion…and the man…it’s Van Gogh’s self-portrait after returning from the hospital after having cut off his ear.”

“So this guy thinks himself an artist and is picking victims at random,” Morgan grumbled. “Lovely. We need to get to Cazenovia yesterday.”

---

After checking in with Sheriff Meyer, who’d called Hotch in first place, Spencer and Rossi headed to the latest crime scene, leaving JJ, Hotch, Emily and Morgan to liaise with the authorities and try and nail down a profile. “Alright, an artist like this has to be connected to the world in some way,” Morgan insisted. “Maybe he’s an art student, a local artist, something.”

Emily shook her head. “It’s gotta be more than that. If he was successful in any way, wouldn’t the ‘art’ in question be completely perfect? Pristine? The paint is messy. Why?”

“Maybe a rejected artist then,” he replied. “Someone who got denied viewership in a gallery or turned away from a prestigious art school. Color could be part of why he was turned down, so when it comes to the paint he’s disorganized.”

Before anyone could alert Garcia, the sheriff walked in, forlorn. “We’ve got another one.”

---

“What’s this one supposed to be?” Emily asked.

Spencer crouched near the man’s body, his torso wrapped in a similar pea coat to the last victim and a captain’s hat, yellowed with age – all topped with yellow paint. “Portrait of Dr. Gachet. Another Van Gogh piece. It seems a pattern is forming. Both pieces are very melancholic. Could be a reflection of our unsub.”

Morgan reached his gloved hand into the man’s pocket. “46 year old Andrew Warner. Lemme call Garcia.”

“You’ve reached the all-knowing and all-seeing Oracle of Quantico, how may I assist thee?”

“What can you give me on an Andrew Warner?”

“Andrew Warner, 1109 Nighthawk Lane, Syracuse, NY. He’s the operator of a local art gallery in Auburn called Light’s Meaning…sounds a little pretentious if you ask me.”

“Thanks, baby girl,” Morgan said softly. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“I’m waiting on it, sugar.”

“Seems like our unsub is starting to get a little closer to his true targets. How much you wanna bet our guy was rejected by Andrew Warner?”

“Less than a day in between kills,” Emily interjected. “He’s devolving fast. We need to give the profile.”

---

As the officers piled into the station’s bullpen, the team gathered before them. JJ took a step forward and asked for everyone’s attention. “Listen closely. This unsub is devolving fast and this profile is going to be the best way to catch him.”

“Alright, we’re looking for a white male between the ages of 20 and 30 whose been rejected from art school or a showing at a gallery,” Emily projected toward the murmuring crowd. No matter how many times they gave a profile to an innumerable amount of officers and detectives, there were always a few skeptics.

Leaning against the back wall, Spencer spoke. “He’s an injustice collector of sorts and feels that he’s been wronged. For right now, his victims are random, but they’re surrogates for the people who rejected him.”

“He’s devolving fast,” Hotch said. “Even though the crime scenes are still organized, the bodies are still being cleaned and the paint is still his signature, he’s killing more quickly with less and less time between kills.”

Morgan insisted. “That’s why we need all of you involved in the search for our unsub. The quicker we can pin down who he is, where he was rejected from and who wronged him, the more people we’ll be able to save. We need to get ahead of this guy.”

“And one more thing,” Emily added. “Given the likelihood that this is a student who’s been rejected, and the time of year, October. It’s likely the unsub was rejected months ago and there’s a secondary stressor that kick-started the killing spree. However, we can’t rule out that this is someone rejected from a gallery. Just something to keep in mind.”

---

He could feel the breeze brush by him as he hurriedly ran downstairs, barreling through anything that might be in his way. The FBI was in town and he still had work to do, but he’d have to move his schedule forward.

On the table sat a newspaper clipping: “Administrator Gavin P. Hall promoted to President at Tisch.”

---

Garcia had this innate ability to shine in the face of darkness. Something the rest of the team envied her for. She slid across the floor of her office, the wheels of her chair carrying her gracefully though she somehow managed to bump into her computer desk. “Okay, my pretties, I have been doing a lot of digging and I mean a lot. My hands are dirty and it’s caked under my fingernails kind of dirty. Now, I know the locals have been going door to door searching for anyone that fits the profile and has been rejected from a gallery, so I decided to look into people in the greater New York area that have been rejected from art school and boy do I have a list for you.”

“Send it over, baby girl.”

She feigned a gasp. “Mon ami, you don’t think that happened 30 seconds ago?”

“Garcia, can you narrow this list down?” Spencer asked. “We think there’s another more recent stressor that sparked the killing spree.”

“I’m gonna need something specific to narrow it down by,” she said sadly. “I mean I am an all powerful super genius hacker chick, but I can’t pull answers out of thin air.”

Rossi tapped his fingers against the desk. “Okay, okay, the third and fourth victims were both depicted like Van Gogh’s works, right? Why wasn’t the first one? The mother and son?”

“Okay, so the mother and son has to mean something,” Hotch admitted.

Spencer pushed back from the table. “With an unsub so purposeful, the bodies, the way they’re cleaned and positioned, the paints. It all means something, so a mother and a son. Garcia, have any of the suspects lost their mother recently.”

With a few quick swipes of the keys, Garcia had a list of five names. “Only one of them has lost their mother in the last week and a half though?” She said. “Trenton Price, and his address is now on your phones. Also, out of the five finalists, he’s the only one to be rejected from Tisch – one of the premiere art schools in the country.”

They all pushed back from the table, intent clear. “Alright, Reid, you, me and Emily will head to Price’s address. Rossi, you, Morgan and JJ head to Tisch, interview anyone that was involved in Price’s rejection.”

---

It would take hours for Spencer, Emily and Hotch to catch up with them, but at least they could give them a heads up. “Morgan, it’s Reid. We went to the address and he wasn’t there, but his cellphone went on and Garcia triangulated the call-“

“Lemme guess, he’s at Tisch.”

“Yup. Be careful.”

“Thanks for the heads up, kid.”

Rossi stepped on the gas, sirens blaring. “We’ll be there in five.”

“You sure about that?” JJ grimaced, hand grasping the handle above the window like her life depended on it. “We’re in the middle of New York City.”

“And I grew up on Long Island, I got this.”

In less than five minutes, Rossi screeched the car to a halt and they ran in, guns at the ready. Students ran down the hallways and down the stairs toward any exit they could find. “Where? Where are they?” JJ yelled.

“In the president’s office! Second floor!” She screamed, the clacking of her heels dissipating within the seconds.

They ran up the stairs, hearts racing while students ran passed, whispers of the ensuing sanity floating by their ears. “Trenton Price,” Morgan screamed, “Put your weapon down!”

“No! They have to pay! I’ve worked all my life for this and they just shut me down! Like the pretentious bastards they are!”

In his grasp, Gavin Hall squirmed but the knife inched closer and closer to his throat. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

Rossi stepped in front of Morgan and JJ, taking the lead though none of them had vests on. They never expected him to be so desperate so soon. “Trenton, don’t do anything you’re gonna regret,” he pleaded. “If you kill Hall here, you’ll take away his ability to make things right. Give you the opportunities you deserve.”

