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#he’s like. nocturnal. but in the way that he spaces the hell out in the day

slytherinslut0 · 6 months

Text

Mattheo Riddle. | We Are Done

Info: Mattheo calls things off during a nasty fight where you were only expressing your concern for his safety, putting an end to your months-long complicated fling. When he inevitably gets hurt and finds himself in the hospital wing as a result of his recklessness, you pay him a little visit, eager to get your revenge.

Word count: 5k

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Toxic Behaviours, Sadism, Masochism, Intense Bloodplay, Restraint, Dom!Reader, Sub!Mattheo, Begging, PIV, Sexual Punishment, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Humiliation.

A/N: went all the way to the depths of hell for this one☠️

The journey from the bustling opulence of the Great Hall to the clinical confines of the hospital wing unfolded like a protracted soul-search, nearly forty minutes of introspection that could have singlehandedly redefined the word regret.

A seething turmoil churned within, its intensity drawn solely from the arid kindling of memories involving your ex fling, Mattheo Riddle. Despite the passing week of newfound solitude, the inner maelstrom showed no fucking signs of abating.

The recollection of your fleeting intimate moments swarmed you, a ceaseless loop that played out in the theater of your mind--like an unresolved holodrama with seemingly no fucking end.

His imprint stained every fragment of your life; in the solitude of the shower, mental echoes followed the course of water, little rivers reminding you of the ones tracing intricate paths down his sculpted physique. Within the shared space of the common room, the mental tableau featured his fingers engaging in an intimate ballet, leaving the taste of his lips lingering in your mouth as they ever-so-dominantly stifled your lusty sounds.

And somehow, that wasn't even the worst of it. Oh, not even close. It was during the nocturnal realm that the memories unfolded their cruelest chapters.

In the shroud of night, it transcended beyond the mere visual replay of his figure dominating yours, or the sensory exploration of his hands traversing the curves of your body. It wasn't just the recollection of his teeth sinking into your neck that lingered. No, the intricacies of your mind wove a far, far more nuanced tapestry.

Nighttime summoned forth the vivid recollection of the encompassing warmth emanating from his broad chest, the haven discovered within the embrace of his strong arms, and the fragrant allure of his messy hair, intertwining with the visceral memories of each intimate encounter. His burning gaze that had seared into your consciousness was more than a mere look; it was an indelible mark, haunting the very core of your thoughts with the echoes of shared passion.

These were the nocturnal specters that besieged you behind closed lids, engaging in an unwelcome dance as you wrestled with the elusive embrace of sleep. These very memories, like a relentless blacksmith, stoked the inferno within, leaving behind the most acrid, bitter residue on your tongue--a taste of anguish and betrayal.

The haunting question echoed through the corridors of your thoughts: why had he subjected you to this intimate claiming, an emotional prison woven with shared intensity, only to abruptly extinguish it with the cold finality of three, sad little words.

"We are done."

And thus, even after the amount of passing time, all it took was a single sideways glance exchanged between Pansy and Draco during their spirited debate over impending assignments to inspire the catalyst for your abrupt departure. With a forceful clatter, you slammed down your fork and pushed up from the table, commencing a determined march into the unknown.

Their speculative gazes undoubtedly trailed your abrupt exit, but you paid no heed. The entire school was privy to the fact that you and Mattheo were done, seemingly officially this time--terminated by a colossal spat prior to one of his ludicrous nighttime escapades in the forbidden forest. Mattheo's hospitalization, a testament to the recklessness that marked him and his band of fools, left him nursing scratches, cuts, bruises, and a sizable gash on his lower abdomen.

Pansy's calls faded into the periphery as you strode away, your indifference resonating louder than any response could convey. The world around you blurred into inconsequential background noise, drowned out by the burgeoning tangle of spite that commandeered your thoughts. Initially relegated to the forefront, this resentment had now metastasized, occupying every crevice of your headspace.

The recollection of his outburst haunted you, a violent reaction triggered by your attempt to dissuade him from venturing into the forbidden forest. Advising caution, you found yourself confronted with accusations of control and a stifling of his fucking freedom. Hurtful words cascaded from his lips during that argument, culminating before he recklessly endangered himself in the perilous forest. All the moments of vulnerability you shared with him, surrendering yourself without reservation, only to be met with his callousness when you were simply trying to safeguard him.

And as the embers of revenge blazed within, so did the deafening roar for closure. The need to settle the score and the yearning for resolution thrived in the wake of an emotional maelstrom.

‘We are done’ felt insufficient—it couldn't conclude there. You wouldn't fucking allow it.

Approaching the hospital wing doors, a surprising fortitude replaced any expectation of your confidence wilting under the imposing pressure. Strangely, a heightened anger welled within you, as though Mattheo Riddle were the sun, each step forward intensifying the scorching heat enveloping you. With a decisive gesture, you flung the door open, your breath held in suspense as your eyes canvassed the beds. Yet, he remained conspicuously absent, amplifying the frenetic flutter in your heart into an unrestrained whirlwind.

"Miss? May I help you with something?"

You pivoted sharply, eyes ablaze, as if embers sparked from your gaze. "Mr. Riddle. Mattheo. Where is he?"

The nurse swallowed, brows furrowed in confusion, but she cautiously gestured toward the hall, taking a step forward. "We moved him into a private room yesterday. His father requested it. Third door to the left."

Your eyes rolled involuntarily as you turned away, a silent commentary on the absurdity before you. Suppressing the impulse to scoff required a fucking Herculean effort--of course, his father would demand a private room for him. The bloody entitlement was as predictable as Mattheo's suffocating arrogance.

As your determined march neared its end, you found yourself standing before the designated door, caught in a tumult of fear and fury. Fingers trembled, folding in waves in a futile attempt to expel the excess energy coursing through your veins. This ritual had proved futile throughout the previous week, and it yielded no different results now. A frustrated exhale escaped through your nose as you charged through the doorway, propelled by a relentless surge of emotion.

Mattheo Riddle's vulnerability exceeded all expectations as he lay in his opulent private chamber. Shirtless, his body displayed a cruel artwork of black and blue hues, stretching beyond the healing gash on his abdomen. A chaotic tapestry of scratches adorned his shoulders, arms, neck, and the once flawless canvas of his face, now disrupted by a thin, blistering line over the bridge of his nose. A swallow lodged in your throat as you beheld him, a striking portrait of agony that rendered him almost unrecognizable.

"Why the hell are you here?" He stared at you, expression vacant. "Can't you comprehend simple instructions?"

With a cool, unwavering gaze, you shot back, "And miss the chance to witness your glorious downfall? Not a fucking chance, Riddle."

Mattheo clenched his jaw, exhaling sharply as he adjusted against the sheets. "You're insufferable."

You sneered, advancing with measured steps. "Coming from you, that's a compliment."

Advancing, you scrutinized his form, taking in the mosaic of fresh scars that adorned his skin. Arriving at the bedside, your gaze drifted downward, noting that beneath his waist, he was clad only in boxers. A scant, white sheet was the sole guardian of whatever remained of his dignity.

Mattheo's snarl reverberated in the room. "If you're here to extend your fucking pity, please, spare me."

A sharp retort escaped your lips, your eyes dancing with a hint of amusement. "Oh, I'm not offering pity...though you do present quite the pitiable fucking sight, I'll give you that."

"Then what the fuck do you want?" Mattheo's voice carried an edge, his eyes narrowing with impatience. “I told you, we are done.”

A pregnant pause filled the room as you let his question linger, a mental reel replaying the relentless week of torment he had unleashed upon you. Your gaze lingered on his tousled chocolate curls and once-enticing plush lips, forcing yourself to traverse the memories of months marked by a tumultuous dance between pain and pleasure. The realization hit like a sledgehammer--all those moments, the highs and lows, seemed to have led to an abyss of pure fucking nothingness.

A furrow etched your brow as you looked down at him. "It's unbelievable that I let myself get ensnared into feeling something for you."

"Your feelings were your own choice," he quipped, his head falling back with an air of indifference, eyes drifting to the ceiling. "Don't blame me for your poor judgment."

Your frown etched deeper lines on your face, the surge of anger unmistakable. "Regardless, you still manipulated me like a fucking puppet."

"Amusing how complaints disappeared when you were screaming for more every damn night," he retorted, lids fluttering with evident irritation. "Your anger's just a cover for the fact that you'll have to find a new playmate now...have fun chasing those highs, princess, but I promise you'll only end up disappointed."

Your jaw dropped in disbelief, gaze narrowing into a potent mix of anger and hurt. "You're a real fucking prick, you know that?"

Mattheo regarded you with eyes that seemed to hold nothing but emptiness. His silent response coaxed your hands to curl into tight fists, and your chin to tremble with the pressure of boiling blood. You hadn't come here for him to treat you like a mere specter, to act as if you were invisible, as if you were nothing--something you knew you had never been. And still weren't.

"Answer me," you hissed, your voice shaking with a blend of frustration and desperation.

He remained silent, his gaze an unyielding anchor in the stormy sea of your emotions. The void in his pupils became increasingly maddening, an inscrutable abyss that left you grappling with the uncertainty of what the fuck he was even thinking right now.

"Answer me, Riddle." Your demand sliced through the air, a fervent plea for any sign of acknowledgment.

But he remained stubbornly mute.

Your chest surged with frustration, the world momentarily blurring in your escalating anger. "Say something, damn it!"

It was only when the sting of his skin met the back of your hand, and red streaks of blood marked your knuckles, that you realized you had slapped him, reopening the scab on his cheek. Yet, that wasn't the shocking part--though it certainly played a role--what truly stunned you was the quiet, wanton moan that escaped Mattheo's lips, his lids fluttering while his body tensed against the bed. In awe, you gulped.

And then, a peculiar, wicked force stirred within, a voracious entity feeding on the months of torment he had subjected you to. Something that hungered for more.

So, succumbing to its dark allure, you withdrew your hand and unleashed another sharp, resounding slap across his cheek. Blood painted his face, and Mattheo groaned, fingers clutching at the sheets as his hips thrust into the air, his arousal blatantly revealed beneath the fabric. Spellbound, you observed as he collapsed back onto the mattress, his eyes fluttering open, holding a gaze that teetered between vulnerability and desperation.

Between the conflicted expression in his eyes and the pulsating bulge between his legs, the sinister impulse within you deepened, intertwining with a more primal sensation. One unmistakably identified as pure, unbridled lust.

"You fucking like that, don't you?" You breathed, your lips twisting into a sadistic grin.

"Are you trying to hurt me, princess?" Mattheo's intense gaze focused on you, alternating between his increasing arousal and your exasperated expressions. "You'll have to put in more fucking effort than that..."

"Hm." You hummed, grin widening. "If you insist."

You locked on to Mattheo's gaze, feeling empowered by the way his normally stoic expression was now clouded with a burning need. With a coy smile, you swung your knee onto the hospital bed, letting your skirt ride up around your hips and exposing your panties. His brown eyes lingered between your legs, and you could feel the heat of his gaze against your skin as you climbed over him, straddling his strong thighs. He tensed as his eager cock twitched beneath you, silently begging for more.

The power dynamic between you had shifted so drastically in this moment. Mattheo Riddle, famed for his cunning and ruthlessness, was now completely at your fucking mercy. It was an intoxicating feeling, knowing that you had the power to make him feel truly vulnerable.

"So weak," you spat, a wicked grin spreading across your face as you dipped your hips just enough to skim the head of his cock. The sight of his full-body convulsion was mesmerizing, and the shaky breath that left his lips told you everything you needed to know.

You could tell he was still in pain, but there was something else there too--desperation.

"Poor boy," you murmured, running your fingers down the curves of your own figure, taking pleasure in the sensation of your own heat as you slipped your hand between your thighs, caressing yourself. "This is what you want, isn't it?"

Mattheo's eyes fluttered closed, his mouth falling open in a low groan. It was clear he was entranced by the sight of you touching yourself, and the way your words dripped with sinful seduction only added to his lust.

"Yes," he gritted out through clenched teeth, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "This is what I want."

"Look at you...so fucking needy..." you clucked your tongue and chuckled, extending out your free hand and running it along the wounded flesh of his chest, digging in with a little more force than you'd intended, judging by the groan that left his lips and the blood that split through the scab. "You're such a pathetic mess, Matty...it's almost too easy to control you like this..."

"Go to hell." His jaw tightened, a vein throbbing in his temple as he recognized the truth in your words. "You don't control fuck all."

"Oh, is that right?" you snarled, leaning forward and pushing your hands into his stomach, pressing down on his wound with added force, now. His face twisted in pain, and he let out a strained grunt. "How about now?"

Your heart was thundering with adrenaline, and while you had undoubtedly expected him to be furious at you for causing him harm, as he met your gaze, you saw something else entirely. There was a desperate need in his eyes, a yearning for more of the pain and pleasure that only you could provide. His lips were parted, his breaths coming in short gasps as he struggled to contain the sensations coursing through him. Despite the pain, there was a sense of longing that tugged at your heartstrings, filling you with a powerful desire for more of this intoxicating mixture.

"More," he whispered, his voice low and husky with need, barely above a breath. "Do it again."

"Oh, I don't fucking think so..." you sneered, your cunt clenching involuntarily at his request. But you were determined to make this man suffer. To humiliate him just as bad as he'd humiliated you, time and time again. "If you want something, you’ll have to ask for it nicely…I want to hear you beg for me."

Mattheo grunted again, bucking his hips, trying to grind back despite the pain of his injuries. Finding that impossible, his hands went to your waist, gliding up and down your thighs as he attempted to move you faster along his member, craning his head forward to get a better view. You scowled and smacked him away.

"I don't recall extending an invitation for your touch," you asserted, a glacial edge to your voice. "Why would I want your hands on me? After everything you've fucking done?"

His fingers balled into fists, exhaling when his head fell back against the pillow. You could feel him aching below you, already entirely fucking anxious to get inside of you. But then, he was still, hungry eyes trained on yours as he waited for your prompt.

"That's better," you purred, and found the next words coming out before you'd even thought them. "Good boy."

Your hips moved sinuously against his, a deliberate motion that left him breathless, his fists tensing against the desire to seize hold of your flesh. The surge of power was intoxicating, a heady blend with the fervor of your overwhelming desire and simmering rage. More than ever, your yearning for him to suffer consumed you. With a wicked grin, you lifted your hand to your lips, sensually running your tongue along the length of your crimson-stained fingers, sucking off the remnants of his blood. The sharp note of copper lit up your palate, sending a delightful shiver through your being.

"Mmm...you taste so good." You met his gaze between the long licks of your digits, his taste coating your mouth. "Wanna try?"

Mattheo remained silent, his gaze tracing the movement of your tongue as he moistened his lower lip. You enveloped one of your fingers with your lips, emitting a soft hum as you sensually cleaned it, gliding it in and out with deliberate slowness. Finally, you withdrew it with a wet pop, eyes rolling in dramatic effect.

Mattheo's jaw constricted, the sinews in his forearms taut from the tension in his fists. "Please..."

But you, unfazed, dipped your fingers back into the trail of blood leaking from his gash, adorning your skin with a bold red hue before returning them to your mouth.

"Mm, not good enough, I’m afraid..." you murmured, eyes twinkling with sadistic satisfaction. "You'll have to do much better than that, big boy..."

A growl echoed in Mattheo's throat while he gripped your thighs, pushing you down onto his swollen cock. His own hips thrust up against you, seeking any friction, any pressure at all from your heat. Frowning, you slapped his hand--and to your amazement, he pulled back, averting his gaze.

"These hands of yours are growing quite fucking insolent," you observed with a sly smile. "It's high time we addressed their rude misbehaviour."

A sinister grin etched across your lips as you shifted, smoothly extracting your wand from its thigh strap. With a deft flick, you summoned restraints, securing Mattheo's wrists to the metal headboard. His lips parted, eyes smouldering with desire, pulsating beneath you as the tightness closed around his wrists. Once finished, another few flicks ensured the door was locked, and the room was cloaked in a silencing charm.

"Much better," you said, tossing your wand aside. The gleam in your eye was almost maniacal as you reveled in the exquisite agony you were causing him, feeling a sense of power and control that you had never experienced before. "How's that feel, hm? Ready to utter those pleas for me, Riddle?"

"You're going to regret this, little witch..." he spat out through gritted teeth, his gaze locked onto yours. "Nothing you could do to me is worse than the fate that awaits you when I get out of here…your days are fucking numbered."

Involuntarily, you clenched at his threat, a sly smirk playing on your lips as you dipped your fingers back into the pool of blood emanating from his wound--and with a decisive move, you seized his jaw with your free hand, thrusting your bloodied fingers past his teeth before he could voice a protest.

"Now isn't the time for your futile threats, Mattheo," you husked, tilting your head. Your fingers pushed forcefully into his throat, emphasizing your point. "Look how fucking pathetic you are...if only your friends could see you now...big tough guy, bound and gagged by his own bitch…it’s beautiful, really."

Abruptly, you withdrew your fingers, leaning back to assess your handiwork. His wrists were securely bound, a vivid red imprint gracing his skin, while his mouth shimmered with the subtle traces of his own blood. It was a tableau of perfection--humiliating yet exquisitely so. The image of him squirming against the taut restraints, his chest rising and falling with each desperate breath, compelled your hand between your legs. Sliding up your skirt, you explored through the delicate lace of your panties, skimming eagerly over your clit.

"Fuck," you murmured, glimpsing his mouth, “you look perfect like this."

This was retribution, and as you teased yourself while admiring the pathetic sight of him, thoughts buzzed with the torment he'd inflicted--the scalding intensity of his erratic behavior, the icy indifference he wielded, treating you with disdain, unfounded accusations of infidelity, and the frigid distance he maintained. The searing resentment flared as you recollected the havoc he'd wreaked upon your life.

It was months of emotional manipulation. A pattern that was impossible to acclimate to. His cycle of hot and cold, the relentless mistreatment, the baseless accusations, and the moments of aloofness, all preceding his inevitable return, pleading for your affection--this was the culmination of his deeds. More than anything, this was the reckoning he deserved.

"Come on, princess..." he muttered, eyes wide and pleading. "For Godrics sake, please...fucking please..."

A grin creeped across your lips, your heart leaping with excitement. You'd finally fucking broke him.

"There we go, Matty...that wasn't so hard, was it?" You purred, inching backwards along the length of his thighs, reaching out to pull the cover from his waist in an excruciatingly slow fashion, exposing his black briefs. "I love hearing you beg for me...you're being such a good boy..."

Mattheo's response came in the form of an exaggerated huff, and his eyes locked onto yours, silently pleading for your touch to alleviate the burning desire between his legs. Your grin expanded, reveling in the palpable tension.

"You want me to fuck you, Matty? Do you think you fucking deserve that?" You cooed as you caressed his erection through the fabric, glaring at him while he jerked and shook from your touch. It was incredible, watching him trying to thrust into your fist, whimpering, head lolling while you sped your ministrations. "Do you think you fucking deserve me?"

His groan reverberated, his body twitching beneath the firm clasp of your fingers. His lids fluttered, and his head arched back in a nearly imperceptible shake of denial.

"You never fucking deserved me, did you?" Your frustration at his silence echoed in the air as you delivered a sharp crack across his face, prompting a gasp from him. "Fucking answer me, Mattheo!"

"No!" he finally hissed, his knuckles whitening as his entire frame tensed. "Fuck! No! I didn’t…”

"That's right, you didn't…” you laughed, shaking your head. The sinful delight coursing through you at his torment was undeniable. "At least you can finally fucking admit it...a tiny step towards what might pass as progress, I suppose."

As Mattheo huffed, not daring to meet your eyes, you sighed, finally feeling as though some of your anger had dissipated. Not by much, but by enough. Granting him the smallest percentage of mercy, you wrapped your fingers around the waistband of his boxers, freeing his needy, throbbing cock--the length of his smooth heat springing back and slapping against his belly, a low groan leaving the depths of his throat as it did.

You clenched at the sight, the pool of heat in your abdomen expanding throughout your entire body now, your mouth practically watering at the mere vision of him. Just when you thought this whole thing couldn't get anymore perfect. Gods, he was undeniably fucking delicious.

"Tell me what you want, Mattheo..." you said, wrapping your fingers around his cock, slicking the bead of precum around the head, twisting your wrist as you stroked him. "Tell me what you need."

His eyelids pressed together in bliss as he panted, the rhythmic movement of his throat visible with each swallow. In the throes of pleasure, he surrendered himself to the intensity of your touch, the heat enveloping him in a cocoon of sensation.

"You..." was his only reply, head snapping back and forth, thighs tensing, cock twitching. "Please-fuck-"

"You like that?" you purred, biting your lip. "You like when I jerk your cock like this? Hm?"

Mattheo's jaw was slack with desire, his voice laced with breathy need, "yes..."

"Yeah?" You purred, tightening your grip, increasing your pace as you stroked him, leaning down slightly to spit on the tip, slicking your saliva along his shaft. "Who else could make you beg, huh? Who the fuck else can make you this fucking hard?"

"Fuck-" he choked, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts, you could tell he was close. "No one-princess-fucking no one..."

"Mhm...that's fucking right, Riddle..." smiling, you threw your head back, your other hand resuming its motion on your clit, teasing yourself as you continued stroking him. "You know you can't fucking live without this...I don't know why you have to make things so goddamn complicated..."

"Fuck," he hissed, sputtering your name, "please, fuck me, please. I fucking need you."

"Shit...you're just spoiling me now," you mewled, your pussy clenching undoubtedly at his words. "Such a good boy...so eager to please me, hm?"

Mattheo released a long, exasperated sigh as you released him, shifting yourself closer. With a swift motion, you shimmied your panties to the side before you aligned his cock with your dripping core--the moan that escaped your throat was deep and lengthy as you sank onto him, feeling every inch of his hard, aching cock stretching you wide, filling you up with ease. Mattheo's body lifted from the bed in response, a sound somewhere between a sob and a scream escaping his chest as you enveloped him to the hilt. Leaning forward, you placed your palms on his stomach, shifting your weight to the heels of your hands as you began to slide up and down his shaft.

"Fuck," you breathed, lids fluttering. "I missed this cock...shit, you feel so good..."

Mattheo's only response was a string of shameless, guttural moans, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he surrendered to the potent mix of pleasure and pain. His body writhed beneath yours, his abdominals tightening in response to your movements. You panted heavily, bouncing up and down on his cock, taking pleasure in every inch of him slamming deep into your wet, eager pussy.

With each movement, you drove Mattheo wild with desire, listening to his moans grow louder and more intense with each passing moment.

Having control was entirely different--you were able to drag him into you, squeeze him tight with your walls while you slowed your pace, slam down onto him and make him howl. You watched him struggle below you, realizing he was trapped at his peak--and you were happy about it. This. This was close to what he deserved.

"I fucking hate you," you growled, the depth of your emotion evident in every word. "You embedded yourself into every part of my life and now you want to just fucking end things? Just go back to being fucking strangers? Over nothing?" Your voice cracked, the words flowing from your lips without restraint as you continued to ride him, hips moving in an untamed rhythm. "Why do you always fucking do this to me? Fuck-why?..."

Between his deep groans, his shuddering gasps as his wrists fighting their resistance, he managed to shake his head, his noises only growing louder the harder your rode him.

