#and had to force the words out of where he'd locked it firmly away in all that time

[sarahs-library]

hi! i hope your having a good day 😊 you said you were taking requests so i have one if you dont mind! could you do something were az and reader are interrupted after they accept the bond by someone, maybe elain and she's upset and it causes issues? thanks!

Hey,

This is my first request so please be gentle with me if it isn't exactly what you were looking for. Also I'm sorry this sat in my inbox for so long, I wasn't sure exactly how to go about writing this one; I eventually decided on making it as dramatic as possible. 😅 So in true form, this is written mostly from our drama king Rhys' POV but there is some Reader POV fluff at the end. I wasn't sure where you stood with smut, so I've kept it relatively open to interpretation at the end.

Get Out!

Maybe being so secretive about your relationship with Azriel wasn't the best idea after all.

Word count: 5,090

Rhys POV

Rhys adjusted his grip on the blade in his hand as it clashed with Cassian's, the keen of metal against metal filled the training room. Sweat burned his eyes as he heaved air into his lungs. Cassian's grin bordered on feral as they separated, circling each other. Rhys hadn't realised how long it had been since he'd trained properly, but he could feel it in the ache of his muscles.

"Fatherhood making you soft, Rhys?"

Rhys rolled his eyes, hoping that Cassian didn't notice he couldn't muster more of a response between gasped breaths and fending off his attacks. They'd been at it for hours. Cassian was right, in between High Lord duties and trying to spend every possible moment with his son, resolute on not missing a single milestone, Rhys had certainly neglected his training regime. And now his brother was making him pay for it.

A blade whistled dangerously close to his face. Rhys managed to bring his own up in time to stop the blow as the force of it reverberated down his arm. He ducked out of Cassian's reach, staying firmly on the defensive while his brother eyed him with mirth. Cassian made a show of surveying Rhys slowly as he began to advance again, eyes trailing down his body and settling for a moment on the tight muscles of his abdomen. He clucked his tongue in disapproval.

"Just because Feyre loves you, doesn't mean you can let yourself go so much." Rhys dodged as Cassian swung towards his side, levelling him with a strike of his own which was blocked with ease. Cassian smirked at him as their blades locked, Rhys bared his teeth in a snarl as he forced Cassian's blade back.

A gentle caress against the fortress of his mental shields stole his attention away from his brother for a moment. Cassian smacked the flat face of his sword against Rhys' thigh, a strike that would likely leave a nasty bruise. Rhys opened the antechamber in his mind, built like a house of worship over the foundations of his mating bond with Feyre. He managed to send a small, gentle caress in return before he was drawn back to avoiding Cassian's blade.

Rhys, where are you? There was an undercurrent of worry flowing down the bond to him. It took his attention immediately. He signalled to Cassian, lowering his blade and taking a deep breath.

Training with Cass at the House. What's wrong? He was already moving as he answered, racking the blunted practice sword and retrieving his shirt from where it had been tossed earlier in the session. Cassian mimicked his movements before heading to the pitcher of water to pour two glasses.

It's Elain, something's happened.

What?

She's inconsolable. She says...that Y/N attacked her.  Surprise sparked in Rhys.

Are you sure? It didn't make any sense. You were so gentle. A junior healer under Madja's tutelage, brought in to assist with Feyre's pregnancy. You'd been visiting the River House regularly to do milestone checks on Nyx. During that time, both he and Feyre had struck up a friendship with you. He'd never seen you so much as raise your voice.

It's all she's said to us, Nesta is furious. Rhys' eyes drifted to where Cassian stood, gulping down his glass of water.

"We're needed at the River House."

Cassian raised a brow at the seriousness of the tone as he moved across the training room towards his brother.

"What happened?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure. But we should get back before Nesta goes on the warpath." Cassian considered for a moment before taking to the skies, seemingly spurred by whatever he felt down his mating bond. Rhys launched himself after his brother before sending a reassuring message to his own mate.

We're on our way.

Elain sat nestled next to Feyre on the sofa. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief as her sister rubbed soothing circles on her back. Nesta was pacing in front of the fireplace, the swish of her dress and hard clack of her heels against the hardwood felt too loud in the otherwise silent room. Rhys stood for a moment in the doorway, assessing the scene in front of him as Cassian passed him to join Nesta. She ignored him, continuing to pace.

Rhys approached his mate and Elain, settling himself on the arm of the sofa at Feyre's side. He casts an assessing gaze over the middle Archeron sister. Her other arm, the one not wiping at her face, was laid in her lap as Feyre held a compress of ice over the wrist.

Rhys let out a low sigh, running his hands through his hair as he worked through possible avenues of action. He reopened his mental connection with Feyre.

Has she said anything else? Feyre turned away from her sister where she sat staring into space.

No, Madja's on her way though. It's strange, she said she hasn't seen Y/N in days, she was supposed to be visiting her family in the Day Court. None of this makes any sense, why would Y/N do this?

Unease sat heavily in Rhys' stomach. Could something have happened to you on your travels? He thought of Braillyn and the manipulation the crown had afforded her over the minds of others. The Dread Trove was safe, was this a different horror Koschei was responsible for? Was he trying to target his family through you? It would make sense, you visited the River House regularly and both he and Feyre had left Nyx unattended in your care on more than one occasion.

He felt Madja's approach as she let herself in, inclining her head towards himself and Feyre where they sat. She settled herself on Elain's other side, reaching for her arm. Feyre moved her hand and the compress away, revealing a slight bruising and swelling on the skin underneath.

"We need to find her, she can't just attack Elain like this." Nesta's voice cut sharp as a blade across the room, Elain's tears starting fresh at her words. Madja lifted her gaze from where she was assessing Elain's wrist, tilting her hand in gentle exercises to assess the range of movement.

"Perhaps you can continue this discussion outside?" Rhys caught the pointed look the healer gave him. He nodded, standing and placing his hand on the small of Feyre's back as she did the same. Nesta watched them for a moment before stomping towards the door; disappearing into the foyer.

Feyre shot him a look, grey-blue eyes filled with worry as they moved to follow her out. Nesta continued to pace outside the room as they shut the door, the low sound of Madja's soothing voice travelling through the wood.

"We have to do something."

"Nesta, we shouldn't do anything rash." Feyre's voice was firm as she addressed her, switching smoothly from comforting sister to High Lady of the Night Court. "Not until we have more information."

"Well she," Nesta gestured towards the closed door and her distressed sister, "isn't saying anything. So I say we find Y/N and get her to tell us what happened."

Rhys was inclined to agree, but held some reservations as to what exactly Nesta deemed an appropriate method of finding out information when it pertained to the middle Archeron sister.

"Feyre's right, we shouldn't be hasty about this." He met Nesta's eyes, filled with burning silver fire. "You're too close to this," he continued. "Why don't you go back to the House, blow off some steam and we'll discuss this later when we know the full story." Cassian moved closer to Nesta's side, a comforting hand on her arm as she stared Rhys down. He watched as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then another. Rhys recognised the mind-stilling technique she favoured to keep her grounded.

Her eyes were still bright with anger when she opened them again, but she seemed calmer than she had been before. She gave a small nod. Cassian tucked her under an arm as they made their way to the front door.

"We'll send for you when we know something." Cassian nodded to Rhys over his shoulder but Nesta didn't turn back to look at either of them. The door closed with a thud behind them.

Feyre looked at where her sister and brother-in-law stood a moment before. She turned, making her way down the hall Rhys study.

"What do you think we should do?"

"I'll search the city for her, we could send a note? Ask her to meet us both?" Feyre nodded in agreement.

"We should make contact with Az." Rhys considered, reluctant to disturb his brother when he'd asked for a rare week off to visit his mother in Illyria. The request had been sudden and abrupt. Az had sent word close to midnight a few days prior. He hadn't written much, other than he needed some time away from his duties and that he'd reach out to Rhys later on in the week. He had been concerned at the out of character behaviour, apprehensive that something serious must have happened. Azriel had evaded requests for more information; saying that he'd brief Rhys on his return.

"When we know more," he paused with Feyre on the threshold of the study. "I don't want to call him back when it may turn out to be nothing serious."

Feyre hummed in agreement.

"I just...I don't understand, why would she do something like this? We gave her access to our son, Rhys. She didn't seem..." Feyre trailed off. Before she could continue the sound of a throat clearing came from the kitchen door. They turned in tandem, both sets of eyes fixed on the twins that appeared out of the shadows there.

"We...We think this may be our fault." Nuala's voice was quiet as she spoke for both of them, hands clasped together tightly as they stood before their High Lord and Lady.

"How could this possibly be your fault?" Feyre didn't hide the surprise in her tone. Their dark eyes were unreadable but Rhys didn't miss the glance they both gave towards the closed door where Elain still sat with Madja.

He opened the door to the office, gesturing in invitation to the twins to follow Feyre and him in.

Rhys sat in the high-backed chair behind the desk, Feyre perched on his lap as they listened to Nuala and Cerridwen's tale.

"Azriel instructed us not to tell anyone where he was when he sent word. She saw us putting together a basket, asked us who it was for. We didn't see any harm in telling her we were making it for him," Cerridwen's face was grave as she spoke. "Elain wanted to help, so we baked the bread together. She went to the garden after that, and Nuala left to deliver it."

"I know she didn't follow," Nuala cut in, her voice shaking. "I would have noticed if she had."

"Perhaps she saw where you went in one of her visions?" Feyre supplied. She bestowed her a small comforting smile, Rhys could feel her sympathy for the twins through the bond. They cared about Elain; even without his daemati powers you could read the guilt they shared.

"But it was here? In Velaris?" Rhys asked. Nuala looked at her twin, a silent conversation happening between them, before she nodded her head. Rhys' stomach turned to lead. Azriel had lied to him about where he was. Rhys knew that Azriel had his secrets, maybe more than anyone else in the Inner Circle. But he'd never known him to be overtly dishonest, not with his family.

"What happened after that?" Feyre's voice was gentle as she pushed for more information.

None of this makes any sense.

I know. Feyre squeezed his hand, the one that she had clasped between both of her own beneath the desk, as she sent reassuring waves down the bond.

"We were both preparing lunch after that. We didn't see her again, until you did." Feyre had shown him the memory as he'd flown towards the house. Elain bursting through the front door, arm clutched to her chest and tears streaming down her face. She hadn't said anything as Nesta had taken her into her arms, demanding to know what had happened.

"Would it be possible that Elain met Y/N on the way to...where Azriel is?" Feyre addressed the question to the room but it was Cerridwen that answered her.

"I don't think so, my lady. It's...out of the way, you wouldn't stumble upon it by accident." Rhys didn't miss the look Nuala sent her, dark eyes on fire. Cerridwen sunk back into her chair, realising that perhaps she'd said too much. Rhys pressed though, he couldn't leave it.

"So that would mean that either Y/N followed Elain from the house on purpose or she was there? With Azriel?"He suspected it was the latter, and the twins certainly knew more about it than they were willing to share. They both looked down, pointedly avoiding Rhys' gaze.

"We promised, my lord."

"We could do it together if you want?" Feyre's hand toyed at his neck, tracing the Illyrian tattoos etched into the skin. They'd dismissed Nuala and Cerridwen back to their duties while they discussed the next step to take. They had both agreed that reaching out to Azriel was the best course of action, to follow the lead of his potential involvement before they took any further steps concerning you.

Rhys was torn. He wanted Feyre to be involved, but it felt too personal. Azriel hadn't lied to her. But he had to him, his brother, his High Lord. Azriel, whom he had always trusted. Feyre would moderate his temper, if the need arose, but a dark volatile part of him didn't want that.

A quiet knock sounded on the door. Feyre called out for Madja to enter, already sensing her standing on the other side. Her smile was reassuring as she moved to stand in front of them at the desk.

"A nasty sprain, but no broken bones." Some of the tension seemed to leave Feyre's shoulders as she let out a relieved sigh. "I've recommended she rest it, keep it elevated," Madja continued, "it should be back to normal within a few days."

"Thank you Madja, we appreciate you coming out of you way." Feyre's tone was warm as she spoke to the elderly fae.

"It's my pleasure, my lady."

"Did Elain say anything to you? About what happened?"

Madja frowned, before shaking her head. "Nothing that made much sense. She mentioned a door and being pushed, she didn't say any more than that." Madja took a step closer to the desk, worrying the fabric of the apron she wore between her fingers.

"If I may..." She paused, waiting for further invitation to speak. Rhys gestured with a hand for her to continue.

"I've known Y/N since she was a girl," Madja's voice wavered as she spoke, in all the years Rhys had known her he'd never seen her close to tears before. "She wouldn't do something like this it's not in her nature," Madja paused before quickly adding, "not to discredit your sister, High Lady." Rhys watched Feyre as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she listened to the healer.

"This situation is highly unusual, Madja. We need to speak to the parties involved, gather more information." Rhys speech was clinical, playing High Lord rather than concerned brother-in-law.

"I'll take my leave then."

I should see to Elain. Feyre slipped off his lap with a parting brush of her lips against his cheek before following Madja out of the room. Rhys rested his elbows on the desk in front of him and lowered his head into his hands.

After taking a few minutes to collect himself Rhys began using his power to comb through the city, brushing past the minds of his citizens as they went about their daily lives. It took longer than he thought, identifying the distinct signature of his brother, as recognisable to him as his own after 500 years. Cloistered on the outskirts of the city, the surrounding land reserved for farming crops with very few residences. He felt another presence there, one less familiar to him, yours.

Rhys brushed a talon against Azriel's mental shields, a teeming cluster of darkness not unlike the shadows he wielded, and waited. The tick of the clock as the seconds passed by had Rhys on edge, he was considering pushing again, this time more firmly, when the shadows created a small opening just big enough for him to slip through.