JJ snaked around the back of Rossi and trained her gun on Price, hoping for a chance to get a shot off.

“Yea, right! What d’you think I’m stupid?”

Nodding slightly, Rossi encouraged the terrified Hall to ‘make amends.’ Rossi prompted him. “Your mother was your biggest fan, wasn’t she? Encouraged your artistic abilities?”

“Yes, she always knew I’d be an artist, and now I am,” he breathed, a tear falling down the side of his cheek. “But then they rejected me. Told me I was an amateur! That my choice of medium was basic and pedantic. Do you know how many skilled artists specialized in charcoal? Robert Longo, William Kentridge, Dan Pyle, Joel Daniel Phillips! And these assholes tell me I’m arcane and talentless?”

“You’re not,” Hall said, putting together the pieces of Price’s mental state. “I was wrong about you. About your work.

“Liar!” He lifted his arm above his head. A crack resounded throughout the room and he fell to the floor, groaning.

JJ ran up to him and kicked the knife away, holstering her gun before turning him over and cuffing him. “You okay?” She asked Hall.

“Y-yes,” he breathed. “I’m okay. I-“

“You got this?” Morgan asked.

She nodded. “Yea, I’m good, get him to the medic.”

Price screamed at the top of his lungs through the hallways, telling anyone and everyone that he was going to be the next great artist. “Please,” JJ replied. “You’re throwing a temper tantrum because you didn’t get what you wanted.”

---

“So, kid,” Morgan said with a smile. “You gotta tell me about the other night. What happened with Y/N?”

Emily’s eyes lit up and she practically jumped into the seat next to him. “Wait, you two back together?”

He shook his head but he wasn’t convincing in the slightest. “As soon as we get back, I am going home and going to bed.”

“With Y/N?”

“I’m not telling,” he smirked.

#cmbingo #cmbingo2020 #cmbingo20 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #derek morgan #david rossi #aaron hotchner #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #dontshootmespence #an artist in his own mind

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eyesfixedonthesun22 · 5 years

Text

Black Coffee: Part 3

Summary: Coffee aroma surrounds you as you prepare for a long day of studying in your favorite coffee shop. Your focus is shattered by a handsome stranger demanding a very large favor-pretend to be his girlfriend. Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader Warning(s): Cursing. Innocent fluff. Word Count: 1,613 Beta Reader: My darling honey bun, @supersoldiersruined-me Notes: I wasn’t planning on making this a series...and yet there are now 4 parts to the story in my drafts. ;)

Your body, previously heated at the growing fondness for Bucky, feels chilled as you stir. You hear your name called over and over. It sounds like it’s being called down a long echoing tunnel. The sounds refuse to be made crisp and clear.

Warmth.

Two sources of heat frame the sides of your face. The words start to behave and form sentences.

“Open your eyes, doll. You okay? I need you to tell me you’re okay.” The warmth travels paths up and down your arms. Is someone shaking you? “I’m gonna kill that child.”

“Who are we killing?” Your eyes open and immediately shut.

Ouch. Too bright.

You sit up with Bucky’s help. From the new angle you’re no longer blinded when you open your eyes. “What the hell happened? Why am I wet?”

“Peter thought it would be funny to attack us all with water balloons.” Steve said.

“Only problem is the little asshole has invented a water balloon gun and the calibration was off. Too forceful and rapid fire.” Bucky grumps and glares at Peter.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Barnes. I didn’t even hit her.”

“Don’t apologize, Peter.” You wince a little, moving to a standing position. Bucky’s still examining your head. “I thought it was funny. I’m just the clumsiest person on earth. Next time, aim for the boyfriend.” The word felt foreign on your lips but brought you a stupid amount of joy. Did you have a concussion?

“You tripped, hit your head, and somehow managed to fall into the pool.” Clint snorts.

“Sounds about right.” You shoot him a finger gun. “Really I’m fine.” You try to push Bucky’s examining hands away. Your body sways unconvincingly, completely undoing your attempt at downplaying the injuries.

“No, you aren’t. Let’s go patch you up and get you out of these wet clothes.” You’re ready to protest but Bucky’s steering you back inside toward the elevators. Ruby follows behind.

In the elevator you lean into Bucky’s side. The warmth he radiates feels even more needed now in the A/C cooled interior. His soft shirt against your cheek soothes you. The fabric is saturated with a comforting fresh smell you’d already come to associate with Bucky.

“Wait! How the hell are you dry if I fell in the pool?!” You shoot him an accusing glare. “You didn’t try to save me!?”

“Before I ran over, Ruby was already hauling you up the steps.” You glance down at the pooch. Her previously fluffy fur is plastered to her skin. It drips rivulets onto the elevator floor.

“You must have made a good impression on her, doll.”

You run a hand through the damp hair at her ear, scratching lightly. Silently you thank her extra training. You wonder if Bucky takes the time to teach her himself. It’s not much of a thank you, but her thumping tail lets you know it’s welcome. Rufus probably would have just stood at the edge of the pool and barked; that is, if he would have moved at all. Bucky leads you off the elevator through a richly decorated living space down a long hallway. You follow along wordlessly, taking in the surroundings until you reach his bedroom.

“Ruby. Go lay down.” Bucky commands softy. She shakes herself dry once more before curling up in the giant plush dog bed in the corner of Bucky’s bedroom. “Let’s get you out of those clothes.”

“So that was your plan all along, Barnes.” He’s rifling through his dresser but pauses. “If you wanted me naked in your room, all you had to do was ask.”

The gulp he swallows is audible. “Darling, I didn’t mean- I swear I just- Fuck.”

“I’m messing with you.” Fresh heat rushes to your cheeks realizing how much your chiding had shaken him. Now you were thinking about actually getting naked. Naked for other circumstances. Damn your wandering mind.

He hands you a pair of neatly folded grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt. Even without them near your nose, you can bet the same fresh scent clings to their fibers. Bucky’s smell.

“Bathroom is through there.” He gestures vaguely. He’s not meeting your eyes. “Just let me in when you’re dressed so I can look at that gash on your head.”

Your hand reaches instinctively to touch at your temple. Ouch. That was a mistake.

In the safety of the bathroom, you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. A quick glance in the mirror has you recoiling at your reflection. The fall into the pool had transformed you into a drowned rat. Your makeup was a lost cause. Sitting in a decorative basket is a collection of towels. You grab a washcloth and wipe the remnants away. Your hair would have to airdry. You tousle it a bit and comb out any knots the best you can with your fingers. You strip off the sopping clothes and hang them over a rail in his shower. After toweling off the rest of the dampness, the soft fleece of the sweatpants and clean cotton feel heavenly against your skin. It was the same feeling you’d always loved as a child. After a day at the beach or pool, changing into soft, clean clothes always felt better against your sun-soaked skin.

You opened the bathroom door. Bucky was laying on his bed spread eagle. His eyes were closed allowing you to study him undetected. He’d taken off the jacket he’d worn earlier today. What you’d previously thought was a white t-shirt underneath was a tank top. One of his arms was tanned a deep brown like the rest of his skin. The other glinted the light from the window in splintered patterns on the wall. He was gorgeous. You wonder how it would feel to see him like this more. What would it be like to walk into a room and see your “boyfriend” snoozing on the bed? Ruby shifts to acknowledge you. Her movement alerts Bucky.