"I...I'm..." the words were forced through barred teeth, his eyes pleading for mercy. "I'm fucking sorry."

"Are you mine, Mattheo?" Your voice was strained with exertion, sweat growing on your forehead. "Were you ever fucking mine? Or was it all just a big game to you?"

"No,” he stammered, almost wincing. "No!"

Unable to resist the intense sensations coursing through you any longer, you brought your fingers back to your clit, setting a frenzied pace as you massaged the stiff nub with the pads of your fingers. You could feel Mattheo pulsing inside you, could feel his overly urgent need to cum, but right now, all that mattered was your own pleasure. As you worked yourself toward climax, your breaths grew ragged, soft moans escaping your lips as your body responded to your own touch. The pressure inside of you was building with each passing moment, urgent and insistent, and you knew that you wouldn't be able to hold off for much longer.

"Say it," you panted, eyes rolling and body trembling as you slammed down on him again and again. "Tell me who you fucking belong to."

"Fuck-fuck..." he grunted, teeth bared, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. "Please, princess...you keep squeezing me like that and I'm going to fucking cum-"

"If you want to cum, you'll fucking say it, Mattheo-" you practically moaned, entire body quivering with excitement. "Fuck-say it..."

A string of whimpers slipped past Mattheo's lips, his fists balled so tight it looked almost painful. "Fuck--you! I'm yours, fuck..."

Every word leaving you was a curse, and between every word was a strangled moan, resonating through your throat as you worked your clit fasting, fucking yourself on his cock harder.

"Gods, Matty, I'm going to cum," you moaned. "I'm going to cum on this thick fucking cock-fuck..."

Without being able to hold off any longer, you shattered, your hips jerking and twitching in an erratic rhythm, free hand digging into the flesh of his chest as you clenched and pulsed around him, forcing another onslaught of pleasured whimpers to leave his throat before he too reached his high--the tight heat of your orgasm sending him over the edge, twitching and thrashing beneath you as you continued riding him through your collective highs, not beginning to slow until the aftershocks began to rumble through you.

And after you stalled, you allowed yourself a moment to regain composure before you wearily eased yourself off him, releasing a prolonged breath--with a cautious movement, you reached over and gathered a sampling of your intertwined cum on the pads of your fingers, briskly bringing them up to his lips.

"Taste what I did to you," you murmured with a smirk, relishing in his groan against your flesh. Methodically, you glided your fingers against his bottom teeth, leisurely pulling them from his mouth. "Tastes good, doesn't it?"

His breaths lingered in the air, an unspoken acknowledgment of his silence, his eyes seemingly unable to leave your form. With deliberate movements, you leaned over, deftly undoing the restraints that bound him. As you meticulously adjusted your appearance back to its usual state, a mask of calm control, your gaze shifted towards the door, a calculated glance.

"May your recovery be swift, Riddle," you uttered with a tone that held a hint of farewell. "Until next time."

6K notes · View notes

arthenaa · 4 months

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my love mine all mine— mizu x f! reader

synopsis: marriage is nigh for someone your age and with society's expectations of you, how long will you have to keep waiting for him?

content: 18+ nsfw, mdni, angst w comfort, fluff, she/her pronouns for reader, he/she pronouns for mizu, patriarchal views on women, arranged marriage, jealousy, use of sex toys, idiots in love

a/n: part 2 of nocturne (interlude)!! this is for that anon who was on their finals week (ur req got deleted i h8 tumblr) and to those who requested for a part 2 !!! a reward for your hard work

Your relationship with Mizu was ... interesting.

After what happened that day, your relationship progressed into a deeper sense of connection. He was attracted to you as much as you were attracted to him. A fact that made your fingers tingle with anticipation every time he came down to your village under the guise of getting more medicine.

Your father had no complaints as business is business and provided him with what he needed, although you could see the occassional side eyes that your father gives him every time he stays longer than he was supposed to be. It was a comical sight indeed.

Mizu helped you out as much as he could—whether it be mundane house chores or taxing ones that require hard labor or a change of locations, he was down to accompany you in any way.

While yes, his efforts of providing you aid sent a surge of butterflies down your stomach, what ultimately led you to hammering a nail in the coffin was the subtle touches that he gave you.

You knew he knew and he knew that he was being smug about it. While it didn't show on his face, his eyes told it all. Whether it be passing by and gently placing a hand on the small of your back to excuse himself out of your way as if there wasn't a 2-meter space to your right or the brushing of fingers when he lent you something or if he's being bold enough, especially when your father's not looking, outright pretending that there was a fabric stuck on your hairpin and so he leans in close to you only to place a kiss on your cheek—he always has to have some sort of skinship with you during the day. It often left you struggling for words or having a flushed face.

"Dear," Your father furrows his eyebrows as he eyes your flushed cheeks. You tense in his gaze as he glances at Mizu who appears calm as he takes a sip of his drink. The blue-eyed samurai had done it again—saw an opening and took it like he was meant for it. He fooled you into thinking that your hair was out of place and offered to fix it. Your father had stepped out to get the food and you had hoped that he stayed somehow so that you wouldn't have to deal with all this bullcrap. Mizu took the chance to grab your chin and place a kiss on your lips. Your father came back shortly and you haven't relaxed since. "You don't look alright. Do you want me to—?"

"I-It's fine, Dad!" You intercept, hands raised as you shake no. "The soup was just... hot."

You glance at Mizu who looks at you from the side of his eye. He smirks over his cup.

It was safe to say that Mizu was also mischievous by nature. Despite his usual calm and cool demeanor, you didn't expect the man before you to be quite playful when it came to just between the two of you.

You did all these things, said all those things, looked at each other with things unspoken of and you're quite sure that your relationship was susceptible to the one thing you're quite sure would lead to.

Marriage.

A want for some, a necessity for many. You'd think that in your years of living in this town that you'd find a partner suitable for marriage and you did! Just a little bit later than others.

You had expected that... Mizu would propose. After all, what comes after dating but marriage? Your father and mother did that, your aunts, uncles, cousins, hell, even your friends already got married albeit some of them out of their own will.

You dreamed of having a true love marriage. One that you could be yourself and never have to be ashamed of loving someone despite their stature in life. One that you could coexist with and that could never demean your existence as a woman. You knew those things were far fetched from reality but everyone wishes to dream right?

You had tried discreetly asking about it, curious as to why he barely mentions anything but he only casts you an unreadable look on his face then a soft smile.

He kissed the back of your hand with a gentle touch, softness mirroring that of a snowflake's descent.

"... I can't," He says. You're not sure as to why he sounded in pain, like something was troubling him but you knew better than to pry. "Not right now."

So you let it go.

It was times like this that you felt the other half of the relationship. Like there was still a barrier you couldn't decipher between you. Why he often looks secretive with your father at times or why he falls silent at the most random of moments. There was something you didn't know and it often aches you that you couldn't be able to understand him unless you knew the inner workings of his mind.

The first instance that brought up the onslaught of problems that would soon arise was the arrival of a proposal from the south. It came in the form of a letter, writings neatly imprinted on fine parchment—rolled with the delicacy that of a noble.

You could see your father's nervous glance as the messenger read what was sent to him. You could hear bits and pieces of the arrangement, hands wringing each other in anxiety as your eyes trained on your father's back. Mizu had not arrived that day and normally, you would fret over such things but your father casts a glance at you over his shoulder and suddenly everything seems to have changed its course.

"Father," You pant as you gather the ends of your kimono, trying to match the pace of your patriarch as he travels all over the house. He seems to not be at rest from the talk with the messenger—a perpetual stone-cold look plastered on his face. "Father!"

He enters the part of your house you haven't gone to in ages. Not because you despised it but because you were afraid that the spirit that once dwelled in its abode would arise and look at you with those same eyes that once held all the love and memories when you were but a wee girl. You hesitate at the entrance but decide to follow him through.

"Not right now, Y/N," He mumbles, agitated as he crouches over a chest and begins digging through the array of clothes. Your eyebrows furrow.

"What—What did he say?" You stammer as you stand to his left, eyes watching his every move as he frantically rummages through the fabrics. "Father, I have—I need to know."

Your father pauses, defeatedly slumping against the chest as his fingers tap against the wooden surface in thought. Silence ensues between the two of you and suddenly he turns to you with a sympathetic look on his face. Your blood runs cold.

"Lord Shimizu—" He pauses, catching himself stammering as he looked into those eyes that were fruition of shared dreams and a love he hasn't forgotten in ages. "He asked for your hand in marriage."

You stare at him with a shaky gaze, breath going in and out as you tried to process his response.

"Then-Then tell him no," Your eyebrows furrow. Your father falls silent at your words. "Tell him like you've always told the others."

"I can't, Y/N," He whispers, tone shifting into despair. Your shoulders are low as he lowers his head in shame.

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I can't," He emphasizes his words once more, eyes darting up to meet yours. "I have always tried to protect you but I can't this time."

Your face falls in desperation as you kneel down with him. You grab his hands in an attempt to convince him once more.

"Father, please, I can't—I don't even know him!" You plead as your grip on his callous fingers tightens. He looks at you with sadness. "Please Father, I'll do anything, just don't—"

"Y/N," He cuts you off with a stern voice. You fall silent as you wait for his response. "This man is from Kyoto. While the men here fear my stature as a medic, this man has access to professionals far greater than me. He doesn't regard me as someone important and if I dare raise my voice, we might as well be dead."

Your figure tenses at his words. He grabs your arms in an attempt to comfort you. In a last attempt to get him to decline the offer, you say the thoughts that have been at the forefront of your mind.

"I'm in love with Mizu," Your voice comes out in a whisper, eyes wide and tears welling up. He tenses at your confession, eyebrows furrowing at the implications.

"You—"

"Father, I love him." Your voice comes out in a desperate attempt to get him to see you. Your hands raise to touch his arm but he suddenly raises to his feet, taking a few steps back. Your heart speeds up at his reaction.

"Is that why he—?" Your father whispers out in thought. You're not sure if he was angry or disappointed, but you're quite sure that this was a bad thing. His face contorts into a look of anger as he continues to look at you with a hardened gaze. "When was this?"

"You told me you wanted me to have a true love marriage, Father—This is it!" You look up at him with a defiance so strong that it almost gives your father a whiplash of how similar it looked. He falters in his stance but remains rooted to his cause.

"I know but not to—!" He catches himself at the end of his sentence. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. He runs a hand through his face before sighing. "Not like this. Not to him. Not Mizu, Y/N."

Your eyebrows furrow in anger at his words. "You can't dictate what I feel for him."

There's a moment of silence as your father casts you an unreadable look on his face. You thought that your father might approve of Mizu. They after all started at the same steps and eventually grew to the path they were destined for, albeit in different fields. You're not quite sure as to what led to this defiance against your choice for marriage but it already has you intruiged.

"The messenger talks of praises of Lord Shimizu," Your father diverts the conversation. "I also hear that he is a general and part of the Emperor's Kingsguard. He is of noble stature and earned his keep. He is a man fitting of your deserving."

You fall silent at his words before finally rising to your height and dusting off your kimono. You glance at the chest, eyeing the white fabric that pops out of an array of multicolored ones. You turn back to your father.

"You raised me to not be a hypocrite," Your voice is stone cold. Your father flinches at the tone. "I expected you to not be one as well."

With that you left.

The days were grueling.

Presents after presents were sent to your doorstep and while you wish that you could throw them all away, your father accepted them and kept them in the storage, still neatly wrapped for you to open.

Mizu had also arrived less and less over the past couple of days. He usually stays for more than an hour but now he leaves within the 30-minute mark. You felt like your time had been severed into bits and pieces after your fight with your father. You saw them talking, hushed in the receiving area. You expected your father to berate him for influencing his own daughter but their relationship remained civil. In fact, after his talk with your father was what prompted fewer visits and only coming for business.

He also became distant. Little to no skinship—sometimes even none at all. He talks to you in that cold tone of his and even grunts in annoyance when you try to bother him into coming with you to window shop in town.

You thought they were being unfair. That they could freely do things like this beyond your knowledge. Watch you crumble into a pit of despair at the concept of what you believed was the essence of true love. How naïve were you.

The final straw came when Mizu stayed a little bit longer than usual. He was swift with his purchase but remained seated at the tree located just outside your humble abode.

You approached him with soft steps, eyes trained on his head devoid of his kasa and the usual orange tinted glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome.

"Why are you like this?" Your voice cuts through the silence, direct and swift as a breeze passes through you. You see the familiar curl on his forehead, swishing back and forth before settling down.

Mizu does not reply for a few seconds before finally responding. "Like what?"

Your breath shakes at his nonchalance. "Like everything's back from the start."

Mizu pauses before turning his head to look at you standing behind him. There's a long duration of silence between you, eyes only locked with each other as the breeze fills in the void.

"Y/N," Your name escapes his lips like a prayer. You will yourself not to fold. "I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to what?"

He rises up from his seat on the ground, grabbing his Kasa in the process. He examines the item, eyeing the material woven intricately to form its shape. You could tell that there were a lot of things in his mind. You could only wait until he decided to break down the walls he built up so high.

"I didn't mean it to be this way." He finally looks at you in the eye, those beautiful shades of blue hidden by a tint of orange. He pauses himself before a change of expression is plastered on his face. "I think it's best if we stop here."

Your breath hitches. "What?"

"I said what I said," He mutters in that neutral tone of his, devoid of emotion. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "I... I am on a journey and I have wishes to accomplish. I operate on circumstances that prove to be unlawful. It's best that you don't associate yourself with me. I was too distracted to begin with."

Distracted? Is that what he thought all of this was about? Your hands shake in anger as your eyes darted any sort of giveaway that he might just be joking with you. The world was pinning its blame on your shoulders and now you have to receive the consequences of its actions.

You purse your lips, stopping yourself from bawling then and there. You can't give him the satisfaction of seeing yourself in a mess. You refuse.

You turn around without responding, making hasty steps towards your home before halting once more. You turn to see him putting on his Kasa, eyes in a daze. Upon feeling your stare at him, he turns back towards you. His gaze falters.

"I'm sorry." He says.

You could never will out the words you should've said.

Lord Shimizu came on the 3rd day of the week. He wasn't what you expected him to be.

Naturally, nobles of that standing would appear to be egocentric maniacs who dabbled and flaunted their wealth in various entertainment establishments. They act crass and speak crass as if their authority gives them the pass to be an asshole to everybody.

You thought to yourself, this man could have anybody that he wanted. He was a general, a skilled warrior, and a candidate for marriage to Japan's array of elegant and noble women. Why would he pick a humble medic's daughter all the way from Takayama?

Well, the answer finally came to you in flesh instead.

"L-Lord Shimizu!" Your father stammers over his words as a young man, your age enters the establishment. You take a step back towards the panel of the receiving area, slightly shielding yourself from the onslaught of 3-4 men entering the place. "I didn't expect you to be here."

The man does not respond yet, his eyes wander the interior of the establishment before finally settling on you. You flinch back at the intensity of his stare. Your father notices his attention on you before clearing his throat.

"Y/N?" He calls over, eyes meeting with yours as he beckons you over. You grumble under your breath before making hesitant steps to your father's side. "Ah yes, this is Y/N Gojo. My daughter. Y/N, this is Lord Shimizu Kaito."

Your eyes peer up at him underneath your lashes, trying to take a peek at his face. Shimizu flashes you a soft smile before bowing in greeting.

"Apologies for not having been able to meet before. The Emperor had requested me to attend to several cases in various cities. I hope that you and Y/N can forgive my tardy appearance." His voice is proper and elegant but you could only scoff at his words. Apparently, it was loud enough for him, your father, and the two other guards stationed behind him to hear. Your father elbows your waist.

"Apologies for my daughter," He sheepishly smiles. "She seems to have a... cold."

He eyes you with a strict look on his face which you turn to look away at. Just as you wished for all of this to be over, a wave of a hand catches your attention. You turn to look at Shimizu who softly smiles at you once more.

"I know this proposal is sudden but I hope you can give me a chance." He says, voice and tone genuine. You hesitantly purse your lips at his words. "I'll be staying around this time. I hope I can get to know you."

Lord Shimizu stayed true to his word. The past few days were nothing but him trying to get to know you as an individual. He was nice, accommodating, and even dare say, a proper friend you could talk to.

He helped you out in chores, got you gifts, had tea with you, learned your ways, and walked with you in town. If you were the person you were before, you could've deemed this man the perfect match for you.

While you appreciated his eagerness in wanting to get to know you, you also can't help but be reminded of a certain blue-eyed boy every time he did something remotely similar. He talks of his travels, his blade, his peers, his interests, and you're brought back to the time Mizu let you hold his blade in your palms, brought you trinkets from his previous adventure, talked to you about his annoying apprentice, or that he prefers his soba to have a little bit more soup in ratio to his noodles.

Everything remind you of him.

Mizu had not visited in a while. You tried asking about him to your father if he ever came to get medicine but your father denies every question.

Sometimes you catch glimpses of a familiar Kasa roaming the town streets but is only mistaken by a wandering traveler. You're not too sure how long it would take for you to lose your wits about everything.

Sensing the troubling thoughts that plagued your mind, Shimizu offered for you both to take a stroll in town at night and shop for trinkets that you might find interesting to place in your room. He tried his best to keep you entertained, asking about your interests, making you laugh, all that stuff.

The question that prompted you at the start of his arrival began to urge you to put forth a topic for conversation. You wait for Shimizu to finish his words before finally dropping the question.

"Why me?" You ask, eyes gazing into his as he halts at the question. He blinks a couple of times, not able to process the question.

"What?"

"Why me, my lord?" You repeat, hands clutching your satchel. "I am but a mere servant's daughter. You could have anyone."

He licks his lips eyebrows furrowing. "But you are someone."

You raise your eyebrows, urging for him to continue. The man takes a breath, looking around before finally settling his eyes on you.

"I..." He starts off, words trailing as he gazes into your eyes. He continues. "I came here before. As a child."

Your eyes widen at the revelation.

"People talk of a man named Gojo-sensei who was able to remedy almost all illnesses. I was sickly and my condition was worsening." He responds. The city lanterns glow beautifully behind his figure, laughter of children, men, and women alike provides solace in the void of silence between you. "I remember coming in there and seeing you. Seeing your father then..."

He trailed off like he was remembering something painful.

"I remember a lady," His face softens at the thought. Your eyebrows furrow. "While your father did the aiding, this woman had brought me comfort. I was never really coddled and treated with such gentleness back home. I was an only child—a firstborn son. Being soft and dependent was out of the vocabulary."

You fall silent at his words as he looks down at his hands.

"She... she stayed by my side. Fed me, clothed me, made sure I was okay." He looked up at you. "I saw you sometimes, clinging to the ends of her kimono."

A chilling realization surges through your veins. Your silence prompts him to continue.

"I heard the news that she passed away years ago. I wasn't able to come due to my duties but I am indebted to her." He says. "Then, when I visited a month ago. I saw you—a spitting image."

Your breath shakes at the words. "You proposed to me because I looked like my mother?"

Shimizu looks down in shame, hands wringing in nervousness. "I thought that if I married you, I'd be able to receive that same love again."

You let out a breath of disbelief. While the topic of your mother wasn't something you detested talking about, her memory still was something you were quite hesitant to approach. You remember her sickly figure, her weak smile, the day your father broke. It was as if you threaded lightly along the edges of her carved path, wanting to preserve what was left of her image.

You take a step back, eyes looking at him in disbelief. Shimizu falters in his stance.

"I'm sorry, this isn't going to work." You softly mutter, shaking your head. Just as you take another step back, Shimizu panics and tries to grab your hand.

"Y/N, let me explain I—"

A swift change of air alerts you of a new presence and suddenly you feel deja vu. You turn your head to meet the familiar stance of a man you didn't expect to see again.

"I believe she said no." Mizu's voice is authoritative and deep, hand encasing Shimizu's wrist. The man furrows his eyebrows at Mizu who squints back a glare.

"Who are you?! Your jurisdiction?" Shimizu demands. He tries to pull his wrist away only to be met by a steel force. Mizu scoffs.

"I won't let you go until you promise to stay 10 meters away from her." Mizu threatens. Shimizu sweat drops, eyes glancing down at the hand gripping his wrist to the eyes shielded by tinted glasses. Your eyes dart back and forth between the two, afraid that a fight might brawl out and you're not in the mood to see blood spilled.

Shimizu was also a general and if word comes out that one of the Emperor's trusted military aides got injured by someone lower of his stature, your father will definitely pay for the consequences. You rush towards them and grab Mizu's hand to break them apart.

"Let him go," You say. Mizu turns to you with furrowed eyebrows. Your eyes soften, and you nod softly in reassurance. "Let him go, its okay.

Mizu hesitantly lets the man go and Shimizu stumbles back, holding his wrist. Mizu turns to you in concern, hand grabbing your arm as he examines you. "Are you alright?"

You nod, flustered by his attention. "I'm fine."

Feeling Shimizu's stare on you, you look back at the man to see hurt and a realization spread across his face. Your gaze falters.

He clears his throat and fixes his stance. "Apologies, Y/N. It seems that I have miscalculated my approaches. Forgive me for my behavior."

"It's alright, my lord," You respond. Mizu stands menacingly beside you, eyes trained on his figure. Shimizu glances at him and then at you. He smiles.

"It was nice being your friend," He says. He bows as respect. You curtsy back, albeit shaky. "I'll leave as requested. I wish you luck."

He leaves without turning back. You watch as he gets lost in the crowd, the breeze gently swinging your clothes back and forth. The lanterns dazzle the streets—performing a pretense of joy. You take a breath before finally facing the last of your problems.

Mizu stands there, eyes already looking at you with an unreadable look on his face. Your eyes soften.

"What are you doing here?" You mumble, lacking the energy to even be angry. Mizu shifts in his stance.

"I came back." He answers vaguely.

"For what?"

There a pause of silence before he moves to remove his Kasa. You can see his face clearly now, albeit those beautiful eyes of his still covered by his glasses.

"For you." He says. He gulps as if nervous and your eyes widen at his confession.

"But I thought you said—"

"I was a coward," He says. He heaves a breath. "I have loved before and shown them everything and yet I have ruined them. I was afraid that I might—that I might ruin you with what I am."

You fall silent at his words. You were confused, you had already seen what others claim to be the worst of him—in fact, that was what you loved most about his features. Eyes that seem to hold the waters—a depiction of nature. Just as he is about to continue, cheers erupt from the central town, you flinch as the others begin to gather to watch the amusement happening. Mizu, sensing your uneasiness, pulls you towards a nearby alley—dark and hidden from the public eye. He places you against the wall, eyes watching for passersby that might lurk in while your eyes are trained on his face.

You watch with admiration as his eyebrows furrow in their usual curl, those eyes that squint into a glare, chapped lips, and the glasses that begin to slowly fall down the bridge of his nose. Unable to resist the urge, you give in.

"Coast is—"

Mizu's eyes widen at the feeling of your lips against his. You cup his cheeks, pulling him down as you encase your arms over his neck. Mizu wastes no time in reciprocating the kiss. He kisses back with the same fervor, hand dropping his Kasa in favor of encasing your waist as he pulls you towards his figure. You whine as you feel his tongue intertwine with yours.