Rhys didn't bother with a greeting. His mental voice was harsh, more than he meant it to be, as it reverberated around the dark antechamber.

You have ten seconds to explain why you are not in Illyria, and why my mate is consoling her injured sister before I come and find you, and we have this conversation in person. Conversation was a very polite term to use for what would inevitably become a battle of wills, and potentially blades, between the High Lord and his Spymaster.

Don't you fucking dare, Rhys. Azriel's voice was ice. The hostile rage that bubbled underneath shook Rhys out of his own for a moment. It was like its own living thing, driven by base instincts to defend against a threat at all costs. The force of it almost pushed him out. Rhys bridled his own surprise and rage down.

Okay, Rhys' voice was soothing, carried on a night-kissed wind. I won't do that Az, but you need to talk to me.

The storm of Azriel's emotions seemed to calm a little, Rhys could feel the effort he was putting in, wrestling for control that was usually so militant. He waited for his brother to speak for a few moments before continuing.

Why don't you start with where you are, and why Nuala and Cerridwen are involved?

He thought that Azriel was going to hold fast in his reticence. Instead his voice, missing some of the frigid quality it had before, answered after a few beats.

I own a property on the outskirts of the city, I've been here since I sent word asking for leave. Azriel paused before continuing, Nuala and Cerridwen were just doing what I asked, they don't need to be a part of this. Rhys should have expected this. Azriel always knew how to toe the line between answering what was asked without giving any substantial information.

And what is it that you asked them to do for you? Because they wouldn't tell us, because of some promise they made to you.

They delivered some supplies to me.

Supplies?

Food and other basic necessities.

And is there a reason you couldn't retrieve these for yourself? Why you're sequestered away in some property we're unaware of with one of our healers? Rhys tried to press against the walls of Azriel's mind to see what else he could feel or sense but it yielded nothing. Are you injured Az? Worry bloomed. As out of character as it was for Azriel to lie to his family, if it was because he was injured and didn't want any of them to know, to worry, Rhys could rationalise that.

No. Rhys could feel Azriel's attention, drawn away to whatever was going in outside his mind, still only half maintaining their communication. Is Elain okay?

Are you talking to Y/N? I know she's there with you.

Azriel hesitated before answering. Yes.

Elain is saying that Y/N attacked her, is that true? Did you see what happened?

I did, but it was an accident Rhys. She didn't mean to.

She says she was pushed. I'm not sure how that can be considered an accident, Azriel. Rhys tried to keep a handle on his agitation, but this conversation was going nowhere quickly. Why don't you show me what happened, then we can put this whole thing to bed.

A tidal wave rose, angry and biting as it chased Rhys towards the gap in the barrier he entered from. Rhys retreated back from it, shocked by it's sudden appearance.

No. Azriel's snarled response rebounded around his head.

Fine, I'll take it up with Y/N if this is how you're going to act.

Wait, don't. The emotion receded as quickly as it came, leaving Rhys toeing the edge of the empty chamber. Leave her out of this Rhys, it's my fault.

Oh? She's assaulted a member of our Court, Azriel.

She's my mate, Rhys. Rhys thought for a moment that he hadn't heard him correctly. But it made sense, the instinctual frenzy of emotion that seemed eager to slip his brother's control. We didn't tell you in the beginning, we wanted to get to know each other without any added...pressure.

Az, this is wonderful news...unexpected but wonderful. But we wouldn't have pressured you, either of you, into anything.

I know, I just...I was being selfish, Rhys. And we were so caught up in each other. I said I'd talk to you when I got back, I was going to tell you then. Rhys didn't hide the happiness he felt, letting his brother feel it freely, It was a bit spur of the moment, deciding to accept the bond. That's why I asked Nuala and Cerridwen for help, they knew where we were.

I'm happy for you, Az. Rhys allowed himself to bask for a moment in the joy that he could feel from his brother as he spoke about you. A part of him wanted to leave then, to retreat from his brother's mind and leave him to enjoy this special, if volatile time, as a newly mated male. But there was still a piece of this puzzle missing. What happened with Elain?

It is my fault Rhys, I should have sensed her coming. But we were preoccupied. Azriel's discomfort put Rhys own teeth on edge as he continued. We were in the living room and Elain opened the door, Y/N panicked and slammed it with gust of wind.

Panicked?

We were...indisposed.

You're joking, Rhys barely managed to choke the words out as he tried to contain his laughter.

Its not funny, Rhysand. He could almost see his brother grinding his teeth in agitation. By the time we made ourselves decent, Elain had already left. I was going to come to the house to see if she was okay, but Y/N is really upset that she may have hurt her. Rhys understood what he didn't say, that he couldn't leave his mate like that.

Tell her it's just a sprain, nothing serious.

That's a relief. If we're done here- Rhy's didn't allow Azriel to finish, already taking his leave.

Rhys watched the sun set set over the Sidra as he ruminated on the strange events the day had taken, and how he was going to defuse the tension from this morning before Azriel returned, likely with Y/N in tow.

Your POV

Steam curled into the air from the water of the bath. The heat soothed the ache in your muscles, ones that you didn't even know you had were making their displeasure known, as you adjusted your position to lean back against Azriel. His arm slipped around your middle, pulling you flush against his chest as scarred fingers traced circles over your midriff. You sighed in contentment as Azriel continued his ministrations, feeling his smile against the skin of you neck. He brushed the sensitive skin with a delicate kiss. Neither of you spoke as you sat there, enjoying the comfortable silence and basking in the feeling of the new golden thread that tied you together.

Azriel reached to the edge of the tub where the basket of toiletries lay, filled with your favourite scents curtesy of the shadow wraith twins, and grabbed a soft cloth and a bar of sweet smelling soap. You groaned as he began to gently massage the lather on the cloth into the skin of arms and shoulders, adjusting slightly to give him better access. You turned your head, resting it in the cradle of Azriel's shoulder, looking up at him through your lashes.

Over the few months that you'd known him, you'd come to admire his stoic beauty. Rich hazel eyes framed by thick lashes and dark brows. His sharp features and full lips that erupted butterflies in your stomach every time he gifted you with an alluring smile or tantalising smirk. As your relationship had progressed he'd become more open is displaying his emotions with you, less prone to cloaking himself in his shadows. But you'd never in that time seen such open contentment displayed on his features.

You watched as his eyes tracked the path his hand drew with the cloth against your body. You brought a hand out of the warm cocoon of the water to trace the map of markings across his shoulders, following the trail up his neck with tender kisses. Azriel's chest rumbled his approval. The flare of his wings sent ripples across the surface of the bath as you let a soft breath out against the delicate shell of his ear.

"It appears my little mate is rather insatiable." Azriel sighed, feigning exasperation as he moved the cloth lower, down off your shoulders to brush the top of your breasts.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." The hand on his shoulder reached to brush a single fingertip against the sensitive membrane of a wing as you smirked into his neck.

"Careful." Azriel growled, taking the circles he was tracing on your midriff dangerously lower. Even though the past few days had been filled with nothing but Azriel, the feel of his skin against yours, the taste of him on your tongue, there was a burning pit of desire that demanded more. You felt as though you could live a thousand more years and never tire of the feeling of him holding you in his arms. The thought of leaving the little bubble of bliss you'd created here was like a cold water shock. Thinking of the potential repercussions you'd face of what happened earlier left the sting of bile in the back of your mouth.

Azriel's hands stilled as he sensed the shift in your mood. You buried your face into his neck, closing your eyes and letting his scent calm your racing heart. Azriel abandoned the cloth to place his hand on the back of you head, carting his fingers through your hair. He made a low soothing noise.

"It's okay," he continued to massage his fingers against your scalp as he spoke. "It was an accident, no one is going to blame you."

"Elain will, she probably hates me." Your voice broke as you tried to hold back the guilt that had been plaguing you, such a start contrast to the joy and ravenous hunger.

"She'll understand. The others will too, Rhys actually found it very amusing."

"Oh cauldron boil me." You could imagine it now, the smirking good natured jibes from the high-lord and the likely even less subtle innuendos his general would deal out to you.

"Come on," the fingers dancing through your hair stopped. "Look at me." Part of you wanted to continue to hide as the anxiety and embarrassment coiled inside of you, but as Azriel moved to cup your cheek you lifted your face away to look at him. His eyes were soft as he took in your face, so close that you could see flecks of green and gold constellating around the iris. His thumb rubbed gently against you cheek.

"I just want to stay here for the rest of our lives." Azriel smiled gently and hummed his agreement, leaning forward to press his lips against the skin of your forehead.

"Unfortunately, I think we'll be missed." He considered for a moment before adding. "And I wouldn't put it past Cassian to break down the door and drag me back to civilised society." You loosed a small smile at his attempt to make light of the situation, but it still did nothing to quell the apprehension and doubts.

You'd so desperately wanted to make a good impression. It had all been planned out. After the week was done; once you and Azriel had returned to your normal lives, he would have announced the mating bond to his family. You'd planned to host a dinner, let them get to know you outside your capacity as a healer. Hoped to create the foundations for meaningful relationships. Instead, you'd ruined it before you'd even started, injuring the High Lady's sister and forcing Azriel to do damage control on your behalf.

"I'm just...I'm sorry Az, I know how important your family is to you. I can't believe I've screwed this up."

"They are important to me." He agreed, thumb stroking gently against your face. "But so are you. I've waited centuries to find you, and you're so much more than I dreamed you'd be." Tears welled in your eyes at his declaration. "I love you, and I know my family will love you too." You reached up to capture his lips in a delicate kiss, despite the gravity of the situation feeling his lips quirk into a smile against your own made your heart sing. You parted, and he began to trail kisses across your cheek.

"Rhys and Feyre already like you, they trust you with Nyx. Everyone else will fall victim to your charming smile and witty sense of humour, I'm sure." He murmured in your ear as he traced his nose against the soft skin of your neck.

"We'll face them together when the time comes." He whispered the promise into your skin as he paved a line of tender kisses to a particularly sensitive spot he'd discovered in the last few days, taking extra care to pay it the most attention.

You sighed and arched your back, allowing him greater access to your neck and chest. Azriel's affirmations had quelled the storm within you, leaving heat and hunger in the wake of his lips.

"But, we've got a few days before anyone is expecting us back. And I have plans for you." Azriel's voice turned husky at the end, the heady promise made your toes curl as you pressed yourself closer against him.

"Oh?" You breathed as his lips began to chart a course across your chest, skimming across the tops of your breasts. You felt more than heard as he hummed an affirmation against the delicate skin. "And what would those plans be?"

Azriel's wings flared as your hand found his hair, winding the strands between your fingers. He stopped lathing delicate kisses against your skin to look up at you through dark lashes, eyes light and mischievous. His grin was positively wicked, canines flashing in the light.

"Why don't I show you."

#azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel x oc #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar #acotar series #acotar fanfiction

[callofdudes]

Hi this my first time requesting, if you do head canons, can you do ghost head canons where he has a crush on you. Please?

Hello 👋 of course I can do that for ya ☺️ I hope you are satisfied with them.

Ghost has a crush on you.

Ghost wouldn't pick up on it right away. He was very sheltered as a kid and romance wasn't his main concern, even as a teenager. He joined the military early on life so the thought of a relationship absolutely NEVER occured to him.

He starts to pick up little signs though. Whenever you smile his way or greet him in the morning he can feel his stomach twist in a way it's never done before. You start to become a big part of his daily thoughts and he starts to purposefully seek you out.

When you first join the task force he isn't sure about you. He's a man built on trust and constant betrayal so you're a threat to his environment. But you are on the softer side. You start to bring him tea in the morning when he's stocked high by paperwork and start idle conversation during training.

He starts to realize that a lot of things he would do alone start to include you.

He found himself excited to spar with you in the morning or to join your table in the lunch hall. Every small thing you do makes him feral in a way he's never experienced.

It's platonic, but the first time you hold his hand he's a disaster. A. Fucking. Disaster. He wants to swat you away and curse you out for touching him without permission. He wants to pull away and find a corner where he cannot be bothered. And another part of him drops his shoulders and sits/stands there in bliss. The feeling of your warm palm soaking through his gloves. How you grasp his hand so firmly and yet it's so reassuring.

Ghost doesn't understand his feelings so he often gets frustrated with you and himself. He'll mutter and even yell at himself sometimes at night about what he was letting you do to him. Whatever it was. He'd lay awake in his bed thinking of you and all the conversations you'd had that day as his stomach drops in this weird way.

Tries admitting himself to the ICU for heart problems after you giggle at a very sarcastic joke he makes.

You're not dating yet but you for hell better treat him right. Bean is very hurt on the inside and it'll take a lot of nurturing for him to come clean to you about his affection.

He's scared when he takes off his mask in front of you and the others. Of course the others were seeing his face for the first time excepting Price. But something about the way your eyes locked. You looked over every scar. His jaw, his throat and his messy untamed hair. He almost felt ashamed. He felt so small until you smiled and nodded in what almost looked like approval.

Refuses to show you again though, even if you ask.

Being completely unsure of his emotions he grows protective over you. He has become very alert of when other men talk to you or when women give off a flirty remark. It makes his insides hurt and it confuses him as to why he cares.

Now, when he does figure it all out, he cannot, and will not come forth. You could kiss him on the lips and he won't say a word.

He physically can't say 'I love you'. Not because it isn't true, but he's never heard it said to him before, and he's never said it. He doesn't know love or how to love. He's scared of commitment and hurting you.

So instead he'll start leaving little notes and gifts in your sector. He'll watch from his desk filing paperwork as you walk in with a smile and a box of mints in your hands.

