#i could barely control them and they kept wandering off i had to wall them in eventually dklfhf

[lulublack90]

Prompt 15 - Before

@wolfstarmicrofic January 15, word count 974

It was the day of the full moon. Remus, had slept for most of the morning but was determined to get to his afternoon lessons. He ached all over. Some of his rib bones kept flexing painfully as though getting ready for later that night. Sirius had come and collected him for lunch. After they had double potions. Remus didn’t particularly like potions, but Lily had agreed to do most of the work, letting Remus sit at the desk and read out the instructions to her or chop the next ingredients. 

The room felt insanely hot for some reason this lesson. It wasn’t long before Remus had a splitting headache. Everything was too loud. He couldn’t seem to filter anything out. Every little sound found its way to his ears. He could hear Peter nibbling on the end of his quill. Mulciber scratching his arse, and Snivillius sniffed repeatedly as he refused to use a tissue. 

He was clammy and feeling very nauseous. He wanted to leave so badly, but he had to be careful not to draw attention to how often he was ‘ill’. 

He felt a gust of cool air begin blowing over him. He closed his eyes and sighed. He opened them again and looked around the room trying to find the source. Sirius winked at him, his wand in his hand. Remus was suddenly overcome with emotion and had to look up at the stone ceiling to keep the tears from flooding down his cheeks. 

“You doing ok, Remus?” Lily whispered. She knew about his furry little problem and would constantly check on him on the run-up to the full moon. He nodded slowly at her, not wanting to move too quickly in case he was sick.

Eventually, the lesson was over. Lily had successfully brewed their Befuddlement draught with almost no help from Remus and now there was only dinner to go before he went to the hospital wing.

“You go ahead. I’ll catch up in a minute.” He told Sirius as he packed his things away. 

“Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting for you.” Sirius said full of concern. 

“No, it’s fine. You guys go eat. I’m probably not going to have much anyway. Plus, my head hurts. I’m going to need a minute before I can deal with the Great Hall.” Remus winced as someone scraped a stool across the floor. Sirius reached out and squeezed his hands. 

“Okay, I’ll make a plate up for you for when you’re ready.” Sirius grabbed his things and followed the others out of the classroom. 

Remus followed soon after, relishing in the coolness of the corridors. He was just debating whether it would be better if he went straight to the hospital wing instead of dealing with the Great Hall when he found himself being cornered by Snape and his cronies. He must have wandered down the wrong corridor on his way back up to the main part of the castle. He really wasn’t in the mood for this. 

“Aww been abandoned Lupin? Have your little pals finally had enough of you?” Snape sneered at him. Remus let his wand slip down into his hand from his holster. Mulciber and Avery were still chortling at Snape’s not-so-funny retorts.

“Piss off Snape. Haven’t you got anything better to do, like washing your hair maybe?!” Remus growled, narrowing his eyes as hatred flooded his veins. This close to the full moon the anger came easily. Sparks shot out of his fingers, he just wanted to be left alone. 

They swarmed him, pressing him further into a corner. He was trapped. More sparks shot from his fingers. Mulciber shoved him into the wall sending spikes of pain through his body. He started shaking. He wasn’t in control of his magic anymore, one more hit and he’d explode. His eyes darted around looking for a way out.

“Gods, you are a lunatic aren’t you Lupin?” Snape snarled at him. “What are you going to do lunatic? There’s three of us, don’t think you’re going to make it out.” Remus tried to push past Mulciber but he slammed him back. Remus cried out in pain. He barely stopped his magic from blasting out into the Slytherins. 

“Well, well, Snivillus. And what exactly do you think you’re doing to our Moony?” Sirius appeared out of nowhere, leaning against the wall and buffing his nails on his robes. “Petrificus totalus.” He said lazily, pointing his wand at Muliciber. Not even waiting for him to hit the floor before he repeated the spell on Avery. He turned his attention to Remus. 

“You alright, Moony?” He asked, completely ignoring Snape. Remus shook his head. He could feel his magic wrapping around himself. He needed to get to the shack, away from the other students.       

“Sirius, I need you to get me out of here before I hex someone.” Hex was putting it lightly, but Sirius knew the signs of Remus’s magic explosions. 

“Okay, come on, let’s get going.” He held out a hand that he knew Remus wouldn’t take, but it was a gesture to get him moving.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Snape screamed after them. Sirius didn’t even turn around. He shot the spell over his shoulder as he kept an eye on Remus limping next to him. Snape fell to the ground in a full body-lock curse. 

“Sirius, I need to get rid of this magic before I explode.” Remus held up a hand, showing the blue threads wrapping themselves around his fingers and disappearing up his sleeves. Sirius nodded, still not touching him. 

“We’ll get you to the shack, and then I’ll help you get rid of it.” Remus nodded. His whole body shaking. Just a little longer, he kept telling himself. Just hold on a little longer before you let it go.  

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #sirius and remus #sirius x remus #lily evans #severus snape #the marauders #marauders era #the marauders’ era #dead gay wizards #marauders #before

[floralembarrassment]

hello I love your writing, could you write wolfstar where Remus walked in on sirius changing and sees all the scars Walburga left

it's okay if not 🤗

hi you! i actually really like this request so I hope this does justice to your heart's desire. with love

Who? How? (1/1) (wolfstar)

Remus wasn't really sure what anyone was playing at making him a prefect. He thought it might have been an attempt to reign in the marauders, but Remus was just as mischievous as the rest of them. And having had a proper gay crisis over the summer, he really had to put on a hardened act to make it through. Coming back to school and now having to police the others wasn't really how he thought he'd spend his 5th year.

He did, however, enjoy the perks. He liked being able to wander the castle just after hours, letting the silence and majesty of the old castle settle in his bones as his steps echoed off the stone walls. He liked the little bit of power it gave him, even though he knew shouldn't; but he had had little control in his life so being able to exert some now was an adventure in itself.

He also, shamelessly, like the prefect bathroom. The glorious soaps and endless hot water that was always the perfect temperature, and the fluffiest towels in the building made for an excellent cure for his sore bones.

But maybe he liked it most because Sirius once followed him in there after a party and then may have drunkenly laughed for hours at the bubbles, and it may be the place that Sirius first told Remus he was beautiful, and it may be the place that Remus and Sirius first kissed.

Even though Sirius doesn't ever bring it up, the kiss at least, Remus was hard pressed to not give Sirius the password after he begged him for it.

And today, the prefect bathroom may be the place that Remus sees Sirius nearly bare for the first time. And it is absolutely the place where Remus' heartbreaks and his gut is wrenched when he sees the jagged lines, some white and faded, some red and a bit raw, that covered his back and legs.

Remus knew Sirius had scars, he couldn't hide the ones on his arms, but they were not nearly as bad as these. When Remus gasped, Sirius jumped. He didn't realize anyone was there and certainly didn't mean for anyone to see his wounds.

Sirius quickly grabbed his jumper covering himself, and trying to hide the fear in his eyes as Remus observed his body. He didn't know why he was afraid but he knew it would be bad for someone to find out where the marks came from. In his panic he stuttered, "oh Remus uh I'm didn't hear you come in..."

Remus just kept looking at him. Heat rose inside him, and anger filling every inch of his body, as he realized that he was looking at scars that looked just like his own, except those were not claw marks on Sirius' body. They were slashes. Whips. Cuts so deep they probably needed stitching and clearly had been stitched poorly.

"Sirius, who did this to you?" Remus said finally.

Sirius was glad he broke the silence, but hated the question used to break it.

"Don't ask me that," Sirius replied hoarsely.

Remus said taking a few steps forward. He reached out his hand and moved the jumper down. Sirius surprisingly let him.

"Pads, how did you get those?" Remus said, as he reached his hand. He wasn't touching but his fingers hovered over a large scar that tore diagonally across his stomach.

Sirius's heart was beating out of his chest and he was breathing hard. But despite the urges to fight or run or yell or accuse, Sirius had never felt so safe laid bare.

"Remus..." Sirius whispered.

Their eyes had remained locked until that point when Remus looked down at his fingers and Sirius' gaze followed. They watched the breath fill and deflate from Sirius' chest and after a shared breath, Remus ran his fingers over the pale white skin.

Remus didn't know what he was doing but he knew he felt destroyed inside. Someone had hurt Sirius, his Sirius, and there had been no one to protect him.

Sirius just breathed and let Remus caress him. He had never known such tenderness. Remus' fingers traced up and stilled over Sirius' heart, pressing his palm firmly on his chest to feel his raving heart slow under his gentle touch.

"I won't ever let anything like this happen to you again," Remus said.

And even though they were just boys, even though there was not any way that Remus could protect him from his mother's wrath and his father's fist, even though he knew he was a monster himself who could've been the one to cause those scars, both of them believed that promise.

And even though it couldn't be kept, it didn't stop Remus from trying and it didn't stop Sirius from falling in love with boy who saw him, recognized that he was precious, swore to protect him, and chose to love him back.

#did i know i had an asks box? no #I'm sorry #it's sweet but it's also a rough start #wolfstar #marauders #fanfic #lgbtq+ #remus x sirius #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders era #remus john lupin #sirius orion black #marauders fandom

[dont-touch-my-soup]

Trapped

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CW: injured character, blood, references to past trauma

For a moment Kell couldn't move. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. He spun around, trying to find a way out, but the voices grew louder and more distinct. He still couldn’t make out any words, but they were coming closer. 

He moved before he could think about it. Blindly he stumbled into the study. 

He looked around frantically.

The windows. Maybe he could escape through the windows. 

He moved as fast as he could, one hand gliding over the wall, the other pressed against his chest. His muscles were burning, but he grit his teeth and pushed forward. 

He was already out of breath and sweating all over, but he windows had barely come closer. He would never make it.

Still, he kept on moving. He couldn’t give up. He had to try. 

When he reached the desk, pain shot through his body and he desperately braced himself against the furniture. For a moment he clung to the wooden edge. The room spun around him but he didn’t have time to wait for it to stop. He moved around it as quickly as he could, using it as a crutch. Books and writing tools toppled to the floor as he brushed against them. The sound echoing in his ears louder than it could be. Paper slowly sailed to the floor.

The voices stopped and then came closer faster, accompanied by the sound of footfalls.

Ice-cold terror washed over Kell. He’d never reach the windows in time. Numb with fear he toppled to his knees behind the large furniture. It blocked the view to the entrance. His mind started to form another idea. With the last of his strength he crawled under the desk. 

It was stupid to hide. The General would find him sooner or later. And the longer it would take, the angrier he would be.

But maybe he wouldn’t find him. Maybe he was lucky. Maybe … 

Of course he’d find him. It wasn’t even a smart hiding place.

But it was too late now anyway. 

His head felt too heavy and too light at the same time and it was hard to follow the thoughts chasing through his mind. He had to calm down. He had to get his breathing under control. Pain throbbed through his chest and he pressed a hand against the bandages covering his abdomen.

His limbs were shaking so hard, it was almost impossible to move. His knee bumped against something solid. It glittered in the dim gloom coming from the windows – a letter opener. He blindly reached for it, listening to his instincts that had never failed to get him into trouble.

“He can’t be far,” a baritone voice said from next door. It wasn’t the General’s, but Kell still winced at the sharp sound. “Two days ago, we weren’t even sure he’d survive. How can he even stand on his own feet?”

Two days? How long had he already been here? How long had he been unconscious?

“He’s desperate to get out of here,” a second voice said quietly. “He’s scared. We shouldn’t have left him alone.”

“Well, none of us thought he’d wander off in the middle of the night. He wasn’t supposed to wake up yet,” the first voice answered, getting angrier.

Cold dread filled Kell’s veins. Had they drugged him? It would explain why the doors hadn’t been locked or at least his hands had been tied. 

“Enough,” a female voice chimed in. “He can’t be far. We have to find him.”

Kell ducked his head as if that would protect him from being found.

“I think I know where he went,” the baritone voice said slowly and Kell’s stomach turned into lead.

Someone cursed and Kell flinched so hard his head banged against the desk. He hissed in pain. Then the door squeaked and Kell shut his eyes. Steps slowly came closer. He could feel the vibrations under his finger tips. A floorboard creaked. His heart hammered in his chest. He pressed his back into the wood until it hurt.

A pair of legs came into his view.

Heavy military boots. Kell knew exactly how they felt. He could almost feel the bruises they had left on his skin like they were still there. 

He tightened his grip around the letter opener until his hand was shaking with the effort, still hoping for a miracle, but his hiding spot had become a trap.

The person started to bend down in front of the desk. Kell held his breath. Then a face swam in front of him. For a second Kell saw the hard eyes and the thin mouth of the General, then his lips curled into a cruel smile. “I found him,” he said, so loud Kell flinched.

***

Kell pressed himself further into the corner, but there was no way out. 

The General bent down in front of him, one hand gripping the desk, examining him with a displeased expression. 

Something like a whimper escaped Kell’s throat.

“It’s okay,” the General said but it wasn’t the General’s voice. “You’re safe now. We just want to help you.”

Kell blinked against the veil of fear. 

This wasn’t the General. 

He looked younger, but he was tall and muscular, his hair short and his clothes tidy. 

He was probably working for the General. Of course he wouldn’t search for Kell by himself. He’d let others do the work like he always did. 

In the end it didn’t matter. They’d drag Kell out of his hideout and bring him to the General. 

He knew he should give up, but even if he weren’t shaking like a leaf, he was too exhausted to move his feet. He could barely keep himself up right. 

He wanted to apologise, beg, bargain, but he was trembling so hard it was impossible to get a single syllable out. 

The Varsennan shifted his weight and Kell braced himself for whatever was about to happen. He just hoped he would go easy on him when he didn’t fight back. Tears pooled in his eyes. He couldn’t face the General a second time. He wouldn’t survive him a second time. 

At least he hadn’t gotten his hands on Jinn. At least he’d be safe. He’d made it out. He had to. He would find his family. Live his life. He’d be happy.

Kell clung to that hope with fierce desperation.

“Saron,” the man said and looked somewhere to the other side of the study. The single word floated through the room and for a long moment Kell wondered what it meant. His Varsennan was good but he’d never heard that word before. Then another pair of footfalls came closer. 

Ice burned through Kell’s veins. What was happening? 

He clenched the letter opener so firmly as if it was the only thing holding him up right. His lips were forming words, but no sound came from them. The trembling got worse. 

A second person emerged. She was smaller and thinner and looked less threatening than the man. But Kell had learned a long time ago that looks could be deceiving. 

The tall Varsennan placed his hand on her arm and leaned closer as he said something to her too faint for Kell to catch up. Why would he call her over? Why would he need her help? It didn’t make sense. 

Finally, she nodded and he left. 

She looked down at Kell, her eyes wandering over him like she was searching for something. Then she crouched down to the floor in one smooth motion and Kell flinched back against the wood. He swallowed and lifted the letter opener a little higher, grabbed it a little firmer.

“D-Don’t come any closer,” he stuttered hoarsely and immediately regretted it. “Please,” he added, his voice high and faint.

It had been stupid to even grab the letter opener. It wouldn’t help him anyway. He should just do what he was told. But he couldn’t let go. It was like his muscles were locked in place without him controlling them.

“All right. I won’t,” she said, lifting her hands, surrendering. “I’ll just sit down here, okay?” Slowly she sank to the floor, her legs crossed. She wasn’t wearing any shoes and her hair was hanging in a long braid over her shoulder, the tip of it nearly reached her thigh. It wasn’t how a Varsennan woman would make an appearance in public. “I won’t come any closer.”

It didn’t make any sense. They could just drag him out. A letter opener was hardly a weapon worth their time. Even if Kell weren’t injured, they’d be stronger than him. And they knew it too. 

He couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t stop. 

They were toying with him. 

His heart fell. 

It was too late. 

He pressed his eyes closed and let go of the letter opener. It clanked to the floor.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to run away …” Tears sprang to Kell’s eyes and his vision turned blurry. He swallowed back more tears. “It was an … an accident … I-I …Please … I’ll do anything you want,” Kell begged. His throat was on fire and his voice barely intelligible. He pressed his hand protectively to his chest and kept talking. “Just don’t tell him. Please … I won’t do it again. I swear. Please don’t tell him I ran …”

A touch silenced him and he jerked his head down. The woman’s hand rested on his knee and for a moment Kell expected to feel pain or some form of magic simmering through his body. 

But nothing happened. He looked up to find her eyes on him. They were brown and if she was using any magic it was definitely no demon magic.

“We won’t tell anyone anything. I promise,” she said. 

She spoke slowly as if to make sure he understood and Kell noticed an odd accent in her voice he couldn’t place. She wasn’t Varsennan. But she wasn’t Tharlian either. Kell blinked against the light. He couldn’t place it. He should know, but it was like his brain was too slow.

“My name is Saron,” she said. “Can you tell me your name?”

It felt like a test. He’d promised to do whatever they wanted from him and even though there was no reason why she’d keep her part of it, Kell clung to that hope. 

“Kell,” he whispered. 

“Kell,” she repeated. Her voice gave it a soft sound. Somehow he wanted to trust her. He looked up to her, searching for her eyes. They were still brown and for the moment that was enough.

***

Kell’s eyes were hefted on her face. He was breathing heavily and Saron wasn’t sure if it was from panic or exhaustion. He was too thin and she didn’t like how he was looking at her. His hands were pressed against his chest and it looked like the blood stain on his bandages was growing steadily. 

She tried not to look too closely at him but it was hard not to see the bruises around his neck and the scars covering too much of his body. 

She didn’t have to be a medic to know how narrowly he’d slipped past death.

According to Julian the owner of the theatre had lost his temper after he’d sung a Tharlian song in the middle of a show. 

Looking at Kell, she knew it wasn’t the full story. He looked too terrified to even breathe wrongly. He didn’t look like a fighter.

But he had survived. And now he was here.

Saron had never planned on getting involved. She was supposed to travel, see the world, not to fight a war that wasn’t even her own. 

But somehow she got stuck here and now these damn blue eyes pierced into her, telling a story of pain she really didn’t want to know.

Mathias had been right. They shouldn’t have left him alone.

She cursed Julian and Mathias and every decision that had led to this moment and took a deep breath. 

Slowly, she pressed her hands together searching for the right words. Julian had sent her to gain his trust. He’d asked her to lure him out of his hide. Because apparently he thought she was most likely not to appear as a threat. 

But Saron wasn’t good with words and she was hardly a patient person. 

“Kell,” she said again, because she didn’t know what else to say and somehow the sound of his own name seemed to calm him down. 

“Do you remember the tall man who left a minute ago?” she asked.

Kell’s eyes twitched, then he nodded carefully. 

”His name is Julian and he’s a medic,” Saron explained slowly. She’d thought about switching to Tharlian but her Tharlian had never been any good. With her luck she’d probably make everything worse by mispronouncing a word. “He took care of you and he wants to check on you because you’re bleeding again.” Her hand moved to her chest mirroring where his injury was.

“But I don’t think he’d fit under the desk. The sofa would probably be more comfortable. And there’s tea too. Do you like tea?” 

He nodded carefully but otherwise he wasn’t moving. 

“We don’t want to hurt you. We just want to help. Do you understand?”

Again, Kell nodded. Saron wasn’t sure if he actually understood or if he was just nodding along to her words. He was probably too scared to really get what she was saying and definitely too scared to trust her anyway. 

She stifled a sigh and stood up. “Let’s get you out of here, okay?” she said in a - what she hoped - gentle enough voice and reached out her hand to him. Hesitantly he placed a hand in hers and she pulled him to his feet. 

He tried hard to suppress the whimper, but Saron heard it anyway. As soon as he was standing next to her, she knew something was wrong. His eyes dropped shut and suddenly he collapsed. She wrapped her hands around his arms, but he started to slip from her grip. Just before he fell to the floor, Julian was next to her, catching him and lifting him up. 

Kell’s eyelids fluttered, then he stared at the ceiling, his eyes so big and so fearful it cut into Saron’s heart. 

“It’s all right,” Julian murmured and Saron could tell how hard he tried to keep his voice soft and unthreatening. Still, it didn’t seem to have the desired effect. Hurriedly he carried him to the sofa. 

Kell wasn’t moving except from the shaking in his limbs. His eyes were still staring into the distance and he was stammering something too faint for her to hear. 

She threw a blanket over him. “It’s all right. You’re safe,” she said and took Kell’s hand. She kept repeating the words over and over, while Julian was doing whatever he was doing. Hopefully he’d take over soon.

She brushed her thumb over the back of Kell’s hand. There were even scars on his hands, shaped too round to be natural. She couldn’t even imagine what kind of thing caused scars like that. 

“It’s all right,” she said again. The words tasted bitter on her tongue. He wasn’t okay and looking at him she wasn’t sure he’d ever be. 

Just as she wanted to ask Julian what the fuck he was busy with, Kell blinked and then finally he seemed to see her again. 

Her hand was shaking a bit as she stroked the hair out of his face. His skin was too hot. She pressed her palm against his forehead and he weakly flinched away from the touch. 

“He’s burning up again,” she murmured. 