After a few pecks and kisses, you both finally pull away. There's a hushed silence of panting as Mizu places his forehead against yours.

"I am not being truthful," Mizu whispers, breath hitting your lips. "But I want to try. With you."

You smile, hands cupping his cheeks as you rub your thumbs across the surface of his skin.

"I want you as you are," You reassure him. "No matter the flaw, no matter what you tell me. I'll be here with you."

Mizu lowers his head and drops it to burrow against your neck. He hugs you close as bells and instruments begin playing. He pulls back softly before facing you with vulnerability.

"I..." He starts off. "I am not what you think I am."

You tilt your head in confusion as you encase his hands in yours. Your thumbs run over the scar that you've bandaged from before.

"I'm not a... a man." Mizu finally reveals. You pause, eyes blinking as you watch his reaction for any sort of context. Mizu purses his lips before pulling his glasses away, tucking in the side of his clothing before reaching up to pull at his top knot. You watch as his hair—no, her hair flows to her shoulders and then suddenly everything makes sense.

Mizu's breath shakes at your silence. "I-I cannot give you what you want—"

She falls silent as you lean forward to take notice of her features. The flush that adorns her cheeks and the eyes that entranced you from the start. A smile bursts from your lips.

"You're just as I dreamed of," You whisper in awe. Your arms make their way to wrap around her neck as you press yourself close to her. Mizu's face flushes at your words.

Your eyes trace the edges of her features, face contorted in a soft expression. There's a moment of silence before you finally continue. "My father wanted me to have a true love marriage. All my life, the idea of falling in love has always been my dream as a child."

Mizu blinks softly at your words, listening to your every thought.

"And now that I have it, I can understand why my father wanted me to do so," You smile, leaning your forehead against hers. "Marry me, Mizu. I just want to be yours."

The blue-eyed girl erupts into a smile, leaning forward and capturing your lips in hers. You reciprocate with the same intensity, fingers burying in her raven locks. Mizu then pulls away.

"I'll always say yes to you."

"Do we really have to do this?"

Mizu eyes your figure seated on the tatami, eyes peering up at her as she stands in front of you. You giggle at her hesitance.

"Of course!" You grin. "Consummation between man and wife is a must tradition after marriage—well in our case, wife and wife."

Mizu rolls her eyes as she sits down in front of you. She props her knee up and places her arm on top of it. She grabs the cup of tea perched on the small table beside her and takes a sip. "Consummation is done with the idea of children, love. I'm sure you're well aware of that."

You pout before an idea arises in your mind. You lean forward, going on your knees as you crawl towards her. Mizu pauses mid-sip as she watches you with careful eyes. You grab her cup, placing it down on the table as she continues to watch your every move. You settle on her lap, the slit of your kimono revealing your thighs. Mizu's breath shakes.

You take her glasses off and place them on the table before finally focusing on her, arms propped on her shoulders. You feel her hands cup your hips as you stare down at her with a smile.

"What?" You taunt. "You don't wanna fuck me?"

Mizu pauses, eyes widening before she lets out a groan and lowers her head to your clavicle. You giggle as she takes a few moments to calm herself down. Finally, pulling away to face you, Mizu looks at you with her blue eyes clouded with lust.

"You are one dangerous lady, know that?" Mizu leans forward. You grin as you rub your nose against hers.

"Mhm," You say. "My wife told me so."

"Ah fuck! Fuck!" You whimper as you grab the sheets behind you, trying to find some sort of stability from the onslaught of ministrations Mizu's giving you. "W-Wait—Mizu-Wai—Ngh!"

You're afraid that the toy one of your close friends gave you as a congratulations gift to your marriage would be too crass for your night with Mizu. You only brought it to tease her after all. You just didn't expect how much she'd be turned on by it.

"Where are you going?" Mizu's voice is deep and taunting as she watches you claw at the sheets, trying to get away from the intense pleasure. She grabs your waist and pulls you back down towards her, folding your legs to your chest. "You wanted this, why are you backing out, hm? You wanted to consummate so here we are."

She watches as the thick girth and length of her strap pushes in and out—coated with your essence. The noises from it are slick and noisy, causing you to flush in embarrassment. God fucking damn.

"So fucking pretty, aren't ya?" Mizu chuckles as she pushes her hips. She lets out a moan, feeling the other end of the dildo pushing deep with her. You whimper as Mizu presses deep, the tip of her cock bumping against that spot of yours. "So so pretty for me, aren't you momma?"

You shiver at the nickname, hands coming down to grab Mizu's lean arms—its muscle flexing as she speeds up her thrusts, making sure that it's the right spot.

"You've been adamant about this all morning. Especially, after the wedding." Mizu growls, slamming her hips against yours. "You want my kids that bad?"

You're too lost in the pleasure, moans, and garbles of her name only coming out of your mouth. Mizu smiles, hair falling down her shoulders and framing her face as she props herself up on top of you.

"If you want it so bad, I'll give it to you," Mizu leans down to bury her face on your neck, sucking a few marks as she begins to speed up her thrusts.

"Oh! Oh!" You whine as the spot inside of you becomes more sensitive with each bump. Mizu pays no mind to your sounds, reveling in the way your nails rake through her back. She smirks against your skin, licking down until she encases your nipple within her mouth. You moan at the feeling, hands reach up to bury itself in her raven locks.

"I'm close! I-I—please!" You plead as her constant torture of your cunt begins to teeter at the edge. Mizu pants heavily as she places a soft kiss behind your ear.

"I am too." Her breath shakes as her hips falter. It doesn't take long before you climax, body arching and shivering from the intensity of the pleasure. Tears begin streaming down your face as you twitch with each thrust she gives you. She smiles placing a soft kiss on your lips. "Good girl."

Mizu follows shortly behind, coming in grunts and low moans before slumping down against you. There's a moment of reprieve before Mizu props herself up once more to take a look at your afterglow.

You smile up at her, hand coming up to brush her hair over her ear. Mizu leans against your touch.

"I love you." You mumble softly. Mizu gazes into your eyes with a love so true that it warms your very being.

"I love you too."

a/n: mwehheheheheeh hope yall enjoyed that <3 not proofread will do it later mwehe

#arthenaa #mizu #the blue eyed samurai x reader #mizu x reader #mizu smut #Spotify

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tragedybunny · 4 months

Text

I Should Tell You - Chapter 1

༺Summary༻

In a fit of guilt, Astarion tries to confess his deception to you. At the last moment, he loses his nerve and ends your relationship with another lie. He's resigned himself to having lost his chance with you forever when once again everything changes. With the two of you out on your own, will he be able to take a chance and tell you everything, and will you forgive him when he does?

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Female Reader

༺Warnings༻ Sexual references

༺Word Count༻ 1888

Astarion was, well, he was loath to admit it, but he was brooding. He’d taken up a private room at the Elfsong now that everything was over, one where he could keep protected from the sun while the rest of his companions, yourself included, lived their lives in the light of day. Slowly, condemned back to the shadows, locked in his room with drapes drawn tight against the burning daylight, he’d drifted further and further away from the group. Culminating in tonight, where he had one perfunctory drink at the farewell party and slipped off away from the group to hide out amongst his books and the shadows of his mind.

For the last several weeks, everyone had put their all into assisting Baldur’s Gate in starting to rebuild. Those who were left anyway, Wyll and Karlach were in Avernus, and Lae’zel was off to wage war on Vlaakith. Now those who were left would be parting ways as well, Shadowheart to see the world, Gale back to Waterdeep, Jaheira and Minsc to rebuild the Baldur’s Gate Harpers, and you and Halsin…hells, he didn’t want to know.

If he were being honest with himself, which felt like it was to be avoided these days, there was more to his self-imposed exile than returning to a nocturnal life. Seeing the two of you together made it feel like a dagger was shoved between his ribs and playing around with his insides.

And the worst part was, it was all his fault. He couldn’t be mad at you or the infuriatingly perfect Druid. Well, he shouldn’t anyway, he still found himself wanting to shred Halsin’s throat with his teeth every time he pulled you close and kissed you like you were a goddess he was paying worship to. He’d done it to himself though, weaving a web of lies and manipulations so dense he’d trapped himself while you slipped through, unscathed.

That web became too entangled with the way you’d stood firm against that Drow, for him. You’d seen him as a person, and he’d repaid that by seeing you as a pawn. At least at first. By the time you shouted at that vile creature on his behalf, he’d become so hopelessly lost in the strands of feeling that had grown and wrapped around his heart, he knew he had to give up the plan, and give you the truth, even if you hated him for it.

As soon as your group had made camp that night, not far enough from the shadows of Moonrise Towers for anyone's comfort, he'd made his way over to you. “I want to thank you,” he’d started, sure of his course. “For what you said whilst in front of that vile Drow…

“...You made me realize I never stopped thinking like his slave.” He drew in a breath, despite the fact that he didn’t need it, and froze. Patiently, you stared up at him with that affectionate look you always had, giving him space to collect his thoughts. You, the fount of warmth and sweetness he didn’t deserve, the love he couldn’t hope to keep. Frantically, he willed himself to speak, to tell you what you needed to know, no matter the consequences.

“And I realize I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship.” The words had spilled out of his lips before he could think them through and he watched as your eyes widened in hurt.

“Gods no, what the fuck are you doing,” he cursed himself, but still the words came.

“Being with someone still feels tainted, I need to figure out who I am, what I want.” Finally, he’d bitten down on his own tongue to stop the tide, but the damage was done.

Those loving eyes of yours sparkled with tears, but that composure he’d begrudgingly come to admire since he met you held firm. “Is this really what you want, Astarion?”

“No, no, no. I want you, I want it to be real.” If he gave you the truth and you sent him away, he couldn’t bear it. At least this way he could salvage your friendship, still bask in your light from time to time. The excuse was flimsy, even to himself, but he’d been a liar from the start.

“I think it's for the best, I'm sorry.” Twice, he’d lied to you, twice, there would never be any coming back from this. “Please don't be mad at me.”

You stepped forward and he instinctively came close to cowering away. But you weren’t intent on harming him, instead wrapping your arms around him in a gentle embrace. “I think I understand. I’m not mad if this is what you need.”

Your arms felt as though they were crushing him, their touch burning his skin. The urge to pull away and flee was almost overwhelming. But you deserved this one last bit of comfort. “Thank you,” he murmured, resting his head on your shoulder, breathing you in, and resigning himself to a life without this.

After you finally pulled away, you went to his tent and packed your things, leaving to set up on your own and let him endure the night without you at his side. There was a time when he’d never believe his own space could feel so empty. Back in the spawn dormitory, he would have given anything for this solitude. Now it was wretched. And so his first night alone was passed in miserable resolution, and when the day dawned, he went on as though all was right.

It wasn’t lost on him that you would eventually find other companionship, you were attractive, witty, brave, and immensely caring. And from what he’d seen, you certainly weren’t interested in a celibate lifestyle. That line of reasoning still didn't prepare him for the night the group camped outside Rivington.

Astarion had just returned from a hunt, the blood of a rabbit fresh on his tongue. It wasn’t you but he hadn’t dared ask to touch your neck after everything, electing to spend his trance hours dreaming of those moments between you instead. It was better than the nightmares of Cazador and his tortures at least. As he’d crept into the circle of ruined buildings that camp had been set up in, he stopped short, the world feeling as though it was closing in around him.

You were talking to Halsin, who held one of your hands in his, and somehow, even with his ridiculously large hands, delicately brushed a strand of hair behind your ear with the otherl. Time slowed and Astarion felt as though the blood in his stomach might make its way back out of his mouth.

In the dim firelight, the stars gleaming without a cloud to obscure them, Halsin kissed you. Softly, slowly at first, and then his hands wandered to your hips to pull you in as he deepened it. Your hands came to rest on those broad shoulders and instead of pulling away as Astarion desperately hoped you would, you leaned into it, eager and wanting. He wasn’t close enough, but Astarion could swear he heard the little moan you probably made. The same sound you used to make for him.

Halsin stared down at you after breaking the kiss, no doubt with naked lust written on his face, and offered you his hand again. And that was the that, the two of you began to quietly walk away from camp while Astarion fled to his tent, crawling into his bedroll and desperately choking down the sobs that threatened.

It had been bound to happen, but how soon, was what burned from the inside out. Just like that, you’d forgotten all about him, as though he hadn’t mattered in the first place. How dare you. He tried to summon anger with you, to wash away the pain. It was a betrayal, he had every right to be angry. You waited for no time at all, you moved on so easily, you…you just forgot he loved you.

Not that he’d ever said it, but you must have known. The bedroll was even colder than usual as Astarion clung to the one object he found comfort in. Kept secreted away amongst his things, a shirt of yours he managed to pilfer before his botched confession. By day, it was tucked in his pack, and at night it filled his bedroll beside him. Pulling it into his arms, he inhaled what was left of your scent on it, and buried his face in the pillow to weep bitter tears.

He emerged the next morning into daylight that no longer held the promise it had so recently. Almost immediately you ran to him, taking your arm in his, giving him a moment of foolish hope. If things had gone badly between you and Halsin, he would rectify his mistake and tell you everything, he privately swore.

All it took was one look in your eyes to know that hope was in vain. “Astarion, I need to tell you something, and I wanted you to hear it from me first.” You led him away from the rest of the group, almost to the spot where he’d seen you with Halsin. The rest of your companions pretended not to notice the obvious personal moment occurring a stone's throw away from them.

It was a good thing he'd cried every tear he had last night. “Well go on Darling, don't keep me in suspense,” he plastered on a grin.

“The thing is,” you look everywhere but at him, “Halsin and I, well, things happened between us last night, and I think I'd like to pursue whatever this is. It just felt right to tell you first.”

Astarion laughed, a hollow sound to his own ears, but convincing enough for you, it seemed. “My Dear, you were worrying yourself about this? Don't vex your pretty little head like that, I don't begrudge your need for intimacy. Even if I fail to understand the appeal of a man who's always going on about enjoying the freedom of nature's gifts.”

“Astarion,” you scolded, but a subtle smile told him you were relieved. “Behave yourself.”

“Let me have a little fun at your expense.” He disentangled his arm from yours, its warmth suddenly smothering. Taking your hand, he kissed it gently. “I'm glad, you deserve to be happy.” That part he did mean, even as he reviled how it was happening. “And I'm sure you and Halsin will be. Don't worry about me.”

“Please worry about me. Can't you see how I'm bleeding?”

Leaning up, you kissed his cheek, with all the gentleness in the world. “Thank you, Astarion, I'm glad you understand, I'd never want to hurt you.”

From that moment on, you were Halsin's and Astarion had to grin and pretend to be happy for you. That's what friends were for and you insisted you two were friends. The two of you seemed so disgustingly infatuated with each other, he wanted to scream at times. So naturally he'd assumed you'd be happily headed out on some grand, romantic journey together.

Which was why it startled him to nearly a second death when you burst into his claimed sanctuary, clearly distraught and slamming the door behind you. “I'm sorry… I can't be in there,” you gasped out between sobs.

@micropoe10 @writingmysanity @mxxny-lupin @azu21

Tag List:

@tallymonster @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin

@bambamwolf87 @fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

@elora-the-slutty-songstress @bhaalbaaby @spacebarbarianweird

@satanicspinosaurus @darlingxdragon @wanderingisobel @astarionsbeloved

@vixstarria @claryvoyantfray @icybluepenguin

#bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #my fanfic #my writing #i should tell you

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ghcstlyy · 4 months

Text

"Force you to Sleep."

you cannot tell me that this man is not a cuddler. my first time writing for the slasher fandom so please be nice to me.

reader has trouble sleeping. bo is annoyed at their absence and comes to bring them back to bed. kind of comfort for disassociation? if that's not an accurate term I apologize. reader is gender neutral.

The alarm clock read 2:47AM as you rolled over onto your side, the red glow of the numbers displayed just softly enough to not bother your eyes. You couldn't sleep again, and had gotten tired of trying to sleep, and staring off into the darkness. Rinse and repeat. You had to get up. Trying your best not to wake Bo as you slipped out of bed, you silently cursed the both of you for being so damn clingy at night. Somehow you managed to wiggle out of his grasp without disturbing his sleep. Making your way down the stairs, every creak in the steps sounded x10 louder than it really was in the dead silence of the house. Part of you wondered if you should have just stayed in bed even longer, waiting out whatever was keeping you from sleep until you eventually knocked out. 'Too late now', you thought.

As you stood in the kitchen, listening to the sounds of the crickets and other nocturnal creatures, and staring off out the window, you felt... uneasy. Ambrose always unsettled you at night. Sure, it was weird enough during the day, but it was your home now. It felt safe, especially with the boys walking around all the time. Not at night, though. Something felt different as you stared out the window at the empty, dark streets, the empty yards and houses. It felt like the town was staring back at you.

Bo had noticed your absence rather quickly after you'd gotten out of bed. At first he figured you were probably going to the bathroom or something. He didn't bother moving, and went back to sleep. That was, until you didn't come back. He couldn't stay asleep for long without you anymore. The feeling of the empty space in the bed beside him pulled him back to consciousness once again, and he found himself frustrated. What the hell were you doing? Why hadn't you made your way back upstairs, and into his grasp again yet? Whatever it was about that town, had captivated you so completely you hadn't even noticed as he made his way down the creaky stairs and sauntered sleepily up behind you.

This wasn't the first time he had found you like this. It had become a recurring thing these past couple weeks, and he'd never say it aloud, but he was concerned. He'd come down, and usually find you staring off out the window just like you were now, or mindlessly scrolling through TV channels without even paying attention to what was on the screen. It'd take him a minute to get your attention, coaxing you out of whatever state you were in during those moments. Slowly, and as gently as he could, he reached out and placed a hand on your waist. "(Y/N)."

Bo's voice was quiet, just above a whisper as he coaxed you out of your trance like he always did. He wrapped an arm around you, and turned you to face him. You didn't break your gaze from the window until he gently grasped your chin, tilting your head to look at him instead. "Sweetheart. What're you doin' down here, hm?" Your gaze finally met his, and he gave you a tired smile. "There ya' are. What's goin' on?" You wrapped your arms around his torso, slowly coming back to it as you focused on the soft sound of his voice.

"Couldn't sleep. Sorry..." Was all the explanation you could manage in the moment, and he nodded, bringing you against his chest. His arms wrapped around you securely. "At's alright. Don't need to apologize to me." He brought a hand up to stroke your hair. "Come back to bed, hm? S'Lonely without you up there." He wasn't really asking you to come back to bed. More like telling you, but y'know... nicely. "Need to stop leavin' me at night." His tone was comforting, but you were aware enough now to know he was being serious. Bo didn't like waking up to an empty bed in the middle of the night. It sent his paranoia through the roof, thinking maybe you'd ran off or worse, something had happened to you.

As you attempted to further ground yourself, taking in the feeling of his skin against yours, the smell of him as he held you securely against his frame, you felt yourself be lifted off your feet. One arm hooked itself under your knees, the other holding you securely around your torso. "C'mon. Let's get you some sleep, hm?" Bo kissed the top of your head, and carried you up the stairs. Gently, he set you in the bed, chuckling softly as you nestled yourself comfortably in the blankets. He slipped into bed next to you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you tight against his chest. His head rested in the crook of your neck, nestled against you. Bo knew you were probably out already, muttering to himself as he drifted off.

"Next time I'll force ya' to sleep if I have to."

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #sinclair brothers #sinclair brothers x reader #slashers #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #house of wax #house of wax (2005)#gn reader

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ithebookhoarder · 2 months

Note

Marc and Steven with a Murdock? Like Daredevil?? If you want, of course ❤️🖤

The Moon Boys with a Murdock!Reader

A/N: Of course I want to! 😆 I'm only sorry it took me so long to answer this. However, I seem to be on a roll today - I can't believe I've got two requests out?! Like, who even am I?

Masterlist

As you said with a Murdock, I’m going with a sibling vibe here which would be pretty adorable anyway as Matt would be such a good brother if he’d ever had the chance.

He would be incredibly close with you and take his role as your protector as seriously as he takes his role as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

You’re the only one he lets know his true self as you’ve been through everything he has. You’ve shared the happiest and saddest moments of your lives together and the bond it forged is as strong as vibranium.

It holds you both together, not matter what you go through or where you end up - including when you both end up at colleges on opposite sides of the country.

You’re extremely careful to never let him pull too far away from you, even when he gets in one of his moods. In fact, you’re sure to turn up and let yourself in to his apartment when he goes too quiet and even Foggy can’t seem to pull him out of the darkness that haunts him.

It’s why you don’t run away when the Moon Boys come crashing in to your lives. The chaos that seems to follow them and their fears that they are too much for you is honestly familiar. Every attempt to push you away only makes you draw nearer - first as a friend, later as something more.

You’d probably meet Moon Knight first around New York. I mean, it's kind of hard not to come across him, given what Matt does and how chaos seems to find its way into your lives.

He'd be the latest adoptee into the Defenders / New York 'Avengers reject club' (your name for the gang, not theirs...) so you'd quickly end up involved in each other's lives.

You'd bond pretty quickly, once you get to know one another without the personas and danger. After all, I think Steven would be eager to find friends who aren't necessarily supers and just like to drink coffee, read novels and go to the dog park at the weekend.

He'd be super keen to get to know you. You're one of the only people who get what their life is like, but also have a foot in the real world.

You'd win over Marc later on, wearing him down with your positivity and unwavering optimism (and also Steven will not shut up about you).

You're not afraid of the darker parts of their world, and become a much needed safe space for Marc, once he lets his guard down.

For instance, you'd be great at patching him up - having had enough practise on Matt over the years. You're also used to having someone nocturnal in the house, coming and going at all hours of the night. Plus, you can obviously be trusted to keep a secret or two.

If anything, Marc's only reluctant to let you get close to him as he doesn't want to taint you. To ruin something so bright and wonderful by dragging you into his darkness.

If Matt's ok with putting you in danger, then that's up to him as your brother. You're family. But for Marc and Steven to do that? It's a line they're unwilling to cross... until you prove to them you aren't going anywhere. That you can handle yourself and that you're already in this mess anyway, so why shouldn't you both be happy?

From that moment on, there's no looking back for any of you. You're leaping in to this together head first, and soon enough you can't imagine life any other way.

Matt, however, can.

Let's be real, he wouldn’t be the biggest fan of Steven and Marc. In fact, he’d be pretty against your relationship the minute he finds out about it.

One, because he thinks no one is worthy of you.

Two, because he hates the idea of you getting hurt or being in danger and being in a relationship with multiple people who all serve an ancient Egyptian deity as his personal vigilante is the very definition of dangerous.

"I... I can't even begin to understand how you could possibly think this is a good idea? At all? He - they - are literally the puppets of an Egyptian god - a GOD, Y/N. You don't want to get in the middle of all that?"

You quickly remind him how he gave a similar speech to Karen when he found out about her and Frank Castle seeing each other, and that didn't work. Last time you checked, they're still blissfully in love.

"Besides, Matthew! You're the one who goes running around at night, getting in fights, wearing a glorified halloween costume. Like, I am the SANE sibling here. ALSO! Marc and Steven were forced into their situation. They didn't go looking for it like a crazy nut job. So, yeah. I think if anything, you don't have a leg to stand on here!"