When you get hurt out on the field he panics. He does everything he physically can do protect you on missions and is even more alert on stakeouts. If there is a threat to you better rest assured Ghost is putting himself between you and the threat even if it's a fucking train.

What you do for him, he starts to do in return. He is always up first so when you get up and make it to your desk, Ghost is already there with a warm cup of coffee for you. You always see the way he stiffens and his eyes light up when you thank him.

Scary guard dog privileges.

Going on nightly patrol? He's your shadow. Going to a secondary base? He's your shadow. Bring harassed or annoyed. He's your fucking shadow.

It took a while of back and forth of witty remarks and hour long conversations but eventually you manage to confess to him. You were terrified because Ghost was a rollercoaster of mixed signals that whole time.

"I love you, Simon Riley."

Literally just stared at you.

And then slowly nods his head.

Your getting nervous at this point. Does he like you? Does he not like you? Is he about to kill you for saying such a thing? What do you do?

Simon over there is sweating bullets because. What does he do? The most beautiful person in the whole world is staring at him with love and adoration equal to a puppy and has just confessed to having the same tumbling stomach syndrome as himself.

"me too."

"You like you too??" You gulp.

"No! Me- you! You and me- fuck. I feel the same. I think. But I'm not sure yet."

You understand. He's a bit shy suddenly, surprisingly. He gets the hang of the whole boyfriend thing with your help. Though he's certainly an extraordinary man.

Has never kissed so when you roll up his mask and place your lips upon his... HOLY FUCK. Do it again. He's got no damn clue what he's doing but he will hold your neck as if you are glass and try to bring you ever closer.

He will suffocate himself on you until he's literally forced away. His new favorite thing to do is kiss you. Every chance he gets he'll kiss you. (Hates PDA though.)

He's very touch starved so you have a lot of work to catch up on.

I hope this works! I will die on the hill that Ghost is clueless at first on how all the love stuff works. ❤️

#simon ghost riley #call of duty headcanons #headcanons #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #simon ghost riley x reader

[kingslimeball]

Sounds like a dream

Part two here

Gator Tillman x fem!reader

Contents; Angst, fluff, mother!reader

Summary; Y/n visits Gator in jail to introduce him to their son.

It's been a long time since Gator was first sentenced to prison. It was even worse for him to begin with, considering he had to deal with it blindly, too. To help, he'd been given a mobility cane, of which he struggled to use it within the first few weeks.

Gator hasn't had many ways of keeping track, but he assumes he's already been locked up for almost two years now. He assumes so because he can visualise the layout of the prison in his mind – he knows where everything is by now. Every day is Groundhog Day, so it doesn't take very long to learn.

What isn't hard to keep track of is the number of visits Gator has gotten. Two. Both from Dot. Both with cookies. Both several months apart. Other than that, nothing. At least she is a woman of her word.

Gator is sitting on his bed in his cell when he hears a loud bang at the bars with a guard's batton. It startles him, and he looks in the general direction to which it came from.

"Oi, Tillman. You got a visitor comin' in. Get up." The guard says. The recognisable sound of the door creaking open echoes through the jail. Gator carefully stands. He reaches out for the guard's shoulder and keeps it there so he can be lead away.

Gator's mind is filled with wonder. Who would be visiting him? Surely not Dot again. She didn't visit too long ago now, and she rarely visits. But it's not like anyone else does.

Gator is instructed to sit at a table, and then he hears the guard walk off. It seems that he's alone in the room. He can't hear a single sound of someone else. Disappointment floods his heart for a moment, his shoulders sinking.

The sound of shoes on the floor brightens his spirits suddenly. He hears someone sit opposite him. Gator feels his excitement come back.

"Hey, Gator." It's Y/n.

Y/n's voice soothes Gator, somewhat. He hasn't heard the sound in so long, yet it's so refreshing. She was Gator's girlfriend. But, when she found out Gator wasn't as good of a guy as she thought he was, she broke up with him. She was one of the last people he saw before his eyes were taken from him. He'll always remember the sight of her, no matter how long passes.

"Y/n? What're you doin' here?" Gator asks softly, not quite believing that this is her.

"Visiting you." Y/n replies.

"I– I know that." Gator pinches the bridge of his nose just below the black-out sunglasses he wears. "But I mean... Why?"

"I wanted to see how you are." She shrugs simply.

"Well, I'm shit, yeah, I'm in jail." Gator scoffs.

"That's not what I meant."

"It's not?"

"No." Y/n responds firmly. "I meant I wanted to see if you've changed. If this this has done you any good."

The truth is, it has. Even losing his sight was enough to flip his whole world upside down. Now, jail has flipped it about continuously like a washing machine. He's not the old Gator anymore. Or at least he's not the Gator that tried to be a Roy. He's the Gator trying to be a Gator.

"I hope so." Is all Gator musters up to say. "How've you been?" He asks.

"Good. I actually moved out to Chicago not long after all that shit happened." She answers. "I got a new job, new friends, the whole lot."

"New boyfriend?" Gator can't help but ask, a hint of jealousy in his tone.

Y/n laughs and shakes her head, but then she remembers that Gator can't see her and quickly tries to verbalise it. "God, no."

"That's a... shame. You deserve someone nice." He tries not to make it sound too forced, but he's more just excited that he still has a chance with her.

"Thanks. I, uh... I brought someone that I'd like you to meet." Y/n finally says, as if she's been debating to go through with this. Gator hears the sound of her rising to walk away, then shortly after start to walk over to his side of the table.

"What's goin' on? Is this some kinda prank?" He questions, sceptical of her behaviour.

"Turn around." She ignores him. Gator huffs and does as told on the bench, spinning around to face where her voice comes from.

"So who the hell am I–" He starts, but stops himself when he feels someone lowered into his lap. A small someone.

"What's this?" He questions. His hand gently reaches to feel whatever is in his lap. He finds a face and quickly repositions his hand, finding hair instead. "I mean, who?"

"Meet your son."

Gator's whole world stops. His heart stops beating, and his brain stops working. His son? When did he ever have a son? He tries to ask her about it, but he just can't get any words out as his mouth gapes open. His bottom lip quivers slightly, and he gently wraps an arm around the small boy, holding him closer.

"My.. My son?"

"Well, our son." She corrects. "I found out I was pregnant after we broke up."

Gator can't help but smile. "Our son.." He murmurs to himself.

Y/n sits next to Gator. She leans her head on Gator's shoulder to get a view of Gator and their son. Gator feels his skin heat up at her being so close, but she doesn't think much of it whatsoever.

"What's his name?"

"Alex. I couldn't think of anything creative, so I just named him after the midwife. Luckily, she had a gender neutral name." She recalls with a soft chuckle.

"Hey, Alex. It's Daddy." Gator softens his voice, looking where he thinks Alex's face will be.

"Daddy..." Alex mumbles, a small hand reaching up to grab at Gator's face. His heart melts, and he smiles widely.

Gator's smile vanishes, although. The sweetness of his son has quickly become something he doesn't know if he could live with. He'll never see his son. His face slowly falls into one of despair.

"Are you okay?" Y/n asks, peering around to study Gator's facial features that she can read from his eyebrows, cheeks and mouth.

"No, no, I'm–" Gator stumbles on his words. He makes a noise, like he's about to speak, but it just comes out as a shaky breath like he's about to cry. "I'm never gonna see my son."

Y/n gently rubs Gator's back. There's not much she can do besides that. She can't give him his sight back. If she could, she would. She feels bad for him.

Gator tries to calm himself down. He slowly relaxes himself, for now, even though he knows this is going to be keeping him up all night. He won't be able to sleep with that thought. It's terrifying. Terrifying that there's nothing he can do about it.

"What does he look like?" Gator questions after a moment of pure silence. He gently pets Alex's hair, enjoying how soft it is.

"Honestly, better than I'd imagined." Y/n answers. "He's got the same shade hair as me. It's all messy. He's got your eyes and your nose. Freckles. The cheekiest, cutest smile you'd ever see."

"He sounds like a dream." He says, voice wavering as his hand gently combs through Alex's hair.

"He is. He reminds me of you in a way." She chuckles. "Because, he–"

Vzzrt!

The buzzer for the end of visiting.

Gator finds himself sitting on the edge of his bed. His mind is still on Y/n and Alex. She was about to say something good about him. He knows it. Surely she wouldn't badmouth their young son, so surely he's onto something here? Gator wishes he had just a few more seconds to hear what she likes about him. Or to hear more about his son. Maybe next time...

#gator tillman #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x fem!reader #joe keery

[joelsgirl]

It's A Free Use World; You're Just Living In It // Joel & Tommy Miller x Reader

Anon Asked: A free use fic in Jackson, where you're assigned to or maybe used by Joel/Tommy? A/N: Reposting as I think it'll end up being part of a series! Fuck, free use is one of my favourite things to write. Thank you so much for this! Muse: Joel & Tommy Miller Content Warnings: Age Gap, Size Difference, Rough Sex, Threesome, Tommy & Joel sandwich (no inc*st), Free Use, No Use of Y/N +  Want to see more? I’d love to see some requests, here!

Jackson truly was a communist settlement; everything was shared, including the women. The free use rule had been set in stone long since you arrived. You'd argue the rule, or leave, but everyone here accepted it and aside from that, this truly was a beautiful home. All the women were given a place to stay, warm clothes, a soft bed, all the food you could ask for.

All you had to do, was take what was given to you whoever, whenever or wherever that may be. It didn't help that the home offered to you, belonged to another. in your case, your keys unlocked the door to the Miller boy's home. They just so happened to be the most insatiable of the lot. Outside of the house, you wore respectable clothes. For the most part. No panties or bra, that was the rule, and more often than not you'd wear little dresses; learnt early on it was easier to do that than constantly have them ripped from your body. You still reminisced about your favourite pair of jeans, may they rest in peace.

At home, however, clothes weren't optional, they were against their religion. At least on you. It was a pretty sweet deal, you mostly kept the house clean when they were gone, for your own sanity, and served them whenever they wanted it. You'd say it was a chore, but... well, have you seen the Miller boys?

Joel had been out hunting for the last few days, so it was just you and Tommy when he wasn't out working the fields. He'd come home exhausted and wrung out, something had happened but you didn't want to ask, knew better than to get too personal with him. The hot shower he'd gotten out of not too long ago must have helped, though, because his mood had infinitely improved.

He'd walked past you, giving you a kiss, and you thought perhaps he was too tired for anything tonight... what a rookie error. Just as he was about to walk away, his fist locked in your hair, half dragging you along to the living room. Sinking into the sofa, he took you down with him. Forcing you to your knees, the hard wood knocking you about a bit. You don't mind, you're used to it now. Tugging down the zipper of his jeans, releasing his already hard cock as he wrapped a free hand around it. He didn't say anything, just looked down at your wide, innocent eyes. Tapping your lips with the thick head, telling you without words to open wide for him.

You oblige like the good little girl you are, wrapping those beautiful, plump lips around his cock before he rocks his hips forward, slamming in the rest of the way. A low groan escapes him, his head tipping back on the couch as the fist in your hair tightens. Holding you firmly in place, he begins a steady rhythm, fucking your face like it was nothing but a flesh light. His balls slap against your chin on every thrust, your throat bulging from the size of him, but so used to the invasion now you don't even choke on that monstrous cock anymore.

You hear the faint click of the lock, then the front door opening. A soft thud telling you Joel's back, and he's caught something. You can't see what, can't move from your position. Tommy doesn't stop, his pace unrelenting as his groans tell his brother exactly where you both are. You can't see the dried blood on his hands from the fresh kill, or the splatter across his flannel shirt. The dirt his boots track through the floor as he cuts a path directly to you both. It's been days since he's been able to take what was his, what he shared with Tommy.

He takes a heartbeats pause to drink in the sight of you, down on your knees, Tommy's fist yanking your head up and down his cock as he fucks up into your face, his brother meeting his eyes over you in greeting; before a roughed up hand drags his own zipper down. Dropping to his knees behind you, he lines the equally thick head with your tight little cunt as both hands massage your ass. Spreading those cheeks nice and wide before slamming in balls deep. No warning, no preamble. His own groan mixing with his brothers as he pulls back to the tip, and slams in again. His pace slower, more brutal than Tommy's but you're used to it now. It wouldn't last long, the beat between thrusts giving you a chance to get used to how god damn big he was inside you.

Both brothers ignore you, too busy chasing their own release. Joel moves faster, deeper, fucking you so hard you feel like you're splitting in half. Between the two of them, your body struggles to keep up. To cope with the size of their cocks, with the roughness as they use you... and yet, you wouldn't have it any other way. A hand comes down on your ass, big and heavy, the harsh sting echoing in your mind as Joel slaps you again, and again before wrapping both hands around your slender hips in a crushing grip. Pulling your body back onto him, making you meet every thrust. The momentum propelling you forward, to take Tommy's cock even more. Rocking back and forth between the two giants.

The hand not in your hair finds your tits, slapping them, catching the nipple with the tips of Tommy's fingers as he takes out the days frustrations on your little body. You're not supposed to enjoy it as much as you do but you can't help it, the lick of pain their hands elicit just adding to the pleasure as they use you. You love it, love knowing you're there to service them, that you're their favourite toy. Joel's fucking you harder still, their cocks bulging your petite little body as you're impaled by both of them.

Tommy is the first to cum, slamming in deep and holding your head in a vice like grip, grinding against swollen lips as he forces you to take every drop of his thick cum. So deep in your throat, it has no chance of escaping. His groans sending his brother over the edge, who does the same. Slamming in and holding you in place, the pressure so delicious you can't help your own orgasm. Tight little cunt milking Joel's cock. They couldn't care less if you came or not yet your muffled cries tell them both you're right there with them. Your body trembling as Joel pulls out first, tapping your ass before zipping his jeans up and walking away, heading in the direction of the shower. Tommy holds his cock in your throat longer, just warming it now, you can still feel it twitching as you watch him, fighting back the smile...