“Nap time?” You ask. Hoping the warble of pitch doesn’t somehow betray your daydreams.

“Sometimes this much socializing takes a lot out of me. I love ‘em. But the quiet is nice.” You smile warmly not expecting such an honest answer. “Let me get a look at your head.”

He has you sit on the toilet while he gets out the first aid kit from under the sink. Thankfully the gash looks worse than it is. No stitches needed he had said with certainty. Bucky kneels in front of you while he cleans the cut. In no time at all, it’s covered with a bandage and antibiotic ointment. He’s still on his knees. The silence between you is pleasant and agreeable but something is nagging at the back of your brain.

“Bucky?” You ask. He’s rolling up the long pant legs of his sweatpants to a suitable length for you. Occasionally, the pads of his fingers graze against your skin. “How long are we going to do this?”

His fingers pause.

“Don’t wanna stay my captive forever?” Despite the joke his expression is guarded. He speaks more to himself than you, “Sam’s bound to figure out I can’t actually land a girl like you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Doll, seriously. You’re kicking ass in school, have an amazing future lined up for you, and you’re way out of my league. All things that are great for rubbing in Sam’s face, but this isn’t right.”

The silence returns.

“It’s not right?”

He scoffs. “Understatement of the year.”

“Wow. I guess I didn’t realize how not right I am. Thanks for enlightening me.”

The vulnerability this stranger had managed to pull out of you in a day was terrifying enough but to have him laugh at you was unacceptable; backhanded compliment or otherwise. Clearly, you’d been delusional earlier and the bump to your head must have knocked you back into reality. He considers me good enough to flaunt to Wilson but not good enough for him to actually date. You stand and stomp towards the door.

“Darling, wait! What did I say?”

“Enough!” you snap. His eyes go wide; putting together the pieces. “Enough cute names, enough fake dating, I’m done.”

“You misunderstood. I meant that you deserve more than a fake relationship and you certainly deserve more than me.” You pause in the doorway. “You’re beautiful and smart. I’ve known you for less than 24 hours and you’ve had me a sputtering mess for nearly all of them. I’m just some guy who asked you for a stupid favor this morning because I told a pathetic lie to my friends. Every fact I learned about you, every quirk, has made me realize how thoroughly inadequate I am.”

Your brain, formerly full of rage fueled quips, struggles to form words.

“I’m not stupid enough to think this is love, but damn if I’m not smitten with you, doll. I scoffed because with every skeleton in my closet I’ve been waiting for you to bail.”

“I did try to drown myself.” You attempt to contain the smirk playing at your lips but fail.

“Gonna have to do better if you’re gonna hang around a gang of superheroes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“Next time?” He closes the distance between you and hugs you tight to his chest. He can smell the notes of your shampoo mixing with the chlorine as he presses a kiss to your scalp. There’s a short warning boof before the two of you are tackled by Ruby in her own fashion of a hug.

“Can I take you on a real first date?”

“Was this one not lively enough for you, Barnes?!”

#bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky #marvel #mcu #coffeeshop au #meet cute #fake dating #my writing #my fics #black coffee

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a-supernatural-writer · 4 years

Text

Prologue: Elemental Wiccan Pt.2

Summary: It’s the morning after Isabeau’s vampire nest hunt. With a knock on their front door, Isabeau is visited by an old friend and asked to help them. Will she leave home? Or will she stay?

Pairing: Eventual Sam x OC x Dean (polyamory relationship)

Warnings: language

Words: 2,481

*This work is also posted on other fanfiction sites*

Next Part | Main Masterlist | “Party of Three” Masterlist

Isabeau stepped down the stairs in a fresh new set of clothing. She was wearing her ‘Led Zeppelin’ t-shirt, fully showing off her right arm tattoo sleeve, black faded ripped jeans, a new pair of black boots, a multitude of rings adorned her fingers since she only really wears them when not hunting, and had her great grandmother's rosary beads wrapped multiple times around her right wrist.

Isabeau wasn’t exactly religious, she never went to sunday school like the majority of the kids she grew up with did, and never really was one with going to church. She never was against going but it was just her experiences that made her outlook on them slightly negative. Nothing like people telling her that her pansexuality was a sin and that she should ask for god’s forgiveness. Yeah, not the best idea to get people to go to church.

Nevertheless, Isabeau wore the rosary since they were one of the very few things that she had left of her great grandmother.

She walked into the kitchen and dried her damp white hair with a towel. She stopped short once she saw her parents talking at the diner table, both with cups of coffee in their hands and another cup filled with tea and slice of cheesecake next to her mother. Isabeau pulled the towel away from her head and rolled it up in her arms, letting her hair dry naturally.

“I didn’t expect cheesecake. I thought I was in trouble?” Isabeau asked. Placing the towel on the chair next to her and taking a seat in front of her tea and food. She immediately dug into the cheesecake and took sips of tea in between.

Bartholmieu chuckled at his daughter. “No, you’re not in trouble. But as your mother said before. Let us know when you go on hunts, where the hunt is and when you are done.” Isabeau leaned back in her chair, ready to argue, but her father put his hand up. “I’m not done. Let us know these things… when you can. You don’t have to call on every hunt, but occasionally check in on us just to let us know that you’re…”

“Alive?” Isabeau finished for him. Her parents were silent. Neither of them wanted to think that way.

Isabeau nodded. “I understand. Completely. I do.” Silence hung between the three of them.

Bartholmieu suddenly chuckled. “You know, I’m proud of you, Isabeau. This is your third vampire nest this month. How’d you do it?” Isabeau laughed at her father while Yvette smacked him in the chest.

“What?” He looked at his wife. “I want to know how she did it! If she used her powers or not! Aren’t you curious?” Yvetter rolled her eyes and looked back to Isabeau, waiting for an answer. She was quite curious herself.

“No, no powers used. Just my wit and a machete. No fire power, or moving objects. Pure brute force.” Isabeau explained. Isabeau always embraced her powers on a hunt. Having the power of being a fire elemental from her mother and the ability to cast spells, and all things wiccan from her father did help on hunts. Though more recently Isabeau has been relying on her own strength and methods. Acting more like a human hunter than a supernatural hybrid.

Her parents nodded at her, Yvette getting up from the table to clean the bloodied clothes that Isabeau came back in. Bartholmieu scooted closer to his daughter asking more about how she found the nest in the first place.

Hours passed as the three talked, cleaned and watched the sun rise over the horizon, waiting for the three boys to wake up and come down or breakfast.

Isabeau smiled as the boys footsteps echoed throughout the house like thunder. The three immediately attached themselves to their older sister, questions flowing out of them. Isabeau couldn’t help but smile and laugh at her brothers, telling them an over the top story on how she was able to take down the nest of vampires.