Matt would be able to sense who was fronting the moment they appeared. He’d be able to recognise them from the way their heart is beating and their mannerisms the second they stepped through the door, which is helpful but also incredibly unsettling.

Steven would brush it off, seeing it as Matt just being a kind brother to you. However, I think Marc would have more of a problem with Matt’s hostility, and enhanced senses. It puts him on edge to know they are being so closely scrutinised.

They also have the same temperament so I can imagine there will be more than a few clashes in the beginning, their similar brusque natures making it hard for them to not bump heads.

However, after Matt learns about Marc’s DID and his childhood trauma I think he’d be more sympathetic. After all, you both didn’t have the easiest childhood either.

He also knows what it’s like to live with a condition that can make your life harder but also makes you unique.

According to the comics, both of them are known to be good detectives and also keen boxers. I can totally see them building a reluctant respect for one another after they realise they have more in common than just their love for you.

In fact, I know you’d have to pull them out of the ring after Marc agrees to a sparring match with the famous ‘Devil’. The pair of them would get a weird pleasure from trying to beat the other to a pulp - they don’t often find someone evenly matched to have a friendly bout or two with.

At least it would once again prove to Matt that your boys could definitely take care of you if you ever needed it.

Matt would definitely be sure to offer his legal advice whenever he’s concerned you both might be skating on thin ice with the law. Apparently, ‘I’m being controlled by an Ancient Egyptian God’ hasn’t ever been tried as a legal defence in the American justice system before… and Matt is oddly willing to try it.

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mcbeetlebeeb · 4 months

Text

I'm currently getting into a fandom that isn't homestuck, but I can't turn down a request :3

these will still be headcannons and- uhrm- yea

Gamzee Makara

He is, talking about some mystical shit dude

I think hed appreciate someone who just listens too him blabber

don't ask me why but he'd like to naw on you

not full fledged biting a chunk out of you

I think he's too aware of how sharp his teeth are to go biting down that hard, but yknow

nipping at you gently, but not before he was smothering you in sloppy clown kisses

this is real specific but I think hed have the type of eyes that you can't seem to keep eye contact with

he's just so much taller and just has this lopsided shiteating grin, that shows most of his sharp ass teeth

I'd like to think his eyes are always that half lidded gaze, especially when it's at you

but no intent behind the looks he gives, fuck- probably no thoughts either

lights on no one home

don't get me wrong, he's not dumb,

in the simplest sense hes a big ol airhead

yknow a dingbat, a bit of a scatterbrain

but he's not like- vegetable for a brain dumb as hell

and thats another thing, it's definitely really convincing to probably think that he's yknow, not all there

but it throws you off gaurd x2 when he'd get all close and murmur and mumble certain things too you

he looked like he had a maximum of 3 thoughts floating around in his brain

but here he is, mumbling in a low almost gravely tone, right by your ear

I love to think he's one of those tall people to rest his arm playfully on your head if your shorter, which you most likely are-

can't recall if I mentioned the last time sense I have a rubber ducky keeping track of my memory

but I think hed be cold all the time

not like, bothersomely fridged

but enough to make you shiver and squirm if he were to press his hand to your skin, noticeable enough for you to verbally go "Damn-"

also!! I think hed be a huge sucker for you just holding his face with your hands, letting him relax against you, eyes shut

still grinning a bit and letting that low rumbling purr come from him

and this also means playing with his hair,

pet him damn it he demands it

no, not really more like laying and being in your space, following you round until you pay attention properly too him

sense most trolls can't- yknow- go out in the middle of the day because of their intense asf sun, trolls are nocturnal

so like if you ever took a photo with him with flash his eyes would do that reflective thing that cats have

or for another example, yknow how in the dark the first thing you spot about your black cat is its eyes?

yeah that

like I said in the other headcannon thingy, he's just always lurking and looming, he likes knowing what your doing even if he's not involved

and this comes with him trailing around you like a dog that sees you have food and knows you'll give it too them at some point

wether it be from afar or close, don't assume he's not close by, him being a purple blood im sure he's well aware of how violent trolls can be,

but with you around! oh he can't let you wonder off too far- Alternia's atmosphere is dangerous and the fauna is even more dangerous-

so don't expect to go very far without him trailing behind you

but he'd understand if you explained too him you wanted time too yourself or with somebody else one on one

I dont think hed be a jealous person, maybe a lil possessive! but he's not overbearing with it

he just wants you safe and content, and he wants you too feel that way around him

have a song I think fits his uh? vibe towards? significant other? because 🎉

Dave Strider

mm have I said he's a genuinely a big goof?

but I think that'd be something someone gets right off the bat

maybe

if you can pick up on someone trailing off on tangents of meaningless words that can go on and on without someone actually ever responding

than it's pretty visable

I think itd be pretty adorable though (I know I'm gay, whatever)

like if he were to start talking about something, anything, and you gave a simple short response, he's gonna take that and run with it

especially if he likes you

I think hed definitely be one too stare

but how could you tell? he's always wearing those shades

probably a good reason why he wears them other than ironic purposes

so no one sees what or where or in this case who he's lookin at

constantly staring though, wether it's you having a conversation with you or, you doing something random he's just watching

no actual thoughts id like to say

just observing

watching you be you, do your own natural thing, picking up on the way you talk or gesture at stuff

I cannot urge this enough but I still firmly believe physical touch would be a very special thing too him

it's not impossible or looked down upon too be able to hold his hand or lean against him

but he'd be mentally noting each touch, each expression you make, listening intently too your tone, hoping your doing the same

but with these actions he'd be straight faced as always, but he can feel his hands tremble ever so slightly, he recognizes his heart beat picking up

unfamiliar with these feelings with how they're being presented yknow?

most times he ever feels this way he's in danger

but he knows he couldn't be safer right now, like he wants to believe that, it's not hard for him to believe it

but his body is just hardwired to tense up, clench his jaw and steady the shakey breathing

but being patient and respectful would melt those feelings away really easy I'd like too think

just sitting there and slowly showing affection, brushing thumbs against his knuckles, tracing over fingers

you focus on his hand, flipping it over and thumbing at his vaguely sweaty palm, hand still shaking faintly in your gentle grasp

he'd just stare at you, in disbelief and adoration, and realization that he doesnt need to be poker faced round you

that he doesnt need to put up a front to protect himself, the squishy parts of him he learned to shove away to get along with life

a big sigh of relief to say the least,

but once he realizes he doesn't need to be someone else for you, he can just be him, no expectations or demands, he can rely on someone else for once

you ain't ever gettin rid of him after that, he's not clingy but he's no longer keeping you at arms length, not now, not ever again

AND HE GETS MUSIC THING because he is my favorite right next too the crab man <3

author note: I feel this sucked a big booty buttload but I was already half way done with it when I dubbed it that, so have this anyway!!!

#Spotify #dave strider #spotify #gamzee makara x reader #dave strider x reader #homestuck #x reader #gay people #very fruity

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whumpshaped · 6 months

Note

drained for your bingo?

masterlist bingo card

tw vampire whumper, noncon biting (like my guy is unconscious, its fucken vampire somno), home invasion, invasion of privacy, violating bodily autonomy big time, dehumanisation

In a moment of gross selfishness, Beck decided to crawl under the covers before Helle arrived. He didn't feel like waiting any longer. It was already late, he had work tomorrow, and he was exhausted. All he wanted was some rest.

He closed his eyes and let out a pleased little sigh, almost unable to believe that he was alone in the apartment. It was so peaceful. The buzzing of electronics and the noise of the street below began to fade rapidly, and he soon drifted off into a relaxing sleep.

His eyes fluttered open a single moment before Helle bit down. He let out a startled yelp and tried to push them off, but he couldn't even do as much in his half-asleep daze as he usually could — which already wasn't a lot.

They didn't even wake him before feeding. They just waltzed in and helped themself to a generous serving of his blood without him even being conscious. Maybe this was his fault for having fallen asleep before they arrived, but holy shit, this was a new level of terrifying.

He let them have their fill while he stared at the ceiling, only illuminated by the faint moonlight from the living room. He couldn't help it when he began to cry softly. He had no idea why he thought Helle would be considerate enough to let him rest. It was stupid. He was stupid. He should've known better, he should've known that sleeping away his problems wouldn't work if the problem was nocturnal.

Helle licked the wounds closed, then rolled over to the other side of the bed like a cat that got the cream. The low hum of contentment they let out was almost a purr, and he couldn't understand, he couldn't imagine being this comfortable with violating someone's living space and body.

"You went to sleep early," they whispered.

"Y-yeah." He was still shaking from the experience, and his brain was screaming at him to go and clean out the fresh wounds. He couldn't. He'd thought he was drained when he got home from work, but... Helle always found a way to make him feel just a lick more empty. "Could you... could you wake me next time?"

"Mmm, but I liked you like that. Calm, peaceful... unaware."

"Please."

His desperate plea hung in the air between them, and the knowledge that he was the only one so distressed by the situation weighed heavy on his heart. It made sense, of course. Helle wasn't the one whose autonomy was being ripped away. But he hoped they would at least understand. Sympathise?

"Is it scary?" they asked quietly, and Beck realised it wasn't even that they didn't care; they loved making him uncomfortable.

"Yeah... It's... it's very scary."

"Would you stay up for me every night, just so this could never happen to you again?"

Beck swallowed. "I... I don't want t-to..."

"Would you? If I began visiting well after midnight, would you deprive yourself of precious sleep to put your mind at ease? I wonder how many nights it would take until you fell asleep anyway. I wonder if you would be exhausted enough not to wake while I drank from you."

He choked out a sob, curling up into a little ball of terror and misery. "P-please... I just– I just want to be awake for it, is– is that too much to ask for..? I d-don't want to wake up to this... I don't want t-to wake up with– with new wounds... I just... I just want to be awake..."

Helle let him cry, and he felt like they enjoyed the sound of it. They must've, they had no other reason to mock and taunt him to the point of tears. Still, he wished they would at least answer him, and assure him that this was a one-off.

No such assurances were given. Beck couldn't sleep for more than five consecutive minutes for the rest of the night.

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik @pirefyrelight @there-will-always-be-blood @pigeonwhumps @echo-goes-mmm @whumpycries

#at my beck and call #whump #whump writing #beckett #helle #vampire whumper #home invasion #invasion of privacy #dehumanisation

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gretavanfreaky · 2 years

Text

Hush

Hello, all! I don't know how much response I'll get since I'm a total lurker, but here I am offering up my first fic in the fandom -- a little friends to lovers one shot starring Danny. I hope somebody enjoys it! I have a bunch more ideas, but who knows what the future holds? If you like it, let me know. It's motivating to know even one person got a few minutes of serotonin from my silly stories. (This blog will be almost entirely NSFW and 18+.)

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Pairings: Danny Wagner x Reader

Warnings: Language, smut, drug use, talk of panic attacks

Words: 12.2k

Rating: Explicit

...

Present...

It was the heat that pulled you from your sleep. The confined space of a tour bus bunk could be claustrophobic even for one person, but with Danny’s considerable bulk squeezed in alongside you, both of you breathing deeply in slumber, it was positively stuffy. As your eyes blinked open slowly, you struggled to orient yourself, to piece together where you were and why. With a sleepy yawn, you pushed back the sweat-dampened hair from your forehead and glanced around the pitch-black space, wondering what time it was.

Your gaze landed on his alarm clock which was perched on a small built-in shelf by your feet. 2:56. You laid there a moment more, considering rummaging around his belongings for the Nalgene water bottle you were sure he would have stashed somewhere, but doing so would have required the use of your limbs which were currently immobilized by his as he clung to you in sleep like a child with a teddy bear, your back pulled snugly to his bare chest and his hands clenched into fists at your waist, fingers clutching at the fabric of your thin t-shirt.

Even as overheated as you were, you couldn’t lie and say this proximity was unpleasant. His chin was tucked over your shoulder, and his chuffing exhales tickled your ear in a way that made your stomach flutter and flip - a feeling you tried to ignore.

But ignoring it became impossible when he stirred in his sleep and murmured some low nonsense into your ear, his arms tensing to draw you impossibly even closer, his nose burying into your hair as his hips pressed suddenly forward and - oh!

Oh.

Your heart began to jackhammer as you realized the full magnitude of your position. You’d experienced these sorts of dreams yourself; you were only human. Hell, a good deal of them starred the very man currently pressed so intimately behind you, two layers of thin fabric doing nothing to hide the sensual nature of his nocturnal imaginings. But that had always been a private secret, nothing you would share with a childhood friend who never made any indication he saw you as anything other than his best friends’ favorite cousin. Always around, always a good time, and a ready ear - never an object of desire. Your longtime crush on him had been a thing you shoved to the back of your mind, easier to pretend it didn’t exist than to deal with the rejection you just knew would swiftly follow if it ever came to light.

But now here you were, and that feeling you had stubbornly relegated to the dusty corners of your mind had been lit up by a spotlight the moment his breath ghosted across the sensitive flesh of your ear. And the feeling of him against the swell of your ass, so substantial, and so, so hard beneath his cotton lounge pants, made you want to throw all self-preservation out the window.

You laid very still, a deer in headlights, unsure how best to handle this with the least amount of embarrassment possible. For a moment you considered ignoring, hoping his dream would pass and you wouldn’t have to embarrass him by waking him. But your hopes were dashed even as the fire in your belly was stoked by more murmured nonsense - God you wished you could understand the words he was trying to say. You caught a hitch in his breath, a soft moan that thankfully didn’t quite articulate. Trapped in his throat, it cut off his exhale as he buried his face into the juncture of your shoulder and neck, the muscles of his arms contracting, fists uncleching to dig his fingers into the swell of your hip and the fat of your lower belly as he gave a real roll of his hips against you and, dear God, he was twitching.

It felt like a punch to your gut, the rushing wave of arousal. Almost as if it had a mind of its own, you found your hand wandering down and slipping below the elastic waistband of your shorts. It would have taken nothing to set you off, a few circles of your fingers against your clit, and you’d have been a goner, but just as your fingertips breached your clothing, you came back to your senses, and guilt washed over you every bit as consumingly as the arousal.

You chided yourself inwardly. You had no business getting off on this. Danny was your friend. Your very unconscious friend, and he’d likely be mortified if he were aware of his actions. You snatched your hand back, face colored in shame, and took a few shaky breaths to ground yourself, trying to screw up the courage to wake him, even as you struggled to piece together the night's events and make sense of this unlikely position you found yourself in.

Some hours earlier…

“That. Was. INSANE.”

Sam’s voice was too loud in the small living area of the bus. No matter how many shows they played, he always left the arena a little deaf, and his volume control was never much to begin with. Danny smiled softly at his enthusiasm, and accepted the chilled beer from Sam’s outstretched hand, passing it to you before quickly snatching the one Sam had intended for himself and taking a long swig.

Sam shot him an annoyed glance before turning to crack open another, too high on post-show adrenaline to stay irritated long. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you,” Danny replied, turning to you. “What did you think, Ace? Did we do alright?”

You smiled at the nickname, one he’d bestowed upon you in high school, a nod to your straight A’s and aggravating habit of always earning a point or two more than him on every quiz or exam. It was a routine that had genuinely frustrated him at first, but eventually became an entertaining gag that spawned the nickname which had stuck like glue, even years later.

You hastily swallowed, wiping a drip of beer from your chin to nod in the affirmative, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by the twins. “You in a hurry?” Jake joked. “I promise, if we have nothing else around here, we do have plenty of beer, Y/N.”

“I’m just thirsty!” you protested, good humor lacing your words. “It was hot as fuck in there.”

“Cry me a river,” Josh jabbed as he walked past them to grab his own bottle. “You should try standing next to all that pyro.”

Danny laughed. “Who’s crying?! You have it easy, frontman. We should switch spots sometime.”

Jake snorted. “That’s a no. I’ve heard what Josh calls ‘drumming.’” Josh flashed him a middle finger as he flopped onto the couch next to Danny, you tucked into Danny’s other side. You cringed as you watched Josh flatten and crush your pillows with an elbow and hoped he wouldn’t get drunk enough to spill any beer on them. You didn’t feel like smelling that all night. Again.

You’d been crashing on the bus sofa for a few nights now, ever since the guys had scooped you up on their way through Michigan and convinced you to tag along for this run of midwest shows. Family get-togethers had become few and far between since they had hit the road after graduation, and they said they missed you as much as you missed them. You found that hard to believe, what with their busy lives and trappings of fame, but it felt good to hear all the same. Jita had decided to pick up a few shifts at the hospital this week since they were in the area - a thing she was obligated to do from time to time to maintain her per diem status. Her absence meant the bus was marginally less crowded than normal. She had been the one to finally convince you to join the guys for this block of shows. “You can help me make sure Jake drinks water once in a while,” she had joked.

You weren’t doing a very good job of that, as it turned out. Jake had been drinking on stage, his cup filled with a bit more than water, and, by Highway Tune, he was already half in the bag. Now that you were all back on the bus and rolling to the next city, he seemed determined to ensure the rest of you caught up with him on cloud nine.

Not that it required much convincing. These hometown shows were electric, and spirits were high, the leftover energy of the night buzzing between all of you and lending itself to a good time. It wasn’t long before Sammy materialized a bag of weed from some pocket or another, tossing it wordlessly to Danny, as was customary. Although Danny indulged the least, he had a certain knack for rolling the best joints.

You sipped on your fresh drink as you watched him work, his dark brows furrowed in concentration, pursing his lips to blow a few short curls out of his line of sight.

You had switched to a vodka soda (probably a horrible idea - beer before liquor and all). Your head was already pleasantly swimmy, and it made it easy to lose yourself in observing his features as he carefully rolled the bud up into the paper, his pink, wet tongue peeking fetchingly from between his lips to seal it. You didn’t realize you were staring until, mid-lick, Danny’s eyes darted sideways to meet yours, apparently having felt the weight of your gaze. You turned away quickly, dragging Josh into some mindless chatter, trying to hide the blush you knew must be painted across the tops of your cheeks.

You couldn’t hide it from Josh. There was the slightest delay in his replies as his sharp gaze took in your flustered state. He chanced a glance over your shoulder at Danny, and you resented the upturned quirk of his lips as he put two and two together. “You still hot?” he asked impishly.

You stubbornly decided to play dead stupid. “No, I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Josh pressed. “I can turn down the A.C. Your cheeks are a little-”

“-DANNY!” Sam interrupted abruptly.

You knew you loved that boy for a reason beyond blood kinship.

“Danny, it’s a fucking joint, not your magnum opus,” he drawled insistently. “Let’s go!” His fingers snapped in Danny’s direction like a diner rudely hailing his server.

Danny rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Good things come to those who wait,” he insisted, but his hands moved more quickly as he twisted off the end and passed the goods Sam’s way.

The five of you soon found yourself sprawled across the living quarters, in various states of intoxication, reminiscing together about the childhood shenanigans.

The twins were engaged in a lively argument about who deserved the title of “biggest asshole” of the group as they recounted cruel pranks and forgotten squabbles. “How is this even a debate?” Jake asked, his voice finally starting to reveal his level of intoxication, syllables softened and dragged out, if not quite yet slurred. His tolerance was almost scary. “Do I need to remind you about that fucking nerf gun? You’re lucky I didn’t permanently implant it up your ass.”

Josh rolled his eyes, “Oh my god, not this again. How are you not over that yet? I’ll buy you three new guitars if you’ll shut the fuck up about me stealing your prize money 100 years ago.”

“No!” Jake snapped indignantly. “I can buy my own shit, now. I want you to admit you were the biggest asshole growing up. Then I’ll shut up.”

Josh pondered this proposition for a moment, nursing his latest beer. Finally he shook his head and answered resolutely. “No. I will not admit it because apparently you are conveniently forgetting the time you bet Y/N five dollars she couldn’t piss standing up.”

Your head snapped in his direction at the sound of your name, and the metaphorical bucket of hot water washed over you as the embarrassment of the memory hit.

“Oh, come on,” Jake protested hotly. “We all participated in that one!”

“Not all,” you heard Danny mutter. And that was true. You’d been about ten at the time, and, financial motivations aside, you were determined to prove that girls could do anything boys could do. When you had reappeared from behind a large shrub with piss in your Nikes, the twins had immediately dissolved into uproarious laughter at your expense, but not Danny.

“Who is all, Jake?” you asked, defending Danny’s honor. “I seem to recall you two jerks laughing the whole walk home while Danny kindly offered me his sweatshirt.” Danny nodded slowly in agreement, and you continued. “Pretty sure this is a two man contest. Well, three actually, but Sammy isn’t able to argue his case.”

Sammy had already smoked himself comatose, curled in an easy chair with his feet tucked beneath him, forehead resting on his knees, absolutely down for the count. Danny would normally carry him to bed in this state, but he wasn’t in much shape to be carrying anyone, his eyes red-rimmed and unfocused. His vibe was a little off tonight, nothing you could quite put your finger on, but he was even quieter than normal, and there was something vaguely cagey in the way his knee kept jiggling from time to time.

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Jake waved a hand dismissively. “Of course Danny isn’t in the running, cause he’s perfect and shit.”

Danny scoffed at that. “Oh whatever, dude. Just because I can’t actively enjoy another person’s misery doesn’t make me some kind of saint.” There was a slight edge to his voice that rarely appeared, but you were pretty sure you were the only one catching it, the others too crossfaded to pick up on his subtleties.

You were curious about it, though. This conversation wasn’t anything that hadn’t been rehashed a million ways over the years, and you couldn’t imagine what had spawned this simmering irritation in him. It had been a great night, and he’d started it just as bubbly and celebratory as the rest of you. You shrugged it off, trying to convince yourself you were imagining things.

“Really?” you asked him in a teasing tone, peering up at him from where your head rested beside his knee, lolled back against the sofa cushions as you sat cross legged on the floor. His eyes met yours as you continued. “You’re saying you didn’t enjoy Josh’s misery that time he and Jake swapped clothes at school and then Jake -”

Your words were cut off by Danny’s peal of laughter, his head tipping back and eyes crinkling at the memory before you could even finish it. You were happy to see his tension dissipate, even if only for a minute. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes, finishing your thought. “When they swapped clothes at school and Jake purposefully ripped the gnarliest fart possible right next to Jenny Jenkins -”

Josh jumped in, “--AND LET ME TAKE THE FALL FOR IT!” His glare should have left holes in Jake.

Jake was failing to contain a snicker. “Okay, okay, okay,” he replied tiredly, hands up in a gesture of surrender. But Josh wasn’t done with him yet.

“You knew I liked her, too. And I’m pretty sure half of Frankenmuth still remembers me as the kid who farted in Bio.”

Jake scoffed. “Of course I knew! How else was I supposed to get back at you for the goddamned NERF GUN?!”

Josh rounded on Danny. “And YOU! You didn’t stop laughing for days. Jesus, fuck, you’re STILL laughing! ‘No pleasure in other people’s misery’ my ass!”

Danny had finally managed to catch his breath and regain his composure. “Okay, touché. I guess sometimes I enjoy your misery specifically.”

Josh seemed satisfied at this. “Exactly,” he stated resolutely. “You just play favorites.”

“Aww,” you cooed jokingly, gazing up at Danny once again. “Is that why you gave me your sweater to tie around my waist? I was your favorite?” Your tone may have been jesting, but you couldn’t deny there was a real search for validation beneath it you hoped he wouldn’t perceive.