Kell stirred at the sound of her voice. “Sabea,” he whispered. Saron’s heart twisted as she recognised the name. “Sabea Minarth” had been written on the slip of paper clutched in his hand, when they’d found him. Maybe she was a family member or maybe a friend. She looked at Julian, but he only pushed a glass in her other hand. “Get him to drink something.”

She swallowed. She wanted to throw the glass back at him and tell him to do it himself but he was already hefting his gaze on the growing red stains on the bandages covering Kell’s chest. 

Saron looked down into the glass. The surface of the liquid rippled softly and the smell of herbs wrapped around her and calmed her. 

How did Julian do this day by day without going insane? 

She took a deep breath. “It’s all right,” she mumbled as she pulled Kell into a somewhat sitting position. “You’ll soon feel better.” Somehow it sounded like a question. She pressed the glass against his lips. She was relieved when he started to drink, slowly, his eyes closed like it was the hardest task in his life.

“Will he be all right?” Saron asked in Severin. She didn’t want him to understand her question and even less the answer. 

Julian didn’t look up right away. “He won’t die,” he answered quietly and it sounded like an oath. He moved around Saron to kneel next to Kell.

Kell had sunken back against the pillows, sweat was pearling on his face. His eyes were closed and his breathing had finally eased. Saron wasn’t sure how much he even understood. 

“I’ll cut through the bandages,” Julian said, moving into Kell’s line of vision. “It shouldn’t hurt, but if you feel any pain or discomfort, please tell me right away, okay?”

Kell didn’t react. The only movement was his hand sliding from the sofa. 

“I didn’t expect him to fall asleep that fast.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Saron said. “He was very scared.”

Julian’s hands were moving confidently, but his eyebrows were pinched as he examined the wounds. 

Saron turned her gaze back to Kell. His face was still coated in sweat and she grabbed a clean bandage, soaked it in water and started to dab his forehead. 

A soft humming filled the room and she turned her face back to Julian. 

“He did that yesterday too,” Julian said without looking up. “Maybe he’s trying to calm himself down.”

It probably made sense for a singer. Saron wondered what song he was humming. Or maybe it wasn’t even a song. Maybe it was just a random combination of tones.

When Julian was finally done, the sky was already starting to brighten and her eyes were burning from lack of sleep, her limbs cold and stiff.

“Go to bed.” Julian bowed down and kissed her on top of her head. “I’ll take care of him.”

Saron was too exhausted to argue and also she hadn’t been the one to bring a half-dead Tharlian into their home so looking after him really wasn’t her job.

_________________  

Thank you for reading! @whumpzone @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @whump-cravings @tears-and-lilies @imagination1reality0 @suspicious-whumping-egg @i-can-even-burn-salad @siren-of-agony @villainsvictim (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)  

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#Unsung Heroes #injured character #references to past trauma #long chapter #because I didn't wanna end on another cliffhanger #:)

[babeczka415]

Heart like a Truck

A/N: this is something I haven't done ever! Creating this MC took alot as I am putting a lot of me into her.

There is so much going on in her life. She tries not to let her mind wonder but sometimes she does. This is one of those moments.

Cecilia Dunn found herself sitting on the swing on the front porch with her morning coffee. She could see a slight hit of the nighttime stars in the sky as the sun was starting to show up. The hint of orange coming up over the mountains with the nighttime sky still above always took her breath away.

The smell of the hay and grass was distinct in the dew from the storm from last night and her strong coffee with the cinnamon was under her nose. Her mind wandered in these moments to him. She never thought she would love someone after everything. She was raised to never let emotions control your mind but with Jake Andrews she couldn't help it. Something about this wanted man pulled her to him.

She wasn't sure when she was going to see him again but she made sure he knew this was a safe haven for him. A few hundred acres of ranch on the outskirts of a small town with few cameras. He could be free the moments he was here. However, that man never stayed long. This next time she hoped was different, she missed him every time and knowing he kept leaving didn't let her walls truly come down.

Did she love him? Hell yes, she would do anything for him. 

She was brought back to someone walking up the stairs. She looked up and saw Casey. He was like the brother she never had. He has brown hair and hazel eyes. The typical cowboy her daddy brought home to help on the ranch. Most of them never stuck around but he did. Which is why he was now in charge of keeping the boys in line.

"Cece, you might want to come to the barn today. There are supposed to be a few babies being born." Casey spoke to her. His voice made her smile.

He was one of the few to still call her Cece, and she loved it because it was a family nickname. 

"Okay I will be there. I know I got that wild mustang to break still that you managed to bring home." She chuckled at that. She still didn't know how he got that horse in the trailer without getting kicked. Shit, she almost got herself kicked and all the horses loved her.

"I knew you needed a project," he says as he sits down on the wooden swing next to her. She let out a sigh, it was the truth she was always looking for something to keep her mind busy. She felt his hand on her arm. "Any news on that man of yours?"

Casey knew a little about Jake. He didn't know the wanted part but he knew Jake took her heart every time he left here. Cecilia put on her mask that he had seen so much these last eight years. However, he wasn't blind, he saw the way she opened up when this man came around. While he didn't know everything he knew the real Cece came out when this man was around. 

Her sigh told him everything, "not yet but he knows here is always safe." Her heart was closed off from pretty much everyone now but Casey saw through it. She turned away from the sun rising and looked him in the eyes.

Casey knew this look, she was struggling but wasn't going to let them see it. He had caught her in a moment of what she calls weakness. "I will meet you at the barn with the boys." He stood up and messed up her hair. He knew she hated it but it was their way of saying see you soon. 

Cecilia swatted his hand away with a chuckle. "I'll be down in a few in the truck. Get those boys ready for one hell of a day."

—-----------

The sun had long gone down by the time she pulled the truck up to the front of the house. She had barely looked at her phone but saw she had a new text from him. She was covered in dirt, hay and God knows what else but it was an amazing day. 

Casey was sitting in her passenger seat with two drinks in his hand. He figured she deserved one of his favorites after putting up with the boys today. He had no idea how she handled them as well. Actually that part is a lie, he knew how. Her father raised her to be one of the boys around the farm and she held that title well through the years.

They move to the tailgate and look up at the stars. It was a clear night and you could see every single star in the sky. 

"Cecilia, how in the hell have you not given up and left this small town again yet?" He saw her smile at his phone and knew she was lost in her world.

She looked at her phone and saw the message that he was on his way. She had no idea when he would be here but this time she knew she wasn't letting him leave her. She was brought out by a nudge to her shoulder.

She took a breath and almost gagged. She knew she stuck after today but man it was worse than normal. "Sorry, Casey. He's on his way." She looked up at the sky with a smile.

"I have never in my life since knowing you smile like this. I think it's time he got a real taste of the real Cece." Casey smiled at her.

He knew most men couldn't handle the side of her she kept hidden from most but he also knew she wasn't one to fall head over heels in love with just any man.

They laid back on the bed that was still covered in hay talking and remembering the moments they shared together just like this. Just as they were about to call it a night they heard a vehicle and saw the headlights. They both knew whoever it was, was on the ranch. Casey put his hand on his gun and stood in front of her as she didn't have hers on her directly.

Her breathing stopped as she saw the black sports car come up the road. She knew exactly who was in the car, she knew who she needed. It didn't occur to her to consider her appearance after the long day that she had. She needed him, only him. Nothing else mattered. As the car parked in front of the old big farmhouse she couldn't help but push Casey to the side and run to him.

Casey followed behind in case it wasn't who she had thought but as soon as the man got out of the vehicle he moved his gun and relaxed. He knew there was no doubt now this was Jake.

Cecilia ran up and stood in front of him but didn't wrap her arms around him as she was still filthy from the day work and now had hay in her hair. However, this man saw none of it and wrapped his arms around her and stared into her hazel eyes.

#duskwood #duskwood fandom #duskwoodlover #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #jake x mc #fanfics #mc x jake #i love jake #heart like a truck #duskwood family

[saishuu-heiki]

A father's words — always in the precipice of mind and searing more harshly than physical wounds. Even without the knowledge that he himself was the result of a genetic experiment of man and monster , Sephiroth was no child of ignorance and knew he had been subjected to strange things. As horrid as his upbringing was , there was also a vile knowledge that there were other horrors lingering inside the mind of his father . . on the other side of walls he shared. When curiosity had infiltrated his mind as it did with the minds of children , his face was met with the gaunt angles of a vulture and the glint of glasses. As coolly as a man ordering a coffee at a local cafe , he had said " curiousity will rip your arm from its socket , and I won't be there to stop them. "

All it took was a single glance inside the eyes of Professor Hojo to know the monstrosity lying within mind and actualized by hands. It was not until his adulthood did Sephiroth take to wandering the science department at ShinRa , and it wasn't precisely due to curiousity which had never been satiated — for the sake of the safety of others , he needed to know what terrors were to be discovered. Hojo was smart however , nothing which would give way to the Jenova project or Sephiroth's experimentations were ever kept in the open. Even without Jenova discoveries at hand , there were plenty of other things to be found most of which hinted at sadism. Cages , chains , vials of queerly coloured substances , soiled medical restraints , bins and bins of medical waste.

Sephiroth's footsteps echoed inside eerie rooms and hallways as he continued forward. Forward and forward. Was he purposefully searching for anything to justify raising a hand to the man who had so cruelly forged him? Sephiroth could not say or would not. Authorized personnel signs were ignored , and the prodigal creation passed from one door to the next , seemingly passing through nine different doors [ meant to keep someone out or something in ] before he reached an especially unique room. While still being inhospitable , there was also a strange alluring undertone to the space.

Hues of greens and blues shimmered off the walls , and so unexpected it was it took Sephiroth several moments before he realized it was the reflection of moving water being cast upon walls. A room which was not quite a room was impressively expansive , far wider and taller than the rest of the halls he had passed through. Beyond control panels and monitoring devices , a tank filled with water immediately caught the eye. Serene and eerie in one. Even before realizing a living form was within , the silver haired man approached ; a moth drawn to a flame. The sudden appearance of face and body from within the waters did no startle nor alarm though the man's brow furrowed.

❛ What have you done now . . ❜

Sephiroth spoke to a Hojo who was not there ; voice just barely above a whisper. Gloved right hand reached for the cool surface of the glass encasing water and whatever it was which lived inside @mcrroww. Half of him expected hand to penetrate glass to touch the creature within which made no degree of sense . . but he had thought it possible . . for a second. He ceased looking past her and feline eyes focused on the creature's face with a gaze of curiosity and pity.

❛ . .What are you? ❜

#⸝⸝ ⁰⁰³ : dark words on dark wings #mcrroww

[therenlover]

One Last Night In Madripoor (An 18+ Helmut Zemo/Reader Oneshot)

Synopsis: Baron Helmut Zemo is a lonely, wanted man looking for some fun, you’re a piss-poor bounty hunter in search of a connection before leaving your life of crime behind, and fate has brought you together at a party the likes of which has never been seen before. You only have one night left in Madripoor, so why not take a chance?

Tags: Smut, SoftDom!Zemo, Hook Up, Semi-Public Sex, Drinking, Safe Sex, Explicit Consent, First Meeting, Wall Sex, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Swearing, Explicit Sexual Content

Word Count: 4200~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

---------

Madripoor was a place like nothing you had ever seen.

It wasn’t that the sights were anything special. You could find seedy criminal underbellies lined with neon where the streets ran red with blood anywhere if you looked hard enough. Even the ocean view didn’t do much to set it apart from any other place visually. No, Madripoor’s scenery and architecture weren’t what kept your eyes wide with wonder whenever you found yourself wandering through the winding back-alleys without a purpose. It was the people that kept you around.

Thieves, pirates, and miscreants had been taking shelter at the docks since before anyone there could remember. It was a city borne of the underbelly of society, the people nobody sees, but you saw them. You saw them every day when you stood in the main market waiting for an easy bounty. There were faces everywhere; big and small, tall and short, scarred and flawless. No two people in the streets of Madripoor were ever exactly alike. If you needed to remember someone, their unique face was right there waiting in your mind.

After living on the island for almost 6 months, most people were already cataloged neatly in your mind as friend or foe. This man, though, he was new. He was different.

The night was still young. There was some trouble at the Princess Bar that ended with Selby dead and a few murderers loose in the streets with a price on their heads, but you steered clear. Going after the killers meant going up against hundreds if not thousands of trained bounty hunters and assassins and no amount of money was worth dying over now, not while you were so close to freedom. Instead of chasing your doom, you decided to head to your room, get dressed up, and head out to wherever the music was loudest in search of a place to forget about your problems for the night. The thudding sounds of poorly DJ-ed club remixes led you to Leonardo’s Place. That’s where you found him.

You were two drinks in and sticking close to the wall when he stumbled into your line of sight. What initially caught your eye was his dancing. He couldn’t move for shit. What kept your attention, though, was his face.

There was transience to him, like at any moment someone could bump into him and he would disappear without a trace at their touch. Despite that he was gaudy. Everything about his clothing screamed wealth and fine taste from the thread count of his obnoxious purple turtleneck to the shine on his boots. He was strange, a walking contradiction, and one who had never had the pleasure of gracing your presence or screwing you over in the past. In the simplest of terms, he intrigued you. With nothing left to lose you downed the last of your cocktail and made your way to the gap in the crowd where the stranger had staked his claim. It was game time.

“You come here alone?” You asked. Your voice was barely a whisper above the heavy thrumming of the music.

He gave you a long look up and down before answering as if he were trying to size you up. Something about having his gaze linger on your body made your heartbeat soar. “I’m not looking for company,” His accented tone was gruff but left a sliver of room for reconsideration. You took the chance. What could go wrong?

With as much tact and grace as you could muster you let yourself slip a little closer to him. “What, do I look too expensive for you?” you teased, before backing off with a grin, “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m not here for that. My job is a little more… dangerous.” As you danced, the hem of your dress rode up your thigh just enough to reveal the knife holster in your garter belt. It pleased you greatly to see this handsome stranger do a double-take; that meant he was looking at your upper thigh in the first place. “I just liked what I saw in you… do you like what you see in me?”

Somehow, your little joke had endeared him to you, however minutely. Instead of brushing you off the man paused his jerky dancing for a moment to really take you in. Then, he caved. “Would you like a drink?” He asked.

You smirked. “Who would I be if I turned down a free drink from a handsome stranger,”

He met you in the middle as he offered you his hand. “I never promised it would be free,”

So, the two of you found yourselves at the bar, bodies leaned into each other and away from the rest of the sweltering crowd as the bartender slid you your order. The stranger was drinking a brandy straight while you opted for a sidecar. It was enough alcohol that you were starting to feel pretty buzzed, but you still felt in full control of yourself. You took a long sip before speaking. “So, what should I call you?”

It took him a moment to respond but once he did, he seemed sure of himself. “You can call me Helmut, but Baron is fine as well,”

You cocked up an eyebrow. “Is that a nickname?”

“More of a title,”

He took a drink as you gawked. “Like royalty?”

“Not like. I am,”

Your cheeks flushed. The rational part of your mind was so stunned by the ease with which Helmut lied that it seemed to short circuit completely, leaving you very puzzled and more than a little intrigued. “Well, pardon me, Mr. Baron. What’s royalty like you doing in a place like this?”

“There are plenty of reasons a man like me would have business here. A woman as beautiful as you, though… not so much,” he waved his hand in loose gestures as he spoke, “Why risk your life and beauty for this? A life living in the underground where you cannot so much as dream of seeing the stars?”

You finished your drink in one large swig. It burned down your throat but you relished in the pain. “Not all of us are lucky enough to be born in a place where we can see the stars. Funny enough, though, I’m just about to get out,”

“Is that right?”

“I finally saved up enough money from small jobs to buy my way out from under the Power Broker’s thumb,” Something about the way Helmut smiled at you made you feel safe. It was like you could tell him your worst, darkest secrets and not feel an ounce of fear or guilt. “I’m nothing special here, a small-time bounty hunter, and I kept it that way for a reason. I’m not valuable and I don’t know much. If I just pay my dues and keep the money coming until I can get their claws out of my back, I should be free to leave with a freighter tomorrow morning,”

Helmut was quick to respond. “Ah, travel by freighter. It’s terribly dangerous to be a stowaway, you know? Impossible to predict quite what the seas will be like,”

“Well, that’s just a risk I’ll have to take to get out of here and stop… what was it that you said I was doing? Risking my life and beauty?”

The two of you chuckled as Helmut took one last drink to empty his glass. Then, the conversation stilled. Around you people were alive, gyrating to the music as their pulses thumped to the beat, but it was like they weren’t even there. Instead, your whole being was focused on the strange man in front of you who had stolen away your sensibilities with his cool tone and thick accent. He made you feel alive. No, more than alive. Every color was brighter, every sound was sharper, every sip of your drink was crisper. He was a once-in-a-lifetime man, and this was a once-in-a-lifetime night. Oh, to hell with it!

“I like you, Baron,” you purred, pressing yourself close to him. His breath hitched the moment you touched him. He acted as if it had been a very long time since he was last touched like that. “And I think you like me too. In fact, I think you like me enough that we should take this conversation somewhere a little more private. What do you say?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his gloved hand made its way around your wrist, and in a moment’s time, he was pulling you across the crowded dance floor towards a small, secluded hallway. You assumed that meant yes.

The instant you made it to the shelter of the shadows Helmut was on you like a man starved. One of his hands was quick to explore the skin just above the hem of your dress as the other pressed against the wall, caging you in and holding you as a more than willing hostage to his affections. He didn’t kiss your face, and you weren’t complaining about that, but he did put his mouth to good use sucking a dark bruise into your collarbone. His ministrations only stopped when a high, keening sound escaped your lips.

“You like that, don’t you, meine kleine schlampe?” he growled through gritted teeth. Something about his tone turned your already weak legs to jelly. The second you went limp in his grip, though, he pulled back. Straightening himself out, he offered you a steadying arm. You took it without hesitation. “I’m terribly sorry to be so rude. I assure you that I am not usually the type of man to hook up with someone on a whim, I’ve simply been… indisposed for many years and haven’t had many opportunities for pleasure, especially not with a woman as beautiful as you,”

His compliment was enough to have you blushing like a schoolgirl. You had killed more people than you could reasonably count, and probably fucked even more, but something about the way Helmut looked and sounded and acted made you feel almost innocent to his advances. He was a drug and you needed to get your fix before he disappeared forever.

“Does that mean you think I’m special?” You asked, all doe eyes with an innocent smile. Helmut ate it right up.

“Yes, schatzi. Very special,”

You hitched a leg up, letting your heel dig into his expensive dress pants and drag him closer to you once again. “First your little slut and now your little treasure? Which one is it, Helmut?”

“And so smart,”

“Move, Baron!”

At your insistence, Helmut was on you once again, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses down your neck as he fiddled with his gloves, yanking them off and shoving them in his back pocket before he continued. “So demanding,” he chided, and yet he continued to lavish you with affection, his hand climbing higher and higher up your thigh. Your back was pressed flush to the wall now, and you were painfully aware of just how warm Helmut was. He smelled like a rich man’s cologne and yet his skin tasted of cheap soap when you leaned in to give him a bruise of his own.

“You love it,” you replied. He let out a husky laugh.

“I suppose I do,” he chuckled, and then his fingers brushed over your core. Your knees buckled. Helmut kept you upright with his body as he continued to taunt you through your underwear, but he seemed more confident now, almost cocky. “My needy schatzi, have you no patience?”

Your response was breathless; a confession.

“Not with you,”

Something about your words lit a fire in Helmut’s eyes. In an instant he had your leg hiked up while he ground his hardened length against your clothed wetness. Your mind went blank. He felt big. A mindless whimper fell from your lips.

“How do you want me?” Helmut asked. As he spoke he ran a light finger down your elevated thigh. You offered up another whimper. “I’ll need you to use your words and tell me what you want or I can’t give it to you,” His tone had you wet enough that you worried you were dripping.

With a gulp, you managed to fumble out the words. “I’ll blow you first if you promise to fuck me,”

That had him grinning like a wolf. “Perhaps you are my little schlampe, so eager to get down on your knees for me…” And you were. Even on shaky legs, you found yourself happily falling to your knees as the Baron fumbled with his fly. It was only then that you found yourself gazing down the hall towards the cacophony of lights and sounds and people maybe 20 feet away from your hiding place in the shadows. As if he could sense your discomfort, Helmut paused. “Are you alright?”

You nodded quickly. “I just forgot we were out in the open for a second,”

“Do you want to stop? If the location is the problem, I would gladly pause so we can find a new hideaway,” he stopped short, looking down and meeting your heavily lidded gaze, “or perhaps the idea of putting on a show excites you?” Your heart jumped out of your chest. Helmut noticed. “Well, if my little schlampe is so keen on putting on a show, she should get a move on,”

That was your cue to get to work. In a swift motion, you finished unzipping his fly and shifted his boxers, letting his lovely cock spring free. It was a pleasant penis and far as they went, average in length but thick with a leaking purple tip at half-mast. Just looking at it made you clamp your legs together.

Slowly, you gave a tentative lick up the underside of his length. He felt heavy on your tongue in the best of ways. Helmut jerked upward, a man possessed. You couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s been a long time, huh?”