Yvette and Bartholmieu smiled at their children while cooking breakfast for all of them. Isabeau was gesturing her hands about with a smile on her face, almost as if her hunt was a tall tale to amuse her brothers. And it amused them, they laughed at her ridiculous acting, occasionally falling to the ground to represent the vampires she killed.

Isabeau knew that telling her brothers about her hunt was gruesome but this was her family. A family grown up to see gruesome as something normal. She knew that any normal children would have been scarred for life from hearing her stories and seeing the remains of corpses. And her brothers weren’t normal.

Strange enough, even though their parents were both supernatural beings, Isabeau was the only hybrid. Alphonse and Dion were both wiccans from their father, while Eugene was the other fire elemental in the family.

Yvette came over placing plates filled with waffles, fruits, bacon, the works for a giant breakfast. Isabeau moved to help her parents set everything at the table, grabbing juice from the fridge and the coffee pot.

She laughed as Dion placed a raspberries on his fingers, wiggling them at her. The sudden ring of the doorbell pulled her away from her youngest brother. “I’ll get it.” Isabeau told her parents, setting down the juice and coffee and jogged to the door with a smile.

When she opened the door, her smile slightly faded when she saw who knocked on the door. A man, a few years older than her with dark blonde short hair, green eyes with light freckles dusting his face. Isabeau was shocked. The man smiled at her. “Hey sweetheart, missed me?”

Isabeau broke out into a laugh and lunged towards him, embracing him in a tight hug. “Dean! You bet your ass I missed you!” Dean chuckled, tightening his arms around her torso, enjoying the hug.

“Easy there sweetheart, don’t go hurting yourself.” Isabeau rolled her eyes at Dean. She pulled away from him, taking her hand in his and pulling him inside the house. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?” Isabeau closed the door behind her and looked into his eyes.

Dean swallowed, smiling weakly at her. “It’s dad, he’s been on a hunting trip and he hasn’t come back.” Isabeau bit her lip. “Your kidding.” Dean scoffed. “I wish I was.”

“Dean?” Yvette walked over to both of them with a smile on her face. Dean smiled back, equally as happy to see her. “Mrs. Fitzgerald! Wonderful to see you!” Dean grunted in surprise as Yvette pulled him into a strong hug. “Dean please, how many times have I told you to call me Yvette?”

Dean smiled at her when she pulled away. “Too many times.” Yvette shook her head at him.

“Dean! My boy. Good to see you.” Bartholmieu and Dean chuckled and gave each other what Isabeau could only describe as a man hug. A good hardy slap on the back and never hugging for too long.

“Good to see you too, Bartholmieu.” Dean smiled. Bartholmieu put an arm around Dean’s shoulder and guided him into the kitchen. “Come on, we’re having breakfast. Join us!”

Dean was about to oppose, but then he saw the monstrous amount of food on the table, especially the waffles. He turned to Isabeau and pointed at her. “Your waffles?” Isabeau crossed her arms and gave him a look. “Who’s else's?”

Dean smiled, rubbing his hands together. “Don’t mind if I do. Hey kiddo’s what’s up?” Dean exclaimed taking the seat besides Alphonse. “Dean!” The brothers were beyond happy to see what they referred to their older brother, Dean.

Isabeau smiled as both of her parents and herself took a seat at the table, Isabeau sitting next to Dean, her father next to her and then her mother in between him and Eugene.

And just like that, the talk of hunting became obsolete. The family shared what Dean missed out on in the past two years, how Isabeau graduated college with her art history degree, the boys own activities; Alphonse being the top of his class for science, Eugene taking interest on working with his grandfather to rebuild old machinery, and Dion taking in an interest in cooking and baking with his father.

Dean himself shared what little part of his life that didn’t involve hunting, which wasn’t much. They all already knew about Sam getting away from the hunter life, going off to college himself and having a happy relationship with his girlfriend Jess, so Dean didn’t say anything about him.

As the meal went on Isabeau couldn’t help but occasionally steal glances at Dean while he listened to her brothers talk about what they and their friends did in their free time. He was just as handsome as she remembered him two years ago. If not maybe even more. She also couldn’t prevent her heartstrings from tugging seeing him so happy. She could tell he hadn’t had a home cooked meal in awhile and loved that he had a strong love for food like she did.

Dean himself couldn’t keep his eyes off of Isabeau. She grew into a stunning woman in the past two years that he didn’t see her. Her white hair got significantly longer, which Dean always thought her white hair was beautiful. He noticed that she fully completed her right arm sleeve tattoo and still wore the rosary beads that mean so much to her. Her love of rock music didn’t go away either, proved by the t-shirt she wore.

For the first time in a long time, Dean felt happy. Isabeau and her family were home to him, they took him and Sam in when their father wasn’t there at times. Isabeau’s parents treated the two brothers like sons of their own. Of course, the Winchester’s knew about Isabeau’s family as well. They were a family of elementals and wiccans but also hunters. A part of the supernatural that fought for the safety of humanity because all they wanted was peace.

As breakfast finished, both Dean and Isabeau made their way to the front porch and sat at the small table, Dean with a cup of coffee and Isabeau with her go to tea. “So, art history?” Dean smiled , taking a sip of his coffee.

Isabeau nodded, smiling as well. “Yep. Surprising, huh?”

“Very. You took a break from hunting I guess to get it?”

Isabeau pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Nope. hunting never stopped Dean, only slowed down. I got my degree but haven’t done anything with it for the year after I graduated. Hunting became my life again, well sort of.” Isabeau jutted her head to her family inside.

“I hunt when I need to, it helps that my family have hunted and well you know what we are. That’s my life Dean. It will also be filled with the supernatural and death. But it also doesn’t prevent me from living happily with my family. Honestly, the degree is plan B, once this is all over.” Isabeau explained to Dean, taking a sip from her tea.

Dean nodded, taking all of it in. He wrapped his knuckles on the table. “Too bad that didn’t happen for us.” Isabeau sighed, he was referring to himself, Sam, their father John and their deceased mother, Mary. Isabeau knew that if whatever killed their mother never happened, the four of them would be living a happy life.

Dean rubbed his face and leaned back in his chair. “But I’m happy for you. I am.” The sound of her brothers screaming happily throughout the house made him stop and chuckle. “Those little tikes grew up fast.”

Isabeau smiled fondly at Dean. “Yeah, they did. It’s scary. Seeing them grow up this fast.” Isabeau shook her head. “Anyway.” She set her cup down and folded her hands in her lap. “John’s missing you said? Why'd you come see me?”

Dean smiled, placing a hand on Isabeau’s knee. “I was hoping you could help me find him. Grab Sammy. Get the old team back together?” Isabeau bit her lip, looking away from Dean and looking out into the field.

Go back to hunting with the boys. Isabeau thought about it for a moment. Like she said, she wasn’t doing anything with that degree and hunting was already a full time job for her. What could be the harm?

Isabeau clicked her tongue and turned back to Dean. “Fuck it. Why not? Get the old gang back together. Plus, I get to spend some time with my boys.” Dean smiled and patted the leg that his hand was on. “Back your bag sweetheart.”

“Call me when you get there.”

“Mom.”

“And tell Sam we all said hi.”

“Mom.”