Danny returned your gaze with an expression of confusion, like you had just asked him if water was wet. “Of course you are, Ace.”

Are.

You rested your head against his leg and turned your attention back to the argument at hand, only to realize that Josh was boring holes through you with his eyes, a knowing smirk he didn’t bother to hide gracing his face. It kind of made you want to punch it.

You rose to your feet and grabbed Sam’s cigarettes right out of his shirt pocket, and he never so much as stirred as you fished out his lighter and moved past the bunks to the back of the bus, an area designed for storage and overstuffed with the various belongings of four men. You opened a window and rested your head against the frame to allow the passing wind to suck the smoke from your lips in short lived trails disappearing along with the miles. Watching the dashed yellow line speed past made you feel even higher, a little woozy even, and you closed your eyes against the image to focus on the feel of the nicotine seeping into your brain.

“Can I have a drag?”

Josh.

You handed it over and he took it with thanks. You leaned back against the wall, swaying with the movement of the ride, fixing him with a neutral gaze that he returned unblinking. Finally you spoke. “What? Didn’t get enough of a good look out there in the living room, cuz?”

He cracked a grin, the endearing gap in his teeth peeking through, and he handed the cigarette over. “When are you going to fucking tell him, Y/N?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” His voice was laced with disapproval. “Pretend it doesn’t exist and keep dancing around each other until one of you dates someone else again and the other is left miserable?”

You laughed out loud then, but there was no humor in it. “Danny has never been miserable about me dating someone else. He introduced me to my last boyfriend.”

Josh’s eyes lit up like Christmas trees. “I thought you had no idea what I was talking about.” You opened your mouth to deliver a smartass reply, but he cut you off to finish his thought. “Yeah, he introduced you to Troy. But that was a test, and you fucking failed.”

“Josh, that’s the stupidest thing I ever heard. Danny doesn’t play games, and even if he did, I’m not his type.” You handed him the last of the cigarette, preparing to make an escape. You were starting to really want out of this conversation.

Josh took it, letting it smolder between his fingers a second, head tipped back as he peered down his nose at you appraisingly. He took one last thoughtful drag, and spoke creakily around the smoke of his exhale, echoing the words that had been stuck in your mind for the past 15 minutes.

“Of course you are, Ace.”

You waved him off with a dismissive hand gesture and turned heel without saying anything else.

You meant to go back to the living room but, as you were passing between the bunks, you noticed the curtain drawn across Danny’s. You stopped and listened for a moment. There were still sounds of life up front. You assumed Danny must be sleeping, but just as you were about to head to the couch, you heard him let out a burst of air like he had been holding his breath.

“Danny?” Your voice was soft and hesitant.

“Yeah?” He responded quickly, and there was something unreadable in his voice that sounded…distressed?

“Are you okay?”

There was a beat of silence this time, and that made you chew your bottom lip. Finally he spoke up. “Um…yeah. I think so.”

Confused, you grabbed the edge of the curtain, allowing your fingers to curl around the edge into his potential line of sight. “Are you decent?”

Danny let out a tense chuckle at that. “Yeah, of course.”

You pulled the curtain back a bit to peek in at him, and his eyes met yours immediately, very large and very dark and, perhaps, a little vulnerable. “What’s the matter?” you questioned softly. “Can I help?”

His eyes darted sideways for a second. “I think I’m just tired.”

You frowned at him. “Danny.”

He turned his gaze back to you reluctantly, and you pinned him with yours, resolving not to break eye contact until he surrendered and revealed what was bothering him. He must have realized you could do this all night, because after a few moments, he sighed and dragged a hand through his hair.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, but when he saw the frown creeping across your lips, he continued. “I’m gonna be fine. I’m just way too crossfaded and trapped in my own head.”

The puzzle pieces suddenly were beginning to form the picture. His silence, his distraction, his fidgeting and snappiness. You breathed a sigh of relief, and your frown dissolved. “That’s what’s been wrong with you!? A bad high?!”

Danny smiled wanly in a self-deprecating way. “Am I that obvious?”

You shook your head. “No, actually. Not at all. I thought you were mad.”

“Why would I be mad?” he asked confusedly.

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m interrogating you, dumbass.” He took your verbal abuse with his usual good humor and an upturned tilt of his lips. Softening your voice, you continued. “How bad?”

He rolled onto his back, took a deep breath, holding it in his chest for an uncomfortable amount of time, and then blew it out in a loose raspberry. “Pretty shitty. I should probably give up weed.” He was speaking to the underside of Sam’s bunk now. “I dunno, these freak outs seem to be happening a lot lately.”

“Well,” you said, pulling the curtain all the way back. “We’ve all been there once or twice. Move over and tell me about it.”

Instead of moving to make space for you, Danny wiggled and swung his legs out of the bunk, rising to his feet with his hair wildly falling from its bun and his cotton lounge pants slung low on his hips, paired with an old cotton tee which was a bit too small and stretched tight across his chest. He tugged at the neckline uncomfortably, and gestured towards his bunk. “You get in first, Ace. I’m freaking out, remember? You trying to corner a wild animal?”

You laughed softly and gave his shoulder a gentle shove before ducking your head to crawl into the nest of pillows and duvet. His voice trailed behind you. “Would it be weird if I took this off? It’s fucking strangling me.”

You turned back to see him pulling the material of his shirt away from his body and willfully ignored the way your heart leapt to your throat at his request, but you had to admit your voice sounded a bit strained in your own ears when you choked out a lighthearted response. “Go for it,” you called out. “Half the world has already seen your tits, and I’m no exception.”

Turning your back to the wall, you kicked the covers to the foot of the mattress, knowing that, with the both of you squeezed in, there would be no need for them. Danny followed closely, pulling the curtain shut behind him and stealing one of the pillows beneath your head for himself. His pillow theft caused your hair to cascade into your face, and you blew at the strands with a giggle before he reached out to smooth it out of your eyes in apology.

Well fuck.

Goddamn Josh and his meddling had your thoughts in all the wrong places tonight, and Danny’s sweet gesture and bare midriff only made it worse. You shook away the flutters and let out a sigh of contentment, glancing around this tiny piece of the world that was only Danny’s. When you’d invited yourself in, you knew you’d inevitably be close physically but had failed to prepare yourself for the intimacy of being surrounded by the pine and soap scent of him that clung everywhere and all his little personal belongings that peppered the alcove shelves - the dogeared paperbacks, a journal and uncapped pens, some half empty packs of fruity-flavored vape pods that were illegal in most states but which he always managed to have a stash of — perks of being a world traveler, you supposed.

He was watching you taking it all in. You turned back to him and smiled. “Cozy,” you murmured, hushed voices feeling appropriate for the setting. It’s not like you had to speak up to be heard with his face inches from yours. Danny had been worried about feeling like a caged animal, and now you realized maybe you should have been the one concerned, but the realization came just a little too late.

Danny took his own quick glance around, apparently trying to see it through strange eyes. “Yeah, I guess you could say so, but it’s not home.” He sounded a bit wistful, but who could blame him? It had been a long tour.

“So…freak outs?” you asked in a leading tone. “Are you anxious about something in particular?”

Danny’s face grew thoughtful as he tried to put words to his feelings. “No, not really. I don’t know. Everything, I guess. And nothing.” Frustration laced his tone. “Shit, I just don’t know. I used to smoke a joint to clear my mind, but now it’s like…” His voice trailed off. You laid there and let the silence stretch, letting him sort things through mentally, not wanting to push him any further and stress him out. After a minute, he continued. “Now I just find myself way too aware of my own heartbeat and breathing and then sometimes it feels like I’m gonna fucking die.”

“That sounds like an anxiety attack,” you replied, all too familiar with the sensation.

Danny nodded. “Yeah, but don’t people get high to prevent anxiety attacks?”

You fought an amused grin, not wanting him to think you were laughing at him. “Yeah…but you don’t suppose layering nine bottles of craft beer and a shit ton of post-show adrenaline on top of the weed might distort the effects a little bit?”

“Ace! I did not drink nine beers!” he cried indignantly. “Who do I look like? Jake?!”

You cackled at that, but stood firm. “I assure you, it was nine.”

He pulled away slightly to get a better look at you, apparently trying to decide if you were yanking his chain or not. “You counted?”

You blushed at this, realizing you had shown your hand and revealed just how much you observed him moment to moment. You scrambled to cover. “Only so I could prepare myself for how much vomiting I’d have to tune out tonight.” But you made sure to lace your tone with affection, not judgment.

He laid back down, relaxing into the pillow. “Well that explains a lot.” He took another one of those deep inhales and held it, eventually letting it explode from his lungs in a noisy exhale.

You splayed a hand firmly on his bare chest. “Quit that. You’re going to hyperventilate or something.”

“See?!” he exclaimed, turning to you. “That’s what I’m talking about. Breathing is supposed to be involuntary, but when I get like this… it’s like I’m aware of every breath, and it makes me feel so weird.”

“Well,” you replied thoughtfully. “Stop thinking about your breathing. Focus on mine instead.”

Danny nodded once, and you tried to relax and breathe slowly and evenly, your hand still pressed to his chest. He raised one of his to cover yours and watched you carefully. Being watched like that made you a little self-conscious, so you closed your eyes and focused on the warmth and weight of his palm on your hand, the rise and fall of his firm chest soon falling into rhythm with yours. You didn’t mean to drift off, but you were hovering in that floaty space between sleep and wakefulness when his barely audible voice reached your ear, soft as a feather.

“Ace?”

“Hm?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Your reply might not have even been intelligible at this point, but you tried. “Me, too.”

Present...

You were pulled from your ponderings by more of Danny’s senseless murmurings, the tickle of his breath against your ear causing a cascade of goosebumps to wash down your spine. You still couldn’t make out any words, but his tone was more urgent, and the continuous grind of his hips against your body more provocative. Being already physically overheated to an uncomfortable degree, the added flush of arousal had you on the verge of spontaneous combustion.

It was now or never. If you didn’t rouse him soon, you suspected he would wake up with the evidence of his nocturnal activities in his pants, and then there would be no saving him from embarrassment. You steeled yourself and began to pry your body away from his iron grip, an action his sleeping self did not approve of, a pitiful whine of protest creeping up his throat but trapped behind his teeth.

Mood.

You succeeded in gaining your freedom and used your hands to rearrange your clothing into some semblance of modesty as you rolled over to face him. As soon as you did, his octopus arms slunk back around to tug you close, his face tucking back into the curve of your neck, his parted lips pressing wetly there. (God help you.) His bottom arm snaked under and around your waist, and his palm slipped under the hem of your t-shirt to splay dangerously low on your back. With a shock, you felt his top hand slide down the outside of your thigh, hooking behind your knee to draw your leg up and over his hip, fingers coming to rest heavily on the swell of your ass, his clothed cock nestled low against your belly, rock hard and unmistakable.

He may be unconscious, but this man was still a fucking sadist.

In a blind panic, now, you hissed his name. “PSSST. Danny!” His features twitched at the sound of his own name, but his eyes didn’t open.

You tried again, just a little louder. “Danny, wake up.” Still nothing. So you raised your hand to his face, palm hovering in hesitation for a beat until he pressed into you again in another desperate grind. You gasped at the feeling of him between your legs - Jesus wept, you were both clothed; you shouldn’t be this undone - and delivered three very light slaps in rapid succession to his cheek as you hissed his name for the third time. “DANNY!”

The gentle impact of your hand on his cheek did the trick, and a soft snort of surprise rang out as his eyes fluttered open, still unseeing in the darkness he hadn’t yet adjusted to. “Hm? What?” His voice was gravelly and thick as honey with sleep. You heard Sammy stir above, apparently having come back to life at some point and dragged himself to bed.

“Shhh,” you whispered, watching his soul come back to his body, the fog clearing from his eyes as he blinked rapidly, trying to regain his bearings. You felt the exact moment when he realized your positions, every muscle in his body tensing all at once in shock.

He couldn’t easily pull away from you, what with the lack of space and complicated tangle he had created of your bodies, but he did his best, letting go of your ass cheek and snatching his hand back so hurriedly that he smacked his knuckles painfully on the bunk’s frame. His other arm was pinned beneath your weight, but you felt his fingers abruptly leave your skin like a child touching a hot stove, and he canted his hips back, putting what space he could between your pelvises — which wasn’t much since you hadn’t yet thought to let your leg fall from his hip.

“Shit, Ace, I-I’m sorry!” he whispered, his face a pale mask of mortification. He was too embarrassed to even blush. You couldn’t stand it.

Your hand was still resting on his cheek from when you had slapped him awake. You placed your pointer finger softly over his lips in a shushing motion, your eyes darting up at the quiet creak of Sammy rolling over, and Danny’s gaze followed yours. You moved your lips to his ear and breathed out your reassurances on a nearly silent exhale. “It’s okay. I’m not mad, please don’t be embarrassed.”

Danny shuddered at your breath in his ear, and you were reminded of what his had done to you just moments ago. You had only meant to reassure him, and it hadn’t occurred to you that your presence would affect him when he was conscious. But you also knew the remnants of the dream still had his hormones raging, so he couldn’t be blamed for being overly sensitive to touch right now. You used your hand to smooth his hair back in what you hoped was a comforting gesture.

He pulled back to search your face, his eyes fully adjusted now to the low lighting. His gaze was confused, questioning… heated.

Wait a minute.

You found yourself falling completely still, heart pounding against your ribs like it was trying to escape, trapped in this loaded staring contest, and you realized you were holding your breath. Danny must have seen something in your face, because his bruised hand hesitantly came back to you, hovering at your hip, your shoulder, and finally your face, never actually touching, but close enough for the heat of his palm to be felt on your cheek. Your eyes closed against your will as you released the shaky breath you had been holding, your head spinning.

“Ace?” he breathed, one whispered syllable holding a universe of inquiry.

Your eyes opened as his hand finally connected with your face, holding your cheek gently as the tips of his fingers slipped into the hair at your temple, and you involuntarily leaned into his touch slightly. You realized his gaze was transfixed on your lips, darting between them and your eyes in a hesitant, wanting way.

Wait a minute.

Was this… was he… did he want…

No way.

Your brain was scrambling to catch up, struggling to accept what was right in front of you, ecstatic and terrified. Terrified that crossing this line would mean something different to him than it did to you. What was it your grandma used to say? Never trust a man with a hardon.

This was not the time for grandma’s voice to be in your head.

“Ace?” he whispered again, bumping his forehead against yours, his lips so, so close to yours as they continued to form his nearly silent words. “Can I? Please?”

And then nobody’s voice was in your head. Your mind was filled with absolutely nothing but him as you threw away caution and gave the smallest nod of consent, so small as to be nearly imperceptible, but it was enough.

You heard his quick intake of breath at your acquiescence, and he wasted no time closing the gap between your mouths, his hand moving back a bit to slide his fingers more deeply into your hair and cradle the back of your head as he pulled you forward into his kiss.

This was it. This was how you were going to die. You wanted to suffocate in this man’s mouth and never recover.

It took all of your willpower not to make any noise as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth and tugged gently with his teeth. This was the best kiss you had ever experienced. This was the best kiss anyone had ever experienced. He was consuming you in this slow slide of lips and teeth, and when his tongue slipped gently into your mouth, you wanted to fucking cry with the relief of getting something you never dared to hope for.

He tasted like the toothpaste he had used before making his escape to his bed — toothpaste and mango vape pods — and for a fleeting moment you worried he could taste the remnants of yours and Josh’s shared cigarette. But there was no room for self-consciousness as he enthusiastically deepened the kiss, gently sucking your tongue into his own mouth with a soft wet sound and replacing his hand on your lower back firmly. He used his other to tilt your head back, using his grip in your hair as an anchor, and pulling back for a quick breath before diving right back in for another taste of your mouth.

Your hands started wandering, mapping the planes of his chest, gently sweeping across the sparse hair there, ghosting across his nipples which caused him to jerk in surprise and break the kiss for a moment, eyes closed. He was trembling a bit.

Interesting.

You cradled his face in your hands, drinking in the sight of him. You didn’t know if this was the only time you’d get this side of him, and you needed to commit this to memory. His eyes opened, hazy with lust and, perhaps, a touch of residual intoxication or sleepiness. You guessed it was probably a mix of all three.

“Are you really awake?” you breathed, awestruck. This better not be some weird form of sleep-walking.

He gave you a soft, lopsided grin. “I think so,” he whispered back. “Are you a dream?”

You reached down and grabbed some skin at his stomach between your thumb and forefinger, pinching it somewhat harshly and causing him to jump and slap your hand away, jawline hardening as he swallowed the yelp you knew he almost cried out.

“Okay, okay!” he hissed. “I’m awake!” His eyes were twinkling with amusement and desire. You gasped as he moved the hand on your back even lower, barely slipping the tips of his fingers beneath your waistband, his thumb rubbing your skin. You wanted his hands everywhere.

Something inside you snapped then, and you finally took some initiative, slipping both hands into his thick curls, flexing your knee that was hooked around his hip, and using the strength of your calf to draw him tightly into the cage of your thighs. Before he could even react, you were kissing him, his mouth opening to you easily as you licked along his bottom lip, desperate to once again feel his tongue dancing with yours.

At this, he did finally slide his hand down the waistband of your shorts and squeezed a handful of your ass, his thumb sneaking under the hem of your panties in exploration. His hips rocked forward as he met your kiss with enthusiasm and your ears were graced with the tiniest little noise, a sound like he’d been punched in the gut and had the wind knocked out of him. You swallowed that tiny, dangerous noise like the finest wine and wished you were doing this somewhere, anywhere else. You would give anything to hear all the myriad of sweet sounds you knew he was pushing down right now.

His lips left yours, and he tipped your head back just a bit more before trailing close-mouthed kisses down your jaw and throat. To your shock, he gently sucked your earlobe between his teeth for a moment, swiping his tongue across before gently tugging it with his teeth and then releasing it to press hot French kisses down your neck. Your whole body jerked like you’d grabbed an electric fence, and you felt a smile in the kisses he was trailing down to your clavicle like pearls on a string.

He hesitated then. One quick nod of consent had given him the courage to kiss you, but you guessed he was unsure of his boundaries as he stared at the swell of your breasts under the thin tshirt, your hardened nipples clearly visible through the cotton. At some point he had pushed the hem of the shirt up past your navel, but had yet to fully expose you, and now you circled his wrist with your hand and dragged it from where it was still cradling your head. He submitted to your direction willingly, allowing you to drag his hand down your neck to your bare belly, then up — up under your shirt to cup your breast. You let go of his wrist to pull his face to you, and once again leaned in to whisper.

“Please,” you breathed into his ear, loving the way it made him tense up. “Please touch me, Danny.”

He blew a surprised sounding breath out of his nose, and his hand on your chest tightened, his thumb swiping firmly across your nipple, and you arched into it, trapping his dick even more firmly between your bodies which caused him to hiss an intake of air through his teeth. He pulled his hand back for a second, quickly wiggling it down between your bodies to readjust himself with a slightly pained look on his face. “Sorry,” you breathed and loosened your leg around his waist, but he released himself to grab your ass and pull you back.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Stay.”

You threw both arms over his shoulders and around his neck, which wasn’t an easy feat when you were laying on one of them. You drew him close to kiss some more, the soft hair on his chest tickling your skin. His hands were everywhere, just like you’d wanted, and before you knew it, you’d somehow managed to work your shorts down your legs and kick them down with the blankets.

His fingers were tucked into the front waistband of your panties when he spoke again, his whispers halting and unsure. “How far?” he breathed. “We don’t- I mean, I want— it’s okay if…”

His stuttering was cut off by a choking sound as you dragged one hand down his chest, your nails scraping lightly along his abdomen, and you smoothly slid your hand down the loose pants to wrap your palm firmly around his cock.

“I want it, too,” you whispered back. “So bad.” His jaw clenched as you gave him an experimental stroke, and you watched starry-eyed as his head tipped back and his chest heaved. The light of a passing truck caught on the beads of sweat that decorated his throat, and you couldn’t help tipping your face up to kiss it, giving his Adam’s apple an experimental lick and feeling it jump under your tongue as his cock pulsed in your hand and he fought to stay quiet.

To your delight, he finally pushed your panties to the side to do some blind exploration of his own, and when the pad of his thumb found your clit, you actually bumped your head against the wall with how suddenly and intensely your body jerked beneath his fingers.

“Fuuuck…” he whispered, his thumb slipping slick and frictionless against you. He started rubbing a somewhat firm circular motion against your clit, and you had to physically clap a hand over your mouth to stop from waking the bus. He grinned at this, a little feral looking, and you were reminded of his earlier joke.

“You trying to trap a wild animal?”

You wanted to say something clever, but you absolutely couldn’t. You didn’t trust yourself to open your mouth and not start spilling moans into the silent bus, announcing these illicit activities to the whole family.

Never letting up on the steady movement of his thumb, he lowered his mouth to your ear and whispered so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it. “You’re gonna come.” It was a statement of inevitability— a solemn promise. It wasn’t a question. And he was goddamned right. You were going to come, and probably sooner than he even realized.

You nodded your head furiously. “Mhm,” you squeaked against your own palm, feeling the orgasm already starting to sprout deep inside you like the shoot of a new spring flower popping from the soil to stretch towards the sun. You squeezed your eyes shut against all other stimulation, trying to turn inward to help yourself be silent, but Danny wasn’t having it. He grabbed your chin and turned your face to him, crushing his lips to yours when your eyes flew open, never letting his thumb go still as you trembled and shook beneath his ministrations.

It was rushing at you like a freight train now, and you had a fleeting moment of regret that he wasn’t inside you already to feel what he was about to do to you, but then any negative emotion disappeared in a flash as the flower inside bloomed, died, and blew away on the breeze, wave after wave of euphoria peaking as your body clenched and relaxed.

To his credit, you didn’t have to announce your arrival. Even through your utter silence, he read you like a book, the expressions on your face, the clenching and shaking of your thighs, the heaving of your chest and your iron grip in his hair were all he needed to know that he had succeeded. He lessened the pressure of his thumb and slowed his movements as you rode out the last of your pleasure until, finally, you grabbed his wrist to stop him altogether, the sensations too intense to be pleasurable anymore.

He kissed you again, softer this time, sweeter, pulling back just enough to make space for his whispers. “Fuck, I wanna feel that,” he murmured breathily, then lowered his volume when he realized he’d forgotten himself. “Do you think you can do it again? With me inside?”

You colored and glanced around, listening for any sign the guys might have heard that. Holy fuck. This was happening. You brought your eyes back to his expectant gaze and nodded.

There wasn’t much space to work with, and your options were limited, but Danny seemed to have ideas in mind, gently rolling you to face away from him and crowding you into the wall with his body. You looked back over your shoulder to see him hooking a thumb into the waistband of his pants and pushing one side down his hip.

You wished you had a better vantage point to actually see his cock rather than a vague shadow of it as he slipped his pants low enough to reveal it. He didn’t bother getting fully undressed, probably due to the fumbling and flailing it would inevitably require — not to mention the logistical nightmare you’d both face when it came time to figure out how to redress without leaving the bunk naked and risking awkward encounters.