“Less talking, more working little schlam-” you cut Helmut off quickly by taking most of his length into his mouth. That seemed to shut him up. His wolf-like grin had dissolved into a slack-jawed mess the second you started to suck him off. Oh, this was going to be fun.

For the most part, the Baron let you set the pace, bobbing your head and taking as much of his length as you comfortably could, but after a short while his hands were buried in your hair as he fought the urge to buck into your throat, hard. With a particularly rough snap of his hips, Helmut pulled away.

“You are an angel from heaven, schatzi,” he groaned, pulling himself slowly from your mouth as you got your first good deep breath in a while, “but a deal is a deal, and it wouldn’t be quite fair if I got to have all the fun, now would it?” Your breath hitched in your throat. Finally time for the main event.

Helmut was surprisingly gentle with you as he offered you a hand and helped you back up, only pausing to wipe a line of dribble off your chin with his thumb. With anyone else, it would have felt wholly humiliating but with Helmut… well, it did things to you you would rather not admit. You quirked up an eyebrow, though, when he got on his knees in turn, mirroring your past position. “What are you doing, Baron?”

“I simply assumed my sweet schatzi would enjoy a reward for taking my cock so well,” his words had you biting your lip as your cheeks flushed, “now be a good girl and take what I give you. I want to hear those pretty noises you made earlier,” With that, his face disappeared under your skirt. He pulled down your panties and… snickered?

“What now?” you groaned, squirming as his hot breath hit your exposed nub.

“You’re sopping wet,” he replied. Out of habit, you moved to shut your legs but found Helmut’s large hand was holding them open. “I do enjoy being sandwiched between your thighs, but you shouldn’t hide yourself from me. Take your pleasure. You’ve earned it,” That was when he began his assault on your folds.

You had been with plenty of partners over the years, all with varying proficiencies when it came to giving pleasure, but no one had ever made you feel quite as good as Helmut did while you gripped his hair and rode his face with reckless abandon. He always hit just the right spot, alternating between sucking on your sensitive clit and running his rough tongue in sloppy circles against it. In no time flat your pleasure was building toward’s its peak as your knees trembled.

“Helmut,” you squeaked, “Helmut I’m gonna cuuuUUOH!”

You were suddenly thrown over the edge of pleasure as the Baron worked you open with his fingers, pressing that spot inside of you just right. It was a revelation. Nothing would ever compare to him and you hadn’t even fucked yet. Once you had regained some semblance of stability he emerged from his place between your thighs, face slick with your juices, wearing the expression of a cat that got the cream.

“You make such lovely sounds for me, schatzi,” Helmut groaned, rising from his place at your feet and reaching into his pocket. While he fumbled for a condom you took the time to actually remove your panties, lifting one shaky leg at a time before balling them up and tossing them on the ground. You could grab them later. Or not! In all honesty, your ruined undies were the last thing on your mind as your watched Helmut roll the condom onto his proud cock, pumping himself a few times. “Now, are you sure you want this?”

You had never felt more sober in your whole life despite the drinks you’d downed earlier.

“God, yes,”

“Wonderful,”

He caged you into his body once again, lining himself up on your slick folds, and then with a pronounced bite against your collarbone, he was entering you. It wasn’t painful or uncomfortable, you just felt full, like a missing piece of your body had been completed. For the first few thrusts, you were too blissed out to really take note of anything around you, but once you tuned back into the world of the living you realized Helmut was talking. Well, babbling was more like it. He seemed to simply be speaking his stream of consciousness into your ear as he pistoned in and out of you like a madman. There was a jilted rhythm to it, but the abnormality kept you on your toes.

“I won’t be letting you go any time soon, schatzi, and definitely not on some dank freighter like a rat from the gutters. No, you will travel with me. Once I help my friends and slip away from the front lines I can take you anywhere your little heart desires. Paris, Vienna, Australia… Mein Gott, what a sweet cunt,”

Any sane woman, after hearing his sex-drunken musings, would have run. They would have heard the wild ramblings of a madman and left after their little fling was done to never see him again. It was only rational. He didn’t even know your real name. Sane women didn’t run away with strangers claiming to be barons they hooked up with in a seedy club selling stolen Van Goghs in a hub of the criminal underworld.

The only thing was, though, that you weren’t a sane woman.

You were a killer, a child left in the streets to live or die who had scraped themselves together and dragged themselves towards life. So what if the idea of some rich mysterious benefactor with a good dick coming in to save the day sounded fantastic? It was fantastic. Like your own personal version of Pretty Woman. Even if he wasn’t as rich as he claimed to be, being poor and getting dicked down by him was better than being poor and alone.

For just a moment, and with no regrets, you let yourself get lost in the fantasy and just let go.

It was as if Helmut could sense a difference.

“Are you close, little schlampe?” He gasped, letting his thrusts take on a faster staccato rhythm.

You could do little more than moan and nod as he pounded you into the wall. That seemed to be enough for him to get the message, though.

“What a good girl,” he purred. His mouth was so close to your ear, his hot breath tickling the sensitive flesh with each heaving breath he took. As he chased his own climax, he brought a hand between your bodies and rubbed tight, wet circles around your clit. It was already sensitive, your body was only barely recovering from your first orgasm, and yet something about the overstimulation was thrilling, like racing towards an impossible dream. With a shout, you came for the second time, melting into Baron Helmut’s arms as he quickly followed.

The two of you stayed there, slumped against the cool wall and still connected by your dripping sexes, for a few moments, breathing heavy. Surprisingly, you were the first to speak.

“Wow,” you breathed, letting a soft laugh escape your lips.

Helmut returned the sentiment. “You were wonderful,” In a strange moment of intimacy, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, but then he pulled out, tying off the full condom and tossing it to the ground as he tucked himself back into his boxers and zipped up his fly.

“Are you just gonna leave that there?” you made a gesture towards his litter.

“They have janitors,”

A burbling laugh escaped from your lips. “That they do,”

Back in the main room of the party, the crowd had only grown larger as the night progressed. Nobody had seen you, nor had they noticed your cries as they danced and drank and made merry under the neon lights. You were, for all intents and purposes, invisible at Helmut’s side. Within and without. There was something exhilarating about knowing he was the only one that truly saw you in a room packed with hundreds. It was like something out of a twisted fairytale.

“So…” you broached the subject gently while you pulled down your dress to protect your modesty, “Did you mean what you said back there about Paris and Vienna, or…”

“Oh, you heard that?”

You snickered. “It was pretty hard not to with you breathing in my ear,”

“I apologize,” he leaned against the wall beside you, shoulder to shoulder in the darkness, “but yes, I meant what I said. I-”

Suddenly, from down the hall, a booming voice interrupted your moment.

“There you are!”

“Goddamnit, Zemo, I thought we told you to stay low not hire an escort,”

There, at the mouth of the hallway, stood two massive men. They were obviously displeased, and though their faces were obscured by the lights you could tell you weren’t the one they were after.

They called him Zemo… where had you heard that name before?

Helmut stepped away from the wall with a shrug. “At least I didn’t cause a scene by forgetting to put my phone on silent,”

The larger of the two men stayed where he was, while the other walked to meet the Baron in the middle.

“I swear to God, man, you’ve gotten ten times more insufferable since I learned you were rich.

The Baron shrugged. “It comes with the territory,”

“But you don’t have to be such a jackass about it,”

You felt it was a good time to chime in.

“Thank you so much for that, Helmut, but I think I should give you guys some privacy,” you said, straightening out your dress and walking deeper into the hallway. There had to be an exit somewhere…

“Wait!” When you turned, you found Helmut rushing to meet you. The men in the background looked shocked and almost smug. “Save your money. Meet me out at the airstrip tomorrow afternoon if you feel like seeing me again. If not, know that the Power Broker doesn’t let go of assets cheap, and you just slept with a man with a million dollar bounty, so buying your freedom isn’t an option. If you want to go without me, you’ll have to hitch a ride on a cargo ship but not as a stowaway. Working for your keep is the best way to stay under the radar. Nobody can touch you once you’r-”

You cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips. “I’ll see you at your private jet, Baron,”

He smirked. “So you will,” With as much gusto as a man could muster, he returned to his companions but not before offering one last goodbye. “Farewell, schatzi, until tomorrow,”

As you leaned up against the wall once more, you watched them go with a twinkle in your eye.

“Who was that?”

“None of your business, James,”

“Guys, what the hell did I just step on?”

“I believe that was my used rubber,”

“ZEMO!”

-------

a/n: I hope you enjoyed the filth! I haven’t written for Zemo before, even though I’ve loved him for years, but he’s definitely going into my main rotation now. If you have any ideas, send them my way! I’d love to fill the void, because there just aren’t very many Zemo x reader fics out there. If you enjoyed this, maybe reblog or leave a comment! I’d love to hear your thoughts. Thanks again!

Please do not post my works to any other sites, thanks! <3

#oh my god this is filth #Would you believe I wrote my first smut like a week ago? #zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #marvel #falcon and winter solider series #fatws #bucky barnes #sam wilson #smut #marvel fanfiction

[golden-barnes]

Audacity

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: Bucky has a long list of reasons to hate John Walker. But the fake Captain America deciding to flirt with you, definitely takes the cake.

Category: Smut 18+

Warning: Jealous Bucky is just soft dom! Bucky, dirty talk, penetrative sex, slight chocking, closet sex, and just John Walker being annoying

Word count: 1.9k

Author’s note: trying out this new format bc I liked the way it look when I did the Spencer Reid fic. A small spoiler warning for the newest FATWS episode but other than that it’s like an AU bc this really has nothing to do with yesterdays’ episode. Comment and reblog pls and thank you!

There’s a lot to hate about John Walker. The fact that he is trying to replace Steve as a cheap version of Captain America. His stupid face and the way he handles the shield. Even the way he speaks comes off as pretentious and arrogant.

But what really made Bucky seethe with anger is the fact that his little beady eyes would not stop looking at you. Undressing you with his eyes. Taking in every move and gesture you made. It made Bucky’s blood boil. He kept clenching and unclenching his fist. How haven’t you noticed his insisting fucking starring? 

“Can you chip your teeth? Because I’m pretty sure you might by how clenched your jaw” Sam said, patting Bucky on the back. He just rolled his eyes but decided not to say anything. 

There was nothing that can be done. They made a silent pack not to anger the imposter. The government had asked Sam, Bucky and you to help out with a smuggling ring that they have discovered and low and behold, their little Captain America got his ass handed to him. They basically begged them to help. Bucky almost screamed a Fuck no into their faces but you managed to hold him off from punching the soldier that appeared at your apartment. 

You turned around and bent over to pick up something. You were unaware that the fake Captain America licked his crusty lips while looking at you. He kept eying you like a piece of meat. Bucky rolled his eyes again and turned to Sam who was quietly reading the reports.

“Can I punch him?” Bucky whispered to Sam.

“Do you want your pardon to be revoked?” Sam said to him, not even looking up from the reports.

“There’s nobody here. Y/N won’t say anything. You definitely won’t mind.” Bucky whispered, glaring at the blond man that kept staring at you. You clearly didn’t give a shit about him. Therefore, why was he still looking at you?

Sam rolled his eyes at his ex-assassin friend. “Yeah, and later we can steal the shield.” Sam looked up from the reports and pushed them to the side. 

“Exactly! Yeah, now that’s a plan.” Bucky said excitedly, standing up from his chair trying to make his way to John before being stopped by Sam, who grabbed his friend by the arm and pulled him back into his chair. Before Bucky could protest, he heard you whistle at them. 

“Hey, guys! I think I have something.” You said. The three men surrounded you, while you were explaining how you found out the new base location for the smuggling ring.

Bucky tried his best to focus on what you were saying and your explanation, but he couldn’t help but notice that the Kmart version of Captain America was inching closer and closer to you. Didn’t this man have a wife? Bucky swore he read that somewhere. Why does he keep staring and getting closer to you?

“Oh! Sorry, ma’am.” The jackass said, when he “accidentally” bumped into you, he grabbed your waist and forearm to stabilize you. 

“It’s okay.“ You told him, and let out a soft chuckle. Bucky felt his pen explode in his hand. The three of you turned to the pouty super soldier who just rolled his eyes and went back to looking at the schematics. 

You knew something was up with Bucky. He didn’t say anything. Not after the pen exploding incident. Not even when you were joking around with Sam. He loved making witty comebacks to your jokes. It was your thing. 

But maybe it was John Walker’s presence that made it uncomfortable for him. You knew Bucky hated the guy, mostly cause he took Steve’s spot without earning it. But there was something more to this. Bucky has always had a staring problem, but the number of sharp glares he has been sending to Walker has been enough to alert anyone. You couldn’t comfort him, not without making it super apparent that you are dating. And Bucky had already expressed that he doesn’t want to publicize it unless it’s only Sam that’s around. 

“Agent Y/L/N, I think I found something,” Torres said, signaling to you to go follow him upstairs. You took one last look at Bucky, who was still glaring at the oblivious John Walker.

“Damn, I don’t know how you guys get any work done with that around you all the time,” John said, staring at you walking up the stairs. More specifically, staring at your ass. 

Bucky looked at Sam, almost begging him to let him punch the douchebag that is this man. But Sam gripped his forearm. Bucky will not lose his pardon like this. 

“How about we focus on the damn mission?” Bucky almost growled. John Walker put his hands up.

“I’m sorry man. It’s just- look at her.” John sat back and leaned into his chair. From the distance, he could see you talking to Torres. 

“C’mon man. You asked us for our help but we aren’t here to do all the work.” Sam said trying to be the peacemaker between the super-soldier with a murderous gaze and the soldier with the wondering eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah sorry.” John said trying to go back to the records. You were descending from the stairs and walking over to them. John brought his attention back to you. The way your hips would sway when you walked. The confidence in every step. Everything Bucky loved, and apparently fucking John did too.

“Guys, I think we need to rest for today. I am a little bit burned out. I think we all are.” You said, with your hands on your hips. Bucky felt his heart clench, you did look tired. Especially because you were almost doing all the work and piecing all of the clues. 

“That’s an incredible idea.” Sam said stretching in his chair. He also looked tired. It made Bucky feel bad that he has been focusing all his energy on glaring and not helping out. He almost felt guilty.

Almost because a surge of rage flows through him again. John “Can’t take a hint” Walker smirked at you while you were grabbing the files that were on the table. 

Bucky didn’t even give you a chance to say goodbye. To Sam or the annoying motherfucker that made Bucky want to break rule number 2.

“Woah, Buck. what are you doing?” You said while the brunet dragged you around the base. His grip on your forearm was hard but not enough for it to hurt. Bucky wouldn’t hurt you, not in any way you wouldn’t like it. 

There was something about how Bucky was walking, the silence, the way he was searching for something but never letting go of you.

Bucky opened up a closet door. 

“Get in, doll.”  He whispered in your ear, in a low deep voice. You let out a gasp, feeling goosebumps all over your body. You looked at Bucky in the eyes, and you knew he wasn’t in the mood for a fight. You entered the closet space without protesting.

It was a small storage closet. It barely had anything in it so you felt cramped. You turned to Bucky, while he closed the door. The man stalked towards you and you walked backward till your back hit the wall. Bucky had you cornered, and you didn’t mind it.

“Did you have fun, doll?” Bucky said, getting close to your face. His hands went to your hips, pulling you towards him. 

“Buck, what are you talking about?” You whispered to him. Bucky rolled his eyes and took one of his hands off your hips. Placing it on your neck, lightly applying some pressure to it. You gasped at his touch, he chuckled a bit at your reaction. 

“C’mon darling. Did you have fun playing around with the imposter Captain America? I mean he had fun looking at you. So I’m assuming that you had fun being looked at.” He said, with his hand still on your neck and his face inches away from your face. You looked at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

“Oh, you didn’t notice that. Well, I did. Maybe I should teach you who do you belong to. Would you like that sweetheart?” He said, his breath tickling your lip. You nodded, breathless. Bucky smiled at you.

The hand that was around your neck, went to your chin. Grabbing it and pulling you closer so that your lips would meet. His hands started to wander across your body, while yours looped around his neck. 

Your kisses started to grow hungrier, more desperate. As if Bucky spotted kissing you, you would fade away. His hands reached the zipper of your pants and pulled it down. Not even breaking from your kiss, Bucky managed to push your pants down. You break from your kiss to get out of them, while Bucky took off his pants and underwear.

He didn’t wait. He pushed you softly back on the wall and started to leave kisses and soft bites all over your neck. 

“Jump, baby girl,” He said softly against your skin, patting your butt.

 And you did just so. Wrapping your legs around his waist, with one of his hands on your ass and another moving your panties to the side. 

“Hold that there, baby. Let me make you feel so good.” Holding his neck with one hand, you moved another hand to hold your panties to the side, to make it easy for him.

“Good girl.”And with one thrust, he was inside you, hitting all the spot. You moaned and gripped the back of his neck tightly.

“Like that doll? Can anyone else do this to you uhn? C’mon doll give me everything you got.” With every word that came out of his mouth, he would thrust hard and deep into you. You felt lightheaded. Your legs tightening around his waist but his thrust wouldn’t stop.

“Fuck, Buck. Don’t stop.” You gasped. Bucky kept kissing your neck. Overloading your senses. You were close, you knew it. Bucky knew it. You could feel him grin against your skin.

“Who makes you feel this good, doll?” He asked. You gasped at his sudden change in pace. He started to thrust more desperately, less controlled. He was close too.

“You. Fuck, only you.Shit, Bucky. I’m going to cum.”  Bucky smirked at you.

“Then cum, doll.” Bucky silenced your cries with his lips. Still thrusting into you, letting you ride your high and getting to his. And that wouldn’t be long.

With one final thrust, Bucky came. He gave you a soft kiss on the lips and let you down.

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes.” You said, putting on your pants.

“I love you too, Y/N.” He smiled at you. You slapped his chest lightly, which made him laugh.

“I hope you realize that I would never go with discount Captain America over there.” You joked which made Bucky laugh even harder. You both were dressed and tried to look as decent as you could to leave the closet and the base.

“Let’s hope that fucking in an army base won’t be the reason you lose your pardon.” You said, grabbing Bucky’s hand, to give him reassurance. He gave you a smirk.

“Maybe if we let them watch, they won’t take it away,” Bucky replied to you, giving you a wink. 

“Yeah and get John Walker to join would also help your case.” Bucky stopped in his tracks and looked at you.

“Oh, you are gonna get it when we get home.” Now it was your turn to wink at your boyfriend.

“I’m hoping I do.” Bucky shook his head but pulled you closer to him. Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, walking towards the exit of the base. Confident that John Walker couldn’t take you away from him.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader smut #winter soldier x reader

[deberiaestarescribiendo]

There you are my love (Din Djarin x f!reader)

Summary: Post season 2 and little reference to TBOBF Ep. 5. Basically Din struggling with his religion, grieving Grogu and falling in love. I just want to hug him and tell him everythin will be okay, he's been through a lot

Warnings: None really. Implied sexy times but nothing explicit, but it is there. ANGST

f!reader cos I use she/her pronouns but no description whatsover is in Din's POV

no beta'd, I just finished it and thought why not sharing it

word count: 865

She leaves him bare. Mando has never been this naked, vulnerable, unprotected.

M-A-N-D-O, five letters that hide him as the helmet over his head. Mando is no one, Mando is undefined, a wall of beskar and weapons. A presence that comes and goes, does the job and then disappears, most people will only get a few words from him and then he’s gone. But not her. She peels him, layer by layer, she has crept inside the crooks of his armor until he’s just skin and bones, a man. Din, three letters that he thought long gone, a dead name since the last he heard it pronounced on the lips of her mother.

“Din, it is okay” she repeated many times

She said it when he had to leave the kid with his kin and he kept quiet, words and feelings muted by Beskar. She saw him burying down the pain, the domino effect that saving Grogu had created had come to an end, the baby had broken down many things he thought sacred and then he had Grogu no more and his creed meant nothing. So he had to build himself up again even if the rules that form him didn't make sense anymore. She saw him battle against himself in silence. He had broken his beliefs. Without them what was left?

“Din it is okay” she repeated, what is?

Without a house, the Razor Crest, they are forced to wander, clandestine transport, credits exchanged in some questionable places with questionable people just to get a small cot to sleep. She sleeps stuck to him, holding him against her chest. Sometimes he needs more, and she doesn’t ask, she opens herself to him, hands lurking under his nape, not yet trespassing, but she caresses the skin there, the few centimeters of skin he lets her see and accepts his thrusts with sweet words and his name on her lips, that name he thought dead is now full of life, of heat and hunger, a tidal that crushes him down to her, that leaves him empty and full at the same time, his mind is clouded and yet he has never seen anything clearer. She’s dangerous, Din knows, she’s getting under his skin, hitting something deep and unknown inside of him.

Din tries to control her, pin her down, and submit her body to him when it is him who’s surrendering. Calm the need and let go was easy once, bodies unknown, a brief primal encounter that ended fastly leaving Din, no, Mando still being a momentaneous thing, he was still no one. But now, sex is chaotic, her eyes pierce the black visor of his helmet and he swears she can see him Din, Din, Din; his name pours out of her mouth like a siren’s call take the helmet off, take the armor off, throw the weapons, come to me.