"Always such a good girl for us, aren't you, pet?"

#Joel Miller #Tommy Miller #The Last of Us #Joel Miller x You #Joel Miller x Reader #Tommy Miller x You #My Writing #My writing x Joel Miller #My Writing x Tommy Miller #IT'S A FREE USE WORLD YOU'RE JUST LIVING IN IT

[divine-misfortune]

rain and kitty dew <333

give the people (sphy and i) what they want

Ah, shit I guess the people do be asking.

@sphylor bestie wake up kitty time.

By the time the weight of his guitar was lifted off of him, Dew was struggling. Perhaps struggling was an understatement. He was fighting for solid ground but just couldn't seem to find his footing. From the flashing lights to the smell of sweat and adrenaline, Dew was barely holding on.

His breathing came with a bit of difficulty like there was a rock settled squarely on his chest. He was counting each inhale and exhale in some vain attempt to keep himself tethered. Everything felt uncomfortably close, his clothes far too tight and heavy, his skin sticky with sweat, his balaclava suddenly suffocating.

Dew needed out.

The second he'd run out of picks to toss halfheartedly into the crowd, he was slinking off stage with a growing tension in his jaw. He couldn't even bring himself to stay for final bows, not like this.

Minutes felt like hours. Curled up in some semi quiet corner backstage, Dew kept his hands clamped firmly over his ears to drown out the distant sounds of the audience. His helmet had been thrown somewhere in his haste. Someone would probably find it, he couldn't find it in himself to care about a hunk of leather and metal. He was too busy trying not to claw his glamor off, desperate to escape the confines of the magic buzzing on his skin.

At a certain point, he's certain he checked out entirely. His body moved on a well memorized auto pilot. It was like being just outside of his body, connected, but floating somewhere unsafe. It was a blur of bodies. Dew can't even remember changing from his uniform. Only registering a much softer cotton under his fingers.

Even safely locked behind a hotel room door where the rest of the world was far away, Dew could barely hold onto himself but he also didn't want to let go. It was like trying to mentally barricade himself but the brain fog still steadily managed to seep through the cracks.

"Baby?"

Dew ran the tip of his tongue over the back of his teeth, still artificially kept straight and dulled down. He didn't want to give into the nagging behind his eyes and feared tugging at the seams of his glamor would cause him to unravel.

He forced his unfocused eyes to tune back in even slightly to settle on the water ghoul exiting the bathroom. His hair was still dripping, towel draped over his broad shoulders and bare chest.

"What?"

"You haven't said a word since we got on stage."

"I know."

Rain's neutral expression creased. Concern etching itself in harsh lines as he moved closer to him. Dew felt his stomach flip unpleasantly but remained in still.

"What's going on up there?"

He gestured towards his own head, tapping a clawed finger against his temple. His voice was soft, low and sweet and Dew mentally tried to dig his fingers in. Rapidly losing ground when he caught Rain's scent. It was comfort. It was a weak point. It was undeniably home.

"....Stressed."

"Seems like a little more than just stress. Look at me," Dew didn't think he could meet his gaze. "Can I touch you?"

"...Yeah."

Rain cupped his face in both hands and his breath hitched. The walls were cracking, he could feel it. He lifted his face up and Dew blinked slowly when their eyes met. The sharp edges felt softer when Rain did the same in return, a slow blink and a weak smile.

"Long day, huh?"

"Mhm..." His head felt heavier in Rain's hands, like he was the only thing holding him up. "Too long."

"You don't have to hold on for my sake, cattail."

Dew frowned a bit, the words taking too long to register. Response came to him slower when Rain stroked his thumbs gently over his cheeks.

"Not-"

"Hush," Rain whispered and kissed the space between his eyebrows. Dew couldn't help but let the tension slip from his face. "You're safe baby, I'm here."

Every second in Rain's embrace was a losing battle, one he didn't know why he was fighting anymore.

"It's okay, I've got you."

"You...Um," Dew had to blink a few times. Wade through the puddle his brain felt like it was melting into. "Sure?"

"Of course I am. You wanna be my good kitty for a bit? No more stress?"

The mere idea of falling into it managed to pull a little trill from the fire ghoul. One that he didn't entirely register. Rain chuckled and kissed the tip of his nose this time.

"Just let mousey take care of you tonight."

Dew hummed, distantly, in agreement. He allowed Rain to guide his heavy body into bed, and it was only tucked carefully into his mate's side did Dew finally let himself crumble. He could feel the tears prick in his eyes but Rain held him close. There was no need to build walls, not when Rain had him in his arms.

So, Dew let himself be cared for. He allowed himself to relinquish his desperate grip on the reigns because he was safe where he was.

#void writing #answered #kitty dew #dewdrop ghoul #sodo ghoul #rain ghoul #nameless ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #the band ghost ficlet #ghost the band #ghost bc #writing

[hellfiremunsonn]

Blood Doesn’t Scare Me. Eddie Munson x Reader

Blood Doesn’t Scare Me.

I DO NOT ALLOW MY WRITING TO BE REPUBLISHED ANYWHERE OTHER THAN MY OWN BLOG WITHOUT MY CONSENT

SUMMARY: You want to get off, but your period makes you a little uncomfortable, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind.

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

AN: Thank u to the one and only for being my beta reader again, love u, ur the best @syddsatyrn​

Warnings: fem!reader, blood, period blood, female orgasm, fingering, little bit of Dom!Eddie, mention of friends to lovers, mentions of Eddie cumming in his pants. (IF THERES ANYTHING ELSE I MISSED LET ME KNOW

Word count: 3772

You've been off all day, small things irritating you more than they should, and you're trying to keep your temper down, but the consistent ache of your uterus is hard to ignore. You're hot, and then you're cold, nothing you eat is satisfying you, and if one more customer asks you literally anything you might actually explode. Although you took pride in the fact you only snapped at Robin twice, and she forgave you quickly knowing your period was trying to take you alive, but you still apologized. Knowing the annoying hormones circling your system were making you a bitter bitch to work with today.

What made it worse was how insatiably horny it was making you. Usually you could keep it contained, simply a dull ache between your thighs, but the past couple of days it was heightened to a maximum of three thousand. To the point where the seem of your jeans was pressed against your cunt just enough that you could literally feel your heartbeat in your clit. You were sure that in the right way you might actually be able to cum like this, just from standing and stacking videos. Genuinely hiding a whimper from switching your weight to your opposite foot, the bell above the door jingled. Forcing your voice up a few octaves you say "Welcome to family video" loudly before turning around, dropping your fake exaggerated smile when you realize it's Eddie.

"Hey princess" He says softly and you melted.

You and Eddie had only recently started dating, being best friends for so long, the two of you didn't want to ruin the friendship, but when those little shit teenagers locked you two in a closet in wills basement, claiming it was for 'seven minutes in heaven'  you realized it was a lot longer than seven minutes, and that the two of you were in love with each other. Since it had only been a few weeks, you hadn't really been as intimate as you wanted, both of you wanting to take it slow, trying not to rush things. Harder to forget that Eddie made you cum by touching you over your leggings in that closet, and you're pretty sure you made him cum in his jeans, but if you asked him he'd deny it.

You rush to him quickly, burying your face into his chest and inhaling deeply, arms coming around his back to hold him tightly as best as you could, two VHS tapes still held in both hands.

"Rough day?" He said, his own arms coming out to wrap around you. "You're very warm, are you feeling okay?" He tried to pull away to get a glance at you but you held onto him tighter, not wanting the hug to end so soon. He laughed a little, returning his arms to their position around your back.

"A little bit of a rough day" You said sighing into him, pulling away to look up at him, chin tucked firmly into his sternum.

"Well thankfully I've come to rescue your last thirty minutes" His hands came to cup your face, brushing a few strands of hair away and back behind your ears.

"You're truly the best" You said placing a kiss to his chest before removing yourself from him.

Eddie came to visit you often at work, coming to keep you company and to bug Steve when he was here, but sadly today Steve wasn't in. So Eddie settled on sitting on the counter, and judging the cover of each film you brought to the front to rewind.

Eddie had noticed your irritability but didn't say anything until the two of you were alone in his van. The light from the bright sunset slowly dimming from being hidden behind the few houses nearby. "You okay?" He said turning the key to start the ignition.

"My uterus hurts" You said turning to him, cheek pressed against the seat of the car, your bottom lip pushed out into a pout.

"Oh baby" Eddie said sincerely. "I'm sorry, we'll get you home quick, get you all nice and cozy yeah?" He reached over to squeeze your thigh. It was an innocent action, to tell you he felt for you, to let you know he was there for you, but what he didn't know was that it sent more annoying heat straight to your core.

"Y-yeah" You breathed out. "That would be nice" You felt your body warm, thick heat crawling over every inch of your skin, you could feel it coming out of the collar of your work shirt and you silently cringed thinking about how sweaty you must be. A shower is a must when you get to Eddies you decided.

"You sure you're okay though?" He asked again.

"As okay as I can be" You said with a reassuring smile.

When you got to Eddies you excused yourself quickly to hop into the shower, hoping to wash some of the negativity of today off, along with the attempt to get yourself off. You didn't love touching yourself while you were on your period, and never really wanted to finger yourself if it was going to cover you in blood. Often settling on touching yourself in the shower, where if any blood happened to get onto you, or come out of you it would be washed away quickly. You tried multiple positions, one leg up on the edge of the tub, both legs down but your back leaned against the wall, laying down as best as you could, but nothing felt right and you couldn't get yourself even close to an orgasm. With an annoyed huff you shut the water off and wrapped a towel around yourself. Drying your lower half quickly before putting a fresh tampon in. Annoyed at how good it felt when you did it.

Frowning your way back into Eddies room, pulling on the first t-shirt of his your hands touched, tugging on a pair of black boy shorts, ones that hugged your hips perfectly, and crawled into his bed.

It took a few minutes for Eddie to realize you had finished showering and had gotten into bed. Head peaking around the corner of his door with a raised eyebrow. You giggled when you saw him, snuggling yourself a little deeper into his pillows.

"You're getting all comfy, and cozy in here and didn't invite me? Im hurt baby, how could you" He mocked a distraught look, attempting to hide the cheeky smile underneath his dark mess of curls.

You laugh and pull the side of his blanket back aggressively. "Get in here before I change my mind"

Eddie didn't hesitate to skip his way over and jump clumsily into his bed with you. Tucking his blanket around him, and pulling you close, snuggling into the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. "God you smell so good" he said rubbing his nose along the skin of your collarbone. "So good, all the time, fucking delicious"

You went stiff in his arms, the feeling of his nose against your skin spreading the heat from your core more than before. Whimpering slightly you tried to push him away, feeling too hot and horny with him so close.

"What? What's wrong?" Eddie said pulling back to gage your expression, his eyes flickering all over your face.

"N-nothing m'fine, sorry" You said pushing yourself into the corner of his bed, your shoulders pressing against each side of the wall. Your heart is beating really fast, so fast that you were almost sure if Eddie looked hard enough, he could see the way your chest thumped.

"You're not fine though baby" He said sitting up. "Is it just your period bothering you?" He fumbled with his hands, unsure of what to do with them. He wanted to reach out and hold your hand, or squeeze your thigh, but he was unsure if he could or should touch you right now.

"Technically?" you said, hands coming to the hem of your shirt, folding the fabric back and forth into a tiny accordion.

"Technically?" He asked, repeating your words.

"I just- It's just that- I don't-" Frustrated, unable to phrase it the way you wanted, without it sounding weird, and without making Eddie uncomfortable.

"You know you can tell me anything right? I was your best friend before your boyfriend, and I'll always be your best friend, just now I get to kiss you" He said with a smirk.

You couldn't help but smile, biting the inside of your cheek while you looked at the doe eyed man in front of you. Your heart squeezed.

"I know baby" You said softly, shy under his gaze, returning it to the hem of your shirt.

"So come on then, out with it, give me your secrets" He said in one of his dungeon master voices, a playful smile on his lips as he watched you.

"Um, so I'm horny" You said in a rush, covering your face with both hands.

Eddie laughed for a long time, suspiciously too long. You peaked through your fingers to stare at him.

"Don't laugh!" You whined, kicking him lightly with your foot, he grabbed onto it quickly squishing your toes with his hand.

"That's it? You're horny?"

"Yeah, but I can't like" You turned your gaze away from him again. "I can't get off- I mean sometimes I can, but I can't do what I want, cause the blood grosses me out" You said honestly, the blood did gross you out so instead of trying other methods, you just avoided masturbating at all costs.

Eddie nodded, looking away from you with thoughtful eyes. "Want me to do it?" He said cooly.

You froze slightly at his words, constantly shocked at how calm and collected he could be when talking about things, or asking questions like this. "What?" You choked.

"Get you off, I'll do it, I'd be more than happy to" His eyes slightly darker now, and you couldn't help the way your body shivered at the sight.

"B-but the blood, s'gross and it'll get everywhere" you said glancing down at his bed.

"I don't know if you remember, but I almost died once, blood doesn't scare me"

You swallowed thickly.

"And towels exist for a reason" he said with a shrug, shifting so he was now laying on his side, propped up with his elbow, looking up at you.

"You don't have to, I don't wanna make you uncomfortable" you said moving, trying to relax your shoulders a little, sliding down next to Eddie, mirroring his position. His hand slid up to your waist quickly, pushing and pulling at the skin.