He wiggled up behind you, big spoon style, sliding his knee between yours and grasping your calf. He bent your knee and pulled your calf back to rest on his bare hip, and then slid his hand into your panties to lightly scratch his nails through your trimmed patch of pubic hair, one finger running gently up the crease of your lips, but not parting them to seek that oversensitive place inside.

It suddenly occurred to you to feel self-conscious about not being hairless there, but it didn’t seem to bother him as he nibbled delicately at your jaw and then whispered directly into your ear. “Is it okay to touch you yet?”

You honestly weren’t sure, and he picked up on your hesitation immediately, withdrawing his hand and moving to your breasts instead, yanking your shirt back up and thumbing at your nipples in much the same way he had worked your clit earlier. His mouth couldn’t get enough of you, kissing and nibbling anywhere he could reach, and it wasn’t long until you laced your fingers through his and dragged his hand back down.

This time, he pulled your panties to the side, swiping two fingers down to your entrance to gather the arousal pooling there and transferring it to your clit before, ever so softly, giving you a slow, experimental circle of his fingers. You took a sudden breath through your nose at the intensity of that careful movement, leaning your head back against his shoulder and pressing your cheek to his as you grit your teeth against the onslaught.

He backed off once more, simply cupping your sex as he extended his neck —mouth seeking yours — and you craned back an inch more to meet his kiss, rolling your hips to grind against the heel of his hand. Now, that was nice.

He rocked his hand along with your movements, and before long you were turning your head and pressing your lips to his ear and begging for his fingers. “Inside,” you pleaded with him as quietly as you could. “Please — I need…”

You heard his breathing stutter at the request, a shaky exhale revealing his excitement as he bent the arm you were laying on and placed his hand just below your neck, pressing at your collarbones to keep you still and tight against him while his busy hand roamed lower, his fingers gently prodding your most intimate place until he found his target and slipped his pointer finger inside.

The angle couldn’t have been more perfect as his fingers naturally curled in the direction of your navel, and when he added a second finger, you nearly broke his nose as your head snapped back, but he was quick enough to dodge it, tucking said nose behind your ear to nuzzle at the pulse point behind your jaw, and smiling against your skin at the full body shudder he elicited.

He pulled his fingers from you now, and hooked them into the gusset of your panties, jerking them further to one side. Pressing your top knee a little further back behind him, he took hold of himself, pressing his hips forward as he ran the blunt head of his cock from your entrance to your clit a few times, getting the lay of the land on feel alone, since he couldn’t see.

You shifted and arched your back ever so slightly, pressing your ass tighter against his lower belly. As the angle changed imperceptibly, his cock caught on his target, and you both froze for a moment.

“Okay?” he whispered hopefully.

“Please, Danny.”

That was all it took. He pushed inside slowly, your body engulfing him, a delicious sting causing you to suck in a breath. He wasn’t massive, just on the larger side of average, but Troy had been… less than blessed. And it had been a long time for you, so the stretch felt intense and overwhelming.

To your disappointment, he stopped when he heard your soft gasp of surprise, hips stilling while he was only halfway in, presumably allowing you time to adjust. You were having none of it; you’d waited long enough, so you wiggled and sank back the rest of the way, pushing past the discomfort and taking him to the hilt in one movement.

With a startled jump, he dropped his mouth to the juncture of your shoulder and neck, sinking his teeth into the muscle there — effectively gagging himself on your body — but you could still feel his muffled moan vibrating against your skin. He hadn’t been ready for that. You had the presence of mind to wonder for a moment if the brief pause of his hips had really been for your sake at all.

You fought the overwhelming urge to move, not ready for this to be over before it began. But you couldn’t control the way you clenched spastically around him as your body adjusted to his intrusion — even less so as the exquisite pain of his bite mixed confusingly with the pleasure which threatened to overwhelm your senses.

You reached a hand up and behind you to stroke his face with your palm, and he leaned into your touch like a contented house cat, releasing your skin from his teeth to take a shaking breath. His dark curls tumbled over your shoulder as he tucked his chin down to place an apologetic kiss over the flesh he’d just abused. His free hand reached up to lace his fingers between yours, and he pressed his cheek harder into your hand as he finally started to move.

His hips fell into an easy, rolling rhythm — a push and pull that never caused your bodies to separate much but succeeded in driving him a tiny bit deeper and caused his cock to drag along that spot inside that made your legs shake and your heart accelerate. You couldn’t move much, sandwiched as you were between the wall of the bus and his undulating body, but this tight, controlled grind was more than enough for now. You were pretty sure he’d been on the edge for a while now, even as little as he’d been directly touched, and while you were eager to see what he looked like coming undone, you weren’t ready for this to be a memory yet.

His fingers tightened between yours and he dragged your entwined hands down your body — down to where you were taking him so slickly. Pulling his hand from your grip, he swapped their orientations, lacing them together again, but with your hand now over his instead of under. As he drew his pointer up to circle your clit, he murmured into your ear, “Stop me if you need. Or, show me what you need.”

You nodded your agreement eagerly, doubting you’d have to stop him now. The excruciating oversensitivity had passed. His touch started feather light and slow, but as you used what tentative leverage you had to add your own rhythmic movement to the steady roll of his hips, he deepened the pressure on your clit and quickened the pace of both his fingers and his pelvis.

The increasing intensity had you reeling, your chest heaving as you panted and bit back moans. He felt so fucking good, and you loved everything about being this close to him.

Well. Everything except for the fact that you couldn’t see him. You wanted to watch the pleasure dancing across his features instead of imagining it the way you were now.

Your hand squeezed his, stopping his onslaught reluctantly, and he slowed the strokes of his cock inside you slightly, turning his lips to your ear and placing a kiss to your temple. “Too much?” he breathed, and you shook your head quickly.

“I need to see you,” you whispered breathily, and you felt his nod of compliance against your shoulder before he withdrew from you with a hiss and backed off a few inches to allow you to turn over to face him. He started to reach for you, but you placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him flat, his already dilated pupils nearly swallowing his irises at your manhandling.

Also interesting.

There was a quiet clicking sound as his shoulder disturbed the curtain and the rings jingled against each other, his body positioned precariously close to the edge now. The bottom of Sam’s bunk was low, so you had to duck when you slid a leg over him to straddle his thighs in almost a lying position atop him, and you pressed your chests together as his hands came up to cradle your head and kiss your lips. You used a knee to nudge him to the center of the bed, being careful not to bump your head as he wiggled the both of you sideways. When you were settled, you began peppering kisses over his cheeks and down his neck. You opened your mouth as you reached his chest and sucked his nipple into your mouth, biting very gently and smiling into his skin at the way it made his hips jump off the bed.

You scooted yourself further down until his cock was at eye level, lying painfully hard against his stomach, wet and crowned with a single pearlescent bead of precum at the tip. You gingerly extended a finger to gather it, and his dick bobbed even at that tiny scrap of contact, drawing a gasp out of him as his abdomen flexed. At the sound of his gasp, you raised your gaze to his face, peering at him from under your lashes, and wrapped a hand around his cock to steady it as you wet your parted, kiss-swollen lips.

But he suddenly grasped a handful of your hair and pulled, not allowing your descent. You tried not to pout; he’d been so compliant to your every hesitation, but your mouth was watering for him, and you felt the denial keenly.

“No,” he gasped out desperately, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. He tugged again, and your body followed your head as he roughly pulled you up to bring the two of you face to face once again. You tried not to show how chastised you felt, but your sudden inability to maintain eye contact was a dead giveaway.

His hand quickly loosened its grip, and he soothed your scalp with his fingers. “Did I hurt you, honey?”

His whispered inquiry sounded anxious, and you were quick to shake your head, softly pressing your lips to his as proof you weren’t upset. You sucked his bottom lip between yours to lick gently across its plush fullness, made fuller by abuse it had endured in the course of the evening. “Did I do something wrong?” You whispered back, and his immediate baffled expression warranted clarification. “I mean… do you not want… you don’t like…”

His eyes lit with understanding and a grin crept across his face as his thumbs hooked into the sides of your panties and he started to slide them down your legs. “I like…” he breathed out quietly. “I’d like it too much. I want…” There was no need for him to articulate the rest of his sentence as he sank his fingers back into you without warning, causing you to shudder above him and curl in on yourself, pressing your forehead to his.

You kicked one foot out of your panties leaving them dangling off the other ankle and reaching for his dick as he removed his fingers and used his hands to once again pull your shirt up over your tits. As you leaned forward to line him up with your entrance, it brought your chest to face level for him, and he wasted no time attaching his lips to your nipple and laving it with his tongue in a way that made sparkles shoot across your vision — sparkles that turned into a full-on light show as you sank down onto his cock.

The sensation was completely different without the obstacle your ass had presented when fucking from behind. You felt so full as the head of his cock discovered the limits of your physical depths and bumped against a hidden endpoint — sensitive, but just on the right side of that thin line between pain and pleasure. You peered down at him below you and nearly came at the sight of him, his jaw clenched tightly to reveal a flash of his white teeth, eyes squeezed shut, and the tendon of his neck standing out visibly as he turned his head to nuzzle into the pillow beneath his head as if searching for something to bite down on.

You brought your thumb to his mouth, pressing it against that tempting bottom lip and dragging it down, and his eyes flew open as he sucked it into his mouth to cradle it in the dip of his tongue, tasting your fingerprint like a piece of hard candy. Your lungs started to burn, and you realized you were holding your breath, so you blew a steady exhale and started to move.

Your thumb dropped from his mouth as his lips fell open around the silent moan he managed to keep inside his chest. He panted instead, overcome by the feeling of you sliding forward and back in another one of the tightly controlled grinding motions that this limited space required. You rolled your hips as best you could without actually bouncing and braining yourself on the underside of Sam’s bed. Although, at this point, you figured that would be a hell of a way to go.

His arms snaked up under yours, and he grasped at your shoulder blades to pull you close for yet another heated kiss, his hips snapping up to meet your own grinding thrusts. He wasn’t silent anymore; a few quiet, involuntary grunts escaped his throat from time to time as your combined pace picked up, and the fire in your belly started to flare again.

You fumbled awkwardly, trying to reach your pussy around the obstacle his arm presented, and he removed his hand from your shoulder blade to rub the knuckle of his forefinger against your clit, your fingernails painting angry crescents onto his bicep as he dragged you closer to another orgasm with his efforts.

His eyes were round and luminous as he observed you, and you stared back, the deepest eye contact you’d ever experienced. A whole dictionary of unspoken words ran between you like ticker tape, but you couldn’t quite decipher them. You knew what you’d like this gaze to mean but were scared to hope you were truly on the same page. The insecurity forced you to break the staring contest first, not caring if it was cowardice, and you threw your hair back as you rode him, staring up at the ceiling instead.

You knew this was going to end soon, and, to your horror, the thought of never having this again had a lump rising in your throat. Of course he wanted to fuck you. What man wouldn’t bury himself in the closest warm body given the opportunity, especially when it threw itself at him while he was in the throes of an intense wet dream?

To your frustration, the snapping of Danny’s hips had slowed to almost nothing, and you glanced down at him sharply, only to find him giving you that same intense eye contact, except now it was laced with confusion and concern.

“Where did you go?” he asked on a soft exhale, the words shaking with the force of your hips as you continued to rock on him.

You didn’t reply right away. How could you?

Instead you responded to his question in the form of another. “What were you dreaming about?” you panted softly, thighs starting to quiver and burn with your efforts.

You saw his jaw clench again as your question brought the memory of the dream back to his mind. He closed his eyes a second, like a slow blink, and his already red cheeks deepened a shade as his Adam’s apple bobbed and the answer formed on his lips.

“This.” he hissed slowly, his hips starting to mindlessly rock up into you once again as he threw his head back. “Exactly this.”

You weren’t sure you wanted him to answer honestly when you hesitantly probed further. “With me?” you asked in a searching whisper.

His hips stuttered, and he lowered his eyes bashfully. For a minute you thought he wasn’t going to answer, and your heart sank at the possibility that he was about to let you down easily or, more likely, evade the question to spare your feelings. But then the fingers of his free hand dug painfully into your thigh, and he replied on a broken exhale that was more like a sob. “Yes… always.” And his eyes were uncertain as they searched your face, awaiting your reaction.

Josh was right. You were both so stupid.

All of a sudden, everything you had been denying all these years came into blinding focus. The things you had been too afraid to believe became suddenly so obvious, it made you want to laugh, but this would be the worst possible timing for that.

You realized he was terrified.

He was wearing his terror across his features like flashing neon, and all your fear of rejection was suddenly reflected back at you on his face like a funhouse mirror.

You felt the corners of your mouth tipping up in your joy, and he seemed to take comfort in this reaction, the insecurity in his eyes dissipating as you leaned down to press your chests together and brought your lips to the shell of his ear. You’d simply die if your next words were overheard, so your whispers were nearly inaudible as you made your confession, but the stillness of his body and the thrumming tension in his fingers told you he was listening intently.

“That’s okay, baby,” you breathed. “I think of you when I’m awake.”

At this his hips surged, and it wasn’t quite a whisper when he softly whined, “Really?”

You nodded against his cheek, screwing up the courage to continue your confession. “Shhh,” you hushed him. His trembling fingers had never left their place on your clit, and he started to rub a little faster now, channeling the suspense and nervous energy of the moment into his rhythm against you. “Yeah,” you breathed desperately into his ear. “This morning… in the shower… I imagined you, and I came so hard that—

Your babbling was cut off by a bonafide whimper sneaking past Danny’s lips, but he cut it off quickly. The little sound rang straight to your core, your pussy clamping around him in a spasm as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of free fall, his cock filling you so perfectly and bumping up against that exquisite place inside as his fingers drove you closer to the precipice. “Oh god,” you sighed into his ear, a carnal prayer. “Please don’t stop, I’m gonna come now…”

Just as you stepped off the metaphorical ledge and surrendered to your pleasure, you were suddenly jerked back to reality with jolt of surprise as Danny let forth a full volume yelp of your name that any innocent bystander could easily have mistaken as a cry of pain. You had the presence of mind to slap a hand over his mouth, pinning his head to the bed as his muffled cry trailed off into a guttural moan against your palm — still distinctly audible, even with you muzzling him. His hips had driven deeply into you and stalled, raising the both of you slightly off the mattress as he jerked once.. twice… three times… spilling hot jets of his release inside you as the shockingly intense waves of your orgasm milked him dry.

You managed to stay silent through it all, frozen in shock at his outburst, every muscle vibrating with adrenaline at the thought of being caught. His eyes were huge and round above your hand as you both held your breath, eyes locked and ears listening intently like prey animals in danger. After a few moments, the silence was broken by Danny succumbing to the need for air, his exhale bursting through his nose like a winded racehorse. He gave you a slight nod. It seemed the coast was clear, so you finally removed your hand from his mouth to allow him to catch his breath

He gathered you into his arms, embracing you tightly and pulling you to his chest to tuck your head beneath his chin, rubbing slow circles into your spine with the flat of his palm. You laid there boneless, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest and trying not to start wondering how this would all work out in the harsh light of day. For now, you just wanted to be held, and he seemed more than willing to do so.

“Finally.”

The both of you startled, Danny’s elbow smacking against the bunk frame as he jumped a mile at the sound of Josh’s voice cutting through the darkness.

“You know,” Josh continued, “This just proves what absolute bullshit it is that I get called the loud one in this band.”

Your face was flaming, and you wanted to melt into the floorboards and cease to exist. Danny looked sheepish and quite pink himself, his features arranged in an expression of guilt and embarrassment. Neither of you seemed to know how to respond, so you didn’t.

“Josh, shut the fuck up,” Sam snapped from above you, his voice heavy with the gravel of his hangover and muffled — like his face was buried in a pillow. “Why couldn’t you just stick your fingers in your ears like a normal, decent person, you little creeper?”

Josh snorted. “Like that would have drowned it out,” he retorted, and Danny rolled his eyes at that, probably realizing that he was never going to live this down.

“Enough commentary,” Danny finally said, “Worry about your own sex life.”

“I’d love to,” Josh clapped back. “If only I weren’t too busy listening to you two cry about each other for the past decade.”

Danny turned back to you now. “I did not cry,” he protested hotly, his face now just as red as yours. You patted his cheek with your hand as you hid your face in his sternum and contemplated jumping out of the moving vehicle.

“He’s a goddamn liar, Y/N.”

This time the snort came from Sammy. Asshole.

“Okay, enough,” Danny demanded firmly. His arms tightened protectively around you as he spoke. “We’re sorry for waking you. You have no idea how sorry, actually,” he grumbled petulantly.

You heard Sam and Josh shuffling and rolling over in their bunks as they snickered and murmured their good nights, and finally you raised your head from Danny’s chest to meet his eyes, your chin propped on your hand. “You okay?” he asked you softly.

You shrugged noncommittally before responding. “We are never doing that again.”

You immediately regretted your words as Danny recoiled from your announcement with the most wounded look you’d ever seen him wear. “No, no, no!” you exclaimed, reaching for him. “I mean not here! We need privacy.”

Relief washed over his face at your clarification, and he surged forward to kiss you, sweet and full of promise. You broke the kiss with a sly grin, pulling back a fraction of an inch. “I didn’t know you were such a screamer,” you murmured against his mouth.

“Me either,” he replied amusedly. “But don’t exaggerate. I didn’t actually scream.”

“Danny. You woke the whole bus.”

“Not the whole bus,” he argued. “Jake sleeps like the dead.”

A flat, unimpressed voice rang out. “Keep telling yourself that, you fucking banshee.”

Jake’s interjection sparked uproarious peals of laughter from all directions. You groaned and rolled off Danny, flopping beside him with a huff of irritation at being their entertainment for the evening.

There was a genuinely perturbed edge to his voice now as Danny shouted above the cacophony. “GUYS!” he bellowed, his voice a half a step deeper than his normal conversational tone. “Enough! You’re embarrassing Y/N. Like actually embarrassing. Go the fuck to sleep.”

The Kiszkas all fell abruptly silent in unison at this rare show of authoritativeness from Danny, and, to your shock, even offered a few murmured words of apology as everyone settled and chattered their good nights yet again. Danny rolled back to face you, reaching to draw you into another embrace, and you submitted willingly. You rested your head on his shoulder, listening as all the guys’ breathing slowed, one by one. When a few soft snores started to ring out occasionally from the various bunks, you started to think the coast may be clear enough to sneak out to your suitcase for clean panties and a stop at the bathroom.

Just as you were about to sneak away, Josh spoke up hesitantly.

“Danny?” His voice was small.

Danny gave a long-suffering sigh. “WHAT, Josh?”

“You aren’t coming for my job, are you?”

All the progress the five of you had made towards peace was entirely undone, hysterical cackles ringing out from all directions — including yours.

Danny’s head spun towards you slowly like something out of The Exorcist, his face awash with betrayal, and that only made you laugh harder, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. He finally cracked a wide grin and lunged at you, pinning your shoulders to the bed as he hovered over you, lowering his face to yours and kissing the giggles right out of your mouth. He pulled back a fraction, taking in your mirth-filled face, the cascade of his hair casting a curtain around you both.

“Keep laughing, Ace.” He was using that same authoritative voice that had worked so well on the Kiszkas. You realized that, maybe, it was going to work even better on you. “Go ahead and laugh now. Cause when I get you alone in some place bigger than a coffin…” his eyes fluttered closed like he was tasting something delicious, then he opened them, and your heart began to race at the absolutely profane way he grinned down at you. “Oh honey,” he continued, “We’ll just see who the screamer is then.”

#greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van smut #greta van fleet #danny wagner #greta van fleet smut #gvf smut

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creative-frequency · 5 months

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Astarion x Reader: Contradictions and Other Counter-Measures Ch.3

Summary: A lovely midnight stroll with Astarion, but you stumble upon his secret. Word count: 2224

Previous chapter

CHAPTER 3: Stroll

Another night at camp is bright under the full moon, the surrounding forest is silent and you’re once again dead tired after the day. Even though your body is aching for the rest, your mind stays stubbornly in a state of overdrive. You toss and turn on your bedroll, listening to the distant sounds of the nocturnal wilds. Sleep persistently eludes you, until you decide to stop trying.

After producing a small flame on your palm to light the way, you pick a random direction and start pacing into the nightly forest.

It might not be the best idea to leave Shadowheart and Lae’zel unsupervised at camp. Astarion wouldn’t lift a finger to stop them from strangling each other, but you need to be alone after another long day spent trekking through the wilds. You need to have some space and solitude to think.

It’s already been days but you still haven’t turned. In fact, no one in your little group has any symptoms of ceremorphosis, but you’re not ready to count your blessings yet.

You walk down the forest road, listening to the critters of the night and how they dash into safety at the sounds of your soft footsteps. The moonlight is so bright that you extinguish the flame on your palm; you can see better in the dark without it.

It’s almost unusually calm and silent until you hear the gravel crunch on the dusty road ahead. Immediately, you fall down into a stealthy crouch, trying to see what caused the noise ahead. The best course of action would be to turn around as quietly as possible, but your curiosity wins in the end.

Further away from camp than what is a smart place to be in the dead of night alone, you come across something a little bigger than a critter. For a second you think what you see is a wolf or a small bear, and start raising your hands to sling a cantrip. Then the hunched character turns and stands up, leaving a large furry lump laying in the middle of the road.

For what feels like several minutes, you stare at each other in equal shock. The moonlight makes his silvery white curls glow eerily.

“Astarion? Are you alright?” you utter and begin to walk towards him, relieved that you didn’t come across any predators in the night.

“What are you doing here?” Astarion asks sharply and hastily swipes his face with a handkerchief. “Were you following me?”

His tone stops you in your tracks. All the relief just drains out of you, replaced with anxiety.

“I… had to get some air,” you explain dubiously.

Astarion’s trademark giggle rings in the night, but it’s cold and joyless. The sound makes you shiver.

“Air? Just how is the air at camp amiss, little princess?” he sneers.

You frown at him. You don’t recall giving him a reason for such hostility.

“Seems that you already know since you’re here too,” you retort.

“I’ll ask again, why did you follow me?” Astarion growls in a low tone. He turns slightly so that the moonlight reveals the smudged dark stains on his cheeks.

“For the last time, I didn’t follow you,” you reply, annoyed and confused, but also fear creeping up your spine. Just what in the Hells has happened to him?

“And yet, here you are,” Astarion says softly.

He crouches as he speaks and you’ve seen that motion at least a dozen times now. He is preparing to attack. You have zero idea what is going on, but you suddenly get the sense that you accidentally saw something you shouldn’t have. You can’t come up with any other explanation for Astarion’s behaviour.

Your hands raise up in a surrendering motion – your chances against him in a knife fight are stupendously low. Just as you try to figure out what to say to convince him to drop the dagger, your eyes happen on the thing on the ground. Before you can ask Astarion what in the Nine Hells is the furry lump behind him, it hits you.

It’s a boar. A dead boar.

It’s not even the first of its kind you’ve encountered in a similar state in the past few days. What was it again that Astarion said about the exsanguinated animal?

“It’s been drained of its blood, bitten by a vampire. I didn’t want to say anything to save you from worrying.”

It all makes sense. Of course.

He is always eager to take the night watch, doesn’t even lay a finger on the shared camp supplies and his skin is pale and perfect as smooth alabaster rock.