She doesn’t say any of this, but he feels it anyway, the eagerness to throw everything he holds to him, every hard piece that forms Mando, everything he thought made him who he is. Throw away the Creed and show her your face, you already gave her your name when you first sank into her.

Din gives, gives and gives until he’s weightless and she takes it all. Her sweet palm is hot on his neck, and she could so easily remove the helmet, get under it. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t ask for more and that drives him mad

A word from your lips and I’ll do it

Din knows it, that he’s no longer strong enough to not collapse to her, to cave in and give her his all.

Push me and I’ll do it

Beg me and I’ll give myself to you

Her feverish skin of her forehead is pressed against his visor until both of them have recovered their breath. In the silent of a dusty old room rented for hours, she assumes the same position of every night, a hand against his chest plate, her chest going up and down softly behind him

“I miss him too”

the words said softly in the silence linger above him. She doesn’t see but Din closes his eyes strongly commanding his brain not to think about him, of those big dark eyes that started his collapse and the death of Mando.

“There is no sin in a father showing his son his face before bidding him goodbye, not matter of what they said, Din”

He scares her when he suddenly raises up, her hand taps him on his back “Din, I’m sorry if I have…”

Din does it suddenly, like removing a scab from a wound, and leaves the helmet on the ground beside the cot. She is silent when he lays down again, this time face to face, but he dares not open his eyes just yet.

Her soft fingers trace down his cheeks, his nose and his eyes, pressing softly against his muscles, tense and tight

“There you are my love” she says “My Din”

She kisses the warm salty trickles that run down his cheeks, a soft kiss until he sleeps, weightless and free of sin and shame.

Tag: @littlemisspascal

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din dijarin x reader #mando x reader #din x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #din x you

[ozarkthedog]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 | Nomad!Steve Rogers

summary: You disobeyed Steve and now you must make it up to him.

warnings: SMUT. 18+ only. Nomad!Steve Rogers. Dom/Sub Relationship. Daddy Kink. “Little One” Nickname. Crying. Angst? Bondage. Degradation. Overstimulation. Forced Orgasms. Asphyxiation. Anal Play. Hitachi Belt. Spreader Bar. Aftercare.

word count: 3,057

author’s note: I started writing this last year and totally forgot about it. oops! 💙

📖 Master List

This work has Adult Content. By clicking “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content. My work is not to be copied or translated onto any other platform. 

“You didn’t do as you were told, so shut it.” Steve snarled with a harsh grip on your jaw.

He shoved himself away from you just as you began to weep. You let the tears fall freely, hating that you upset him so much.

Steve was seething as he stood in front of the fireplace, hands bracing on the mantle as his thoughts raced. Teeth clenched together in fury at the memory of finding you with your legs spread wide with fingers pumping away furiously in your cunt. He had to clear his throat twice in order for you to realize he was standing in front of you.

He was feeling savage. He wanted to teach you a lesson you’d never forget. He needed you to abide by his rules completely. You were his and he was yours. He’d never had someone he cared so much about and he intended on making this relationship work. No matter how difficult it was at times.

You stood nervously waiting for him to acknowledge you again. Fingers twisted together as you sniffed the remaining tears away. The thin white dress Steve insisted you wear at all times while home made you feel so exposed. The fabric could tear so easily just like the relationship you built with him.

But you were determined to not let that happen.

With Steve still looking away, you knelt down on the dark flooring. The wood solid beneath your trembling knees, “Daddy.” Barely a whisper but it made Steve cock his head to the side, listening.

You cleared your throat wanting to speak clearly, “Daddy. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disrespect you but sometimes I just can’t control myself.” The admission made you cast your eyes to the floor out of embarrassment. How could he love you?

Sniffling you carried on, “I will take any punishment you deem fit. I won’t talk back. I will take what you give me.” Your fingers dig into your thighs waiting with bated breath for his response.

Steve sighed watching the flames dance in the fireplace. The warmth from the flames mixed with his lust driven heat as he spied you kneeling on the floor. You looked so delicate. So easy to manipulate and dig his teeth into.

He bit his lip at the image of you writhing around in that pretty white dress he bought you. His blood began to boil.

Turning on his heel he stalks towards you, smirking as the perfect punishment comes to mind. “Little One…” Your head whips up quickly at his voice as he nears you, coming to a stop over your kneeling form.

“Follow me.” He commands and he turns towards the stairs making his way to your shared bedroom. You follow behind running slightly to keep up with his large gait. Steve holds open the bedroom door as you wait in front of him, trepidation flooding your system.

“Once you step over the threshold, I’m in control, completely. No crying, no whining, nothing will get you out of your punishment.” His stare holds yours. His authority washes over, drowning you in him.

Once again you repeat your words, “I will take what you give me, Daddy.” Your voice breaks as you call him Daddy, forever always wanting to call him that.

Steve grazes your cheek with the back of his finger lightly before letting his hand fall to your shoulder, pushing you into the bedroom. The sound of the lock clicking sparks excitement in your core as you wait at the foot of the bed for him.

Steve comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, “Sit on the bed and watch as I set things up.”

Steve only made you watch as he set out the implements he intended using on you when he was truly mad. You watched as he disappeared into the closet before reappearing with a set of high heels.

Your brow furrowed in wonder as he set the heels down at your feet before going back to the closet. You peered down at the extravagant pumps, red in color with an extremely high, stiletto heel.

You remembered he bought them for you a while back but they were so uncomfortable you could never wear them out. Your attention was disrupted when Steve set a leather belt of sorts with an extra loop on the bed along with an Hitachi wand.

He walked over to the “play wall” and attached 2 separate wrist restraints to the rings in the wall. Your heart rate picked up as his intentions were revealed.

He means to make you suffer.

His dark eyes lingered on yours for a moment before speaking. “I’m allowing the safe word, but only, and I mean only if you truly can’t go on.” You bit your lip as he spoke out the next commands.

“Take off your dress and put those heels on.” He nods down to the red stilettos waiting to be put to use. You stood on shaky feet, slowly unbuttoning the white fabric before slipping it off your shoulders leaving you bare to him.

Steve watched as you bent over, sliding your feet into the heels before standing tall and gathering your footing. The heels easily made you 4” taller as you stood waiting for his next command.

Already your ankles were starting to hurt. The awkward angle of the heels forced all your body weight onto your toes making them scream. Steve let you stand there a few minutes, enjoying your discomfort before continuing.

“Walk over to the wall and place your hands in the cuffs.” You sneak a glance at him before slowly making your way over. The heels made you so unsteady, you raise your arms out to the sides to balance as you walk at a snail’s speed.

“If you don’t pick up the pace, I’m going to drag you over there and I won’t be nice about it.” Steve grits with annoyance watching as you jolt mid step and almost topple over. Somehow you caught yourself and made your way to the wall as fast as you could.

You turn around facing Steve as you slipped your wrists into the restraints high above your head and waited patiently. “Good Girl.” Steve smirks walking over to you and then gathers the cuffs before pulling them tight against your wrists and locking you up.

“Now the real fun can begin. Are ready?” He turns to pick up the leather belt coming back with a grimace on his face, his tone laced with displeasure at having to repeat himself, “I asked are you ready, Little One?”

You gasp a reply once you realized he wanted you to speak, “Yes, Daddy.”

Steve huffed and shook his head, “You’re going to have to start paying attention better. This won’t be good for you if you’re already starting to slip.” He bends down helping you step through the leather belt and buckles it over your waist.

He steps back and gazes over your tied-up form. He always did enjoy tying you down and making you squirm. He palms at his growing hard on before stepping up to you, caging you against the wall with his massive body causing you to let out a breathy squeal.

He tips your head to look up at him. “You want to make this up to me? Then you’re going to work for it. I’m going to make you wish you never disobeyed me, Little One.” He lets his threat hang in the air as he walks back to the bed retrieving the Hitachi.

He attaches it to the leather belt and secures it against your already slick pussy. He scoffs, “Being in this predicament turns you on? God, what a slut.”

Your cheek heat with embarrassment as he nestles the wand head flush against your throbbing mound. Grunting aloud when he forces it over your clit harshly.

As he works on making it stay in place he speaks, “You’re allowed to scream, thrash about, cry, whatever. But you’re not allowed to ask me to take you out of these binds. You’re staying like this until I say otherwise.” You nod your head in compliance even though you were scared of the outcome. Granted, you knew he would listen if you safe worded but this wasn’t about that.

Steve needed to know he could trust you, he needed to know you’d listen to his every word and abide by it. So, you swallowed down your fear and raised your head, ready for whatever he chose to do to you. “Yes, Daddy.”

Steve smoothed his hands over your hips as he stood to his full height. The way your breasts jutted out from your arms being raised over your head called out to be fondled but Steve kept his lust hidden. This wasn’t about him right now.

He leaned down and turned the wand on, clicking it until it sped up to the 3rd highest setting. Your body instantly spasmed. The strong vibrations were unyielding and forced you to feel the pleasure.

Instinctively, your legs closed together trying to keep the powerful vibrations at bay. The wand swayed in the air but never left your core. The movement causes you to see stars as it jostles against your folds.

“What do you think you’re doing? Trying to thwart your punishment already?” His tone was deadly. “Don’t worry, I have the perfect thing.”

Steve wanders away leaving you in a withering mess as you teeter in the heels. Your breathing quickens as you feel your orgasm coming on quickly. You pull at the wrist restraints frantically, “Daddy! Please! I’m close!” You call out desperately for him, not sure if he’s allowing you to cum or not.

Steve shouts his reply from deep inside the closet, “Go ahead and cum, Little One!”

He murmurs to himself as he spies what he came looking for, “It’ll the first of many.”

You cum with a wail as the vibe makes you convulse against the bondage wall. Your pussy twitches around nothing as your thighs shake trying to dislodged the horrid wand from your sensitive core.

“Here you go.” Steve says with amusement as he kneels down wrapping a cuff around your left ankle.

You look down in shock as Steve lines up the other cuff to your right ankle before strapping it to the spreader bar. “Now there’s no possible way for you to ease your punishment.” The biggest smirk is planted on his face as another wave of forced arousal courses through you sending you up another blissful peak.

“Awe, is my little Slut already feeling sensitive? That was only one orgasm. If you think I’m letting you out after 3, you’re in for a world of hurt.” His voice was cold sending you careening towards another orgasm.

Your eyes slammed shut as the tingling sensation lit up your nerves and sent you crashing down with another hard orgasm.

You tried catching your breath as the vibe forces more pleasure from you. The restraints hold your arms up so well you couldn’t even move them around all they could do was quake against the wall.

Heavy, pained mewls fill the room as you pant wildly taking every vibration as best as you can.

“Look at you. You love this.” He laughs at your pitiful attempts of trying to not cum. He palms at your tense face, pinched with determination. “Oh, it must hurt. The over stimulation must be torture.”

Distress paints your features as he degrades you further, “But that little pussy of yours got you in trouble. Such a greedy, little hole.” He enunciates the curse word with a pop to your cheek before taking your jaw back in his grip.

You gasp at the painful sensation heating the side of your face as it mingles with your swollen, sensitive mound. “Daddy! I-” Your orgasm starts up again fueled by the assaults on your body.

His fingers dig into the sides of your cheeks as you topple off the cliff with a shout. His hand keeps your face still, pushing back on the wall behind you.

“That was 3, Little One. I want to tear 7 out of that cunt tonight.” His breath hot on your neck as he forces his body over you.

Your body shakes at his command. A ragged sigh escapes you feeling worn out already from the onslaught of torture.

Steve cants his hips up and into your body, pushing the Hitachi harder against your mound. “No! Oh! Da- ” You shake your head as you feel another orgasm slithering its way through your system.

Teeth gnaw at your neck, biting up and down the crook of the soft skin. His muffled moans fill your ears as he thrusts his growing hardon into the toy, in return causing you to tumble down another peak.

The forced orgasm makes your body lock up, tight and ridged as your knees start to buckle and you sag in the restraints. Steve feels you slide down, hanging by your wrists letting the pain and torturous pleasure take over.

“Hey, now. None of that.” He grasps the hair at the base of your neck and pulls until your steady on 2 feet. “Don’t give up on me yet. You still have 3 more to go.”

You stare at him with hazy eyes. Your mind foggy and filled with nothing but determination even though your body wants to give up.

Steve swipes his thumb over your lips before he leans in for a soft kiss. The feeling of his lips as they slide over yours sends a fresh heightened wave of bliss up your spine. You moan lewdly into his mouth as he laps at your tongue.

He enjoys watching your tired body respond to the new sensations. He pulls away as you whine from the loss. “Hush.” He says, sternly with a harsh smack to your breasts causing you to spasm and scream in your bonds as another orgasm is ripped from you.

Your muscle fibers feel aflame as you come down from your 5th orgasm that night. Your head whips from side to side, unconsciously wanting to put an end to this punishment. You’re a quivering mess, tugging at your binds out of necessity.

“Stop it. You can do this. Show me you can do as I say.” Steve says with a firm voice, encouraging you. “Make it worth all the pain.”

You sniffle and close your eyes as Steve blots at some fallen tears rolling down your cheek. You open your eyes just as his lips close around his salty digits with a husky, satisfied groan.

Gnawing at your bottom lip your try to distract yourself from the overwhelming pain burning through your core and dragging you over hot coals. Steve’s hands wrap around your body, forming over the fleshy globes of your ass and grinds his straining girth against your heated body.

“If only you were good, it would’ve been my cock dragging all these orgasms from you.” His teeth clash onto your clavicle, drawing blood to the surface with a sneer, “Instead, I’m just going to have rut against you as your cunt drools all over the floor.”

His fingers slide their way between your cheeks, rubbing tenderly over your puckered rim causing your eyes to roll back, hard. Breath hitches in your throat as you propel steadily towards another raw crest.

“Maybe I should take pity on you and open this hole up. You did always cum so easily with my fingers up your ass.” He gloats, tapping the tight right of muscle in quick succession eliciting a frantic wail from your lips as you tip over the tumultuous edge.

Your head lolled forward resting against his powerful chest as exhaustion takes over. Your will power was dying and you let the tears flow. “Daddy, I can’t.”

Steve shook his head, “Not when we made it this far. You’re not giving up.”  

A calloused hand locks tightly around your neck cutting off your carotid artery. In an instant your mind spins, brain desperate for blood flow as your vision becomes blurred.

You tug uselessly at your bindings. Body shaking, ready to implode and cave in on yourself. Your ankles give way and the heels fall from your feet making Steve crush you harder into the wall.

His lips brush against your swollen ones, his beard tickling your dewy skin. “So close, you’re so close. Give me what I want. Show me you how sorry you are.”

Darkness sweeps in as your mouth opens and closes like a fish desperate for water. Your body feels light as a feather, no longer could you feel the vibrations rustling your sopping core and your sore muscles ceased their tension as you give into the murky depths.

 A warm hand cups your cheek as a deep, soothing voice tempts you back from the sleepy haze. “Wake up, Little One.”

Your eyes flutter open and you find yourself in the comfort of Steve’s arms. A wet washcloth runs between your legs making you wince. Even the softest fibers felt like sandpaper as he cleans your swollen folds. “I’m sorry but just a little more and I’ll be done.”

You curl into his chest, unsure how to feel. Had you made him happy? You couldn’t remember orgasming the final time. The last image you had was Steve wrapping his hand around your throat.

You timidly swallow, feeling slight bruises pepper your jugular. Your throat raw from crying and screaming for the last hour. Steve set the rag down with a sigh and dropped his chin to look at you.

“Did I do good?” You bottom lip trembling with hope.

Steve runs a hand over tear-stained cheek and breathes out a soft chuckle, “You did. So good you passed out as you came all over me.” Steve tilts his head towards the pile of clothes currently stained with your arousal. “Made such a mess and showed me how good you are.”

Soft lips kiss your hairline and ease the stress you’d been holding ever since he found you touching yourself without his permission.

“I’m proud of you for being so strong. You made Daddy very happy.”  

Your eyes sleepily shut and you melt into the safety of his hold knowing everything would be ok.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #Chris Evans #steve rogers x you #steve rogers/you #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers imagine #ozzie writes

[struggling-with-time]

How to spiral out of control [Simpbur x reader]

Pairing: c!Wilbur Soot x fem!reader (Simpbur x reader)

Summary: How simpbur became simpbur. And how you grew up and lived with him.

Warnings: Obsession, unhealthy obsession, stalking, murder, drugging, unhealthy relationship, and Simpbur being a creep.

Words: 5K

Masterlist: Wilbur’s Masterlist - Full Masterlist

A/N: Listen I had brainrot. And I don't know how to defend this. (Also requests are still open! Click here!) And it's unedited for now it's 5:12 am here I will edit later today

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Wilbur was a pretty insignificant child. The death of his mother being one of the most interesting things about his childhood. While he claimed not to blame his youngest brother for the loss of his mother. He certainly had a funny way of showing his youngest brother affection.

Wilbur is the middle child of three. A charming but quiet and well accomplished older brother, who seems to never have to end to his dedication neither success. And his youngest brother, a loud ball of sunshine that just seems to make everyone in a good mood. Truly good with people, something Wilbur never seemed to grasp.

His whole childhood tainted by that fact. Always living in the shadow of his brothers, the clear favourites of everyone who came near the family of four.

So his grades was just average, never good enough to get acknowledged, never bad enough to need extra attention. Just average, like the rest of him. He grew up lanky, not athletic neither unable to run. Wilbur was grey in a family of golden people. His father raised them alone for most of Wilbur’s life. His father that despite never saying it out loud had clear favourites in his brothers. It was always, oh and Wilbur too!

Never him, never just him.

So, Wilbur spent most of his childhood lonely, disregarded and weird. A pitiful child. A pathetic child.

The thing is there was one thing, that made Wilbur worth anyone’s time. One person. You.

His childhood best friend.

Well, that’s what anyone who only knew Wilbur would say. Because you were the only friend he had. However, it was different for you, although the two of you were good friends, you wouldn’t call him your best friend for years. That didn’t happen till you became teenagers.

You had always tried your best to include the weird kid in playdates, birthday parties, and playground games. But nobody else seemed to find him worth their time, with his weird and morbid comments. But you persisted that he wasn’t that weird, besides his older brother was really cool.

So, you stick around, you stick around as playdates become hangouts, as dolls become makeup, and homework goes from learning to read to writing essays.

While you had many friends, both come and go and stay, Wilbur had been there for as long as you could remember. A playground proposal documented on home video. And a remake of it on the day of your school dance. You had played along, but it was known to everyone that your childhood friend wanted to be more than friends. But you stayed, smiled for the camera and laughed it off.

Then the school dance was over, and the last exam had been taken. That’s when you moved a country over, and slowly you lost contact with the people you used to call friends, but Wilbur stayed. Wilbur always stayed.

He finally got the spot as the best friend in your mind too. A definite win in his book.

Wilbur had always been odd, a bit to the left of normal. But now, with distance and screens in between you, he only started to act more concerning. This was around the time he started talking about feeling depressed and useless.

Of course, you always told him you didn’t believe that, what else were you supposed to say? Your friendship turning more and more into therapy sessions once a week for Wilbur on your end. While for him it was the highlight of his week.

Clicking the call button beside your profile picture, an anime girl from one he had recommended to you himself. One he had stayed up an entire night to shift through different animes to find the perfect one to send your way. One he was guaranteed you would watch.

“Wilbur, I should really get off.”

“C’mon stay on just a bit later, please.”

The silence deafening over the video call, he watches you intensely as you pull your legs into your chest, your shitty webcam standing beside you on your bed.

Wilbur reached out for the energy drink beside him, a new habit he has picked up. The more hours spent on the computer, the more he seemed to consume.

“Fine, just half an hour more. But then it’s the last half hour.”

Wilbur smiles at that, you choosing him over everything else in the world. He likes that, he likes that a lot. You valuing him. Spending time with him, and only him. Your attention is his.

“We could always fall asleep on call, then we could keep talking.”

“Another day Wilbur, another day.”

That. That sentence he on the other hand didn’t like. Not one bit. A promise never kept. A promise left unspoken and unpromised from your side, but a broken and abandoned promise on his side.

Then there was the wall incident.

Wilbur wouldn’t have told you if it weren’t for you noticing the hole in his wall. One that matched his fist quite neatly. His father had taken his PS4 in punishment for Wilbur using so much the WiFi plan to call you. At least that’s what he told you.

In reality, he had gotten into a fight with his older brother, his brother had asked about you, how you were doing, and if he could say hi during a call. There was something about the words that had irked Wilbur, something that set him off, something about him that made his brother seem dangerous to Wilbur. So, he had decked his older brother in the face. Causing a blackeye to occur.

In return, Wilbur now sported a big black and blue spot from where he hit the floor. His brother having immediately tackled him.

And to Wilbur that had confirmed his thoughts. Other guys are dangerous, he’s the only one you should rely on.