“And don’t forget your spell book no matter what!”

“Mom!”

“What?” Yvette exclaimed as Isabeau stared wide-eyed at her mother. Isabeau took her mother's hands off her shoulders and squeezed them tight. “I’ll be fine. Just one quick trip with my boys to help find John and then I’m back home. Promise.”

Yvette sighed, pulling her daughter into a tight hug. “You die, I’ll resurrect you kill you myself.” Isabeau rolled her eyes at her mother’s words. “Yeah okay mom.” Isabeau and her mother pulled away, only to be pulled into another hug by her father.

“Be careful.” Bartholmieu whispered to Isabeau. Isabeau softly smiled. “Always.” She whispered back.

They nodded to each other and pulled away. She chuckled as her brothers ran over to her and tackled her in a group hug. “Be good you gremlins.” Isabeau ruffled their heads and handed them a piece of paper with multiple numbers written on it. “If you three need anything call me, okay?” They nodded, Eugene and Dion running back to their parents while Alphonse stayed.

Alphonse took the piece of paper, folding it up and putting it in his pocket. “Beau.”

Isabeau stared at Alphonse waiting for him to continue. Alphonse took out a single black jeweled teardrop earring and placed it in her hand. “For protection.” Isabeau smiled at Alphonse, and immediately placed the earring in her right ear.

“I’ll wear it forever. Be good.” Alphonse nodded, hugging his sister one last time before running to his brothers.

Isabeau gave them all a wave, opening the passenger door of Dean’s Impala. “Take care of my baby!” Isabeau shouted at her father who shouted back that he will.

She slid into the passenger seat of the impala and closed the door. “Ready whenever you are, Dearie.” Isabeau called Dean by his old nickname. Dean chuckled, turning the impala on, AC-DC’s ‘Highway to Hell’ playing from it’s speakers.

“With you, Beau, I’m always ready.” Dean smiled, placing a hand on Isabeau’s thigh. The two of the setting out on grabbing Sam and setting out to search for John.

Next Part | Main Masterlist | “Party of Three” Masterlist

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spnfamily #spnfandom #fan fiction #oc #sam x oc x dean #dean x oc x sam #sam x oc #dean x oc #sam winchester #dean winchester #original character #original characters #season one #prologue #eventual romance #polyamory

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tunesscribbles · 5 years

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Portgas D Ace x Reader Nights

a 4 + 1 style fic | gender neutral reader | subheadings from ‘Shake It Out’ - Florence and the Machine

I I like to keep some things to myself

You heaved the unconscious body on the ship before fully climbing onto it yourself. That marked his- what? 87th failed murder attempt on Whitebeard? It was also at least the fifth time you had to fish him out of the ocean since devil fruit users can't swim. You shivered in the chilly night air. Nothing better than a dive into freezing water in the middle of the night! You really hoped you wouldn't catch a cold as you wrung out your hair and clothes a little.

You were seriously doubting this guy's sense of self-preservation. It was clear as day that he would never be successful. Ironically enough, the only one getting injured due to his murder attempts is himself. So why does he keep doing it?

You accepted the towels another crew member handed you with a thanks. Next to you Ace seemed to become conscious again. You wondered what was going on in his head. Definitely nothing too cheerful, judging by the way he curled into himself, knees brought up, arms folded above and head resting on top. Although he made a pitiful sight with seawater dripping from his body and collecting in a puddle under him, he seemed anything but defeated.

This stubborn idiot was going to try again, wasn't he? You wouldn't put it past him to go for it this very night. Instead of asking him why or trying to convince him not to, like many had tried before you, you threw a towel over his shoulders and moved to sit down.

You lifted your gaze upwards to look at the sky. Not a cloud in sight, no moon either, just billions of twinkling dots. The past few days had been cloudy and childish as it may be, you had missed the stars, just a little. No matter where you are in the world, the stars look the same. They were a source of comfort.

You heard Ace shift as he reluctantly began to dry himself with the towel. Oh, right. For a moment you completely forgot about him. Weren't you supposed to try to talk to him?

"Okay, so..." Strong start, already getting weaker. This was a terrible idea all around. You threw a glance at him to find him looking up at the sky like you were before. There was a certain glint in his eyes, like he was trying to remember where they kept the weapons on this ship.

You sighed. "At least try not to fall into the ocean again tonight." You got up to leave him to his own (certainly self-destructive) devices. "Ain't no man above a common cold!"

II I'm damned if I do, I'm damned if I don't

As soon as Ace finally accepted the invitation and became part of the crew, he defended Whitebeard's name with such vigor that you wondered if he was putting in an extra effort to try to compensate for his earlier actions or if he was simply this much of a ride-or-die person. The more time you spent with him, the more you leaned towards the latter.

It surprised you how lively and open the freckled male turned out to be once he lowered his guard. He seemed so different from the troubled teenager Whitebeard had picked up. Ace was actually easy to talk to and the two of you got along well.

The stars shone dimly through a thin layer of clouds as you were about to land on the next island.

"Lets go grab some food, my treat.", he offered. He stood next to you and spun his bright orange hat on his finger. That hat was frankly ridiculous! As if he was pretending to be some sort of cowboy-pirate.

"You never pay for your food.", you remarked and raised your eyebrows at him.

"That's not-" The hat slipped of his finger and in an attempt to catch it Ace almost threw it into the ocean. He composed himself again and adjusted his trademark clothing item on his head. "I'll pay this time, it'll be nice."

He seemed nervous, why was he nervous? You squinted your eyes at him in a scrutinizing look.

"You're planning something, I don't trust you when you're planning something. You had a prank war with Thatch last week and now you want to pay for someone else's food when you never even pay for your own?"

The look in his eyes was a mixture of panic and suffering like a plan gone wrong. You knew it!

He threw his hands up in defeat. "You know what? Forget it! I bet it wouldn't have worked anyway!" and then his words became unintelligible as he grumbled to himself. Something about being damned if Marco was right and how it was not even that big of a deal, whatever 'it' was. You would feel bad for him, if you had not just dodged a prank.

"Aw, don't be like that! I can help you trick someone else, if you want.", you tried to cheer him up. "Take a look at the stars! It's the perfect night to cause some mischief. Just because I didn't fall for it, doesn't mean no one else will." The more you talked, the more you got the feeling of being on the wrong ship and sailing away into the distant land of "I-really-fucked-this-up-but-I-don't-know-what-I-missed".

That feeling was further enhanced by Ace glancing at you sideways and saying: "You are terrible at this." in a way that made you question what exactly 'this' was and at what point during the conversation the two of started to talk about completely different topics.

There was a hint of amusement in his voice though and you decided to latch onto it to stop this talk from hurtling towards becoming a ship wreck.

"Well, we all have to be something, don't we?" There you go, he laughed. Another interaction salvaged. "We can still go and grab some food, if you'd rather do that."

He pulled a face. "Nah, I don't feel like paying for it anymore."

Now it was your turn to throw up your arms.

III I've been a fool and I've been blind

You hissed as the doctor cleaned out your wound before bandaging it. Next to you Ace winced in sympathy.