Astarion is coiled like a spring, ready to pounce on you. His glare is fixated to yours, silently gauging your reaction in every micro-expression. In that moment you also realise his eyes are red. While that is not so rare, the feature completed with his pale countenance is and also, shockingly, perfectly understandable.

“So you’re a vampire,” you huff and feel an unexpected rush of ease.

Astarion’s dagger rests against your throat before you can say another word. His piercing eyes stare intently into yours, so close that you can feel his shallow breath on your cheek.

“How astute,” he comments. The stain on the side of his mouth is indeed blood and in the bright moonlight you actually see his fangs for the first time. You must have been blind – or blinded by his charming mannerisms and elaborate motions.

“I should’ve realised sooner,” you say feeling a bit stupid now that it’s said out loud.

“Not many people do until it’s too late,” Astarion says dryly, dagger still holding fast and his grip keeping you still. “Now, what shall we do about this… pickle we find ourselves in?”

You inhale his scent, a hint of bergamot with strangely earthy undertones. Maybe rosemary? He notices how you relax slightly.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” you ask more curious than worried about the current disposition.

Astarion’s eyes narrow. You continue staring at each other. For a fleeting moment you feel the confusion and relief from his mind colliding with the edges of yours. Then he murmurs apologies and steps back, releasing your shoulder.

“Apologies. I had to know I could trust you first.” He suddenly sounds weary, all the underlying threat gone from his voice.

Your arms fold over your chest. “That’s rich. Do I need to remind you whose dagger has been pointed at my neck several times now?”

Astarions eyes fall down to your neck and shoulders, and you feel like drawing a vampire’s attention to the said area is a bad idea. Luckily for you, Astarion is the perfect gentleman.

“I already apologised,” he points out with a scoff and puts the dagger away.

“Now I get why you were so eager to take the night watch,” you ponder, thinking back to all the other signs you missed.

“Well, I’m still an elf, I don’t sleep,” he replies in a biting tone, looking unamused.

“Right.” You tap your chin and produce another flame to float on your palm. It casts enough light to see his face.

There is a patch of awkward silence until Astarion clears his throat. “For the record, I would’ve trusted you with the knowledge of my… condition. Just… not the others,” he confesses and makes a tiny cough. His eyes dart away from meeting your gaze.

“Oh. Well. Thank you,” you say, a bit taken aback but weirdly somehow pleased. For once, he sounds sincere.

“I suppose you have some questions,” Astarion sighs.

“Just one,” you admit.

He arches one perfectly shaped brow.

“Is this how you’ve been feeding?” You gesture towards the dead boar.

“Yes,” he replies without sparing a glance at the cadaver. When he sees the dismay on your face, he adds: “I’m not some monster. I don’t hunt for the pleasure of killing. I need to feed.”

Feed. The strong word makes you shiver. Just how long did he think he would get away with sneaking off like this in the dead of night? If it was not for your overactive brain that evening, you would be sleeping blissfully, tucked inside your own bedroll at the camp.

“Don’t overthink it, darling,” Astarion says, stopping your train of thought.

“I wasn’t,” you reply, but you both know it’s not exactly the truth.

He examines the look on your face and heaves another sigh.

“I suppose it’s better you found out this way. It’s been difficult to sneak away from camp lately,” he concedes, “Leaving during my watch would mean leaving you defenceless and that’s a risk I seem less willing to take lately.”

“Thanks for being considerate, then,” you say, wondering if he was referencing you as in just yourself or the whole group.

“We should head back. You need to rest,” Astarion says and a tender sensation blooms in the pit of your belly.

“Right, but first…”

He pauses to look at you, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Mind handing your handkerchief to me? You have a bit of, uh, blood here.” You point at the spot around your own face.

“Oh?” He smiles almost gleefully.

You take the offered handkerchief from his fingers and lean towards him to dap clean the rest of the blood. It has already dried so you try to rub it as gently as you can, stepping even closer. Astarion’s gaze softens at your focused face and he keeps perfectly still.

Focusing on the task at hand miraculously keeps you busy enough to not feel awkward or flushed because of the proximity. Still, you surprise yourself thinking how Astarion’s eyes are really pretty. The tender feeling persists. You clear your throat and lean back.

“There, nice and clean.”

His smile has melted into a mild, more genuine one. “Nice? Hmph. I guess I’ll have to take what I can get,” he murmurs.

“You’re a messy eater,” you say and offer the bloodied handkerchief back.

“It’s completely his fault,” Astarion nods towards the boar, “he had difficulties staying dead.” Another high-pitched giggle rings into the night. He sounds more like himself again, more bravado and less sharpness.

As you start walking back to the camp, the night of your first meeting floats back into your mind in the light of this new revelation.

“Tell me something, Astarion. The night we first met in Baldur’s Gate…” You don’t know what exactly it is you want to ask him, but he seems to catch on nevertheless.

Astarion sighs theatrically. “Yes. I was trying to lure you back to my Master. Happy?”

You stop to shoot him a horrified look. “...W-what?”

Astarion continues: “And would have succeeded if the Flaming Fist had not shoved up. Tsk–”

You smack his arm.

“Hells, what is wrong with you?!” he screams and jumps away. A flock of birds takes off from a nearby tree.

“You just admitted to trying to kill me!” you hiss back.

“Not by choice,” Astarion says, pronouncing each word deliberately and clearly.

That shuts you up. Heat rises to burn your face in shame. Undoubtedly, he was not acting on his own free will. He was commanded by someone he served. A thousand questions spring into your head, but you deem it best to keep them unasked for now.

“Sorry,” you swallow.

“Nothing we can do to change that now, darling,” Astarion replies and rubs the spot you hit.

You resume walking. There is an unseen spring in Astarion’s step and you wonder is the main cause for it because he has just fed or because his secret is now shared with someone. The thought brings back a shadow of the tender feeling and you reproach yourself for even thinking you could somehow have such an effect on someone as gorgeous as him.

Astarion lets out a hum as if an idea suddenly occurred to him. You don’t like the smile spreading to his lips. He clears his throat and talks:

“Now that you know my true nature, how about a little–”

You recoil instantly. “Absolutely not. I don’t want to become a vampire.”

Astarion has the audacity to laugh. “I thought you would have already realised that I’m merely a spawn.”

“Oh, I see,” you mumble, failing to see how that justifies his request. Your knowledge of vampires is practically non-existent. There must be a book about them among the ones you’ve hoarded in your backpack.

“I promise you, darling, you will feel just a slight prickle,” Astarion assures, teasing.

“Keep your fangs to yourself, Astarion,” you say in a harsher tone than what you intended.

His smile falters slightly. Or you think it falters since the motion is so insignificant that you could have imagined it in the light of the flickering flame.

“Of course. Silly of me to even ask.”

As soon as you hear the dejection in his voice, you regret refusing him outright. He has been managing this far, so it’s not your responsibility to feed him. If he truly needed blood, he would ask sincerely. That is what you tell yourself, but at the same time wonder when ever has Astarion been truly sincere with anyone.

“You’d best prepare yourself for the morning,” you say with a sigh.

Astarion raises a brow. “For what?”

“You will have to tell the others.”

Next chapter

My Writing Masterlist

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion fanfic #astarion #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #fanfiction #contradictions and other counter measures

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beelsnack · 8 months

Note

Welcome back!

How about headcanons with some casual intimacy? Like demons guys of your choice just sitting on the floor for some reason and Mc just puts their legs over the boys shoulders? Just to chill and sit like that.

Sorry if it's confusing

No worries Nonnie, I got you!! I think I'm going to pick Levi, Belphie, and Mammon, mainly because I think they would be the most surprised by it.

-----

Mammon: It wasn't often that Mammon could be found concentrating so hard on something, even less so when the thing he was concentrating on wasn't money-related. But Levi had been ranting and raving about this new manga that came out, and the plot had been intriguing enough for Mammon to pick it up.

(Translation: Levi had left it on the couch in the living room and Mammon decided that meant he could read it.)

Usually the manga that Levi liked didn't have enough action to keep him entertained, but this particular murder mystery gripped him by the throat and before he knew it he was almost done with the first volume and contemplating asking Levi if he could borrow the second.

"Did Levi convince you to read that one too?"

Mammon felt a pair of arms wrap loosely around his shoulders before someone rested their chin against the crook of his neck. There was only one person with that much of a lack of self-preservation instinct.

"Jeez, human, you've got some nerve sneaking up on the Great Mammon like that!" Mammon huffed, twisting around in their grip to glare at them. It must not have had the heat in it that he wanted it to, because the human merely grinned and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"I didn't sneak up on you, you were so into the manga that you didn't notice me."

"Whatever," he grumbled, cheeks hot. "Most people would at least hesitate to hug one of the seven rulers of Hell without warning."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"I didn't say that!"

Levi: "If you hit me with that blue shell, I swear to - Levi!"

Leviathan cackled as the human's character spun out of control. "Out of my way, normie, I've got a Demario Kart race to win!"

"You suck!" the human whined, kicking at Levi's hip from where they sat sideways on the sofa next to him. "Enjoy your ill-gotten victory, you filthy cheater."

"It's not cheating if I use an item that the game gives you!"

"It's dirty!" Despite their harsh words, the human was grinning as they finally regained control of their car. "I hope you fall off of the track."

"Someone is a sore loser," Levi grinned.

"You haven't even won yet!"

They had been sitting with their legs folded for the better part of an hour, so the human desperately needed to stretch their legs. Instead of turning their body to sit with their feet on the floor like a normal person, they unfolded their legs and laid them directly in Levi's lap.

"Huh - wha - I - wh-wh-what are you doing?" Levi stammered, hands slipping off of the controller at the sudden invasion of his personal space.

"Stretching."

"Oh, and I'm playing dirty?" he grumbled, fumbling around until he finally got his hands back into the correct position on the controller. When he looked back at the screen, the human's character whizzed past him and over the finish line.

"That was cheap," Levi frowned.

"Womp womp."

Belphie: "Why is your sleep schedule so messed up?"

Belphegor had texted the human at 1:00 am with instructions to meet him outside because the stars were pretty and he wanted to stargaze with them. They never thought that the Avatar of Sloth would have sleep problems, but then again, he slept so much during the day that he was basically nocturnal.

"You could have said no," Belphie shrugged from where he was leaning against the wall of the garden.

"But then I don't get to spend any time with you because you nap the whole day," the human shot back, rubbing at their eyes groggily. "So you get sleepy human and you're gonna like it."

"Hm," he hummed. "I don't mind sleepy human, though. You're cute when you're sleepy."

The human mumbled something before shifting around. Belphie was about to ask them what they were doing before they rested their head in his lap.

"Can I help you?" he asked instead.

"Yes, by shutting up."

They kept their eyes closed, and Belphie was secretly glad because he could feel his cheeks getting hot. "Why?"

"You said you like sleepy human, so you're getting sleepy human."

"...Alright then," Belphie finally relented, bringing his hand down to idly stroke their hair. "I guess this is okay."

#i'm back guys!!#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie

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jacevelaryonswife · 1 year

Text

Shadowplay | Part two

When did he develop intentions for you? You, who were never special. You weren't a dragon or blood of old valyria. And yet, you were the only lady who cleared his sight on cloudy nights.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

warnings: slight angst, happy ending.

for: @hopebaker

Part one - Part two

The conflicted feeling between following your shadow and not getting involved in your life gradually suffocated Aemond, pushing him over the limite that night. He doesn't know how, he doesn't know why, he just knows he has to come to you and stop the madness you’re subjecting your life and reputation to. You might not be that special, but you were occupying a space in his mind that troubled him on a daily basis.

“The city at night is not a suitable environment for a lady.” He said, blocking your way out. "Where is your brother?"

Your mind went back to the grey strands you'd seen on one of your first escapes from the castle. It was him. When tension began to creep into your body and your breathing became irregular, you inquired:

“Are you watching us? A few nights ago I thought I saw grey hairs in the hall.”

He remained silent, features fading briefly. In addition to being discovered earlier, it had self-reported now. Maybe he underestimated your perception, or overestimated his abilities.

"Let me pass."

"No."

"Why?"

He did not know.

“It's not safe for you out there. Not decent.”

Decent. What was decent? Submitting to the misfortune of a choice not made by you? Serving as a breeding source for a man's children? Keeping up appearances of something unreal? Not. Decency is a concept that does not apply to your reality. There is no decency in the court of King Viserys I, only service.

"I'm afraid that's not your problem, my prince." When he continued to bar your way, your tone rose considerably. "Let me go."

"No."

"Why are you doing this? Why do you care?”

"I don't know."

"You don’t know? Do you want to mess up my life for something you don't know about?"

“You are disturbing your life, what do you think your lord father will do if he discovers your nocturnal wanderings?”

“Do you dare tell?”

“Do you think I should?”

"No."

“So return to your chambers, my lady.”

Your beautiful eyes, before indifferent, now replicated the feeling of the last time they crossed paths: anger. Your jaw clenched as harsh words tumbled from your mouth.

“It's easy for you to act like that. You’re not trapped in an unhappy engagement and you will not spend the rest of your days in a decrepit castle in the north serving solely to birth the children of an old man who cares nothing for me, beyond the name and youth I carry.” Your lip trembled as a lone tear threatened to stain you cheek. "You don't understand and you never will."

Even though Aemond's recurrent pity for the situation softened him, urged him to touch your face and calm your heart, he remained impassive, erect, without moving a hair.

“My mother married an older man.” His words were emotionless, conscious of weight and meaning.

"I'm not your mother." You protested irritably. “Let me go, Aemond, please.”

“I can not, my lady.”

He didn't expect so much fury from your small body when you tried to break through the barrier he imposed. His long hands held you forearms firmly but gently.

“I don't want to hurt you, my lady.”

“You’re already doing it.” There were no obstacles to stop the tears from escaping your eyes. He felt awful, truly awful. “My wedding is in a month and you are trying to deprive me of seeing the world beyond these walls.”

“Did you intend to go alone today? Are you out of your mind my lady, don't you know how dangerous it is out there for someone like you? These people are wild and freeloaders. Your brother is a fool for showing you this world.”

“My brother is the most honorable man I know. You are a fool for trying to control my life. Get out of my way!"

"Where is he?"

“None of your business.”

Yes. It says. He doesn't know why, he doesn't know why he cares, seven hells he doesn't know why he keeps holding your body so close. He just needs to do what he has to do: maintain your honor and safety. So he hates himself all over again when your eyes widen at the threat of telling your father in exchange for your brother's location. He could feel your body tense again in pure derision. He hates himself for it.

“At the intersection between the castle and the city.” Your tone was meek, weak and whiny. “Don't do anything to him, please.”

Releasing your wrists, Aemond forced himself not to caress your face and wipe away your sadness. “I will not, my lady. But you have to promise me you won't do that again.”

“Why, Aemond? Why are you doing this?"

“Just promise me.”

"No. I will not submit to you. Do not speak to me again.”

Your name was tossed to the wind as your legs stormed towards your chambers. Who does he think he is? You wouldn't let another man dictate the reins of your life. No. Not now that you've tasted the sweetest piece of freedom.

That night Aemond went to meet your brother, surprising him. He was a fool, utterly, what kind of man would expose a lady as exquisite as yourself to the low environment of the flea bottom?

“Why do you care?” Your good brother questioned truly intrigued.

"It does not matter. Yo-"

"Yes. Matter yes. What are your intentions with my sister?”

Perhaps the prince overestimated his effect on people, for your brother was undeterred.

“What are your intentions with my sister, my prince?” He insisted.

“I have no intentions with your sister, my lord.”

“I saw how you looked at her a while ago, when we were with my father and her bridgeroom” Your brother recalled. “And now this. How often do you watch the other nobles, my prince?”

Even with the one-eyed prince's newly stiffened posture, your brother continued.

“If you wish to marry my sister, I need to know that you would treat her well, as I might deal with my lord father.”

Tempting.

"I don't need your interference."

“So you admit your intentions?”

Aemond took a deep breath. He hated being confronted in such a way, especially when there was substantiation in the insinuations hurled at him. And when did that happen? When did he develop intentions for you? You, who were never special. You weren't a dragon and you weren't blood of old Valyria. And yet, you were the only lady who cleared his eyes on cloudy nights. You, a pretty, fearless little thing with expressive eyes and tempting lips. You were beautiful and he knew so little about you. Not that family and blood bullshit, but about you, who are you when the owl sings? He was intrigued and tempted. He needed to meet you.

“If you have something to say, come to me. If not, just stay out of my sister's life, she has enough unhappiness to worry about.”

He didn't want your unhappiness.

The prince's steps towards the red keep were relentless like the confusion in his heart. He doesn't understand the origin of feelings and what he really feels for you, but he knows he does. He feels. He wants to wrap your body and dry your tears, he wants to unravel your thoughts and personality. What did you like? What did you think of him? Who were you? Would you be able to love him as lord husband and man?

Aemond tried to be silent as he knocked on your bedroom door, breathing heavily. He would never forgive himself for tarnishing your reputation, no matter how much he wanted to kiss you as soon as he opened the door with tense hands dressed in a white bedclothes. You were angelic. It was almost a sin to touch your skin with dubious intentions.

Your nervous eyes failed to see him motionless, toes curling in response. You didn't expect him back, you didn't expect to see him there. Aemond Targaryen was not Aegon Targaryen, he did not hunt palace maidens like a predator, nor did he make sexual passes for noble ladies. He was polite, reserved and observant.

No lady has ever dared to breach his barrier, and he himself has never dishonored any woman. Still, he was at your door at owl time with heavy breathing and an uncertain look. When you remained silent and did not invite him in, the prince's hands took his own, making a lingering thumb stroke. Your gaze widened, mouth opening the tiniest bit as he walked slowly into your chambers and closed the door.

“I don't know how I developed this feeling that tightens my chest when I think of you, but I can't pretend it doesn't affect me.” Aemond initiated. “I want to touch your face, finger your lip and take you as mine. My lady wife.”

If it were possible for your eyes to open wider, you would. You inhaled deeply, mouth opening in confusion. Aemond Targaryen was pleading with you. He was… he wanted… to marry you.

Oh.

“Do you… do you want to marry me?” Your tone was low, calm and smooth.

“Yes, my lady.”

“Would you talk to my father?”

"Yes.”

You don't know how or why the prince wants to join you in marriage. You don't even know why you got excited internally with the idea, besides beauty, blood and reputation, you don't know him. You don't know who Aemond is. But you could know.

Before he could react, your lips were on his vividly. He was handsome, young and imponent. So attractive.

“I won't have time to meet you. And if you regret it?” You whispered into his lips.

“If that happens, I will give you time to find another bridegroom to your liking. Even if I believe that will not happen.” He sealed his lips to yours, his big hands cupping your face. “Be mine, my lady.”

Yes.

“Yes, my prince. Make me yours.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #Aemond Targaryen #aemond x reader #prince aemond x reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond oneshot #aemond x you

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astarab1aze · 2 months

Text

➥ Thousand-Head Hydra

⸻Technical Information. // Face, Voice, etc.

01. Faceclaim. Satoru Gojo [ Jujutsu Kaisen ] 04. Voice Claim. Kaiji Tang

⸻Profile Information. // Name, Age, etc.

01. Name. Unknown; Referred to in myths as Thousand-Head Hydra / Hand of God 02. Alias. Hydre Blanglas, Hydra [ 'Hydra White-Ice' ; he's not very creative ] 03. Sex. Male 04. Gender. Male 05. Age. Unknown [ Thousands+ ; Youngest son of the Worldeater ] 06. Birth Date. November 13th [ Scorpio ] 07. Blood Type. Sub-type Unknown, presumed HAO- [ Sapphiric Ichor ] 08. Race. Divine Hydra, Sunjatti by ethnicity. 09. Marital Status. Single [ Multiship ] 10. Orientation. Demiromantic [ Pansexual / no preference ] 11. Residence. Formerly, in the Gardens of Oblivion, the Hellplane, within the cosmic weave of the Worldeater's constellation ; Formerly, in his mortal life, the ancient Sunjatti city of Miraglas, of which no remnants remain

⸻Physical Information. // Body, Equipment, Family, etc.

12. Physical Description. Hydre, in his anthromorphic humanoid form, is about 6'10". Tall, toned and defined, sporting a head of short, messy white hair with a slight bluish tint. Soft to the touch, but windblown and wild. His eyes are piercing, wide, expressive, framed by long, bluish-white lashes - striking prismatic blue in color; Impenetrable, unreadable, devoid of emotion despite his range of expressions - he generally keeps them covered by black cloth, not for any special reason but for the aesthetic. His skin is pale ivory in tone and riddled with iridescent white-blue scales, particularly in bonier areas (spine, nape, collarbones, jaw hinges, cheekbones, wrists, elbows, knuckles), with some accent spikes of varyingly short lengths (elbows, cheekbones) in matching his skin tone. He has a single scar looping around his neck caused by beheading, jagged and still-puffy even after a thousand years of slumbering among the stars.

His glacial hydra form is titanic in size, thick and muscular-bodied, covered in impenetrable bluish scales; Each head bears a fierce and vicious expression, many rows of spikes covering his body from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail. Snow and ice naturally collect underneath his scales, secreted by hydroproduction glands all throughout his body. His blood is caustic and rich cobalt in color, wildly deadly to all living and spiritual beings. His body is built for long-term submersion in unimaginably frigid waters and the vacuum of space. His stomach acid is effectively a thousand times stronger than hydrochloric acid.

13. Equipment. Not applicable ; He has no need - he sort of is the equipment. 14. Occupation. The Hand of God, he who sows destruction so that the Worldeater may devour, he who ends so another may begin ; He is one of the Worldeater's many offspring and far from favorite, but given the responsibility of carrying out His will on the physical plain, naturally dispositioned to do so. 15. Job Performance. Terror ; There's a reason the Worldeater chose him for this over Versus, thousands of years ago on the day of his birth. 16. Parents. Nocturne, the Worldeater, Endbringer, the primordial outer god of cyclical destruction and rebirth ; Considered to be the most powerful and furthest reaching of all outer gods, king of demons, dragons, and reptilian nightfolk, and feared as the god of them all. 17. Siblings. Much and many, but none he gives a shit about ; He has one even he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, a sister by the name of Versus - he finds her abhorrent in every way and would be quite happy to kill her again, given the chance.

⸻Personality Information. // Likes, Strengths, etc.

18. Likes. Snow, hydrangeas, napping, techno music, ghost stories, whatever the hell cellphones are, dancing, public transportation, scarbuncle cheese, modern pastries, beholder meat, fish, crocodingos, beholders in general, ice, rain, being in or around bodies of moving water, seaglass, early morning, styxies, recycling, mint chocolate ice cream, sulphur, dead silence, etc. 19. Dislikes. Nocturne, Versus, all of his other siblings too, humanity, nightfolk, weak and non-magic users, liars, picky eaters, whiners, high-pitched noises, chewing sounds, getting dirty, pickles, leeches, mooches, spiders, flies, fire-based magic users, boredom, people who are incapable of even accepting the truth, anything he can't eat, summer time, milk, etc.