The wall had taken the brunt of his rage that night, a screaming match with his dad that ended with his little brother getting sent to his friends' house, and his PS4 getting confiscated until Wilbur had gotten a job and was able to pay back the damages.

And he did get a job, much to your surprise. But you had encouraged him throughout it all. A dead-end cashier job that only seemed to make his world staler and more bothersome than before.

A time where he searched for every distraction possible, gaming, music, you.

You were proud of him when he got the hole in his wall fixed, and even more when he kept his job. And Wilbur doesn’t remember you ever giving him more praise than the day he told you he was starting to investigate going to university.

Naturally, you helped him, and along the way, Wilbur picked up a guitar. A new asset to his den of depression that his room had become, decked in led lights, and overpriced RGB gaming stuff.

The university acceptance came rather quick, and suddenly Wilbur was packing up his life and heading to university. Boxes filled with stuff he barely remembered owning, and kitchen appliances that would never see the light of the day.

And he can feel you starting to drift, already busy with your own life. But he clings to you.

He stays, Wilbur always stays in your life. Even when you drift.

Wilbur knows it’s affecting him. It’s not hidden from anyone. The longer that goes between the two of you talking, the sourer his mood gets. The longer you don’t respond to him, the more messages he sends. The more information he craves to know.

Who are you talking to?

Who are you seeing?

Who is so much more important than him?

Hadn’t he always been there for you?

Hadn’t he always stayed?

You owe him.

Wilbur grows bitter and resentful. But not to you, never to you. But for everyone around you. His biggest joys in life now coming from the ungodly amount of caffeine he drinks, and whenever you reach out first.

This is why the day you call him asking for help is forever a day that will bring him joy.

“Hey Will, you’re really good with tech, and I was wondering if you wanted to help me start streaming.”

He chokes on the energy drink. He chokes on his words. He chokes on the air. He drowns.

His heart aching. His anger festering. His-

“Sure.”

He hears himself respond before he can even process the thought.

It takes him 2 days of absence from university, and what feels like 2 even longer nights, before he’s an expert on how to stream. He reads everything he can find, he watched everything that gets suggested.

You asked him for help, so he will help.

But Wilbur, spends these hours conflicted. You want his help, not someone else’s, someone lesser than him. Him.

But at the same time. His mind keeps wandering, isn’t he enough any longer? Isn’t he good enough for you? Why isn’t he good enough for you? Why? Why?

And thus, he learns you how to use the software, and beings alongside you. He finds comfort in knowing most of your streams whenever possible is spent with him on a call with you.

Although that happens after hours of pestering, that doesn’t matter. He gets to talk to you, while the rest is limited to a measly chat.

You seem to find yourself comfortably in the gaming category, slowly growing. Slowly rising.

Wilbur’s own streams, on the other hand, feels more like incoherent rants interrupted by his guitar plays. And once in a blue moon, you are on call with him.

It doesn’t take long before he gives up, watching you grow. Finding more comfort in watching you, instead of being the watched. Not that anyone really did watch him besides for you.

Wilbur stays out of a camera, as you only seem to grow more comfortable being in front of one.

The first time you have someone on a call with you on stream, who isn’t Wilbur. He just can’t help but break his bedside lamp. It’s a guy nonetheless. A guy from the internet. The type of guy Wilbur has never been shy to tell you horror stories about.

And this is where another bad habit of his started to emerge. He just can’t help himself. But you’re laughing with someone else. You’re smiling for someone else. You’re his. Not anyone else’s. His. His. His.

Wilbur is quick to find the donating button he had helped you set up himself. At that time it had only been used a couple of times. Nothing big. But Wilbur wants big. He wants attention. He wants you.

He fumbles with his credit card as he keys in the numbers, he’s a bit too familiarised with them. Because anything he can get from the internet will be delivered that way.

And then the notification pops up on your screen. A donation number you had never expected. And you start crying. Right there. Right on stream. And Wilbur sucks it up. He sucks it right up that you’re crying for him, whiling praising him, and only him.

The match you were playing ruined, and Wilburs smile only grows as he hears the familiar tone of discord receiving a call.

That night. You had ditched the fellow streamer to thank Wilbur and hang out with him.

Something you never thought you would regret.

But oh, how you did. How you did.

It takes Wilbur around 2 months to get used to a large sum of money means special attention to him, and only him. For everyone to see.

And he can feel you pulling away, so each time he donates, it’s bigger. Larger. Grander.

He’s never on your stream without a donation anymore. Never on call for free. But Wilbur doesn’t mind, because everyone gets to see you’re his.

And he keeps increasing the amount as you keep growing until he hits a stalemate. He’s using half of his paycheck on you, while he doesn’t mind going hungry a couple of days. His bills won’t wait for him. And he has been living away from home for far too long to ever think about calling up his father and ask for money.

Not to mention his oldest brother would never. Then neither will Wilbur. Because Wilbur is better. Better than all of them.

The larger your stream grows, the closer graduation arrives, and then Wilbur is sitting in another apartment. Another dead-end job. Another grey life.

Another dull life passing him by. Your voice constantly on loop his apartment. Constantly filling his life. As it always has. But to you, Wilbur is barely a part of your everyday. Only really showing up when a donation comes in. As you once again tell him not to spend money on you.

But he seems to stay. Wilbur always stays.

He’s the first to like anything you post on social media. Always online never off. Always lurking. Never missing. Never absent. He’s always there.

Wilbur never misses a stream; he schedules his life around yours. Even if you’re a country away.

And then one day you’re not. You’re not a country away, you’re moving back. You’re moving closer. And suddenly you live an hour away by car. Instead of an airplane ride, and shitty trains.

Suddenly Wilbur can see himself get a foot in the door. No longer grasping onto his parasitic parasocial friendship with you. He can see himself being more than the childhood friend who has always been there. He can see himself as the partner that always is there.

Wilbur is giddy the entire car ride. He’s giddy as he feels his bag burn on his shoulder. And he’s giddy until the second you embrace him in a hug and welcome him into your new apartment.

It’s bigger than the one you’ve had since university.

And then his future crumbles. You start talking about a guy named Jared. Fucking Jared. Why did even his name have to leave a sour taste in his mouth? A guy you met over the internet. Not just any guy. No specifically the fucker from the first time Wilbur had donated.

Apparently, he wasn’t a streamer, but a friend you had made during your 2 years you lived at university but never told Wilbur about. Not a single mention of him, and suddenly he’s all you’re talking about.

How could Wilbur have known? You hadn’t even mentioned him on stream. Wilbur always listened so carefully, writing down everyone you mentioned. You had called him attentive once, and he would never want to disappoint you. Maybe if he was attentive enough you would look his way.

Instead, here you are talking about this Jared guy. And Wilbur knows what he has to do. A thought he has been toying with for around 3 years now. Ever since you went to Disneyland together. A trip he paid for, and a trip that was streamed, so everyone could see you were his. You were always his.

That was easily his favourite video.

In the week up to the vacation, Wilbur had done everything he could to learn about cameras so he could help you, and do the most for you. He had even helped you sort through some of the non-streamed videos he filmed too for a YouTube video for you.

Which is where he found the clip of you changing.

The camera had been resting on your hotel bed, the video having a clear Dutch angle, leaving the hotel room slandered. But there you were, right square and centre still. Changing. It takes you a minute to finish before you turn around and pick the camera up again. Mumbling something as you turn it to show off your hotel room, and then the clip cuts to black.

He never told you about it, instead just saving that specific clip on a USB stick. A piece of tech he valued more than his life. Not that his life had ever been worth much in comparison to his.

Wilbur rips his bag open, careful not to make a lot of noise. He removed his clothes, and then the fake bottom. And underneath it reveals small security cameras.

Wilbur has never been more thankful for you being a heavy sleeper and letting him sleep on a mattress on the floor of your bedroom. He quietly sets up two in your bedroom, before moving into the rest of your house. One in your office that has been converted to a streaming room. His own personal angle to your public life.

Two more in the living room, he skips the kitchen and hesitates at the door of your bathroom. For the first time, he hesitates. His hand hovers over the doorknob, the other holding the camera.

“Wilbur?”

You’re standing in the hallway, sleep evident on your face.

“Will why are you making so much noise?”

“No reason darling, go back to bed, just needed some water.”

His breath is stuck in his throat until he hears you close the bedroom door again.

That was the first time he hesitated. And his last. He couldn’t afford it. He couldn’t afford to lose you further.

The rest of the trip passes Wilbur by as you introduce him to Jared. The douchebag himself. The asshole. The guy who dares take away what is Wilbur’s. Even on the ride home. All Wilbur can see is Jared’s image etched into his mind. His god-awful fashion sense. The way everything, he wore around you, just seemed to be a size too small. Nobody wants to see that fuckers’ muscles. Wilbur’s knuckles turn white, as he grips the steering wheel.

Jared has to go.

He’s ruining everything. He’s not part of the dream you told Wilbur you had. Jared has never been part of that. Wilbur was supposed to be part of that. Even if the dream changed through the year. Even if the one you’re living now is the unimaginable future the two of you imagined up at seventeen. But one thing was sure. Jared wasn’t part of that. Wilbur was.

Wilbur easily finds himself a new normal at home. The trip giving him a refreshed sense of hope. A plan in the making. His daily routine now including watching you all hours of the day. Not just your streams any longer. Every single second he can wrench out of those cameras.

And suddenly his friendship seems to improve with you too. Because now he can see when you’re sad and in need of a friend. He reaches out at the perfect time. Abusing your vulnerable state. Because it’s the best to do. It’s for the betterment of your future.

The more Wilbur is there for you, the more he resents Jared. He deserved to be in your bed, not that asshole. He deserves to reap the rewards of his hard labour. He is the one that has always been there because Wilbur has always stayed.

A simple click is all it takes for Wilbur and the item has been placed in a cart. Mere keystrokes and it has been paid. A single click and Wilbur has truly gone insane, as a packet is shipped off. A packet containing a bottle of sleeping pills.

The next time you invite Wilbur down, you barely recognise him as you open the door. Eyebags so deep you’ve never seen before. His entire body slightly twitching, and that manic smile on his lips. Wilbur brushes your concerns off, claiming that’s just what happens in real workplaces. Not that you would know anything about that.

Wilbur hates the feeling of insulting you, but you had barely responded the entire week. You deserved to suffer for a moment. Before he caves and apologises for being rude. That’s the moment you can see the resembles of his normal being as he hangs his shoulders.

Jared comes over that night. Just as Wilbur had planned. And this time he won’t hesitate. He even bought a bigger car for this.

Wilbur offers to mix the drinks, claiming to have learnt a new recipe. Which isn’t a lie, he has learned how to perfect just the right cocktail thick enough that covers the chalky residue of the pills. And sweet enough to make the bitter taste disappear.

He serves them, keeping a watchful eye as the night drags on, and Jared never seems to shut up. But Wilbur can deal with it for one night. Just for one. And then he won’t ever have to worry about Jared again.

He serves another.

And then another drink.

And finally. Finally. You’re starting to get tired. Slowly leaning against Wilbur. And he takes pride in that. Great pride. You didn’t choose to lean against Jared, you’re leaning against Wilbur.

Wilbur sits still until Jared too is starting to fall asleep. Wilbur is ecstatic.

He gets up slowly, gently laying you down, a pillow underneath your face. A blanket over you. He kisses your forehead and smells your hair. Taking in the shampoo scent still lingering.

Then Wilbur gets moving, he has stuff to do. Plans to execute after all.

He does his best to get Jared’s left arm over his shoulders. But their awkward height difference makes it difficult, but he can make it work. It has to work. He only gets one shot.

Wilbur gets the front door open before he realises a fatal flaw in his plan. He has to drag Jared down 3 floors worth of stairs. He realises he can’t do it the way he is now. He has to drag him down by his armpits instead.

It takes him the first flight of stairs to realise Jared shoes are making too much noise. He has to abandon them, Wilbur awkwardly gets Jared leaned against the wall before he removes Jared’s polished black shoes. Wilbur leaves them there, making a mental note to remember them when he comes back.

The rest of the stairs, while difficult and definitely breathtaking for someone who has no muscle strength. He makes it work. Wilbur actually makes it work.

He made it work. It worked. Oh god. It’s working.

Wilbur repositions Jared once more, his arm once again over Wilbur’s shoulders. The night sky greeting him as he steps out of the apartment complex. With great difficulty, Wilbur gets the two of them over to his car, where he throws open the trunk. In the proceed shaking the car, setting off the car alarm. Wilbur is quick to drop Jared as he fumbles after his car keys. It takes him nearly a full minute to turn off the car alarm.

Wilbur curses under his breath.

Annoyed with the time loss. He finally gets the knocked-out Jared into his trunk, and he shuts it again. Just as a front door in the apartment complex opens. A man steps out. He raises a hand to Wilbur, before pulling out a smoke.

Wilbur shuffles on his feet before raising a hand. And then awkwardly gets into his car.

Okay. Okay. Okay.

He has a body in his trunk. Now he just has to get to the harbour. Wilbur starts the car and starts the ride to the harbour a town over.

Half an hour has gone past when Wilbur is pulling the handbrake, and taking the keys out. He’s quick to get out, and even quicker to get to Jared. Wilbur keeps thinking about you. Your smile. Your kindness. Your voice. Your beauty. Your grace. As his hands are securing zip ties around the wrists and ankles of an unconscious man.

He has to go.

Wilbur reminds himself.

A cloth is tied around Jared’s filthy mouth, and then Wilbur is back to dragging him. It’s both easier and harder. Easier before he’s just dragging him across the pebbles and over to the brink of the harbour. Both of his arms are under both of Jared’s.

But it’s harder because if someone sees him it’s going to get difficult to explain. But nobody does. As far as Wilbur is aware.

So a splash is made by a body, and Jared is unceremoniously sinking to the bottom of the ocean floor.

Wilbur takes one more breath of fresh air. Before turning around and getting back into his new car.

He’s quick to arrive at your apartment complex. The man was no longer there. Wilbur goes to grip the front door. It doesn’t bulge.

Oh yeah, it’s locked.

He fishes the copy he made of your house key from his keychain and lets himself into the building he doesn’t live in. An invited guest, that has turned out to be an uninvited one.

He can feel the tiredness setting in his bones, as he ascends the stairs. And the realisation that he just killed someone hasn’t dawned on him yet. Instead, all his muscles are aching, and his eyes barely staying open.

He stumbles into your apartment. Another kiss gets left on your forehead as he goes for your bed. The smell is so nice. It’s so obvious to him this is where you sleep. And he’s soaking in each moment until his eyes are giving out.

His night remaining dreamless, instead, he gets awoken rather rudely around noon. You’ve pulled the comforter off him and told him to get up, so the two of you can spend some timeacting together. and Wilbur happily does that.

Not at all acing like a man who purposely took another person’s life mere hours ago. You rush him to get into his clothes. As you have something planned for rest of the day out of the apartment. You’re talking his ears off as you descend the first flight stairs your personal puppy in tow.

When you stop dead in your tracks. Wilbur nearly stumbles into you.

“Will, is that Jared’s shoes?”

And right there is in fact Jared’s shoes. The pair Wilbur had forgotten all about. The pair he had left unintentionally.

“Are you sure about that? Thought he already left.” Wilbur lies, he may be awkward, but he has gotten pretty good at lying to you through the years.

“Yeah yeah, you’re right. Why would he leave his shoes?”

The question gets left unanswered, and the tension is thick until you get outside, and the sun is shining. It seems it knows too of how good this day is for Wilbur, a dawn of a new era. Where you will finally acknowledge him as the perfect one for you.

The man from the nightstand once again with a smoke and raises his hand to greet Wilbur, once again Wilbur shuffles on his feet before he raises a hand back. You look at him weirdly, and Wilbur shrugs it off.

The rest of the day happening without any mishaps or other incidents. But the shoes just can’t seem to leave your mind, despite how hard Wilbur is trying to distract you.

And then the afternoon passes, and the night, and the car ride, and Wilbur is once again home. And as soon as the door closes. He crumbles down on the floor.

Oh god.

He did it.

He actually fucking did it.

He isn’t useless.

He’s fucking Wilbur, and Wilbur stays in your life. Even when you make such stupid mistakes as falling for another person. There’s only one person for you and that’s him.

You’re actually the first one to call him this time, and the smile never leaves his lips. Even if the call is about Jared. And how worried you are about not having heard from him. Wilbur just tells you; you should have listened to him. Guys on the internet are just like that. And that you deserve better. Someone like him.

You laugh at this and thank him for calming you down.

Wilbur suddenly loves phone calls.

This bliss is perfect for Wilbur you’re talking to him more and more. And he watches, god he watches you. Every step you take in that apartment is filmed logged on his computer.

However, all good things must come to an end, and Wilbur has barely pulled off his tie after work when a group of loud knocks sounds at his door. He isn’t expecting guests.

A group of men in blue uniforms greets him.

“Wilbur Soot, you’re under the arrest for the Murder of Jared Yarrow.”

Wilbur barely registers what’s going on, before he’s in a holding cell. A psych evaluation under his belt. A phone call to his father asking him to help him out.

The days bleed together in the unchanging environment, and suddenly a defender is telling him to plead for insanity.

Then the defender comes back again days later with a court date, and all Wilbur can do is count the seconds.

Time for the first time since arriving slows down when the doors to the court open and Wilbur is lead into the courtroom. And there you are, looking beautiful as ever. Tears and despair clearly written on your face. You look away from him, and it makes him stumble for a moment. A quick look to the other side, confirms his fear. His father is here. Alongside his brothers.

The trial goes over what happened that night, the evidence, the sleeping medication, the car. Everything. Yet even when his sentence is received, even when he is told he won’t see the sun again for a long time. There is only one thing on his mind.

They never found the cameras.

And he just can’t help but smile at that as he’s getting lead away to rot.

Because Wilbur has always stayed by your side, Wilbur always stays. -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

#wilbur soot #Simpbur #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x reader #simpbur x you #c!wilbur soot x reader #simpbur x reader #c!wilbur #c: simpbur #c!wilbur x reader #c!wilbur fanfic #c!wilbur x you #c!wilbur soot x you #dsmp #mcyt #fanfic #female!reader #delias own writing

[hyuckshaze]

zoom shenanigans - l.dh

✩‌ haechan ‌x‌ ‌fem!reader‌ ‌|‌ boyfriend!haechan | smut | ‌1.6k+ words ✩

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ you don’t quite know how hyuck convinced you to sit on him while in a class zoom call

WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ exhibitionism, unprotected sex, dom!sub themes, asphyxiation, edging/overstimulation, spitting, slight humiliation, degradation (use of words such as whore, slut etc.), dumbification, slight dacryphylia, salirophilia, dirty talk - basically pure and absolute filth!

AUTHOR’S NOTES ⇾ i couldn’t stop thinking about this throughout the entirety of my online classes today, so i just had to write about it to get it off my chest. i am an absolute slut when it comes to dom!hyuck, so this is just self-indulgence really. enjoy! not proofread so please message if there’s any errors, or anything missing from the warning list! - lex

You don’t quite know how Hyuck convinced you to sit on him while in a class zoom call. 

He’d driven you insane. You’d been sat on his cock since the start of your lesson, for which your teacher, thank God, had decided that cameras did not need to be on. The class only lasted an hour, with you sitting on his lap in his gaming chair because ‘your desk chair just isn’t comfy enough, Y/N’, according to him anyway. You thought your desk chair was perfectly comfy, but he insisted. 60 minutes doesn’t seem all that long in the grand scheme of things, but with a boyfriend as evil as Donghyuck, of course he knew just how to make that hour feel like an eternity, teasing you relentlessly throughout. His lips brushing against your ear as you tried your hardest to complete the set work, whispering unspeakable promises into your ear and sending dark shivers down your spine. Though you couldn’t see his face, you knew the exact expression that was plastered on his face as his wandering hands roamed your body, squeezing and pinching all the spots that he knew would have you squirming in his hold. By far, the most infuriating thing he would do, though, was to snake his hand around your body whenever you had to turn your microphone on, fingers rubbing your clit in circles that had you biting back loud and sensual moans, managing to suppress the noises down to sighs which, as a University student, were not all that uncommon to hear. 

It’s when the time hits 11:50am, exactly 10 minutes before the end of the lesson (you know because you began checking it, what seemed like, every few seconds, sensing his growing impatience), that his self-control evaporates. With a raspy grunt, his hand wraps around your neck and he thrusts up into you, hard, fast and rough. You gasp, face contorting in pleasure at the sudden movements which have you crying out and grasping at the desk in front of you in order to stay upright. You whine as his grip on your neck tightens, pulling you back towards his chest in one, swift movement. A yelp escapes your lips, now blindly grabbing at the armrests on either side of the chair in order to stop your legs from giving out. Not that you’d go anywhere, Hyuck’s rigid grip on you made sure of that. His hot breath against the back of your neck caused goosebumps to form on your exposed skin, a shudder going through your body at the overwhelming amount of pleasure. His hand on your neck pushes your jaw backwards, the back of your head resting on his shoulder as he looks down at your flushed face, tears of pleasure collecting at the corners of your wide and innocent eyes, perfect pink lips parted so beautifully, not to mention the dream-worthy sounds escaping them. How could he have ended up with such a perfect little girl? His hand moves for only a split second from your neck, squeezing your cheeks together in order to open your mouth. He spits harshly into your now open mouth, pressing your cheeks shut again afterwards. You let out a sudden and uncontrollable moan at the sound of him doing such a filthy thing, feeling his spit hit your tongue forcefully. You know what he wants. You close your mouth and swallow, his hand creeping back down towards your neck as you show him your empty mouth.