"Baby, I'd be face deep in between your legs right now if you'd let me, promise it doesn't, and wont make me uncomfortable" he said marking an x over his heart.

"Fuck" you breathed. Closing your eyes and trying to regain some sort of composure.

"I wont do anything you don't want me to do, but the offer still stands" his hand leaving your waist to cup your cheek, thumb smoothing down the skin just under your eye, and you hummed, leaning into his touch.

"Please?" you whispered, opening your eyes to look at him.

"Yeah?" he said with a nod, his thumb trailing down the side of your cheek, to your jaw, landing on your bottom lip. He pulled at it softly, letting it flip back into place with a light 'pop'. His eyes flickered across your face, reading your expression to make sure you were okay with it.

You nodded, afraid if you tried to speak, only a whimper would come out.

Eddie leaned in slowly, thumb resuming its gently movements against your cheek until his hand dropped lightly to your throat, warm hand engulfing your senses. Nose nudging lightly next to yours, his breath warm on your mouth, and when you tilted your head to lean in, he pulled back, reviling at the annoyed noise you let out.

"So needy hmm?" he said leaning back in, just as slow, and just as tauntingly. When his lips brushed yours he didn't move away this time, pressing them softly into you and you sighed dreamily. He kissed you gently, and you melted, more and more with each move of his mouth, slow and strategic, getting the exact noises, and responses he wanted from you. Squeezing your throat ever so slightly, causing your breath to hitch and your lips to part, giving him access to slip his tongue into your mouth and you moaned, leaning into him.

Removing his hand from your throat he grabbed at your hips, pulling you onto his lap. Shifting so he was sitting up and leaning against the wall behind him. His erection pressing up against your thinly clothed cunt and you mewled, head dipping forward, chin to your chest.

"You like that pretty girl?" He asked with a small laugh, brushing your hair away from your face, tilting your head back up so he could see you. Eyes closed, and cheeks flushed, you breathed through your mouth, almost panting. "Breathe baby" he whispered.

"Sorry" You said with a small laugh.

"Don't apologize, I love your pretty noises, just wanna make sure you're breathin" Hand trailing down back to your hips and up your back, slipping beneath the shirt you wore, hands warming your skin. "I have an idea" he said while his fingers played with the elastic waistband of your underwear.

"M'listening" you said looking down at him with hooded eyes.

"Take these off, and whatever else you got going on in there" He said pulling and snapping the elastic, causing you to jump slightly. You nodded, biting your lip while hoping to hide some of your blush as you climbed off of him, heading towards the bathroom to remove your tampon before coming back, underwear in a ball held tightly in your fist.

Eddie had laid down a black towel between his legs, back still against the wall, legs splayed out into a v. He smiled wickedly as he patted the spot between his legs, beckoning you forward. "Sit" he instructed. "With your back to me"

You climbed onto the bed, dropping your underwear onto the floor next to you and crawled forward in between Eddies legs, leaning your back against his chest, your knees locking together.

Eddie hooked his chin over your shoulder, placing his hands on each of your knees. "C'mon don't get all shy on me now" his voice low as he pushed your legs apart, grabbing your legs by the pits of your knees bringing them over his thighs and pinning your feet under his calfs. his fingers traced along your skin delicately, up and down the lengths of your thighs, your hips, across your stomach, and he reviled in how your stomach contracted, ticklish under his light touches.

"Pretty, pretty, girl" he cooed in your ear, his breath fanning over the expanse of your neck, and the small bit of shoulder that peaked through.

"Eddie" You breathed, head tipping back into his shoulder, your body slowly melting back into him.

"Yeah baby?" hands moving to your stomach, pressing into the doughy skin, humming in satisfaction.

"Please" Your voice high, and whimpery, almost begging as if he wasn't going to give you what you wanted.

"I got you baby, told you I was gunna take care of you didn't I?" his hands slid back down, squeezing at the skin, where thigh met hip before ghosting one hand over to the burning heat between your legs, fingers dancing along the soft pubic hair you had let grow out. If it was anybody else touching you below the waist you might have felt a little self conscious about it, but because it was Eddie, you knew he didn't care and he never would. As if reading your thoughts he tugged at the hair lightly. "S'cute" he mumbled, while his hand finally slipped down between your legs. The two of you moaned in unison, your head tipping forward, eyes on his hand and the way it moved, but before you could cringe about any blood that might have been there, his free hand came up your throat, pushing at it until you were looking up again. "Eyes up baby girl" he said while beginning to rub slow circles on your clit.

"Oh my god Eddie" His name was barely audible from your mouth and you knew if he wasn't so close to your face he wouldn't have heard you.

Hand moving down further, middle finger grazing your entrance, teasing you slightly before slipping into you easily. "Fucking christ princess" he said moving his head so he could see the way his finger slid in and out of you with no resistance, quickly adding his ring finger just as easily. Your hips began to roll slightly, on their own to chase the high you so desperately wanted.

"M-more" You begged, voice coming out as a small whimper, your throat tightening and your eyes brimmed with tears, being so extra sensitive over the past few days from your hormones made your body feel like it was sparking with electricity. "Please Eddie" you hiccuped, tears quickly falling; down to your neck, wetting eddies hand where it still held your throat lightly.

"You sound lovely when you beg y'know?" he said mockingly, his other hand coming down to continue those slow circles, keeping in time with the quick curl of his fingers inside of you.

You huffed. "Shut it- ah" back arching away from Eddie and he tried to keep you as close to him as he could. "Fuck, fuck, f-uck, just like that Eddie, please, oh my god don't stop"

You were whining, arms coming up to grip at Eddies hair where you could reach, body jerking as it tried to curl in on itself while tingle in the pit of your stomach started to spread.

"Fuck baby, I can feel you clenching down on my fingers, you gunna come f'me?"

"Yes, oh my god" you cried. Tiny fireworks slowly began to ignite inside of your skin, your stomach bloomed, and the sparks buzzed, coursing through every one of your veins until they all snapped at the centre of your cunt. Your orgasm ripping through you so intensely you saw stars, your vision spotty as you rode the waves of it sobbing with pleasure.

Eddie kept up his movements until your hand slapped down quickly onto his wrist. His fingers slipped from you, both hands coming to rest onto your thighs that shook when he freed your legs from the restraint of his own. "Good job baby" he praised, letting your bring your knees back together. Your breathing was ragged, Eddies hands still roaming your thighs gently, giving you space to come back down, body still shaking slightly from a few sporadic sobs, left over heightened emotions and feelings finally able to leave your body. "Did so good, thank you for letting me help you"

You hadn't realized you had your eyes closed, squinting when the sun that filled Eddies room burned your retinas, blinking a few times while they adjusted. You tilted your head up, shifting your shoulders so you could see Eddies face, which was already tilted down towards you.

"There she is" He said with a smile. "Welcome back"

You hummed dreamily, reaching up to scratch at the stubble on his chin, while he quickly pressed his lips to your palm. "Feel better?" he asked.

You nodded, turning your head back with a gasp. "Oh my god"

"What?" Eddie said concerned, leaning forward slightly.

Your thighs were covered in smudged blood, some spots now dry and others still bright red. "There's blood all over me" You groaned, mouth pulling down into a frown.

"Well yeah babe, you have blood coming out of your vagina, what did you expect, should see my hands" He said while putting both of his hands in your lap, palms up. They weren't as bloody as you expected, but still more covered than you would have liked.

"Gross" you mumbled.

"Mother Nature, never said she was nice" he said with a laugh. "Now up, up, up, shower time round two for you miss ma'am"

You giggled, turning in his lap to finally face him. His pupils were blown out, and you could feel his boner against your back the entire time, but not once did he make this about him. "Thanks teddy" you said softly. "M'promise to return the favour, but hopefully you wont cum in your pants again" You teased.

"I just made you cum, I'm covered in your blood, and you wanna talk about making me cream my jeans like I was seventeen again? Right now? You're a menace!" he yelled, hands coming to tickle your waist, the two of you laughing and squirming against each other.

"White flag!" You yelled. "I surrender! you're gunna get enough blood coming out of me to drown this town if you keep making me laugh like that" You said with a huff.

"Ahh well I'll just have to put my fingers back in to keep everyone safe"

"You're the menace here, Edward, not me" You said pushing your back into him a little harder as you stood up on shaky legs, gathering the towel he had laid down into a ball and chucking it into his overflowing laundry basket turning back to him with your hands on your hips. "You comin or what?"

He sighed, smiling lazily as his head tilted to the side. "You're s'pretty"

You blushed, eyes dropping to the floor, already flustered from your orgasm and now from his compliment.

He stretched nosily, arms above his head with his fingers interlocked while he groaned. "Alright let's get this party started" he said with a loud clap. Joining you in the doorway of his room, hands wrapping around your waist to pull you to him, lips coming down to kiss every inch of your face he could get to before you leaned away, a laughing mess.

"So you admitted it" You said cheekily, taking his hand in yours and leading him to the bathroom.

"Admitted what?" He asked, hands never leaving your waist as you bent over to turn the water on, hand under the stream until it was a temperature you liked.

"That I made you cum in your pants" you said looking back at him, smile all too wide.

"You're way too proud of that one aren't you, never gunna let me live it down huh?" he guessed, unable to hide his own smile, matching yours.

"Maybe" you said confidently.

"Maybe" he repeated, leaning down to give you one last gentle kiss before shoving you into the shower, t-shirt still on and everything.

#hellfiremunsonn #Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson fic #Stranger Things fic #Eddie Munson smut #Stranger Things smut #Eddie Munson fluff #Stranger Things fluff #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x y/n #Eddie Munson Stranger Things #Stranger Things Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x fem reader #Eddie Munson x fem!reader #Eddie Munson x fem! reader #Eddie Munson x femreader #fem reader #x fem reader #x fem!reader #Eddie #Munson #Eddie Munson fan fiction #Stranger Things fan fiction #Eddie Munson fanfiction #Stranger Things fanfiction

[your-divine-ribs]

Ice Cold Part 5

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: knives, guns, threat, yeah it’s kinda dark 🫣💙

Ice Cold Masterlist Main Masterlist

Was this it? Was this really how it was going to end?

I was propelled along the corridor by Van, one hand still firmly clamped over my mouth and the other pressing the deadly blade against my throat. My eyes were slowly getting accustomed to the dark and I could just make out the fire exit through the gloom in front of me. I let my body go slack, allowing Van to easily manoeuvre me towards the door, planning to lull him into thinking I was compliant and then fight back as soon as we got outside.

As we reached the exit he spun me around, pushing his back against the door, sending it crashing back on its hinges. We were in an alleyway, the neighbouring building lit up by gaudy neon signs. I peered to the side as much as my head would allow and I could just make out the busy street beyond. It was so close. Freedom. It was now or never.

Van came to a stop and I tensed myself, ready to try and whirl around out of his grasp, but, as if sensing my plan I felt the blade dig even deeper into the tender skin of my throat. I felt a sting followed by a tiny trickle of blood tracking down the column of my neck. There was no way I was getting away. It was hopeless.

"Don't even think about trying anything," he hissed into my ear.

And then he was marching me over to a side door under a blinking neon light and barging through, never letting his grip on me loosen. My eyes darted around, trying to take in my surroundings, desperately looking for something, anything.

We were in a dingy room with obscene pictures covering every bit of available wall space, the air thick with the cloying odour of cigar smoke. Out the corner of my eye I spotted a man sitting behind a cluttered desk, reclined lazily in his chair, his feet up on the surface. The flicker of hope that ignited on seeing another person was quickly extinguished when I saw him lean forward and look me up and down with a lecherous sneer. The fact that I had an eight inch blade pressed against my jugular vein and was obviously being held under duress seemed of no consequence to him as he reached across to grab a key off a hook on the wall which he slung across the desk to Van. He didn't say a word, immediately turning his attention back to the dog-eared magazine he'd been leafing through like this was an every day occurrence... and maybe it was. I felt sick to my stomach.

"Don't fucking scream okay, 'cause no one gives a shit in here," Van muttered in my ear, slowly peeling his hand away from my mouth. I sucked in a breath, gasping.

The knife remained where it was as he steered me down the corridor to a room at the end. Nausea rose in me mixed with fear and revulsion as I contemplated my fate, snap-shots of the dead man I'd just seen flickering through my head.

The door of the room was open and Van pushed me inside with enough force that I stumbled forward on to my hands and knees on the ground. I immediately span around on the hard wooden floor and tried to scramble up.

"Don't get up!" I heard his voice come sharp and commanding a second after I heard the door slam shut and the key turn in the lock.

My head was down but I raised it slowly, peering up at him as he walked slowly over and towered over me. My heart was hammering in my chest, my throat dry. He came to a stop just in front of me and I straightened myself up, trying to show some sort of defiance which was practically impossible in this position.

He smirked down at me. "You look good on your knees Lyla. What did I tell you, huh? What did I tell you about coming after me?"

It was the first time I'd spoken since he'd seized me, my voice wavering although I tried to keep it steady. "What am I supposed to do? Just sit back whilst you carry on slaughtering people?"

He let out a hollow laugh. "People? You call that piece of shit out there a person? He fucks kids you know. He doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as me."

As he spoke I saw his jaw tighten, then I glanced down and saw he was still clutching the knife in his hand, his knuckles turned white. I thought back to the file I'd read on his latest target, pictured the teenage girl who I'd seen outside on the street, covered in the victim's blood. It was quite obvious what her purpose had been for the night. Van was right, but he didn't get to choose who lived and died. That wasn't how it worked. I felt a wave of boldness come over me. What did I have to lose after all?

"You're trying to tell me you're killing people for some moral reason?" I heard the sarcasm in my tone, saw Van's eyes narrow at me.