20. Positive Traits. Adaptive. Unwavering. Decisive. Intelligent. Introspective. Driven. Protective. Capable. Thorough. Confident. Controlled. Serious. Rational. Strong-willed. Accommodating. Accepting. 21. Negative Traits. Temperamental. Selfish. Violent. Cruel. Cold. Dismissive. Sardonic. Bitter. Remorseless. Ill-Mannered. Murderous. Hypocritical. Dishonest. Disloyal. Impatient. Vulgar. Noncommittal. Manipulative. Merciless. Unforgiving. Possessive. 22. Goals. To usher in the end of the current cycle, to pave the way for the Worldeater to swallow the world whole and begin a new cycle ; There is no other goal, he has no other purpose. He was born for this and this alone. 23. Desires. To go the FUCK back to bed. 24. Alignment. Neutral Evil - True Neutral

25. Personality. Hydre is an asshole. A very bored, very tired, very pissed off asshole. He's not easy to get along with by any stretch of the imagination and he genuinely does not care about anyone or anything beyond entertainment value, whatever that means to him. He's impersonally brutal, focused and unwavering, but he is also lazy and would rather sleep another thousand years than satisfy the conditions of his continued existence. He's extremely guarded and views mortal pursuits as inherently pointless, especially when considering just how long-lived he is. He's quietly bitter and miserable, loathsome and angry that he must continue to suffer an endlessly repeating cycle. Life has no value to him. Emotions are of no use to him. But there is a hint of a person in there, the person he could've been had he not been born to Nocturne.

⸻Sorcery Information. // Element, Talent, etc.

26. Element. Creation Root - godhood has its perks ; He has full control over and can source all types and subtypes of magic inherently. 27. Shapeshifting. Innate Hydra - he is neither shapeshifter nor were, but because of the circumstances of his birth, an exceptionally unique anthromorph ; He has ascendant capabilities in regards to multishifting (he's even better than Loux and the Face-Eater combined). 28. Utility. All. 29. Specialization. Ice Element - he's a Glacial Hydra by rights, so ice would be his primary element, or at least the one he uses and prefers the most as it was the element he was born with. 30. Graduate School. Not applicable. 31. Classification. Mythic Terror, Icewalker, Ichorus Starbeast, Men Bondye - the Hydra with A Thousand Heads ; He is literally a legendary thousand-headed hydra when not confined to his humanoid shape, rendered to little more than a bedtime story in the modern era (the cause of many a nightmare). He was once immeasurably feared by all nightfolk and humans, the mere mention of his long-faded name a cause for immediate descension into madness.

⸻Background Information. // Past to Present.

lalal already have it lined out, just need to type it up. need to take a nap or i'll die

#➥ Hydre.#/ will edit later. big tired

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yakool-foolio · 1 month

Note

From what you said from the Vivia and Shinigami post, I’m curious to ask what other concepts did you feel were underutilized/never explored enough in the game (Outside of Vivia’s ability in the Mystery Labyrinth, and Vivia and Shinigami’s relationship)?

Another big underutilized part of Rain Code that many people have understandably rambled to hell n back about is the peacekeeper higher-ups as a whole. They're intimidating and all equally unique, but their potential as interesting antagonists with their own troubled histories was lost due to their small amount of screentime. We may get tidbits of info through the loading screen trivia or Kodaka loosely answering questions about them, but having very little shown through subtext in-game leaves a big hole that's begging to be dug deeper into. Seth is one of the better examples of having a decent gathering of hints in his design and trivia to make plenty of room for speculation about his religious and familial background (thank you @/wackpedion for your vast Seth knowledge); but then ya look at Martina, Guillaume, n Dominic, and there's a lot to be desired. I feel like the only higher-up who could get away with having no ounce of canonical history tied to him is Yomi. It is admittedly very intriguing to see how the fanbase takes an irredeemable villain and tries to figure out whether he's simply always been that way or some awful thing sculpted him into the asshole he is now. It's not necessary to know much about his background because he understandably takes up the most screentime as the main antagonist (until chapter 5) and he doesn't really need a history to reach the goal of being as intimidating as possible. That emptiness of a past is what makes him scary.

Further exploring the Resistance could also serve to make the player care a lot more about their cause and better understand how they mirror the Nocturnal Detective Agency, whether in a negative light or otherwise. Many of the side characters introduced in chapters 0-3 have the disadvantage of not much time to care about them before the murders occur, but chapter 0 and 2 show that it very well is possible to get the player to invest their emotions in smaller characters and having it pay off, which can be when the murders happen (chapter 0) or in the aftermath with the reveal of the motive (chapter 2). Chapter 3 suffers from having a group of new characters that have a big piece of Kanai Ward's worldbuilding with them, but their purpose is barely touched upon in favor of filling up that promising space with bomb minigames and QTEs.

#there's probably more but these were the two big ones that i believe matter most #even more than vivia n shinigami's dynamic #master detective archives: rain code #rain code #rain code spoilers

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villainsimpqueen · 3 months

Text

Below It Glows

Chp 7.

Miles Quaritch x Cave Navi Reader.

__________

(Fanart made by @nin3kyuu )

Enjoy!

**PERSONAL LOG - MILES QUARITCH**

*Date: ××, ××, 2144

**Encounter Report: Y/n Aysara - Na'vi Individual**

Tonight's shift took an unexpected turn with the unanticipated entrance of Y/n Aysara, a Na'vi individual, into the watchtower premises.

**Initial Observations:**

Y/n Aysara displayed signs of distress and aggression upon entering. Communication attempts proved futile initially due to language barriers.

**Communication Facilitation:**

Utilizing the translation app on the tablet, Y/n Aysara revealed affiliation with Eywa and expressed intent to teach Na'vi culture. A peculiar choice of instructor, considering my position.

**Physical Examination:**

Distinct physical features noted: four ears, two tails, and luminescent patterns on the skin. Silver eyes suggest potential nocturnal adaptation.

**Sanitation Assistance:**

Noticed motor oil contamination on Y/n Aysara. Offered water and a makeshift cloth for cleansing, revealing an aversion to motor oil.

**Language Exchange:**

Engaged in linguistic exchange facilitated by the tablet. Y/n Aysara emphasized the desire to convey insights into Eywa's teachings and Na'vi ways.

**Departure and Unresolved Mysteries:**

Y/n Aysara departed at dawn, vanishing into a mining hole, referencing a location known as "The glows." Attempts to locate her proved unsuccessful.

***Recommend***

I have decided to keep this a private matter, Limiting access to my files about this event.

**Conclusion:**

The encounter with Y/n Aysara presents an unprecedented situation requiring careful consideration and collaboration with the research team. Future developments will be monitored and reported accordingly.

*End log.*

Miles reaching his unit that morning was most likely the quickest he ever had been from returning home from a shift. He had practically collided with the unit's door as he stumbled into the entrance. He knew he should've been more quiet upon entering but he couldn't as he quickly crossed the living room to his desk snatching open its compartments for his old beaten up Holo Tablet device that was years old. It was the only thing he knew without a doubt it couldn't be traced and it was where he liked to keep his more reserved work files onto. Clicking the old devices buttons he waited as the screen booted up and projected allowing him to jot down everything that had happened. Gentle foot steps from the hall to their shared room brought little attention.

“Mi cielo, What are you doing?” Paz's voice slightly echoed in their living room a yawn covering her tone as she padded into their shared space. Yet Miles turns quickly and rushes towards her.

“You're not going to believe what happened.” He brought her over to their sofa sitting her down before he explained everything moving the updated tablet he had on him showing her the recorded conversation he had taken and the few poor quality pictures he managed which over pixelated The navy womens glowing stripes as if the holy tablets camera were not sure where to focus on the woman's body.

“She just..came into the tower.” Paz questioned as she read through the conversation staring at the woman's image.

“Stumbled through the door more like.” Miles answered as he moved, getting up and heading towards the kitchen to make them coffee.

“She was nothing like the other species Dr.Augustine's team had reached out to…four ears, two tails hell, even two of those connected things.”

“I believe they're called Queues..” Paz replied as she got up from the sofa moving to the kitchen's bar top to lean against it watching the back of her love.

“You should really take this to Grace.”

Miles did not respond right away, turning to lean back into the counter as he looked at Paz's face.

“I dont think it's a wise idea.” He spoke his tone lower than it had moments before, causing Paz to raise a brow, a simple gesture that he knew that she wanted him to explain.

“We're already on edge with the forest clan, Yea, and this Glows whatever they are…Paz they gotta be underground. She disappeared into an old mining hole. Straight down vanished. You think that's gonna go well with Ridge? This whole time with parts and stuff going missing, Mine operations are stalling and there could be a whole another clan hidden below our feet?”

He watched as Paz's brows furrowed, how her eyes moved from him and into the holotable in her hands.

“So what are you going to do about this?” She asked him looking back to meet his eyes with hers.

“Right now ima keep this on the low. Transfer everything to my old tab and data erase everything on my work one. Take it one step at a time.” He answers her moving to the other side of the bar leaning against it moving his hand out to take one of hers.

“I'd like you to show me how to do that.” He watched her brows furrow once more making his lips twitch upwards some.

“Erase the data.”

A snort leaving her as she shook her head.

“I will erase the data, but i want to know what's going on, if you're insisting on playing solo investigator, and she comes back i want to know everything.” Paz spoke to him firmly and He squeezed her hand.

“I wouldn't ever keep a secret from you Darlin.” He assured her.

And He found himself staying on the night shifts longer than he had originally planned. The difference was now Paz would sometimes come to bring him ‘lunches’ in hopes that she would be with him on a night where the mysterious Navi woman would appear.

Weeks had gone by before She had appeared again, one a night after Paz had left from bringing him ‘lunch’.

It was another night spent with the translation app on his work holo tablet and a conversation made up between broken tongue of the device, With a small screen off to the corner out his main screen way on mute communicating everything to an old outdated Holotablet in the Hands of the very woman who had missed out on being physically present in this encounter.

It had seemed to Frustrate You more as the conversation was not as fluent as a flowing river. And so this night was nothing but you saying the words in the correct way and having him repeat it back to you.

“Whetu Nui '' You spoke to him slowly in a way it sounded like your tongue was fighting against your teeth as you tried to dumb the word down for him for what must've been the hundredth time in the past five minutes.

“Whetu Nui” He Spoke back and watched how your ears moved. It was fascinating they could move individually had you wanted them too, but it seemed more commonly for them to move together.

You had nodded your head at him seemingly content in his pronunciation on how to say Big star in your language.

“Pai.” Your voice echoed through the call, as Paz held Miles' old holo tablet in her lab as she sat at the edge of the bed.

You were a stunning sight, sitting there close to the watchtower's doors in the darkened room, but she could hardly agree it was dark with how brightly things were illuminated by your markings glow. Sometimes the Camera would catch locking onto your body allowing a crystal clear image of what you looked like and it was those times Paz found herself quickly sliding her fingers across the holo tablets projected screen to snapshot those clear short lasting seconds before the camera became blurry or pixelated, It wasn't entirely the cameras doing but more so how Miles could not sit completely still.

The next morning it did not take Miles long to quickly return to her after the navi woman left.

There they both quickly went over everything, over several shared cups of coffee and it ended with Paz erasing all corresponding evidence of this hidden encounter off Miles' work Tablet and had everything encrypted over to the old beat up one which Miles would store the device away at the work desk.

“She was beautiful.” Paz whispered as they both laid together in their bed, her head against his chest as she could feel his hand moving up and down her arm.

“You should see her in person, it's something else, Darlin.” He whispers back, making her huff and smack his chest.

“I will be there next time she comes.” causing a chuckle to leave him.

“Of course Darlin.”

but it seems you were on an entirely different time schedule.

For you never showed up at the same time each time you did appear. Always at different times and So Paz watched you through a screen speaking to Miles, more so teaching him more of your language and unknowingly her as well.

“Whaea Nui.” She listened to your streaming voice.

Paz slowly mouthed the words before she too spoke them aloud.

“Whaea Nui.” Glancing from the old Holotablet to her own updated work tablet with the translation app spirling its little icon before the line moved forming the translation of Na'vi to Human English.

‘Great mother’

“Wha Nu.” Miles' voice crackled through the old Tablet projected screen causing Paz to let out a snort.

“Kino!..Whaea Nui. W h a e a N u i.”

“Whea Nue” Miles attemption of repeating what you had once again slowed down for him. Paz watched the screen amusedly to see how your pixelated ears moved back.

“Whaea nui homai te kaha ki ahau me tenei tama a tetahi atu whaea.” Your voice moved through with tones of draining patients and While Paz didn't fully need to know what you must've said, she could feel your irritation to understand. Through her eyes moved to her work tablet watching how the words translated causing her to snort.

“Hey, I'm trying!” Miles' voice cut through the olden tablet caused Paz to snort out another round of chuckles as she could assume his own tablet finally translated your tongues language.

It wasn't long before the first rays of the Pandoran sun started to peek through her and miles room window, and not even a few moments longer before you had vanished through the mining operations sight and into another hole when Paz heard the clicking noise of her being unmuted.

“Where do you think those lead too?” She asks him.

“To wherever she keeps calling the Glows darlin.” Miles voice records over.

Log Entry 1

Date xx, xx, 2144

She keeps coming back and it seems every time she does I miss her by a hair. I can see why Miles is captivated by her, for I am just as much as entangled by her as well. Each time she does appear at that watch tower, I find myself more and more curious about her. I've been taking well to her lessons, practicing her tongue as if it was my own. I found myself whispering her raught words as I did my rounds through the engineering room or other assigned tasks throughout my shifts. Miles and I have both taken to studying the Navi language through the Translation app far more seriously.

When I do get to finally meet her, I want to be able to speak with her without the tablets. Focus more on her facial expressions, for language is more than just simply saying the words, it is a dance of expressions giving the words meaning and life in the conversation.

I believe actually hearing her voice in person versus the cracking of miles old screen will help with that.

The last encounter Miles had asked her when she would be back, She had replied in a hurry before leaving.

The translator spit out nonsense

‘When the water stops dripping.’

We both could not come up with what she meant by that, another reason why we must learn her language to understand her better.

Log Entry 2.

Date xx,xx,2144

She meant when it stops raining!

I sometimes forget how attune to nature they seem to be with this planet. It wasn't even a day after the last encounter before the storms started to roll in. I Have never seen such hard and heavy rain, so much clean water poured down.

Miles and I have taken to the patio during these days, just sitting and watching the rain fall. It's calming, Just us sitting beside each other watching the storm pelt clean water against our patio glass, beating down on the forest that surrounds the base.

We have discovered that even when the forest is being pounded by the heavy falling rain that it's brimming with life.

The amount of creatures that seem to come out during the rain was carefully documented by Hells Gates research team, and the data uploaded for all to see.

Miles and I got the delight to see one of these creatures up close against the patio's glass paneling. A strange little creature that Dr. Augustine's team drew common parallels to extinct earth species of Hylidae, Gekkonidae. Miles kept poking at the patio glass to make the little thing move around despite me telling him to stop.

Dr.Augustine's team predicts that the rains will continue for at least two weeks before the storm passes through. That at least gave Miles and I a rough idea of when she would start coming back again.

This time when she comes back, I will meet her.

_________________

Whetu Nui- Big star

Whaea nui- Great mother

Whaea nui homai te kaha ki ahau me tenei tama a tetahi atu whaea- Great mother give me strength with this son of another mother.

#avatar way of water fanfics #avatar way of water #miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch x na'vi reader #recom miles quaritch #below it glows #cave na'vi #Navi species oc #paz socorro #miles quaritch x y/n #Miles Quaritch

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void-f3lt · 5 months

Text

He’s in a Panther’s Cage Now

Six months.

Six Fucking Months.

It has been six months, probably, since he’d last been back on Earth. Him and Loki, his Stupid younger brother, were on a plane together to go see their Father and then the plane got intercepted/fucking abducted??? by actual fucking aliens, people knew that aliens existed but that doesn’t make the entire situation any less fucking stupid!

A drug in some weird mist knocked everyone out(and probably killed a few) and then he woke up alone, in a cage with guards surrounding it.

Currently he’s just sitting in said cage cause, seriously these fucker’s are so dumb thinking that watching him from all angles will make it any harder for him to escape. News flash, it won't stop him from trying as he’s tried four times by now, and almost succeeded 2 & 1/2 of those times(the half is cause he killed a fucker then took a take to the bottom of his spine, yes he has not tried since).

What they should do is is leave him in a box with no gaps that he possibly fit through.

He doesn't want to deal with the other aliens, half of them probably have animal level of intelligence, in cages around him. And then he takes the thin but still metal food trays, that they give him everyday, bend and snap and sharpen into shanks during the Night Cycle because they either can’t or won’t have a nocturnal Fucker watch him.

They never give him edible food during feeding times anyway, they think he either 1) Don’t need food or 2) Is just being stubborn. He wake ups at those times to glare at the Fuckers and then throw the rat poison in the ‘toilet’ at(in??at?in???) the Night Cycle comes then takes out one of his granola bars and eats that.

He and his brother used to eat at night because they both have shit sleep schedules, their Mom hated it, his weird habits are his to keep Fucker's.

Alistair is getting real off track with his thought process tonight but what else is he supposed to do? It’s in the middle of the Night Cycle and nothing ever hap- oh wait,

never mind something is happening I swear to god if I have to fight another IRL nomu from MHA, I will go for the crowd next time. He can hear a Fucker carrying something… no some large?? alien, with the way they're yelling at another Fucker.

(He never wished for his translator to be more accurate then now)

“You are such a hujari axten! Just lift the hujari thing for once you DRIDE!!!” Fucker One said. “Look, I told you with the other one. I. Can’t. Touch. It.” Fucker Two responded with exasperation. “The dride is three times lighter than you would think, but still hujari huge and heavy and one the most violent and capable of this species we’ve taken alive!!” Fucker One yelled.

“Oh well I’m oh so sorry, that only me and you are walking around doing quiores right now. If only we could take one of the other guards that are on patrol just to lift this thing to a cell, when it is obviously easy for you to lift… you are just croky’ni lazy and want to go back to sleep, well guess what ya blasted axten SO DO I BUT SOMEONE HAS TO BE WITH YOU JUST IN CASE SOMETHING CROKY’NI HAPPENS YOU AXTEN’VERN!!”

Alistair was kinda shocked that they were just casually arguing while dragging someone to a cell where they will either be killed, experimented on, or put into The Gladiator Ring like him, or even just to sell the poor souls to the highest bidder. He wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t uncommon to see other aliens that just sell others cause, y’know, Money.

Alistair glares at the spot in his cage that can de-electrify and open up, with a new found hate. He doesn't mind the others in the sellroom because they're in their own cages but he absolutely hatessharing his space. While most of the other poor souls are asleep or close to, he must stay awake, his paranoia demands it what if they put.. whoever the hell, in my cage.

He waits as the arguing gets closer and closer, louder and louder, more annoying by the second because the other Fucker should just help the other other Fucker because it will get the work done faster.

He’s very glad that he is already used to very low light levels he and Loki both hate having the light on in their rooms, everyone (including themselves) are very confused by how well Loki’s eyesight is. After what felt like way too long they finally make it to his cell. Alistair glares at them, bringing in another poor soul into this shit-hole, how many have they done this too.

(Oh my god, why do I care)

He hopes it’s sentient, cause then, he could scare the shit out of it so it leaves him alone.

Alistair just watches as they open his cage, if this was a good time he would use his new knifes to stab these dumbasses in their dick-equivalent so he could escape. IF it was a good time but Alistair still doesn't know where Loki is being held, doing something like that now would be a death sentence. It seemed they finally stopped yelling at each other, probably trying to restrict the information they might let slip in front of him.

Both of them looked at each other for a second, having some silent conversation.

In quick succession, Fucker one turns off the electricity, opens the cage, as Fucker two throws the body bag as hard as they can, and when he says as hard as they can, this is a being getting tossed so hard they hit the back of the cell. He hopes that didn't electrify whatever or whoever was in the bag. Then as soon as whatever is in the bag left the guards arms, the cage closes and the electricity gets turned back on.

It went too fast to try and stop it from happening, the poor bastard might be dead with a hit against the bars like that. The back bars were still electrified so that just added more damage. Alistair wanted to keep glaring at the guards as they walked away but he couldn’t, this Stupidly lowng bitch in a bag may not be dead. He flicks his glare back and forth between the Fucks and bag but ultimately picks the bag.

Alistair slowly makes his way over to the bag and hears some chuckling from the Fuckers at the door. He doesn't care about them right now, he needs to make sure what ever is in the bag is 1) dead or not 2) if it’s sentient or prey animal so he can make it afraid of him or take his chances with the bars 3) if sentient and not hurt to bad, can they be useful.

He’s getting closer to the bag when he finally notices it’s moving a little bit. He tries to get a little closer again but stops at the sound it made. It sounded like a growl from a demonic lion that is half reformed from being blended in a blender about to claw its way out of hell, might be from the pain, might be because it’s stuck in a bag, or it’s sensing him and telling him to back up.

Whatever it is (probably) can’t see him so, it shouldn’t end up as badly, he’ll just be even more careful. Moving as slowly as he can, Alistair gets right beside the cursed creature in the bag. It’s moving a bit more and making more, demonic clearing of throat noises, but he has deducted that it must be waking up and hurt and/or pissed.

He stares at whatever this thing is, and he really doesn't care if they would find that offensive, they won't know anyway. He runs different ways he could get killed doing this and decides that whatever it is, it would be more upset if it was still stuck in a bag, better to make sure it can get out. Alistair was about to raise his pocketknife to cut through the bag but jumped back as the bag started thrashing back.

Absolutely not, safety first! He thought as he backtracked to his claimed corner, this thing would probably kill him going by the fact that it sounds like The Horrors and is like fifteen feet long so. Alistair eyes zero in on the bag and is amazed by how much it’s thrashing around in that thing, usually not even aliens with animal level intelligence thrash that much. But eventually it stopped thrashing but still moving.

It’s quite around them besides the huffing breaths, growls and the untranslated probable curse words he can hear from the bag. Everyone is just staring at them now.

Alistair watches to see what it might do, does it have claws or something to cut the ba- Why is it gripping where the knot is? They usually don’t do that! Others in the past, either claw their way out or someone else cuts through the bag, either way no one goes for the knot.

He watches as the top of the bag that is tied off gets pulled into itself a bit. It’s confusing trying to figure out what this thing is doing. Does it think it can somehow bring the knot into the inside of the bag and untie it or? If it somehow, by a sheer miracle, gets it fully through the bag…. What will it do now?

Alistair watched in silent, honesty amazed, horror as the now untied knot got tossed out and then the bag opened up. “Finally,” was said followed by more probable very creative insults directed at the Fuckers given their faces. He waits slowly breathing in the forgotten breaths for when it will leave the bag, he hasn’t known any sentient race that can do that.

His eyes track the….

Hand?

I mean it’s furry and has built in claws, but still, HAND???

Slowly exiting the bag first, It has long almost metallic black claws and the hand looks to be short charcoal black but dense fur, from wrist to a little below the elbow the fur seams to be compacted down. The other hand reaches around a little as the opening of the bag opens to let themself better. The guards at the door froze in fear as the creature’s eyes stared down into their souls, then it pounced.

#humans are space australians #i don’t know what i’m doing #writing #magic #i’m back #and very bad at tagging

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