“That’s my good girl.” He rasps, giving a tight squeeze to your neck once more.

With your eyes squeezed so tightly shut, you almost forget that you’re supposed to be listening to your Biomedical Sciences lecturer drone on about Haematology and Transfusion. Almost.

“Right, now that’s done, everyone turn your cameras on for this last task. We’re going to be going through the homework assignment that I set for you all last week, don’t think you can get away without speaking either! I’m gonna be asking you all questions about the task.” His words barely register in your mind, your head fuzzy and body shaking at the feeling of your boyfriend rearranging your insides so delectably. After a few moments, his words seem to sink in and your eyes shoot open, urgently whispering Hyuck’s name. There was no way you could turn on your camera, you’d have to lie. I dropped my laptop; my WiFi is lagging; my room is a mess. A thousand ways to excuse yourself ran through your mind, albeit at a much slower pace than usual. You could only focus so much through the feeling of Haechan fucking into you so hard and fast. Your desperate whines of his name are interrupted as he hums into your ear, not slowing his hips or showing any sign of stopping. If anything, it becomes even harder to think at his words.

“We both know that’s not what you call me when I’m fucking you, baby.” He growls into your ear, pounding into you with even more force, rendering you barely capable of thinking, let alone talking. Your walls clench tightly around his hard cock, a string of curses escaping your boyfriend’s pink lips as he grunts loudly at the feeling.

“M-my professor s-said-” You start, barely able to string a sentence together.

“I heard what your professor said, baby. Turn on your camera. Show your entire class how much of a filthy little slut you are for me. Show them how this perfect A* student cums all over my dick, huh? You’d like that wouldn’t you? Everyone seeing the perfect little teachers pet coming all over her boyfriends cock during her class? Everyone seeing how fucking dumb you get for my dick?” You bite your lip, holding back a scream. You can’t, however, stop a broken whimper from escaping you.

“Fuck! Yes, yes, yes, yes! Please, oh my God!” The hand that isn’t clutching your neck so tightly moves downwards, fingers brushing your clit so delicately.

“Please... Please what, slut?” He spits, tears now leaking down your face, chest shaking as you hold in overwhelmed sobs.

“Please Daddy!” You cry out, mascara beginning to smudge as you clench your eyes shut so tightly. You no longer care about your waiting professor, you no longer care about the entire class, it’s only Haechan. He is all you can feel and think.

“Y/N, we’re waiting on you to turn your camera on...” Your professor presses, but you don’t even hear him. It’s only when your boyfriend stops all of his movement, hand slipping away from your throat, reaching down and reclining his gaming chair into a laying position, that you realise what he wants.

“No, no, no. Please, Hyuckie!” You whine, head spinning at the loss of movement. He’s laying practically flat now, out of view of the camera. You try to move, rolling your hips atop his dick but his fingers dig into your hips hard, almost painfully, as he holds you in place, smirking up at your shaking figure with mirth.

“Go on, baby. Turn on your camera.” He warns, fingers digging even harder into your hips. You send him an exasperated look, to which he gives you the look. You know what that means. ‘Do as I fucking say, or you’ll regret it’. 

Your shaky hands reach over to the laptop, clicking the camera button as you let out an uneven breath. After a few seconds, your face appears on the screen. Your eyes widen. What your boyfriend had failed to inform you, was that your face was flushed and sweaty, mascara smudging your cheeks in obvious tear streaks, a drop of his spit glittering as it sat upon your chin. You wiped your face on your sleeve as soon as you catch sight of yourself, moving forward to pretend to be sorting a non-existing wire behind your screen as you try to make yourself look more presentable. As you do so, you hear his voice whisper.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you called me just then and don’t think you’re getting away with it. ‘Hyuckie’ doesn’t fuck you the way Daddy does.” His low tone causes you to clench around him, taking a deep breath at his teasing words. He scoffs at your silence, squeezing your ass, hard, so that you let out a small whimper. He hums in satisfaction as you plaster an obviously fake smile onto your face before leaning back, clicking on the unmute button for only a moment before abruptly turning it off again, barely having finished your sentence, as Haechan’s rock hard dick twitches inside your sensitive pussy.

“Sorry, Professor. I had tech issues.” 

✩  ✩   ✩

Those last 8 minutes of class felt like an eternity, and your boyfriend made sure of that. You thought you’d done a pretty good job at hiding it, though. Not one person gave you a funny or disgusted look as you answered the Professor’s questions and kept a small, albeit forced, smile on your face. You couldn’t help but feel a twisted form of pride at your ability to pretend as though nothing was happening as you sat atop of Hyuck’s dick, enduring his endless verbal and physical teasing throughout.

It wasn’t until after the two of you were finished, long after the class had done so, that your boyfriend checked his phone

“Y/N...” You heard him call from the bathroom. You couldn’t find the energy to move, simply humming in acknowledgement at his hesitant-sounding call. He enters the bedroom in all his naked glory, carrying a small, wet cloth in order to clean you up in one hand, his phone in the other. Your eyes trace his naked body, focusing on the smooth, tanned skin. He really was a sight for sore eyes, somebody that you could never get tired of looking at. You’re disrupted from staring at his body when he holds his phone out in front of your face. You reluctantly tear your eyes from his torso, focusing in on the brightly lit screen, squinting slightly to read the text upon it.

“ 

MESSAGES

Jaemin

fucking your gf during her zoom class, nice one bro. though, you might wanna make sure that you actually hang up next time. the whole class was still there, apart from the prof. not that they’re complaining, i saw their faces. they’re gonna be getting off to that for the entirety of lockdown, i swear! 

“

Needless to say, nobody in class called you the Teacher’s Pet anymore.

✩   ✩   ✩ 

#haechan #donghyuck #nct smut #nct #kpop smut #haechan smut #nct 127 #smut #leehaechan #leedonghyuck #donghyuck smut #kpop imagine #nct imagine #nct 127 imagine #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct dream imagine #nct 127 smut

[sofiaaaaaaaa03]

Comms

Title: Comms

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN! Teen reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Rating: PG

Warning: Cursing, mention of wounds, blood, scared Mando.

Description: In an unexpected raid, Din finds himself unable to find his foundlings and searches for them.

Request: Hey! I love your stories and thought that I would submit a request myself. So this is about Din having a teen foundling/adopted child. They’ve known each other for a little over a year now and even if they don’t show it a lot they’ve grown attached to each other. So this particular story would be about the foundling nearly dying and Din being a scared Dad (I hope you get what I’m going for. Kind of a fluff/Angst story with comforting afterwards😅)

A/N: I'm so sorry this took forever to write, I've been travelling and my computer has been messing up so I have not had time to write at all. Anyways, here it is! I hope it's to your liking. It took me awhile for inspiration to hit but I am pretty happy with how it ended up. Enjoy!

....

“Okay kid, what do we do when we get in trouble?”

“Call for help and signal our location.”

Call for help and signal your location. That was all you were supposed to do, the one rule Din gave for you before he took you along with him anywhere outside of the safety of the Razor Crest. He considered himself lucky that you rarely wandered off without letting Din know where you were going, and that you always seemed to be able to handle most dangerous situations on your own. Maybe it was because you fretted to be too much of a bother for Din, seeing as he took you in almost a year ago when he could have easily left you. Din didn’t see it that way, if he was honest. You were valuable to the group, taking care of Grogu and the ship when Din could not, and he believed it his duty to protect all on the ship. Only once or twice did you call for him, and he was quick to come to your aid.

He did not think that today would be the day where his timing risked your life.

The Mandalorian found himself aiding a local trading village with a raider issue in exchange for information about a bounty he’d been pursuing. He’d led a group of men over to what they’d suspected to be the raider’s hideout and set up for an ambush. The Entrance of the cave’s dunes felt barren, and only after the mens’ legs grew sore from crouching and backs ached from huddling in the dark was it that Din began to suspect something was wrong. The quiet environment was abnormal behavior to the raiders he’d encountered before, no doubt this specific group would be any different.

“They’ll see you!”

Startling the men surrounding him, Din shot into the air and stalked the vicinity. The dunes’ walls stretched for meters long as he kept his piece raised, occasionally scanning weak spots for life forms or any piece of equipment. He paused, frowning a moment when his scanner detected nothing.

That was the first sign that things weren’t going as planned that day.

“...hiss…”

“...m..do... v.llage... here…”

There was the second.

Din raised his arm to speak into his comms.

“Y/N?” Nothing but static came back from the comms. Din fidgeted and smacked it a couple times before grunting in frustration.

Damn, comms were jammed.

Wait, they were jammed.

And in a moment of a horrible realization, Din was quick to grab the men and make their way back to the village. When they arrived they found the village in chaos- buildings were burning, villagers running, and materials and pieces and bodies strewn across the ground. For a moment, Din froze in fear and worried that you were on the ground as well, your comms still ringing static and Grogu taken from you, lost to the raiders, or worse, the Empire.

Din quickly made his way throughout the village, barely rounding the first corner when a group of raiders assaulted him. He threw punches at the first raider, using their momentum to kick them hard into another. After several dodges and shots from his blaster, most of them were dead aside from one that laid on the ground and clutched his blasted leg.

Din marched over and pressed his blaster against the wound. “Where are the hostages being held?”

As it turned out, the raiders had no plan of keeping hostages. When Din finally tracked the building where captives were supposedly held, he was unable to remain collected when he found that you and Grogu were nowhere to be found. Instead, he stood before raiders responsible for the attack, their blasters disturbingly put away as they argued amongst one another. Din didn’t bother listening, he looked around but saw no sign of his foundlings.

“Wrong door.” He said simply before taking out his blaster and shooting the raiders.

Pocketing his piece Din ran out of the stronghold and went outside, calling for you and Grogu. He thought about the worst possible scenarios that could have happened to you two as he took out the raiders pillaging the village, until all but one remained, the leader. He found him in the main courtyard of the village, his face hidden though his body seethed with labored breaths. He stood there for several moments before Din heard one last labored breath before the leader’s legs buckled beneath him and he slumped to the ground with a sickening crack of skull on stone. Hm? Din didn’t know what to make of this, and further stalked over, hand on blaster, examining the body. Upon closer look a blaster wound to the stomach was made more visible. So, someone got to the leader before Din could. That leaves the question… who?

A quick look around the area pointed out a trail of blood.

The Mandalorian followed this trail without any real reason behind it.

He found the remainder of the villagers at some point along the way. Sullen masses of faces mixed together, mourning the loss of their villages and lost ones but kept busy with treating the wounded. Women sat in huddles cooking with what food was salvaged and children sat quiet. One stood out apart from the rest in Din’s eyes, a large male leaning over a group of medics. Din recognized him as Cyrukee, the villager’s chief, who noticed the lone bounty hunter from the corner of his eye and stood up. In his arms was the most beautiful thing Din had seen all day, Grogu. The baby gurgled in joy as he walked up to the chief.

“There you are.” Din didn’t realize that he was holding his breath when he sighed in relief, taking Grogu into his arms.

“Sir.” Cryukee barely got a word out before Din turned to him.

“I’m looking for a youngling- my kid. Have you seen them?”

“Sir, please.”

“They’re this tall,” Din rears a hand near to your height, “they were with this little green baby. Your husband, he took them to the school. Where is he?” The Mandalorian made a full turn around to look for the red robed headman who was last responsible for your care. He reached for his comms and tried to reach you again. His voice rang back at him, and in a terrible moment of realization he realized that that was your comms.

“Where are they?”

“Sir, let me explain.” Cyrukee wore an exasperated expression and looked as though he was about to speak before one of the medics from the group he was with requested to speak with him. He spared a glance at Din as though he struggled whether or not to say something. And then, Din followed his arm towards the medics he was just with. Din didn’t know what to make of it, not able to recognize any of them. The Mandalorian took one last look at the chief, whose grave expression gave him reason to worry, and slowly walked towards the group of medics. He buzzed through the comms, trying to pinpoint your location. As he got closer he heard medics speak in soothing voices and their patient hyperventilating. Had it not been his own voice coming from the center of the personnel he would have moved on, instead he could not find the will to move. Grogu looked at him expectantly.

One medic in particular took notice of the beskar-armored man. He and some others quickly got up and pushed Din away before he could force his way through the medics to take a look at you.

“Hey, wait-wait-please.” Din grunted at the force and staggered several steps back. He took a moment to collect himself and Grogu sneezed in his arms. Dust must have gotten into his nose during the scuffle. “Please, my ward- my kid. That’s my kid.”

“Just a moment,” one of the bloodied nurses kept her hands on Din’s chestplate longer than he would have liked. He didn’t push her away though.

“I need to see my kid.” Din looked her in the eye, hoping that she could see his desperation through his helmet.

His kid. When Din looks back on this he would think about how he’s never referred to Y/N as his own before. He would have liked to think he said that so the nurses allowed him to pass easier. But deep down, he knew it was because of how much he cared for them.

“I understand but please let me explain. Sir, Sir!” Din retreated in defeat on his second attempt to get past her and the other nurses. She stared into his eyes and patted his shoulders, Din didn’t know whether she was trying to comfort him or control his movements. “They’re traumatized enough right now, and you moving around in that armor of yours will only make it worse.”

“What happened to them?”

“They had an encounter with Jetwal,” Din’s blood boiled at the recognition of the raider’s leader who’d died before him. “according to the children, your child was leading them to the outskirts when he found them. They killed him, he was threatening the children, and they shot him. Now, listen to me. They did get injured. Several blaster wounds to their limbs and upper torso- sir, listen please I cannot allow you to go to them just yet- they’re still panicking right now but I assure you their wounds are being treated right now. They’ll be fine, but disrupting our work will only inhibit us from treating them properly.”

She watched his gaze linger to the sound of your crying. “How much longer until I can see them?”

Din was not pleased to find that he was only allowed to see you when the nurse came for him herself. Reluctantly he walked a little farther away from the medics when asked to give them more space, and sat down with Grogu bouncing on his knee next to a young Twi’lek running their hands over their lekku to soothe themselves. Between glancing at the medics to keeping Grogu entertained, Din didn’t realize how much time had elapsed before noticing the nurse had come to his side to collect him.

She took a seat next to him. “They’re hurt very badly, but with time their injuries will heal. All they need to do is rest. You can see them now.”

Grogu giggled and played with the nurse’s finger that was threateningly wiggling on his little tummy. “Can you take him for a moment?”

Din stood up and gave Grogu a pat on his little head and rubbed his large ears out of habit. Something you used to do to calm the little green alien down after a terrible meltdown. Even under his helmet Din smiled at the alien before dredging towards you. You laid on a pile of fabrics that functioned as a makeshift cot, but you looked like you had a pile of fabrics on you with the amount of bandages that wrapped your body. You didn’t notice Din approaching you as you stared straight into the sky. Din wondered what you were thinking. What could you be thinking? From his knowledge, this was your first time dealing with major injuries from blasters. It must have made this whole ordeal so much more frightening to you.

Maybe Din was too light on his feet, recoiling instantly when you jolted at his touch and groaned in pain.

“It’s me, it’s me.” His voice was soothing, even more than normal which surprised him.

A sort of wheeze escaped your lips and you coughed. “Mando.”

“Hey kid.”

“I tried calling for you.” A gasp. “They jammed the frequencies.”

“Your message barely came through, kid. But it made us realize what was going on. We got here before more damage could be done because of you.”

Your form relaxed. “Good, good. Grogu?”

“With a nurse.” “The one with the sweet voice.”

“Yeah.”

“I liked her voice-” A cough. “Sounds like my mom’s. She was nice. She helped calm me down.” At this point Din had stared at you long enough to realize how puffy your eyes were from crying. He didn’t stop himself from reaching over to brush your H/C hair out of your face. You leaned into his touch.

“I’m pretty fucked up, huh?”

Your eyes were already locked onto his when he met your gaze. A tick passed, and Din’s eyes fell to the wounds you were referring to. He shook his head. “No, kid. That’s not what you are.”

“Feels like it.” Din scowled at your words.

“There are too many fucked up people in the galaxy, kid. You´re not one of them.” You look at him with a raised brow. “Y/N, you barely have any combat experience yet you took on Jetwal? What were you thinking?”

And you said something that surprised him.

“I was thinking of you.”

And Din couldn’t find any words. He cleared his throat and you continued, “We were alone and I had no idea when you’d come, I was scared something had happened to you because I couldn’t get a hold of you through the comms and that guy was coming at us and-” You inhaled sharply, wincing at what Din assumed was a jab in one of your wounds but he didn’t know how to help. You calmed a moment later, closing your eyes and furling your brows together. “I thought about what you would have done if you were there. You always looked like you knew what to do.”

To say that Din was proud of you would have been an understatement, he was beaming wonders underneath his helmet but realized that you couldn’t see through the beskar.

“I thought I’d lost you both.” Din admitted. “But I’m very proud of you. You saved lives, Y/N. That’s no easy feat for someone of your age.”

You grinned at him and laughed. “Did you do something like this when you were my age?”

“Yes, but I didn’t end up as fucked up as you did.” “Hey!” Din laughed and raised his forearm to block your playful hits.

A moment of silence falls between the two of you before you look at Din again. “Do you know how long we’ll be here for?”

��With your injuries, no clue. I’ll talk to the medics and Cyrukee to see what is to be done.”

“Okay.” You nodded, your fingers twitching involuntarily. Din’s hands find their way to your hair again. “Mando, I’m tired.”

“Rest. I’ll be here with you.” He watches you half-heartedly nod at his words and doze off in a matter of seconds. The injuries have taken a toll on your body, Din suspects, and he pulls a sheet over you. He sits with you, watching villagers talk amongst themselves, speaks with those who come by to thank him for his help, and accepts Grogu from the nurse when she comes over, thanking her for all she’d done for you. She told him that a thank you was not owed to her, and that if you were to need anything she was only a call away.

And when he was finally left alone, Mandalorian took one look to take account for his two foundlings. They slept soundly and with luck, heads full of dreams. Most importantly, they were safe in his care once again.

Din realized he’d been holding in a breath, and exhaled a sigh of relief.

.....

Taglist:

@kiara-is-gay @pcotato @sagedgeek

#din djarin x teen!reader #din dijarin fanfiction #din djarin x y/n #din djarin is a dad #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin #grogu #mandalorian and grogu #star wars x y/n #star wars requests #star wars x you #star wars x reader #star wars reader insert #star wars fanfiction

[angelamajiki]

[ peace treaty - kiribaku ]

AN: this is a fantasy au piece, enjoy! :)

CW: yandere, dubcon, arranged marriage, stalking, coercion, dragon/animal anatomy, fantasy au, afab terms, predator/prey dynamics, size difference, facesitting

“A mate, huh?” Katsuki chuckled as he stroked his companion’s horns, looking into the horizon thoughtfully.

“Think about it! We need hatchlings to lead the future generations of the Bakugo clan.” Eijirou pleaded with his mate. “Don't you ever miss the company of a woman? I know I do.”

Adding a woman to their pack would certainly bring its advantages. It would undoubtedly strengthen their positions as clan rulers if they were to have a wife and children to carry on both men’s legacy.

“Fine,” Katsuki conceded. “Let’s go find a mate then.”

The pair returned to their respective forms, wolf and dragon, as they began their hunt through the wild countryside for their new mate. Days of running down the mountainous forests away from their clan, they settled on resting at the edge of the woods, looking at a clearing just over a shimmering river that separated the two territories. Beyond the meadow was a small fortress surrounded by the community that they presumably controlled—a perfect place to start their search after some well-needed sleep.

Katsuki was the first to awaken from his slumber at the sound of a woman’s voice. And a heavenly voice it was, signing an alluring melody. Peaking his head over the bushes, the young prince saw the enchanting woman bathing alone in the stream. The other man had awoken as well, just as equally entranced by the naked dancing woman.

“A vixen...” Katsuki murmured, twisting to look at his mate. It was clear to both men that she was the mate they were looking for. Independent, vexing, sweet. She was perfect.

“Let’s snatch her up now while she’s distracted, ” Eijirou grumbled impatiently, eager to take her back to their den at once.

“Patience, Ei. I want her too, but now is not the moment to strike. Let's watch her a bit more; she needs to be more than a pretty face, you know that.”

Katsuki did not doubt that she wasn’t their perfect match, but he is a predator to her before he’s a man to her at this moment.

The blissfully unaware maiden that you were, you went on with bathing peacefully in the warm, summer day. Your attendants had followed you from the castle, watching from afar as they knew you valued your time alone in the stream. After some time, one of them called for you back to the castle for supper. Dried and dressed, the group of you departed from the meadow by horse as the sunset.