"No... of course not. But it makes me enjoy my work all the more..."

His lips twisted into a smile that didn't match the coldness in his eyes. I couldn't help myself.

"You're sick!" I blurted out, unable to hold back, the crime scene photos I'd viewed on the plane emblazoned on my mind.

Immediately Van dropped to his knees so he was on a level with me and his sudden proximity made me gasp, my boldness wavering. Fuck... being this close to him made my whole body bristle with nerves, a crackling kind of electricity that made my heart thump and my whole body tremble.

"We're not so different... you and I. I can see that darkness inside you."

He leaned in to me and I shuffled backwards until I felt the resistance of the wall behind me and I sat down, hard. Then I could do nothing but watch warily as he advanced on me until I was pressed against the wall with him only a foot away. There was nowhere to go.

"I'm nothing like you!" I cried out.

"Oh yeah?" He taunted. "I fucking know you. Don't forget I've watched you... I've seen you... You might pretend you're whiter than white but you're just a bad girl underneath it all and you know damn well what you deserve."

He fixed me with an even stare, eyes burning in to me, a hint of a smile upturning the corners of his mouth, but there was no warmth in it. More an acknowledgment of the effect he was having on me as he moved closer still. His hand raised up to touch my cheek and I pressed my head back against the wall.

"You gonna tell me you've not dreamt about this huh?"

His fingers tenderly caressed my cheek then traced down across my jaw and then my neck, coming to a stop around my throat but only lightly gripping me. My breathing was getting shallow, little ragged gasps I tried to gulp down so as not to show my fear. But it wasn't just fear. There was something else. Some kind of dark desire that was coiling in my gut as his grip slowly tightened around my neck.

"You've wondered how my hands would feel on you haven't you?"

I shook my head in a feeble attempt to say no, but Van's dark, knowing smile just widened in acknowledgment.

"Well you don't have to wonder any more. You're mine tonight darlin'... to do with as I please."

My body flinched as he moved even closer, his face now only inches away, his breath warm on my skin. That's when I felt the butt of my gun nudging against my ribs, a timely reminder that I could still gain the upper hand in this situation. I just needed to clear my mind, think straight. With him this close he might not see me reaching under my jacket. I maintained his gaze as his eyes bored into me, my fingers sliding sneakily under my jacket and edging ever closer to the grip of my gun. So close... nearly there... only an inch or so. My fingertips connected and I resisted the urge to rush, just slowly, slowly reaching up, my fingers closing firmly around the reassuring solidness of my weapon.

Do it Lyla! Do it NOW!

With one swift movement I wrenched my gun clear and brought my hand up, pressing the barrel firmly against his temple, breathing hard and fast, trying desperately to project the confidence that I needed to win this.

"Back the fuck up!" I shouted, pressing the gun even harder into his flesh. "Do it!"

Van didn't back up, although his grip loosened on my throat and I heard a clatter which I presumed was him dropping the knife to the floor. I daren't look. I needed to keep my eyes on him.

"Do it or I'll shoot you I swear!" I cried, dismayed that my voice lacked the promised threat I desperately needed to convey.

The tremors were starting up, the gun vibrating in my hand as my heart pounded and my breathing got even faster. Van just remained where he was, impassively looking at me like he wasn't in mortal danger. But he was! I could do this! I could end all of this now. Just pull the trigger and he'd be gone. This would all be over... That's what I wanted... wasn't it?

"Do you really want me dead?" Van's words echoed my thoughts.

As he spoke he raised his hands like he was surrendering, but the lazy smile that played on his lips suggested he knew who was really in control here, despite me being the one holding the weapon.

"And there was me thinking you were gonna be a good girl..." He shook his head slowly, tutting.

"I'll do it!" I cried but my voice came out quiet. Soft and subdued. Weak. Just like my grip on the gun that faltered in my hands now. Van shot out a hand with a lightening fast reflex and in one swift motion he'd knocked it clear out of my grasp and had me pinned up against the wall by my throat yet again.

"If you're gonna be bad, I'm gonna have to teach you how to behave."

With his other hand he reached into the inside of his jacket, slowly drawing out a shiny silver handgun. My heart stuttered as I saw the devilish grin on his face, felt the cold metal of the barrel of the gun as he pressed it against my cheek, dragging it slowly across my skin, eventually coming to rest pressed up against my pursed lips.

"Open your mouth," he commanded.

I resisted, tears pricking my eyes. I tried to maintain my defiance although my courage was ebbing away by the second.

"I said open your fucking mouth!" He growled, pressing the gun harder against the soft skin of my lips.

I finally relented, feeling the smooth metal as it slid between my lips, the harsh invasion making me whimper out loud. I screwed my eyes shut, waiting to hear the catch engage, the blackness to claim me when he pulled the trigger. A solitary tear tracked down my face.

I felt Van lean into me even closer. "You do know I could kill you right now, don't you?"

A shiver ran through me but I remained as still as I could, chanting a silent prayer, hoping Van would somehow take pity on me and make this as quick and painless as possible.

"But that would be such a waste," his voice sounded again, right next to my ear. This time the note of menace was gone, it was replaced with a smoothness, seductive even. Despite my predicament a tiny spark ignited deep inside me, that twisted part of me that relished being dominated. My eyes remained closed whilst I waited for him to continue.

"Those lips... that mouth... we're gonna put them to good use tonight baby..."

Fuck... I clenched my thighs together, felt an aching heat there.

"Suck it..."

What?

My eyes flicked open to meet Van's hungry gaze. The implicit threat was still there underneath it all but this was something else. The kind of dark fantasies that littered my thoughts late at night.

I watched as his tongue darted out to lick at his lips before he spoke again. "That's it... eyes on me. Keep 'em there. Now show me what you can do..."

What choice did I have? I puckered my lips around the barrel and slowly slid them down the length and back, hearing Van's breathing deepen. Shame flooded me as I squirmed where I sat, the righteous part of my mind dulled by the desire to please Van taking over. Hesitantly I started to move my lips back and forth, my eyes never leaving his, accentuating my movements as his breathing became more ragged. His ice cold eyes pooled with something else now. A raw kind of fiery hunger. The same fire that burned deep inside of me.

I felt his hand leave my neck and I saw him shift where he sat, pulling at the crotch of his skin tight jeans. Emboldened by the knowledge of what this was doing to him I slid my lips off the end of the gun, extending my tongue to lick the length of the barrel, exaggerating to tease him. I heard a quiet groan emanate from the back of his throat.

Suddenly the power had fluctuated and an unexpected boldness flooded me. Without thinking what I was doing I reached out a hand straight between his legs, feeling his stiffness straining against the denim.

"Fuck Lyla..." I heard him utter and he withdrew the gun suddenly, his hand going to the back of my head where it roughly grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me towards him.

I gasped, trying to fight the urges I was feeling, desire and shame and a sense of wrong all fighting to surface.

"What... what do you want... from me?" I stuttered.

His answer was immediate and blunt.

"Everything."

And then he pulled me in, his lips finding mine feverishly, his warm tongue invading my mouth. I reciprocated with the same passion, any sense of righteousness disintegrating in an instant. He pushed me hard against the wall, one hand in my hair ensuring I couldn't pull away, the other finding its way up my dress, caressing me through the thin lace of my underwear. I moaned shamelessly into his mouth.

"Lyla! Lyla! Are you in there?"

The muffled cry was punctuated by loud thuds as someone suddenly barged against the locked door. It was Jen.

"Stand clear I'm gonna shoot the lock!" Jason this time.

Van scrabbled back across the floor in an instant, lunging for his gun and knife. He looked flustered, shook to his core and I was stunned to see a vulnerability about him I would never have expected. But it didn't last. He swiftly shot across the room, his back pressed to the wall next to the door, the calculated and efficient movements of someone trained to handle this kind of situation.

I panicked, still on the floor. The realisation of what I'd been doing with this man... this criminal... this killer... it hit me like a sledgehammer, bringing me back to my senses but also fuelling the knowledge that my prohibited desires were no longer just fantasy but reality now. And what did that mean for me?

I looked up at Van and our eyes locked. He'd pocketed the knife and had the gun raised, a grimace of concentration and determination etched on his features. Suddenly I could see it all happening in my mind's eye. Jen and Jason bursting through to rescue me, Van there with his gun, ending their lives before they'd even had chance to lay eyes on me.

There were more thuds, the sound of a bullet outside, ricochetting off the metal lock.

"No!" I shouted, getting to my feet.

Van's head swivelled towards me again. I was desperate now.

"Please..." A pitiful half sob, half cry came from me. "Please don't...."

Van's face creased, his brow furrowed deeply as he glanced around the room, his eyes coming to rest on the window. He didn't appear to even think, quick as a flash he'd crossed the room, raising the gun up and sending it crashing against the pane of glass which instantly shattered on impact. He knocked the rest of the glass out with the barrel of his gun, ducking his head through and then quickly drawing back.

He didn't say a word and neither did I, we just looked at each other for a long moment, an exchange taking place between us. Then he turned again, boosted himself up through the window frame and he was gone into the night.

#ice cold #van mccann fanfic #au fanfic #vanfic

[iobartach]

@gazelessmenagerie [ mauga ] // tfw when the plan backfires --!

As always, disruption followed closely on the heels of Mauga's approach, not realising how much he valued quietness until the other man had taken it away with his stomping steps. With rear remaining parked on a stool, the sudden, and somewhat jarring rearrangement of his desk elicits a drawn out exhale from Miguel rather than a shout, spine and shoulders gradually straightening as he sets the test tube and tongs he'd been grasping down on his lap.

"Mauga, I'm not interested in--" Attempting to protest, his efforts appeared to go unheard, or worse, were simply ignored, as the Samoan's large arms reach towards his form with such speed that it caught the Spider completely off-guard. Not even a quick step backwards had any chance of improving his odds as Mauga seemed to keep pace with him, his thick arms locking his own limbs against his sides as, with a blur of movement, the man hauled him off his feet and tossed Miguel over a shoulder.

Bucking immediately from the gesture, a mixture of English and Spanish expletives bore into the giant's ear as Mauga whisked them away to the scene of the crime, a feat that Miguel himself had perpetrated, though was seemingly denied the credit for pulling off. "What are yammering on about, will you just put me down--" Another lift and sharp twist of movement cuts the geneticist off mid-rant, elevated against his will, feeling rather than seeing Mauga lift him off his shoulder and into the air above his head.

"Wait! Don't tell me you're going to--!" Shifting tracks, Miguel started to croak a completely different tune as he caught on to what the big guy was intending to do, a realisation that triggered a shout of alarm to well up from the depths if his lungs as broad arms pulled the Spider backwards over Mauga's head. "Don't-- Stop This at onc--" Parting with what could potentially be his last words, it was all that Miguel managed to add as he felt Mauga's fingers dig into his arms as he took aim and threw, tossing the brown-haired male at the ceiling, and towards certain doom...

...Except that's not quite how events unfolded, for, beneath the shouts that ripped forth from Miguel's chest, he did not end up smashing his face against the ceiling, as his worst fears had convinced him to believe, but rather, he clung to it, thanks to the reflexive reactions of his clawed hands and feet, instincts covering for the gap where rational thinking had been stalled by fears felt. Now anchored firmly in place, it takes the passing of a few seconds before Miguel could muster the courage to open his eyes, bearing witness to an inverted view of the room's interior for the first time.

Head sent spinning from this new perspective, he had seldom the opportunity, nor in truth, the desire, to test the scope of his abilities, let alone in a forced manner like this. But, regardless of preference, only one thought rose to dominate all others, finding a voice, as well as volume as he denounced Mauga for his reckless behaviour.

"You're INSANE!!! You could've killed me, you bastard!"

#gazelessmenagerie #verse; ag rith as roghanna #long post #the first AND the last time he tries to get some payback #smh doesn't even get the credit for it. instead he gets YEETED 😔 #rftgy this makes me chuckle every damn time i read your answer kuro i stgggg 🤣 #it's wonderful!!! #baby's first spidery scuttle in this verse! love it!!!

[whitesuitdarkiplier]

Okay, so Dark as a dog was hilarious and cute, but I'd love to know *why* he was a dog in the first place

Your writing is amazing, by the way!

Aw, thank you so much! It was so fun to write him as a dog, I'd love to do it again. Hope you enjoy it!

The multiverse is a vast and complex honeycomb of stories, and it contains mysteries that we cannot fully understand. And one of those mysteries is how Wilford conjures up his maddening ideas.

Dark usually locked his office door, forcing the others to knock before entering. The only exception to this rule was Wilford, mostly because he had the same abilities to alter reality as Dark did. But that day, instead of simply appearing in his office, Wilford shot his pistol at the knob, blowing it completely off the door. He burst through with his pink-mustachioed grin, and said with a singsong tone, "Daaaark!"

Dark was at his desk, his laptop in front of him, typing away. He didn't even flinch as the gunshot rang out. In fact, he didn't even respond until he heard his name. He slowly closed the laptop, interlacing his fingers on the desk and looking up at Wilford with a blank expression.

"Yes, Wilford?"

"I have an idea," he said, tapping the end of the pistol to his forehead, "The best idea for reclaiming the channel! And of course, finally showing off the Masterpiece that is Markiplier TV."

Dark tilted his head to the side, for once pleasantly surprised. Wilford didn't share the same vitriol for Mark as Dark did, but he did love the spotlight. He'd never just explicitly stated a plan.

"Oh, yes?" Dark raised his brows, "What is it?"

"Well," Wilford continued, "The viewers love Chica...and they love you...so what if we combined the two together into a glorious amalgamation! A sort of..." he splayed his hands in front of him as if to emphasize his words, "Dark Chica! Whaddya think??"