You were slightly unsure what to do with him these days. Over time you became good friends, however at some point there has been a shift in your dynamic. Whereas conversations used to flow naturally and hanging out with each other was comfortable, nowadays everything seemed to be accompanied by an underlying tension. An odd sense of nervousness would spread between you and like a wrench thrown into the conversational clockwork, it would bring everything to an awkward standstill. Suddenly you were overly aware of every aspect of yourself that could pass as a flaw and the various ways in which you could ruin this friendship you have come to treasure.

Ace was still uncharactaristicaly silent when you left the infirmary. You gently bumped your shoulder with his to gain his attention.

"I can almost hear you inventing new ways to blame yourself, stop that. It wasn't your fault."

"I was supposed to watch your back!", he said through gritted teeth.

"You did! Otherwise I wouldn't be here to tell you not to beat yourself up. Even if you didn't, it was my fault for not paying attention." His mouth was already open to come back with another argument but you cut him off. "No! No arguing. End of discussion."

And apparently also end of conversation because another tense silence followed your words. You heaved a sigh so heavy it could have sunk a whole ship.

Your fingers brushed past his hand and he flinched away like you burned him. Which was ironic, considering he was the one with the fire powers. This right here is what you were talking about. Why did this have to be so difficult? Why was everything amped up to a hundred and then some? The smallest touch could set everything ablaze and words were weighed down with double meanings and it hurt and still. All you could think was how much you wanted to hold his hand and maybe, maybe-

Something clicked into place. Something you had known in the back of you mind for a while but just now realized. Oh, you thought.

The fact that Ace smelled distractingly like bonfire did not help with the overall situation.

IV Here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road

"Do you have to be so disgustingly in love?", asked Thatch with an exasperated sigh.

"I don't know what you're talking about.", you replied at the same time as Ace said: "Absolutely!", from where he sat wrapped around you with his chin propped up on your head.

The crew members nearby laughed and toasted to "young love" and that it may annoy the cook to the end of times.

Later that night Ace and you retreated to a quieter place on deck away from the party. You watched the stars overneath and after a while you said: "They're all long burned out and dead."

Ace spluttered and choked on his drink. You had to pat his back to help him.

"What?"

"The stars. A lot of them are long dead before we can see their light.", you elaborated.

"Oh" Now he looked up as well as if considering them from a new perspective.

"Doesn't stop them from looking beautiful though." You smiled and leaned into him.

"No, it doesn't."

It was quiet for a moment, apart from the party on other parts of the ship, but it was not like the uncomfortable silences in the past. Just a pause, nothing to worry about. There is no longer a rush to get the right words out in time in fear of them dissolving on your tongue otherwise.

You took a sip of your drink while Ace laced your fingers together.

"Disgustingly in love", he repeated the words from before and smiled. You couldn't help but grin yourself.

"Maybe so", you said and playfully swung your joined hands back and forth.

"I love you.", he said and you never really get used to such declarations. Ace turned around so you are facing each other and cupped your cheek in his unoccupied hand. "Disgustingly much!"

If a smile could stop a war, this one had just achieved world peace.

"I love you, too." You dropped a kiss on the tip of his nose and then some more on the freckles on his cheeks, for good measure. "An obnoxious amount!"

Ace leaned in for a proper kiss and for the next few moments the world began and ended right here: You two, with your hands entwined, kissing under the light of dead stars.

A week later Thatch found a devil fruit.

+ I I' m ready to suffer, I'm ready to hope

A year passed. Vengeance proved unsuccessful.

For a long time now you had felt unhinged, off balance without any clear goal in sight. What was there left to do when you have lost so much?

It felt wrong, looking at the night sky and finding it no different to all the times you used to look at it together. The world was cruel like that, it didn't care about your loss.

The world doesn't care, people do. That is one of the most valuable lessons becoming part of Whitebeard's crew had taught you.

Now the uncaring stars slowly faded to make way for the dawning sun.

You laid down a bouquet of flowers on your father's grave. "I have to go my own way again.", you told him. You had already said your goodbyes to the remainders of the crew. This was your last stop before the rest of the world. After spending so much time mourning and fighting, it was time for you to move on, to live for yourself again. You felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

"Thank you for everything, pops!", you almost choked on your words and had to take a moment to gather yourself. It may get easier with time but it will never just be easy.

You turned to the second grave and had to smile at the sight of a certain hat. "Don't worry, I'll be safe.", you reassured him. Your eyes wandered up into the sky. No more stars to admire. "I wonder if they look the same wherever you are now."

Taking a step backwards you looked at both graves for a last time. "I miss you and I won't ever forget you.", with that you bowed shortly and then turned around to go.

A gust of wind ruffled your hair and for a second the air carried a faint smell like- "Bonfire." You took a deep breath and continued walking down the hill. Your steps becoming faster and faster until you were running and you haven't felt this weightless in such a long time, you thought you might just lift off the ground completely and fly.

(You passed a young man in a tophat on your way down.)

#portgas d. ace #one piece #op ace #portgas d ace x reader #one piece reader insert #marco the phoenix #op thatch #one piece whitebeard #whitebeard pirates #fluff #soft #a bit sappy #slight angst #sappy is my brand now apparently #maybe someday i will get over putting stars in my fic #today is not the day #if the ghosts of your loved ones don't come to tell you goodbye what are you even doing #bonfire #the scribbles

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tindomielsilverthorn · 5 years

Text

Void Bolt Ch 6

Another chapter collaboration with @devsash. I have not been posting here, and I apologize. I will catch up as best as I can.

Chapter 5

Niqi peered at the guest room door. She took a couple of slow breaths before stepping towards it. Goldeneyes sat on the bed, peering out at the bloodthistle. He seemed lost in thought. "What if I tried mixing it with...? But would that work?" he whispered to himself. Niqi raised her hand and softly knocked on the door. The Sin'dorei man started, glancing at the door. "Yes?" Niqi opened the door just a small amount. “Mister Goldeneyes? Sir? Ummm, lunch is almost ready.” Goldeneyes peered at her for a moment. "I'm not hungry," he said. “Are you certain? The way you dressed the meat, it smells heavenly.” She chewed her lip a moment. “I could bring a bowl to you, if you would rather be alone.” "I'll be damned before I eat anything prepared by a Greythorn," he said flatly.