“So, she’s a princess, Katsuki.” Eijirou’s tail trashed with excitement. “If we marry her, we’ll get this territory too! Oh, I wonder if she likes to travel..” The red-haired man went off on a tangent about his many fantasies for you while the blonde thought deeply. This was almost too perfect; he had just the plan to corner and ensnare their lovely little prey.

The men stayed at the edge of their territory, for the time being, glad to notice that you had returned to the riverbank almost daily. Sometimes you took your handmaidens; sometimes, you came alone while they trailed back.

They learned that you liked to flip through many a book while basking in the sunlight. A library would be a perfect wedding present for you-they intended to spoil you thoroughly with the dragon’s hoard.

Five days had proven to be enough time for the men to watch you and returned to their clan to make the necessary preparations for your place as their lovely spoiled mate.

---

A fortnight later, a letter from the young prince arrived at your doorstep, addressed to your father, the king.

“An alliance? With the barbarian tribe, that’s unheard of, father. Are you sure it’s not some trick?” You doubted, finding it difficult to understand his request. The barbarian clan was...mysterious, to say the least. Living up in the mountains beyond the river, they were a solitary bunch who were ruthless and never exhibited mercy towards their foes. Not much was know about them because they simply never made alliances or held diplomacy with other clans or kingdoms.

“Perhaps they wish to make allies with the next closest kingdom, my dear.” Your father spoke quietly, his voice wavering as he avoided your eyes. “You’ll go up the mountains to discuss the terms with young Bakugo. An older gentleman like me is not suited for those kinds of traveling conditions.”

Nodding solemnly, preparations were made for your immediate departure. All of your belongings were brought to your carriage, something that struck you as rather odd. Although father did say something about the uncertainty of the amount of time you would spend with the barbarians for the sake of discussion.

With that in mind, you set off into the forest just as the sunset.

---

The journey had taken nearly five days through the rain and snow, your small carriage trudging up the mountainside to the den of the barbarians. As your carriage came to a stop, two men helped you out and down, both possessing a tenderness that didn’t seem possible for them. The blond was bare-chested, even in the snow! He stood at about six feet and had a body that seemed the gods themselves sculpted it.

“Welcome to my clan, your majesty.”

His smirk was wolf-like, eyes bearing down on you like a predator who has caught his unwitting prey. “Come, let’s get you inside to warmth and comfort. I'm sure you’ve had a long journey. Eijirou here will help with your belongings and join us after you rest.”

The prince held out his arm for you to take as the red-head beside you gave a toothy grin before setting off to work. He...he was something more than a man, he had to be! Standing at well over six and a half feet, he was much more muscular than the blonde; Eijirou airs about him more than human. It was inexplicable.

Katsuki gave a gentle tug to your arm before ushering you to the massive tent that stood in the middle of the community of barbarians who looked onto you with glowing pride. What an odd bunch of people, but you couldn't very well judge them now, could you? They simply had a different culture, another way of life.

The tent seemed larger than life on the inside and was impossibly warm. It had had a large bed adorned with piles of pelts and furs near a roaring fireplace. Many bookshelves lined the walls, as well as prized kills and weaponry were displayed. Katsuki led you to a table near the warmth of the fire. How-

“Magic, princess. I am fortunate enough to possess it, as well as many of my clansmen.” Katsuki boasted, clearly prideful of his abilities. He could only hope it impressed you, which it certainly did. “It keeps us warm up here in the dead of winter, which is soon approaching. It protects us, provides for us, all of which it will do for you too.”

Your smile could hardly be contained as you gazed upon the handsome man with wonder. For you, too? Would this he be so kind as to lend you its strength while you struck a deal with them? The barbarians were indeed nothing like the fairytales you had heard about them.

“I thank you for your hospitality, Sir Bakugo. I am truly humbled to be here with you.”

“Call me Katsuki, little one. We should grow familiar with each other before our wedding.”

His wolfish smirk grew wider as he saw the look on your face. Ah, he so loved that look of feeble innocence and confusion on your expression.

“Oh, did your father not tell you?” he chuckled, taking a sip from his cup. “This is an alliance through our union. Suppose you’ll have us, of course. Otherwise, we might have to resort to other means down the mountain.”

Us? Oh, he means-

“Ei, don’t be shy and stand in the doorway. Come greet your bride properly.”

Thundering footsteps came from behind your seated form as Eijirou towered over your much smaller frame.

“Please, tell me you agree to us, my love. We've waited so long for your arrival, won't you let us have you?” A scarred but gentle hand enveloped yours as the dragon shifter kissed it tenderly. “There’s no need to be frightened; we intend to treat you like our queen and spoil you rotten with all the world’s riches. Grant us your blessing.”

How could you deny them? Your kingdom was in danger, yet these men, they lulled you into such a state of comfort and safety. Perhaps it was the magic at work?

“Please, may I think on it?” Your heart battered against your ribcage with fear and excitement. Two men, both for husbands. What a strange culture indeed.

“Only if you let us have you tonight. Give us a chance to prove our worth as not only husbands but as men to you.”

Blood rushed to your face, heating your cheeks as you felt aflame with shame, and to your horror, arousal. They are seasoned men. Indeed they’ll treat you as gently as they have been the whole time?

“O-Only if you are gentle with me. I am...inexperienced.”

That was all the approval they needed. Eijirou, still behind you, swept you up in his arms and onto the bed. Wanting to show some display of his true strength, he ripped your gown clean off your body. Whimpering, your hand flew to grip his forearm fearfully. “Gentle, please, gentle.”

Eijirou shushed you softly, placing a sweet kiss on your trembling lips, hands beginning to wander to down your sides and to your sex. Stroking your clit in small circles, the men relished in your little whines and moans.

“I think I should give you a taste, huh? I haven't eaten all day.” He purred as he dipped down to press kisses to your lips before diving in with his hot tongue, lapping your clit.

Katsuki’s searing kiss swallowed wanton moans and cries. Eijriou’s hands kept your squirming hips firmly in place, positioning you to sit on his face while the blond continued to lay passionate kisses on your lips, neck, and chest.

Teeth sunk into your neck as the prince wasted no time in marking up his newfound territory. Your cries heightened in pitch as you gripped red hair, calling out Eijirou’s name as you came from his overwhelming sucking and slurping of your juices.

“N-no more! Please, that's enough!” Whining, you began to shake when his tongue barely came to half after your cries. Panting and writhing, you peeled off his tongue and laid on the furs next to Katsuki.

“I think that’s enough for this evening; poor thing is already exhausted.” Katsuki chuckled as he dabbed the sweat off your brow and cleaned in between your legs.

“We’ll build up your stamina and be sure to stretch you gently daily.” Eijirou quipped as he took his place next to your side. Up close, you could see how different he really was. Red iridescent scales trailed on his sideburns and h

shoulders. Absentmindedly, you stroke them and wondered if there were more.

“After all, it’s customary to lose your virginity on the wedding night, so need to rush you in right now. Have you made your decision, given Ei’s stellar performance?”

Letting sleep overtake you, your head nodded gently as he rested on Eijirou’s shoulder. The hunt was over and the men could not be more happy with their choice.

#yandere katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere eijiro kirishima #eijirou kirishima #yandere kirishima #yandere kiribaku #kiribaku #kiribaku x reader #yandere my hero academia #my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia #yandere mha #yandere bnha #mha #bnha #yandere x reader #yandere #bakugo x reader #kirishima x reader #fantasy au

[light-yaers]

Fools in the Darkness: Chapter Two

Darkling x Reader

Warnings: Death, violence, drugs (Parem), NSFW and sexual content. This content is explicit and 18+ at some points.

A/N: Once again I am showing off how I have zero self control when it comes to creating stable fic uploads! I simply write another chapter and then upload it immediately. I’m so sorry when this will eventually start to die down, but for now let’s enjoy the start of the story, I guess? I’m astounded at the immense love this got! Thank you all so much!

Fic Masterpost

Word Count - 4k

Chapter Two

Inej returned with three glasses of whiskey. Kaz was sat opposite you at his desk, crow-headed cane secured in one of his leather gloved hands. Inej put the glasses on the desk, before picking up and handing one to you.

“Thank you,” You said politely. Despite the few weeks you’d had to acquaint yourself with the types of people that Ketterdam housed, Inej seemed different. She was a fighter, you could see that clearly, but she also seemed... soulful. Like she had a heart, bursting to the brim with kindness and care, despite the Wraith she had to become living in a place such as the Barrel.

“So, what, the Darkling took you in?” Kaz asked, impatience all over his voice. He grabbed his glass sternly, tapping the sides with his covered fingers.

“This is only the beginning of this story,” You replied.

“Well, get to it,” He said quickly.

“I told you it was a long story, Mr. Brekker. It’ll probably take us most of the night. Can your business wait that long?” You raised a brow at him knowingly. There were men such as Kaz in the Little Palace—impatient, to the point, needing answers immediately.

“Listen, Kaz,” Inej spoke up. “I have a feeling we’ve only skimmed the tip of the iceberg,”

You regarded Inej, taking in her petite frame, the glint of the knives on her body; you counted them quickly, efficiently, until you’d added up fourteen in total. Knives for days, and you’d wager a bet that she knew how to use each one to its full advantage, as if they were an extension of her body.

Kaz breathed out shallowly, shooting Inej a stare. She accepted it gracefully, not even flinching from the obvious tension that had begun to float between them.

“Your sister,” Kaz spoke, his eyes still on Inej, until he finally turned to you once more. He nodded once, sternly and quickly, but you got the message loud and clear—I’m sorry. You swallowed uncomfortably, thankful for the small comfort the tumbler of whiskey gave you as you gripped it in your hands.

“Right, where were we?”

The Little Palace, 1 Year Ago

You woke in a bright room, unrecognisable from where you’d been before—in the snow, the ice, shrouded in a darkness that the Darkling seemed to gravitate towards himself involuntarily. You looked at your hands as they shook; dirt was under your nails, dotted with dried and muddied blood—your sister was still on your very skin.

That’s when you shot up, your heartrate exploding suddenly. She wasn’t here, her body wasn’t on the floor at your feet, nor in the bed next to you. You were trapped inside four walls of creams and golds, with décor that you’d only dreamed of ever seeing.

It was unmistakable—you were in the Little Palace, the one place you’d begged the Darkling not to take you to. He’d done it anyway, after you passed out from your extreme exhaustion.

Now you started to panic, as you looked out of the grand windows of the room. A courtyard was down below, empty of people and carriages. It was still early morning by the sun placement; the palace was quiet. The Grisha lay sleeping in their rooms, the General was in his own—

You were alone.

And saints, you weren’t going to stick around. Not with your sister’s body still lying in the Fjerdan snow, waiting for wolves to find her.

You jumped out of bed, ignoring the way your muscles were screaming at you to return to the pristine sheets. Your feet were bare, and one glance at the floor showed you your shoes had been taken. What for, you didn’t know. Maybe they thought that would be enough to prevent you running.

You almost laughed, imagining the spoilt Grisha deciding to remove your boots—She won’t run with bare feet. She won’t. Little did they know, you’d run with bare feet before. And you’d easily do it again.

You tiptoed to the bedroom door, making as little noise as possible. At the last second, before your fingers curled around the handle, you decided to drop to the floor. You lay on your stomach, shoving your skull to the floor and shutting one eye—there were two feet shaped shadows under the door.

One guard, stood on watch.

This complicated things just a tad, but you were already hatching a plan by the time you stood up again. You gave yourself a few moments to stretch your poor limbs, feeling the adrenaline course through your blood and spur you forward. Without hesitation, you curled your fingers around the handle to your room, and yanked it open—

The guard whipped his hatted head around to you immediately, but he wasn’t quick enough to get into a defensive stance. You grabbed him by the collar, pulling him aggressively into your room, before you twisted him round and placed him in a headlock.

The two of you flopped to the floor, but that allowed you to secure his body to the ground with your legs, wrapping them around his torso so he couldn’t wind his way out of your grip. That’s when you tugged—hard against his windpipe.

He struggled and flailed like a freshly caught fish, but you knew it wouldn’t be long until he passed out and went jelloid. You kept your grip on him tightly, keeping him glued to the ground and his neck secure between your chest and forearm, being pulled taut by your other arm.

Eventually, he stopped fighting. His eyes fluttered closed slowly, his body slipped into a state of sleep.

You left him on the bedroom floor then, opting not to take his uniform in case he woke up while you did, and left the room. You clicked the door shut behind you, before beginning a tiptoed journey through the winding corridors of the Little Palace.

Saints, if you had the time, I’m sure you’d have appreciated the décor. It was splendid; all bright whites and creams with accents of shining gold. There were golden curls on blank white walls, intricate designs of Grisha imprinted in the wallpaper and grandiose windows that let the light flood inside.

You felt that, perhaps, the décor made up for the fact this was effectively an army base. The Grisha brought here were trained non-stop. They couldn’t leave, they didn’t have a choice. You’d heard horror stories of this place, back when you used to be safe in Novyi Zem.

“Zowa adawe,” Your neighbour had said. She was an old woman, living a quiet life on her farm. You called her Nana.

She was stern, but often times soft spoken, with her glorious Zemeni skin and gorgeous personality. When you’d found asylum after an unfortunate incident in Kerch, you and your sister had settled in her barn; parentless. She was kind, she ran the farm and let out the barn next door.

She became a grandmother figure immediately, up until the day she died.

Zowa adawe—Grisha fight. Grisha had to fight if they were sent to the Little Palace. There was no getting out it. Nana had said that your powers were beautiful, but she’d always said it with a hint of distain on her lips, as if you were running out of time.

You turned corridor after corridor, praying that no one would see you creeping around this early in the morning. All you had to do was get outside, and then you’d be able to run—run like Hell. Not stopping to look back or even worry if General Kirigan was on your tail. You’d outrun him, even if it killed you.

When you heard voices and footsteps, you flushed yourself against the corridor wall. You didn’t know where they were coming from, or who they were, but with the rags you were wearing the mud dotted over your skin, they’d know you weren’t supposed to be wandering around.

You held your breath, praying that they’d leave, that you’d get out of this fortress unscathed; and then you started moving again. The next corner you turned welcomed you into a large landing. A spiral staircase was before you to your left, only a few metres ahead of you. You lunged quickly, ducking down as not to be seen through the large windows out to the acres of land that surrounded the palace.

“You,” You stopped, swivelling round as your eyes laid upon two Grisha—one in a purple Kefta and one in white. The lady in white had yelled, but neither got into a defensive stance as you faltered backwards, constantly creeping back to the staircase as your heart threatened to bombard out of your chest. The lady in white shot her gaze down the staircase quickly, while the man in purple next to her all but looked confused.

That’s when her gaze tracked back to you once more, her jaw clenched. “Kirigan!” She boomed. You raised your hands quickly.

“Please—just—,” You pleaded in a whisper.

“Kirigan!” She yelled once more, and as the bash of doors sounded from down the stairs, you knew he’d heard loud and clear. The smack of boots ascended the spiral staircase, until the fresh face of General Kirigan hit your own. He slowed on the stairs, overseeing the commotion, before his expression softened.

He raised his hands calmly, widening his eyes in some kind of silent language, meant just for you.

“Now, just calm down,” He said calmly. You shot your gaze from the two Grisha at the end of the corridor, back to the General, before taking in your surroundings. You were blocked in from both ways; there were no doorways on your side of the grand landing.

But, there was an empty corridor, dotted with closed doors, and at the end—

A window.

It was as if Kirigan could sense the cogs in your brain whirring. As soon as your eyes lay on the window at the end of the free corridor, he began bounding up the steps. “No!” He yelled, reaching out for the flowing fabric of your blouse, but you were already running.

You pumped your arms and moved your legs as quickly as you could, storming towards the window at full pelt. Your heart was in your throat, your limbs screaming for relief, but all you could think of was your sister—alone, cold, left in the snow in a land that had never been kind to her.

That’s when you jumped, flying with all of the momentum you’d charged up from the run up, crashing straight through the window with all of your force. You ignored the sting of shattered glass as it ripped through your clothes and skin, the pain of the wood panelling breaking apart as your body slammed through the window—

And then you were falling, falling, falling—but you never hit the ground.

You brought your hands together with your eyes clamped shut, mustering your remaining energy into creating a cushion of wind to land on. It circled beneath you, spiralling around your body and stopping your free fall comfortably, until you balled your fists and the winds dissipated.

You landed in a large courtyard outside, shaking shards of glass out of your hair as you stood. You dared to look back at the mess you’d made, staring up at the broken window—

Kirigan stood above you, gazing down at you eerily.

You thought he’d be more frantic at the fact you’d just smashed through a window and were still standing. You thought he’d be rushing to get you back inside, but he wasn’t. He was calm and collected, looking at you as if he’d already worked you out completely. And that was the scariest part of this entire ordeal.

You broke into a run, not looking back as you pumped forward. You could feel his stare on your back the entire time, but you chose to ignore it—even if it all felt too easy.

Before you could make it to the tree line, you started to wane. Your limbs felt like lead, your heart felt like a bowling ball in your chest, and all of a sudden it was far too difficult to suck air into your lungs.

You collapsed to your knees, clutching at your chest as you glanced around the clearing. Before your vision began to blur, the unmistakable colour of red hit you. Red and black, with hands dancing before them. A Grisha—a Heartrender.

You struggled against the obvious magic that he was using upon you to slow your heartrate, to stop your muscles working properly. That’s when a blob of black strolled up beside the Grisha, placing his arm upon his Heartrender.

“Enough, Ivan,” Kirigan said, but you could hardly hear him.

“Heartrender...” You stuttered out, as Kirigan began to approach you slowly. “Playing dirty,” You said, as the rest of you collapsed to the floor. The sky above you circled sickeningly, your vision seeing double. Kirigan stepped above you, his face distorted as you fought against the power of Ivan.

“You’ll soon learn that I’m not the enemy here,” He said softly, as he descended to one knee. He slipped his arms beneath you, before rising. You were cradled in his arms, to incapacitated to fight against him.

“Darkling,” You muttered. You would have added more, but even talking was too much to handle.

General Kirigan carried you back inside, as the doors of the palace were bolted shut by his Heartrender. There was nothing you could do—you were powerless, and you were stuck.  

You didn’t fall asleep, but everything felt like a dream. The walk back inside, being carried to a room that wasn’t the one you awoke in, feeling the strength of Kirigan’s arms holding you up without as much as a grunt of exertion.

Kirigan gently dropped you into a large armchair, letting your head fall back against plush leather. He straightened himself, going to sit in a chair opposite you. He picked up a small bell from the table between you, ringing it once, before putting it back down and leaning back in his own chair.

You blinked away the double vision, trying to gain back your composure.

“It’ll ease. Ivan slowed your heart into a death state,” Kirigan said calmly. You were getting annoyed at the way his voice filled the air around you, floated into your ears smoothly. You didn’t want to listen. “That was quite a show,”

You think you scoffed, or maybe you tried too, because the corners of Kirigan’s mouth upturned ever so slightly.

“I told you not to bring me here,” Your words were slurred, almost as if you were drunk. You fought against the want to drift into a sleep, but he was right—it was easing with every passing minute.

“You never told me why,” He replied. You forced yourself to look at him, as your eyes adjusted. There weren’t two of him anymore; just one man. One man who’d dragged you here against your will, leaving your sister alone on Fjerdan soil.

“You left my sister there to rot,” You said, stronger this time. “How could you think I’d stay here when you left her?” Kirigan’s expression didn’t change, but he did look around when someone entered the room, carrying a pot of tea with two cups and saucers. The tray was placed on the table silently, before the attendant left immediately, clicking the door shut.

Kirigan poured two cups of tea, pushing one set towards you and taking one for himself. He didn’t take a sip yet.

“What do you have against the Little Palace?” He asked. You couldn’t help your scowl from devouring your entire face.

“The King hoards Grisha here like he owns them, like they owe him something. It’s a prison disguised as a lavish life. It’s no worse than the whore houses in Ketterdam,” You replied bluntly.

“Yet you were trying to get to Ravka, weren’t you?” Kirigan was quick to the mark, leaving nothing unturned.

“For my sister,” You said, clenching your jaw. “She’d be safe with the First Army,”

“And you?”

You finally looked in his eyes. They were dark, piercing your very skin, but the way they reflected the light gave them the illusion of warmth. You didn’t want to ever admit that the Darkling was a warm individual, not from the stories of his bloodline that you were taught from a young age.

“I was going to lie and stay with her. My abilities have never offered me much,” You said honestly, but you didn’t know why you were being truthful with this man. You swallowed uncomfortably, telling yourself to stop being so open.

“You killed those druskelle. You protected yourself,” He said. He was right, but you felt sick to your stomach. You saved yourself, but you couldn’t save her. You didn’t. “Your power is unrefined, unpredictable, but strong. I’ve never seen a Squaller summon a storm such as what we saw from the Ravkan border. It’s what lead us to you,”

The General finally took a sip of his tea, daintily rising the cup to his lips, before setting it down slowly on the saucer. You glanced at your own cup, wanting to take a sip too, but you couldn’t make yourself reach for it; not yet.