Dark sat still and silent for a very long time, staring at him with an unreadable expression.

"You want to turn me into a dog?" he said flatly.

"Of course! Who would want to see boring old Markiplier when they could see Dark Chica!"

Dark pinched the bridge of his nose, "I am not going to be a dog."

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport!" Wilford waved his hand dismissively, "It's a fantastic idea!"

"Wilford." Dark said firmly, "No."

Wilford did not like that answer. And the next thing Dark knew, he was much closer to the ground. When he tried to speak, all that came out was a distorted, but loud BARK!

Wilford twirled his gun around his finger and knelt down to give the gray golden retriever a pat on the head, "Aw, look at ya, you little scamp!"

Dark growled.

"Now, now, don't be that way. It's gonna be great!"

Wilford took him to a park where he would frolic and play and get them those sweet views, but Dark would just grumpily lay on the ground, turning his nose up. And during the course of this attempt at making content, Dark ran away from Wilford. He would never admit it out loud to anyone, but his dog instincts took over the minute he saw a car speeding down the road. He ran as far as he could before realizing he was lost, it was night, and it was raining. He took shelter in a nearby grocery store, cold and wet and grumpy.

When a kind soul took him in for the night, he was quite glad. At least he could be comfortable. The next morning, he awoke, naked on his rescuer's bed. Embarrassed as he was, he almost glitched out of there to get dressed and scold Wilford for his antics immediately. But, the kindness he'd been shown...warmed his heart, as the expression goes. Even as he had no heart to warm. He wrote a careful little note and placed it on their kitchen table.

He said they might meet again. And they indeed might, if only so Dark can properly thank them.

#darkiplier #darkiplier iswm #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier fanfiction #who killed markiplier #a heist with markiplier #a date with markiplier #markipler egos #markiplier fanfiction #wilford warfstache #ahwm darkiplier #wkm darkiplier #markiplier tv #egos #wilfordmotherlovingwarfstache #warfstache #markiplier wilford #iswm

[devils-pirate-crew]

Dawson floats.

Dawson floats, in this little bubble of his, in a sea of red. He presses on the edges of the bubble, to see if it will break, but it doesn't even move, the walls cold and filmy on his palms, as if he'd just touched a glass vase. The bubble bobs in the sea, up and down, so far from the surface.

Around him, there are colors, so many colors, smoky trails of colors dragging their tails behind them. And there are other bubbles, too, floating in the red-tinted water.

Dawson's bubble drifts closer to one of the others - it reflects a picture back to him. On instinct, Dawson reaches out to the other bubble, then gasps and recoils as the picture starts moving. It's a scene that's all too familiar, viewed from the first person - a cold stone room with a slab for a bed, tucked away deep where nobody will ever find it. Sitting there, alone, so alone.

At first, it was a visit with the Father once a week, on Saturdays, the day before mass. But the demons refused to let up, and the Father recommended twice a week, and they refused to let up again, and the Father said he'd need to see Dawson every day, that it was an evil force the likes of which the Church hadn't ever seen before. The boy is a vessel for evil. If he is left to indulge in these demons, the Father said, he will kill us all. And so his parents agreed that the Church would take care of him.

Dawson can't blame the Father. He tried everything. Burns to ward out the demons, hot wax scabbed over skin that leaves open wounds when it's picked off. Cuts, over and over, especially in rows of crosses or letters like in the Bible, now faded away. Days without food, days without enough, days where the food was laced with spices that made him lose track of reality and made the demons scream for him to kill himself. Bruises from fists, bruises from restraints when he tried to do what the demons told him to. Exposure, left with only a pair of shorts in the winter, head dipped dutifully into the freezing bucket of water until he couldn't take it anymore and tried to breathe it in. Fingers on his neck, pressing, and then there were stars in the darkness, and pain radiating through him when he woke up again.

But this will fix him. This will save him, that's what the Father says.

And he watches it replay through the distortion of the bubble, over and over again, the wounds opening and closing on his skin. He can't look away, even as he trembles, even as the bubble floats on by. He keeps staring at it with wide eyes until it's nothing more than a speck on the horizon.

But when it's truly gone, another bubble appears. Despite himself, Dawson pushes to get a look at it. The reflection begins moving again.

This time, it's his father - his real father - with his hand firmly around Dawson's wrist. They walk through a building that looks like what Dawson imagines prison would. People are chained up to the walls and to the bars separating them from the passersby, and they're screaming and wailing indiscriminately, reaching out for Dawson, as if they know what evils he carries inside him, as if they can sense it. His insides burn, like they do when he doesn't listen to the Voices, but it's so much worse, like if thousands of needles pierced his every inch of skin, the sensation maddeningly painful. And yet he can't say anything, can't show weakness, can only blink back his tears and keep walking through the place.

His father stops him. If you won't give up your silly games of voices talking to you, he says, you'll end up here. Is this what you want? Do you want me to have them take you in? No? Then stop playing your stupid games. Grow up. We need you to be working, not to be locked up in an asylum wasting the air you breathe. London is expensive. Your mother is worried sick about you. Be good for her.

And Dawson had merely nodded, the words daggers in the sides of his brain. If even God couldn't help him, what chance did he have? If all the ministrations of the Father failed in the face of such powerful an evil as he was, how could he be anything good?

What if he's unfixable? Unsaveable, no matter what anyone says?

The picture floats away again. Dawson keeps his eyes trained on the horizon, waiting for the next, but none comes. He floats there for a while, waiting, waiting, before light flashes behind him. Dawson turns around, a hand instinctively going up to shield his face.

He's back on HMS Devonshire. He doesn't remember how long he's been here, just that it's what's best. When the press gang came, he let them take him. One less thing for his family to worry about.

In the picture, he adjusts a cartridge of gunpowder he's carrying with his left arm. It's warm to the touch, but the entire gun deck is smoldering with heat. It's his job to get this to the cannons. That's what the powder boys are here for, after all.

So Dawson walks on, ignoring the loud booms of cannonfire, until there's one shot he just can't ignore. It rocks the ship - the gunpowder flies into the air and ignites as it falls back down onto him. It burns blue dots into his cheek, his neck, his arm, his hand. He doesn't realize it because he's running, running up to the forecastle, ignoring the blood and the bits of the ship and its sailors under his feet.

His captain stands there, sword pointed at him. We're all going down together, he screams. Either you die a saint with us and walk into the hands of God or you die alone in the clutches of demons, a sinner cursed to roam the world forever as a harbinger of evil. What will it be?

There's a loud crack - and Dawson remembers it all too well, it's the crack of the ship as it splits in half, and -

The bubble bursts with flames. The sea of red floods in, metallic on Dawson's tongue. Splinters of wood, of cloth, of human remains spiral down in the water, sizzling as they go. He tries to force his way upwards, to where the sun should be, but there are colors wrapped around his legs, his arms, his torso, the spirits of the dead pulling him down with them. He's outrun Death so long. Why was he so foolish to think he could keep going?

Just before he's dragged under by the Voices, Dawson thinks one last thought: He cannot be fixed. He cannot be saved, even if Arber, or Nate, or Dougie, or anyone else, says he can.

He is nothing more than a vessel for evil.

#storyline #d.mercer|91

[dark--eclipse]

Dreams again.

He was at least in the middle of a forest this time, instead of having dreams about the Krang hivemind or being connected to the Technodrome or anything else. Which was....preferrable. Donnie would have preferred not to have another dream where Krangified him actually succeeded in slicing his own twin's head off with a scythe, thank you very much. Or ones where the Krang tore the sky open and unleashed the entirety of their fleet upon his world, and he could only stand there and laugh until his voice went hoarse. Or--

No. He didn't need to think about those. But he did need to figure out where exactly he was. Donnie spun in a slow semi-circle, trying to size up his surroundings, trying to quantify why this seemed so familiar to him--and then froze as the house he'd been staying at in the woods, when he'd been hiding from his family, came into view. The door swung open, almost beckoning to him, and he swore that if he listened hard enough he could hear whispering coming from the doorway--

Come. Come back, boy. They don't want you. They never understood you. I've been waiting.

No. No. Just because he thought that his family had nursed him back to health out of obligation rather than any desire to see him back with them, just because he didn't think they actually wanted him around, just because he was keeping his distance from all of them just so when they inevitably threw him out, it wouldn't hurt again--that didn't mean Donnie wanted to be back in that place. It had been.....it had been so lonely and....

He shied backwards, squaring his shoulders even as his voice quivered. "....No. No, I. I don't have to. I'm not going back there. I can't, I don't have to, I--"

The door opened and shut several times, almost as if the house was laughing at him. Eventually. Eventually, stupid boy.

"No. I. Not anymore. No. I have a family. I. They took me back. I. They care about me." He spun to leave, then, clenching his eyes shut. "I'm getting out of-"

Chains sprang from the doorway, then. Thick and inescapable, they encircled him, forcing him down to the ground and dragging him back towards the house, and Donnie let out a strangled scream as he dug his claws into the dirt, trying to fight back against them, trying to drag himself forward as the foggy forms of his family appeared in the distance. If he just got to his family, they'd help him, they'd---

"NO! Nonononono....Raph! Mikey, Leo, h-help, please, I--"

He faltered as they turned towards him, their gazes shining with hatred, their voices ringing out in unison.

You really think we'd want a MONSTER like you in our family? After what you did?

Donnie's blood ran cold, a million thoughts whirling through his head as he whined pathetically, as he reached out towards them, pleading. "No. I....I didn't mean.....whatever I did, I can....I can fix it, I..."

You're no son of mine. Splinter, now, looking down at him with a sneer. You're not even fit to be called my child.

"No. No, Papa, please, please--"

And then Tikhas's form approached, their gaze full of cold indifference. This is where monsters like you belong. Locked away.

He tried. He tried to protest, but suddenly he was in his shadow form and he couldn't get words out, not properly, all he could do was scream as the chains dragged him in and through the doorway, and he was in the dark and the cold and he was so alone so alone he didn't want to be alone, and he ran and ran to try and find an exit but there was only him and the dark and the house's laughter and he screamed and screamed until his throat went hoarse but there was no one to hear him, nobody cared about him he was going to rot here because he was a monster--

Donnie jolted awake with a strangled scream, huddling against the wall in his bed and clutching a hand to his chest as he frantically tried to regulate his breathing. The others were running in, and Raph was firmly but gently taking his hands, and there were words coming out of his older brother's mouth but he couldn't hear them, he couldn't make sense of them, all he felt was the panic coming up to drown drown drown him--

Heat flooded through his body, then, a welcome respite from what he was feeling. Mikey must have cast a calming spell. He gasped in a harsh breath of air, looking around at all of them, trying to make his voice come out somewhat steady. "I'm f-fine. I'm fine, you can all go back to sleep, I'm fine."

"You're crying, Don."

Oh. So that was what that dampness on his face was. He glanced over at Leo and Mikey to see their reaction, and....and there was nothing but concern in their gaze. Not thinly-veiled hatred, or pity, just concern. He hated it as much as he desperately yearned for it at that moment, and that was what made the dam break, a low whine drawing from his throat a moment before the flood of words came. "I....I was nothing."

"Don-"

"Shut up, I....I need you to listen. I was nothing. I had nothing, out there. I was alone and angry at myself and sad and I thought....I genuinely thought if I withered away for the rest of my days out there, you all would just forget about me eventually, and I said to myself that it was for the greater good but it wasn't, Raph, it was just a fucking distraction from everything I was feeling. Actually, I wasn't feeling, I was just....it was like nothing was even....all I had was the shadows and the cold and....and it was so fucking lonely, Raph, I don't....it was so quiet there all the time and I built Sheldon because I couldn't stand one more day of being so fucking alone and I'm a coward, I'm such a coward, I swear I was gonna come back eventually, I wanted to come back, I wanted to come back so badly that it burned, I-"

He gasped in a breath. Another. Mikey's voice came from beside him, shaky. "Donnie, hey, can you breathe with us for a sec-"

He shook his head. He had to keep talking, he had to keep going, he had to make them understand. "I missed so much and I thought I was doing the right thing and I thought maybe you just took me back in because you felt sorry for me or something and....but...." He swallowed, thickly, huddling in on himself with a broken sob. "Don't make me go back there, Raph, please, please don't make me go back there, I was alone, I was so alone, don't make me go back to the woods and the dark and the cold and the quiet, please, I want to be here, I want to get better, please-"

And he wanted to. For the first time in his life, he knew that he wanted to stay. He wanted to stay here, he wanted to not fear his powers anymore, he wanted to feel good enough for someone for once in his life, he wanted to be a father to Themis, he wanted....he wanted to grow closer to Tikhas, he--

"You don't have to go back there. Understand, Don?" Raph was scooping him into a hug before he could stop him, his big brother's voice shaky in turn. "We'll never make you go back there. Ever."

"I thought....I....I missed so much, I....I wanted to come back, please, I'm sorry I messed everything up, I.....I didn't mean...." He choked on another sob, then, bringing a hand up to swipe at his eyes completely ineffectively.

"You didn't mess anything up, Donnie." Leo now. "If we made you feel like that, I'm sorry."

"Please. Please, I care about all of you so much, I just....I'm sorry I got taken by the Krang and I'm sorry I was so angry, I'm so tired of feeling so angry, I'm tired of being scared, I just want to be better, I want to be here, I want to be here with all of you and be a father to Themis and I w-want to see Tikhas again and I...." Another sob. "I thought you all would throw me out and I know you would never but I'm so afraid and I--"

"We know you care about us. You only did all of this 'cause you thought we'd be safe. It's okay. It's not your fault. We're not kicking you out. We'll help you. All of us."