“All...all right. I’m sorry. I just wanted to help,” she closed the door and wandered out to the garden. She flopped down in front of the bloodthistle, staring at them as tears streamed down her face. "Niqi?" Mehe said, stepping out after her. He frowned, seeing her tears. "What is it? Did Goldeneyes say something?" “I was just trying to help...”’she whispered. “But he won’t eat because I helped make it.” Mehe sighed. "Honestly, if I didn't trust you, I'd be the same way. He needs time to see you're not who he thinks you are." “I don’t think he’ll even give me a chance, Mehe. I don’t know what the other Greythorns did. But it must have been bad.” She reached out, gently touching the vibrant bloom. "I don't know," Mehe admitted. "He doesn't talk much about his world." “How did I make you see, Mehe? That I was all right?” "I saw how much you care about Anas." Mehe sat down beside her. "And I could tell you're a genuine person. That's what matters to me." “So just being me?” She dropped her hand down into her lap. He nodded. "Yes. Now come, let's have lunch. Anas is waiting for us." She nodded and worked her way to her feet. “All right.” Mehe stood as well. He gently brushed her tears away with a tendril. "Come," he said, turning and stepping inside. "I'll have to find Ælithil later as well. Should I wait near the shop or would he be anywhere else?" “I’m not sure. He just found out about a friend who died on the tree. He went to ask family about it.” She made her way to the stove. “Shall I serve?” "My deepest condolences." Mehe shook his head. "I think Anas wants to serve. He's really happy that he was able to heal you." “I’m glad I convinced him to try then,” Niqi smiled. She crossed to the table and found a seat. “It hurt, but my back feels a lot better now.” "Good." Mehe smiled as Anas placed the food before them and handed out the cutlery. "Okay then, let's dig in," Anas said, grinning widely. "I can't wait to taste my little sister's cooking!" Niqi smiled. “I do hope it’s good. It’s been a while since I cooked anything.” “I'm sure it is," Anas said, picking up his spoon. Niqi followed suit. Dipping in, she took a bite. “Oh Light. I need to know what he put on this. It’s wonderful.” Anas glanced at the door to the guestroom. "He's not joining us for lunch?” Niqi shook her head, looking at the table. "I'll give him some," Mehe said, getting to his feet. He filled a bowl with some of the food. “He won’t eat it,” Niqi said sullenly. “Because it was prepared by a Greythorn.” The two men stared at her. "He said that?" Anas asked, frowning. Mehe pursed his lips, glancing at the door. “He did. It’s fine. He doesn’t trust me.” Niqi took another bite, shrugging. She did her best not to get upset, but her drooping ears and tangled tendrils gave her away. Anas placed a hand on her shoulder. "I apologize for his behavior, little one," he said softly. “It’s hardly your fault, Anas.” Her tendril grabbed ahold of his hand. "I really want you to feel comfortable, safe and welcome here, but it's not working out that way." He sighed, gently squeezing her shoulder. She smiled sadly up at him. “I do feel safe with you and Mehe here. I’ll manage. Let’s just... have lunch. Maybe he will change his mind?” She tried to sound hopeful. "I daresay he will," Mehe said. He resumed his seat before taking another bite. “So, umm, how does it work? To make a pressed flower, Mehe? I’ve never done it.” She turned her attention to the Ren’dorei, offering him a small smile. "Hmm?" He glanced at her, his spoon halfway to his mouth. "I pick one that seems appropriate to press, cut it a little if it's too thick then put it between a pair of small wooden boards and tie them together." “Oh...” "We should get some ice cream sometime, little one." Anas smiled at her. "It's been so long since we did that." Niqi smiled up at him. “That sounds amazing. I would love some. Should we try new flavors or the same as last time?” She took another bite looking at the closed door. "Maybe we could try something new this time." Anas glanced at Mehe. "Would you like to join us, my love?” The Ren'dorei man nodded. "Just no mint. I hate mint." “Lemon is my favorite, though Anas introduced me to cookie dough. Maybe another fruit option? Like strawberry?” She tipped her head to the side. “Why no mint?” "It's just..." He pulled a face before shaking his head. "Damn well tastes like medicine." Niqi giggled. “All right, no mint.” "Strawberry sounds nice though." Anas chuckled. "We should try that. Who knows, it might even go well with the other flavours." Niqi finished up her bowl and headed towards the sink to clean up. “Berries and lemon are good together. And chocolate. So I bet they will.” "Only one way to find out! We'll have to get it." Anas helped himself to another spoonful. “Go to the city and get some...” She smiled faintly. "We'll do it sometime," Anas said, smiling at her. "Unless you'd like for us to go with Mehe and meet Ælithil?” Niqi took a moment to consider it. Looking up at Anas's face seemed to make her choice for her. "No, brother. You need rest. I can see it on your face. You shouldn't be taking a trip into the city yet.” "She's right, dalah'surfal. You need to rest." Mehe finished his meal and stood. "I'll go ahead and look for him." Niqi crossed over to Mehe and reached out for his dishes. “I’ll take care of that, Mehe. You relax for a little while.” "It's fine. I'll do them." He nodded before beginning to clean up. "Would you want Anas and me to link with you so that you can try delving into the Shadow?" “Will you show me how? I have no idea what to do.” She looked to Anas nervously. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” Anas smiled reassuringly at her. "You'll be fine, little one. Mehe knows what he's doing." “Well, then yes. I would feel better if I had some idea what was happening.” She wiped off her hands and moved to Anas’s side. She gently smoothed down his hair while she waited for instruction. Anas smiled at her before rising to wash his dishes as well. Mehe dried his hands. "First, what do you know of the Shadow?" he asked, setting the cloth down. “I know it’s the balance of the Light. And that it has been twisted by people into something evil, but it’s not.” She pushed her messy hair behind her shoulders. He nodded. "It's dangerous, but no more evil than the Light is. It simply is and it's not to be feared." Behind him, Anas carefully set the washed cutlery aside and wiped his hands dry. He turned towards them, gently placing a hand on Niqi's shoulder. “Why is it treated as such?” "People like things in black and white." Mehe shrugged. "Also, because it's the opposing force of the Light and the Light is seen as good, it's easy to follow that the Shadow must then be evil." Niqi nodded. “All right. I guess that makes sense.” "Delve too deeply into the Shadow and you'll find the Void." Mehe grimaced. "It's far more powerful, but also harder to control. If you're not strong enough to keep your feet, it'll drag you under." He glanced at the Kaldorei man. "Anas is better versed in its use than I am. I prefer to avoid it." She smiled at Anas. Turning back to Mehe, she furrowed her brow. "But, because we are Ren'dorei, should that not make us more able to deal with it?" She settled into a chair to listen. "On the contrary," he said wryly, "It makes us more vulnerable to its bloody whispers. The Void tempts you to draw more and more upon it. It can and will drown out your consciousness, fragmenting your thoughts, and eventually break your mind." “So that’s why they are so loud when I’m upset...” Niqi pulled her knees up and set her chin on them. “The meditation I’ve been learning helps. But they’re still there.” Mehe nodded. "It's what we have to endure as Ren'dorei," he said, a note of resignation entering his voice. Niqi closed her eyes and sighed. She took a few breaths and tried to relax. “So what do I have to do?” she asked quietly as she opened her eyes once again "I'll reach out to you," Mehe said, his eyes turning purple. He sent out a tendril of power to the Ren'dorei girl, probing gently. "Can you feel it?" Niqi’s eyes shifted slowly as she nodded. “It’s cold.” She felt