“We train Grisha here for the King, you’re right,” He continued, when you kept your mouth clamped shut. “But we also allow them to refine their abilities and hone their craft. This is a safe place for Grisha, when there are many out there who would try and take advantage of such power,”

“I never asked for this power,” You said quickly.

“No. But you can control it,” He replied, stronger this time. He had a smile on his face, leaning slightly forward, as if he truly wanted you to know why the Little Palace was good. “Wouldn’t you feel better? If you could truly harness your power? Bend it to your exact will?”

You swallowed once, frowning as you looked in his eyes. You wanted to say that you didn’t trust him—and never would. You wanted to splash scolding tea across his treacherous face, but you did neither.

“I’d feel better if I’d buried my sister, before you gave me a life sentence,”

Kirigan stood then, turning his back to you to stand before the window behind him. His hands were together behind his back, his chin high and shoulders broad. He wore all black, but you’d expect nothing different from a man who went by the Darkling.

He thought in depth, calmly, quietly, while you debated having some of your tea. It was steaming and warm and calling out to you. You knew it wasn’t poisoned because he’d already taken a sip, but you were still wary.

“How about a proposal?” He said then, turning back to look at you. You scoffed.

“I’d rather marry a horse than you,” You let out. It was an obvious joke, but you hadn’t expected the words to spill from your lips. Kirigan raised his brows, almost boyishly, taking you by surprise.

“We have fine horses here, I’m sure we could find you a great husband,” He hit back with. Saints forbid, he’d joked back. You hated to admit it, but your shoulders relaxed then, as a small giggle burst from within your gut. He came to sit opposite you once more, taking another sip of tea.

This time, you mimicked him. You picked up your own cup, bringing it to your lips and sipping heartily. Warm tea cascaded down your throat, bringing more strength back to your muscles.

“You train here,” Kirigan began. “You train here and learn to fully control your powerful Squaller abilities, with the help of myself,” You frowned slightly as he mentioned himself, but nevertheless let him continue. “And then, when you’re ready, I’ll... let you slip out undetected,”

That’s when you choked on your tea. You placed the cup back down on the saucer messily, spilling tea on his table.

“You’d let me out?” You stuttered. “No. No fucking way would you let that happen. I know the stories, General. The stoic man, damaged by his bloodline and his image,” As you spoke, Kirigan’s jaw tensed. “You wouldn’t let a Grisha slip out of your ranks,”

He cleared his throat slightly, straightening his shoulders. “I will, if it means you’ll let me train you first,”

You furrowed your brows at him, the cogs in your brain whirring. “Why are you so interested in my abilities? I’m no Sun Summoner, General. I can’t destroy the Fold—,”

“This isn’t about the Fold,” He interrupted you. “This is about you,” He said it with such surety that it almost took your breath away. You were silent, pondering what to say from your rapidly firing thoughts. “Squallers are never as powerful as you have proven to be,” He leaned forward on the dark wood table, coming in close to you. You were too frozen in place to move, too stubborn to back away from him. “I want to see what else you can do, with the right training,”

You stood abruptly, after he’d finished talking. You ignored the disastrous way you looked, with shards of glass still in your hair and small scratches all over your bare skin. Your feet were bad; you could tell just from the way your soles felt; but you pushed through.

“This is a deal,” You said strongly. “A proper deal—a vow,”

Kirigan stood then, too, strolling round until he was face to face with you.

“I’m a man of my word,” He said plainly, before he stuck out a strong hand. You stared at his wrist, his fingers, before slipping your own hand into his. You both shook on it, cementing the deal that he’d offered. If you felt he was lying at any moment, you wouldn’t hesitate to break out of the Little Palace and slip through his fingers.

“Fine,” You said, pulling your hand from his grasp. He looked down at you with an air of knowledge, but his eyes showed you something else; a softness, excitement, sadness. It was so intense that you simply had to look away.

“Your sister,” He said then, causing you to flinch as you scowled back at him. “Men have already been sent to the border to collect her,” He said it so plainly that you were sure he was making it up, but your heart panged as he kept talking. “They’ll bring her here in two days’ time. She will have a proper burial,”

You could have cried, if your body wasn’t on fire. You would have screamed and sobbed if you weren’t stood in front of someone such as General Kirigan. In this world, crying was always a weakness. Emotions were meant to be felt in private. Pain was only to be felt behind closed doors. You wouldn’t give up that ingrained way of life so quickly, as much as you wanted to collapse on the floor when you thought of your sister.

You tried to find the words to say something in response to General Kirigan, but nothing came out. All you could muster was a curt nod, to which he reciprocated with his own.

“Rest. Eat. Drink. You have today to recuperate,” He said sternly.

“Before the Grisha here eat me alive,” You whispered. Kirigan let out the smallest huff.

“Show them your power, and they’ll leave you be,” He said, before his hand curled around your forearm tightly. You gasped at his touch, expecting it to be cold, dark, hostile—but he was just a man. He was just... a fucking man.

With eyes and a nose and a mouth. With shining hair and stubble and broad shoulders. With hips that dipped to his thighs and knees that met his calves.

It was scary, to say the least. You knew what this man was capable of. You knew what he could do, but instead he promised you freedom. He promised to train you, to bury your sister, to keep you safe here while he could.

But that didn’t mean you trusted him. That didn’t mean you weren’t wary—

If only you’d stayed this on edge, this untrusting. Maybe things would have been different.

Tag list: @callitdreamland @bxnnywxtts @elleatrixlestrange @stargirl76 @tartiflvtte @musicconversedance @eprilin @luminous-99 @brynthebulldozer @katedrexel @blackbirddaredevil23 @auggie2000 @not-so-quite-human @notawritergettingtherethough @thinkingth0ts @gabbien @tarkanelima-blog​ @astrosmayhem

I’m sorry if your tag doesn’t work-- I don’t know why they do that sometimes!

#darkling x reader #darkling x you #the darkling #the darkling fic #smut #darkling smut #aleksander morozova #shadow and bone #six of crows #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kanej #update #ben barnes #shadow and bone fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #smut and angst #alina starkov #grishaverse #grisha trilogy

[little-diable]

Deal with the consequences - Jasper Hale (smut)

Request by anon: I was wondering if when you get the time I could request a Jasper smut off the November prompt list, prompts 28 & 33. Maybe with the Major, where he gets jealous after the reader intentionally tries to rial him up. Maybe they made a bet on who could go longer with out touching the other but she just pushes him over the edge...

Missed writing some major smut, enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: reader decides to tease Jasper on a school trip, the major has to punish her for being such a brat. 

Teasing Jasper was something she’d try almost every day, though barely succeeding as he’d get to her before she could coax a reaction out of him. But today (y/n) knew that it would be her chance to make him go crazy, on the way to their school trip, surrounded by too many students.

Her tight blouse didn’t leave much to imagination, hand placed on his knee, eyes focused on the windows of the school bus. She had to bite down her smirk as her hand began to wander up his thigh, tracing a few patterns into the fabric of his trousers. Jasper grasped her hand, golden eyes telling her to behave herself, trying to drown out her emotions, the emotions that shot tingles right down to his crotch, shifting in his seat.

Just as they arrived at their destination she crawled into his lap, back facing him, behind rubbing against his growing bulge. “Darlin’”, he murmured, hands squeezing her sides, trying to gain some control over his instincts, biting down the need to fuck her into the seat, not bothered by their classmates. (Y/n) giggled, following the rest of the students out of the bus, squealing as Jasper enclosed his hand around her wrist, “behave”, he whispered into her ear.

“Why should I? I know that you can’t resist me anyways”, she was feeling extra bratty that day, twirling a few strands of her (y/h/c) hair around her fingers. “You think so?”, he kept his eyes focused on their teacher, careful not to attract any attention, “let’s bet”, (y/n) chuckled. Jasper shook his head, sighing, already regretting his next words, “alright, I bet that I’ll be able to resist you for days even”, the words made her huff, arms crossed in front of her chest, “let’s see who’ll be able to go longer without touching the other”.

(Y/n) didn’t give him a chance to reply, walking away from him, she had to get some distance between them, already hating herself for being that bratty, how’d she be able to survive without touching him? He could feel the frustration taking over her body, smirking to himself as his eyes wandered along her frame, clicking his tongue, oh, it would be torture not to touch her, but the need in her eyes as he’d tease her would bring enough satisfaction upon him.

And tease her he did, oh he did, flexing and unflexing his fist as she’d stare at his hands, as if he was about to wrap his fingers around her throat, choking her while he buried his length in her heat, biting his lip as his eyes took in every inch of her frame, growling as soon as she’d stand in front of him, lips ghosting over her skin.

But (y/n) knew how to get to him, tugging on her shirt, exposing a bit more of her skin, tongue running along her lips, batting her eyelashes at him, doing everything she could to get him to break. Both would struggle equally much, but they were too stubborn to give in, even as they’d arrive back in Forks, not touching each other as she sat next to him in his car.

“Will you stay over?”, Jasper mumbled, eyes finding hers, tighly holding onto the steering wheel, to keep himself from touching her knee, “mhm”, she nodded her head, biting her lip. (Y/n) would try to keep her distance, getting comfortable on the couch, snuggled into a few blankets, watching some cooking shows with Esme, trying not to think about her boyfriend.

With trembling limbs she entered his room, anticipation took over every vessle of her body, having to sleep next to him would be pure torture, not touching his skin as she’d rest on his chest, no kisses shared between them, nothing. “Darlin’”, Jasper growled, she was just about to change, smirking at him as she pulled her shirt over her head, eyes not leaving his once. An animalistic sound rumbled through the vampire, suddenly he was standing in front of her, pushing her against the wall, lips moving in synch with hers.

“I won”, (y/n) chuckled against his lips, but the moment of victory was short-lived, his eyes had turned into a darker shade, hands flinging her onto his bed, hovering above her. “You think so?”, one hand moved her panties asside, fingers instantly sinking into her heat, spreading her walls. “Jas”, she moaned, trying to keep herself from closing her eyes, giving into the heavenly feeling. “You know”, he sucked on her jawline, “bratty girls will have to deal with the consequences”. His voice got deeper with every word he spoke, giving the major enough room to take over his instincts.

(Y/n) quirked an eyebrow, “you won’t cum”, he breathed out, smirking at her confused expression, cirling her clit, putting more and more pressure onto the sensetive nub. She gave her best, tried to keep her body from giving into his touch, swallowing down her moans, but as his fingers gazed her sweet spot she was done for, moaning his name, orgasm overtaking her body. Jasper kept moving his fingers through her high, jaw clenched, “you want to be punished, don’t you? Want me to wreck you, to mark your body?”.

Desperately she moaned a small “yes major”, eyes following his every move, watching him tug down his boxers, “I’ll ruin you, nobody will ever be able to touch you like I do”. Her breathing quickened, eyes wide, pupils dilated, wondering what he’ll do to her, too focused on her thoughts to notice him parting her folds, pounding into her heat. “Such a desperate little girl”, he panted, grasping her jaw, keeping her locked in place.

“Oh god”, (y/n) bit down on her tongue, trying to keep herself from screaming his name, her breathing rapidly quickened, the whole room was spinning, senses overstimulated. Jasper was set on a ferocious pace, not giving her a second to catch her breath, her clit was pulsing, already exhausted from her first orgasm. “Is this what you wanted? Wanted me to bruise you? To punish you for being such a brat?”, he rambled, marking her hips with his, his white chest twinkled in the moon light, what a mesmerizing sight.

Jasper let go of her jaw, hand wandering down to her nipples, squeezing the hard nubs, “you won’t cum just yet”. She furrowed her eyebrows, too far gone to protest, only a small “please major” spilled from her lips, trying to hold off her orgasm, something she never succeeded with. He dipped his head down to kiss her, tongues fighting for victory, drowning out her sounds, pushing her closer to the edge with every thrust of his.

“Don’t”, he murmured, Jasper could feel her walls clenching around his length, tears of desperation blurred her vision, trying to follow his order, a smirk tugged on his lips, “you can do it darlin’”. Jaspers pace soon began to falter, he could feel his own orgasm nearing, he wouldn’t give in just yet, wanted to push her over the edge first. “Be a good girl for your major, let go”, the words pushed her into the arms of her orgasm, drowning in the heavenly feeling, moaning his name.

He kept his eyes focused on her, thumb running along her lower lip, releasing himself into her heat, growling as he let go. “Good?”, he whispered into her sweaty skin, head placed on her chest, listening to her rapidly beating heart. “Thank you”, (y/n) kissed his forehead, arms wrapped around his frame.

#Jasper Hale #Jasper Hale smut #Jasper Hale imagine #Jasper Hale x reader #twilight #major jasper whitlock #twilight smut #twilight imagine

[invalid-prongs]

“For who could ever learn to love a beast?” from Beauty and the Beast, except I’m making it Starchaser because I miss writing about them </3 Also, the Gryffindor password is “venom of the snake” but in Italian, just in case you didn’t know.

It burns far worse than Regulus thought it would. He keeps wondering if there’s something wrong with it—there’s no way it should burn so much after having weeks to heal.

He clutches his left forearm between his thighs in an attempt to ease the pain and bites into his right hand to stop himself crying out. It’s kind of late and waking up his dormmates doesn’t seem like a bright idea.

Asking his parents for help is useless—they would just tell him to get on with it surely. The look of disappointment in his brother’s eyes would be too much to bare. Who else could he turn to?

With a deep, shaking breath and silent tears trickling down his face, he slowly peels back the covers of his bed and slips out from the green and silver sheets. He scans the room to make sure the other lads in the room are fast asleep before pulling his right hand from his mouth and using it to grasp his wand.

Regulus waits until he’s stood outside of the Slytherin entrance before waving his wand and muttering “Lumos” under his breath. The wand lights his way down the endless corridors as he drags himself around the castle, thinking of places to go. The burning in his arm doesn’t cease, even when he presses it to the cool stone walls and steps outside in the softly raining night.

It hurts and adds another layer of regret onto the Slytherin lad.

After what feels like hours of aimless wandering, too scared to visit the hospital wing, Regulus turns to head back to his dorm room. He can suffer through the next few weeks, and if it gets exceptionally bad, he can go to Hogsmeade one weekend and find something to help.

Before he can reach the Slytherin quarters, however, he’s stopped by the light tinkering of footsteps heading straight for him. He gasps softly, waving his wand behind his back. “Knox,” he mumbles, pressing himself flat against the wall as another figure steps around the corner.

“Hello?” a voice calls out and Regulus curses himself silently for picturing them in his mind. “Hey, is somebody there? You can come out, you know, I’m not a teacher or anything.”

Regulus takes a daring breath but doesn’t reveal himself. The person chuckles softly. “Hey, come on, don’t make me feel crazy.”

There’s nothing else for a few moments as Regulus screws his eyes shut and holds a hand to his mouth to muffle his breathing. But then there’s a lit wand in his face and the wide grin of one James Potter. “Gotcha. What are you doing out here at this time of night, Reg?”

He swallows thickly, trying to hold back the pain in his voice. “M-My name is R-Regulus, y-you know.”

James’s elegant face twists slightly. “Hey, are you alright? You sound like you’ve been crying?”

The Slytherin clamps his lips shut and shakes his head, but the Gryffindor isn’t fooled. He reaches softly for Regulus’s arm—his left one since it’s the closest—but it’s snatched away quickly.

They stare at each other for a few moments, wide eyes. James’s expression is hard for Regulus to decipher; he’s hurt, confused, and it causes the younger lad’s guilt to flare. James steps back slightly, allowing Regulus to fall out of the shadows.

“It’s hurting you, isn’t it?” James whispers into the darkness, and all Regulus can do is nod pathetically and whimper. James sighs and runs a hand through his unruly hair, assessing the situation. After a moment, he sighs again and holds out his hand. “Come on, come with me.”

He doesn’t trust James fully—what if he takes him to Madam Pomphrey, or worse, Dumbledore? But Regulus takes his hand anyway and lets himself be pulled in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

“Veleno del serpente,” he nods to the portrait, who twists her nose at the sight of a Slytherin buts lets them through anyway. Regulus is terrified of entering, because he’s sure there’s a rule specifically against entering the wrong house even on accident.

There’s probably a rule against having the Dark Mark, too, he figures to himself, ad follows James down the small tunnel. When they step into the empty common room, Regulus is hit with the warmth and comfort of the place, and the fire roars to life.

“Wait here,” the elder pushes him onto one of the sofas and wraps a blanket around his shoulders. “I’ll be right back, okay?” he disappears up the spiral staircase and Regulus just sits there, his eyes trained on the burning fire.

He thinks he should probably look around. Investigate the mighty Gryffindor house whilst he can. But his left forearm is turning numb, and not for a good reason, and his shoulder feels like it’s carrying the weight of a brick. He inhales sharply, willing himself not to cry again, and James reappears from the stairs with a small tray and a box.

“My mum is a healer,” he explains slowly, setting everything down on the coffee table and kneeling in front of Regulus. “She taught me some things, and I always have supplies for Quidditch accidents and such. Can I see your arm?”

Regulus pulls his left arm behind his back and shakes his head. He himself has avoided looking it as it as much as he can, and the thought of showing it to not anybody, but the proudest Gryffindor on the planet who is violently against everything Death Eater related…

But James’s  eyes are so soft and welcoming, and when he smiles gently and whispers, “I won’t judge you, I want to help you, Reg,” his voice is like velvet, and all Regulus can do is offer forward his arm and turn his head.

“I’m sorry,” Regulus chokes out when James gasps softly. “I didn’t—I had no choice.”

James simply shushes him softly by resting a hand on his knee before getting to work. Every movement is fluid and gentle, as if he’s cleaning a priceless artifact, and not just helping to stop the burning of a Dark Mark. It doesn’t hurt much, just a few stings, but it feels uncomfortable when James waves his wand over the snake and it writhes on the younger’s arm.

He tenses and automatically pulls away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” James soothes him softly. “I just needed to cast a spell, but I guess it didn’t like that.” He chuckles softly, and Regulus takes enough comfort in the sound to let a smile tug at his lips.

“Guess it didn’t.”

James works for a few more minutes, and by time he’s finished, Regulus can barely feel the mark. James flicks his arm experimentally, and Regulus flinches softly, so he’s assured he hasn’t lost all feeling in his arm.

Their eyes meet for a moment, flickering with the fire in the background. “How can I repay you?” Regulus asks gently. “I—you really didn’t have to help me. I’m sorry if this made you… uncomfortable.”

“You don’t have to repay me with anything. I would hate for you to be in any kind of pain, love.”

At the slip of the name, Regulus blushes softly and James clears his throat. They look away for a moment until the Slytherin dares to peers through his eyelashes to see James staring straight at him.

“I missed you,” he mumbles before he can stop himself, almost smiling at the way James cocks an eyebrow in questioning. “Over the summer. I kept thinking of you. I was… I was half tempted to come and see you before… but I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

James tentatively reaches up a hand and wipes a tear Regulus didn’t know was falling. “It’s okay, I understand. I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you I missed you too. Sirius is nice, but he isn’t quite the same.” He winks at the end of his sentence, and Regulus can’t help spitting out a small giggle.

James bites his bottom lip softly, one hand still on the younger lad’s face, the other moving to rest on his knee again. Regulus knows they have a lot to talk about, and probably won’t get it done in one night. He knows he should be going before someone finds his empty bed or walks into the Gryffindor common room. But instead, he bats his eyelashes at James and tips his head down ever so slightly.

“Can I…” he trails off softly, waiting for James to pull away, maybe even yell at him about how he’s a Death Eater and they’re on opposite sides and they can’t.

But James doesn’t. Instead, he nods so softly that if he didn’t whisper a soft “yes” then Regulus would have thought he imagined it.

Their lips connect in harmony, and they melt together like they did every other time they did this. It’s as easy as anything, and Regulus can feel every negative emotion, every horrible feeling be flooded with the absolute adoration he has for the boy in front of him.

And then Regulus pulls back sharply to stare at James with his eyes wide and jaw slackened because he’s in love with him.

“Sorry,” James rocks back on his feet and pulls himself up off the floor. “Fuck, uhm, I’m so sorry, I didn’t… we can just… I don’t…”

“I love you,” Regulus whispers, raw and rough, and James shuts his mouth, honey-brown eyes snapping to meet an ocean of grey-blue. “I-I’m sorry, but I love you.”

James doesn’t reply straight away. He just sinks onto the sofa and reaches out, running a finger against Regulus’s bottom lip, which is red and slightly swollen. And then he smiles wider than he ever has, pearly white teeth almost blinding the room, and he laughs.

“Don’t be sorry, don’t ever be sorry. I love you too,” he replies, and Regulus reaches up a pale, aristocratic hand on James’s. “I love you more.”

The younger lad goes to protest, but his words are swallowed by another kiss, and when he wakes in the morning, stretched on the sofa with his limbs tangled with James’s, all he can do is smile and thank whoever controls fate that after everything that has happened, given everything that is and will happen, he’s found somebody who can still love him.

#jegulus #regulus black #james potter #james x regulus #regulus x james #death eater #dark mark #angst #fluff #one shot #harry potter #marauders #gryffindor #slytherin #jegulus one shot #starchaser #starchaser one shot