"It's gonna be okay, Donnie."

"Maybe not right now, but soon. The fact that you wanna get better is already a big step. Just let it all out."

He did so, huddling into Raph and sobbing as the others rubbed comforting circles into his shell. Gods, he hadn't cried like this since he was a child--all great heaving gasps that shook his entire body and made him feel like he was coming apart at the seams--but for once, Donnie couldn't bring himself to care about how undignified he looked. Let him fall apart. This time, he trusted that his family would be there to pick up the pieces.

He was going to stay here. He was going to be a father to Themis. He was going to figure out where to go next when it came to Tikhas.

And he believed it. He believed that everything was going to be okay.

#rottmnt rp #shadow!donnie #roleplay blog #(no replies please!)

[joelsgirl]

A free use fic in Jackson, where you're assigned to or maybe used by Joel/Tommy?

Fuck, free use is one of my favourite things to write. Thank you so much for this! Muse: Joel & Tommy Miller Content Warnings: Age Gap, Size Difference, Rough Sex, Threesome, Tommy & Joel sandwich (no inc*st), Free Use, No Use of Y/N + Want to see more? I’d love to see some requests, here!

Jackson truly was a communist settlement; everything was shared, including the women. The free use rule had been set in stone long since you arrived. You'd argue the rule, or leave, but everyone here accepted it and aside from that, this truly was a beautiful home. All the women were given a place to stay, warm clothes, a soft bed, all the food you could ask for.

All you had to do, was take what was given to you whoever, whenever or wherever that may be. It didn't help that the home offered to you, belonged to another. in your case, your keys unlocked the door to the Miller boy's home. They just so happened to be the most insatiable of the lot. Outside of the house, you wore respectable clothes. For the most part. No panties or bra, that was the rule, and more often than not you'd wear little dresses; learnt early on it was easier to do that than constantly have them ripped from your body. You still reminisced about your favourite pair of jeans, may they rest in peace.

At home, however, clothes weren't optional, they were against their religion. At least on you. It was a pretty sweet deal, you mostly kept the house clean when they were gone, for your own sanity, and served them whenever they wanted it. You'd say it was a chore, but... well, have you seen the Miller boys?

Joel had been out hunting for the last few days, so it was just you and Tommy when he wasn't out working the fields. He'd come home exhausted and wrung out, something had happened but you didn't want to ask, knew better than to get too personal with him. The hot shower he'd gotten out of not too long ago must have helped, though, because his mood had infinitely improved.

He'd walked past you, giving you a kiss, and you thought perhaps he was too tired for anything tonight... what a rookie error. Just as he was about to walk away, his fist locked in your hair, half dragging you along to the living room. Sinking into the sofa, he took you down with him. Forcing you to your knees, the hard wood knocking you about a bit. You don't mind, you're used to it now. Tugging down the zipper of his jeans, releasing his already hard cock as he wrapped a free hand around it. He didn't say anything, just looked down at your wide, innocent eyes. Tapping your lips with the thick head, telling you without words to open wide for him.

You oblige like the good little girl you are, wrapping those beautiful, plump lips around his cock before he rocks his hips forward, slamming in the rest of the way. A low groan escapes him, his head tipping back on the couch as the fist in your hair tightens. Holding you firmly in place, he begins a steady rhythm, fucking your face like it was nothing but a flesh light. His balls slap against your chin on every thrust, your throat bulging from the size of him, but so used to the invasion now you don't even choke on that monstrous cock anymore.

You hear the faint click of the lock, then the front door opening. A soft thud telling you Joel's back, and he's caught something. You can't see what, can't move from your position. Tommy doesn't stop, his pace unrelenting as his groans tell his brother exactly where you both are. You can't see the dried blood on his hands from the fresh kill, or the splatter across his flannel shirt. The dirt his boots track through the floor as he cuts a path directly to you both. It's been days since he's been able to take what was his, what he shared with Tommy.

He takes a heartbeats pause to drink in the sight of you, down on your knees, Tommy's fist yanking your head up and down his cock as he fucks up into your face, his brother meeting his eyes over you in greeting; before a roughed up hand drags his own zipper down. Dropping to his knees behind you, he lines the equally thick head with your tight little cunt as both hands massage your ass. Spreading those cheeks nice and wide before slamming in balls deep. No warning, no preamble. His own groan mixing with his brothers as he pulls back to the tip, and slams in again. His pace slower, more brutal than Tommy's but you're used to it now. It wouldn't last long, the beat between thrusts giving you a chance to get used to how god damn big he was inside you.

Both brothers ignore you, too busy chasing their own release. Joel moves faster, deeper, fucking you so hard you feel like you're splitting in half. Between the two of them, your body struggles to keep up. To cope with the size of their cocks, with the roughness as they use you... and yet, you wouldn't have it any other way. A hand comes down on your ass, big and heavy, the harsh sting echoing in your mind as Joel slaps you again, and again before wrapping both hands around your slender hips in a crushing grip. Pulling your body back onto him, making you meet every thrust. The momentum propelling you forward, to take Tommy's cock even more. Rocking back and forth between the two giants.

The hand not in your hair finds your tits, slapping them, catching the nipple with the tips of Tommy's fingers as he takes out the days frustrations on your little body. You're not supposed to enjoy it as much as you do but you can't help it, the lick of pain their hands elicit just adding to the pleasure as they use you. You love it, love knowing you're there to service them, that you're their favourite toy. Joel's fucking you harder still, their cocks bulging your petite little body as you're impaled by both of them.

Tommy is the first to cum, slamming in deep and holding your head in a vice like grip, grinding against swollen lips as he forces you to take every drop of his thick cum. So deep in your throat, it has no chance of escaping. His groans sending his brother over the edge, who does the same. Slamming in and holding you in place, the pressure so delicious you can't help your own orgasm. Tight little cunt milking Joel's cock. They couldn't care less if you came or not yet your muffled cries tell them both you're right there with them. Your body trembling as Joel pulls out first, tapping your ass before zipping his jeans up and walking away, heading in the direction of the shower. Tommy holds his cock in your throat longer, just warming it now, you can still feel it twitching as you watch him, fighting back the smile...

"Always such a good girl for us, aren't you, pet?"

#JOEL MILLER #JOEL MILLER FIC #JOEL MILLER X YOU #THE LAST OF US #TOMMY MILLER #THE LAST OF US FIC #MY WRITING #MY WRITING X JOEL MILLER #MY WRITING X TOMMY MILLER

[stannisbaratheon]

CHERNOBYL (2019) 04. THE HAPPINESS OF ALL MANKIND

"I've known braver souls than you, Khomyuk. Men who had their moment and did nothing." REWATCH MEME: FAVORITE QUOTES (2/10)

#you just KNOW boris is speaking from personal experience #as someone who had to dispense of his own moral conviction to get into a position of power #it's both 'this is a choice i made before - trust me' #and somehow 'this is a choice i made before - there's nothing wrong with it. i did the right thing didn't i.' #like he needed valery to take his suggestion over ulana's and for ulana to agree with him as though he's looking for absolution #the way he says 'it leaves you' like it's a truth he'd kept hidden and unspoken for years #and had to force the words out of where he'd locked it firmly away in all that time #the character arcs in this show man #chernobyl hbo #chernobyl #chernobylrewatch #stellan skarsgard #stellan skarsgård #johan renck #craig mazin #mygifs #the low lighting is so hard to edit in this gif holy crap #bbqueue

[necros-writing-stuff]

Sydney fisted his hand in your hair, pulling you closer and forcing more of his cock down your throat. Having anything in your throat would make it hard to breath, but Sydney being so well endowed didn't help. But the way he shook, breath hitching and stumbling over his words when he spoke made the burn in your lungs so worth it.

Once the other student walked away, Sydney took full control. His hands cradled the sides of your head, but firmly kept you in place. You knew what was coming and braced for it, screwing your eyes shut and gripping his thighs for support. He had a habit of losing himself to the feeling of being inside you. At least he did ever since your first trip to the prayer room.

The first snap of his hips always made you gag. He was too big, went too far in and was too rough. His excitement was adorable, and the way he bit his lip to stifle his moans had you soaking through your panties. Your nose was burried in his pubic hair before he pulled back, then made you take all of him again. He tried to set a rhythm, but it was quickly lost. The grip he had on your head tightened.

"Fffuuuuck-!" He moaned loudly as the brutal throat fucking came to an end. An obscene amount of cum spilled down your throat, threatening to drown you. Thankfully, Sydney pulled out before that could happen. You swallowed what you could and used your hands to catch the rest. He watched through heavy lidded eyes as you licked his seed from your fingers. Distantly, you hoped the library was empty.

You tucked Sydney back into his pants, careful to not over stimulate him. He then pulled you from under the counter and into a needy kiss, tasting himself on your lips. When you finally parted, a trail of semen and saliva connected your tongues. He had the sense to use a tissue to clean you both up. You pecked his cheek and were about to leave for your history class when you heard someone shout.

"Sydney!" Sirrius was fast approaching, a disappointed look on his face. The younger man started at the tone in his father's voice, then did a double take the tone in his presence. Shocked, he frantically looked between you and Sirrius.

"I thought I raised you better than this." Sydney stumbled over his words, failing to put together a coherent sentence. He was on the verge of tears when Sirrius grabbed your arm and manhandled you onto the counter so that you face his son. You both froze when the older man parted your thighs.

"A good lover returns the favor, Sydney." Sirrius tsked. Again, your boyfriend looked between you and his father. When it was clear he intended to stay for the act, Sydney swallowed hard.

"I- I've never-" He began.

"Never?!" Sirrius sounded scandalized.

"Sydney! How many times have they gone down on you?" Your poor boyfriend was redder than a tomato, glasses fogging and gaping, failing to form words. You weren't fairing much better. Your boyfriend's father was telling him to eat you out. In public. With him watching. You jumped a little when you heard the chair move. Sydney was on his knees, his hands hesitantly stroking your calfs.

"Is this-" He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat.

"Is this alright?" Sydney asked, looking up at you. It took you a second to register the question, but when you did, you gave him your consent.

"Good." Sirrius spoke behind you.

"I'm sure they're plenty warmed up from before, so go ahead and get started." The older man spoke with the same cadence he did in the class room.

With trembling hands, Sydney began stripping your lower half. You weren't sure if it was because you had an audience, or if because that audience was his father, but he moved with much less gusto than usual. Normally, he couldn't wait to get you out of your clothes; often ripping them in his excitement to get inside you. But he carefully removed your underwear, folding it and putting it in a pile with your school skirt, and shoes.

Once your sopping entrance was laid bare before him, you noticed a shift in him. The embarrassment and hesitancy were gone, replaced by the confidant need you were used to. He stared hungrily at your sex, eyes flickering to your flushed and embarrassed expression before flicking his tongue over your bud. Your whole body jolted from the sudden stimulation, but you were kept firmly in place by Sirius, your back to his chest.

Sydney refused to break eye contact as he began the process of figuring out how to best please you with his mouth. Licking, kissing and sucking various spots to gauge your reactions. His hands crept back up your legs, encouraging you to rest them over his shoulders; his head caged between your thighs.

"Don't be afraid to use your fingers, Sydney. You want to make them feel as good as they make you do, don't you?" Sirrius instructed and Sydney listened, prodding at your hole while he lapped at your sex. You let out a pathetic whimper, your hands tangled in his ruined ponytail and your legs locking around his neck. Sirius's hold kept you from curling in on yourself and suffocating his son. Then again, the pleased hum Sydney gave you made you think he'd like that.

Or it would if you could think about anything other than his fingers pushing into you and his lips on your clit. Sydney was a much faster learner than you gave him credit for. He quickly found the spot that made you see stars and set about abusing it. The noises you made were erotic. Soft, breathy sighs and pitched, breathless moans. You writhed in Sirius's grasp, humping against Sydney's face and hand as you got closer and closer. A lewd moan from your boyfriend against your sex, mixed with him pressing two fingers knuckle deep into you had your body trembling, a whorish cry leaving your lips as your orgasm hit you.

"Oh, fuck." Sydney groaned, licking your juices from his face.

"Very good. You should always ensure your partner enjoy themselves as much as you do." Sirius hummed, unabashedly proud of his son. You weren't entirely sure what for. Getting you off? Not being such a prude? Your teacher held you as you came down from your high and Sydney redressed you. When he stood, you noticed how uncomfortable moving was for him. A tent obvious in his pants.

Once his father let you go and bid the both of you goodbye, Sydney dragged you from the school, practically carrying you with how weak your legs were, in the direction of the temple. Were it not for his concern for your purity, he would have gladly deflowered you both while his father held you. But the punishment for breaking your vow was harsh, and he refused to let you endure that.

Sydney couldn't wait until you were married and he could fuck you where and whenever he wanted. The beach, the school, the park, anywhere he could get you relatively alone. A shiver ran up his spine thinking about having his father hold you down on your wedding night while he pumped load after load of his virile seed into your hot, tight little pussy. Watching as he had you over and over again until he was sure it would fucking take. He bit back a groan.

For now the prayer room would have to do. It was the only place he could ravage you without consequence. Sydney loved you so much it hurt him. It bordered on obsession at times, he was sure. But he couldn't help it. You tainted him, and he was going to taint you back. He needed to be inside you, to be with you in mind, body and soul; now and forever.

As one.

(- anon 🚩 Corrupt!Sydney makes so many of my kinks go brrrrrr)

Sirris holding you down while Sydney eats you out oh fuck 🚩 your mind is so huge.

Stop making me simp for Sydney goddamn it!

#🚩 anon #spill your guts #Sydney the Faithful #Sirris the Science Teacher #others stuff #tw inc*st #just in case