an odd sensation reacting from within herself. She chewed her lip as she attempted to focus on it. "Good." Mehe nodded. "Try linking with me. If it helps, close your eyes and visualize that you're taking my hand." “All right.” She closed her eyes and pictured it as he had described. As the hands in her mind touched, she gasped, jumping at the sensation. "It's okay, don't be scared," Mehe said calmly. "This is how you link with someone. What do you feel now?" Niqi took a shuddering breath. “It’s like a tugging. But it’s cold.” "The touch of this magic is always cold." Mehe watched her face carefully. "Are you okay with this? Do you want to continue?" "I'll help if it makes you feel better, little one," Anas offered, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. Niqi took a few breaths and nodded. “I want to learn.” Her tendrils wrapped around Anas’s hand and she squeezed her eyes a bit tighter, trying to hold on to the visual. Mehe nodded. "Now, I want you to feel along from where we're holding hands back towards the source within yourself." She nodded slowly. Her brow furrowed a few times and her head tipped and moved one way, then the other. Mehe glanced at Anas. "Will you link with me, dear one?" Anas nodded, his eyes turning purple as well. He reached out, forging the link with familiar ease. His power trickled through the link, mingling freely with Mehe's. Niqi’s eyes snapped open wide when Anas joined the link. Mehe smiled at his mate before returning his attention to the Ren'dorei girl. "Now, I want you to visualize that source within you as a ball filled with water. Hold up your right hand and imagine it trickling slowly down your hand, pooling in your palm." “Gods... is it always so....” she shook off the thought, refocusing on the lesson. She closed her eyes again, picturing a ball slightly larger than her hand. She reached out towards it, both in her mind and physically. As she started picturing the water, the color shifted. “It’s turning black. Why is it turning black?” Her voice took on an edge of panic. "It's the Shadow," Mehe explained patiently. "Deep breaths now. Remember you're here and you're safe with us. Just let it trickle slowly into your palm." The tendril’s grip on Anas’s hand tightened as she took a few deep breaths. She focused on the image, the dark water dripping started as a few large drops before suddenly flowing quickly. She screwed up her face, “No.... it’s...” Mehe reached out at once. Anas's power flowed gently through him as he focused it, soothing the flow of the magic within the Ren'dorei girl. "You're okay, Niqi. We've got you," he said. "Breathe, little one," Anas murmured. "Focus but don't force it." Niqi choked back a sobbing breath. “I am trying to make it trickle. But it came so fast!” "It can do that," Mehe said calmly. "You'll get better at it with practice. Don't worry, Anas and I won't let you fall." The girl took another breath and tried again. This time she managed to take it from slow drips to rapid ones. She sighed, relieved. Focusing again, she pushed it a bit past a trickle, but not as hard as the first time. "Good," Mehe said encouragingly. "Just like that. How do you feel now?" “Oh Light this is hard. I um.... a little better? It makes my head spin a bit. And I can hear the whispers now.” Her fingers moved in front of her like she was attempting to cup her hand. Mehe nodded. "The whispers will always be there when you work with the Shadow and the Void. You must learn to pay them no heed." "Look at your hand, little one," Anas said softly. She opened her eyes slowly before gazing at her palm. Gasping, “Is that from me?” "It is," Anas said with a smile. "You're doing very well." Her focus slipped and she opened up further, the shadows pulling down around her arm. She clamped down on it just as it reached her shoulder. "Close your eyes," Mehe instructed. "Focus on your breath. Keep breathing in and out slowly." Her purple eyes slid closed. Air flowed slowly in her nose and back out. The swirls retreated to her elbow and stayed around the lower portion of her arm. “Come on...” she whispered mostly to herself. "I think we've done enough for today," Mehe said, nodding at Anas. "You should rest, Niqi. I'll need to search for Ælithil." Niqi opened her eyes, hurt evident behind them. “I can get it! I can… I… ” "I know you can, little one," Anas said, smiling at her. "But Mehe's right. The Shadow isn't something that should be forced. It's not safe to push too far on your first try." She dropped her hand, letting it fall to her lap. "All right. I'm sorry I didn't do very well," she said softly. She glanced down at the shadows still clinging to her arm. "What do I do now?" "You did well for your first attempt. Now close your eyes," Mehe instructed. "Picture the water flowing back up your arm into the ball." She did as he asked, the shadows curling away and dissipating. She let out a relaxed sigh. "Very good," Anas said, pride in his voice. "That's wonderful, Niqi. You did so well." "I'll let go now," Mehe said before releasing the link. The purple faded from his eyes and Anas's. As the link released, Niqi’s body visibly slumped. “Oh Light, I’m so tired now.” "You should rest." Anas peered at her in concern. Niqi put her head down on the table, curling her arms around her face. “I’ll be ok. I’ll just take a minute here.” She closed her eyes, shuddering a little. Anas sat down beside her, his brow furrowing in worry. "I think she might've overexerted herself," he murmured. "It's okay. She can rest here with you. Keep you company while I'm in the city." Mehe glanced out of the window at the sky. "I should leave soon if I'm meeting him at the shop." The little Ren’dorei shifted slightly, but didn’t raise her head. “Why am I so tir...” she mumbled. "It's okay, little one." Anas patted her back gently. "Working the Shadow can be exhausting. Do you want to go to bed?" Niqi shook her head. “It’s your bed. I can rest here.” "I'd rather you rest there, where it's more comfortable," Anas said. Mehe nodded in agreement. The door to the guestroom closed with a soft click. Niqi slowly raised her head, blue eyes turning to them. “All right. Are you...are you ok? I didn’t hurt you, did i?” Mehe smiled wryly. "We're fine. Really." "I've been doing this with Mehe for a very long time." Anas smiled at his mate. "We've had a lot of practice." A relieved sigh escaped her lips. “Maybe someday I will be better at it,” she yawned. She slid down from the chair and hugged Anas. Anas hugged her back. "Off to bed now," he said, drawing back to smile down at her. "Hopefully when you wake up, Ælithil will be here for you." Releasing Anas, she turned to Mehe and smiled faintly. “Thank you, for...well everything.” Mehe nodded. "You're welcome," he said simply. She turned and walked to their bedroom. Climbing up into the bed, she pulled the pillow close, clinging to it. She closed her eyes and whispered to herself, "Please just let me sleep, please. Please don't let him be there." Anas's ears twitched. He threw Mehe a worried glance. "I need to go to the city," Mehe said softly. "Can you look after her, dalah'surfal?" Anas nodded. "Be safe, my love." Rising, he kissed Mehe's forehead before stepping into their bedroom. "Is everything okay, little one?" Niqi hugged the pillow tighter. “He’s gonna be there. If I sleep. He’s going to be there again...” she whimpered. Anas sighed sadly. He climbed into bed beside her and hugged her. "I'll hold you. Would that help?" She nodded and curled into him. “I’m sorry. I… I just...” She yawned wide. “I’m scared he’s really there.” "He won't be. Not as long as I'm here." Anas stroked her hair gently. "Sleep, little one. I'll be here." She took a shuddering breath and let herself drift off to sleep. Anas pulled the blanket over them both. He held her close as he slipped into slumber as well.

#World of Warcraft #WoW RP character blogs #wra roleplay #WRA RP #Wyrmrest Accord #wyrmrest rp #Wyrmrest roleplay #Niquisse Greythorn #reianas starmane #Meheaaris #Meheanas #ren’dorei #kal’dorei #void elf #night elf #Void Bolt Storyline #writing #writing collab

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